#hes such a dapper sexy old man

[ilovemesomevincentprice]

Vincent Price guest stars

The Red Skelton Christmas Special (1984)

[egg-emperor]

What would you say is eggman's hottest outfit? (swimwear, birthday suit and him being shirtless don't count...and are obvious #1 answers)

aw come ooon his swim shorts is the hottest official look we've got because it's the closest to him being nude that they can get in official stuff hehe

the way his beautiful fat tits are out, how the waistband of the shorts squishes his wonderful soft round tummy, the thought of how the material would stretch over his bulge and cling to his round butt cheeks and slip down to show the crack- if they were allowed to depict it all. XD but man 🤤

but alright yeah yeah I get it, the hottest when he's actually clothed/wearing a whole outfit

his biker outfit without a question because I'm absolutely crazy about it. he's literally a leather daddy biker bear, a rugged old man in leather is the hottest thing in the world, he's my dream man. every time I see him in his sexy red leather jacket and scarf I'm like ahsifbshfuhskgh TAKE ME NOW I collapse to the floor I need him 😍💜💘

credit to Nibroc-Rock for that last one

I like to imagine him in almost entirely leather fit of jacket, gloves, and boots with aviators, all black. that's the only way you could make his biker style even hotter for me. it's thanks to a combination of his biker fit and the black version of his outfit in SA2 that I think about it, he looks super hot in black leather- so that's a runners up mention

and another solid runner up this Sonic Shuffle fit because he's so handsome and dapper in his smart suit, top hat, and bow tie 🥰 you know I'm following him behind the curtains backstage after the show

and extra bonus mention is the other gorgeous Shuffle fit because it's adjacent to his Riders fit style with a big coat and scarf, and with a great hat. so it pretty much what I like about his biker outfit and Shuffle suit combined in an also very sexy way (which also looks very similar to his Equestrian fit but he also has very nice boots to stomp in there 😋)

but Riders Eggman #1 actual outfit easy, otherwise just him in his swim shorts or nothing at all 🥴

[mistresskayla-blog1]

**My Past Lovers Series**

The Crooner

Characters: Lawrence x OC Kayla Crowe

(please forgive the images. Its a facsimile. I could not find one exactly right for him. His hair was dark red, and sat much like RA's during Uncle Vanya. Which is super sexy haircut I think. And he had a bit of a five oclock shadow, but not as precise as RAs of course. we didnt take selfies back then either, so I had to remember him, from, well memory).

Characters: Kayla Crowe x Lawrence (lover)

Fandom: Original Content  (Kayla Crowe universe – My Past Lovers Series)

Word count total: 4.5k  (2 parts)

Warnings: fluff, angst, one-night stands, p in v, oral (female receiving), showering together, condom use, intimacy, sweetness, karaoke, limited exposure, psychosexual attraction.

Kayla saw him get on stage, knowing some mutual friends, but never seeing him before. He was tall, with shady ginger hair and the brightest green eyes she’d ever seen. Kayla was instantly attracted to him. He was wearing a suit casually on his lithe frame. It made him even more dapper, in the stream of spotlights as he stepped up to the mike, on Karaoke night. He handled the microphone like an old friend, loosely, but focused, and spoke a lilt of pure velvet against her ears, singing “I’m Just A Gigolo” by Louis Prima. He sang it with style and panache and she felt her core twitch in response, as if he was singing for his freedom in some way, she was captivated. After he finished, she was up a few spots next.

Kayla kept her distance, watching him a bit, as he watched her. She belted out one of her regular favorites, “Criminal” by Fiona Apple, and he kept his eyes locked on her, despite a few ladies stepping up to him during her chorus. She didn’t make direct eye contact, and sang to the crowd, who were spell bound for those 4 minutes. She finished and saw him move to her friend Andrew, who was just as tall as him, whispering in his ear. Kayla moved back to her seat towards the front of the bar and sipped her drink. He stayed at the far end of the bar near the stage, keeping in conversation with his friends, whom were by coincidence hers as well. Kayla finally got her courage up, finishing her drink and walking up to Andrew and his friend.

“Hey Andrew, whose your friend?” Kayla asked, eyeing the shorter of the very tall men before her. Andrew was blonde, wide shouldered and gorgeous, but she knew he was off limits, and she respected that. But this other man, was a free agent in her mind until she knew otherwise.  Andrew smiled, with a wink in his smile, “Oh, this is Lawrence,” he made a sweeping hand gesture as Lawrence stood tall, “Lawrence, this is Kayla,”.  Lawrence smiled widely at her, “Hello,” she thought he was going to kiss her hand, but instead he kept his back rod straight and it was just the playfulness in his eyes that she saw.

“You were really good up there”, Lawrence began, half shouting over another participant who was butchering a rendition of My Girl. Kayla blushed, “Thanks. The crowd isn’t bad tonight”.

“Oh, are you here a lot?” Lawrence asked. Kayla nodded, “yeah about 4 nights a week actually”, She looked down a bit at her lemon water. She invited Lawrence back to the seating in the corner. She was sober as a judge and she still was drooling over him, in her mind. She hadn’t really dressed for that kind of interaction, but she was glad she had on sexy underwear. She sipped her drink, “I haven’t seen you around before, how do you know Andrew?”

Lawrence looked behind him, and chuckled as Andrew gave him a knowing look, “I moved away, and came back. Just had a -  (he paused fiddling), well anyways, I won’t be here long maybe another month, but I thought I would look the old gang up”. Lawrence smiled, but there was a sad story behind it.

Kayla kept her eye contact, “Ahh. I see. Well its still nice to meet you. Andrew and the gang are great. They have really made me feel welcome in the company”. Lawrence nodded, “He has his moments, I think they may be meddling right now, however”, Andrew stepped up to him then, shoulders on Lawrence’s back.

“You take care of our boy huh, Kayla?” Andrew said, smiling broadly and winking stepping away from them and exiting the bar. Kayla giggled up at Andrew, “Sure, of course, hes in good hands”.

Lawrence looked at Kayla then with a bit more interest, “Have a good night”, he said, to Andrew, without looking at him. The women trailing behind Andrew was smiling at Kayla too and gave her a hopeful look.

The bar started to drift towards the doorway as the night wore on. Lawrence and Kayla sat together and chatted in a way that can only be described as heated awkwardness. Comical chit chat that usually happens between two people that are sexually charged for each other and cannot do anything about it before finding out basic relationship status or locale of apartments. Lawrence made the first move, so to speak and offered to walk her back to his place for a night cap. Kayla agreed.  

Kayla had always heard that phrase in film, but never in her life, until now. Her boots were not made for walking this evening, but she did her best to keep his pace of long legs and as she walked with him through the downtown and all the way to his flat, she was nervous and excited. A guy that looked like this, into her? It was too much, but she endeavored to make the most of it. Even though she kept saying stupid things, he really was gracious, and funny and warm.

The walk took about 25 minutes from the bar and she listened as he spent most of the time telling his life story to her. She made quips and tried to offer antidotes, but basically she just let him talk. They both laughed at the same things and talked a bit about other life challenges. She learned he was fresh off a relationship, but long enough that he was able to talk about it. He was a chef and was moving to Atlanta from here. Here being Chicago. Kayla’s apartment was much closer to the bar than Lawrences’ but it housed some unruly roommates, so she opted to his, not knowing if she was getting laid or not, as open as he was he was still hard to read. He said his car was parked at home, that was comforting. Kayla’s car was sitting at her apartment as well. Though it didn’t go anywhere much except for a grocery run every few weeks. In your 20s you can live off a lot less actual food, and mostly caffeine and liquor.  

Kayla knew the part of the city his apartment was in, but about halfway through the walk, she was starting to get a bit nervous, it was nice that he wanted to walk though. It wasn’t the normal response back then. Get the girl home and start things was really the plan for guys usually. But he had watched her at the bar, not spoken up, chatted, and took a long stroll, laying his past out before her like breadcrumbs through the forest.

His voice was a mixture of softness and deepness, and he smelled absolutely fantastic in the warm summer breeze that blew by them every so often on the sidewalk. Kayla's feet were killing her by the time they got to the apartment, and she was a bit sweaty in her jeans and blouse. Her heeled boots clacked into his flat. It was a single man’s furnished apartment, some things in large boxes in the living room. Dishes in the sink, he worked very long hours, he said when she went for a glass to get some water out of the tap in the galley style kitchen.

Lawrence was straightening up his bed absently, as she came into his room. His smile was a soft smirk, like he was nervous too.  He came around the other side of the room towards her and stepped up to her. She had removed her boots and was now about 3 inches shorter against his 6’2” height, making her 5’8” seem much smaller. His hand went towards her face, and paused midair, as he leaned towards her, “Can I kiss you?” he asked, Kayla was so shocked by the question she nearly didn’t respond. She just nodded, murmuring a yes and he cupped his hand to her cheek and kissed her softly. It was the gentlest she had been ever kissed. And her heart immediately fluttered. He started to undress her, first and she moved to undress him.

Lawrence unbuttoned her jeans and pulled them down slowly, revealing her lacy panties, which he pulled down slowly as well, coming to his knees before her. She bit her bottom lip in anticipation at his next move. But he simply rose to his height again, kissed her, and pulled her into himself, in an intimate hug. Kayla brought her arms around him in response, and ran her fingers up his spine, while his lips moved onto her neck and down to her shoulder.

They kept kissing in the bedroom and then as they both stood naked to each other, then he led her to the bathroom and started the shower. Lawrence led her into the shower first, then stepped in. Closing the patterned glass door behind him. They were now in the shower together, and able to see in the light over the pedestal sink what each other looked like plainly. He was immediately aroused and eager to touch her. She looked up at him like a fascinated sculptor looking at clay. She moved to touch his lean and slightly chiseled stomach, the warm water cascading down both their bodies in the shower. He cupped her breasts and Kayla let out a moan of acceptance. The sound of kissing, water trickling filled the small bathroom in ambient resonance. Lawrence spoke to her in praise, “your so beautiful,” Kayla smiled, trying to accept the compliment, she was hypnotized by this moment, standing bear in front of a man she hadn’t slept with yet.

It was a novel experience to be sure. No one had ever been so careful or so consensual with her before. She almost didn’t know how to respond, so she just continued to touch him and let him kiss her. The hot water vanishing the sweat from their bodies, for now. He turned her in the shower so he was on the spicket side of the tub, and now Kayla was facing the opposite wall. Lawrence’s hands were exploring her body, and he continued to kiss her water laden skin. The water stopped and he slid the glass door open, steam pouring out of the tub. Kayla exited first and stood dripping wet on his bathroom rug. Lawrence grabbed a towel and wrapped it around her, kissing her again on the mouth. He was so sexy, so tall, so gentle, Kayla just existed in this moment, trying to remember how to seduce a man. She was well able, but following his lead in this moment was way more enjoyable.

“Your so sexy, do you know that?” Lawrence said as they entered the bedroom again.

