#fuckin delicious armor

[ubersaur]

some kind of collection

[stararch4ngelqueen]

Innocent Possession

—

Time Written - 11:52 p.m.

Arkham Knight/fem!reader smut

Tags: Smut, possessive, breeding/innocence kink. Jason might be a meanie. (Not Proofread. Have to work on a Saturday AND I BROKE MY NAIL 🫠)

This man is such a slut it’s not even funny anymore. LOOK AT THAT.👇 THIS WAS INSPIRED BY THAT 👆

—

His lush, heavy breathing fans along your exposed, maroon muddled neck. Sharp teeth dimpling your skin in harsh punctures, not enough to draw blood quite yet.

Hands that once cradled your neck like porcelain art in the distance of the past, now grasped your throat like a damn vice, pairing with his grip on your shoulder to force you back against him with each deep, aching thrust.

One of the major accomplishments of his new identity, his new life, was to find the innocence of his past. The highlight of his life for many years was brought to him, bound and gagged as Gotham was in the midst of evacuation. Your clothes were torn and rustled from aggressive attempts to subdue you, enough to leave bruises along your supple, upper arms as you thrashed and screamed.

Now those bastards of men lay dead outside the hall. Scattered corpses slumped along the floors, dreadfully bland decor that meant nothing to the Knight that holstered his gun after his short pursuit.

Your first greeting from the armored man was terrifyingly quiet, towering over you like a beast after approaching where you cowered.

His hands grasp hold of his helmet before you could beg for your life, only trying to make it towards the Evac buses before you were hauled off by those bastards. All words died on your tongue when steel cut blue eyes meet yours, brows faintly furrowed, his jaw taunt with incredibly strong tension.

You’re his ex, but not by choice. None of this was by choice. He vanished for a year, only to be presumed dead the next.

You never hated him enough to put that label on him. Any attempt to begin your list of a million questions abruptly halts before it even began, as his lips instantly assault yours.

“That’s a good girl. My fucked out little whore.” He grunts, squeezing your hips closer to his pelvis, bullying his fat cock deeper into your tight walls.

The ropes that kept you bound now uselessly dangled from your wrists like cheap bracelets, the skin of your knuckles lightening as you helplessly plant them along the wall. Skin grew sticky with milky cum in between both your bodies, loud and wet, seeping down in between your bare thighs.

Watching and feeling your juices dampen the front of his red tactical pants was a punishment in itself, one he was feeling kind enough to save for later.

Maybe fucking your mouth would make for good punishment, listening to you choke as he grinds against your face, a pool of your combined mess seeping along your dirty knees on the ground.

“You better hope I never learn if any other guy fucked what’s mine, Princess,” He huffs against your kiss bruised lips, barely taking breaks to let you breathe. “Woulda’ rather had you cryin’ on fuckin’ toys than another man.”

Your whimper sounded like a cry, making Jason believe he could do so here right now, in this dingy room, underneath a dusty headlight. He hovers more over your back, tilting your head just enough to crash his lips against yours.

Feverishly responding to such a heavy, messy kiss, you moan fully against his rough, scar lined lips, amplifying when his tongue promptly invades. He licks with feverish hunger as a hand slips under your waist, huffing at your jolt at the sudden, angry assault on your nub, forcing your walls to deliciously clench towards a third orgasm.

The sounds he could pull from his sweet girl never ceases to amaze him. Even before his death, you were nothing but kind, the epitome of polite and heartwarming sweetness. What the hell were you thinking, choosing to date a guy like him?

Doesn’t matter if he died. No man is ever gonna take what’s been his for a very, very long time.

You won’t have to tell him now, but he’ll know. He has the capability to learn all your deepest secrets, knowing he could drag them out of you so easily.

“You miss me, pretty girl?” His hot rasp rumbles richly along the shell of your ear, sparking an uproar of your over sensitive nerves.

“You miss cryin’ on my dick, Princess? Missed how good it made you feel, how perfect you’d behave just to get bred? Tell me,” he grunts after relinquishing from the kiss. “Tell me you did. Say it loud, tell me you missed me.”

“I did-“ You spew out from quivering lips, ripples of tears trailing down your cheeks.

“I did, Jay. M-Missed you so much—“

Your voice draws out an empty whine towards your last word, hearing the collision of hot skin get louder as he gets harsher, brutal, eagerly desperate to make up for all the time he’s lost.

His sweet, innocent girl resorted to a jittery, babbling fleshlight. You could say anything he wanted, his guarded ego crumbling from the truth laced in your words.

You missed him, grieved for him, loved him. Yet, all he saw you as right now is his babbling whore, his whining little baby who never got used to the size of him driving deep into your cunt.

Honestly, he hopes you never will.

Your front further gets pressed flat against the wall, hot skin shivering from the harshness of the cold surface. Thick, precisely detailed armor digs deep into your back when he leans over you, keeping his persistent grip along your jaw, keeping you suspended just enough to breathe when he fucks you.

“S’been hell without ya, sweetheart,” He lowers his tone, whispering with a kiss of taunt as he rocks himself against your plush ass, keeping you cock drunk per his amusement.

“My baby wanna prove how much she missed me?” He cooes along your ear, smirking sadistically to your complete unawareness. “My baby wanna have a baby? She wanna have her pussy filled to prove she always loved me?”

You whine out ‘yes’ over and over, your back arching heavily from his relentless pace. The more space you involuntarily create, the closer Jason leans into you, the harder the plating digs into your back. The harsher the head of his cock endlessly strikes your cervix, making you just about lose it.

A series of curses spewed from your lips, resulting in three thick fingers shoved into your mouth, tasting yourself prior when he assaulted your soaked core.

“Language, babygirl,” Jason sneers against your cheek, despising the foul words that left those pretty lips. “Don’t badmouth me like a cheap whore. You’re my good girl. Fucking act like it.”

His other hand promptly pressed against your abdomen, forcing your lower half closer towards his waist. With his overwhelming free reign on your body, Jason bullies your sore, abused pussy with a series of sharp slaps, your clit stinging from repeated impacts.

You jolt out, sobbing out a series of apologies laced in short begs in the midst of various squeals.

In another life, he was your gentle giant. Now, he was a monster lusting after much more than blood. Jason was a simple man; wanting nothing more than the death of his mentor, and his ex’s warm cunt until he’s fully satisfied.

You whine out something that sounded like a mix between a cry and a moan. He clicks his tongue, tilting your head back just a little more while halting his hand, catching sight of those teary, bubbly eyes and quivering lip.

“Speak up, baby.”

“I-I’m sorry!” You hiccup, your nails scraping along the wall from overstimulation.

“I’m sorry Ja-Jason, please—“

You stumble over words. A pure miracle over how flustered you were to say your desire after being his sex doll.

“Please what?” He demands, losing what patience he never had.

“A baby,” you whine out, purposely leaning into his palm, fluttering your teary lashes. “Give me your baby, Jason. I want it. Please.”

His brows raise in surprise, slowly rocking his hips whilst holding back a grunt. Yes, he said it, desiring it, but hearing you beg for this. To ruin your beautiful body with his tainted seed.

“M’Not gonna stop, y’know. Even when it takes.” His voice dribbled with lustful possession while his hips stutter back into an uproar, nibbling along your lobe with sharp teeth. “That what you want? You ready for that?”

You moan out an easy agreement with more eagerness than before, allowing your body to relax against his chest.

“Y’hear me, Princess?” Jason braced a hand along the wall, clutching hold of your hand in his grasp, keeping your fingers safe in his fist. “I’m gonna make you a mama by the end of tonight.”

The Bats can wait, for now. Once he’s dead, once he’s been dealt with, then he’ll have much more opportunity to celebrate.

[mattdillonbae]

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐘 𝐅𝐔𝐂𝐊𝐄𝐑𝐒.

warnings - use of bad language, sex, masturbation, roughness, oral sex, regular sex, cumming, etc

words - idek

fem girl x dallas winston

────୨ৎ────

"You know, I've had enough of this," Dallas murmured, his eyes scanning the crowded room with a mix of boredom and disdain. The party was in full swing, but he wasn't feeling it. The music was too loud, the laughter too forced, and the air had the sweet, cloying scent of spilled soda and cheap perfume. He was the king of the greasers, but tonight, he felt more like a caged animal.

With a firm grip on your wrist, he tugged you closer, his leather jacket creaking slightly as he moved. His eyes searched yours for a hint of agreement, and you nodded, a silent understanding passing between you. You'd had your fill of the party, too. The plastic cups and the sticky dance floor had lost their charm hours ago. His hand was warm and firm, a stark contrast to the coolness of the night outsider.

With a sense of relief, you both ascended the curved stairs, leaving the party's din behind. The steps creaked underfoot, echoing through the quiet house like whispers of a secret shared only between you. His room was at the end of the hall, a sanctuary from the chaos. The door creaked open, revealing a space that was a stark contrast to the vibrant energy of the party—dimly lit, with a single bed pushed against the far wall and a small desk by the window. The air was heavy with the scent of leather and something faintly musky, all him.

Dallas stepped closer, aggressively smashing his lips into yours. It was a kiss that didn't ask for permission—it demanded it. His tongue slithered past your teeth, and you could almost taste the rebellion that danced in his veins. You responded in kind, eagerly, as your bodies collided like two stars in a fiery embrace. His hands roamed over you, claiming every inch of your body as his own. You felt alive, like you were the only thing that mattered in the world.

You could feel your pussy throbbing, begging for his touch. The anticipation was palpable, a pulsing need that seemed to resonate with every beat of your heart. His hands trailed down to your waist, the heat from his fingertips burning through the fabric of your dress as if it were nothing but tissue paper. The sensation was exquisite, a sweet torment that had your knees buckling and your breath hitching in your throat.

"I want this dress off," Dallas growled, his voice low and possessive. It wasn't a question, but a demand, a declaration of his intentions. Your hands fumbled with the zipper at the back of the dress, but he was too impatient to wait. With a swift, decisive movement, he yanked it down, the teeth of the zipper whispering against your skin. The dress pooled around your feet, leaving you standing in nothing but your lacy lingerie, your breasts heaving with every shallow breath you took.

He stepped back for a moment, his gaze raking over you like a physical touch, lingering on the curves of your body that the dim light painted in shadows and silhouettes. His grin was feral, his eyes glinting with a predatory light. "Damn, you're fuckin' beautiful," he murmured, the words a caress that sent shivers down your spine. You felt exposed, but not vulnerable—his praise was like armor, wrapping you in a warm embrace of confidence.

With a swift, almost violent movement, Dallas pushed you onto the bed. The mattress squealed in protest, but the sound was lost in the symphony of your gasps and his hungry growls. His weight pinned you down, his body a delicious pressure that made you arch into him. You could feel his erection straining against his jeans, a promise of what was to come, pressing into your stomach like a hot brand.

Dallas's mouth found its way to your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin there. He sucked hard, leaving a bruise that bloomed like a dark flower under his lips. The sensation was exquisite, a perfect blend of pleasure and pain that made you gasp and clutch at the fabric of his shirt. His hand slid under your bra, cupping your breast, his thumb flicking over the hardened peak. You moaned, the sound a soft whimper that seemed to inflame him even more.

You couldn't help but reach down, your hand sliding over the slickness of your thigh to the apex of your legs. Your fingers found your clit, a tiny bud of desire that pulsed under your touch. You began to circle it, the pleasure spiraling through your body like a tornado. Dallas noticed, his eyes darkening as he watched your hand move between your legs. "Show me," he murmured, his voice thick with lust. "Let me see how badly you want it."

With trembling hands, you pushed aside the lace of your panties, revealing the slickness that glistened in the moonlight. His eyes widened, and he groaned, his own arousal palpable. "Fuck," he whispered, the word a benediction that sent a bolt of lightning straight to your core. You moaned again, louder this time, as your fingers danced over your sensitive flesh. The sound seemed to unleash something in him, and he reached down to rip your panties off with a ferocity that was almost frightening. But you weren't scared. You were alive, more alive than you'd ever felt before.

His hand replaced yours, his thumb taking over the delicate dance. The roughness of his skin against yours was electrifying, a jolt of energy that made your toes curl and your back arch. His touch was sure, confident, like he'd been born to do this—to own your pleasure, to wring every ounce of it from your body until you were nothing but a trembling mess beneath him. His eyes never left yours, the intensity of his gaze a silent promise of what was to come.

Then, without warning, Dallas leaned down, his mouth claiming your clit with an aggression that made your eyes roll back in your head. His tongue was a whip, flicking and teasing, each stroke sending waves of pleasure crashing through you like a tsunami. He didn't hold back, didn't gentle his touch. He licked you like he was devouring you, like he'd die if he couldn't taste you. And when he spat, the wetness of his saliva hit your sensitive flesh with a force that made you buck against him, your body begging for more.

But every time you tried to push closer, to grind against his face, he'd pin your hips down with a firm grip. It was a delicious struggle, a battle of wills that had your muscles tightening and your breath coming in short, desperate gasps. You were so close, so achingly close, but he wasn't going to let you come—not yet. His teeth grazed your inner thigh, the sharpness of the sensation making you squirm, making you want to scream.

"Dallas, I'm gonna cum," you whimpered, your voice high and needy. The words were a plea, a surrender, a declaration of war.

He chuckled darkly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "Come all on me, baby," he said, his voice a low, seductive purr that sent a bolt of electricity straight to your core. "I want to taste you."

You came out all on him, he licked all your juices up until with one swift motion, Dallas was on his feet, his jeans and boxers pooling around his ankles. His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, jutting out from his hips like an accusation. He stroked it once, twice, a silent promise of what was to come. You couldn't tear your eyes away, watching as he pumped himself with a practiced rhythm that had your mouth watering and your pussy clenching.

The sight of him touching himself, knowing you were the reason for his arousal, was too much. The need to feel him inside you was a wildfire, burning out of control. You whined, a desperate sound that seemed to come from some primal part of your soul. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes, not from pain, but from the overwhelming urgency of your desire. "Dallas," you pleaded, the word coming out as a breathy moan. "I need you."

He chuckled, the sound dark and rich like the finest whiskey. "You fucking needy, aren't you?" he said, his voice low and smug. But there was no mockery in his tone, only a deep, primal satisfaction that you were begging for him, that he had the power to make you feel this way. He climbed onto the bed, his cock bobbing with every movement, and positioned himself between your legs. With one hand, he guided himself to your entrance, the blunt tip of him nudging against your slick folds. You could feel the heat of him, the promise of everything you craved.

You whimpered again, the anticipation a delicious torture. "Oh, fuck," you breathed, your voice a trembling whisper. You'd been with boys before, but none of them had ever made you feel like this—none of them had ever filled you up so completely that you thought you might just shatter into a million pieces. And as he pushed inside you, the head of his cock stretching your walls, you realized that none of them ever would.

"Shit, you're tight," Dallas grumbled, his voice strained with effort. You bit your lip, trying to hold back the scream that was building in your chest. It burned, a white-hot ache that was almost too much to bear. But you didn't want him to stop. You wanted him to keep pushing, to keep filling you up until there was no space left for anything but him.

And then, with a final thrust, he was fully sheathed inside you, his hips flush against your own. You gasped, your nails digging into the sheets as you adjusted to the delicious fullness. For a moment, he just held still, savoring the feeling of being inside you, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his muscles flexed with the effort of restraint.

Then, as if he couldn't take it any longer, Dallas began to move. His hips rolled into you in a rhythm that was both slow and brutal, a dance of lust that had your eyes rolling back in your head. He leaned down, capturing your mouth again in a kiss that was as fierce as the storm that raged outside. His teeth grazed your lower lip, making you whine into his mouth, the taste of blood mingling with the flavor of his tongue.

As he kissed you, his hand found your neck, his fingers wrapping around the slender column of your throat. He didn't squeeze, not yet, but the pressure was there—a constant reminder of his strength, his dominance. You could feel your pulse throb against his fingertips, a wild staccato that matched the tempo of his thrusts. His other hand slid down to your hip, his grip tightening as he began to move faster, harder, pounding into you like he was trying to claim you in the most primal way possible.

And then, as if the gods themselves had willed it, his mouth left your neck, traveling down to your chest. He took your left breast in his mouth, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin before sucking hard on the nipple. You could feel the tension coiling tighter, the sensation a delicious agony that had your nails digging into his back. His other hand moved to your right breast, his thumb flicking over the peak in a teasing counterpoint to the fiery kisses he was bestowing on its twin.

With every touch of Dallas's fingers trailing across your bare skin, chills danced down your spine, setting your nerves alight. His hands were a maelstrom of sensation—his thumbs tracing lazy circles around your areolae, his fingertips grazing the soft flesh of your inner thighs, sending waves of heat crashing through you like a summer storm. The anticipation was unbearable, a sweet torment that had you squirming beneath him, your hips rising to meet each punishing thrust.

Then, as if reading your mind, his thumb found your clit again, his touch a masterstroke that had you gasping for air. The pressure was exquisite, a perfect symphony of pleasure that seemed to resonate with every beat of your racing heart. His eyes never left yours, the dark hunger in them a mirror to the desire that consumed you both. You could see the triumph in his gaze as you began to unravel, your orgasm building like a crescendo in a rock 'n' roll song, the tension tightening with every stroke of his cock.

The heavy throb in your stomach grew with each passing second, a storm of need that had your legs shaking uncontrollably. You could feel the heat rising in your cheeks, your breath coming in ragged pants that seemed to echo through the silent room. It was as if the entire world had stopped spinning, leaving only the two of you in a cocoon of lust and desire.

And then, without warning, it hit you—the orgasm that had been building, coiling tighter and tighter, like a spring ready to snap. You screamed his name, the sound raw and uninhibited as it tore from your throat. Your body arched off the bed, your back bowing like a bow drawn to its full extent. The pleasure was like a white-hot knife slicing through you, leaving you trembling in its wake.

But Dallas wasn't done yet. As your climax rippled through your body, he pulled out with a wet pop that made you whine with the sudden emptiness. He took a couple of deep, shuddering breaths, his chest heaving with the effort of holding back his own release. And then, with a snarl of pure, primal need, he painted your chest with his cum, the warmth of it a stark contrast to the coolness of the room. It was a declaration of his own, a brand that marked you as his.

"Oh, Jesus," Dallas sighed, plopping down on the side of the bed, his legs splayed out in front of him. His cock was still rock-hard, a testament to his unbridled passion. He watched you, panting and trembling, your skin flushed and your eyes glazed with satisfaction. You were a vision of debauchery, a greaser's angel sprawled out on his rumpled sheets.

Your body was a canvas of desire, your breasts heaving with every breath, the nipples still hard from his attention. Your legs were spread wide, the remnants of your orgasm painting your inner thighs like an erotic Pollock masterpiece. And your pussy, swollen and glistening, begged for more of the attention it had just received. Dallas couldn't help but admire the way you looked, the way you reacted to his touch. It was like watching a fire burn—beautiful and destructive.

With a gentle tug, he pulled you closer, his body spooning yours as he wrapped the covers around you both. The warmth was a stark contrast to the coolness of the room, and you couldn't help but melt into him, your curves fitting perfectly against his hard planes. His cock was still nestled against your ass, the slickness from your arousal leaving a sticky trail between your bodies. His arm was like a steel band around your waist, his hand resting on the soft mound of your stomach, his fingers idly playing with the wetness that still lingered.

