#WHAT'S HIS TAGG

[iwanttobepersephone]

Headcanon that Duncan will occasionally not invite Halt to advisor meetings because he somehow always finds a way to be disruptive

Halt: Oh please, I'm just as much an advisor as everyone else.

Duncan: Yeah, advising me to take the wrong option

Halt: No, I advise you to take the funny one.

Duncan, burying his head in hands: my lord, why do you test me so, my lord, why do you test me so

[pup-pee]

bart having 2 learn how 2 run again would ruin me

[echthr0s]

ok wait no there really is a Ny'arlat situation in every universe, no matter whether the guy itself is there or not. Razikale, known engineer of they who would become Qunari, makes a weird lil Blight-spreading demi-dragon using the genetic blueprints of its dead priest to see what will happen. Emet-Selch spends 10 millennia repeatedly recreating his lost love using funky aetherology, unethical biomechanics, and whatever else he can co-opt from the civilisations of the mon-keigh flawed shards of the old world, mostly out of unending and primal-enhanced grief but a little bit out of mad curiosity. someone is always doing real fucked up eldritch science offscreen and tossing overpowered anime creations into my universes.

maybe those fucked-up mad wizard-scientists are Ny'arlat's avatars

[ravennory]

another tagg deyna doodle ^_^

[c0eu4]

OP81 | Spider | Blurb

oscarpiastri x fem!reader

Summary: You just wanted to take a shower, but you're disturbed by a horrible spider.

Warning: spider description!!!

A/n: I struggle to write that because spiders are my number one phobia and just thinking about it is killing me.

MASTERLIST requests are close

The heat of Australia knocks you down a little more each day and the nights are real hell. Between Oscar sticking to you, because he's used to it, and the mosquitoes who are attacking you, you thought you were at the end of your rope.

You step into the bathroom, ready to take a cold shower, in a hope to cool yourself down. You tie your hair into a horrible bun and look at yourself in the mirror for a few seconds. Your skin is much tanner, but still not used to the harsh sun of the southern equator. You run your hand over your face and notice how oily and rough it is. You remove your clothes, careful not to touch the areas where your skin is red, burning. You leave them on the ground, near those that Oscar left the day before, and you turn towards the shower.

As you were about to go inside, your whole body froze. So this hell will never end? You take a long look at the horrible black and hairy creature that is at the bottom of the bathtub. Its eight legs are frozen to the ground and its eyes are fixed on you. Neither you nor the spider dare to move. Your heart beats fast and you feel your legs start to shake. You open your mouth but nothing comes out, as if your voice is blocked. Then, finally, as the spider begins to walk towards you, a shrill cry finally escapes from your throat.

You walk backwards desperately, until your back meets the wall. Your eyes never leave the spider as you feel this horrible feeling of a spider walking all over your body.

''OSCAAAAR'' You scream a second time, hoping your boyfriend can hear you across the big house. In less than a minute, someone opens the door in a big 'boum' and Oscar takes you in his arms to move you away.

''Y/n! You're ok!?'' He places both hands on your cheeks and turns your head to either side, as if to check if you have any injury. ''Why did you scream? Are you in pain? Did you fall?'' He debited his words, as if the end of the world has fallen on you.

''Spider..'' Is all you manage to say, still in shock from the big hairy bug you just saw.

''Spider?'' Repeat Oscar, with a once of worries in his eyes.

Oscar isn't really afraid of spiders. He is accustomed. But just knowing it's a spider doesn't help much. It can be a black widow or a small house spider.

He wraps your towel around you, to prevent you from catching a cold (even if the heat in the room definitely prevents you from it.) and heads towards the bathtub.

He starts giggling when he sees the 'little' spider at the bottom of the bathtub, desperately trying to get out.

''What are you doing there...'' He starts talking to the spider while grabbing it by its two back legs.

''WHAT THE HELL OSCAR!?'' You scream as he shows you the spider with a smirk. ''It's a Huntsman. They are harmless.''

''AH HUNTSMAN!? ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME!?'' The horrible creature starts moving in all directions and tries to get out of the grip of Oscar's fingers but can do nothing.

The Australian uses his other hand to open the bathroom window and places the spider on the sill. It takes the opportunity to run and hide in the bushes below.

''Welcome in Australia, honey.'' He giggled again and leaned to hug her but she walked back.

''Wash your hand before touching me, I don't wanna have baby spiders on my skin.'' Oscar rolls his eyes and quickly runs his hands under the water before forcing you into a hug. You struggle slightly but eventually let yourself go and he kisses your forehead.

''Go take that shower, my mum and sis want to show you Sidney.'' You groan slightly but he finally lets go of you and leaves the bathroom to give you your moment of privacy alone.

Tagg: @millinorrizz

[hellsitegenetics]

Hi there. I LOVE dragons. Dragons are what my dreams are made of. They move in heavings of the mind and the voluntary power instinct of mountains. They are INCREDIBLE.

I love how versatile they are, too. A dragon could be a tiny armless wriggly thing that eats eggshells or could be this collosal beast made from shattered glass and golden veins. I get unreasonably upset when I see a drawing of a half-naked woman with a dragon in the back being tagged as 'dragon art', too. I DON'T WANT TO SEE THE BITCHES!! ALLOW ME TO SEE MY BELOVED WRETCHES, CAST FROM THE MIND AT THE DAWN OF OUR BEGINNING AND SHARED BETWEEN CULTURES, MINDS, STORIES!

My favourite types of dragon are the sharp ones and the ugly ones. By being not afraid to make a dragon ugly, the creator makes it far more beautiful than any other. I've also got to love the [object] dragons. I saw a lava lamp one just yesterday, and the gloopy substance on the inside made the stupid thing magnificent.

I used to play a game called Dragons World right up until December, when the servers shut down (without warning :[ ). I had this Spring dragon named Summer (ironic, I know) who was my maximum level killing machine. That dragon was also my first exposure to gender fluidity, because all the dragons in the game didn't have set sexes and my little brain just accepted that Summer was a he/she.

I hope that this proclaimation about my love of a mythical creature gives me a very cool real one. Do you think if I ask for a bug, I won't get one? (I'm asking for a bug)

String identified: t. ag. ag a at a a a . T ag t a t ta tct ta. T a C.

at t a, t. A ag c a t a gg tg tat at gg c t ca at a att ga a g . gt aa t a ag a a-a a t a ag t ac g tagg a 'ag at', t. 'T AT T T TC!! A T TC, CAT T AT T A GG A A T CT, , T!

at t ag a t a a t g . g t aa t a a ag g, t cat a t a at ta a t. ' a gt t t [ct] ag. a a aa a t ta, a t g tac t a t t tg agct.

t a a ga ca ag gt t c, t t (tt ag :[ ). a t g ag a (c, ) a a g ac. Tat ag a a t t g t, ca a t ag t ga 't a t a tt a t acct tat a a /.

tat t caat at a tca cat g a c a . t a a g, 't gt ? (' ag a g)

Closest match: Acrocera orbiculus genome assembly, chromosome: 2 Common name: Top-horned hunchback

[phoenixkaptain]

Novel A New Hope Vader is my favourite Vader (so far) because he Is Anakin, he is everything Anakin is set up to be. He is intimidating, he is overwhelming, standing next to him feels like standing next to a black hole, he is-

The biggest little shit in the entire galaxy.

You canNOT convince me that he didn’t say half his lines with a shit-eating smirk. He is awful to be around, he is the worst person to ever exist, he is SO annoying.

And Novel Vader is so Anakin because the book can give us details the movie can’t. The book gives us the author’s choice of wording, the way the author intended the scenes to be, and Vader is such a little shit almost constantly but my FAVOURITE will always be when Tagge talks back to him about the Force, saying it isn’t as powerful or scary as he makes it out to be and Vader just-

“I find,” Vader ventured mildly, “this lack of faith to be disturbing.”

-the WORD CHOICE. The fucking WORDS chosen.

“Ventured”??? “Mildly”??? He is CHOKING this man!!! This man is DYING!! He is being such a little shit right now, this is it. This is the Him, this is Anakin Skywalker right here. He is using unnecessary force and being a bitch about it and there will never be anything that so perfectly encapsulates Anakin Skywalker than this fucking scene in this fucking novel.

On the topic and as a brief aside, the novel is what makes me think that Leia was planned to be Vader’s kid, or at least a narrative mirror to Vader, right from the start. She is also such an Anakin.