Kayla sat on the edge of the bed, and Lawrence gleamed at her, his hands on her thighs as he got to his knees before her. His eyes were hungry and curious, and Kayla was aroused even more, “Can I taste you?” Lawrence asked and Kayla’s pussy was aflame. She nodded, a slight groan coming from her throat.

Lawrence smiled ruefully, and dove his head between her legs, his kisses becoming more and more intimate in the shadowed bedroom. Kayla fell back on the bed and let him devour her in the lowlight. Just taking in sensation, the more his tongue played, the wetter she got. He flicked her clit, and her hands made it to his hair, as she gasped, “Gently, please”. Lawrence chuckled, “as you wish”.

Oh that did it. Kayla felt that micro-orgasm flush her cheeks, no one drops a Princess Bride line in her presence without some kind of reaction. Lawrence rose between her legs and his frame was hovering above her now, his lips wet from her folds pushed into hers then, he was panting a bit in eagerness. His cock rod straight against her thigh.

She looked at him, as he hovered, “Condom?” she mumbled. And he snapped back a second, reaching his long arm towards a bedside table drawer. Yanking it open and pulling one out. He ripped it open with his teeth, right by her face and expertly placed it on himself. His smile was beautiful as he looked down at her, he looked like he wanted to say something, but he didn’t. He just moved closer to her, and his cock slid in effortlessly. It was long and lithe just like the man. Kayla clung to his frame as he pushed all the way in, and then slowly, and beguilingly made little thrusts in and out. Playing with her, like an musician to an instrument. Her pants and moans were music to his ears, and he kept kissing her for as long as possible before breaking off to pull out and roll her over. He lifted her hips up and took her from behind, his thrusts becoming more and more quick.

Kayla arched her back and turned to look at him a moment, his brow was sweaty and he looked like he was on the brink. His pants and groans were sexy as fuck, and she moved swiftly to stop his machinations.

“Where are you going?” he asked, surprised.

Kayla turned around on her knees, “You are laying down, its my turn now”, a glint in her eyes, Lawrence smiled and gulped. Then nodded compliantly. Lawrence laid on his back and Kayla straddled him, rubbing her slick pussy against his cock, in a tease, she eased onto it, inch by inch, her pussy pulsing against him. You could see his face clench in response, then he eased back, watching her. Kayla rubbed her own breasts, so Lawrence’s hands found their way to them as well, pinching at her nipples, as she yelped in delight. Kayla’s hand drifted to her clit, and she made little circles around it with her index and middle fingers. She looked at him, in his grace on his back, then closed her eyes and started to grind on him.  

“Oh god.. you feel amazing, …Kay – la” Lawrence cooed, his resolve starting to break as she ground into his hips faster, then slower, than faster again, bringing her own orgasm to its full illumination. Kayla started to moan louder and stronger and Lawrence followed her on that path, his hands gripping her hips and ass, as she went faster. He thrust up from underneath and she let out a loud gaspy moan. He gritted his teeth and cackled proudly, moving faster then her. She fell upon his chest as he thrust harder and faster from underneath. Her pussy fluttered and squeezed and he came hard inside her, the condom nearly bursting against the pressure. Though he had finished, he was still stroking, lazily. Kayla shuddered against him, and made little mewls, as she kissed his neck and shoulder. Lawrence rolled over to her side, and smiled at her, her eyes were drifting open and closed in sated sleepiness.

Lawrence cupped her face in his hands and kissed her deeply, and meaningfully. His eyes searched hers a moment, as hers eyes flickered open. “Do you need anything?” he asked her. Brushing her hair away from her face and leaving it at her shoulder. She shook her head and closed her eyes again, smiling.

Lawrence moved to the bathroom, removing the condom, discarding it in the trash bin and wiping his cock and balls off with a rag on the sink. He splashed some water on his face and dried it with the towel hanging on a circular hook on the wall. He padded out of the bathroom and back into the bedroom and found Kayla snuggling under the covers of his bed. Lawrence crawled in with her and laid his long frame against her curvy one. His hand resting against her hip, facing her. She opened her eyes, as he kissed her again. Then he rolled to his back, and she cuddled into his chest, tucking herself under his arm.

She was halfway between sleep and wakefulness and he started to chat again, Kayla opened her eyes, to look up at him. Her hand resting over his heart. Lawrence put his hand over hers, and he sighed happily.

“God, that was good. I think you healed me, Goddess that you are”, Lawrence said aloud.

Kayla smiled, “Yeah, I do that sometimes. I’m glad I could be of help.”

Lawrence hugged her then, against his chest, kissing the top of her head, “You did. I thank you, sincerely”.

“Well you seemed so sad when you sang, I had to make you feel better”, Kayla mused.

“Is that it? Is that how I convinced you here, it was all your doing?” he chuckled, and she did too.

“No, I just thought you would be fun to get to know. And I was right.” Kayla answered.

Lawrence held her close and sighed again, then rolled to his side, Kayla spooned him, her arm draped over his side. Her lips marking kisses against the back of his neck, until it was just her soft breath on his skin. They both fell asleep relaxed.

(part 2 will post in a few days, just dripping for effect, hehe)

Taglist:

@sweetestgbye @lathalea @legolasbadass @richardarmitageshands @evenstaredits @middleearthpixie @riepu10 @richardarmitagefanpage @enchantzz @littlesweetdressmaker

thanks to my lovely ladies that support my stories, and there unwavering devotion to RA!!!

[hazblog-hoetells]

I feel like Vox smells like axe body spray or wears really overpowering cologne from the 50s and Alastor either smells like a bog or really nice cologne.

They’d both probably wear nice cologne as men who had to keep up appearances in their respective media fields in life and it’s important to look good but also smell good, something I wouldn’t doubt translates to their afterlife.

Vox in particular being from the 50s and keeping up with the latest trends, given that he’s from America he 100% could’ve worn old spice

I can definitely see Vox as the type to just go way overboard. Maybe he wants to ensure that nobody else thinks he stinks because I think he would die inside. He might not even be physically capable of sweating but if somebody published a clickbait article about how he MIGHT have smelled weird I think he would lose his fucking mind. Or he's in the same mind as teenage boys and thinks 12 cans of axe will make people think he's cool and sexy. I see this both as likely

Alastor really gets me because like... I WANT him to smell good. His little polite mannerisms and showman voice make me think he's well put together and dapper, even going as far to pick scents that more women tend to like since that's the usual company he prefers to keep. But at the same time.... he is NOT well put together. We saw him in the finale and he is a wreck. His room is a SWAMP. He eats rotting animals. His teeth are yellow. He probably smells like a wild animal. Like dirty swamp water and peat moss and roadkill. Somebody needs to grab him by the scruff of his neck and toss him in a bathtub mans needs a DEEP CLEAN.

But I will admit I am a sucker for old spice. It really does smell like a man to me. I would be a freak jumping him as soon as he gets out of the shower

[spectorgram]

the great shoe swap

javi gutierrez x f! reader summary: you wear a new pair of shoes to the premiere of javi’s newest movie but refuse to admit how uncomfortable they are. of course, javi notices.  notes: lots of fluff, inaccurate depictions of movie premieres and red carpet walking, reader wears a dress & heels, gets suggestive at the end  word count: 1.8k

You never dated someone quite as special as Javi Gutierrez. You’re so used to boring suits who played everything by the book, planned everything down to the minute. Javi’s anything but that; he’s bright and vivacious, full of life and love and energy. You two met while you were working as a consultant on his newest movie, a law drama turned into a zombie apocalypse film — an odd concept, but surprisingly effective. 

You never believed in love at first sight until him, until you walked in the first day and he turned around from talking to the director and positively beamed at you. You swore you felt weak in the knees at that moment, but you never thought it would be anything but some silly crush that nothing would ever come from.

How wrong you were. You worked long into the night for weeks on perfecting the script, mostly with the director and other producers, but something shifts when Javi invites you for private writing sessions at his new apartment in New York (now your apartment as well), which overlooks Central Park. Those long nights are still long, but they were broken up by laughter and flirting and eventual stolen kisses. He invited you on a date soon after the script was finished, and everything went from there. 

“Amor!” Javi calls to you from the other side of the door. “Can I come in? I want to see you!”

“Yeah, you can come in!”

He swings the door open, immediately freezing in his tracks, eyes dragging up and down your body in awe. He approaches slowly as if scared he’d wake up from whatever dream he’s in and he says, “You look beautiful! The dress fits you like a glove, querida!”

Javi reaches for your hand and leads you in a spin that results in you twirling into his embrace. He nuzzles into your neck, nipping lightly and you feel your cheeks heat up, swatting coyly at him. You tell him, “You look amazing too, Javi.”

And he does, decked out in a luxurious suit made of dark velvet with a crisp white button down underneath. His hair is slicked back with gel but there’s still errant curls that let his boyish charm shine through in an otherwise more dapper (and downright sexy, in your opinion) look. 

“How did I get so lucky?” Javi asks.

You lean into his warmth, resting your head against his shoulder and craning your neck to press a kiss right under his jaw, a place you know is ticklish. He giggles a little and you reply, “I’m the lucky one, as cheesy as that sounds.”

“I love cheesy things,” he declares and he pecks the space between your brows. 

You reluctantly pull yourself out his arms and say, “I have the perfect shoes for this dress! I’ve been saving them for something like this.” Not that you ever thought you’d be walking the red carpet with the man you were absolutely head-over-heels for. 

You root through your walk-in, sorting through the numerous shoes Javi gifted you. He found out early in your relationship that you had a bit of a shoe problem, not that you ever asked him to buy you any, but it was obvious from how many you had in your closet at your old apartment. While he gifted you many different beautiful things, shoes were a frequent present he gave you. 

You finally find the barely-opened box, letting out a triumphant “Aha!” Javi watches on curiously and you sit on your bed, sliding the shoes out and Javi nods approvingly at them. “They’ll go great, amor,” he says. Before you can slip them on, Javi takes them and offers you a smirk. “Allow me.”

He slides the shoes on you like some kind of prince and it makes your heart flutter. They’re a little tighter than you remember, but you haven’t tried them on in a while. Javi kisses your knee and stands, holding his hand out and pulling you up from the bed. “The limo is arriving soon,” he says. He takes you in again and adds, “But I’m rethinking if we should go. I mean, do they really need us there?”

You know he’s joking, Javi would never slack on anything movie-related but with the way Javi’s looking at you, you almost consider the idea for real. “I think they need their screenwriter and producer.”

“If I must,” he sighs. A text pings on his phone and he grins. “The car’s here, querida.”

“Let’s go, then!”

You take Javi’s arm. Then, you take the first step to the door and your shoe pinches your foot again. You wince a little and Javi asks, “Are you alright?”

“Yes, totally fine! Let’s go!” Your boyfriend looks unconvinced but he nods slowly and leads you to the limousine. 

