#So you get a real who’s on first ass conversation whenever someone asks what their power is

[cryptvokeeper]

I have not yet come up with a One Piece oc however I did come up with a devil fruit purely for the funniest possible exchange which is perfectly on-brand so I think that’s a good start

[astrologuzzy]

★ MY ASTRO OBSERVASHUNS ★

Disclaimer before I start: I’m no professional astrologer so don’t come for me, mkayyy? MWAH 💋

♡ 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒, more specifically those with Gemini placements in their personal planets loveeeee playing around with their voice a lot. Just utilizing their voice to be a silly goobert. Like making voice impressions or funny sound effects is very natural for them. Which is why I think so many Geminis are comedians, artists and actors. Whenever I see someone who makes goofy sounds or is very into voice acting I instantly know they must be a Gemini/have heavy Mercury placements and up until now i was 100% correct each time lmao. (As someone who has Gemini placements myself: I love to make funny voices or impressions, sometimes I do it without realizing lol)

♥︎ Which actually brings my to my second point on 𝐆𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐈 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 but those that are musicians; I noticed they frequently love to play around with different genres of music and different styles of singing/rapping in general, even all in one song simultaneously. Good example would probably be Kanye West or Kendrick Lamar. Their music and style tends to be very versatile and they tend to incorporate even very random notes/effects/sounds to it as well.

♡ Oh my goodness, all the 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒 I’ve ever known have this damn thing where if you don’t ask them specifically for what you wanna know, they’ll never even tell you it. I had a friend with a full blown Libra stellium that I finally caught up with after months of no contact and this girl only told me about her having a girlfriend and getting into a car accident only 3 days later!? That was thanks to me for randomly mentioning romance and cars, otherwise she wouldn’t have even shared it. So if you wanna hear a Libra disclose something specific with you, just be direct with it.

♥︎ I haven’t met an 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 that wasn’t impulsive and would jump from one relationship/project into another and then complain about how everything turns out a mess (but then get back up and repeat the cycle again smh).

♡ 𝟏𝟐 𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐒 and their hidden enemies is actually very fukkin real. I got to witness it closely for the first time and oh boi am I shook lol. My boyfriend has a 12H moon and I’ve witness multiple times strangers come up to us, start a conversation and then just become insanely rude to him outta absolutely nowhere as if they been having beef with him since kindergarten?! Randoms tend to get mad or hostile so easily at him even if he doesn’t say anything bad... it’s so weird.

♥︎ Every person with an 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓 in their big 3 has this feistiness to them. Even when they’re super sweet and chill type of Aries I still notice that they have moments where they’re quite direct or don’t really care about what you think. They’re gonna say what they wanna say one way or another and it’s honestly so natural to them, I don’t think they even notice. Even the quiet Aries in my life have this demeanor to them that you just don’t fuck with because they’ll bite back at some point.

♡ In my experience, every 𝐏𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒 that I’ve ever known always expressed their appreciation and affection in letters/poems/metaphors very frequently. Very romantic, very abstract, Shakespeare who? Every time they’d send a whole ass paragraph like 🥀”you are like a rose that fell in this chaotic ocean and turned it into a tranquil lake” 🍂 just to describe my eyes or something. I don’t think my Aquarius moon is cut for such stuff lmao, it makes me cringe a bit but I do appreciate it! Although every Pisces mars guy I ever knew had additional water placements in their big 3 (like Cancer sun or a Pisces moon) which probably only doubled that sentimentality they had.

♥︎ 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐂𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐄𝐌𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒 and their anger issues is something and that something is very real... That’s it, that’s the Tweet lol

♡ Idk what it is about 𝐖𝐀𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐌𝐎𝐎𝐍 men but they always make me wanna take care of them and like baby them when they’re in their feels and retract and act like they aren’t on the verge of tears... Make me wanna go and cuddle them lol. Especially Cancer moons for wtv reason really soften my Aqua moon when I’m around without them even doing/saying anything.

♥︎ Also 𝐋𝐈𝐁𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐒 are insanely great at faking their true state of being. I’ve met so many Libras that on the outside look like they’re having a blast but when you actually get to know them you see that their house burned down, their granny died, they almost choked to death twice last week and their partner broke up with them for 15th time that day and now they’re homeless... And you’re like damn bro, I’d literally never guess. They really know how to mask everything, put up a great front for others and do it insanely convincingly. You literally would never guess what that Libra is actually going thru, it’s probably worse than you can image. Please check up on your Libra friends and Libras - it’s ok to ask for helpppp. You guys deserve it <3

♡ 𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐔𝐒 𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 are one of the funniest mothafukers everrrrr, they always make me laugh so much! Double points if they have Gemini or other Fire placements with it. Just hilarious individuals.

♥︎ 𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐑𝐏𝐈𝐎 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 are actually pretty chill people, you won’t see them angry often (but they make sure you know when they do). Usually our anger and passion is more so hidden and works backstage. Compared to 𝐀𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐒𝐄𝐒 that are loud with it and don’t hold back.

That’s it for todayyyy ☀︎

[manias-wordcount]

Two Steps (Loid Forger)

Kinktober 2024 Day Five: Dancer

𝙒𝙖𝙣𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙 𝙢𝙤𝙧𝙚? ⇒ 𝙈𝙖𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙧𝙡𝙞𝙨𝙩

𝙟𝙤𝙞𝙣 𝙢𝙮 𝙙𝙞𝙨𝙘𝙤𝙧𝙙 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙫𝙚𝙧?

𝙗𝙪𝙮 𝙢𝙚 𝙖 𝙘𝙤��𝙛𝙚𝙚?

His job was simple.

Someone from WISE caught wind that a man from Donovan Desmond’s inner circle was going to be here. And since there was some chatter about the fact that he was set to lead an important meeting about the country’s future sometime in the next couple of weeks, Twilight was sent in for a little reconnaissance. And it’s nothing new to him— absolutely nothing he hasn’t done before. In fact, he was so sure that if WISE had enough agents out in the field, he wouldn’t be here today. So this time around, his job was simple. Show up to the place in a carefully crafted disguise. Stay just out of reach. Stay just out of sight. Listen in the drunken conversations of those he was sent to spy on. And then get out of there as soon as the time is right.

Only, it wasn’t so simple. It wasn’t so simple because he had just met you.

He didn’t think much of the location when he first heard of it. Occasionally, the existence of a seedy Gentleman’s Club would pop up on his radar. And this one was supposed to be no different. And for a while it was. The dark velvet furniture that looked too cheap to be real. The scent of cigars and clouds of smoke that draped across everything in puffs of white. The clinking of glasses from all over the room. At tables. At the bar. On the game floor. Just about everywhere. 

Places like these never receive attention from the limelight. Because places like these aren’t even supposed to exist for the general public. No matter how dodgy one of these Clubs was, you could always find an elite in one of the halls. Talking about something he shouldn’t even know about and babbling about something he really shouldn’t share. Because here, everyone has secrets. To spill, like his mission. Or to hold, like him. So it was the perfect place for this mission to take place. It was the perfect place because everyone here could and would let their guard down. Except for him, of course.

But then you came over. Walked up to where he was sitting and smiled as you introduced yourself. I’m your dancer for tonight, you said to him. Any special requests? 

And just like that, Twilight was hooked.

You stood in front of him with your backside in his direction as you began to dance. The dress you had on was short and scandalous. But it hugged your figure perfectly. Showed off your hips and your waist and even a bit of your breasts whenever you turned around enough for him to see your cleavage. Though perhaps what really drew him in was all the parts that he wasn’t supposed to see. Although wasn’t is a strong word. But every time you bent down and let him bear witness to the roundness of your cheeks and the almost sinful arch of his back, he knew you knew what you were doing. 

In all honesty, he knows he shouldn’t be entertaining you like this. He shouldn’t be letting you entertain him like this. Not just because of the mission (although if WISE asked, he could always say that paying attention to you for the duration of his stay was the perfect cover story). But you were taking advantage of him and you knew it. You were taking advantage of the fact that despite everything- at the end of the day, he’s just a man. 

A man who couldn’t help but imagine that same ass sticking itself in front of his face and bouncing itself up and down on his cock.

He had seen the other dancers go up to other lonely-looking men, of course. Their job was to entice those who had nothing tying them to this club to stay a little longer by focusing solely on some sorry man who was just looking for a little bit of sympathy that night. Girls like you would allow men who looked like him a chance of feeling special for the night. Only if those very same men respected the fact that they were only supposed to look. Never touch. Never.

So of course, it was only natural that someone would come up to him as well as he polished off his second drink. But it was you who came up to him. It was you who started swaying your hips to the jazz music playing lightly through the club. It was you who smiled and giggled whenever he muttered an expletive under his mouth about just how badly he wanted to touch you.

It was you who broke him. You who had cracked and chipped away the careful exterior Twilight has always put on. The careful exterior that Twilight always thought he was inside. 

All because you’re some pretty girl shaking your hips in a dress that barely even covers them.

Now his brain is buzzing with all the whisky you fed him tonight. The information he gathered is still in there, of course. He’s nothing if not good at his job. But he came very close to missing a few key details that would have made this mission worth it all because of you. Very, very close. He was even closer to trying to convince you to sneak off to a bathroom or a backroom with him so you could take care of the little problem you caused him. The one that was causing his paths to become uncomfortably tight and his breathing to become a little more labored than he would like. 

If he saw you on the street, he wouldn’t have even looked twice. If he saw you with another man he wouldn’t have spared you a second thought. But because you’re tilting your head and smiling so sweetly, so seductively at a man with a mask on, he feels crazy. He feels like he wants you. He wants you in ways that are probably too risky for his line of work. He wants you in ways that are just about to jeopardize his mission. In fact, all of his missions.

Because he’s starting to feel crazy enough to think that you may want him too. Why else would you smile at him like that? Why else would you look at him with those eyes? Why else would you say absolutely nothing about him reaching out and touching your body like it already belonged to him.

If you haven’t already started to believe that, of course.

He needs to calm down. He has to calm down. His pants are starting to get tight in a way that no amount of readjusting them is going to help. His breath is getting heavy in a way that he fears it might scare you if he's not careful. Nobody wants to see a man turn into an animal. But you're all too good at that. You're too good at being tempting. Too good at swinging your hips to the light music playing. Too good at drawing attention to where he knows he shouldn't be looking. Too good at making him feel more like Loid Forger than he's ever been.

But for the first time in a long time, he doesn't want to be careful. He doesn't want to think about what this could mean for the mission or Anya or Yor. He doesn't want to fight for world peace and justice and order. He doesn't want to be Twilight. He just wants you. And is that really so bad that you're this good at your job? He doesn't think so. At least, not right now. What does he know at this point? What does he know anymore?

Nothing, he finds himself thinking as your hands glide lightly over the fingers he has wrapped around your waist. You don't look at him. You just continue to dance to the sound of the music. Like he's not even touching. Like he's not even there at all. And that's how he knows. That's how he knows.

That he truly doesn't know anything about this world, about this life, about himself anymore.

After all, he had walked into this establishment as a man on a mission. A man who was always one- two steps ahead of everyone and everything. And now? He'll just be another man who will leave here empty-handed.

Wondering if you would even care if you knew just how hard he had fallen for you.

[these-written-reveries]

I have a special request

may we have a fluffy platonic oneshot for hawks w/ a reader with four angel wings where they’re a third year at UA but never got a date to prom, so he decides they deserve at least one dance and shows up as their date?

please and thank you 🪽

You absolutely may! I hope I did your request justice! You didn't specify, so I made Reader a hero course student. I know this is a platonic fic, but I can totally see the potential for a friends to lovers story here (don't mind me, I'm just a huge sucker for that trope lol). Thanks for the request! ❤️

Birds of a Feather

‣ Pairing: Keigo Takami/Hawks x GN!Reader (Platonic)

‣ Summary: Your good friend Hawks finds out you don't have a date to prom and decides to fix that problem himself!

‣ Genre: Fluff (angst, if you squint)

‣ Warnings: none

‣ Word Count: 2,042

‣ A/N: UA is considered a university in my fics. I know that universities generally don’t have proms, but this is fiction, so we can pretend whatever we want! Cue: UA third-year prom, feat. Hawks as a surprise guest! Let's go! (P.S. - I was listening to Words by Gregory Alan Isakov as I wrote this. I think it's a very nice song for slow dancing ♡)

➼ Main Masterlist ➼Keigo/Hawks Masterlist

If anyone were to tell you before that you���d end up becoming such close friends with the number two hero, Hawks, you’d never believe them.

To your past self’s shock, it had really happened. How exactly? You weren’t quite sure. Maybe it started on the first day of your internship? He immediately complimented your beautiful set of white tandem wings, asking you questions about them with pure awe and fascination in his eyes. You found it quite endearing of him.

Or maybe it was when you took down your first villain together and realized you made a kick-ass team? After that day, he immediately offered you a permanent position at his agency, once you graduated UA. You couldn’t have been more thrilled to receive this news from someone you had always admired and looked up to.

Perhaps it was after that, when you both bonded over your shared experiences related to having big wings in a mostly-wingless world? That day was one you would always think back on with fondness.

You told him a story about how, one time, you crashed mid-flight into a huge mud pit. You and your friend spent hours removing all the dried clumps between your feathers. He one-upped your story with one of his own, telling you about the time that he came home after fighting a villain with a petroleum oil quirk that had managed to coat his wings with the gooey substance, which made it nearly impossible to fly. After struggling for hours to remove it himself, with little success, he had to embarrassingly enlist the help of his assistant.

“I hope you have her a raise, after that,” you chuckled.

He joined you in your laughter. “Oh, I did. A very generous one, at that. She was a real trooper that day."

The two of you laughed a lot over your shared stories. Both of you were grateful to have a friend that understood the parts of yourselves that most others didn’t, especially Keigo, who barely had anyone he could call a true friend for almost his entire life. It was refreshing, being friends with you.

Because of this, he quickly grew to be extra protective of you, from the moment he took you under his wing. He kept close tabs on you and checked in on you whenever he had the time. It was always so nice getting to hear how things were going for you, how your grades were, and what the newest gossip was at UA. He’d always say, half-jokingly, that if anyone gave you trouble, he'd fly over and put an end to it immediately, which always got a laugh out of you. He just really enjoyed having "normal" conversations with someone about "normal" things, for once—especially since he never got to experience a lot of these things, such as public school or prom. It was fun getting to vicariously live through you, in this way.

Towards the end of his parole shift, he thought about you, wondering if you were having a good time at your prom that night. You had been looking forward to it for a while, telling him about what you planned to wear and who you secretly hoped would be your date. Last he spoke to you, you had yet to confirm an official date to the dance, but he was almost certain that problem was resolved by now. You were a wonderful person with gorgeous looks and an amazing personality, he had no doubt in your ability to acquire many “promposals”, or whatever the kids called it these days.

It wasn’t until he checked the recent post on your social media account that he realized you, in fact, did not have a date.

At first, he was utterly confused.

Why hadn’t you told him? He would’ve gone with you in a heartbeat.

Then, he remembered just how considerate of a person you were. He told you he’d be working late shifts all week and you likely didn’t bother to ask because of that reason.

He looked at the picture of you in your stunning prom outfit before checking the time. A sigh pushed past his lips as he took off into the sky, flying home as fast as he could.

Worst prom ever.

You felt like a total outsider at this place, despite being surrounded by familiar faces and music. Your friends all had dates and were busy having fun with them. Meanwhile, you busied yourself at the punch table, sighing as you poured yourself another cup. Some of the others without dates lingered in this corner of the large room, but none of them seemed all that keen on striking up a conversation with you. They all seemed to be too busy drowning in their own pools of boredom, longing, and self-pity.

You began to wonder why you even came to this event when you knew you didn’t have a date and your friends would all be too preoccupied with their own to entertain you. Well, you knew why, and it started and ended with a giant birdman by the name of Hawks. He had gifted you with a generous sum of money to buy yourself a nice outfit for prom after you had casually brought up in conversation that you were trying to save money for it. He refused to take it back, so you really didn’t have a choice but to use it. You ended up buying a gorgeous outfit that really complimented your wings. In the words of Hawks, you looked like an “ethereal angel”.

After buying the outfit and looking forward to the event for weeks, you couldn’t not go. Not without disappointing yourself, and probably Hawks too. He was always the one telling you that you needed to live life to the fullest and enjoy your experience at UA, while it lasted.

What you weren’t expecting was to feel so down and dejected, lingering by the punch table as you wistfully observed everyone else having fun like a lonely wallflower. You wanted to take Hawk’s advice and try to enjoy the moment anyway, but you found it too awkward to go out onto the dance floor without someone to dance with, and you weren’t too keen on asking someone you weren’t well-acquainted with to dance.

Still, you stole a glance at the other wallflowers in the corner, almost considering the idea.

You didn’t have a chance to, though, because you were distracted by the gasps and squeals of people all across the room. Following their eyes, you found the target of their attention to be a familiar red-winged man, in an unfamiliar looking outfit. An expensive-looking suit with a boutonniere pinned to the left lapel of his suit jacket. He flashed a charming smile and gave everyone a quick wave as his eyes scanned the room, finally landing on you.

You stared in shock as he walked over to you.

“Why, hello there, angel. Fancy meeting you here,” he said, smirking at your shocked expression.

“Hawks! What are you doing here?” you asked him with wide eyes.

He shrugged. “You know the saying, ‘birds of a feather flock together’? I heard my little chickadee was in need of a prom date, so naturally, I flew right over.”

You were aware of everyone’s eyes on you—something you had grown pretty used to after being with Hawks in public a good handful of times—but you were far too surprised to care as you looked him up and down.

“Your outfit. The colors match mine…”

“Of course they do. What kind of prom date do you think I am? I think what you mean to say is, I look handsome, right?” he teased.

You giggled at this. He always found a way to get you laughing with his witty remarks.

Nodding, you smiled up at him. “You do. Thank you for coming. You really didn’t have to do this.”

He gave you a small eye roll. “I wouldn’t be here unless I wanted to. And you deserve a proper prom experience. That said…”

Your eyes grew wide as he pulled out a beautiful corsage from behind his back. The flowers matched your outfit and his boutonniere perfectly.

"Hawks..." You couldn’t help the tears that began to build in your eyes.

"Oh, don't cry, angel! Your eyes will get all red and puffy! That's no good for prom pictures!" he said, brow scrunched in concern as he looked at you, partially wondering if he’d done something wrong, until you spoke.

"Sorry, it's just...nobody has ever done anything like this for me before. I was really thinking I'd be ending tonight on a bad note, until you showed,” you confessed, carefully wiping the underside of your eyes.

Keigo offered you a sympathetic smile as he stepped forward, holding out his hand, palm up. You held your left hand out to him and watched as he slipped the corsage onto your wrist.

"Well, let's make the most out of the time we have left. I know I kinda arrived last minute, but I also managed to make some arrangements for us that I think you’ll enjoy,” he said.

You looked at him, curious and confused. “What do you mean? Are we leaving?”

“Nope! We’re staying right here! Just us, the photographer, and the DJ,” he smiled, turning to look at the room, which was now completely empty, save for the two people he had mentioned.

How had you missed that?

“H-How?” was all that you could get out, as you looked around the room.

“The dance is technically over now, so I just extended our time a bit. Made a couple calls on my way here, bribed a few people, and here we are!” he explained, cheerfully.

You tried not to let your emotions get the better of you as you looked at him in astonishment.

“Hawks…I don’t even know what to say.”

He chuckled. “Well, I hope you’ll know what to say in response to my next question. There is only one right answer, so that narrows things down for ya’.”

You looked at him curiously, feeling a small pang of nervousness in your stomach as you awaited his question.

He bent forward into a bow, his eyes remaining locked with yours as he extended his right hand to you, his lips curved into a playful smile.

“May I have this dance?”

All nervousness instantly vanished and was replaced by pure giddiness as a bright smile overtook your face.

“Yes, you may,” you said, giggling as you placed your left hand in his.

He led you out to the middle of the dance floor and gave a nod to the DJ, who began playing a slow song through the surrounding speakers.

Turning to face you, Keigo gently grasped your right hand with his left, holding it near his chest. You smiled a bit sheepishly as you placed your free hand on his left bicep, just as he placed his right hand onto your middle back.

