#and i'm just not experienced with it so practice is something i need

[a-very-tired-jew]

I was just hit with the memory of one of my first encounters with a goy trying to claim they were Jewish and easily being found out, and I wonder if anyone else on jumblr has ever experienced something similar. I was at a show for a band I liked, and am friends with, years ago at a small bar. While another band was playing I was chatting with the lead singer and he was asking me about Judaism. I had to explain that I was secular and hadn't practiced in years so my input on the religious aspect wouldn't be as complete, but that it didn't make me not Jewish or any less. We got into the concept of ethnoreligion, Judaism being a closed practice, how it doesn't proselytize, the secular cultural aspects, and so on.

At this point a woman behind the bar comes up to us angrily slurring her words and says what I'm talking about is insulting and blasphemous (flag one). I ask why, and she says because she is Jewish. She claims that you can't be a secular Jew, you can only be religious and that she would know because she was extremely devout (flag two).

Huh.

So I asked why she was working on shabbat because I'd seen her taking drink orders and pouring for customers.

She got confused and asked what did I mean. What is shabbat?

I laughed and told her that you're not Jewish at all if you don't know what shabbat is, and especially not an extremely "devout" Jew if you're not keeping it.

I remember her getting angry and stomping off and trying to kick us out. The manager came over and apologized and said she was a regular who liked to cause trouble but she was allowed to stay because she jumped behind the bar and helped out when needed. I asked the manager if she was Jewish at all and she got a weird look and said no. She's Baptist, her entire family is.

Later on I found her sloppy drunk on the floor and complaining that no one wanted to take her home that night.

It was one of the most egregious fake Jew moments I've ever had that was also one of the easiest to catch.

For my own safety I won't name the band because that would actually ID me as well, and for safety sake I'm trying to keep this vague but accurate. Which sucks because they're a great band and I love them, but antisemitism being what it is, I'd rather not risk it.

[forter-from-meteos]

not sure what possessed me to make these

[keeps-ache]

this might have been the baby brain that helped form this opinion but i'm pretty sure the best thing i've ever tasted was some tomato juice in an aluminum can when i was prolly 3-4 years old. literally the most amazing thing on the planet but i could Not tell you what it actually tasted like

[mccromy]

The Shen Jiu & Shen Yuan dynamic I need to see more of is Shen Jiu coming to see Shen Yuan as a father figure, perhaps even a mother figure. And not in the way you think.

We are always talking about Shen Yuan's wife beam, but we don't talk about his mommy beam. I think Shen Jiu could resist the wife beam if subjected to it, but I don't believe he has any defense against the mommy beam. Now, I'm not talking about Shen Yuan transmigrating earlier than canon, meeting a child Shen Jiu and adopting him.

I'm talking about Shen Yuan transmigrating after Shen Jiu has already taken over Qing Jin peak. I'm talking about 21 year old Shen Yuan transmigrating into the body of a nameless rogue cultivator, meeting fully grown man already in his thirties Peak Lord Shen Qingqiu, and hitting him with his mommy/daddy-issuesinator and causing him a life threatening Qi deviation.

Shen Qingqiu can't help but trust him, and eventually looks up to him, sees him as a wise elder he seeks out for advice. He fucking hates it but he can't help himself. This homeless man he met in the forest is the closest thing he's ever had to a father. Also. He sort of wants Shen Yuan to breastfeed him in a, and he means this, non sexual way and he can't cope with that. He would just feel so safe!!

Shen Yuan, 21 years old, rogue cultivator, first time transmigrator and the father who stepped up, thinks he befriended the scum villain, and maybe? He can be a good influence on him? Be a good friend and guide him towards a fully limbed future. He's practically raising him but nobody tell him that.

Shen Jiu lost his childhood to slavery and his teenage years to violent madmen. and now he's behaving in ways he doesn't understand. He once lost sight of Shen Yuan in the town's market, ran towards a man who looked exactly like Shen Yuan from behind, and almost had a panic attack when the man turned out to be a stranger. It's all good because Shen Yuan found him before he started swinging Xiu Ya ("Have you seen my friend? He's this tall, clearly traumatized, but we haven't had the talk")

People think they're lovers at some point because Shen Jiu is quite possessive of Shen Yuan's attention, but everybody realizes that there's something way more innocent, and also weirder, and worse, going on between them when Shen Yuan drags Shen Qingqiu by the hand to apologize to the sect leader for being so rude when poor A-Yue is trying his best, and stands there with arms crossed, eyebrows raised, until Shen Qingqiu mumbles an apology, glances at Shen Yuan, and runs away.

"I'm sorry about that, Sect Leader Yue, he's had a bad day. I'm sure he didn't mean it."

Yue Qingyuan, someone who did actually sort of raise Shen Qingqiu, who's stood in Shen Yuan's shoes before, extracting reluctant apologies from a sullen Shen Jiu, to authority figures so he wouldn't get in trouble, is overcome by an intense, never before experienced wave of jealousy, so sudden it makes him spit vinegar flavored blood.

Then, a panicked Shen Yuan accidentally hits him with the mommy beam by accidentally adopting him (trying to befriend this guy who clearly needs a friend he can confide in!). And now he's placed himself in the young step-mom role who's desperately trying to bond with her new husband's teenage children but they're wired to not like her! (He used those exact words when explaining to Shang Qinghua where that new tension he has with the Sect Leader came from)

Liu Qingge is afraid of him. Maybe. He runs away when their eyes meet but he keeps leaving dead things at his feet so like, he's probably threatening him? He feels intimidated by him? Or something?

(Liu Qingge thinks Shen Qingqiu's older brother is so cool and really wants to hang out with him, but if Shen Yuan calls him Didi one more time Liu Qingge's barely held back "Yes, Gege?" Is going to jump out of his mouth and he WILL Qi deviate and EXPLODE)

When Binghe enters the equation shit gets a lot weirder.

First, he believes Shen Yuan to be Shen Qingqiu's neglected spouse (Shizun keeps leaving his poor wife alone when he goes out on night hunts and to visit brothels! Shen Yuan has needs!! He should be with someone who cherished him!! Someone who would treat him as he deserves to be treated, someone who'd wait hand and foot on him!!!) needless to say, Luo Binghe's teenage fantasies take on an even more illicit turn than in canon (it goes from "STERN TEACHER POUNDED BY STUDENT AT BAIZHAN TRAINING GROUNDS" to "NEGLECTED WIFE CHEATS WITH STUDENT ON HUSBAND'S BED!! IMPREGNATED WHILE HUSBAND IS AWAY")

Luo Binghe, of course, does his best to seduce him, but ends up being coddled and cuddled.

"it's like I'm his handmaiden, his shadow, the only witness to my lady's heartbreak at her husband's cold regard and indiscretions. Shizun won't spare him a moment if not to discuss cultivation or business! He won't allow Shen Yuan more than a head pat! and move away from any other touch! How ungrateful! They don't even share a bed! I brush his hair, I dress him every morning, I pour him tea and he lets me rest my weary head on his lap. The intimacy we share is not sexual, but Ning-Shijie, I wish it was! I saw the outline of his dick yesterday and I need it!"

"A-Luo please stop talking."

Then, he realizes he misunderstood. Shen Yuan is a cultivator so of course he looks so young! Shen Yuan is clearly Shen Qingqiu's father. He's constantly worried for his un-filial son and remains by his side!! That explains everything!!!(LONELY DILF RIDES YOUNG MAN ON QING JING'S LIBRARY!! HE WISHES YOUNG MAN WAS HIS SON!!!!)

He goes from trying to steal Shen Qingqiu's wife to steal his father. He could be Shen Yuan's friend, lover, and son. His student. His confidant. His silly rabbit.

Shen Qingqiu KNOWS this. But nobody will fucking believe him!! The jiejies at the pavilion giggle and tell him he must be exaggerating, and when he went to Yue Qingyuan so he could intervene and fix it, Yue Qi just looked at him dead eyed and said to "Let him." !!! Let him what?? Deflower our father Qi-Ge??? Shame on you!! That beast is trying to break this family apart!!

But wait!!! look!!! a crack opened in the fabric of space and reality, leading directly to hell. Wouldn't it be a shame if someone were to, accidentally, drop kick this homewrecker inside it?

Luo Binghe is gone when Shen Qingqiu realizes oh wait, that was a demon mark on his forehead wasn't it. Oh good, now he has an excuse. Baba will understand.

(Baba doesn't understand. Baba acts as if he's lost his soul and won't look him in the eye. He's also growing mushrooms bodies in the garden, and added a drop of Shen Qingqiu's blood in the seeds before planting? Which is odd. but at least if he's gardening then he's not staring at that swordmound for hours on end)

I don't even know where I'm going with this

[the-cimmerians]

It's 2024. I have been participating in fandom for 40 years. This is a ramble commemorating some history I've experienced along the way.

In 1984, I attended my first convention, and made a beeline for the one long row of covered tables in the Dealer's Room that was, according to the whispered lore of my friends, 'the one'. "um", I said, very suavely and coherently, except for how it was totally the opposite of those things, "I'm here for the... for the, uh. For-"

"Come around here," the man behind the table said with exhausted ennui, so I went around, and he lifted up the table skirt next to him and pointed to rows and rows of boxes underneath the line of tables. "It's all under here."

It was all under there. Along with about five older ladies with glasses, graying hair, cardigans. Flipping through slash zines and chatting in whispered voices like old friends (which of course they were). I noticed one of them had the good sense to be wearing kneepads. I was still too young and ablebodied to need kneepads when crawling on a carpeted floor, but I immediately found her preparedness skills to be both impressive and hot. "You're new," one of the ladies whispered to me--a bit warily, which made sense. "Are you sure you're in the right place?"

In the faint light (the kneepads lady had also come prepared with a flashlight, additional practicality hotness points for her) I grabbed a comb-bound book with a heavy line art piece on the cover, featuring a musclebound Captain Kirk getting righteously and enthusiastically plowed by a stern-yet-ebullient Spock. "This," I said, pointing helpfully at the cover, like I was trying to make myself understood in a language I had only the vaguest knowledge of. "I'm here for this."

Outside at the convention, most of the attendees were wearing large homemade circular pins that shrieked 'K/S is BS!!!'1. But underneath the table, we reveled in the forbidden.

***

In 1985, I fell very hard for Starsky & Hutch fandom. Which was simply referred to at the time as 'the other fandom', because there were only two. We were upstarts. Many fannish elders predicted that it was just a phase.

***

The 'circulating library' was a massive stack of barely-legible pages that smelled strongly of mimeograph ink. When you were on the list, you would write stories while you waited for your turn, and when the big box was mailed to you, you would read everything (new finds, old favorites), add your own sloppily-typed or hastily-mimeographed stories, and then mail the whole thing to the next person. For me, at the time, it was an extremely expensive indulgence--but my favorite one.

***

By 1990, slash fandom had grown enough that I no longer knew everyone in it, which was both thrilling and a bit daunting. A young woman at a convention waited for me after a panel I was part of (I think it was 'writing impactful smut' or something like that), and said she had a question she didn't want to ask in a group setting. I'd heard that before. I said that's fine, go ahead and ask; and she came out with: "Why do you have to be gay?"

I blinked. "Is... that a problem?"

She looked annoyed. "Yes, because your stories are on all the recommendation lists and in all the top zines, but if you're gay and I read something you wrote and I get hot from it that makes me gay, and I'm not gay."

"Wow." I grinned, I couldn't help it. It probably made me look very predatory-dyke-about-to-score-a-toaster. Whatever, it was enough to make her back away from me fast.