You breathe a sigh of relief when you two settle into the car, half-kicking your shoes off your feet so they dangle from your toes. Javi glances at you worriedly again. “You would tell me if something was bothering you, right, amor?”

“Of course,” you reply, and Javi’s eyes narrow just a little. 

“Promise?” You nod and lean against Javi as carefully as you can without messing up your hair. He wraps an arm around you and you forget about the ache in your feet for a little while. 

The car rolls to a stop and even through the tinted windows, you can see the bright lights of camera flashes and you hear the snapping of dozens of shutters. Javi asks you, “Are you ready?”

“Ready as I’ll ever be.” You shove your shoes back on, gritting your teeth. It’s Javi’s night, and you’re determined to not ruin it with something as minor as uncomfortable shoes. You brush off invisible lint from your dress and draw in a deep breath. 

“You look stunning,” he tells you. 

“So do you.” The door opens, and Javi steps out first before helping you out of the limo. There are flashes everywhere but Javi’s gentle hand on your lower back grounds you. Your shoes pinch again but you smile through the pain, following Javi’s lead. 

He gets pulled into an interview with a Vogue reporter and as he talks, you watch him in awe. He’s so in his element, passionately describing the creation of the movie from ideation to post-production. He’s like the sun, glowing and warm, and you feel endlessly grateful to just be in his orbit.

You’re pulled back into the moment when Javi says, “And you all know the love of my life, right?”

The reporter grins at you. “Of course! Your dress is lovely!”

“Thanks,” you respond with a little laugh. “Javi picked it out!”

“Well, he certainly knows how to pick them!”

Javi is beaming and he kisses your temple, thanking the Vogue reporter and guiding you two down the carpet. You squeeze his hand when your feet begin to pulse achingly. You really can’t wait to just sit down and watch the premiere.

You’re at the end of the carpet, about to walk into the theater, when Javi says, “Wait a moment, querida.” 

You look on in complete and utter shock and wonder as he unlaces his dress shoes and slides them off, standing the red carpet in his nice velvet suit and socks. He holds them out to you. “Put these on,” he says.

“What?”

He sighs fondly, “I know your feet are killing you, amor, so you can wear my shoes.”

“Javi, it’s really okay!”

“I can’t stand to see you in pain. Please put them on.”

Your face is burning and you shake your head. “You need your shoes, sweetheart!”

He gazes into your eyes and says, “I need to ease your pain more.”

“Javi—” He gives you a stern look and you give in, using his shoulder to balance as you kick off your heels and your feet practically scream in relief. Javi helps you put his dress shoes on; they’re far too big and they’re kind of unwieldy on you but anything beat those torture devices. You had momentarily forgotten that the two of you were at a very public event that had many, many photographers and reporters from various media sites, caught up in your little bubble with Javi. 

“Shall we?” he asks, relooping your arm through his. Your shoes dangle from your opposite hands. You nod wordlessly at him as you walk into the theater, unable to think of anything else but how in love you are with Javi Gutierrez.

You fell asleep the moment you two got home. You were used to long days working in the office and long trial periods, but you never imagined just how taxing celebrity events were.

You wake up to breakfast in bed and a shirtless Javi, both equally enjoyable. He climbs back into the bed next to you, purring out a husky “Good morning.” You snuggle into his warmth as you munch on the avocado toast he lovingly made. 

He kisses your neck and you shiver a little, and you’re about to say something when your phone pings once. Then a second time. And you get three more text tones before you actually reach for it and look. You have multiple Twitter and Instagram notifications saying you were tagged in posts, as well as three texts from your sister. 

You open the messages, all typed in caps, shouting about the pictures from last night: your dress, Javi, you two as a couple, and, the pictures of and articles about Javi giving you his shoes for the night. You swipe over to Twitter, and see that your name, Javi’s name, and the hashtag Shoe Swap are trending at eighth, seventh, and fifth in the United States. 

You click the Shoe Swap hashtag. 

People @.people 17h: Sweetest moment caught on the Red Carpet between screenwriter and producer @.JaviGutierrez and his girlfriend! #shoeswap reply / retweet / favorite 12 retweets / 57 favorites

It’s Holly! @.hollyjollychrysler 14h: they’re THE couple rn #shoeswap reply / retweet / favorite 345 retweets / 5007 favorites

Peter M @.petermurdler 14h: get you a man who will give you his shoes @.JaviGutierrez #shoeswap | Guiliana Russo @.guilirulli 14h: get you a woman who looks at you like javi’s gf looks at him reply / retweet / favorite 702 retweets / 8032 favorites

You giggle as you read through the tweets, Javi laughing as he reads over your shoulder. You sat up, moving the breakfast tray he brought it onto your bedside table. You say, “You know, I don’t think I ever got to properly thank you for your chivalry.”

“There’s no need to thank me, amor. I would do anything for you, you know that.”

You fix him with a smoldering look, eyes dragging over his bare chest and sleep-mussed hair. “I still think I need to properly thank you, honey.”

“Ah…” Javi catches on and his smile turns suggestive as he reaches for you. “If you insist.” As you wrap your arms around his neck and capture his mouth in a heated kiss, you think to yourself, I never want this to end.

[rayslittlekitten]

The Little Sister

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

A/N: Okay, so here is the final part. I’m pretty happy with how this came out and wraps up the story. Thank you all for the comments and reblogs and likes. i’m so grateful for all of them and they really motivated me. I didn’t expect the all the attention it got, but I’m so glad you all enjoyed this and stuck with me on this journey. Anon, hope this turned out good for you too even though I deviated a bit from the original request.

RATING: E (18+ONLY)

Word Count: ~1.5k

Pairing: Raymond Smith x F!reader/OFC

Contains: mention of age gap, unprotected? sex (p in v), kissing, fingering, boss/employee sexual relations roleplaying, light hand on neck (no choking)

Ray has been showing you the ropes and how he runs the pub for the past two weeks. He’s been guiding you the whole way although you’ve been making suggestions on ways to possibly make things more efficient.

“I don’t understand why we can’t do it this way instead. There are too many extra steps!” You tell Ray.

“If the process is not broken—“

“You’re broken, you old man!” You huff.

“Excuse me?” Ray adjusts his glasses as he looks at you in disbelief.

“Look, why don’t we try it my way for a lit’el bit and if it doesn’t work, then we’ll go back to your antiquated ways,” you suggest.

“You really think I’m old?” Ray’s face softens.

“Oh, Ray,” you sigh. “I don’t think you’re old. Yes you’re… quite a bit older than I but I don’t see it as a bad thing.”

You get up from your seat and slide over to his lap.

“It just means you’re more experienced and more knowledgeable. I think that’s incredibly sexy.” You put your hands on his chest and shoulders.

Ray smirks and runs one of hands over your thigh and the other grips your waist.

“Yeah? You really think so?” Ray brushes his lips over yours.

“I know so. I love when you teach me things about my body and what gets me off.” You start nibbling on his lower lip. “I love when you teach me things about the world and—“

The sound of someone clearing their throat interrupts your little moment, causing you to jump out of Ray’s lap and back on to your seat.

“Sorry about that, boss,” Ray apologizes as he quickly turns his chair to hide the tent in his trousers.

“Is this going to be a problem, Ray? I don’t need you to be distracted while you’re working.”

“No!” You and Ray both answer.

“I promise! No more distractions!” You tell Mickey. “Although he’s too stubborn to accept my way of doing things is better than his.” You glare at Ray.

“There is absolutely nothing wrong with how I operate the pub!” Ray shoots back.

Mickey walks over and takes a look at some of the notes you had written down. His mouth twists curiously.

“You know, we could give it a shot. It sounds good on paper,” Mickey shrugs.

“You’re not serious, boss.”

“Good job.” Mickey pats your shoulder. “We could use the fresh eyes.”

You flash Ray a smug look.

Later that week, you and Ray go on a date. It is probably the first proper date for the both of you. You’re wearing your favorite dress and heels. It’s a black little number with a low cut neckline and the hem that sits mid-thigh. Ray’s never seen you dressed this way and he is taken away by it.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” Ray compliments you.

“Thank you, Ray. You look very handsome, as per usual.” You smile at him. He’s always dressed so dapper, work or otherwise.

“You, you’re always beautiful too but tonight you look extra beautiful.” Ray stumbles on his words and you laugh.

“I know what you meant, Ray. Thank you,” you giggle.

You find it amusing how this man who was so smooth and confident when you first him has turned into this silly and awkward person. It’s charming.

Ray takes you to a nice restaurant where the two of you discussed where your relationship is going and drawing boundaries between work and personal.

“As your boss, I think-“

“Mickey is my boss really, but sure. We can pretend,” you correct him and take a sip of your wine.

Ray narrows his eyes at you.

“But you’re the only boss of me in the bedroom,” you quickly add.

“Good save. I’ll let that one slide,” Ray smirks. “Anyways, we have to keep it professional when we’re at work, you understand? We can’t afford the distraction. I certainly can’t.” Ray cuts into his steak.

“Rossy’s right. You’re too wound up.” You take a bite of your food.

“I’m not too wound up. I just take my job seriously. Michael relies a lot on me.”

“As long as we’re both doing our jobs, it doesn’t hurt to have a lit’el fun.” You shrug.

“Jobs aren’t supposed to be fun,” Ray says. “And in this line of work, you really need to be on top of things.”

“Okay, fine,” you huff. “I’ll let you be on top of me at work.” You wink at him.

“I’m serious!” Ray says, putting his utensils down.

“Okay, I get it. I’m serious about this job too, okay? I ain’t gonna fuck this for up Mickey,” you tell him.

Ray goes back to his meal.

“You start Monday, 8AM sharp,” Ray tells you and then places the cut piece of steak into his mouth.

“Yes, boss.” You flash a smile at him. You see the corner of Ray’s lips curve up a bit and see the wheels in his head turning.

“Good. There’s one more thing left to do.” Ray wipes his mouth with the cloth napkin and places it on his empty plate. ***************************** “Ray, we could get caught,” you say to him as he’s kissing and licking your jawline as he cradles your neck.

“What did I tell you?” Ray reminds you as thumb lightly teases the front of your throat.

“Someone might walk in on us, boss,” you pant, feeling his other hand under your dress between your legs.

The Princess Victoria is closed, but Ray snuck the both of you in. You’re sitting on his desk and he’s standing between your legs, ravaging you. When you jokingly called him “boss” during dinner, it had awakened something inside him and he wanted to take you in the pub.

“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Your hands reach for his belt.

“If you want this job, you will do as you’re told.” Ray slips a finger inside of you.

You moan and wrap your legs around his hips. You’re playing the role of the employee getting coerced by her boss.

“How bad do you want this job?” Ray asks, slipping another finger in you.

“Really bad,” you groan, unzipping his trousers.

“Yeah? You’d do anything?” Ray pulls down the front of your dress with his other hand and cups your breast.

“Anything for you, boss.” You reach into his pants and start stroking him.