"You did so good for me, baby," Dallas murmured into your ear, his voice a warm caress that sent shivers down your spine. He kissed your temple, his breath ghosting over your skin as his lips moved to the sensitive spot behind your ear. You shivered, the tender gesture making your heart swell with affection. His teeth grazed the lobe, sending a jolt of pleasure that had you tilting your head to give him better access. His kiss was firm, a brand of possession that had your toes curling in the sheets.

You felt a lazy smile tug at the corners of your mouth, your body boneless and sated in the aftermath of the explosive passion that had consumed you both. The room was quiet now, save for the distant sounds of the party that had long since faded into the background. The storm outside had passed, leaving only the occasional whisper of the wind to serenade you as you lay in the cocoon of his arms.

[argisthebulwark]

my official bid to get you to vote Brynjolf the ultimate Unromancable Husband in all of Skyrim

f!ldb/brynjolf smut. it is nsfw because it's just. explicit sex. so. you know. minors don't fuckin interact alright.

"What's all this, lass?"

When you heard his voice you turned, expecting to find some itinerary or spreadsheet you'd left sitting around. Brynjolf's hands spread over the Guild Master's desk as he leaned over it. There was mischief in his eyes, that crooked smirk on his mouth that made your heart stutter.

"You can do your own paperwork, Bryn. I have other stuff to worry about."

"Oh I think filling this out would be a bit biased of me." When he slid a roll of parchment toward you all words turned to ash on your tongue. Your face felt like it went up in flames when you saw it sitting there, his finger tapping on his own name. "Don't you think?"

"What are you doing with that?" You breathed, shrinking into the plush seat behind your desk. His smirk grew when he leaned in further, invading every inch of your space.

"Been hearing my name tossed about more lately." That low pitch of his voice heated your blood despite the embarrassment. "I wanted to figure out why I was being discussed so much and got my hands on one of these flyers."

Skyrim's Sexiest Unromancable Man Cast your vote in the Riften Market today!

Nazir or Brynjolf

"From the rumors, you're winning." You cleared your throat, mindlessly straightening papers on your desk to appear nonchalant. He didn't relent, leaving the parchment dead in front of you as he stalked behind your chair.

"Who's your vote, lass?" His voice was like silk, breath hot against your ear. His lips trailed down your throat and hands guided you to lean over the desk, your body pliant under his hold. Arousal grew with every frantic beat of your heart as Brynjolf's muscled chest pressed to your back, his large arms wrapping around you and expert hands sliding under your armor.

"I didn't participate." You gasped, trying to maintain some semblance of normalcy despite the biting kisses down your throat. His only response was a deep hum as he easily unbuckled your armor.

Every inch of your body burned for him. Rationally you knew that some thieves would be returning from jobs soon and someone was surely drinking only a few doors away but you didn't care. Brynjolf's touch was so intoxicating, his kisses and dexterous fingers far more intriguing than your reputation.

"Mm, Guild Master." He whispered against your shoulder and you clutched at the edge of your desk to contain the filthy moan his voice tempted to tear out of you. "You wouldn't be lusting after anyone else, now would you?"

"And if I were?" You both knew it was impossible but you wanted to play along. You'd rarely seen him jealous but the possessive grip of his hand on your waist, the way his hips ground against your ass left you wanting more.

"How can I sway you?" He breathed, fingers teasing along the waistline of your pants. There was a hint of his smile in his voice, that taunting lilt that made you blush. "You know you want me."

"You say that like it's obvious." Of course it was obvious. Every day you found yourself drooling over him, eyes popping out of your head when he removed his armor or tied his hair back.

"Oh, lass." He practically moaned, fingers finally dipping into your pants. You hardly heard him over your own moans echoing around the Cistern when he stroked along the soaked material of your undergarments. "You want me as badly as I want you."

You slapped a hand over your mouth when his fingers slid easily into your core. Shivers ran up your spine with each pump of his hand into you, thumb brushing so deliciously over your clit with each movement. His other hand held firm on your waist and kept you pressed tight to him, his cock throbbing beneath his armored pants and chest warm against your back. It felt like Brynjolf was everywhere, all of your senses drowning in him.

"Going to cast your vote for me?" He grunted, hips grinding against your ass as his fingers slowed. "Or shall I keep going?"

"Gods, please keep going."

You stared at the sheet of parchment when Brynjolf slowly tugged down your pants, kissing along your lower back and leaving goosebumps in his wake. His large hands guided your hips backward just enough to feel his cock brushing against you, barely even brushing your entrance and you were already a mess.

"Oh lass." He murmured, that lilt in his voice just as arousing as the cock pressing into your cunt. "You know you want to vote for me."

"Yes." You panted, feeling every inch of him entering you so slowly. You knew you were drooling on the list of jobs Maven had tossed your way earlier and you were likely leaving scratches in the desk but couldn't help it. Brynjolf's cock thrust into you once, twice, just enough to have every nerve in your body alive just for him.

You heard yourself babbling under him, making promises and begging for him to keep touching you. His hips were slow, dragging out every fucking second of pleasure and wringing the words out of you. Your body ached for more of him - his hand on your waist and fingers trailing up your back into your hair, warm breath fanning over your back and the wonderful brush of his skin on yours.

"Who's Skyrim's sexiest man, lass?" He panted over the lewd slapping of his hips into yours. You could hardly remember your own name through the haze of an oncoming orgasm.

"You are." You gasped when he tugged on the back of your hair just enough to leave you staring at where his name was printed on the parchment. His cock slammed into you again and again, pushing you just to the edge of orgasming.

"Atta girl."

Between the praise and the harsh thrust of his hips you felt yourself falling apart under him. Sheer pleasure only he could provide blasted through your body, spine tingling and toes curling under his expert hold. Your body shivered and you clung to the edge of the desk when you felt his final thrust and he stilled, cock throbbing as he came deep inside of you.

Slowly, Brynjolf's chest lowered to press against your back. His touches were gentler than before as his hands claimed yours and soft kisses dropped to your head. His fingers played with the quill you'd tossed aside and you grinned, feeling his smile against your shoulder.

"You planning to do this to everyone in Riften?" You joked, taking the quill from him and drawing a quick circle around his name.

"Oh I'm already in the lead, love." His nose nuzzled against your throat in a way that sent your heart into overdrive. "Just needed to make sure you knew who to vote for."

[max--phillips]

“Stop touching things.” “Don’t touch anything.” “You stay right here.” Din this is an infant and he is not going to listen to you. You don’t even know if he can understand you

I will never not be pissed abt g*na

Also the fuckin waitress. Also the character development? Could you IMAGINE Din being THAT flippant about who he lets watch Grogu at this point? “Watch the kid” running away. No way

“WANT SOME SOUP?” ICONIC

I really just want to point out that there are not many people (specifically, non-Mandalorians) who could take on a fully armored Mandalorian in hand to hand like that and kick ass like Cara. I mean she fucking sent him face first into the dirt. Anyway

Omera introducing Winta and diffusing that situation is so funny to me . The two of them walk away and Din’s like “what the fuck just happened. What am I feeling right now.”

I still think Omera is a former Mandalorian.

Also can we talk about the food in this episode??? Why does it all look lowkey delicious. I’m mad I’ll never get a bowl of those noodles from the cantina early in the ep you can see for like, half a second

[falloutnewvegastransedmygender]

Log #1616 11.01.81: Got up with the sun this morning to head into Boulder City and meet up with that fucking twink hopefully. I'm ready to separate his head from his body, Boone reminded me not to act too hasty just in case folks got the wrong idea. Made it into Boulder City to find them in a standoff. Khans had some hostages but were surrounded in some ruins. Walked in to negotiate, which made their eyes widen, especially since I was now in my trusty T-51b Power Armor. Found out the twink's name is Benny, Bastard Benny the Traitorous Twink I think I'll call him. That damn twink Benny for short. Had to grease the palm of the commanding officer to negotiate the Khans freedom to retreat, they gave me the twink's lighter, a gorgeous piece of work. Gonna use it to light a cig in his face. They seemed surprised to see me and Boone though, the Khans that is. Not sure what gives but my guess is something to do with Bitter Springs. At any rate once that was cleared up by 08:00 we decided to cut over to Sloan through Scorpion Gulch. Have been picking up some strange radio signals from Black Mountain we wanted to investigate. Ended up finding out that the quarry there was overrun with Deathclaws. Me and Boon were able to provide some exterminator work. Did a little tidying up around camp and learned to make omelettes with fucking Deathclaw eggs. Who would've fuckin thought of that. Says her grandma had a captive Deathclaw she kept chained up in the barn for the eggs. Damn thing is delicious though. Gonna investigate Black Mountain in the morning, after a little more listening to the radio sounds like Super Mutants and Nightkin, shouldn't be too big of a problem.

[ctrl-lupin]

#i fuckin love them so much every time jigen is like “hate that bitch i hope she dies” #and then this shit happens #but then that sort of scenario just sums up jigen in general actually #“i hate kids” *adopts a seventh child* #“women are the worst fuck women” *steals from an active fascist stronghold for a woman that broke into his hotel* #(THIS ONE WAS EVEN FOR ROMANCE BAITING HIM SHE TOLD HIM UPFRONT SHE WAS HAPPILY ENGAGED AND SHE WAS) #“fujiko especially is the worst in the world” *takes several bullets for her* #“lupin this is a stupid idea and im fucking leaving” *saves him 15 minutes later from an armored tank with a bazooka while driving a fiat* #anyway in conclusion #Jigen Daisuke: you'll think he hates you until he nearly dies for you the third time

(@king-guinevere back again with some delicious tags)

team 'in love with Lupin' for the win

[unik0rnu]

Magos - WH40K Tech-Priest Armour and Weapon

Well, well. I didn’t get yet to make Mayeer but there is already a perfect armor mod waiting for him on nexus. Fuck yeah.

[nim-lock]

It's me, the fic idea anon, the one who keeps sending the fic ideas (well not all of them). Man if only I had a talent for writing I'd write them

Ok but imagine that in one of the stakeout in expanding Boba's criminal influence the trio met up with another shady criminal empire. Yet all hell breaks lose and although they gave one hell of a fight, Din was nearly beaten within an inch of his life by a bigger alien and Boba retaliates in turn by ripping the poor guy's four limbs off

So they get back in their quarters, Boba's heart clenches when he sees how busted Din is under his armor and feels mixed abt it because for one, he's dismayed that beskar doesn't protect better but also a grim acceptance that it did prevent Dins death countless times. Before he could stop himself, he just cups Din's face and Din flinches in surprise and then just. Gets into it, eyes closing, practically sagging into his hands without worry. The same hands that committed great violence mot long ago, still stained with blood. Boba can feel his pulse, his quiet breathing, on how pliant the muscle is under his fingers and knows how so easy it would be to snap his neck, to break his face just as he ripped the alien's appendages apart from its body but Din just melts into his hold, as if it was the safest thing in the world and knows while these hands are capable of great violence and harm, those would never be meant for him

And Boba... Boba just don't know what to do with that sheer level of trust

Holy fuckin shit :-0......delicious

[tsuki-sennin]

Once upon a time, there was this famous author guy by name of Samuel Clemens, well known by his pen name of "Mark Twain", who wrote a classic novel known as The Prince and The Pauper, in which Prince Edward VI of England switches places with a street urchin by name of Tom Canty. Poor Tom struggles to keep up with national matters, while Edward is forced to realize how cruel and injust the Tudor royal family's legal system truly is on his travels. Twain, money hungry as he was known to be, viewed it as a simple paycheck, but this book endured so hard that the House of Mouse and Barbie made their own adaptations of it that both remain beloved to this day, albeit in... much less intense form.

So, what's Yui Nagomi cooking up with this classic recipe, huh? Well, you're just gonna have to watch to find out, right? I doubt Yui here's gonna have to be made to deal with things so dire as class divide, religious persecution, and murder as in the original novel, but hey!

Spoilers, I guess...

-This is Yui Nagomi! She fucking loves food! She will be playing the part of the "Pauper", previously held by fellow Toei hero Kaito Kumon, the Armored Rider Baron! Speaking of whom, I recently learned that Yutaka Kobayashi is taking steps to fully recover from his mental breakdown from much earlier this year and is currently training as a chocolatier in Paris. Good for him, I wish him all the best :)

-Don't be intimidated, Amane! She's just as scared of you as you are of her!

-The Smiling Princess Maira, who just so happens to look exactly like Miss Yui Nagomi!

-See, even she knows~!

-...HOLUP WHAT

-YUIN WHAT THE FUCK YOU'VE BEEN RUBBING ELBOWS WITH ROYALTY AND YOU DIDN'T EVEN TELL US

-Y'know, a certain Haruka would be proud if you pull off this princess role. ...Kirara perhaps not so much, but it's okay, Minami's there to balance it out.

-Oh, don't worry, I mean Twilight, I mean Towa, I mean Gentle, I mean Amane. If Yuin met Jesus Christ himself, she'd turn the five loaves and two fish into a massive sashimi bar in his stead.

-TAKUMICCHI YOUR DAD WHAT THE FUCK

-Isuki Island...

-That's quite the cat design.

-"I was told you didn't speak, and now you don't shut the fuck up!"

-Oishi-Na Town! We have a Prince hangin' out here, actually!

-Well golly, Amane! It seems as though you are a direct accomplice! Good for you, Amai-kaichou!

-Guess this all works out! Maira-ojou samples local cuisine, and Yuin gets to live the high life! ...assuming she doesn't get stuck with hours of paperwork and/or seeing her own mother get violently knocked away by guards upon recognizing her.

-What would that make you, Amane? Hendon? Ah, no, he didn't really notice...

-Right, so, you'd probably have a lot more in common with Koko-neechan and Mari-chan than Ranchi, but don't worry! The noodle girl doesn't bite! ...I hope you don't witness somebody getting whipped and/or burnt alive, that'd be terrible.

-Er, wait, hold on... Ohohohoho, yes! Lady Maira is very princesslike, you know!

-Genma, you fool! The Princess's mistakes are innumerable! ...in... in like a good way!

-A one point landing!

-Seems like Amane's really

-Ahhhh, succession crisis.

-Y'know, I don't understand why anybody'd be so dead set on a ceremonial role if they weren't able to assassinate their competition no problem.

-Princess Kokone...

-"Never you mind that, LOOK AT THE FUCKING FISH"

-Damn, even the fine art is delicious cuisine.

-Awwwww, itty bitty princess

-God, I fuckin' love fried fish.

-Mem-Mem guard!

-Takumicchi!

-Okay, it is a very good thing that you're left out of the loop, I don't think your poor brain can take it.

-"Nothing to see here, Shinada, go home now!"

-Deliciousmile~!

-A whole dinner table laid out!

-Genma seems like quite the distant paternal figure.

-"Perfect Parfait~! Just like your big brothers, huh Amane?"

-"I'm getting a brain freeze just listening to you two."

-Deliciousmiles all around!

-...do the folks in Isuki just eat fried fish? I think there'd at least be like... a Micky D's or something there too.

-...ohhhhhh, looks like Genma's catching on.

-Oh shit, we're getting jumped!

-Political insurgents!

-Sanza, you son of a bitch!

-All my dreams are coming true!

-"It's okay, Maira. I am a goddamn Pretty Cure!"

-"Don't try this at home, children!"

-HOLY SHIT, YUIN'S GONNA BEAT THE SHIT OUT OF HIM

-FUCK YEAH LET'S GO

-Guys, idk, I think this might be my favorite Yui episode so far

-ROSEMARY'S FUCKING FACEPALM JLBKHHB

-"Cure Precious is what she says when she morbs."

-LET'S FUCKING GO PRECIOUS

-Oh of course, my apologies, ladies generally prefer privacy when they change. Mari-chan and I will wait outside then.

-Ah, a proper delivery service! Just like Spider-Man in Spider-Man II the video game, on PS2, where you have to deliver the pizza pasta put it in a box deliver it to my house and-

-Daaaaamn, Amane! You're smooth!

-Just a Pretty Cure passing through. Don't forget that!

-Awwww no violence hjlklhb

-Speech obtained!

-What a lad, aren't you Genma?

-We did it! We saved Isuki Island's reputation!

-The sheer shock and horror.

-Ahhhhhhhh, that's nice.

-Food brings smiles. No matter the time, place, or status.

-This was a very fun episode. I've recently been rewatching older seasons of PreCure in my spare time (currently alternating between Splash Star and Fresh, if you're curious, probably not a great idea but), and I kinda appreciated having this episode to kinda like... breathe a bit, y'know? Definitely one of the funnier episodes, if only for the implication that Cure Precious chose to beat up all these insurgents and a prince with zero hesitation.

-Anyways, next episode Ranchi has a noodle crisis!

-Ah, the Bundoru Gang come back next episode! ...I miss you, Spiritoru. Seccy's a real bad bitch, but she can only fill the void so much.

[mrstsung]

My self ship with shang in a nutshell

*may be subject to change because im still working on it fully*

💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚🐍💚

In my au. Shang after a certain amount of times he got his ass kicked by liu kang (my hc verse the whole thing in aftetmath did happen but things got "reset" and everyone sorta lived but don't remember shit cept in vague dreams n visions well the gods do at least. Therefore i can keep some things while rearranging the furniture so to speak. The crown is rewritten as an elder god artifact and shang only added to it not created it. And kronika gets killed off waaaaay before any of that shit. And is rewritten to be an elder god of time(of future) and geras(of past) because f that stupid titans bullshit. Cetrion is rewritten to be a main antagonist and more important. And basically I'm making this way better than canons shitshow of a so called "plot" ). He got sent to gay baby jail . And now is fighting for his freedom. Many years go by. Every 10yrs or so he can challenge for his freedom. In a minor tournament of mortal kombat. No fatalities,no powers,only fists. Basically a normal martial tournament however fatalities are not required,only suggested. However you still only get 3 mercys/friendships/sparings. Because rule of 3. Anyways. Basically shang is lonely,desperate and tired.

So....here comes me. Washed up randomly on his beach. (I haven't come up with any true background before yet. So go easy on me.) And shang's like owo whats dis?! Because look this binch aint got none in how long? And also is hella desperate to get free like i said. Theres more to it but I'll leave it at that for now.

At first he's like

You can check out any time you like,but you can never leave. Hotel California head ass.

Then he's like

I would be happy to train you. Because he needs help. He definitely at first tho before this plays the "cute helpless old man" because of course shang would. -_-

But I'm not gonna make it easy on you.

Then i train hard. A few years go by. Things heat up between me n shang. And well feelings develop. And he's not sure if he wants me in a tournament. Because he's scared of actually losing me.

Cute ol man. Look don't judge me. Old man shang is hella cute too. Like i love all shang tsung ok? Im a shang tsimp.

And then somehow,some way anyway. Entered into a minor tournament. Either snuck in or he gave in. Either way.

Shang isn't happy. But he allows it,under close supervision.

But somehow. By a miracle. I win

This pleases shang. Now he has his freedom. Lucky for them thats all he got. And nobody truly died. But shang is now a free dude. And no longer bound to his island.

But of course shit dont stay so sweet because its mortal fuckin kombat.

This asshole gets resurrected somehow,and kidnaps me because reasons.

Bald ahh binch.

