#I swear I’m a Pedro blog

[goldenispunk]

[ladamedusoif]

Secrets (Marcus Pike x GN!Reader)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 24

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Pedro Boy Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist.

Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to keep up with my writing.

Pairing: Marcus Pike x GN!Reader 

Word count: 1743

Rating: Teen

Warnings: Angst; fluff; references to parental illness; no use of Y/N; no physical descriptions of reader; no gendered pronouns; minor swearing

A/N: This can be read as a standalone, but I wrote it thinking of Marcus and Reader from ‘Hot Chocolate’ and ‘Christmas Market’ in this series.

“How’s Marcus?” Your mother’s voice is bright and breezy on the call.

You pause a little too long for her liking. 

“Is everything okay?”

“It’s fine, mom, it’s just…he’s not himself, lately. I thought we were all set for the holidays - you know how we booked a little cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains - but every time I try to talk about packing or planning, he gets tetchy and weird.”

“Maybe it’s work stress? He does have a lot on. Poor Marcus.”

“So do I, mom, and I’m not taking it out on him. Every time I ask him outright he just says everything’s fine but it isn’t. It’s like he’s hiding something from me.”

Your mother tut-tuts. “That’s not Marcus. He would never keep secrets from you.”

“I wish I could be as confident as you are.”

***

With Christmas falling on a Monday, you and Marcus had planned to take off on the Saturday morning, making the most of the extra days off before the holiday. By Friday night, he’s got the bags ready to load into the car and your refrigerator is groaning with food for the vacation, all ready to be stacked in cool bags for the journey.

Things hadn’t improved much in the time since you’d voiced your fears to your mother. Marcus remained unusually tetchy and irritable, a far cry from his usual sunny self. He insisted he was looking forward to the time away with you, but there was just something off. Something hidden underneath the surface, and for the first time in your relationship he had put up enough defences so that you couldn’t reveal the truth. 

Maybe he’s unhappy, you think to yourself. Maybe the vacation is make or break.

Your stomach churns as you imagine five days away with Marcus while he tries to decide if you need to end the relationship or not. 

Your phone rings as you’re sorting out a couple of bottles of wine for the trip. Mom. You brush it off, muttering to yourself that you’ll call her later, once the packing is done. 

It’s barely two minutes later that Marcus comes into the kitchen, talking on his phone while trying to catch your attention. 

“I’ll put you on now…sure. Sure. Well, I’m sure he’ll be okay, I’m so sorry - okay, keep us posted.”

He hands you the phone, mouthing “Your mom”.

“Mom?”

“Oh, darling, I’m sorry… you’re probably up to your neck with packing and sorting for the trip.”

“Just tell me, mom. You wouldn’t call Marcus if it wasn’t urgent.”

“Darling…it’s your dad. He’s had a fall, he’s in hospital, and -”

Your heart drops. “Mom, is he okay?”

She pauses a second too long. “Fine, fine… just hasn’t regained consciousness yet but it’s fine! I just felt you would be angry if I waited until after your trip to tell you. But it’s fine!”

“Mom, you’ve said ‘it’s fine’ so many times I’m pretty sure it isn’t fine.”

“Sweetheart, please just go on your trip and we’ll keep you posted. Okay?”

You become aware of Marcus peeking around the corner, trying to assess your mood from the tone of your voice and your body language. 

“Did the doctors say when they think he’ll regain consciousness?”

Another pause.

“They’re not sure, sweetie.”

You look up at Marcus, your eyes looking into his as you tell your mom you’ll be home tomorrow.

***

He swears it’s fine, but you know Marcus is annoyed. Or hurt. Or maybe a mix of both. 

Shit, maybe this really was a make or break vacation.

He had offered to come with you, but you dissuaded him, not wanting him to have to be thrown head-first into the madness that was your family - crisis or no crisis. 

“I’ll just stay here, I guess.” He casts an eye over the bags in the hallway. 

“Babe, no.” You wrap your arms around his waist. “We paid for the cabin and it’s too late to cancel now. It would be a pity not to use it at all. You’ve got that stack of reading you want to do. And, like, when dad wakes up I can come down and join you. What do you think?”

He doesn’t quite meet your gaze. “I guess.”

“I love you, Marcus. I’m so sorry.”

He sucks on the inside of his cheek and kisses you - not on the mouth, but on the cheek. “I love you, too.”

***

When you arrive home in Ohio you hop straight in a cab to the hospital, where your mother and siblings have spent the night keeping vigil. You try not to panic when you see your dad, hooked up to a morass of tubes and wires. 

“The doctors say it looks worse than it is,” your older sister explained. She holds out a bag of peppermint candies. “Candy?”

It’s several hours before you realise you haven’t let Marcus know you got there safely, like you promised. Too busy trying to get a clear answer from your mom about what, exactly, the doctors have said, and distracted by trying to track down a doctor to discuss a prognosis. 

Hey babe - I’m sorry, I have been talking to my mom and the doctors here. Dad okay, still no sign of improvement but stable. Love you - call you tomorrow.

You spend that night at the hospital, insisting that your mom go home and rest. You watch the dark sky brighten, slowly but surely, as Christmas Eve dawns. 

“It’s Christmas Eve, dad,” you murmur, unsure if he can hear you or not. “You’re not in the drunk tank, though,” you joke, referring to his favourite Christmas song, ‘Fairytale of New York’. “Just in hospital. I’ll let you know if the NYPD choir turns up.”

You get up and stretch your legs, wandering into the hallway in search of caffeine and sugar. The hospital cafe is quiet and you grab a cup of black coffee and a donut before returning to your dad’s floor. 

Panic sets in when you see nurses moving in and out of his room. One of them turns, spots you, and grins. 

“He’s waking up! Can you call your mom?”

By lunchtime, he’s fully awake and talking, grumbling about not being allowed home for Christmas. You duck out later in the afternoon to call Marcus and update him.

It goes straight to voicemail.

***

The hot shower feels like heaven as you rinse away the strain of the last couple of days. Well, some of it, anyway. Marcus still hasn’t answered your calls.

Thankfully, you’ve found a distraction, volunteering to prep some food at your parents’ house that can be easily taken to the hospital for Christmas Day. You slip on a pair of soft old sweatpants and a college hoodie and pad around the kitchen, filling some Tupperware containers with individual servings of cold cuts and salads while listening to the cheesy Christmas show on the local radio station.

You crawl into bed late that night, casting one final glance at your phone. 

Still nothing.

***

You stir awake at about two in the morning, roused by a thumping noise coming from somewhere in the house. As your brain adjusts, you realise it’s someone knocking on the door. 

You grab your brother’s old baseball bat as you descend the stairs. Can’t hurt to be prepared, after all. And you’re pretty sure this isn’t Santa Claus calling.

You open the door slowly, reluctantly. 

A pair of coffee-brown eyes. A soft, uncertain smile. Cheeks flushed with cold. 

“Marcus?”

He rubs his hands together and stamps his feet. “Can I come in? Got really cold in the car on the way up here.”

You fling your arms around him as he steps inside, forgetting the strangeness of the last few weeks. “What the hell are you doing here?”

He holds his soft, dark green knitted cap in his hands and looks nervous. Really nervous.

“I… I had to see you.”

Oh, shit. Wait - is he going to break up with you on Christmas morning? While your dad’s in hospital?!

“Ooookay.”

“Baby, I -” He falters. “This isn’t how I wanted to do this.”

He is definitely about to break up with you. And good riddance, because he’s clearly heartless.

“Just get it over and done with, Marcus.”

He takes a deep breath and exhales, long and slow.

“I wanted to have the space to do this at the cabin, y’know?”

“Marcus. Just say it.”

“Baby, I’m so grateful for you - you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever met, so kind, so loving, and -”

You’ve had it. “Marcus - just say you don’t want to be with me. You’ve been weird for weeks. You’re here on Christmas fucking Day, having driven a seven-hour journey to get here. You obviously can’t be with me a minute longer, so you might as well just -”

He has dropped to one knee.

Wait. What?

“I wanted to ask you to marry me.”

Your jaw drops. For once, you’re stunned into silence.

“Baby?”

“I…Marcus. I just…is this…fuck.”

He reaches into his coat pocket and presents you with a little box. “Um, do you mind if I stand up again? My knees aren’t what they used to be.”

You chuckle and help him to his feet, before opening the box to find a perfect, simple engagement ring. 

“I can’t believe it, Marcus.”

He shrugs. “You seemed sure we were about to break up. I’m sorry I’ve been so stressed the last few weeks, my love. I was just readying everything for a perfect proposal, in the mountains, and I was so worried you’d say no, and then the ring was delayed, and then - well. And then your dad got sick. But he’s awake? I’m sorry, I only just saw your messages. My phone was in the trunk.”

You lift your gaze from the ring. “He’s awake. And I’m sorry, too - I didn’t know what you were keeping from me, and I didn’t even think of this.”

Marcus raises an eyebrow. “You didn’t think I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you?”

You chuckle. “Mmmm. Maybe I thought a man as perfect as you couldn’t possibly want someone like me.”

He pulls you tight to him and kisses you. “Baby, you forgot something.”

You look confused. “I did?”

“You didn’t give me an answer yet.”

Tears shining in your eyes, you slip the ring on your finger. “A million times yes, Marcus Pike. Provided there are no more secrets.”

[firsttarotreader]

Since this is such a popular blog and I know at least one fellow anon will answer: am I the only Pedro fan who thinks actor Nathan Fillion (in the 90s, early 00s) looks like Pedro's father when he was young? 🤔 I swear I see some "Balmacena-ness" in him 😆

I’m not sure if I find them similar. Maybe a few traits? 🤔🤔

[psychedelic-ink]

no bc i refuse to get on top during sex bc i’m insecure and i think if i ever got to a point where i was comfortable doing it and wanted to i would be so bad.. pls write that omfg

I feel you nonnie! I will end up writing it (and I swear I've written a similar scene to it in a longer fic but i think that was for pussy eating i don't remember dfvfg) I might either add it to stipper!jack or write it for joel... or frankie but I'm very undecided (if you have a specific pedro boy in mind please let me know!)

rant about my past relationship and insecurities about getting on top below the cut

I think that insecurity of mine just grew, I've mentioned this on the blog and I think it's evident in my fics but I had a not-so-good ex, he was my first and only bf so far and he was very mean to me about how I looked and he would be very subtle about it so it felt like he was just you know expressing himself or just trying to "help"

Still, it kinda killed my self-confidence as shitty as that might be-- I didn't really have much of it from the start anyway (sadly I only realized that after our breakup) and I vividly remember asking him if I could be on top because I wanted to try it and make him feel good, and he would always say no. So now I'm just like. . . how will I do that? I just feel that I'm going to be terrible at it BUT I am hoping that when the horny takes over I'll just forget all about it lmaodvdf

hopefully, we'll both feel confident about the subject one-day nonnie <333

[juletheghoul]

I posted 1,365 times in 2022

261 posts created (19%)

1,104 posts reblogged (81%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@juletheghoul

@wheresarizona

@beskarboobs

@foli-vora

@thewayofthemandalorian

I tagged 1,118 of my posts in 2022

Only 18% of my posts had no tags

#pedro pascal - 372 posts

#pedro pascal fanfiction - 225 posts

#julesanswers - 164 posts

#comment reply - 138 posts

#shameless self reblog - 82 posts

#din djarin - 69 posts

#din djarin x reader - 69 posts

#joel miller - 62 posts

#din djarin au - 62 posts

#francisco morales - 54 posts

Longest Tag: 123 characters

#then when i was in highschool they gave me $20 a week for transportation and if i wanted anything to eat from the cafeteria

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

The Covert

AN: A few weeks ago, @babiiface95 slid into my dms and sent me a voice note that would throw me into the grips of a horny daydream. What she said was - what if Din was a cam-boy? We then proceeded to scream back and forth about what this would entail. Tiny minute details to enrich this delicious fiction and what we came up with was this. A series of 'sessions' that Din and reader will produce for their viewers. This will not be a 'story' per say - very minimal plot so there will not be a posting schedule, but asks and requests for this are highly encouraged. I hope you enjoy what we came up with, a special shout out to her - as well as @frannyzooey for beta'ing the hell out of this first chapter with amazing suggestions and questions that only served to make it better. More shoutouts to @wheresarizona for this gorgeous moodboard and to @foli-vora for always being super supportive and listening to my horny rants.

Pairing: Din x f!reader

Warnings: 18+(no minors) implied sex, oral - male receiving, slight voyeurism, cum-play / eating, dirty talk - if I'm missing anything please let me know

Word count: 1900

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

----------

-FIRST SESSION-

-

“Fuck, right there Din,” you moaned and his hands gripped your hips tight to hold you in place as he picked up the pace. 

He’d already made you come twice and by the looks of things, he was determined to see you do it again. He licked his thumb before pressing it onto your swollen clit and the glide of it threw you over the edge, waves of your release making you go silent while he kept up his rhythm.

He dropped down and covered your body with his, the wet slip of your cunt swallowing his length a handful of times before he groaned deeply into your ear, grinding hot spurts of his come deep inside. 

“Good god man, I swear people would pay good money to watch you fuck.” You felt boneless as he crushed you with his comforting weight, a laugh escaping his lips along with the haggard breaths of exertion. 

“Very funny.” His face was gorgeously flushed, a bead of sweat collecting in his hairline that begged for you to brush it away. You obliged. 

“I’m serious. There’s good money in it. You’d make a killing.” He let out an amused sigh, turning to nuzzle at your palm as it caressed his cheek softly. You paused for a moment, catching your breath together before you gave him a nudge. “Now let me up, I gotta pee.” 