Ray kisses you and moans into your mouth as you work your hand up and down his shaft. Ray pulls his fingers out of you and hooks them on each side of your panties, then slides them down over your hips and all the way down to your ankles. You kick them off and Ray pushes his trousers and boxers down until his cock springs out, ready for action.

“Scoot down a bit,” Ray tells you.

You move yourself closer to the edge of the desk and he lifts your dress up to your waist, and then aligns himself with you.

“Wait, did you bring a rubber?” you stop him.

“Just the tip?” Ray asks in to your ear before nibbling on your lobe and gently pressing against your opening.

“We both know it would be more than just the tip,” you bite your lip and moan.

“I’ll pull out,” Ray pushes a bit further in.

“Are you ready to deal with Rossy if you knock me up?” you ask him.

Ray growls out of frustration and pulls away, but you pull him back in with your legs.

“I’m on birth control, you nit,” you giggle.

“And when were you going to tell me that?” Ray adjusts his glasses.

“You didn’t ask,” you shrug. “But isn’t it illegal for employers to ask their workers about these sort of things, boss?”

Ray smirks and then smashes his lips against yours before aligning himself with you again and slipping himself inside of you. Your hips buck feeling his rubber-less cock massaging your dripping center. You’ve never had sex without any barrier before and this new sensation is making you dizzy. Ray pumps in and out of you and he’s gliding so easily.

“You feel so good, boss.” You continue to make out with him as he pounds away.

The sounds of your moans, wet slaps and the desk creaking fills the dark empty room. The moonlight and street lamp shines though the large windows, casting a blue glow on the two of you in the corner of the room.

“Fuck me, harder, boss,” you pant into his ear.

The slaps and creaking increase in pace until you both finally come undone onto and into each other. The rhythm breaks and your moans and pants fill the air instead.

“Did I get the job, boss?” you ask with your forehead pressed against Ray’s.

“You sure as hell fucking did.” Ray smiles and kisses you.

[storyweaverofgondor]

Cats Thunerseespiele 2017

This has to be one of my favorite Productions.

This Swiss non-replica is set in an abandoned amusement park and sports vibrant circus punk style costumes. All the characters also seem the sport some gorgeous tattoos which is very cool in my opinion.

Jemima is the one is the front row with the pink wig and this makes me very happy. I love me some pink Jem!

It seems to have some similarities to Tecklenburg in the general Circus feel and some circus tricks/acts. Also in the fact that Grizabella seems to have a sequence with her younger self like in Tecklenburg.

Also Tecklenburg is the only other production i know of that gave Old Deut a staff.

Look as this feral dapper man overseeing everything, I love him!

My favorite character designs:

Rum Tum Tugger

He gets a guitar and a motorcycle. It’s what he deserves.

Bombalurina

Yes, worship the sexy red queen. I look at her and for five seconds i question my sexuality. She’s just so fabulous!

Mr Mistoffelees

Look at them, they are incredible! I don’t know if this is a man or a woman and that makes me very happy. If anyone knows more or can provide some clarification i would be thrilled.

Who ever this is

I have no idea who she is but she looks like a walking Gothic Pattern Wallpaper and i love her.

Tumblebrutus

LOVE! LOVE! LOVE! Look at this feral motercycle cat with their pretty braids/dreadlocks and teddy bear ears. I love them.

Victoria

Scruffy angel rabbit girl, i love her!

Also Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer

Out there looking like two dolls you forgot in the trash but it’s a good look on them. Love them!

And lastly Demeter

Messy trash lady is stunning and perfection.

And I’m just going to add this last picture because i love it.

The Macavity Fight. I could stare at this pic for hours. This scene must have been awesome.

[witcher-not-quitter]

I would think that Dettlaff would, in modern times, do photography. With that, he often has Regis as his model and Regis is one dapper and sexy old man in the photoshoots. Regis, of course, talks about the history of every outfit he is in during the photoshoots cause he can for talking sake. 

[beskarhearts]

re: you wanting one shot/blurb ideas: *chanting softly* domestic din, domestic din, domestic-

HOME (DIN DJARIN X READER)

Pairing: Din Djarin x AFAB!reader

Word count: over 1.9K

Warnings: very brief allusion to sexy time (I think that is it but let me know)

Summary: Sometimes home was a person, not just a place.

Notes: Just so you know, I completely ignored events of season 2 because I just wanted these 2 to be happy and we all deserve domestic Din. I hope you enjoyed it and let me know what you think!!

_____________________________

Home had seemed like such a foreign concept to both you and Din for so long. You were aware of its existence but it may as well had been the Force with how confusing of a thought it was to you two. The galaxy was a hard and tough place, one that seemed like you had to fight to get through each day. Din certainly had been handed the short end of the stick as well, having gone through more struggles and travesties than you could count on one hand. In a world that was so brutal and could sometimes be so cruel, how the hell were you to find a home in the midst of it?

But then for some reason, the universe aligned and you had met Din on a fateful day that changed the rest of the course of your life. It took awhile because of the walls you both had up and the lack of trust you had in humanity, but eventually you came to realize something. Sometimes home was a person, not just a place.

So for years you were content with Din, even if that meant living in the Crest with Grogu and traveling from place to place. You had him by your side and that was enough for you - enough for the rest of your life. You wouldn’t mind hopping from planet to planet as long as at the end of the day you could slip into a cot with Din, no matter how tiny or uncomfortable it may had been. And Din the same. Sure the Crest had been a sort of home to him considering how long he had it but it had never felt quite as bright until you were in it. Never had Din felt so settled and content until he felt the warm brush of your fingers against his hair and felt the wave you seemed to mold into his touch, like you were becoming one person. That was also when Din realized home could be a person.

That still didn’t stop you two from hoping though. You couldn’t bare to say it during the day but at night, when you two whispered sweet nothings to each other, you would also make grand plans of a home. Talk about how one day you two would settle down on a sparsely populated planet somewhere with Grogu. Find a small little house and take care of each other for the rest of your days until you were old. Maybe have a couple kids to fill the empty rooms with noise and happiness. You would talk of having a kitchen where you could make meals and teach Din how to cook, both of you eating something other than ration packs or broth on a daily basis. Find a place with some land so Din could step outside without his helmet with no fear and breath in some fresh air, while the child you had both come to love roamed around the tall grass. Din would speak of a bed - a proper bed - where you both could spread out as wide as you wanted (even though you both knew each night would end with you in each other’s arms, trying to get as close as heavenly possible). A place that could properly be decorated for holidays and special occasions, maybe even a big tree for a Life Day.

But all of those had seemed like simple dreams best to be spoken of in the warm confines of each other’s arms. Because things like that didn’t happen for people like you two.

Until they somehow did. Until somehow everything fell in line and you realized it was no longer a dream, but close enough to touch and grasp if you really wanted it. And hell, you both wanted it so badly. So when Din landed the Crest on a planet with warm air and fresh grass and flowers, he knew you would love it. It was meant to just be another pit stop until Din found an abandoned little house in the middle of this field and suddenly he realized everything he wanted was right in front of him. He could let you and the child settle down. You and him could relax and finally make the family you had discussed. It was sitting there right in front of him, like all the beautiful magical intricacies of the galaxy came together to form this perfect little sanctuary for you both.

Din had been so excited to show you that he quite literally ran to you, dragging you and the child with him in the most chipper mood you had ever seen the man. You had playfully teased him for his childlike behavior until your eyes landed on the small house and your heart melted. The look you have Din was not one you needed to explain because he had the same exact one. No words were spoken, no confirmation of what he wanted that place to be for you. You both knew and all you had to do was grab Din’s hand and walk him into the home for him to instantly decide to retire from his life and spend the rest of his days with you on a planet whose name he could barely remember.

The place had not been in the greatest shape. It was old and had clearly been abandoned for long enough that the place fell into a little disarray. But you and Din had certainly faced much worse so you didn’t allow it to scare you away. Instead Din worked on building furniture and fixing holes in the wall, a big smile on his face the whole time because he was constantly being hit with the realization of ‘this is what normal people do’. You had painted the walls with flowers like you could see outside the windows, filling it with more color than Din had ever seen in his life. And once the home was finally finished, equip with a functioning kitchen and the largest bed you had laid your eyes on, you and Din got married.

You could of traveled into the closest town and maybe found someone to officiate it for you, but that felt so conventional and unnecessary. You didn’t need another person to declare your love for each other and make it official. You had only ever needed each other so you both had as traditional of a Mandalorian wedding as you could, a bit difficult due to it being only you two and the very dapper flower boy that had been Grogu (who had managed to eat all the flowers and not throw a single one). Din wore his armor and you wore a small white dress you had made from a set of curtains but you both swore it was the most beautiful the other one had ever looked.

Shortly after you had gotten married, Din had begun to not-so-subtly, in fact very obviously, started dropping hints about kids. There would be times you were sitting on the couch and Din would look around before saying something like, "This house is a little big for just the three of us, don't you think?" Just the other day, Din had gone into the closest town for some supplies and came back not only with food and stuff you needed, but with a plethora of baby clothes that he all claimed were for Grogu (even though they were all obviously way too small for him).

You knew what Din was doing because it was the clearest thing in the world and you were on board. But watching Din drop the most obvious hints and slowly become more flustered the longer you pretended to be oblivious was hilarious to you. But eventually a dam broke and Din just grabbed you and marched towards the bedroom, very loudly stating that it was time to make some babies ASAP to which you responded with a fit of giggles.

And that led you to where you were now. Stood in the middle of your kitchen in your home, looking out the window where you admired the way the sun illuminated the flowers and trees. A warm cup of caf was clutched between your hands, the wonderful scent filling your nostrils as you held it close to your mouth. The home was silent, the child still asleep in his room and you had left Din to sleep in the bed while you snuck out.

The moment you felt a strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and pull you into a broad expanse of warmth, you let out a small content hum. Din's head nuzzled into your neck, his ruffled hair tickling your chin. "Mornin', cyar'ika." Din grumbled, his voice still laced with a type of sleep-drunk tone you adored. His voice in the morning was always your favorite - it seemed to amplify the gruffness and deepness his voice he usually had.

"Morning." you whispered back, feeling your heart flutter when a light kiss was pressed into your neck before he pulled away, grabbing a mug a caf for himself.

You admired his figure, eyes raking up and down in pure adoration. His hair was ruffled and messy from sleep, going in every which way. His eyes were still a little droopy and his whole body still sagged a little. He was wearing a shirt you had given him months ago, one that you were certain he found ridiculously ugly yet he claimed was his favorite because you chose it for him specifically. "Why are you up so early?"

"Wanted to watch the sunrise." you responded, your smile growing as he padded back over to you and planted a kiss on your forehead.

"You look beautiful."

You snorted, giving him a small lopsided smile. "I haven't even brushed my hair yet or washed my face. I am still crusty."

