#f you Mel

[spiderlilyforlife]

Goatasus oc wip/child/!!!(I DO NOT SUPPORT MEL SHE CAN GO D-E IN CORNER ALL I CARE!)

Color then it's be done/finnished<3

[karmelarts]

hello why do we blow past the scene of wilson knowing way more about the village people than any straight person ever would

[bloomingbluebell]

i like to think that moros is an absolute oblivious trainwreck about his feelings for melinoë he's just like "yes the princess has been incredibly kind to me. she's made me feel welcome, given me gifts, invited me to the hot springs and fishing pier and- oh fuck i think i'm in love with her"

[lovesbiggerthanpride]

give me a sign (Dieter Bravo x f!reader)

WC: 200

summary: is it too late?

notes: angsty af, established relationship, ups and downs of celebrity and living in Hollywood, feelings

masterlist • AO3

_

He searches for the ring he gave you so long ago. Its presence would give him hope. A physical sign that you’re still here, that you still believe in what the two of you have shared.

Something precious among the messy, relentless, and chaotic world that is Hollywood. A place where true love is constantly tested.

There isn’t much left to give. You’re both exhausted and frustrated. Prying eyes and the cameras are looking for cracks in the polished facades you display. Fun personas and colorful outfits can only go so far.

It’s a tiring game, being in the spotlight while maintaining a relationship that is shaky at best. Others in your position gave a valiant effort and failed. Is this how your story ends too?

Your heart aches as you cry. The conversation you’ve been dreading, but agreed to have. In person, in private. In a room where countless memories were made with the person you love.

You reach for his hand, allowing him to catch a glimpse of the golden band that’s wrapped around your fourth finger.

He exhales deeply, but still cautious of what you will say.

“I’m not going anywhere, Dieter,” you confess. “How about you?”

[thehistoriangirl]

There Are Some Paths Where You Can’t Follow Me

Almost done with the Valentine’s Special (!!!!) Thanks for your patience :3

Mel x fem!Reader--------2.6K------SFW

Synopsis: Mel lost much more than her family support when her mother banished her  to the city of Piltover. Just as nightmares haunt her every other  night, your face is still clear on her memories despite the passing  years.When Hextech puts Piltover on the map, just as the name of the  Medarda who sponsors it, it was only a matter of time to find you  walking into a gala hosted by your long-lost friend.

Tags: Childhood Sweethearts| Second Chance| Mentions of Death/Murder and War| Fluff and Angst| Happy Ending ofc|

Her main hall was filled with people, and yet, her eyes were naturally drawn to yours.  

It should be no surprise for her to see you there—in fact, she had thought you'd taken your time to appear. And yet the hold of her wine's cup faltered as you looked away, eyes sweeping the surrounding of the room, with its high dome and bronze arches colored red and orange not only for the quickly dipping sun but also for the hearths burning at the center of the space.

You seemed unfazed, and a part of her felt a crushing pressure settle on her chest. Perhaps you had forgotten her—you should have. What was the point of keep longing for a past that could never be repeated? Or amended.

More than ten years ago, she had gotten aboard a boat off the coast of Noxus without looking back, because if she had done that, tears would have stained her cheeks while the guards kept their cold stares at her, thinking that her mother did right into sending her away. Because she was weak.

With the necessary years separated that fatal day, she demonstrated they were wrong. Mel was the younger merchant to sit at the Council, and her commerce deals were blooming more successfully than ever since Hextech’s breakthrough.

In parties like this one, her main hall will get filled with foreigners and the richer Piltovan society, all trying to tail her every step in wishes to streak a deal with her—some even said her touch was magical because there where she laid her interest it will fruit gold.

As she walked toward the left end of the hall, toward the balcony, she allowed her mind to think about the past, about how she had to train alone her merchant skills with the little information the far side of her family taught her in spare reunions around the Medarda’s family manor each summer. As she was unfitting for war, the least she could do was keep multiplying the family wealth in a last attempt to make herself useful.

As Mel saw the dipping sun hiding down the port, under the waves, she felt her earrings moving while she shook her head.

Now while looking down at the city—her city, too—her thoughts drifted at the contents inside her chest, locked in her heart. She wasn’t happy at Noxus, not really if she compared her Piltovan lifestyle against her Noxii one; between war boats and walking inside newly conquered forts and castles, with dust still settling down, blood not fully dried. It still haunted her.

No amount of white marble in tall buildings or chatting rooms filled with glistening wine glasses or quiet, domed auditoriums reverberating with a symphony could ever erase them.

Not they could erase you, either. For good or bad, she could never pick.

It was intriguing, she considered as she swirled the thin steam of metal with slow wrists motions, seeing you stepping inside without any shadow following you. For what Kino told her in a letter—after she hinted she wanted to know about you some other letters ago—that you got engaged to a rising general that was working side by side in the conquest of the Freljlord.

Why his family hadn't sent any guards? Even if you decided to dismiss them, they should have entered minutes after you, keeping you safe inside the shadows.

She didn't dare to ask Kino about how your wedding went. Mel could imagine with vivid realism, even if a part of her ached at the sight of your cold eyes laid in this general while making hollow votes of love when everything you were doing was just forging a powerful alliance.