The two of you began to sway to the music. After a moment, you felt more at ease, finding that you seemed to move more naturally with each slow beat of the music.

You smiled at him. “I can’t thank you enough for doing all of this for me.”

Keigo earnestly returned your expression. “This is the least I can do for my special, feathered friend. I’m only sorry I couldn’t make it sooner.”

You scoffed. “Please. This is more than enough.”

“I’m glad you’re happy, angel.”

“I really am. Best prom ever,” you beamed at him.

Your contagious smile elicited a happy chuckle from him as he spun you around, being careful of your wings as he did so.

He pulled you back towards him and the two of you continued to dance together, laughing when you bumped him with your wings or when he accidentally stepped on your foot a little. You couldn’t have been happier, nor more grateful. Not only did you get the most perfect prom experience, but you got to spend it with your favorite red-feathered friend.

Like true birds of a feather, you knew you’d be flying together for a long time to come.

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[prejacfetish]

Train Yourself (or a partner) to Cum Faster - Coach Sarah' Method for PE

TL;DR

* Find what tier you're in below

* work towards the next tier

**Introduction**

After posting my first adventure here, I've gotten many, many people asking me to train or coach them one-on-one. Of course, having someone hot, clever, and a little sadistic to train you is the best, but, tragically, the reality is that I am way too busy to coach every person who wants to be coached.

But, these conversations have helped me start to formulate a generic write-up for some of the stuff I would suggest for guys or girls who want to be coached, either to cum faster, to cum helplessly to some specific stimulus, or both. This is my first stab at the former -- coaching to cum faster.

I've never had a "method" before. Every guy or girl I've ever played these sorts of games with I've approached individually, depending on their desires, their past, and what I personally was finding hot when I thought about it.

But I do think there are patterns or defaults that can help, so I've decided to start writing them down and sharing them.

If any of you follow my advice and keep notes, I'd love to hear how it goes! I particularly enjoy public comments, even if they're made with a burner account, because then everyone can benefit from your experience.

**What this guide is and isn't**

This will be an initial attempt at a guide specifically for people (any gender, any genitals) who want to cum faster. This is actually NOT what I do most of the time in my personal life -- most of the time, especially if I'm even occasionally sleeping with the person, I'd much prefer to train them to cum when I want, which might be 30 seconds into making out with them, or not at all. But, since PE Fetish is where I shared my first post, that's what most of your questions have been about, so I figured I'd start there.

So, what are the main goals of making someone cum faster? And what are the things I am not particularly interested in?

Let's get some of the "not interested" things out of the way first.

First, I'm not interested in fantasy, and that's not what this guide is about. I think fantasy captioned images where a guy is cumming in his pants after just seeing a girl in tight pants are great, if that's your thing. More power to ya! But MY thing is doing it in real life, and in real life that sort of thing is both borderline impossible, and also, if it really COULD be achieved, would completely screw up a person's life. Hot in fantasy, but not workable in reality.

Second, for this guide, I'm only interested in "conditioned triggers" in as much as they facilitate cumming faster. The idea of cumming whenever you see pussy or breasts or ass or a fire truck or hear a specific phrase is GREAT, and I LOVE it -- but here it is, at best, of secondary importance.

If you condition yourself to only cum to bare breasts, for example, you're working towards a different goal than strictly "lowering your time" PE. Imagine training to only cum to bare breasts, and it worked perfectly. Does that mean if we were hooking up, and I left my shirt on, you could you go for hours?

Obviously the answer to this is probably "who knows," but the point is that if your goal is just to get faster, a trigger CAN be helpful, but it should be a side dish more than the main course.

(Side note, a variation on this that I applied with Alan in a previous post, and that I have used several times since, is conditioning friends to cum when they see my bare pussy. This is a fun variation on a PE fetish, because it lets you keep a guy hard for as long as you want, but they know they will never be able to fuck you! That's not what I'm covering here, though. Maybe another day!)

So if that's what I DON'T want, what DO I want to achieve with this kind of coaching?

**Goals / What this guide will help you do**

The following three goals, IN ORDER OF IMPORTANCE:

1. the person gets better at the learned skill of cumming quickly. week over week, the number of minutes and seconds it takes for them to cum goes down consistently (if not strictly linearly)

2. the person gets better at cumming from less intense VISUAL & mental stimulation. if in week 1 they are cumming to niche hardcore porn, in week 52 (say) I'd like them to be cumming just as easily to pics of people wearing clothes, or just their imagination.

3. the person gets better at cumming from less intense PHYSICAL stimulation. if in week 1 they are cumming to jerking off with a death-grip at high speed, or by holding a hitachi directly against their clit, by week 52 (say), I'd like them to be cumming from one finger rubbing their frenulum, or a soft paintbrush or make-up brush on their clit.

This is a key concept, so I'll repeat it: for me, and this guide, I am more interested in lowering times FIRST, decreasing intensity of visual stimulation SECOND, and decreasing physical stimulation THIRD. There can be some wiggle room, and not everything is linear, as I'll explain; but in general I think going from 20 minute jerk-offs (or 4+ hour goon sessions) with a tight grip and nonstop hardcore/niche porn on monday, to trying to "OFM" to girls in baggy clothes in 90 seconds on tuesday, is a recipe for not getting anywhere.

**Three Elements**

That said, progress is always non-linear. So, you'll be working through tiers. For each tier, you will:

1. Get your time down, and keep lowering it consistently

2. Then, start to experiment with less intense visual / mental stimulation

3. Then, start to experiment with less intense physical stimulation

When you are hitting all three benchmarks in a given tier, you'll move on to the next.

Ok those are the goals. Now onto the method.

**Method In Broad Strokes**

1. Take stock of where you currently are.

2. Find the highest tier you're in based on the benchmarks

3. Use that tier to set specific, concrete goals

4. Work towards those goals in the following order:A. TimeB. Visual stimulationC. Physical stimulation

5. When you reach a new benchmark, start the steps over

6. When (not if) you hit a plateau, follow the "plateau procedure"

Again, I've never written this down before, but this is basically what I'm typically, generically doing and thinking about when I'm training a friend (or enemy). I'm not always literally following the exact steps in the exact order, but it's pretty close to what I would do in the broadest of strokes.

(Also, for what it's worth, if anyone works on this constantly I'd love your feedback. I'm inventing these tiers right now based on experience, in order to help people broadly; but in my normal life I'd be setting individual goals for each individual. These might end up being a little "off" and if you find yourself stalling or hitting certain benchmarks more easily than others, I'd love to hear that.

**Tiers**

>**Tier 1 Benchmarks:**

>

>Frequency: Masturbates 3 or more times per day

>

>Time: n/a (doesn't matter)

>

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>**Tier 2 Benchmarks:**

>

>Frequency: Masturbates once or twice a day, most days

>

>Time: n/a (doesn't matter)

>

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>**Tier 3 Benchmarks:**

>

>Frequency: Masturbates either every other day, or 3 days a week.

>

>Time: records time consistently (time itself doesn't matter)

>

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>**Tier 4 Benchmarks:**

>

>Frequency: Masturbates either every other day, or 3 days a week.

>

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 5 minutes

>

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>*Note: from this point and below, the requirement for every tier is "Frequency: Masturbates either every other day, or 3 days a week, not more."*

>

>**Tier 5 Benchmarks:**

>

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 90 seconds

>

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>**Tier 6 Benchmarks:**

>

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 60 seconds

>

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm looking at images of a single person w/o penetration

>

>Physical stimulation: n/a (*Can be anything, though this is a good place to casually practice a "loose" grip (penis) or less intense or indirect vibrations (if you have a pussy and use a vibrator).*)

>

>*Note: from this point and below, the phrase "a single person" refers to "a single person per video or image." You are keeping to softcore, not fixating on a single individual.*

>

>**Tier 7 Benchmarks:**

>

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 45 seconds

>

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm looking at images of a single person wearing SOME clothing on top and bottom (can be underwear or swimsuit)

>

>Physical stimulation: masturbates with thumb, index finger and middle finger only (penis) or fingers only (vagina)

>

>**Tier 8 Benchmarks:**

>

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 30 seconds

>

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm looking at images of a single person wearing street clothes

>

>Physical stimulation: masturbates with two fingers only (index finger and thumb or index finger and middle finger) (penis) or 1 finger only (vagina)

>

>*Note: from this point and below, the phrase "street clothes" is subjective. My metric is "an outfit that wouldn't get you kicked out of a typical restaurant where families are present"*

>

>**Tier 9 Benchmarks:**

>

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 20 seconds

>

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm looking at images of a single person wearing street clothes

>

>Physical stimulation: masturbates with two fingers only (index finger and thumb or index finger and middle finger) (penis) or 1 finger only (vagina)

>

>**Tier 10 Benchmarks:**

>

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 10 seconds

>

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm without visual stimulation

>

>Physical stimulation: masturbates with one finger only (penis) or with a make up brush only (vagina)

**Using the Tiers**

Again, the method / pattern is as follows:

1. Take stock of where you currently are.

2. Find the highest tier you're in based on the benchmarks

3. Use that tier to set specific, concrete goals

4. Work towards those goals in the following order:A. TimeB. Visual stimulationC. Physical stimulation

5. When you reach a new benchmark, start the steps over

6. When (not if) you hit a plateau, follow the "plateau procedure"

For the purposes of this guide, you want to look at the HIGHEST number tier for which you hit ALL the metrics. That is the tier you are "on." One tier below that is the tier you are "working towards."

Note that I say you need to hit ALL the metrics to be ON a given tier. What happens if you hit some metrics for one tier, but not all the metrics? As you'll see, this will often be the case, and that's a good thing. In every case, you are considered to be on the HIGHEST number tier for which you hit ALL the metrics; hitting some metrics for lower tiers is great, but doesn't mean anything in terms of your programing.

For example, lets look at tiers 5 and 6

>**Tier 5 Benchmarks:**

>

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 90 seconds

>

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

&#x200B;

>**Tier 6 Benchmarks:**

>

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 60 seconds

>

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm looking at images of a single person w/o penetration

>

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

Lets say you time yourself and are able to cum in 54 seconds while looking at hardcore BDSM porn. You are in Tier 5, working towards tier 6, because while you meet the time metric for tier 6 (good job!), you don't yet meet ALL the metrics.

Let's look at a more extreme example.

>**Tier 3 Benchmarks:**

>

>Frequency: Masturbates either every other day, or 3 days a week.

>

>Time: records time consistently (time itself doesn't matter)

>

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>**Tier 4 Benchmarks:**

>

>Frequency: Masturbates either every other day, or 3 days a week.

>

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 5 minutes

>

>Visual stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>Physical stimulation: n/a (doesn't matter, can be anything)

>

>**Tier 7 Benchmarks:**

>

>Time: consistently reaches orgasm in less than 45 seconds

>

>Visual stimulation: reaches orgasm looking at images of a single person wearing SOME clothing on top and bottom (can be underwear or swimsuit)

>

>Physical stimulation: masturbates with thumb, index finger and middle finger only (penis) or fingers only (vagina)

Let's say you consistently masturbate to images of a single person wearing some clothing on top and bottom, like underwear or a swimsuit. Great! You have only recently started timing yourself, and you average about 8 1/2 minutes to climax, with a best-ever time of 5:24.

You are doing awesome, but for the purposes of programing, you should consider yourself at Tier 3, working towards Tier 4. This isn't to diminish your work cumming to less intense visual stimulation! But this guide is about learning to cum faster. Following the tier system, you can stop worrying about less intense visual stimulation for a while, and focus on getting your time down for a while.

Again, as a reminder, this guide isn't one-size fits all. If you think this concept is shit, do whatever you want! I'm not your mom (unless I've explicitly told you to call me Mommy) and you can do whatever you want to do. But this is the GENERAL advice and programing I'd give to a person who wants to achieve the specific goals I outlined above. If you want something else, do something else, I won't be offended.

**Moving Up In Tiers**

**Tiers 1 - 3**

Your goal here is to work from masturbating many times a day to once every other day, or 3 days a week on scheduled days each week. (Either is fine in my opinion -- every other day is probably sightly better in general, but every 3 days can make overcoming plateaus easier so it's mostly a wash.)

* for one week, keep track of how many times you masturbate. (Generally this means orgasm, but if you do a lot of edging, count each 30 minute block as one time)

* At the end of the week make a total for the week.

* Multiply the total by .9. That is your new weekly maximum.

* Divide by 7 to get a daily maximum, if you want to

* for each following week, multiply THE WEEKLY MAXIMUM by .9 to get a new weekly maximum

* Do not multiply the number of times you masturbated by .9, I don't care about that number at all. Reduce the amount you masturbate by as much as you like. Drop down to 3x a week on week 2 if you want. But your weekly maximum goes down by 10% each week regardless.

* You are done with this sequence when you consistently masturbate every other day / on 3 scheduled days a week for 3 consecutive weeks.

*Walking, exercise, and hobbies Side-note*

For people that I coach who masturbate A LOT, their masturbation is often a way of numbing difficult emotions. Simply dropping down in frequency without doing anything else tends, in my experience, to fail spectacularly.

If you masturbate more than 7x a week, you should follow the following sequence as you follow the above sequence:

* when you determine the number of times a week you masturbate, also keep track (precisely or loosely, guesstimates are fine) of the number of MINUTES you masturbate

* As you reduce the number of times you masturbate, you are REQUIRED to replace at least 50% of that time (100% is optimal) with specific other activities.

* Walking is the default activity, and might be the best. This generally means going outside and walking, maybe listening to music or a podcast. If you can't decide, just do this.

* Other activities include any form of exercise, or any hobby where you look at your hands (drawing, journaling, sculpting, ship-in-a-bottle are ok; video games and surfing the internet do not count for this requirement)

**Tiers 4 and beyond**

Again, the method / pattern is as follows:

1. Take stock of where you currently are.

2. Find the highest tier you're in based on the benchmarks

3. Use that tier to set specific, concrete goals

4. Work towards those goals in the following order:A. TimeB. Visual stimulationC. Physical stimulation

5. When you reach a new benchmark, start the steps over

6. When (not if) you hit a plateau, follow the "plateau procedure"

We've now covered 1, 2, and 3. Now we'll work on 4, 5 and 6.

**4A. How to lower your time**

This alone is a helpful and simple method, and I bet some of you who think this guide is WAY too complicated can still benefit from this approach. Here's what you do.

Note: should be self-explanatory, but the following is intended for people who are in tier 4 or higher. If you are masturbating 3x a day, godspeed, but this will probably not be super effective.

Solo Method:

Week 1

* each time you masturbate, time yourself with a STOPWATCH

* \- the timer begins when you touch your genitals, even through clothes (this is to prevent cheating by doing a lot of stimulation through your jeans or whatever, which is counterproductive)

* \- You can look at stimulating stuff at other times, but this may cause you to go crazy or fall off the wagon (hard to advise if you don't have a partner)

* at the end of the week, average the times (add them up and divide by 3 or 4 depending)

* Multiply this number by .9 -- This is your new MAXIMUM TIME

For each following week:

* each time you masturbate, set a TIMER (not a stopwatch) for your MAXIMUM TIME.

* If you orgasm within the maximum time, great! (it's not required, but I think it's good to write down how long you took, eg {max time - time remaining on timer = session time\]

* if you do not orgasm within the maximum time, no problem! stop masturbating and wait until your next session.

* Generally, if you are following the structure, you will always cum either in the first session or the second session. This is considered "good progress"

* At the end of each week, multiply the week's MAXIMUM TIME by .9 to get next weeks new Maximum Time

* Generally there's no need to add up your times and find an average anymore, unless you find yourself consistently beating your maximum times by a huge margin (over 25%) FOR MULTIPLE WEEKS RUNNING.

* When your week's maximum time gets = to or lower than the maximum time for the Tier you are WORKING TOWARDS, set your max time at that time and keep it there.

*Partner Method:*

*As above, but with a partner you can generally go faster, especially if the partner is keeping you in a chastity device. Sometimes I will multiply the max time by other numbers, like .85 or .8, or arbitrarily drop down even lower -- and then in following weeks raise the time similarly arbitrarily. I find a more chaotic approach that trends downward is often more effective and makes my partner feel much more controlled and helpless.*

Within 2 weeks, you will either be cumming within the max time for the tier you are working towards, most of the time or all of the time, OR, you will be plateaued, only cumming every other time (and likely really frustrated).

If you are pretty consistently cumming within the max time for the tier you are working towards, keep your max time where it is and move on to decreasing visual stimulation.

If you are plateaued, do the following:

* time yourself with a stopwatch (not a timer)

* masturbate once, with the goal of cumming as fast as you can

* whatever time you get is your temporary max time, which will be consistent as you move on to decreasing visual stimulation.

**4B -** **Decreasing Visual Stimulation**

(This is identical to (but maybe slightly more detailed than) the much-misunderstood "Trigger Method" popular on this subreddit. I hate to even use that term, because people almost always get the wrong idea about what the word "trigger" means. So if you don't know what I'm talking about, just forget the word trigger.)

* keep your maximum time, as above.

* as above, if you don't cum within your maximum time, stop and wait for your next session

* Look at the requirements for visual stimulation for the tier you are working towards

* Before you start masturbating, pull up something along those lines in another window, browser tab, screen, whatever. We'll call this the LESS STIMULATING stuff.

* masturbate as normal to the stuff you normally masturbate to

* when you are close to orgasm, switch to the LESS STIMULATING stuff while you orgasm

* Over time, experiment with switching to the LESS STIMULATING stuff earlier and earlier in the session

* Eventually experiment with starting with the less stimulating stuff and looking at it the whole time.

* There is another more concrete method for this that involves two timers, but that is probably too much for most people's patience.

* DON'T: look at the less stimulating stuff to start with and switch to some other thing later.

* I don't really recommend making the LESS STIMULATING stuff something specific like belly buttons or feet or eye contact or fire hydrants if your goal is to decrease your time. (That can be fun for other games, but outside the scope of this specifci guide.)

* When you are consistently cumming to the less stimulating stuff, move on to decreasing physical stimulation

* If you go for several weeks making no progress -- consistently not cumming, or frequently only cumming on session #2 and not #1, you can move on to physical stimulation OR add time to your max time and start over.

**4C - Decreasing Physical Stimulation**

Much the same as above, but with physical stimulation.

* keep your maximum time, as above.

* as above, if you don't cum within your maximum time, stop and wait for your next session

* Look at the requirements for physical stimulation for the tier you are working towards

* masturbate as normal to the stuff you normally masturbate to

* while you masturbate, experiment with less intense grip/pressure/lower speed on vibrator

* when you are close to orgasm, switch to the LESS STIMULATING type of touching while you orgasm. Do this until you feel you are cumming normally/strongly with the less intense stimulation

* Over time, experiment with switching to the LESS STIMULATING grip/pressure earlier and earlier in the session

* (For people with vaginas, when you are moving from vibrator to fingers, take your time. This tier might be a huge challenge for you! That's fine, be patient, take it slow.)

* Eventually experiment with starting with the less stimulating grip or pressure the whole time.

* When you are consistently cumming to the less stimulating stuff, but are falling short of the tier you are working towards in terms of time or visual stimulation, return to those steps as above. It's okay for progress to be non-linear!

* If you go for several weeks making no progress -- consistently not cumming, or frequently only cumming on session #2 and not #1, you can move back to visual stimulation OR add time to your max time and start over.

Ok, I typed this all out without too much thinking about it or review. I'll probably return to it in a day or two to make refinements and possibly add examples for the last part. And obviously I'll need

Please sound off with questions, in the meantime.

And, good luck! I can't offer direct coaching, but I'd love to hear your progress in the comments.

\-Coach Sarah

[urmanzack]

head canons of heartslabyul boys having a crush on a gender neutral reader?

