#and I'm sure like. grinding up a kid is childs play- get it- to the Durge but

[hcadlesshuntcr]

THE JOURNEY TO MOONRISE - Through the Underdark

[vivwritesfics]

Hungry Like The Wolf

Chapter Ten

She hadn't seen her best friend, Lando, in years. She didn't run into him the last time she was visiting her father and she doubted she'd see him this time. Things were different now. She wasn't aware of his furry little problem. Just like she wasn't aware of the vampires plaguing the town.

1.9K

Vampire!Oscar x Reader x Werewolf!Lando

Series Masterlist

Feel free to buy me a coffee ☕☕

Of the six dates they'd been on, one of them had cancelled or rescheduled yet. It was just Oscar's luck that he was the first to do so.

"I'm really sorry guys," he said, holding the phone up to his ear. He couldn't sound more apologetic if he tried.

The ring around Lando's contact picture lit up green as he let out a growl. But it wasn't a growl of anger, and Oscar knew that. He couldn't blame Lando, though. He'd planned this date out and he'd been so excited.

"It's okay," she quickly jumped in before Lando could bite out some angry remark, ring around her contact picture lighting up purple. "Lando and I can get takeout and watch a movie instead. You'll join us when you're done, right?"

The breath Oscar let out was full of relief. "Of course I will, sweetheart," he said.

"What're you doing tonight?" Lando asked, voice clipped.

Oscar swallowed the lump in his throat. He coughed slightly, delaying answering the question. "I... uh, we're getting food tonight," he said and coughed again.

"Oh," The two of them answered.

He hated talking about feeding with them. It was disgusting, it wasn't normal. And it was something he never wanted the two of them to see. "Are you sure you still want me to come back?"

"Of course we do, Osc," she mumbled. "Take as long as you need."

The call didn't last much longer than that. Lando didn't have much to say and Oscar had to get going. "I'll see you guys later," he said. Not an I love you, they weren't at that point yet.

He ended the call between the three of them, slipped his phone into his pocket, and walked into the living room. There his fellow vampires were, waiting for him. Mark gave him a nod as he sat down between Logan and Max.

"Is everybody ready?" Asked Mark and the vampires let out different whoops and cheers. Mark clapped his hands together. "Let's get going, then."

Oscar let out a breath and followed the rest of his fellow vampires out of the house. He checked his phone one last time, checked for any messages from her and Lando.

She'd texted him, something cute. Just a quick, 'see you later, Osc. Miss ya!'. But Lando hadn't said anything. He was pissed, Oscar knew that. He was a werewolf; he didn't understand. Lando could eat whenever he wanted, he didn't need to wait for nights like this to hunt.

Yuki elbowed his shoulder and Oscar slipped his phone into his pocket. He sucked in a breath and followed the others into the woods.

***

"You can't be mad at him," she said as she ran her fingers through Lando's hair.

He let out a huff as he laid against her, his head on her boobs. God, he was comfortable, but he knew he would have been happier if Oscar was there with them. Lando would have been laying across the both of them as she played with his hair and Oscar ran his nails up and down his back.

But Oscar wasn't there and Lando was mad.

He looked at her, wearing a pout. It was pathetic of him, to be pouting like a petulant child, he knew. But he couldn't help it. He was sad and a little mad, and she had to know it.

Her finger poked his nose. "You're lucky you're cute, Norris," she whispered.

And suddenly he was on top of her, his lips on hers, hips pressing against her own. Hips hips were against hers, grinding ever so slightly.

Beneath them, her bed was squeaking. "Lando." She pushed at his shoulder. "Lando, stop. Stop, before my dad comes in," she whispered.

With a giggle, Lando laughed and sat back. "Did you know I had a crush on you when we were kids?" He asked as he laid down beside her and pulled her closer.

"Yeah," she answered as she began planning with his fingers. "Yeah, I knew."

Lando frowned at that. He stilled his hand as she continued to play with his fingers. "You knew?" He repeated, and she nodded. "But you didn't like me back?"

"No, I did. But I was only gonna be here for a few weeks or months at a time, so I didn't see any point."

Lando pulled his hand away from hers and sat up straighter. "Aren't you only here for a few months this time around?"

She rolled her eyes. She hadn't meant to, but Lando was being a pouty baby and it was over nothing. Except, this time, he wasn't pouting. No, anger and fury was in his eyes. "C'mon, Lan. This is different. We were kids then, and saying goodbye after only spending a few months, at most, together would have been so painful."

"How is this any different?" He barked back. "Oh, wait, I know. This time you'd leave for four years, instead of nine months."

"Lando!"

The laugh he released was like poisoned air between them. "You're saying my name like you're not gonna leave in a few months."

She had no defence for that. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she couldn't stop herself from glaring at him. "This isn't fair to me, you know," she whispered, pulling her legs up to her chest. "Yeah, I was gonna have to leave, but I was gonna come back! And you guys could visit me!"

But Lando had moved over to the window. "I need some air," he said as he pushed the window open.

"Lando!" She called again. But, in the blink of an eye, he was gone. She climbed out of the bed and raced over to the window, but Lando was long gone. Her eyes scanned over the yard and back towards to the woods, but he was nowhere to be found.

She left the window open, just in case Lando came back, but she crawled over to the bed and threw herself on top of the comforters. The movie was still playing, but she had no idea what was happening. She didn't care as she cried into her pillow.

How long as she laid there? She didn't know as he buried her face against the pillow.

There was a noise, the unmistakable sound of someone coming in through the window. She sat up and wiped at her eyes as she looked at the intruder. The welcome intruder.

"Sweetheart," Oscar said as he strode towards the bed. "What happened?"

His hand was on her back, moving in soothing circles as she moved closer to him. "He's such an asshole," she spat, and Oscar wiped her tears from her cheek.

"Lando?" He asked, and she nodded. Oscar let out a sigh. "Okay, tell me what he did."

She did just that, telling him everything as she laid against his side. Oscars hand was still against her. Cold and so still. He squeezed her, kissed the top of her head.

"He just lashed out? For no reason?" Oscar asked as her head sat on his shoulder and her lips nipped at his neck.

"Yeah," she mumbled.

There first fight, and he wasn't even there. If he had been, he could have stopped it. He could have stopped Lando from leaving and he could have gotten them to talk it out.

"Oh, sweetheart," he whispered and kissed the top of her head. "Do you want me to and speak to him?" He asked gently.

Her hand was against his chest as she pushed him back against the bed. "Later," she said and laid beside him, head on his chest. "Just... be here with me."

Oscar stayed with her. His arms were around holding her close as they watched the rest of the movie. Neither of them really knew what was going on, but Oscar didn't much care as he felt her breathing even out.

As soon as it did, Oscar untangled her body from his own. He laid her on the bed and pulled her blanket over her body. "I'll be back soon," he whispered as he brushed her hair away from her forehead. He leaned down to kiss her head and took off, leaving through the window.

The moment he got into the woods, the wolves made it clear he wasn't welcome. He walked with his hands in his pockets as he made his way to the pack house.

And, suddenly, a wolf was in front of him. His black fur made him almost invisible in the dead of night. "Carlos," Oscar said as he stared down at the wolf. "I need to speak to Lando."

Carlos growled. His stance was ready to bounce, but Oscar stood firm. He was getting to Lando one way or another, even if he had to go through Carlos.

"Stand down, Chilli," came a familiar voice.

Oscar looked just past him. Daniel Ricciardo, one of the friendliest wolves around, strode towards him. "You're here for Lan, right?" He called and Oscar gave a nod. "Right, let's go." He waved for Oscar to follow him and Carlos stepped to the side, letting him through.

He followed Daniel towards the pack house, acutely aware of Carlos behind him. But he ignored it as he moved forward. "So, you two are really together? You and Toto's kid?" Asked Daniel as he navigated through the woods.

"Yeah," Oscar answered. "Yeah, we are."

Daniel gave a laugh, but it wasn't mocking. "You guys are making history here," he said as the pack house came into view. "A werewolf and a vampire together. I never thought I'd see it."

He walked him through the front door and up the stairs, ignoring the growls of the other wolves. As long as Daniel was leading him, Oscar knew he was fine.

At the first door on the left, he knocked. "Piss off!" Lando called, but Daniel nodded for Oscar to enter.

"Lan?" He called as he walked into the room.

Lando swivelled his spinning chair to face the door. "Osc," he said with slight surprise. "I thought you were busy."

"I was," he said, shutting the door and pressing his back against it. "And then I headed to come meet you guys. Except, when I got there, you had already gone and our girl was crying."

His voice was so gentle, it had Lando bowing his head. "I didn't mean to make her cry," he mumbled. "I just... I was so angry. She's gonna leave again and I can't handle that," he admitted.

"Talk to me, baby," said Oscar as he came to sit on Lando's bed. "What's got you so angry?" He looked around the room, at all of the things Lando had on his shelves. His gaming set up and childhood sports trophies were no surprise, and Oscar knew how much he loved golf. It wasn't the bedroom of a man, but Oscar loved it.

And then he spied the calendar on the back of the door. Just on date was circled, the date of the full moon. "Oh, Lan." Oscar sighed. "It's the full moon, isn't it? That's why you've been extra angry, right?"

"It's no excuse, Osco," He mumbled, head thrown back and eyes shut. "She probably hates me."

Oscar kissed his head. "That's why we're gonna gonna back to hers and you're gonna apologise and you two are gonna make up. Sound good?"

Lando nodded his head. "Sounds good," he said and pulled Oscar towards him.

Taglist: @biancathecool

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Series taglist (CLOSED): @cmleitora

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[shinestarhwaa]

ILLICIT AFFAIRS || CHO MIYEON

This piece broke me, apologies x

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Smut

Pairing: Miyeon x Fem reader

Word Count: 5.6K

Tags/Warnings: Closeted lesbians, Forbidden Love, High society/Bridgerton inspired, 1800s, Princess!Miyeon, Aged down Miyeon (you and her are both 18 years old), unprotected sex, virginity loss, make outs, fingering, cunnilingus, squirting, scissoring, overstimulation, grinding/humping, emotional damage, heartbreak

Taglist: @anyamaris @a-soft-hornytiny @whatudowhennooneseesyou @wooyoungmybelovedhusband @pyeonghongrie-main @woosanbby @dreamlesswonder86 @changbinslovelylegs @jonghostie @lovjensoo @mjyungi @bratty-tingz @sugarnspice630 @stardragongalaxy @bro-atz @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisg00dgirl @wh0re4yunsangho

ENJOY!

February 10th, 1815

You couldn't help but look at her all night. It was as if the entire world paused and only she, she was moving. In fact, she was moving right into your heart and you swore you could literally feel it swell in your chest.

She was absolutely magnificent in her gown, hair pinned up and a beautiful, shining crown in her hair. The jewelry she wore must cost millions and she truly did look like a million dollars, as they say. If only she'd look at you, right? And if only you were a man of royalty because how else would you ever be with her?

Yes, you were lucky enough to be born in the high society class, in a family that was wealthy, but the smile you wore everyday is fake. Your mother and father didn't marry out of love and they couldn't stand each other, always fighting. Honestly, you were used to it and you could definitely handle it, but that doesn't mean it hasn't had a negative effect on you and your sisters.

All five of them were different from you, they're more to the standard. Alice, Idylia, Florence and Genevieve were all married now to their husbands and the eldest two even had children. Florence and Genevieve both got married last season and your mother now forced you to find a husband this year's season.

You hated it, the way things were arranged in the society, but you couldn't possibly break the rules that have been the standard for so long. But you really do not want to fit into the society's standard, you are too emancipated according to your family and most important of all; you'd have to marry a man while all you can think about is princess Miyeon.

Princess Miyeon and her beautiful hair, her slim body, deer eyes and her elegant manners. You were a little clumsier than that, and you didn't truly mind but somehow you wished you were more elegant and calculated so maybe she'd like you. But you had to get those thoughts out of your head, you told yourself, nothing could ever happen. You are a woman and she's the royal princess, she's the heir, she's to be queen one day. She'll probably be excited to have a king by her side to rule the country with.

But fuck, you wanted her. You had met her long ago and spoke to her a few times because you played together as kids when the adults held their party's or fancy balls if you will. As you and Miyeon turned older she got more reserved, held back and protected by her family. She looked sad though, she must want to be more free.

Suddenly you looked eyes with her and you swore your heart stopped. She flashed you a smile and walked up to you. "Y/N, it is lovely to see you again, it has been a long time, hasn't it?" She said. You bowed to her and smiled kindly. "Princess Miyeon, your grace, I'm glad to see you again too, it has been years indeed."

"The ball is kinda boring, is it not?" She giggled. You smiled, recognizing the mischief she had in her eyes when she was still an innocent child. When the world hadn't caused her pain yet. "It sure is a quiet one," you nodded.

"Do you wanna go for a walk? Let's sneak out," she grinned. It truly was just like old times again. The two of you slipped away from the stunning ballroom and ran through the halls. Your heels were clicking on the floor and your giggles and laughs were echoing throughout the halls.

Miyeon stopped running and entered the balcony, taking a deep breath as she leans on the cold white stone. "Your grace, isn't it too cold to be outside? It is still winter and I do not want you to catch a cold," you said worriedly, stepping onto the balcony with her.

She grinned and sighed. "It does not matter, Y/N. I'm just glad I finally can breathe again. I love the fresh air and I hate staying inside all day, drinking tea with my mother. Ever since my father died she's been so..."

Miyeon stopped talking and sighed. Your heart sank, remembering the terrible news from last year when it was announced the queen's husband; king Theodore had fallen sick and passed away in his sleep.

"It has been hard on her, and now she's making it even harder for me because she's pushing me to get married and have children so there'll be more heirs."

Princess Miyeon is the only child of Queen Isabella and the late king Theodore, as they hadn't spend much time together in their younger years due to wars and battles. Queen Isabella raised her on her own while also ruling the country. You had felt bad for Miyeon, it must be a tough and lonely life for her. Maybe, just maybe, you could spend more time with her, as a friend?

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

April 29th 1815

Time passed and you and Miyeon had actually gotten closer to her as a friend. The queen was glad Miyeon had a lady of great class that Miyeon could trust so she elected you to be the princess' court. You'd spend a lot of time with her, the queen told you, and to be honest you couldn't be happier.

In public you were very professional but behind closed doors you joked and played around like every normal 18-year old girl. You drank tea together and discussed all the drama and gossip going around and you shared wisdom with one another, reading books together.

Today Miyeon was feeling particularly mischievous and she took you with her to one of the big libraries in the palace. You were checking out the books when all of a sudden her voice called out to you.

''Y/N, What do you know about the marital act?''

You froze and looked at her. ''The marital act? You mean the wedding night... occurrence?'' ''Yeah, do you know what that is?'' You sat on the couch next to her and looked at the book she held in her hands. ''I don't know much about that, actually, my family has never told me about it except for my sister Florence. She told me there's a thing that married people do and that's how children are made.''

Miyeon nodded and opened the dusty book. It revealed texts about the marital act with pictures and details of male and female anatomy. ''That's what a naked man looks like? That is the...'' ''That's the penis,'' you said, nodding. ''It looks strange,'' Miyeon comments. You nodd and sigh. ''I agree, I'm not really... attracted to it. Or the man,'' you say. You mentally slap yourself for basically confirming your sexuality but Miyeon seems to skip over it.

''I have never seen it before. I have only seen myself naked.''

You felt like your skin was on fire, why did she have to talk about her being naked? As if you hadn't imagined that enough already. ''Are women's bodies different?'' she asks. You grin and play with your bracelet nervously. ''You're a curious one, for sure. Well, me and my sisters' bodies are all different... Some of them are taller, some have bigger breasts, some of them have bigger buttocks or thighs...''

''And the... crotch area? Is that the same?'' Your cheeks were bright red about now. ''T-The crotch area? You mean the... the vulva. I haven't seen my sisters', that is a little... inappropriate.'' Miyeon nodds, understanding that it's a more private matter. ''Sometimes I think about what it would be like to touch another woman's body. I wonder if it's different,'' she confesses.

You can feel your pussy clench around nothing, and you were most definitely aroused now. It was only because of Florence - who is definitely your favourite sister - that you learned about what arousal is and what you can do about it, what you can to do yourself. Even though you don't understand the entire concept of these so called 'sexual' acts and feelings, your instinct is to touch yourself between your legs and now you definitely feel the desire to do the same to her.

Fuck.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

May 11th, 1815

It has been about two weeks since your feelings for the crown princess started to develop into something more. You felt such affection and fondness while looking at her. You wanted to kiss her lips and carress her, and also undress her and lay naked with her, desiring to feel pleasure with her. You secretly stole the book from the library and in the back there were several drawings that were vague and nearly crossed out, but you could see well enough that the drawings and texts were about sex between women.