You kissed his nose, letting him pull out with a hiss before slipping out from under him and making your way towards the bathroom. Your comments had been honest, but offhand and although you had forgotten them by the time you came back; he hadn’t. 

They sat on the back burner of his brain, a low simmer when he went to sleep that night with you curled up next to him and they were still there when he awoke early to head out. Following him incessantly throughout his hunt, he tried to shake them off in order to focus, but they persisted - eventually boiling over when he collected payment for his latest bounty. 

It was hard to keep the annoyance off his face or out of his voice at the meager sum presented to him. 

This barely covers fuel. 

With the cost of everything on a steady incline, a separate form of income now had a slight shine that gave him pause. 

He spent the whole of the trip back to you weighing his options. The amount he’d earned was almost an insult, this job would have earned him triple the amount not too long ago. 

He sat in the cockpit, a long sigh cutting through the soft hum of his ship. The stars stretching out before him reminded him of you, how you always took this time to sit in his lap and tease; drive him mad with need for you. An image of you riding him popped into his mind, the idea of it being broadcasted for people to watch and it shocked him how fast he felt his cock swell in his pants at the prospect.

It burned brighter now, the thought of people paying to watch him fuck you and whether he admitted it or not, it was starting to excite him.

Maybe this could work.

—

Signing up for the service had taken a considerable amount of time, along with a few drinks and a handful of nervous laughs from both of you. 

“I can’t believe we’re doing this.” His eyes were bright with mischief but there was a tinge of fear there, of uncertainty. 

“We don’t have to. We can just close it up and forget about it.” You put your hand on his thigh, your way of soothing him. 

“No, I want to. I’m just a little apprehensive - I don’t want to get stage fright.” He let out a little laugh, his big hand landing on top of yours before he leaned in to place a soft kiss onto your lips. 

See the full post

394 notes - Posted April 29, 2022

#4

Let Me Follow (Part 1)

I literally cannot be stopped at this point. There is nothing to explain - I write for Joel now - here we go.

Joel Miller x F!Reader

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader

Word Count: 5K

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) angst, language, age-gap (about 10-11 years, legal, reader is of age), Yearning, dirty talk / p i v sex (wrap it up) violence, post-apocalyptic world

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist Part 2

---

She moved quickly, but not quick enough.

He saw it almost in slow motion, the one seemingly fatal misstep in her path and unfortunately - that’s all it took. The clicker had rushed her, knocking them both down onto the concrete. He had to hand it to her - she wasn’t panicking but it was taking her longer than it should have to gain control of the situation.

“Joel, we have to help her.” Ellie chimed in beside him and despite thinking the same thing he huffed.

“If the clicker doesn’t get her, the hunters will.” His voice was gruff but he did a quick scan - regardless of his words.

“Not if we help her.” Her voice was annoyed and he responded with an aggravated sigh.

He made quick work of it, lifting the once-human thing off of her to slit its throat before turning back. She was up and dusting herself off, laughing lowly - a nervous habit. If he had to guess her age it would have been somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties. She looked healthy, pretty even.

Focus old man.

“You almost-”

“Shh, not here. The hunters are close, we have to get out of here. Follow me.” She was running almost silently through the detritus of civilization scattered through the empty road. At first he’d thought she was a tourist, a very lucky one to still be alive here but it soon became apparent that she knew this place and they followed her reluctantly. She opened the door to an indistinguishable building crumbling with decay and hid behind the window before gesturing for them to follow quickly. Her finger pressed tightly to her lips as she peeked outside.

A patrol of the people he’d been fighting off since he stupidly drove into this city was making their way down the street - peering around for any signs of life.

“They always pass by here at this time of day - once they pass we can make it out of the city.” She wasn’t watching them as she spoke, she was focused and he noted that if he hadn’t saved her - she would have probably been fine.

“Who are you?” Ellie asked what Joel was thinking and she flashed the younger girl a bright smile - giving her name freely.

“I used to live here, before everything. In that building over there actually.” She pointed at a fallen high rise. “My parents died, and my brother and I survived here for years, until the hunters took over. Now I have my own little place outside town, in the woods.” Joel watched her speak with the frown permanently etched on his face.

“You have a place to stay?” Ellie was too friendly.

“Yes, it’s small but it’s safe and I have room- you should probably take care of that.” She pointed to his arm, he had been shot.

“It’s just a graze. I’ll be fine.” He gritted out. They were wasting time.

“It’s up to you, but I have supplies - that I’d happily share - you did save my life.” She smiled but it wasn’t grateful, it was teasing.

Ellie was watching him expectantly and he grit his teeth.

See the full post

541 notes - Posted January 16, 2022

#3

The Date

AN: It's wild to me, that whenever I have a writers block - the cure is inevitably to write a pussy-drunk Francisco Morales. This is a sequel to The Party, couldn't leave these two without another meeting. I'm trying to reintegrate myself onto tumblr and to continue to work on my many projects - quick thank you to my girl @wheresarizona for beta-ing this fever dream and for generally being supportive and amazing. Hope you enjoy xox.

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings;  piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, Frankie eats pussy like the champion he is, let me know if I missed anything.

Word count; 2k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

----

It had been months since your interlude at the party Maureen had dragged you to, months since you’d let the gorgeous, married man fuck you in the back of his truck, and if you were honest with yourself - you never actually thought he’d follow through and call you. But he did. 

He’d called. 

It had happened a few months later, after a particularly rough day, and had you not brought your phone into the bathroom with you while you ran your bath, you might have missed it. It rang loudly as you shut off the water, your annoyed sigh melding with the sweet-smelling steam in the air at the thought that your overeager coworker might be calling you after hours. 

The sigh turned into a gasp at the flash of his name across your screen, and that roller coaster feeling in your gut froze you in place; it almost made you miss the call. 

“Hello?” Your voice echoed through the small room, accompanied by the steady drip of water into the warm bath. 

“Hey-” His voice sent a shiver down your spine, the sound of it in your ear bringing your thoughts back to his truck with crystalline clarity.

“Hi-” You repeated the greeting, now with a smile on your face. “I’ll be honest - I never actually thought you’d call.” Your hand toyed with the towel on the counter. 

“I didn’t actually think you’d answer.” He laughed, the sound rich and warm and so welcome. “I thought you might have forgotten about me, figured you’d deleted my number.”

“Does this call mean that you’re single?” The phone was cradled between your shoulder and your ear in order to begin disrobing - the bath water wouldn’t stay hot for long. 

“Yes, finalized everything a couple of weeks ago.” You could hear keys jingling, and your thoughts brought you back to the truck again, the steam on the windows and the bruise you’d worn on your thigh for days. “Think you’d maybe want to grab dinner with me or something?” His tone suggested that those same memories followed him as well, and you couldn’t help but laugh. 

“Yes, or something.” He laughed now, too, “How about Friday?” You shucked off your sweats as you spoke, eager to submerge yourself into an epsom salt oasis. 

“Definitely works for me. Send me your address, and I’ll pick you up. Can’t wait to see you again. Have a great night.” And with that, the day suddenly didn’t seem so bad. 

-

It had been a long time since he’d gone out on a first date, a long time since he’d been excited about the prospect of one, but here he was - nervously rubbing at his denim-clad thighs as he walked up to her front door. He’d been nervous about the whole thing as he knocked softly, worrying briefly that maybe he’d misunderstood the meaning of the outing. Maybe she hadn’t been flirting with him over the phone - maybe she didn’t want to date a recently divorced man. 

It all went out the window when she opened the door, her pupils dilating that same way as their first encounter, her pretty lips stretched into a gorgeous smile. 

“You’re on time.” She breathed it out, moving aside for him to come in, and he followed. 

“I was eager, you look amazing -” He frowned suddenly, annoyed with himself. “I should have gotten you flowers-” He tapped at his pockets as though he might tap them into existence. 

“Oh-” she laughed, the sound tinkling in his ears, “don’t worry about that I wasn’t expecting any.” She waved away his concern, the movement of her dress drawing his eye. 

“I still should have, I’ll make it up on the second date.” The same tinkling as she checked a mirror hanging in her foyer.

“Haven’t even left for our first date and already planning the second?” She smiled at him shyly, the air between them charged. 

“Oh yes, I’m not done with you yet.” He looked her up and down, bold and unashamed. 

See the full post

613 notes - Posted August 18, 2022

#2

Common Courtesies

I've been thinking about monster versions of the Pedro boys ever since I wrote this horny fever dream - and thanks to this ask from @sweetangel0069 I am back on my bullshit. I imagine this as sort of a Mr. Darcy, regency period type of thing only Demon Din is a feminist icon because that's what we do here.

Enjoy some Demon!Din.

Pairing: Demon!Din x F!Reader

Word Count: 3.5k

Warnings: (18+ NO MINORS) **pussy-eating** language, age-gap (legal, reader is of age) dirty talk, supernatural elements, sexist society, sexist comments from readers father

Let me know if I missed anything!

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

------------

The moon was full and bright, it drew your eye as you finished the small glass of water in the silent kitchen.

The manor was blessedly quiet at this hour and you took advantage of it. Everyone was asleep and it felt as though you could steal a few blessed moments of peace. No mother hovering and nagging about your lack of a suitor. No sisters gossiping or bickering - no overbearing father to deal with and just like you’d been doing since adolescence, you dallied.

You wandered through your empty halls, wondering if your guest was sleeping comfortably in the rooms your father had provided him. Whether the bed was to his liking, if he had enjoyed the view before succumbing to sleep.

You thought about him a great deal.

There was something about him, something… different.

He was polite, exceedingly so. He was attentive, listening with genuine interest to what you and your sisters had to say. Most of the men your father invited into your home had courtesy to be sure but it was different. Whereas they listened, with a stiff upper lip and forced smile - he engaged. He cared about what you had to say.

Your mother had been wary at first. A handsome man of his age, unmarried and unattached - there had to be something wrong but much like everyone he encountered in your presence - he won her over.

Now she was determined to marry him off to one of you, it didn’t seem to matter which one and she wasn’t shy about presenting each of you to him in such a manner. He dodged her advances on your part gracefully.

“Oh I would make a terrible husband, believe me.”

A creak just inside the drawing room froze you in place for a moment and it was difficult to pick up any new sounds through the booming in your ears. A few breaths to steady your nerves was all the preparation you gave yourself before creeping over to take a peek inside. What you’d do if it was someone with ill-intentions, you hadn’t decided.

With baited breath and clammy palms you chanced a glance, doing everything in your power to make as little noise as possible.

It was your guest. Mr. Din Djarin, sitting comfortably in your fathers chair -facing the moonlight. You frowned.

What are you doing awake?

You knew it was him, but the longer you looked - the less it looked like him. He seemed much taller, the chair looked almost small with him occupying it. He turned towards where your head was poked around the open door and it took everything in you not to gasp.

This couldn’t be the man you knew? His eyes were black jewels, his fingers were long, with nails that you knew would be like razors. His teeth glinted and they were too white, too sharp. The horns were another matter completely and for a moment you felt like a fly trapped in honey. You held your breath as he scanned the room, hoping he didn’t see you. How you managed to silently step away you’d never know.

The vision of him, of the transformation he’d gone through played through your mind endlessly. Until exhaustion finally claimed you.

-

It was hard not to yawn the next day. Hard not to conjure up the image of him, of what you’d seen when he sat at your table. When he smiled politely at catching you staring.

He looked ordinary now, back to the visage you’d been accustomed to and too late you realized what the topic of conversation had been.

“Surely you must be looking to marry Mr. Djarin? Don’t you want children to carry your name? Any one of my daughters would make a fine wife I assure you.” You perked up despite the embarrassment, curious as to his answer.

See the full post

786 notes - Posted March 22, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

The Party

AN: No thoughts, only thots about meeting Frankie at a party you were reluctant to go to in the first place. There's infidelity here - so if that's not your jam no worries! Enjoy!

Pairing; Frankie Morales x f!reader

Warnings; Infidelity, (18+ no minors) piv sex (wrap it up), swearing, dirty talk, unhappy marriage - mentions of divorce.

Word count; 2k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist

--

Her lips were parted slightly, her eyes dilated and her pulse was almost visible on the delicate skin of her neck and the realization hit him like a sledgehammer.

My wife hasn’t looked at me like that in years.

“Sorry? I didn’t quite catch your name.” He instantly likes her voice and tries to imagine what she’d sound like in bed and for the first time in god knows how long he isn’t ashamed of himself. 

“It’s Francisco - you can call me Frankie.” He shakes her hand, holds onto it probably longer than he should and he knows his dimple is staring her in the face with the way he's smiling. “How do you know James?” He gives her a once over, almost subtly and he’s happy to see her fluster a tiny bit. 

“Oh um - ha I actually don’t - I came with a friend. Maureen - do you know her?” She fiddles with her dress, smoothing it down with her plump lower lip between her teeth. It’s endearing and he wants nothing more than to pull her close - to nuzzle at the hollow of her throat but she looks at his hand when he takes a sip of his beer and the spell is broken. She sees it, he knows she does and there’s nothing he can say. 

Fuck. 

“Oh, I’m sorry - I didn’t realize.” She frowns a little staring at his wedding ring, more flustered than before but now it’s out of embarrassment and he feels cruel, like he’d led her on in some way. 

“Yeah, that’s - sorry that’s-” He doesn’t know what to say to this lovely thing in front of him. 

Technically, yes I’m married but my wife has been cheating on me for years, I just got the proof I needed a couple of days ago and I’m going to divorce her ass. Wanna fuck?

“There you are, have you seen my purse?” His wife came in right on cue and then he was alone with her, a swirl of a skirt left in the pretty woman’s wake - he sighed loudly, not that his wife commented on it - or even noticed for that matter. “There it is - oh look - your buddies are here! Why don’t you catch up with them?” She didn’t look at him as she said it - too busy fixing her lipstick and he knew then that her side piece was here.