Din smiled, looking down at you with the warm brown eyes you had learned to love. "Well your crust is very sexy."

You threw your head back in laughter that time, shaking your head as he joined in with a slight chuckle. "Din, you are a horrible liar."

"I'm not lying. I love the morning crust. It's cute." he responded back, no hint of sarcasm in his voice but a slight twinkle in his eye.

"Shut up." you huffed, rolling your eyes playfully.

"Y'know, it is actually so sexy that we should probably-"

Din was cut off when the sound of cries began to fill the house, the noise coming straight from Grogu's room. You chuckled when an exasperated expression grew on his face and he placed his cup in your hand. "What were you saying, handsome?"

Din rolled his eyes as your sarcastic remark but you could still see the small quirk on the corner of his lip. "I'll go get him."

"You sure?" you asked.

"Yeah." Din mumbled, heading towards the door to Grogu's room slowly. He turned back to you once last time before opening the door. "Cyar'ika?"

"Yes?"

"I love you."

You softly smiled. "I love you too."

Din smiled before opening the door to Grogu's room, slipping inside. Within a couple minutes, the crying died down and was replaced with soft cooing that filled your heart with warmth, accompanied by the sound of Din's soft voice as he spoke to the child. You placed the cups of caf on the counter and then made your way towards the room, thinking how this is exactly what home was supposed to feel like.

[malebodysuittf]

After The Halloween Party

I’ve always wanted to go to a Halloween party. The ones where everyone’s in some low quality costume, skin showing, loud music. Watching everyone get wasted and shit. But I’ve never been invited to one. It was hard to connect with these other people in uni. I didn’t feel the same as them. Maybe I had a bit of an old soul, or maybe I just hadn’t hit my peak yet. But I didn’t really feel like I fit in. 

You know who did, though?  My roommate, Maverick. 

He had always been the popular guy. The amount of times he’s hosted a loud ass party while I’m trying to have a chill weekend...He hasn’t been mean to me or anything, but even then, it’s bothersome. The stench of weed and drunk girls is always awful. 

This is my last year at uni, and I was determined to go to a Halloween party. A friend of mine sold some...suspicious objects. When I told him about my struggles, I remember him offering me what he called a “magic zipper”. He told me you could slap it onto someone’s back, and zip them down, and it’d empty them out into a suit. Like a wearable costume. “It’s in the spirit of Halloween, isn’t it?” 

Despite the Halloween spirit, the idea of turning my roommate into a bodysuit sounded evil. “Don’t worry, when you’re done with him, just take the suit off and peel the zipper off. Just don’t peel the zipper off while you’re wearing it...no way out then.” I thought it was a load of shit until he showed me his creepy collection of suits...including one of my professors, who had been “away on family business” for the past week. I knew he had to be telling the truth. 

And so, I waited for my roommate to come out of his room. I knew he was going to a party tonight. The door opened and my shirtless roommate walked out, giving me a glance and a smile. 

“Hey fam, gonna head to the party soon. Just gotta change.” I gave him an assertive nod and looked away, hearing him enter his bathroom while holding some clothes. I pulled the zipper out of my pocket, and gave a exasperated sigh. I was going to do it. 

Knock knock

“Hey fam, wh-!” I quickly tackled him into the wall and knocked the air out of him. Taking advantage of him being stunned, I forcefully spun him around and slapped the zipper onto his back. “What the fuck are you doing?” I started to pull at the zipper, opening him up from starting from the bottom. As I unzipped him, he visibly deflated and I could see him struggling to stay on his feet. “What? I-I can’t feel my legs? WHY CAN’T I FEEL MY LEGS? WHAT ARE YOU DOING, MAN?” I gave him a devilish grin. “Relax, it’s just for a night.” Maverick started to slouch as he tried to grip the wall for support as he legs crumpled, as if a pair of pants. He started to panic as he realized there was nothing left but his skin, watching as arms flopped and his fingers flailed emptily. I finally unzipped him up to his neck, and he collapsed over himself. There was nothing left of him but a skinsuit to wear. 

I lifted the suit up as his shorts and boxers slipped off effortlessly, revealing a lengthy package. No wonder he got so many girls. Maverick’s poor face sagged as the skinsuit hung around in the air, nothing inside. I carefully laid his skin on the floor, back facing upwards, and started to stick my legs into his, making sure to fit perfectly into the suit. Maverick worked out and had muscles, but he stayed lean, making the bodysuit a tight fit. My legs in, I pushed my ass into place, and used my own hands to slot my dick into his cock sheath. I watched it balloon back to a girthy figure, likely how Maverick’s dick would be if he was hard. His skin flopping over me halfway, I pulled it up and slipped my arms in, grabbing the back to tighten Maverick’s skin like a corset as his abs regained their structure. Finally, I grabbed the head of the bodysuit, hanging over my impressive chest, I slipped my own head face-first into it. Stretching and pulling at the skin, I looked  in the mirror and saw Maverick. No one but Maverick. I grabbed his phone, or rather, MY phone and made a funny face before snapping a selfie.

“Fuck, the party’s in 30. Better get dressed.” I took the boxers and the shorts Maverick was wearing and tossed them back into his room, then looked at the costume he had brought into the bathroom. Some cheesy, stereotypically revealing Halloween costume. Y’know what? Fuck it. When you look this good, you don’t need to follow the rules. I was just gonna go as “myself”, Maverick O’Hare. Looking like this, girls will still wanna fuck me. 

I put on a dapper looking button-up shirt and slacks, and looked at myself in the mirror. 

“Definitely gonna get fucked looking like this. Thanks for the costume, Maverick.” 

30 minutes later, walking to my frat bro’s house, and I hear blaringly loud music and people screaming. I knew I was at the right place. I rung the doorbell, and he greeted me in a low-effort Batman costume with his abs all out. “Maverick, what’s up, bro! What, uh...what’re you dressed as?” I gave him a mischievous smile, and simply said, “Maverick, that’s it. Listen fam, I’m just here to get laid. Don’t tell the girls.” He gave a cocky chuckle as he let me in. God, even though I was wearing Maverick, I was still...me. This kind of shit wasn’t my thing, but...at least I got to experience it. And I’d definitely be able to get laid tonight. So I stood by the drinks, downing cup, after cup, after cup. A girl in a skimpy cat costume, clearly drunk, stumbles up to me. “Hey Maverick...I’ve seen how you look at me. Why don’t we take this upstairs?” She giggles flirtatiously and grabs my collar, pulling me upstairs. We lock the door behind us and she pushes me onto the bed. It’s all blurry...I’ve had so much to drink. But I can still feel all the sensations. I can feel a tongue in my mouth as hands on my chest pull apart my shirt. I can hear a faint, “What the hell is this, Maverick?” A ripping sensation on my back along with a playful laugh...For the moment, the only thing I want is this woman’s body...

~

The sun shined directly into my eyes as I woke up. “Oh fuck...I didn’t mean to stay the night. I looked at the naked girl next to me, covering her up with the blanket as I stood up and pulled some pants on. 

“Wild night...I got the experience I wanted.” I walked into the bathroom and locked the door, speaking quietly so the girl wouldn’t be able to hear me. “You know Maverick, this body was nice and the night was fun, but...I miss my old life. This just isn’t for me. I can’t wait to take you off...” I reached behind me to feel for the zipper, but there was nothing. Wait...no. NO...THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING. I had too much to drink...I didn’t notice...it can’t be...? 

I walked back to the bed, where I saw the girl start  to wake up. I looked around, and spotted the zipper on the ground. “W-What the fuck? NO! I didn’t want to do this to Maverick! I don’t want this! Wh-what...no, it’s still just a suit!” I started tear out my hair, pull at my lips, trying to stretch Maverick’s finger’s off, looking for some sign that...that I was still wearing a suit, that I wasn’t Maverick, that I didn’t just permanently take my roommate’s skin...

The girl had woken up to my frantic scrambling. 

“Maverick? What are you doing? Your scaring me!” 

“What the hell did you do? Tell me you didn’t take that zipper off of me, please!” 

“W-what? That thing? I-I don’t know! It was like a sticker on you. It was part of your costume, right?” She attempted to make a light-hearted joke. “Don’t worry babe, it was past midnight. Halloween was over.” I was in complete shock, when she enticingly walked up to me and teased me with her tongue out, tracing my abs. “You shouldn’t wear costume to cover up this sexy body of yours.” 

“I...I don’t think I have a choice.” 

[breezeinmonochromenight]

Do you think that all the DMC characters have "questionable clothing choices"?

1!Dante and 2!Dante — I mean. Bright red leather into battle is questionable but it’s Dante so that’s fine.

3!Dante — Using the tiddy strap on your gun holster as a shirt? Very questionable.

4!Dante — Questionable as fuck but damn if I dont love the gay bara arm cowboy look sm. You do you, you funky demon slaying pizza eating cowboy man.

5!Dante — The only questionable part is the fact that it’s an $8000 coat (that he wears into battle, no less) and he’s got bills to pay. Pass if not for the coat.

Vergil — Looks so fucking cool in concept and execution but really my guy you look like you just stepped out of a Renaissance painting or smth. It’s not practical in the real world at all. You’re wearing a cravat for fucks sake. Questionable.

Nico — Her outfit makes me think she and Cindy Aurum are just two gfs that are dating and share a closet. It’s also not impractical because she does wear the full welder’s cape and sleeves when she’s working. Plus, I’d wanna show all the tats off too. Pass.

V — This outfit is A Mess. There is no other description for it but A Mess. The gladiator sandals are quite possibly the single worst fashion choice in this list. The color scheme screams Kyle Ron, the clothes scream JoJo villain, and the shoes scream ‘I will be fighting the Persians at 10am sharp’. And I can’t even forgive it as him cobbling together whatever he could find. He stole that outfit off of someone in its entirety. Questionable at best.

4!Nero — Yeah that’s fine. It’s a little flashy with the rings and belts everywhere but looks cool and it’s not over the top. He’s basically a final fantasy protagonist. Pass.

5!Nero — Shabby but makes sense because why tf would you ever wear anything nice (Dante 👀) demon hunting where you’re inevitably gonna be covered in blood and guts anyway. Probably the most practically dressed for the job of the lot. Pass.

3!Lady — School girl outfit (even modified) is more than a little cliche but she gets a pass because she actually is a ~16 y/o school girl at the time. Plus she’s also wearing like athletic/compression shorts under the skirt too so I get the sense she’s mad and in a hurry and working with whatever she’s got handy. It does kinda scream murder your shitty dad casual. And I respect that. Pass.

4!Lady — I like it but I also don’t understand it. I don’t really know what she was going for with this. It offers next to no protection, and I don’t know if sexy business lady casual is the best look for fighting demons anyway. Also it makes her look like she uses the term girlboss unironically. So yeah. Questionable.