“Darth Vader… I should have known. Only you would be so bold— and so stupid.”

She just… also. Encapsulates Anakin. Like. Yeah. Yeah, this is what he could have been. He could have been a terrifying figure that people rallied behind. He is loyal to the death, as is Leia. She spits on Darth Vader while he’s having her dragged away. She mocks him to his face. This is the character that the Anakin Skywalker of future movies mimics. Her passion, her anger, her being a little shit and insisting throughout everything that it WAS a diplomatic vessel and they WERE on a diplomatic mission.

Leia is the first character to face down Vader in this novel and not show fear. She is the first character who refuses to submit in the face of the scariest guy in the galaxy. She continues to refuse to submit. She’s just. A great fucking liar.

Leia puts all her trust, her very life and the sake of the entire rebellion she’s fighting for, in a droid. An astromech droid. She begs for them to take the droid further, not for them to find her. She’s willing to die, and she trusts her death will not be in vain because she trusts a droid.

And that, if nothing else, is all the proof needed that Leia is what Anakin could have been.

[ask-steven-stevenson]

“I’m okay!! Again. No need to worry for me! See? I’m alright. Truly. I get you both care.. I can take care of myself.”

“Oh. Yeah. Get the fuck out, Steven.”

[HELP. Jake literally CARRIED Steven out.]

[DW!! I mod magic’d the bucket away!]

//ALRIGHT IM FREE TO HARRASS MY DAD NOW I WAS TRAPPED SOMEWHERE ❤️

he!!!!! walks in!!!!! hes human!!!!! yippee!!!!! also sorry steven yoinking barley away for this one so you kinda just see and identical copy of the human form of your son steal him away from you.

hey dad. whatcha up to?

//@the-flys-buzz (THATS ENOUGH LETS GET YOU HOME STARTED PLAYING AS I WAS TYPING THIS WHAT IF I BROKE DOWN INTO TEARS)

[[HEL. WELCOME BACK !!]]

[HELP. He saw that. He’s.. concerned and.. worried..??? But he’ll worry about it later. Maybe. He wants HIS EMPLOYEE BACK.]

“Oh? Hello. What do you need? Are you alright?”

[awe. He sounds so worried about his son 💔💔💔.]

[onedumbho3]

SVT FIC RECS

Guide: Not Titled (N/T)

Other Rec Lists: ATEEZ RECS

Headcanons/Reactions

Seventeen Whne You Ask Them to be More Rough by @svtfilthandfiction

Seventeen Being Needy In the Middle of The Night by @svtfilthandfiction

Svt reaction to you being shy too ask for sex by @pan-de-seungcheol

SVT + forgetting your date pt.1 pt.2 pt.3 by @ravixen

Ot13/Poly Units

Vampires Pt.1 Pt.2 Pt.3 by @bluejeanstrash

#19: Exhibitionism/Voyeurism by @synthetickitsune

N/T by @multi-kpop-fanfics

Old Money, Bratty Honey by  @multi-kpop-fanfics

S.Coups

Red by @wongyuuu

The Great War by @amourcheol

Love and Service by @woozihaes

N/T by @multi-kpop-fanfics

N/T By @sluttyminghao

Jeonghan

Just Like Heaven by @hoshiputa

Call Me By His Name by @sweetlemontart

Mirror Mirror by @cheolism

Joshua

Masqurade of the Sinners by @multi-kpop-fanfics

neighbor joshua by @mountainficss

Jun

N/T by deactivated account (pls let me know if I’m wrong so i can tagg the og author)

Sound of the Season by @junkissed

Match of the Season by @1-800-hwahui

Do Re Mi by @onlymingyus 

Highs and Lows by @synthetickitsune

Wonwoo

What You Need by @cheolhub

The Secret the Moon Sees by @renaiswriting

What You Need by @cheolhub

Firsts (and hopefully, not lasts) by @blue-jisungs

Hoshi

Hoshi blurb #1 by @meltwonu 

Warm by @cheolism

Crazy Stupid Love by @toruro

Woozi

Like a Melody by@sluttywoozi

N/T by  @hannieehaee 

Girl Code by @beefboyandbabygirl

Minghao

Wanted U By @hannieehaee

Taking it Slow by @haoboutyou

Devil by the Window by @toruro

overstimulated minghao by @mountainficss

Mingyu

N/T by @strwbwoo

Gym and Thirst by @cheolism

N/T by @cheolslz

Seokmin

Sweeter than Pie by @cheollipop

Epistolary Yearning by @himbocoups

Tummy by @pinklemonadeflav

Seungkwan

Office Hours by @seungkw1

N/T by @hannieehaee

Knotting + Seungkwan by@sluttywoozi

Vernon

10:24 by deactivated account (pls let me know if I’m wrong so i can tagg the og author)

Can’t Get You Out of my Head by @onlyhuis

 N/T by @hannieehaee

Dino

Crybaby by @toruro

Size Matters by @onlyseokmins

N/T by  @sluttyminghao

[bitchyycapricorn]

Im here to request Narcissa Malfoy to kinktober!!! You are free to choose the kink but i want some hard smut pleeeease 🥺🥺

Thx Happy October 🎃😚

Sub!Narcissa Malfoy x Dom!Fem!Reader + Praise

-Good Girl-

Kintober Masterlist

Masterlist

AN: Ik this is a later request for kinktober that’s like a month overdue, I was just feeling a little ✨gay✨ (I fucking love women)

Warnings: SMUT BROSKIE!!! wlw, Dom/Sub dynamic, praise kink, punishment kink, fingering, oral (fem rec), mentions of cheating (brothers wife)

The feeling of Narcissa Malfoy’s body under yours wasn’t new. In fact, it had become a sort or routine since Lucius had been summoned to stand by the Dark Lords side. Since his leave, you often found yourself in her bed, under her covers, between her thighs, all while pressing rough kisses against her soft skin. And even now, your bottom lip was dragging across the inside of her thigh as you progress towards her heat in a teasing manner. There was always something about Cissy that made you hot and bothered whenever you were in the same room together. Now, only three months after her arranged marriage to your brother, you find yourself wrapping your arms under her thighs and pulling her closer to your face.

A moan erupts from her soft pink lips as your tongue slowly laps up her arousal, pleasing her the way she deserved to be pleased. Your fingers dig into the soft flesh of her hips as you pull her closer to your face that was still buried in her cunt. “Y/N…” She whines softly, her hands tugging at your pretty locks. You gave her a warning tap to her thigh in response, still continuing to trace circles around her clit with your tongue. “S-stop teas-…” she begins before another whine escapes her rather swollen lips. Your movements come to a halt as your eyes flicker up to meet hers.

She can’t help but let yet another whine leave her lips, despite knowing exactly what she’d done. “Good girls don’t whine. They use their words.” You tell her, sitting up so you can hover over her body. “Don’t you want to be a good girl?” You ask with a slow hum. Your fingers delicately tracing patterns on her hip down to her upper thigh. Her eyes widen as she bites her lip, only giving a small nod in response. Displeased by her lack of vocalization, you land a sharp smack to the side of her thigh. “I said use your words. If I have to ask again, I wont be able to let you finish tonight.”

“Yes, I want to be a good for you-“ She gasps, the feeling of your slap stinging her thigh as your handprint starts to form on her pale skin. “I wont be whiny anymore, I promise.” She swore. You nod, watching as pleasure clouds her vision at the motion of you entering two fingers into her. Her hands grasp your shoulders as you push your fingers deeper into her soft cunt.

“See, that wasn’t so hard.” You smirk, quickening your pace as your fingers curl inside her. You watch proudly as her eyes roll to the back of her head and her soft moans got louder. Her body seems to melt under your touch as she begins to grind her hips down onto your moving fingers. Her thighs were shaking and her bottom lip quivering as you continue to finger her roughly. “Such a pretty girl,” you coo, watching as she continues to try and get off by using your fingers. Pausing your thrusts, you take the opportunity to press your palm against her cunt, putting pressure on her clit as she continues to grind against your digits. Another cry escaped her lips as she moves her hips faster, fingers now digging into your shoulders as she chases her high.