Heartslabyul boys crushing on you

———

Summary: Short head canons on what they'd be like if they had a crush on you Fandom: Twisted Wonderland Characters: Riddle, Trey, Deuce, Ace, Cater Warnings: None! A/N: zero clue how to write trey

———

Riddle 🌹

- poor boy

- he'd be SO nervous around you, but at the same time try to look like the cool house warden he is

- ace teases him way too much, whispering and elbowing him obviously whenever you walk by, or straight up waving you over

- trey, on the other hand, would gently encourage him; try to get him to learn about your favourite things

- it’d take a little bit, but if you hadn’t already he would talk to you probably after class, and offer to study with you to get your grades up even if theyre already great

- he absolutely melts at your praise

- riddle just thinks you’re the sun, you’re so gorgeous to him

- definitely stares, and blushes if you notice while hes obviously admiring you

Ace 💖

- ace has been in a relationship in the past (his middle school girlfriend NO IM NOT MAKING THAT UP HE FR GHOSTED HER), but when it comes to you? it’s so much more complicated

- will go on and on to deuce about how much he likes you and why

- tries to be really confident around you to get your attention

- the type of dude to do idiotic things in front of his crush and fall on his ass

- terrified of what you think of him, do you think he’s annoying? cocky?

- will bite someone's head off if they say anything bad about you, even in casual conversation. you know he likes you if he gets annoyed instead of joking about it

- you would have to be friends with deuce, the 3 of you would most likely hang out together

- but on some days you sit with ace under a tree, having your own little picnic

Deuce ♠

- mamas boy

- does his best!

- tries to avoid you finding out he was a delinquent during school, he doesn’t want you to think he’d be a bad boyfriend

- similar to ace, you’d have to get along

- now and then he makes dumb jokes to try to get you to smile

- definitely someone who pines (pining is when you think the other person doesn’t feel the same way)

- befriends you first, friends to lovers fashion

- then would ask you out real casually

- literally loves you so much

- writes letters to his mom about you

Cater ♦

- there’s no way this man hasn’t been in a relationship before, he’s so social!

- he flirts with you 24/7, but it’s hard to tell if he’s joking around or if he actually means it

- likes all of your social media posts, and definitely would stalk your account to see what you’ve been up to

- not afraid to talk to you at all, one day he might come up behind you, wrap his arm around your shoulder and start making conversation as if you’re the best of friends

- very good at hiding he likes you

- but tries to make it obvious

- if you’re oblivious and don't get the hint… he’d just ask you out

- adores taking photos with you

- matching profile pictures, phone cases, bios, you name it

Trey 🍀

- he’s not an obvious flirt, but he’s not shy either

- trey most likely compliments you often, being really casual and calm

- he wants to make a good impression

- “You didn’t eat breakfast? Here, have some candied violets, they’re my favourite.”

- always wishes you a goodnight's sleep and says good morning

- a worry bug if you're late to class

[cheolsfae]

Can u make seventeen as bestfriend? Thank you~

𑁍SVT as your best friend!

Requested: Absolutely

Genre: Platonic Fluff

Warning(s): None

Requests are open!

S. Coups

Snack runs!

Didn't matter how late.

"Wanna go with me to get [insert snack here]?"

"Thought you'd never ask!"

Movie nights!

Heavy blankets thrown on the couch, you both cozied up on either side of it, laughing at whatever was on.

Coups was kind of protective of you.

He really didn't like it if you came over completely upset.

"Who the hell hurt my child? Who's ass do I have to kick?" type of thing!

Wonwo

Remember that trend where people would go to thrift stores and blindly pick clothes? That's what you guys did but with books.

You always ended up with the really weird ones!

One time, it had been smut written about the grinch...

Somehow, Wonwoo always got lucky and got a decent one.

He gives me grandpa vibes, lmao! But like in a good way.

You guys watched a lot of game shows together. Wheel of Fortune and Jeopardy. That kind of thing.

You guys liked to poke a bit of fun at some of the contestants on the shows. Mainly the ridiculous answers they gave.

Mingyu

Loyal as they come! ✨️

Gets pouty when you hang out with other friends other than him.

"I'm supposed to be your best friend!"

"You are!"

This was always a goofy little argument you guys had.

Spa nights were pretty frequent. Face masks, pedicures, manicures...!

"Can you paint them? I don't want to."

"Gimme them fingers!"

Expect the nail polish to be messy! He tried his best though!

Vernon

You guys would have the most chilled out, relaxed type of friendship.

I get the vibe he's a floor sitting type of person.

Whenever he's at your house, there is a perfectly good place on the couch/bed for him, boy opts not to sit there.

He picks the floor, every single time. And he just sprawls out on it.

You often do the same though so it all works out.

He often comes over just to sit in silence with you.

You guys didn't have to be doing anything in particular. You guys just simply existed together like 90% of the time.

The other 10% of the time, was you guys having serious conversations about things going on in each others lives

Or maybe even talking about the most outlandish conspiracy theories. Like if Big Foot was real or not lmao

Joshua

Coffee dates at least once a week.

It was a time for you two to talk about your week.

It was a cozy little friendship.

I think he'd do handmade gifts for you.

I mean, yeah, we know he makes bracelets and things like that, but I think sometimes, he'd make you matching T-shirts.

Mainly if you guys were going on vacations together, things like that.

"Do I have to wear this?" you would ask.

"Yes! you have a tendency to get lost! I need to be able to find you easily!"

He gives hovering mom energy but in the most positive way possible lmao

Jeonghan

"It's for the plot" sort of friendship.

You guys feed each other your delusions about whatever.

He had a crush on someone, you'd be right there saying "oh I know they really couldn't stop staring at you!" When in reality, the person just happened to look in his direction.

That type of vibe

One to clown on you! 100%!

You fell asleep first at the little sleep over you guys were having? Better believe he's taking pictures of you and posting them on IG or something. And if it isn't that, he's drawing all over your face in permanent marker.

You also did the same type of thing to him.

One time, you'd put clear tape over the bathroom door, when he tried to walk through, he got tangled all up in it!

Woozi

I think late night drives are pretty common for you two.

Chilling out in silence.

Listening to whatever was on the radio.

Such a vibe

Tons of deep talks

Lots about how you guys wished things turned out differently

Or how things could have been better if...

If it wasn't things like that, it was silly little inconveniences through out the day.

"This idiot cut me off in traffic and then flipped me off"

"It's what you deserve"

A little bit of a dark humored type of friendship I think.

Dokyeom

I think there would be a whole lot of sleepovers at one another's places.

You guys would be stuck together like glue

Nothing could separate you guys!

You did everything together!

He had to go to the grocery store for groceries — you were right there going along with him.

You had a doctor's appointment, he'd be sitting in the waiting room for you.

Almost codependent.

Seungkwan

This man is the best friend anyone could ask for!

You guys love to spill the tea with one another, similarly to the boyfriend thing.

"[Insert name here] is so rude"

"They are! Oh my god!"

The looks you guys give one another from across the room...

No words even need to be spoken!

You guys just look at one another and immediately know what the other is thinking!

He feels exactly like your soulmate in best friend form!

Hoshi

This goof!

You know that video where the kid says "Do the roar"? You'd say this to him and he'd end up doing his infamous tiger thing.

To be honest, it was kind of funny.

I think random presents from one another is something the two of you did.

Yeah, 90% of what he'd gifted you was little lion themed things and he'd received a lot of tiger things from you. A sort of match-y, match-y thing.

Speaking of match-y, match-y things...friendship bracelets were a thing!

If you didn't wear it, he would be so upset! Please never forget to wear it!

Jun

He is so cute!

He doesn't try to make you laugh all that often but he does unintentionally.

That's a pretty common occurrence.

You guys would text each other about every little thing through out the day

"I think I'm getting a pimple on my nose. Looks like it's going to be HUGE one...you wanna pop it?"

"Dude, I stubbed my toe on the couch corner."

Little things like that, it was a constant thing.

Minghao

Personal photographer!

He gets your best angles!

"Tilt your head a little more...perfect." *click*

He also really likes to pick out clothes for you. If doesn't he'll tell you exactly what he doesn't like about the look. Even if it stings a bit.

He'd always tell you the dress code for some event you guys were attending!

I think, he'd be the time to have meditation sessions with you, or at least attempt to but really couldn't focus because you would kind of laugh in between the awkward silences.

He'd lightly tap you, trying his very best to stay focused on the guided meditation but sooner or later, he'd join in on you laughing.

Dino

Hypes you up! Constantly!

He tries to teach you some of their choreography

He's so patient with you! Even if you are a little clumsy and mis-step a bit.

Another one who loves to clown on you, it feels like one of his favorite pass-times.

"You look like a racoon!" he'd tell you before laughing his ass off about how goofy you looked. It wasn't like you had much of a choice in staying up all night to finish that project! You'd put it off for the night before it was due

Another thing he'd do is give you encouragement when you most needed it.

He was always the best at that.

Trash day? He was right there with you on the couch ripping every single part of your day up with you.

[hotchs-big-hands]

hi hi im fucking obsessed with your page and all the lovely anons like ya’ll are keeping me alive with your thoughts, comments, rants, stories, and gifs😭😭😭 HOWEVER i was wondering if anyone has any thoughts about how the team would take it if they saw how haley was treating the reader with her snide fucking comments and ugly ass attitude???? OR what if haley tries to get the team on her side bc she’s so fucking stupid and blinded with jealousy even tho they arent really close in the first place????

please bless me with your thoughts (IM BEGGING YOU🧎‍♀️)

- 🌊

Awwwhhh gosh thank you so much ����🥺🥺🥺💖💖💖💖💖 you're very sweet! And I welcome you 🌊 anon!! It's nice to have you here 🥰🥰🥰🥰

NOW onto the deets!! Sooooo okay they can tell that whenever you're around or mentioned Haley is ✨tense✨. I mean they are profilers! It esp goes down when there's a gathering at the bar after a case. You're there, as you often are (even before you started dating Aaron if you're part of the team) and just generally having a great time sitting with him.

And then Haley enters the same bar. She managed to have Jack handed over to her sister, being encouraged to "get back out there". But what Jessica doesn't know is Haley decided to go to the very same bar she was attending with Aaron with the team years ago. She had heard he was seeing someone, but now she knows he is. And boy... she is not happy.

You're younger than her for a start. Pretty. Real pretty. Definitely more filled out than she ever was, however. And Aaron has his arm around your waist, smiling gently and chuckling at whatever the conversation was being had. No, she didn't want to see him so-

So she decides to saunter into the bar, pretending she hasn't seen any of them as she orders herself a drink. As she takes hold of her drink she walks casually near their table, she knows they've spotted her now. And then she feigns surprise as she lets her eyes wander to the group.

"Oh! I didn't expect to cross paths with you all tonight." She says. The group offer polite greetings to her and she smiles and nods, then her eyes land on you. "Ah... and you are?"

You tell her your name. She watches as Aaron's grip on you tightens a little. She hums.

"I see. Well I'm Haley Brooks, Aaron's ex-wife. I'm sure you know my dearest Jack, yes? I'm his mother." She says smugly as she shakes your hand a little too tightly. You look uncomfortable, she enjoys it. Her eyes drift to Aaron, who's watching her with slightly narrowed eyes. "I didn't expect you to move onto someone so... hmm, how should I put it?"

"Haley." Aaron says. His tone is a warning. Haley narrows her eyes a little.

"I was only going to say they're young, Aaron." God, she enjoyed the discomfort from the way she said his name. You're looking at her with a certain look that suggested you knew she was lying about what she was about to say. No doubt you'd heard it before, she thinks. One of the others at the table clears their throat.

"Ah, you here with anyone tonight?" Emilia(Emily?) asks her. Haley shifts her gaze to the woman with dark hair.

"Mhm no. Just haven't had much time for myself recently." She knows her words sting. Good. You clear your throat and offer a polite smile.

"I don't mind looking after Jack sometimes if you and Jessica need a break. He's always a good kid when he's at his dad's." You offer and Haley breathes out through her nose sharply.

"That's funny, when I spotted you all I thought you probably worked as a babysitter. You certainly look like one."

Before anyone else can speak up, Aaron slams his glass down on the table and stands up, firm and tall.

"Alright, that's enough. I think you should go." He says sternly to her. Haley gasps, wide eyed.

"A-Aaron I-"

"Now."

In a spark of anger, Haley downs her drink in one and slams her own glass down on the table.

"Fine. I'll just have to try to find myself a ride home then." She snaps. She turns to leave, and from behind her she hears possibly Derek say,

"Leave it to us, Hotch. Stay with (Y/n)."

She never did get to see you again.

[big-pp-energy-ven]

This is just a miscellaneous post of my inner rants, I expect no one to engage with this other than myself when I find this post in like 5 years from now

Based on the previous reblog where it was poll on what kind of gay I was in high school, I was a choir kid (derogatory)

I say derogatory because,,, I had mix feelings about it.

I got into choir in 7th grade middle school, and was in choir up until 12th grade of high school (excluding the covid year, I was online). That's almost 5 years of choir.

Those first 3 years were alright, I might even say great. I had pretty good directors, I especially liked my 8th grade director- excusing that one time she yelled at me tho and made me cry... (maybe).

Middle school choir was about what you expect, I feel like it wasn't all that serious. No proper techniques, just... singing to the crowd. The only shit that was a constant issue was drama amongst the clique of 11-13 year olds. My 8th grade director was great cuz she gossiped with us and she fr kinda ate... she was a middle aged latina woman who had a new jersey accent... loved how real she was.

Then I get to high school choir, and of course everything is different. The director, who we called "Mama", was the sweetest woman and she made choir the best for me. She was like my 8th grade director but more sassier and a loud mouth (affectionate)

You might be saying- what was so bad about choir?

All I will say, the one thing that Mama would get on our asses about whenever we weren't meeting her expectations was attitude and egos. I've seen how some my classmates acted... she was right in most cases.

Something to admit, right off the bat, being in choir for those 3 years was the 2nd time I had ever felt lonely. I mean, 10th grade concert choir, is when I made friends with people I'm currently friends with now! It's funny because I remember seeing how my buddies interacted and I thought they were weird... but then I gradually warmed up to them and realized that I was just as weird.. (that's on that neurodivergent behavior).

While I did make friends with those weirdos (affectionate), I recognized that I spent most of my time alone. Quiet and just watching the other choir students talk and stuff. Whenever someone did talk to me, I remained friendly and said hi, but it always felt kind of forced. Like I couldn't exactly hold a long-lasting conversation. I think I spent more time listening/watching than actually talking. I did have to force myself to talk to people and be a part of a group, I didn't wanna be completely alone. Even in 12th grade, I tried my best to put myself out there... but there weren't a lot of people I vibed with except maybe like 5 of them (there were at least 50 people, btw).

I was in the beginner choir for 2 years, I was supposed to go to the bella voce (all women's) choir my 11th grade year, but covid happened...

So it was surprising when I was chucked in chamber (advanced) in 12th grade. You had to audition and do an interview to get in, and you would be added according to the schedule. Mama always found a way to get in you in multiple choirs... but I was surprised when I was put in there, cuz I didn't have to do any of it.

Mama always mentioned how she saw the best in us and knew who was hard working. Me, however, didn't see that.

I think that's when I started to develop imposter syndrome or at least started to notice it. I felt like I didn't belong in chamber. Everyone in there were great singers and were in theater as well. I know I shouldn't have been comparing myself, but it's kinda hard when you're surrounded by so much talent

I remember we were having a discussing and Mama was asking if we saw ourselves as an ensemble (a person who works collectively with their group) or a soloist (someone who's having a performance of their own... /negative). Most answered ensemble. I answered soloist, and when I explained my own reasoning, I said something like "It's not that I'm intentionally singing alone, I don't feel like I'm apart of the ensemble and I'm my own island." Mama took note of that.

I worked to better my vocals, I sang during karaoke days, and I was considered one of the strongest altos in my section, but I still felt like I wasn't trying hard enough. Senior year had become a weird period where choir became my least favorite class unlike before... I didn't hate it, but it became something I didn't look forward to.

The rehearsals felt monotonous, the drama felt constant, the current state of the world was no longer the same, and I had to worry about passing, so choir wasn't my top priority exactly. I still did what I needed to do during those last 40 minutes of the day, but outside of choir, I was focused on other stuff.

My friends were either in different choirs or were doing dual enrollment, so I was alone for the most part in that class period. Yes, I had friends outside of choir, but I only saw them during lunch. I feel like senior year was lonely... that 1 hour lunchtime didn't seem like enough time.

Now, MPA (basically a choir exam) was coming up, and we have these really advanced pieces we're performing. Mama, love her to death, was working us to the bone. She was harsh. She was critical, but I'd say it was mostly tough love... and this was also when the interpersonal drama started to ramp up, and she had gotten involved to some extent. A lot was happening now (..uh time frame, this was early 2022).

There was one day where the tension was... well tense. And Mama was not having it with us. I was stressed out of my mind at this point, I felt like I wasn't working hard enough, and it felt like I was experiencing the weight of the situation.

The rehearsal went on, and she distinctly told us, "You're gonna close your eyes and sing this right. If you open your eyes, then you aren't taking this seriously, and you don't have the right to be in this choir."

That, for some reason, got me. In the middle of the song, I got choked up and was so ridden with anxiety and sadness that I froze up. I was rubbing my pants' legs and shaking, all with my eyes closed. One of the guest teachers had to touch me to calm me down.

Of course, there was discussion afterward... I was put on the spotlight. I don't even remember what I said, but I spoke out how I felt about the performance. I was mess. I still think about that day because it makes me feel exhausted thinking about it. I remember how much I wanted to quit after that. It's been a year since that happened. I don't know why I felt so burdened during that rehearsal. It might've been due to my own fears of failing, I already had the constant thought of not being good enough and not belonging. I still don't know what set me off to this day.

I find it a little messed up to say that I was happy when I left choir and graduated. I remember seeing my choir mates crying and hugging the seniors. Meanwhile, I was just happy to get out of there. I did say goodbye to one of my favorite underclassmen. I felt no attachments to the choir anymore. The only reason why I cried is because it was due to seeing two of my favorite teachers front row (Mama and my English teacher). That got me, god.

Mama was a great teacher in terms of how she taught and lifted us up. Not only that, she was a good counselor... she was very vulnerable with us, and that, in turn, made us vulnerable with her, and she's the most supportive teacher on campus. I hope she still works there.

The only things I did enjoy from choir were the songs. I can remember a few of them. Also, I'll never forget that I listened to Ubi Caritas for 2 hours straight... I learned it, though. I can't listen to it, thought without feeling sad, as it reminds me of that rehearsal day.

My dad always asks if I'm still singing, and I would say not really... I mean, I do sing on occasion, but I still don't think I'm good. I don't see myself joining the singing career. I still have moments, though, where if/when I listen to someone sing, I listen to techniques and silently correct them. I'm glad I'm more focused on visual arts than performance arts... I was in tech theater though, that was fun.

Sorry for anyone that happened to read this entire mini Bible.. I've had this on my mind for a year.

[xclxgdx]

Chapter 1 of my book has been published!!!

BEEP! BEEP! BEEP! The alarm sounded rudely, awakening me from the deepest sleep of my life. I reached across the white sheets towards my side table to silence it. My head pounded. I was hungover. Again.

My mouth was dry, and my vision was blurred. That's the last time I get into a tequila drinking competition with the whole of my boyfriend's fraternity. I chuckled to myself, "Oh, for fuck's sake, I can't believe I did that," I reminisced on jumping into the pool fully clothed. It was only supposed to be a small gathering; I said I'd only stop for a few drinks. My Boyfriend – Dylan, is a part of the Xi Alpha Upsilon fraternity as well as the lacrosse captain. They throw some of the best parties on campus. Almost everyone on campus has been in the Xi Alpha house at some point, and I had a season pass to enter whenever I wanted. It's like an investment. Apart from, you know, being in love. I date a member of one of the most popular frats on campus, and I get access to any party on campus. And dating Dylan had granted me the honour of being crowned the Xi Alpha Upsilon party princess. Not a real title that carried any responsibility other than status and a plastic party crown, but it felt nice being beloved.

It's not like i'm some massive party animal or something. I don't get drunk at every party, but I'm in college, and I've just turned 21. I'm going to party while I can. And I'm good at it. I'm really good at partying. And it's not just the drinking. It's the music, dancing, everyone's having fun, and the deep nonsense conversations you get into while drinking are unmatched. I've made some of my best friends in the club's bathroom. And I have a person for everything. Need a locksmith? I know a guy. You need a bundle of horsehair? I know a guy. Or I know a guy who knows a guy. And I met them all at the club or in someone's living room at 4am. So, I guess it's like networking? I think that makes sense, seeming that I'm a communications major. A major I took as it seemed the easiest and required the least amount of work, but actually, as it turns out, I'm a natural.