When I thought about it later that night, I wondered what it would be like not to be the only queer person in slash fandom.

***

By 1997, slash started appearing on the internet. Many fannish elders claimed it was the death knell of slash fandom, or dismissed it as 'just a phase'.

***

Anyway, I wrote all this for myself as a commemoration of sorts, but if you took the time to read it--thank you. Love you, fandom. I always will.

1 In those days, m/m fandom was known as 'slash', which grew from the fannish shorthand where 'K&S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock having adventures or tribulations or what have you, and 'K/S' meant a story of Kirk and Spock getting it on (Kirk divided by Spock or Spock into Kirk--it was mathy fannish humor and I was into it then and I still am now). Slash was decidedly unpopular in the fannish world in 1984, and there was a concerted effort to force slash authors, artists, and fans out of 'mainstream' fannish public life. Hence, under the table.

[bratscave]

𝜗𝜚˚⋆ — MY LITTLE PRINCESS !

includes. dilf! logan x 23! shy? reader, very lightly implied daddy issues, sexual content! (car pussy eating lol)

You’ve seen Logan here before, countless times, always in that same corner, nursing his drink in solitude. His age should turn you off, it really should but somehow that just got you more intrested, you had been stern on doing something about said-intrest but your fear of talking and interacting with men, held you back.

Tonight, tonight you were going to do it. You were sure of it. With your heart pounding in your chest, you slide off the barstool, your legs feeling a little shaky as you make your way across the room. Each step feels like it takes you all your power, and by the time you reach his table, you’re sure he can hear your heart beating out of your chest.

You pause for a moment, hesitating, before you finally force yourself to speak, "is the seat taken?" your voice was quiet, shaky even, you silently cursed yourself — you had wanted yourself to sound confident, god damn it.

He turns around with a gaze that was so intense, you were sure he was about to fuck you off to go somewhere else, yet he quietly gestured to the seat next to him. You slide into the seat opposite him, your knees brushing logans under the table.

"You're a bit young to be in a place like this," he murmurs, his voice deep and gravelly, carrying the weight of all the years he’s lived. There’s a teasing edge to his tone, but also a hint of concern, like he’s trying to figure out what a girl like you is doing in a place like this, with a man like him.

You feel a blush creeping up your neck, but you force yourself to hold his gaze. "Maybe I like being around… older men." Well not the older men around you, him though, very much so. "I'm not that young." you add on, it was true - since when were people in their mid twenties considered, young?

A scoff slips past his lips at your response, though it did pique his intrest. His thumb circled around the glass of his whiskey, you were sure that was at least the fourth one he had, "Not that young, huh? Then how old are you, princess?"

You practically feel yourself grow hotter at the nickname, on it's own 'princess' sounds so endearing, so loving — but with his rough tone, it got this different edge to it. "23," you mumble, obediently at his question.

Logan repeats your age, let's it slip from his tongue losely, makes it hang around the dimly light bar and between you.

"I wonder what your parents would think, princess. If only they knew where their little girl was right now, and who she was with."

You'd actually think he was somewhat concearned if it wasn't for the almost mocking tone in his voice, not like he was making fun of you moreover like he just found this situation and how you were behaving amusing.

The blush intensifies at his comment, you hated how you reacted to him, how your body did too; you didn't want to come of as to shy or inexperienced. that was not the case, well somewhat. Your absent father, certaintly wouldn't care - your mother, maybe but who'd tell her? "I'm not a little girl," you're grown god damn it.

His smirk only grew as you got increasingly red. It was cute.

"Oh, really? You look like a little girl to me, princess. All shy and flustered just from sitting at the same table as me. Can't even look me in my eyes."

Logan leaned a little closer to you, his tone almost advising, "You look like you need someone to take care of you, princess. Someone older. More experienced. Do your little boytoys not take care of you right, hm?"

It takes all your will power to not run off into the sunset, burry yourself a hole and think about what he said for the rest of your life. You manage to answer quietly, "you sound like you want to be that 'someone'"

"smart girl," he snickered, satisfied with your reply.

"I'll admit, I've been watching you for a while. You come here all the time and drink all by yourself. All alone. Always sitting at the same spot, watching others."

You can feel yourself get wetter at just his words, he had been observing you? The you, who looked at him countless times, sure he was not looking back or cared at that either.

Sooner then your mother would be proud of, you were in his car. Well- you and him were in his backseat. The car smelled old, looked old too but you didn't have time to make details out as he kept your legs spread for him, rough big hands patting the skin every now and then, to quietly tell you how good you were.

His tongue was way to busy to talk, licking and sucking with a precision that was applaudible. You couldn’t believe this was happening. Just hours ago, you were too shy to even speak to him, and now here you were, half-naked in the backseat of his car, your body squirming around.

He wasn’t gentle — Logan was thorough, relentless, like he had something to prove. And maybe he did, maybe he wanted to show you exactly what you’d been missing, what it was like to be with a man who knew exactly what he was doing. His stubble scratched against your sensitive skin, adding to the rawness of the experience, making it feel more real.

He was so broad, taking up most of the space in that damn backseat and he was hungry. starved, or at least he ate you out like he was.

Logan would make sure that, for the next few days, you’d feel him in every corner of your body. You would ache, throb in all the right places — all because of him.

[drchucktingle]

On your blog you've talked about dealing with chronic as a result from the stress of masking your autism.

It's a bit of a different situation, but my little sister (who we've begun to suspect has adhd) has been experiencing chronic pain in her arms and legs. I may be totally off base, but I was wondering if a similar stess might potentially be a factor in her pain.

If you're willing, would you mind talking about how your pain affected before you found a way to manage it (I tried searching your tumblr, but not much came up, so sorry if I'm asking a question that's already been answered)?

Thanks either way, I love your books. Love is real!

sure buckaroo GOOD QUESTION. i have had chronic pain in some form or another for LONG TIME in a number of STRESS RELATED WAYS. in past it has been cracking teeth from clenching dang jaws while i sleep and things like that, but a few years ago it was FULL ON BODY PAIN AND TIGHTNESS like every muscle was clenching up. went to the doctor over and over all kinds of dang specialists and it was very difficult to figure out what was going on. eventually landed on a sort of nebulous trot of STRESS but i can get more specific.

there are several things about me that you would never know just from looking or even talking to me for long times. i am a bi buckaroo, i am a non-dysphoric trans buckaroo, i am an autistic buckaroo. EVERY SINGLE ONE OF THESE THINGS IS EITHER HIDDEN AUTOMATICALLY OR I AM SUCH AN EXPERT AT HIDING THAT IT IS SECOND NATURE

autism presents its trot in many ways, so my words do not apply to all, but my version is EXTREME ORGANIZATION AND ENDLESS WORK ETHIC. in way of freud (which is a silly way but sometimes good for symbolism talk) i have what you would call an OVERDEVELOPED SUPER EGO which is a double edged sword. i can write 100s of books at an incredible pace, but also feel like my body is constantly collapsing in on itself

this is not really something i consciously think about much, but eventually these health problems started creeping up. it was all from carrying this mystery tension in my body, because while it feels EASY for me to mask i believe all that tension goes somewhere and it stores up and stores up and stores up.

so i think the HEALTHY way that i have found to deal with this (i think of it as releasing the steam valve a bit so the boiler does not break down) is ART. this space where i am allowed to be CHUCK TINGLE and write without obsessing over the spelling or punctuation, or to loudly express my queerness, or explore gender, and to let my neurotypical mask down DIRECTLY RELIEVES my chronic pain because it literally makes my muscles relax.

when i started out this ARTISTIC TROT as chuck i used a LOT of metaphor to keep my privacy, with different words or different versions of people for different things, and buckaroos found this very funny. as a way to express myself artistically i also liked this metaphor trot a lot, but i have also found that the LESS metaphor i paint over my life as chuck, the better it is for my health. if you have noticed, i talk less about some of the parts of my life that were metaphors, or maybe you have seen that my voice has relaxed a bit in interviews, or that i carry myself a little differently over time, this is partially why. (there is another artistic reason that was a planned trot from the beginning and it has to do with my feelings as a young autistic buckaroo of not fitting in on this timeline, but we can dive into that later).

anyway, as PRACTICAL ADVICE i would say that FINDING A SPACE TO EXPRESS YOURSELF WITHOUT FEAR OR MASKING has been the number one trot for me. that can be a pink bag over your head writing hundreds of erotic shorts, or that can be just laying on the ground howling your heart out, or doing whatever stim you need to do.

i will also say that ONCE I REALIZED IT WAS MUSCLE TENSION getting a physical therapist helped a lot. because there are two sides, you have to start releasing steam from the steam valve, but at the same time youve also gotta start HEALING THE DAMAGE. so i think stretching and techniques like that can be very helpful.

hope that helps buckaroo LOVE IS REAL

[5sospenguinqueen]

Growing Pains | Oscar Piastri x Reader

Summary: When fans begin commenting about your future plans, Oscar begins to worry that your long-term relationship is preventing you from truly experiencing life. 

Warnings: Swearing. Angst. Self-sacrificing Oscar haha. Childhood sweethearts

Female reader with various faceclaims. Pics found on Pinterest.

2023 season

Less baby-fever, more baby panic haha. I'm so sorry if these aren't as baby-centered as the others. I've been trying to make them a little different.

Main Masterlist

next.

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YourUserName just posted

liked by alexandrasaintmleux, danielricciardo and others

YourUserName i love weekends off with you <3

978 comments

oscarpiastri you didn’t post the one of me with my face in the water? that is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done for me

→ YourUserName only because your ass was in the air and i’m the only one allowed to see that 

→ oscarpiastri oh

→ landonorris @ oscarpiastri well, now you’ve told the internet that it exists, we need to see it

→ User1 lando is one of us 

danielricciardo i’m still your favourite australian though, right? 

→ YourUserName no. i’m my own favourite australian

→ oscarpiastri you tell ‘em, sweetheart 

→ User2 SWEETHEART!!!

User3 i know they’re only young but when can we expect a wedding

→ User4 they’ve been together for long enough. they’re practically already married at this point

→ User5 their wedding would be so cute. can you imagine all the f1 appearances we would get? 

→ User6 mark webber in a tux 🤤

mclaren our favourite young couple

→ landonorris hey! 

→ mclaren you and daniel don’t count anymore

→ danielricciardo hey! 

User7 papaya wedding when? 

oscarpiastri just posted

liked by mclaren, charles_leclerc and others

oscarpiastri my favourite girl 💕

2,664 comments

YourUserName don’t let suzie hear you say that. she’ll be distraught

→ oscarpaistri maybe you should drive her more and she’ll love me less

→ YourUserName whoa, i thought this was an appreciation post for me, why are you throwing shade

→ landonorris why would she drive her own car when she has you to do it for her?

→ YourUserName exactly! 