You had never seen, heard or read anything like this but you could not stop. At every waking moment you wanted to look at the drawings again, imagining princess Miyeon and yourself and at night you touched yourself. You did it all night long, dreaming about her and her body. You thought you might be delusional because you felt like she might be experiencing the same things. Did she not say she wanted to touch another woman?

When you showed up in her room you felt some sense of guilt, because you felt like it was the most horrible thing in the world to do. But her sweet and kind smile and her beautiful feminity made you forget that guilt. She seeked more touch than before, giving you hugs, holding onto your arm and hand and she even gave you a kiss on the cheek when you left her last Tuesday night.

Miyeon's welcome was warm as always and you sat in her room without any guards, just hanging out as two normal girls, not caring about your statusses. Once again Miyeon started to talk about the sexbook and you hold back a frustrated groan. You just nodd along and listen to her rants as she keeps on talking and babbling about it.

''So I don't know if I would ever have sex again if I had a child. Sex with a man doesn't interest me much. Would it not be easier to be with a woman? Know how the body works? It seems like... like a good time,'' she finally says, leaving you with your mouth wide open. What did she just say?

''You feel that too?'' you breathed out. ''I do... Maybe all women feel like that. I think women are prettier, more delicate.'' You literally could not breathe at this point, your core aching for her. ''Have you ever kissed anyone, your grace?'' Miyeon shook her head. ''No, but I have read about it and I saw other people doing it.'' ''Ah, I understand,'' You nodded.

''Would you like to kiss me, Y/N?'' She swiftly and suddenly said. You gasped a little as Miyeon scooched closer to you, her leg brushing up against yours. ''I... I would like that, princess,'' you nodded. Miyeon rested her soft and dainty hand on your cheek, carressing your face ever so gently. You leaned in and pressed your lips on hers, pecking her softly before pulling back. A fire broke out in your body, it was burning with passion as you stared into her eyes. Miyeon licked her lips and closed the space between you, pulling you close and putting your lips together again.

Her head tilted to the right as your lips moved together. It felt so nice and smooth and you felt the desire to deepen the kiss more. You pulled her even closer and felt her torso against yours, the sensation of your chests coming together sent a lightning bolt straight to your core. Her hands ran through your hair now, as yours ran over her back and hips. The material of her expensive dress felt so nice in your hand you wanted to keep touching it but you desired to feel her skin even more.

Your hands now slid from her back to her buttocks and you grabbed it, pinching and squeezing it. She whimpered softly, lips parted against yours. The princess slid her tongue in your mouth, slowly gliding it against your own and tasting each other's saliva. You felt so warm, like you'd combust. To your disappointment she pulled away from you after a few minutes, panting softly.

How were the two of you ever gonna move on from this?

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

May 20th, 1815

Apparently, you did not have to move on from it, because it kept happening. Miyeon kept kissing you from morning 'til late at night, in her room, hallways and secret places. Your hands, lips and tongues were all over each others ever since the first time. You're in the library once again and you lifted her on the dark wooden table in the center of the room. Your tongue glides over her neck and she throws her head back, moaning out softly.

Miyeon tugs down the top of her dress so that her breasts pop out. You curse underneath your breath and pepper kisses from her neck and collarbones down to her chest. Your hands reach up to her breasts and fondle them gently, watching her face closely. You kiss them and then close your lips around her left nipple, licking and sucking on it. She mewls and squirms underneath your touch and instinctively widens her legs.

''Y-Y/N,'' she moaned softly. The princess takes your dominant hand in hers and brings it underneath her dress, to her crotch. Your hand grazes the fabric of her underwear and it's so wet, so goddamn wet.

''You're so aroused, aren't you, my princess?'' You teased as you rubbed over her clothed crotch. ''Y-Yes, my lady, my Y/N, I'm so hot right now, please, I have read so many texts about this and I want it, I want it, please, I know you can make me feel good, please, God, I want it!'' she begged.

A smirk played on your lips and you pushed the bombastic skirt of her dress up and pulled her underwear down, revealing her glistening wet cunt. You looked at it up close, admiring how it's similar and yet a little different than your own. But it was wet in the exact same slick way yours got when you thought about the princess.

''I'm going to touch you now,'' you announced, spreading her legs wider. Your fingers slid through her folds, collecting her juices before pushing one finger inside her. ''Relax,'' you ordered her as you felt her body tense up. She nodded and watched you pump your finger in and out of her pussy slowly.

When you noticed her body relaxing you moved it faster and harder, opening her up before adding a second finger. You scissor your fingers inside her and curl them just right so it hits all the sweet spots inside her. You take off her panties and stuff them in her own mouth to keep her quiet. Her pussy clenches around your fingers and you decide to use your other hand to play with her clit. This is one of those times where you're thankful for having perfect co-ordination between your hands.

The princess is squeeling, whimpering and squirming as you move your fingers faster and put pressure on her clit. Her body tenses again and you know she's close to orgasming. You keep going and rub her clit even faster. ''That's it, princess, you're gonna come for me now, you'll come like the perfect princess you are,'' you breathed out, surprised at your own vulgar talk.

In a matter of seconds Miyeon came undone, coming and squirting so hard on your fingers, arousal seeping out of her pussy. She drenches herself and you in her juices and you ride out her orgasm before retracting your fingers from her wet hole.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

May 23rd, 1815

The Queen threw another party in her gigantic ballroom for the debutants and other ladies to find a suitor and both you and Miyeon were expectant to look for one tonight, but you sneaked off again. This time she brought you to a room full of artworks that were just collecting dust, meaning barely anyone came here in the past weeks, if not months.

She crashed her lips on yours again, sinking into your embrace and feeling your warm body against hers. You pulled away minutes later and panted, wiping the lipgloss from your cheek. "Princess, should we be doing this here?"

"Y/N, my dearest I keep thinking about you. About your hand between my legs, and your lips on my breasts, but that is not all. I think about your kind and beautiful face, your beautiful laugh and your golden heart. I think... I think I might have fallen in love with you, my dear."

You gasped softly, stunned at the sudden confession from the heir. "But princess, do you not know this is impossible? You need to find a suitor to be your king, you have to focus on ruling the country. It is... definitely not possible for us to be anything," you muttered.

Her eyes became glassy, welling up with tears, but as she learned she held them in. "But Y/N, I love you," she whispered. Her hand carressed your cheek softly, her fingers grazing your jaw. "Our love isn't impossible, I know you want me too."

"But the situation is impossible, in years you'll be the queen and you cannot... you cannot be a queen without a king and children. And even if you were, you couldn't be a queen who loved another woman. It's scandalous!"

"If I'm the queen can't I just... change the rules?" "You know damn well that you can't, Miyeon, you'll be a queen and not God" you spat. "Well fuck God, to hell with God!" You gasped and palmed her mouth. "Do not shout these things princess, please, we'll get caught and you'll get in a blasphemy scandal."

She took a deep breath and took your hands in hers. "I only want to be by your side. Can we do at least that?"

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

June 4th, 1815

You just came back to the palace from a long walk with the princess, which was more of a date because you felt like you were out with your lover. You talked about the world and about happy things while you held hands and laughed. Now you brought her back to her room and before the staff got to say anything Miyeon told them that you would be helping her get a bath and get ready for bed. You bowed to the staff and send them off, then closing the doors to Miyeon's room.

She pushed you up against them immediately. The gold ornaments on the door was gold on your chest but the hands gripping your buttocks firmly set you on fire once again. "Finally we are all alone," she whimpered in your ear as she pressed herself against you. You felt her breasts on your back and you wanted to turn around but her grip was surprisingly strong this time.

The princess grinded her crotch against your behind while her hands traveled up to your chest, pulling your dress down so your breasts sprung free. That's when she spun you around and fondled your breasts, kneeding them and massaging them just the way you like it. "Y/N, you drive me crazy, these... these beautiful breasts of yours, I wanna hold them all day long and I wanna touch you while I drown in your eyes," she sighs, kissing your breasts and lapping her tongue at your nipples.

"Why don't you drown between my legs instead?" You moaned softly, smirking slightly. You helped yourself and the princess out of your dresses and underwear, seeing each other completely naked for the very first time. Miyeon pulled you to the bed and you laid down on it together, embracing one another. "You're a beautiful woman, Y/N," she says with a smile, caressing your hip gently. "As are you, your grace." She laid you against her soft pillows and spread your legs wide. "I can not wait to taste you, my dear," she breathed out. "Then don't wait, please, do it, now." She nodds and licked a stripe up your wet pussy, tasting your arousal and smirking.

Her tongue glides along your folds, licking you up and again, and again until she tries to push it into your hole. You mewl and quickly cover your mouth with your right hand, stifling yourself as much as you could. After a few minutes of her tongue pumping and licking your inner walls she pulls out and finds your sensitive clit instead.

You cry out and grab the sheets tightly with your fists and moan at the sensation. It's one thing rubbing your clit with your own fingers but having the most beautiful woman on earth licking and sucking on it was something else. It didn't take Miyeon long to make you come undone on her tongue, lapping up your arousal as your body squirms.

When you gain your breath again you pull her on top of you, feeling her breasts on yours and rubbing them together slightly as you make out with her again. You notice yourself becoming impatient and wanting more so you flip yourselves over, getting on top of the princess. She looks at you with her big and beautiful brown eyes, patiently waiting with hunger in her eyes, curious as to what you're planning to do now.

You spread her legs and lift the right one up, letting it rest on your shoulder. She gasps as you align your sexes together, arousals colliding as you do so. "God, baby, Y/N, what are you doing to me?" She moaned. "I'm going to make love to you, princess, and I can do this sweetly, but I could also fuck you, fuck you hard," you grunted as you slowly rubbed your pussy on hers. "God, that sounds so good, please, that's what I want, Y/N, please do it hard and make me cum again," she begged. "Say no more, my princess," you nodded.

You started to rub your crotch on hers quicker, aligning your clits together and sparking a fire between your bodies. Both of your whimpers, moans and pleads were slowly becoming louder and louder, no longer thinking about keeping things quiet.

"Yes, yes, Y/N, that's so good, that feels amazing, my love, please do it harder, oh! O-oh that's good, yes! Please!"

Miyeon was a loud one, squeeling and moaning, nearly screaming as you quite literally rocked her world. The headboard of the bed was banging against the wall as you kept riding and grinding on her at a fast pace. The tension between you two was growing and both of you were getting close. You held each other as tight as you could while grinding together and quickly you both came, arousal dripping out of you and moans becoming a beautiful set of sinful harmonies.

When you stopped and laid down next to her, Miyeon still hadn't had enough, spreading your legs and putting her pussy on yours once again. She was still so sensitive from her previous orgasm, as were you, so it didn't take long before she started moving quicker and harder, moaning loudly. She threw her head back, her hair coming undone and falling onto her shoulders in lucious shiny curls.

Miyeon presses her lips onto yours as she keeps rocking into you, moaning into your mouth as she comes again in a matter of minutes, squirting on your pussy. "Fuck, fuck, princess!" You moaned against her lips. You flipped her over again, laying her down. The princess' head is laying over the edge of the bed and you set yourself back in the familiar position, grinding on her pussy, her pelvis, her thigh, you rubbed your pussy everywhere, chasing your own high.

"Yes, Y/N, Fuck! Use me! Rub it on me baby, rub it on me, use my body and make yourself come, give it to me, come for me!" You screamed loud and came, shuddering and shaking and falling on top of the princess. The two of you laid there for a while, sweaty and panting.

After a while you stood up and helped the princess up, carrying her to the bathtub. You drew the bath and helped her get in, massaging her skin and scrubbing her while pressing soft kisses on her lips. "I wish we could do that all day long," she sighed. "Me too," you nodded, washing her hair. "I love you, Y/N, You're my dearest love." You sighed but smiled and kissed her. It hurt you when she said those things, because you were realistic enough to know this was gonna end badly and you'd end up in pain. So you didn't ever say it back. But she knew.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

June 15th 1815

''Miyeon, my dearest,'' Queen Isabella said, ''I have found you a suitor! He will be attending the ball next Saturday. You will have to look your absolute best, yes?''

You swallowed thickly, looking down at the teacup in your lap. You tried hard to stay calm, and not to scream 'No! Don't take her from me just yet!' but you knew there was no use. If it's the Queen's orders Miyeon would have to obey her wishes. Miyeon nodded and cleared her throat. ''Yes mother... May I ask what he looks like? What his name is? Where he is from? Because... I would rather marry out of love but if I cannot then I will at least have to know who I marry, right?''

''That is not important. He is a good man, he is from France and we shall hold the wedding soon, after the two of you meet.''

Miyeon nodded, but she stayed quiet the entire time. When the Queen had left and you asked for a private conversation she bursted out in tears. ''Y/N,'' she cried, ''I do not want to marry that French prince, I wanna stay by your side!'' ''My princess, I will be on your side, except our situation will be different. You understand that what has been happening can not happen again.'' She sighed and brushed some hair out of her face and dried her cheeks. ''Not until after the wedding. I can still do whatever I want right now.''

The sovereign pulled you close in her arms and kissed your lips and then your neck. Her hands slid over the material of your dress and she pulled the skirt up, grazing your soft thighs. ''Oh, princess,'' you sighed out when her hand slid into your underwear, cupping your sex. She rubbed your folds as she kissed and sucked on your neck. ''Miyeon, oh God,'' you moaned when she entered you with two fingers. You wanted to stop her, tell her it would only hurt more if the two of you would continue this illicit affair, but you could not stop her. The power of her love and her being was too strong for you, and so you let her.

Her slender fingers pumped in and out of your pussy, making you wetter and moan her name into her mouth as she kisses you. It did not take long for you to come undone on her fingers, falling into her embrace.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

June 18th, 1815

Watching the love of your life meet her future husband was killing you inside. What was worse than that is the fact he was making her laugh and he was touching her hand. The hand that only belonged to you, the hand that fucked you just a few hours ago. Louis, was the guys name and you found him a snob, an arrogant man. Why was she laughing at everything he said?

You knew you tended to overthink certain situations but the way she looked at him showed you she was fond of him and you could not watch it any longer. You took a glass of champagne and drank the entire thing in a matter of seconds before exiting the ballroom. You sat in the hallway, where staff walked around but did not give a damn about how you fell to your knees and cried out. You were losing your love and nobody gave a damn.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

June 19th, 1815

''He's not too bad, luckily,'' Miyeon sighed after she told you about her fiancé. ''Not too bad? You were drooling all over him,'' you scoffed. ''Y/N, please, if I had a choice you know it would be you, not him. I'm just saying I'm glad he's not a total... twat.'' ''He is a twat, he is stealing you from me. You might end up with someone but what about me? I will not be living in a golden palace and I will not be having anyone's children and-''

''Y/N, for one moment, will you think about me?'' ''ALL, I think about, is you princess. You are my thoughts, you are my life, you are it.'' ''You have said yourself that this would hurt and it would not work out even before I did, why are you suddenly verbally attacking me? You knew this was going to happen.''

''So that means I cannot have feelings about this? That means I cannot hate him and feel outraged that he will kiss you and hold you while I rot away in my parents house?'' ''Y/N, please, I will be heartbroken too if I can never hold you again but you knew it was coming. This is not new information. I might be with you but I am still your princess!''

You swallowed your pride and looked down, nodding and taking a deep breath. ''Yes, your grace, princess.'' The tone in your voice was enough for Miyeon to know you drew a line. ''Come on, Y/N, do not do this, we still have a little while,'' she says, trying to take your hand but you step away and bow for her. ''I will not let you cheat on your fiancé, my princess, I shall head home now.'' You bowed once again and left princess Miyeon alone, in tears.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

June 21st, 1815

You were a weak woman, because only days later you were back in bed with Miyeon. Her body felt warm and delicate against your own skin. ''Princess,'' you called out softly. ''Do not speak, Y/N, do not say anything to... to stop this moment.'' You nodd and close the gap between your lips. They move together as you get on top of the beauty. You spread her bare legs and put your crotch on hers. The contact feels so good you throw your head back as you roll your hips forward. You bite back a moan as you bit your lips, breathing picking up as you grind your clit on hers.

''Y/N, Dear, please move faster, please make me finish on your beautiful cunt!'' she pleaded, holding your hips tight. ''Yes darling, my princess I'll make you come again, that is my duty.''

Your hands moved to her naked chest, fondling her breasts as you fucked yourself on her crotch, chasing your on relief. Miyeon was moaning over and over again, nails clawing in the soft flesh of your buttocks. ''Do it harder, harder!'' she screamed. ''Oh my God, oh my God!'' she squeeled when you did her just right. She moved her body along with yours and came hard, eyes rolling back to her brain. The sight of her coming for you made you come as well. You rode out your highs before getting off her but keeping her legs spread.