“Go on, be a good girl and cum on my fingers.” You encourage, thrusting and curling just your fingers in her as she continues to struggle against your palm. You can feel the moment she tenses up, followed by her cunt squeezing your fingers as she releases, soaking the silk sheets beneath her. Her head lolls to the side, as you slowly pull your finger out of her.

+++

Taglist (I know I don’t have fandoms separated, so if you’re confused why you’re tagged that’s why lol)

@nataliewalker93  @sarapaprikas-blog @justkeepitblanc @etaerealboy @purplerose291  @witheringawayagain @dandelionqueen @brightlilith @laurens2002 @siriusly1 @hazzarules @cl0v3r-s0up @jibiwoni @maria-pqrker @just-henny @little-jana @ellie-emb @valslittleheart @reeseisinapiece @happilyneverafter69 @gram-cracker24 @kisstheskin @whenmypartysover @wowitsem @chinaza444 @sherlockstrangewolf @shine101 @moniffazictress11 @cryptidcreaturewrites

[jrooc]

🥂AO3 Wrapped🥳

Thanks @energievie @sgtmickeyslaughter and @sam-loves-seb for the taggsss

How many words have you written this year? *167,280 (aprox. minus collab work)

How many works did you publish this year? My masquerade will be lucky 13 (kinda on the line of 'this year lol)

What work are you most proud of (regardless of kudos/hits)?

In My Veins Like Lightning

Infinite Runner

I was lost but your fool

Dear Gentle Gallavich Reader

New Personal Best

How many kudos in total did you get this year? 1,825

What work of yours has the most hits? In My Veins Like Lightning

What work of yours got more feedback than you expected?

In My Veins, A New Personal Best & I was lost but your fool

Favorite title you used? I was lost but your fool

If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most? Looollll I use a lot of song lyrics 😆 Maybe Bon Iver? Frank Ocean actually probably.

Pairing you wrote the most for this year? Ian/Mickey

Favorite pairing you wrote for this year? Ian/Mickey

What work was the quickest to write? I was lost but your fool

What work took you the longest to write? In My Veins

How many WIP’s do you have in your docs for next year? 2

What’s your longest work of the year? In My Veins

What’s your shortest work of the year? Wolverine vs. Gallagher

What WIP are you taking into next year with you? 0. I have to finish my stories or they'll eat me alive

What’s your most common “Additional Tags” tag? Alternative Universe

Your favorite character to write this year? Evil Stripper Ian video game boss! I mean he fights from a stripper pole.. I'm still laughing at my own brain for that one! Also my OC Allie in IMV. The Irish mafia, Patrick, in IMV. Mickey in your fool. Infinite Runner dorky and passionate Ian. Cocky Mickey in A New Personal Best.

The character that gave you the most trouble writing this year? Struggled with time constraints so both Infinite Runner Ian and Mickey but loved how they came together.

What’s one pairing you want to explore next year? Ian/Mickey 😅

Which work of yours have you reread the most? I was lost but your fool - I basically wrote it for me so I feel less pressure when I reread it to wonder about how others see it.

Which work has the most comments? In My Veins Like Lightning by a margin 😂

Did you do any collaborative works this year? Yupp, 3

Did you write any gifts this year? 2! Infinite Runner and If You Can't Stand the Heat for @gallapiech and @grumble-fish

Did you receive any gifts this year? Memoriam from Arrow and gifts from Mandi, Comet, Rayray Molly, and Jessie. And a great little drabble from Keely!

What’s your most common category? M/M

What do you listen to while writing? must have music. Like my IMV playlist

Favorite work you wrote this year? In My Veins Like Lightning and I was lost but your fool and some moments in Infinite Runner.. and fuck it .. If You Can't Stand the Heat didn't get a lot of love but I loved it

Biggest surprise while writing this year? How much people loved my stories. I'm not far off 3K kudos total and I never expected anyone to read anything of mine in the first place. So grateful for the support and the amazing friends I've made along the way.

Favorite line/passage you wrote this year? This is wayyy too hard. I am proud of a lot of the dialogue I wrote but it'll be too long here.

"“I feel like I’ve known you my whole life, man. You feel like home. I want you to be mine.” He whispered into Ian’s skin.

It was quiet again and Mickey was sure the redhead had fallen asleep before he heard Ian speak like a secret into the silent room.

“You’re already mine.” " - I was lost but your fool

--

“No, you lose a ball or somethin’?” Case in point. “Like a shot-put ball. Or a Discus.” Ian explained, making it worse.

Mickey's eyebrows raised so high Ian thought they were going to levitate off his forehead. He snorted. “Oh, you’re a real smooth operator, ain’tcha, Budgie Smuggler?” - Read the full interactation at the bar in A New Personal Best

Tagging and sending a holiday cheers to 🥂:

@deedala only

Jk also @gallapiech

And then maybe for good measure @mmmichyyy @thepupperino @ian-galagher @lazystargazy @ms-moonlight-inn

@notherenewjersey @jessij1997 @suzy-queued @crossmydna @wehangout

@spoonfulstar @goodkwuestion @roryonic @blue-disco-lights @runninonemptyy

I'm missing ppl.. if you see this you’re tagged

[mommahughes19-23]

my lil teddy bear - N.H

@regan.rose : adventure time🤖

tagged : @nicohischier

location : a cliff

jackhughes : are you ever not hugging each other

↪ regan.rose : are you upset that nico loves someone other than you now?

↪ jackhughes : HE LOVES ME STILL YOU BITCHH

↪ lhughes_06 : could you just not argue for once in your short lives !?!?

dawson1417 : can I come next time !???!!!?!!?

↪ regan.rose : no , no you cannot

pally_18 : who tf was your photographer!?

↪ regan.rose : that's classified . but it might have been someone with the same last name as my boyfriend , again not at liberty to say sorry.

john.marino97 : the sun makes it look like you have one eyebrow in the second slide lol

jesperbratt : WOW NICO , TAKING HER TO OUR SPOT SMH

tmeier96 : this is unacceptable ... im his real love

bssmith2 : happy fam 💖💖

ehaula : y'all are gonna have cute ass kids one day

tofff73 : this makes me want to push you both off the cliff.... 🫸🏻🫸🏻🫸🏻

nicohischier : my favorite camping partner , I love you !🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻

curtislazar95 : too bad he brought you back home with him lol

akiraschmid93 : I SPY A NATURE LOVING COUPLE

↪ holtz_10 : what an amazing observation

siegenthaler34 : how are y'all so close to each other in that tent it has to be HOT ASF

↪ regan.rose : wellllllll.... when nico is in the tent it gets steamy

dougieham : my favorite captain and co

naterbastian : fancy fancy

jesperboqvist : WHO WAS THE PHOTOGRAPHER AND WHY WERE THEY ALLOWED!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!

↪ regan.rose : BECAUSE I LIKE MY PHOTOGRAPHER

jobernier45 : beep

kevinbahl88 : boop

ninahischier : had a blast !! cant wait to do it again!

A.N :

HIiiii, I just got back from the beach, doing my requests even though I feel like Im not doing great rn . I hope you likeee :D

taggs : @noahkahansorangejuice @skylershines @quinnylouhughesx43

[mychlapci]

I couldn't help myself, I did the TFA thingy

I gave up making it a full fanfic though because writing dialogue is the worst <3

It begins with a day like any other. Bulkhead and Bumblebee hold down the fort while Optimus, Ratchet, and Prowl investigate some suspected Con activity. The pair are lounging on the couch watching some silly human sitcom when the perimeter alarm suddenly goes off. They barely get a chance to react before an unfamiliar orange and purple Autobot marches through the main entrance, a slightly less brazen green bot trailing happily behind him.

A fight nearly ensues, with Bumblebee and the brash bigger bot clashing immediately, but Bulkhead and the green bot get to talking and all is sorted out; the pair are Wreckers, Impactor and Springer, and they’re looking for Prowl.

Bee backs off, starstruck and admittedly intimidated when he realizes who he’s talking to. He switches gears and kisses aft, sucking up to Impactor and Springer and not even thinking to ask what they want with Prowl. 

Hours pass, Springer and Impactor settle in, and Bee and Bulkhead get to know them better. Impactor’s gruff, unsociable, and crude, but manages to behave himself thanks to Springer, the more approachable of the two. They’re a rowdy pair, and it’s quickly apparent that they’re more than colleagues when Impactor practically snarls at Bee for innocently putting his servos on Springer to check out his mods- even though Springer himself happily offered to let him.