→ User9 wait, suzie is a car? i was hoping they had a pet or something we didn’t know about 

User10 the disrespect to have lando’s # on her back but be stood in front of oscar’s garage 

logansargeant yet i suggest she support driver #2 and i had holes poked in all my juice boxes 

→ oscarpiastri you can never prove that was me

→ YourUserName i have video footage

landonorris everyone can relax, she’s wearing the shirt because she lost a bet. oscar was a good sport about it 

→ YourUserName i got soooo many dirty looks that day. the fans did not like me

→ oscarpiastri i still think you’re beautiful. not as beautiful with MY number splashed only our back but

→ YourUserName you know 81 is my favourite number

→ YourUserName (and sometimes 16)

→ charles_leclerc forza ferrari

User11 the fact that they fell in love during the most awkward years of a person’s life and have continued to love each other when they got hot

→ User12 they saw the potential in each other 

User13 the fact that he’s loved you since you were 14 and continues to love you more each day 🥹

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YourUserName just posted

liked by racerbia, alex_albon and others 

YourUserName i’m so proud of you, osc. another podium in a long-line of many. thank you for sharing your joy and success with me. 🧡🧡

when i befriended the nerdy 12 year old who wouldn’t stop talking about engines, i never imagined that you would be dragging me around the world. don’t get me wrong, i always believed you would make it this far. i just thought i would’ve managed to break free from you before then 😂 however, i’m so glad i didn’t because you are my favouritest guy in the whole world, and seeing you on that podium made me cry more than watching the supernatural series finale 

1,220 comments

YourUserName oh, and well done to lando on P3, i guess

→ landonorris you guess???

User1 time for another round of: is he looking at lando or y/n in the 3rd pic?

→ landonorris it was y/n this time :( 

→ YourUserName you get loads of pics of him looking at you like this, let me have my moment

oscarpiastri thank you for coming with me around the world and supporting me no matter what. you’ve been one of my biggest supporters these past 8 years and i don’t think i could’ve done it without you by my side. i love you so much, even if i come second to dean winchester 🧡🤍

→ User2 P2 in your relationship as well

→ oscarpiastri only because y/n is p1

→ YourUserName stop making me love you more and more each day. i might explodeeeee

User3 my parents. i need them to adopt me because they’re just so cute 

User4 drenched in champagne is a good look for piastri 

thisisnotyn the pirelli cap needs to stay on during sex 

→ User5 is this y/n’s secret account 

landonorris this is so cute. excuse me whilst i puke

maxverstappen1 a delight to share the podium with your boyfriend for the 2nd time

→ User6 y/n’s boyfriend and y/n’s boyfriend’s boyfriend on the podium with max 2x in a row 

→ YourUserName omg max verstappen commented on my post! you’re like my favourite driver ever

→ oscarpiastri you agreed not to mention this in public

→ charles_leclerc @ YourUserName i thought it was me

→ landonorris i thought it was me

→ fernandoalo_official jokes on all of you, she told me it was me

→ aussiegrit you're all wrong. it's me

User7 if you guys are after a third, i’m free?

→ User8 how could you say this to the cutest couple on the grid

→ User9!because y/n has said worse and is more unhinged than we think but oscar’s pr manager has gotten to her recently 

User10 i’m gonna have to agree with @ OscarPastryyy just because they’ve been together forever doesn’t change the fact that they’re still young

User11 yeah they’ve been together for a while but that doesn’t mean that having children is their only option. they’re still technically children themselves 

NicolePiastri he doesn’t know how to do his own washing. trust me, he’s not ready for children. Y/N on the other hand, has been keeping that boy alive since they were 12

→ User12 nobody humbles an f1 racer more than mama piastri 

User13 @ CHICKEN!! is so real for that. max is only 4 years old than them and yet everyone talks about him, kelly and P being a family and when are him and kelly getting married, but y/n and oscar have been together for longer than kelly has been a mother so… 

User14 i think people only focus on their age and forget about their experience. i went to school with them and they still act just as infatuated with each other now as they did when they were 14.

→ User15 but they’ve also only been with each other. perhaps they should try dating other people before committing to the rest of their lives 

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YourUserName just posted

liked by aussiegrit, logansargeant and others

YourUserName quando a Roma 🇮🇹❤️ tagged: YourBFF, YourBFF2

1,009 comments

YourBFF i told you that pic of you by the fountain would look amazing

→ YourBFF2 i think if we pumped another cocktail in her, she’d have gone swimming in it

→ YourUserName stop making me sound like a sloppy drunk

→ YourBFF you were sloppy anyway 

→ YourUserName bitch

→ YourBFF2 it’s part of being in your 20s. welcome! 

→ YourUserName not funny. 

User1 guys, oscar hasn’t commented. he always comments on posts with her in, even if they’re posted by friends/family 

mclaren orange drinks to support your favourite f1 team this weekend?

→ YourUserName you know it. papaya pride! 

→ YourBFF2 she actually said that to herself when she took the pic. you’ve indoctrinated her

lilymhe cute post but you’re coming to sichuan with me next

→ YourUserName just name a date and time, and i’m yours

→ alex_albon what is it with you and stealing f1 drivers’ partners 

→ YourUserName i think that just means i have the most rizz 

User2 you mean to tell me that she’s in rome the weekend that oscar is all the way in america? so, she’s not going to be at the race 🤔

→ User3 she doesn’t have to go to every one

→ User4 i know but she’s said loads of times that she tries to make all of them

User5 all of you calling y/n a bad girlfriend but are we forgetting that they’ve already been together for 8 years, and have known each for 10. they’re at the point where they don’t have to be glued to the hip all the time

→ User6 literally. like they’ve been together longer than some of the married couples on the grid 

→ User7 yeah but it’s just unlike them. how do they go from being infatuated with each other to distancing within 2 weeks without there being some cause? it wasn’t a natural progression

logansargeant i can’t believe you didn’t bring me back a gift.. you said you would

→ YourUserName i also said i’d wear a williams t-shirt one race but we all know that ain’t happening

→ User8 is this logan shooting his shot? 

alexandrasaintmleux i knew that would dress would look good on you. you look radiant 

→ YourUserName my favourite shopping partner 

→ charles_leclerc my girl has good taste

→ YourUserName not if she’s dating you 

→ charles_leclerc you have hurted my feelings 

User9 y/n hasn’t been able to terrorise oscar on social media and it’s showing because sis has been dragging the grid in their comments haha

→ User10 she’s so funny. i bet they’re fearful anytime her name pops up in their notifs 

User11 i love how we all sound insane to other people but us oscy/n stans know we’re right because they’ve been a constant media presence since his f2 days 

User13 i hate to say it but what if we’re the reason they broke up? we couldn't stop talking about them getting married and having kids lately, and what if it freaked them out… 

User14 i can’t imagine oscar piastri without y/n y/l/n. i only really follow f1, not f2 but he’s always been oscar and y/n since he started. it would be akin to not seeing him in mclaren 

mclaren just posted

liked by YourUserName, ln4 and others 

mclaren get you a teammate who looks at you the way these two look at each other #unitedstatesgp

1,559 comments

oscarpiastri 🧡

racerbia team papaya! 🧡

User1 poor oscar, such a shame he had to retire after minimal contact

User2 not to be that person but it was defo because y/n wasn’t there. she’s his good luck charm 

YourUserName well done lando! 

User3 anyone else getting more and more confused by oscar and y/n’s relationship purely because of their media presence

→ User3 for info, she posts that she’s in rome the weekend he is in america, proving that she isn't attending the race. oscar likes the post but doesn’t comment despite y/n looking beautiful in that post (1/4)

→ User3 then she’s not spotted in the paddock, further proving that she’s defo not at the race. plus, whenever oscar was asked about her during interviews, lando quickly changed the topic for him (2/4)

→ User3 then oscar crashes and y/n doesn’t post ANYTHING about the race but when he dnf’d in bahrain and belgium, she put numerous posts on her story about how proud of him she was (3/4)

→ User3 and now she congratulates lando on the mclaren post but doesn’t even mention her long-term boyfriend?? (4/4)

→ User4 you have too much time on your hands and are reading too much into things. i’m sure she’s facetimed him to see how he’s doing and told him she’s proud of him 

User5 okay but if a man looked at me the way oscar and lando look at each other, i would marry him on the spot 

danielricciardo @ oscarpiastri first your girlfriend tries stealing my seat, and now you’re stealing my lando. you two are giving aussie's a bad name

→ landonorris you’re the only for me, boo

→ danielricciardo don’t lie. the pictures show everything 

User6 i miss when we couldn't tell if he was looking at lando or y/n like that. now we know it’s lando because y/n isn’t in the paddock 

As always, requests are welcome!

Baby Fever Angst Masterlist

Tag list

@bibissparkles @barcelonaloverf1life @rlalliehayes @dullypully @softtina @callsignwidow @lav3nder-haze @minkyungseokie @luvrrish @fall-bambi @evans-dejong @sadsierra2 @justdreamersdream @spookystitchery @dark-night-sky-99 @majusialikesfastcars @luckyladycreator2 @bborra @mrosales16 @reguluscrystals @tvdtw4ever @alwaysclassyeagle @gigicisneros @spanishcorndogs @thecubanator2 @goldenharrysworld @awritingtree @jxnellat @sbrn0905 @hc-dutch @buckybarnessweetheart @ironmaiden1313 @dreamercrowd @yourbane @reguluscrystals @peachiicherries

[mortalityplays]

You need more free art.

I quit my job yesterday. Well, actually I quit my job eight weeks ago, but they finally released me yesterday for good behaviour. Don't get me wrong, I love what I do - but I do it for the wrong reasons. Working for major charities, you learn very fast that 'I want to make the world a better place' is a phrase you use to ask people for money, not to give them things. I was an ass-backwards fit for that world.

You need more free art. I need more free art. Everyone has felt the shift in our media landscape over the last ten years, away from access and towards nickel-and-diming the human experience. That lack of access is making life and culture worse for all of us, across the board. Paywalled news sites leave us less informed, attacks on the Internet Archive leave us less capable of research. Algorithmic social feeds and streaming walled gardens trap us inside smaller and smaller demographic bubbles, where we are increasingly only likely to encounter ideas that have been curated for us by marketing departments. Hasty efforts to resist AI commodification have only led to more artists locking their work away and calling for even more onerous systems of copyright law. This is not good for us.

We all need more free art.

So what am I going to do about it?

This is a question I have been asking myself for years. It's easy to sit here feeilng frustrated and thinking 'boy I hope SOMEONE does SOMETHING'. It's harder to take action in a world where I still have rent to pay. But hard doesn't mean impossible. Sometimes hard just means time-consuming, frustrating and slow. And sometimes it's worth doing something time-consuming, frustrating and slow because...I want to make the world a better place.

I'm going to do this:

1. From April 1st, I am relaunching as a freelance writer and editor.

This is the one that will (hopefully) help to pay the bills. I am a very good and experienced editor. I've worked on hollywood movies, I'm a member of the Chartered Institute of Editors and Proofreaders, I have clients who have been coming to me exclusively for more than 10 years.

Alongside bigger contract jobs, I am going to refocus on offering my services to small-press creators at a reduced rate. That means you, graphic novelists. That means you, itch and amazon writers. I want to help you develop your work, the same way I help large organisations. You can learn more about what an editor even does and what kind of pricing you can expect here.

2. I'm also going to start giving shit away. Like, constantly.

Next week I'm going to launch a new free shop. If you're unfamiliar, a free shop, giveaway shop, swap shop, etc. is an anarchist tradition of setting up a storefront where anyone can take what they like for no cost. Offline, this often means second-hand clothes, tools, furniture, food etc. Online, I am going to be giving away digital art. Copyright-free, no strings attached. It will (eventually) feature everything from print-res posters to zines, poems, tattoo flash, t-shirt designs and anything else we come up with.

Yes, I said 'we' - while this is a curated collection, it will feature work from a variety of credited and anonymous artists and activists, all of whom have agreed to give their work away to the public domain. Some of it will be practical, some of it will be political, but a lot of it will be decorative or personal. This is, in part, a response to recent difficulty I had finding somewhere that would print a one-off joke poster for a friend that featured the word 'faggot'. Enough. No middlemen - no explaining ourselves. Just print our shit and enjoy it.