Miyeon whimpered when she felt two of your fingers dip into her core and she clenched around them. ''Y/N, please, t-too sensitive!'' she cried, but you did not care, you wanted to leave a memory and make her orgasm over and over again. Her arousal was seeping out of her cunt as you moved your fingers inside her quickly. Miyeon's breathing was picking up and with just a few more thrusts she squirted over your hand, coating you in her slick. Without giving her a chance to gain her breath again you kept going, determined.

˗ˏˋ ♡ ˎˊ˗

June 26th, 1815

The wedding bells were loud, too loud actually for you. It was incredibly hard to hold back the thick tears welling up in your eyes as you watched Miyeon walk out with her prince, her husband. It made you feel nauseous, you wanted to throw up and run away, cry, scream and disappear, knowing you have now lost her to someone else.

You bow to her and congratulate her as she walks by, and when she gets into the carriage you run away. You do not even know where you are running to but you are running, running far away from the church. You end up in the field you once sat in with her and you fell to your knees, not caring your dress would get dirty. You laid in the grass and looked up to the sky while tears fell from your eyes, rolling down your cheek. You missed her dearly, already, and this was only day one. From now on there would be a lifetime without her. Without anyone ever knowing she was once yours.

And that's the thing about illicit affairs And clandestine meetings and longing stares It's born from just one single glance But it dies, and it dies, and it dies A million little times

[rems-writing]

Doberman cafe but a Maltese owns it?

Pairing: barista!Yeosang x office worker!reader

Summary: This will be tied to the dilf YunGi fics I posted a while back but this time, the reader will have no connection to any of the characters. Just a heads up lol

Warning(s): Swearing, yelling, Yeosang being a total softie for the reader, reader is a certified simp for Yeosang (i mean who wouldn't be lol), mentions of a non-Ateez member

Genre: A shit ton of fluff lol

Nets: @blossomnet @mirohs-aurora-society

Originally, I was going to post a Hongjoong fic. However, in observance of the birth of the man named Kang Yeosang, I've decided to post this first before the Joong fic.

Thank you to @bunnliix for helping me decide the order of the remaining fics that I should write and post

The calming effect of the soft jazz music playing in the background of the Doberman Cafe provided much needed soothing effort for those that entered the small coffee shop. From college students to families that wanted a day out, the owner would always greet his customers with a smile.

Kang Yeosang was happy where he was at. After quitting his old job, he found it relaxing to grind coffee and mix in various ingredients to create caffeinated drinks varying from sweet to bitter. He also got some help from his best friend Jung Wooyoung, who was currently in the back baking various pastries. The two have been friends since diapers and they vowed to never abandon the other.

Yeosang has heard tales of Wooyoung's other best friend getting together with Jeong Yunho and the widow of Doh Kyungsoo dating Song Mingi.

When would it be his turn?

Business was slow as usual for today. After all, it was Friday so most of his usual customers weren't coming in which was fine. It gave the man time to relax and rest his hands from making coffee. The bell attached above the front door chimed and Yeosang looked up. He was getting ready to greet the customer with a kind smile when he heard the argument that came through.

"LISTEN, JONES! I DON'T FUCKING CARE IF HE ACTS LIKE A DAMN CHILD THROWING A TANTRUM! HE SHOULD'VE THOUGHT TWICE BEFORE FUCKING CHEATING ON ME!"

Oh dear. This person sounded angry. Wooyoung must've noticed Yeosang's confusion and slight fear since he poked his head out of the back and heard the unintentionally loud conversation this person had with this Jones person.

"HE HAD THE AUDACITY TO SAY THAT?! OH HELL NAH! I'M OVER HERE BUSTING MY ASS LEFT AND RIGHT 24/7 TO BRING FOOD ON THE TABLE AND PAY RENT WHILE HE SITS ON HIS ASS AND DOES ABSOLUTELY FUCKING NOTHING! AND YET HE HAS THE GALL TO SAY, 'yOu nEvER mAkE tiMe fOr me' STRAIGHT TO MY FACE?! AT LEAST I DIDN'T SLEEP WITH HIS BEST FRIEND!"

Oh. This just got interesting. As Yeosang saw the customer sit down, he couldn't help but to be smitten with them. Sure, they were angry as hell and very much stressed yet he couldn't help it. He tilted his head and eavesdropped some more. Unintentionally.

"Look, Jones! After gathering the divorce papers, make sure you also provide documents for a restraining order against my soon to be ex-husband. It may be too much, but I don't care. I'm so fucking tired! I'm just... done. Let me know when those papers are finished and fax them to me. My boss won't care. He knows of the shit that's happening to me right now. Hence, that strangely kind offer for me to take a trip down to the Bahamas. Anyways, I have to go. Tell your wife and kids I said hi."

You hung up after your attorney and former college roommate Jones bid you goodbye. You groaned quietly and laid your head on the table that you sat at. You felt someone sit across from you and you were about to tell them to kindly fuck off when you lifted your head and was immediately greeted with a statue staring down at you with big brown eyes that were full of curiosity and wonder.

'HOLY SHIT! I KNOW THAT A LOT OF PEOPLE SAY THAT THE OWNER WAS HANDSOME, BUT THEY CERTAINLY DIDN'T TELL ME HOW HANDSOME! AND HE'S SO CUTE TOO! LIKE A MALTESE!'

'Quit it, Y/N! He probably thinks you're a lunatic with the way he must've heard you scream over the phone.'

'Damn it! Ok I'll stop my simping...'

After you finished internally scolding yourself, you looked down to see him move a white teacup slowly in your direction, along with a slice of cake.

"Hey. I figured you'd need this. I didn't mean to, but I overheard you yelling at someone over a certain douchebag that's also a man-child. Hopefully, this cheers you up." He said in a rich honey-like deep voice.

In the cup was a freshly brewed batch of lavender green tea and on the plate was a slice of black cherry chiffon cake. You smiled sheepishly and thanked him shyly for the treats.

When you sipped the tea, all the stress over your cheating soon-to-be ex-husband washed away and you instantly relaxed. You then picked up your fork and took a piece of the cafe before eating it.

You were in heaven. You definitely needed this.

"Um... thank you." Your voice came out softer than usual and had a twinge of shyness to it. Yeosang smiled and beckoned for Wooyoung to come sit with you.

Wooyoung was extremely sexy, but not as sexy as the man sitting across from you.

"I hope you guys don't mind me coming in here at this ungodly hour. If you haven't heard, I'm... kind of going through a lot right now."

Wooyoung, who was usually loud as hell, softened his voice.

"It's no problem. Fridays are our slowest days and since Saturday is our day off, we usually stay in here until we decide to go home. You're welcome to stay as long as you like."

"Thank you. By the way, these are amazing."

"Thank you! I made the cake." Wooyoung proudly said with a smile.

"And I made the tea." Yeosang said. "Speaking of which, would you like to spill the tea on your oh-so shabby life?"

You found yourself smiling at that and Yeosang found his heart beating rapidly with excitement.

"Oof. Where do I start?"

From there, you spilled the tea on everything. From your recent tragic event to your life in general, you said it all. Yeosang and Wooyoung were sassy and savage and you found yourself giggling at their quick and witty responses. Finally, you felt yourself becoming sleepy and you yawned. Yeosang found the sound cute. Wooyoung cleared the dishes while Yeosang stood up and help you with your things.

"Would it be possible to walk you home? Not only do I enjoy your company but uh... the Namhae Strongman is still out there. You need to stay alive in order to sign those divorce papers and file that restraining order against that ex of yours."

You shivered at the thought of the killer coming after you. Even though you were angry at your ex, you wished him well enough to pray for his safety.

The Namhae Strongman is not someone you'd want to mess with.

"Of course, Yeosang. I live down the block from here so it'll be a short walk."

Yeosang grinned excitedly and your heart ached in adoration for the human personification of a Maltese. After Wooyoung locked up the shop, you three headed to your apartment. You talked some more and kept an eye out for any suspicious activity or sign of the killer. Finally, you reached your apartment.

"Thanks for the walk home. Oh and for the tea & cake as well. How much do I owe you by the way?"

"It's on the house."

"No no, Yeosang. It's ok. I seriously need to repay you-"

"Repay me by giving me your number. So you can send updates."

Wow. He was smooth.

You blushed lightly and nodded before exchanging numbers with him. After that, you bid him goodbye and entered your apartment. You sighed dreamily as you closed the door behind you and locked it. You set your keys on the counter and made your way to the kitchen, where your roommate was still awake.

"So... you got a new man now?" He teased you and smirked at your reaction.

"Shut up, Jongho!"

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

A couple of days later, you found yourself in Doberman Cafe again. Insomnia was being a bitch to you so you woke up way earlier than Jongho. Sighing to yourself, you threw on a hoodie and walked to the coffee shop before looking for the one person you were majorly simping for.

He just so happened to be standing in front of you with a grin on his face.

"Good morning, lovely."

The pet name gave you butterflies.

Yeosang led you to your seat from Friday night and sat down across from you.

"What will it be today?"

"I'll get a caffe mocha with a soymilk substitute and if possible, a slice of that black cherry cake?"

"Ahh. Now with that cake, it only pairs with tea since it's sweet. Unless you have a giant sweet tooth, I'd recommend some of our breakfast sandwiches. Specifically, a roast beef sandwich with a fried egg all on ciabatta bread that's toasted to perfection."

"Ooh! In this case, I'll have that then. And maybe later, when I leave, can I get an iced americano to go?"

"Sure thing, lovely. It'll be $10 by the way. For your order and that iced americano."

You pulled out a $10 bill and gave it to Yeosang before seeing him walk away and do his magic. While you waited, you received a text from Jones.

Jones: Hey. I'd thought I'd stop by and give you the papers myself. Are you home?

You: No. I'm at the Doberman Cafe. I couldn't sleep anymore so I'd figure I'd stop by here and wake myself up.

Jones: Oh? Ok bet. I heard from my wife that the owner is handsome. Maybe I'll see for myself. ;)

Jones: Can't a man appreciate another man's good looks?

You: And I oop -

You: Don't go simping for the barista now, Jones. You're married and he's actually mine fyi

You: Of course you can. Just don't go full on simp mode. XD

Jones: Like you? XD

You: Fuck you <3

Jones: Ew. No thanks <3

You: Hurry with the fuck ass papers, you dickhead.

Jones: Ok ok! XD

"Is that Jones?" Yeosang asked curiously. You would expect the Maltese to be jealous, but since he overheard your conversation two nights away, he wasn't too worried.

"Yeah. He's coming by here to drop off the divorce papers and the necessary documents to file a restraining order." You clarified to him. "I know I said that he'd fax them to me, but I didn't think he would get them that fast. Hence, why he's coming over to drop them off himself."

Yeosang nodded and set your coffee and meal down before sitting next to you. You thanked him and began to eat. You two made small talk and even introduced Yeosang to Jones when Jones came walking in to deliver the papers. Yeosang grabbed a pen and you happily retrieved it from him before signing the papers. After that, Jones put all of those papers away and bid you goodbye before buying a coffee from Yeosang and going home.

A weight lifted off your shoulders and you felt at ease. Yeosang was feeling the same way, especially since he found you attractive.

Little did he know that you felt the same way.

"Now that it has been done, want to turn this little encounter into a date?"

Yeosang was shocked by your boldness but he eventually nodded eagerly.

"I would love nothing more than that."

[lizzieislife94x]

Thats Not Milk Honey Pt.2 (w.m)

WandaxG!P Reader

There was room for a pt2 haha and I can't remember what other one shots I'm doing a pt2 for so I'll need to go through them and check but as always enjoy babes and feedback is always welcome and appreciated 😘

Wandas POV:

"Baby can you get me water please" I groan and wash my face 3 mornings in a row I've done nothing but vomit I really should go to the doctors "here you go my love are you ok" my caring wife asks as she rubs my back and kisses my cheek "I think I might be pregnant this is how I went when I was pregnant with emma" y/n looks at me a little shocked then smirks like an idiot "well that's what happens when my wife is a horndog and wants me to fuck her raw with no protection" I open my mouth in fake shock as I slap her arm making her laugh I mean she isn't lying the feeling of her deep inside with no condom is so good and the feeling when she unloads her seed deep inside fuck its amazing, I shake my head getting out of my thoughts before I make her fuck me right here in the bathroom "want me to go out and get a test babygirl" y/n says as she wraps her arms around me resting them on my stomach making me smile as she leavesbgentle kisses on my cheek "mhh yes please and ill make some pancakes for you getting back" she smiles and walks out of the bathroom and leaves to go to the store as I hear Emma crying I walk out into the bedroom and over to her crib "morning honey" I say as I pick her up and settle her "is someone hungry let's get you fed sweet girl" i walk downstairs and sit on the couch as I take my top off and start feeding the baby just as she's finished y/n walks in with a huge grin "boooobieeess" I can't help but laugh and look over at my dork of a wife who's eyes are glued to my boobs "eyes up here baby" she frowns and walks over sitting beside me "you know I love our darling daughter but I just got cock blocked by a baby" y/n says while laughing causing me to smirk and laugh y/n leans over to take the baby as she leaves a peck on my lips "ill look after Emma you go do the test babe" y/n whispers as she diverts her attention to our sleeping child I pull my top on and head up to the bathroom I quickly pee on the stick and set it aside, I'm not scared or nervous if it's positive that's great me and y/n always wanted to have few kids running around so it won't bother us either way I look at my phone as the timer goes off and look at the stick and laugh as I take it downstairs and hand it to y/n congratulations you knocked me up....again I say with a laugh as she smiles "were having baby number 2?" She says excitedly as I smile and place my hands on her cheeks kissing her gently "yes we are babe thats what happens when we dont use protection" i giggle quickly followed by y/n giggling we spent the rest of the day cuddling watching movies occasionally taking breaks to play with Emma when she woke up.

2 months later

Y/ns POV:

I wake up slowly with a groan of pleasure as I start to wake up I realise wanda is kissing my neck and palming my member through my boxers "mmmh fuck that feels good baby but it's 4am" wanda groans and climbs ontop of me making sure she sits on my clothed hard member a moan leaving her lips as she looks down at me running her hands down her naked body paying attention to her nipples I moan at the sight "fuck baby youre so fucking sexy" I say biting my lip as I lean up and take her nipple into my mouth sucking gently until I feel her milk flow into my mouth moaning at the taste she grips my head pulling me closer "fuck yes just like that baby I need you so bad you know I get extra horny when I'm pregnant so please just make me cum" she moans as she grinds her soaking cunt into me harder I can feel her wetness soaking my member turning me on I gently flip us as I kiss my way down her body leaving a few gently kisses on her stomach I spread her legs as I lick from her entrance to her clit swirling my tounge over her bundle of nerves earning a loud moan I smirk and look up watching her reaction to my repeated tounge actions "you...taste..so fucking...good" I say between sucking her clit I could do this all day just to hear the moans that leave her lips I latch my lips around her clit sucking and swirling my tounge as I sink 2 fingers inside her unexpectedly as she let's out a squeal quickly covering her mouth "I don't think so princess don't cover your mouth let me hear those moans the baby's asleep in her room you won't wake her" I say as I reattach my lips to her clit and thrust my fingers at a faster pace as she starts screaming from pleasure I curl my fingers at the right spot when I know she close and moan when she squirts all over my face drenching me as I slide my fingers out and take them to her mouth "suck princess" she instantly starts sucking my fingers clean making me moan at the sight I pull my fingers out and take my boxers off as she watches my every move "fuck" she pants as her breathing starts to return to normal I grab my dick leaning down as I line my member up with her dripping entrance rubbing my tip up and down her folds making us both moan at the sensation I quickly sink inside her slowly earning a loud moan "y..yessss fuck y/n oh god " I slowly thrust as I lean down kissing her passionately increasing my speed as we moan into eachothers mouths she scratches down my back as I fuck her a little harderbhitting all the right spots "I'm so close" she pants into my ear as I sit up onmy knees thrusting faster moaning at the glorious sight of my dick sliding inband out of her cunt I feel my own orgasm approach quickly as I lean mybhead back I feel her walls gripping my cock as I continue thrusting not letting her recover from her orgasm as she screams I quickly move my thumb to her clit and add the right amount of pressure "yes yes yes fuck baby yessssssss do..dont stop" she grips the sheets her knuckles turning white as I continue to thrust chasing after my own high after a few more thrusts I cum deep inside her as I moan sweat dripping from my head I slowly slide out of her and lay beside her panting "fuck baby" I breath out as we both smile I lean in and kiss her as she cuddles into me our naked body's pressed together as we both fall asleep in eachothers arms.