He felt nothing. 

“Sure honey.” He spoke the words to her back as she walked away from him - he couldn’t even remember when he stopped watching her go. 

-

The heat was crawling up your body, warming the apples of your cheeks with embarrassment and your legs couldn’t carry you away fast enough. You moved through the crowd of people you didn’t know, winding through the little groups of them while scanning for Maureen, hoping to catch a glimpse of the red shirt she’d been wearing - relief washing over you when you finally saw her.

“Hey- where’d you get to?” She smiled big, looking for the drinks you were supposed to grab. “No drinks?”

“Sorry- There were a bunch of people waiting so I came back.” You did your best to smile through the lie. “I’ll try again in a few.”

If he’s not still standing there.

Your stomach dropped at the thought of running into him again, a groan threatening to claw its way out of your throat. Why did he have to be so handsome? Why did he have to be exactly your type? Tall and broad, with that cute dimple and those soft waves- married waves. 

Why did you flirt back?

This question annoyed you a bit, it burned brightly in the back of your mind while you tried - genuinely tried to listen to Maureen chatting about - well whatever the hell she was chatting about. 

You saw his wife walk past the two of you then, a very pretty woman with gorgeously thick hair and Ruby red lips lost in conversation with a burly blond man, if he’d told her that you’d flirted then it would only make sense that she’d glance at you but mercifully she didn’t. Thank christ.

Maureen laughed and pulled you away from your thoughts, introducing you to a few of her friends from college and you busied yourself trying to remember their names, muddling through polite conversation while also counting the hours until she’d be ready to go. It wasn’t so bad though- they weren’t so bad. Her friends, while maybe a bit pretentious, were all in all nice enough and it wasn’t hard to find common interests with a few while she made her rounds until your bladder pulled you towards the bathroom. 

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857 notes - Posted June 1, 2022

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[reedrchards]

Hi Sib!

Spud here, just stopping by to spread a little bit of positivity in your inbox 🐸🩷

Firstly can i say I LOVE your icon. What a precious picture of Pedro awwww. And your URL is awesome too... keep forgetting he's a full-on Marvel superhero now, so cool but kind of terrifying!

Anyway, thanks so much for interacting with me. Your blog has very calming vibes and yES The Parent Trap is one of the greatest movies of all time!!

Hope you enjoy the rest of your day/evening/night! Sending hugs 🤗 and a smiley Pedro as a parting gift:

been sitting on this ask trying to think of how the hell i can reciprocate this thoughtfulness right back at you?? but i have had the most severe case of brain rot, so i’m just going to say THANK YOU, i love you, and i swear you are the only source of din djarin on my dash and that in itself is a blessing 💖

[gaysindistress]

Gaysindistress’s 600 followers celebration

I combined the sleepover and blurb event because the poll was literally 50/50 😂

Anywayssssssss I’ve never hosted anything like this before and I wanted to celebrate hitting 600 followers!! I’m so grateful for all of the love and support that y’all have shown me 💕 it warms my heart and lowkey makes me want to cry thinking about all of the sweet comments and reblogs some of y’all have left. I literally have an album just for screenshots of them 😭 thank you and I love all of you 💕

rules:

- preference will given to those who are following me on either on this blog, gaysindistress, or my main punkrockrevivalist

- this event will be from November 11 to November 21

Without further ado….

To celebrate please send me an emoji with any additional request details from the list below:

🖼️ [moodboard]: I’ll make you a mood board based on a character or a fic that is either one of mine or yours. You can request one, or I can surprise you!

❓[ask me a question]: ask me anything about myself or one of my fics

For blurbs, please include the prompt number and the emoji with the character (with any additional request details) from the list below:

Example ask: “prompt 6 💧 with Bucky!”

Characters

Seb Stan: Bucky Barnes (my love)/winter soldier, Nick Fowler, Steve Kemp, Lee Bodecker, Max Burnett C Evans: Steve Rogers, Ransom Drysdale, Lloyd Hansen Misc: ACOTAR (Cassian, Az, Rhys), Pedro Pascal characters, Wanda, Yelena, Natasha, Sam Wilson, as well as other MCU characters. please note that I do NOT write RPF or for Tony Stark, John Walker, and Peter Quill. My guidelines can be found at the bottom of my masterlist for more info.

Prompts

I do not take credit for writing all of these prompts. I looked through many, many lists to make this one and I linked them 💕

Angst 💧

"I wish we never met. I regret the day I ever met you."

"I hope you’re happy now with someone else."

"What exactly do you want from me? Because I’ve been trying to figure it out, I just can’t."

"How am I ever going to be the same after this?"

"Say something. Anything. Please don’t let me sit in this silence."

"I stayed because I love you. Now I realize I should have left because you never loved me back."

Protective: ❤️‍🩹

“Hold my hand, okay? It’s gonna be over soon.”

“I need you to close your eyes for me love.”

“When I say run, I need you to do as I say without looking back and don’t wait for me.”

“I swear to you, that as long as I’m alive I won’t let a single soul ever harm you.”

“You can bury me yourself before I lose you. Now get down and don’t move.”

“Listen to me.  . . take deep breaths, yes follow my breathing just like that. There’s no need to panic, I’m right here now, aren’t I? You’re safe.”

Classic Bucky & Sam banter 🙊

“Who let you in here?”

“God you’re annoying.”

“Oh go fuck yourself.”

“Don’t look at me, that was all you!”

“you make me need to carry ibuprofen around.”

“Kiss me and I’ll…” “what? You’ll do what?”

Fluff 🧸

“I love you more than words can express."

“I'll love you til my lungs give out.” “Oh give me a break, you don’t mean that.” “I’m not lying, doll.”

“So… What’s the next date going to be?” Character b murmurs, nuzzling their face on Character A’s neck.

"Stay with me tonight. please."

"We don’t have to talk if you don’t want to. we can just sit here together until you feel up to anything else.”

"did we fall asleep?" "I think we did.."

Suggestive🌶️

This marriage has been nothing but a fake since the start. But we’re staying over at your parent’s home, and they’re expecting us to act like we’re in love… which side of the bed are you, regretfully, taking? 

"YOU SENT ME NUDES WHILE I WAS WITH THE GUYS/GIRLS!"

I’m damn freezing, and I know you run warm. You wouldn’t mind if I…

As a bodyguard, you’ve been posted in my bedroom. Just… come sleep next to me. That way I can be safe, and you can be comfortable. Deal? 

All the other hotel rooms are booked, and even though you are my ex, I would rather sleep next to you than a stranger, or even go back out into the snow. Move over, and let’s not talk about it. 

After a “there’s only one bed” kind of event, I slept next to you. But now, my bed seems so empty, and yours seems so comfortable. 

Dark 🌑

“don’t look at them, why are you looking at them? look at me. they’re not going to help you.”

“go on, scream for me.”

“Do you miss the way that I did everything for you? The way you watched me lose my mind? I hope it was entertaining.” A continues, their tone so chilling, it almost sends a shiver down B’s spine. A chuckles, there are obvious bags under their eyes, but it contrasts the fire within them.

“Did you really think i would let you go? Awe, doll, you should know better than that. You’re mine and I’m never letting you go.”

“I hope for your sake that you can run fast because you have approximately 30 seconds before I rip your throat out.”

“how you come out of this depends entirely on you. so i strongly suggest you cooperate, for your own sake.”

[niac-za]

Read These!!

❀- fluff, ↓ angst, ❂- violence, 𐰹- smut, !- kink, — -multi-chapter

Hey y’all! I’m Az. My main blog, where I write, is @az-cain (formerly arson-tm) but this is where I reblog the fics I read and occasionally update this masterlist. If I put your fic up and you don’t want me to, please let me know and i’ll take it down immediately, no hesitation or hard feelings. Also, please lmk if i miss a warning or something. If this gets too long, I may take fics I haven’t read in a while off, it is NOT because I like it any less. I swear.

Top Gun: Maverick

Jake “Hangman” Seresin-

- Flyboy by @kryptonitejelly 𐰹 ❀ —

- Headpusher Jake Drabble by @ddejavvu and @randomoutsiders 𐰹

- In Search of Obliteration & The Waiting is the Hardest Part by @blurredcolour 𐰹 (feat. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw)

- Roughing It by @ohtobeleah 𐰹 (feat. Bradley “Rooster” Bradshaw)

- Roses by @mothdruid 𐰹— (feat. Robert “Bob” Floyd)

- Movie Night by @wildbornsiren 𐰹 (feat. Robert “Bob” Floyd)

Robert “Bob” Floyd-

- A Snowed in Baby Bird by @mothdruid 𐰹 ❀

- Roses by @mothdruid 𐰹— (feat. Jake “Hangman” Seresin)

- Swathed in the Purple Glow by @lewmagoo 𐰹!

- Letters to my Love by @bradshawsbaby ❀—

- Movie Night by @wildbornsiren 𐰹 (feat. Jake “Hangman” Seresin)

- Full of Surprises and Part 2 by @withahappyrefrain 𐰹 ❀

The Mandalorian

Din Djarin-

- The Break (unable to tag) 𐰹 !

- Laid Bare by @pedros-mustache 𐰹

- Ignite by @ghostwiththemostbitch 𐰹 ! ❂

- The Boutique by @mandoblowmybackout 𐰹

- Unwind by @redahlia-writes 𐰹

- Both Sides of the Door by @prolix-yuy 𐰹

- Mando’a by @dyns33 ❀

- Shut Up Kiss Me by @floraandfrost 𐰹

Narcos

Javier Peña-

- Insomnia by @iamskyereads ❀ 𐰹 ↓ —

- His Girls by @feralforfrank ❀ ❂

- Love in the Dark by @queenofthefaceless ❀ 𐰹 ↓ —

Pedro Pascal

- Dad!Pedro by @guess-my-next-obsession ❀

Triple Frontier

Frankie “Catfish” Morales-

- Slumber by @write-and-buried 𐰹 !

- Run Through the Jungle by @astoryisaloveaffair 𐰹 !

Santiago “Pope” Garcia-

- Bunny-Girl by @laters-gators 𐰹 !

- Don’t You Dare by @foxilayde 𐰹 !

Moon Knight

Moon System-

- A Long Night by @myfictionaldreams 𐰹 !

- Hold Me Close by @stormkobra-5 𐰹 ❀ ↓

- Atonement by @soonknight 𐰹 ❀ ↓

Steven Grant-

- Sucking by @myfictionaldreams 𐰹

- Easy Now by @soonknight 𐰹 !

Jake Lockely-

- Sunday Kind of Love by @egcdeath ❀

MCU

Matt Murdock-

- Pussy-Drunk by @twistneteclipse 𐰹

- The Bakery by @lanadelreyscokewhor3 𐰹

Bucky Barnes-

- Knees by @angrythingstarlight 𐰹

- Nothing Sweeter Than You by @angrythingstarlight 𐰹

Stranger Things

Eddie Munson-

- Collecting Strays by @amatchinwater ❀ 𐰹

- I Know What You Want From Me by @amatchinwater ❀ 𐰹 ! ↓

- Sick Sounds by @luveline ❀ 𐰹

- I Was Made For Loving You (baby, you were made for lovin’ meeeee) by @ringpop-poppy ❀ 𐰹 ↓

[ladamedusoif]

Christmas Tree (Professor!Ben x OFC!Lydia)

A Merry Fic-Mas - December 22

Part of A Merry Fic-Mas: A Pedro Boys Holiday Fic Calendar - click for masterlist.

Follow my writing blog @ladameecrit and turn on notifications to keep up to date with my fics!

Pairing: Professor!Ben (Mr Ben AU) x OFC!Lydia 

Word count: 908

Rating: Mature; 18+ MDNI

Warnings: Allusions to smut; mild swearing; established relationship; references to Christmas but secular.

A/N: A little imagine from the Visiting universe - this isn’t a flash forward, because Visiting is as-yet unfinished and still seeking a resolution, but I wanted to write for these two in a Christmas setting again. (And I couldn't resist that gif from The Bishop's Wife!)

MDNI banner by @cafekitsune

You draw the living room curtains and step back to survey your handiwork. Your first Christmas tree together, and you’d wanted it to be just right. 

Ben stands in the middle of the doors that divide the living room from the dining room and kitchen, oohing and aahing at the tall tree shining with hundreds of tiny lights that reflect off the many baubles you’ve hung from its branches.

“Hit the lights, baby,” you ask, “you can’t really see if the lights look right unless you have darkness.”

He does as he’s bid, and the living room is illuminated only by the cosy glow of the stove in the fireplace and the warm white of the Christmas tree. You screw up your eyes to assess the overall effect, using a trick your grandfather had taught you years before. 

“You think it’s okay, Ben?” You turn to face him, smiling at the way the gentle light of the tree picks out his handsome features and the twinkle in his eyes as he takes it in. 

“It’s…perfect. You are so talented, Lyddie.”

You beam at his praise. “It’s just a case of working out where everything needs to go. And we can add to the baubles over time - I know most of these are from my original collection, but soon there’ll be ones that are ours, with our memories attached to them.”

There’s no response. You turn back to see if he’s still there, and notice that he’s fiddling with the stereo system in the dining room, carefully placing a record on the turntable and setting the stylus to the right track.

The intro begins, and Ben spins to face you with a mischievous look on his face. He starts to dance in your direction as the familiar opening of the song plays from the speakers.

“Baby, what is going on?”

He wraps an arm around your waist and takes your hand, pulling you to him and leading you into the rhythm of the song. As the vocal begins, Ben joins in, mimicking Bruce Springsteen’s New Jersey rasp:

“Merry Christmas, baby

You sure did treat me nice

Merry Christmas, baby

You sure did treat me niiiiice

I feel just like I’m liviiin’

Livin’ in para- shit, Lyd, I can’t sustain that, sorry.”