5!Lady — Outfit is cool af but I feel like the gap between chaps/boots and shorts and midriff is still kind of dangerous? Especially since she’s human? But she’s technically also a ranged fighter ig so I suppose it’s not as big a deal. But no I own a nearly identical looking top and jacket as the one in her DMC5 outfit; it looks like a totally normal midriff top with a pair of leather pants or jeans and boots. Versatility is good, but wearing white to murder demons seems inadvisable. So she’s at least halfway not questionable.

Trish — The leather is practical but the heels and tube top seem like they’d be absolutely miserable to fight in on top of not protecting much. So that part is questionable. But she’s also a demon with (probably) some healing factor and can just magic her clothes on too so I assume they stay on by the same magic. So she ultimately gets a pass.

Trish (as Gloria) — Girl no. Just no.

Lucia — The outfit is cool and mostly seems practical but again that’s a lot of exposed skin for fighting demons. But she’s an artificial demon so like Trish she can probably take her fair share of damage and heal so it’s probably fine. Pass.

(Current) Morrison — Dapper old man. Charming but also a little shady and mysterious looking. He’s fine. Quite possibly the most normal clothing choices in this group. Pass.

Patty (based off anime appearance) — As a former 8 y/o little girl can confirm clothing for little girls <10 is all over the fucking place. So her outfits going from pink tinged newspaper hawker to princess dress and everything in between isn’t surprising. You could probably find all of those outfits within a few racks of each other in the little girls’ section of a standard department store. Pass.

Sparda — See Vergil, but he’s also like. A pair of platforms away from being ready for disco night. His outfit looks like it’s made from crushed velvet and I don’t know how to feel about that. Also the monocle comes off as pretentious. Questionable.

Eva — Her outfit gives me very “I woke up like this” vibes so that’s cool. Power move. But also like. That outfit? Just around the house? With twin terrors running around? Questionable.

Kyrie — Christian Order Girl Autumn.

[beskarberry]

Devil’s Advocate

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 5

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 11.2k whoops

Content warnings: VICES: gambling/smoking/drinking (reader drinks) Introduction of chapter-specific OC characters. Lots of angst to fluff, sexy times of course.

A/N: This might be more self indulgent than the first chapters but not because of the smut. I kinda go off about fancy clothes so long descriptions of costumes are a big chunk of this chapter.

<-Previous Next->

You hated everything about Canto Bight.

Everything about the city was so... artificial. The stadium flood lights, the glowing neon signs, even the ocean herself had been excavated from the planet’s stubborn sandstone surface instead of eroded naturally by the march of time. To you it was like looking at Corellia’s gold painted twin, a monument to the hubris of all sentient life.

 Even the patrons of the gilded city were fake; their clothes, their makeup, their personalities. Every aspect of them was perfectly curated to deceive and lie, whatever fanciful display would work best to cheat their way to the jackpot. You almost wished you could look past the falseness of it, experience the visual fanfare of light and color that reflected on every surface. You wanted the music and the art and the decor that had been so carefully picked and placed to mean something to you, to sparkle in your heart just as it sparkled in the eyes of the teeming masses. But, all for naught, the gleaming metropolis stung your eyes; and you turned away from it to admire the quaint little space that actually mattered to you.

 You shared the tight quarters of the cockpit with the two strange boys that had recently whisked you away to the stars. Mando was seated in the pilot's chair with his tiny green son perched in his lap, trying to get him to eat his dinner without making so much of a mess. You had already eaten, and you were turning the last hunter’s puck over in your hand, reluctant to get this chase started and take away from the familial scene beside you. It would have to happen sooner or later, and you gave the puck a squeeze to fire up the projector. A ghostly blue fog glowed up into the space above your palm, and the face that looked back at you was surprisingly fair; if not for his crimson skin and long black horns you wouldn’t have known he was Devaronian by his elegant features alone.

 Elios Blackwater was a dapper debonair, his high cheekbones angled sharply under devious eyes towards a sly, sharp toothed grin. The puck notes didn’t specify what he was wanted for, though from the looks of his charming smile and shifting eyes it could easily be anything from a gamblers quarrel to breaking hearts, with a higher reward for being returned alive rather than dead. He would most likely be in a heavily inhabited area, probably as close to Canto Bight’s aurelian heart as possible. You didn’t know why Mando had taken a bounty puck for such a densely populated world, and you would have loved to know what his plan was to get to the city’s casino center before you had arrived in his life. A pair of ragamuffin bounty hunters and their floating baby bucket would stick out like sore thumbs in this gilded mecca of gamblers. If you were going to get to your quarry without being arrested, you were going to have to blend in.

 “We’re going to have to do something about...this.” You said, waving your hand in front of your partner’s ferocious attire, though truthfully you weren’t dressed any more appropriately for the mission at hand. “They’ll see us coming a mile away.”

 He glanced down at himself with a tilt of his helmet, ignoring the mess his son was making of his meal. “What do you have in mind?”

 You weren’t entirely sure yet. From where the Crest was parked you could see the glittering city’s reflection sparkling on the water far ahead of you down the beach, a sight most would find alluring, but to you it was just harsh glare. Nearby where you had landed were other space craft parked up and down the gravelly, machine-carved beach; the pleasure cruisers of wealthy betters made your little scrapheap look even worse than it already did. You watched out the cockpit’s transperisteel window, noting the movement of patrons and their attending droids loading skiffs with piles of luggage, and got yourself a mighty fine idea.

"I think so, but you're probably not going to like it. Stay here." You rose from your seat and kissed the baby on the head, earning yourself a soft, mush-mouthed chirp before you slid down the ladder and let yourself out of the old rust bucket and into the salty sea air of the Cantonican night. Gravel crunched under your boots, and you took a moment to turn and glance back at the Crest, catching the faintest flicker of scope glare where Mando was nervously watching you from the flight deck. Ahead of you a large cruiser was being unloaded by droids, the owners having long since made their way to the casinos, and you made yourself known to the robotic servants with your most charming damsel-in-distress voice.

"Hello! Excuse me! My luggage is too heavy to carry, can you help me? It's just over here on my ship..." The droid nearest you made a stiff bowing motion and tottered after you with the loaded hoverskiff floating along behind. You guided the droid up the open ramp and into the bowels of the ship to where your difficult luggage lay. It never stood a chance, bits of wire and duraplast flew across the cabin like confetti from the blaster shot to its head. Mando lowered his gun back to his holster, freeing his hands to help you haul the skiff into the narrow cabin space, then quickly close the ramp behind you.

The sled took up most of the walking space in the ship, so you got up on top of it and began looting through the stolen designer bags, pulling resplendent finery out into the hazy light. The first tote was full of piles of silk sewn for something with more arms than the two of you put together, so most of those items were tossed to the floor. The second bag was just capes, each a unique and lovely pattern, but nothing more. You demolished the remaining bags, making piles on the floor for ‘maybes’ and ‘definitely-nots’ until you found what you were looking for: a humanoid woman’s clothes.

Most of the unknown lady’s elegant garments would be just slightly too big on you, but you were able to settle on a soft, garnet colored evening gown that would go just above your knees, with extra length in the back. It had a sloping neckline that plunged at your cleavage, and around the bell of the skirt were silver rhinestones that caught the light of the cabin like dewdrops, the weight of them giving the dress a wistful sway. You wouldn't be able to carry much in such a revealing article, but a blaster and a knife alone had gotten you out of more trouble than you would care to admit.

You were fishing through the feminine things for something to do about your hair when you caught Mando in the corner of your eye. He was leaning against the hull wall, just watching you as you made a fat mess of the Razor's interior. You smiled down at him from your floating perch and held up the fanciful garment that you had picked out for him to see. "You like it?"

"It doesn't suit you, mesh’la." He said with a lazy tilt of his helmet. You had begun to mentally keep track of all the Mando’a he used around you, and you were starting to notice his frequent use of affectionates. You spun slightly so he could get a good look at how the fabric moved in the light, but the hunter gear you currently had on took away from the loveliness of the expensive clothes. You guessed he preferred your killer garb anyway over the flimsy, delicate fabric. Or nothing at all.

"Well, it’ll have to do, and if you don't start picking something out for yourself I’m going to dress you up like a dandy.”

He sighed, long and tired before turning his attention to the silken pile on the floor. You went back to the luggage, finding some knee high boots that were close enough to your size, but had a heel height that was going to make your ankles cry. You picked out some tasteless accessories: some bracelets, and big, jewel-encrusted hair pins to wear as well. The glitzier that you were, the less you would be noticed in this bass-ackward town. When you had made your frivolous selections you hopped off the skiff to help Mando with his costume. He was worse at finding something to wear than you were, having only picked out some of his own black leather gloves and two pairs of pants that were not made for human legs. Mandalorian armor did not come off as far as your metal man was concerned, and you were going to have to find a way to hide his bulk. You convinced him to lose his cloak, chest belts, and the bandoliers on his hips and boots, anything to lighten the load. Loose silks and stiff fiber combos would be your best friend, and you cobbled together what you could for your beskar-burdened buddy.

After what seemed like an eternity you had him dressed to the nines, or at least the eights. You had covered his chest plate in a black silk shirt and stiff black vest. The shirt had wide bottomed sleeves and neat, tight cuffs that hid his vambraces well, but you still made him wear a cinched-waist blazer plus a long, black and silver cape that almost reached the floor. You found a dark red pocket square that matched your dress and tucked it into the pocket of his vest, a subtle, but unmistakable announcement to the world that he was there with you. It was a ridiculous amount of fabric on top of an already massive mountain of metal, but the look was very in-style for Canto Bight. All together he actually passed for something besides a murder machine, and you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for a job well done. Mando held still for you while you fussed with his outfit with only the occasional huff. As much as he didn't like the idea of walking so boldly through the gilded city, he did enjoy your brazen touch each time you added another article of clothing.

“And now for the finishing touch.” There was nothing you could do about his helmet, so you were just going to have to make it look as nice as you could. You hadn’t changed into your chosen disguise yet, so you strode through the messy cabin with ease until you reached the lock box next to the cot. Inside you found the krayt’s teeth that you had gifted him and pulled them out into the light, waving them at him as you stretched over the heaps of fabric on the ground. He raised his hands in protest.

“What if I lose them?”

“You can wear these or you can wear whatever the hell this is.” You held up an enormous chain of jewels that looked like it belonged in the treasure case at an arcade instead of around somebody's neck. “Besides, I know you won't lose them, you like them too much.” He tilted his helmet at you with disdain, and you realized that was precisely the reason he didn’t want to wear them, such lovely gifts should be kept safe and secure. But he let you press the precious trinkets into the recess of his helmet where his human cheeks would be anyway. The frozen pools of moonlight tied everything about his sin-city look into a perfect, glittery bow. You had grown to admire the look of him in his cultural armor, the ferocity of it, the utility and strength of the beskar that shined no matter how much damage it took; and you were a bit sad to see it hidden. The look of the man standing before you had a wildly different feel, though it was not one you were opposed to.