Perhaps, if she'd had been other Mel, one that could endure the sight of death and war without flinching, without the captives and their ghosts following her steps, echoing in the empty, broken halls about her cooperation in this brutality; perhaps, your family would have sought an alliance of such nature with her, a second chance of creating bonds with the Medardas now that Kino had dismissed it the first time.

After all, you had endured the life of a general’s daughter and sister roles so well, that being a general’s wife wouldn’t differ too much. The dread was always there, and she knew you didn’t care about glory and reputation, so losing a battle won’t be important.

Night came with cold winds under its navy blue fingers, painting the sky starred with freckles similar to those adorning Mel’s face. Chandeliers flicked with golden light poured inside the hall, with chatter so energetic as hours before, if not more so now that the wine started to kick in.

Her glass was empty long before she thought about heading inside to find a servant to refill it. The possibility of encountering was very high, and she wasn’t convinced about what she would do in that case. Apologize? Ignore you? Feign oblivion?

Any of them sat right. She didn't want to see other people listening from their proximity, stealing curious glances as Councilor Medarda apologized vaguely to this Noxii woman that always stared at you as if she were bored as if she didn't care.

Another good mask you crafted even before she could make hers.

The echoed footsteps approaching almost made her flinch, pretending to shift her position as the other person settled next to her, far enough to be considered respectful, but close for her to take in the citric essence of your lotion.

Noxii oranges cultivated in your family’s manor garden. Little and round, but full of sweet juice that made the suffocating summer months more pleasant—or maybe it was because you were there, too.

Mel kept the silence, a charged cord of electricity that was ready to snap as you gazed at the boulevards extending over the city, the tall buildings of the Council and the Academy painted in blue tones.

She looked at you from the corner of her eye, wanting to ask if you liked the view.

I thought I’d never see you again.

Instead, she settled with: “Congratulation on your marriage,” she thanked her voice was steady and nonchalant. “I apologize for not sending a gift.”

You chuckled, but it sounded more like a sigh. “Better that way. It would have been a loss of time.” Your shoulders shrugged, and part of the thin dark veil over your shoulders slipped down, revealing the uneven sleeves of your dark red dress.

She doubted it. "How it was?" Mel found herself asking, even if the underlying question was if you had felt happy if you were happy.

“A bad omen, some may say.” You laughed, eyeing a zeppelin passing by. “I’m a widow now.”

Mel’s eyes widened. “Pardon?” Why didn’t her brother tell her about it?

“Two weeks after the wedding. He went into a battle in the Freljlord and never came back.” The lightness of your voice concerned her, surprising her solidified thought of you being content with your life back in Noxus. "A rising house, crushed under a stroke of bad luck. But so is life, isn't it?"

She blinked, a furrow on her brow. “Crushed?”

It was the second time of the evening for you to connect your gaze, this time over the flicking shadows of the chandelier in the hall, the torches lit in the balcony. Your expression was neutral as you took her features in, analyzing if they had changed—and Mel asked herself that, too.

“His mother spread rumors about how I created witchcraft to kill him so quickly," the words escaped your mouth easily, your eyes cast away from hers now. She tightened her clasp in her cup. "A foolish move, but I can understand a mother's grief."

You, not my family.

“What happened after?” The rumors subsided so quickly they wouldn’t reach Mel, who knows how many people knew, but once again—it was a foolish move to target a member of the Callestars.

"She died," you answered, and Mel wasn't surprised that you didn't comment on her how she did. "My husband's manor will become part of my soon-to-be sister-in-law's dowry."

“I didn’t know Ewan Callestar was getting married.”

You smiled softly. “Me either, until two days ago.”

Silence remained heavy between you two, a string tangled in Mel’s heart and mind, becoming fuzzy and difficult to find the words—any words.

“I’m sorry,” she said, putting the cup on the thick marble rail of the balcony, half-turning her body toward you. You tilted her head, looking at her beneath your eyelids. Mel didn’t specify for what she was apologizing, she wanted to interpret it yourself, to take whatever you wanted from her, from her words, so it could make it easier.

You didn’t bait.

“Don’t.” The detached, snapping tone of your voice startled her. “There’s worthless now.”

It’s worthless now, and yet, why was Mel's chest compressed in such a hurtful way?

You gestured to the hall, people looking at Mel to express they were heading home as she sent her farewell with a tilt of her head.  “I should go, too.”

There was only fair to be you to leave her alone this time—this once being forever. But she couldn't bring herself to agree.

“What brought you here today?” She tried to remain the merchant Mel, the Councilor, with her careful threaded words, her expression neutral.

But you weren’t having any of her façades. You never did.

“I wanted to see your house,” you stated, and she felt her brows knitting with curiosity. “It’s not painted gold as I imagined it would be.”

You remembered. You had recollected your silly conversation of youth when you both were vising Ionia and Shurima, every city conquered, every castle seized as Mel would walk among the ruins to imagine a rebuilding future, with all the terrors cast away, replaced by splendor and stability.

Her lips extended in a smile so soft it was a ghostly memory of that same expression when she could lay in freshly cut grass outside the Callestar manor, you next to her as you peeled an orange for her when you would joke about her past lessons with the always grumpy and stiffened teacher.