You throw your head back and laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck and swaying your hips in time to the music. “Just dance with me, darling man.”

Ben’s coffee-brown eyes shine, cheeks flushing a little. He brings his hands to your hips and moves with you, his body flush against yours. He can’t help join in again, in his usual voice, for the bridge:

“Santa came down the chimney

Half past three

With lots of nice little presents for

Lyddie and me”

You both giggle as he reaches again for your hands, twirling you around and under his arm before bringing you back into hold. He looks so beautiful in the soft light from the tree and the fire: like pure comfort and love distilled in human form. You can’t help but nuzzle in to his chest as the song enters the final bridge and chorus.

“How’d you get to be so good at dancing, Ben?”

He kisses your hair and you can hear him smile. “My parents. They always used to dance together in the house during the holidays, they’d go dancing at weekends sometimes - it was their thing.” You feel him pull you a little closer. “My dad had moves. And when I was a little kid, I asked him to teach me.”

You chuckle, humming happily against his broad chest, clad in a soft, dark blue plaid flannel shirt. “So you’ve been working on your moves since you were a little kid?”

He laughs in agreement. “Kinda. I think I just looked at them and thought I’d like to have that, someday. Someone to dance with you, no matter if it’s just at home.” He pulls away slightly and looks at you. “I dunno, it just seemed so…loving.”

As the E Street Band plays the final bars of the song, you lean in and caress Ben’s handsome face before kissing him. “It was loving. It is loving.” You can’t help but run your hands over his back and down to the waistband of his jeans, hooking your fingers against the denim so you can bring him tight to your body and walk him over to the couch.

His lips find yours again as you lie back on the sofa, Ben’s warm body between your legs and your fingers working to unbutton his shirt as he slips his hands under your oversized denim shirt and reaches for your breasts, pulling a whine of pleasure from you. You move one of his big hands to the waistband of your leggings, encouraging him to tug them down as you fumble to unbuckle his belt and unzip his jeans.

He pauses for a moment to take you in: the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, without question. If he said this now you’d roll your eyes and brush it off, pointing to your bare face and wrinkles and wobbles and greys and the slightly schlubby clothes you’re wearing for putting up the tree - but here, now, about to make love and with the lights from the Christmas tree sparkling in your eyes so full of love and affection, he thinks you might just be at your most beautiful.

[givemethatgold]

Fix’er Upper -Pt 14

Paring: Frankie Morales x Fem!Reader Warnings: just a bunch of fluffy family fluff, some dude being a nosy creep, overbearing mothers Length: 1.1 k Notes: This one is slow, babes. Just needed to build a bit of this new world, introduce Annie a bit and show you how things are progressing. It’ll pick up again soon I promise, bear with me! (Or don’t, I mean I can’t force you to like where this is going, lolz) Also, just typed this up tonight while raging at the laziness of men, so there are going to be mistakes, I can’t be fucked to find them. Trying to post this with NO links, as I’ve heard that may be the reason for the tagging issues? LET ME KNOW IF YOU GET THE NOTIFICATION THIS TIME!

Turns out, two people with zero child-caring experience are not going to have an easy time suddenly becoming parents. There wasn't any one particular thing that you could pinpoint the difficulty one, either, it was just a complete one-eighty on how you had previously lived your lives.

Frankie immediately stopped working such late hours, effectively putting a bookmark in the cider's expansion. He didn't even have to think twice about it, it was a no-brainer to him. Didn't make the loss of potential income an easy pill to swallow, though. Date nights were officially off the schedule, so were sleepovers and all the fun things that accompanied them. There had been a few heated moments between the two of you, but Frankie felt weird about having sex anywhere near his daughter and you refused to let him fuck you in the barn. Again. Especially after the last two times resulted in unfortunate splinter placement. 

Annie took less time to adjust than the two of you did, she really was an amazing little girl. She loved her little nook in the loft, although the décor was not to her taste and she wouldn't stop dropping hints about it until you took her to pick out new everything. Frankie had tried to put his foot down by explaining she wasn't going to get everything she wanted in life, but all it took were widening eyes and a protruding bottom lip before he was handing you the truck keys before you could blink.

Annie's attachment to you had surprised everybody, including her. The conversations you and Frankie had had before her arrival usually skirted around the conversation of what your role would be. You knew she was mourning her mother and were wary of trying to replace her, so you had fully expected to take a step back from Frankie's life while he and Annie built their new one together. You had her at apple farm, however, and now the two of you were best buds.

Well, until the six-going-on-sixteen attitude reared its ugly head and suddenly sweet, angelic Annie was replaced by a stubborn, moody, unwilling child who decided that screaming was the best response to negotiations.

For the first couple of months, Frankie had allowed it, not knowing what was normal acting-out behaviour for a kid who had experienced parental loss. He also had a hard time being strict, as he still felt like it wasn't his place; some weird kind of imposter syndrome. However, after Jacquie and Mark had been witness to one such episode, they had gently pulled Frankie aside and encouraged him to find a therapist for Annie and that structure and rules would be beneficial for her.

New routines were set, some of which you were involved in and others were special between Frankie and his daughter. Saturday was movie night, she was asleep by 7:30 so it was more of a movie evening, with popcorn, Twizzlers, and coke floats. You were invited to these, as Annie insisted on educating both adults on which Disney princess was best.

Frankie drove Annie to school every day, he knew he could easily send her on the bus but he needed that extra assurance that she had gotten to school safely. There had been an odd incident, which no other adults seem to have witnessed, where a man had apparently approached Annie and started asking her questions about her parents. 

This had, understandably, upset the girl, and the two of you, but the busy body's identity was never revealed. Frankie had been irate. Initially, he interrogated Annie, asking her for every little detail. Then the bus driver, parking lot attendant, teachers, and other kids were subject to his questioning. He went so far as to request all security video footage from around town, but nothing showed up. Neither of you suspected Annie of lying but it was like the man was a ghost. 

Eventually, it was chalked up to a parent wanting to get the scoop on your and Frankie's lives, as you'd been very private considering your first action as a couple was to practically dry hump on a carnival ride. After that incident causing Frankie's panic attack, and now creeping out a kid, you were a lot less inclined to appreciate the meddling from bored townsfolk even if it did bring the two of you together.

Frankie was always thinking up new ideas to build trust and create new memories for Annie, his guilt at missing out on her toddler years was exasperated by having her now. They created a memory book for her, so she could write down, colour, or paste anything that reminded her of her mom or her life in California. You were secretly building a memory book for the two of them, to show Annie when she was older how hard her dad had worked to become the man she needed him to be.

Twice a week Annie got to pick the recipe and they made dinner together. This usually resulted in a massive mess and only semi-edible food, but the smiles on their faces were worth it.

On Wednesdays, you picked her up and had a girl's afternoon getting something from the bakery and perusing books at the library, making up stories about the people walking by the café windows, or driving over to Jacquie's so Annie could play with her kids.

It was after one such outing when you were dropping Annie off at the farm, that Frankie came out to greet you with a guilty look on his face.

"I'm sorry," he began, rubbing the back of his neck and readjusting his baseball cap. "I didn't look at the caller display before picking up, and then once I was on the phone I got nervous."

"Frankie," you said lowly, dread filling your stomach. "What did you do?"

"I couldn't help it, I panic talked and I don't even know how much I blurted out! She's like Oprah or Barbara Walters! She just knows how to get people talking!"

"I know, Frankie," you ground out, trying not to lose your shit in front of a very interested little girl who has no filter during Sharing Time at school. "That's why we don't answer her calls!"

"But, babe, she's your mom. We can't keep ignoring her-"

"Apparently not!" You didn't realize how frustrated you were before it was too late. Your voice had gone shrill and loud and, judging by the look at Annie's face, angry. Taking a deep, calming breath in you tried smiling at the two of them without it making you look demented, "I need to call her and do some damage control, make sure she doesn't do something rash like-"

"Ahhh..." Frankie was back to looking guilty and you could have sworn your heart stopped. "She knows about Annie. Called herself Grandma. Said that Mother's Day would be extra special this year..?"

"FUuuuuuudge.." you barely managed to withhold the swear, looking at Frankie with a slightly panicked yet amused look on your face.

"It's okay," a little voice piped up, "I know that word. Mom said ‘Fuck’ all the time while we were stuck in traffic."

Part Fifteen - coming soon!

TAGS: Let’s see if these bitches work...

@rebelliouscat @pedro4ever @speakerforthedead0 @yespolkadotkitty @ilikechocolatemilkh @weirdowithnobeardo @pedro-pastel @disgruntledspacedad @a-skov @trash-dino-5000 @reader-s-cantina @alberta-sunrise @pascal-rascal424 @bts17army @sarahjkl82-blog @grogusmum @radiowallet @vonschweetz @greeneyedblondie44 @diaryofkali @cassandras-nest @silverstarsandsuns @haapeaness @missstef23 @computeringturtle @julesorwhatever @keeper0fthestars @lackofhonor @metahigh @thirstworldproblemss @sergeantbannerbarnes @callsigncatfish @inaturenymph @agingerindenial @pedritobalmando @lord-of-restingbiface @marydjarin @sebbys-girl @apascalrascal @thisshipwillsail316 @bison-writes @absurdthirst @ubri812 @marydjarin @inaturenymph @hyperfixatingmenever @louderrthanthunderr @petersunderoos96 @dobbyjen @tobealostwanderer @studyofawearymind @jaime1110 @bison-writes @rosiefridayrogersunday @leias-rebelion  @captainjaspenor @prettypedros @gracie7209 @peterhollandkait

[just-here-for-the-moment]

Friday Fic Recs - March 18, 2022 (Writer Wednesday edition)

It has been a MINUTE, y’all! I’m back! This week’s recs are all taken from this week’s @writer-wednesday fics. The gorgeous photos are visual prompts, so graciously run and gifted to us by Autumn @autumnleaves1991-blog and Thia @clydesducktape. (I have been meaning to participate in this forever, and I swear to Pedro himself that next week I will finally get my shit together and write something.)

Here are three different fics from different levels of mild/medium/spicy that I adored! My blog and most of the ones I follow are 18+ only. Please heed all author warnings.

🌶 Fluffy - “Tired” by @toomanystoriessolittletime - A lovely date with Javi G. has him drowsy by the end, and when he walks you home you invite him inside to wait out the rain. *sigh* I loved this! 🥰

🌶🌶 Flirty - Side drabble of WIP with the working title of "Amaryllis" by @gracie7209 - Frankie Morales has to see you, and when you answer the door he chickens out. Loved the slight angst and the soft ending. I rated this medium-spicy for references to sex. And GRACIE!!! If you want a beta-reader for "Amaryllis" you know where I live, woman! 😀

🌶🌶🌶 Filthy - “Thinking of You” by @underwood0723 - You’re a working girl at The Queen’s Jewels, and a lazy morning has you thinking about some of your favorite clients: Dave, Whiskey, Marcus. And a girl can’t help but find some manual relief, right? 😉 Hot stuff!

—- <Previous entry | Next entry> JHFTM Friday Fic Recs Masterlist JHFTM Main Fic Recs Masterlist

[mandoalorian]

Yes I love Din having a knife play kink like just imagine role playing that you’re his bounty and once your caught you try and convince him to let you go and he just ends up using his knife to cut off your clothes and use you right then and there

Vibroblade [Din Djarin x Reader] SMUT

Authors note: Just a drabble for you. Was only gonna be a few paragraphs but I got carried away.

Warnings: SMUT, unprotected p in v, roleplay, knife kink, glove kink, thigh riding, Din is kind of a switch although that wasn't even planned.

Rating: 18+

Masterlist

You and Din had discussed this beforehand. He was a little skeptical at first, but you were able to sell the idea to him. "I've never tried- uh," Din clears his throat. "I've never tried anything like that before." he admits sheepishly, thankful you couldn't see the blush that had crept it's way upon his cheeks.

"Roleplay?" you ask him with a smirk which contrasted with your innocent eyes that were glazed with lust. You clambered onto his lap, straddling him and letting your hands roam his beskar chestplate.

A modulate hum erupted from under Din's helmet as he felt himself already getting hard just from the way you'd wrapped your legs around his waist. You removed his armour from his torso and his legs, dropping it to the ground with a clunk and readjusting your position on his lap, making a conscious decision to rub your dripping pussy over his thigh.

"Oh cyare," Din whispers, wrapping his arms around you and letting his fingers dip under the hem of your tunic. He flexes his thigh underneath you a few times, earning a few whimpers to fall from your mouth. You sound like the sweetest melody he's ever heard. He goes to peel off his leather gloves but you stop him.

"Keep them on," you request and he nods hesitantly. You groan as his large hands squeeze the soft skin of your thighs. He pulls up your tunic and moves your panties to one side, letting his fingers glide teasingly between your soaking wet folds. "Din?"

"Yeah baby?" he grunts, admiring the way your arousal gleams on his leather clad fingers under the dim light of the Razor Crest. He had to resist from taking off his helmet right then and there to suck his gloves clean. He was desperate to taste you.

"I want you to use me," you reveal with a moan as you dig your fingernails into his back. He had flexed his thigh again, almost pushing you over the edge. "Let's pretend I'm your bounty and I'm misbehaving... what- what do you do?"

Din thinks for a moment and you don't stop riding his thigh, clutching onto his broad shoulders for life as you take what you need. Din brings his hand to his holster where he keeps his vibroblade. You bite your lip when you notice his fingers tracing the leather seal. It wasn't just an ordinary knife, it was a deadly Mandalorian weapon. One flick of a switch whilst the blade was was pressed to your skin, you'd be fried.