I manage to peel myself out of bed without making my headache worse. No time to shower. I throw on the leggings and sweatshirt that are thrown over my desk chair. They've been worn too often to mix with the clean clothes in my overstuffed drawer, yet they still need to be dirty enough to put into my laundry pile. Doing my laundry takes a lot of mental strength, so I put it off as long as possible. Usually, till I run out of underwear.

...

As class ended and I slipped out of my seat I went to go over to Professor Donaldsons desk to hand over the extra credit he'd asked me to complete so I could recover my GPA. Still in my daydream I walked into something hard.

"Ouch, watch it neanderthal! You could have broken my nose".

The giant was stood at Professor Donaldsons desk, handing over some sheets of paper with a wide smile on his face. I'd never seen him before. What a kiss ass. The words internship had barely left Donaldsons lips, and this guy was already first in line to hand over an application. He thanked Donaldson for his consideration and finally turned to answer me.

"Maybe watch where you're going princess, and you wouldn't walk into people who were standing here first."

I barely even looked up at him, I rolled my eyes and walked around his gigantic frame to handover my work. I went to parties almost evert night, I was the most popular girl on campus. The Xi Alpha Party Princess. Who did he think he was talking to me like this. I turned round to give him a piece of my mind but by the time I'd placed the paper on the desk and turned around he was gone. 

Who the hell was that guy? 

[titanicfreija]

Rise-26 has concerns

"So you're just answering questions."

"Yeah...?"

"From. The. Not 'a', but The mother fucking Empress. Caiatl. Leader of the Cabal Empire, which spans multiple solar systems; possessor of tech that fucks with Darkness and Light alike; who staged a fucking coup with fucking Ghaul--who shut down the Traveler and kicked our collective ass-- to overthrow Calus, fucked as he was, the guy that psychically linked himself to magic fungus and spread himself over the galaxy. You're taking questions like some kind of celebrity from the most powerful non-god we deal with?"

"Would it make you feel better to know it feels more like being interrogated? I get that you're upset about it, but she isn't Ghaul or Calus, and she's not interested in finding an excuse to kill us."

"She doesn't need one!"

"Actually, yeah. So me giving her one would be meaningless."

"The fuck can you tell an empress, anyway! What doesn't she know that you do?!"

"The difference between being suffocated by crushing or airway blockage."

~

"...Did she really ask you about that?"

"Nah. She did ask if I get scared when I die, though."

"Auuuggghhh! Of course that's what she would ask, and you are the worst one to answer."

"I've mentioned how much you hate being shot twice. Which reminds me, I think that's my shields. Your armor is thin but the shields can be modified with--"

"Focus, meathead, I'm trying to make sure your fat New Light mouth doesn't start an intergalactic war."

"Oh for-- It's not a hundred percent safe, but Sunny can mute my comms whenever she wants. All three of us, actually. They've been making little rules for the interviews since Neomuna--"

"Hang on, what?"

"I told you what happened. Sunny didn't remember anything and I couldn't talk about it for a while so she went to ask Caiatl and Nimbus. Caiatl mentioned not knowing anything about Ghosts, and Sunny, being the guiding sunbeam she is, wanted to help and offered to answer any questions. I can't tell you how their conversations evolved, but Sunny started it while I was meditating, they'd go talk for a bit. Then she started hanging out with her while I was sleeping and she was in range, and now they're talking via comms when we're in range. I don't know if they've been doing that without my knowing or if the first time she did it included me on accident or intentionally-- but yeah."

".... Guiding Sunbeam who is trying to upset all the politics."

"The world is ending, no one has time to get petty."

"This is precisely the time to get petty."

"Hunter."

"You do sound jealous, though. That's not why you're getting in on this, is it?"

"I was jealous, but hearing what they talk about is helping. Why are old people so weird?"

"What, talking about the nature of existence and shit?"

"Nature of your being, is what she said. Talking about being a Guardian, the resurrection stuff and what it means to not die like that. Asking about fear of death and if it hurts, like I said. If I could have shot someone else's Ghost instead of Sunny."

"Oh, shit, okay I see. Questions she really can't ask anyone else. Are you okay?"

"Yeah."

"...."

"I said I didn't want to be that kind of person, but I am and I could but I'd feel bad. And then I went on for a while about why I'd feel bad. Cos you know how much I love Sunny, but even Three with Ghost and Thomas with Rex, and I can't.... It's a fucked up question, it was a fucked up order, and she's still learning exactly how bad because she's getting to ask some jackass real personal, prying, triggering questions, instead of trying to guess by sideways remarks from Zavala, bad explanations from Sunny, or me crying in front of her because she reminded me too sharp when she said sorry."

"And giving her a grand view of a weak spot isn't a bad idea to you?"

"She knows the Ghosts are our weak spots."

"This just screams bad idea."

"She likes Sunny. And I'm really some jackass. And she doesn't have to posture at me. And she likes this."

"... She has been shot before, why would she need to ask you?"

"I didn't survive. It's a little weird, I've never really thought about any of it, but I'm usually too busy thinking of an answer to worry about how she's gonna feel about it."

"Like what? What's weird?"

"What would you do if you met someone that killed their own Ghost?"

"... Yeah I can't... What... Can this person.... What?"

"Yeah, that's what I said. Couldn't even imagine a person that could do it, what they'd act like. Said they'd spook me. But then I said something like, I'd be more freaked out by someone who was okay with killing their own Ghost. And said that killing Ghosts in front of their Guardians is fucked up."

"It is."

"She didn't know that!"

"... Oh."

"I mean, she's not stupid, she probably knew it wasn't okay, but she didn't realize-- we all feel like that, and didn't realize we would feel each other's pain regarding our relationships and stuff, like us flinching when talking about Sagira and Brya and Rex."

".... Huh."

"Yeah, normal common knowledge to us, stuff we think is obvious-- she thought they were just chatty conduits, tools, not friends, let alone tied like we actually are, ways keeping even Rex and Thomas together."

"So Sunny helped?"

"It's been progressing for a while. She doesn't really talk to me about it, said it's rude, I'm pretty sure she just doesn't wanna tell me how much shit she talks. Can tell some shit, though. Set her off digging into history books and shit, questions she couldn't answer or got inspired to ask."

"Like what?"

"... Awoken Politics, for one."

"What's the real story there?"

"Awoken Politics is what I feel is safe to tell you. Shithead doesn't know when to let a question stay unanswered. That shit was the potential war."

"Ohhhhh..."

"Yep!"

"And. She's been answering questions. Like what?"

"I don't know. She won't tell me. A shitload of, "what the fuck are they doing" followed by "Why", with a bunch of just, "why" because she can tell what we're doing."

"... Fair enough. Seriously, though, why? Why does she care?"

"She's working pretty tight with us and we're unpredictable idiots and she wants half a clue? Fun? Curiosity? She seems to want to know more about the classes, our early days, the connection with the Ghosts and each other, and piddling other shit. Oh, she asked what my first memory was."

"That's another weird one."

"Sunny said she was probably testing my awareness on waking up."

~

Hard Questions

New Angle

Honest

Radio Chat

Scripted Questions

Battlefield

Fear

Enlightening

More like Interrogation <-

(In)humanity

Underlying

Ghost Affection

[crumbledcastle28]

Din Djarin: Right There

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!reader

Summary: You feel guilty after Mando injures his back while protecting you on a mission, so you try your best to offer him some relief…

Warnings: Din moans, sexual tension, heavy breathing, discussions of blood and blood loss, allusions to sex and being aroused, skin on skin, swearing, just ✨tension✨. I think that’s all, which is shocking for me.

A/N: Din deserves a good back rub, doesn’t he? I hope you all enjoy :)

If you’d like to leave a like, reblog, or comment, that would be really appreciated <3

Din Masterlist

(I’m not sure where this gif is from, so please let me know if it is yours! I’d be more than happy to give credit)

Part 1 | Part 2

No matter how grumpy and irritable the Mandalorian could be, the shit he did to keep you safe could never be repaid.

Just from the top of your head, you could think of 15 times the beskar-covered man had saved your ass, and you were positive there were more. You had only been a part of his “crew” (which was just you, him, and the green baby he carried around) for 6 months, so that totaled to over two times per month, not even including the times you had forgotten.

You felt just plain pathetic.

Sure, you saved his ass a few times, but it mostly consisted of yelling at him to watch his back or taking care of the kid.

Mando, on the other hand, had dived in front of you multiple times, pulled you out of exploding ships, and he took care of the kid for an entire week when you got pneumonia.

Moral of the story, Mando was damn good at his job. And the worst part about it, was that he never held it over your head. Ever.

Don’t worry about it, Y/N.

You need to rest.

I’ve got you. You’re gonna be fine.

You’re more important than my pride, Y/N.

You’re such a stubborn woman.

It’s safe. We are all safe.

Yeah…he was good at his job. Really good at his job. Or at least, that’s what you told yourself when his words crept into your mind late at night.

You weren’t gonna lie, you really liked the rhythm that you and Mando had fallen into after all these months. The conversations started off strictly business, talking about how you would get into a job and get out, and maybe a “good job” or “nice shot” after the missions were over. Besides that, the ship was usually silent and you both basically ignored each other.

After a while, however, he turned…kind.

It’s not like he was ever mean to you before, but he started to ask you more questions about a month into your arrangement. They were usually about things you liked and disliked, and they were basic as all hell, but it was still something.

You would ask him the same question in return, he would respond with a dry “yes” or “no,” and then awkward silence would fill the room again.

This carried on for a week or two, and the awkward silence finally started feeling normal. You were 2 months in now, and you were shocked with how much you expected the silence, embraced it even. The groans of the ship in hyperdrive or just drifting through space felt peaceful, and it felt good to just sit next to someone.

The someone who, at this point in time, started watching you look out into deep space. You didn’t notice him doing this, he made sure of it, but he liked how the silver stars reflected in your eyes. The edges of your lips would curve up into a content smile, and you would rest your head in your hand whenever you sat in the co-pilot seat.

You looked…human, happy, peaceful.

You looked beautiful.

Three months in was when you had the first real scare.

You and Mando were miles away from the Crest, and tracking a Twi’lek that had been stalking you for weeks. You assumed he wanted the kid, and so your plan completely revolved around the fact that the little guy could not be anywhere near the confrontation. That’s why you guys were so far away.

Mando would have turned back and led you straight home if he knew what was going to happen that day.

Home. That word was permanently etched into his vocabulary after this mission as well.

The memory of the injury itself is fuzzy now. You remember trying to take the Twi’lek from behind while Mando distracted him, but he caught on to you pretty quickly.

Luckily, the shot only grazed your stomach instead of going inside, but it still just would not stop bleeding.

You can’t remember if you passed out from blood loss or from shock, but the last thing you remember before falling under was the feeling of Mando lifting you up from the ground, and screaming for help.

You had never heard his voice that loud before, and you hoped you never had to hear it like that ever again.

You woke up in your own bed hours and hours later. You were changed into a new shirt, which you later found out to be Mando’s old training shirt, and a paralyzing stab of pain hit you like a bus. It stretched all across your stomach and sizzled down into your legs, making them feel numb, and you gasped in shock.

It hurt like hell.

“It’s alright. Everything’s all right,” you heard next to you. “Breathe for me Y/N.”

You managed to turn your aching head to the side, and a relieved grin formed on your face when you saw Mando.

His face matched yours under the helmet. Relieved.

“What happened,” you whispered after a few deep breaths.

Mando’s classic sigh filled the room, and his body became stiff.

“The bastard tried to shoot you,” he said. The anger in his voice was prevalent.

You tried to catch your breath to respond, but even moving your stomach from breathing hurt too much. Mando saw that, of course, and stood up quickly.

“You need more bacta.”

“Bacta?” you coughed. “Where the hell did you get bacta? We can’t afford that?”

We.

Both of you noticed that one.

“A nice lady let me borrow some after she helped stitch you up,” he said. “You were out for most of it, but she told me the recovery would be painful. I tried to pay her for it, but she wouldn’t let me.”

What he failed to mention was that the only way he could stay in the same room as you was if he was family. The hospital was packed, there was no time to wait, and Mando sure as hell wasn’t going to “wait outside calmly.”

He told them he was your husband. It rolled off his tongue like an instinct. It felt so natural, it didn’t even feel like a lie.

You nodded, not feeling like bickering with him, and laid your head back down on the pillow.

Mando walked back over to the side of your bed, and looked you in the eyes when he said, “Can I lift your shirt?”

“Yeah,” you spat out. Quicker than you expected. “Yeah…that’s fine. Thank you.”

Mando nodded and slowly lifted your shirt from your pounding wound. You stared at the ceiling, and tried your best not to flinch when he spread the cool treatment on your burning hot stomach. You grasped the sides of the bed to try to keep yourself calm, and Mando tried to hurry after he noticed.

“Did we get him?” you managed to choke out, referring to the Twi’lek you had been tracking.

The room went silent for a beat, before Mando responded.

“No….no we didn’t.”

Your eyes widened. “What? But that was the whole reason—.”

“You are safe,” Mando said assertively. “That’s all that matters.”

Silence hung in the air for the rest of that night, and you both never brought it up again.

From that point on, however, the conversations you had with Mando changed. Dramatically.

It wasn’t just business anymore. Or random questions just to fill the air. Instead, Mando became curious about you. Not the you that was a part of his crew, but the you that existed underneath that. You didn’t know if he started doing this because of you almost bleeding out in front of him, but either way, you really liked the sound of his voice.

What dreams did you have? What got you into this lifestyle? What made you want to say “yes” to his job offer? Was it desperation? Greed? Maybe you actually wanted to be a part of it?

Did you have a family, or friends you left behind? Maybe a part of you regrets doing this? Was the money actually worth all the trauma that you went through?

Trauma.

Now that didn’t bubble up to the surface until right before your six month mark on the Crest. The topic of Mando’s past got brought up, and all that he went through being trained as a Mandalorian foundling.

“Even though I was told that I was just like everyone else,” Mando explained, “I never really felt it. I worked my ass off to be their equals, but it always felt like…like I stuck out, no matter how hard I tried.” He huffed in the pilot’s chair, pressing buttons as he spoke.

“At the end of the day, they were them, and I was me. I couldn’t change it.”

You nodded, finding solidarity in his statement.

“I’m sorry you went through that. You didn’t deserve that,” you responded.

“You don’t have to apologize. You didn’t cause it,” he said sweetly. “But…I appreciate that.”

The comfortable silence returned, and your eyes traced the lines of the the ship’s control panel reflecting off of his armor. The blues and silvers illuminated the gorgeous beskar, and your eyes fell over every inch of him. His breathing was steady, and his shoulders were relaxed. It made you happy that a man like him would feel comfortable around someone like you.

No matter how unlikely it seemed, the two of you clicked really well. So well, that you kept letting your eyes linger on the man a little longer. You kept track of the food he liked, and made sure to pick some up on your shopping sprees. His rare chuckles started making your day more than any amount of money ever did, and the search for his eyes under his visor kept getting more and more intense as the days went on.

And most of all, the stories of all the pain that he went through tore your heart up more than you ever expected.

What was happening to you?

“Well if it makes you feel any better, people in our ‘business’ don’t really treat me as an equal very often,” you said with a lighthearted breath.

“What do you mean?” He tilted his helmet to the side.

He had an incling, but he hoped it wasn’t true.

“I’m a woman, Mando,” you said. “It’s a blessing and curse.”

Mando nodded, understanding what you meant on a deep level inside of him that he always tried to push away. His chest expanded with warmth at the fact that someone understood him for once, but also with frustration at the way you had been treated.

“If anyone knew you as a person, they would understand that they had no chance against you, woman or otherwise,” he said. “And you won’t have to deal with any of that…that bullshit…around me. I don’t tolerate that.”

The magnetic pull you felt towards him pulsed through your body in a way you hadn’t felt yet. It was…attraction. Intense attraction. The view of his broad form rising at the thought of disrespect towards you sent a coolness mixed with heat over your skin. And the tone of his voice…

You swallowed down your thoughts, and tried your best to speak.

“Thank you Mando.”

An idea popped in your head to break the tension.

“And if you did, I wouldn’t be sitting in this chair,” you said with a giggle.

A breath of a chuckle came from Mando too, and his shoulders shook. “I know.”

Your day was more than made.

That was only a few weeks ago, and the relationship you built with Mando had been on a steady, uphill climb since then. It even got to the point where you are cracking jokes with each other.

Who knew the best bounty hunter in the Guild would have an actual sense of humor? And a good one.

It felt really…nice. You were happy. Warm. Content even, for once in your life.

But not immune to yet another scare, apparently.

The job you and Mando were on was hopeless from the beginning, and the blaster shots came too fast and too soon for you to realize what was happening. You heard them fire, and you froze. Immediately. Like some sort of rookie.

Your eyes squeezed shut, and your body tensed to prepare for the shock and pain.

But…it didn’t come.

Instead, the only sound ringing in your ears was the particles of energy bouncing off of metal. It echoed through the whole building, and you slowly peeled your eyes back open.

All you saw was beskar, blocking your vision completely. It took you a second or two to realize that you were making eye-contact with a shoulder.

Mando’s shoulder.

The blasting stopped finally, and Mando contorted his body enough so he could fire back. You heard the body hit the ground within seconds. 

The room filled with silence, and you finally had enough feeling in your body to look up at Mando’s face.

His visor was faced away from you, scanning the area. His body still encapsulated yours, obviously protecting you from any blaster fire.

“Mando,” you whispered out in a dry, shaky voice, but he didn’t respond. He just kept his head away from you.

“Don’t move,” he said gruffly, and placed his hand on your hip to keep you steady.

Holy. Shit.

It was as if all the blood in your body flooded to that spot, making you pound with want and hypersensitivity. Your hand twitched a little, and your breath fully caught in your throat.

But you forced yourself to stay quiet.

Mando scanned the area for a couple more seconds, making little circles on your hip bone with his thumb, before looking back at you.

“Are you alright?” he asked with a tilt of his helmet.

“Yep. ‘M good.”

He exhaled, “Good. Now let’s get out of here.”

He pulled his hand away and marched back toward the direction of the ship. Your almost numb legs took a second to actually start following him.

That was hours ago. Hours. And your voice still shook with every word.

You had to get it together.

Mando was now sitting in the pilot’s chair, staring into hyperspace. The blues were once again reflecting beautifully off of his armor, you could see it even from behind him.

You would be basking in that sight, if you hadn’t seen Mando roll his neck and straighten his back fifty million times.

“Are you hurt?” you asked, and he answered without looking back at you.

“I’m fine. Just pulled a muscle.”

From protecting me.

“Mando, please,” you said softly. “I can see it in how you are sitting.”

“It’s not a big deal Y/N, honestly.”

“No, it is,” you said firmly. “It is a big deal because you protected me from being killed today. And every other day before that.”

That made Mando turn to face you, and lean forward to listen.

“I’ve never had that before, Mando. Ever. So just let me help you back, please? Just this once, I want to help you.”

The two of you looked at each other, waiting for the other to make some sort of move, and you swore you saw a tiny hue of golden-brown underneath his visor. Whether it was hair or eyes, you didn’t know, but it humanized Mando for a second.

There was a man underneath all that armor, that much you knew for sure. You just wanted to help him.

“Please,” you whispered, and tried to calm down your rapid breaths.

Mando leaned forward slightly with his elbows on his knees, and he tried to mask the storm inside his chest as best he could.

He wanted to say yes so bad. Every inch of him just wanted to succumb to his vulnerability and allow himself to be taken care of, by you especially. You were worried about him, he could hear it in your voice and see it in your body language.

And fuck that did things to him. So many beautiful, yet sinful things.

Fuck it.

“Ok.”

What? “O—ok?” you questioned.

“Yeah,” he responded. “I’m ok with that. I trust you.”

Your heart slammed against your rib cage so hard you were shocked you couldn’t physically see it under your shirt.

Concentrating had become so unbelievably impossible with this man, and pushing the incredibly inconvenient thoughts you had about him to the back of your mind had become so natural it was scary. When he would say things like that…

“What did you have in mind?” Mando finally asked you, breaking you away from your own brain.