I'm very, very excited about this project. I'll have more to say about it closer to the launch, but you can expect it to go live on March 27th.

2.2 I forgot to mention the ACTUAL LAUNCH GIVEAWAY

To celebrate my launch, I am going to be giving away a ton of physical prints. When I went looking for my old stock to see if it was worth setting a new (paid) storefront up, I realised I had way more old work in storage than I thought. This will be announced in its own right on Monday, but this is why I've been hinting you should go follow my Patreon.

On April 1st, I will pick 8 random patrons (from across all tiers including non-paying followers!) and mail them a bundle of assorted prints and postcards. The prize pool includes A3 and A4 posters, packs of A6 postcards, and printed minicomics that I've previously sold for up to £12 each.

You don't have to be a paying subscriber to enter - this is strictly no-purchase necessary. It is purely and entirely a celebration of the concept of GIVING ART AWAY FOR FREE.

3. PORN, YOU PERVERTS

Because I still have to pay to stay alive, I am going to be subsidising all this free art with the introduction of Fuck You Fridays. Starting from March 29th, I will drop a new 18+ short story on the last Friday of every month, over on itch.io (yes I know my page is desolate right now, don't worry I'll get there).

The first edition, Go Fuck Yourself, is about, well - telling your boss where to stick it. Julia has had it with her millionaire man-child manager, and is just about ready to let him know what she really thinks. It's a short and steamy 5k words, with a gorgeous cover illustration by @taylor-titmouse, and you can pick it up for $3 starting from March 29th.

4. ANOTHER BIG SURPRISE

I'm keeping this one under wraps for now, but April 1st will also play host to one more (FREE) launch. If you've been following me for a long time, you might remember the other significance of this date (no not April Fool's day, though that is certainly thematically relevant to this entire effort). That's all I'll say right now. Watch this space.

tl;dr: I'm sick of paywalls and career ladders. I'm literally putting my money where my mouth is. More free art for everyone and I'm not kidding around!!!

[lovemomhatepolice]

jude bellingham nswf alphabet (part 1) (minors DNI!)

navigation taglist requests

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex) Oh, Jude is very adhesive after sex. He likes to cuddle with you until you both fall asleep. He places gentle kisses on your head, shoulders and arms, in fact wherever he can. He always talks to you for a long time, whether everything was okay, how you feel, if you need anything…. Well, Jude is a great guy

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s) Jude is well aware that he is damn handsome. And not since he started being famous, oh no, Jude was already aware of that before. However, what he likes most about himself is his face, I think. He really likes the fact that he is similar with his family, which is so important to him, and he likes his looks. He is very fond of his dark brown eyes and his lips, which, according to him, have the perfect shape (to kiss you!!). As far as you are concerned, I think Jude is definitely an ass man. Of course, he loves your breasts, but your ass is definitely something Jude always looks past when he sees you. He loves to squeeze it, kiss it, everything, really. He always has his hands on her when you're somewhere together, and he's not ashamed to show it. Unfortunately, on the contrary, sometimes you have to correct him so he doesn't get caught up. And besides, he loves your whole face. He thinks everything matches perfectly - your nose size, eye color and lip shape, ay, this boy is drowning.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically) Jude Bellingham looks like a total creampie fan. I think he repeatedly stopped his seed at your entrance to watch it mix with your juices and slowly leave your body. But I also think he's too delicate to let his cum linger on your face, which is why he's not a fan of it. Even if you asked, there's no chance he'll let himself cum in your face

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs) I think he likes it when you take the initiative. He often does a lot on his own, but the sight of you having fun with him in a way that no one else has ever done before, god. Jude is already on his knees and begging for more

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?) Nah, Jude is not very experienced. Well, after all, he's only 21 years old and hasn't scored any major ones on his relationship record. Therefore, everything you experience together is quite new to him. It was with you that he lost his virginity and began to discover what he likes and what he doesn't quite like But nevertheless he is a fast learner, he has become so skilled that if you met him for the first time, you would not be able to say that he is a fresher in these matters

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) Jude likes to have you on top. Really, that's why the cowgirl position is just right for him. He likes you to take the initiative, however, alone from below he can also do a lot, especially since compared to him, you are in his hands like a feather. Another option is standing up - as I mentioned before, Jude is a fan of sex in the shower, so the standing option had to be practiced to perfection to make both of you comfortable and perfect

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.) It depends on the moment. Jude is hardly a person who is against any jokes in bed or giggles, on the contrary, it even happens to him often. However, when your sex is heavily geared towards romance and the heat rising around your bodies, he rather tries to be serious and committed to the situation

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.) I think Jude is not completely shaved, but it is trimmed so that it is neat and not too much. He has dark curly hair, so I'm betting he has that all over his body too, so it might be hard to eliminate it. As for you, I think similarly. Either completely shaved or trimmed so that everything is neat and not too much.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect) Bellingham can be truly romantic. He may not look like it, but he loves to plan your entire evening. First take you out for an expensive dinner with wine, then prepare you a joint bath with petals of your favorite flowers, followed by the intense sex you've both been waiting for all day. And then long conversations in bed and gentle touches...

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) This often happens to him - mainly due to the fact that you often don't see each other through his constant trips to matches and life in other countries. He's not averse to pornographic movies, but since you've been together, he tends not to watch them. You prefer to connect together on the webcam and experience it from a distance, or he copes by simply thinking about the fact that you could be you next to him…

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) Honestly, I can't find any sensible kink to match Jude. He does not seem to be a person who is drawn in any particular direction. Maybe a creampie? Hm, I think he could watch with fascination as your shared juices of fulfillment come out of you…. Oh, and combined it with breeding kink? Well, what? He's young, but he can definitely see you with a pregnant belly in your future home together in Madrid

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) Shower. Jude Bellingham shouts shower. Or possibly a bathtub, but definitely something on the toilet. I honestly don't know why, but it's what I associate with so damn much. Sex after the game? In the toilet. Sex with romantic candles and rose petals? In the bathtub. Sex without any occasion? In the shower. Well, don't say no. Jude definitely looks like a man who loves to take a bath together with you, and the opportunity to get close is even better

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going) After the match. I don't know why. It's just that after a match, Jude is always, and I mean always, somehow more horny, and that's when you turn him on the most. Whether it's won or lost, Jude just needs to have his girlfriend in his arms after it Or the other option that turns him on is you in mini dresses. Well begging, the boy is already on his knees in front of you (or rather, behind you too)

A/N: next part will be here soon! i will be very pleased if you leave something behind - orders are open!

please do not copy and translate my works! in case of any issues related to this - I invite you to discuss privately :)

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

DIET PEPSI- L. HOWLETT

a quick little drabble i made on the spot about older bf! logan and his kinda innocent girl sneaking out and having some fun in the car ;)

warnings: smut! and swearing, and petnames!

word count- 800 or so

"when we drive in your car, i'm your baby (so sweet) losing all my innocence in the backseat say you love, say you love, say you love me (love me) losing all my innocence in the backsеat"- diet pepsi, addison rae

i wrote this in 20 mins so im sorry if its messy n bad i just love this song sm and him aghhhh

“Careful now, don’t bump your head baby.” Logan's rich voice drawled from the backseat, his hand cupping your neck and slowly guiding your head down to lay against the car door.

You smiled softly, looking down at your twiddling fingers- flustered.

You and your (older) boyfriend Logan had slipped away for a late night drive, something you loved to do during summer months.

He always kept a hand on your thigh as you draped your head out the window, letting the cool wind blow your hair back down the backroads.

This was the first time the two of you had pulled over, in the middle of an empty field, nothing but the stars illuminating the now dead quiet truck. Only the sound of cicadas chirping from the forest as he stepped out, too large to crawl over the middle armrest, like you had.

He was sure to get a good look at your ass in your skirt as you shimmed over, giving it a gentle smack which made you yelp.

You felt so, so dirty for being this despite- for wanting to take him here, in the car. Or moreso, let him take you.

It was a family dinner- that's what led you here.

You didn't want to break your parents' strict rules about PDA at the family function, and you were risking enough already by innocently sipping diet pepsi on Logan's lap, by the campfire.

It was for warmth, you had insisted- looking over at your older sister and her boyfriend. If they were allowed to do it, why couldn't you?!

The need to escape overpowered you, mainly due to the feeling of Logan's soft but hungry gazes at you all night when no one was looking, or the way his hand would slip over in the dark, dangerously past your upper thigh.

You never had car sex before.

Hell, you weren't very experienced with sex, sex yet.

But Logan was so experienced, he had made you feel so good you couldn't help but crave him- to crave more.

So now you were here- empty pepsi cans crushed under your feet as you slipped down the seat, peering up at him. He was so close to you he was practically on top of you, the car much too small for his massive frame.

You giggled as his dogtags dangled in front of you, twirling your fingers around them.

“A-are you sure you wanna do this Lo? Can you fit?”

“You asked that the first time baby and we made it work.” he winked and you rolled your eyes.

“You know thats not what I meant. This cars so small…”

“We’ll make it work baby. Promise.” he smirked, wasting no time unbuckling his belt, the jingle sound of the metal making you squirm. Though you had nowhere to go anyways.

“Wet already? You’re so easy baby.” he chuckled, rubbing his tip across the damp spot in your panties from under your skirt.

You moaned, wiggling from his touch.

”Nowhere to go baby. And there's no one around either. So you can be as loud as you want.”

You let out a quick little gasp, eyes widening as he quickly pushed your panties to the side, taking in the sight of you under him.

It made him feel like a horny teenager again. He just… couldn't resist around you.

“I’m gonna put it in now, mkay? Big stretch.” he cooed down at your softly, hand cupped back around your neck to support you. Your mouth widened to an o-shape as he slid in softly, hissing at your tightness.

“Fuckin hell baby youre like a glove. Every damn time. I will never get tired of this pretty pussy.” he growled possessively as you reached for him, fingers getting tangled in his hair.

He was so big, his smell so intoxicating it made you dizzy. Logan was your first- and you hoped your only. If this was what sex was like, you never wanted it to end with him.

“Mm Lo-” you moaned, letting out a squeal as he slid home, before sliding out and rocking into you roughly.

The car started to shake and creak as he picked up the pace, beating your pussy raw until a little white circle formed around the base of his cock.

The windows had fogged, your handprint a stark contrast against it as you arched for more.

“Fuck Lo-logan, need you, need more..” you babbled mindlessly, self control gone out the window.

“Yeah?” he snarled as he folded your body in half like a pretzel, your toes nearly touching the very window your head was at, still pounding into you hard enough to make your brain go hazy.

“I’m gonna keep you here all night baby, givin you what ya need.”

[barcaatthemoon]

the high life || barcelona x teen!reader ||

You get caught after accidentally eating an edible at a party.

"Where is (Y/n)?" Vicky was losing her mind. The only way that Aleia had agreed to let either of you go to this party was if you watched out for each other, and Vicky had lost you nearly an hour ago. One moment the two of you were dancing, and the next, Vicky turned to see you had vanished. That wasn't like you, so Vicky was really starting to freak out the longer that you were gone. "(Y/n)!"

"Vicky, hi." It was obvious that something was very wrong with you. Vicky supported you as she led you outside and away from all the commotion of the house party. Someone would be by any moment now to pick the two of you up, and Vicky hoped that it was someone cool. Vicky didn't know what you could have taken or been given, but it was obvious that you were on something.