Shang isn't happy

But it's ok because he saves me. And that's when things get super serious for me n shang. And he of course gains his youth and vitality more back(which would be jarring for me ngl but its all good). And of course after that close call he trains me slightly in magic,only enough for defense of course. Nothing major. As he doesn't want me to not only surpass him.(its shang ok you knew this was gonna be a problem) but also because he wants me to not end up like him. The one pure soul he cares for. That and some dope ass magic armor.

And after that pretty much we live on the island for the most part in peace.

Minus the occasional outside problem or two

(Srry for the mk legends shang tsung spam tho. Because bruuuuuh. He is hella cool in that movie. Nothing beats tagawa,he's the og after all. But mk legends BOTR and SR shang tsung is dope af design. The voice is ok. I always imagined shang to have a lower set voice tho. Mellow and snakey and almost hypnotic. Like fr. Smooth like butter. Because how else can someone so notoriously snake tongued be not having a voice that sound delicious? And also knows Exactly how to treat someone? Or exactly what to say or comfort. Like fr. This is basic 101. (I do believe shang tsung can love deeply. And genuinely. Its just been a hot ass minute since that and he dont trust easy due to a lot of factors but a majority of that is when he was in service under shao Khan)

But yeah that's basically it.

[calamitouscynic]

What grabbed you in particular in the Palpatine being a creeper scribble? #curious

the fuckin,

everything

(also, this got Extremely Long, so there's a readmore cut now rip @beckyh2112 I'm sorry lol)

no, but in the first part you posted it was that last snapshot bit of fox trapped in Palpatine's mind or whatever it is? like, hold on I'm getting QUOTES for you bc I'm, screaming, eternally

OKAY, so from part one the Specific Part that got me hooked was

The Sith Lord carried a fox in his arms, its fur Guard-red, and a jeweled collar around its neck.

Mace let fury sweep over, through, and past him.

like, MACE. dude. and then the little introspection about him hating but not with his own hatred, and how Plo would. give that a chef's kiss, because its fucking magnificent

and then like in part 2, Fox's little section, where you can start to get a feel for how weird it gets, like, what I assume is being subservient to a sith fucking lord in said sith lord's own mind? fucking amazing.

and then there's this which makes me go white-hot with rage every fucking time, but it's so good

His owner chuckled. “Look at you being so sweet for me, pet.”

like, BEX, bex, you're killing me.

in part 3 (I think?) the entire section where the commanders are space!skyping to figure out what the fuck is going on with Fox is great. and the little bits of clone culture regarding telling how safe or out of a battlezone someone is by how much of their armor is off, and Wolffe needing sinker and boost nearby to make sure they're safe, Cody bringing rex to say hi to bacara, like, fucking phenomenal amounts of cultural insight in one paragraph dude, holy shit

and then the difference between the Corrie's and the rest of the troopers and how the guard treats getting to be a sith lords chew toys in ways that are Really Fucking Upsetting to anyone else hearing about it but that's just situation normal, all fucked up for them

and then, again, because I think the best part of this little series is the small but Deeply Upsetting sections from Fox:

Fox never strayed far from his owner. He wasn’t always within arm’s reach, but the two of them were always in the same room. Often, Fox curled up next to his owner, too tired to do more than chrr when he was petted. If he was awake to notice being touched.

He was just so tired. No matter how much he slept, he felt disconnected and drained when he faded back into consciousness. Always in his owner’s arms. Always hurting and distressed until familiar hands stroked him from head to tail and chucked him under the chin. Then his owner would feed him Dark little creatures, delicious on his tongue and nauseating on his stomach.

I'm just over here like that one conspiracy theorist meme dude from It's Always Sunny In Philadelphia, or whatever it is, you know the dude, regarding Fox and Palpatine

because it is genuinely upsetting to me, but in a good way? like "If he was awake to notice being touched." disgusting, horrific, I want to tear Palpatine's hands off with my teeth and eat them out of sheer rage at that. and then the very last line? the thing about the little dark creatures? I am incandescent with rage

and then you go and describe it as "delicious on [Fox's] tongue and nauseating on his stomach" and what a way to get your point across, like yEAH BEX YOU GO BEX, that completely fucking vibes with how I think of the dark side

this is Much Longer than you were probably expecting rip, anyway TLDR fucking everything bex holy shit

no, but for real, its the interspersal (?) of the real world drama of people trying to figure out what's going on with fox, dealing with the end of the war, regular politics, etc, and then getting slapped in the face with fox trapped in a sith lords mind as his pet and how absolutely creepy it feels from the outside

phenomenal fucking job, you're doing amazing, I'm outshining the sun out of sheer rage at Palpatine

[beskarberry]

Bilgerat

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 10

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

"The grip on your back tightened, and a low growl reverberated through the iron underneath you. You’ve got company."

<-Previous Next->

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 18.3k whoopsie

Content warnings: Big kinky: cock warming, wet-ish dreams, knife play (no blood), vibrator play, squirting. Small kinky: predator/prey dynamic, lots of biting, soft choking, mentions of chapter 9's shenanigans. Kinkles (kink sprinkles): breeding/pregnancy, begging, overstim. Not-smut stuff: alcohol consumption, lots of story, introduction of OCs, more backstory for reader, some fuckin ANGST.

A/N: Story time! Some slice of life, some romance, some adventure! Once again Mando and his love get themselves in trouble because they tried to be cute so shocker-roony-roo there's some long fluff scenes cushioning the smut that I hope you enjoy~

Chilly.

You grumbled and squished yourself closer to the heat source you were wedged against, but your backside was uncovered and prickling with goosebumps in the faint, icy wisps that still made their way through the slap-n-patch fixes you’d made to the Crest’s busted walls. Groping blindly you searched for your bantha wool blankie, but all you found was the cold, unforgiving durasteel of the sleeping alcove under your fingers. You flopped an arm over the hot body pressed to your chest, trying to see if the blanket was on his side, but only found more frigid steel. Din rumbled and hugged you closer, nuzzling his face against yours like a big dopey massif and snoring right in your ear. His arms and chest were wonderfully warm, but the skin on your booty stung in the chill air. Blanket.

You pressed a lazy kiss or two to his sleeping face and started trying to untangle yourself from his limbs. His fingers burrowed deeper into your sides, begging you not to leave. I know, just gimme a sec. Somehow you managed to get yourself sitting up, and you glanced around the cot trying to find your cover. The only thing beside you in the narrow space was the stretched out body of your Mandalorian, the dim emergency lights catching on his many scars. The smooth patches of skin outlined his form in the dark like lost stars that had come to rest next to you, shimmering over the sleeping warrior with each slow breath.

It was still a little strange to see him so vulnerable, though you had earned the right to see him this way, he usually chose to wear his full beskar even in your presence. However, squashed into the sleeping alcove next to you he was buck-ass naked, and you couldn’t help but stare. Stars above he’s beautiful, even as a dark smudge in the faded light you could see the way he was built. Muscle, and lots of it, laying gracefully under his marred skin. He wasn’t bulky by any means, but he was big. At his full height he was an impressive stack of meat and sinew, but laying on his side he looked like a mountain range, rolling peaks and valleys that called you to climb them.

You let yourself indulge in the sight of him, just for a moment. Battleborne shoulders nestled on either side of a wide, sturdy back that led your eyes down the dip of his spine to the rise of his hips, over their swells, and down to the slopes of his legs. His angled knees sent your eyes right back up, past the tuft of fuzz that hid his groin and over the soft, sweet rolls of his tummy. The breadth of his chest was hidden by his long arms, but their lovingly chiseled curves brought your eyes to his wide, calloused hands.

Maker above those hands. Versatile and strong, hands that fired weapons with lethal accuracy, tossed bounties like bags of garbage and drove blades through bone like it was wet paper. And yet they held you so perfectly, so softly when they wanted to. They sat beautifully anywhere on your body, your hips, your shoulders, your breasts. Perfectly cupped to lay flush with your skin wherever they roamed, and just the right size to lace between your fingers while you slept. Or finger you til you passed out.

Distracted by the sleeping warrior you shivered in the cold air, reminding you that you could lay back down next to the man you’d chosen to walk the stars with as soon as you found your fucking blanket. As you worked yourself off the bed you set a hand on his hip, gliding your fingers through the soft fuzz that dusted his thigh while you snuck out of the cot. He grumbled and twitched from your touch, his own hands fidgeting in his sleep to try to find you.

You scootched off the bed, holding onto his leg for support as you did. Your bare feet hit the floor, and you nearly screamed from the cold of it, oh fuck cold! The icy floor of the ship woke your ass right up and had you doing a stupid dance to escape the frostburn. Ouch ouch ouch! You jazzed your way to the closest locker, grabbing a blanket and a pair of socks and hobbling back over to the bunk. Why don’t I have socks on? Oh, that’s right, hehe.

Yesterday’s events lazed through your mind while you tugged the tubes up your legs, realizing that they weren’t your socks when the heel stretched past your ankle. Sitting on the edge of the bunk you noticed the beskar strewn about the cabin like so many scattered plates. It wasn’t like him to just discard his cultural armor, but you remembered what the hydra’s nectar had done to the both of you, your face going hot at the memory of his face buried in the apex of your thighs, dripping with sweetness.

Idley you ran a palm over your middle, poking yourself in the guts just to be sure. Nope, no stragglers. You pushed your fingers as far into your stomach as you could, relieved and a little surprised to find that you felt no pain. Din had done a fantastic job of ridding you of your…quarries, though you were still a little bummed that you had only managed to capture one. You weren’t sure where it was at now, probably stashed in one of the many mangled lockers with the trophy you had taken from the last hunt, hopefully not growing anything. Hmm, wouldn’t mind taking another ride on that amorous anemone though, truth be told. You chuckled at the thought, the movement of air in your throat making you thirsty, and you headed to the fresher to get something to drink.

Draped in your blanket like a cloak you tip-toed in your stocking feet to the tiny space, squinting your eyes closed before you turned on the light. Dark, slime-covered shapes clogged up the narrow alcove, and you begrudgingly collected the laundry to chuck into the automated cleaner. Something clankered out of the fabric when the clothing hit the drum of the washer, check the pockets, dingus!

Son of a bitch there was a lot of shit in those pockets, from munitions to bacta to petrified teeth, and you started to tick yourself off that you had somehow started doing chores in the middle of the night. I should have just stayed in bed! The fresher sink heaped with junk when you finally had all the pockets cleared and the fabric piled in the scrubber. You punched the cleaners activator, mindlessly watching the clothes spin round and round while you sipped at a cold cup of water.

Frazzled neurons blared the word ‘foundling’ through your head, and you strode through the poorly illuminated space to where the child’s pram hovered on the other side of the cabin. As you went you took a moment to glance up at the distant night sky through the ladder hatch, cursing when you tripped over a piece of tossed beskar. You slid the cradle’s lid open as quietly as you could to see the sleeping prince, curled in a little ball in his father’s cloak. It’s too cold for you to be by yourself, you need to be with your boo-ear.

Out like a light, he didn’t budge when you scooped the heap of fabric into your arms and snuck back over to your bed. You clambered over your sleeping partner and plopped down on your butt, keeping the child in your lap while you adjusted the warm blanket to fit over you and your mate. You tucked Goobs up under your chin and made yourself into the middle spoon, pushing your backside into the hollow of Din’s hips. The mighty warrior hummed fondly against the back of your head as he spooled himself around you. Aaannd… there it is.

You grumbled and reached down to adjust your thighs, settling the pillowy flesh around the stiffy that prodded against your ass. Din huffed and rutted between your legs with a deep sigh, his cock twitching softly against your mound. It’s only natural you’d once told yourself, and it’s not like either of us are going to accomplish anything. Fine, you can bunk with me, mini-mando. You ignored Din’s poker to get the foundling comfy in between your arms and the arms that were wrapped around you like a big warm octopus. Snug as a bug in a rug the baby was, and a gurgling snore made your heart swell. Like father, like son.

A whiskery muzzle snuggled against the back of your head, brushing through your hair and bumping against the shell of your ear. Tiredness tugged at your eyelids, and you were almost back to sleep when the beast between your legs shifted, sliding backwards and forward again to catch uncomfortably in the dip of your mound. Damn it all are you kidding me! You shuffled your hips, dislodging him from the poorly stuck spot to sit like a sausage in a bun between your thighs. There, stay put you big horndog.

Nope, the sleeping mountain humped again, snagging himself in the same spot. You suck. With a groan you stuffed your hand down between your legs and notched the tip of his cock into the slick space it was made for, the heat of it making a delicious shiver work its way up your spine. Din moaned and hugged you closer, rocking himself deeper into your core and mumbling some Mando’a against your hair with another warrior’s snore. You were still decently lubed with yesterday’s happy fun times, and you slid your thighs against each other to roll your coils around the deliciously thick spear you now had sheathed in you.

His warm, velvety length sat perfectly in your hearth, sending plumes of heat spreading through your body. You were nice and toasty now, snuggled under the wooly blanket and squashed between the snorers on either side of your body. Din sighed in his sleep and let himself be still, keeping his cock warm in the blessed heat of your core. You could feel him, not just as the human blanket impression that he was doing wrapped around your body, but also between your legs, the gentle thrum of his heartbeat felt inside and out; and the slow, steady rhythm put you to sleep in seconds.

~

Thirsty.

Din was thirsty, the dryness in his mouth waking him up from the most wonderful dream. In his nectar-addled mind he was making love to you on some lush, sundrenched world while the setting sun lit up like a halo behind you. Your legs had been thrown over his hips while you rode him, the swell of your pregnant belly sitting heavily on his abdomen. What a sight she is! Maker above truly there can be no other creature as beautiful as her. In his dreamscape his words were distant, but he remembered telling you how much he loves you, how much he will love your younglings, how proud he is to be your husband. He watched awestruck as you crested above him over and over again like a ship breaking the waves, mighty and unyielding as a galleon in a storm.

He didn’t want to wake up from that perfect vision, but the feeling of his tongue sticking to his teeth forced his eyes open. You were pressed so close to his chest he couldn’t tell where he ended and you began, and he carefully slid his hand down your arm to find the foundling nestled against your chest. When did he get in bed? Din didn’t remember you getting up, and he knew he had left the child in his pram right before the ambrosia took control. I must be sleeping heavier than I realize.

Bantha wool brushed against his arms while he let his free hand roam, sliding his rough palm over your soft skin. He made a loop from the sides of your hips, up the curves of your waist, and down your arms to the foundling again; running his thumb over the long green ears of his adopted son and smiling at the gentle coo noise that came from under your chin. How did he get so lucky to have the two most precious creatures in the entire galaxy right there in his arms? He kissed the back of your head, the movement reminding him what had woken him up in the first place, thirsty.

Din carefully started to pull himself upright, only to find himself stuck, and he shuddered at the sensation of discovering what else he had slept through. Brows knit together, he blinked and squinted in the dark down the curve of your spine to where he was buried to the hilt between your legs, wondering if he was still dreaming. How rude of me, hasn’t she had enough of that? Hot embarrassment scalded his cheeks as he tried to work himself out of your silken folds, but the squeeze that you bore down to keep him in place had him biting his lip to keep from moaning out loud. Stars above…

Gently he slid himself out, torn between trying not to wake you and desperately needing to free his wandering cock. Fuck though you were so warm, and wet… wonderfully wet. He’d nearly pulled his length free when you shuffled in your sleep and stuffed your ass back against him, and the groan that broke its way out of his throat couldn’t be suppressed, the heat of it fanning steam against your hair. He bit down hard on his tongue and tugged his cock out, wincing from the quick draw.

Din pressed a chapped kiss to the side of your head and snuck himself out of the sleeping nook you both shared. It was frigid inside the ship, and the cold air that circulated in through the damaged air ducts stung against his flesh. Silent as a lothcat he slinked to the fresher, and the first thing that caught his attention was the sound of the automated cleaning unit spinning round. It had nearly finished its cycle, and he smiled a little sheepishly at the pile of trinkets that heaped out of the sink.

He picked a krayt’s tooth out of the pile, slowly running his thumb over the intricate patterns carved into the opalized bone with a lopsided grin on his face. My riddur. Pushing the rest of the items aside, he carefully turned the faucet and filled a mug. She must have gotten up at some point then. Din sipped quietly at the chilled water, watching the laundry spin round and round in the hazy lights. I wonder why, it’s not like her to wake up in the middle of the night. He giggled to himself in the dark, that woman sleeps through everything, including me.

His brain was slowly coming out of power-saving mode, and the reason for the clothes needing to be washed gooped its way into his frontal lobe. Quarry. A weird mix of emotions sloshed its way through him, first and foremost was rage. Knuckles cracked in his tightening fist, I’ll strangle whoever commissioned that bounty, there was definitely some need-to-know information missing from that fucking puck!

Gross jealousy sizzled behind his eyes at the thought of what that thing did to his wife, followed by a shudder at what it might have done to him. He took another swig, the ice water burning on the way down, at least she’s not hurt. She actually looked like she enjoyed it. A new heat made itself known across his cheeks, what had that looked like before I showed up, I wonder?

His shaft had just started to cease its midnight delinquency, only to perk right back up at the thought of the show he had missed out on. He shook his head and strode over to a mangled locker, finding himself some long johns to pull up and contain himself with. But the thought wouldn’t leave him, that thing had literally fucked you fuller than his wildest dreams. Lust tangled with envy in his chest, between the image of that thing pumping you full and the memory of what it had filled you with he was starting to sweat. But both feelings lost against the ultimate competitor: fear.

What if she’s in pain?

Suddenly fear crept its way to his throat, tasting like bile on the back of his tongue. That was a lot to take in at once, what if that’s why she got up to dig through the pockets, to find some bacta for her sore stomach? The sweat on his brow turned to ice, maybe it wasn’t your stomach that hurt. He cast a glance over to where you still laid with your baby, curled up in a protective ball around him. She would have told me if she was in pain though, right? One thing he knew for sure about you was that you were stubborn, and you usually chose the ‘suck it up’ route over asking for help. Help. I should help! I’m a good helper!

Downing his drink he dug through another cabinet, trying to stay quiet as he did; though probably more so for the foundling than for the bantha he bed with. He found one of the big tubes of bacta salve that he kept for emergencies, forgoing using one of the e-bacta shots he kept for emergency emergencies. Tube in hand, he slid back into bed behind you, carefully bunching the blanket over your side so you wouldn’t get cold. He warmed a big glob of bacta between his palms and slowly massaged it over your tummy, trying not to get it on the blanket or the foundling as his fingers kneaded the soft, supple flesh.

Bacta was a strange marvel of science, and maybe a little bit of magic. With enough of it you could patch a wound or heal a burn, and Din hoped that if he slathered enough of it on it would soak into your guts and fix anything that might be broken. This is mine, and I must protect it. Protect her. You grumbled in your sleep at the sensation of the medicinal salve, but your eyes stayed closed, allowing your riduur to lovingly caress at your precious belly. Never hurts to be cautious.

When he’d finished his administrations he wiped the remaining bacta off on his under-armor, trying to clean the ointment off his fingers before they went numb. Squeezing himself back into place along your spine, he burrowed his nose in your hair and sighed deeply, letting the scent of you fill his lungs. I told you I would bring you the stars, my love, I can bring you bacta as well. His adoration for his lifemate lead his lucid mind back to the dreams he had left, and he curled himself around you and the foundling as he drifted back to sleep.

~

“Electrical?”

“Up and running, seventy-eight percent capacity.”