“Um…well…” you started.

Fuck Y/N, relax.

“Can you uh, face forward again? Please?”

“Sure.” he chuckled after a second or two of silence, and he faced back towards the controls, leaning his back against the seat.

That goddamn chuckle.

If only you knew how nervous he was.

“Ok, so this is kind of…awkward,” you began. “Would I be allowed to, well I guess I technically would be allowed to since your Creed only restricts your helmet, but I’m not sure if you’d be comfortable—.”

“Y/N,” he said calmly. “Say it.”

You took a breath.

Here goes nothing.

“I was thinking of taking off the shoulder and back pieces of your armor so I could rub your back.”

There it was. The words were out in the air now, and you had no idea how Mando was going to react.

Maybe he’d think it was weird, or that you were trying to get him to break his Creed. You told him time and time again not to worry about it, but maybe he didn’t fully believe you. How could he? You both worked in a business of constant betrayals, and so you wouldn’t blame him in the slightest.

You just didn’t want him to be angry. That’s all. Or embarrassed. You just wanted him to feel better. You could see the discomfort he was carrying in his stature, and he deserved to be the one being cared for for once in his life.

Even though he was turned away from you, you could still feel him thinking. Deciding whether or not to take your offer.

It only took him a few seconds before he took a deep breath and said, “That sounds amazing.”

Amazing.

Thank the maker.

“Stubborn woman,” he said with a laugh, and you laughed back. Grateful that he cut through the tension.

“Ok,” you said breathily. That incredible awkward conversation being over made you almost giddy, and Mando joking made it even worse.

You walked up to the back of the chair and placed your hands on the edge of it.

“I just may need your help with the armor part,” you said with a nervous laugh. Mando nodded before taking off the beskar covering his right shoulder. Then his left. Then the entire torso.

You didn’t realize he had to take off his whole chest piece to reveal the back of his undershirt. You assumed it was just connected, or something.

Now looking at it, it makes perfect sense.

Wow his back.

The maroon colored undershirt was tight against his shoulders, but loose down near his waist, further proving just how muscular his arms were. You could see the back of his neck as well, and that too bulged slightly with muscle.

He was so…broad. Strong.

And now you got to touch him.

“Ok,” you said. “I’m just gonna…rub your back now.”

“Please do.”

Your eyes fluttered a bit at his politeness, and the sense of him wanting you to do this.

You’d be lying if you said your mind wasn’t already wandering.

You hovered your hands over his shoulders, before lightly pressing your thumbs in-between his shoulder blades.

The first thing you felt was heat. Warm, intense body heat. Like he was flushing underneath the fabric.

But the next thing you felt was just how tight his muscles were underneath the shirt. You understood the fact that he probably hadn’t been touched like this in the maker knows how long, but the anxiety and nervousness that he had been carrying all that time was obvious. You could feel it all.

You hoped you weren’t a reason for any of it.

You slowly started making circles and adding more pressure, and Mando’s head leaned back slightly.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” he said, in a breathy voice that you hadn’t heard before. “Feels good.”

Fuck.

A shiver shot down your spine, and a tingling sensation spread inside your most sensitive spot.

It felt so good, and there was no way you were stopping now.

You worked your hands down a bit farther before finding a knot a little bit above the middle of his spine. You applied pressure there, and a heavy breath escaped from under the helmet.

“Right there,” he mumbled, and a massive wave of arousal drowned all your senses instantly.

You had to close your eyes and curl your toes to keep yourself upright, and you put double the pressure where Mando wanted it. You flattened your palm against the spot, and worked the muscle upwards.

His heavy breathing started to fill your ears, and the pulse inside your heat was growing and growing with each breath he took.

Your mind was nowhere near where it should have been. It was in the dirtiest places it could possibly be, imaging every surface of the Crest that Mando could take you on. Everywhere from his loft, to the wall, to the pilot’s chair, to the goddamn disgusting floor. You wanted it all. You wanted his breaths to be right next to your ear, and the muscles in his back to be flexing from your weight.

Your hands began to shake, and you tried to take a deep breath to steady them. You worked your hands up and up to the back of his neck, and he leaned his head forward for you to gain better access. His body rocked forward a bit with every rub of your thumb, and that little touch sent you spiraling down so deep into your fantasies that there was no way you could be pulled out until they were fulfilled.

You worked your palms back down to the center of his back, never wanting to leave the feeling of him, and you tried to hit the spot that was causing him the most pain again.

“Could you move down a little? I think that’s where I twisted weird.”

“Mhm,” you managed to say, and your breath caught in your throat when Mando moaned at the slightest touch on his lower back.

It wasn’t even a real moan. It was the lightest, quietest draw from his throat, but you exhaled at the sound and your eyes rolled into the back of your head.

Wetness started to pool in your underwear, and you licked your lips as more deep breaths left Mando’s lips.

He brought his back off the chair as much as he could, and you didn’t even know if he had control over his own body anymore. He was twitching and contorting at each touch of your fingertips, and it was driving you up a wall.

“That’s better,” he said, and you hit his problem spot one more time with your thumbs before completely pulling your hands off of him.

They felt hot, while the rest of your body felt cool and tingly. You were basically vibrating off of the high you were on right now.

Mando spun his chair around quickly, and you could already see how much lower his shoulders had gotten. The tightness had been completely released.

You smiled into his visor, and licked your lips again.

“Thank you,” he said sweetly.

Fuck you were gone. So so gone.

How could he do that so quickly? How could he transform from husky moans to sweet gratitude?

“No problem,” you said, and hurried off into your makeshift storage-closet room.

You closed the door and leaned against it, trying to find any source of oxygen. Your hammering heart refused to slow down, and your lips were chapped from how heavy you had been breathing.

The pulse of your heat started to die down a bit, but the sound of Mando’s moan from your touch and the feeling of his body heat would not be leaving you any time soon.

While you stood, trying to catch your breath, Mando sat, and tried to catch his own.

He couldn’t believe he let you do that. Rub up and down his muscles with your soft hands, and he even let a moan slip past his lips.

He felt embarrassed. Stripped completely bare for you.

But he wanted it. He wanted you.

All over again.

Tag list: (if you’d like to be added, just ask!!)

@leahkenobi @burned-dorito @tiredbuthappy

[lesbianjunimo]

That time you and your demon boyfriend went viral

hi yes hello obey me fandom!! my name is Gabbi and i have never played a single second of the actual game but i have read enough fanon content for the past year to have this idea swimming around in my head and now i am finally letting this accursed thing out of my brain and putting it in yours

also i’m only doing the brothers because any more than that and i’d have an aneurysm probably. oh and shoutout to @obeythebutler and @beels-burger-babe for inspiring me with their works to feel brave enough to write for this fandom

Lucifer:

You and Lucifer go viral on Asmo’s Devilgram story!

You’re in the kitchen helping Asmo with dinner duty and singing along to one of your playlists of human realm music that you like to show him.

Asmo starts filming your cute little dance while you stir the pot on the stove because you are just adorable!

About ten seconds into him filming, Lucifer appears in the doorway with quite the stern look on his face. You know, the one that comes right before a “MAMMOOOOOON” and strikes fear into the heart of all those with functioning eardrums. That one.

He opens his mouth, presumably to tell y’all to shut the fuck up, but then there’s a lull in the music and the eldest can hear your voice ever so slightly above the song’s vocalist and he freezes.

Man stops in his tracks like someone just smacked him in the face with a midair volleyball.

Asmo can be heard stifling a laugh behind his phone.

Lucifer’s face gets so soft and he almost, almost, loosens his metal-rod-through-the-ass posture before you notice him and give a little wave and ask if you and Asmo were being too loud like the considerate darling you are.

Lucifer clears and his throat and says something like, “No, you aren’t. I was just coming to check on how dinner is coming along,” and leaves, after which Asmo immediately presses the post button.

Screenshots of Lucifer’s heart eyes for you go absolutely viral because every demon on Devilgram goes absolutely feral for seeing the eldest demon brother lose his dignified composure. It becomes a meme template. “Get you someone who looks at you like Lucifer looks at MC” and “me at the delivery demon when he shows up with my spicy bat wings” posts become commonplace. (Asmo thinks the memes are totally worth getting strung up with Mammon for laughing at them.)

Mammon:

Much like Lucifer, you and Mammon end up going viral off Asmo’s Devilgram. (Noticing a pattern here?) 

He pulls a silly prank on your asses and honestly I don’t know how you fell for it. But hey, they say “idiots in love” for a reason, so...

You and Asmo are sitting in the common room of the House of Lamentation just chillin. Well, he’s chillin, you’re on the floor studying for an upcoming exam.

The video starts in the middle of a conversation you and the avatar of lust were having.

“No, Asmo,” you say. “Mammon and I don’t use pet names for each other.” Now that’s just a darn lie, and every demon and crow within ten miles of Mammon and you together knows it.

“Really? I find that very hard to believe, MC.~” 

You sigh in response to Asmo’s teasing. “Okay, he has a lot for me but I’m just not much of a pet name person, y’know?” The rest of the exchange goes like this:

“Oh, I totally get it.” *pause* “Hey MC, what do human world bees make again?”

“Honey.”

Cue a sheepish Mammon sticking his head in the doorway at the bluntness of your tone when you answered Asmo.

“Yeah, babe?” he looks like a puppy left on the side of a highway oh my god hUG HIM-

Asmo turns the camera back to his smug ass face and in the background you can be heard tripping on the damn carpet trying to get up and hug your mans. (”MAMMON GET OVER HERE SO I CAN HUG YOU” “W-WHAT? I THOUGHT YA WERE MAD AT ME?!?!?!?!”)

Leviathan:

Streamer Levi? Streamer Levi.

You guys go viral the first time you make an appearance on one of Levi’s weekly (insert cool Devildom streaming service name here) streams. 

It’s completely unintentional. You had been asking him for weeks to play with him on there, but he’s the avatar of envy after all. He doesn’t like sharing his partner, even if it’s with random strangers who have no real access to you.

However, he has his stream on a Thursday instead of a Friday one week, and you come into his room carrying dinner because 1) You didn’t realize he was streaming and 2) No matter what he was doing, the boy needed to eat. It wasn’t unusual for you to bring him dinner, so you had no idea why he was blushing and stammering even more than usual this time in particular. Boy was speaking in beached whale trying to tell you what was wrong.

Then you notice his screen. Oh! “Hi chat!” You wave, setting Levi’s food down on his desk in front of his keyboard. “M-MC!” He full-on whines, slamming a hand over his mouth afterwards when he remembers his viewers could hear that.

Honestly, they’d meme the fuck out of him if it weren’t for the fact that they are FINALLY SEEING HIS HENRY!!! THE MYSTERIOUS MC!!!

Chat is bombarding you with questions while you make Levi eat dinner. And by make him eat dinner, I mean literally feeding this man forkfuls/spoonfuls while he games because you love how flustered he gets when you do that. 

Does it impact his score? Absolutely. Does he care? Not really when you’re pampering him like that.

You start answering chat’s questions about you while he’s chewing so he can’t tell you to stop LMAO-

You’re a natural on stream. The VOD becomes the most popular on Levi’s account in a matter of hours and soon cute highlights compilations of you and him on that stream start making the rounds on Devildom Twitter.

Satan:

There was buildup to Satan going viral, similar to Levi in a way. 

Satan does have a Devilgram, but it’s basically a white woman’s Instagram with added book reviews for variety. Unless you’re a reader his account is pretty boring: candles, books, fireplaces, and cats.

However, after you two started reading together fairly often he began posting pictures of your legs draped over his while you sat together. They’d always be captioned with vague ass pretentious literary criticism. 

This goes on for months, and he gains a lot of (horny) followers after the leg pics start up. He doesn’t really get why but you both joke that it’s because you have some damn nice legs and I mean neither of you are complaining about the new following.

You two go viral when he finally shows your face, entirely by accident.

The post is a video, which is already strange for him and grabs attention. In it, you’re scoffing and reading an excerpt of a book, mocking its understanding of female anatomy.

“I’m quoting here, Satan: ‘her breasts bouncing around like giant pacmen.’ I’M SORRY?? THAT ISN’T HOW BOOBS WORK SIR. WHY ARE MEN ALLOWED TO WRITE?” 

(fun fact that is a very real quote from a very real book I really read last month pls save me)

Originally the camera is focused on your body, with your head out of frame to protect your privacy, but your righteous anger made Satan laugh. Like, a real laugh. The one that makes you and everyone in earshot wonder if he truly was never an angel cause he sure as hell laughs like one but anyway-

When he threw his head back, his DDD angled up just a tad without him noticing, and your face was in view for like .2 seconds. Screenshots of it are making the rounds on Devilgram almost immediately: FINALLY THE LEGS’ OWNER HAS BEEN FOUND.

Satan apologizes profusely but you honestly find it funny and you two opt to just start taking selfies while reading with both of your faces in them from now on. 

Asmodeus:

I’m gonna be real with you: you and Asmo go viral all the time. Pretty much everything Asmo posts can be considered viral because of his social media following and his status as one of the seven avatars of sin.

However, there are some fairly cute highlights to be pointed out among the times you were both featured in a post that blew up.

Your favorite is probably that time Asmo livestreamed on of you guys’ ‘Nail Nites,’ as you call them.

You’re both on the floor, doing your nails and kicking your feet back and forth while talking to chat. A lot of the questions are about your relationship, and there’s a lot of flirting back and forth between the two of you.

A particular clip of the stream does blow the fuck up on Devilgram, though, when someone screen records it and posts it with a bunch of heart emojis edited over it.

“’What colors do you think best describe each other?’ Ooo, that’s a good one, chat!” Asmo claps his hands together excitedly, making sure to be  careful of his nails.

Pretty much everyone expected you to say pink, but you surprised both your boyfriend and your viewers when, after a pensive few moments, you replied with “Hmm...probably yellow or orange.”

“Can I ask why, darling?” Asmo tilts his head in confusion. I mean, yeah, those colors look good on him, but he doesn’t wear them often so he’s wondering about your thought process. 

“Well, in the human world those colors often represent happiness, optimism, and positivity. You’re always the cheerful presence I need in my life when things get hard, so you have the vibe of those colors.”

Asmo proceeds to burst into tears and hug you, messing up both of your nails and prolonging the stream since you both have to start over. But neither of you particularly care. 

Fun fact: Asmo has the clip that demon made of that portion of the stream saved on his DDD and watches it whenever he feels sad.

Beelzebub:

Beel and you probably go the most viral out of everybody. Like this moment is an entire phenomenon across the Devildom internet. 

It’s a video, or well, multiple videos, taken at the end of a Fangol game that Beel’s team had just won. Everyone is cheering and going crazy, yourself included, and you just really wanted to congratulate your boyfriend.

So, like the rational person you are, you elect to climb up onto the railing of the bleachers and wave to get his attention. 

You were absolutely fine up there, and sat all comfortably motioning Beel over to you. He notices, of course, and jogs over, standing right beneath you and looking up. (Back where you were sitting, Mammon is screeching like a hyena in heat and Belphie, who is laying down, has one eye open to glare at him. The youngest knows Beel would never let you hurt yourself; you’re fine.)

A bunch of assorted demons at the game has started filming while you were sat atop the railing since you were rather noticeable. Therefore, there’s a shit ton of different angles of the adorable events that follow:

You slide off the railing, landing right in Beel’s waiting arms bridal style. You’ve got this brilliant smile on your face as you pull his helmet off. None of the DDDs filming can hear it over the crowd noise, but Beel asks you why you just went through all that trouble and you tell him it’s because you wanted to tell him how proud you are.

Soft boy’s chest puffs up and he smiles this big cheesy smile at you reach up to run a hand through his hair. You feel him practically purr at the contact, and with a laugh you pull him in and plant a big ole smooch on him.

The crowd, at least those of them that can see, scream. Everyone is running high on adrenaline and happy emotions; something that cute causes a ruckus!! When you pull away Beel proceeds to put you on his shoulders and you celebrate with him and the rest of his team.

The videos of you two being adorable go completely viral and there are some threads dedicated to stockpiling every single angle taken of the event. Beel is completely oblivious to the attention but you have a lot of them saved on your DDD.

Belphegor:

If you think Belphegor has any sort of social media presence whatsoever then you are sorely mistaken. (Well okay he actually does run some anonymous troll accounts to meme on Lucifer’s posts but that’s neither here nor there-)

Therefore, naturally, you two go viral off of Asmo’s Devilgram. 

Okay so someone in the obey me tag the other say headcanoned that Belphie will go out of his way to nap in ridiculous places and my brain really took that and RAN WITH IT.

So what happens is that Belphie will fall asleep in the fucking weirdest places. I’m talking on top of the fridge, underneath the dinner table, on top of bookshelves...you name it, he has slept there, no matter the effort it takes to get there in the first place. 

And, ever since you two started dating, you would join him. Sometimes it involved putting yourself at risk of great bodily harm, but the little smile he gave when you he saw you fucking scaling the countertop to reach him made it worth it.

So anyway, since Beel adores the both of you to no end, he takes pictures whenever he sees you two napping together, whether or not it is in a crazy place. He sends these to the family group chat because he thinks they’re adorable.

Over a span of weeks to months, Asmo has built up a stock of images of you and Belphie cuddles up in seemingly impossible places. Once he has about ten or so, he posts a compilation of them to his Devilgram with some cheesy ass caption like “The things we do for love <3″.

They become a meme SO QUICKLY. Like UNBELIEVABLY quickly. 

The picture of you and Belphie sleeping on top of a bookshelf, in particular, is a big hit. Memes abound.

“If my girl doesn’t climb up a bookshelf to cuddle my ass, she don’t love me.” “Get yourself a partner who scales bookshelves just to be with your ass.” Etc etc...Belphie doesn’t give a shit but you laugh at a lot of them so he sees that as a good outcome.

[no-droids]

Whenever You Want

Part Fourteen of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 11.2K

Warnings: Listen there is some dirty smut in this one yall okay like I was blushing when I wrote it, it has a very stark beginning and theres a pagebreak afterwards if you would prefer to skip over it. Smut includes oral sex (female receiving) rough sex, sensory deprivation, butt stuff (ass to mouth, anal fingering/penetration) so PLEASE LOOK OUT FOR IT PLEASE. Also there is jealous/possessive mando in this, season 1 Karga makes another appearance, and some angst/fluff towards the end

A/N: Nothing much today yoditos just love you all

***

Din said he’d meet you here.

You’re currently sitting across from Greef Karga in a cantina on Nevarro, a closed shield next to you and a blaster tucked into the back of your waistband, hidden underneath your shirt.  You’re barely even looking at him, though—your eyes are attached to the door by an invisible string, forcing your gaze back to it no matter how much it bounces around the room.

You don’t know where Din is, you haven’t seen him in hours.  But you do know that when he left, he was moving slower than you’re used to.  You don’t think anyone else would notice, but you sure did.  Not that he was obvious about it—you only picked up on very subtle hints.  Leaning up against things just a bit more than he usually does.  Taking slightly longer exiting the ramp of the Crest than his normal strides would carry him.

He didn’t say what he was going to do—just that he needed to find someone before meeting with Karga, and you accepted it.  But truthfully, you didn’t want to.  You were worried about him—still are, actually.  But for all intents and purposes, he was speaking and acting like himself, showing no real signs of exhaustion other than the smallest instances you described before, so you didn’t really have a leg to stand on.  He’s been through way worse, and you know it.  You just… find yourself worrying about him so much more than you used to, and you need to learn how to gain some control over that part of you.

The kid was still passed out from healing him and you remember Din carefully setting four pucks down in the sleeping baby’s sphere and giving his ears a gentle rub between leather fingers.  He turned back to you and told you to meet him at the cantina in three hours, but if it ended up taking him too long for any reason, to try your best to see if Karga will let you exchange on his behalf.

Admittedly, he didn’t sound too confident about it—the instructions were delivered with a tone that implied a doubtful, just-in-case scenario he wasn’t foreseeing happening.  Or maybe he just doubted the likelihood of Karga agreeing to do business with you, you’re not entirely sure.  All you know is that when he left, you were almost certain he wouldn’t be late, but you also took the time to grab the smallest blaster from his armory before heading out just in case.