“Decorating using too much gold is seen as tasteless here, darling." The words flew out her mouth without questioning, still transfixed in the memory, of the past that somehow had extended through this new land, through the space your presence used to occupy, now that you came to reclaim it.

You were still her darling, was she still your dearest?

Mel tried to search for your eyes, and she found them twinkling.

“And yet this city uses more gold foil in their external architecture, I had to wonder if it was like this when you arrived—or if it’s a new trend influenced by someone.”

As you spoke, the words got stabbed into her chest, leaving a hollow, dripping hole. When she arrived Piltover—when she left you.

"I'm sorry," she repeated, thinking that not even a myriad of thousand apologies would fix the past.

Instead of denying it, you leaned against the cold rail, eyes gazing over the far coast, down the port. “Did you ever look back?” you muttered, slowly enough for your low tone not to be carried away by the nightly wind. “Did you ever hear me?”

She did. Her name echoed in the open bay, the guards facing her, cold stares, and a glistening curiosity that sent daggers of stares through her shoulder blades as she walked down into her cabin, where her screams couldn't be heard.

Another ghost that followed her, and another guilt piled up on her shoulders.

“I couldn’t let you abandon everything to follow the steps of a useless banished daughter.”

Your gaze darted to her, digging inside of her soul as you scanned her supposedly tranquil expression as if you could identify the slightly fluttering rhythm of her heartbeat.

“I’m a useless banished daughter too, Mel.”

Her feet slipped from her well-rehearsed posture. “What?”

"Didn't I just tell you? My family wiped down a house and seized all its riches." You tried to shrug, but your shoulders were too rigid, your nerves like an over-extended elastic. "They got what they wanted, I'm not useful to them anymore."

She didn't know what to say, and you probably didn't want her to try to console you. That had never been you.

So she just waited.

"I hope you hadn't chosen for me that day, Mel.” You walked a step closer, so close the long skirt of your dress brushed hers. “My family had traced my every path, I had hoped you let me choose." You shook your head, strands of hair starting to fall from your hairstyle. "I think it's better if I go now."

You stepped back, ready to walk away. But she wasn't ready. Mel was never ready, not even when that same scene of you screaming for her at the port repeated on a loop inside her head for years.

"Why don't you stay?" she commented, trying to sound casual, but the slight creak in her voice betrayed her poise.

Your heels stopped mid-step, breaking the steady rhythm as you were almost halfway inside the hall. Your back turned to her, but the contrast between the lights and the dark outside couldn't let her see your expression.

"Do you want me to stay?" It was a careful question, voice stopping at each word as if weighing the real meaning of the sounds rolling off your tongue.

Did she? Mel blinked, her heart feeling frenetic. “I do.”

“Why?” you asked. You had to always ask why, especially now. Because you never got to ask so before.

And it was more than a simple word, it was so many questions tucked at the corner of a room you both tried to ignore for so long, a locked closet filled with memories.

“Because I miss you,” Mel said out loud—finally out loud—, walking closer so she could extend her hand down to yours. "I've missed you all these years, but I couldn't allow myself to be selfish and look for you. I was scared to bring you down dishonored like me." She stopped shaky breaths out, feeling tiny and naked as if a breeze of air would take her away as she stood there, waiting for your judgment. "I was scared you'd say no—because I still love you.”

You turned in a red daze, and she felt your hand slowly taking in hers, fingers interlaced. "I would never say no to you, my dearest," you said, pressing her palm slightly.

Her eyes widened when she heard you, thinking that perhaps time wouldn’t have passed after all, that everything was in its place as she leaned in to kiss you, the first one in so long.

It felt like coming back home, in the sweet brush motion of your lips, hands still in one another.

"I missed you too, Mel," you whispered, like a secret that had been maintained inside of your chest, relieved at finally could it be rest inside her heart, where it belonged. "But I'm here now, and I won't let go."

The smile that spread her lips made her go back to those bright days that she knew, deep inside, would come back as long as you were next to her.

“Me either.” Not again. Not ever. And so she kissed you again, just to lie her promise inside your heart, unbreakable.

[gramarobin]

[musical-chick-13]

Actually, you can make this song about that ship IF you toil for at least 5 years in the yuri mines first. Do your time.

[starlightkun]

still havent given up on u hockey player bf sungchan

[solitaireships]

🥰👀🎶 for mark! (Unless he’s not participating, then mel! :D)

Hoffman's participating in this! he's actually one of the characters I've been wanting to do stuff for the most since he's one of my current fixations with f/os. I don't want to do 🥰 or 👀 in general tho, so I'll do the music one for both him and Mel, and Shepard's probably my only S/I I can think of things for with 👀, so I'll give that from him

Blue text is Hoffman, yellow is Mel

👀 - What’s your favorite feature of your s/o’s?

I like Shepard's tattoos. She's got several of them on her arms. There's one that she was saying is something called a norigae, apparently it's a Korean accessory and she got a tattoo of it as some kind of way to connect with her culture there. It's a good contrast to all the chains and shit she's got on her arms, though those are hot too.

🎶 - What’s your favorite song?

Dunno, depends on my mood. Headstrong by Trapt is one now.