"Your knife?" you bite your lip nervously. Din almost drops his hand back down to your waist, pretending like he hadn't reached for his knife in the first place. "No baby," you coo, bringing his hand back to his holster. "You'd take out your knife huh? And then what would you do?"

Almost like you were instructing him, Din took the vibroblade out of the leather seal and dragged the cool metal over any bare skin you were already doting. Your eyes snapped shut as pleasure writhed through your body. There was something so intoxicating about the esteemed Mandalorian bounty hunter drag the ancient deadly weapon over your body. You heard a snip and you gasped as he cut the tunic from your body. The thin, satin material fell off you and revealed your bare breasts to him. Din had to purse his lips into a fine line in order not to come out with an inhumane sound. He felt his precum already dripping down his throbbing cock just from the sight of you, still sitting on his lap.

He pressed the knife against your nipples and you toss your head back as pleasure shoots through your core. He admires your posture and the way you're sitting on top of him, letting him take control. You were his bounty, afterall. With a free hand, he drags it over your breast, squeezing it a few times and letting his thumb graze over the bud of your hard nipple.

"I need you." you murmer into his chest, shuffling around and rubbing yourself over his achingly hard cock. Carelessly, he drops the vibroblade and is filled with desperate need to fill you right here, right now. His hands find your waist and he gently lifts you off his lap, shuffling out of his pants and letting his cock bounce free.

You waste no time, sliding down onto his cock and letting your juices drip down his length. Obscene lewd noises fill the hull of the Crest as you ride your boyfriend. His hand finds the column of your neck and he gives you a few experimental squeezes as you take him. You moan longingly and he watches the way your breasts bounce up and down as you ride him. He just wishes he could attach his lips to your pretty tits and show you how much he appreciates them.

Din feels his balls clench as he nears his high. "I'm gonna cum baby," he reveals with a grunt.

"Me too," you gasp as you feel your cunt tighten.

The feeling of your walls clench around his cock is enough to send Din over the edge. He spills his seed inside of you and you moan wantonly as his cum ropes your walls and the warmth fills you. You stay seated on his lap for a few moments after until his cock softens and eventually slips out of you. He can feel you leaking out onto his thigh and he swears that might be enough to get him hard again.

"That was fun," Din said and you give him a sweet smile of gratitude. "We should do that again."

Taglists — let me know if you wish to be added!

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[mellowswriting]

Hi! I have a request if that’s okay. Head canon open for all the Pedro characters (I can’t choose just one) of them with their significant other snowed in. Powers out, can’t leave the house, so how are they hunkering down with a y/n? Who wants to run outside and make snowmen, who wants to just make a fire and relax, ect. Thanks! ✨

Snowed In HCs

Din Djarin: It isn’t the first time Mando has been stuck thanks to snow. Before he had you to worry about, he would’ve risked it and tried to trek through the torrential flurries, but it isn’t worth the potential harm. So he’s building up a fire to keep you nice and toasty and to dry out any soaked clothes. He strips down to his still-dry underlayers and is all too happy to drag you into his lap and help warm you up, too. 

He’s glad to relax next to the warmth of the fire and just… take a moment with you. Life is all go-go-go, so being able to just enjoy your presence without distraction or worry is a gift he’s going to cherish. Plus he can stretch out and catch up on some much needed sleep with you.

Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales: Oh, Frankie’s doing both. He’s the type that pulls all the snow gear down from storage the second he sees the upcoming snowstorm, cuts plenty of firewood for the fireplace, and pulls out all the candles and blankets you could possibly need. Beyond prepared and beyond excited. 

When the two of you wake up late, the entire world muffled in the blanket of snow, he’s grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. 

Frankie gets you both bundled up and all but drags you out into the snow. His nose and cheeks get all red from the cold and he’s got this huge smile on his face as he starts building a giant snowman. 

He’s told you before how much he loves snow, how it was one of the things he missed the most when he was deployed, but the first time you see him in action is breathtaking. 

Those cold hands get tucked under your shirt and his cold nose gets buried in your neck the second you get back inside, no matter how much you squeal at him.

Javier Peña: Javi is not going into that snow if he doesn’t have to - he’s far too used to warm weather. So when the lights flicker and go out definitively, he’s all grumbles and curses because fuck that noise. 

But then he sees you lighting candles and fiddling with the fireplace until heat bursts through the room, and he’s struck with just how romantic he can make this situation. The soft glow of the firelight against your skin is enough to have him looking at you with hooded eyes. 

Javi breaks out the whiskey, grabs some ice before it all melts and gathers all of the blankets he can find to lay in a pile in front of the fireplace to pull you down with him. Even if there’s no sex, just the warmth of your skin and the intimacy of holding you so close is a great way to pass the time. 

He acts like this isn’t the most romantic thing he’s ever done in his life, like the flush licking its way up to his hairline is because of the fire and not because he fucking loves doing this kind of shit for you.

Agent Whiskey: Jack has the same energy as a golden retriever puppy, so he’s 100% going out into the snow with you - but not to build a snowman. No, he’s lobbing a snowball directly at you like a goddamn professional baseball player. You swear you’ve never seen him run so fast, even on missions. 

He isn’t afraid to play dirty, either. Jack will tackle you right into the snow and refuse to let you up until you give him a big ole kiss.

He’s quick to get you warmed up afterwards, though. Can’t have you getting frostbite or getting sick. Once he’s got a fire blazing, he pulls your clothes off with greedy hands and gives you that signature smirk. 

“We’ll get warm faster if we’re both naked, darlin’.” “Yeah, I’m sure that’s the only reason your hands are between my thighs.”

Marcus Pike: Marcus jumps at the chance to turn an unfortunate snowed-in situation into a romantic getaway. With no way to leave for work and no one around to bother either of you, it's the perfect excuse to spend some much needed alone time together. 

Sex and snuggles and naps and long talks about whatever the hell either of you have on your mind, all while curled up under blankets? It’s his happy place. The fact that there’s no real responsibilities to worry after, no reason to think of anything except for the way you feel against him makes him realize just how much stress he’s under, how much he misses being with you. 

The mini vacation of the snowstorm is what motivates him to plan a real vacation for sometime in the near future, somewhere he can watch you lounge in a lavish hotel room with a lazy smile on your face.

Max Phillips: Instead grimace. Max is buried under a thousand blankets by the time that first snowflake falls. He hates everything to do with it, but maybe if you ask nicely enough, he’ll let you into his blanket burrito.

{Taglist}

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[elvenmother]

Elvenmother Masterlist

Hi and welcome.

I'm Elven Mother, or Elf Mum or SJ if you prefer. I'm a 40+ year old bisexual writer from the UK who still mooches around Tumblr for fandom reasons. While I do still write fanfiction I update very slowly as my job (which also involves writing) takes up most of my time. On here I mostly post about Star Wars, D&D, Fallout, Baldur's Gate 3, and various Pedro Pascal characters I have become unreasonably attached to. Below is my masterpost of stuff I have posted here, as well as links to AO3 for whose who prefer.

Blank blogs and ones with no age in bio with be blocked. This is an adult blog and anyone under 18 will be blocked.

It should go without saying but *sigh*: I do not give permission for any of my works to be redistributed, plagiarised, posted anywhere elsewhere or fed into AI software (Chat bots etc). For translations or pod-fic please seek my permission first. 

Inbox: Open Requests: Closed

Read all my works on AO3

Playlists for various characters

Marcus Moreno / We Can Be Heroes

Context and Perspective - Marcus Moreno/F!Reader

The newest member of the Heroics has gone missing and as one of the better-known Villains on the scene, you are blamed. Then your sidekick goes missing. You must go after the Heroic’s leader to try to get them back and clear your name

Warnings: Swearing, mentions of injuries, mentions of blood

Context and Perspective Masterpost | Context and Perspective on AO3

Marcus Pike / The Mentalist

The Art of Crossed Wires  - Marcus Pike/F!Reader

Your co-worker has been pranking you all day by jumping out at you to make you jump. At the end of your tether, you decide to take extreme action to make them stop. When someone surprises you later that day, you turn and slap them. Only it’s not your co-worker. It’s your boss, Special Agent Marcus Pike. 

Warnings: Swearing, mild violence (a slap)

The Art of Crossed Wires Masterpost | The Art of Crossed Wires on AO3

Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels / Kingsman: The Golden Circle

Fragments Series - on going.

Part 1: Shattered  - Agent Whiskey/F!Reader

Jack returns from a mission gone wrong and you discover that Statesman Distillery is really a front for something more 

Warnings: Angst, Major character injury, Injury recovery, Hurt/Comfort

Shattered Masterpost | Shattered on AO3.

Din Djarin / The Mandalorian / Star Wars

De Tempore - Completed (Currently being reworked)

With few credits and even fewer options Mandalorian Hunter Din Djarin takes a job guarding a team of archaeologists. What should be a straight forward job takes a strange and dangerous twist when the team awake a powerful ancient force user. (Set between episodes 6 and 7 of season 1.)

Warnings:  Canon-Typical Violence, Original Character(s), Episode typical events, AU: Canon Divergence, Links to SWTOR

De Tempore Masterpost | De Tempore on AO3.

Fascination - 555 words - Like any toddler, Grogu becomes fixated on something. In this case, his toes.

Warnings: None. This is just fluffy goodness. Fascination on AO3

Fixation - 459 words - Everything goes straight into Grogu's mouth.

Warnings: None. More fluffy toddler goodness. Fixation on AO3

Bath Time - 635 words - Grogu gets covered in chocolate and needs a bath.

Warnings: Tooth rotting fluff Bath Time on AO3

Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales / Triple Frontier

The Beginning - Frankie ‘Catfish’ Morales/Benny Miller

Something has begun between Frankie and Benny.

Warnings: Blow jobs, Hand Jobs, Semi public sex, m/m

The Beginning on AO3

Header and dividers by @saradika-graphics​

Here’s my tag list form too!

[kingofkingdom-archive]

Recovery [Ezra (Prospect) x Fem!Reader]

A/N: Hello all! This is my first Pedro Pascal work and the first to be posted here to this blog. If anyone has any requests, don’t hesitate to send them my way! As always, please read the tags/warnings, you are responsible for the media you choose to consume. Also posted to AO3 under the same username (kingofkingdom). I did not use “y/n” or anything similar in this story.

Rating: Explicit

Summary: You were taken from your younger sister, Cee, ten years ago. When you answered a distress call from the Green, you didn’t expect to be reunited with her, and you certainly didn’t expect to meet a man like Ezra. 

Warnings: mention of past violence/death, discussion of medical procedure, discussion of disability (amputation/loss of limb), family dynamics, abstract discussion of philosophy, small SW universe cameo :)

Tags: considerable amounts of fluff, size kink, daddy kink, hint of dd/lg, copious use of various pet names, p-in-v sex, some breast play/worship, some dom!ezra & sub!reader

Word count: 9552

You hadn't seen Cee since your mother died. 

Her father had taken her and left you in the care of your aunt, a woman you didn't know, a woman who jumped at the chance to send you off to boarding school on the Ephrate the moment you were old enough. Most of your memories consisted of your host family there, with a younger "sister" who reminded you all too much of the one you had lost. In your mind, Cee was still a toddler, all wispy blonde hair and big blue eyes.

Cee's father had never liked you. You were the evidence of his wife's life before him, and you looked too much like your own deceased father for him to have any affection toward you. It didn't surprise you that he left you behind after your mother died, but at ten that didn't make it hurt any less. 

Since then, ten years had passed. Now, your aunt was gone, and your studies on the Ephrate completed. You'd taken to a rather nomadic lifestyle, catching rides from planet to station to planet and picking up odd jobs here and there. It wasn't much, but you'd become a strong woman in your time on your own, and thoughts of your half-sister plagued you only some nights now.

Jobs you took ranged from helping the lone-wolf prospector on an excavation to ship repairs at major stations across the system. In one of your darker moments, you'd even carried out a hit against some low-level merc who'd pissed off the wrong people. Those people paid well, enough to fill your stomach for a few days and cover a ride far away from that moon. The right circles knew you could hold your own, and that's what mattered.

This particular station was on the outskirts of the system, a rough-and-tumble place frequented only by prospectors and the people that paid them. You'd taken a shift at the bar here a few weeks ago, and knew the locals pretty well. In a spot like this, people could often get more information at your humble establishment than they could from the officials. You were lying low, and you itched to get moving again, like the nomad you were.

Hence why you kept the radio channels on all the time during your shifts, quiet and unobtrusive where you stood at the bar.

You were thankful, looking back, that it had been a quiet afternoon, and that you'd been so vigilant in keeping track of job openings.

"This is Kilo-Romeo 12, calling from Green sector 608. In need of assistance pronto, rapid extraction A.S.A.P."

The voice is faint, but frantic - a masculine growl laced with an edge of panic. Your radio isn't the best, and you don't recognize the prospector's callsign, but you know he must be in deep shit. A call like this from the Green is a death sentence if someone doesn't act quickly.

As with most of your decisions, you act entirely on impulse. As you hit the button to close up the bar's doors, the radio is already in your hands.

"This is Juno B-390, responding to Kilo-Romeo 12. Do you copy?"

You're down the hall by now, rushing to your quarters to collect your meager belongings. Everything fits in a single pack, and you're just pulling your helmet onto your head when the radio crackles to life again.

"I copy, Juno B-390," the relief is evident in his voice, even through the static. "We need extraction and medical care."

Well, that wasn't in the initial signal. "We? How many are with you? And what kind of medical care are we talkin' here?"

"Just me and one other. Deep trauma to the abdomen, I'm afraid."