Yet—here you are, three and a half hours later, eyes flicking between the door and Karga as you attempt to keep up polite conversation.  After turning down his offer of alcohol for the fifth time and still not seeing any glimpse of beskar coming to your rescue, you figure this may be as good a time as any to start the exchange.

During an extended break in the small talk, you slowly reach over to the corner of your booth and press a button on the face of the kid’s shield.  It hisses open and you completely miss the way Karga’s hand raises while three of his guards automatically reach for their hips.  The little green monster is still snoozing comfortably while you pull out the four glowing pucks Din left you and set them on the table one by one.

They scrape along the top of it as you slowly push them over to him, before sitting back in the booth and clearing your throat, flicking your eyes between Karga and his guards.  To you, nobody appears to have moved, so you muster a polite smile at him.

Karga smiles back, but makes no move to gather or inspect the offerings in front of him.

“Um…” you say after a moment, suddenly feeling your heart start to beat a little faster.  “Mando… Mando gave me permission to exchange on his behalf.”

“I believe you,” he drawls out in response, but the pucks still sit untouched in front of him as he leans back in the booth and studies you.  “Mando has always had a… let’s say, a frustrating penchant for disregarding the pillars of our code.  My apologies, young lady, but I’m afraid that I cannot accept these from you.”

Your voice comes out quieter than you’d like it to sound.  “Why not?”

“It is… unlawful,” he answers after a moment.  “Our organization operates under strict rules.”

Does it?  You blink.  No, it doesn’t.  You’re nothing to the Guild and you’ve sat next to Din quite a few times while Karga talked, listening to him drunkenly boast about return rates and out members by name.  You’re not sure why he’s barring you like this, but you’re also not self-assured enough to put practically any spine into it whatsoever.  “I’m… afraid I don’t understand.”

“I cannot legally do guild business with individuals not recognized as members in an official capacity,” he sighs, sounding grave and almost apologetic about it, but you don’t know him well enough to know if he’s a good actor or not.  “There’s nothing I can do for you besides provide you with my company, not until Mando decides to show.”

Well now that doesn’t make any sense, and you’re starting to worry that for some reason or another, he isn’t going to show.  Though it was incredibly well concealed, you’re well aware that Din was still lingering in the final recovery stages when he left the Crest earlier and all you have to go on is his word that he’d be here.  Something could’ve happened.  Something could be happening right now, you need to push.

“People pick up bounties for extra credits all the time,” you mumble, still way too fucking quiet about it.  Maker, you’re not even sure if he could hear that over the sound of the cantina.  Speak up, speak up.

“Yes, but those quarry are listed on the New Republic’s most wanted database,” Karga acknowledges diplomatically, educating more than he is arguing, before uncorking the bottle of glowing blue alcohol in front of him and beginning to pour himself another shot.  “They’re fodder.  Up for grabs—names, last known locations, and biometrics published for the entire galaxy to read.”  He tilts his head down at the four metal pucks on the table without removing his gaze from the gradually filling glass.  “Those pucks are different, they’re commissions.  Tied specifically to Guild contracts.”  Karga clunks the bottle back down again and corks it, pinning you with a stare.  “For all I know, you could’ve murdered a member of our ranks and come to collect payment for his bounties.  Can’t have that.”

Your blood suddenly turns to ice at the implication, eyes wide and your heartbeat rocketing as you look from Karga to the three guards casually stationed behind him.  “You—You think I murdered Mando?”

“No,” he says, easily and in the very same breath, before throwing the shot back and wiping his mouth with a grimace.  “Not sure I’d care too much if you did.  It’s not my rule, but I am required to follow it or risk losing my position in the Guild.”

Shit.  Shit.  What do you do?

You’re blank, left quiet and feeling increasingly unsure of how to proceed.  Karga, however, seems completely unbothered and even appears to be enjoying himself and your company.  He gives you another smile, this one a lot friendlier and more genuine than the one earlier, before setting his elbows on the table and leaning forward.

“Look, I want to help you,” he admits, keeping his tone light, “but my hands are tied.  Just relax and share a drink with me until he gets here, it’s not a problem.”

Fuck, you don’t like this, and a quick look around brings another reminder of Din’s continued absence.  Your chest feels tight, the anxiety starting to compound and make you jumpy.  It’s been too long—it’s been at least forty minutes or so of waiting by now and something just feels wrong about this.  Not having him next to you feels wrong enough on its own, but when he specifically told you he’d be here?

You clench your jaw and try to work up your nerve.  Karga is a nice guy, right?  He knows you by name, he knows who you are to Mando.  And while you never really thought about the bounty hunter’s omnipresent protection as being anything other than metaphorical, you suddenly realize that… it might be literal, too.  How much sway do you actually have here, you wonder?  You’re not stupid, you’re not going to try anything stupid, but maybe just another question won’t hurt?

“Well, um… how do you become a member, then?”  You ask him, and you watch as he leans back in the booth, raising both eyebrows at you.

“Excuse me?”  He asks, though there’s a genuine amusement in his voice.  Stunned that you’d even say the words aloud.

“I have four bodies,” you tell him shortly.  You’re still quiet about it, but his thoroughly entertained astonishment is beginning to rub you the wrong way.  You don’t want to be part of the Guild, you don’t want to be here, you’re doing this out of growing necessity.  “One of which I dragged through a blizzard on Hoth by its ankles and put into carbonite myself, so please just tell me what I have to do to get you to take them.”

“I can’t,” he repeats, shaking his head like you’re just not getting it.  “New members are only accepted if they bring in an S-level criminal from the database or if they complete a commission that was granted to them by someone of my station—neither of which apply to you.  If you cannot present me with any sort of reasonable argument for which they could, then I’m afraid this is not a favor I can swing.”

“I was sitting right here,” you return, suddenly finding your voice.  If Karga wants an argument from you to get this to happen, then you’ll do it.  You just need to finish this exchange, go back to the Crest, and scan around for Din’s signal.  “When you first gave the pucks to Mando, I sat right here and you pushed them over to this side of the table—I was present for the commission and now I’m here to complete it.”

He shakes his head.  “But I didn’t give them to you, I gave them to Mando—”

“Yes, but you only wanted to give him three,” you immediately point out.  “The last one, the one I told you I put into carbonite—you said you threw it in because you liked me, it could’ve been for me.”

Karga suddenly stops and blinks at you for a few seconds, and you bite your lip, wondering if the logic will hold.  It’s flimsy as fuck and you know he could very easily rip it apart if he wanted to.  It could’ve been for you but it wasn’t, he gave it to Mando.  You also purposefully leave out the fact that you’re also the reason Mando only gave him three bodies in the first place; your only goal here is to complete this transaction as quickly as possible and leave.  You don’t like the fact that it’s taking Din so long, and you also don’t like the fact that Karga seems so keen on keeping you here with him, no matter how many reassurances he provides.  He said he wants to help you?  This can be his chance to prove it.

After a few extended moments of consideration, Karga finally shrugs like he really couldn’t care less before reaching across the table for the pucks and beginning to stack them in his palm.

“What is your last name?”  He asks, turning behind him to gesture for one of his men with a jerk of his head.  The bodyguard exits the cantina without another word and your eyes flick back to Karga’s.

“Why does it matter?”  You ask uncertainly, watching another guard approach with a holopad as he shrugs once more.

“It doesn’t, but we need something for our records,” Karga explains, grabbing the device as it’s tapped against his shoulder without removing his gaze from yours.  “I can just use Doe if you don’t feel like sharing—most of our members tend to prefer anonymity, including your companion.”

Your eyebrows furrow even as your heart continues to pound, wondering how they can afford to be so lax about some things but take others so seriously.  “You have him down as John Doe?”

“First name Man,” Karga grunts in response, finally breaking eye contact to begin navigating through pages on the holopad.

“Ah,” you say shortly, knowing you’d probably find the joke funny in other circumstances.  You’re not out of the trenches yet, you still feel the worry tugging hard at your chest.

“Very well,” Karga announces with a sigh, pocketing the pucks in his leather overcoat and then handing the holopad back to one of the men flanking him after a moment.  “Someone is collecting the carbonite plaques from your vessel as we speak.”

You give him a nod, taking a deep breath that you hope is slow and subtle enough to not give your anxiety away.  He helped you out, you’re halfway through this.  Now comes the exchange.  Now it’s his turn to give you the credits and four more pucks, that’s how this should go.

Only, Karga leans back in his seat and cocks his head at you.  “Unfortunately, I believe we have found ourselves in the midst of yet another predicament.”

Your heart continues to slam, praying you haven’t somehow majorly fucked things up by getting this far.  Din still isn’t here, why is he so fucking late?  He nearly froze to death and you handled a dead body just to make this meeting on time, where the fuck is he?

You raise an eyebrow at him, willing the building panic not to show on your face.  “Have we?”

“You’re lucky credits are attached to commissions instead of rank within the Guild,” he prefaces, pulling out a large handful of them to begin counting, and your eyes flick around the cantina while you know he isn’t looking, “or else you’d be getting about half of what I’d normally give him.”

Heart galloping when you still don’t see any sign of him, you just decide to keep extra quiet as you watch Karga divvy out a sizable stack of credits, hoping your prolonged silence will protect you somehow.

“The question now becomes…” he lifts an eyebrow at you while sliding them across the table to you, “how many pucks do I give you in return, hm?”

Fuck, you don’t like this, you’re trying to make it crystal fucking clear that your intentions do not extend beyond the perimeter of this table.  There’s no you to be found in this deal, you’re just an emergency proxy in Din’s absence and you only inserted yourself in the situation to accomplish that task.  “I told you I’m only here to exchange on Mando’s behalf, that’s it.”

“Be that as it may…”  Karga glances around the cantina like he’s thinking extra hard about it.  This is a made-up problem, you both know there’s no predicament here.  He knows you didn’t kill Mando, he knows there’s no real reason to be giving you such a hard time about this, and you clench your jaw as he still seems to take his time considering it.  “Tell you what, young lady,” he finally turns back to you.  “Do me the honor of sharing one sip of this fine spotchka with me and I’ll give you four pucks to pass along to Mando.”

Okay.  Okay, you can do that, if he really cares that much.  Karga gestures for the closest droid to come by with a glass for you, but you just grab the bottle in front of him and uncork it without thinking too much, balancing the glowing blue liquid with two hands and diligently taking a small sip of it before setting it down again.  Appearing satisfied with your demonstration of upholding your end of the bargain, Karga grins and reaches into another pocket.

“Four for Mando,” he pushes four pucks across the table, “same rate and return as last time, as promised.”  You nearly deflate in relief as you quickly gather them up and begin dropping them into the snoozing baby’s shield along with the credits, but then Karga reaches back and pulls out another puck, pushing it over to you.  “And one for you.”

You blink at him, frozen in place.

“Lowest level, lowest pay.  Not even a criminal by New Republic standards, just a missing person,” he goes on to say, but then quite suddenly… 

Quite suddenly you’re absolutely fucking horrified.

You don’t want it.  Everything inside you surges up to scream that you do not want that puck.  It’s a waste of time, even if it’s an extra job—it’s too much trouble, too much fuel for such a small reward.  You already know good and well that Din won’t want to bother, getting this extra puck would be considered a detriment to him.

“What if I don’t want it?”  You ask, sounding nervous and vaguely out of breath as you look down at it.

Karga scoffs.  “Of course you don’t.  Nobody wants these, why do you think I’m trying so hard to pawn one off on you?”

Shit.  This is not at all how you expected any of this would go.  You know he’s not really asking, even if his tone and continued courtesy implies it’s only a request.  There’s an expectation attached to this, and it appears you take too long pondering an offer that isn’t actually voluntary.  Karga stares at you and your clear apprehension for just a few seconds more, before finally giving you an ultimatum.  “You said you’re here on his behalf.  You either take all five pucks now or Mando only gets three next time, your choice.”

Oh.  Oh, no.  This is a lose-lose; three pucks means more fuel and less credits, five pucks means more fuel and less credits.  It’s not like you have any real bargaining power here—almost everything he’s done for you today has been a favor of some sort and you’re well aware that things can always get worse.

Still, you take a deep breath and try your best to throw around whatever weight you have left in one final agreement.

“Give me your word you’ll go back to giving him four from now on, no more hassling or hard time constraints and we’ll take it just this once,” you tell him, trying to conjure and put power behind your words even though you’re unsure if they’ll stick.

“Deal,” Karga readily agrees with a smile, reaching his hand across the table.  You have no choice but to meet him in the middle and clasp it, unable to feel anywhere close to good about your performance here.  It was clunky and insecure and even though you just barely succeeded in making the exchange overall, you’re massively disappointed in the specifics.

But then Karga’s eyes quickly flick over your shoulder.

“Ah, Mando!”  He suddenly calls out, and your hand nearly snatches away from his while your body goes rigid.

Oh, this isn’t good, this is not good.  Well, it’s good that he’s here but it also really fucking isn’t.  You don’t even turn your head; you sit completely straight and still while the cantina falls to a hush and heavy footsteps begin to approach behind you.  You fucked up—you fucked up, you didn’t wait long enough and you feel the sharp regret instantly twist in your stomach.  He said he’d be here, why didn’t you trust him?  Your anxiety and stress compounded and spurned you to act too quickly, you made the deal a few fucking seconds before he showed up.

And, as Din eventually comes into your peripheral, taking his time leaning his rifle up against the table, you immediately realize that you should not have worried.  Recovery isn’t even a word in his vocabulary right now—he’s more intimidating than he’s ever been, more powerful and certain and dangerous while he lowers himself into the seat next to you than he’s ever felt to you before.  Everything is so quiet now that he’s here; you feel like even just swallowing against the sudden dryness in your throat turns into an audible gulp.  The man sitting across from you may own this cantina and every material good under its roof, but the one sitting by your side feels like he steals the literal air from the room just by walking inside it.

Yet, in spite of the daunting presence of the Mandalorian, Karga beams and tips his glass at him.  “I believe you’ve arrived just in time for your favorite part of the conversation, friend.  The farewells.”

You stare wide-eyed down at the table as Din leans back into the booth and very slowly extends his arm behind your shoulders, saying nothing at all to him.

The testosterone is radiating from him to the point of near suffocation, you can taste the alpha in the air.  Your heart slams in your chest at the unspoken claim he just made with a subtle movement, and though you’ve never been one for masculine displays, this one weirdly feels… good right now.  You know it’s primitive and crude and you’re not a piece of meat to be fought over, but it doesn’t feel like that at all.  It’s the immediate feeling of security that serves to heat your cheeks, the fact that you’ve been a nervous mess trying to be extra brave this whole interaction and then suddenly you have the backup of an entire army contained within one single suit of armor next to you.

If you weren’t internally panicking at how badly you screwed this shit up, you’d probably be going fucking feral for him right now.

Karga says your name and your gaze snaps to his, feeling like you can’t breathe.  “My associate has collected the plaques, nothing keeps you here any longer.  It was a pleasure doing business with you.”

Still, nobody at the table moves.

After a moment, you carefully glance up and to the side at the sharp, metallic profile of his helmet.  Maker, you can’t explain it—it’s like you feel terrified but not really for yourself, if that makes sense.  You’re upset with yourself for not having enough trust in his word, absolutely, but something in Din’s demeanor tells you that he’s going to be considerably less understanding of how Karga handled this situation than the way you did.

The helmet slowly turns down to look at you, and you bite your lip while carefully placing your hand on his thigh brace under the table, letting him feel your fingers brush against the bend of his knee.

He turns back to Karga after a few seconds, still not saying a single word, until eventually Din’s arm is lifted from behind your shoulders and you feel his leather fingers gently clasp your hand, before he starts to rise from the booth and pull you along next to him.  You both stand, and he silently presses a button on his vambrace without dropping your grip, urging the kid’s shield to follow along behind him.

“Um, goodbye,” you just barely remember to tell Karga as Din begins leading you away, apparently not waiting for the polite farewells he arrived in time for.

“Wait!”  A voice calls out just before you can make your exit, and Din pauses just in time for Karga to extend that damned fifth puck out for you to grab.  Right in fucking front of him.  “Can’t forget this!”

Fuck.  Great.  Thanks.

Blood rushes to your face while you go to reach for it, taking the puck and then placing it in the open shield along with four others in a way that you hope is casual but you know isn’t.  You close the lid on it and then squeeze Din’s hand slightly, but he stays rooted to the spot for a few more seconds, having watched the entire exchange play out.  Though you obviously wouldn’t be able to read his facial expressions even if you could lift your head to look up at him, you can’t will yourself to do so right now.  You’re too disappointed in yourself and nervous—you just stand there silently as he looks back at Karga, staring at your feet and praying he doesn’t do anything brash.

After too many moments of uncertainty, you squeeze his hand again and slowly begin to pull on it.  Without needing much pressure at all, he goes where you go, and you end up being the one to lead Din out of the cantina by the hand still tangled with yours.

*** 

The walk back to the Crest lasts an eternity.

Neither one of you say anything at all to each other the entire way there, and you know he’s not mad at you yet, but you’re worried.  You feel incredibly self-critical right now and it’s really not helping that he seems even quieter and more wound up than usual.  You don’t know if it’s because he already figured out that you just handed him extra work or if it’s because whatever made him late to the cantina also altered his mood, hit a reset button and reminded him of the way he used to be, the armor he’s wearing.  Was there a confrontation, you wonder?  Is he okay?  He seems like he’s… extra Mandalorian right now, there’s not really a better way to describe it.

He doesn’t drop your hand, though.  As you pass through the markets and shanty huts lining the streets, Din holds onto you.  Shoulders tense and strides heavy, but his fingers stay tangled in yours.

Regardless, you keep your mouth shut and eventually the Crest comes into view.  The ramp drops to the ground and the three of you make your way up, and you have enough foresight to carefully drop Din’s hand and lead the baby’s shield over to the unused cot built into the hull walls, closing him in a safe quiet place to sleep and continue building up his strength again.

You turn around to see Din press another button on his vambrace.  He stays with his back to you as the ramp slowly closes, but as soon as it latches up against the hull and locks into place, he nearly whips around and suddenly he’s right in front of you, gloves cupping your face.

“What happened?”  He asks sharply, the helmet looking you up and down.  “Are you alright?  Why did you look so scared?”

You reach up to rest your hands on his, blinking up at him and not knowing what to say.  How are you going to tell him?  He’s gotta waste extra fuel and time on a bullshit quarry because of you, what are you going to say?  You don’t even know if it’s last known location is nearby; he might have to fly to some remote, desolate corner of the galaxy just for a handful of credits because you couldn’t wait a fucking hour for him.

“I, uh…  I-I’m sorry, I just…”  But it’s nearly impossible to form a coherent thought when he’s this close to you and sounding fucking sincere, genuinely concerned about you while you’re stuck worrying about how to break the bad news to him.  “Oh, stars, um…”

“Did Karga fuck with you?”  He asks in that same sharp tone when you don’t finish your thought, but you’re so absorbed in your own conflict that you barely even hear him.  “Because I can go back right now, the cantina is just—”

“Okay wait, please—” You suddenly speak up, “before I tell you, just… please keep in mind that I did save your life two days ago, so…”

“Sweet girl,” Din rumbles slowly, a subtle warning for you to hurry up and spit it out.  His fingers tighten just slightly on your cheeks, still so gentle but needing you to communicate with him right now.

Tell him, you just need to tell him.  If he gets mad, then he gets mad, but at least he’ll know at that point and you won’t just be springing it on him out of nowhere.

“I fucked up,” you breathe out, eyebrows pulling up in the middle as you tighten your own grip on his hands.  “I’m so sorry, I fucked up and you were late and I got nervous and I didn’t wait long enough and I tried to make the exchange like you asked me to but then I had to take a fifth puck and I didn’t want to but Karga threatened to short change you next time around unless I agreed to take an extra one for the lowest pay just this once and I didn’t have any bargaining power and you showed up right after I agreed to the deal and I’m so so sorry—”

You cut yourself off with your own ragged gasp, not having paused once to breathe throughout the entire thing while your expression twisted up with regret more and more the longer he allowed you to speak.

Din stands there in front of you and doesn’t move, hands still attached to your face.

“Okay,” he eventually tells you.  Stunted words, like he’s trying extra hard to find them when yours just fell out of your mouth in a complete mess.  “It’s okay.  You did… good.”

