#god this is a long post but i kept finding weird shit

[artificiallita]

i got bit by the butch wolverine bug and trust me im in lov w her BUT have we considered futch deadpool???

(headcanons and upcoming fic snippets under the cut)

working on a big silly fanfic about this hot mess boinking logan in the odyssey. here’s some headcanons while the story finishes cooking.

- so. kept her first name as wade. i’ve seen a few alt names floating around for f!deadpool (big love for the winnies, winonas, and wandas of the ladypool extended universe) but genderfuck ‘not rlly a name’ just fits my vision for her. her parents were weird idk.

- deadpool is a woman in all variants except one in my personal headcanon. he is called dudepool. also her corresponding nicepool is male gaze-ified pre-mutation wade. she’s bleach blonde and her suit has a titty window.

- ex special forces turned mercenary whose life shit the bed when she was diagnosed with cancer. tried to be proactive about it long enough to get a mastectomy, then found out said cancer was pretty much everywhere else, and we know the story from there. since this predates her healing factor, she’s permanently single-boobed. has padding in her suit to even her out since it doesn’t leave a whole lot to the imagination, wears big t-shirts and ignores it in her civilian life.

- bisexual disaster zone. spent many years in a very happy and deeply perverted relationship with a male stripper named van carlysle, until that went down the toilet. a solid 70% of the casual sex she has is with women.

- dresses like the shitshow nightmare we know and love, loves an awful t shirt and a pair of crocs. put little to no effort into her appearance pre-mutation and that hasn’t really changed, had a brief phase of screwing around with makeup and wigs and then decided it was basically - to use a line of internal monologue from the pending fic - rolling a turd in glitter.

- speaking of, has a real complex about the changes to the way people perceive her post-mutation, namely that they seem to find her super fucking irritating and odd in a way that they very much Didn’t when she was still conventionally hot. between her military background and the general company she keeps, she’s quite often the only woman in her circles, and has always been a dysfunctional mess of adhd and unfiltered word-vomit, but that was generally read as mpdg ‘cool girl’ behaviour prior to her transformation, and now people seem to just think she’s a lunatic. less ‘oh god im hideous’, although she *absolutely* has those moments too, more ‘oh god everyone i know has thought i was a weird pain in the ass this entire time and only tolerated me because they wanted to fuck me’

- wears a lot of poorly applied eyeliner and purposely sleeps in it because she thinks it looks cool. it does not.

- had absolutely zero plans to snitch to cassandra about johnny’s rant, right up until the ‘bald hell’ line. she took that shit personally (almost definitely didn’t need to but whatever. i support women’s wrongs.)

and some snippets from the fic, all of which are me wade objectifying logan. technically spoilers but also what else did anyone expect

[stealthnoodle]

Current BG3 bullshit: Dishonour* Mode with SMT's Mothman. The song in the video is "Mothman (YMCA Parody)" by Studio Bunny, which felt right.

*Honour Mode but I choose Continue when I wipe because I've never had a spontaneous bad idea that I didn't relentlessly pursue, and I'm not abandoning that ethos for a mere cheevo

For this run, my terrible son has three guiding principles:

Always choose violence when violence is a dialogue option

When violence is not an option, choose [Intimidation] or at least being a rude little bitch

Ignore anything that is not immediately interesting

Also he's a Durge because of course he is.

Examples of how this has played out include running right past Shadowheart without even looking at her on the ship (she was surprisingly not mad about this later), killing both Astarion and Lae'zel in camp when their actions presented a prompt to do violence, and never recruiting Gale because his hand was so succulent and severable.

He also ran right through the Inquisitor's Chambers in the creche to the Blood of Lathander and never looked back. Githyanki ambush before leaving Act 2 didn't even happen. Just blipped right off their radar. Iconic.

Something new-to-me in this run was discovering that if you start a fight in the grove and subsequently have to kill all the druids, Karlach is REAL MAD, so she never made it into the party. I then decided to tell Minthara an invasion sounded fun, planning to stab her in the back, but it turns out that there's no invasion proper if the druids are dead, so after a long rest she and the goblins had overrun the grove on their own. Wyll never even got a chance to object!

Luckily there was still an [Attack] option when I talked to her, so Mothman got to carry out his cunning scheme, aggroing all the goblins in the grove in the process.

(There's a reason I'm letting myself Continue, and it's that all of Mothman's choices might be politely described as "sub-optimal.")

In this case I didn't even need to, though, because I threw my Spectator-in-a-bottle into the midst of the goblins and it turned out to be a great strat. Spectator killed all the goblins in the area, goblins got Spectator down to single-digit HP on their way out, and Mothman finished it off with a li'l sneak attack.

I love this game.

So long story short, I essentially raided the grove without losing Wyll by doing it in the most ass-backward way possible. Yay?

And it's a good thing I kept him, since Astarion got himself staked early on trying to snack on Mothman, and then Lae'zel had her "we're all infected" freakout in camp, so he and Shadowheart were the only companions still around. Since Lae'zel was the last to go out, I honored her with this hireling homage:

Turns out my biggest challenge on this stupid run has been shopping. Mothman finished Act 1 with zero vendors still alive. Obviously he killed Isobel in Act 2 as soon as his butler offered him a shiny reward for doing so, and he drew his weapon on the Moonrise Tower guards as soon as he met them, so he ended up with a sea of corpses and nobody who would talk to him but Araj Oblodra (an uneasy alliance which ended in Act 3 when she caught him rifling through her stuff and oops there's an [Attack] response to that).

My second biggest challenge, and what I thought would be my run-ender, was fucking Myrkul. Did I jump down the big hole without adequately prepping? Yes. Did I forget the single-use healing pod near the boss isn't actually a long rest and doesn't restore abilities or short rests? Yes. Did I have a very stupid loadout for a boss I have fought at least five times now? Also yes. After I had to hit Continue for a fourth time, I began to despair. Had the single save file cooked me?

It had not! I just needed to ferment the perfect cheese.

I wish I had screencaps of this bullshit but I was too frustrated to remember to take them by the time I figured this out, lolsob. If you are stuck in a hole with Ketheric Thorm and short on options, here is your ticket out:

You can get a surprise round, thank you Invisibility. One good sneak attack with Cull the Weak can take out the mindflayer.

Shadowheart's reward spear for killing the Nightsong lets you cast Shar's Darkness as an action as often as you like. If you cast it around your party from way back near the entrance, Ketheric becomes confused and does not summon more necromites. He just stands on the platform and yells. Old Man Yells at Cloud, literally.

Once you have slowly chipped his health away without expending resources, your biggest problem is that you have mostly piddling attacks, and Myrkul has a big health pool and can heal himself. OR CAN HE?

Bro can't see shit in the dark. Drop darkness centered on him and he gets blinded. His necromite snacks can run up to him, but he can't see them to gobble them up.

Do damage as fast as you can with whatever you have. Throw shit. Read scrolls. Give the magic spear to Skyrim Mod Lae'zel to handle Darkness from a distance and park Shadowheart up on Myrkul's ass with Spirit Guardians. Make Wyll summon Connor over and over to distract Myrkul from hitting her.

CONGRATULATIONS, you've spent half your Saturday on this.

Things got better in Act 3. Mothman can't have beef with every vendor in the city at once.

But you know what he can have? Specific, stupid beef with Gortash.

This keeps happening.

Also I can't believe I pulled that off without wiping even once. (The game crashed three times because my bell tower ladder strats were too elite, but I finally found a compromise that didn't make the game shit itself while I slogged through the fight. With only three party members, because I didn't have anything to make Wyll fly and couldn't be bothered with shopping. The only survivor of my nonsense was Skyrim Mod Lae'zel, who chugged an invisibility potion and climbed down vines to escape. Still!)

A funny consequence of my timing was that Mizora showed up in camp the night Gortash kicked the bucket and did her usual "I'll tell you where to find your dad in exchange for your soul" spiel, so I thought, well, let's see how that works out for us. Wyll, sell your soul. Again.

(I would feel worse about putting Wyll through that on top of everything else he's suffered this game, but look. He stayed in the party. His approval is HIGH. Somehow. He is Mothman's little Mothstan. This is what it's like on the dark side, buddy.)

The answer is that I got a quest maker for the sub that goes to the Iron Throne, but obviously the sub is not there, because Gortash is dead. "Sorry, Wyll, guess you sold your soul for nothing!" is what I would have said, except when I went down for my next long rest, the Duke popped out of thin air next to Mizora. As you can see in the video, he didn't quite have his being-alive-legs yet, but he figured out how to stand up in the morning. So I did his Wyrmway quest. As a treat.

Anyway, now Mothman just needs to beat up his sister with his cool Slayer form that he loves to pop as often as possible, and then he's off to the endgame! I expect everyone will be shocked when he takes control of the Netherbrain even though he's been loudly and proudly making his intentions known all game.

I'll close this out by saying that I let the randomizer make me a guardian again, and I forgot what it made until I was surprised and delighted by sexy facetats Santa:

[skywalkerslvt]

Inked- Ellie Williams

❥Pairing: Ellie Williams x AFAB!Reader

❥Summary: Ellie gets a stomach tattoo and then fucks you in a public washroom

❥CW: 18+ smut, oral sex (reader receiving), semi-public sex. 1.3k words

❥a/n: NOT PROOFREAD! I lowkey hate this and might edit later but here's the long awaited fic that I took way too long to post lol. Sorry if the formatting is weird- i'm posting from my phone. Hope u enjoy!

The tattoo parlour was a blend of buzzing needles and low conversations, the air thick with the smell of antiseptic and ink. You walked in with Ellie, walking close behind her as you looked around. You had been best friends for years, sharing countless memories and adventures, and today was about to add another chapter.

Ellie was finally getting the stomach tattoo she'd talked about for months, and you were there for moral support, as always. The artist greeted you with a nod, already prepping his station.

Ellie seemed calm, but you could sense the underlying nerves. As she lay back in the chair, your hands instinctively reached out to give her hand a squeeze.

Ellie lifted up her shirt and pulled the waistband of her jeans down slightly, exposing the canvas of her skin. Your eyes trailed over her exposed skin, lingering on the slight v-line that disappeared beneath her pants. You felt a rush of warmth to your cheeks and quickly looked away, hoping Ellie didn't notice.

The session began, the buzz of the needle filling the room. You watched as the artist skillfully worked on Ellie’s skin, the blank ink slowly forming intricate patterns. You tried to focus on the tatto, but your eyes kept drifting back to Ellie's exposed skin, the taut muscles of her abdomen, the soft curve of her hips.

Ellie winced occasionally, her grip on your hand tightening. Each time you offered a reassuring smile, but inside you were battling your own desires. The way her body reacted to the pain, the way her chest rose and fell with each breath as her teeth worried her bottom lip–it was all too much.

You found your mind wandering, imagining what it would be like to feel Ellie's hands on you, her mouth exploring your body. The thought of her pinning you down, her fingers teasingly tracing your skin, sent a shiver down your spine. Your eyes traced the V-line of her abdomen once more, and you could almost feel her pressed against you, her breath hot against your ear as she whispered your name.

Your body reacted to the fantasy, heat pooling between your legs as you shifted in your seat, trying to find some relief. You bit your lip, your eyes flicking back to Ellie's face. Her eyes were closed, her breath coming in shallow pants as the needle continued its work. You wondered if she could feel your gaze, if she could sense the effect she had on you.

The thought of Ellie's hands gripping your hips, her body pressed against yours, her mouth claiming yours in a heated kiss-it was enough to make you ache with need. You clenched your thighs together, trying to focus on anything else, but the image of Ellie fucking you, her voice husky with desire, refused to leave your mind.

Ellie attempted conversation with you, but you were too distracted, not hearing her words as your focus zeroed in on her skin. Her grip on your hand loosened, and her fingers splayed against your upper thigh, squeezing slightly to grab your attention.

Your eyes meet hers, heat flooding your face at the contact. “Are you okay?”

Shit. Did she notice you staring? “I- Yes. I'm fine,” you stuttered out, sneaking another glance at her v-line before meeting her eyes again. Something in her gaze shifted and–oh god, you had to get out of there. The way she was looking at you through her lashes had your aching cunt soaking your panties. “I have to use the washroom.”

You got up abruptly, not waiting for a reply from Ellie as you beelined to the washroom towards the back of the parlour. Once inside, you leaned against the sink, taking deep breaths to calm yourself. The mirror reflected your wide eyed, lust fueled expression, your thoughts racing with the memory of Ellie's exposed skin.

Minutes passed, and you heard a light knock on the door. “Hey, you okay in there?” Ellie's voice was soft but laced with concern.

“Yeah, just…give me a minute,” you called back, trying to steady your voice.

Ellie's hesitation was palpable, but she opened the door anyway, slipping inside and closing it behind her. Shit. You forgot to lock the door.

"I was worried about you," she said, her eyes scanning your face. "You seemed... off."

You bit your lip, avoiding her gaze. "I'm fine, really."

Ellie stepped closer, her hand gently tilting your chin up to meet her eyes. "I saw the way you were looking at me," she murmured, her voice low. "And it's okay. You don't have to hide it."

Your heart pounded in your chest as her words sank in. "Ellie, I-"

She cut you off with a kiss, her lips soft but demanding against yours. You melted into her touch, your hands gripping her shirt as you pulled her closer. The kiss deepened, years of unspoken desire finally breaking free.

Ellie's hands roamed your body, sliding under your shirt to caress your skin. Her touch was electrifying, sending shivers down your spine. She pushed you against the wall, her mouth moving to your neck, sucking and biting gently.

You moaned softly, your fingers tangling in her hair.

"Ellie," you breathed out, your voice heavy with need. She pulled back slightly, her eyes dark with desire as she looked at you.

"Do you want this?" she asked, her voice husky.

"Yes," you replied without hesitation. "I want you."

Ellie smirked, her hands moving to unbutton your jeans. She slipped her hand inside, her fingers brushing against your soaked panties. "You're so wet," she whispered, her breath hot against your ear.

You gasped as her fingers slid inside your panties, teasing your entrance.

"Ellie, please," you begged, your hips bucking against her hand.

She slid two fingers inside you, curling them to hit just the right spot. You moaned loudly, your back arching against the wall. Ellie's thumb found your clit, rubbing slow, deliberate circles as she fucked you with her fingers.