I enjoy classical music, mainly. But I do admit that I have a soft spot for the song Conquest of Spaces by Woodkid. The ambience of it is wonderful, and it's one of my favorite lyrical pieces to listen to while doing my paintings

[iobartach]

@crisispider asked;

Peter is wandering in to Miguel's office, two RATHER LARGE slushies in hand. (He couldn't decided on which flavor, so he got Miguel one so he could steal sips! A genius plan really.) Stopping next to the guy, squinting a bit at the screens before presenting a RED CHERRY slushie to Miguel. "Here, drink it." It wasn't negotiable, and he isn't above pouting.

Engrossed in his work, he hardly notices the other man approach. Requiring prompting, it's only when Peter speaks that he realises that someone else is there, all of a sudden, a fact that sees annoyance flash upon his features... Only to be quickly replaced by confusion.

"What? No, Parker. I don't know what that is." Instead of reaching for the melting slushie, he pulls a holo-screen projection closer to his position, enlarging the video feed being played upon it. "Where did you get it from?"

[spiderlilyforlife]

Aren't you also like to do ocs that not even important 🩷🪽🪽

[fazcinatingblog]

Apparently one of my new year's resolutions is to stop putting Faz in the bath so maybe I'll pivot and write Faz fanfics under the "foursome F/F/F/M" tag on AO3

[falling-mellow]

Due to the previous family fight once again having escalated for the worse today, unfortunately no more Eurovision for me this year.

[lovesbiggerthanpride]

Pairing: AU!Joel Miller / Diner owner F!Reader

Note: This just came to me as I was eating brunch. Joel is an OTR driver, stopping for a meal, as he transports cargo. This is my first time writing Joel, so please be kind. And yes, I’m inspired by P’s portrayal of Joel. I don’t support the views of the show’s creator, fyi.

_________

“Hi there, what can I get for you?”

The most soulful pair of brown eyes finally met yours, as you began to assist him. He definitely wasn’t a regular, because you recognized everyone who sat at these tables.

It felt as though he was in deep thought when you greeted him. Shoulders slumped, furrowed brow, very reserved, in stark contrast to the bustle of the other customers in the diner you called home.

Home also was this sleepy town, where families, college students driving cross-country, and hard-working OTR drivers passed through, temporarily pausing at the rest stops and your diner. A place to take a beat, get some shut-eye, have a good meal, before moving on. That was the norm and you were used to this.

But this one appeared to be different.

“Sorry… Hi. I’ll have a coffee, black. Biscuits and some bacon, please.”

“That’s it?”

A short “yup” came your way as the man handed you the menu. “Don’t need much.”

An easy order, no need to write anything down. You were going to make sure this new customer would receive the best biscuits and gravy on this side of the Mississippi.

As you observed, you had to admit he was one of the more handsome visitors lately, so there was incentive to impress, hoping he would return during a future trek.

With a smile, you answered, “Sounds good. It will be here before you know it.”

With a curt nod, the man spoke. “Thank you, ma’am.”

It had been a while since you heard such a formal title. You giggled, insisting the man call you by your first name.

The newcomer’s eyebrows raised, confused. “Ma’am, that’s not how I was raised.”

“I appreciate your manners, but here, everyone is a friend. First name basis now.” Leaning over, you whispered, “Owner’s request.”

Seeing that you weren’t budging, and he did not want to offend, a deep sigh arose.

“Alright, fine,” he relented, repeating your name slowly, in a tone that honestly made your insides tingle with desire. “Joel.”

“Nice to meet you.”

_______

Let me know if you’d like to read more of this. 💙

@moralesfish @heythere-mel @wildemaven idk who else would want to check this out lol

[mellowswriting]

new perspective

pairing || Din Djarin x f!Reader

word count || 2.8k

summary || teaching the infamous Mandalorian to slow down and enjoy life isn't easy. it takes planning, patience - and silken sheets apparently.

content || SMUT, domesticity, simple pleasures, shower sex, sensual massages (i'm incorrigible), p in v sex, cowgirl position 🤠, slow sweet sex, post-orgasm planning for the future (this is din, after all)

a/n || i know, i know. i can hear it all now. "mel, where the fuck have you been???" celebrating my graduation and then immediately devolving into an existential crisis. but that's okay! not only have i figured out my direction in life, but i've returned with everyone's favorite topic: simping for Din Djarin.

Din Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Library Blog

Din Djarin is not a man who knows how to take his time. He’s a workhorse, constantly on the go from one job to the next. He simply never learned the skill of savoring the little things in life. A good meal, a hot shower, a full night’s rest, leisure time. All of those things are simply a stranger to him. Any pleasure he takes, usually at his own hand, is perfunctory at best, a release of tension for its own sake.

Until you.

It starts simple - a set of silken sheets that you bring onto the Crest. Din returns to find you sprawled out on the small bed you share with a sleepy smile that makes his chest feel funny. Your fingers fan out against the soft material.

“Come feel.” You murmur. He doesn’t hesitate to tug off the thick leather gloves and brush the fabric with the back of his fingers. You watch as his shoulders soften, his head tilting as he takes in the foreign feeling. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah,” He says contemplatively. “It’s soft.”