AN: I was extremely drunk last night and convinced I was still a little drunk this morning when I was writing this so if it makes no sense I apologise hahaha hope everyone has a great day word count 1.3k 

[kvetchinglyneurotic]

🌹🌹🌹🌹 for whenever needed :)

I wrote this in a haze last night when I should have been sleeping and I'm not sure if I'll ever expand it into a proper fic, so I'm sticking it here. Part of it is under the cut because it's a) long and b) is about Jamie's Amsterdam story

Roy makes it about a week before it all comes spilling out. They've been playing shit, 'cause Lasso may have rediscovered Total Football but he sure as shit hasn't rediscovered how to coach it, and if he's being perfectly fucking honest neither has Roy. Or maybe he would, if fucking when I was fourteen... didn't keep playing on loop in his head. He picks Jamie up from his front door every day and he's grinning, bouncing around like the chipper twat he is, twenty-five and whole, and all Roy can think about is the twiggy kid he had been, hair stuck up in every direction and mud smeared on his shins. He'd dug up pictures, is the thing, that first night back — got home aching and more exhausted than he'd been after a full ninety minutes back in his player days, and instead of going to sleep he'd dug around through the depths of City's website, through a mountain of those bullshit player profiles he refused to do but Jamie loved, 'til he found a picture of the Man City 2010 U16s. Recognized Jamie right away, the big dark eyes and prickish smirk and long sleeves 'cause the muppet always got cold. And he was a fucking child. A tiny, scrawny little lad, must've been one of the youngest on the team the way most of the others dwarfed him. No one could ever have mistaken him for an adult, not that it would've been any less abjectly fucking horrifying if he'd looked like a full-grown man by the age of thirteen.

Ted corners him in the office. Or rather, Ted knocks on the door while he's got his head in his hands and the lights off, same as he has every evening since Amsterdam. Pokes his head in with his jacket already on and his bag slung over his shoulder, says, "You know I'm always ready for a late night special on the go session of the Diamond Dogs but if sitting in the dark's what gets your brain juices going, I can respect that. Just make sure to skeddaddle on out of here before our good friends over in maintenance come lock up; I love this place but a night with a locker room aroma ain't to anyone's taste," and Roy says, "Jamie told me he was raped in Amsterdam." They both freeze, Ted in the doorway with that stupid folksy smile still fixed on his face, Roy with his elbows planted on the desk and his fingers twisted through his hair. He feels sick. Jamie's already been violated and now Roy's gone and done it again, just fucking spilled his private trauma without permission 'cause he couldn't handle it. "What?" Ted asks, breathless. "He told you— he was— he told you in Amsterdam, or it happened—" "Fucking both," Roy grinds out. "Oh." Ted's gone so pale he's almost grey. "He seemed fine on the bus." "Not when we were there." Roy says. "I mean, he told me when we were there. Happened when he was fourteen. Don't think he knows that's what—" he sucks in a deep breath, not that it does jack shit to make him feel better. "But it is. That's what happened, and now I don't know what the fuck to do."

[ifuckingloveryoshu]

IM BACK IN THE GULAG AGAIN! HELLO. I've been grinding out my college courses and this is part of it. Ryoshu is my f/o and I set her as my fictional partner in this mandated child raising simulation for my child development class. I am well aware all of this is out of character but I don't care. I named the fictional partner Ryoshu to make this more fun for myself. If ya didn't last post, this is an adopted son named Yuzu because I'm not creative.

Under the cut is just the work. That is all. Sharing it helps me actually be productive for once.

I have found out the term for being very angst and mad after giving birth. It is called Postpartum Depression. My headcanon with Ryoshu is somehow, her partner is dead, I haven't thought why yet, but postpartum depression hits Ryoshu like a truck once Yuzuki is out. After a long period neglicted her smoking habits, she finds herself reaching her fingers to her lighter sort of stress. A few days after the birth, she set Yuzuki down on a table and physically distances herself away because she can't handle this thing in her life right now. She's irritated, annoyed by the shill cries coming from the infant's mouth. Her fingers twitch and her hands unconciously reach for a box of cigaretes collecting dust next to her. She walks out of the room and takes the longest drag she has in over 41 weeks (the time it takes for baby to develop in the womb)

And she never really stops smoking again after, again. But, it didn't become a problem again until the events of Hell Screen. Anyways.

Man, I forgot this woman is employed. Very nice of Limbus Company to give her six weeks. I can't imagine them being that generous any other time. There's probably a catch. I can't imagine Ryoshu using all those 6 weeks, I more expect Ryoshu to dip and leave two weeks in and not say anything. Not that I think she'd become an absenty father on pupose, but once she realizes or thinks this new child is in safe hands, she would never express it out loud but she's the breadwinner to make sure this child is going to make it out in the City ok. In those weeks, I bet she'd either whip me (or whoever partner she has) into shape so I don't mess baby Yuzu up, or she's taking me and the child into the bus weither anyone allows it or not. She refuses to compromise and I doubt after what happened to Virgilius, at the very least Virgilius would try to negotiate with The Company to drop us off at a safe location or somehow get a room in the Corridor. You know those rv children? It's no way to live but that is effictively what will happen to Yuzu. No sense of being grounded in one place and that will cause its own slew of problems, getting exposed to the concept of mortality early (Or maybe getting the misconception that everyone just revives after dieing, they just need a local clock to rewind them) or I don't know. Horray childhood trauma for Yuzu /j Man the cycle of violence will 100% repeat itself. Ryoshu barely interacts with the kid that is hers. I don't blame her.

I'm picking "I will quit work and stay home with the baby until Yuzu is old enough for daycare and will continue to work." but can you imagine hijinks with the Sinners and a child, and out of everyones child, Its Ryoshu's child? I am now imagining Outis yelling at the other sinners not to drop the baby. I can imagine the baby vomiting on Rodya's face. Gregor somehow makes the baby laugh as it plays with his little cockroach anntenna if he had any.

Its the adopted baby, Yuzu. For refrence, the right answer is "I will teach my baby self-soothing techniques and put them down in the crib before they are completly asleep." and that's the one im putting but realistically, it would be either adapting to the scedule or using the strict scedule I feel. I'm not sure but it would be difficult entrusting anyone else with the baby.

This is why I don't like babies.

I'm singing to the child. Props on the devs of this for adding the option "Leave Yuzu in their crib and walk away."

Right off the bat, Number Two is dangerous. Do not give your children to a neighbor you don't know well. Even if you feel you know them well, you probably don't its safest not to. Be careful about all of these. I'm going to leave out exactly why. YOU NEVER KNOW and its not your fault when people take advantage of Your Trust. Don't beat yourself up too hard, but ASAP if there's any signs of anything bad going on with anyone around them, you need to find out for the safety of your child. It's also rare your child will 'lie' about something bad happening with relatives. Its rocky and I say this but there is never a one size fits all thing and don't 100% trust your gut actually because doing that feeds into pre-existing biases you may have at that given moment. I can't tell you what do do but if your reading this, please do reseach and think critically.

It's either "slow to warm up" or "difficult" so I just put "slow to warm up". I think Difficult would be more realistic but im indecisive and id be here all day if I didn't chose anything. Also in all honesty I do not like my fictional baby and I want to punt the baby out the window but don't tell Ryoshu that she'd kill me. I swear ill warm up but im 20 im too young for a baby. Ryoshu's too traumatized for a baby, were stuck with this thing. ok? Agh. I am hissing at the fictional baby. I'm stressing too much about the fictional child I was forced to raise.

It's mostly heathly foods if we can help it, no problem. Im the poor sap getting healthy baby food or making it. Having a fictional baby makes me angry at the world. I hate babies.

I don't know the answer to this one. Baby gym classes for bonding and shit.

If anyone living in the City asked to put anything on my baby, I would drop kick them. No. In the real world though, yeah thats fine, I mostly trust you.

Reading and talking both is the way to go.

I need to save the rest of this for a reblog. Give me a bit.

[understandableparadox]

Bottom of the barrel isekai: b-rank adventurer with an evil look becomes a daddy to the protagonist and his childhood friend.

Well if i'm reading it, that's a goddamn lie, hello! Pull up a chair, drink my tea, piss on my wife, you have the most control in this world because you are the specialist lil fella that can do not a lick of wrong! It's time for another bottom of the barrel isekai review! Today, you can read the title above, go fuck yourself if you think im going write it out every single god damn time.

Come out boys, girls and some other thing, frogs? Is that what the enbys like these days? Frogs? Anyways let's do the song and dance!

Our titular main character is a dude from japan, they wasted their live away being a disgusting fucking neet and playing video games all the live long day, being a whale in pirates 101 and domeing me from across the map as widow maker on royal!  

Anyways he fucking Dies and gets reincarnated in the game he and his singular friend dearly loved known as bright fantasy, now as we can see in the picture above, perhaps he reincarnated as some sorta giga god, perhaps his party abandoned him because they didnt understand the monumental boon a tax accountant has in another world… perhaps he was summoned by the king to Fuck his wife for him! 

Wait a second… is that a sharp detour…? FU-

Anyways gray is reborn as a Thug Npc, or someone with a dark background, his looks mean, he has a average appearance and some fucking sick shoulder gaurds.  He is a moody lil nobody, which is why it's such an insane hook to see it open with two children begging to be adopted by him in the opening

Now before you get too scared that we are running into uncharted territories since we haven't had anyone betray anyone and the MC has not turned god inside out, we get to dive back into the cool cocoons of familiar fantasy tropes with the adventuring ranking system. I'm not going to bother to explain it, if you got a letter grade in school then you know what it means. Get close to the A and that means you are the Big Boy adventurer who does the Big Boy quests. 

Now i do appreciate the authors restraint and only making him the Second Biggest boy and attempting to make him Not A Twink

We almost have a guy who is on a bulk and not a cut, sigh, one day. 

Anyways we pull back ground tall dark and who cares to learn that these two are matchstick kids. Dead broke kids who are attempting to sell flowers they have picked to the people on the street. They were attacked by nobody you are going to remember and get healed by gray. They then decide to beg him to save their ailing parents because I guess wonka isn't around to give golden tickets to get them out of bed or whatever. 

They tell them their names, one of them has the super special name of the Super Main Character. What a coinkyDink. Gray knows that if he is to be a villain (???) then his job is to avoid it. Luckily he went to the Katarina claes school of villainy and decided that ethical action is actually more important than meta narrative logic. 

Cut to Tiny tims lakeside property and we see the rest of the family living the fucking dream!

I'm so sorry, i have this mental tick where i accidently say “dream” instead of “nightmare”.

Also Stella is a vampire, why? Fuck you thats why. 

They explain that they have been getting by by the skin of their teeth through a combination of the street urchin grind set of selling flowers and getting church donations. Gray beats up some assumed child abductors outside and gives a somewhat creepy smile. 

Next chapter is about Gray stealing an orcs' balls to create a high end potion (viagra) to nobles so he can get enough money to buy something called a “home”? I'm not sure what that is exactly, i'm not sure what the translator was talking about, i've certainly never heard of someone “buying” or owning one for certain.

I don't actually have much to say about this guy, this is the guy who makes the ball potion for gray, I just like him, he has a funny face, I like looking at it. He looks like someone I would trade yugioh cards with while he tells me about his super cool oc and I would listen because he is a fun dude. 

But yeah, the manga is mostly about this guy being a slightly more psychotic late stage kratos, being a dad, trying to raise a bunch of random kids he found, trying to give the main character a taste of normalcy before the plot kicks and and shit goes sideways, oh and sometimes he brutally kills people. 

His main goal is to have a family and that's about that. 

So let's start getting into things. 

The title has no interest in creating an expansive world that is original, everything of it is meat burrowed and stitched into its own narrative to support its own plot line and to explain why this happens and why that is occurring at this point. Now I do not believe that this is inherently a bad thing. In fact it's fine. Not every single manga needs to be the next genre defining piece of media. In fact we need things that are average, we need things that build the genre or else we can never have exceptions to the rule.  The magic system, the team system, the classes, the guilds, the plot, it's all what you would expect from something with final fantasy inspirations. Semi (not really) complicated fighting systems that only make sense to pad out the loving tedium of a game. “Complete this many quests of this level to rank up.” “collect this many monster parts to complete the quest” and so on and so fourth ad infitum until god has to pop out and ask what the fuck is going on. 

The art is great in places. Most of it is very bog standard, you aren't going to get that much out of it if you are expecting groundbreaking designs that really make you scratch your chin in wonder at how they made something like that up. But it's very clearly competent and knows how to give each of its characters that needed cover before you read the book. People that need to look like unlikeable thugs look like unlikeable thugs, children that need to look sweet and innocent look sweet and innocent. The artist is really good at goofy expressions but they are a bit few and far between to really satisfy my desire for evil fucked up faces, oh kekegurui… if i didnt hate your plot so much i would be so much more obsessed with you… 

The tropes I've already gone over. It uses every single trope but more so in the way someone would do if they were playing a new game plus. You don't want to do the rigamarole of the heroes rise so you make them overpowered and whatever so they can get to the stuff that you have deemed important, that being fatherhood simulator and housing market simulator. The world is secondary to the plot the author wants so they grab the tropes they want to ensure they can focus on that part of the story with impunity while hand waving some other things and give ol daddy gray his badass moments to make the editors happy that this is infact enough of a power fantasy. You know, to keep those freaks that actually buy the manga happy. 

As for kink stuff, none that I can see. The author only seems to want women to fawn on the main character so they can complete the golden vision of the dead emperor abe of the nuclear family, perhaps hoping to tempt his blessing from beyond the grave… 

This was a little bit of a boreing read. I cant entirely recommend it, but if you want to see some edgy boredline twunk be a dad to a bunch of random kids he adopted then yeah, go for it lmao. 

[yellowcry]

Who's hermanita now?

Isabela is sure Luisa is the shortest person in the world, Luisa loves being annoying and Mirabel thinks they should measure their height to see how they went

Julieta covered her mouth, yawning softly. It was early in the morning. However, she preferred to be awake before the sun would even get up. She loved this quiet time when the world seemed to be frozen in their dreams with only her and her mother being awake.

Or not only them, after all, Julieta had her own daughters now. Luisa flushed into the kitchen in a flash. Stood on her toes to grab a cup. Julieta groaned, putting the kettle away. 

"For the hundredth time, Luisa, you're too young to drink coffee." She sighed, hiding the drink away from her already far too energetic child.

For some reason, her middle daughter liked coffee so much that it was almost dangerous for her age. And where did she get it?

Luisa puffed out her cheeks, she looked so cute with this anger in her little eyes. Oh, Julieta still couldn't believe it was seven years since she had carried her second child in her womb. "But I love it,"

Luisa loved coffee way too much. Julieta blamed Pepa for it, she was the one who had left a cup unattended several years ago, allowing a toddler to snitch it. And now look where it got them.

But the girl didn't get to stay mad for a long time, as a sleepy Mirabel entered the kitchen as well. Julieta chuckled, observing how her strong daughter hugged her younger sister, throwing her in the air.

"Good morning, Hermanita!" Julieta winced at the scream. Oh, her two youngest babies had such a cute relationship. Luisa had claimed Mirabel as her child, always helping with her. It was really sweet of how much attendant Luisa wanted to be despite her young age. Of course, Julieta made sure not to force her to do anything out of her age.  

Two years old blabbed something, cuddling against Luisa. Oh, Julieta wished she had a camera right now. She kneeled next to her kids. "Corazon, how did you sleep?"

"I saw Casita playing piano tonight!" She exclaimed proudly. Luisa let out an excited gasp, clapping. But, honestly, she would react the same way regardless of what Mirabel had said. She just adored her sister so much.

Julieta smiled, picking her up, why should they be so sweet? Or tried to, because having a child with super strength meant you didn't have any physical advantages. "No, No!" Luisa demanded, stomping her foot. "Don't take Mira! I need to hug her more!"

Julieta blinked but eventually replied. "But your hermanita needs to eat something so she would have the energy to play with you."

This seemed to convince Luisa as she reluctantly pulled back. The middle child crossed her arms strictly, looking up at Julieta with a face that made it clear how unhappy she was with the fact that her sister had been snitched from her.

Mirabel enjoyed her fresh salad while Luisa was throwing suspicious looks at the coffee kettle that she couldn't reach under her mom's strict gaze. Give Luisa a chance and she would drink the entire pot. Attempts to push some fresh food to her failed as Luisa ignored the plate with her name and drawn barbells in front of her.

 Soon enough, the eldest child joined them. Still sleepy, Isabela didn't like early waking up, unlike her mother and sisters. She rubbed her eyes, half asleep, and sat in the chair next to the younger girls. 

"Buenos dias mami," She muttered under Luisa's grinding her fork against the plate. "Stop!" She demanded, trying to take the fork away. Oh, Dios Mio. Again.

Luisa stuck out her tongue, trying to fight Isabela off over her fork that she didn't even use before Julieta grabbed it away. Sharp cutlery wasn't a toy. She feared to imagine what would happen if they will hit each other unluckily and stuck it in somebody's eye.

"Ah, calm down my tiny baby Hermanita!" Isabela scoffed, pulling up to ruffle Luisa's unkempt hair. 