"Oh god, I am so dead," Vicky groaned.

"No you're not, we're so alive Vicky. We're alive, and it's beautiful!" you shouted. Vicky facepalmed, wondering if this was how Alexia felt constantly babysitting the younger girls. You were a couple of months younger than Vicky, but a whole year behind her in school. Still, the two of you were close, often being referred to as the "terror twins" of the team.

"We are both so cooked. Hey, (Y/n), I need you to do me a favor and calm down, please. Someone is coming to pick us up, and you don't want to get in trouble, do you?" Vicky asked you. You still seemed to be off in your own little world until you saw Frido's car pull up. Vicky supposed that she could work with Frido, it was better than Alexia. Anybody was better than Alexia with the state you were in, or at least that was what Vicky originally thought.

"Fridolina, oh my god, you're so pretty. I hope that I get a girlfriend as pretty as you one day," you said as you threw yourself into her passenger seat. Vicky sat silently in the backseat, hopeful that Frido wouldn't question her. "If I was older, do you think I could be your girlfriend?"

"(Y/n), shut up!" Vicky hissed from the backseat. You turned to glare at her, very unhappy with how shitty of a wingwoman she was being for you. "Please take us home now."

"Is there anything that you two want to tell me?" Frido asked as she glanced between you and Vicky. Vicky shrunk back shamefully, unsure of how to explain that you had disappeared during the party and Vicky had only just found you in your current state. "Did either of you eat or drink something you weren't supposed to? Perhaps smoked something, even?"

"I'd never smoke, it's bad for you. I just had one of the little snacks they had set out. I'm not a professional, but that was one shitty baker. Those cookies tasted like dirt," you rambled. Frido's eyes widened as she looked solely at Vicky. "Oh, wait, I saved you one. You were dancing for a long time, but then I came back to the dance floor and you were gone. Here you go."

"Nope, I'll take that," Frido said as she snatched the cookie from your hands. You frowned and pouted at the Swede, who seemed unphased. Vicky knew then and there that the two of you were not going back to Vicky's for a sleepover. Vicky was dropped off at her house, but you went home with Frido, who made Vicky promise to come into practice early tomorrow for a meeting.

…

"No, surely you cannot be talking about my Chiqui," Mapi scoffed as Frido filled her and Ingrid in on the situation. You were still fast asleep in Frido's bed. It had been a hassle to say the least to get you to sleep last night. Vicky hadn't taken anything, so after a phone call with Alexia, the other girl had been let off the hook for the time being. You, on the other hand, were practically dead to the world still. "Jesus Christ."

"Mapi, what are you doing?" Ingrid asked as her girlfriend stormed towards Frido's bedroom. Just as Mapi began to make her way down the hallway, you walked out of Frido's bedroom. You looked absolutely miserable, experiencing your very hangover of any type. Your head was pounding, your body felt exhausted, and your mouth had never been so dry before.

"Where do you think you're going you little junkie?" Mapi asked as you just pushed past her. You continued to ignore her as you poured yourself a glass of water and walked into the living room. You sat down on the couch and tried to curl into yourself, but Mapi was relentless with you. "I tell your Mami that I'll look after you, and this is what you do? Just you wait until Alexia gets over here, you are in so much trouble! I cannot believe you would do such a thing. I mean, you are supposed to be representing your town. What kind of example are you set-,"

"Enough, shut up!" you shouted. It was immediately obvious that was absolutely the wrong thing to do. Mapi's fists balled up as she just stormed out of Frido's apartment. Ingrid looked torn between chasing after Mapi and giving her space. Frido looked at you with a disappointed look, one that made your chest hurt just as badly as Mapi's words had.

"She was just upset because she cares about you," Ingrid said coldly. You quickly looked between the both of them before you got up and tried to run off. You made it all the way to the parking lot before you saw Mapi and Alexia talking to each other. You tried to turn around, but Ingrid was right behind you. There was nowhere for you to go, so you just gave up and sat down on the sidewalk.

"Ah, there she is! I bet you thought that you could make a quick break, didn't you?" Immediately, Mapi was in on you again. This time, you weren't left to be yelled at and berated. Much to your surprise, Alexia was the one who stepped in to stop things.

"Hey, calm down. Go with Ingrid, and let me talk to her. She's not going to say anything with you going at her like that," Alexia reasoned. Mapi huffed and puffed, but went to Ingrid anyway. "I hear you had a very adventurous night."

"It was an accident. How could I have known what was in those cookies?" you asked. Alexia sighed as she looked down at you. For the first time in a while, you looked just like you had at your first practice with the senior team. You had done a lot of growing up, but Alexia was reminded how young you really were. You were young, but didn't have the chance to be a normal teenager and make mistakes like everyone else.

"Like you said, it was an accident. You're smart, and you know what's at stake here, so this isn't something you would do on purpose in season. Maria cares about you, and she's scared of what could happen if the club decides to drug test you. You'll be looking at a suspension at best, but you know that already."

"Yeah, I do," you confirmed. Alexia sighed as she glanced at the lobby where Ingrid and Mapi seemed to be fighting. "I can just go back home, I guess. I've caused enough problems already. I don't deserve to be here."

"Yes, you do. You've worked hard, even more than any of us really know. So, when the time comes, you'll take your punishment and work on resecuring your spot. There will be apologies and lots of hard conversations, but none of us want to see you go, not even Maria," Alexia reassured you.

…

"Why don't you go over there and talk to her?" Ingrid asked. Mapi had been watching you for weeks. Your suspension and probationary period were over, and you had yet to even attempt to speak with Mapi yet. It had been radio silence between the two of you since that day at Frido's apartment. Ingrid was tired of it, especially since she could see how badly it was hurting both of you.

"Because she doesn't want anything to do with me anymore. I yelled at her, made her feel like nothing. I've never apologized," Mapi said. She felt an almost overwhelming amount of shame every single time that she looked at you. It felt impossible to go over and talk to you. "She won't even look at me. I lost my Chiqui."

"Don't tell me that you're afraid of a 17 year old girl," Ingrid laughed. Mapi sputtered and stammered, but made no attempt to argue with Ingrid. She was afraid of you, afraid that you wouldn't accept any apologies that she could muster up. Mapi had been so mean to you that morning, and she would have kept going if you hadn't stopped her. She didn't even mean any of it, she was just scared and angry.

"She is almost 18 now," Mapi grumbled. Ingrid rolled her eyes and whistled to get your attention. There weren't that many people in the gym left now, just the three of you.

"Chiqui, Maria wants to talk to you," Ingrid said. She walked over to the door and blocked it, meaning neither of you could leave until you talked to each other.

"I am sorry for yelling at you. I don't think you're a disappointment to your home or your Mami," Mapi started. She seemed a bit lost, like she was completely out of her depth. "You made a mistake and that's okay. I've made mistakes, and I should have shown you the same kindness that I had been shown. One day, you might be in my position, and trust me, it's easier to forgive than hold a grudge."

"I'm sorry that I yelled at you," you apologized. Mapi didn't even wait for you to finish before she was rushing over to hug you. You let her pick you up off the ground, even if she was hugging a little too tight. "Put me down now, please."

"Bagheera misses you, so you need to come back with us immediately," Mapi said. You knew that it wasn't just Bagheera who missed you, especially since Ingrid had been bringing you over secretly while Mapi worked on her little passion projects and hobbies. Bagheera had been seeing you at least once a month, but Mapi hadn't really spoken to you in almost three monhs, and it had been driving her crazy.

"I'll have to ask Alexia," you told her. Mapi brushed it off, already having been told by Alexia to fix things with you countless times. The team didn't feel right without Mapi's influence on you.

[sinsofsummers]

push & pull

5.7k | din djarin x f!reader

summary: after convincing him to help you hide from the guild, you teach mando how to enjoy himself. this is the way. warnings: smut (duh), 18+, mdni. canon-typical violence, but otherwise it's super canon divergent. din is a touch-starved virgin, soft touches, lap-sitting, the helmet stays on, mask kink, din does lots of whimpering, experienced!reader, mutual masturbation, virginity loss (m), praise kink, creampie, brief aftercare at the end. note: look me in the eye and tell me he wouldn't crumble at the thought of skin-to-skin contact. yeah. you can't. anyways this is so long and so self-indulgent. pls forgive me. if mando takes his helmet off by the end of this, mind ur business this is sooooo not canon. note p.2: i'm so sorry this took so long but i was hungover. also this was not meant to be this long. so count this as a big fat thank you for 1.4k as well as my bday present to you guys (for my bday.) impaired editing i apologize.

With the light of both suns in your eyes, forcing you to blink the spots from your vision, you brushed a hand across your forehead. The dry, dusty atmosphere of Tatooine was no joke, and you scowled under the cloth you'd brought with you to cover your mouth and nose.

"Figures," you mumbled to yourself, looking down to see a small pile of sand building on the tops of your boots, the wind blowing it into place. "Why would anyone choose to live here?"

Of course, you weren't looking for a resident; you were looking for a fugitive. The infamous Mandalorion, no less. You'd been given less-than-satisfactory information on the bounty hunter and the reasons for such a high reward for his capture, but it wasn't like you had much choice than to accept the job. Despite what you told yourself, you did actually need the money.

That was before you'd figured out that everyone else in the Guild had been tasked with the same job, turning a high stakes bounty hunting gig into a near-definite suicide mission. Something you didn't want anything to do with.

But alas, here you stood, practically sinking into the hot Tatooine desert. You had to keep shifting your weight to keep at least one foot above the surface. You never knew when you'd have to make a quick getaway. There were still a handful of Guild members left that presented a challenge to collecting your bounty, and of course they were the most dangerous ones.

You kicked a foot forward and watched the sand shift, cursing the trouble that was inevitably on its way. You'd managed to bribe your way to Tatooine, where the Mandalorian was apparently hiding from the Guild. And if you had found the Mandalorian, there was almost no possibility that the others hadn't found him.

Because, if you were being honest with yourself—the one task you excelled in—being a bounty hunter wasn't exactly something you were good at. In fact, you were far from it. With luck and just enough anxiety to keep your feet moving, you'd floundered your way through three years in the Guild, searching for a way out just as quickly as you'd begged for a way in.

So you'd gotten yourself into this mess. Wasn't that how it normally went, though? Quick decision-making skills weren't necessarily a blessing if the decisions you made would determine your chances of living past thirty (spoiler: the chances were significantly slimmer).

You rubbed the dust out of your eyes once more and saw some movement in the distance, the subtle glint of beskar blinking toward you as it reflected the sunlight. Gotcha, you murmured inwardly. The Mandalorian was here, and you were going to get him. Not to turn him in, no; you held no loyalty to the Guild and its cult-like policies.

This job was an escape mission. If he could stay hidden, maybe he had room for one more. You'd cut a deal.

There had to be something you could offer him, if not your skills in combat, or stealth, or—

Or simply human mobility, you groaned inwardly as you felt your ankle roll underneath you, the sand softer than you'd anticipated. It'll be a good day when I leave this damn place.

—

It was a wonder that the two of you had survived. You'd hardly gotten the chance to give your proposal before he was aiming his blaster at you, and then at the Guild members that showed up in droves behind you. It was all you could do to get out of the way, knowing you'd be hopeless in the fight.

Now, with their bodies scattered around your feet, the Mandalorian standing a few feet from you with his chest heaving, and his beloved ship somehow still functional, you had your chance.