Your smile widens and you shift over, making room for your lover. “Join me?”

“In a bit,” Din promises. The chill of his beskar soaks into your skin as he presses his forehead to yours. His warm palm cups your cheek and he holds you there for a breath before pulling away. “I have some more work to do.”

It isn’t hard to convince him to strip down when he joins you later that night. He’s exhausted, body aching from a long day’s work. He lets you strip away his armor and flight suit until he’s left in his briefs. You’re used to him falling asleep the moment he collapses into bed - but tonight is different. His eyebrows raise in surprise when he relaxes back into the pillows, his fingers rubbing circles against new sheets. Din is a man of few words but it’s obvious how much he likes the new addition to the bedroom.

“Come here,” He whispers, beckoning you to join him. The tension melts from his body as you curl up against his side. He tilts your chin up and kisses you softly, a wordless offer of his thanks that you eagerly accept. Surrounded by the cool sheets and the woman he loves, he falls asleep within minutes. That morning, Din lingers in bed for those first drowsy moments after waking. He wakes you with a few gentle caresses of his hands over your shoulder and arm and a murmur of your name. He looks more rested than usual.

You make sure to buy matching pillowcases the next time you’re out.

With every passing day, Din learns how to slow down and savor the morning. It doesn’t take much to keep him in bed with you a little longer each morning - a few soft touches and sweet kisses, and Din sinks right back into your arms. He rubs his face into the crook of your neck and drifts in and out of sleep, practically purring with every brush of your fingers through his hair. His voice, so deep and rough first thing in the morning, rumbles low in his chest as he murmurs his love into your skin. It’s simple, this early morning peace the two of you share. So simple, but so important.

You slip into the shower with him one random evening. You can’t help it. He’s been gone for two days straight on a bounty hunt and you’ve missed him. His eyes light up with interest as they trail over your naked body, his hands finding your waist and tugging you against him. A shiver of desire arcs up your spine - but you didn’t come here to get fucked silly in the shower. Well, not yet at least. You loop your arms around his shoulders and press up on your toes to kiss him properly. Din groans against your lips, already moving to press you against the shower wall. A gentle tug on his hair is enough to stop him in his tracks.

“Can I wash your hair?” You ask, looking up at him like the picture of innocence.

Din blinks at you, confused. “You want to… wash my hair?”

“Yeah,” You say softly.

There’s no need to over-explain. The two of you have mastered this silent communication over the months you have spent together. He searches your face for a moment before his expression softens, implicit permission given in the way his eyes shine for you. You gently lather shampoo into his thick curls and let your nails drag along his scalp in the way he loves. His eyelashes flutter under your touch but his eyes don’t close. He’s too intent on watching you. The grip he has on your hips tightens as you work, little groans falling from his lips at the simple pleasure of your hands on his body.

He lets you maneuver him and tilt his head back into the water without a hint of resistance. For a man so used to keeping everyone at arm's length, the trust he holds for you is plain as day. His cock twitches against your belly as your fingers meticulously work the suds from his hair. The barest hint of your skin against his is enough to get him riled up, but this…? The press of your slick, bare body pressed against his? His body language begs for more. He leans into the press of your fingers and cants his hips forward, slowly grinding against you with stuttered breaths.

The moment the water runs clear, Din lifts you by your thighs and presses you against the cold shower wall. You can’t help but admire the bulge of his biceps as he leverages you up and nudges your entrance with the head of his cock, searching your face for permission. The hungry kiss you drag him into is all the permission he needs. A new rush of adrenaline seizes his body as he sinks into you. He fucks you hard and fast, pace faltering at the pure heaven of your body. He wedges his hand between your bodies and rubs insistent circles against your clit. He just knows your body too well - within minutes, those frantic bursts of pleasure built into a powerful orgasm that leaves you trembling and weak in his arms.

Din buries his face in the crook of your neck as he spills inside of you just seconds later. Every moan and panted breath echoes through the small shower. You shiver at the feeling of his lips pressed against your neck. He always knows just where to kiss and touch to leave you like putty in his hands. He goes willingly when you guide him in for a real kiss, lazy and slow as the water streams against you. Careful not to let you slip, he lowers you onto your feet and maneuvers you until the water pounds against your back.

You should have expected him to return the favor. Din doesn’t take no for an answer.

“It’s your turn.” He murmurs, too adamant and stubborn to be swayed. You’ve always loved that about him, even when it gives you grief.

You melt into his chest as he works product into your hair, his fingers massaging at your scalp in a way you didn’t even know you needed. Little sounds of satisfaction fall from your lips with every touch. Sometimes you forget just how big his hands are. He palms the back of your head and draws you close enough that your noses brush, but he doesn’t kiss you. Not yet. He just watches you for a moment as he thoroughly washes your hair. He takes in the way you look up at him with an expression so full of love that he aches.

“I love you,” His voice is so low that it almost gets lost in the thrum of water, but you hear it. He can tell by the way your eyes light up, by the soft smile that curls your lips.

“I love you, too.” You whisper back. Din kisses you softly before tilting your head back and rinsing the suds from your hair.