The silence is tense and you’re becoming more and more anxious the longer he takes to speak.  He’s lying for your benefit, he must be.  When he drops his hands from your face and takes a full step back, you take the gesture as symbolic and nearly launch into panic.

“Maker, I’m so sorry I didn’t wait for—”  You start to say, but Din cuts you off.

“Did he make you…”  His back suddenly goes a little straighter, voice finding a quiet edge through the modulator as his fingers subtly twitch at his sides, “…Uncomfortable?”

You pull back at the sudden change in subject and furrow your eyebrows.

“Who, Karga?”  You have to think about it.  Did he make you uncomfortable, or were you just uncomfortable already?  You might’ve just been scared because you were making it scarier than it really was, you can admit that’s a valid possibility.  “Um… no?  I don’t know, not… not really, I don’t think.”

“No?”  He asks, taking a small step forward.  “You don’t know?  Or not really… you don’t think?”

You know you can only see the blade of his visor, but something makes you feel like you’re looking right in his eyes.  You even go back and forth between where you’re pretty confident each one is, trying to read his intentions right now.  It’s like he’s purposefully trying to keep space between you even though he looks like he wants to move closer, fisting his hands at his sides when he looks like he wants to touch you.

“No, he just… lowballed me towards the end of it and I got intimidated, but I’m also not…”  Your expression narrows in concentration while you try to find the words to explain yourself, wanting to be as honest as possible with him.  “I don’t know, I’m not like you.  I’m not that strong, but I’m trying to get better.  I think he was probably just being normal.  He did offer me alcohol a bunch, but I’m pretty sure he also did that last time, so—”

“And I didn’t like it the last time he did it,” Din says quietly, taking another small step forward.

You blink up at him, completely dumb.  This is what’s bothering him?  Is he really not upset with you at all for giving him more work?  It’s like the major fuckup on your behalf just went in one side of the helmet and out the other, he barely even acknowledged it other than the role Karga played.  He said it’s okay and you did good, which are like… five of the most common words in Galactic Basic, a Wookiee could probably find a way to say them.  How are you supposed to take that?  Were you just overthinking this whole thing from the very beginning?  You know anxiety tends to be irrational by definition, but has none of your panic from the past hour been justified whatsoever?

“Why were you so late?”  You ask him, but it’s not accusatory in the slightest.  It’s… concerned, worried about his well-being without having a real reason.  He’s clearly more than fine right now, he’s like a hurricane enclosed in metal and holding still in front of you.  Too much potential energy just waiting for a reason to be released, too much tension held tight and ready to snap.

“I’m sorry.”  He quickly reaches out to grab your hand and squeeze it, before dropping it just as quickly.  Fucking lightning quick, you’ll never understand how he can be so damn quick with all that extra weight strapped to him.  “It took longer than I thought it would and she’s not really someone you can rush.”  His response, ironically, feels very rushed, like he’s trying to address the tangent but also keep things on track, but something in the answer he gives catches your direct attention.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“Who is she and what can’t be rushed?”  You blurt at the same time, not even taking a split second to think about it.

Din stops short at the blunt question, staring at you in a silence that feels like it’s vaguely taken aback.

After a few moments of that… strangeness, of the two of you realizing that you’re both feeling slightly possessive over each other for absolutely no reason whatsoever, you start to feel… warm.  In another weirdly stupid, primitive way.  You know that letting those kinds of thoughts have their day in a relationship isn’t a good thing, but you can’t explain it.  Some deep-seated, prehistoric instinct inside you just goes fucking nuts whenever he gets in either provider or protector mode.  Now you understand exactly why he wanted to get you alone after you admitted to being jealous once before.  You totally fucking get it, you’re right there with him right now.  He hasn’t said anything, but you think he feels it, too.

“She makes things,” Din finally answers you, careful with his words and somehow managing to address your question while also sidestepping it, leaving you with only the smallest bit of information to go off of.  “Did he flirt with you?”

“I don’t know,” you tell him honestly.  “Maybe.  He could’ve just been trying to be friendly.  What did she make for you?”

“She made it for you,” he responds, again not really answering the question but continuing to juggle two separate conversations for your benefit.  “Did he scare you?”

“For me?”  You ask, eyebrows shooting upwards.  Provider, that stupid cavewoman DNA whispers to your lower body, making your voice go a little breathless.  “You asked her to make something for me?”

“Did he scare you?”  Din repeats sternly, grabbing your hand and giving it a firm squeeze.  “Because I can go back, I swear—”

Protector, it whispers this time, and your knees nearly buckle.

“Everything is scary when I don’t know where you are,” you admit to him, knowing it’s the truth regardless of how self-deprecating it sounds.  The only times you’ve ever truly been brave was because of him or the kid.  Stabbing a Corellian and then immediately flying the Crest out to him afterwards, walking through a pitch black forest believing a dangerous criminal was hiding in it, dragging a dead body through snow and shoving it into carbonite, standing up for yourself and pushing a deal through when odds were stacked against you.  Though it’s nothing to him, it’s nothing, it’s leaps for you.  You’re slowly learning to find a backbone, and he’s the one inspiring it.

Din holds there for a moment, unmoving with his hand still clutching yours.  You can’t get a read on him but you know how you feel right now.  Achy.  Hot.  Needy.  Wanting him to come closer.

“Will you do something for me?”  He asks you after a prolonged silence.  His voice is quiet, but… incredibly restrained.  Controlled chaos—his body is rigid and he’s flexing muscles that aren’t necessary for just standing, feeling like a sprinter holding still on the starting blocks.

“Of course,” you breathe out.

Din lets go of your hand and tilts his helmet over at the corner of the hull behind you.  “Go turn around and face that wall.”

You freeze, immediately recognizing the undertone in his voice.  Heat ladles deep into the pit of your tummy, sends warmth pooling downwards.  He wants to do this here?  Right now?

“We’re—” you look around the enclosed hull, “Mando, we’re not in hyperspace, we haven’t even left the surface yet…”

He looks around too, taking a second to blankly take in his stagnant surroundings like he had absolutely fucking no idea, before turning back to you and not saying a word.  Maker, everything below your waist is already stirring, twisting hot and deep inside, but you’re trying to be the voice of reason for a second.

“What if somebody hears us?”  You whisper, and Din cocks his head to the other side.

“I can help you stay quiet,” he murmurs, and… fuck.  You don’t know what it means, but you immediately imagine his hand held tight over your mouth while he takes some of this stress out on you and you already feel yourself wilting at the thought.  Okay.

“Okay,” you breathe without needing anything else at all, before spinning around and standing exactly where he told you to.  It’s just a corner near the back of the hull, nothing else here to look at besides two metal panels meeting at a right angle, but that’s admittedly what makes your heart start beating quicker.  You can’t see him come up behind you but you can feel it.  Slow, measured, but so restrained.

But then he stops almost immediately, before the back of your shirt is suddenly being yanked upwards and you remember at the very last second.

Din carefully grips his blaster and then eases it out of your waistband, the metal sliding warm along your skin from pressing against it for so long.  You never told him you took it with you, and he’s so fucking quiet behind you.  You have no idea how he’s reacting to that piece of information you originally didn’t think twice about.

“Do you like carrying my gun around?”  Din’s voice murmurs soft through the modulator to you, but then the blaster is tossed uselessly to the side, skittering loudly across the floor of the hull.

“Yes,” you reply, beginning to shyly turn your head back to look at him, hoping to gauge his response.

“Don’t turn around,” he quickly interrupts you, pushing your shoulder back into position and keeping you facing the corner.  You blink at the metal walls in a bit of a daze but follow instructions regardless, feeling your heart pound at the sudden display of dominance from him.  He has a very valid reason for it and you don’t realize what it is until a few seconds later, but even if he didn’t and he was just telling you what to do for the fun of it… you’d still like it.

But then his helmet is carefully being lowered over your head and you shudder as your vision is replaced with a familiar black abyss.  Fuck, his helmet, why does he like it so much when you wear this?  Admittedly, you don’t have much time to contemplate—as soon as it’s fitted and secure, he spins you around and you have to just do your best to maintain your balance, not having any visual to help.

“Can you hear me?”  Din asks, and your clothes start to be ripped off of you.  Your shoulders tip sideways with how quick he is about it, feeling him pull the fabric off and hearing the soft sound it makes landing on the floor.

“Yes,” you tell him, but he doesn’t respond, continuing to strip you completely naked in the hull.  Once your upper body is bare and he’s yanking your pants and underwear down your legs, you try saying it again as you step out of them, louder for him this time.

“I can’t hear you,” his voice grunts after a moment.  You know he’s in front of you but you can’t really tell where, now that he’s not touching you.  “Scream.”

You take a second, not having hard evidence anymore but still very well aware that you’re parked close to a marketplace on Nevarro and multiple people are nearby while you’re wearing his helmet.  This is dangerous for him, and not sure if you should, but then an arm is wrapping around your back and a large leather palm rests directly over your chest.  Din repeats his last word very slowly and clearly for you, waiting to feel it under his hands.

Your sternum lifts while it rises with your deep breath and then collapses as you diligently yell as loud as you can into the helmet, feeling like you might deafen yourself with the trapped sound.

“Good,” he growls, suddenly spinning you around and pushing you back into the metal paneling.  “I can’t hear you, be as loud as you need.  Hit me or something, put up a fight if you want me to stop, alright?”

Arousal rockets through you and you let out a moan already, taking advantage of the noise suppression and beyond turned on at this point.  You feel like you’re buzzing with it, lit up with excitement and wondering with bated breath what he’s planning to do to you.

“Alright?”  Comes his voice from behind you once more, and you quickly jerk the heavy helmet in a nod for him.  You can put up a fight and you know he’ll stop, you don’t have any problem with that and the fact that he specifically made sure to wait until he knew you understood him makes you start to pant inside the hollow beskar.

But then you feel him flick a small switch at the base of the helmet and then everything abruptly cuts out and goes dead silent.

Nothing.  Nothing.  You’re standing in a pitch black room where no other sound exists besides your own labored breathing.  Just like the waterfall on Naboo, but you can’t speak this time.  Temporarily making you blind, deaf, and putting a proverbial gag over your mouth all with one powerful piece of armor.

You shudder and he kicks your legs apart before you can do much else, yanking your hips back while you just try your best to cling to the wall for stability.  You don’t know what he’s going to do, you’re completely isolated in here and the only way you can even tell he dropped to his knees is the hot glide of his tongue through your pussy from behind.

Oh fuck—you arch into position as best you can while hands wrap around your ankles to pull them apart, trying to make the angle better.  His tongue licks softly over your clit and each time is like an electric shock jolting through your body, making you twitch back and up for him, stretching and begging him to do it again.  You can’t see anything right now so your mind readily imagines the visuals instead, providing you with a third party view.  Din, fully clothed and face shielded by your thighs, eating you out from behind while you brace yourself against the wall, completely naked and at his mercy, head tilted down from the weight of his helmet and living for the moments he decides to drag his tongue across your clit.

Without warning, a sudden burst of sensation ripples along your backside and causes you to lift the beskar in surprise, but without being able to hear anything, it takes you a second to figure out that he just smacked your ass.  The realization comes more or less at the exact time he decides to flatten his tongue and follow the curve of you back and up.

You gasp into the pitch black and there’s a moment where you just hold utterly still for him, experiencing and processing the sensation for the very first time.  His mouth is soft and warm as he tastes you here, his fingers digging into the swell of your cheeks to spread you open.  You’re glad your face is hidden so he can’t see the shock in your expression, the way your mouth drops and your eyes close as you let him explore you this way.

His gloved hands leave you for just a moment while he continues gliding his tongue against you, along every single bit of skin he can reach, and then you feel a bare hand reach up between your legs and begin to rub slow circles around your clit.  His other arm pushes against your lower back and you’re forced into the corner even more, your naked breasts pressing hard against cool metal and feeling his hot mouth and strong fingers work you closer to the edge from behind.

You’re panting into the helmet, your hips arching back to feel that stimulation on your clit better, and as his fingers move over it slow and strong, you feel a soft vibration against your skin and you realize he’s moaning into you.  The knowledge sparks a different kind of heat through you and makes you suddenly go still and tense right here.  If he stays just like this for even just a few more seconds, you’re going to cum.

“Din, I’m gonna cum,” your voice warbles inside the enclosed steel—just as his touch decides to abandon your body.  You groan loudly in distress, completely alone without his hands or mouth on you anymore, but all he likely hears is the silence of the hull and the way your palm smacks against the wall with it.  You were so close, everything feels like it’s pulled up so tight and painful and it hurts—

A hand clutches your hip and then a thick cock is suddenly pushing up against your soaking wet entrance, going to alleviate that twisting discomfort.  Your eyes roll back and your whole body goes limp as he slowly eases forward and breaks you open, fitting himself deep inside where you love to feel him most.  Your hands claw down the walls with a swell of bliss as he pulls out and then starts thrusting—and fuck, you love this.  You love the way he’s trapping you up against the corner and making you see stars at the same time, the way he’s supporting your weight but crushing down into you, too.  It makes you go boneless and want to riot simultaneously, groaning loud into the quiet abyss as he gives you what you both desperately needed.

One of his hands sinks down between your legs to play with your clit again, while a slick finger presses up against your ass and you gasp as he slowly penetrates you there, too.  Din’s hips work steady and powerful behind you, pushing you into the wall with every desperate thrust, using the arm shoved between your legs to support you as well as stimulate, and you just feel yourself move into a different place.  You don’t have a name for it but it feels like hyperspace.  Silence so loud it feels suppressing, faster than anything light can touch, nowhere and everywhere, hurtling towards something you can’t see but know lies in the distance.  You can tell he’s still fucking the tension out of his body, you can feel him working another wet finger inside you and stretching the virgin muscles back there, but every sensation begins to slowly blur together in a wicked uprising of ecstasy.

You don’t know where you are anymore, just that his fingers keep rubbing your clit and you think he's trying to ease a third into you when your destination abruptly arrives.

You nearly collapse when you cum, contracting so hard around his cock and fingers that you cry out unexpectedly—and because of the helmet, you think it’s just as unexpected for him.  He stops moving—everything stops moving besides you.  Your hips stutter backwards into his stationary body, dragging your clit back and forth against the tips of his unmoving fingers and fucking him as best you can.  It shatters white hot and goes straight through to your soul, wringing pleasure and wetness between your legs in waves.

Your knees are knocking against each other when Din pulls out, his cock still deliciously hard and now soaking wet with your cum, and then they just suddenly decide to give up without warning.  You don’t fall necessarily, but you do slowly slide down the wall like a slug and Din follows you to the floor instead of holding you up any longer.  His sternum moves quick and heavy against your back as he breathes and then suddenly the same switch at the base of his helmet is flicked, and sound bursts into existence all at once.

He’s panting.  Harsh breaths behind you that match the rapid pace of his chest, and the ambient noise of the rest of the hull.

“Can you hear me?”  He gasps, sounding fucking wrecked, and you nod the helmet against the wall while gravity and exhaustion and his beskar chestplate squishes you into it.  “P-Put up a fight if you want me t-to stop, p-please—” he rasps out, almost the entire thing air and so close to cumming, and then his knees lift just slightly and the blunt head of his cock presses against your other entrance.

And, if you wanted, you absolutely could.  He’s got you boxed into the corner but he’s not constricting your movements, he’s given you every ability to struggle.  You could easily throw an elbow back against his side, push against the wall to shove him away, smack at his arms or even just flail against his body in panic—you could do one or all of those things to signal him to stop and you know he’d do it immediately, he’s asking you to.  You could struggle.  If you wanted.

Instead, you just grab hold of the beskar strapped to his thigh and drop the helmet to your chest, nearly vibrating with the thrill and preparing yourself for it.  You know he’s gotta be inches away from orgasm, you know from the tone of his voice that he’s right there on the edge and it’s not like it’s going to last a long time.  Thanks to him, you also feel like you’re just as slick and wet back there as you are between your legs, stretched open by his fingers while you came all over him.  You want nothing more than to give this to him, to let him be the only person in the universe that knows how you feel this way.

When you pointedly do not put up a fight and even go so far as to arch your lower back for him in presentation, Din curses and his fingers begin jerking back and forth over your sensitive clit once more.  It might normally be too much for you, but your body is sparking with lust and quickly acclimates to the stimulation, learning to burn and ache for it, too.  Fuck, it feels so good, you tense and melt into it at the same time, letting him ease you back up to that peak once more.

He pushes up against the tight ring of skin and you can’t fucking explain it—his fingers keep rubbing your clit and he’s slowly pushing into your ass and—

“I—I think I’m—” you suddenly lift the helmet to gasp out in surprise, forgetting he can’t hear you, “ngh—D-Din, I think I’m gonna c—”

He’s just barely able to breach the tight entrance and fit the head inside before he freezes—and even though everything happens consecutively, it’s all so rapid that it feels simultaneous.

Your hips could go forward, but they don’t.  Your body decides to send you backwards into him, pushing him inside nearly halfway all at once as your muscles lock down and just fucking strangle his cock.  Your piercing scream gets trapped in the silence of his helmet as you cum once more—painfully, madly and with every fucking part of you for him.  There’s maybe one or two mind shattering pulses of ecstasy before the rest of your body catches up and starts convulsing, and by then Din is already gasping and fumbling behind you, suddenly realizing what’s happening without hearing the sound of your ragged warnings and then ripping himself away just in time.

He punches out your name when he cums like you just fucking snapped him in half—his body hunches and the beskar digs hard into your back as warmth starts splattering along your skin.  You crumple while he shoves his hips up against your spine, riding and working the orgasm out of himself while yours just fucking obliterates you.  You think you whine his name—or a curse word or something, but it gets strained and your lungs lose air every time his powerful armored body humps you into the wall of his ship.

Finally he eases up and you just lay there and listen to the ringing in your ears.  Blissfully empty, still pulsing from cumming so hard and feeling like your bones just decided to stop existing and the rest of you was okay with it since you were already on the floor anyways.  You feel him shudder and twitch behind you, letting go of that last bit of tension until he too allows gravity to slouch his heavy torso over onto you.

You both stay like that for a while, until your eyes close and your everything below your waist goes numb.  Eventually you feel him shift and your head bobbles as the helmet is slowly removed, but a large palm cradles your chin to stop your face from slamming into the wall in exhaustion once it’s off.  You just continue to melt into the paneling like you’re nothing more than goo of a human being while he trades it back to its rightful place on his shoulders and tucks his cock back into his pants, before wrapping his arms around you and lifting you both up.  The floor and metal walls, once feeling like you and them were one, suddenly decide to disappear entirely as you’re hauled up into Din’s powerful arms.

He slowly carries your naked, fucked senseless body over to the fresher, and you squint your eyes open over his shoulder to see… he’s still got his rifle slung around his back while his cum is dripping down yours.  Not a single thing on him is out of place and you’re, well… a mess is a word that works.  Limp and doll-like, carried like your weight is practically nothing to him after years of having the densest armor known to the galaxy strapped to his body.

Setting you down is a mess, too.  At some point you think he just gives up and decides to return you to your humble floor abode with a patience and care unexpected from someone who just defiled you so thoroughly.  You hear the fresher door open and the faucet squeak, before he turns back around and crouches to your level.

“Stay here,” Din tells you lowly, his modulated voice coming gentle and warm through the sounds of water raining down against metal.  You don’t feel his touch directly, but your hair moves away from your face.  “I’ll be right back, okay—just stay here.”

Can do.  Easy.  He waits until you murmur a soft mhm to him before he leaves the tiny compartment, and then you soon hear his heavy footsteps ascending the ladder to the cockpit.

***

You don’t think you fall asleep, but the powering up of the Crest’s thrusters make you realize your eyes were closed.  Opening them barely qualifies as a squint though; you look around to see steam slowly filling the fresher, the water already running hot and welcoming in the small room.

You know you need to shower but you’re so fucking exhausted, you feel like you can’t even move your body.  You also know you can just do the same exact thing in there as you’re doing in here, you just need to muster up the energy necessary to get inside it and then fall back asleep.  He set you down in the small little space outside the shower door and then got everything set up for you, you can at least stand up and take a few steps.