Your breaths came in ragged gasps, the pleasure building inside you. "Ellie, I'm gonna-"

"Come for me," she murmured, her lips brushing against your ear. Her words pushed you over the edge, your body shuddering as you came around her fingers.

Ellie didn't stop, continuing to finger you through your orgasm, drawing out every last bit of pleasure. When you finally came down, she pulled her hand away, bringing her fingers to her lips and licking them clean. "You taste so good," she said, her voice filled with desire.

Before you could respond, Ellie dropped to her knees, her hands gripping your hips as she pulled your jeans and panties down. She kissed the inside of your thighs, her tongue flicking out to tease your skin. "Ellie," you moaned, your hands gripping her hair.

She licked a long stripe up your slit, her tongue swirling around your clit. You cried out, your hips bucking against her mouth. Ellie held you firmly in place, her tongue delving into your core, tasting you. She alternated between licking and sucking, her tongue expertly working you towards another orgasm.

Your legs trembled, your breaths coming in short gasps as the pleasure built inside you once more. "Ellie, I'm gonna come again," you panted. She hummed against your clit, the vibration sending you over the edge.

You came with a loud cry, your body shaking with the intensity of your orgasm. Ellie continued to lick you, her tongue gentle now, helping you come down from your high.

When you finally caught your breath, Ellie stood up, her lips glistening with your arousal. She kissed you deeply, letting you taste yourself on her tongue. "That was incredible," she whispered against your lips.

You smiled, your body still tingling with pleasure. "Yes, it was," you agreed. "But what about you?"

Ellie grinned, her hands moving to unbutton her own jeans. "Oh, I'm not done with you yet," she said, her voice filled with anticipation.

[azirafuck]

GOS2 Spoilers Masterpost (ONLY EP. 1-2)

alright, you read the title, you know what's under here - gonna tag everyone who helped this if I know them, thanks to everyone for their contribution and for being agents of chaos the way satan intended. love you all

[Last update/edit: 24/07 - 14:10CET]

first of all, we got some amazing posts from @incorrectquoteswwdits mostly about the first scene in heaven with crowley as an angel:

angel!crowley creating stars and aziraphale thinking he's calling him beautiful

more on that

aziraphale's lies make the lesbians have problems, apparently

communist aziraphale be like OUR CAR

isolation and doubts

THEN we have a detailed recount of the first episode by a kind anon! again, thank you @incorrectquoteswwdits for sharing <3

@goodomens-hints posted a lenghty and detailed recount of the first episode as well with some little hits at future episodes (nothing too big on the post itself, but BE CAREFUL, the blog is actually posting some other spoilers from episodes past the second one!)

@goodomensjail gave us a detailed recount of the first scene, with angel!crowley starting to question stuff and eventually shielding aziraphale with his wing

@mikubinders gives us SOME GOOD GOURMET SHIT by telling us that:

"Beelzebub kidnaps and threatens Crowley, tells him that ze could put a price on his head but ze doesn't want to. After that Crowley comes back to the bookshop and Good-old-fashioned lover boy plays while he drives there. "I'm back" happens. Aziraphale makes Crowley do a silly little apology dance so he forgives him and so they work together"

after thinking this last spoiler was fake, an anon came through and confirmed its real! we also have new context! (sent by an anon to yours tuly)

anon came through with some details about the Everyday record, told us Queen is actually tied to CROWLEY and not to the Bentley, and gave us more context to the OUR CAR and OUR BOOKSHOP bit (sent by an anon to yours tuly)

as for what happens during the Job flashback, after which the sitting five feet apart on a rock in front of the sea happens, a bunch of different versions of what actually happens are going around. @thesherrinfordfacility kept up with the madness surrounding it, so im gonna post here the last two versions of events/details.

first one:

In the Job section, Aziraphale is questioning gods decision of punishing Job. Then u see him in heaven w Muriel here and they are looking thru a long scroll that has instructions from god and he's trying to make sense of it. Muriel is telling him that god and satan made a bet about what Job would do and that's why they are testing him. And az is like whatttt why would god do that that's mean!

When Az finds out they're going to kill Jobs kids, he goes down to Earth to save them while using his angel voice until he realizes he's speaking to Crowley. He sees Crowley about to enter the kids room and tells Crowley "I know you, you wouldn't do this" and Crowley tells him he doesn't know him really. (

AND TY TENNANT IS SASSY AND FLIRTS W AZ??!??!? (*) And THATS when crowley goes "well he seems nice" from the clip. He wasn't jealous tho, like he thought it was funny since they are literally there to supposedly kill these kids and one of them is flirting lol.

The moment of 'weird-beard Crowley' was actually more focused on azi and him questioning God. Crowley tempts Azi w food and u see him struggle but then he gobbled it down and he cries bc he thinks crowley is going to bring him to hell (that's the scene where they are sitting on that thing with the pretty horizon) Crowley tells him "you're just an angel who follows gods as will as much as he can" and Az says that sounds lonely, and Crowley agrees, which is a callback to when he asked Crowley if he was lonely being on what Crowley calls "his own side", and Crowley said no. Crowley then tells him "i'm a demon. I lied"

(*): it was told this isn't actually canon canon, it's up for interpretation - some reported Ty's character is just the classic bratty teenager UPDATE: NOPE anon cleared it up and apparently it DOES read as flirty because ty's character is a little bitch, love that for us

and then we have the second one:

"Episode 2 is half present day things [...], and half the Job story/flashback. Crowley is the demon sent by Satan to torment "God's favorite human" Job to see if Job will curse God, in one big bet between God and Satan. Aziraphale comes to try to stop him, discovers they recognize each other but haven't seen each other since "the flood" and that Crowley seems to have changed since the flood, because he is willing to sacrifice the goats, and ruin Job's house. Crowley says he "has a permit" to torment Job FROM GOD. Aziraphale brings this up to the archangels that gleefully explain that yes it's a bet with Satan and that Job will suffer, but he will get everything back 3-fold by the end. And he will get NEW children. This disturbs Aziraphale, he does not want the CURRENT children to die, he understands the familial love that the archangels do not. He goes to stop Crowley not with power since he has the permit but to reason with him. Aziraphale says things to the effect "I KNOW you don't want to harm them I KNOW you and you don't want to kill children" and Crowley is defiant, but then…. It is revealed that he never killed any of the goats either, he transformed them into pigeons to hide them. And he is hiding the children away in the basement but destroying the house to make it look like they died. He transforms the three kids into lizards to hide them, then when the Archangels descend to give Job his rewards and tell him his wife will bear 7 new children, Job and his wife are in despair because they love their children. Crowley comes in pretending to be a human doctor and he and Aziraphale LIE to the angels faces about how babies are made and trick the angels into thinking Jobs three original children are NEWLY BORN children. Which fools Gabriel, who has only ever seen God make Eve fully grown from Adam's ribs. Crowley then meets Aziraphale at the rock. Aziraphale is crying and says "im ready for you to take me to hell" because he has LIED to angels and foiled God's plans. Crowley is gentle and comforts him that he is still an angel and "I won't tell anyone if you won't" and they reminisce that it's lonely being a different kind of demon and a different kind of angel that sort of do what they feel is right. Heavily implying that they are the same and have each other now. The end of episode 2.

that's what's going around for now, but ill add stuff if we find anything new - also feel free to add to this yourself or send me stuff!

[stealingpotatoes]

Invitation to talk about Sayuri and Nymie?

:D CAN OF WORMS: OPENED!! i'll tell u abt how they got found as Jedi

ok so Sayuri is one of the students that doesn't rlly go home bc there isn't much to go back to. Basically her parents were Rebellion pilots (or one was a pilot the other a mechanic. kinda unsure) but were both killed in action against the Empire abt 3-4ABY ish. obvs the Rebellion couldn't look after a 7-8yo while fighting the Empire

so the remainder of the squad manage to get her back to her parents' home village/ where she was born. so having like Everything change all at once leaves her pretty ?? and gives her some serious trusting-her-environment issues. her coolgirl "i dont care" persona is very much a result of this bc she's worried abt getting too comfy in smthn. (which is at odds w the OTHER issue she got from this event which is "deathly afraid of flying" an issue not helped if Master "traffic laws are just guidelines" Skywalker is piloting. but she tries 2 act like shes fine)

this is gonna get kinda long so im gonna smack some unposted art here and then go into a readmore

anyway fast forwarding to when Sayuri's abt 13 (roughly 9aby) she's visiting her parent's old squadron on a New Republic bc they'd all come visit whenever she could and after the Empire's fall they did a lot more pick her up and fly her to a base to ALL see her. and they're like omg Sayuri you came at the PERFECT time bc this rlly amazing pilot war hero who's also some like. mystical whatever is here!! he's on his way to some magic place we heard. maybe u can meet him!! which sayuri meets w her usual whatever bc she's not that gassed abt war heroes.

very worth noting that the squad's probably all seen her move shit with her mind, but theyre like oh you know how it is with teenage girls. the "nobody knows what a jedi is" + "the empire existed for a decent bit of her childhood" thing has kept anyone from being like yeahh sayuri should like. talk to someone abt this.

anyway she goes along when the squad are like c'mon let's see if we can see him. ok the only way i can describe this is you know the spiderverse like... spidey-sense recognition thing? that's basically what happens LOL Luke and Sayuri both have a FORCE USER RECOGNISED?? moment and Luke then makes a beeline for her then realises oh shit tiny teenager not jedi. would you LIKE to be a jedi?? and sayuri who hates her village and is feeling the strongest emotional connection she's felt in forever w this stranger she met 2 seconds ago is like okay fuckin sure yeah. and woo jedi!!

i posted my unposted nymie art yesterday but likkeeee pretend theres some here <3

So Sayuri falls into the "one of the Jedi found them thru the force or by chance" category of students who get found. However Nymie very much falls into the second category, which is "CAN SOMEONE DEAL WITH THIS WEIRD SUPERPOWERED CHILD FOR US????"

So 2 things about Nymie: 1. like i've said before, she's from a very rich high class pantoran family. super stuck up, mostly raised by nannies & tutors, but somehow Nymie just didn't get the stuck-up genes like all her (4!!) siblings who are just obsessed w their social standing etc and is instead just :D all the time. 2. her proficiency ig is the living force esp in the 'good at connecting to animals' way (which I think means I legally need to draw her w Ezra).

so the former often led her to escaping her family's stuffy parties and galas or whatever (usually to whoever's house it is' garden or somewhere she wasnt meant to be) to find something interesting. usually a pet <3 one particular time when she was 9 she was following her Pet Sense but couldnt find anything in the house. so she kinda just reached out more and long story short thats how Nymie managed to call this hugemassive beast (i'd tell u what it was if i knew pantoran animals LOL) out of the nearby countryside to her. massively distressing for everyone, all these rich ppl were like "OH MY GOD I NEARLY DIED" (it didnt attack anyone). very funny exciting time for Nymie who was enjoying this new beastie friend til animal control showed up. saddening. everyone is confused bc HOW did that happen

a dude old (and cool) enough to have seen more than one jedi in their heyday (+ idk uni researcher knows his shit) noticed what happened w it going straight to Nymie and overheard her account and realised what happened and was like hi nymie's parents. i think u need to get into contact w the new republic bc thats a jedi right there (which they take and go oo social climbing. we have a jedi child people will think we're cooler. bc theyre assholes)

and yeah im losing steam now but luke shows up and she joins the academyyay!

[yipyipmf]

i’m your girl - leon kennedy x hybrid!reader

A/N: i got bored at work and this is what transpired🫣not an original idea at all, but i just couldn’t help myself! i might add visuals later but we’ll see

MDNI: 18+, angst, p in v, oral (f receiving), pet names, hybrid!reader. around 2.7k words

——

leon doesn’t know what had gotten into you lately. ever since he found you on the side of the road a few months back, he had practically made it his life mission to give you the most pristine care. leon worked with the government, and he could only imagine what fucked up shit you had gone through before he found you.

it was weird, at first, having a dog bed and a vanity in the same room, but leon didn’t question it. you wanted a comfortable place to sleep, and a place to do your skin care every day - it made you happy, and who was he to deny that? not to mention the squeaky toys that littered his apartment, the overflow of clothes that eventually found their way into his own closet because yours ran out of room. but he wouldn’t change any of it - would he?

he started noticing your odd behavior the first time he brought a girl home. the date itself was horrible; the girl wouldn’t shut the fuck up and leon had to drink about 7 glasses of whiskey just to tolerate her. but it had been so long since he fucked someone, he was willing to do whatever it took just to get some relief. stumbling into the apartment, he kicked the door shut behind them, making sure to keep his lips on hers to keep her babbling at a zero.

he had figured you were long asleep, seeing as it was almost 2 in the morning. but just as he reached to rip his clothes off, he heard a crash coming from the bathroom, your whining soon following. leon didn’t even give the girl a chance to stay before he was rushing her out of the door, rushing to the bathroom to check on you. finding you pouting in the floor, your wrist in your hand and a shower shelf no longer on the wall, it wasn’t hard to tell what happened.

except, leon actually thought you hurt yourself. god, he was so whipped. the moment he came stumbling into the apartment, you had a plan in mind to get the girl out. sure, it was fucked up, trying to run off leon’s date as if you were going to take her spot, but you couldn’t help it. you did want to take her spot, desperately. had for months now. but you wouldn’t dare tell leon. what if he kicked you out?

he had begun to notice your odd behavior whenever he would be getting ready for a date. he’d catch you quietly walking into his room, curling up in his bed as he got dressed, not saying a word. when asked what was going on, you’d respond with a simple ‘just don’t want to be alone tonight, i guess’. it worked a couple of times, not able to deny those beautiful eyes of yours.

leon’s last straw, however, was when you seriously fucked up. he had managed to land a few dates with some random girl, tiffany, you thought her name was. sounded prissy as fuck. sure, she was pretty, but you could tell from the moment you met her that she was going to be a problem. the way she didn’t greet you when leon introduced the two of you, the way she kept baking him things with chocolate, insisting that she forgot you couldn’t have it. stupid bitch.

hearing the front door close, your ears perk up as you rush out of your bedroom, excited to have leon home and finally watch that movie you had been begging him to rent for weeks. but as you stepped into the threshold of the living room, your smile and ears dropped, tail tucking between your legs as you caught sight of leon and tiffany. they were posted up on the couch, tiffany on leon’s lap as they were locked in a heated make out. you almost gagged, almost turned away in your own despair. almost.

you almost didn’t catch it, that’s how quick it all happened. one minute, your eyes were lingering on leon’s hands on tiffany’s hips, heart aching as you wished you were in her place. the next, you were rushing over to them, sinking your teeth into tiffany’s arm. completely unaware as to what was happening, too lost in his lust to care, leon didn’t feel tiffany’s hand reaching into his pocket, his wallet slowly trailing out.

and now you’re here, sat in the middle of the living room with your ears airplaned back, tail tucked tight to your body. leon paced, fingers rubbing at his temples as he tried to process what happened. he apologized immensely to tiffany, insisting you would be punished and locked in your room - but she left anyways. he was so close, so fucking close, to finally getting some, and here you were fucking it all up.

you bit your lip as your wide eyes watched him, not daring to leave, afraid it would piss him off more. after a few moments of silence, he finally dropped onto the couch in front of you, elbows on his knees and hands clasped together as he leaned closer to you, “what has gotten into you lately?” he asked, disappointment and confusion evident in his tone, “you used to be such a good girl for me. why do you keep acting out, huh? are you wanting something? a new toy? some new clothes?”

your eyebrows furrowed, stomach twisting at his words. of course you didn’t need new toys, does he not remember almost tripping on a few earlier that morning? you needed him, all of him, in the most primal way possible. but you couldn’t tell him that, it would ruin everything. no more toys, no more comfortable bed, no more leon.