"You're not...very good at this," he said, the helmet masking his voice in a way that made it scratch along the insides of your ears as it traveled to your brain. "You do know that?" he asked, but it sounded more like an accidental insult than a real question.

You threw your hands up, letting them fall heavily to your sides. "Yeah, I told you that," you scoffed. "That's why I'm asking to go with you. Wherever you're headed."

His head tilted, the beskar shining in the setting suns, and you wondered what his eyes looked like under that helmet. Would they be sparkling with mirth or lined with mockery?

"I thought you were kidding," he said sheepishly, shifting his weight. "To get me to underestimate you." He looked like the picture of careful relaxation, although his blaster was still held tightly in both hands, poised in case he needed to aim and fire.

You couldn't help the exasperation in your tone as you lifted your head to the sky, squeezing your eyes shut and placing a curled fist over your eyes. "Why would I do that when I don't want to turn you in?"

He didn't answer.

"You know that there's only two ways out of this, right?" He still didn't answer you, just held his blaster taut and his head tilted to the side, so you continued. "You killed every Guild member that's left. Now it's just you and I. If I don't bring you in—which I'm not exactly dying to do—those rich fucks that are more powerful than us are gonna come find us."

"Find you," he corrected. "Why would I want to add another target to my ship?"

You shrugged. "Yeah, they probably will. But that's only part of the first option. Either they come for me, and you leave me here, and I die—also something I'm not particularly thrilled to think about—or the two of us..." you gestured with your hands to imitate the pair of you getting on the Razor Crest and flying away from Tatooine and its dusty expanse of a landscape.

"Could be a third option," he said quietly, "if you think about it." He lifted his blaster until it was lined up with your chest. "I might just kill you and cut my losses."

Fear might have struck you, but you didn't have the energy to entertain the panic unspooling in your chest. "That wouldn't be very humanitarian of you. Besides," you insisted, hands lifting to portray the image of surrender, "I'm light. I'm quiet. I won't stay with you longer than I need to. Once you get me off this planet, I'll find a place for you to drop me off."

He didn't answer for a moment.

"Literally," you pushed once more, "you can open the back door and push me out for all I care. I just want out of the Guild and all their dumb shit."

You'd known Mandalorians to be quiet, pious, and ruthless, but something about the way his helmet betrayed no hint to what he was thinking or how he might respond...it made you more anxious than you'd ever been in your life. Finally, he spoke, his voice calm. "Well...you're not coming with me. Ship's full."

"Your ship?" you said, incredulous. "That thing would be gone without me."

"Damn luck, that was." His voice had gone hard, but his body was still.

This was...partially true. Your mind flashed with a memory of the way you'd accidentally pulled the trigger on one of your blasters, effectively stunning the last Guild member who'd been attempting to strap explosives to the hull of the Crest. It was the only good thing that you'd done all day.

You curled your lip, annoyance rippling off you in waves. Lifting a middle finger in front of the helmet, you scowled. Hope he can see this under all that beskar, you snarled inwardly. "Still counts."

With a soft huff that you could hear come from under his helmet, the Mandalorian lowered his blaster. "One jump into hyperspace. The first little space rock that's big enough to stand on—"

"Perfect," you interrupted firmly. "I'll be out of you...armor...soon enough."

—

You'd missed your stop about three years ago. One jump into hyperspace had turned into four, and then ten, and...now you had your own spot to rest your head at night on the Razor Crest.

On that first day, you hadn't known the Mandalorian—"Din Djarin," he'd introduced himself reluctantly one day—was still traveling with Grogu, the sweet child that had begun his journey across the galaxy, hiding from the Guild. But you'd quickly decided it was nice to have another partner in crime, to interact with whenever Din was in the middle of one of his quiet days.

As the days had turned into months, and subsequently into years, the inability to meet Din face-to-face had become less frustrating, although sometimes you wished you could sneak a glance at his hands, or his wrists, or something that might resemble the human underneath the armor.

Once in awhile, deliciously, you could tilt your head just the right way and look forward at him when he was in the cockpit, his helmet pulling away from the cloth under his armor. Between helmet and armor, a sliver of golden skin would glimmer back at you, just begging to be touched. Of course, you never gave in to your silent desires.

This was not the Mandalorian way; you knew this well. Even when you felt his head turned toward you, even when you were sure his hands were reaching for you when you needed his help climbing somewhere, you kept your distance.

Well, for as long as you could. Until he forced your hand.

It wasn't long before you were unable to keep your hands away from him; going up and down the ladder on the Crest, or climbing over the occasional boulder on the routes you walked along when forced to take a respite on an unknown planet. His gloves were always rough in your grip, but you couldn't ignore the way his hands seemed to squeeze yours, tighter than might have been necessary.

And you'd begun letting your hands linger on the beskar of his armor for moments longer than you should—his helmet, tracing the indented curves of the spot where his cheekbones rested underneath, or on his chestplate, where you swore you could feel him lean into you, as if pressing your hands closer and closer to his skin beneath the armor.

You stood beside him as he sat in the chair in the cockpit, guiding the Razor Crest through the galaxy once more, aiming for some undisclosed location he'd neglected to tell you. He usually did things like that; you'd learned not to be offended by his unbreakable instinct to keep things to himself.

It hadn't occurred to you just how long he'd been wearing that helmet until you looked toward him again and noticed the soft curl of a few brown strands of hair that crept from the edges, kissing the back of his neck. They were short strands, but they were long enough to wink up at you as they curled around each other, begging to be touched.

"Din?" you asked, hoping to distract yourself from the thought.

He didn't look at you, but he tilted his head in your direction, just a centimeter. It was enough.

"Why'd you let me stay with you?" you gripped your hands together, as if they had a mind of their own and couldn't be trusted to remain at your sides. "I was horrible at any aspect of being a bounty hunter."

You were used to the way that it always took him a few seconds to answer, coming up with an evenly-expressed response. This, of course, gave you more time to stare at the tendrils spilling from the edges of his helmet.

"You were a risk," he admitted with a shrug, the helmet (of course) not betrayed anything. His voice was calm, even as he continued softly. "I have a particular...proclivity for picking up foundlings," he said with a tilt of his head toward Grogu, who cooed at the mention of him.

You lifted an eyebrow. "I'm not a foundling, though."

If you could have seen his eyes, you were almost positive that they'd be giving you a look that said, are you sure? Instead, he only spoke in his perpetually smooth voice. "You were lost, though, mesh'la."

You still weren't sure what each word in Mando'a meant—he'd been dropping a few words here and there, as if he knew you couldn't interpret them—but you blushed all the same. Before you knew it, your hands were releasing their grip on one another and reaching up to comb through the curls at the base of his neck.

They were softer than you'd imagined; smooth and thick in your grip. "Alright," you said gently, "maybe I was. I never got to thank you, you know."

Your hands were moving on their accord now, silently twirling the curls around the tips of your fingers. You were used to his silent, immobile exterior, so you didn't think he'd be able to feel the way you pressed your hand to the back of his neck. He'd never said anything before that gave the impression that he was aware of your ministrations, so when he leaned back into your touch then, something strong and addiction bloomed in your gut.

When he spoke, you were surprised to hear how shaky his voice was. After three years of hearing nothing but steady syllables fall from his masked lips, you nearly flinched at the stutter in his voice.

"Thank me?" he said quietly. "For..." you could have sworn you felt his heartbeat flutter rapidly in his neck when he trailed off. "For what?"

You pulled your hand away, pretending not to notice the way he shuddered at the loss of touch, his shoulders slumping as if in a pained relaxation. You hid your smirk. "You're not seriously asking that, right? Without you, I'd probably be dead by now." Or worse, you reflected with a quiet pang in your chest.

Din's response was quick this time, an unusual—but not unwelcome—surprise. "And without your perfectly timed luck, I might be without a ship." His voice was thick, trembling with something that might have sounded like desire had it been someone else speaking.

You didn't even think Din had the capacity to know something as heavy as desire. Well, not that he was incapable of feeling desire, just...you'd never thought about what he might do if he did feel it. Would he shove the temptations down, destined to die in the corners of his mind and body?

Your cheeks warmed at your next thought. Perhaps he took care of it himself in the dead of night on the Razor Crest, or on those mysteriously long patrol walks that he insisted on doing alone.

"Yeah, well..." your answer was pitiful and you knew it. But you were too busy looking at the way his body was slumped in his seat, facing forward despite every limb beginning to turn toward you, as if you were a magnetic beacon.

His fingers twitched in his gloves, angling toward you just as his knees began to do the same thing. "Will you..." he trailed off, clearing his throat awkwardly. "Mesh'la," he breathed, and he leaned to the side, as if his shoulder was chasing your touch. "Put it back."

You were going to ask what he meant, but you didn't have to. Even with his helmet on, you could practically see the pleading in his body language. Here he was, a devout Mandalorian, begging you to put your hands back on him.

"Please," he said quietly, almost a question. It sounded so unlike him that you wondered briefly if he'd been killed and replaced with an imposter. But by the way that his hand trembled as he took his focus away from flying the Crest and moved it toward you...this was Din.

"You...okay?" you asked, but you obliged his request in return, replacing your hand at the base of his neck. You watched in an unfurling dizzying sense of satisfaction as he reached up his own gloved hand to cover yours, squeezing it gently. "Din," you started, but he shook his head.

"I've never disobeyed the Way of the Mandalore," he said, his voice muffled under the mask. You strained your eyes, wishing you could see beneath the beskar. "I've never wanted to. Not before..." he brought your hand around to rest on his chestplate, and you could feel the pressure of his chest leaning into your touch. "Not before I knew what it might feel like to want someone like this."

Your eyes widened, but you didn't pull your hand away. "You...what?"

His head tilted down. "For once, I don't know how to manage this." He stood up, and suddenly he was towering over you, the cloth under his armor making your fingers itch to tear it off. "How do I manage this?"

"I..." you couldn't hide your shock. "I don't know. It's...isn't it against your religion? It's not the Way."

Din shook his head. "No, it's not." He spread his hand down your wrist and extended it toward your own chest, the leather of his glove seeping into your skin. "But I've also never told anyone my name. Never heard it spoken since I was a child."

You swallowed roughly. "So?"

He huffed a chuckle. Lifting your hands to his helmet, he let your fingers find the divots of the beskar. You didn't miss the way his chest shuddered with a stuttering breath at your touch. "So," he said, "to hell with the Way. For tonight, at least. I need to know you in every way I wish I could."

Such a harrowing request, given the circumstances. But you couldn't stop your hands from tracing the lines of his masked face. "Din..."

"Please." His voice cracked over the single syllable, and it was all you needed.

To hell with the Way, your thoughts echoed his words, and you nodded softly. "Alright," you acquiesced. With one look down, you saw the tent growing in his pants, sending a spike of desire down your spine, settling in your core. "How'll you have me?" you asked.

He let out a soft noise that sounded like a whimper. "Any way that I can," he choked out, his hand returning to your wrist and enclosing it in his grip. "I'll have you any way you'll have me."

You could hardly speak, so you didn't. With a gentle nudge, you pushed him back into his seat. When he sat back, his legs fell open; there was an inviting space between them.

Standing in the spot, just inches from his face, you stared into the black mass of his helmet, hoping you'd get a glimpse of his face. Of course, you knew he would only go as far as he wanted to. If the mask was destined to remain, then...so be it.

With your eyes on his, you moved his hands to your waist, pressing them to your skin and enjoying the feeling of his leather against your body.