Ratchet, Optimus, and Prowl return later that night to find Bumblebee, Bulkhead, and the two newcomers in the living room. Bee speaks up to introduce the Wreckers, only for Springer to perk up and interrupt him, bright blue optics locked on Prowl.

“Hey ma!”

The silence is deafening, interrupted only by the clattering of metal as Bulkhead’s jaw hits the ground.

“It’s Prowl.” Prowl calmly and cooly corrects before bothering to greet his sparkling back, earning a sheepish chuckle and apology from Springer.

“Hello Springer… and…?” Prowl finally speaks, optics narrowing skeptically on the taller bot beside his sparkling.

“Impactor.” Springer introduces, grinning earnestly and proudly. Said bot wraps his hooked servo around Springer’s waist and tugs him close against his side, lips tugging into a small smug smile as he glares right back at Prowl.

Prowl’s optic twitches. Normally, he wouldn’t care who his kid chose to pursue, but Impactor? His reputation precedes him. What could Springer possibly see in a bot like him?

Suddenly it dawns on Prowl. Springer has always been a good boy, a big baby really. Despite Prowl barely acknowledging him for millennia, he’s always loved his mommy, trying his damndest to keep in touch with and impress him. He was a good mechling too, one of Yoketron’s star students, or so Prowl’s heard… Throughout the war and since it ended, he’s been a model Autobot soldier. Though sadly, even becoming the SIC of an elite task force like the Wreckers was never enough to gain Prowl’s favor.

Maybe after all these years, he’s finally decided to act out for attention by bringing a big bad bot home, Prowl logically reasons. Either that, or his taste in mechs is (almost) as bad as his mom’s- Prowl refuses to consider the latter answer.

Prowl decides not to humor his childish antics, regarding Impactor with a nod before quietly dismissing himself to his room. Springer tries to trail after Prowl to chat and catch up, only for Bumblebee to distract him with a slew of questions about his relation to Prowl and what it’s like being the ninjabot’s kid.

While Prowl broods, the other Autobots try to be welcoming. Optimus generously offers them room and board, and Springer graciously accepts.

The next few days are undercut with a sense of awkward tension. Springer gives up on trying to get Prowl to talk, knowing his mom is just gonna keep on avoiding him. Instead, he and Impactor warm up to the rest of the Earth crew; regaling Bulkhead and Bee with epic war stories, tagging along with Optimus on patrols, and trying not to bother Ratchet; though they do get caught canoodling in the makeshift medbay on only their second day there. And again the day after that.

Dinners are the worst of it. After finally meeting the Wreckers and learning that Springer is Prowl’s sparkling, Sari insists that the group all refuel together and try to have a meal as a family. What ensues is an awkward few hours of Sari, Bee, and Bulkhead obliviously laughing and joking together as Optimus and Ratchet try to carry a mature conversation...

All the while Prowl drinks his energon in irked silence, trying to ignore the Wreckers seated across from him, and pretending not to notice Springer teasingly swatting away Impactor’s wandering servos beneath the dinner table. ^^

-🦴

AAAAAA i’m on my knees. I was not expecting us to bring this one back tbh. God, if only I could write, I would do at least a little snippet, just a couple thousand words… This is so good, I cannot stop thinking about the way Prowl immediately corrects Springer, I bet he does that all the time… He can’t stand it when Springer just airs it out to the rest of the world that he’s his carrier. Way to make things subtle.

Prowl immediately sussed out Springer’s intentions… He’s trying to make him angry, frustrate him into paying attention to him. Prowl doesn’t know how to get it through Springer’s thick helm that the fact they share coding means nothing. They’re basically strangers, Springer was raised by the dojo, not Prowl, yet he keeps trying to find Prowl, constantly reminding him of a terrible mistake he made when he was young and stupid…. He wishes Yoketron never told Springer who his carrier was, this way Prowl only has more trouble on his hands… And Springer reminds him so much of the sire, it’s– awful. Prowl doesn’t want to think about him, certainly not.

hmm of course, the more time Prowl is forced to spend with Springer, the more irritated he gets. What exactly is this supposed to accomplish for Springer, he wonders, showing off his brute of a boyfriend and constantly trying to push Prowl's buttons... He can't give into his tantrum, he shouldn't care who Springer is dating, they're just two autobots, with almost no relation to Prowl, this shouldn't matter to him at all...

[andthekitchensinkao3]

Thanks for the tag @elodiah :3 Next week I'll have a Lokius WiP snippet, I promise. Or, ooh, even for this Sunday's SSS. Stay tuned!

In the meantime, I'm still with the Veilguard canon-divergent epic brainrot that is, or will be, Stories Told and Forgotten.

In chapter 7, we follow Emmrich's POV through a hellscape - fighting a blighted dragon and darkspawn towards the end of Act 1, when that sort of thing's usually reserved for professionals, at the end of a DA game. And Emmrich, the gentleman necromancer, will have to face his biggest fear. Dying.

The floating city was on fire. The thought itself, the very concept, failed to make any sense: Minrathous, most powerful city of the north, populated by more mages per capita than any other nation in all of Thedas - on fire.

As they rushed through the streets, fighting off Venatori cultists shouting about the glory of Tevinter, all Emmrich could see was blatant misery. Entire residential areas crumbling under the onslaught of the dragon, and the fire, spreading from wherever the dragon saw fit to spew its fiery misery onto the proud city. Say what you will of Minrathous’ politics, but politics couldn’t lose their homes to a monster on blighted wings.

They worked their way ever downward, to the last known location of the dragon. It was easy enough: just follow its path of destruction. Neve led the charge for Rook, Bellara and Emmrich, while Harding, Davrin and Assan, and Lucanis made their way from the other way around, hoping to hit the beast from two vantage points instead of one.

Past Dumat Plaza, onwards to the Andoralis grounds - there came a clamoring unlike anything Emmrich had ever heard, even in his worst nightmares. A thousand voices, roaring into the Tevene night sky. No. Snarling.

“Darkspawn ahead!” Rook called out, whipping his head around to meet their eyes - “Emmrich, raise the dead, and raise Hell while you’re at it! Bellara, hit them with everything you’ve got, arrows or temporal magic, everything! Neve?”

“I’ll freeze the bastards solid. I’ll send the dragon into its own, personal ice age if I have to.”

Rook nodded. “Our primary focus is taking down that dragon, and every darkspawn down there. Fight smart, not fast. We don’t want to get infected, so keep your distance and attack from afar. You see someone hurting, don’t hesitate to act backup, but be safe.”

Emmrich’s pulse throbbed against his collar, which felt so tight he could barely swallow down the taste of bile. Bellara readied two of her arrows, as grim as their objective. Rook’s eyes went to him, and Emmrich could only hope he looked calmer than he felt.

“I’ll raise a small army, Rook. The darkspawn won’t know what hit them,” he said, already calculating mana pool versus sustaining animation by the dozens-or-hundreds. Fight smart, not fast was possibly the cleverest thing he’d heard since they left for Minrathous. There would be no point to hitting the dragon with everything they had, only to be dragged off by the darkspawn… possibly to be eaten alive.

Rook’s jaw settled into a line so firm it looked painful. “I’ll draw the dragon’s attention. Solas said Ghilan’nain and Elgar’nan want the dagger. If that’s the case, they’d better come and get it.”

Emmrich’s heart all but sank to his stomach like a block of ice. “Rook--”

But Rook merely smiled, and showed the palm of his hand. “I can run faster than a panicked nug. And I’ll hit them hard. If we all do our part, we can do this.”

---

TAGS In no specific order: @redheadsramblings @starfleetteddybear @mercars-musings @starrose17 @holyglassbone @genocidalfetus @wolfpup026 @lokimobius

@ghoulehhh @natendo-art @in-my-loki-feels @kusakichan15

@devilbearingtrouble @impulsemuppet @mirilyawrites @scifikimmi @silentxsymphony

@rin-love-is-green @confetti39x @stillwanderingflame

@insert-witty-user-name-here @blackbirdofasgard @dreamycloud @distracteddream

@mobius-m-mobius @dilfmobius @adorbspotat @lgwilt

And, as alwyas, if I forgot to tag you, please consider yourself tagged!