“i.. i.. she..” you stammered, your jaw trembling as tears began to fill your eyes. it was no secret to leon that you hated getting in trouble, but this? this was different. the visible shakes of your body, the fear in your eyes, your fingers mindlessly playing with the fur of your tail, “she was reaching for your wallet, leon. she was gonna steal from you!”

it was now leon’s eyebrows that furrowed, his head tilting as you spoke, “what are you talking about? no she wasn’t.”

“yes she was! i-i saw her hand, she had it in her hand and-..”

“no, she wasn’t!” he exclaimed, his voice booming around the large apartment. your flinched, cowering back as his face became red, “you’ve been doing shit like this every time i bring someone home. the shower shelves, pretending to be sick, now this? why the fuck would you bite her? i actually liked her, could have had a fucking chance with her. and you ruined it. what is your problem?”

there it was, the final and biggest blow to your ego. you couldn’t stop anything as the tears filling your eyes silently fell down your cheeks, ears dropping down to a lazy, defeated hang. you didn’t want to tell him, wanted to tell him anything but the truth. but the words became caught in your throat, your mind drawing a blank. with a heavy sigh, you let your defenses crumble.

“i.. i like you, leon. okay? i fucking like you,” you choked out, refusing to meet his heated gaze, “i just.. i got jealous, seeing you with all of these women, wishing they were me. i’m sorry i ruined everything, okay? i’ll apologize to tiffany myself, bake her some stupid cookies or something i-…”

you were cut off when you felt the gentle touch of his fingers under your chin, pushing just slightly to lift your head up. your teary eyes met his now soft, concerned gaze. he was silent for a moment, just staring at you as his thumbs brushed away the tears on your cheeks. once satisfied, he leaned back, tapping his thigh to invite you onto his lap.

you stared at him for a beat, confusion filling your head. he was just yelling at you, and now he’s inviting you to cuddle up with him - the fuck? but, you weren’t one to deny it, like, ever. so, you slowly stalked towards him, crawling into his lap like you had done so many times before. his arms wrapped around you, one hand planted on your hip to keep you close, the other pressed into your back, thumb rubbing soothing circles into the base of your spine.

“sweet girl,” he whispered, tilting his head to look down at you, “why didn’t you just say something? why did you act out like that?”

you bit your lip, thumbs twiddling together as his questions floated into your mind. eventually, your shoulders slumped out of defeat, body leaning into his as your head found purchase on his shoulder, “was afraid you were gonna kick me out,” you murmured, your voice still almost at a hushed whisper, “didn’t wanna risk it. figured if i could chase everyone off, you’d realize how i felt about you and i.. i don’t know. it’s stupid.”

your breath hitched as you felt his hands grip your hips, urging you to sit properly in his lap. once situated, his hands rested on your cheeks, not letting your gaze leave his, “it’s not stupid, i promise,” he softly spoke, “i could never imagine kicking you out, not ever. you’re my sweet girl honey, you hear me?”

over the sound of the butterflies going absolutely fucking insane in your stomach? no, but you nod anyways, a small smile playing on your lips. leon copies, his eyes flickering down to your lips for a second before meeting your eyes again. you can tell he’s thinking, the way his chest rose and feel with each breath, the way his fingers twitched on your cheeks. you were about to ask him about it before you suddenly felt him lean into closer to you.

the last thing you expected to feel were his lips on yours, but you definitely weren’t complaining either. after a split second of initial shock, your body relaxed, eyes fluttering shut as your arms wrapped around his neck to pull him closer. leon let out a low rumble, his hands dropping to the backs of your thighs as he stood. your legs immediately wrapped around his waist, lips trailing to the corner of his mouth and down his neck as he carried you to his bedroom.

leon dropped you on the bed with a soft thud, his body crawling on top of yours as his lips found you again. his hands were all over you, making sure to memorize every inch of your curves, every dip and raise of your body. you let out a soft gasp when his hands slipped underneath your shirt, splaying across your torso, giving him perfect access to slip his tongue in your mouth.

you were already so high on his taste, you hardly noticed his hands trailing down to the waistband of your shorts, slipping them off your legs with ease. his lips connected with your neck, working your shirt up and off, immediately going back to leaving bites on your skin. his lips and body trailed down yours, and soon enough, you locked eyes with his head between your thighs.

your hips twitched, a cocky smirk on his face as he kissed all around your thighs, purposely ignoring the spot you needed him at the most. you threw your head back in annoyance, a low whine leaving your lips, “leooonnn,” you pouted, your fingers threading through his hair, “c’mon, please. don’t tease me.”

you heard a low chuckle come from your legs, the sound bouncing off your skin, earning a hun from you, “alright alright, i’ll give you what you want, yeah?” he droned on, his fingers hooking into the band of your underwear, slowly pulling them down your legs. leon swore he could have came from the sight alone - your beautiful, puffy cunt all shiny and slicked up for him. it was the highest of compliments, truthfully. as if his ego needed anymore filling.

your body shuddered when he pressed a gentle kiss to your shaven lips, fully relaxing as he slowly swiped his tongue through them, a long stride up to your clit. he started off slow at first, getting you worked up just enough to start pulling on his hair before he decided enough was enough. wrapping his hands around your thighs, he made sure his grip was tight before delving in.

you let out a choked out moan as he practically began making out with your pussy, certainly making a mess of his face. you tried raising your hips up, only to be held down by the man eating you out like he was starved. you couldn’t contain the cries and moans that left your throat, your back arching off the bed as your orgasm drew closer and closer.

just as you were about to reach your peak, leon pulled away, pressing one more kiss to your cunt before standing above you. you were almost ready to just rip his head off and get the job done yourself, but your eyes were soon trained on his hands undoing the buckle of his belt, basically salivating at the sight. you began to sit up, oral fixation just about ready to take charge before leon pushed you back down.

“another time baby, wanna make you feel good,” he mumbled, finally pulling off the last bit of his clothes before he caged you beneath him once more. you tilted your head up, ready for his lips to be on yours again. but when you were met with nothing, you pouted. he let out a small chuckle, a slight shake of his head, “god, you’re so fucking cute. you sure you’re okay with all of this?”

is he stupid? has to be, “yes leon, i promise i am,” you whined, wrapping your legs around his torso, “need you, please leon.”

that was all he needed. with a low growl, he repositioned himself so the head of his cock was poking at your slick cunt, teasing you for a moment longer before slowly pushing in. you both let out a breath as your bodies connected, your eyes rolling to the back of you head in pleasure. leon started off slow, making sure you really were okay before he began to pick up his pace.

you were a mess, babbling complete and utter nonsense, fingers clawing at leon’s back. he let out a low moan at the pain, hands gripping your hips tighter as he began to pound into you, “gonna cum pretty girl, huh? gonna make a mess on my cock?”

you nodded your head, unable to form even a single word to reply to leon. you could feel the knot in your stomach ready to snap at any given moment, pleasure overtaking every sense of your body. soon enough, you cried out as your orgasm hit you, body trembling and convulsing under leon. he groaned at the feeling of your walls tightening around him, his own release following soon after yours.

you were both panting as you came down from your highs, leon slowly pulling out of you and dropping onto the bed next to you. he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close and gently dragging his fingers through your hair. after a few minutes of silence, he looked down to see your eyes closed, breathing steady. he let out a silent chuckle, giving your arm a gentle squeeze, “c’mon baby, gotta get you cleaned up.”

despite your whining, you eventually pulled yourself away from leon, allowing him room to get up and walk to the bathroom. coming back with a damp cloth, he was careful as he wiped you down, making sure to not overstimulate you further. once satisfied, he tossed the cloth into his hamper and crawled right back into bed beside you. resuming your previous position, he pulled a blanket over you both, his hand running up and down your back, making sure to not get too close to your tail.

“you happy now?”

“mhm.”

“good. get some sleep pretty girl, we’ll talk more in the mornin’.”

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter nine : shuk'la rules

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.6k

summary : you spend some time in the library with the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, p in v sex, fingering, sort of a glove kink situation that is not verbally expressed but is def there, slapping, def like dom/sub vibes but also not spoken on, sort of a dumbification situation, degradation and also praise

You need sex.

Normally you would be satisfied for quite some time after getting off but for some reason with Mando it was different. But it’s only been two days and you need more. 

Instead of taming the beast it’s like he let it out of its cage and now it’s running rampant. 

But you had to have your stupid rules.

Maybe you could just get rid of the second one. 

You pick up the book, flipping to the back cover, staring at those damned words.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

What an idiot, in your stupid quest to make sure things stayed casual you were somehow denying yourself casual sex. Maybe you could just fake stress, or start a fight with him. No, he’d see right through that. You’re in a genuinely good mood after yesterday, you’ve got no reason to start shit with him.

But you need sex. 

And he’s sooo good at it. Annoyingly so. 

And you can’t just ask for it, because he’ll tease you about it. (Which probably wouldn’t be all that bad now that you think of it.) But you need him, terribly. You’re lying here in your closet bed, doing everything in your power to will away the ache between your thighs because you don’t have the time to deal with it yourself, Elaine and Lysa will be here at any minute. So you stuff your face in a pillow, and let yourself have a good long groan as you hear your bedroom doors open outside the closet. 

The closet doors fly open and Elaine steps in, grinning down at you. 

“Good morning ma’am, is everything alright? You’re normally awake by now, you must have had a long day yesterday.” She’s raising an eyebrow as you groan again. Bringing another pillow up to smash against your face. 

“I’m fine. Just tired.” You mumble into the cushion. She reaches down to tear the pillow from your hands, picking you up under your arms and lifting you to your feet. “Maker, you’re strong…” 

“I have to be to take care of you ma’am. Now, up. Time to dress.” She steps out and you follow her to the mirror as Lysa goes to find you a dress. 

“Something green.” You yell over your shoulder, maybe he’ll fuck you if you wear another green dress. Gods, you hope so. 

Okay, pull yourself together. You can’t be acting like this around him, he’ll use it to his advantage and you can’t let him get the upper hand on you, not when you’re in this state. Who knows what you’ll do or say to get him to touch you. 

    You zone out as they go through the usual routine of dressing you, the jade dress hugging your torso making you smile, maybe this will work. Once you’re all done up you take Elaine’s hand in yours.

“Thank you… seriously, you’re a miracle worker. You and Lysa have taken such good care of me.” You give her a warm smile and you're taken aback by the way she squints at you before returning the smile. 

“Thank you ma’am.”

That’s all she says as she steps back, looking you over once before nodding and taking Lysa’s hand before leaving. 

Weird.

You put it aside in your mind though because when they open the door you catch a glint of silver. You need to think fast, how are you going to seduce him? Gods, you're pathetic. Whatever. Just get out there, maybe actually seeing him will make this easier, the moment he starts being a jackass you’ll be able to resist him.

✩

It doesn’t work. 

He’s nice today. Uncharacteristically so, it’s actually off-putting. He had greeted you with a compliment on your dress, had walked you to the library with no complaints, no teasing, and no resistance. And had so kindly handed you the book you’d left off on last time, he had even opened it to the page you’d left off on before he sat across from the nook and opened his own book. 

What’s his angle here? You’re having a hard time focusing on your reading because now you’ve got to figure out what he’s plotting. 

Stern, protective, annoying, persistent, nice? The Mandalorian is a lot of things but he isn’t necessarily nice. 

He isn’t cruel by any means but it’s off putting to have him acting like this. Sadly it doesn’t make him any less attractive to you at this moment because you’re still imagining all the different ways you could lure him back to your chambers. Your thoughts are interrupted by the low hum of static that always comes before he speaks. 

“You seem distracted.” When you look up the helmet is staring at you and his book is closed. Kriff. 

“Nothing, just a little…” 

Horny?

“Bored.” 

“Mmm. Want to play that game? Might help alleviate some of the boredom?” He sets his book aside as he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. You’re about to blow him off with some lame excuse so you can keep plotting on how to bed him but you’re struck with an idea. 

“Sure. What does the winner get?” 

“Is there anything in particular you want?” Predictable, you knew he wouldn’t pick one himself.

“Hmm… how about the winner gets to break one of the rules?” He leans back in the chair as he’s seemingly considering the offer.

“Which rule did you have in mind?” 

“None of the important ones, just the second one. The stress relief one. Winner gets to break it once, at a time of their choosing.” He doesn’t need to know that you plan on cashing it in immediately when you win.

“Sounds fair enough, same rules as last time? Pass three times and you lose?” There’s a much stronger hint of amusement in his voice this time around and suddenly you’re nervous he might actually try to win. “You can go first again if you’d like.” 

Might as well start with an almost guaranteed pass. 

“Last time we played you said you needed the credits from this job, why?” 

You sit and try to hold back a smug smile as you wait to hear his response but it never comes. He just sits there thinking. 

“And you can’t lie.” You eventually add, in case he was trying to come up with an answer. 