“You look nice, Din.” The sound of his own name coming from your lips made his heart swell, and he reached out for your hand on instinct to pull your knuckles to his brow in the sweet gesture of his people that you both now used. His movements caused the finery he was masquerading in to catch the cabin’s hazy light, and you got excited to put on your own costume and join him in looking like a fool. When he let your hand fall, you bounded over to your pile, throwing the hunting clothes off of yourself as you went. When you were standing there in nothing but your Tattooinian muck boots you cast a sly glance over your shoulder. As expected, the single black eye of your Mandalorian was locked on your almost-naked form, and you realized that in the time you had been together he had never seen you fully naked; just the parts of you he needed to get to in the moment. “How’s this? You like this better?”

When he didn’t answer right away you looked down at yourself and saw what he was staring at. You had forgotten about the marks of conquest he had put there when he had been driven to a sexual frenzy by the last quarry’s poison, still dotting your thighs with dark purple splotches. Not once had you been upset with him for his actions, you were just thankful you both made it through the ordeal alive, but he still looked at the damning marks with shame. He had been forced to break his protector’s oath against his will, inflicting injury to your precious body with his own two hands. You waited until his visor made its way back up to meet your eyes, and you reached out for him to give you his hand. He sheepishly obeyed, and you brought his hand to your lips, kissing at the all-black leather slowly until you heard him sigh through his modulator. You would forgive him a hundred times if you had to, and then a hundred more if it meant he could forgive himself. You pulled his hands to your waist and leaned up against him, enjoying the feel of new clothes on your skin and letting your hands run up his silken arms. “Well you can have this,” You nodded down at your bare everything with a mischievous grin, “As soon as we catch this fucko.” 

This was the last bounty you would need before you made the trip back to Nevarro, but you were still on the fence about how completing your mission made you feel. On one hand you would be free of the Guild’s relentless hunters, but on the other your partnership with the strange metal man and his adorable beanbag of a son would come to a close. You turned back to your outfit and began cinching a pair of thigh holsters to your legs, hiding your wincing face as the leather closed around your bruises; a blaster on one leg and a knife on the other. You pulled on the dress and fixed up your hair as best you could, then stepped out of your good boots and into the slutty knee-highs. There was only one loose end to take care of.

 “Where’s baby?” You glanced around the messy cabin, looking for your foundling. In the corner under a pile of capes there was movement, and you cleared the flashy finery away to reveal your bestest little friend. Big, glittering orbs looked up at you from the pile of fabric, and a tiny toothy grin shined from his cute baby face. “Heya booger, you ready to go?” You scooped him up in your arms for a hug before picking a big shiny scarf up to wrap him up with, then placed him carefully down in one of the gaudy designer bags. “If anyone asks, he is a pet.” The child didn’t seem to care, he was just happy to be included, waving his little pudgy baby hands up at you to hold. You squeezed his tiny paw, then turned to Mando, “You ready to go, Lord Beskar?”

He glanced down at himself, tilting his palms up and shrugging. “I guess so, I feel ridiculous.”

“Good enough!” You made for the exit ramp with a big stride, and almost broke your damn ankle on the first step, falling gracelessly into the arms of your partner. He caught you with ease, and your cheeks went red with his strong, gentle hands on you again for the hundredth time. You got to your feet, but you would be leaning heavily on him for most of the night until the boots were broken in. With you hanging off of his arm the two of you looked like a proper couple, just heading out for a night on the town instead of two bloodthirsty bounty hunters on the prowl. You might let yourself pretend though, just for the night.

You took a transport speeder from the beach to the city’s entrance, then made your way through the gilded streets, following the red blink of the bounty fob towards your quarry. You had to stop multiple times, the fucking boots making your feet hurt like you knew they would. Mando stood patiently with you each time, and more than once offered to just carry you. His visor would glide from side to side, always on the alert for anyone that might be following you, or worse, hunting you down. The tracking fob led you to the most obvious choice of casino: the tallest, brightest, shiniest temple of vice smack dab in the city’s center. 

The front entryway was dominated by a roaring, gushing fountain, shooting geysers in a perfectly timed pattern high into the Cantonican night sky. The fountain was lit up with bright, multicolored spotlights so that every stream of water and drop of spray glittered back in defiance of the stars that had inspired them. Inside, the casino floor was packed with patrons, ranging in size and species in an infinite array of wealth and power. Chandeliers hung high above you from the soaring cathedral ceilings, sending sparkling lights racing around the endless room like shooting stars. Every surface was bright and gleaming, dozens of pillars and statues illuminated by blinding limelight. Even the floor was magnificent, black and white marble with huge inlaid stars, guiding gamblers through the limitless space towards their wildest desires. Again you wished you could appreciate the extravagance of it all, though the way the lights streamed like mercury over the beskar of your pretend date made something else sparkle behind your eyes. 

 The smell of inhalants and alcohol burned in your nose, and you took a moment to make sure your purse puppy’s face was covered with something so he wouldn’t have to endure it as much as you were. The sound of gamblers and music and roaring competition was louder than the screams of the hyperspace engine aboard the Crest, the cacophony of it all making you anxious. You were thankful that you weren’t hunting this bounty alone, and you still held on to Mando tightly, letting him lead you over the cosmic marble floor through the streaming masses. The people paid you no mind, moving out of the way without casting a second glance. Your costumes were working exactly as you had intended, and you applauded yourself for how well you had deceived the City of Lies.

You had guessed that if your bounty would be anywhere, it would be at the center of attention, and you were right. Elios Blackwater sat at the atrium bar, surrounded by beautiful and interesting people. The glint of gold jewelry caught the radiant casino lights every time he moved, drawing the eyes of all those around him. He was telling some kind of wild story that had his little crowd hooked on every word, though you could tell from a distance he was all bullshit. Immediately you knew this was a man that was used to having everything he desired, never being denied a single whim in all his days. A plan began to simmer in your skull, and you knew right away your partner was not going to like it. If you were going to get the quarry alone, you were going to have to persuade him to leave the company of his fans, and you only knew one sure-fire method for a man of Blackwater’s tastes. You let yourself off of your escorts’ arm to turn and face him, pulling his hands to your hips and letting your own rest on his shoulders so that to any outsiders you two would be just another pair of passionate dancers making their way through the counterfeit cosmos. 

“Mando, do you trust me?” His hidden eyes were still glancing around the room, scanning for any lurking threats.

“Of course.” His words went right over your head, his ears too full of the sounds of potential danger to really hear you. You huffed and ran your hands to his bedazzled helmet, pulling it down to meet your eyes. 

“Pay attention, bucket boy. I need to hear you say it and know that you mean it. Do you trust me?”  He cocked his head, confused that you would have to ask twice. 

“Yes, ner cyar’ika, I trust you.”

“Good.” You let your hands fall back to his armored shoulders, pressing yourself up against him tighter. Your fingers fidgeted in the heavy material of his cloak, he was going to hate this. “Because I need to do something. Alone.” 

That got his attention fast. 

“No, it’s too dangerous here. I want you where I can protect you. What if there’s hunters?”

“I know, I need you to cover me, but from a distance. I think I can convince Elios to walk right into the carbonite freezer, but I can’t do it with you looming over me.” You wrapped your hands around the back of his helmet, pulling him down so that his forehead met with yours. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it would work.” He sighed between your hands, the steam of his breath slipping out from under the helmet’s edge. There was nothing he would rather not do than be away from you, but he did trust you, and he nodded against your embrace.

“I’ll call for you as soon as I’m ready, ok? Just keep your eyes on me, and don’t cause a scene. No matter what.” You couldn’t kiss him like you wanted to, but you still pressed your lips to the side of his beskar before letting go, pulling yourself away from his tender grasp. His hands still floated in the space where you had been as you turned away from him and made your way to the bar, the heavy purse bumping against your weaponized thighs with every flint and tinder step of your sky high heels. As you got closer to the bounty you could hear the shreds of his conversation starting to make their way over the noise of the casino.

“...And I said ‘Darlin’ if you didn’t want to take it home with you, ya shouldn’t have put it in your mouth!” The way he was telling his story gave you the impression that it wasn’t one you wanted to hear, and you started to regret your foolhardy plan. Gold rings and precious jewels sparkled all the way from his fingers to the caps on his horns, making it impossible for most to look away, a fact made apparent by his captivated audience. The beautiful boozers laughed and cheered at his every word, though from his stupidass sounding story you wondered how much of the affection was alcohol induced. You pulled a seat up at the bar a few stools away from the crowd and ordered yourself a shot of spotchka and a couple packs of cookies. You slipped the snacks into your bag for Din’s foundling, you would be needing him for your plan to work as well; and the promise of treats would keep his bright-eyed attention on you. 

The taste of spotchka was vile, but you had started your journey though the galaxy on the gigantic starcruisers that were built on your homeworld of Corellia, and you had gotten to know the taste of the sailor-favorite drink at a tender age. You sipped at your brew, listening casually to the Devaronian’s conversation, but never turned your eyes to him. Every once in a while another bar patron would swagger up beside you to offer you another shot. You turned down anything you didn’t order yourself, but you started telling them fabricated stories about your life among the stars, most of which were wild tales of fancy from old holovids you had seen. You wished you could turn around and find your favorite rust bucket, wherever he may be hiding among the festivities, and give him something to reassure him. A nod or a wave, anything to let him know you weren’t just making him jealous on purpose. 

Soon you were throwing back brightly glowing shots of brew, and a handful of interested patrons had gathered around you to hear about how you had jerry-rigged a star cruiser to run on spotchka when you were a space pirate smuggling kyber crystals for the resistance, among other things. When you had your head tilted back you cast a glance towards the bounty, and saw what you had been waiting for. His hooded eyes were watching you intently, he didn’t like that someone was getting any of the attention pie that he believed was his alone, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he had to do something about it. Soon enough the dapper devil rose from his entourage, running a painted claw through his long dark hair before making his way to you, sauntering with every step.

Hook.

“Well hello there, darlin’, name’s Elios. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing chugging spotchka when you could be drinkin’ something as fine as you are?” The debonair’s words were long and slow, making sure that every drawn syllable would be heard. “Bartender! Get this lovely lady a real drink, if ya please.” You weren’t sure what counted as a ‘real drink’, but the dark liquid that was slid over to you stank even worse than spotchka with the strength of its proof. Elios couldn’t stand that someone else might be having more fun than he was, and he was determined to put you out of commission. He wanted to do it in such a way that you would be thanking him for it, preferably while on your knees. “What’s yer name, baby cakes?”

From the other side of the busy casino you could feel the void of a visor making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Mando was standing on the far side of the slot machines where the light was just a little less glaring, so motionless he might have been part of the decorations. He wasn’t sure what your plan was, or how you would talk the quarry into being captured without gaining the suspicion of the wandering security enforcers. He bristled whenever a bar patron started trying to make nice with you, and only got progressively more frustrated when more and more started hanging around you. When he saw the bounty slink his way over to you he wanted to dash across the marble floor and break his fucking neck just for being in your airspace. ‘Don’t make a scene, no matter what’ is what you had told him, and you had asked him to trust you. So he did as he was asked. Watching, waiting.