"I'm not tiny! Mirabel is!" The youngest girl gasped, offended, but kept eating her breakfast. "I'm basically the same height ad you are!" 

"You are not!" Isabela placed her hands on her sides. "I bet you a meter shorter than me!"

Julieta chuckled. Her Eldest didn't know how much meter was right now, but it was funny in a way to observe her kids. After all, they had a childish mentality that was so different from her own.

"You're lying!" 

Mirabel winced at the yelling, her eyes welled up. "Don't fight!" She begged. She was really sensitive and hated when people were disagreeing or fighting. She had always tried to avoid fighting with other kids. And yelded if there was no way to avoid. "Measure!"

Luisa's eyes lightened up. "You're a genius!" She jumped onto her sister with another squeeze. 

Julieta shook her head, laughing to herself. She loved her babies. All perfect in every way possible. Isabela whom inner fierce side was hidden for a close circle of people. Luisa, who loved helping and valued her baby sister more than anyone else. And delicate sensitive Mirabel. Three of them were wonderful girls. Sure, sometimes mischievous or poorly behaving. But it wasn't like Julieta herself had never caused any problems as a child.

Mirabel was the first one. She was small, filled with baby fat. So little compared to her sister. She stood straight against the wall, allowing Julieta to check on her. Ninety-two. Julieta nodded to herself, Mirabel was growing so fast. All of them were. Oh, how much Julieta wanted for her babies to stay little forever so she could hug them together. What if they'll outgrow her? So she wouldn't be able to get down to them? They were growing so quickly, and Julieta/s eyes were tearing from the thought that they would keep growing without a stop.

Luisa, who looked excited like a puppy was next. In two and a half years since her gift ceremony, her skinny body started growing mass rapidly. Eating a lot and exercising had given her first muscle development. Not enough to be noticed without examining her, but it was here.

"Meter thirty, four millimetres." It was tall for her age. And, honestly, Luisa was always like this. Way bigger than any of her peers. Ah, why did she have to be this big?

Isabela scoffed as if it was really lame. Ensured in her easy victory she got to her height. Twirling even more than Luisa, it was a big hard to get her height.

Julieta made a mark on the doorjamb. Just below Luisa's. Isabela raised her eyebrows, her face winced as if she tried to digest information that she didn't understand. "What does it mean?"

As checking the eldest's child's height, Julieta blinked. But eventually announced, "Isa, you're meter thirty and three millimeters." Just one millimetre shorter than Luisa.

Luisa fluttered, proceedings the information for a second, before she bent in half, laughing her lungs out. Her hiccupping laughter echoed through the house. She wanted to prove she wasn't that short, but the fact that she had actually outgrown Isabela... It was a giant surprise to her.

"And who's small now?"

Isabela clenched her fists. "Mama, recheck! You measured us wrong!" Because it had to be wrong. She was the eldest. She was supposed to be the tallest between them. There was no way Luisa could have outgrown her.

Luisa laughed even harder, resting her arm on Isabela's shoulder. "What, are you scared to admit that you're shorter than me?" 

Julieta's attempts to separate her babies didn't work, as both of them kept up with this petty act. Pepa used to laugh over Bruno the same way when he became the shortest of the three of them.

"I am not! It's just a millimeter, I'll outgrow you in a week!" The older girl said with crossed arms. Reddened from anger over losing this argument she had started.

How dare her sister be taller? Does she have any conscience? It was so stupid, she should be standing in the corner for doing this! And this arrogant face had only made it worse. 

Luisa wrapped her arm against her sister's neck, being annoying. "So, hermanita, how do you feel now?" Isabela growled, trying to push Luisa's back. Which was impossible, taking her gift into account. "How do you feel being a small baby sister?"

Isabela's eyes flashed with a fire of rage. "Don't call me that! And again. I'll be taller than you before you can even blink! In fact, I probably had already outgrown you!" Isabela's knuckles turned white, she gritted her teeth.

Luisa seemed proud of herself. Lightened with the fact that now Isabela was the one to lose this competition. She could announce this as her biggest victory with the proudest voice in the world. What could be better than being the tallest child in your family? God forbids her if she'd lost this privilege.

"Say what you want, hermanita." 

Julieta had to catch her daughter's arm to prevent her from hitting far too smug Luisa. Oh, dear, the house would never be quiet for the months being, regardless of whether Isabela would or wouldn't get taller again.

[chimerafflesia]

Yuri Duel Links 2024

(this is literally just a masterpost of everything that made me insane over the course of the event so I can reflect and laugh/cry/etc)

first of all the sentence "Yuri Duel Links Event 2024" would have put me in a coma if you told me that say like. a month and a half ago. when Lulu and Rin came in September I was SURE it was going to be at least early 2025 before we got him. and Yet,

I was in the middle of getting ready for a concert when I got a notification from the DL subreddit of all things that said "He's Finally In" and I saw a little picture of Yuri and I was like Lol. Yeah Ok. so then I opened duel links and checked and was hit with This:

and I was like Okay. okay. cool cool cool cool. I'm gonna be so normal about this. *narrator voice* "via the tags on this post, you could see they were indeed not normal about it"

and girl sorry I wasn't gonna be normal about it like I've wanted this cunt in duel links since he landed on my radar. I knew from the first episode he appeared in that he was going to be my favorite arc-v character because I tend to have a Type when it comes to characters. it's been the same since I was like 8. sue me.

I even started getting into theory territory I was SERIOUS

(this ended up not being the case but congrats to Dumon for being the July unlock that was a lot of fun)

HOWEVER SPEAKING OF PREDICTING UNLOCKS I DO HAVE TO SAY I made this list back in MAY predicting the rest of the characters for 2024, and while some of these are very out there and Not Happening (sorry Marik and Atticus) I DID ORIGINALLY PREDICT YURI FOR AN OCTOBER UNLOCK. (Dumon for July as well) I AM LITERALLY JOHN KONAMI I GUESS.

so time goes by and I have a month to grind gems for Yuri's box because OBVIOUSLY I need a full character deck for him. would tumblr user chimerafflesia do anything less. I achieved this btw. 9999 gems the day before the event started. I was READY.

October 23rd. I literally wake up at 6am because I was so excited I was like a kid on christmas. I am hit with these screens and actually got kinda misty eyed because it was Happening

I waited 5000 years (about 7 months) to see that "Event Exclusive" in front of him and it was real and happening like CHEERS I'LL DRINK TO THAT!

I recapped a lot of my initial reactions on day one here and here but it just doesn't do it justice like I was just so excited and happy and having the time of my life playing this little freemium mobile game. I've said it like 348735 times now but duel links is genuinely so fucking amazing to me I love this game so so so much.

AND THIS EVENT WAS SO WONDERFUL!!!! THEY DID RIGHT BY HIM I WAS (AND STILL AM) SO HAPPY. HIS CHARACTERIZATION STAYED INTACT. WE GOT SOME NEW LITTLE FLAVOR DETAILS FOR HIM. THAT MAY HAVE TO BE A SEPARATE POST BUT GOD. YURI FANS WE ARE EATING GOOD.

here are some personal favorites. little problem child 🩷💜

and course this instant classic:

but there are so many. I point to this video which has all his dialouge including taunts.

look at these screenshots man like come on. I can't believe these are real. they look like images that would've been posted on reddit like 3 years ago with the caption "This Will Be Duel Links in 2024" EXCEPT IT IS.

I set up this board with all the predap extra deck mons + starving venom and was staring at it like Man We Really Won. this shit's beautiful

Just. man I feel like there's so much more I wanna say but overall it was just a really fun event. this might sound silly to some people but I really do have a special connection to yugioh in general and I do feel like it was fate when it came into my life. I really got into yugioh in April 2021 during a particurally dark time in my life and yugioh became like a lifeline for me. it was an escape. it still is. I'm always going to be grateful for this franchise.

I watched arc-v from March-April of this year (immediately after finishing zexal btw, which is the first time ever I watched two yugioh anime back to back) and to say it fried my brain is kind of an understatement like I still think about this show every day of my life. to quote my own tweet:

like. YEAH.

Yuri in particular is a fusion parasite all on his own he wormed himself into my brain and hasn't let go. I've rewatched his episodes so many times but I think I've seen arc-v episode 135 in particular roughly 124 times. could be more. it will be more.

I can't help but feel like watching arc-v this year was meant to be. (first of all, the same year I watch it FOUR arc-v characters get into duel links? divine timing if I've ever seen it) but in particular the timing of the Yuri event feels very nice. I've been dealing with some personal woes (particulary surrounding employment, amongst other things) and again this event was such an escape for me, even if just for a few hours each day. I can't wait until he's back in a few months. we will be there :)

I'm at the point where I don't really care if it's "cringe" to get this emo about shows/characters/games etc cuz at the end of the day this shit really does mean something to me man. I know what yugioh has done for me and what it'll definitely continue to do for me and I'm grateful for it <3

(PS it is really really fun to wreck people on ranked with super poly) here is a live image of me playing online duel links

[hospitalterrorizer]

diary359

9/13-14/24

friday - saturday

today was really fun.

and it's about 7 am, and i need to sleep.

i guess, really fun mostly, and then oddly dark, yet still pleasant because i was around people i love, just that one was suffering on ketamine. i watched him snort a very tiny line, my first time seeing someone do a drug like that, or i guess thin line, it was strange seeing the tiny crystals, milky and translucent. they seem clumsy in retrospect, a clumsy drug, each fragment an odd size and shape. a clumsy drug, yeah.

we went to brat night, and i danced, i had a thought, i need to write that thought down elsewhere. i put the thought down, it became a whole sequence of images. brat night was fun, i'll need to put selfies up here, and a video i took of hey qt, which was super super cute to hear in a room full of people and super loud. and it was awesome to hear sophie like that too, the dj was really good honestly, or djs, they were just playing shit they liked, fun remixes, they kept the party going, even if it was like, clearly just a bunch of tracks. one of them kept playing really freakish feedback sounds and stuff, really crazy, i was fond of that, when they played hard by charli that was so cool, they let it turn into noise almost at points, people got scared, i was so there for it and it felt sssooo special.

we got pizza, that's when my friend seemed to enter a kind of ketamine hell in a club near the pizza place but not super close, we had to go get him, my gf's brother and i, which felt crazy, going thru that club while like lady gaga played very loud through a swarm of people which made me think about getting groped / grinded on and all that, which was unpleasant, and then going up some stairs to get a vantage on where our friend was, pulling him out, cutting thru all these people, and then him running back in after being very confusing and weird, and then we went back in to get him, which was still intense and weird.

the second time we went in, some guy was like, i think i know you, and like did that hug thing people do where they grab your hand, and pull you in, like that, and then he was like, do i know you, you seem familiar, and i was like, i dunno, you seem familiar too, and i think now, was he? maybe we went to highschool together. that would be crazy.

we got him out, we went to our friend's apartment, it was very cute, i got to see a cat and touch it, and look through her sophia coppola book, which is cute, i got to look at young jason schwarzman. what a strange thing that is. people can't believe i think he's hot i think, but he is.

i have to sleep now. i'll maybe talk more about tonight, tomorrow, i dunno though. i'm gonna miss the last errands day for a while for sure because,,, well no good reason. i just am probably and i suck and am stupid.

thinking about digital a love story. i really loved that as a child, it meant a lot to me, maybe i should play it again, listening to this song off its ost:

really really really really odd and nostalgic, i remember at the time, it reminded me of being a kid, in that it almost referred to that time period, now thinking, this whole thing in a way was a y2k revival, not in a literal way, but its 80s retro-ism, that kinda thing, the way it felt, its emotional character, its minimalism, the minimalism of some of the indie stuff at the time, the obv 07-y pop art minimal stuff is also an obvious referent (the pixel stuff especially) but that also feels like it touches on some of the stranger points in the 00s. it's strange strange strange. what an exciting time that feels lost.

it's strange thinking about times people have made you feel the worst feeling ever, i'm remembering the hardest i ever cried in my life, looking at dms with someone. i was in love with him, he was awful, he was really stupid, but i wanted him to do anything to me, i wanted him to want me, he was also my best friend, he said "we're growing apart aren't we" for no reason one day, thus making it true, making me feel like, the friendship was unsafe, always gonna fall apart, and i was so scared after that point, i was a wreck. it made me love him more maybe, out of fear of losing him. it was awful and he's a disgusting person. i wonder why i am the way i am. i wonder why i had to meet him. i feel so messed up sometimes still. not just about him, about everything or whatever.

i was looking this gif he ssent me forever ago:

i feel a lot like her every day. i want to find the other paul robertson gifs like this, i remember them, like the bug girls, i really relate to all of them. i did at the time too but i was like ashamed or something.

but it's fine, i'll just sleep, and wake up feeling normal.

so,

byebye!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[yostresswritinggirl]

mother, what do you think would happen if a child just isekai'd in genshin

like they played genshin, now they're excited to see their favorite characters, but oh no, danger alert cause the world has many monsters and scary people

no family, no home, then they realize the situation they're in and they can't go back

i feel like the traveler would pick em up cause they can relate to the poor kid haha

i imagine them just randomly blurting out a deep secret they know ( because of the game ) and traveler having to cover it up and play it off

i feel like a lot of the genshin characters would be good big brothers and sisters, or father figures/mother figures

ahshdhdhf i'm sorry, i am just touch starved for found family tropes so ehem

—🗿

Hmm hm it's quite hard to think since it really depends on the age, so I guess the most appropriate age bracket here would be 8-10 years old, can properly play the game and understand the happenings of the game

I love the idea of Traveler finding them tho! Truly found family (omayghad imagine they actually do end up getting adopted and the other twin absolutely loves them to bits!) and for sure blurt things out of nowhere! Like some points still can't really comprehend the fact that this real now and not just a game - like they'll go up to a character and go "You're (Character Name), right?! Do your burst, do your burst!" And all that game lingo that everyone's so confused about. Traveler would have to drag them away and trying to make up a lie for their behaviors! (More utc)

Does not understand the concept of lore and when asked, they'll just blurt out random information without a second thought. "Oh, Inazuma! You were so close to dying because of Raiden!" And then focuses back on watching the ships in Liyue while Traveler's next to them trying not to faint.

While the characters don't exactly understand their fondness to them (they just think you're playing make believe, and that the Traveler talked about them), they definitely enjoy their company and have a sense of protectiveness to the child. Because they're so easygoing with characters (cuz you know them from the game lol) and that they find their... Creativity endearing. They also like showing off and cooking their speciality dishes, it's just all so new for the Reader that everything pretty much amazes them.

By the way, it is undeniable that they would have an immense for slimes, paired with the fact that they lack a proper sense of danger other than getting scold. But slimes! So big and most likely soft! They've always wanted slime plushies back in the real world and now the real deal is in front of them, this is true temptation! And no, they won't take a doll as an alternative.

Traveler and their big brothers/sisters tried (and still are) taming slimes or making a not-harmful replication (Albedo) just to get you to back off from enemy slimes. I also think they'll be very fond of the child models and would want to play/hang out with them a lot (even if Dori's considered an adult? And Sayu's older than she looks) - oh and they love Paimon, Paimon loves them back and would often convince you to gang up on Traveler when they're being mean to Paimon.

Throughout all this, I can't stop imagining Traveler carrying child Reader like how Loid always carries Anya cuz it's easier to fight like that and they don't have to worry about you falling off a cliff while they're busy.

Omg cute thought, them playing around with the artifacts because they don't quite understand how builds work, trying out the circlets and bundling up the flowers while Traveler's grinding nonstop in the background.

Oops, I rambled! Sorry, I'm quite a fan of the isekai trope that's not romanticized, that and I have a younger sister that likes playing genshin on our brother's device!

[gamerbearmira]

Okay, now I'm curious about the Alma and Mirabel switching au. How did Alma’s first interaction with the adults go? 'Cause now they think she's Mirabel...

Ok so to get into that, we gotta go back to when Alma first woke up as Mirabel, which was. Literally the day after the ceremony. Literally look in the mirror, sat there staring for a couple minutes and started freaking out. Silently of course, Lord knows even in a different body she can’t be caught out of line. BUT ANYWAY. After figuring out that she’s in Mirabel’s body, she picks up pretty quickly that Mirabel is probably in her body.

After more freaking out, Alma basically just tells Mirabel to stay in the candle room or the bedroom. Just don’t leave, at least she can figure someway to fix this. Which never happens. Alma eventually leaves the nursery (not before avoiding the family entirely, which is easy, they think that she’s Mirabel and needs some space after her ceremony). Dolores surprisingly doesn’t know, because Alma made sure to only talk to Mirabel when Dolores is asleep or so busy with listening in on something else that she won’t notice their conversations.