“I need a ship. I know someone on a different planet that I’d like to go see.” He says each word slowly and carefully like he’s trying to phrase it a certain way. It makes you furrow your brow. You don’t have time to ponder it for long though because he’s already moving on. “What did you buy from that woman yesterday?” Shit, you had wanted that to be a surprise for him. You could always just use a pass on this, you’d still have two more, you aren’t really all that private he’s just managed to pick out a very specific thing you don’t want to answer. 

“Pass. Did you eat the food I gave you?” You should probably be focusing on more hard hitting questions if you want to win but you are genuinely curious.

“Yes. I had half last night and half this morning.” He sounds almost sheepish when he says it, like he’s admitting defeat. You want to laugh but you’re worried if you do he won’t take food in the future. “Why do you wear those horrific dresses on the fifth day of each week?” 

Jerk. 

He is right though, they are horrific. And it’s a huge relief that he’s seemingly done putting on the creepy over the top polite act he had going on. 

“Blue is Kodo’s favorite color. They dress me in it on days where I see him.” He lets out a huff at your response. 

“That’s a stupid reason.” 

“Do you often take note of what colors I’m wearing?”

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.”

“Then yes, I do. Especially when it’s green. Did you wear that for me?” He nods at the jade gown you’re currently wearing.

“Is that your question?”

“Yes.” You silently wish he was sitting closer. 

“Yes. Do you like it?” 

“Is that your question?” He sounds like he’s grinning. 

“No. I just want to know.” 

“...Yes.” He takes a moment to just stare at you and that stupid heat is back in the library. “What’s your actual question?”

“Has anyone seen your face before?” You probably shouldn’t ask, it seems way too personal for how the game has been going so far but you’re in this to win it. 

“Yes.” 

Huh. You hadn’t expected an answer. And you definitely hadn’t expected that answer. 

“What do you think I look like?” 

You hadn’t expected that question either. 

“It’s a little arrogant of you to assume I ever think about you in my spare time.”

Or all the time, constantly, and in your dreams. 

“So you’ve never thought about it?”

All the time, constantly, sometimes in your dreams. 

“I have.”

“Then what do you think I look like?” 

Of course you’d thought about it, it’s hard to not wonder what the best sex of your life looks like under his helmet. You didn’t want him to actually take it off of course, you understand how important it is to him but your mind is allowed to wander. And you can’t help but hope that he at least takes it off to use that stupid mouth of his at some point, even if you can’t look. 

“Well… I always assumed brunette, even before getting confirmation. I don’t know, sharp features? Clipped short hair, unruly facial hair? I can never figure out your eyes though, I just can’t picture them.” 

He sits on it for a moment. 

“They’re brown.” 

That suits him. He seems like he would have soft, warm eyes that could turn cold and deadly in an instant. 

“That doesn’t count as my question by the way.” You snap at him, trying to relieve the intimate tension that’s suddenly settled between you. 

“Of course not.”

“How many bounties have you caught?” 

“I don’t keep track.”

“That’s not an answer.” You huff at him as you roll your eyes. 

“Fine.” He takes a moment as he thinks about it before you hear the familiar crackle of the modulator. “All of them.” 

Okay he’s got to be doing that on purpose. That low voice where he acts all serious, you want to call him out for it but it goes straight to your pussy and if you say something somehow he’ll end up finding out so why bother. 

“What’s your favorite color?” He sounds so genuinely interested when he asks you things like this. It breaks your heart every time because no one else ever seemed to care so much.

“I don’t have one.”

“We’re really on a hot streak of not answering the questions princess.” He tilts his head to the side.

“It used to be blue. Now I don’t have one.”

His helmet straightens up and he’s silent for a beat. You have to pray he isn’t giving you a look of pity under there. 

“How about for now it’s green. We can share a favorite color until you get a new one.”

It’s hard to remember that you’re just friends when he says things like that.

You should say no. Say it’s purple now, or orange, or anything else. 

But green is growing on you. 

Why is this dumb game so much more serious this time around? 

“Why is your favorite color green?” Your voice has lost its teasing edge, only sincerity remains. 

He’s silent again. 

“I knew a kid a while back who liked green.”

There’s something new. 

You can’t place the tone he has now.

It’s almost… sad . It makes you want to stand up and walk over to him, take his helmet in your hands and tell him he’s okay. Only for a second though because of course he has to ask a question that completely pulls you from the moment. 

“When did you know you wanted me?”

Presumptuous. Either he really wants to change the subject or he really wants to win. 

He’s leaning forward again and it makes you want to slap the stupid helmet. You decide against it, you’d only end up hurting yourself in that situation. 

“I’m not sure.” You puff out your chest slightly as you say it. 

“So you pass?” 

“No.” Shit, okay, do you even know the answer? “Maybe… the last time we played the game? I’m not sure.” 

“Good enough for me.” It’s annoying how satisfied with himself he sounds. 

“Was I your first time?” You don’t know why you ask it, you’re almost certain you weren’t because he shouldn’t have been that good his first time. Maybe you just want to knock him down a peg. It makes him scoff.

“Was I not up to your standard?” 

“It’s not your turn.” You try to sound indifferent when you say it. 

“Is this really how you want to play this game princess? Because I can make this a lot harder on you if it is.” His voice somehow manages to get lower, Maker, he’s the worst.

“Are you passing?” Is all you say as you straighten up in your little nook. He seems to almost mirror you as he sits up in his chair.

“No. You were not my first.” This time when you don’t bother trying to hide your smug smile at his response, it’s nice to for once feel like you’ve got the upper hand on him.

“Was I the best you’ve ever had?” 

Well it was nice to have the upper hand for fifteen seconds. 

“You know no one wants to ever hear the answer to that question.” 

“I do.” 

Of course you do.

“Pass.” You really shouldn’t but it’s best to not give him the satisfaction of the truth.

“You know that’s basically an answer in itself. I’m willing to let you un-pass this one if you say it.” Gods you’re gonna kill him, after you win and fuck his brains out. Then you’re gonna kill him.

“I said pass.” 

“Okay princess.”

Why is he still so hot? He’s too nice and he’s hot, he’s an over confident dick and he’s hot. He should be studied at this point. You can’t help but ask a question for your own personal imagination of him now that he’s got you all riled up. 

“How old are you?” 

“I’m not sure. I stopped keeping track when I took the creed, somewhere in my late thirties probably.”

“You don’t know your own birthday?” 

“No.”

That shouldn’t make you as sad as it does. You get over it pretty quickly though when he asks his next question. 

“Do you think about me when you touch yourself?”

You could kill him. You didn’t think you’d be back to the point of plotting his untimely death so soon but you could kill him. You could also lie but you have to remind yourself that that would be a hollow win, it would always loom over you. No sense in putting it off. 

“Yes.” Might as well use his own question against him, even if it ends up embarrassing you if he says no. “Do you? Ever think about me?” You would give anything to sound less timid at that moment. 

“Often.”

Maker, is this your punishment for cheating on your husband? The agonizing temptation of the man before you?

“Do you ever think about Kodo?” Oh he’s sick. But right, his tone indicates that he already knows the answer to his question.

“No.” It’s barely above a whisper. “Why were you acting so weird this morning?” You’ve all but given up your little plot at this point, you’re pretty sure you’ll be able to convince him with or without the win at some point later. 

“Weird?” 

“You were being all cordial and polite. It was weird.” You’re still whispering as he scoffs.

“Pass.”

“Oh come on.” You didn’t often beg for a follow up during this game but you were desperate to know, especially if he didn’t want you to know. 

“I’ll tell you if you let me win.”

Hmm. That’s not an easy choice but you’re losing so why not just let him have it, maybe tonight you could try inviting him in again. 

“Fine. You win, now tell me. Why were you acting off?” You cross your arms as you glare at him.

“For the same reason you chose to play the game.”

“What?”

Oh. 

Oh.

He was trying to seduce you.

He’s good. It’s infuriating how good he continues to be at this. He keeps winning at this whole sexual chess game you’ve been playing. You don’t have time to mock him for being so theatrical about this whole thing because he’s standing and in the blink of an eye he’s in front of you, leaning down and grabbing the bottom of your skirt, lifting it up to your seat.

“I win.” His voice is low and husky and it doesn’t even seem like he’s basking in his victory all that much because he’s too busy collecting the layers of your dress and holding them in place up at your hips. You don’t have a lot of time to process what’s going on as one of his hands is gripping your jaw. “Is it okay if I cash in my prize now?” He’s asking for permission and honestly all you can do is dumbly nod as he grabs your hips and roughly pulls you by the waist of your dress so your ass is barely hanging off the edge of the reading nook, one of his hands comes up to your mouth and he’s tapping his pointer and middle finger on your bottom lip. “Open.” 

You should be snippier with him. 

You want to be. You want desperately for him to not be in charge all the time. (Of course you do want him to be in charge some of the time but that’s besides the point.)

And you’re getting what you want so what’s the point of fighting now. You open your mouth and he slides his fingers past your teeth, not far enough to make you gag but enough to fill your mouth with the material. 

Metal, gunpowder, leather. 

It’s not all that unpleasant, especially since he’s slotting himself between your legs now. 

“Bite down.” You furrow your brows but gently bite and he pulls his hand free, keeping his glove between your teeth. “Keep that there, okay sarad? Nod if you understand.” 

What a prick. Talking down to you like that, if it didn’t make you so wet you’d spit his glove back in his face. 

Instead you nod, because afterall you’re only human and you have needs. 

“Good girl.” His condescending tone is infuriating and if you weren’t so horribly turned on by it you’d kick him where it hurts but his ungloved hand is unzipping his flight suit at the crotch so you decide to let this one slide. “Hold your skirt up for me, cyar’ika.” He mutters out as he manages to free his cock from his pants, already standing at attention, fully erect. 

It’s enough to have you tragically drooling at the sight of a man who wants you so badly he needs no time to prepare himself. 

To the best of your ability you grip the edges of your skirt up for him as his still gloved hand reaches under all of the tulle, fishing around for a moment until he finds the hem of your panties, shoving them down to your ankles as you let out a small groan into his glove. His still gloved hand is spreading your thighs as he slowly strokes himself with his other hand, once you’re seemingly exactly how he wants you you can faintly hear a sharp inhale as he takes in the sight of you staring up at him. 

“Cyare…” He mumbles as he switches his hands, bringing his bare hand between your legs. 

You shouldn’t whine the way you do. You wish you could have held it back but you’re already a mess just in anticipation of him and you just pray to the gods that the glove muffles the majority of it. Of course it doesn’t. Because he lets out a gravely laugh. 

“What’s wrong sarad?” His tone is not unkind but it is sarcastic as you feel his fingernails lightly scraping at your inner thigh. You can nearly see his confused look through the Beskar as he takes a moment to contemplate before he brings his gloved hand back between your legs as you nod pathetically. “Is this what you wanted? I thought you thought my gloves were stupid princess?” 

The tough leather on his fingertips is ever so slightly dragging through your seam as you let your head fall back. He hums in approval as he brings his bare hand back to his cock, jerking himself off gradually as he sinks a finger into your dripping cunt. 

No sense in maintaining any of your pride because the sensation forces an obscene groan out of you, accompanied by the lewd squelching sound as he withdrawals the single digit before sliding it back in. 

His fingers had already filled you so exquisitely, with the added thickness of the gloves you were pretty sure you died and went to heaven. He doesn’t wait long before he adds a second finger and honestly you’re pretty sure you can’t physically take a third as he slams them in and out of you brutally, he doesn’t give you anytime to catch your breath as he pulls them out almost entirely before sliding them home, down to the knuckle. 

You’re not sure where to look, there’s a lot going on right now and yes you had wanted this terribly but you didn’t think he’d give it to you so suddenly and you’re feeling a lot of things right now. 

You settle your eyes on his length. That perfect pretty cock of his. He’s matching the rhythm of his strokes to the rhythm of his other hand. Maker, you don’t deserve the show he’s putting on for you as he lets out quiet grunts, staring down at you. You let out a particularly loud whine as you feel his fingers curl ever so slightly.

“I love those pretty little noises you make but you have to be quiet mesh’la.” His hand briefly comes up to your mouth to shove more of the glove past your teeth as you whine softly. “If you can’t be quiet I’ll have to stop, do you understand?” 

He pulls his fingers from you, wiping his glove on the inside of your dress as you let out a small cry at the loss of contact, it makes him click his tongue. 

“Be a good girl okay? I know this is what you wanted, is that why you wore this? So I’d fuck you like the slut you are? All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules. But we can’t have anyone walking in so I need you to quiet down.” He’s lining the weeping pink tip of his cock up at your entrance so you swallow the moan threatening to burst from your throat.

You still aren’t used to how talkative he is during sex. Sure he talks to you but never like this. Most of the time he only ever says what he needs to to get under your skin and then he’s done. But when you’re like this, it’s like he can’t stop the words that fall past the modulator. 

He’s slower this time. The first time, he had fucked you like he would never get a chance to touch you again. Animalistic and mercilessly. Now it’s like he’s taking the time to savor you entirely. 

You want to spit the glove out and beg him to just fuck you without caution but you’re certain he would just go slower if you did that. Or worse, stop entirely. So you bite down on the glove and grit your teeth as he continues at his agonizingly slow pace, lazily shoving himself into your tight hole, inch by inch. He takes his time, dragging it out, he’s barely halfway in and he’s panting, his hand squeezing the still fresh bruises under your dress. 

Before you can stop him he starts pulling out again, you’re unable to fend off the meek whine that happens as he starts shallowly slow fucking you, never pushing himself more than a few inches in. It’s got you thrashing as he pins you down in place, your cunt milking the head of his cock. Your hands abandoning your skirt to hold onto his forearms for support .

His gloved hand came down with a smack on your inner thigh that has you keening as he starts massaging the red mark, spreading your legs a little wider. His thumb began rubbing rough circles against your clit. Just fast enough to make you squirm but not fast enough to push you over the edge. You can tell by the hoarse laughter that comes between his grunts that he’s doing this on purpose. Not fucking you deep enough to hit the spot that he know’s you’re hopelessly trying to push it against.

“Man-ooh” You spit out past the glove. You point your toes to try and get some traction on the ground. Struggling to drive him deeper into you, he responds with a harsh slap to your clit that has you jolting backwards against the window. 

“Ah ah, I thought I told you to be good. Good girls stay quiet.” He pushes his thumb down against your bud, applying pressure but holding it torturously still. 