A frosty morning had greeted you in the bottom of the glacial basin you were still stuck in, though hopefully not for much longer. Ship repairs had been finished to the best of both your abilities, and you were scurrying from task to task, helping Mando make the final prep checks before you hobbled your way off of fabulous vacation destination: Hoth. You had woken up that day feeling like a fat, lazy lothcat all curled up on your bunk, comfy and warm in a pile of bantha wool.

“Comms?”

“Operational, for now. Might lose those when we break the stratosphere, though.”

A mug of hot, watery caff had been waiting for you in the nervous hands of your re-armored riddur, and you’d drank it like you’d been stranded in the desert for days. He’d watched you eagerly, those honeywell depths of his full of curiosity and reverence, never leaving your form until you’d emptied your mug. Din had offered you another, and three more times you drank it down. Thirsty.

“Cabin pressure?”

“Holding!”

Still covered in the bacta you had been slathered in while you slept, you’d finally gotten to do the repairs on the ship’s exterior like you had planned to. The foundling was left on the flight deck, and you would wave to him through the transparisteel while you were on the roof. The pair of you gave it everything you had to piece the broken bird back together, but you had been right in your assumptions that an actual mechanic would be needed to suture the gashes that still twisted the iron flesh of the Razor Crest. Hyperdrive was too much of a risk to take in such a condition, and you would be holed up in the crowded cockpit until you were able to limp your way to the nearest station.

“Navigation?”

“Functional, sorta…”

“Radar?”

“Hot garbage.”

Everything you didn’t want to lose to the vacuum of space had to be moved into the upper deck. Weapons and quarries and all the amenities that made space travel bearable had to be crammed into the auxiliary space between the flight deck and the fuselage access door, leaving very little room for the living creatures that called the Razor home.

“What’s our offensive capabilities?”

“Zilch, unless you wanna roll down a window and we can shoot at whatever comes our way.”

“Fucking fantastic.”

This would be dangerous. Your forecanons were mangled, curling upwards like a pair of tusks from the mechanical beast. The blackmarket blaster cannons would probably need to be replaced, though the last dredges of your credits would have to go towards the ship itself.

“Foundling?”

“Snacking! Want a biscuit? They’re double chocolate.”

“...Yeah. Thank you cyare.”

Din stuffed the cookie in his mouth and pulled his helmet back down, signaling the start of the launch sequence. Your checklist was complete, and you made to buckle yourself and the foundling down to enjoy your pile of trip snacks when a heavily armored paw caught your arm. “How are you? You haven’t said anything about… the encounter.”

You shrugged, truth be told you were fine, though you weren’t sure if your ‘encounter’ had left you numb or if it was the ridiculous amount of bacta you had been drenched in while you slept; but either way you were just dandy. If anyone was still reeling from the events in the creeping reef, it was him.

“I’m alright, fussbucket. Really!” You curled your lips with a sneer, “Wanna open the thermos? Take a sniff?”

“No! Keep that damn thing locked up, if anything just so it doesn’t dry out. When we turn that fucking puck in I’m going to strangle whoever commissioned it…” Rage quaked his shoulders, but he shook the fury off, bringing his attention back to you. “Do you need more bacta?”

“No I do not need any more bacta! I feel like a damn stifling I’m so slimy. Do we even have any left over?” He gave a half-assed shrug, and you added bacta salves to your mental grocery list. His gloved hands fidgeted against his armrests, and you reached out to squeeze one. “How about you, are you alright?”

“Fine.” came a curt reply, quick and decisive and obviously a lie. ‘Fine’ was a four-letter-word as far as you were concerned, but it would have to do for now. You could discuss whatever was bugging him more in depth when your ship wasn’t threatening to fly apart at the seams and you were off of this frozen hell-hole.

“If you say so.” You tugged his hand to you and gave it a long, strong kiss. He pulled your hand back to him almost too quickly, knocking your knuckles against the brow of his helmet. A foolish tug of war ensued, both of you trying to keep the other’s hand for themselves. Neither of you won the battle, opting to just lace your fingers in the space between the two chairs and let your hands hang together. He was motionless besides the gentle roll of his thumb over your knuckles, and the tension in the air gave you the feeling he wanted to say something, but a final squeeze was given before he returned to the steering controls. Later.

“Alright, starting engine sequence.” Rocketeer extraordinaire, your Mandalorian fired up the old ship, carefully taking her through her paces. “Routing power to main ion accelerators… now.” The turbines that jutted out from the ship’s sides sputtered and roared, backfiring so loudly that chunks of ice fell from above and crashed into the window. Mando cursed under his breath and eased off the accelerator, flipping a handful of switches and gently pushing the joystick forward again. The engines spooled back up, barking out a few more explosions in protest before they were chugging away.

“Yeah that’s not terrifying or anything.” You held your hands over the foundlings ears, trying to protect his sails from the noise. The child was happily distracted by the crumbly snack he was working on, and glanced up at you with eyes too big for his head. Out the window you could see one of the offending engines, sparks splashing out over the patch job the two of you had made. “Come on baby girl, you can do it! Booger, help me out.” You held your hands out in front of you and waggled your fingers at the engine, and the foundling did his best to copy you without dropping his snackies.

Your combined sparkle fingers must have worked, because a final -kErPlOw- rocked the boat to her core before she was lifting off from the ground. As dainty as a cement mixer full of bricks she rose through the cerulean cathedral, shaking snow and ice from her iron mane. The Mandalorian’s grip on the steering controls creaked when she tilted to one side, listing unevenly while he tried to level her out. Slowly she ascended, and soon the -KaRunCh!- of the frozen ceiling hitting the roof echoed threateningly in the cabin. Just a bit more…

The breach fell away beneath you, a dark, jagged stain on an otherwise pristine sheet that blazed with the fading sunset. The ice plains of Hoth spiraled away until you were in the clouds, crystals freezing on the window as you started to break through the atmosphere. The Crest rebelled, shuddering and creaking as she bullied her way through. Over the roar of the engines you could hear the sound of your heartbeat, galloping like a fathier while you clutched the foundling to your chest. He didn’t give a royal fuck, and you wondered just how much bullshit he’d gone through before you met.

The shuddering stopped when you broke the exosphere, and you watched the secretive ice planet glide out of view. Ideally you would have flown to an on-world shipyard to get repairs, but aside from the ‘friends’ you’d made, there was no sentient life left on the forsaken snowball. The Empire had seen to that. Your star maps indicated that there was an outpost near the system’s rim, but traveling under the speed of light meant you would be on the proverbial road for almost a cycle. At least you had good company.

Sorta. The foundling was a riot, and the two of you sat on the floor and played with the little silver ball that usually screwed onto one of the levers, rolling it back and forth trying to score ‘goals’ against the other; and you were losing by a landslide. Your pilot on the other hand was dead quiet, focused intently on getting to the station. It was just as dangerous not to be in hyperspace as it was to be, though for entirely different reasons. The streaking stars could rip you to pieces if you got your math wrong, but taking a leisurely stroll through the void could make you an easy target for roving outlaws.

The foundling grew bored of the ball game eventually and wandered over to his papa, who pulled the silly creature into his lap to look out at the unmoving stars. The child went right for the flashy buttons on the dash, earning himself a weak scolding and unfortunately inventing himself a new game: bug dad! So many buttons, so many choices! What does this one do? How ‘bout this one? Oooooh, levers! Tiny green paws raised hell from his perfect perch until the metal monolith sighed and hugged the baby tight, making the tiny terror gibber grumpily at his living prison.

“That’s enough, womp rat, we don’t need to crash a second time.” Though he was trying to be stern, Mando couldn’t help but bounce the baby on his knee, making the child giggle sweetly. You glanced quickly at the star maps before joining your crew, noting the distance you had put between here and Hoth and how much further you had to go. There were a few orbits you would have to pass through before you got to the station, and you made a mental note of a planet that seemed to mark the halfway point of your journey.

You joined your boys at the front of the flight deck, lazily draping your arms over your oathsworn’s shoulders and patting the baby on the head. Din leaned his helmet into the crook of your neck while you tried to teach the foundling how to play patty-cake. “Ok hands up, lemme see your- there we go. Hold your paws up like this...” You clapped your hands together and slowly patted the child’s palms in turn, “Say, say oh play-mate, come out and play with me…”

Beans gibbered and laughed, though he wasn’t able to follow along very well, but as long as he was having fun then so were you. You finished a round and grabbed Din’s gloved mitts, holding on to his wrists and making him play with the baby too. He huffed against you, but your ears had long since learned to tell the difference between a disgruntled huff and a contented sigh.

A handful of road trip games ensued until the child yawned, and the two adults yawned with him. Din passed the baby off to you, insisting that he take the first watch and that he would wake you when you were closer to the planet that marked the half-way point.

Snuggled up with the foundling you had yourself a catnap, though more to pass the time than to actually rest. You were dreaming about a parade of Ewoks in funny hats when you felt something tug on your leg. Opening sleep-crusted eyes you squinted at the visor that was in your line of sight and grumbled, “Are we there yet?”

A warm laugh rumbled his beskar, “No, but there’s something I want you to see. Look.” He cocked his head towards the front window, and you followed his gaze to see the jaw dropping view spread out against the transparisteel. You had traveled space for many moons, seen countless wonders that many a spacer had written odes to, but the ships you sailed on rarely got so close to a gas giant as big as this.

It was massive, clouds the color of a raging wildfire swirling over its surface, a fireball of reds and golds that overtook the starry backdrop it hung against in a blaze of glory. A broad splotch of crimson smeared over the atmosphere’s surface, a storm the size of a hundred worlds. Though the celestial sphere was a beauty on it’s own, its crowning jewel was the expansive ring that curled around it. Thousands of miles wide, the glittering bands of ice and nebular material shimmered in the distant light of the star that the planet orbited, and only got brighter as your ship glided closer.

Your captain brought the old gunship in smoothly until the belted disk was directly beneath you, and at this range the rings spread out to infinity on either side of the window from the radiant planet to the void of space; chunks of quartz and silica flashing like flames with the reflection of the gas giant as they disappeared under your keel.

The faint whirring of the ship’s innards didn’t do the scene justice, though her engines seemed to be tuned to a specific note that started a symphony between your ears that soon grew an entire orchestra for your thoughts alone. The rings of the world before you would serve as the staff that the notes rested on for your celestial song, and you let your own mind be the maestro to lead it.

A swell of strings, clear and mellow would rise to the occasion, lifted by a deep harmony of bass. Bows slide over the strings of oaken cellos, low, slow and strong, their notes as rich as gold. Like an outstretched hand their swells beckon a viola to dance. High and fast, beating like a hummingbird's heart. One two three, one two, one two three, one two. Step, slide, spin, throw! The notes become a ballet, the viola pirouettes, leaping from the arms of her cello she soars! Cosmic wings unfurled like solar sails she climbs, higher and higher, her flight sending a meteor shower down to fall on a brassy percussion that serenades the stars.

A minor chord summons the viola back to grace the stage, and she bows before the major key returns victorious. A woodwind competes with the melody, a challenge of fire and ice, knives of frost and bolts of lightning. A rise like a comet burning through the atmosphere fills the astral amphitheater as the polyphonic harmony blends into one single sound. A crescendo blooms the symphony away into the depths of space, and it fades from your thoughts to herald the planet’s dawn to the unending corners of the Universe, pouring like molten gold.

Magnificent.

Spellbound by the music that never met your ears, you were almost startled to feel a gloved hand settle on your arm; careful not to disturb the foundling that you still cradled. You peeled your eyes away from the window to meet with the tilted visor of your companion, giving him a sheepish little smile when you realized he had been watching you. With one hand still on the steering he brushed the backs of his knuckles against the skin of your arm, and you adjusted the sleepy green baby to let one of your hands find your husband’s.

Din tugged gently on your hand and bid you to him until you were seated across his lap in the way you sometimes rested together. Leaning your head against his beskar, you cuddled the foundling and watched the enormous span of rings flow under you. Din only needed one hand to drive, the other wrapped protectively around your back to hug you tight. There was no reason for him to be this close to the planet’s rings, you realized, he had chosen to bring the ship in, just for you to see.

Or maybe just to see you see.

“Thank you.” You whispered against the armor where his ear should be, pressing a kiss to the cool metal as you did. “It’s beautiful.”

“Not as beautiful as you, mesh’la.”

You’d left your own beskar by your seat, so there was no chime when you knocked your brow against the side of his beskar, but he rumbled against you anyway. With a flick of his wrist he angled the Crest through a thin patch in the ring, flipping the disk over your head. The artificial gravity in the ship was the only source of relativity in the vastness of space, and the change in position gave you a slight sense of vertigo now that you appeared to be flying upside down. The Mandalorian could probably thread the old ship through the rings more adventurously if the busted bird was in better shape, but for now just a few dips would do.

The ship breached back up through the rings once more like a durasteel whale, sailing towards the black smear where the planet blocked the closest starlight from reaching the disk. The shadow of the sphere draped over the rings ahead of you, a blanket of night on an otherwise glaring garter of galactic glitter. Your ship coasted into the umbral shadow, making the daylight side of the planet fade into a sliver of light, eclipsing the stars with a ring of fire. The darkness made the belt nearly invisible, but the stars above glittered brighter than ever against the backdrop of the void.

You’d nearly cleared the dark side when something else glittering caught your eye. Against the black, starless space where the planet was something shimmered.

Something metallic.

From out of the celestial giant’s shadow a wide-winged ship soared out of the umbral cast, the distant starlight shining brightly on its copper-colored hide. A sleek aerofoil, long and flat like a manta ray with a wide receiving port on its bow coasted towards you, casting its own shadow over the planet’s rings. The grip on your back tightened, and a low growl reverberated through the iron underneath you. You’ve got company.

A red light began flashing on the comms panel, announcing that you were being hailed. “The fuck do they want?” You stood up from your armored seat and made to hit the open frequencies button when an armored paw stopped you.

“What are you doing? We have enough to deal with.” His voice was level and cold, commanding like a captain’s should be, and the rasp of it almost made you want to be complicit at his orders. He wasn’t wrong though, you had no guns and barely a ship to sail in, the last thing you needed to do right now was make friends.

You glared at the blank radar screen, giving it a bit of percussive maintenance until the nearby ship flashed to life on the green and yellow field. “Hunk of junk! So what, we're just going to ignore them?” A single stiff nod was your only reply, but the comms light kept flashing away. If they were in distress then they were shit out of luck, because fuck, so were you.

The blinker on the dash was joined by another, more ominous blare: enemy targeting systems locked on. “Shit balls of hell, Din, they’re going to shoot us! Fucking answer them!”

He slammed down on his only option, the busted communications transmitter sputtering to life with a maliciously friendly voice. “Greetings and salutations! You lost, friend? Nobody comes ‘round these parts, especially at such a leisurely pace as you! Don’tcha know how dangerous it is through this system? We’d be happy to… escort you out of the area...”

“No, thank you.” Din barked into the microphone, “We have everything under control.”

“Oh do ya now? I reckon’ by the looks o’ that hackjob holdin’ yer fuselage together I’d say you were in quite a pickle. Haven’t you heard there’s pirates in this neck o’ the woods?”

Pirates. Of course there’s pirates. Your armored companion growled low in his throat, the timbre of it making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. These spacers were threatening his crew, and to him and his Creed that was an act of war. He cleared the venom from his throat before opening the receiver again. “We can handle it, please go about your business.”

The copper ray’s propulsion engines flared as it drifted closer to your ship until it was nearly on top of her, drifting along just behind your stern and casting shadows over your wings. Big. The Crest was nothing to scoff at, but the monstrosity that floated over top of your little old lady could swallow her alive.

It just might.

The voice on the other end chuckled darkly. “Ah but my friend that’s where you’re mistaken, y’see, helping others is our business! And business is boomin’!”

-CruNcHa-krUnCH!-

The rancorous words were articulated with the destruction of something striking your already damaged wings. From the jagged maw on the front of the ray a pair of vicious grapples had coiled around the stinted wings of the Crest, sinking their teeth into her wounded flesh. The old girl lurched when the lines were pulled taut, the screams of twisted durasteel echoing loudly behind the blast doors that protected you from the vacuum of space. Mando swore, “Fucking pirates! As if there isn’t enough bullshit going on-”

You cut him off with a hand on his shoulder. “Let me take the comms, I might be able to negotiate something.”

“I’ve heard your negotiating, I don’t think that’ll help us right-”

“Just let me try? We don’t have much in the way of options.”

For a moment he was still as a statue, then he gave the faintest nod. “Alright.”

You cleared your throat and took a long, deep breath, switching into your best communications mode. “This is the co-captain speaking, We have nothing of value on this ship or anything that would be of use to-”

“Now, listen ‘ere, missy, I know bounty hunter sigils when I see them. Hand over your quarries and your credits and maybe we won’t clip your wings!”

“As previously stated we are not carrying anything of value, including quarries. We were engaged in a skirmish planetside that rendered our ship unfit for hunting. Release our ship and we will exit your domain posthaste.” Ugh, I hate using this voice.

The pirate was silent for a time, then a slow, malicious laugh rumbled through the comms.

“Then I guess we’re taking your weapons as consolation! Prepare to be boarded, bilgerat!”

Fucksake is it that obvious?! Auxiliary jets fired on the grapple’s edges, adding power to the winch aboard the rayship, and the Razor was dragged backwards against the pull of her engines. The wounded bird sputtered and died from the strain, giving up the ghost as the cutthroats hauled her towards the open hangar. You watched as a bluish field slipped over the rounded window, the edge of a magcon field that protected the maw. Your ship wasn’t just being boarded, it was being captured.

The Crest was swallowed whole by the assailing ship, and in a few more seconds your ship was dropped unceremoniously to the floor when the artificial gravity kicked on inside the hanger you now found yourselves in. More screeching metal told you that some of your patchwork had been ripped back open in the hold below. Well fuck, there goes our motherfucking repairs.

“Damn it!” Mando roared, “I thought you said you could negotiate?!”

“I did my fucking best, ok?! I didn’t see you coming up with anything better!” Ahead of you the jaws of the hangar snapped closed, trapping your ship inside the belly of the beast. You scurried back to your seat, grabbing your armor and your guns. “If it’s a fight they want, then it’s a fight they’ll get! We can handle Imps and poachers, I think we can handle some motherfucking pirates, don’t you?” Your armored companion nodded sharply, rising from his seat and drawing his blasters; slamming a fresh cartridge into each one.

“I don’t care how many there are, they’re not getting you or our foundling.” His growl made you shudder, and a nagging thought in the back of your head wondered if you would ever get used to how scary he was sometimes. Mandalorians were drop-dead lethal, and this hunk of metal was no different. Good thing he’s on your side. He snapped his wrist, making an array of lights pop out of a conical prong that jutted off of the vambrace. “I have spoken.”

“Cool.” Beskar slid over your face, replacing your vicious grin with Mandalorian steel. You made to hide the foundling in his pram when something on Mando’s belt caught your eye.

Something red.

Something flashing.

Fast.

You tore his cloak out of the way to yank the flashing bounty fob off of his belt. This is what you get for not checking your pucks! It wasn’t often that quarries just delivered themselves to you, but at least that meant you might save yourselves some fucking fuel. You dug through his pouch to get the accompanying puck, but before you could find out exactly who aboard this copper coated colossus you were hunting, the light on the comms panel flashed again, this time with a secondary light: incoming holo.