He shook his head. "Take them off," he said, again with that whimpering voice. "Please."

You nodded wordlessly and shed his hands of the barriers, heat pooling in your core at the sight of long, thick fingers, his skin finally exposed to you. Returning his hands to your waist, you tilted your head back at the sensation. You were never going to forget what his skin felt against yours.

The melody of shuddering breaths that fell from his lips was unreal, and you wanted to soak up every second of it. Without more than a second thought, you slid your legs over his, straddling his hips and pressing your chest to his chestplate. His hands remained on your waist, but he let them wander, curling them around to cup your ass.

The feeling of his hands on your body made you unconsciously roll your hips forward, which released a strangled moan from his lips. "Oh, god," he mumbled. "Mesh'la, please take it off."

You paused. Your hands fell to your lap, and your eyes were wider than saucers in the reflection of his helmet. "What?"

He picked up your hands in his own, the rub of skin against skin an intoxicating intimacy. "Please," he begged. "If I'm going to touch you like this, I need to see you, cyar'ika. Nothing in the way."

You were going to argue further, but you couldn't ignore the pulsing need that was clouding your thoughts, the same need that pushed your hips further down into his lap. It was impossible to miss the way his cock twitched against your clit, eliciting a soft moan from your lips.

“Are you—”

“Don’t fuckin’ ask me if I’m sure,” he begged, and he squeezed your hips under his hands. “Never been more sure, mesh’la.”

This time it was your turn to let out a shaky breath. “Okay,” you whispered, more to bolster your own confidence than his own. His resolve was clearly rather strong in this matter, and nothing would change his mind. 

With a hand on either side of the helmet, you gently pulled it up and away from his face, hardly able to believe that he’d agreed to let you rid him of his every barrier. For a moment, as each inch of skin was revealed to you, you caught yourself frantically wondering what he might look like. 

Would he look like anyone else? Would he look familiar to you in that way that only lovers can? Or would he be hiding a deformed brow bone or an abnormally small nose or a crude smile?

Of course, you shouldn’t have even worried. When the helmet lifted off of his head and you let it fall to the floor with a hard thud, you smiled at the face that blinked back at you in wonder. With those brown strands that were just long enough to hang down over his forehead, and the matching brown eyes that twinkled with the moonlight in his pupils, Din Djarin was exquisite.

“I knew it,” you hummed, your eyes tracing every line on his face, every strand of hair that clung charmingly to his forehead. 

His response was a strangled moan, and his eyes fluttered closed of their own accord when you dragged a finger along his jaw, then the hooked line of his nose. “Knew what?”

“I knew you’d be one of the pretty ones,” you grinned, and you leaned down to press your lips to his, swallowing his groan of ecstasy.

You drank it down like the sweetest liquor, the sound pulling your own moan from your chest. His lips were chapped and dry from lack of care, but his mouth was warm and wet and his tongue was deliciously shy as he darted it towards yours. His hands stuttered as they pressed further up your chest and felt for your breasts. You weren’t sure how long he’d last; his chest was already heaving. 

“Din,” you pulled back with a grin. “Din,” you repeated when his eyes remained closed. “Thought you wanted to look at me?”

“I do,” he said, his voice choking in his throat. “I do, mesh’la, I just…I think I might come in my damn suit if I look at those lips too long.”

You cooed, letting a hand search for the roots of his hair, finding a home on his scalp. You curled your fingers in the strands and watched his eyes squeeze shut, his jaw go slack, and felt his hips buck up into yours. “You’re so sensitive, baby,” you hummed, your mind running wild with thoughts of what this could mean. 

“Never been touched like this,” he mumbled, voice cracking again. “Feels perfect, mesh’la.”

“I need you to look at me, Din,” you nodded. “It’ll keep feeling good, I promise. I just need you to look at me.”

When his eyes opened, you could have fallen apart right there at the sight of his glassy brown depths. His lip quivered and you almost thought he’d cry, but then he was letting his hand fall from your chest to your waistband, trailing his thumb along the skin there. “Can I?” he asked gently. 

Nodding, you stood up. “Just keep breathing, pretty boy,” you said softly. “I’ll make you feel good. Show you just how good it can be.” You guided his hands to your waist and let him pull your pants to your ankles, revealing the front of your glistening slit to him. 

Din was just starting to understand the drug-like effects of physical touch, so you weren’t surprised when he leaned forward, fell to his knees, and pressed his forehead to the soft skin of your stomach, breathing deeply as if he were a zealot bent to pray at the altar. 

“C’mere,” you whispered, though unable to hide the growing smirk on your face. There seemed to be nothing more addicting than the sight of the Mandalorian on his knees before you. “Sit back down for me, baby,” you said, tilting his chin up to look at you. “Take those pants off, they look awfully restricting.”

He nodded quickly and obeyed, slipping his pants down to his knees as he sat back on his chair. It was downright sinful—the beskar on his chest but his helmet removed and his cock springing free, the tip red and angry and leaking. “Please,” he begged. “I—”

“I know,” you breathed, stepping closer to him. “We’re gonna make each other feel good now, yeah?”

Din nodded once more, his eyes fluttering shut. “Please, please.”

Well, how were you going to deny him then? 

You straddled him once more, your clit throbbing at the sight of his cock underneath you. But rather than shock him with the feeling of your pussy milking him for all he was worth, you hovered over him, just enough that the head of his cock lay just an inch from your entrance. 

“Mesh’la,” he begged, “please don’t tease. I’ll be good. I’ll make you feel good, I swear to everything I’ve ever believed in—”

A finger pressed to his lips, you shook your head. “I know,” you repeated. “Deep breaths for me, Din.” 

He inhaled sharply and shoved his breath out of his chest. For a moment, his eyes cleared. 

“Good,” you encouraged him, relishing in the look of his wide eyes at the praise. “Such a pretty boy, baby.” You moved his hand to your core, guiding his fingers to your clit. “Rub little circles for me, baby. Make me feel good and I’ll make you feel good.”

He obliged quickly, rubbing tentative circles to your clit in a way that had you smiling gently, loving the sacrilege you were participating in. “Is that g—oh!”

Din’s question was interrupted by your hand reaching down to grip his cock, delivering a quick stroke and making his hips stutter. He tried his best to lift his hips from the chair, clearly aiming for your entrance, but one hand on the beskar on his chest had him sitting back. 

“It’s okay, baby,” you cooed, “just like that. Just touch me for a while.”

Ever the gentleman, Din kept his eyes on you and his hand on your pussy, pulling sweet sounds from your lips just as you wrecked him beneath you. Your thumb slid against his tip and he almost came; you could tell by the way his breath caught in his throat and his eyes squeezed shut, lip trapped between his teeth. 

You wanted his fingers to wander toward your dripping entrance, but you knew he might not last long enough for any more foreplay. Next time, you thought smugly. 

Now…now you needed him inside you. 

“Gentle, baby,” you reminded him when he gripped your hip too tightly. You didn’t want to tell him you enjoyed the near-bruising strength; that would be for another time. You could already see that you were close to losing him, and you weren’t going to end this experience without riding him until the both of you saw stars. “One more deep breath, yeah?” 

He was a mess of tumbling words in Mando’a that you didn’t understand, and his brow was furiously furrowed, as if it was taking all of his focus not to come on your hand. As a matter of fact, it probably was taking all of his focus. “Please, mesh’la,” he said again. 

You wondered briefly if you’d begin answering that now; treating it as your name. Mesh’la. 

“Deep breath, baby,” you reminded him, and when he obeyed, you sank your hips towards his. The tip of his cock slid in with no resistance; you were wetter than you’d ever been in your life. “Good boy,” you moaned as you kept your hand on his neck, softly cupping the underside of his jaw to look at you. “So fuckin’ pretty like this.”

The stretch of his cock inside you was delicious, and pleasure licked sharply at your insides, begging for a quick release. You knew he wouldn’t be able to hold himself together much longer based on the whimpers that still crumbled from his throat, broken and jagged. 

“So fuckin’ pretty?” he repeated, his voice a high squeak. He gripped your hips and threw his head back. “So fuckin’ pretty for you?”

Your breath rushed out of your chest in a strong blow and you had to take a deep breath yourself to calm down. “All for me, Din, that’s it,” you continued, and you lifted your hips up. Dropping them back into his lap, you soaked up the feeling of being filled so completely by his cock. With every shred of patience left in your body, you pushed your lips back to his and tasted his moans on his tongue. 

His hips began lifting into your own, the only clue you’d get to his desperation for more. Without a word, you began moving faster, more rhythmically, as you bounced gently on his cock. With the base of his cock pulsing against your clit at every drop of your hips, you were approaching that edge quicker and quicker. “Din,” you moaned, “baby, I’m gonna—”

“Please,” he said, “I want you to feel good, mesh’la. Use me, please, use me, please…”

You were sure your brain short circuited. With no more patience left in your bones, you picked up the pace and chased your own orgasm, knowing he wasn’t far behind. With every squelch of your pussy on his cock, your moans became less coherent, and you leaned your head forward against his neck. 

Pulling back to press a kiss to his jaw, you felt his loins tense beneath you. Something nearly snapped inside you at the sound and sight and sensation of his pleasure so close to release; at the knowledge that it was you who had done this to him. “Good,” you mumbled against his jaw, getting closer to his ear. “Pretty boy, just for me,” you mumbled. 

Din’s chest tightened and his moans became longer and more high-pitched, true whimpers if you’d ever heard one. “Mesh’la,” he begged, “Mesh’la, I—”

You dipped your head down and, while grinding your hips back and forth on his cock at a feverish pace, you darted your tongue out to his neck. Licking a stripe from the crevice of his neck to the spot just behind the soft part of his ear, you groaned in his ear as you crumbled on him, releasing the tension in your body as you came hard.

Din was ruined beneath you, with his neck bobbing and his eyes shut, his head thrown back. Mouth opened in a wide moan, his voice broken over the sound, you felt his release sink into your fluttering walls. He let out a deep cry of words that you didn’t recognize, but you blushed all the same. With the way that his eyes glossed over when he said it, you were sure it was something that reeked of sin and sweat and sacrilege. 

“So good,” you mumbled again, “you’ve done so good for me, Din.” Your face tucked itself into the crook of his neck, and you inhaled the heady scent that belonged only to him. You sat motionless on his lap, but you could still feel his head pulse inside you at the overstimulation. “Did that feel good?” you asked, your hand reaching up to smooth down his hair comfortingly.

He let out a breathless laugh. “If this is sin, I’ll want more of it,” he replied, his arms snaking around your middle to tug your chest closer to him. “I’ll never know how to thank you,” he finished, sighing deeply. His eyes twinkled at you when you pulled away to look at him. 

You shook your head. “No need,” you assured him. “Just catch your breath, brave Mandalorian. Then we’ll talk.”

He nodded, his eyelids growing heavier with the expense of energy now catching up with him. His cock had grown soft inside you, but he made no move to lift you from him. “I did well?” he asked. This wasn’t surprising; you’d known him to be quietly confident, but the Mandalorian was never one to pass up the opportunity for someone to reassure his talents.

You grinned and leaned forward to press your lips to his hooked nose, fighting the urge to nip at it with your teeth. Next time, you reminded yourself. “You did well,” you nodded. “Feeling okay?”

He splayed his hands on your back and inhaled near your chest, his face buried into the soft skin of your breasts. “Never better,” he reassured you, rubbing his hands along your spine. “So sweet to me, baby,” he murmured, repeating your own affection back to you. 