Slowly but surely, you introduce Din to a life he never realized was possible. He learns how to revel in the attention and care you give him. He learns how to give it in return. His thoughts always return to you when he’s on a bounty, knowing he has to return to his little love waiting for him at his ship. Every now and then, he finds something to bring back to you - a little trinket, some sweets, a new book. You always look at him as if he’s placed the entire universe in the palm of your hands. Fuck, he would do it, too. Anything to see you so happy.

Din returns from a week-long bounty exhausted, sore, and with a little gift in hand. It’s just a new robe, something soft and airy for you to wear on those long nights in hyperspace. You gasp softly when he hands it to you, your fingers exploring the silky fabric as if it’s precious - and to you, it is. Not because it’s some rare or expensive treasure. Just because it comes from him.

Allowing you to remove his armor is as easy as breathing. He eagerly accepts every touch and kiss you give him, more than happy to let you do as you please. You set every piece of armor aside with care and neatly fold his flight suit. It doesn’t take any convincing to get him into the shower with you. The burning heat of the water soothes some of the aches that linger in his muscles. A dull throb still follows his every move but he powers through, not wanting to spoil such a pleasant evening with his lover.

He never really learned that he can’t hide anything from you.

“What’s wrong?” You ask as he eases himself onto the edge of the bed.

“Just sore,” He concedes, slowly rolling his shoulders in a vain effort to ease the tension. Your eyebrows furrow as you look him over with a keen eye. All you wear is that scrutinizing expression and the pretty robe he got you, and he doesn’t think you’ve ever looked more beautiful. He sighs and reaches for your hand. “Come on, let’s just get some sleep.”

“You can’t sleep if you’re this uncomfortable.” You squeeze his shoulder, frowning when you feel how tight his muscles are. “Let me help.”

Din meets your gaze, your eyes so earnest that he doesn’t even think to deny you. He lets you maneuver him as you please until he’s laid out on his belly with you straddling his hips. A low groan rumbles through his chest when your hands bear down on his shoulders. Every pass of your fingers brings a strange combination of pleasure and pain that leaves him melting into the bed.

Even after all these months, he just isn’t used to the feeling of your skin against his. A simple passing touch is enough to have him shivering, but this? It’s overwhelming, all-consuming in the best possible way. It doesn’t take long for that pain to melt away into pure pleasure. Breathless, needy sounds follow every pass of your fingers. He can't help but rock his hips, grinding his cock into the silken sheets.

By the time you've finished working your thumbs into his lower back, you've reduced the Mandalorian beneath you into a desperate, hungry mess. He goes without hesitation when you urge him onto his back. His hands immediately find your hips and he grinds up into the heat of your cunt. The only thing that stops him from flipping you over and fucking you into the sheets is the gentle hand you place on his chest.

“Let me.” You whisper. Your voice carries a soft thrum of need that leaves him aching. “Let me take care of you.”

His fingers tighten at your hips at the mere brush of your fingers against his cock. That grip becomes bruising as you slowly sink onto him. Pleasure curls through his belly at the feeling of your cunt fluttering around him, so hot and slick and perfect - it would be so easy to lose his mind in the rapture of your body. It isn’t easy to keep his eyes open under the onslaught of pleasure, but it’s well worth it. He’s rewarded with the sight of your jaw falling slack and a shiver wracking your body. The stretch, the angle - it’s all new to you. You aren’t used to taking him this way. He isn’t used to letting you.

You sigh a breathy, pleased little sound that makes his heart skip a beat or two. Fuck, you might just be the death of him one of these days. It’s a demise he welcomes if it means meeting his end at your hands. That first roll of your hips has his head tipping back into the pile of fluffy pillows, yet another addition of comfort you’ve brought to this bed. You can’t take your eyes off him - the flex of his biceps, the clench of his jaw, the sheen of sweat that glistens on his tan skin. A delicious vision of the man you’ve come to love so dearly. You lean down and press a kiss to his chest, his collarbone, to that sweet spot where his pulse thrums in his neck.

Your fingers comb through his curls, bringing his pleasure-clouded gaze back to your own. His lips part as you set a slow, steady pace. Every rise and fall of your hips makes his eyelashes flutter but he doesn’t look away. He’s too entranced by this, by the pure newness of it all. Heat pulses and courses through your belly with every grind of your clit against him, grows stronger with every needy sound you pull from him. His chin tips up, an obvious plea, and you kiss him. Soft and slow, full of tongue and teeth.

Din doesn’t think he’s ever experienced anything quite as overwhelming as this. He isn’t a stranger to the feeling of your body or the love you somehow hold for him, but this is all new. Every slow rock of your hips sends honeyed pleasure slinking down his spine. There’s no need to rush. He can take his time and truly feel you, revel in the plushness of your thighs and the wet heat of your cunt. For the first time, he lets himself explore your body unhurried. His hands drift up and palm your breasts, his fingers rolling your nipple with a gentle touch. Your head tips back as you hum a pleased little sound.

Din can’t help but press his hips up, rising every time yours fall. He doesn’t take control, doesn’t try to set a faster pace. He just moves with you as fluid as rushing water. His hands shift to cup your ass, his fingers digging in and spreading you out for him. Desire clouds your gaze as he grinds his hips at that perfect angle that makes you see stars. You’re so close - he can feel it in the telltale rhythmic pulse of your cunt, in the way your thighs tremble. Slick drips in little rivulets down his thighs.