The cool couple. They see that she formally speaks, and she’s also very??? I don’t wanna say cynical, but definitely a little more critical. (Mind you, Alma is trying to act like a small child, or at least Mirabel, but it’s surprisingly hard.) Julieta is worried it’s because of the ceremony, and so is Agustín. Alma on several occasions almost called them by their first names, but she switched it up and corrected herself pretty quickly. Agustín gets her to help him around town whenever Julieta doesn’t take her along to the stand. (Alma had come to realize how many people came up to the stand for small, insignificant cuts).

Warm couple and Bruno notice, but they just think she’s a little sensitive from the ceremony—they do keep an eye on her though. Pepa is worried that she’s going to become saddened by everything, and Fèlix is worried she’s going to just become this boring person, like Abuela. Both try to cheer her up, and while Alma does put up an act, they still notice how stiff and slightly inept she is. Pepa ‘teaches’ her how to show (Alma becoming frustrated everytime she pokes her fingers, because she was a master seamstress, but her little fingers make it hard to not stab herself.) Fèlix helps her pick up the accordion and other instruments.

Also, in this AU, Alma hadn’t yet asked Bruno for the vision—she had planned to the day after, but obviously that had to grind to a halt, so Bruno’s still there. Bruno really just hugs Mirabel, or Alma, because he’s not good with words. Alma is very much confused, as she never realized how much Bruno hugged the grandkids, then again, she doesn’t realize a lot of things about Bruno (or the other adults really). He thinks it’s strange how she kind of just walks around, almost aimlessly, rather than going to play or color or sew. He doesn’t want her to be an outcast, so he actively encourages her to do some stuff—this is also when Alma finds out that she is not very good at coloring pictures, at least not with the five year old chubby hands she’s been stuck with.

While we’re here. Camilo is the first to notice. He actively went to the nursery to check on her, and he notices how…awkward she is. How she talks way too formally for their age and how she doesn’t know about some 5 year old stuff they discusses before. The grandkids are just a little confused. Mirabel is usually so cheerful, even in the worst of situations; so they find it strange how ‘Mirabel’ is so awkward around the younger kids, and doesn’t remember half the things they would talk about. Very confusing.

All in all, Alma is just trying to get by without blowing her and Mirabel’s cover. She knows that she’s probably not doing a good job, but clearly it’s fooling the family. And the whole reason she kept Mirabel hidden was because she was basically trying to teach her how to be a leader. Which doesn’t really go well, because it’s a 5 year old, she has the attention span of a fly and didn’t really retain much of what Alma was trying to tell her. Heck, most of the time, Mirabel just wings it.

[cinnamonest]

One of the older siblings: “Mama how the fuck did you get pregnant? Dad’s dead. Do you have a new boyfriend?”

Childe standing behind her: 🙂

Oh no

Well... He knows he could make up some bullshit to the younger ones, but they'll grow up and know better eventually... And he can't exactly explain this one away to the older siblings. Tbh it's hard to say exactly how that situation would go over, it's one of a few scenarios that would leave him genuinely unsure of what to do. He didn't actually think about the possibility.

Not that he's upset, no. Worried about how the situation will play out, sure, but still overjoyed! Constantly reassuring mama it's fine, it will be totally healthy, no defects or anything, promise. She'll see.

Tbh he knows she's more worried about the reputation/being found out aspect of it than he is, so he kinda looks to her for guidance on what to do. As much as it makes him grind his teeth at even the thought of such a thing, it would probably be best, he decides, if she does lie and say she met a nice man... But it didn't work out, was just a one time thing.

That being said, he'll have to find a balance between maintaining that lie to save his skin, and really wanting to be a father to the kid... The thought of having to endure the kid not knowing he's their father is unbearable. All he wants is to live a happy life and have a nice happy family but the universe is just determined to not let him have his way, huh. Besides, he wants a ton of kids, how is he gonna continue to explain it? Ugh. (Also poor, poor mother, already has had like 8 kids and now her son is gonna try to squeeze out what remains of her fertile years, sigh.)

But bc I'm a sucker for cheating darlings and angry yans consider... Mama does get pregnant but he has been kept on a super long mission, and she's... Say two month pregnant... But it's been three months since he last saw her?? Hm...

[a-bunch-of-scourge-aus]

[waves from a little box] ello!

I've been super excited over your stuff ever since I stumbled upon it, and so I've finally unearthed myself from the shadows wheeze--

I was wondering if slugger ever went dark for some reason, would Uncle Scourge be able to talk him down from it? 👀

There is a fic I am writing where this exact question is one of the story arcs. Since it is such a long time away and such a interesting topic to me I don't mind telling even if it might be "spoilers". Also because it got so long, I'm putting it under the [read more] below.

A lot of this au does focus on the similarities and differences between what makes a "Sonic" vs what makes a "Scourge". The charm of Wachowski and Uncle's relationship is less of a "sweet, summer child tames the villain" and more "Scourge finally learns to change for the better now that there is someone in his life who is genuinely invested in him as a person and doesn't want to screw him over, and Wachowski has his coming-of-age story under the guidance of the one Sonic in the multiverse that not only rejected that title but isn't invested in Wachowski becoming a Sonic."

That isn't to say that his parents (The Wachowski's) are pressuring him. In fact it becomes a point in Scourge's favor in a side story where Tom and Maddie assign Uncle as Wachowski's caretaker in the event the worst were to happen to Tom and Maddie. The Wachowski's want their son to be a kid. Uncle just wants Wachowski to be a kid.

The other Blue Devils are also not pressuring Wachowski either really, but they are all Sonics who accepted their place as heroes for better or for worse. They understand and encourage that heroic drive in Sonic because they have seen what happens to worlds without one (scourge's world included). They just don't fully understand the kid in this au because they never had the choice for a normal life like Wachowski does in this au, they are heroes 24/7, no breaks, no vacations, always on the grind. Scrafz (boom sonic) is the closest to being done with it all but even he can't ignore the call for the hero.

Scourge encourages "selfishness" in Wachowski in the form of not being "self-sacrificing" all the time. Cause if Wachowski is so dead set on being a "hero" he is gonna make sure he isn't a door mat like Scarfz ((yes Scarfz would take offense to that)). This approach of Scourge's means he will leave the kid to making his and owning his own decisions and will not tell him what to do. He wont pussy foot around the truth, Wachowski cannot save everyone. ((please note, Scourge goes through a very unfortunate series of events, trials and tribulations to gain these little bits of wisdom throughout the au, this is not a inherent/unearned part of Scourge's character))

So this is a lot of context and I haven't answered your question. There was a what if scenario I played around with in this au where Tom and Maddie were killed and Uncle had to take on his role as caretaker. Wachowski in this scenario was so heartbroken and furious at the drunk driver who killed his parents he sought revenge, essentially he was going to go kill this person who got away with killing his parents. Wachowski chose Scourge to come with him because he figured Scourge wouldn't judge him first of all, but also would understand and possibly encourage him or help ease his guilt/hesitation. Scourge didn't encourage, but he didn't discourage. He purely left that choice up to Wachowski. This was a moment where I saw Wachowski making a choice to become a Sonic or to become a Scourge. Wachowski chose not to act on his anger in that moment. Scourge figured the kid's kind nature would win out, but if it didn't? Well, he'd help bury the body he supposed. Still, I like this idea of Uncle grounding the kid not via shaming him but really getting Wachowski to ask himself why and pick an answer he was happy with. Uncle knew if he told the kid he couldn't/shouldn't Wachowski would follow but he would be eaten up inside having not come to the conclusion himself. Also, if he encouraged the kid, Uncle knows how much killing someone in a act of revenge fucks you up, and there would be a chance Slugger would become bitter not only towards himself but towards Scourge for pushing him towards murder. Its a lose-lose, cause what Wachowski needed in this what-if scenario, was agency in his grief and feeling powerless. If he talks slugger down, its less of a "remember who you are Simba" and more of a "this is a one way street if you go down it kid, what are you gonna do?"

Now how will I adapt it in the fic I'm working on? I'll keep some of my secrets lol but the emotional core are very much the same. This is a moment that I think highlights the uniqueness of their relationship and the part I love exploring.

[gaiuswrites]

King of Cups || Chapter 7

Chapter 7: The Fool

Archive: ao3 | masterlist | six

Pairing: Din Djarin x fem!Reader

Summary: It all spills over.

Word count: 8.8k~

Rating: Explicit

Warnings/tags: SMUT (WE MADE IT FOLKS), thigh riding, fingering/hand job, very brief breathplay/choking, cum eating¿? Angst/emo shit (I'm so sorry i have no self control)

Notes: HI FRIENDS, wow it's been a minute. Sorry for the massive delay. For anyone wishing to start KOC, now would be the perfectly spicy chapter to do so! This chapter was Herculean. idk why. Love you guys, enjoy! x (gif credit : @djarinsgf)

“Maker,” you bemoan, shielding your face from the heavy beat of the suns.

You’ve known warmth—you were raised in warmth. This is beyond it.

It’s not just warm, it’s sweltering. The heat is oppressive, congealing the air to mist; you can barely see through it what with the sweat running into your eyes. Tall, craggy dunes line the valley of desert, trapping the planet’s hot pulse within their walls. Your steps crunch along the dry, pebbled earth as you swat at the gnats buzzing in ribbons around your head.

A muffled gurgle sounds from behind you and you slow to a halt, boots gritting into the cracked top soil.

“You doing alright back there, Munch?” you ask, craning your head to the child nestled into the carrier fashioned onto your back. A green ear pokes free from the top, and you can see the jewel of his black eyes peering at you through the gauzy cloth you draped over it. He grunts, and you give a small shrug—shifting the pack by the straps, eliciting a giggle out of him. “We can always turn back, okay? I’m not going to be mad.” Another noise, a happy coo this time, and you shimmy your shoulders again, jostling the bag playfully.

“Well, you just let me know.”

Your conversations usually unfold this way. They leave much to be desired, but you’d like to think you understand one another—in fact, you probably understand the kid more than you understand his dad.

You’ve grown close with him, you’ll be the first to admit it. You’re attached to each other. The little one has been your constant companion for these months and in some ways, you suppose he takes care of you just the same as you take care of him. The chamber of space can be lonely; it’s cold and unkindly reflective, stranding you to the echoed chain of your thoughts—but when he tugs at your hair or slobbers spittle down the front of him or crawls up into your lap to nestle into your tunic, it feels like you belong there—there on the Crest, streaming through the galaxy.

And maybe, simply, it feels good to do right by a child—as if you could make up for it somehow, within yourself. To do better than you were given.

Squinting, you raise your wrist to check the coordinates on your comm and shade a hand over the screen, blocking the glare cast onto the display. “Almost there,” you mumble, resuming your stride as you begin the last leg of the trek to the settlement you and Mando discussed that morning.

“What?” he asked, planted some paces away from you.

You hummed a curious note, glancing to him.

“What is it?”

You were trying to be small all morning—shrunken and shy, avoiding the thought and avoiding him all together. You quieted yourself, as if to not take up space, but the attempt was fruitless; of course he picked up on it – you get good at reading people on the job, he’d said – and of course he called you out on your behavior. You took a big gulp of your caf, gaze flickering down—increasingly more and more invested in the scuffs marked into the table you sat at.

“Dala,” he said pointedly, arms folding over the breadth of his chest.

Shit. Who did you think you were fooling? Playing possum with a Mandalorian?

Worrying your lip, you stood. You couldn’t bear to look up at him, just looming there across the table from you, so you paced around the deck as you rambled. “Okay, so you know how I’m still connected to the RRM channels? Well, I’ve been checking the message boards and I—there’s a settlement here out in the Wastes. It’s small and new and they’re looking for volunteers and—”

You whistled in a breath. Fuck it.

“And I want to help.”

Like the toggle of a switch, you went from having a career—having a purpose—to having nothing. And all your gratitude for the transport he’s offering couldn’t fill that empty lull that’s settled inside you.

“Would you be comfortable with letting me take the kid? I know I’m probably asking a lot—and I will fully respect whatever you decide—but I can keep him by me the whole time, I swear, I just—” You shook your head, pinching your eyes shut before sighing, “I need to be doing something. Anything.”

There was a long pause. You scratched at the torn skin around your cuticle, nervously searching the pitch of his wordless visor. He didn’t move a muscle. He didn’t even twitch.

“That’s fine,” he finally remarked, graveled.

You blinked, taken aback at his agreement, and all at once your fidgeting ceased and a bright grin broke out over your features in its place.

It nearly brought him to his knees.

“Wait, seriously?” you asked, bouncing on the balls of your feet and he nodded, a subtle tilt to his helm. “Maker, thank you,” you exclaimed, and without thinking you flew towards him, flinging your arms around his neck and sealing yourself to his armored frame. His arms escaped out from his chest in surprise, suspended and stiff, before falling measuredly to his sides. You could’ve been imagining it, but you swore you heard the distinct grit of his teeth grinding together under his helmet.

“Really Mando,” you beamed, pulling back to lay your eyes on him, to let him see the earnest there: you have no idea how much this means to me. “Thank you.”

You gave his shoulders a squeeze, thumbs brushing along the scratchy fabric of his cape before tearing yourself away. Swiping up your mug of caf, you wound down the corridor - airy, buoyant - back to your makeshift quarters to prepare for your outing. It took him another minute just to get his damn feet to move from the spot on the durasteel you welded him to.

Din told you to be safe.

You smiled, and promised you would.

You left the Crest before him and it was strange, surreal. For the first time, you stood in each other’s shoes, leaving Din there on his own while you set off into the world. He watched you go—you and his boy—watched you walk away into some great unknown without him.

And he didn’t like it.

He soured, somewhere in the deep of him—within that pit he called a gut, he twisted sick.

Your feet hit the ramp, dull and tinny, and it sounded like goodbye—it sounded like you leaving. It’s what it will look like when time and fate touch, and inevitability catches up with him. It’s what it will look like when he takes you home. You’ll walk out of his life, down that same ramp, and your steps will echo those same beats. You won’t look back.

And Din, with all his strength, all his unshakeable resolve—Din will let you go.

///

The encampment is settled into the shadow of a cliffside, seeking respite there from the blazing suns, the taupe of the canvas shanties camouflaging into the arid landscape. Some crawl their gaze up as you enter the village, and you offer them smiles they do not return. Others do not acknowledge your presence at all— unstirred as your footsteps sound past, their heads bound heavy towards the earth. It’s not long before a decisive voice cuts through the hush that’s claimed the settlement.

“Are you with the RRM?”

You turn and are greeted by a woman ducking out of a tent—the grey of her woven tunic browned with sand, heat collecting in her black, coiled hair.

“Yes, I’m with the Movement.” It’s not a total lie. Sure, you’re on leave, but that doesn’t discount you completely. What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.

With a sharp exhale like a prayer of relief, she makes her way towards you. “Where’s the rest of your division?” Her eyes narrow discerningly, flitting behind you as if expecting to spot the rear of your party trickling in.

“It’s, uh—it’s just me,” you confess, pressing your lips together in a thin smile.

She rakes a hand over her hair, over her face. The skin around her knuckles is split, the beds of her nails chalked with days of unwashed grime. “Alright,” she concedes begrudgingly, without any better option presented. “And who is this?” She nods to the child, emerging from the pack and staring curiously at her.

“This is—” You take a moment to consider it—consider the secrecy around the child, the bounties, the life on the lam. Less is more, you decide. Again, it’s not a total lie. “I’m babysitting.”

The kid grunts an emphatic patu.

You both share a look—a quirk of her dark brow, an apologetic heft of your shoulder—and she sighs. “Well, I’ll take all the help I can get,” she quips dryly with a wave of her hand, leading you into the settlement.

///

She’s coarse, this woman—Arlaani, she told you—matronly and effective. She has a calculating gaze and powerful shoulders that she holds steady as she shows you through the camp. There are lines around her eyes, carved into the curves of her mouth. She knows what you know—what all women learn: sometimes you must be hard in order to keep others soft.

You walk shoulder to shoulder, matching her long strides with your own.

“The Black Sun has taken the southern hemisphere; their numbers have only grown since the Battle of Yavin. Pirates, mercenaries, spice runners—they’ve ransacked one half of the planet and have the officials of the other half in their pocket,” she scowls. “They have stolen our land, our homes—we’re moisture farmers, mechanics, mothers and fathers. We are simple people and we have been forgotten by our government—by those who vowed to represent us, protect us.” Arlaani draws in a long breath. “We’re on our own out here in the Wastes.”

You survey the area; the lifeless ocean of rock and sand, the few scattered trees that have died on their feet—roots withering bone dry in the suns. “Why settle here if it’s so uninhabitable?”

She huffs a humorless laugh. “Because, it’s uninhabitable,” Arlaani explains. “No one robs a beggar. There is nothing in the Wastes the Black Sun wants.”