“Pleath-” Is all you can manage to mumble out past the leather, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes, as you try to writhe under his grip, anything to get him deeper inside you but he holds you in place as he impales you on his length.

“Please? Good girls don’t beg until they’re told to sarad.” He rocks his hips forward as he continues to mock you. 

It’s a real shame he knows how to work you up so easily. You’d love to slap that stupid tone out of his voice and tell him to fuck you proper but there’s something about the pure domination that he exudes the moment he decides he wants you. It’s intoxicating. You’re drunk on him when he gets like this, the primal needs to submit to him in the moment is overwhelming. He delivers another slap to your clit to get your attention that has you letting out a muffled yelp.

“Are you paying attention, mesh’la?” His voice is so low and condescending and it makes you tighten around him earning you a growl from the Mandalorian. “You like it when I treat you like this huh?” He gives you another snap of his hips, just enough to kiss that spot with his cockhead. 

You can feel a moan bubbling in your throat but bite it back, trying to stay silent, opting for a nod instead. 

“Good girl. Now say you’re sorry princess.” One of his hands is splayed out on your thigh, holding you spread open for him as the other hungrily gropes at your chest over your bodice. 

You close your eyes as your head leans back to avoid letting him see the crimson that is creeping up your face. You’ve come this far, why draw the line here.

“Thowwy” You should probably feel more shame. You’re the princess of a very important planet yet you’re here, in the library, being fucked sensless by a man who is notably not your husband, mumbling apologies through a gag. It’s easy to forget all that though because your pathetic sorry earns you a patronizing pat on the head, which subsequently results in a rush of heat between your legs. 

You might be a bad person for getting off on this.

Maybe think about that later, right now you’re too busy servicing the bodyguard your husband hired. 

“See, that’s better.” He brings his thumb up to swipe at your bottom lip, taking in the beads of drool before bringing it back to your clit. “Good girls get rewarded.” He snaps his hips forward, pushing just a little deeper. Finally letting the blunt head of his cock rest against that sensitive spot inside of you. 

It’s like he knows your body better than you do. It’s a little aggravating but it’s hard to be mad when he starts deliberately slamming himself against that spot. Matching his ministrations on your clit to his thrusts which has your entire body tensing as that wire in your core threatens to snap.  

You have autonomy. And he’s just a self-righteous asshole who is devastatingly good at sex. He likes to remind you of the fact that you don’t technically have the authority to dismiss him but you’re pretty sure you’re still his boss.

So why are you staring up at him now with pleading eyes as he fucks you, your eyes darting between him and the leather sticking out from your lips. You could spit it out, but instead you wait until his thrusts slow ever so slightly as he pulls the now soaked glove from your mouth, a line of drool going from it to your lips. 

“What is it, copikla?” He says it so derisively that you don’t need a translation to tell you he’s teasing you. 

Okay.

Normally you wouldn’t do this. Not unless a guy explicitly asked for it and it was your only option. But you know that if you ask for permission he’ll probably just let you and you woke up pent up and then there was all the teasing and the heat is going to your head so you can’t stop the babbles that spill from your lips. 

“Can I cum Mando? Please let me cum I’m so close please.” Hearing yourself say those words is a little humiliating, (for an unrelated reason you’re sure you get wetter as you say them) but it seems to work because he picks up his pace as he plunges himself into you. There’s no hesitation as you plead with him.

“Elek olaror sarad’ika. Cum for me.” His voice is a low growl as he holds your hips, pulling you down against him to push himself deeper into you as his thumb rolls over your clit just so. Everything combined with the Mando’a he seemingly can’t stop speaking has your eyes rolling back as you feel your walls clamping down on him, strangling his cock as you climax, your vision going a sharp white for a moment, his hand comes up just fast enough to muffle the cry that escapes your throat. Simultaneously he slips out of you, shooting his load onto your swollen soaked pussy.

You’re both just panting for a moment as you come down from your respective orgasms. He recovers first as he shoves himself back into his pants before kneeling down in front of you, pulling your panties up, keeping his cum on your skin. 

It’s filthy. The thought of spending the rest of the day with his seed between your legs is hot enough to hopefully keep you satisfied for a few more days than last time. 

Your head is still tilted back, resting against the window as your chest heaves. You barely even register the hiss of air, or the gentle kiss that’s placed against your inner thigh. 

Soft. His lips are soft, not chapped like you’d thought they’d be, with just a little bit of stubble. 

By the time you look down at him his helmet is back in place and you aren’t even sure it really happened. He straightens the layers on your skirt and stands up, his still ungloved hand brushes your hair back as he caresses your face.

“Are you okay? Do you need anything?” He’s back to that soft tone he uses only for you and you scowl at him.

“You’re mean during sex.” 

It’s nice to hear him laugh in earnest. He tucks a loose strand behind your ear.

“I think you like it.”

“Maybe.”

“Can I get you anything princess?” There it is again. That tone where he makes it sound like an endearment.

You don’t really need anything but you do have something you need to do so you give him a distraction.

“Could I convince you to get me some water?” 

“There isn’t a lot you couldn’t convince me of.” 

It’s things like that that make it hard to remember this is a platonic arrangement. But he’s already walking to the door so you rush to find some stationary and you write out everything you need before stepping out into the hall. No sign of Mando so you whisper-yell Leodall’s name. It’s like he appears out of thin air, you should figure out how he does that at some point if you’re gonna keep having secret sexual relations. That isn’t your mission right now though so you hand him the paper and dismiss him before hurrying back into the library. Patiently awaiting Mando’s return. 

As you sit back in the nook you rest your head on the adjacent book shelf. 

Two days. 

You’ve had your rules for two days. So far you’ve broken a rule every day you’ve had them. 

Everyone makes mistakes.

You just won’t break any more rules from this point forward. 

“…All you had to do was ask, I don’t care all that much about your rules.”

That’s what he had said.

This is Purely Stress Relief. 

Maybe you can keep breaking one rule. 

[brittanagirlcrush]

The First Time Ever I Saw Her Face

The long awaited (okay, maybe not by anyone but me) NeverEnding Story is (partially) posted. First fifteen chapters are up on FF.net

Prologue

It was a beautiful fall day during the last week of September and Brittany S. Pierce was sitting under the big oak in the middle of the quad. It was her freshman year and she was snapping pictures to get a head start on her end-of-semester media project.

She heard a shout and swung her camera in the direction the shout had come from. Through her viewfinder, she saw a Latina snatch a frisbee out of the air and sling it back to the guys who had lost control of it. Brittany couldn't hear what the guys said but her breath caught in her throat as her camera captured the most beautiful smile she'd ever seen.

She wanted to catch up to the Latina; wanted to get to know her. But. She had a strict rule: when she was dating someone she didn't initiate or pursue anyone else. She sighed; she and Rachel had been dating for three weeks. Before she could talk herself into chasing the Latina, she was gone.

A week later, Brittany was cursing herself as she realized that she and Rachel weren't compatible and broke things off.

She spent the rest of her freshman year, unsuccessfully, trying to find the Latina

End Prologue

xoxoxoxoxo

Chapter 1

The second time she saw the girl, Brittany had stepped out of the first class of her sophomore year. She stopped cold. Not three feet in front her was the beautiful Latina. Brittany bounced on the balls of her feet and approached the pretty brunette.

"Hi! I'm Brittany. I was wondering if I could buy you a beverage of your choice. I mean, because not everyone likes coffee." She smiled brightly at the girl.

The brunette looked scared.

"Oh, I … I, um, I have to, um, get to class." she stammered out before scurrying off like a rabbit and getting swallowed by the crowd.

Brittany frowned in puzzlement. That wasn't exactly a 'no'.

Xoxoxoxoxoxo

The following day was a Tuesday and Brittany sat in the back of her Logic 101 class. She scanned the lecture hall to see if she knew anyone and was surprised to see the Latina sitting at the far side of the hall, by herself, looking like she was trying to hide behind her laptop. She was sitting alone and had placed her backpack on the seat next to her in an obvious attempt to discourage anyone from sitting next to her.

Brittany spent the entire lecture watching the girl. She kept her head down, hair curtaining her face. She appeared to be taking detailed notes – or – she was writing quite a bit anyway.

When the class was dismissed, the Latina was already packed up and scurrying out of the lecture hall.

Brittany tried to follow her but the girl was gone by the time Brittany exited the hall.

'Well, I know where to find her,' she thought as she headed to her Humanities I class.

She had just slipped into her seat when her housemates, Puck and Sam, flopped next to her.

"Hey, Britt! How was your logic class?"

"Eh, you know, prove the chair actually exists type thing. But, oh-my-god, that beautiful Latina was there."

Puck laughed. "The one you've been mooning over for, like, a year? Did you actually talk to her this time?"

"No. I saw her yesterday, though, and I asked her out and it was kind of weird. She looked scared that I'd asked her out and, guys, she actually scurried away from me. She didn't say 'no', though. Just stammered out that she had a class."

"That does sound a little weird. I mean, it's not like you're scary." Sam frowned at her.

"So, yeah ..." she trailed off, "holy shit … there she is!" Brittany nodded in the direction of the Latina who, again, was sitting at the far side of the lecture hall, alone, hiding behind her laptop.

"Damn, B, you weren't kidding. I thought you touched up those pics. I'd definitely tap that."

"Don't even think about it, Puck. I will seriously castrate you while you sleep."

"What if she's straight?"

"Then she's too good for you."

"Harsh," Sam laughed, "but probably accurate."

"With friends like you …" Puck grumbled with a smirk.

The professor called the class to order and, once again, Brittany found herself staring at her mystery girl.

Xoxoxoxoxoxo

Brittany snuck out of class a few minutes early to try and catch the girl when she left the lecture hall.

"Hi!" She slipped into step with the girl as she exited the lecture hall. "I'm Brittany. You wanna maybe have lunch with me?"

Again, the Latina looked scared. "Oh, um, I – I d-don't think … I, uh, don't think that's a good idea." She stammered, again, before scurrying off like a frightened rabbit leaving a very puzzled, very intrigued Brittany in her wake. 'And, again, not a no,' she thought.

Xoxoxoxoxoxo

Brittany looked for the Latina on Wednesday but didn't see her. She was a little frustrated that afternoon as she walked into the photo studio she worked at. She was also starting to wonder if she was becoming a creepy stalker. There was just something about this girl; this scurrying, stammering, beautiful mystery of a girl.

"Everything okay, Brittany?" Keith asked.

Her boss, Keith Derbins, was a sweet older guy; probably in his mid-to-late fifties. His sandy blond hair was streaked with silver and pulled back into a long braid that ended just above his tailbone. His eyes were a soft gray with laugh lines creasing the corners. He had hired Brittany last semester when she walked into his photo studio, showed him some of her work and asked if he needed any help. She was willing to work for free if he'd give her practical world experience. There'd been a brief negotiation and he was paying her a fair salary as well as teaching her things she wouldn't learn in her classes.

"Yeah, Keith. Just …" she hesitated, "there's this girl …"

Keith grinned. "Isn't there always?"

Brittany grinned back at him. "I caught her on film last year and spent two semesters looking for her. I just … I don't know … I mean … ugh, I swear English is my first language," she sighed.

Keith laughed. "You've got it bad, kid."

"That's just it! I don't even know her name," Brittany huffed. "I've seen her a couple of times and every time I try to talk to her she gets this scared look, stammers an excuse, and runs off."

Keith smiled slightly. "Sound like the girl may have been hurt in the past. You're a beautiful girl, Britt. You know this but you don't really act it. If this girl's been hurt, she may be wondering why a beautiful girl like you is talking to her.

Brittany nodded as she thought about what Keith had said.

"You may need to find a better way to approach her."

"Yeah. That makes sense. I'll have to make a plan instead of ambushing her in the hallway."

Keith nodded.

She put it to the back of her mind as she settled into work.

[shima-draws]

Hiya!! I saw you were having a hard time, so I'm here to distract you from the things!! >7<)/

Who was your first OC? What did they look like, mayhaps try to redesign/redraw them side by side!

I hope things get better for you soon!!

Aw thank you!!! 🥰

My first OC was either Shima or Riku, I can't remember for sure who came first but they've been with me the longest

And yeah I've redesigned them both lots of times already! I have a habit of redesigning OCs once every few years lol

First art I EVER posted of them? I had to dig into my old DeviantART account to find this, this is from 2011 holy SHIT?? Have I really been on the internet for that long? Anyway old art jumpscare warning

Aww. Baby Shima art <3

This was before Riku actually got a human form, he actually started out as a Pokemon OC that was like. A weird genetic mutation of Pikachu? Uncreative little me called him Rare Pikachu LMAO or RP for short. Neat bit of lore, when I eventually repurposed him to become Riku I kept those same initials. Riku Promethera = RP :") Just a callback to his origins <3 He's always been Shima's partner tho since the beginning which makes me really emo honestly

Anyway here have 10+ years of Shima and Riku art

Shima's hair has gotten noticeably pinker but her actual hair style has stayed relatively the same after the very first redesign. God it used to be so DARK and way browner but I think the pink fits the palette very well :"D

And Riku...I used to strictly adhere to the black color scheme but I think the new one with the earthy tones suits him perfectly since he's a land elemental!

Also I need to draw him pathetic and covered in blood again. Tbh.

[angel-maybe-alive]

My problem with Hades and Persephone retelling

(aka this will not end well for me)

So sometime ago I made a post about things I hate in "modern literature" basically me ranting about booktok shit, and I mentioned my pure hatred for the "hades/Persephone retellings" genre and I tried to explain it in the reblogs but I didn't phrased myself very well there so I want to do it again?

So here I go swinging another baseball bat to the wasps nest.

The Homeric hymn of demeter is this very known tale of why we have the seasons, the plot basically goes as: Hades god of the underworld kidnaps Persephone goddess of flowers, demeter her mother goddess of crops gets desperate don't do her job while trying to find her the world suffers yada yada something something in the end Persephone has to spent half of the year with her mother (spring and summer) and the other half with her husband in the underworld (autumn/winter)

Right

Now let's go to the " doesn't matter my opinion people will be mad at me "part

The full myth as is presented in the Homeric hymn of demeter has Persephone pretty clearly being kidnapped and held against her will

The myth was very clear about Persephone's not willingness to the marriage as she 1- screamed for help 2- was described as miserable when visited by Hermes 3- asked for her mother 4-lightened up once hearing about her 5- is described as being tricked by hades to eat the pomegranates who kept her tied to the underworld

In the context of when the myth was created the reasoning was pretty clear to be about the horrifying yet inevitability of wedding, and the separation between mother and daughter.