“Perfect, so perfect,” He rambles between rushed breaths. “My sweet girl, all mine.”

“Yours,” You promise. “I’m yours.”

All it takes is one perfect rock of his hips to have you falling apart for him. That tension finally bursts through your belly, your cunt tightening around him with every aching wave of pleasure. You lose all sense, all ability to keep your pace, but Din is quick to take over. His grip on your waist tightens as he pulls you down, spilling himself as deep as your body can take him. You let yourself melt into his chest, a wave of pleasure shuddering through you with every twitch of his spent cock.

Din locks his arms around your back, all too content to keep your body against his. No complaint comes from you. You just tuck your face into his neck with a spent sigh. The two of you float together in that sweet, exhausted haze. He doesn’t know for how long, but he never wants it to end. He never wants any of this to end. He wants this forever, for every possible moment of his life to be soaked in this contentment. Surrounded by soft sheets and the smell of your perfume. Unhurried and easy, with you.

Months ago, such a realization would have thrown him into an existential crisis. But he didn’t have you all those months ago - this sweet, bright-eyed, spitfire of a woman currently taking a cat nap on his chest. He didn’t have the sweet scent of your shampoo infused in his sheets. He didn’t have your soft exhales ghosting along his throat. He just didn’t know that life could be like this. The moment you shift as if you’re making to get off of him, his arms tighten around you.

“Just a little longer,” He murmurs, his voice sleepy and pleasure drunk.

You're more than happy to indulge him.

[hybridirl]

so pretty.

18+ only, please!

abby x f!reader

a/n: hi everyone!! i’m sorry that this is an abby fic cuz i’ve been getting ellie reqs!! so i’m sorry if i disappoint but i rlly needed to scratch this itch

brief summary: your dad’s co-worker is sooo cute! you hadn’t seen her in so long! tonight, a dinner is happening with his team! you just have to hurry up and get dressed, because she just caught you nakeyyyy.

tw / worship, age gap (it’s not pronounced), pet names, praise, pure smut(?), cunnilingus, cheating, slight mommy kink, rushed sex, reader gets referred to as “daddy’s little girl,” use of y/n, AU

⋆⭒˚☾⋆.˚

you let out a quick sigh as you tugged your dress up, slipping your shoulders into the straps and taking a glance at your clock.

fuck, you thought to yourself, dad’s gonna be pissed. you were late downstairs for a very important dinner your dad was hosting! this was your first ever dinner you’ve been invited - no, well, forced to go to. all the other times, your whole time growing up, they’ve been at restaurants which your dad told you you couldn’t go to. well, now they’re here. and now you have to make a good impression and have spectacular manners for these people. uh oh.

you looked at your outfit, a tight-fitted, wine red dress. it was appropriate enough, but it was definitely showing your body off. you didn’t have time to change, though, so, a quick spray of your dior perfume would be your final touch. spritz, spritz, and you’re hurriedly rushing down the steps. you don’t have to peek around the corner to know who’s there: your dad, isaac, manny, owen, mel and… was that abby? you gulped. you hadn’t seen abby in so long, yet she’d been on your mind all that time. suddenly you were self conscious, adjusting your dress and adjusting your hair if you could. you peeked around the corner, and almost squeaked at the sight. she was there. she wore a skin-tight, long-sleeve dress.

why are you covering up those pretty arms? was the first thing you thought. those arms had kept you up at night as you fantasized about them holding you, worshiping you, and vice versa for you. your cheeks were heated, flushed with blood as you became entranced by her body. your eyes trailed down to take in the rest of her, her muscular back, legs, stomach. oh, god. you might have to go back to your room.

“y/n!” your dad called, making your head perk up and the rest of his team turn to look at you. they greeted you with friendly faces, having not scene “daddy’s little girl,” as your dad would say, in a hot minute. you stood up straight, giving a stiff wave as you rushed to go sit down by your dad’s side.

everyone was staring at you. you couldn’t tell if it was the dress, or that they hadn’t seen you. you tried your damndest to never even glance at abby and you did pretty well, barely even uttering a word to her whilst you talked pretty chattily to the rest. yes, that probably hurt her feelings, but your sanity was slightly more important.

you continued to eat, your mind now focused.

“so, y/n,” abby called whilst the others chatted, “how’s school going?” you glanced up, giving an awkward smile as you swallowed your food.

“it’s, uh, going,” you replied with heated cheeks. “it’s going.” she smirked a knowing smile and brought her hand to yours. your gaze didn’t falter as it continued it’s strenuous stare at her face. you tried to hide a growing grin,

“you can always ask me for help,” she offered, “i’m pretty good at math, y’know.” you felt your lips twitching to a small smile and you nodded.