Mando slammed down on the receiver, making an image flicker to life where only a voice had once transmitted. A tiny ghost arose from the dashboard, showing the image of a tall, overly dressed Togruta woman. She very much looked the part of ‘space pirate’ in her complicated overcoat that stretched past her knees and the bandanas tied around her montrals and lekku. She was crisscrossed in holsters and belts that were straining under the weight of all the armaments she carried, from blasters to vibros and everything in between. Show off.

Her voice was clear now that your fucked-up transmitters were in such conveniently close range. “Hello hunters, put down your-”

“You listen here,” Din snarled, his teeth biting down on his venomous words. “You’ve made a big mistake, capturing my ship, putting my family in danger-”

Aww he said family. You peeked around your bristling oathsworn to brandish a pistol at the miniature maiden that was making demands of you, but your phantasmal orchestra started to ring the bells of familiarity between your ears. Din was still going off like a Nexu firing his verbal barbs, and it took several good shoves to move him out of the way so you could get a better look at your host.

Though the blue light of the holoprojector gave her a monochrome appearance, her lavender skin and tall swirled montrals were still clearly visible. She smiled arrogantly at your tilted armor, making her sharp fangs glitter like polished pearls and rolling her cheeks right up into her sapphire eyes. It can't be…

You slid your armor to the top of your head, bunching your brows at the tiny, noble-birthed face until they were nearly dancing off of your forehead.

"Alewyn?”

The pirate princess cocked her head, and the whites of her facial markings went wide around her pedigree eyes. “No fucking way!” Her melodic voice chimed with a laugh, “Hunter! Long time no see! What in Maker’s mishaps are you doin' out here?"

"I could ask you the same fuckin’ thing! Hey don't shoot me I'm comin' out!" You could hear Alewyn yelling at her crew to stand down as she hung up on you, and you stood with hands on your hips and a big stupid grin on your face. "How the fuck…"

Behind you Mando was staring at you with that black hole gaze of his, his visor tilted with confusion. "Friend of yours?"

You nodded "You could fuckin' say that!" You scooped up the foundling and patted your partner on the shoulder, trying to be reassuring. It took him a few good breaths to clear the adrenaline from his veins, though his shoulders still jutted wide like he was ready to tackle the entire galaxy to defend his clan. Another twist of his wrist had the little explosives on his vambrace tucking themselves away, and he watched you disappear down the ladder first before following suit.

The Crest's ramp chuggered as it opened, sticking halfway down and forcing you to jump off of it to escape. Your boots hit the hangar floor, putting you in front of almost a dozen of the most ragtag looking bunch of scoundrels you'd ever seen. They were a myriad of species, from Twi'leks to humans and even a Gungan for fucks sake, but what struck you as oddest of all was that they were all ladies. Ferociously armed to the teeth, the gaggle of gals murmured amongst themselves before a loud, commanding voice soared over their heads.

"Move aside you bunch’a blaggards! Lemme greet my guests…” The crowd parted, allowing the newcomer to saunter between them. Long, lavender-swirled montrals waggled on top of the well-dressed and well-armed lady who was making her grand entrance, and you couldn’t help but stare. She walked with an undeniable air of nobility that couldn’t be hidden even by her swashbuckling swagger, the strength of her bloodline showing through even at her most roguish. She swung her arms wide as she rushed you, “Hunter! It is you! Can’t get enough’a me can you?”

"Alewyn! If you wanted to see me again you could have just called!" You took her wild-armed hug with gusto, ignoring the many pokes of the blades you both carried. Stars above, of all the strangers in the galaxy you’d run headfirst into the one and only Princess Alewyn of Shimi, the Togruta woman who you had let escape your bounty so many moons ago. Freeing her had sullied your reputation with the Guild and put a hefty price on your head that had led the most fearsome bounty hunter in the parsec to your doorstep, and eventually into your heart. You had a lot to thank her for, but for both your safeties it was best that you never saw each other again. Yet here she was, decked out in blasters and blades, surrounded by a wild pack of pirates that she no doubt led as their captain. Good for her.

She squeezed you tight, making the child that you had tucked under your arm grunt in protest. The captain stood back from you to get a look at the creature you carried.

"What in blue blazes’s that thing? It’s cute!” She reached out and ran her thumbs over the child's long green ears and pinched his chubby face, making him fuss and bat his tiny paws at her. “Aw I’m sorry pumpkin, I didn’t mean to upset you! My baby girl is so rough’n tumble I forget little’uns are s’posed’ta be soft. She’d love’ta play with you though!”

That’s right! The last time you had seen Alewyn she was defending her swollen belly, ready to shoot you dead if you tried to stop her egress. Your big mean bounty hunter heart couldn’t take the idea of a mother not being able to raise her youngling, and you’d given up your own ship so she could escape. How time flies.

“Alewyn, this is my boy.” You covered his ears, “He’s adopted.” The princess snickered at the obviousness of your statement, but the mirth quickly left her face at the sound of armored thunder dropping down off of the ramp behind you. Her lovely eyes did their best to hide the terror on her face as the Mandalorian you traveled with sauntered up behind you. “And this,” you made a grand gesture of waving at the mountain of living beskar, “Is my partner. Life partner.” You grabbed his hand and threaded your fingers through his, making his helmet tilt just slightly on an otherwise stiff stance.

“Well a’ll be damned, you’ve been busy! But I guess... so have I!” The captain threw her hands in the air, and the crew around her cheered. “Alright you lot! Show’s over, we’ll not be rescuing anything other than these two guttersnipes from that ship.” The fem fatales groaned and roared, laughing and shouting in a multitude of galactic obscenities as they wandered away.

You cocked a hip, jutting your baby out on one side and stabbing your hand to the other with an air of indignation. “Rescuing? You nearly tore our wings off! What kind of rescue operation are you running here?”

Alewyn laughed, bright and chipper. “Let’s just say all bounties aren’t warranted, I should know! Come on, I want you to meet my wife and daughter and the rest of my crew. I can tell you more over some spicewine. Welcome aboard the Sunskate!” She stuck her hand out to you, tugging on you so hard you almost keeled over. You cast a wayward smile over your shoulder at your husband as you were led over the hangar floor to one of the corridors that branched off of the open space. He sighed and looked back forlornly the busted body of the Crest before dutifully following along.

A multitude of crewmates scurried around you as you made your way through the ship on the arm of the pirate princess, listening to her tell you all about her travels. “-and then my dad said ‘Wynnie you disgrace this family with the company you keep! You will marry the duke and stop this nonsense’ blah blah blah.” She made talking motions with her hand, bobbling her montrals with sassy head tilts. “And I said fuck you dad! I’m in love and nothin’s gonna keep us apart!’ Course daddy wasn’t gonna have none’o that, sending fuckin’ hunters after his own daughter.” The sting in her voice was obvious on that last word, anger and pain enunciating her words. “But you know what they say, love conquers all, yeah?”

“Yeah!” You squeezed the foundling under your arm, bringing him in range of a kiss. The sound of armored footfalls echoed behind you, your oathsworn keeping a polite distance. The winding corridors of the Sunskate flowed more organically than anything built on Corellia, and eventually they led you to a recreational space where more of the pirate crew were talking and eating. At the center of the group was another Togruta, this one a gradient from navy blue to bright sunshine yellow. On her knee a tiny cotton-candy colored baby nibbled on the woman’s lekkus, adding fresh marks to her already scarred tendrils.

The infant noticed your approach first, throwing her chubby arms up in the air and flashing her razor sharp teeth in a smile a mile wide. Alewyn let go of your captured hand and strode to the pair. “There’s my girls! Fae have you been trying to eat mama’s lekku again?” Alewyn bent and picked up her daughter, peppering the gibbering baby with kisses before leaning down to kiss the other woman. “Hello kitten, need me to kiss those, make them better?”

“Wynnie you flirt!” The sunrise Torgruta laughed into the kiss that was being pressed to her lips. “Can you be professional for one second?”

“Would you love me if I was?” The princess chided, brushing her palm down the swell of the other woman’s lekku until she had the chewed-up tip of it in her hand. “Fay-fay has done quite a number on these!” She pressed a kiss to the marked skin before turning back around to face you and your own crew. “Lilah, you’re not gonna believe who we picked up! It’s the hunter, the hunter! The one that spared me from carbonite back way back when.”

Lilah stood and reached for your hand, clasping your elbow as she shook it. “Well blow me down, I never thought I’d get a chance t’thank you for what you did.” The handshake slid flawlessly into a brash hug, the air squashed from your lungs in the process. “Thank you for giving me my Alewyn back, her father didn’t exactly approve’a us.” She patted you on the back and held you out at arms length. “I don’t s’ppose you got a name now do ya, hunter?”

“My name is Tra’laar!” You beamed, flexing the sound of your gifted name against new ears. At that Mando placed a hand on your shoulder, giving it a gentle pat before falling back down to his side. Lilah’s emerald eyes flickered between your face and the armored man standing at your side, then down to the baby that you carried in your arms.

“Well, Tra’laar, you gonna introduce those two?”

You knocked a knuckle against the beskar of your partner “Oh sure, this is-” Uh…

“Mando.” Din filled in the blank for you, sequestering his true name to be known by his clan alone. He stepped forward and gave a stiff, respectful handshake that made Lilah’s montrals whip with the strength of it. She laughed heartily at his uptight demeanor.

“So, we got Tra’laar and Mando, who’s’s lil’ guy? What’s’s name?” She gently took your foundling from you, and the change in the electricity in the air was palpable. At your side your oathsworn was bristling defensively under his armor, fighting the urge to pull his child away from the stranger you so easily trusted with your precious cargo. You ignored Mr. Scary to ponder the question you had just been asked.

His name...?

HiS nAmE?!?!

Oh fuckadoodledoo! What a question! Nobody in your crew got called their own name that often, from cyare to tinman to Beans the Crest was full of fondly fabricated titles. You’d just accepted it, using what Din called him: the foundling, the child, womp rat sometimes. You usually went for more adoring choices, beans and goobs and booger, but the child never had a real name.

How?! How does this child not have a fucking name?!

The gears in your head spun out of control, you can’t tell these women that your baby's name is Booger! Shit fuck fuck fuck!! Uuuuuuuuuuuuuhhhhhhhhhhh…

You stared at the child, meeting his nebulous eyes with your own distressed gaze. He tilted and blinked at you as though he could hear the machinations in your head melting together with the friction of them grinding to a halt. Your thoughts went wild, the musicians in your mind dropping their instruments and tripping over their own feet, crashing cymbals and tooting horns in cacophony of confusion.

Green Beans… Goober… Booger...Grooboog… Groobeans... Grooberoo... Grober Gro…

“Grogu.” You didn’t break eye contact with the child, watching as his cosmic orbs lit up like fireworks. “This is our son, Grogu.”

Fucking Maker are you kidding me?! Grogu?! What kind of-

“Patu!” The green terror shrieked in delight, drawing the attention of everyone in the room. He churruped and flailed in the wide blue palms of the Togruta woman that held him until she was passing him back off to you. He wiggled like a womp rat in a trap, flashing his tiny toothy grin at you while he wildly patted at your cheeks.

“I’m so sorry, that’s a terrible name.” You whispered to him alone, but he took your whole face in his arms and squeezed, giving you little baby kisses that made your heart flood with warmth. The baby didn’t usually do kisses, that was supposed to be your job. “Do you like that or something? Grogu?” The foundling kissed your nose and butt his forehead against your own,the most sacred show of love known to his clan, his family, and suddenly it just clicked.

Grogu.

You pulled the child to your chest, hugging him tight while you looked at your partner. He was motionless as always, a silver statue catching the fluorescent lights of the wardroom on his many plates. His visor tilted slowly, so imperceptibly slowly that only the light sliding over the black gloss of his singular eye gave away the movement at all. In that moment everything faded away. No more pirates, no more Alewyn and Lilah and pointy-fanged Fae, or their band of misfits. Even the Sunskate disappeared into the background noise of the universe. Nothing else existed except for you, your Mandalorian, and the foundling.

“Grogu?”

The name rasped out of the modulator with gravelly relevance, tentative and soft. Sailcloth ears perked up at hearing his papa repeat the ridiculous name you had bestowed, followed by a pair of fat grabby baby paws reaching towards the metal mountain. The potato sack of a child was passed again, this time into the armored embrace of his father where he could patta-patta on the indents of his cheeks.

“Grogu…” Mando spoke it again, lowering his brow to meet with the baby’s. Seeing the pair of them so close together in that moment almost made you melt into the floor, and you sighed heavily before turning back to your hosts, recomposing yourself.

“Yep, them’s my boys. Mando and... Grogu.” You puffed yourself up, trying your fucking damndest to stay dignified. Alewyn snickered again, sweet and trilling as she leaned over to Lilah.

“He’s adopted.” She whispered, making the other woman giggle as well.

“Good to know, I was starting t’wonder how Mando kept ‘is ears hidden under that helmet’a his.” Her laugh was warm and rich like aged whisky, reverberating around the rec-room. “Welp, you kids wanna stay for dinner?”

You thought back to the ruined ship that you’d left back in the hangar, not going anywhere any time soon. “Yeah dinner sounds great, thanks.” You followed the pair of pirates to where the rest of the crewmates had gathered, preparing to take supper. Mouthwatering scents wafted from the galley while you made friends with the rest of the wild women, getting to know them between the uproars they frequently broke out into. They were rough, undisciplined, and unbelievably vulgar, and you loved every second of it. Though you had a family now, you never really had a people after you left your sailor life behind, but if you did, they would look just like this.

When dinner was served you nearly drooled on yourself, but you forwent eating to feed your son, opting to eat with your partner later. A bottle of spicewine was opened by your rambunctious hosts, and a tall goblet was filled for you more than once, so at least you weren’t insulting them by not accepting any of their offerings. Grogu ate heartily, and in between his bites you spoonfed little Fae who sat in her mama’s lap at the dinner table. Alewyn razzed you several times about not eating her chef's hard-cooked meal, and you slugged her playfully each time.

“So whut, he don’t take that thing’off? How’s’at work?” She said with a mouth full of food, swirling her fork in the air.

“We make it work.” You scolded, and she shrugged.

“Is’e cute?”

Next to you Mando went stiff as a board, and you snorted a laugh, trying to hide your smile with a spoon. He gawked at you behind the visor, thankful that it hid his embarrassment so well.

“Yeah he’s cute, I think so, anyway.” You poked at his armor with your spoon, earning yourself a trademark huff. He didn’t say much for the remainder of the dinner, though your conversations with the runaway royal got progressively more invasive until you could feel the heat coming out from under his beskar.

“Is he human?” Yes

“Does he have a nice ass?” Well obviously, look at it.

“Is’e good in bed?” Fucksake.

“DOES THE HELMET STAY ON?!” Alewyn!!

Lilah scraped her plate directly into her mouth and slammed it back down on the table. “Wynnie leave’em be! Look how fuckin’ red her face is, can’t you tell you’re embarrassing her?” She laughed and shook her head, pouring herself another full glass. “Since yer not gonna eat then you better entertain. Tell me, hunters, do either’a’ya know any songs?”

“Do I- do I know any songs?!” You sputtered, thankful for the rescue but feeling just as indignant. Jumping up from your seat made you wobble a bit from the wine. “Do you know The Ballad of Transport Eighteen?”

Lilah nearly cackled, raising a glass and clearing her throat, “We were thirty-eight crewmen on Transport Eighteen-”

You joined in: “The hour was late and the talk was obscene!”

The towering Togruta stood up, one boot on her chair and one boot on the damn table, and you followed suit, singing the old sailor ditty in unison and waving your wine through the air.

“When the raiders streaked down and their bright lasers cut, some twenty-odd holes through her steel-plated gut!”

The noise the two of you made was absurd, and a handful of other cutthroats joined in with their own ragged voices. By the time you were to the second verse the walls of the Sunskate were ringing with your songs. When you’d finished Ballad, another pirate stood and started up a shanty that you didn’t know, and you did a silly little dance that you were finally getting to learn a new song or two.

Most of the ladies had songs of their own, but after several rounds you were so shitfaced on spicewine that you couldn’t remember them if you tried. But what you could do, at least what the wine told you that you could do, was dance! You swung Grogu around in your arms, kicking your feet and prancing around the room with the rest of the swashbucklers. A bug-eyed Rodian whipped out an instrument that resembled an accordion, pumping out an upbeat ditty that had the whole room stomping. Lilah took Grogu in her arms, holding him next to Fae while you danced with Alewyn, the two of you knocking elbows and spinning one way and then the other, laughing like schoolgirls the whole way.

The shanty slowed way down, letting some of the gals catch their breath or get another swig of ale. You took your son and the Togrutan youngling in your arms so that the captain could dance with her wife. With a babe under each arm you swayed over to your partner, who had only been tapping his foot along to the beat. You dipped Grogu to him, then Fae, swaying in time with the music. Mando brushed a gloved palm over his son's wrinkly little head when it came back to him, tilting his helmet softly.

Fae yawned and rubbed her emerald eyes, and Grogu followed suit. You danced over to where a padded bucket seat was, setting the two younglings down so they could rest and you could free your hands. Sauntering back to your tinman, you took his hands in yours and pulled.

“Mando dance with me.”

He stayed firmly in his seat, “I.. I don’t know how.”

“Pff, neither do I, bucket boy. Just.. just get up here!” You yanked again, and this time he allowed you to pull him along. You held his hands and did your own dance, using him like a mannequin to hold one of his hands up in the air and spin underneath it. He barely moved, too nervous to show any softness in such company. The slow dance started to near its completion, and you moved one of Din’s hands to your waist, lacing your fingers between the other and leaning in close to his audio intake. “Hey, remember that ‘courtship ritual’ you tried on me the other day?”

Heat radiated out from the beskar you were pressed against, any hotter and you could cook an egg on it. “Y-yeah…”

A catty smile crept over your face, “Think you can do it again? I’ll say when.” He was still for a moment, then nodded faintly. You waltzed around him slowly in time with the music, doing the dancing for the both of you until the final stanza was being played. Pressing yourself as close to his body as you could so you would only have to whisper, you met his visor with your own gaze. “...now!”

The arm on your waist went tight, and the one holding your hand twirled you around until you were parallel to the floor, earning a slew of cheers and whistles from the schnockered swashbucklers. You’d known the dip was coming, but your face flushed beet red anyway, and you fought the urge to knock his helmet off and kiss him right then and there. He seemed to feel the same longing, his breath catching in his modulator above you and making his chest heave. You could just imagine it, the feel of his plush lips against yours, the heat of his kiss on your face and the softest touch of his tongue making its way past your teeth to find your own.

“Later.” He whispered, slowly spinning you back up to your feet. Blushing, you nodded, only now realizing that the music had stopped before you were standing back upright. Many eyes on you made your face burn until it was nearly melting off your skull, and you sheepishly looked to your hosts. The Togrutas were sitting back down, though Alewyn was using Lilah as a chair and playing with her lekku.

“You two make quite a sight.” The captain purred, crossing her boots on the table. “Maybe you should get a room!” She shouted with a laugh that had the rest of the crew in an uproar. Inside you wanted to shrink away until you didn’t exist anymore, but brashness and vulgarity came more naturally to you than cowardice.