Unfortunately, you might pick just about the worst time possible to plant your hands on the ground and work to struggle upright on all fours like a newborn animal.  The steady rise through Nevarro’s atmosphere pushes gravity down harder than you’re expecting—is he trying to fly quickly or are you just that dead-limbed?—and then of course, by the time you do manage to fight it and successfully get on two wobbly legs to hold yourself up, the subtle shift of the hyperdrive kicking in nearly knocks you back down again.  You stumble and grab the walls, bracing yourself against them and looking down at your knees in exasperation.  Come on, work.  Move forward.  Come on.

You’re glad he’s not here to witness this monstrosity, honestly.  Just opening the door and taking a few steps into the fresher is a feat—while you’re not in any pain and he didn’t leave any marks on you, you just feel… steamrolled.  Ran over by a truck.  Only having the strength to keep your feet beneath you as you finally move under the water and close the door behind you.

Oh, but this is wonderful.  This was such a good idea, he’s so fucking smart.  The shower falls warm and lovely against your body, wetting your hair and immediately heating you down to your bones.  You don’t move really at all—you kinda just stand there and slouch, closing your eyes against the spray and slowly breathing the mist into your lungs.  It feels so nice—not really restorative even though you like that word, it would imply the water provides you with any energy whatsoever.  It just feels like a comfort, a relief and sedative for your already wildly fatigued body.

You haven’t been in here for more than a minute or two when knuckles tap gently against the metal walls of the fresher, before the natural bass of Din’s unmodulated voice murmurs from somewhere beyond it.  “Hey.  Keep your eyes closed.”

How did he know?  You figured you’d be way ahead of him.  You’re standing but slumped over, wanting nothing more than to just say fuck gravity and pass out right here.  The walls are too cold to lean against now that you’re all toasty from the heat and steam, so you’re just unconsciously swaying on your feet, trying to balance the precedence of sleeping versus not falling over.  You don’t even comprehend the sudden flip of the light switch overhead beyond the fact that it makes it easier to snooze without being so bright behind your eyelids.

The door eventually opens at the very same time you realize you never answered him, but you just commit to the silence at this point.  It’s easy, you like it.  Soon you feel warm hands touch your shoulders, slowly spinning you around while you follow and hang your head, your neck not wanting to support it any longer, and then suddenly a bare chest is pressing up against you and powerful arms are wrapping around your body, and you can just lean all of your weight into him while your head rests right here on his shoulder.

He holds you without moving for a long time, keeping you just like this—your ear pressed against his skin while water rains hot and comfortable down your back.  Knowing you’re facing one of the walls, you crack your heavy lids just the slightest bit and finally notice the tiny compartment is dim and shrouded—the only light source is a single one coming from somewhere in the hull beyond the partially closed doorway.  It’s dark and quiet and you can barely see anything besides the metallic fresher walls and unfocused droplets chasing each other down Din’s naked skin.  Just you and him, flowing water with a sheet metal backdrop.

You think you spend an eternity like that and yet you still find yourself wanting another when he finally shifts, reaching over you to grab a bar of his generic soap but making sure to use the arm whose shoulder you’re not currently resting against.

It glides slow and hypnotic down your back, dragging up over your sides and then back down the curve of your spine.  He’s so sturdy and he doesn’t say a word while he does it, lathering it along your body and rubbing it into your skin.  His bar of soap, not yours.  They started out almost the same since you picked them up at the same vendor, but there’s just a slightly bolder and sharper scent to his that you recognize.  How the bar is far larger than yours because of how often he’s gone away.

Your eyes droop and you feel the water trail over your lips, dripping down your chin and pooling the dip of his collarbone.  The only other time you two shared this fresher was terrifying and he’s rewriting the memories right now, whether consciously or not.  Hot water, not freezing cold.  Standing upright and supporting you.  Heart beating strong under your ear, taking care of you this time until you can care for yourself.

You… you just worry so much more now, it’s becoming an issue.  You didn’t realize how much until you nearly lost him, and you know in your heart that he’s just going to go away again.  Throw himself into more danger, tempt death as always, risk his life for mere credits while all you can provide in return is this.  Skin to skin contact.  Someone to hold.  Someone who knows him, who knows the way he struggles between reaching out for a softness that life has always denied him and clinging to what is rough and familiar.  Someone to remind him that there’s still gentle and forgiving things in this galaxy that won’t disappear when he’s gone, and that he can always come home to them, as long as he can manage to find his way back.

Something sad tugs hard at your chest.  You want to tell him not to leave.  Again, again—you want nothing more than to beg him to stay.  You don’t have anything better to offer instead; if he asked you how it would work, how you imagine your lives would go if he wasn’t hunting quarry on a constant timetable, you’d be hard-pressed.  You don’t know.  But you know what you want to say, because it’s two words you shouldn’t say but always find yourself needing to say regardless.  

Don’t go.

But, instead of two words, you give him three.

Instead of asking him not to leave you again… in the haze and comfort of his arms, you think you just tell him that you love him.

And… you also don’t think the water falling down on the two of you is loud enough to cover it up this time.

It’s not ideal, you know.  You know.  From his point of view, he just got finished releasing all sorts of pent up tension on you, overwhelming your body with the strength and power of his in a way that normal people wouldn’t take as an expression of affection.  But you know him.  You know that he finds it much easier to express the things he feels in a physical way, which is why there’s a bar of soap against your back right now instead of his voice in your ear, telling you all the things you’ve always wanted to hear from him in return.  You know that sex is how this all began and it’s likely just the closest link between roughness and sweetness that he can really put his hands on, something that can fit him equally as well as it fits you.  Love is different, it’s thrilling and scary.  Even to someone like him, who lives everyday of his life surrounded by thrilling and scary things, who’s seen more bloodshed and suffering and pain than you can ever even imagine, you know that it’s scary.

Din doesn’t say anything back to your confession, and truthfully, not a single part of you was expecting him to.  It wasn’t said so he could say it back.  It just is.  Some things don’t need explanations, they just are.  You’re okay with that.

But, you eventually come to realize that he always waits until you’re just on the very edges of sleep, holding out until your blurry vision and fading consciousness can trick you into thinking you only imagined it.  You won’t ever figure out if it’s purposeful or if he just needs that long to find what he wants to say.

Another soft, lilting sentence in a language you wouldn’t be able to translate, even if you could pick out a single word.  It sounds so beautiful though, regardless of how mysterious and far away its meaning feels.  There’s something hidden underneath.  You ache to know what it is.

But you’re so tired.  You just whine softly against his shoulder, not being able to transform the thoughts into sentences anymore but hoping he understands regardless.  He can’t just resort to bearing his soul in Mando’a all the time now, especially when you’re always on the verge of sleep when he chooses to do so.

But at some point, his arms subtly tighten around you and the pressure is one of the only things that’s keeping you awake anymore.

“I won’t ever ask you to,” he says to you, the quietness of his baritone getting lost in the gentle spray and your looming slumber.  “I’m…  not allowed to ask.  I can’t.”

Your expression twitches just the slightest bit against his shoulder in confusion, wondering distantly what word or sentence you must’ve missed from before that would make him make sense.  Was that a translation?  Or a continuation?

But then your wet hair is slowly moved away from your nape and his head tilts down, face pressing into your neck and voice lowering until it’s nothing more than a breath against your skin, nothing more than a confession that he couldn’t ever say out loud with his full chest.  It’s a secret he only ever wants you to know, a truth he’s choosing to admit to even though you could ruin him with it.  You have no idea how much, you won’t know for a long time just how much power he’s giving you by telling you this one very simple thing.

“But whenever you want to look,” Din finally whispers, the only version of I love you too that a Mandalorian knows.  “You can.”

[michael-aftons-nonbinary-lover]

slight tw bc I’m not sure if this is a trigger topic or not//

do you by chance,, write for the silver eyes vers of Dave?? Just asking teehee

I can try! Only the first book version though, bc that's the only one that I've read to completion, other than the Fazbear Fright's stories that I'm still working on.

Soul Security

-(Dave Miller x reader)-

-(Summary: reader helps Dave cool the hell down)-

-(CW: mentions of c@tc@ll!ng, physical fighting)-

-(Hehe, this is changed a lot from the canon bc them working in an abondonded mall doesn't fit my dumb little plot so yea, they work at one of the pizzerias instead)-

🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀🌀

Your co-worker Dave was, weird, to say the least. He was very unsocial, held full conversations with himself often, and treated the animatronics at your job like his own children. Literally. No one else was allowed to upgrade them, repair them, clean them, ect. He verbally assaulted anyone who did.

And he talked to them too. As if they were real people.

He was weird. But, he was also your friend. He was poised, composed, and collected when he wanted to be. He also stuck up for you, mostly because you didn't like to argue with people at your job, or in other aspects of your life.

You also found yourself admiring his dark hair, pale skin, and grey eyes in a less than platonic way. His dumb jokes and sarcastic wit always made you smile, and he made up silly song and dance musical numbers whenever you were feeling down.

Did you really have a crush on the "office" weirdo? Sure. How bad could it be?

Very bad, apparently, because all hell broke loose when you had stepped into work this morning.

You had just stepped into your workplace, literally just walked in the doors of the pizzeria, when Hannah, the only teenager working in the establishment, ran up to you.

"Dave punched someone!"

Oh fuck.

"What?"

"Dave. Punched. Someone." Hannah annunciated every word. "He's extremely pissed. I mean, the guy he's fighting did try to catcall me and all."

"He tried to what? Hannah, are you ok?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, Dave jumped his ass the moment he heard it, but that was like, 10 minutes ago, and I can't get them to stop fighting. I don't know what to do, and Mr. Philips isn't here either."

You didn't really wanna have to call your manager on your closest work friend because he protected a teen from harassment, but you would do just that if you absolutely had to. Still, you would try to work this all out before you called Mr. Philips.

You walked into the main party room to find yelling and punches being thrown, just the way you had imagined when Hannah had told you about the fight.

"Dave, what the fuck?"

You clutched onto his shoulder as tightly as you could, the man's family watching as Dave continued to pummel his ass. Some looked on in horror, others looked at him as if he had deserved it. Which he had, but all of this was going to be bad on Dave's end of the stick.

"Fucking, let go of you, ass. Come on, you've done a number on him, let's cool the fuck down."

You tanked his shirt with you, forcing a stumbling Dave to follow after you. The man lay on the ground groaning as Hannah walked around him, tending to the wants of the party guests.

Stepping outside, you let the cool autumn air blow gently against your skin. You took a moment to let everything sink in before you remembered why you were here.

"What the fuck was that about, man?"

Dave shrugged.

"Fucking ass tried to make a move on a 16-year-old, you really think I was gonna let him get away with that shit?"

You sighed heavily.

"Ok, yeah sure, he made the most move ever, but that doesn't mean you can assault him to near unconsciousness, Dave. What happens if you lose your job? Or if you get arrested? What happens then?"

"Whatever happens happens. At least I know that I protected Hannah, at least for the time being."

You stared at him for a moment, utter bewilderment filling your face.

"You will always have the best reason to be an asshole to people, won't you? In all the time that I've known you, every person you've ever dicked around with has deserved it."

A slight smile graced his face, and he huffed out a small chuckle.

"That's kinda what I do. Security guards are supposed to protect more than just property, right? I can't let customers walk all over my co-workers, I'd never be invited to Christmas parties again in my life."

As you inspected his bloody hand, you laughed.

"Wow, and here I was thinking you cared about us all."

The teasing manner didn't throw off your banter, as you continued to inspect Dave's slightly injured fist.

"Didn't say I just tolerated all of you. You're my friend and Hannah recently asked if I'd go to her graduation. Once she graduates, that is."

"So, you're like her fill-in dad? And I'm, what? Your friend with unrequited feelings?"

You slapped a hand over your mouth as soon as you said it, realizing all too late that you had accidentally confessed your stupid feelings at such a bad time.

He just raised an eyebrow at you.

"Who says your feelings are unrequited, Doll?"

His face leaned closer to yours, your eyes closing as the weight of his hands met the side of your neck in a gently manner.

You pressed your lips to his hesitantly, letting him take the lead with deepening it slowly. Eventually, the two of you broke apart, and just continued to stare into each other's eyes.

The moment was ruined by the back door slamming.

"Dave. My office. Now."

Mr. Philips glared down at the dark-haired man sitting beside you.

He glanced back to you for a moment.

"I'll take that as my cue to leave."

It would be a miracle if Dave managed to keep his job.

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(this is shit and I now hate it, but whatever, I'm not re-writing it. If you want me to write it a different way, though, be happy to ask for another scenario and I will totally do it!!!)

[dememetor]

HEY HEY HEY

I love your writing, can I please get jealous hcs for anyone? Please include suna thi he's my latest brainrot hAHA

hi, thanks for the request! and suna brainrot?? bitch me too the fuck. anyways, hope you enjoy~

(also sorry this is kinda late, i've rewritten iwaizumi and bokuto ones a million times)

Haikyuu boys when they're jealous

characters suna rintarou, kuroo tetsurou, iwaizumi hajime, bokuto koutarou, kenma kozume

warnings none but i'm probably gonna say fuck at some point

Suna Rintarou

he tries to be chill about it, he does

it hurts his ego to be this clingy but god

he can't help but to feel that sour sting of jealousy when he sees another guy approaching you

at first will only take a quick glance from afar, just to check if the guy is bothering you, and then promises himself to stay out of your business

well he doesn't

once he decides the guy has lost talking-to-y/n-alone privilege, he will nonchalantly make his way towards you, one hand in his pocket, other sneaking its way to your shoulder, resting his elbow and giving the poor boy a menacing look

he can be pretty intimidating too with that eyeliner and all

(but that look only works on people that don't know him well, he tried it on atsumu once and the latter just laughed in his face)

not the type to be openly jealous but when he sees someone blatantly flirting with you he will start to give you the Glance

blinks slowly (you know, like that one blonde haired guy gif) and looks at you through raised eyebrows as if to say hey babe, i love you and i trust you. what the fuck tho

and when the guy starts being borderline creepy he'll appear between you - and i mean literally will inject himself between you two and strike a conversation with you as if nothing weird happened

they usually get the hint, but this one guy tried to go around him, still rambling about whatever and suna literally turned on his heel and said "come again?" with such unrivaled coldness, his eyes exuding just sheer fucking spite

but like i said, unless the other guy is asking for it, he's not the type to start a direct confrontation

will take you by the hand and leave without much thought because he simply doesn't have the time for that shit

he might seem grumpy afterwards but a couple of soft kisses usually do the trick

soft kisses which are followed by a breathless make out session with you on his kitchen counter because he still wants you to know you're only his

Kuroo Tetsurou

this little bitch

never gets jealous

and i mean never

once pretended he was jealous just to make you feel better (??? his logic? unparalleled) but once you found out you beat his ass

loves it when you get jealous though (he thinks it's cute)

sometimes he does get insecure, but he shows it in an unusual way

like if you've been talking to someone, smiling at your phone for a while he'll just get up and randomly do a couple puhs-ups, start flexing his muscles and shit

all while you're looking at him like,,

"babe, what are you doing"

"oh i didn't think you'd notice me there. since you're on your damn phone all day"

"...are you my mom?"

nah he'll be fine (will steal your phone though)

also it's the funniest thing when he sees someone trying to flirt with you

he will literally walk over there, introduce himself (not mentioning he's your boyfriend) and act really interested in the conversation

he plays this game where he tries to see how long will it take the guy to realise you two are together (longest time: 24 minutes, record holder: yahaba shigeru)

whenever the guy asks you something he will interrupt you and answer for himself as if the guy were flirting with him

"so, like what do you do in your free time?"

"not mu-"

"oh i love taking long walks on the beach, especially during sunsets. i really think it is healthy for the mind and the soul, not to mention quite romantic too. don't you too love sunsets, kevin?"

at one point kevin will have had enough of it

"i was talking to y/n alone here"

"aw don't worry, you're not bothering me"

he is such a pain in the ass

why can't he just be normal

Iwaizumi Hajime

rational, mature, i love him

seriously, he is the bestest boy and he will treat you so well because he trusts you and respects your friendship with other guys as well

but on those rare occasions when he does get jealous,, oh boy

first of all, the PDA skyrockets, he has to have his arm around you at all times - around your shoulder? on your waist? in your backpocket? his hand's been there done that

not in any way possesive but will be really annoying unless you give him your full undivided attention that day

he lets himself be selfish a bit, after all he is your boyfriend he can have you all to himself for a day, right?

jealous sex with him? better prepare a wheelchair cause you want be able to walk straight tomorrow

sees a boy trying to flirt with you? tries not to make a scene but absolutely will throw the first punch if he needs to

one day he was having a particularly rough time at practice and all he wanted to do was lose himself in your arms and fall asleep to the feeling your fingertips tangled in his hair

and then he saw this?? guy? (the audacity!) laughing with you after telling some dumb joke and let me tell you - iwaizumi wasn't having any of it

he came up to you from behind, wrapped his arms around your waist and planted a small kiss on the crook of your neck

"when are we going home, love?"

and he gives him the calmest yet most fear inducing stare from behind you

and suddenly the pattern on poor boy's pants starts to look awful lot like piss stain

it is actually kinda hot how one single look from him can cause such a reaction

"he was just asking about english homework babe"

"yeah that's what they all say"

Bokuto Koutarou

gets jealous so so easily

it is actually fascinating

will get mad at otome games

"what does jumin han have that i don't???"

god forbid you pay attention to your pet more than him (btw you have a golden retriever and his name is bean)

you're sitting on the couch cuddling with your dog, scratching his ears, ruffling his fur and all that, and there he is, your clingy boyfriend, snuggling right next to you, demanding you play with his hair too

so dramatic

"you smiled at him... the way you used to smile at me..."

"bokuto, he's a dog"

the only guy he trusts 100% to be around you is akaashi, even kuroo is on thin ice

but him and akaashi are something else, one time you three had a sleepover and you felt like you were the third wheel

will act like a tough serious boyfriend in front of others, especially your other guy friends but in reality will look for affection immediately after

oh while we're at it - jealous bokuto kisses? are the best kisses

will also force you to wear one of his shirts for the rest of the day

my poor man is so touch starved so when he feels insecure or jealous he will look for comfort in things like holding your hand, nuzzling your neck or giving forehead kisses

but later that day, when you two are sitting on the couch cuddling he will quietly ask you something along the lines of "you still think i'm pretty, right?"

you can feel him all over you - his hands are creeping down your waist, he's pulling you in, deepening the kiss until all you can see, think and feel is him

he wants to show you exactly how much he wants you and what you were missing out on while you weren't paying attention to him

and it shocks you for a moment because you didn't realise just how much that one short moment of jealousy actually stayed with him

you have to reassure him he's the most beautiful boy you have ever met, and not only that, but also the funniest and the most caring person as well, and that you would never leave his side no matter what happened

and as much as he loves getting praised he always gets embarrassed, so he just smiles in return, but he is also happy to know you're there for him and you don't think he is too much

Kenma Kozume

it depends on his mood honestly

sometimes he doesn't mind it even if the other guy is flirting with you and sometimes will get pissy if you smile at the cashier

but when this boy gets really jealous oh my GOD

he is just like bokuto if not worse; he just hides it so well

one time you went grocery shopping with him and spent the entire time texting your friend who had just told you she was visiting your city

and he got so offended

you didn't even notice it until later that day when you came home and he suddenly refused to cuddle with you

silent treatment

lifts his nose and ignores you, only giving you dirty side glances from under the eye

such a massive sense of pride in those 170 cm even oikawa would be impressed

in my country there's a saying "it's in the smallest bottle that the poison lies" and honestly? yeah

at some point you realise why he's acting like that and you start teasing him

"i am not jealous i am just mildly irritated" is the only thing he deems necessary to say before going back to being unnecessarily pissed

he reminds you of an angry cat

it's kind of amusing seeing him like this but you were also getting real tired of his shit

don't even try bribing him (you tried buying him over with a ps5 but he just looked at you unimpressed, disgusted that you think so low of him)

the only thing he will accept is a sincere apology

if it's sincere or not is up to him to decide, obviously

which can lead to quite some bickering

will try to get you to beg but please have dignity, if you do it once he will make you do it every time

yeah generally a lttle shit but his kisses after making up are just as eager as yours so