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 4 - Post #9: Lucid Dreams [M]

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 6K (ninth post in Volume 4)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

A/N: this post is ~90% smut please proceed with caution

_______________________________

IX. “Who are they?” the Mandalorian asks.

You peer out from the gap under his arm. Up on the slope above, you spot the hazy outline of several figures making their way through the scattered huts and dwellings clinging to the mountainside. 

“Guards,” you say, recognizing the bright patches sewn over their breast pockets. “But I don’t think they’re on patrol.” 

The figures sway and meander as though too drunk to walk straight. They keep bunching up together to pass something around—a bottle, maybe?—only to break apart again to avoid tripping over each other. 

“Tagge Corp?”

“Not officially. Most are Lakarani, but they’re trained and outfitted by the Tagge’s to ensure…order.”

Mando unholsters his blaster.

“Don’t,” you whisper, placing a cautionary hand over his fist. “Please! If you’re seen—it could jeopardize everything.” 

He ignores your hushed warnings. “Can you confirm how many?”

“Three,” you mutter, growing more frustrated by the second. The Mandalorian might be accustomed to doing whatever he feels like without worrying about the consequences, but shooting his way through the entire camp, will put your whole operation in danger.

“Let’s not do anything rash, okay? They’re probably just making their way to the bonfire. That’s where everyone’s gathering for the solstice.”

“Weapons?”

Really? Okay. Yeah, stabbing him suddenly feels like a fantastic idea. 

“They usually take tasers on patrol. Some carry blasters.”

“Alright,” he says. “We hope they pass by. But if they make trouble for us…I’ll take care of the bodies.”

“Bodies?!” you groan.

“Leave the carcasses in the woods for predators. When the river washes up what’s left of them, it’ll look like an animal attack,” Mando shrugs. “An accident.”

You rub your hands over your face to prevent yourself from wrapping them around the Mandalorian’s throat. 

“Three missing guards is not going to look like an accident no matter what state they’re found in.” There’s a sharp edge to your words that only hinted at the rage building inside your chest. This isn’t some Outer Rim trading depot. Any sign of trouble would put the TaggeCo refinery on high alert. 

Sure, the Tagges liked to appear uninterested in the settlement right outside their gate. When it suited them. When they could claim ignorance about the appalling living conditions and environmental contamination. But they were, in fact, very interested in any signs of disorder. And three dead guards would certainly raise some eyebrows.   

Did they make the camp guards wear trackers? The guard Humia’s been sleeping with is the one who showed her how to block the signal. That didn’t necessarily mean—kriffing hell! If Mando leaves behind a bloody path that leads right back to your doorstep? Humia, Davik, and Serenio will all be fucked.

“Keep your head down,” the Mandalorian urges, angling his shoulders so the cloak hides you from view.

“Dammit, would you listen to me!” and you’re not the only one surprised to hear the fury in your voice. Mando’s head snaps up at attention. “Look,” you whisper softly, trying to regain some composure. “I know we haven’t spoken in weeks—”

“That was for your protection,” he says defensively. “You think I wanted—”

“That’s as may be,” you cut him off. “But my point is that you have no fucking clue how things work around here, or how close I am to—for you to just—you can’t just show up and—”

Mando’s hand closes firmly over your mouth, “They’re coming.” 

Light from the guard’s lantern splutters overhead, flickering against the steel and tin as it hovers aloft, illuminating their path down the slope.  

The Mandalorian’s hand slides up the back of your neck to press your forehead against his chest, completely obscuring your view of the approaching guards. You can only hear your breath and his, and the sound of footsteps coming closer.

While the criss-cross of shadows underneath the hut helps to conceal you, you aren’t totally hidden from sight. If they happen to look in your direction when they follow the path between the houses, the guards will see you under the lantern light. 

Or maybe the gods will be merciful? Most people never look further than the next foot in front of them, and these three are so drunk, they need all their concentration to stay upright. They might simply walk past and—   

But you hear from the crunch of gravel that they’ve already noticed the two indistinct figures huddled together amidst the pilings.  

They slow down. Suspicion? Voyeurism? You can’t be sure. 

But that last thought gives you sudden inspiration. “Grab me,” you whisper, looking into the Mandalorian’s viewplate. When he pauses to stare down at you in confusion, you explain, “Like you’re taking me up against the pylon.” 

There’s no time to run and even less time to think. You need to hide. Only there’s nowhere to hide—except exactly where you’re standing.

Mando catches on quick. He tucks the blaster into the bandolier strapped across his chest, and with two strong hands, grabs your ass in his wide palms and hauls you against his hips. The hard press of his body sends a trill of panic coursing through you. He has you pushed up against the steel beam now. You hadn’t really thought this through. Yet, despite your anger and frustration from moments ago, instead of pulling back, you lean closer. Lean into him. 

Leather fingers glide down your thigh to grip your knee, before he hoists your leg up, wrapping it around his back. He moves so fast and with such force, you have to throw your hands out behind you to brace yourself against the piling. The hem of your robe tugs open, the fabric falling aside to expose your leg from toe to hip, and the Beskar tasset scrapes against your bare skin. 

But the thrill of sensation when he presses his hips between your thighs, pinning you against the steel and concrete, is so good that you hardly notice. Suddenly you don’t care about him ignoring you, or the thoughtlessness of his actions. Pleasure arcs through you, and you gasp. 

The sound draws the guards’ attention. 

“Take a look at these two,” one of them guffaws. 

The beam from the lantern droid turns, casting a thin fluorescent glow over the pilings underneath your hut. With the Mandalorian’s hood draped over him, the cloak is just long enough to cover the Beskar, and his armor remains hidden. Hopefully, they won’t see the disintegration rounds strapped to his shin.  

“Remember,” Mando growls through clenched teeth. “This was your idea.” 

“I—” you have no idea what you planned to say in response—sorry?—but it doesn’t matter. 

Because that’s when his leather hand slips under the crease of your knee, lifting your leg up so high you have to wrap an arm around his shoulder to keep from falling. You barely regain your balance, when his hips buck, shoving you back against the rigid steel so hard you feel the pressure of his straining erection rub against you through the flight suit.

Oh?! Oh. Interesting! 

Is one gasp of pleasure in the Mandalorian’s ear all it takes to get that kind of reaction? Knowing that Mando is just as aroused, just as helpless to resist the force of attraction between you, is such an exhilarating rush. 

You feel ungodly smug right now. Still got it, you think to yourself. 

Then his hips buck again, and you lose the ability to think about anything else at all. It only lasts a moment, but that’s long enough to send a surge of pleasure ricocheting through you. A jolt of aching desire throbs between your thighs, and the cry that escapes your lips isn’t performance. 

“Whoa-ho, brother!” another of the guards chuckles. “Careful not to break her.”

They all laugh at this, and one of them calls out, adding, “Your queen deserves a bed, brother.” 

“A bed of blossoms for Ehki’s daughter!”  

“It’s Honatoka, brother! Where are her flowers?” 

“A crown of flowers for your queen!”

They are very loud and very drunk. Yet, some part of your brain vaguely acknowledges the harmless nature of their taunting. You sense no ill will from any of them. They had slowed down to jeer but made no attempt to approach. 

“Come on, you perverts! He doesn’t need you shouting suggestions.”

“Ah, you’re right, ha ha! At that rate, he won’t last much longer.” 

“My back hurts just watching.”

They howl in a chorus of raucous laughter as the slow tread of their footsteps continues to carry them down the rocky path.

Which should come as a relief. However, most of your brain is consumed by whether you might actually orgasm from the stimulation of the Mandalorian rutting between your thighs. This might be an act, but the way he pretends to fuck you is merciless. The rhythm of his hips is slow and brutal. 

You feel precariously weightless. The rigid strength of Mando’s arms is the only thing bearing you upright. He’d slid a hand behind your back, bracing his elbow against the pylon next to your face to conceal you from view as the guards pass by. But, his other hand remains cinched around your thigh, knee nearly pressed against your chin, using the leverage to hold you in place. Beneath the robe, you only have on a thin pair of shorts you were wearing when you fell asleep, and with each thrust, you feel the hard press of his cock rubbing the fabric against your clit.

By now, the sensation is almost overwhelming. Each time, you have to gasp for breath, caught between the bursts of pleasure—reeling on the edge of climax. All the blood in your body rushes to your cunt, pulsing with his every thrust, over and over. 

And, Blessed Mother, the sound of his breathing coming shallow and fast is enough to bring you to the brink already. You’re so close. 