You swear under your breath. Nothing you can't handle, but this guy's timer's really running out. You grab the necessary supplies and dash to your small pod racer, which is just big enough with its three seats.

"Hang on, Kilo-Romeo. I'll be there as soon as I'm able. You'll need to direct me to your exact location, is that clear?"

There's a moment of silence before his voice echoes through your racer one last time.

"Clear."

-

You descend upon the Green as fast as the forces of physics and gravity allow you to. Sector 608, as it says on your map, is a stretch of deep woods and rolling terrain, nearly unexplored save for the last rush. You slow up as you approach, and call out to the prospector over the radio once again.

"Kilo-Romeo 12, this is Juno B-390. I am approaching your location. Do you copy?"

It's quiet. Much too quiet. You slow the racer even more, as your heart begins to race. Just as you begin to worry that you're too late, the radio awakens.

It's not the man, however, whose voice you hear.

"This is Ez-- I mean, this is Kilo-Romeo's... uh... companion. He's gotten worse."

It's a girl. A young teen, from the sound of it. Your heart clenches, thinking of how scared she must be out there.

"Okay, hey there. It's gonna be okay. Can you tell me what landmarks you see? Help me find you."

"Um, yeah. We're in a clearing, there's another ship right nearby. It's not operational, which is wh-- uh, yeah. Clearing, big ship. Also sort of a gulley nearby."

You're about to respond when she speaks again.

"Please, hurry."

"I will, kid. Just keep him alive."

It takes you longer than you would've liked to find this clearing, but once you do you see a scene that brings more questions than answers. Dead bodies litter the field and a half-blown excavation site sits in ruins. Discretion's always been a virtue of yours, though, so you file the information away in your brain and swiftly land your craft. As soon as you exit, you hear the girl's voice not too far away.

"Here! We're over here!"

You grab the field kit and run over to where she stands over a slumped figure. The man you'd spoken to is now unconscious, and not only does he have a nasty looking wound in his chest, he's missing an arm. You look up at the girl. Her brows are furrowed, eyes like steel. You like her already.

"Go to the racer and grab the stretcher that's behind the passenger seat. We'll have to move him onto that and carry him over."

She nods and runs off. Immediately, you turn to the man and take stock of his injuries. The arm has been gone for at least a little while, so that's not of immediate concern. You set to treating the chest wound, making sure to purge it and his suit of dust. Nasty stuff, that which floats around this planet. His filter is as good as gone, so you quickly connect your own.

You drain the wound with the juice the locals here produce, which is generally in stock in the station's field kits. It smells rank, but it works, and the man below you groans. Good, he's still vocal, at least. It doesn't sound like a lung's been punctured. You set up a highly temporary pocket over his wound and torn suit through which you can patch the injury. You take some foaming antiseptic and apply it to the wound before adhering a sticky bio-bandage over the top of it. 

It'll do for now. He'll need further treatment at the station, but this should keep him alive, at least. 

The girl returns with the stretcher then, and places it next to the man. You glance up at her, and see momentarily a young version of yourself. Eager to help. Eager to make things right. 

You shake your head, collecting your thoughts. "Okay, so I'm going to tilt his body towards me, and you slide the stretcher as far as you can under him. Then we'll let him down on top of it and secure him for travel. Can you do that?"

She nods, and you give her a small smile. You hook one arm around the man's waist, the other supporting his neck and shoulder. 

"On three, okay? One... two... three!"

Quickly, you roll him up onto his remaining arm as she slides the stretcher under him. As gently as possible, you let him back down, and just like that he's mostly on the stretcher. You set to arranging him properly and tying straps down. 

The girl fidgets, and you look up to her.

"Do you know how to stow the back seat in a racer like that?" you ask, and she nods.

"Good, go do it."

She runs off, and is back by the time you've gotten the man secured to the stretcher.

"You take the handles at his feet and I'll take his head. We have to be careful not to tilt him too much, to keep the weight on the stretcher even. Did he suffer any head trauma?"

The girl shakes her head. "No, I don't think so."

You probably should have asked that before moving him onto the stretcher, but then again no one's ever known you for your excellence in trauma care. Your knowledge of first aid comes only from what you've picked up in the field, so sometimes the order of operations gets a bit jumbled. 

Whatever. He'll be okay. You can't let yourself think otherwise.

The girl stoops to grab hold of the handles at his feet. You do the same at his head, and again you count backwards from three.

"Up!"

Together you stand, and twin groans echo from both of you. The girl huffs, clearly struggling a bit under the weight.

"Okay, let's go. Slowly, remember."

You walk backwards, feet taking cautious steps so as to keep the same pace as the young girl. Her face is screwed up in focus and concentration, hands in a vice grip on the handles. 

"You're doing good, kid. Just a bit further."

Before you know it, you've reached the ship. Carefully, you set the stretcher in the racer, and then the two of you slide it in. There's just barely enough room for it. You quickly secure it, and then close the hatch.

The girl is looking at you, eyes wide and chest heaving. You reach out a gloved hand and set it on her shoulder, giving a firm squeeze. 

"He'll be okay. I promise. Now go get in the passenger seat and I'll get us back up to the station."

She nods, and seems to relax a bit at that. You can't help but wonder what she's been through, out here in this rough, unforgiving environment. "Thank you."

You smile, and sincerely hope that this young girl finds a way to leave this life of prospecting behind. You don't know how she got here, but it's no place for someone so young. You know that all too well.

"Let's go, kid."

-

The trip was pretty quiet save for a single groan from the man in back. The girl glanced back to him when she heard that, and then looked at you, concerned.

"It's okay. He'll be in and out of consciousness until we get to the station. I'll pull up to the emergency med-bay so the doctors can start treating him properly right away."

You look over to her, and she nods.

"Does he have anyone they can contact? Any family?" you ask. "The doctors will need to know."

She shakes her head. "I'm not sure. I don't think so."

You sigh. "Okay. Well, we'll deal with that when we get there."

It's not long after that you arrive at the med-bay. It's a whirlwind of nurses and questions and forms, most of which you have to leave blank, since you don't know the guy and the girl seems not to know much more. She does, however, give you a name.

"His name's Ezra," she offers, when she sees you pause at the line on the top of the screen.

You look over at her. "Ezra? Spelled E-Z-R-A?"

She nods. "Never told me a last name though."

"That's alright. A first name's enough."

She sits next to you and helps where she can as you fill out the form. Once you're done, you go up to hand the tablet back to the receptionist. You then sit back down next to her, crossing your arms over your flight suit. The girl's fiddling with her fingers, bag tucked between her feet.

"Do you think we'll be able to see him when they're done?" she asks, clearly trying not to sound as worried as she is.

You shrug. "Probably. It might be a while, though. Do you want something to eat while we wait?"

She nods, and when you look over at her, she's smiling. 

As it turns out, it does take a pretty long time for them to complete the operation. It feels like hours that you two are sitting there. You watch the people come and go from the waiting room while the girl writes in some notebook, headphones secure over her ears, absently eating a chocolate bar.

She can't be more than 13 or 14. You think back to when you were that age - in the middle of your time at the Ephrate, moody and angsty like all young teens. It makes you think of Cee. She'd be about that age by now. You look over to the girl sitting next to you, wondering what ever became of your sister. Maybe she's at the Ephrate by now, or perhaps her father has taken her to some peaceful planet with beaches and a nice home, a few pets running around. 

Hopefully a better life than the one you've led. Somewhere far from thrower blasts and gemstones.

This girl seems nice enough, and you're sure she's seen her fair share of shit. It's clear this guy's not only not her father, but that they haven't known each other long at all. You can't help but wonder how they ended up traveling together. 

Images of the clearing littered with bodies flashes in your mind. Something went down there, and it clearly got ugly fast. It's amazing that the girl emerged relatively unscathed. You've seen a fair share of shootouts and fights, and never did you escape completely uninjured. It takes cleverness and a strong sense of self-preservation, the latter of which you don't often have.

You're ruminating on the mystery sitting next to you when the doors to the operating rooms swing open. A nurse steps out and looks at both of you. You stand, and she follows suit.

"He's awake, and asking for you," the nurse says. You nudge the girl slightly with your elbow.

"Go on, go see hi--"

The nurse cuts in. "He's asking for both of you."

Oh. You're surprised. He doesn't even know you, so there's no reason he should be asking to see you. Despite your confusion, you follow behind the girl as she follows the nurse to his room.

The hallways are sterile and white, cleaner than anything you've seen in months. The doorway is the last on the right, and inside is a single bed, with a small window looking out to the stars.

The young girl enters first as the nurse stands to the side, and you hover in the doorway to watch, still not quite feeling entirely welcome. You can just see the man's - Ezra's - hair behind the girl, with an unusual shock of blonde in otherwise dark brown curls.

"I was wondering where you went, birdie. One minute I was on the ground and next thing I know I'm sitting here like a babe in a bassinet, right as rain," he says, voice melodic with an accent you can't quite place.

"Do you feel better, Ezra?" the girl asks, voice wavering just slightly.

"I do. Are you faring alright yourself?"

She nods, and crosses her arms. Silence fills the room for a moment, then Ezra speaks again.

"Who was so kind as to bring us here, birdie?" he asks. The girl turns to you and steps aside so Ezra can see you.

"She did," she replies, a soft look on her face.

You step forward and look at Ezra properly for the first time. You hadn't really paid much attention to his facial features back on the Green, so concerned as you were with getting him out of there.

His dark brown eyes are kind, and his lips tease at a smile. He's got stubble growing on his chin and a mustache on his lip. There's a thin white line in the shape of a crescent underneath his left eye, the silvery remnant of a deep cut sustained long ago. He's older than you, maybe 40 or so. For some reason, you feel butterflies erupt in your stomach, but you're quick to snuff those out best you can. Mirroring the girl, you cross your arms, and flip your braid over your shoulder.

"Yeah, that would be me," you say, as nonchalantly as you can manage.

"I recognize that voice from the radio," he notes, looking at you intently. "I can't hardly give you enough thanks for getting the two of us out of that... sticky situation. You really are somethin' else, sugar."

You shrug, unused to such praise, such immediate kindness. You feel your face heat up with a blush, and you clear your throat.

"Well, it sure sounded like you were in need of some help. I'm happy to see you're doing better."

Your voice is softer than you intend. Spending even three minutes with this guy seems to have thrown you off balance. You haven't met anyone that talks like him since you were in school, and it's like a breath of fresh air.

His face turns serious at your words. Ezra's gaze is as intense as it is gentle, burning into your own.

"Oh, much better," he assures you, giving you a look you can't quite decipher. A smile quickly returns to his features. "It's a shame they couldn't get my arm to grow back."

You laugh a little at that, happy to see that he's in good spirits. The nurse steps forward then, tablet in hand. The three of you turn to her.

"Ezra will likely be discharged tomorrow morning, given how much progress he's made just today. He will need somewhere to rest, however, for the next week or so. We can help to make boarding arrangeme--"

"No," you interrupt, surprising even yourself. "No, he can stay with me. I have quarters in the 4th wing." You turn to the girl. "You can stay with me too, if you'd like." You don't know what's come over yourself, but you find yourself drawn to this unlikely pair.

The girl nods once, just as Ezra speaks up. "You're too kind, sugar. Your hospitality and generosity are appreciated beyond measure. Do let us know if there's any way at all we can show our gratitude."

You shake your head immediately, waving a hand as if to wave away the notion.

"No need for that. Consider it a celebratory gift for parting with the Green."

Everyone laughs at that - even the nurse, who hides her grin behind her tablet.

-

The next morning, you and the girl - whose name you still don't know, and who still does not know yours - visit the med-bay first thing after breakfast. Your quarters are small, enough to fit two comfortably and three at most. The girl has decided to take the sofa, since Ezra will need to rest, and a bed is most ideal for that. It seems you both tend to rise early, so you gave her some oatmeal and a cup of coffee. She took both without hesitation, and it warmed your heart to see her eat after however long she and Ezra had been out there.

When you two arrive, Ezra is waiting in his room, dressed in clean loungewear with a bag on his lap. He is seated in a wheelchair. You and the girl greet him, happy to see that he is rested and ready to leave.

"I told the kind folks that I am more than able to walk unaided," he comments when you begin to push the chair from behind. "They insisted, however, and I am not one to ignore the advice and orders of my physicians."

You see the girl try to hide a smile. It seems as though he's grown on her, and she struggles to admit that to herself. Before you can think better of it, you give Ezra a pat on the right shoulder, a small attempt at reassurance.

"You'll be walking in no time, I'm sure," you reply.

You feel his left hand cover your own, and you nearly stumble as you push him along through the hallway. His palm is rough and callused, a signature trait of most prospectors. It's large, too, covering your own entirely. Its warmth soaks through the back of your hand and into your stomach.

"With kindness as bright as yours to guide me, that will certainly be the case."

You don't know what to say to that, so you give his shoulder a squeeze and retract your hand.

The 4th wing is not too far from the med-bay; the station itself is smaller than most, so the distance is blessedly short. Ezra does most of the talking while the three of you walk.

"It would suit me just perfectly to never see that god-forsaken moon again so long as I live," he comments just as you reach the door to your quarters. You scan your ID card and the panel slides open, revealing a small but comfortable dwelling. "Forget the gems, forget the money. Prospecting is surely the most foolish endeavor of them all."

"The lust for wealth is stronger than the fear of death," you reply, almost without thinking.

Ezra looks up at you, smiling, a curious look on his face. "Asmolea. Ruminations, chapter seven. Color me impressed, sugar."

You look back, equally surprised. "You recognize that quote?"

"Why, yes, in fact, I do," he responds, and you notice the girl watching the two of you out of the corner of your eye. "I was an admirer of the great thinkers, long ago. When I was younger, and more -- well, more curious about such things, I suppose."