The two of you remained like that, just wrapped together in a mess of limbs and sweat and come mingling together. When he began to wince with the overstimulation, you lifted off of his cock but remained in his lap. You pulled back and leaned your forehead against his. You watched his lips, plump and sitting perfectly, waiting to be kissed again. 

“What does mesh’la mean?” you asked instead, the word strange and unfamiliar on your tongue.

He looked at you for a long time, bringing a finger up to trace the line of your mouth. “Put your lips on mine again and I’ll teach you,” he offered casually, as if his pupils weren’t still blown wide, his eyelashes still fluttering from the power of his release. 

You smirked. “This is the Way, huh?”

For once in his life, Din Djarin smiled at you. “This is the Way.”

tysm for reading! so glad to be back, i'm sorry if the smut scene seemed rushed and out of pace! again: i was hungover. pls forgive. lemme know what you think!

adding tags here cause i'm going grocery shopping at 8:30pm BYEEEE

this is a good morning fic for @thetriumphantpanda and the aftercare bit at the end was specifically for @cavillscurls i know u crave it girl

the rest of the taggies: @mingiast @iluvurfather @cupofjoel @morning-star-joy @darkroastjoel @tightjeansjavi @chaotic-mystery @dinsdjrn @huffle-punk @tommymilllers @milly-louise @struig @butiknewyoudlinger @alejaa-a @worhols @thegreat-annamaria @easaud @country2212 @sleepdeprived-feelalived @pertinentpostmortem @lailaispunk

[meazalykov]

mind is well beyond my years

ingrid engen x reader

part one - part two here

summary: age wasn't going to stop you from being with the older woman

warnings: age gap (5 years) , reader being a flirt

as you step into the lounge, your eyes immediately start searching for her.

it’s a typical afternoon tuesday at the training ground, players scattered around, some deep in conversation, others scrolling through their phones, some breaking in their new cleats. but your focus is singular—ingrid.

you spot her near the window, her dark hair catching the light as she laughs at something fridolina said.

that laugh, it always does something to you, makes your heart skip a beat and your thoughts scatter. it’s been like this for a while now, this crush that you can’t seem to shake.

she’s older, more experienced, and undeniably out of your league, or at least that’s what you tell yourself every time she brushes off your flirtations.

but you’re not one to back down easily.

you make your way over, a casual smile on your face as you lean against the back of the chair she’s sitting in.

“hey, ingrid,” you greet, your tone light but laced with intent.

"hey, y/n! how are you?" she smiles.

“I’m okay— i just wanted to say that i saw your post from last night. you looked amazing in that ivory sweater, as always.” you comment.

“thanks, y/n,” ingrid replies. she glances up at you, her expression now unreadable from the smile she had moments ago.

her tone was polite, but almost distant. it’s the same response she always gives—acknowledging your compliment without giving you anything more to work with.

it’s frustrating, but you can’t help yourself. there’s something about her that draws you in, despite the coolness in her responses.

“I'm serious” you continue, undeterred by her lack of enthusiasm.

“you have a way of looking good all of the time, I'm not sure if its jealousy or something else." you hint.

“you’re exaggerating.” she shakes her head slightly, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

“not at all,” you insist, grinning. “just calling it like i see it.”

before you can push any further, fridolina walks over, her eyes sparkling with mischief as she looks between the two of you.

“mind if i steal ingrid for a bit?” she asks, not really waiting for your answer before she’s pulling ingrid up by the arm and leading her toward a quieter corner of the room.

you watch them go, your curiosity piqued. something about the way fridolina’s whispering and the slight tension in ingrid’s shoulders makes you wonder what’s going on.

you’re not usually one to eavesdrop, but this feels different. your gut feeling tells you that its important.

edging closer, you try to be as discreet as possible. the last thing you want is to get caught, but you can’t help it. you have to know what they’re talking about.

“i don’t know what to do,” ingrid’s voice drifts to you, low and uncertain.

“she’s just… she’s so young, frido. i can’t get involved with her, can i?”

your heart skips a beat. are they talking about you? you lean in a little closer, holding your breath.

“she’s only a few years younger,” fridolina replies softly.

“and she’s clearly crazy about you. honestly, ingrid, i think you’re overthinking this. nobody would judge you if something were to happen between you two.” fridolina continues.

“but i’ve always kept things professional with her, you know? and now i’m worried i’ve gone and caught feelings.” ingrid sighs, and you can practically hear the conflict in her voice.

your pulse quickens at her words. ingrid likes you? you’re not sure whether to be thrilled or terrified, but one thing is clear: you need to talk to her.

walking into that corner of the room, you take a deep breath and call her name.

“ingrid,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady. both women turn to look at you, surprise evident on their faces. “can we talk?”

fridolina gives ingrid a knowing look before excusing herself, leaving the two of you alone. ingrid fidgets with the sleeve of the black training kit, avoiding your gaze.

it’s the most vulnerable you’ve ever seen her, and it tugs at your heart.

“so,” you begin, taking a step closer, “you've caught feelings, huh?”

ingrid’s cheeks flush slightly as she finally meets your eyes.

“you weren’t supposed to hear that,” she mutters, but there’s no real anger in her voice.

“maybe not,” you admit, a small smile tugging at your lips, “but i’m glad i did. because i think it’s time we stopped dancing around this.”

“y/n, you’re so young. you're twenty-one and i didn’t think you were serious about… all of this.” she lets out a small, exasperated laugh, shaking her head.

“i’ve been serious from the start. i just thought you were out of my league, you know?” you raise an eyebrow, giving her a playful smirk.

“you? thinking someone’s out of your league?” she teases back, and you’re relieved to see the tension in her shoulders ease slightly.

“you’ve never been shy about flirting with me.” she walks forward. you don't bother to step back.

“well,” you say, voice dropping to a more sincere tone, “that’s because i’ve always liked you, ingrid. and i’d really like to give this a shot, if you’re up for it.”

ingrid’s eyes search yours, and you can see the conflict still warring within her. but then, slowly, she nods.

“okay,” she says softly. “let’s see where this goes.”

“i promise you won’t regret this.” you can’t help the grin that spreads across your face.

“you’re impossible, y/n.” she chuckles, shaking her head.

“impossible to resist, you mean,” you quip, earning a genuine laugh from her this time.

the sound is music to your ears, and as you walk out of the room together, you smile at fridolina who understands the bond that was just formed.

part two here

my master list is here if you want to read more fics <3

[anantaru]

thoughts on cockwarming and who loves it the most ?

including. neuvillette, diluc

cw. cockwarming, lots of teasing especially in diluc's part, petnames: love & baby, fem! reader

— ꒰ NEUVILLETTE ꒱

a soft, enervated smile goes across neuvillette's tender lips as he sinks you down on him— and the way it happened all at once, how your walls latched on his shaft oh so strongly, oh so familiar that he found himself already lost in deep puzzlement.

for now, neuvillette doesn't move his cock in you, not an inch, nor does he necessarily want to either. ultimately, the man decides against showering you with his sloppy thrusts as he leans his face against yours gently to capture your lips.

tranquility shapes your mind that of joy as it manifested with the feeling of his body resting his weight on yours. your legs automatically wrap around his hips to keep him there as your cunt squeezes him ever tight, lures him in for more of that sweetness, the crushing compression of your sore walls gripping him so tight that he could barely keep up with his breathing.

oh yeah, neuvillette was losing his mind.

nails carving into the fat of your thighs, watching how you're turning delirious due to just how impossibly well he felt inside of you.

he groans out through a tensed jaw, knitted brows accentuating his pleasured face as he attempts to part his lips to voice something, a tender coo or loving praise on how nice you felt— yet unsurprisingly, all that really escaped in the end was a soft hum, a pleased one, one that turned your physical state into a myriad of emotions passing between you two.

"baby— i am," you babble out, definitely not expecting neuvillette to move anytime soon, "i'm gonna— s-soon," as you let go of a shaken whine that reverberated across the entire room.

your aching thighs were restless, hugging around his hips steadier as you exchange moans between each other, the rather lewd although sensual noises bouncing from mouth to mouth.

"does this feel good? please tell me, love," neuvillette mutters and he was so close to you that you felt his bottom lip scratch yours, "i need you to tell me," you shudder at his heavily raspy voice as he nibbles on your bottom lip.

for the better part of about five minutes, the iudex has got you wrapped around his finger, has conquered your mind effortlessly as the wet sounds between your legs only added to this, every wet squelch and throb having you whine uncontrollably.

but do not forget, because you know you're save surrounded by strong arms.

you can barely breathe with how thick and bulky his erection would throb in you, but you're utterly pleased by it, not wanting it any other way.

— ꒰ DILUC ꒱

diluc wasn't even aware that he liked to be cockwarmed by you— although this much wasn't the end, because once he's actually experienced it for the first time, he'll drag it out one by one, keeping his cock buried without moving until you're practically unable to speak.

and while you might assume that he found himself fantasizing about you in his office. a lewd, little fantasy about his darling settling on his lap and cockwarming him during work— there was just something so, lets call it, special, about resting next to each other late at night, together exhausted from the passing day— his cock softly stored within your walls as you're exchanging serenity through kisses and fondles.

greatly stammering over his words, diluc presses your body against his frame as your sore nipples repeatedly scratch against his chest, resulting in you letting go of a soft, surprised squeal, "how does it feel, hm?" he slowly runs his digits over your thigh, leisurely, leading you on to do what he really wishes for, most likely to hear you whine out his name, sob and cry it for more.

without mincing words, diluc was a little nasty for that— but it was also so sweet when he smiled into your lips as you whisper out his name.

what else was important to note is that despite the fact that the two of you had been dating for a good while already, diluc simply cannot help himself but get slightly shy when making love to you, most definitely due to the fact that it was deeply saturated in passion, paving the way for something stronger.

you can feel the hearts in his unspoken language— in his kisses, his traces, the feeling of him throbbing inside to the squeezes of you.

see it this way— when diluc touches you, it's like something in the pit of your stomach turns wide awake and gets set aflame, in an instant, roaring flames of love conquering your body and mind.

the flames continuously grow and are persistent in your soul— and when diluc notices your yearning for him, the man could never hide his ultimate desire for you, he needs to catch it.

that truly was the pleasure of feeling the rush of loving you.

you hold on to his sweat-laced back, barring your fingernails into the damp skin before beginning to smear wet kisses all along his sharp jawline, a few of them smothering over his cheeks, and at last, finding his pretty lips again.

you're so wet, sore and thirsty for him to move already, but he doesn't, diluc needs to savor you more. his eyes never leave yours, only when he wanted to admire the mess he made of your warm cunt slicking him up all the way to the base.

you sniffle into his shoulder as diluc chuckles breathlessly, "a little more, my love—just a little longer," he promises before giving your breasts a good squeeze, full on knowing just how sensitive they had been getting.

even with diluc showing you more of his dominant side, he never fails to smile ever so gently, smiling wider and letting you see the light of his eyes.

perhaps it's actually his smile that awoke that unique feeling in you— for one, it was tender, glazed in molasses and popsicle sweet, with just a hint of mischief.

©2024 anantaru do not repost, copy, translate, modify, claim as your own

[selectivegeekwithstandards]

I'm convinced it goes like this for every beginner dm ngl. So much advice from experienced DMs try to tell u not to do it and everyone does lol.

Me, slowly preparing me and my friends first DnD game with a lot of homebrewed rules, bc we have no idea what we are doing.

My friends: Oh you don't have to do so much!

Me, in the middle of drawing a world map-