There are no buildings, no structures; the whole area is undeveloped and raw. Tents are dotted sporadically in clusters, crates of supplies and water canteens stationed every other one. Children dawdle idly, tired and overheated, leaning against boxes and posts—their bellies distended and skin parched taut. Flies land on their shins, on their cheeks. They do not go to shoo them away.

“The Movement supplied those for us when we landed,” she comments, nodding to the crates. “That was two months ago.”

“No one has come back to check on you since?” you ask, brows notching together.

She shakes her head solemnly, jaw set rigid. “Our little ones go hungry, our elders are sick with red fever. We will run out of water before the week is through,” Arlaani says before she turns to you, holding your gaze—the seriousness evident in the stone of her eyes. “I thank the gods you are here.” She presses a palm to your shoulder. You feel the weight of it, the weight of her—of the lives she carries on her back.

“I thank the gods.”

///

You stop by each tent delivering what little food and medicine you brought with you from the Crest, and after each encounter—the people so grateful, so weary—your mind strays further and further to Mando.

Din, you scold yourself. Not Mando, Din. Din Djarin.

You still can’t bring yourself to say it.

He spent that whole fateful day nearly two weeks ago bristling at the very sight of you, going out of his way to limp to the other side of the ship just to ignore you better, only to do you in for one final head spin and give you his name.

Two weeks, and you still haven’t said it. There’s no other excuse: plainly - pitifully - you’re scared. You’re scared he regrets it.

Because how horrible of a truth would it be? To be offered something out of carelessness or guilt; to be the product of pity, or even worse, a mistake that cannot be unmade, cannot be rectified. He can’t take his name back, can’t unspeak it any more than you can unhear it, and this fear, picking at you like an old scab—it’s so painfully human, so terribly universal:

what if I’m not worth it?

And isn’t it easier to neglect the answer, then it is to ask the question.

So you’ve buried his name for both of your sakes, keeping it somewhere secret and private, there to garner dust in the quiet of your mind.

You’re brushing through the draped entrance of a tent when you spot him: a small boy hiding behind a supply crate, the top of his dusted head poking out over the ledge. You catch him peering at you, and he ducks down shyly. A honeyed grin blooms across your face.

“I think we’re being watched Munch,” you coo. The little ball of robes blinks up at you from your arms, earning his nickname tenfold as he crams his mouth with a flakey cracker. “You want to say hi?” He hums in response and you crouch, letting him wiggle free from you to toddle over to the other child. With small steps, he eventually makes it over to the other and immediately, without hesitation or provocation, extends one of his crackers to him.

Your heart swells until it bursts, proud and beautiful in your chest.

Munch leads him out from behind the box, the two boys shuffling slowly through the dirt back to you. He can’t quite meet your eyes—his gaze lands somewhere around your chin, your collarbone, and you fold forward, bent at the knees to meet his height.

“Do you have a name, sweetheart?” you ask kindly.

He nods, nibbling quietly on the cracker, and you breathe out a chuckle. “Not much of a talker, huh? I can respect that,” you say, eyes crinkling fondly with a smile. “Well if you want to tell me, you can—or not. That’s okay, too.”

He nods again, and you fish out more salty treats from the sleeve in your pack, gently handing them to the other—a gesture he nervously accepts, dirty fingers trembling as he plucks them from your open palm. This boy is precious—sweet faced and cherubic, he must not be a cycle over the age of seven.

And the realization comes so suddenly that it blindsides you—struck by it, there between your lungs: Din was his age when it happened—when life happened to him. When this could have happened to him.

You can’t help but think of it—think of him and everything he told you that night he came bleeding through the Razor Crest. You can’t stop imagining him; Din as a little boy tucked away, his people—his parents—decimated overhead. He is a Mandalorian by proxy. Displaced from his home, from his past, saved by a sect with an affinity for orphans—to protect those who cannot protect themselves. The irony of it all is not lost on you:

Din is a refugee too.

You see him in this boy, and in all the faces here—in every set of eyes, young and old alike. Each are individual - idiosyncratic - but they each wear the same qualifiers. The same exhaustion. They each fight the same tired battle, leaving them with identical sets of marks.

Does Din? If you were to see him, truly see him, would you find them there? You’ve seen the scars he’s earned from being a Mandalorian.

You wonder if he has any from simply being a man.

Pushing yourself to stand upright, you cradle Munch back into your chest, his teensy claws riddling your shirt, and offer the boy your hand—outstretched in front of you.

He’s cautious. Too cautious for a boy so young, for a child who should know nothing but abundant love and fearless imagination. He shouldn’t have had to learn this lesson: that some hands should not be taken, that some people should not be trusted. He studies you, hesitant but hopeful, and you smile softly—cycles of hard-won patience and empathy curving the corners of your lips.

He lays his small hand in your own. You walk on together.

///

The day blows by like hot desert wind, chafing at your skin. Minutes have ripened to hours—morning has crawled to midday.

The three of you finish your rounds— distributing rations throughout the camp, pitching tents, taking stock of the dwindling supplies for you to relay to the Movement once you return to the Crest and have access to your holopad.

It’s then that you notice Arlaani again. She’s speaking in hushed tones with another man, the both of them hunched over a large carton. You see the concern ticked clearly along the man’s jaw, the dread grooved into her brow, her crossed arms. With a frown, you plop the child down onto a nearby petrified log and the other boy joins, hopping up next to him, all too happy to get off his feet. You tell them not to wander off— a kiss to Munch’s forehead, a ruffle of the boy’s hair— before making your way to the couple.

“Hey,” you call, jogging over. “Is everything alright?”

Arlaani wheels around as you approach. It hasn’t been long since you’ve seen her, but somehow she looks older. Hollowed, drained— like there’s less and less in her. “It’s the water,” she grits out, “sand mites have gotten to the crates, to the canteens.” She tosses you one of the flasks. It’s littered with holes, porous and leaking— the remnants of water splashing out of the orifices bitten into the sides.

Arlaani dives through the crate, rifling through the supplies. She’s tense, upset, her voice is rife with it. “They’re all like this. Ruined, fucking—” She heaves out a hissed exhale and props herself up on the edge of the box, neck bowed between her shoulder blades. “This was the last of it, and now—now…”

The man tries his best - how do you comfort marble? - as he places an arm around her, his thumb drawing patterns there, reassuring and calm but she wants nothing of it; she gruffly shrugs it off as if stung, weaseling out of his hold. “I can’t— I need to think,” Arlaani bristles, as she paces away from the settlement, receding deeper into the Wastes.

“I’m sorry,” he stutters, “I have- I have to—” His eyes follow her shrinking form, worry apparent in the shape of them. It’s so obvious. He’s terrified of that woman—probably loves her, too.

“Go,” you say, and with a knowing expression, he turns and trots after her.

Heavy footed, heavy hearted, you trudge back to find the children exactly where you left them. Once there, you collapse to the hard ground, dust and dirt puffing up as you recline onto the log. Your palms run over the earth—scooping up sand and rock and letting it slip through the cracks of your fingers, gaze trained out onto the encampment—the people milling about, the miasma of helplessness stifling the air.

This isn’t enough. You’re not doing enough— these impermanent little nothings, your measly good deeds. It’s not going to matter. They’ll be bones by the time the next wave of volunteers rolls through. They’ll be grain.

You need to do something that lasts, that outlives you when you leave.

You glance over to the kid and his new friend, their little legs swinging off the edge of the trunk, heels thumping against the old wood. They look to you, two pairs of big eyes—crackers in their tiny fists.

“You boys ever dig a well?”

///|||///

The suns roast into his beskar, blistering him from the inside out.

The day has been long and it’s only half over. It took him longer than it should have to gather himself— his fob, his rifle, his fucking head—and depart the Crest. Longer than it should have to hunt the bounty here—some marauder scum who’s number is up and luck has run out. Longer than it should have to set up his sniper’s nest, sculpted into the mountainside.

Din is distracted, has been all day— has been since you left.

He can’t stop feeling you. Your warmth pushing against his chest, your arms looping around his neck, the heat of your palms searing through his flight suit. Din can smell you on him still— like citrus and moss, you cling to his cowl from where you buried your head.

It’s intolerable. It feels like an infection with how it’s been building, how this has spread— slowly but surely rearing to an unignorable head. Serpentine and insidious as it crept through him, this growing affliction— this morbid curiosity that spoiled like rotting stonefruit into infatuation— slipping along his bones and organs, blemishing Din in faint little licks— imperceptible to the naked eye but there all the same.

How did this happen? How did he become this?

You’ve been more relaxed now, bolder in some ways. Transparent. Sometimes, you’ll touch his arm as you walk by him or sweep your hair from your neck when you sit by his side in the cockpit, star shine on your jaw. You’re quick with a laugh, lips pulling back into a pretty grin. He’s even caught you staring at him, there out of the corner of his eye—from where he steals those same glances under the safety of his helm.

He spied you once, just a glimpse of your backside, padding quietly away from the shower with only your underwear on, drops of water tracking down your spine. It was brief, you were fast—you must have forgotten your shirt in your bunk—but he had to lock himself in his quarters and fuck his hand before he could even think about piloting the Crest into the stratosphere.

Din is a lot of things, but he isn’t daft. A part of him knows. A part of him is aware that you are two very human people with very human needs—and that you’ve been ignoring these primal aches with premeditated dereliction for months now.

And you can only dance around each other so long before one of you snaps.

And Maker, he’s so desperate to be rid of you—to get you out of his fucking system; to let him sleep without dreaming of you, to let him wake without plunging into his briefs and jerking himself off. You are everywhere. In his ship, in his galley, in his thoughts. He has no privacy, he has no sanctity— he has no idea how you have managed to worm yourself so deep into every living part of him. Others have tried and they have failed, and you— you did it in your sleep. From that very first fucking night, curled up in his chair, gore and ash stained tunic rising with your slumbered breathing. You snored.

You fucking snored.

And now you’re killing him— just as the suns above, you are blistering him from the inside out.

His level-headedness has all but evaporated. He’s peeved. Not only is Din distracted, but he's angry— has been since he plodded up this damn hill, waiting for his quarry to pass through the ravine between the valley of mountains—because instead of performing his job, he’s consumed with you. All of you.

He kneels, flattening himself against the rocky sand— your hands, so small and soft against him— and unclips the rifle from the strap on his back—how good you’d feel on his skin—he aligns his sights— the weight of your breasts in his palms—

His helmeted head clunks to the ground and he loses his aim, a frustrated growl emanating out from him. Focus, Mando. Fucking focus.

Din reorients his crosshair, training it on the gang of pirates in the gorge below. They lean haphazardly over their speeders, their cargo nets packed full with different wares and spices, jeering loudly and chugging from the jugs of spotchka they undoubtedly looted earlier that afternoon. He inspects the rabble, searching for his target and—those pretty lips that smile so easy for him, stretched around his length.

Fuck. He pinches his eyes shut.

You whispering husky into his ear as you ride him, you bent over the pilot’s chair begging for his cock, you sprawled out over the deck while he laps at your sweet cunt.

Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck— he can’t do this. He can’t fucking do this. You’re everywhere everywhere everywhere— you buffer his vision, his senses, his sight. He’s blinded with you. You’re blinding him.

With an infuriated heave he shoves himself off the ridge of the dune, bounty-less, and reverses his course back to the Crest—heart beating furious and bloody against his ribs.

///

The settlers surround the trench, peering down at you as you work. Hours ago, when you originally proposed this idea to Arlaani, they insisted on helping— to which of course, you insisted they didn’t. And so they watch— the refugees, Din’s foundling, the nameless boy— mangling their hands restlessly, animated with an inkling of that all too lethal substance long sought after by those of all species and creeds: hope.

You sink the shovel into the dry earth and your muscles burn with the effort—the skin on your palms stings from the rough grate of the wooden dowel and the yawn of your back strains as you pitch forward.

You’ve missed this.

You’ve been so distracted. You’ve grown comfortable in your routines, you’ve let yourself go listless—living in blissful ignorance—all because of a metal man in his metal ship with the most impossible and darling child you’ve ever known. All because your body reacts at the very sight of him, all because your belly flips when he speaks, that modulated purr rumbling loose from his beskar, all because, because—

You like him.

You wish you didn’t—you hardly know why you do—but you’ve soaked your fingers enough times in your rack to realize that this thing residing within you burns.

You can’t even see his face, and you don’t have to. His presence alone— that raw, vacuous energy that surges from him—it’s addicting. It's engulfing. It makes you whimper into the night, massaging your pearled clit as your other hand muffles your moans and you come over and over and over again, chasing after the fantasy you so dangerously harbor for this man. The man who’s piloting you back to Coruscant—the man who sleeps just down the hall.

But that isn’t real. That’s not real life— that’s not your life. This is real—the fuchsia of the setting suns blazing through the horizon, the sweat on your brow. You’ve missed this— Maker, you need this. Working with your hands, making an impact. You’re wanted here and kriff, does that not feel so unabashedly right. To be wanted. To be important.

Your back groans, the sinew woven over your spine aching in protest and you know, without a doubt, you’ll feel this for the next week. Half of you dreads it—being cooped up and sore, lactic acid compacting your joints— while the other excites at the prospect; the memory of a good deed lasting long after it’s finished. That reminder always there, always present: see, there’s still hope in the galaxy. We can still do good. There’s goodness where you look for it.

You fling dirt over your shoulder as you burrow lower and lower. With each shove, the soil changes hue, changes density—the striations darker, more definitive. It’s less dry now, thicker too—turning from sand to clay the deeper you dig. Again, you drive the spade into the sod with a taxed grunt, when you hear a distinct, wet squish.

You pause, stilling your shovel in the dirt. Everything - everyone - freezes.

Adrenaline thrums through you as you drop to your knees, using your hands to brush away loose silt piled atop the loamy floor, excavating what lies beneath.

Prayers and hollers erupt above you and you lurch your focus up to the sound, a feverish grin plastered to your face. The little boy jostles the child excitedly, and his green talons rumple the other’s tattered tunic. Your head falls back, cushioned by the dirt wall and you laugh - gargled, relieved - as water begins to seep through the tired ground.

Bubbling up, bubbling up—unearthing.

///

The promise of ridding yourself of your soiled clothes was the singular thought that fueled your trek back to the Crest. Every inch of you was filthy, caked in dried mud and gritty sand and you wanted nothing more than to strip from those dirty layers and melt into your bedroll. The kid, that lucky little bugger, had passed right out; sun drunk from his long day, he’d slept the entirety of the return trip—stirring only once when you placed him in the hover pram and sealed it shut.

Your bones are worn. Your tissue, your tendons— every little scrap that keeps you stitched together craves sleep. You reckon you should feel miserable, what with the tell-tale stiffness already burdening your spine and the fresh callus from the shovel’s handle reddening your palm.

But you’re not miserable, not even close. No, you’re happy—you’re glowing; fulfilled and serene, humming as you wash your pants in the basin, kneading at the sopping fabric. You wring out the article, shaking free the excess droplets before draping it on a metal rung overhead. You peel off your shirt and bra band next, leaving you only in your underwear as you plop them into the bowl and begin to scrub at the stains, concentrating on a particularly dirty patch at the sleeve.

The grating mechanics of the Crest’s great jaw unhinging sends your stomach bounding frantic to your lungs.

Kriff—shit shit shit, he’s back early.

Clutching onto your modesty, you cover your breasts and scramble to your quarters, quickly shimming a loose tunic over your head. Its hem barely covers the curve of your ass and you tug long at the cloth before peeking cautiously from the doorway and tiptoeing out of your room.

“Hey,” you warble, rounding a corner as solid feet pound up the ramp—you can feel their reverberations in the floor under your own. You pad into the galley, pulling at your shirt as you go, to tidy up the washing you left unattended. “Sorry, I wasn’t expecting you so—”

You falter.

He’s there at the mouth of the ship, the ramp drawing slowly up behind him and he’s fuming; you can practically see the steam lifting from his armor and his breathing is labored—chest rising, plummeting violently. You both stand immobilized on opposite sides of the hull—you, bare-legged and exposed and Din, all but anonymous under the steeled fury of his armor. Finally, the sound dampens, ship shuddering as she seals shut—sealing you in—and the leather of his fist creaks in the silence hanging dense like smoke around you.

“Mando...?”

He doesn’t grace you with a response. Instead he begins to stalk forward, stripping weapon after weapon from himself with every thundering step—rifle, blaster, vibroblade—he sloughs it all, metal clanging against metal as they clatter to the deck.

“Hey, what’s wrong-”

He’s not stopping. Fuck, he’s getting closer and closer and instinctually you back up—staggering until you’re pressed against the bulkhead—his broad frame crowding you until all you see is the silver polish of his beskar. You jolt when his hands fly up and slam into the wall behind you, framing either side of your head, fencing you between his forearms. Your lips part, wide-eyed and confused, and you gulp around the nervous lump threatening your voice.

“Do you have any idea,” he seethes, “what you do to me?”