“We would, but somebody totalled my ship! I’m lookin’ at you two tangle-heads.” You glowered at them with a cocky grin. Alewyn’s chiming laugh coupled neatly with Lilah's oaken bass, perfectly in tune together. The pirate princess twirled the end of her wife’s lekku between her fingers and fixed you with a playful glare.

“Yeah yeah sorry ‘bout that. We can give ya a lift’ta Elgon Station since it’s conveniently on the way. We’re makin’ our way to Thrask to drop that’un off.” Alewyn jabbed a thumb back over her shoulder at a short, pinkish frog woman who had been hiding back in the corner. Between her knees sat a large tankard filled with orangish orbs. The dainty woman croaked with surprise at being noticed finally, hugging her container a bit closer. “Can’t get in’ta hyperspace with that jug’o eggs she’s got there. They’ll pop.”

The ovatious reminder of your last hunt wormed a shiver up your spine, but you shook it off to throw your host a nod. “Thanks, Alewyn, ‘preciate it.” Your host hopped up from her lavish throne, slowly letting her wife’s lekku fall from her hand as she sauntered to you. She reached for your hand and pulled you along behind her, asking you to walk with her through the Sunskate's corridors. Eventually you passed through a bulkhead to the flight deck of her ship, the transparisteel showing nothing but stars as far as the eye could see. A radar screen near the navigation panel blinked with a lazy yellow light, showing the location of Elgon Station where only void met your naked eye.

“Hunter, I wanted to talk to you in private.” Her voice was level, and all traces of her raunchy, spacefaring, swashbuckling accent evaporated, and you were once again talking to the Queen-in-Waiting of Shimi. She didn’t meet your eyes, her sapphire globes flitting between the stars ahead while she locked her elbow to yours. “Remember when we met? I was pregnant with Fae, on the run, just… just trying to get back to my Lilah…” Her voice trailed off at the memory. You nodded, but allowed her to continue without interruption. “If it wasn’t for you I wouldn’t be standing here right now. Doing exactly what I want to do with my life. I wasn’t cut out for nobility, no matter how badly daddy wanted me to be his perfect little princess, I just wasn’t. He never did take that well.”

She forced a laugh, patting your forearm with her other hand to compose her thoughts. “First and foremost I wanted to tell you thank you,” She turned to meet your eyes with the jewels that sat in her orbits, their vibrancy shining with more stars than there were out the window. “Since that day we’ve been living on the edge, just like I always dreamed of! Taking out hunter ships, sorry about that, by the way, and rescuing their quarries. That fucking Guild of your’s is indiscriminate. Princesses, pirates, popes for fuck’s sake I’m sure.” Her eyes rolled at her own joke. “Not all of them deserve to be carted off in carbonite. I certainly didn’t.”

She took herself off of your elbow and held both of your hands, asking you to face her directly. “Hunt- Tra’laar,” There was an edge of seriousness to her words now, sharp as a dagger with her noble voice. “If you ever want to stop working for those quacta-kissing skuglords, you give me a call, ok? You’re always welcome back aboard my ship. Could use a good pair of asskickers, and your baby boy too, of course.”

The smile on the lavender lady’s face could melt Hoth with its warmth, and you let her pull you in for another hug. “You’re welcome, Alewyn, and thank you for the offer.” You hummed against the side of her montral where an ear might be, though you couldn’t be sure. “I’ll… I’ll consider it.”

“Fair enough.” She stepped back from you, holding you at arms length so you couldn’t escape her eyes.

“Alewyn, were you on the comms? When you roped our ship?” She nodded. “How… how did you know?”

Her head tilted. “Know what?”

“That… that I was a bilgerat.” You spat the word out like it was poison, but the captain only laughed.

“Half of my crew were bilgies at some point, you get an ear for it after a while. Nobody else uses the word posthaste besides those that were raised as boat-brats.” You rolled your eyes at her, relieved and a little offended that she had clocked you so well. She saw your half-hidden embarrassment and decided to dig a little deeper, a wry smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Is he good to you?”

Her question caught you off guard, making your brows fly high and your cheeks flush. “Y-yeah, he’s good to me. There’s a lot more to him than meets the eye, y’know.”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

“Like… he’s sweet. And caring. And he loves that boy of ours, he’d die for either one of us, nearly has once or twice. Fuck me sideways you’re nosy!”

Her lilting laugh was bright as a fresh spring day, and just as sunny. “Just checking! You wouldn’t believe some of the stories those women have told. Don’t even get me started on that Gungan! She’s deadly, if you catch my drift.” She said with a wink and a laugh, though you weren’t sure if you did. “But seriously, if he treats you wrong you tell me and I’ll gut him like a fish!”

“I can handle myself, Wynnie!”

“I know that! Just looking out for you is all. I’m glad we ran into each other again, and I’m glad to see you doing so well for yourself.”

“Right back atcha, Captain.”

“Come on, we better get back to our spouses before Lilah challenges your Mando to a fight, she’s dastardly! I love her so much, and our daughter Fayfay. Pair’a lucky ladies, ain’t we?” Her spacer accent returned, coarse and arrogant as ever while she jabbed you in the side with her elbow.

“Unquestionably.” She started to walk back towards the door you had come in from, but you stopped her, grabbing her hand. “Wait. I have something for you.” From your pockets you dug out the blinking fob and puck, stuffing them into Alewyn’s purple palms and closing your fingers over her fists. “Not all bounties are warranted.”

Stars shimmered in her noble eyes the same way they had the first time you’d met, glittering softly when she nodded and pocketed the hunter tools in one of her many secret compartments. You’d never know who the puck was meant for, and you didn’t care.

The captain's frock coat swished against the side of your leg as the two of you walked back to where you had left your crews. Contrary to what she had predicted, the crewmates that weren’t passed out on the floor seemed to be engaged in some kind of discussion, circled around Lilah and Mando in the center. You couldn’t see much over the heads of the many miscreants, but you caught the wave of a sheathed vibroblade in the blue palms of the co-captain’s hands. Mando was listening to whatever it was that she was saying intently, leaning forward as not to miss a single word.

When they noticed the approach of their wives, Lilah smacked your tinman and cut the conversation short, but not before she flashed him a wink and a grin. She stood and pocketed the knife, “There they are! We were startin’ta think you’d gotten lost.” She made an exaggerated gesture of yawning and stretching. “Whelp it’s gettin’ late, since you two ain’t goin’ anywhere any time soon, why don’t you two getcher selves comfortable. We got space.”

You grabbed the plates of cold food from the table and made to follow her when you remembered your foundling. He was still curled up in the padded seat with the Togrutan youngling, though even in her sleep Fae was trying to nibble his ears. You rescued his ear from her relentless biting, but he looked so comfortable that you were reluctant to move him. Alewyn stood beside you and brushed her hand over her daughter’s montral buds, “Let them sleep, they’re safe here.”

Mando loomed over you, and you could feel the reluctance coming off of him without him uttering a single word. You turned and flashed him a look, somewhere between a glare and a plea. “Let’s go eat dinner, then we can come back for him, sound good?” His slight nod was almost nonexistent, but it was good enough for you, and you followed your host to one of the many extra quarters that the Sunskate boasted.

You waved a thank you to the departing co-captain, ignoring the lecherous wink that she gave you before walking into the modest suite. The room was small, though not cramped, and it even had a little porthole for you to look out of, fancy! Instead of beds there was a broad hammock hanging in the corner, heaped with blankets and quilts; an unusual choice in space but welcome nonetheless. The Togrutans made sure that any of their ‘rescues’ would be comfortable, though you were curious as to how both of you would get in the hammock. But first, dinner.

A small table and singular chair wouldn’t be enough for the two of you, so you plopped down on the floor and beckoned your partner to you. He glanced around the room, suspicious as always, then closed the door and carefully dropped to the floor behind you. You dug in, shoveling much-needed sustenance into your gob, but your partner remained still. You turned to him with a mouthful of food, “You gonna eat?”

“There might be cameras, or people watching. I can’t-”

“Fuckin’ bucket, hang on.” With a groan you set your plate back on the floor and wobbled over on your knees to the hammock, tugging one of the blankets off of it and accidentally pulling down the entire stack. Picking what you guessed was the biggest you fluffed it in the air and draped it over his head, giggling as you snuck underneath your blanket fort with him. “How’zat?”

Hissing latches answered you, and the offending beskar fell away to reveal the handsome man that had remained hidden from you for so long. “Thank you, cyar’ika.” Dinner was obliterated in a matter of minutes, but once you’d both finished you stayed under the covers with him, just to enjoy seeing his face in the low light. Scooting around to his front, you brushed the side of your face against his, feeling the stubble on your skin. He hummed and nuzzled against you, bringing his hands up to cup your jaw and slide you over for a much-awaited kiss.

He tasted like dinner, but the scent of him was strong, and the combination of flavors and smells made you giggle a bit. Din’s lips were soft against yours, gentle and tender and a little ticklish from his facial hair. Arms wrapped around you and hauled you up into his lap, making you gasp faintly into his unbroken kiss. Seated on his lap side saddle, you kissed him with vigor, only now aware of the twinge of jealousy you had felt at the two lekku-laden-ladies getting to kiss each other whenever they wished. Speaking of…

“So, what were you and Lilah talkin’ bout?” you asked directly into his mouth. A sharp little inhale hinted that maybe you’d caught wind of something secret.

“She was just giving me some… uh… suggestions.” Even in the dark of the pillow fort you could see heat rising to his face. Like a knife you dug in deeper.

“Ohoho? What kind of suggestions?”

A boyish smile tugged on the edges of his lips, and his eyes went a little darker. “Why don’t you let me show you instead?” Warm lips were pressed to yours again, longer and deeper with every kiss. You were only marginally aware of the change in your position, slowly being lowered onto your back while his tongue pushed its way to yours; licking into your mouth. Soon you were laying down fully with him over top of you, caging you in with his metal plated arms. You felt him shuffle, then an ungloved hand snaked its way to your shirt, tugging it up over your head and taking your mask with it.

A strong hand kneaded at the pillowy flesh of your breast, letting the weight of it fill his palm. Warm fingertips pinched at your nipple, rolling the sensitive bud gently til it pebbled between his callouses. The sensation pooled heat in your belly and tightened in your guts, but this wasn’t anything new. Appreciated, for sure, all of his touches were, though you couldn’t help but wonder if this was what was suggested. His kisses continued in tandem with his fingers, building with intensity until his teeth were biting at your lower lip and tongue, catching the sensitive skin in his sharp bite.

Hot breath fanned against your neck as he tilted his head to chase along the edge of your jaw, letting the bone’s curve lead him to the soft spot under your ear. He wrapped his lips around your earlobe, and the nick of sharp teeth coupling with the steam in your ear made your eyes flutter and roll. You tried to kiss at his neck, wanting to repay the favor, but the teeth on your ear snarled and sank into the meat of your pulse point, making you cry out against him. Biting turned to sucking, his fervent kisses pulling the tender skin up and leaving blooming welts to mark you as his.

His hand left your breast and disappeared from your body, but you were too busy worrying about having your throat ripped out by the man who had you pinned. Of course he wouldn’t hurt you, but the flight instinct was still there, making your heart try to pound out of its cage when those sharp canines bore down on your larynx. Without taking his vicious teeth from your neck, he started digging at your belt, and you let your body relax since you knew what was next.

The hand came back up, forcing a needy groan out of your captured throat from his teasing, but your eyes snapped wide when you felt cold metal on your skin. Din released your throat and met your eyes with his half-hooded honeywells, bearing his teeth to you in a wolfish grin. “Cyare…” he purred with a lust laden drawl. “Tell me to stop, and I’ll stop, but I want to… try something.” You weren’t looking at him though, you were looking at the blade that he had drawn, the edge of it pressing into the side of your neck.

“Um… ok… I trust you.” Eyes wide with fear and stuck fast to the knife you watched him move it down your chest over your sternum. “Do not cut my clothes off.” You scolded, and he hummed a deep, dark laugh. The blade coasted over your belly, your belt line, and then sat right at the top of your mound, sending adrenaline burning through your veins. What the hell?

Leaning back from you, Din rocked up to his haunches and traced the sharp edge of the vibro over where your slit pushed against the duraweave, and you furrowed your brows at him trying to decipher just what the fuck he was up to. Please don’t stab me in the snatch. From your belt he tugged the empty leather sheath off and slipped it over the knife, then holding it by the blade end he flipped on the thrummer, making the vibroblade come alive in his hand.

“Are you ready, cyar’ika?”

Shrugging, “Yes? I still don’t- ooo-ooo-ooh-hhhh~!” Your entire body tensed up when he pressed the vibrating hilt to your crotch, using his whole body to keep your knees from snapping together. The muscles in your abdomen convulsed, forcing your hips to cant upwards with each shaky spasm. “F-f-f-fuuck! Th-th-hat’s n-n-ne-ew-ew-w!” You stuttered through clenched teeth like you’d been shot with a pulse rifle, but this was a thousand times more pleasurable. Even through the thick fabric of your pants the strength of the vibrations felt raw, untethered. Hands dug like claws into the blanket’s edge, knees squeezing at armored shoulders, eyes screwed shut. The intensity was overwhelming, and your bootheels scootched out from under you when you tried to find your footing, squirming on the floor like an electrified worm.

The knife was pulled away from you and its vibrator silenced, and you were instantly torn between happy to catch a break and desperate for its return. With blurred vision you squinted at him in the low light, panting and shaking. He had used no effort whatsoever to coax you so close to climax, and the pride of it was obvious across his face.

“Do you want me to stop?”

Bared teeth and a snarl was all you could muster, and you stabbed your thumbs down to your belt, trying to pull your remaining clothes off. Din grabbed you by the hem and yanked, nearly ripping your pants off to expose you to him. The salacious humming started again, and you stuck your tongue out between your teeth in a wry grin that was obliterated in seconds when the pommel found your clit. High pitched cries broke their way out of your throat as the Mandalorian softly rubbed his fun new toy around the pearl of nerves that quickly spun you to a frenzy. Every muscle in your body went tighter than a guitar string, making your back arch and quiver until Din was pushing a palm to your sternum, holding you down against the floor. Aside from keeping you in place he exerted barely any effort, meanwhile you were being flung into hyperspace, trying not to lose your mind.

Molten lava burned in your veins and your tightened muscles, an eruption building quicker than you knew how to stop, and the fire of it nearly burned you alive when it combusted. Knees jerked and claws scratched when you came, and through the feverhaze of it you were almost aware of your scream. You squirmed in his grasp, the singing dagger playing its song with your own vocal cords, unable to stop coming. Hot slick coated your thighs, drenched them, flooded them, fuck! Blinded by your ecstasy you wailed, crying and straining, begging him to stop. Only when the knife left your swollen, engorged clit did you notice the tears in your eyes, pooling in their corners and streaking down your cheeks.

You threaded your hands through your own hair, trying to force yourself back down out of hyperspace. A question was posed to you that you didn’t hear, one that was repeated a second time. “Are you ok?”

“Fuuuuuuuck...” Was all you could come up with. You felt him shuffle between your legs, and you jerked when his hands found your drenched cunt. Warm, villainous laughter oozed against your ears.

“That’s a good girl, coming so hard for me. Did you like that?” Breathless, you nodded. “Hmmm… I wonder if you can do that again.” His fingers slid up your sopping wet pussy, soon joined by the vorpal blade and making you choke on the air in your throat. Long, calloused fingers pumped in and out of you, digging at the sweet spot he had so expertly learned to find, working in tandem with the vibro that was spinning you right back up faster than you could think. “Come on, come on my hands, ner riddur, give me all you- oh!” You sucked air between your teeth in a silent scream and bore down on his fingers with bone-breaking strength to squirt a hot splash of cum all over his hand and wrist. “Holy shit.”

“Th-that’s not u-usually what… what someone w-wants… t-to hear after th-they come…” You let your legs drop to the sides, letting you get a glance at the man between your legs. He looked mystified, staring at his hand and wrist and vambrace with some kind of mix between arousal and reverence. He licked a broad stripe up his wrist and palm, taking each of his fingers in his mouth one at a time to lick them clean. You sneered at him, “Dirty boy.”

He pulled the last of his soaked fingers out of his mouth with a pop!, glaring at you with hooded eyes that swirled with desire. “Dirty? I’ll give you dirty, cyar’ika. Flip over.”

“Make me.”

Din growled and wrapped his arms around your boneless form, flipping you effortlessly on to your knees. He stuffed his own legs under your hips, keeping you up off the floor that you so desperately wanted to melt back down onto. He freed himself in short order, giving himself a couple of warm up tugs before he was thrusting his length into you; but rather than fuck you stupid he just let himself fill your folds as if he was warming his cock.

You were about to give him hell when you heard the -wrrrrrrrrr- of the vibro again, and suddenly you didn’t need him to move for you to be pleasured. The wet, slick pommel tapped against your clit, and every muscle in your gut snapped tight, curling you nearly into a ball. Behind you you could hear him hiss through clenched teeth, and the little spasms from his thighs told you that he was enjoying the toy as well. Again you were sling-shot to your climax faster than you could process it happening, making you clamp down on his thick, girthy length and forcing a choked moan from the Mandalorian that was lost so deep inside you.

He fell forward against the curve of your back, trying to roll up in a ball as well, but you were conveniently in the way. The cold of his beskar stung against the arch of your spine, but the heat coming off of you warmed it right up. Hot breath puffed against the back of your neck, followed by the nick of sharp teeth and the drag of a flattened tongue. He slid a hand up between your breasts to your collarbone and he fell backwards to his haunches again, making you straddle his legs with him still buried in your heat. You were squished as tightly to his chest as he could get you, and the knife’s blunt end was pressed again to where you were joined together.

Little thrusts were all he could manage in the throws of the vibrators strength, as if you could do any better, squirming and thrashing on the spear that split you while the vibro tore another climax from you. If your eyes had been open you would have gotten to see yourself come, the glistening splash flying out from where the hilt met your swollen bud and coursing hot down Din’s shaft and balls til it was dripping onto the floor. You mewled against the side of his scruffy jaw, feeling the tears spring to your eyes from the overstimulation; but thankfully it didn’t last too much longer. He gasped and growled in your ear, pressing the vibro against the marriage of your slick lips and his throbbing cock, and a handful of short, desperate thrusts were all he needed to drop over the edge of ecstasy with you; adding his own cum to the growing pool between your knees.

The vibro was dropped, rattling on the floor until you bent down and grabbed it, flipping the switch and silencing its song. Ragged panting filled the tiny space of the blanket fort, yours high and shaky, his deep and growling like a wild animal. You reached back and found him, tangling your fingers through his soft curls, digging into them so his face was pressed against yours. Bristles tickled your skin with each breath, followed by sloppy, needy kisses. His lip dragged against your skin, whispering praises in your ear and sneakily trying to eat you alive. Teeth nipped at your cheek, then down your jaw, finding the spot that he had started with and sinking them into your tender flesh a second time. A third. Fourth.

“Din p-please!” You begged, your voice going higher and whinier than you had intended, but he ignored you, lost in the wellspring of desire that he called his wife. He licked a broad stripe up from the crook of your shoulder to the bottom of your ear.