Arranged or forced marriages are a fictional thing to a lot of people nowadays, it's a thing of time pieces or something from religions that you don't understand and find oppressive but it was (and still is in some places ) a reality

The arranged marriage has its perks in some context as it takes away the burden of having to choose your partner and if your culture is build on this you would not see this as a oppressive practice just how things are the sky is blue and someday your father will choose your husband.But there's also the fear, your future husband could be half decent person there was a chance or an horrible monster very possible sometimes you truly couldn't know.

Kinda like death itself there was This uncertainty, the fear yet anxiety and maybe longing of it without knowing what would come next.

So in context this tale probably resonated a lot with girls and women at the time as a reminder that after the marriage they can still see their mothers time to time, it wasn't death itself just separation, even if their wedding was bleak as a dark winter, spring will come.

And I love this tale really

Then we have the new context, like I said the fear and longing of arranged marriage is not a reality to many people in modern western secular world, But suffocating mothers are.

There is discussion on whether or not Persephone went on her own will but it is a pointless discussion the result is still the same she has half of the year up here half down there.

But the retellings do a weird thing, some of them reframe it to make demeter the villain.

Demeter goes from grieving mother to an angry wench who it's just terrified of an empty nest and suffocates Persephone she is mother goethel locking Rapunzel in a tower,She is the opressor.

And hades is the stand in badboy he is rhysand, darkling, Damon Salvatore and draco Malfoy In leather pants and all the other guys in black clothes but not in a cringe emo edgylord way in a dangerous way with a jawline to cut diamonds and abs for days, rich and powerful a dominating alpha ready to sweep the damsel ad bring her to freedom.

Do you ever heard that anarbor song 18, if not listen it's exactly the hades guy on those retellings

And the thing is I have no true problem with this concept it's not my cup of tea(I prefer the golden retriever rather than the black cat) and I do think the amount of coercion and straight up sexual assault on those are quite not good, but it might be someone's else's cup.

The problem is calling this a feminist retelling as by making Persephone a willing bride it empowers her.

It truly doesn't.

The original was already empowering a grieving mother doing anything on her power to save her lost daughter is fucking punk.

Yet the rebellious vein of the modern author the desire to be that girl the one who had the guts to actually runaway from home after fighting with your mom for not letting you paint your hair, mixed with the desire to be coddled by a dark prince charming, aman who will desire you so much he won't be able to control himself, a beautiful rich man who will worship you, have amazing sex with you, will be enough of a feminist to respect your choices yet enough of a patriarchal alpha male to spoil rotten with all things money can buy, provide for you as you are his queen, this desire takes one of the most simple yet understandable tale of true feminine power and bastardize it to another opposite Attraction tale.

And this is why I hate hades and Persephone retellings.

[deeply-unserious-fellow]

THIS POST IS DRIVING ME INSAAAAAAAANE OH MY GOD- It took so fucking long to draw the picture. I kept changing up the designs halfway through. I almost forgot the werewolves tattoos l i k e  a l w a y s. And nOW TUMBLR KEEPS REFUSING TO LET ME POST IT HOLY FUCKING SHIT-

Willa looks kinda off but I think thats just because, since I think her model looks the best, I was subconciously basing the proportions off of that when that is n o t how I usually draw proportions? Idk-

Also! Some of my design changes don't reeaaaaally make sense unless you're familiar with my rewrites? Which I will pOST ABOUT EVENTUALLY I SWEAR- So just know any design quirks you find weird probably have a reason behind them and shouldn't be questioned :)

[13tinysocks]

hey dude! What's up :)) been just a little since l've said something

Initially, this is me saying thank you and goodbye

This isn't supposed to be a weird pity story, so l'm so unbelievably sorry if it comes off that way, lol.

When I began reading your work, I was enamoured with fiction because of personal issues (as many usually are, honestly, I know I'm one of god knows how many people trying to run away from life for just a second with fanfics or media in general). I don't know if I will ever be able to communicate this properly, hell, this will even be unbelievable funny or dramatic but I need to get this across because it's coming from a genuine place. Your stories and work thus far has brought me comfort, immense heaps of it, and even still when I deal with things that feel out of reach or too much to actually face head on I find myself wandering back to syg or just your blog in general

I mean this, from my entire heart, thank you and thank Bee. A million times thank you, for making that one silly silly stupid piece of fanfiction, because oh my god it got me through some major stressful hardships within my life for the past 3 years.

I am leaving tumblr, however I’m aware I have submitted asks with my actual accounts before, so you'll likely be able to see they're still gonna be up. I'm just deleting tumblr the app instead of my account, but for other social platforms they will be deleted properly (such as quotev) so I won’t be indulging in much reading anymore when it comes to fanfics and such lol

I don't know if I'll come back, if I do I likely will not be back for long or to be as active as l've been because of the toll social media’s taken. So even as ridiculous as this feels, to tell someone I’m simply a fan of and barely truly know, that their fanfic of murderers and their love story with my self insert kept me pushing through a lot of tough days, I genuinely just had to.

I needed to thank both you and your partner for the work you've both put out. I still have that smiley pin I’d made, and I will cherish what you made quotev have been for me ( I literally found out about the website during early or late 2020 I can barely remember, then later found your fic, I was DEEP DIVING into that shit LMAO )

I hope whatever happens for you and bee in the future is only good, and I only will wish nothing but the best of luck with everything man.

feel free to post this (idk what it’s called but when you publicly reply lol) or not, as long as you read this it’ll mean lots to me !! >:))

your coolest weirdest ticci toby fan whose also named toby, 🐚 annon

I always struggle to convey gratefulness for messages like this and readership- especially repeated readership. My life would be different if it were not for comments and messages egging us on to keep writing from syg to ho1c. While it's easy to say that writing is solely out of passion for the craft there is also the drive to share something with others. Hearing those others loud or quiet as a favorite- does push us forward when we have no motivation or desire to work. That drive has made us closer as a couple, better thinkers, and a halfway decent writing team. I thank you and all the others who send us stuff even if it's shit post asks I never answer because I like having them in my inbox like a personal horde of platonic Valentine's. I like keeping the pieces you give me to myself sometimes. I know it may seem like I'm ignoring you but I find genuine comfort in these messages. That there are so many. That they are so varied. That we have reached beyond our shut-in existence to touch the lives of others.

I find myself wondering where an anon has gone when I do not hear from them in awhile. I wish them well. I wish them better standards than us.

Maybe we'll meet again someday space cowboy. If you're ever back in town feel free to shoot me (a message).

Thank you for reaching out. Thank you for reading. I wish you peace and love and good books.

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Do you people ever go through comedycv.co.uk? Because going to that link and just clicking through has become one of my regular hobbies. You know how there always posts going around Tumblr about how it's sad that the old internet is lost? Well did you know there's some old internet that's very much still online, and it has summaries of comedians' careers, frozen in time at the exact point when they became too successful to need to keep updating it?

I enjoy clicking on random pages of comedians I've never heard of, to find out what was going on back then. But it's even more interesting to look at the pages for comedians I know about, and see what was the most recent accomplishment listed, at what point they stopped worrying about this website. In many cases, it's when they became famous enough for it to not matter. In the cases of younger comedians, it's when time moved on enough for this bit of the old internet to become irrelevant in the face of social media. But the website's still up. One of those things that it seems like should be gone, but everyone's forgotten it's there so no one's remembered to take it down. I love finding things like that. Though I do have an occasional track record of sharing those things on Tumblr and then someone involved in it comes across my Tumblr post and then it gets taken down as a result of me sharing it. Okay that only happened once but it was enough to freak me out, hopefully this one Tumblr post doesn't get an entire website taken down. Pretty sure I don't personally have the power to bring down an entire website.

I mean, obviously there have to be exceptions to people whose Comedy CV page stopped updating when they got too famous to need it, and people whose page stopped updating when the rise of social media made it irrelevant. And that would be the person whose Comedy CV page kept getting updated while he was with an agent who made him do things like that, and then dropped it the moment he was allowed to have one of those public entertainment careers where you get really angry about members of the public knowing you exist:

The quotes about his comedy, all of them praise and not a single bit of the Lee-esque ironic self-deprecation that I'd expect in a situation like this, continue for almost a whole other page. It's significantly longer than most of the other ones.

Not a single mention of Mock the Week, that's how old this one is:

"Alex Horne and his assistant Tim Key"

Here's a less fun thing about comedy advertising pages that are so old: defining women in a male-dominated environment by their competition with other women. That's something you still see today and it sucks, but it doesn't happen constantly anymore the way it used to. Like Danielle Ward being "one of the few female satirists", rather than just a very good comedian who performs satire. Not that I'm blaming Danielle Ward for this, I assume she didn't write that herself, and it's the way marketing was encouraged.

And Josie Long, on the other hand is, "unnaturally far from girlie adolescence". Don't worry, she's not shit like all those other female comedians (again, not Josie Long's fault, I can't imagine this was her idea). Her page must be really old, as it doesn't mention winning the Perrier Newcomer Award in 2006.

When I first started clicking through these, I saw Ahir Shah's name and thought, I bet that'll be weird, since even the older comedians - as in, the Chocolate Milk Gang-era ones - have much younger pictures of themselves on here. Ahir Shah is young (at least I hope he is, at least compared to some people, since he's my age), so a younger picture of him will be really young. I thought that before I opened his page for the first time, but I still wasn't remotely prepared for what I saw there:

On the subject of small children who were born in the same year as me, did you know that Daniel Sloss met Frankie Boyle once?

Long list of credits, even with no Thick of It yet. Not even Gash. God, imagine a world without Armando Iannucci's Gash. What a sad world.

Awww...

Sorry, why has Roisin Conaty never mentioned her Monopoly Woman character in anything I've seen?

Love that highly rough around the edges comedian Rhod Gilbert has a professionally written essay in his description, and a picture of himself in business attire.

Oh, sorry, Stewart, I thought you were all counterculture and don't do mainstream advertising? What are you doing here looking like a movie star and with not a single ironic self-deprecating quote?

A couple of years ago now, in a journey somewhat similar to the Comedy CV one, I went through all these old Edinburgh programs, and I learned that there are an amazingly large number of terrible pictures of Russell Howard that got used in official promo between about 2004 and about 2009 (there are not just in old programs, also in old articles about him, it's remarkably consistent). I don't know why, but for some reason Russell Howard did not give a single good picture of himself to any official sources during those years. This was one of those terrible pictures, used in the Edinburgh Fringe 2005 poster for his show Skylarking, which is something I know off the top of my head because I have spent too much time reading old Edinburgh programs. Again, no mention of Mock the Week, so this is older than his start on that. But newer than his 2005 show, so that dates it pretty specifically.

"Russell has twice toured as the special guest of Perrier Award Winner, Daniel Kitson." Amazingly grandiose way to refer to doing tour support.

On that subject, I'm going to stop pretending I didn't primarily use this to look up Chocolate Milk Gang members, and show you the main ones from that. Zaltzman has a page that's so long I had to cut a little bit of it off even by spreading it across two screenshots:

There's a quote praising him by Dominic Maxwell in there, then a humble Metro reviewer, who many years later would be with The Times and call Andy John Oliver's "left-behind sidekick". What a dick.

Andy's page has gone beyond just a curiosity to me, and has helped me a bit with some of my completism. You get things on these pages that, once they got bigger, seemed to small to ever mention again. So you might only know the comedian had done those things if you find stuff that was written when they were small enough for those little things to seem like a bigger deal. I've been trying to track down his episode of Live Floor Show ever since reading it on there, which I've never seen mentioned anywhere else. Andy Zaltzman's page is written like a genuine CV, which is helpful.

And at this point I should stop pretending this whole post has been anything besides an excuse to show you this picture of John Oliver when he had long-ish hair and the career of a baby:

John Oliver's episode of People Like Us is 2x05, from 2001, and that description calls it "the new series of People Like Us", so that tells you when that was written. This page was also helpful for the completest in me, when I did things like make a compilation of John Oliver's scenes from the early 00s when he appeared in one scene of one episode each of several different sitcoms:

I haven't even scratched the surface with this post of the amusing things on that Comedy CV site, everyone go look at the adorable old picture of Joe Lycett. I promise, mindlessly clicking through the links is a great way to spend an afternoon.

[livvyofthelake]

reading an ODD book at work. imagine being like hm i liked the one episode of this tv show i watched i should read the book (or. the first of the several books) it was based on because i don’t have time to watch a whole tv show (literally 2 seasons. there are 2 seasons and they aren’t even long seasons) and then the book is weird and the entire first half isn’t even about the titular guy from the tv show. i mean we finally got to him but this is literally halfway through

ok i typed all of that at work and then bestie coworker manager (she’s technically my manager but like not really so i’m not about to call her bestie manager she’s not that far above me. it’s complex) anyway she was getting stressed out about all the shit we had to get done so i got off my phone because like it really is that serious if we don’t do this stuff it’s not getting done and then the deeply annoying district people come and get mad even though it’s really not that serious it’s literally clothes. anyway. i know no one notices when i’m hashtag offline but just so you know i have been irregularly offline lately. for like the past month idk. because work is making me tireddd i’m literally about to morph into the hypothetical person from all those posts where people did marvel discourse like “well actually capitalism makes us so tired after work it’s only possible to consume media that doesn’t require the use of brain cells so actually you’re ableist and against the proletariat if you hate marvel” that’s about to be me if this continues. i’d actually choose something better than the mcu though. whatever the point is that work sucks and they don’t pay me enough but there are not enough jobs out there i find more tolerable that would pay much more so it’s hard to be motivated to get a Real Job. in this fucking economy 🙄. anyway i know no one has noticed or cared about me not posting but that’s my explanation. yes i was posting yesterday and the day before. i didn’t have work yesterday or the day before i was watching tv. also i’ve been Posting less because frankly lately all i want to talk or think about is those fucking shadowhunters and i don’t really like Posting about those fucking shadowhunters. i genuinely don’t like talking about things i really like to an audience of people that Don’t Get It. i also stopped posting about once upon a time when i realized there were people in my midst that knew what i was talking about. you might have watched three seasons of the same show as me and then given up when it got too cringe but you did NOT watch it the same way i did. which is the objectively correct way. and that’s all there is to say on the matter.

anyway yeah the book. there’s three parts each focused on a different character relevant to the story and part one was honestly confusing and bad and i considered quitting. the guy part one is about was genuinely just unlikeable which is not necessarily inherently bad i mean books can have unlikeable narrators and still be good but this guy was just not hitting and thank god his part was the shortest. and then part two was weird and disturbing but somewhat intriguing so i kept at it. the narrator of this part was a guy who just got out of prison after like 12 years for the rape and murder of a 15 year old girl. which sounds AWFUL but he didn’t do it and the facts of the case are misrepresented and it was like. deeply interesting to read his part even though i didn’t particularly enjoy it. might have enjoyed it more if i had thought this book would be about him and not my buddy will trent from the tv. do you guys watch will trent? neither do i. i saw one episode this spring and liked it so here we are. it’s sort of like a cop show if a cop show was kind of odd. it has all the markers of a cop show but something about it stops my brain from recognizing it as such idk. i am actually confused about why this michael character is in the show when um. the character in the book is like. a pedophile. and probably a serial killer. why does the guy from quantico play him in the show if he’s supposed to be a pedophile and serial killer? to be fair i do not know how this book ends. maybe the guy who just got out of prison really did do it all idk why should i know. anyway. part three just started and THIS part is finally about will and angie (my friends from the tv… from the one singular episode…) and they’re slayinggggg and EVERYTHING is coming together… the pieces are falling into place this could be huge!