“W-What-” Your stammering is cut short as he slots his thigh between your legs and you have to tilt your chin to meet his visor, a gasp finding itself on your tongue.

“Strutting around my ship, putting your hands on me, that kriffing smile…” Din ruts his knee into your heat, and you’re practically hoisted onto your toes. Your core pulses against the blunt pressure, blood racing to the throb at your center.

Maker, you could fucking faint.

“Do you know how long I’ve thought about this—about you?” His voice is tar black—smooth like obsidian—and you succumb to it. You can’t speak; any and all language evaporating from the forefront of your mind, because he’s everywhere. He’s inescapable and smothering and his scent floods over you, intoxicatingly wild—like iron and sand and something dangerous. Something heady, carnal.

“Is this what you want?” he hisses.

You’ve gone dumb. You’ve imagined this, you’ve dreamt of this, but now it’s actually happening—here, in the flesh, it’s finally happening and you’re trembling with the reality of it. All you can muster is a shaky nod, tongue darting out over your lip.

“Tell me,” he orders, scanning your face behind the guise of his helm. You feel his gaze rove over your eyes, your cheek—fanning across your lips.

Your breath hitches.

“Yes,” you whisper, “yes I want this.“

It’s all it takes.

Din is rougher than he means to be. He wears this as he wears his armor, plating the soft parts of himself he doesn’t want anyone touching. He doesn’t know anything else. He doesn’t know how to be anyone else but this.

He grabs a handful of your waist, rooting you still as he rolls his thigh against you. You inhale an airy noise, grappling onto his other arm stationed by your head and you bite your lip, sucking it into your mouth. Your cunt spasms for him as he presses up into your mound, fightless against the groan that seeps through you.

“You like that?” he pants. ”You like fucking my thigh?”

Din manhandles your hips, his hold on you vicious as he rocks you back and forth on his plated leg, your clit catching on the cold edge of his thigh guard with each motion. It sends hot sparks down your spine and you trap a moan behind your teeth, letting the sound rumble there before you swallow it. His hand weaves up from your waist, the drag of his glove setting fire to your skin as he passes over the swell of your clothed breast, and you arch into his palm as he swipes a thumb over a nipple. “You want more?”

He splays his large hand, groping at your plump flesh, and pinches your nipple hard until it pebbles through your shirt. With each sharp twist, his intention becomes clearer: it won’t be enough to skate by on moans alone.

“I asked you a question.”

Din slides his other hand to the small of your back, drawing you flush to his front, and you can feel him— the outline of his firm length twitching under his flight suit against your hip. He cranes over you, intimidating and menacing and achingly devious. The panel of his visor has never looked darker.

“Use your words, dala,” he husks.

You should be embarrassed by this—by your need made evident through the soaked lining of your underwear—but you aren’t. The heat that stipples your cheeks isn’t born from shame, it’s sprung from lust—pure and primal—and you can’t afford to give it any further consideration because all there is is this man wrenching sounds from you like an animal— and he’s scarcely even touched you yet.

“Your fingers,” you whimper, “I want your hands."

He learned this lesson within those first weeks—relearns it every fucking day. You could ask him for anything - everything - and he would oblige.

He can’t say no to you.

He shifts out from between you, hooking into the elastic of your panties and tears them down your thighs to rest just above your knees, the spread of your legs keeping them from dropping to your ankles.

Patiently - tortuously - he scrapes up your legs, leaving embers in his wake as he trails higher  higher  higher to where you need him most. You’re shivering—nerve endings fried and frayed—and every atom inside you hums with anticipation, with unbridled impulse.

The orange tips of his gloves dimple your inner thighs - squeezing, massaging - before he tilts his helmet, angling himself to see you better, and paws your swollen lips apart.

Your pussy is drooling for him.

He moans something indecipherable— a curse in Mando’a—at the sight of you glistening for him under the dimmed lights like this, and immediately you buck your pelvis to him, hungry for his touch—and the pathetic noises babbling out of you prove too much for him to bear.

“Fuck this,” he snarls, ripping a glove off and tossing it aside, “I need to feel you.”

Your eyes have dilated with want, blackened as you watch Din retrace his bare hand—that gorgeous thing you’ve never seen, only ever fantasized about—back to your heat and slowly - so fucking slowly - pass a finger through your slit.

You throw your head back, knocking against the durasteel. The mewl that escapes you is inhuman.

He’s so warm. His tan skin is molten—it’s like he brought the sun in with him, as if he’s burning that star straight into your sex. You’re slippery with arousal; you can feel how glossed you are, you don’t have to look. You can hear it—hear the obscene squelches he’s stroking from your seam.

“Maker, you’re - shit - you’re wet,” he groans loudly, reveling in the way you pitch your hips—seeking his warmth, his friction. He’s been toying with you, drawing patterns along your pussy and playing with your puffy folds, but he hasn’t even come close to your clit. You know it’s no accident. Din is methodical in all things, he doesn’t make mistakes. This is a decision—it’s intentional. You think, perhaps, he’s looking to break you—some sort of retribution for these months you’ve spent swimming in circles around each other—and you think, perhaps, you’d let him.

That you’d like it.

When Din grants you mercy, finally gliding his index along your neglected bundle of nerves, reflexively you fist into his cowl, knuckles going pale.

“Stars-” you exclaim—just like that.

He handles your body like he does one of his pistols - practiced, unparalleled - encircling your clit with precision, his finger on your trigger—blinding, perfect agony swiveled into your sweet cleft.

When he pushes himself inside you, all the oxygen gets punched out of your lungs.

“Fuck, and so tight,” Din growls, bending at the knuckle to curl over that spongy spot of your walls that makes you gape, makes your brain go slack. Your arms scamper around his pauldrons, nails scraping sharp over beskar. The heel of his hand presses into your clit and you grind against him, each roll of your hips pleading a filthy please please please as you chase after the orgasm he’s baiting you with.

He responds to that, bourboned praise dripping smug from his smirk. “Fuck, look at you, so desperate—gonna cum for me already?”

You don’t have the wherewithal to formulate a response. He’s fit another finger into you, fucking up into you hard—fucking you exactly how you need him to. It feels like you are about to shatter right there on your feet. It’s almost unbearable, this mounting tension that’s climbing within you. You’ve been so starved for this, so deprived of a kind touch and a good fuck, and within no time at all he’s coaxing you to the ledge of your release.

“Mando,” you sob, entwining your fingers into his cape, grinding grinding grinding into his palm when suddenly, without warning, his ministrations cease—that burning coil abating to a simmer. You let out a rasped pant, collapsing forward onto his shoulder— your climax ripped away from you at the last, pivotal second.

Your eyes are screwed shut, you don’t see the movement—you can only feel it once it’s already there: the bounty hunter’s glove grating over your neck. You sputter out a gasp as he forces your jaw up to align with the chill of his visor, trapped in the unrelenting strength of his grasp. Your eyes clamber around the chrome boxing you in, gulping back the fear coalescing in your mouth.

“You say my name,” he gravels. “You say my name when I’m inside you.”

Your cunt spasms around the fingers still seated within you—aching for movement, aching to cum—and your lower lip quivers as he leers. “I gave it to you—say it,” he commands.

For a fleeting moment, in the remaining rational corner of your brain, it occurs to you that you’re terrified—that there may be no going back once you speak it. There’s no unmaking this choice. Like a door—a door that swings both ways—once it is cracked ajar, it cannot be closed again. Because you know yourself, you loathe to admit it, but you know his name will crumble you; that you will bend—that you will want to give and give and give to him— and still, despite, you lay onto the handle and fling that door wide open.

“Din.”

“Fuck,” he seethes. His reaction is visceral—the whole of him stiffens, leathered pads of his fingertips searing into your throat. “Again.”

“Din,” you whine as he rocks his fingers into your walls.

He moans, wanton and guttural, at the way his name tumbles from you like velvet. “Good girl—fuck, that’s good.”

He vanishes from your neck, bringing his hand down to cup his cock bulging painfully against the fabric there and your gaze snaps to it, saliva pooling in the well of your mouth. You slither your hand down his breast plate, over the paneling of his flight suit, trailing south until it lands on the hide of his glove. You stop, waiting there - breathless - until he nods curtly.

His hand falls away. You mold your palm to his length.

“Din,” you give freely, high-pitched and girly, and his cock brays under your hand. Fuck, he’s big—you can feel his mass through his pants and your pussy flutters around his fingers moving deliciously lazy inside you. Your eyes latch onto his, the brown of them hidden somewhere under the helm, and you can feel his own bore into you, weighing leaden there—

before you both simultaneously rupture.

Din’s fingers slip out of you to fiddle with the hem of his pants, unbuttoning in a clumsy flourish until he springs free with a groan of relief.

Maker.

He’s fucking divine—long and veined, with a patch of dark curls padding around the base of him. Din weeps for you already, frustrated and pent up from the confines of his restraints, beads of arousal dappling his head. He hisses as you swipe a digit over his cock, smearing his precum down the silken slope of him. You’re transfixed—the both of you staring as you wrap your hand around his shaft and he shudders, keening in to your touch.

“Mm, fuck you’re soft- kriff-”

Din dwarfs you—you barely fit around his girth—and he can’t help but buck into your palm as you begin to move in tandem. Din flicks at your clit, mirroring your pace as you get each other off. It’s awkward and lewd and perfect—both of you, a tapestry of woven limbs and sweat and you pump him harder and harder, choking his cock with your fist. You fuck him raw, the dry drag of your satin hand ripping curses from his mouth.

“Fuck, dala,” he pants, “I-I’m not—” I’m not gonna last. His words are snuffed out as you circle your wrist and brush a thumb over his leaking tip, forcing him to shiver. He doesn’t have to finish his thought, you understand plenty well. You’re dancing along that same precipice, flirting with the fall.

“Stars, yes,” you plead. Fuck, you want him to cum— you need him to. You need to make him feel good, to let him know that you’re here - you’re right here - and that he means more to you than you care to admit; that you want him—have since you first laid eyes on him, since he rescued you, since he took you back to the Crest and gave you the last of his bacta to heal all your splintered bits. That he deserves this—with all that he’s done for you, all that he’s doing for you—

with all that he his.

“Din—please.” Fuck, you don’t even know what you’re asking for—more of him, all of him—and a groan tears through his modulator at the sound of you begging his name—like he’s wounded, like it pains him to hear you say it.

It’s a race now—the two of you hurdling headlong towards this terrible, messy collision. You’re both sloppy—wet sounds and slaps of skin—as you stumble closer to the brink of release. He’s been rendered incoherent, chiseled down to the basest of grunts and broken words you don’t recognize. His thumb finds a devastating pressure on your swollen nub and your legs begin to vibrate, nearly unable to stand on your own two feet with how fucking perfectly he’s working your pussy.

This thing inside you feels giant - monstrous - and that slow wave that’s been building and building and cresting is here, upon you. You’re trapped in the barrel of it, and it’s going to crash at any moment and sweep you out to sea. Drown you—happily, gladly. “I’m - oh fuck—"

“That’s it, good girl,” he praises, tightening his circles on your clit. “Cum for me, cum on my hand-”

A crack of lightening streaks up your middle, the whole of you shaking as your orgasm rushes through, a sputtering cry let loose into the ship. You feel yourself gush, dripping past his thickness stuffing you full, dripping down your inner thighs. Din pulls out from you and you whimper at the loss—his absence leaving you gaping, leaving you bereft. You’re siphoning down air, dizzy from your release, when he raises his hand, glistening with your fluids, and traces your bottom lip—asking for entrance.

Fuck.

You part for him, eager and pliant, and he snakes two fingers inside—tasting your own tang and the leather residue left there, stamped into the whirls of his fingerprints. Your tongue swirls around them, laving him clean, and you drag over the ridges of his shaft— still hard and throbbing and waiting in your grasp. He bobs his fingers in your mouth, matching you thrust for thrust, and you let out a depraved little moan, humming around him, and all Din can do is watch.

Watch as he disappears between your lips—his skin pulling and catching on your plush flesh— watch as you suck on them, watch as he practically fucks your throat. And Maker, you take him so fucking well, letting him do what he pleases with your all too supple body.

He can’t even begin to imagine what his cock would look like—what it would feel like nestled in the hot cavern of your mouth, hollowing your cheeks to suck him like hard candy. Din doesn’t let himself—can’t. If he did, fuck, that’d be it. He’d be done for. He knows he’d cum in a flash and he wants to make this last—to hold on to this - onto you - for as long as he can, allow himself this singular concession. The only time, he convinces himself, the last time.

He won’t think about you again.

He won’t think about you again.

He won’t think about you again.

You quicken your rhythm and Din bucks wildly into your palm, his seizing and twitching alerting you to how close he is. He slides from your mouth, a string of saliva trailing along after as he clasps onto the back of your neck.

“I’m gonna cum, I’m—” Din knots into your hair, gripping you rough, panting frantic. “Fuck. Fuck, dala— cyare-”

With a hoarse shout, he slams his gloved fist into the durasteel and spills over himself in hot, thick pumps, spurts shooting out to splatter on your tunic, on his flight suit, on your knuckles. You ease him through it, his cum glazing down his cock before you slow to a languid stroke, his seed sticky under your palm. You’re panting, the both of you, spent noises reverberating ugly and loud against the metal sidings.

Din sinks his helmet to your forehead while you catch your breath, his cold beskar kissing your flushed skin—the density of it comforting, grounding. Your eyes teeter shut and you let yourself lean into him, a dazed grin tugging at your wet lips. This is— nice; so much gentler than the pace he drove not minutes before. Head to head, his hand buried in your hair, your arm slung over his hulking shoulders; your fingers thread into the askew fabric behind his neck to discover a sliver of skin treasured away underneath. You trace there - lightly, whispered - earning a fizzle of static sent whirring through his vocoder.

“Fuck,” Din mumbles, before unweaving himself and separating from you. Your legs have gone useless and rubbery—you almost face plant forward without him there— and by the time you blink open, he’s already tucked himself into his pants and picked up his glove, slotting it over those skilled fingers that had just filled you to the brim. He turns back round to find you staring at him through the haze of your afterglow, eyes glassy and fucked out; your fluids dribbling down towards your underwear still bunched above your knees, hair tangled with sweat and saliva and cum—his and yours.

You look wrecked—disheveled. You’re so fucking pretty it makes Din want to scream.

He picks up a stray rag from a crate and offers it to you, before silently sliding your panties back up to your hips in one dexterous swipe. He lingers there but for a moment, savoring the touch of you—grazing a digit into the crease of your hip. You’re rendered mute— your brain can hardly string a sentence together— but finally you manage, your voice weak when you find it again.

“Thank you,” you croak, wiping away the traces of him off your knuckles, and you smile coquettish, delirious. “That was… that was, uhm—I really enjoyed that.”

A quiet beat slogs by.

And then, everything  shifts.

Din’s hand descends from your waist, holstering it to his side, and he moves away. He moves away from you.

You can feel it immediately—like a gust of chilled wind, the change in the air nips at you. Din’s armor is anything but warm—his presence, his aura, anything but inviting—but now, he seems farther from you than ever before, his visor tempered and steely.

You know him. You know this man. You’ve travelled with him, you’ve mended his ills, you’ve taken care of his son, you’ve spoken his name, you’ve laid prints on his skin and deeper still—

And here, before you, Din is white noise. Indiscernible. Unreadable.

Nervously, you twiddle with the frayed edge of the stained cloth, worrying your cheek. You swear, just for a second, that you see him inch towards you— you think you sense him, some part of him, breaching the chasm that’s formed between you. But it’s only a trick of the lowlight—a trick of your cruel heart, winged and errant beneath your ribs, misconstruing your thoughts to fancy.

Because he doesn’t. He doesn’t come to you like you want. He doesn’t touch you again, he doesn’t hold you like you need.

It feels like you’re withering—your legs too bare, your tunic too short, hair too mussed, eyes too bleary—everything feels wrong now, misplaced. “Din,” you start, you try—you try to keep attached to this tether, to this thin strand you’ve sewn between your bodies, but he shrinks back. He severs it. He is as you first met him. Rigid. Distant. A Mandalorian bounty hunter— the best in the parsec. He is as he was months ago, when you were strangers.

When you were nothing.

“I—” He silences himself, teeth clenching shut around the unspoken sentiment you so long to hear, and instead takes another step backwards. Farther away. Farther from you.

He stands straighter, impossibly taller, and you feel

small.

“Goodnight,” Din gives, his voice shrouded and cloaked by his modulator. He pivots on his heel, retreating into the depths of the Crest and leaves you there, the ghost of his hands on your neck, on your breasts, in your heat— still tingling from where they haunt you. Exhausted, you thud back into the bulkhead, unfocused and unseeing.

“Goodnight Din,” you murmur, but it falls upon deaf ears. He’s gone, and the empty hull swallows your words—burying them.

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