Is this what he was like with other women? The women who came before, who fucked him in his armor and left afterward? Your time together had been so gentle and tender—Mando’s first time making love, being naked, sharing a bed in the aftermath. But you want this side of him, too. You want all of him. 

For some reason, the lantern droid had lingered to hover above the path, still casting its thin light overhead. You watch the undulation of his shadow while the Mandalorian rocks his hips against you. A jagged phantom looming over you, claiming you. You close your eyes and arch into his thrusts as the world goes black.

But even as you dance along the dizzying edge of orgasm, you can’t let go. Dammit, you can’t stop thinking about those faceless women. Ferocious mercenaries and cold-hearted bounty hunters, you imagine. Women of action, who did not sob under their blankets, wracked with indecision. 

Well, you may not be ruthless, but you can be shameless. Tonight, you want to erase everyone else who came before. Tonight, think only of me. 

The Mandalorian worships your tits, and from this angle, he must have a spectacular view of them bouncing with each clash of his hips. You know he must be watching, staring down at them, hypnotized and longing to touch them. So you reach for the hand on your thigh and press his palm over your breast.

Mando’s tenses in surprise. “Are they gone?” he asks in a low voice.

“Do you care?” you reply, letting all that urgency and desire fill your words. 

It takes him a minute to consider. Both the droid’s light and the guard’s boisterous laughter had finally faded away, leaving you behind in the quiet darkness. Still…maybe this was too reckless for him. Too impulsive. You don’t want to push his boundaries, but that’s exactly what makes it thrilling, right? That desire can make the rest of the world fade away, blurring out the periphery. 

Mando sighs, his fingers tracing the neckline of your robe, when he can’t find the words to answer.

The fabric is drapey enough for him to push aside, baring your breasts to the night air. The camisole you wore to bed is lace, so old and worn it's downy soft. And threadbare. Your nipples press against the gaping weave, visibly darkening with arousal. They pinch from the cold and anticipation. 

As his thumb brushes over your puckered skin, you suck in a sharp breath—“Mmph!”—then he squeezes. Hard. Then soft, then hard again. Arousal spirals through you, down to your core, as he kneads and caresses. The hand he had braced against the pylon, slips down to trail over the length of your neck, past your collarbone, and between your breasts until he presses them together tightly. The contrasting sensation of the soft leather and lace roughly teasing over your nipples is almost too much to bear. 

You bite your lip to keep from crying out.

“This is what you want?” Mando whispers. His hand lifts to cup your face, and you can feel his gaze boring into you, seeking out what’s hidden in the depths of your eyes. “Here? Now? In the armor?”

“Yes,” you moan. Sweet, merciful gods, yes! Your cunt is so tight and hot that it almost hurts. Tilting your hips at just the right angle, you rub yourself against his cock and feel the friction of the fabric glide across your clit again. You’re already soaking wet—so wet he must feel the dampness through his flight suit. 

“Hu-ungh,” the Mandalorian groans, before gripping you by the waist so he can meet the thrust of your hips and grind back against you. The hard press of his erection sends waves of pleasure coursing through your body. 

“I don’t know how much longer I can make it if you keep doing that,” his voice is gruff and hoarse. “But you’re angry…what if you regret this?”

You feel a frantic bubble of laughter rising in your throat. How did you manage to fuck each other in the first place? You are both far too honorable!

Of course, Mando’s not wrong. But all that anger from before has, by now, transformed into lust—igniting the heat of passion, so hot it warms the hollow places in your heart. And you want to feel the full force of that heat. Burning through desperate emotions like hurt and despair, and, yes—jealously—to reclaim your confidence the best way you know how. With sex.

You want to feel powerful, the way you do when the Mandalorian gasps your name, as though it was his last dying breath.

“It’s nothing to do with you,” you lie, and maybe he is right about you being a terrible liar. Because when he continues to hesitate, you grow downright incensed. How dare he change his mind now, after you’ve decided this is what you want?

“Please, Mando,” you moan. “I need you.”

Those pleading words wrench something within him. “Maker, help me,” he says, jaw tight, as he reaches to hold your face in his leather palms. “But, I fucking love hearing you say please.” 

Now you’ve got him swearing? Your mouth curves into a triumphant grin. 

“You love hearing me beg,” you correct him with a sly wink. “Now let go, so I can get my hands around your cock.”

He breathes out sharply as though you’d struck him. Okay. So the Mandalorian likes it when you talk dirty? Or perhaps it’s your confidence he enjoys. He’s drawn to strong women, after all. 

His hands pull away as he stands up straighter and takes a step back. The night air rushes in to fill the sudden gap between your bodies, and for a terrifying second, you feel the dreadful weight of rejection ready to crush you. But the next second, Mando’s fingers close around your wrist, guiding your hand downward to place your palm over his straining erection. 

“It’s already so hard for you,” he says, his grip is as firm as his tone is soft. And you love it. That despite the gallantry, your boldness makes him bold. He needs this as much as you do.

By now, you feel dizzy—hazy with lust. The guttural moan he gives when you curl your fingers around his cock and slowly stroke your palm over its length is intoxicating, like a drug. You don’t care who might see, and you don’t care how shameless it is.

Tonight, think only of me. 

You bite your lip. “Last time we did this, you had me up against a wall,” you say, glancing at the closest pylon behind him, judging the distance. “Hmm, something something turnabout’s fair play?”

With that, you reach out to place your hands over his chest and push him back against the steel piling. Caught off-guard, he braces his hands wide behind him. As he stands there, mildly shocked, legs slightly spread, you kneel between his thighs and reach for his belt.

“What are you doing?” his voice is tight with strain.

You look up into the view plate, brow arched. “I should think it was obvious.”

It’s a strange logic that getting down on your knees can make you feel powerful, but there’s a thrill of satisfaction knowing the skills you’ve honed over years of practice will reduce this hardened warrior into a trembling state of incoherence. And you want to hear him shouting your name.

You aren’t especially flexible, nor are you totally free of inhibitions, but sucking dick is your one slutty superpower. 

“You don’t—haah,” his breath hitches when you open your mouth to trace your tongue over your lips, wetting them as you release the latch of his belt. “You don’t have to—”

“I know I don’t,” you say, holding his gaze. “But I want to. And so do you.” 

Your fingers fan wide, palms gliding up the inside of his thighs, trying to ease some of the nervous tension building in his muscles. “Relax,” you murmur teasingly. 

Your hands meet at his inseam, slipping beneath the vest to caress the outline of his stiff erection through the canvas. The purr of his zipper goes almost tooth by tooth. In the breathless, still silence, you can even hear the soft sound of your fingers reaching into his pants to take hold of his enormous cock. 

He’s already so hard that it slips free, jutting into your palm, supple and thick. No matter how many times you see it, it’s still ridiculous! 

Released from the confines of his pants, Mando throbs in your grip, swelling larger between your fingers. The base is a deep bronze, the head is pale pink, growing steadily darker as blood pumps through his veins. He feels feverishly hot against your cool skin, so full that he must ache.

And so caught up in the sight of you kneeling between his legs, that he’s breathless.

With one hand, you circle him in your grip, tightening and loosening your fist as you move up and down the length of his shaft, before brushing your thumb over the tip. You smile up at him when his hips jerk, and you feel the first beads of come slick over your fingers even as his muscles tense, trying to resist the pleasure of it. 

“Relax,” you say again, softer this time. Your voice is almost a whisper, “I’ll take good care of you.” 

And with that, you lift the head of his cock to your mouth and lick away the salty droplets with the tip of your tongue. Finally, you feel his body yield to a different kind of tension. 

“Nnngh!” he groans, gripping your shoulders before gasping something that might have been your name or just a general obscenity. Dirty talk isn’t covered in your Mando’a phrasebook—but it really should be! You make a mental note to download a more comprehensive dictionary, a little shocked that you hadn’t thought of it sooner.

His salty come is warm against your tongue. You trace the tip of his cock over your wet lips, slowly circling the circumference of your open mouth before drawing in just the first few inches, pleased to hear a sharp intake of breath sizzling through the modulator.

“Fuck,” he whispers, winding a hand through your hair as you open your mouth to take him in. You start sucking—soft, slow little swallows at first. “Fuck, that feels so good.”