“yeah,” you said with a nod, pulling your hand away slowly. “thanks, mrs. anderson.” she gave you a small smile, her eyes so briefly flickering downward to your chest that you hadn’t noticed.

the night went on, slowly coming to an end while you dismissed yourself upstairs. it was late and you had things to do tomorrow. a quick shower was what you needed while you hurried to the bathroom. everyone had left except for a few stragglers, who you had assumed were going to leave pretty soon.

you quietly entered the bathroom and shut the door behind you. you stepped toward the mirror, giving a lopsided smile at your slightly disheveled state. you slipped out of your dress then stepped out the pool of your cloth. you stepped toward the bath, running it whilst you plugged the drain. you sat on the tub, taking off your shoes and socks to flex your feet.

you jumped, hearing a crack of lightning outside the window.

jesus, you thought. you didn’t realize the fan would be so bad. you groaned silently, turning the water off and pulling the plug on the drain. you were slipping back into your dress, the straps just above your waist before the door swings open. you yelped, covering your chest quickly.

“i didn’t know,” the smooth voice stated. your jaw was slack, staring abby in. “sorry.” but she didn’t turn away. her eyes flickered down to your chest, taking in what she could see. “…sorry,” she said once more before beginning to turn away. you didn’t know she was still here, you thought she’d left.

“well, wait,” you called before you could realize what you were doing. her gaze fell back on you, her brows raised. “i… um…” you felt your arms begin to relax, and your eyes widened as they fell to your sides, uncensoring your body for her.

“y/n,” she breathed. “your dad’s downstairs. so’s owen.” you both gazed at each other as a silence emerged. your eyes flicked down her body, especially the muscles that covered her arms.

“…i don’t care,” you spoke softly. you watched her slowly shut the door behind her as she entered. doe-eyed, you watched her approach you. she took a hold of the dress that hung around your waist, pulling it so you were close.

“daddy’s little girl ain’t so little anymore, huh?” your eyelids fluttered, gasping as her lips touched your neck. you hummed a “no” in response and your hand gripped her braid, tugging it as she bite into your neck. she let out a groan at your hair-tugs, which only fueled you. “mm, the boys would be so upset, huh? but, look how pretty you are. how’s a woman like me gonna resist a pretty girl like you?” she paused to pull away from you, “…can i touch you?” you nodded your head and her huge hands went to massage your breasts, eliciting a moan from your lips. “shhh. don’t get loud, baby, don’t get loud. just let mama touch your body.” they moved from your breasts and down to your sides and she spoke once more, “can i pull your dress down, baby girl?” you nodded, and the dress with down, down, down. her hands cupped your ass as you stood and she kneeled. “look at that,” she sighed and kissed your naval. “spread your legs for me, sweet thing, let me take a look at you.” you adjusted, spreading your legs just a tad to let her get a view of your inner lips, wet and needy.

“abby,” you huffed, slightly impatient. she smirked and squeezed your butt hard. you whined, writhing slightly.

“hush up,” she demanded lowly, kissing down your stomach. she sighed as she inhaled your scent, nostrils flaring. “mm, fuck you smell good.” your cheeks heated with embarrassment and your hand went for her hair again, pulling her closer to your throbbing pussy. “so impatient, sweetheart. you’re lucky the boys are downstairs… if they weren’t, i’d be bending you over my knee. god, look at this body…” her hands trailed back up your sides, squeezing your breasts once more. you could feel yourself drip as she began to kiss your thighs. “oh, baby,” she groaned into your thigh, bringing her hands back down. she licked right to your vulva, leaving a trail of saliva on your thighs. “should i tongue this needy pussy?”

“yes,” you gasped, nudging your hips forward. “abby, please.” you’d been waiting for this for so long, you needed her rough tongue on you. she leaned in to give your cunt a sloppy kiss, gently sucking on your clit. you hunched over, pulling her head closer to you. her hands grabbed your ass as she began to lick at you. “abby.” she smiled into your pussy while her tongue flicked against your clit, then dipped into you. “fuck…” she guided your hips along her tongue, each time her tongue found your sensitive little bud, curving right at the end to give you so much pleasure.

“it’s alright, baby, ride mama’s tongue,” she said quickly, opening her mouth wide for you. you obliged, hurriedly running yourself along her tongue.

“abby, abby,” you whined, gripping her hair to pump her head. she kept staring at you, her blue eyes boring into yours. “a-abby.” her hands soothingly ran up and down your thighs and her mouth closed slightly, suckling back onto your clit. “please!” you whimpered, the grip on her hair tightening. she groaned, the vibrations hitting your pussy so perfectly.

“shh.” she kissed your clit a few times before her fingers slipped into you. your jaw fell open and your head tilted back. you moaned her name quietly, heavy breaths filling the air. you could feel yourself, how close you were.

“please let me cum on your tongue,” you pleaded, your eyes locked on hers. she chuckled into your cunt, nodding whilst slurping up your juices. your legs trembled as you approached the edge of your orgasm. whimpers left your throat before you bit your lip, coming undone right on her tongue. she eagerly licked your nectar up, your hips rocking and grinding.

eventually coming down, you slowly pushed her head away. her face was drenched with your essence, a smug smile plastered on her face.

“that good, sweetheart?” she asked with a small kiss on your thigh. you nodded slowly, your breath heavy.

“yes,” you managed to say between labored breaths.

“let’s hope the boys didn’t hear, huh?” she stood up and guided your dress back on before speaking once more, “we’ll be doing this again.”

you bit back a smirk.