“I like it when you beg.” He bit down and sucked, turning your throat into a red and purple patchwork of his territorial markings. “You sound so pretty. So needy.” His cock throbbed between your legs, refusing to soften just yet, forcing another hot gush of your mixed cum to flood down your thighs. A broad hand snaked its way to your tormented throat, squeezing ever so gently but still making you gasp. “I want you to beg every time I breed you.” His armored embrace constricted around your ribs and throat, making you choke on the air you so desperately needed. He forced his cock in just a little deeper before pulling his length out, making the head of it bob against your engorged cunt and sending shivers through every inch of your body.

You were gently lowered from his arms, flopping on the floor like a glob of useless jelly. The Mandalorian laid down on top of you, slowly returning to his loving, doting self. He kissed at the welts he had put on your neck, each one a delicious combination of pain and pleasure. Dark, lust-soaked eyes became soft and doelike again, watching your heaving form with adoration under lifted brows. He kissed your lips tenderly, plush and promising, gentle as a rose petal and just as sweet.

“Are you alright? I’m sorry if that was a little rough…”

You shook your head, feeling your brains slosh around in your skull, drowning in dopamine. “What? That wasn’t rough, I’ve seen you rough, but that was… different.” A little pouty face told you that might not have been the best word to pick, so you tried again. “That was amazing, but maybe we should invest in an actual toy instead of using the same tools we use for work.” That got you an excited nod and a dazzling smile. Realization dawned on you, “Is that what Lilah suggested?!” His magnificent smile went sheepish under bright red cheeks, and a slow nod made the curls on his head bounce. “We should hang out with them more often...”

The Mandalorian laughed, kissed you deeply once more, and pulled his helmet back on, allowing the two of you to get back out from under the blanket fort. You readjusted your clothes and armor, making yourself presentable, then strode over to the door to go find your foundling. The bulkhead door lugged open, and you swore you saw something, or someone, dashing down the hallway. Was someone eavesdropping!?

You didn’t see anyone until you got to the rec-room where you had left your child. Grogu and Fae were still curled up in the padded seat, but the seat itself had been scootched closer to where the Torgrutas had fallen asleep in their chair. You stepped over the handful of pirates that had passed out on the floor until you could get to your foundling. He gibbered at you, and you tucked him under your arm, jumping slightly when you caught the glint of green eyes.

Lilah watched you drowsily, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, and the ice froze in your veins at how well she had read you. She winked and hugged her Alewyn closer, burying her face in the other woman's lekku and letting you escape ungoaded.

The ship was quiet all the way back to your room, and you tucked back into the little suite with your foundling in hand. He had woken up during the walk and chirruped at you sleepily, cooing softly when he saw his papa as well. “Fucksake...You know what I need? A shower! You want a rinse, Grogu?” He chittered at the sound of his goofyass name, and you held him up to your nose, tickling him your sniffs. “Hm… Nope, you’re good. Stay here and keep papa company, won't cha?” Grogu chirped with what you decided was a ‘yes, buir’, and you set him down in the hammock. “What about you, tinman? Shower?”

Din was seated in the little chair, cleaning the stains from his armor, stains you had made. “No thank you, I’d like to keep my armor on while we’re here.” You shrugged, since you were used to his strange rituals by now, and strode into the fresher room to find something you hadn’t seen in a long fucking time.

A mirror.

In the fresher stood a formidable figure, though definitely one that needed a fresh change of clothes. There were no mirrors on the Crest due to some kind of mando mumbo jumbo, though you guessed if you spent all your life in the same outfit you really wouldn’t need to know what it looked like every day. You leaned on the modest sink to inspect the bags under your eyes and pick at something on the side of your nose, the tilt of your armored crown catching the light and drawing your eyes. The beskar slid around its pivots until it covered your face, and you stared at the warrior before you.

Maker above, is that what I look like? No wonder that merchant had fled from you so quickly, the sight of your armored visage was terrifying, just as ferocious as the bonafide Mandalorian you traveled with. You tilted your head and jutted your chin, trying to intimidate your own reflection as if that was difficult. The foggy vanity lights streaked like quicksilver over the beskar and the black gloss of your visor, catching faintly on the embossed mudhorn on your brow. You reached a hand up to brush over the raised emblem, feeling it with your fingers and watching how the light moved over its curves.

You were just reaching the tip of the animal’s horn when your doppelganger was joined by another armored hunter. Standing behind the woman in the mirror was a large, broad shouldered Mandalorian, his own visor rising a whole head above hers. He towered above her, tilting his helmet slightly while he rested his palms on her waist. The yellow tipped gloves coasted down her sides to her hips and pulled her backwards, and you could no longer ignore that the show you were watching was your own reality.

“Hello, mesh’la.” Din pressed his chestplate to your back and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly to his armored chest. Though he had gotten his armor cleaned he still smelled like sex, sweat and sweetness; the mix of your bodies pooling together like your arousals had pooled on the floor. He tucked the edge of his helmet against the side of your neck, and you turned enough to chime your beskar softly against his. The ironsong rang clear and true over a rumbling hum.

“Hiya bucket boy.” You set one of your palms on where his were overlapped on your middle, bringing the other one up to hold the indent of his cheek. He leaned his weight on your back, rocking with you slightly.

“How did you come up with that name, Grogu?”

“I’m… I’m not really sure.” That wasn’t a lie, though it felt like it was. “I’m sorry, I know It’s terrible, we can change-”

“No, it’s perfect. Did you see his face when you said it?” You nodded softly, thankful for the beskar that covered your shyness. “He likes it, that’s what matters.” His gloved hands brushed over the fabric of your tunic, wrapping one around your waist and crossing the other between your breasts like a seatbelt. “You make a very good buir. I’m proud to call you my mate.”

Your face stung against the cold of your faceplate, flushing with heat at his term of endearment. “Aww you like me.” You whispered with just a touch of sass, blushing at his adoration. The hand on your middle slid lovingly over your tummy before moving up your chest with more direction. In the mirror you watched your reflection as she was attended to by the man behind her. His gloved hands came up to her mask and lifted it gently away, setting it down on the counter. It was hard to break your own eye contact, but those yellow tips of his gloves were so much more fun to watch.

Din brushed the back of his hand down your cheek, setting his fingertips on the bottom of your chin before dragging them down the expanse of your bruised neck. For a moment you thought he was aiming for your breasts, but instead his palms came to rest on your shoulders. His own armor plated shoulders stuck wide out past yours nearly by the entire width of his arms, dwarfing you with their size. You were just about to ask him what he was up to when you felt his thumbs dig into the meat of your back, making you groan whorishly at the sensation.

“Does that feel good?” You could barely nod, letting the circles his thumbs were making do the work for you. The feeling of him working the knots out of your shoulders hurt so good, and you let your eyes close while he massaged your back. His wide hands captured the muscles in your back with ease, diligently kneading the residual tension away. He pushed the pads of his thumbs closer to your spine, and you heard the crack-crack-crack of your vertebrae popping with each honed squeeze.

You had to lean on the counter for support, though your Mandalorian wouldn’t let you fall no matter what. Din’s hands followed the path of your spine, rolling strong circles into the aching muscles and putting extra pressure on each rib joint to get them to pop. His fingers hugged the bottom of your rib cage once he’d made it that far down, keeping you in place as he slid his circles down to the top of your pelvis. The pressure on your sacrum had you arching your back into his hands, more or less accidentally pressing your ass into his groin. He pushed back, but maybe more to keep you steady then to be suggestive.

Deft hands glided back up your spine, and you flickered your eyes back open to see the pair of you in the mirror. Heat returned to your gut at the sight of the massive mountain of metal standing behind your bent figure, pressing his hips tightly to yours. You bit your lip and smiled at him in the mirror, watching the way his visor cocked at the look you were giving him. “You seem to be very good at picking up new tricks, tinman.”

He shrugged, “I just want to take care of you.” What an understatement that was. You and the foundling were his everything, there wasn’t a single thing in the entire universe that mattered more than the two of you. You were his wife, his riddur, the living culmination of all his dreams and desires strutting around like you owned the place; and he was honored to be asked to stand in your presence. “Can I get you anything?”

“Hm…” Poking your head into the shower you inspected the soap that was provided, giving it a tentative sniff. It smelled like a girl, flowery and pretty and not at all what you were expecting from a literal pirate ship. It wasn’t for you. “Don’t happen to have any of our soap on you, do ya?” He shook his helmeted head, and you batted your lashes at him with a pleading pout. “Pwease would you get me some of our soap? Please… oh please?” You begged him sarcastically, reveling in the way his shoulder puffed up while you exploited his kink. His cape billowed behind him he spun around so fast, dashing out of the fresher and the room without another word. Laughing, you turned on the shower, letting it heat up a bit before you got in.

The curving hallways of the Sunskate were quiet and dark, save for the few gravediggers that ambled through the corridors, sipping at their piping hot caff. Soon the hangar doors parted, and he felt a wave of sadness at the sight of his ship. The old dropper had been through so much, but at least she was still kicking. As he got closer he noticed a few tools scattered around the area and a fresh, silvery patch job that had been added to the side of her hull. Somebody has been busy. He ghosted a hand along a welding scar, it wasn’t enough to get her starborne, but it would keep her from dissolving into a heap of scrap metal when you reached the station.

He would have to find out more later, for now he was on a mission: soap! Climbing up the half-hanging ramp he strode to the ladder, hauling himself up to where all of your utilities were stashed. You had packed like you were on the run, shoveling shit in wherever it would fit, and Din was cursing to himself at the mess he was sifting through. While he was at it he grabbed you some fresh clothes, filling up a little satchel with goodies for his lovely, can’t-pack-worth-a-shit wifey-poo.

The smell of fresher soap caught his nose, and he dug down into a deep crate, looking for his objective. He pulled a rifle out, a bundle of towels, an electric kettle, the smell growing stronger the deeper he got. A severed tusk was tossed aside, then a full thermos.

-sloshCLAck!-

Din stopped his search at the noise, clack? He picked up the impromptu quarry capture device and shook it carefully. -slosh-clack-slosh-clack-

That was very much not the noise it had made when he had filled it, distinctly remembering the sound of a metallic plonk instead. Heebie-jeebies prickled under his many layers, and morbid curiosity drove him to place his hand on the lid. No! What if it’s alive? He set the canister down and fished a knife from his belt, holding it in his pinkie while he unscrewed the lid. Heart in his throat and breath held firm he opened the jar, pointing the end of his blade at the syrupy goop that sloshed around, ready to stab anything to death should it try to jump him.

Nothing moved.

He swirled the container, watching the holographic slime shimmer on top of the large purple pod that had sunk to the bottom, and he heard the metallic noise again. Running out of air, he carefully poked his blade into the pool of nectar, nudging the seedpod out of the way to reveal something sitting underneath. Using the vibro’s tip he scraped the curio up out of the goop, slamming the lid back on the jar the moment he had whatever it was in his hand.

The deep breath he took filled his lungs with the residual essence of the hydra’s perfume, sending fresh blood to his spent cock. Focus, Djarin. Glistening in his palm was the tiniest microchip, about the size of a grape and roughly the same shape. On one side it had a set of tiny legs with little grips on their tips, designed so that it would stay in place wherever it was at. Had this been what the bounty was for? Maybe it wasn’t the pods at all, maybe it was this thing. Though what was it doing all the way down at the bottom of a cave?

He bumped it with the tip of his knife, getting it to stand on its feet and making the rainbow sludge slowly reveal the item in its entirety; and suddenly he had more questions than answers.

Blood turned to ice in his veins, freezing him solid. There, in the light coming off of his helmet, proudly stamped on the top of the device, was an emblem. It was a circle with a gear in the center, sort of shaped like a snowflake with a second gear hollowed out in the middle. It wasn’t popular any more, but Din had seen it many times in his life, most recently when Moff Gideon tried, and failed, to take his son away from him.

But the first time he had seen it had been burned into his memory for decades. Emblazoned on the sides of gunships and walking tanks that rained decimation on to his adopted homeworld, purging all life from Mandalore and turning the wartorn planet’s surface into a sea of glass.

It was the mark of the ones who had tried to hurt the child.

It was the mark of the ones who had decimated his clan.

It was the mark of the people who would destroy entire planets just to assert their dominion over the citizens they subjugated.

It was the mark of the Empire.

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[snowgoldwaylon]

I've Got You! - Frank Woods X Reader, Part One

After getting told the wrong information about where Stitch took Adler, the team ends up in a sticky situation.

TW: Strong language, graphic description of wounds, violence.

After spending months and months tracking Adler around the world, you were finally able to discover an upcoming location where Stitch was going to move.

You noticed Stitch never stayed in one place. It was very smart, because whenever you busted into the old workshop for them, it seemed sterilized, and wiped clean.

But, after a recent compound raid, Mason had found a forgotten manifest made by none other than Stitch himself.

This is where you tracked them to a location in Verdansk. Where it was, when they were arriving, how and why they were going to torture Adler, and when they were leaving for the next location to keep themselves concealed.

So, you and the boys geared up and went on Operation Solo Zero Eleven. This is the Operation find and rescue Adler mission. You had a pretty damn good team, and you weren't afraid of showing up on the Soviet Union's doorstep.

But something that you thought about the whole helicopter ride there was what happened a few nights ago, with Frank. You had both seem to get kind of close...

*Rembering a memory*

Just a few days before this Operation had been called, you were nervous. And naturally, as you were nervous you went to the pond about 3 miles from the base to swim.

It had a large cliff, you liked to cliff jump too. Today was a perfect day to do what you wanted and this was it. Just you, the clear beautiful water, and a delicious snack of bread and jam.

After taking the small hike, you climbed to the top of the cliff, sat everything down, and took off the cover-up you had on, revealing a gorgeous swimsuit.

You lay out the towel, took a sip of water, and went to the edge of the cliff, looking over to see if there was anything down there before diving in.

You didn't see much, but only a small boat in the distance. You thought nobody knew of this place so it made you feel weird. That is until you heard the voice of someone familiar.

"Y/N, you fuckin' nut what are ya doin'?"

You looked down at the boat and saw Frank, with Mason. You smiled down at them and stood back at the edge.

"I'm going to jump in and swim, you dipshit." You responded.

"Okay, that's a big cliff though. I'll bet ya five bucks you'll chicken out last minute!" Mason yelled.

You scoffed and threw your flip-flops off.

Woods looked up at you in amazement, his heart pounding.

"Well, Mason," you said, standing up tall.

"Hope you're ready to lose 5 bucks." You spoke cockily.

You ran forward, and did a flawless front flip into the water, sticking the landing. You went under the water and swam around for a bit until you had to come back up.

Frank got worried, you were under for at least a minute. He was afraid you'd gotten caught in a tree root or worse.

He started to get up and take his shirt off. Mason turned to him in confusion.

"The hell you doing Frank?" Mason asked.

"I'm going in, Y/N might need-" But he was cut off as he watched the still water break suddenly, and you majestically part the water, and break surface.

You looked right at the boys and laughed. You saw Frank shirtless and almost fainted.

"Told you, boys! Why don't you come in, waters fine!" You jabbed.

With no hesitation, Frank jumped in and swam straight for you. He came up, bear-hugged you, and sighed.

You were taken back but hugged back.

"You okay Frank?" You questioned.

"Yeah, just thought you were hurt..."

*End of memory*

You all reached Verdansk in no time. You felt kind of nervous, you had a gut feeling something was going to go wrong. But, you quickly brushed this feeling aside and loaded your magnum 44, and holstered it.

You inspected the M16 you had, quickly loading it and turning off the safety. You turned to the crew and pulled out the manifest.

"Okay, Stitch has Adler in the Array buildings to the Northeast. There should be a small part of the floor we need to plant charges on to get in. From there, we eliminate everyone but Stitch and Adler, bring the rest remaining in for interrogation." You said.

Everyone nodded their heads, and you made eye contact with Frank. He shot you a cheeky wink, and it made you blush. You looked away, as the pilot lowered you down onto the ground.

You all got out and began pushing to the building. You took out a thermal reader as you approached the building, to find where the point on the floor. The device pinged, and you put it away quickly.

"Set charges here, here, and here. We'll blow the floor and go from there. Get ready!" You exclaimed, reading your rifle.

Woods, Mason, and Lazar set the charges, and you all went and stood back to back in a circle. You were dead set on bringing Adler home at this point.

The charges blew, and you all fell through the floor, opening fire on all the enemies before you. Woods went wild, he reminded you of a child on Christmas. Classic Woods!

You ran for the hallway, where the interrogation room was. You quickly cleared it of anyone who was blocking your way. When you got to the door, you placed a breeching device smack dab in the middle.

The team ran quickly to your 6 and waited for the charge to blow.

"Adler should be right on the other side. Stitch isn't getting away this time, we'll make him pay." You spoke, venom practically dripping off the words you just said.

Woods gave a low whistle and a chuckle. He loved seeing the fiesty side of you, he was honestly head over heels for you!

The charges blew, and you were the first one to storm the room. You spotted Adler in the middle, tied to a chair pretty much lifeless. But, no sign of Stitch. He must have gotten away...

The team made quick work of every nonfriendly in the room, and you ran quickly to Adler, freeing him of his chains.

"Adler! Adler, can you hear me?" You panicked.

Adler released a low, painful groan. You took that as a yes, and started to secure him.

You reached for your comms to give Park the signal, you needed to get Adler out and quick.

"Y/N to Park, blow the roof! We need to get the board down here for Adler. Tell Belikov the Operation is a go and drop it down!" You shouted.

"Got it, inbound!" Park responded.

Frank, Mason, and Lazar kept guard as the roof blew into pieces. You shielded Adler from the blast and debris, and down came the board for him. You started to carefully lift him, until......

A gunshot rang in the room, and you turned to your left to see none other than Stitch himself charging at you at full pace. You practically threw Adler onto the board and pulled out your magnum.

"PULL HIM UP NOW!" You yelled. Thankfully, he was pulled up just in the nick of time.

Stitch tackled you to the floor, and you both got into a hand-to-hand fight. Meanwhile, the team was holding off some more rogue operatives that ambushed you.

You were able to fight Stitch back at his strength, but he grabbed your arm and twisted it. You screamed in pain as he held you down, pulling your gun on you.

"You must die here, you took Adler from us. Now, pay the price." He retched out.

You fell silent as you heard gunfire, and felt an unbearable, stinging pain through the middle of your chest.

You screamed, you cried and doubled over. You saw your blood pool over you. You felt like you couldn't breathe like you were choking.

Stitch held your head down with his boot and loaded another shot in the revolver.

"Goodbye, Y/N Y/L/N."

Before he could fire, he got tackled by Frank. Frank beat the absolute, living shit out of him. He knocked him unconscious and got up. His heart sank as he collapsed next to you.

"Stay with me Y/N, come on! Park, send down evac!!!!"

Frank scooped your limp body up with ease and carried you to evac.

"I've got you, Y/N hang on!" He gushed out, your blood soaking his armor. All he could do was run, run as fast as he can to the heli.