You don’t give him everything right away. Sometimes, anticipation is the best part. You want him to slow down and enjoy the wait. So you run your tongue along the length of his shaft, lick him, tease the ridges of his crown with your lips, kiss the taut band of tissue underneath, and caress him against your cheeks.

Then, you press your lips against the tip to give him one swirl of your tongue, before sliding them down the length of his shaft. You take a strong, hard pull, hallowing your cheeks.

Mando throws his head back and releases another guttural moan, “Mmn-nngh!” The hand in your hair tightens, until his grip borders on pain. 

With the leather gloves on, he probably can’t tell. But you don’t mind. You like knowing you have this effect on him. And gods divine, the noises he’s making—

Come wells between your legs, so wet it’s drenching your shorts and slicking down your thighs. The urge to touch yourself, to slip a finger inside the wet folds of your cunt, is so unbearable it makes you feel weak. Instead, you grip his rock-hard thighs with both hands and take him in deeper. 

His girth forces you to open your jaw all the way, so big that you can barely use your tongue. It’s all you can do to get the full length of him inside your mouth. The head is almost to the back of your throat, and you feel like you might choke. You have to keep swallowing, faster and faster, just to catch your breath. Come wells against your mouth, trickling from your lips, stretched thin around his thick cock. 

You remember how much he loved your teeth last time, so you tense your jaw a little tighter before lightly dragging them under his shaft, grazing the ridges of his crown as you draw back.

“Aaah! Fuck, yes! That’s...” his fingers clench in your hair. His other hand cups the back of your head, but he can’t find the words to describe exactly what you're doing to him. 

Mando’s huge, but you feel confident you can take more of him down your throat. The trick is to still your breathing and swallow him. Which is where the ability to control your body on a cellular level elevates your dick-sucking abilities into the stratosphere.

But he’s not ready for that yet. You remind yourself to take it slow and luxuriate in the feel of him against your tongue, the taste of salt flooding your mouth. You can feel the tightness in his balls against your chin and wonder just how long it’s been since he’s had head this good. 

Placing your thumb and forefinger around the base of his sac, you gently tug downward to release some of the pressure while continuing to draw him into your mouth, alternating shallow, repetitious strokes and long, languorous pulls. Your other hand closes around the base of his cock so you can pump him in time with your movements.

The sticky come trickling from the corners of your mouth tells you that he’s getting close. You can feel him throb with every stroke. If you want to give him everything you’ve got, it has to be now. 

So you relax any muscle or reflex that might resist, before taking all of him in. You feel every swollen vein of his thick shaft sliding between your slick lips until he fills you all the way to your throat, until your nose touches his warm belly under a coarse thicket of black hair surrounding the base of his cock.  

Cheeks glistening with saliva, come running down your chin, you swallow around him, and the contraction of your throat is enough to make him thrust even deeper. Your mind empties of any thought beyond the pressure of each inch he squeezes further down your throat. 

“Fuuuuuuuuuuuuck,” his hands resting on your head squeeze into fists—you didn’t think he could grip you any tighter, but they do. The very real pain brings tears to your eyes, but it only sharpens your desire. The desperate, aching need, clenching the muscles inside your cunt, is so insistent you could probably come by just pressing your thighs together. 

"Oh, fuck," he gasps.

With your hands braced on his hips, you encourage him to thrust deeper into your mouth and throat in rhythm with each bob of your head. The squelching sound is driving you wild. He’s so close to finishing—so close you can feel his cock pulsing against your lips. His breath becomes shorter and sharper, each one just short of a moan.

Then, suddenly, Mando pulls out of your mouth. He takes a step back and shakes his head, catching himself right on the brink. 

“Did I—” your voice quavers. 

“No,” he looks up at you sharply. “That was perfect…so perfect that…” the Mandalorian stumbles on his next step before leaning back against the pylon.  

Holy crap! The widest, most delightful shit-eating grin spreads across your face. He doesn’t trust himself to stand. Yep, still got it!

“I wasn’t finished,” you say, wiping your chin clean with the back of your hand.

“I know,” he manages between ragged breaths. “But, another minute—aah— fuck, another second—and I would have shouted your name loud enough for the entire parsec to hear.”

Really?! “Then I definitely shouldn’t stop.”

That makes him laugh. 

Mando regains his equilibrium and steps forward, feet steadier now. His cock is still hard, jutting out from his pants, and you nuzzle it against your cheeks as he comes closer.

“Look at me,” he gasps, tilting your chin up. You lift your eyes to meet the jet-black line of his helmet, his thumb brushing over your bottom lip.

“I dreamed of this so many times,” he says, using one hand to gently brush the hair from your cheeks while the other guides his cock back into your mouth. His hips roll so slowly you can tell he’s determined to regain some measure of control. “What does it say about me…that I think you look perfect like this?”

“Mmmm,” your moan of satisfaction is genuine. The praise and validation, the sound of his hitched sighs and groans of pleasure—your entire body reacts—growing flushed, getting impossibly wetter. Your cunt begins to pulse so hard that, for a moment, you think you might come from simply listening to the hunger in his voice. 

The vibration of your lips against his cock sends a jolt through his body, and you remind yourself to dial it down. He doesn’t want to come yet. 

Sometime soon, you’ll need to mention that your abilities can assist with his…longevity. And recovery time. But for now, you can respect his need to slow down.   

You run your tongue underneath the length of his shaft, tease the ridge with your lips, and suck the head once or twice before pulling back. He slips from your mouth, dark and glistening. “Was it this good in your dreams?”

“Nothing feels as good as this,” Mando murmurs.

You’re about to say something clever about that sounding like a challenge, but the words get lost in your throat when his hands slip under your arms, lifting you back onto your feet. One hand slides up your spine to grip the back of your neck, the other clings to your waist. You feel the length and hardness of his erection pressed against your soft belly.

“Mmmph,” he sighs. “Nothing, except maybe the feeling of you clenching around my cock when you come.”

Oh gods, if you could orgasm from just listening to the Mandalorian’s voice, that would have done it.

“How do I make you ready?” he asks.

“That, aaah, won’t be a problem,” and since you’re so determined to prove what a shameless slut you are, you slip your hand between your bodies, down past your stomach, and into your shorts, wetting your fingers before holding them out for him to see. You fix him with what you hope is a smoldering look and drop into your most sultry tone, “See how wet I got with your cock in my mouth.” 

Grabbing you by the wrist, he pulls your hand up toward his face, lifts the steel jaw of his helmet over his mouth, and sucks the come from your fingers. 

Your entire body flushes with heat.

"Haaah," you gasp. The sensation of his warm, wet mouth, the press of his tongue between your fingers, sends the most powerful tidal wave of arousal coursing through your fingertips and down to your cunt. “That was…” but you’ve lost the capacity to speak, let alone describe what may be the hottest thing you’ve ever witnessed.  

Then, the helmet falls into place, and Mando pushes you back against the pylon. “Turnabout—” he starts to say—

“Yes,” you groan, arching into him. “Exactly,” and you wriggle the silky fabric of your robe against the rough concrete until your shorts slip over your hips and down to your ankles. 

Reaching out for him, you wrap your arms around his neck. He lifts you by the backs of your thighs and guides your legs around his waist, under the tassets. 

The blaster is still tucked against his chest plate, and it's all conflicting sensations—cold steel, warm body, sharp edges, and soft skin—but you can’t think about any of that. There’s nothing beyond the feeling of him between your thighs and the anticipation of sliding onto his waiting cock. 

The head is penetrating you, just barely, but slightly more with every roll of his hips. Mando is working you open as slowly and deliciously as possible. 

“So, you did miss me,” you throw your head back, smiling and breathless.

“Yes, cyar'ika, ” he moans, rolling his hips until he sinks the rest of the way inside you, groaning with bliss. “I missed the way you taste. I missed holding you in my arms. I thought about you every day, and when Arasuum heard my prayers, you found me in my dreams.” 

Then he thrusts harder, filling you completely, making you cry out, “Aaangh!” 

Hearing you, he growls in satisfaction and rocks his hips back so he can thrust inside you again. Mando’s width and length stretches you—your cunt burns as he forces you wider to take him in. It’s a pain so sweet, it makes your mouth water, and so, you lick the only part of him that’s exposed, the rough, stubbled skin under his jaw all the way to the tip of his chin. 