You wheel him into the small sitting area, arranged around a holo-screen. The walls are bare, lack of personality belying a short-lived residence here. You engage the wheelchair's brakes and take a seat yourself, across from him on an armchair. The girl sits on the sofa, where she slept last night.

"Philosophy is the sustenance of the mind," he continues, kicking his feet up to rest on the coffee table. He winces slightly at the motion, but keeps speaking nevertheless. "Without it, we decay. We risk succumbing to trivial errors of man. It is the sharpening stone to the blade of our intellect."

"What about literature?" the girl asks, her eyes firey and brow set. "I think that's much more valuable than what some ancient guy thought about a world we don't even know anymore."

You smile, pleased at this contribution. "I think great literature can convey philosophical ideas in the form of a modern narrative. You just have to keep an eye out for it, and understand its relevance to the story."

Ezra nods along. "I agree. Where did you read Asmolea, sugar?"

"At the Ephrate," you reply, and you see the girl perk up. You smile at her, hoping the two of you will have a chance to discuss that later. She seems entirely intrigued by you now. "I studied there for seven years, until I was eighteen."

"Why did you leave?" the girl asks.

You sigh, and bring your foot up to rest on the chair, so your thigh is pressed against your front. "Life there didn't suit me. I'm much happier on my own, not surrounded by stuffy academics and pretentious businessmen. The only ones I could stand there were the monks."

Ezra laughs at that. "The Neo-Carthusians?"

You nod, grinning. "Yeah. Considered joining, for about a month or so. I admire their lives of solitude and contemplation, but I couldn't imagine staying in one place for so long."

The conversation flows between the three of you so naturally you hardly notice the time flying by. They ask questions about you, and you return the favor by inquiring about their lives. The girl is quiet when it comes to her past, but you find out her father died on the Green. Both she and Ezra are hesitant to talk about it, which tells you all that you need to know.

Night falls quickly, or at least night according to standard time - on the station, there is no night or day, just a constant darkness visible out the windows interrupted by pinpricks of light. Everyone follows the standard clock, which runs according to time on the Ephrate. 

You show Ezra to his room after the three of you have eaten dinner. It's a small space, just enough for a bed and a dresser. Carefully, he stands from the wheelchair, tosses his bag on the bed, and turns to look at you.

He's much taller than you are. The butterflies return as you look up at him, and a warm feeling radiates through the area below your stomach.

"Thank you again for the hospitality, sugar," he murmurs, voice low and deep. He moves the wheelchair out from between you, so there's nothing but air separating the two of you. "As I said, don't hesitate to ask if there is anything I can do to repay you. Anything at all."

You nod, at a loss for words. His hand comes up and gently brushes a loose strand of hair away from your face and tucks it behind your ear. You positively melt. This man is going to be the death of you.

"I'm just glad to see you safe, Ezra," you reply, and your eyes flutter at the way his fingers linger over the apple of your cheek. His lips look so soft, his eyes full of promises he intends to keep. You can feel yourself falling, as if in a dream.

You blink and lean back, away from him. This is a bad idea. For what reason, you can't say, but you dart to your room as soon as you begin to doubt yourself.

You shut the door and lean against it. There's no way, your mind whispers to you. He feels indebted. That's the only reason. You're too young, he just sees you as a kid.

In your haste, you didn't see the look in his eyes as you left so suddenly, or the way he stared at the door long after you shut it.

-

In the night, you dream of him. Dark eyes above you, heavenly, filthy moans filling the air around you, something thick and perfect filling the empty space inside you. His musical voice murmurs sweet words in your ear, and you hear the sound of your passion just as much as you feel it. Your hands grip his hair as he thrusts, your body trembling underneath him.

Your peak startles you awake, and you find your bedsheets soaked with the evidence of your fantasy.

Your bedside clock tells you it is the early hours of the morning. With a sigh, you toss back the blankets and emerge from your room quietly. 

After a quick shower in the refresher, you step out and wrap a towel around yourself. You stare into the mirror, thinking about him.

You've never felt such an instant attraction to anyone before in your life. Sure, his looks contribute quite a bit, but it's much more than that. You and he seem to have a similar intellect, his passion and aptitude for prose matching your own knowledge and understanding of philosophy and the humanities. The girl is also equally respected by him as she is by you, and you both share a common want to see her thrive. You've known them both barely a day and a half, but they already feel more like family than anyone you've ever known.

You wonder if you're imagining his affections toward you. That could just be him, his way of communicating. You desperately hope it's more than that, but you also can't get your hopes up because of a silly dream.

A silly, beautiful dream.

Water drips from your hair, down your chest, and into the towel. As you begin to shiver, you decide to return to bed and try again for some uninterrupted sleep. You'll have to change the sheets, unfortunately, but that shouldn't take more than a few minutes.

You open the door and tiptoe back out into the hallway, quiet as a mouse. Just as you're about to sneak back into your room, towel clutched tightly in your fingers, you're startled by the door opposite your own sliding open.

And there he is. Dressed in little more than a pair of grey shorts, hair tousled and eyes weary with sleep.

He blinks a few times, and then his eyes widen, suddenly much more awake. You see him glance down, and his mouth parts ever so slightly before his gaze returns to your face.

You are frozen in place. Somewhere in your mind, you will your feet to dart away again, but the remnants of your dream still echo in your muscles, preventing you from leaving. Your hands tighten on your towel and despite yourself, you make note of his chest, his abdomen - the wound, which is an angry red line, held together with clear stitching, and which makes your heart clench at the thought of what would've happened had you not arrived - and finally, a rapid glance at his shorts, his thighs, before you find your sense and look back up at his face.

There's that intensity again, with considerably less gentleness. You inhale sharply, and spare a glance towards the sitting area, where the girl sleeps.

"She's quite the light sleeper, I'm afraid. I'd be mightily surprised if she didn't already hear --"

His voice is low, nearly inaudible to your ears as you look back at him. The tone of it causes the insides of your thighs to tremble, and your chest to heave with silent breaths. Ezra cuts himself off, clearly not having meant to say as much as he did.

Maybe it's the early hour that makes the words escape your lips with ease. Maybe it's the dream, the visions of which you can still see in your mind's eye as you look at him. Perhaps there's just something about Ezra that makes you bold, standing there with nothing more than thin terrycloth protecting your modesty.

"Hear what, Ezra?" you whisper, and set your jaw when his eyes widen ever so slightly.

Ezra reaches out, and his hand comes up to grip the back of your neck. His thumb strokes your jawline, behind your ear, and he steps forward. He's so close that you can feel the heat from his body on your own.

His lips press softly against your forehead, a surprisingly intimate gesture that makes you shiver. The hand that isn't clutching your towel moves to rest on his waist, golden skin warm under your cold fingers.

"Hear this, sweet thing," he murmurs against your skin, lips still pressed against you. "How strongly I feel for you. How deeply I know that it was divine providence that brought you to me. The ways I want to repay you for saving my life.”

His words are like molten gold, shimmering and hot as they slip over your skin and into your heart. You shiver, and your fingers curl gently into his side.

”I don’t - I don’t want you to feel obligated to... to do anything. With me. For me,” you whisper back, eyes closed, basking in the feeling of this quiet moment. 

Ezra hums in dissent against your worries. “No... no...” he says, as his fingers slowly thread their way into your hair. “It isn't like that —“

He’s interrupted by a shuffling sound from the sitting room. You both freeze, wide-eyed, and look toward the room where the girl sleeps.

A moment passes, and then two. Enough that you know she is still asleep and there isn’t any risk of her finding you two like this.

It‘s like ice water thrown over you, the reminder of where and who you are. You look back up to Ezra, whose eyes are soft and knowing as they stare at you. His hand gently caresses the back of your neck, and then he brings it back to rest at his side.

"Go to bed, sweetheart," he murmurs, and then steps around you. He enters the refresher without another word.

You do as he says, but you find yourself struggling to fall back asleep once you return to clean, cool sheets. You watch the stars inch past outside your window as your mind races at the memory of his lips.

-

The next morning, you wake to sounds of movement coming from outside your door. For a moment you panic, before you remember your two visitors. And then you remember your encounter with one of those visitors last night, and the hushed words exchanged between you and him.

Beside you, the clock reads barely past 06:00, which is usually the time you wake up anyway. Today you have another shift at the bar, assuming you still have a job there after you ditched it the other day. With a groan, you pull yourself out from under the warm, soft covers and dress yourself. 

The noise becomes more decipherable as you make your way down the hallway. Ezra and the girl are making small talk while something sizzles. You turn the corner and see Ezra standing at the stove with the girl sitting at the counter, the pleasing aromatic smell of pork bacon wafting through the air. You lean against the wall and watch the pair with a small smile, happy to see someone making use of a space normally reserved for microwave rations and alcohol snuck from the bar.

No one's ever accused you of being a particularly good bartender, that's for sure.

Ezra turns to look at you when he hears your footsteps, a bright smile lighting up his face. 

"Good morning, sleepyhead," he teases, and pushes the bacon around with a spatula. "I cannot emphasize enough how divine it was to wake up with a soft cushion beneath me rather than dirt. I could much too easily let myself get used to this, and I think Cee here agrees with me on that account. Don't you, birdie?"

The girl nods, but you don't notice it. The color has drained from your face and you feel a frantic, sinking feeling in your chest.

"What did you say?" you ask, pushing yourself off the wall and looking at Ezra with wide eyes.

He looks back, brow furrowed, confused. "I believe I said that I could get used to this...?"

You turn away from him and look at the girl. She's looking at you too, now, concern evident in her eyes.

"What did he say your name is?"

She blinks. "My name's Cee."

Your hand flies up to your mouth, and you feel tears gather at the corners of your eyes. It can't be. But she's the right age, and her hair's the same, and...

"What was your father's name?"

She looks even more confused now. "Um, it was Damon."

Oh my god. "Oh my god. You're Cee."

The two of them stare at you like you've grown a second head. You laugh, realizing how foolish you look.

And then you give her your name.

Cee's eyes light up like nothing you've ever seen before, and she nearly launches herself off of the counter stool to wrap you in the tightest hug you've ever been given. You laugh again, a loud and boisterous thing, as happy tears spring unbidden and flow onto your cheeks. Her hands grip the back of your shirt as you hold her head to your chest with both hands.

"I never thought I'd see you again," you mutter through the tears, pressing your nose against her hair. It's her. It's really her. Suddenly you think Ezra was right about divine providence, that the three of you were meant to find each other, the event arranged by some mighty cosmic force.

"Dad told me you were dead," she cries, as the two of you collapse to the floor. Propriety suddenly no longer concerns you, not now that you're cradling your long-lost little sister.

"I'm so sorry, Cee. I'm so sorry."

You can't say much more than that. There are simultaneously too many and not enough things to say to the last family you have left in the universe, to this girl who was so much like you even in the first moments of knowing one another. 

Above you, Ezra clears his throat.

"While this is clearly an unexpected but happy reunion that I hate to interrupt, I do have to ask how you girls know one another, so that I might not be kept in the dark about your relation?"

You look up at him as you move backwards to rest your shoulders against the wall. His dark eyes look down at you from above, and though you've never felt so small, you've also never felt happier in your life.

"She's my sister," you answer with a smile. "Same mother, different father. We were separated when our mother died. She was hardly more than a baby."

Ezra's eyes grow soft at that, and he nods. You begin to think that maybe now you both have something to thank the other for. You may have saved his life, but his radio transmission brought you Cee.

You tighten your arms around her, and place a kiss on the crown of her head. You aren't sure how long you sit there - long enough to have surely lost your job when you don't show up for your shift, but you can't find it within yourself to care. This is all that matters to you right now.

-

The day passes with you and Cee doing most of the talking, for once. Ezra seems content to just sit and listen, though you catch him a few times looking at you like he did in the darkened hallway last night.

After lunch, he makes a point to sit next to you on the couch, arm draped across the cushions behind you.

If Cee notices, she doesn't say anything. You still aren't sure where your relationship with Ezra stands, but in the midst of sharing stories with Cee and learning about her life, you don't find time to sort that out.

Dinner comes and goes again, and the topic of the future comes up.

"When do you think you'll be healed enough to travel again, Ezra?" you ask, as the three of you work on cleaning the dishes.

He shrugs. "I'm fit to travel right now," he answers, and you give him a look. No, he isn't. He chuckles. "Alright, sugar. Maybe another day or so. The serum they gave me to apply daily has been working wonders, I must admit."

You nod, and look over at Cee. "Where do you want to go? The Ephrate? I have no doubt you could get into the school there."

She perks up at that. "You think so? Would you bring me?"

"Why not? I'm a traveler anyway, and I think it's high time I got out of this station. Ezra?" You look over to him, but he's already looking at you.

You feel his hand ghost over the small of your back. "I would be most honored to accompany you both to the Ephrate, if you'll have me."

"Yes, of course," you reply, leaning into his touch, and you turn back to the task at hand.

Later on, when Cee is in bed listening to her music, and Ezra's in his room, you sit on your bed thinking about what's to come. In order to apply to the school, Cee will need a guardian contact, and a record of education. You hope she can pass the entrance exam and submit a writing sample, and that that will be enough. Maybe you can talk some of your former professors into considering her.

It’s a pretty long trip from the station to the Ephrate, even with a ship that can travel at hyper speed. You can’t help but wonder what will become of Ezra after you get Cee set up in school. 

The man captivates you, to put it plainly. His poetic manner of speaking and the gentle fire of his passion, when directed at you, gives you a feeling unlike any other you’ve experienced before. You’ve met plenty of men in your life. None have ever made you feel such a way. 

Before you can think better of it, while the desire to see his sleep-ruffled hair still sits at the forefront of your mind, you get out of bed and leave your room. Quietly, so as to not disturb Cee, you knock on his door.