[luckbealincoln]

Best Kept Secret

chapter six : torment

THIS SERIES HAS BEEN MOVED AND RE-UPLOADED TO ANOTHER ACCOUNT. WHICH CAN BE FOUND HERE. THIS POST STILL EXISTS AS AN ARCHIVE BUT THIS ACCOUNT IS NO LONGER ACTIVE!!

pairing : bodyguard!Din Djarin x afab!princess!reader

rating : 18+ mdni

word count : 5.1k

summary : you confront the mandalorian

warnings, etc. : language, smut, vaginal fingering, p in v sex, teasing, lowkey brief orgasm denial, din djarin is a little shit, helmet stays on

Okay, maybe you didn’t think this through. 

You didn’t think he’d actually come in and now suddenly the door is shut and you’re alone with him. You’re always alone with him, why is this any different than the days upon days you’ve spent together completely alone in the library? 

Well… the library isn’t dimly lit. 

And the library definitely doesn’t have a bed. 

Why did you invite him in? What was the end goal with such a stupid and impulsive decision? What the hell did you want? 

Him. That much is obvious, no point dancing around that fact anymore. 

But it’s purely sexual.

Obviously.

Nothing else. 

You’re friends. That’s it. You’re friends and sometimes you just so happen to have brief sexual fantasies about him. Can that really be considered cheating? Is it cheating if you didn’t want to be married in the first place? If you didn’t have a choice in the matter? If he’s a disgusting slob of a man? 

It doesn’t matter because you aren’t going to do anything.

Then why did you invite him in? 

Maker, you're an idiot. 

A stupid, stupid horny idiot. 

He’s just standing there. You should say something, but you waited too long and now it’s weird. This whole thing is weird. You invited him in as friends, you’re friends after all. You spend all day in the gardens together as friends, you read together in comfortable silence as friends, you hold each other intimately on the floor of empty hallways to reassure yourselves that the other is okay as friends, you think about him when you touch yourself as friends. Kriff you need to do something, you can’t just stand across from each other in silence. Do what feels natural, you’re friends, friends are comfortable around each other. What would you be doing if he wasn’t here? Get ready for bed. 

You turn to the dresser to start looking for a night gown, but you can feel the way his visor is trained on you, burning into your skin, so you grab the first thing you can find, barely looking at it and tossing it on the bed. Finally turning to look at him. 

“I’m just gonna change real quick…” You whisper it, no sense speaking any louder than that, you know he’ll hear it. He simply nods, turning to face the wall, it’s the first time he’s moved since he walked in. 

You go to summon Elaine and Lysa but stop yourself. How the hell would you explain him being here this late? It isn’t worth the trouble, you can get out of a dress yourself. 

Except you can’t. 

You were wearing one of the overcomplicated blue gowns you wore on days where you saw Kodo and you’re struggling to undo the bodice. 

Fuck.

This is fine. You’ll just stay in this until he leaves. When is he going to leave? Usually someone leaves when they are done doing what they came to do but with seemingly no objective here there’s no logical reason for him to leave. 

“You can turn around.” Gods, you’re embarrassing. He doesn’t speak for a moment as he turns and stares at you. 

“You’re stuck.” He says it so plainly that you know he’s certain that’s the case. You wish he would make fun of you. This would be so much easier if he was taunting you, like he usually was. You could hate him and send him away. But it’s getting harder to hate him by the minute. 

“It’s fine.” 

“I could help?” It’s a question. He doesn’t often ask for permission with you. But he won’t do this without your permission. Why should he need permission, this is innocent enough, he’s just helping you out. 

Friends help each other. That’s what they do. So you turn around so he can unlace it for you. And he’s on you before you have a chance to move somewhere else, anywhere else, but it’s too late. Without even realizing it you’ve put the two of you in front of the mirror. Well at least it can’t get worse than this.

But it does.

Because he takes off the gloves. And you can see his hands as he gives them to you to hold. Tan, calloused, littered with scars. You only get a glimpse, but it’s enough for you to realize that the hands you imagined him having don’t compare to the real thing. They’re big, you could tell that from the gloves but you hadn’t expected them to be so defined. You could write a million stupid romance novels about the vast ridges of his knuckles, or the veins that spread across them. 

Maker you’re so fucked. 

You can feel the dress loosening as he meticulously pulls each ribbon free, you wish it were possible to watch him do it. Instead you’re stuck staring at your stupid dumbfounded expression in the mirror, intently observing him until he finishes and immediately steps back and turns around. 

You wish he had taken his time. 

But you quickly slip out of the dress and don the nightgown on the bed. For Makers sake could you have grabbed a skimpier outfit? It’s practically lingerie. You reach for the silk robe hanging on the mirror and try to make yourself look as covered as possible.

“I’m decent.” You hate how small your voice sounds. He turns again and you give him his gloves back, drinking in one final glimpse of his hands. 

You need to talk about what happened. Just get it out of the way. 

“We should talk about it.” You take a step towards him but he flinches back, just a hair. It’s off putting to watch such an imposing man react like that so you stop dead in your tracks. 

“Nothing happened.” It’s gut-wrenching to hear his voice sounding so strained. It took weeks for him to warm up to you and in an instant he had put those walls back up.

“Don’t do that.” Gods, at least try to sound less like a wounded little girl.

“I’m not doing anything.” You want to rip that stupid modulator out of his helmet for making his voice sound so cold. 

“So I’m just supposed to pretend like you weren’t hyperventilating on the floor a few minutes ago?” The sympathy you had for him is rapidly depleting as you take another step towards him, trying not to raise your voice. 

“Yes. That is exactly what you’re going to do.” 

“No.”

“No?” The anger in his voice is palpable. Good. You want him to get fired up, you want to fight about this because at least you’ll be talking about it. 

“No. We aren’t going to ignore this, we are going to have a conversation about it because you scared the hell out of me.” He scoffs, it’s sharp coming through the filter. 

“You’re fine.” He crosses his arms in front of his chest.

It’s like the night you met. He’s standing in the middle of the room. A cold, unmoving statue of Beskar, and you, the scared little girl, charting unfamiliar waters. 

“ You weren’t.” You furrow your brows as you say it. The visor is trained on you but you’re sure he isn’t looking at you. “You couldn’t even move. It was like you couldn’t see me and I was right in front of you.” The chill that runs down your spine lets you know that he’s looking at you now that you’ve said that. He takes a long stride towards you and you hold your ground, tilting your head up to keep your eyes on his helmet.

“Why are we still talking about this?” His voice is so low it’s practically a rumble.

“Because we’re friends and friends talk about these things!” 

“We aren’t friends.”

Ouch. 

Well you should have seen that coming. Of course he wasn’t your friend, you can’t believe you were naive to ever think that he would be, he was probably just humoring you. Now you’re the one who can’t look at him as you stare at the floor, feeling like a child who’s just been scolded. 

“Of course we aren’t.” You wish you didn’t sound so bitter, as he sighs loudly. 

“Come on, don’t just stand there and pout at me, you knew we weren’t friends. We can’t be.” The contempt in his voice cuts deep. 

“Fuck you. Get out.” You start walking in the direction of the closet but he grabs your arm before you can get there. 

“Don’t do that.” His tone is a little gentler but it does nothing to sway your temper, shoving him off of you. 

“Why not. You’re right. We aren’t friends, I’m just the ditzy little princess you’re charged with watching, I don’t know why I ever thought you actually might care about me.” You’re trying not to cry at this point as you throw your hands up in defeat. “Is that what you wanted to hear? You were right. I was wrong. You win Mando, was that little episode in the hallway just now an act to get me to this point? If so you’re a fantastic actor, really had me going. I almost thought you actually gave a shit about me.” You turn sharply to open the closet door, wanting nothing more than to retreat to your pile of blankets but his large hand lands just next to your head slamming it shut. He raises his other hand so they’re boxing you in, he towers over and you scowl, your faces inches from each other now. 

“Why did you invite me in?” The crackle of the filter is low and it makes you want to tear the whole helmet from his head and slap him. And maybe do a few other things while it’s off.

“I want you to leave.”

“No you don’t”

“I hate you.”

“Is that what you tell yourself to make all of this okay?”

Smoke. Metal. Fresh Linen.  

“I hate you.” The back of your head is against the closet door as you take a step back, he leans down, closer to you, your forehead is practically touching Beskar. 

“That’s what I tell myself to justify it all.” Gods, why do you wish you could feel his breath on your face? “So why did you invite me in, sarad’ika?” Your knees buckle slightly and his hands fly to your waist to support you.  When you don’t respond he leans just an inch closer, your breath is fogging up the steel of his helmet now. “Say it again.”

“I hate you.” It’s practically a squeak as you say it this time. He hums softly in response. 

“I can’t stand you.” He murmurs. “It’s like you were put on this planet to make me suffer .” His hands put the slightest bit of pressure on your hips to accentuate the end of his sentence.  

“Do I really bother you that much? What have I done to you that is truly that terrible?” You do everything in your power to make it sound cold and harsh but your voice still trembles. 

“Don’t play dumb cyar’ika. Don’t act like you don’t know what you do to me.” The words are labored as you savor the heat coming off of his body. “The way you torment me.” He’s practically snarling. 

“I have no idea what you mean.” Of course you do. As you gingerly bring your hands up to rest on his chestplate, trying to put a distance between the two of you uselessly. You know exactly what he’s talking about because it's exactly how you feel everytime you stare into the cold and unforgiving steel of his visor. The misery of absolutely loathing a person purely because you cannot have them, because you cannot escape them. Because it’s not just that he’s always physically there, he’s there when you close your eyes and when you sleep, he lives in brain, there is nothing you can do to get rid of him. To free yourself of the brand he has burned deep into your psyche.

That can’t be what he means though.

“Why do you do it? Hmm?” He brings the helmet down to rest against your cheek, you can feel the vibration when he hums, the sensation has you arching your back before you can stop yourself but thankfully his grip holds you in place against the door. 

“Do what?” You groan softly, he squeezes your waist tighter. 

“ This.” He grunts. “You do all of this. You wear that green dress, read those dirty books right in front of me, for fucks sake look at you. You invited me in and you put on this?” His fingers yank at the loose hanging fabric on your hips. “ This pretty little black slip of lace? You must truly despise me to put me through this lovely little bit of torture…”

“I don’t do those things for you.” You manage to spit out. It’s sort of true, you don’t entirely do those things for him, sometimes they just happen by accident. 

 One of his gloved hands comes up to grip your chin. “Don’t even get me started on this filthy mouth of yours, the way you talk to me sarad, when you insult me, berate me, all I can think about is how I could make this pretty mouth talk so sweet, make you beg and whine just for me, never talk back to me again.” 

Maker this isn’t real, it can’t be. You must have fallen asleep again, but he feels so solid, and palpable, and the wetness pooling between your legs certainly felt real. You’re speechless at this point as you just let out a little whimper that has him chuckling softly.

“Is that really all I had to do to make you behave? Whisper vulgar things into your ear? If I had known all you wanted was a little attention I would have done this the day I met you mesh’la. Is this what you want? I need to hear you say it.” He’s sweetened immediately and it’s making your head spin. You need to think clearly, be realistic, you can’t do this. No matter how badly you want this. 

But right now it’s hard to do much of anything besides lightly scratch at his chestplate and whimper. 

“Tell me to leave right now. I’ll do it, I’ll hop on the first transport ship off planet and you’ll never see me again.”  You know he’s serious. He could easily do whatever he wanted with you in this position but you know him, and you know if you don’t explicitly ask for it he won’t go further than this. Why is this so hard? You know what you need to do, you need to tell him to leave, to get as far away from you as possible but you know that it would never be far enough. There is nowhere he could go that would free you from this agony . 

“W-we can’t do this.” You manage to stutter out, your eyes are squeezed shut at this point, just trying to stop any more noises from slipping out.

“Then tell me to leave.” He says it almost like it’s what he really wants, that he knows, just like you do, that there’s no coming back from this. 

“I hate you. Every part” Stars, why can’t you just tell him to go? 

“I know you do cyar’ika.”

Your heart is pounding in your chest, he can probably hear it. You need to convince him that you can’t do this, because you know you can’t stop yourself, it has to be him. 

“Do you know what would happen if we were caught?” You breathe out, grabbing the sides of his helmet to pull him back slightly so you can stare into the thin black line. 

“I know.” 

“They’d hang us both.”

“They’d hang me.” 

You know he’s right. They’d be substantially worse to him, you’d most likely just be locked away until it was time to produce an heir. 

“They’d hang you.” You whisper. 

“The moment anyone found out I would be swarmed by guards. They’d lock me up and throw away the key.” His grip on your waist tightens ever so slightly

“They’d do worse than that.” For fucks sake, everything you’re saying is true and you know it, why isn’t this making either of you stop. 