The Mandalorian responds by gasping what is definitely your name this time, along with some incomprehensible words that sound a lot more like prayers than obscenities. His hands grip you tighter, and that’s the moment when the pleasure eclipses the pain. His cock feels so good inside you, blurring out everything else.

Every time, he pulls almost all the way out, then plunges in deep. You glance down to see if you can watch him sliding in and out between your thighs. But all the crumpled folds of fabric, quilted leather, and armor are in the way. You can’t see. All you can do is feel.

“And what did you do to me in these dreams?” you whisper.

“Everything,” he sighs, the modulator vibrating next to your ear. “Slowing down to take my time, and I last forever. Speeding up until I’m fucking you senseless.”

Then he thrusts, so hard you have to clutch at his neck, your fingernails digging into the thick canvas. “We can go slow and hard like this. Or do you want me to fuck you faster? Tell me what you want.”

Merely hearing those words brings you back to the brink. You’re dizzy and flushed, entirely helpless to the feeling of him moving inside you. Your voice is hardly more than a whisper as you say, “Please...please, Mando, just fuck me as hard as you can.”

His hands go to your waist and grip you tightly as he starts to pump into you, each stroke more fierce as the last. You feel his powerful abdominals flexing against you, the muscles in his thighs tensing with each brutal thrust. He speeds up, and then the only sounds are his heavy breaths, grunting, and the whimper you release with each clash of his hips.

This angle makes it harder for you to get fully stimulated, but his cock feels so good inside you, filling you completely. You cry out—one long cry you can’t control—as the blood rushes to your cunt. The sensation spirals. Soars. Desire sharpens inside you. Peaks. You feel weightless in the rush of pure ecstasy, hips circling against him as every muscle of your body surrenders to the intensity of your orgasm.

Gravity turns upside down as you clench around Mando’s cock. The climax hits you so hard that, for a moment, you worry you might pass out.

“Nnngh, yes,” he grits his teeth, "just like that," and then he’s there with you. The Mandalorian reaches down, tilting your pelvis to thrust even deeper. How is that even possible? You feel him everywhere. Then he slides in slower, once, twice—then goes totally still, as a shudder of pleasure goes through him. "Haah, haah, aah."

His head collapses against your shoulder as you both struggle to catch your breath.

“Careful,” you murmur, barely able to hear yourself over the pounding of your heartbeat in your ears. “You’re the only thing keeping me from collapsing and tumbling down the side of a mountain.”

Mando chuckles, the vibration of his laughter resonating against your ribs. “Was that what you wanted?” he asks, slipping a hand behind your back so you feel more secure.

“That was perfect,” you sigh. “You?”

“Perfect,” he agrees. “But next time, I’m tearing that robe off you.” 

You look down to see the neckline hanging open, with a solitary knot at your waist, holding on for dear life as the fabric gapes open over your thighs.

“I’m not sure there’s much left to do.”

Mando laughs, pinching one of the sleeves to rub the fabric between his leather fingers. “I’m glad you like it. It suits you.”

“It’s beautiful,” you say appreciatively. “Thank you.”

“It’s a piece of fabric. You make it beautiful.”

Heat rises in your cheeks, and your heart begins to race again. His cock is still half hard inside you. If you moved your hips—

“I missed seeing that look in your eyes,” he says.

“What look?”

“When you flirt, you usually have this…sort of smug look on your face.” You immediately roll your eyes, which just makes him laugh. “But one compliment and you blush, and your eyes go wide with this look of…something,” he breathes out sharply. “Need, maybe. I can see in your eyes how much you want me.”

Damn, he is observant. “I’m usually the one making people blush.”

“I know, that's why it’s so satisfying.”

You place a hand lightly over his helmet, relieved when he doesn’t flinch or pull away. “Feels like an unfair advantage. How am I supposed to know how bad you want me?”

Mando cocks his head.

“Alright, fine. The hard on is a reliable indicator. But—”

“Never worry about that,” he says wryly, and you feel his cock throb, flexing inside you. “I always want you.”

The flush in your cheeks gets even hotter, and you laugh to dispel the fluster of embarrassment.

“When you were gone, I couldn’t stop thinking about you. When you’re near, all I want to do is touch you. All I ever want to do is touch you and kiss—"

He stops himself, "I—”

“It’s okay,” you sigh. “I know you can’t take off the helmet. You don’t remove your armor on the job.”

You uncross your ankles and return both feet to the ground. Mando finally slips out, and you feel warm wetness sliding down your thighs.

The Mandalorian can sense your disappointment, but you have no intention of being thwarted so easily. You wrap your arms tighter around his neck, threading your fingers so he won’t pull away. Your head rests against his chest—the Beskar plate feels cool against your flushed cheek.  

“We have time,” he says. “We haven’t even made it inside yet.”

“Actually,” you look up at him. “There's something I want to show you that's going to make you very excited.”

*********

Continue reading - Volume 4 - Post #10: Never Knew I Needed You

Back to all posts for Volume 4

[mariacallous]

Within 24 hours of centibillionaire Elon Musk using his X platform to upend a congressional funding bill and push the federal government to the brink of a shutdown, three GOP lawmakers are now calling for him to be named Speaker of the House.

On Thursday, Senator Rand Paul, a Kentucky Republican, was the first to float the idea, in a post on Musk’s own X platform. “The Speaker of the House need not be a member of Congress,” Paul wrote. “Nothing would disrupt the swamp more than electing Elon Musk.”

Senator Mike Lee from Utah also endorsed Musk as Speaker, though he added that he would also be happy with Vivek Ramaswamy taking up the role, he told right-wing talk show host Benny Johnson, “Let them choose one of them, I don't care which one, to be their Speaker,” Lee said. “That would revolutionize everything, it would break up the firm.”

Paul’s suggestion was quickly picked up by another far-right elected official when Marjorie Taylor Greene, a representative from Georgia, wrote on X, “I’d be open to supporting @elonmusk for Speaker of the House. DOGE can only truly be accomplished by reigning [sic] in Congress to enact real government efficiency. The establishment needs to be shattered just like it was yesterday. This could be the way.”

Greene was referring to Musk's role in killing a bipartisan government funding deal that current Speaker of the House Mike Johnson spent months negotiating with Republicans and Democrats. Despite president-elect Trump and his team not objecting to the deal, according to Politico, Musk began a campaign on X on Wednesday to blow the deal out of the water, posting about it more than 100 times.

Ultimately, Trump and vice president–elect JD Vance issued a lengthy statement on X calling the deal a “betrayal of our country” and urging Republican lawmakers to reject the deal—which they did.

What comes next is unclear. If a deal isn’t reached by Friday, federal workers will stop receiving paychecks, and large parts of the government will temporarily stop operating. But with Democrats saying they have little interest in returning to the negotiating table, and Johnson having already ruled out raising the debt ceiling, which Trump is demanding, there is no obvious path to a viable bill, much less one Musk approves of.

Following what looks to be the failure of the bill, Democratic senator Jeff Merkley wrote on X, “Speaker Johnson: Maybe it’s easier to just hand your gavel over to Musk.”

Johnson and Trump’s transition team did not respond to requests for comment. Musk did not respond to a request for comment. On X, Musk responded to one post referencing Paul and Greene’s suggestion and Democratic criticism of his influence, writing, “They are just upset that, for once in a long while, their attempt to pillage taxpayers failed!”

As Paul wrote, there is no explicit Constitutional requirement for the Speaker of the House to be an elected member of Congress, though every one in US history has been. Just over a year ago, Trump’s supporters floated the idea that he could be installed as Speaker after Kevin McCarthy, a California Republican, was ousted from the position.

Musk’s ascent within American politics has been rapid, from donating (along with his PAC) hundreds of millions of dollars to Trump in the final months of the campaign to being installed as cochair of the nonexistent “Department of Government Efficiency,” an advisory group tasked with coming up with proposals to slash government spending and, presumably, fire huge numbers of federal employees.

The scale of his influence over Trump and his policies is unclear, but it’s obvious that many lawmakers believe he holds a significant amount of sway. On Wednesday, Senator Marsha Blackburn from Tennessee posted on X about the Kids Online Safety Act. Rather than tagging Johnson, she tagged Musk.

Becoming Speaker of the House would put Musk in a position of actual power, but one of the key roles of the position—being second in line for the presidency—would presumably be stripped from him given that Musk, a US citizen since 2002, is not a natural-born US citizen and is therefore unable to serve as president.