”Come in!” he calls out from somewhere within.

You slide the door open, slip inside, and close the door behind you. Ezra is sitting up in bed, looking at you.

”To what do I owe the pleasure of seeing such a beautiful woman enter my chamber in the night?” The question is teasing, good-natured, but the compliment still makes your stomach swoop.

You smile, and walk to where he lies in bed, leaning against the dresses. “I wanted to thank you, Ezra. You brought my sister back to me, which is something I’ll never be able to repay you for. Can we call it even?” 

He laughs at that. “Sure we can, sweet thing. You know, when I first saw you in that recovery room, I thought I recognized you from somewhere, and that my brain had done me the disservice of erasing all memory of you. I now realize it was because you and Cee are so much alike. I haven’t known her for much longer than I’ve known you, and it remains a miracle that she has given me even a modicum of trust, but I see the relation between you clear as a bell now.”

You have to smile at that. It warms your heart to know you didn’t imagine it, that someone else noticed it too.

Ezra reaches out then, in the dim light, and you step forward. Thinking he's reaching for your hand, you extend yours - but he bypasses it completely and wraps his hand around the back of your upper thigh, thumb brushing against your sleep shorts. A giggle escapes your lips as he pulls you in even closer to him. Ezra leans forward and presses his face against your midsection, nose just next to your belly button.

Confused, but certainly pleasantly surprised, you place your hands on his head and thread your fingers through his dark curls. Gently you massage his scalp, not quite understanding this sudden show of affection. It's different than last night, though you can't exactly express how. 

You decide you're really enjoying seeing these different sides of Ezra when the two of you are alone.

When you happen to massage a certain spot right behind his ear, Ezra groans, a low sound that ripples through your bones. His grip tightens, and you feel his next words more than you hear them.

"Come here, little one," he murmurs into your stomach, nosing at the hem of your shirt. The pet name makes you clench, desire flooding through your center. 

He pulls you closer, shifting his face away so he can guide you down onto the bed. You swing one leg over his waist just as he slides his hand up to grip your ass, turning you further so you're on your back next to him. He's on his side, propped up by his elbow, leaning over you.

You're breathless, staring up into those infinite brown eyes.

"You have consumed my every waking thought since the moment I first saw you" he says softly, his voice a low purr that awakens some unknown part of yourself. You turn into him, resting a hand on his side, and he presses his nose against your cheek.

"I must have been a saint in a previous life to have earned this sweet embrace," he continues, breath warm against your face. "I want to learn you, to study you with the same vigor the ancients studied and examined the mind. I want to know you, sweet girl, in every way possible.

"But I must be truthful with you, because I could no longer live with myself if I were not. I am not a good man. I have lived a long life of violence and amorality, and death and deceit seem to follow me hand-in-hand. You are so young, little one, full of life and vitality, future bright ahead of you. I do not deserve you, and you certainly deserve better than me."

His words are like needles piercing your heart. You slide your hand up his chest to cup his face, tenderly stroking his cheekbone. You draw him away ever so slightly so you can look him in the eye.

"You and I are not so different, Ezra," you hum, making sure that he keeps the eye contact. "I have been on that same path, of death and violence, for years. I've lived for none but myself."

You slide your thumb across his lower lip, soft and pink and tempting.

"Let me live for you." 

You punctuate your whispered plea by drawing him back down and pressing your lips to his. He gasps into the kiss before returning it with passion amplified twofold. His leg slides over your midsection to stabilize himself, knees pushing in between your own so your thighs stretch open around his.

Ezra deepens the kiss almost immediately. You surrender to his lips, one hand gripping his shoulder while the other tangles again in his hair. His mouth is hot, tasting faintly of mint but mostly a sweet flavor you attribute only to him. You let out a soft moan at the feeling building in your cunt, wet and warm and yearning for him, and he uses the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. Ezra licks at your teeth, seemingly in an attempt to map out every part of you that he can.

All you're able to do is moan, melting into him like a candle to a flame.

You feel Ezra shift a little, followed by profanity muttered softly against your lips. He draws away, and you open your eyes to see him clenching his jaw.

"'M still not fully adjusted to not having a kriffing arm," he grumbles, frustration evident in his eyes. You hum, hurting for him, wanting to take his pain away.

"What do you need, Ezra?" you ask. "What can I do?"

He presses his forehead against yours and sighs. "I want to see you, sweet thing. I want to touch you."

You flush, understanding the meaning of his words and feeling your panties grow wetter at the implication. 

"Yes," you breathe. "Yes." You push at his shoulders, urging him to sit back. He does so, sitting back. You rearrange your legs so that yours rest outside of his, and sit up. Your thighs are tucked against his hips in a position that feels much closer than before - you can just barely feel the heat of his groin against your own. A breath stumbles its way out of your lungs, chest heaving.

Before you can think any further on your insecurities, you grasp the hem of your shirt and draw it up and over your head. Ezra's eyes light up, glance at your face, darken considerably as he looks down again, and then he's on you once more.

His arm wraps around you tightly, hand pressing firmly into your ribs, and it's then that you really take in the size difference between you and him. As his head dips to press his lips against your breasts and nipples, you can't help but shudder at the way his body curls over your own. You feel distinctly small, in a way that would usually frighten you but instead makes you shiver.

This position is clearly more comfortable for Ezra, because he becomes more vocal as he lavishes your tits with attention.

"Gods, little one," he murmurs against the top of one of your breasts, tongue darting out to taste your peaked bud, "your body is divine, the sweetest fruit in the universe." He pauses to suck at your nipple, drawing it into his mouth, and the sight of it forces a whine from your throat. Something about it is so perfect, so perverse, for a man who's always been so sweet, that you can't help but press your clothed cunt down on his cock, the shape of which you can feel burning and hard like an iron through your clothes.

Ezra lets out a choked growl at that, a deep rumbling sound that you immediately commit to memory, in case of the unfortunate event that you're not blessed to ever hear it again. He releases your teat, now spit-soaked and throbbing, and looks at you with eyes so dark you hardly recognize them. His brows are drawn together, teeth bared like a feral animal.

"That's what you do to me," he growls, moving his hand down to cup your ass, squeezing harshly. You gasp, and press into him, bare chest to bare chest. "Feel my dick against your little pussy, baby? Think it can fit?"

You nod frantically, knowing your shorts are soaked through, as his filthy words send your mind reeling. You're not capable of thoughts beyond him and this any longer.

Ezra uses his grip on your ass to press your cunt against him once more, and he rolls his hips up into you in a mimicry of what he'd like to do you. You moan, completely unashamed, and drop your head to tuck your face against his shoulder.

"Please," you whine, nearly unaware of the words coming out of your mouth. It's quiet, hushed, this next utterance, and it's passed through your lips before you can think twice about it.

"Please fuck me, daddy."

Ezra freezes. It takes you a moment too long to realize what you've said.

"What did you say?" Ezra asks, the words rumbling from somewhere in his chest.

You get a frantic feeling in your limbs, panic crawling up your throat. Great, you think, I've messed it all up. He probably thinks I'm some freak, screwed up in the head.

You're broken from your spiraling thoughts by the feeling of his lips on your neck, teeth digging into the space beneath your jawline.

"I asked you a question, sweet girl."

You tremble in his grasp. He's not going to let it go. "Daddy..." you whimper, and he groans.

"You really are a perfect little girl for me," he mutters as his hand slides around from your ass to the front of your shorts. You tighten your grip on the back of his neck and lean forward, thinking he intends to pull your remaining clothes down your legs.

Instead, he clenches his fist and tears them, both your shorts and your panties, from your pussy. You yelp as he does so, and watch as the fabric goes flying somewhere off to the side.

"There you are, sweet thing," he murmurs, leaning back to look at you, hand back in position on your bare ass. "Look at you. Filthy and perfect for daddy, aren't you? A fantasy come to life, placed in my lap by the gods themselves."

You moan once more, pressing your bare cunt against the outline of his cock in his thin sleep pants. He reaches down to pull it free, and as you keep your balance against him, you look down and see perhaps the biggest dick you've ever laid eyes on. Ezra chuckles, watching your reaction.

"You ready, baby? Want me to fill you up, fuck you like you need?"

You nod, and lean in to press your face against the crook of his neck again. "Please," you whine. "I need your big cock in my pussy."

The words are completely unlike you - something about Ezra has awoken a completely submissive, unfiltered side of yourself you didn't know existed before. Sure, you knew you wanted him, and weren't a stranger to sex, but this is an entirely new personality, focused entirely on being his. It's almost like a dream, and for a moment you feel as though you're floating, with how relaxed you are in anticipation for --

Oh.

He's guided the head of his cock to your entrance, and is using his leverage on your ass to guide you slowly, slowly down. You gasp - he's certainly the biggest you've ever had, and the stretch is delicious. Ezra's restraining himself, going slow so he doesn't hurt you, but you have no such qualms.

You drop down in one fell swoop, and the way he fills you makes your eyes roll back in your head. His hand moves from your ass to around your waist, nearly encircling it entirely. He groans, loudly and deeply.

"You'll kill me like this, little one. You're just wrapped around my cock, aren't you? Desperate for it?"

You nod frantically. "Yes, daddy. Yes!"

Ezra moans at that. His hand grips your waist, teeth biting and sucking at your neck, as you push up on your thighs to lift off of him. The drag of his dick against the walls of your cunt is incredible, the head of it catching and pushing on hidden, sensitive ridges within you.

You drop down again, and begin to fuck yourself on Ezra's cock.

His hips piston up as you do so, finding and matching your rhythm with ease. His melodic voice mutters the dirtiest things you've ever heard as he slams his hips up into you.

"...That's it, sweet thing. You were made to fit on my cock, weren't you?..."

"...Wanted to do this that night in the hallway, take you right up against the wall..."

"...My strong, sweet girl, bouncing like a whore on daddy’s cock -- gods, look at your tits..."

You feel your climax building, rising like a fire about to consume you from the inside out. Ezra is close, too, from the way his hips stutter and his breathing becomes ragged.

"Sweet thing..." he groans, slowing his thrusts. "I can't... inside you..."

You shake your head. You know he's clean, since he was tested at the med-bay when he went in for the operation. And besides...

"I've got the implant, daddy. Come in me, please."

Ezra finishes with the most beautiful moan you've ever heard, and you come nearly at the same moment. It's an ethereal, heavenly experience, like the two of you have ascended and joined the gods who so graciously brought you together.

You fall asleep tucked into his chest, warm under his blanket, with the smell of him and you and both of you lulling you into the most peaceful sleep you've had in your life.

-

A month later, you and Ezra and Cee sit at a mahogany wood table, filling out a holo-tablet with the form for Cee's entrance into your alma mater on the Ephrate. Your sister is already taken with the place, and you couldn't be happier for her. 

"Now it wants me to put in a parent or guardian's name," she says, stylus hovering over that section. The cursor blinks as it waits.

You're about to tell her to skip it, but Ezra speaks up before you can.

"Put my name down," he offers, and she looks over at him. "Is that okay with you?"

Cee nods, a genuine smile brightening her features. She turns back to the screen with haste.

"Ezra Stallard," he adds simply.

You look over to him, pleased with this revelation. 

As you watch Cee enter Ezra's full name into the blank and select Guardian, you get a chill up your spine. Despite yourself, you think back to that night, and you know Ezra's thinking the same when his hand moves over to rest on your thigh.

You can't wait to have your ship to yourselves; the joy of seeing your sister thrive in a new setting is followed only by the anticipation of what is to come. You and Ezra have made no plans for the future yet - all you know is that he will be with you, and that's the only guarantee you need.

For the first time in a very long time, your heart sings.

[disgruntledspacedad]

Hi!

I was wondering if you had any follow recs?

Hey, friend! So, full disclosure that I’m still pretty new around here, so I’m probably missing some incredible blogs. You guys feel free to add to this list, because I’m always looking for recs and new friends, too! 

@yespolkadotkitty - Kitty is a masterful writer and one of the sweetest people on the planet. She also holds the honor of being the only author to have ever brought me to tears with her work. Check out her entire fucking masterlist here. Happy reading!

@songsformonkeys - Hanna is another incredible writer and an all-around stellar human being. She has possibly the softest, sweetest, realest take on Whiskey that I’ve ever read - check out Digging Up Bones here. 

@bitchin-beskar - Lynn is doing god’s work with her King!Din AU. This lovely lady churns out the hottest smut like there’s no fucking tomorrow. She’s an absolute machine and I love her to bits. 

@tiffdawg - Her Javier Peña is the best Javier Peña, hands down. I’m particularly obsessed with Curriculum Vitae. I think about this fic at least twice a day, I swear. 

Check out @communistkenobi for hot takes on Star Wars and incredible fic.

For peak Pedro content, I love @allthingsnarcos, @dornish-queen, @pedropascalito, and @themandadlorianbod

If you like Boyd Holbrook (and you honestly should), look no further than @ionlyjoinedforboydholbrook and @holbrook-boyd. 

@javier-pena does some kickass gif edits. 

Other writers who’s master lists are worth a perusal - @scribbledghost, @softpedropascal (neighbor!frankie, right? right), @perropascal, @starlight-starwrites @pikemoreno, @bobaandthefetts, @dindjarindiaries, @absurdthirst, @no-droids, @hotspacepilots, and @jedi-mando, @mourningbirds1 (oh my god, He is Home is just, aesthetic, good lord), @whatanoof, @danniburgh, @coffee-quill, and shit, so many others, I’m already sorry for leaving them out!

This has nothing to do with Pedro or Star Wars, but I just found @effinbirds yesterday, and just please, go give that blog a look. It’s fucking delightful.