[foulserpent]

@fantrorillaz submitted:

Guys, guys you’re not gonna believe this, so I fuckin’ I fuckin go to Peynon Wir- Weypon pir- fuck. I’m going to Weynon Priory because the fuckin, he’s like, he’s like the king of all of Tamriel this is Uriel. Fucking. Septim. And you guys know I’m not a fan of his work, but like, Xikeel was like sitting there filing her nails or somethin ignoring every word he said but I shit you not this fuckin, goblet-swilling like imperial dude. Yknow how like the super rich imperials are always swilling goblets like “oh! It uh- fluctuates the subtle flavor notes!” Or whatever but it doesn’t really do anything I imagine if he had like, some wine with him he’d be doing that even though, and I forgot to say this, he had a VERY large stab wound; that he kinda deserved not just because he’s the emperor, but guys; guys he fuckin would. Not. Shut. Up. About how he was gonna die. Not in the like “oh I’m so old! Gonna kick the bucket any day now!” But this man was like, takin it like a champ. Whole time he was like “yep! Gonna get murdered, it’s my destiny to die in this very spot!” I shit you not he almost pointed to the exact fuckin, dusty-ass corner of the dungeon that’s practically IDENTICAL to all other dungeons and STOOD there while some guy who has to conjure his own armor sneaks up from behind with the grace of a fucking. Like a fucking cave troll with his arms like *this* and everything and stabbed the man right there before like thirty guys with curved swords hacked him to pieces.

But anyway- oh yeah. Xikeel was like picking up the knife, lookin at it, looting the other dead bodies like she really didn’t give a shit and Yknow what I didn’t either but this guy he was talking 1. End of the world 2. Everyone dying 3. Some other dark shit and then; and then this guy fuckin, lobs this jewel the size of my fucking palm, like, [shows hand] you see my hand here? It was like from like, the middle part of my fingers here like to joint to the bottom of my palm that’s how huge it was. Nearly fuckin. Beamed me in the skull.

But anyway he says if I don’t want all that very bad shit to happen to everyone including me; I need to take it to some - I think his name was Jeff? Jeff. What a stupid fuckin name. Anyway I need to bring it to Jeff in Weynon Priory so I go do that. Shit’s the first thing I do because I’m freakin’ out because it’s the fuckin oblivion crisis not like- the oblivion vacation or the oblivion... thing but like an actual, interplanar demonic invasion typea crisis. So guys I get there, and I meet this Jeff guy and he’s like a monk, like you know monks, right? Not even like the cool kind we’re talking shitty robes, stupid haircut, probably just... sits in a chair and eats bread and cheese all day and he’s not allowed to speak and he’s like, this secondary old guy. So I tell Jeff I show him the fuckin’. Stone. Which at this moment I realize is the amulet of kings cause the guy tells me it is and WOW it’s UGLY, like if I was emporer you would not catch me dead wearing that shit.

Do y- do you think all emperors have like really strong necks? Do you think they just have big, beefy neck muscles under those HYUGE fur collar coat thingies from wearing this fucking paperweight all the time? Every septim probably has a thick neck or a really bad back probably, would explain a lot. Where was I? Oh yeah so we- Xikeel’s still there she’s kinda tagging along we’re buds, and it’s the end of the world so we’re gonna stick together. We give Jeffery the fucking amulet and then he tells us to go to Kvatch and my feet already fuckin’ hurt cause I had to like step on rocks n shit barefoot until I could find real shoes cause they don’t give you shoes in prison, but I’m gonna go anyway, I gotta go find a priest in kvatch and bring him back because apparently he’s some secret bastard king deal.

So I get there. And there’s an oblivion gate. And there’s spiders and alligator things and dremora and all this other shit I want NOWHERE near me but like. It’s in the way I gotta get into the church I gotta get the fucker back to Weynon Priory cause it’s the oblivion crisis so I gotta fuckin- use my shitty sword and bow and stuff and I’m mostly there as backup Xikeel is KILLING it and I mean that makes sense she’s some kind of like, assassin... thing... so it was actually pretty easy with her and we get to the church. Guys. This priest is so fuckin hot. Like I’m not saying he was tall had big muscles a nice chin, I’m sayin like, he’s like very “30s-40s got his life figured out gay man” with like a- like a he’s gotta bit of padding he’s a bit- what’s the word kids are saying “”thick”” ? Am I saying that right? He was... “”thick””?! I don’t fuckin care dude was hot. Anyway we get back to this monastery yankin my collar the whole time, I- I may have undone a button or two Yknow just get the pecs- the pec- the one pec I have kinda out with the chest hair and the scar to kinda try to look hot. Anyway, we get back to Weynon Priory and shit’s on fire, people are screaming and there’s fucking wizards. Everywhere. Like you know how you can have like rats...? Or flies...? This place had like a huge wizard infestation and they were just. Beating the SHIT out of everyone. So I run in kinda. Flailing my sword and at this point I am HUNGRY like I have had not had 1. Lunch 2. Or dinner. Like I broke out of prison right when they were gonna feed me like the dude with the fuckin’ tray was coming down the isle like “here’s your slop you elven scum” and I’d be like “thank you very much sir for the delicious food!” But no I gotta deal with this fuckin. Wizard infestation on an empty stomach.

So anyway like we get rid of the wizards, almost everyone’s dead and Jeff is like. “[gasp] the amulet of kings!” Like he didn’t have it on his fuckin person and I’m like... what’s going on? What’s wrong? I follow this guy upstairs and he’s checking his like desk drawer. Guys I shit you not he put the amulet of kings in his fucking desk with like. His keys and his lozenges and stuff. He didn’t even lock- he didn’t even lock it! He hid it like- he hid it like one of those jokes you play on your friends like “Oh no where did my inkwell go!!” And you just sit there with a smarmy look on your face while your friend fiddles around for it for like- an extra two seconds. Anyway, now I gotta go infiltrate their fuckin- wizard cult base and get the amulet back and hopefully it’ll be just that easy... but probably not... because seriously this whole thing has been a slog. Anyway guys thanks for coming to the stream see ya.

[finn-ray-nal-beads]

HERE'S THE OFFICIAL ASK BABE, YOU CAN SAVE IT FOR NEXT WEEK BUT HIT ME WITH THE RONNIE GOODNESS. That boy has a serious sweet tooth (fight me it's my own canon) and I want to hear about the VERY MOMENT that it dawned on him that he can eat things off of us whenever he wants. ALLOW ME TO SET THE SCENE. Friday night. The Mandalorian is back for season two and you're both FUCKING STOKED. Ice cream sundaes. You have a little something on the corner of your mouth and he leans in to kiss it away. 💜

A/N: LET ME JUST SAY... THIS FIC GIVES ME ALL THE FUCKIN’ FEELS I COULD POSSIBLY HAVE AND I THINK IM IN LOVE WITH THIS ADORABLE NERD NOW... @millenialcatlady THANK YOU FOR PUTTING THIS NUGGET IN MY HEAD AND THANK YOU FOR ALLOWING ME TO RUN WITH WHATEVER I PLEASED AS FAR AS IT ALL GOES! I LOVE YOU MY MUSE AND I HOPE YOU LOVE THIS TAKE ON YOUR AMAZING ASK!🖤

Warnings: food play, pregnancy, pregnant sex, tit sucking, cowgirl style, DIRTY TALK (the good kind), slight breeding kink, stuffing/creampies, Use of the word Daddy but not in the kink way, absolute fluff, absolute smut, just pure marital bliss

(Text Thread) 

Ronnie: Hey, honey. At the store picking up some things. Anything you want for dinner? 

Y/N: Oh, babe, you read my mind. I would love some ice cream, chocolate sauce, cherries, the works… oh, and pickles! 

Ronnie: LOL. Okay whatever you and my lil’ pumpkin want. I’ll be home in a little bit. 

Y/N: We love you, daddy! 

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

You put the phone down to adjust your body on the couch, the further along you were getting, the harder it was to feel comfortable, let alone pretty. But Ronnie never failed to make you the happiest woman in the entire world. Always asking what you needed, rubbing every inch of your body when it ached, running baths to soothe you and your growing little one, and fucking you whenever you had the rush to eat him alive. 

He always went out and got whatever you needed, even if it meant waking up from a dead sleep at four in the morning all because ‘the baby’ wanted some black olives that seemed to be missing from the pantry. He was so selfless that way and in every way. You thanked whatever entity over and over again that he and you had met at the diner that one day. Both ordering the same cheeseburger and milkshake for lunch, sitting across the way, shooting glances as his mouth devoured the meat like the carnivore he was, and then proceeding to do the same to you in his smart car not even thirty minutes later. 

The both of you were inseparable at that point. Loving the same things, watching the same shows, eating the same foods. It was kismet in every single sense of the word and even more so when you found out that a carbon copy of you both was on the way. 

You sat there, contemplating the last year, waiting for your knight in shining armor to arrive home with the good stuff, rubbing your protruding belly as your little girl flailed around like the deviant she was. 

“I know sweetie,” you whispered to your bump, “daddy will be home in a little while,” glancing up as you heard the key turn in the lock. 

“Hey, there ladies,” your grinning husband beamed as he saw you cuddled up on the couch waiting for him, “how’s my favorite girls?” he put the paper sack down and knelt between your legs, pulling your face to him with his large hands, kissing you with the sweetest effort he could muster. 

“We’re good daddy,” you grinned, grabbing his face in your hands, rubbing your thumbs along his shaven cheeks, admiring his soft pouted lips, “we missed you today.” 

He sighed, bringing his hands to meet your bump, rubbing it to get his daughter’s attention, “I missed you girls too,” bending his head down to meet your clothed skin, kissing the baby, “So. Much.” 

A series of flutters hit his hands as your daughter squirmed at his honeyed voice, “I think we’re slightly hungry, huh, baby girl,” he laughed as he felt more kicks pummel his fingers. 

“God, yes we are,” you whined as he got up to pick up the sack and bring it to the kitchen, “comin’ right up ladies,” he smiled grabbing the stuff out of the bag and chuckling at your excitement when bringing the jar of dill pickles and a fork your way. 

He kissed your forehead after taking the food, “I’m gonna make our sundaes after I get changed, okay honey?” 

“Ronnie, I can make the food,” you said struggling to lift your body from your spot. 

“Woah there mama,” he pushed you and your pickles back on the plush sofa, “I can do it. How about you queue up the show and put your feet up. I’ll rub ‘em when I sit down.” 

“Honey I really wan-,” 

“No,” he scolded, “you and my daughter relax while I get the menial tasks done that you shouldn’t bother yourself with. You’re the one doin’ all the hard work after all,” he grinned again, his glasses moving up his perfectly chiseled nose, displaying his precious dimples. 

You prayed that your little girl would get those perfect features of his. The ambered eyes, the dark hair, the moles that littered his body. He was too damn perfect. 

“Okay honey,” you sat back, balancing the jar on your belly as you shoved one pickle down your throat, rolling your eyes back into your head at the satisfaction of sustenance. He chuckled again, padding upstairs to change into more comfortable clothes as you got your weekly show ready for viewing. 

He made his way down after changing into a pair of black joggers, and a grey t-shirt, the sight of him hopping down the stairs causing a warmth to radiate through your pussy. After a few minutes of cabinet opening, and fridge closing, he came into the room armed with the majestic concoctions he’d created for the both of you, grinning ear to ear at the sight of your doe eyes twinkling at the food. 

“Babe,” you looked at him, “I love you so much, this looks amazing!” 

“I thought you’d like all the fixings,” he grinned even wider, sitting down and handing your special sundae to which you located where the pickle jar had been. 

He situated himself with an arm around you, and the sundae on his thigh, lifting the blanket you’d had over him so he could scoot even closer. After some rearranging, you pressed play on the show you’d decided on and devoured your ice cream as if you’d never had any your entire life.  

Half an hour in you held the empty bowl, thinking about sitting up to put it on the coffee table. You started to strain up to put it there, when Ronnie noticed your movements before you could even put them to action, “honey, here,” gesturing his large hand to which you placed it in and he did the deed for you. 

Sitting back after putting both bowls down, he threw his arm back around your shoulder, and the other to meet your belly, rubbing the spot as you laid your head between his neck. He looked down at the scene before him, smiling and kissing your crown, taking in the jasmine-scented shampoo that emanated from your gorgeous hair. Grinning yet again as he saw his unborn daughter writhe under his touch. 

His eyes wandered to your plunging cleavage, where a stream of chocolate sauce had found its home. His eyes widened at the glimmer from it, thinking of how he’d love to cover you head to toe in the mixture and lick every single bit of it from your perfect skin. His loose cock straining in his joggers as he became restless at the thought of bending you over the couch and stuffing you fuller than you already were of him. 

“Babe?” you looked up at his lust-blown eyes behind his glasses, “are you okay?” running your hand to brush his painful erection. 

“What’s going on?” looking at him with concern, “do you need something?”

“Honey,” he calmly stared into your eyes, “I need to do something,” his lips fell into a pout. 

“Okay?” you gestured, “what is it?” 

“I need to fuck you,” he matter of factly said, gripping your belly with his hand. 

Your lower stomach twisted in a knot, “o-okay babe, that’s fine with me,” you chuckled at his desperation. 

“But I need to cover you,” he moved his hand to plunge in between your tits, the motion causing a gasp to leave your mouth, “with chocolate sauce,” he said showing you the amount that had found its way there in the first place. 

You were fully on fire at this point, willing to let him cover you in anything he wanted to get him to fuck you good and hard. 

“Get the bottle,” you gripped his forearm, pleading him to wreck you.

He jumped from the couch and ran to the kitchen to grab the large bottle of sauce, grinning like a fucking kid in a candy store. In the time he had grabbed it and run back, you were already completely undressed and sat upon the edge of the couch, tits, and belly protruding out as you arched your back towards him.  

“Fuck, honey,” he beamed at your changed body, opening the bottle to drip it on your delicate skin, “you look fucking delicious,” watching the cascade of sweetness drip into the crevices of your breasts.

You sat there, completely dazed as your husband painted a mural on your tits, musing as he watched the chocolate cover your engorged peaches. 

“Perfect,” he marveled, capping the bottle and setting it on the coffee table. He made quick to remove his shirt, displaying his thick body to which you shuddered at the sight. 

“Suck my fuckin’ tits babe,” you mewled, falling to pieces as he brought his lips to your aching buds, sucking the life out of them as he situated himself between your legs kneeling before you on the couch again. His hands caressing your luscious pregnant curves, rubbing the sauce all over his face and your jugs. 

“These fuckin’ tits,” he moaned, “they’re gonna be the death of me, honey,” removing his glasses as he devoured them, leaving no trace of chocolate as he finished his work. 

He gazed at your blissed-out face, taking in the sounds you made and the way your lips parted as he made you fall apart over his gestures. His hand wandered down to your heat, feeling the wetness seeping out of your weeping cunt for him. 

“So fuckin’ delicious,” he groaned, rubbing the skin with his middle finger. 

“I want you to ride me, honey,” he begged with golden eyes. 

You of course couldn’t resist his puppy dog pleading and made him lay back on the couch like the good boy he was. 

“Take your pants of babe,” helping him undo his joggers as his large cock sprung free from its cage. Grabbing it in your soft hands and pumping it as he guided you onto his lap, your juicy thighs straddling either side of him. You let him help you guide your pussy to his tip, settling down as the shaft was covered by your walls as you sank down. 

“Fuck, Ronnie,” you whined out, feeling every inch of him touch your fluttering pussy, “you make me feel so damn full babe.” 

Undulating your hips on his lap, his hands gripping your sides with a bruising touch, rocking you back and forth on his body. 

“Yeah, honey?” he panted, “you like bein’ all full of me don’t you?” 

Thrusting up into your cunt, knocking on your tight cervix, releasing a piercing moan from your open mouth. 

“Goddammit!” you screamed speeding up your motions, “I fucking love it so much!” 

Your tits bouncing at his gyrations, your belly on display, it was almost too much for your poor husband. Your walls began to clench around him, signaling your orgasm, to which he moved his left hand down towards your throbbing clit. Rubbing tight little circles as he watched you unravel in front of him for the millionth time that night. 

“That’s it, honey,” he growled, “fucking cum all over my cock. You know you want to.” 

Watching your face look down at him, screaming for release, “I wanna cum on your big cock babe!” 

“Fuck Y/N,” his eyes went wide as your pussy released its sweet nectar, causing his pulsations to quicken. 

“I’m gonna fuckin’ fill you up,” he gritted his teeth as you were rag-dolled on his thighs, sweat beading up on his forehead as he watched you grip your aching tits whining and moaning like a whore on his thick cock splitting you in half. 

“Stuff me full babe!” you cried out, rubbing your sensitive nipples, as he slammed your hips harder with his. He let out a feral growl as his dick twitched inside you, releasing his potent seed into your sopping hole. He pumped up and down slowly, watching the mixture began to seep out, only to have this bright red cock push it back in with a squelch and a groan. 

You both took some deep breaths, stilled in position, still gripping your tits as his hands left your hips to grip your bump, “you girls okay?” coming out of his haze in concern. 

“Yes babe,” you laughed moving to get off his lap to be more comfortable, “we’re just fine, I promise,” patting his blushing chest as he tried to control his pulse while helping you get into position. He sat up, grabbing your t-shirt from the ground as well as his, helping you place it back on, kissing every inch of your face and neck as he did so. 

“I love you, Y/N,” he grinned, pulling your face to his in a searing kiss as your fingers found his loose strands, pushing them back as your tongues danced over each other. 

You pulled off, gazing into the swirl of his ambered eyes, still petting the baby hairs that had stuck to his face, “I love you too babe.” 

At that moment, your daughter made her presence known again, sandwiched in between your sweat covered bodies. Ronnie brought his large hand to meet your over your belly, “she’s gonna be mad at us all night now, huh?” he laughed, rubbing on the spot where her little foot was poking in and out. 

“Ya,” you agreed, “I’m gonna be up all night with her I think,” putting your other hand over his and kissing his cheek as you both sat back into the embrace of the couch. 

Leaning down to press his lips to your bump, “pumpkin you’d better not give your mama any grief tonight,” he pecked a few times, rubbing his thumb over the flutters erupting, “she needs to sleep just as much as you do baby girl.” 

Your hands rubbed the back of his head as he nuzzled on your belly, cradling it as he shushed your squirming little one. The sounds of his hushing lulling you to sleep in the light of the tv playing the show you’d both been neglecting. 

After a few minutes of rubbing and cooing, he lifted his head to look at your sleeping form, admiring the way your face looked so peaceful in the white light of the tv. He kissed your forehead, gripping under your knees and back, lifting your dead weight into his hulking body. He sauntered up the stairs, carefully moving you out of the way of sharp objects and corners as he found your shared bedroom. He placed you gently on the bed, making sure you were on your side, and grabbed the body pillow you’d worn out over the last few months of its purchase. 

He placed it just so it supported the baby, and your aching body, watching as you closed in on its plushness, sighing in relief when you’d relaxed on it. He stared in the dim light of your bedside lamp in total adoration of you, noticing the baby moving in your body as you quietly snored. 

He bent down once more to kiss the appendage poking out, “go to sleep baby girl,” he whispered on your skin, “mama and I love you to the moon and back, pumpkin,” kissing it again and then moving up to you. 

“Goodnight honey,” he whispered into your ear, kissing it at softly as he possibly could, “I love you more than life itself.” 

He switched the lamp off, and slid into his side of the bed, enveloping himself around you, cradling his baby. Letting out a heavy sigh as he let the sweet sounds of your snores lull him to sleep. 

-----------

I. AM. A. FUCKIN’. PUDDLE. 

IF ANYONE NEEDS ME IM BURYING MYSELF ALIVE BECAUSE IVE DIED OVER THIS ONESHOT. I JUST LOVE IT SO MUCH. 

🖤,

ray-nal-beads