“They’d torture me.” He says it so plainly, like it doesn’t bother him in the slightest. 

“They’d torture you.” 

“They’d cut out my tongue if they knew what I wanted to do to you.” Then why does he sound like he doesn’t care?

“Then don’t do it, it isn’t worth it.”

“I could do most of it without a tongue.” 

“I’d miss your tongue.” You need to stop. 

“Would you?”

“I would.” You would. 

“I thought you hated my tongue. Every part of me .” 

“I do. But it would be a shame for them to cut it out before I get to put it to good use.”

“Don’t talk to me like that.” Maker, did he just growl?

“You don’t like it?”

“You’re supposed to be telling me to leave. Keep talking like that and I won’t be able to stop myself.” 

“Then don’t stop yourself.”

“Tell me to leave sarad’ika.”

“Stay.”

And that’s all it takes. He hauls you over his shoulder and before you can even process what’s happening you’re being thrown down on the bed. He’s hastily removing things, buckles and belts, tossing them aside with his gloves as he pulls his cowl over his helmet, letting his cape fall to the floor as he drops the pack on top of it, you can’t help it as you reach up and grab the edge of his chestplate pulling him closer.

“Don’t bother, can’t wait.” Is all you say as you trace your fingertips across his now exposed neck, you can work around the flight suit and armor. His now bare hands find your waist again, this time tearing the fabric to shreds as he rips the negligee off of you, tossing the scraps to the side. You don’t have time to feel embarrassed about your bare chest being exposed to him now as his hands found the hem of your panties.

“Do you need these?” He says breathlessly, his visor keeps moving ever so slightly across your body like he doesn’t know where to look as you shake your head no.

“I have plenty of others.” That’s all he needs to hear before those are ripped to shreds too and he’s crawling onto the bed to hover above you, his hands slide under your thighs to scooch you upwards so his head is closer to your stomach. He wastes no time as he pushes your legs up to bend your knees so he can access all of you. You can hear the soft gasps from the modulator. 

“Sarad… bid mesh’la.” One of his hands presses to your inner thigh as he spreads your legs wider for him, his other hand moves up to swipe two fingers through your folds. “Cuyir ibic an par ni?” It’s like he’s talking to himself as he holds them up so you can see how wet they are. Your face turns red at the sight. “Is this all for me sarad?” You put your hands over your face sheepishly as you nod, you barely register the sound of air hissing as you peek through your fingers just long enough to watch as he slips his hand under his helmet to suck his fingers clean, letting out a low breathy moan.   

Maker, you don’t stand a chance. 

“Fuck, Mando, quit stalling.” You whine out, bringing your own hand between your legs in an attempt to relieve some of the pressure that’s building there. One of his hands gently grabs your wrists, effortlessly pinning them above your head as he clicks his tongue. 

“Needly little thing.” He chuckles as his other hand traces down your body, stopping to palm your breast, going between them as you whined, squirming under his grasp, there’s got to be a wet spot on the sheets already as he continues to taunt you, lazily rolling one of your nipples between his fingers. “So pretty mesh’la. I knew you’d be so perfect, smooth and soft under my hands.” He pinches the nipple he was playing with making you squeal. “You have to be quiet sarad. Can you do that for me?” He rubs circles over your tit with his thumb, soothing the ache as you nod. “Good girl.” You can practically hear the grin on his face as you flush red at the praise. He releases your wrists as he brings both hands down across your chest now, following the blush before finally one of his hands dips between your thighs. 

“Please Mando…” You whisper as your hands grip the sheets. His fingers massaging your inner thigh, deliberately avoiding your core. 

“Please what, princess?” Maker, he sounds so smug. 

“Gods, I hate you.” You squirm uselessly underneath him, not bothering to try and touch yourself, you know he’d stop you. His gravely laugh seeps out of the modulator. 

“I like you like this, my little star flower.” One of his hands smacks your thigh, it isn’t that hard but you still have to bite back a moan. “I wish I'd known how easy it was to make you behave. I’d have bent you over and done this weeks ago if I knew it would have the effect on you.” 

“Maker, are you going to touch me or are you going to just talk all night Mand-” Your voice catches in your throat as he slides two fingers into you without warning. Your back arching off the mattress until his other hand rests on your lower stomach, pushing you back down. He hums as he slowly draws them out before driving them back home forcing a choked out groan from you. You were right, he does feel better than your own fingers as he slowly and deliberately fucks you with his hand, his helmet moving back and forth to watch his digits slip in and out of you to your face as you bring a hand to your mouth to try and quiet the obscene noises that start slipping out.

“Maybe next time you mouth off to me I’ll just do this, would you like that?” 

Overconfident son of a bitch.

You’re having a hard time thinking of a witty comeback and when you don’t respond he hums softly, curling his fingers to hit that spot that makes you see stars. 

“Naughty. Speak up princess.” The warm drawl of his voice is suffocating as he curls his fingers again, your body trying desperately to writhe at the sensation but his other hand keeps you held in this position. “Use your words. I know you can, you’re always so mouthy” His tone is mocking as he curls his fingers again ruthlessly and your other hand flies down to his wrist. 

“Yes.” You manage to yelp you as he withdrawals his fingers and you whine softly at the feeling, trying to keep hold on his wrist to bring him back against you. He tuts as he brings the hand to his pants as he unzips the flightsuit and you sit up on your elbows to get a good look as his cock springs free. He lazily strokes himself, using your slick as a lubricant, his visor trained on your face as you let out a small gasp. 

Of course he’s so arrogant. With a dick like that anyone would be, he’s bigger than anyone you’ve ever seen and just generally nice to look at. You didn’t even know it was possible to have such an attractive cock. It’s hefty, thick, veiny like his hands, the tip is such a pretty shade of pink as he swipes his thumb across the beads of pre-cum that spill out, drawing a sharp inhale from him. He leans forward slightly and slides the head through your folds making you fall back onto the bed, your head sinking into the mattress as you whine. You’re waiting for the delicious sting of him pushing in but of course he doesn’t. You lift your eyes to stare into the visor, he’s looking at you expectantly, you can virtually see the smirk on his face. 

“Be a good girl, princess. You know what I want.” He rubs the tip against your neglected clit and you cry out softly, reaching up to grip his shoulders.

“You’re such an ass.” You manage to gasp out as you try to hook a leg around his waist to pull him against you but of course he’s able to stay exactly where he is as he continues to leisurely stroke himself, bumping the head of his cock against your clit every so often, watching as you squirm. After a few moments of watching you wriggle under him he pulls back ever so slightly causing you to whine, leaning forward to grab his arms, uselessly pulling him back towards you. 

“I thought you didn’t want it?” He says in that stupid condescending tone. Even now he’s insufferable but you can’t help it, you’re so worked up at this point you’ll do damn near anything to get him inside you. 

“Please.” You whine softly. He hesitates before he leans back down, one hand gripping your hips as his other lines himself up with your entrance. Your hands squeeze his shoulders, trying to get any sort of leverage to force him into you.

“Please what sarad?” He tilts his head ever so slightly to the left.

Oh you’re gonna kill him.

After. 

“Please, for Makers sake just fuck me already.” You groan out, you only get to roll your eyes for a second before he snaps his hips forward, pushing himself only halfway into you but the stretch is immense as you scratch into his arms, whining loudly, the dull pain is worth it though as he brings his helmet down against the mattress next to yours so you can hear the guttural moan that falls from the modulator. Both his hands are on your hips now as he digs his fingers into the skin, trying to steady himself, you’re definitely gonna have bruises. He lies breathlessly on top of you for a few moments before he speaks again.

“Are you okay mesh’la? Are you okay if I move?” His voice is tense and you can hear him panting, you’re surprised you don’t cum right then and there as you nod against his shoulder, your nails scratching at his back now to stabilize yourself. 

“Yes, please, please Mando” You breathlessly mumble, shifting your hips slightly, wincing as you take a bit more of him and that’s all the permission he needs to grab your hips and gradually pull you down on to his length. By the time he’s fully inside of you you’re a whining mess.

Who needs dignity? Not you. Not when you can hear the Mandalorian groaning in your ear, mumbling incoherently in Mando’a to himself as his cock twitches inside you. 

He isn’t moving, you know he’s trying to catch his breath but Maker he feels so good and you don’t feel like waiting so you gingerly pry one of his hands off of your waist and guide it down between your legs, that seems to bring him back to reality as he starts rubbing small circles against your clit which has you keening immediately. He still doesn’t move inside of you as he intently watches you gasping and moaning, you shut your eyes tight as he brushes his fingertips slowly across your swollen bud. 

Of course he’s him so he doesn’t let you enjoy it for long because once you’re thrashing underneath him because you’re so close he draws his hand back and you breathlessly grab his wrist.

“Don’t you dare.” You give him as stern a look as you can but it sounds more like a plea. That gets a small laugh from him as he ever so slightly pulls out before slamming himself back into you, watching as your mouth falls open in a silent scream. 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He chuckles as he repeats the motion, pulling out ever so slightly before fully sheathing himself once more, you’re seeing stars again. 

“If you don't put your kriffing hand back between my legs I won’t ever let you do this again.” You try to scowl at him but all it takes is another snap of his hips before you’ve lost all your resolve. He finally picks up the pace, slamming his hips against yours, the thrusts growing brutal as he unravels you to nothing but whimpers as you claw uselessly at his shoulders. You’re pathetically whining now, it’s unfair how easily he’s able to get you there. It’s almost like he knows how close you are as he lets out a small groan when you clench around him, his hips stuttering slightly. 

“Ask nicely, princess.” He grunts out as he picks up the punishing pace once more. “Use your manners and I’ll give you whatever you want.” He growls as he brings his hands to your thighs to force them against your stomach, letting him push into you deeper. The feeling makes your head spin, the knot in your stomach tightens immediately as you let out a high pitched whine. 

“Please… for fucks sake, let me cum or I’m gonna rip your stupid perfect cock off the second we’re done.” You manage to grunt out through gritted teeth. He chuckles breathlessly as he brings his hand back to your clit, pressing rough and rapid circles against it. 

“We’ll work on that.” He laughs softly as you can feel yourself rapidly slipping back towards that edge and before you know it you’re right there again. He doesn’t let up on his ruthless motions this time as you finally reach your peak. 

You’re loud. 

Probably too loud.

But Maker, he loves it. It’s like it’s fueling him because he’s chanting your name and mumbling in Mando’a again as his thrusts grow sloppy and you manage to open your eyes just in time to watch him pull out and frantically stroke himself as he cums with a low growl, his other hand locked around your thigh as he shoots his load onto your stomach. 

It’s oddly gratifying to watch as he writhes, kneeling over you as his chest heaves. Collapsing down next to you once he’s finished, gasping for air. A nice reminder that under all the talk he is still just a man. Your man. 

Nope. Nope. Nope.

You fucking idiot. That’s not what this was. This was… 

Shit what was this? 

Casual sex. 

Friends with benefits. 

You can’t just have sex one time and start calling him your man are you crazy? You’re still married.

Fuck. You’re married. 

You turn your head slightly to look at him. 

If you didn’t know what to say to him an hour ago you definitely don’t know what to say to him now.

[random-doctor-on-the-internet]

Ok. So, well, @weirdly-specific-but-ok , I promised you a mafia story for helping my friend. You helped my friend, you'll get a story.

Sorry, I didn't read it again before posting so it's entirely my fault if there are English mistakes. Fuck la grammaire.

I have no idea about what to write so don't expect high quality. Not that you're used to a higher level. Anyways, buckle your seatbelt, open a red bull can (you'll need it), and get ready for

Pulls sunglasses out of nowhere because that is the only thing I can do at this point.

The Bagel Story

(please notice the effort put into the title. I'm too tired to put any effort elsewhere so you can stop here)

Ok, so it all begins in Ukraine (before the war). At the time, I'm kind of free (compared to later. Long story) and spend most of my days exploring the town where I live. It's a nice town. Lots of abandoned buildings. Tom Sawyer-ish vibes, if Tom Sawyer lived in a tough neighborhood from Detroit.

So, this time, I decided to take pictures of one hundred broken windows in a day (little me had weird occupations), and start wandering until it was, what, 4 pm? At some point, I bought bagels. They aren't useful on this story, they're just here for the title.

So I'm kinda lost in an empty street, and the smartest thing I think about is going into the abandoned buildings, hoping to find someone who will help me.

I don't, and spend like an hour looking for someone (who's not drunk/ high/ having more important business than helping a six year old). Noone. I try anyway. At some point, I hear people in a building. Desperate, I enter the building by the window and walk through a corridor, to arrive in a room with actual people. Well, I didn't see, since they were all wearing masks.

And this when shit gets complicated.

To give you a picture of the situation, I've just walked in a room full of masked people who were singing a song in a language I barely know (idk what it was, I assumed it was Ukrainian but don't remember enough to analyze it with my old brain). These people look at me like I was Jesus reincarnated. I look at them like they were all multiverse versions of Jesus wearing wedding dresses.

At this point, there are too many Jesuses in the story and God abandons us.

They point at me and start screaming in Ukrainian (this time, I'm sure it's Ukrainian. But I didn't speak any of it when the story happened so it just sounds like alien metal music for me). I..uh…I smile, yell “no hablo Espanol” with a Hungarian accent and run away. I don't know why.

I mean, I don't know why I yelled in Spanish. Running away was a perfectly calculated decision.

So I'm running. I don't even look to see if they kept singing in their lair, undisturbed, or if there are actually nine masked people in white robes running after me in the streets. I ran to save my life. It's night. I'm still running. I'm tired. I stop. And then, I hear a growl.

I look behind me. Nothing. I look left, then right, nothing. I start walking again, and bam! Sinistros jumpscare.

(For those who are wondering what happened, a giant dog randomly appears in front of me.)

I mobilize all my mental powers and start running. Again. The dog follows me. Did I tell you that I was tired?

Anyways, I run for my guts for the second time in an hour, wahoo. At some point, I throw the bagels at EvilPadfoot 2.0. That doesn't have any effect. I run. I look behind me to see if I have a chance of survival. And pathetically fall in the sewers (Google translate, not sure about the word. Stinky tubes.). At some point, the monster abandons and I miserably find my way home.

That was the last time I got to walk alone outside my house.

Here you go. Is that worth anything? I don't know. But I'm too tired to write another one. Thanks for at least reading it.