“Hmm, I don’t think you could handle it.” Oh, Elios didn’t like that one bit, nobody told Mr. Blackwater ‘no’ without consequences. He swirled a glass of the same dark liquid around in one perfectly manicured hand, his polished claws clicking on the side of the glass. You continued to ignore him, but you started on the new drink in front of you. Yucky, at least spotchka was familiar. He took your acceptance of the drink as an invitation to join you at the bar. 

“You’re awful sly, baby cakes, tell me yer name so I can make you forget it later.” His pointed teeth flashed out from his crooked smile, and you could smell the stench of expensive cologne and aftershave. You rolled your eyes big and wide so he could see just how unimpressed you were, but your nose was burning from how bad he smelled. This was a bad idea, but only because of how well it was going to work. Fresher soap, where are you?

“I’ll tell you what, if you can out-drink me, I’ll tell you my name.” His wicked smile split his face, showing off rows of brilliant white fangs. Party-boy could probably hold a few good shots, but you were raised by sailors, and you were gonna drink his ass under the table. 

“You’re on, sweet cheeks. Bartender! Another round!” Another set of shot glasses plinked to the counter, and vanished just as fast. Elios was eyeing you up and down, seeing if you were all bark and no bite. If he could just get you drunk enough…

Far from where you were drinking the Mandalorian you had asked to trust in you was furious, trying not to thumb the handle of his blaster that poked out from the side of his hip under his cloak. It would be so easy, he could hit the target from here and it would be over, you would be back by his side and not being drooled over by that fucking pathetic excuse for a man. 

“He has that effect on people.”

Mando’s helmet snapped on the sounds’ source, so lost in vicious thoughts that he didn’t hear the stranger come to lean against the wall by him. They were tall and thin, translucent green skin and a mop of hair-like cilia growing from their head to their flowy chiffon clothes. They looked exhausted. “That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself. 

“Another!” You hollered, but the glasses were already in front of you, then gone again. The Devaronian hissed back the sting of the high-dollar liquor, shaking his long mane that had started to come undone. You pretended to reel from the liquor's effects, leaning back just a tad too far on your seat. “Again!” The third round of shots came and went, and Elios nearly fell off his stool. Right where I want you. You waved at the bartender for the fourth and final shot that would probably put the devil right on his ass, but that’s not where you were headed with this show of tenacity. You had to get him alone before you made your capture, or the security enforcers that littered the casino floor would descend on you like vultures. 

You waited til he had thrown his drink back before you tilted yours, purposely spilling a few drops down your front so the booze would trickle down between your breasts. Elios nearly choked, and you knew you had his full, undivided attention. Din, I’m so sorry.

“Woo! I don’t think I can do any more, Mister Blackwater, you win.” you feigned, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, trying to convince him that the room was spinning for both of you and not just him. His sultry laugh made your skin crawl.

“Please, call me Elios.”

Line.

“Well, Elios, you still wanna know my name? You’re gonna have to work for it.” You placed a hand on his leg, running your fingers up his thigh and around the edge of his waist, pulling at his pockets seductively to drive the point home. Does he have SCALES? What the fuck ew ew ew. He took the hint like a drunk takes to spotchka, flashing you a slurred smile. 

“Well… sugar lips, we can take this... elsewhere.” 

“Sure thing, Elios, lemme just have my attendant take my Poochie up to my room.” You held the heavy purse up so he could see the big black eyes hiding in its depths. 

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“He’s a pet, obviously.”

“What kind’a fuckin’ pet?”

“Purebred.” Your quick answer seemed good enough for Mr. Drinky, and he nodded like that made perfect sense. You raised your fist to the air and snapped your fingers.

The human fortress was at your side in a heartbeat, towering above the two of you. You stuffed the purse in his hands before he could ask where to point his gun. “Here, take Poochums up to my room, mama’s not coming home tonight, if y’know what I mean. Get him washed and fed, and don’t forget to scrub his feet!” 

“Yes Ma’am.” The bag was lifted carefully from your fake-drunk hands, and you tried to flash him your best ‘Please-don’t-be-mad-at-me-I-hate-this-too’ face at your partner, but you guessed the look was lost on his visor. The scene did not escape Elios’s eyes like you had hoped it would. 

“Now what in the Mmmmaker’s Mammaries is that big ass fuckin’ thing? That some kinda droid? It’s damn fancy.” Shit balls of hell.

“Uh.. Yes! This is the finest in personal assistant droid technology! See, look.” You grabbed Mando’s empty arm and pulled back sharply on the fabric, revealing the delicate button panel of his vambrace. “Only the best money could buy...” 

“I gotta get me one of those...” Elios stared bewildered as your personal petsitting droid turned and left. “Well, honey tits, you wanna take this upstairs?” Ugh.

“Oh suurrre… Oh Mr. Blackwater I’m ~soooo~ drunk ahaha…” You were barely buzzed, and you worried that your life among the stars had given your liver bigger balls than a bounty hunter. You wobbled on your stool, for phase two of your plan to work you would have to delay Elios as long as possible. You watched as the man whose heart you had stolen faded away from you, the fancy purse hooped over his shoulder and knocking up against his leg, cape billowing behind him as he went. Alright, Baby Beans, it’s up to you now!

Din was seething under his helmet, pissed as shit that this was what your elaborate ‘plan’ entailed. He was trying not to storm through the casino as he left to take your ‘Poochums’ up to your room, whatever the hell that fucking meant. How could he be so fucking stupid? This was exactly the same ruse you had tried to pull on him from day one. Seduction was your real talent, luring your lovers to their untimely demise. How many times had you pulled this stunt? Was this your master plan all along? Ouch. Play with his heart until you were free of your Guild warrant? Ow. You were just using him to get to Nevarro, then you would fuck off to the stars and leave him behind. After everything you had been through, he was just another notch on your bedp- 

“OUCH!” 

Din looked down to his side where the pain he was trying to ignore was coming from, and saw a fat green paw sticking out of the ugly expensive purse, digging vicious talons into the side of his leg. His foundling was trying to burrow through his thigh, and his claws might actually have drawn blood. “What, womp rat? What do you want?” There was something in the baby’s other hand, something golden and flashy. Din reached into the bag and pulled the embossed card from his son’s grasp. What’s this? There was a set of numbers etched in gold filigree in the top of the card, their shimmer blasting away the destructive void he had been spiraling into.

Key card! PENTHOUSE key card! You had tricked the bounty into getting close enough to you that you could pick his pocket without him noticing. You were luring Elios right into a trap, and your Mandalorian was the snare. Din felt a mix of emotion ranging from relief to shame, how could he even think for one second that you might be deceiving him? You had asked him to trust you, and he couldn’t even contain his jealousy long enough to make it through one hunt. He felt like such an ass, you were putting your skills to good use, at great risk to your own safety, just like he had asked you to from the beginning. This wasn’t just his hunt anymore, it was a joint effort between the two of you, and it was his turn to run the next leg of the relay. The heavy, silver-laced cloak was tossed to the side as he raced to the elevator, fluttering away behind him as he flew to beat you there.

Meanwhile, you were trying to keep the bounty from falling flat on his face, and the only way to do that was to hold him up yourself. His hands were all over you, the nick of sharp, neat claws catching on the fabric of your evening dress and scratching along your skin. I’m gonna break those fingers, motherfucker. He was slurring his words, making disgusting promises of what he was gonna do to you when you reached his private penthouse. You were just out of range of his boozehole, the lippy thing trying to steal a taste of you. Wobbly steps slowed you both down to almost a crawl, which was exactly what you were trying to do, anything to give Mando time to find the hotel room first. You passed a discarded cloak on the floor, the familiar silver inlay catching the light, and you worried that you might have pushed your partner too far. What if he left? What if he didn’t see the keycard and I’m heading up alone? Please be there, Din. Please don’t leave me with this fucking creep. You both reached the elevator, and Elios fumbled to find his wallet, thankfully having a spare key that he didn’t know he needed. The doors opened, and you realized you would be stuck in your own personal hell for the entire trip up to the top floor suite. Fucking super. 

Elios was getting impatient during the ride up, and it took every fiber of your being to keep from retching as his well-moisturized hands ran up and down your spine. The elevator door opened directly into the penthouse, and his perfectly manicured claws dug into your ass to usher you into the room. The top floor suite was dark, save for the lights of Canto Bight shining in through the cathedral windows. You took a mental note of the speeder parked out on the balcony, you would be needing it later. The Devaronian was at your ear, breathing hot, boozy steam around your neck until he was facing you. He went to bite at your mouth, but you stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." You whispered in your most convincing lust-laden voice. The devil chuckled and ran his slimy, forked tongue around the halting digit. Barf.

"Oh yeah, baby cakes? Why’s that?"

You batted your eyelashes and bit your lip into a wry smile before meeting his half-lidded eyes. "Because... you're going to make Daddy very angry."

His lips turned upwards in an aroused sneer, flashing his dazzling, daggerlike teeth, "How could getting a taste of that fiery little mouth’a yours make me angry, darlin’?"

Sinker.

"I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about him."

Elios didn't even have a chance to turn around to see where your eyes were looking before a black and silver fist broke his nose and sent his perfect teeth soaring across the room, throwing him down to the marble floor. Seeing his busted prettyboy face bleeding at your feet made you feel so relieved that a vicious shiver made its way from your head to your toes, and you let your body shake the devil’s touch off of you like a big wet bantha.

"Fuck! Oh fucking hell, Mando, you have -no idea- how hard it was to keep that up, he’s so gross! I’m gonna chuck his ass in carbonite so fucking hard his horns’ll break off!" Your partner was still squared up, just waiting for the interloper to try and get up and fight. He wanted the bounty to get up, flail, scream, any excuse to hit him again. But Blackwater was out cold, staining the white marble floor with his blood.

"You looked like you were handling it."

The deadpan tone of his voice told you that wasn't exactly a compliment, remembering the jealousy that had seethed out of him on Tatooine after that Trandoshan had tried to capture you. You had two choices: you could either try to defend yourself and your unconventional bounty catching method, or you could turn that jealousy in your favor. He didn’t remember much from his toxic encounter with the Ardennian, but you knew that every filthy, possessive thing he had said to you that night was still somewhere in that chrome dome of his; and you became determined to bring them to the light. You crossed one arm over your chest, raising the other to tap a finger against the corner of your lips.

"Oh? You didn't like that, did you? Didn't like that he had his hands on me? Touching things that don’t belong to him?" He didn't answer, but the creaking of leather from his fists tightening told you what you already knew. "Tell me, Mando."

"N-no." His visor remained fixed on the unconscious body still bleeding on the floor. Not good enough.

"No what?"

"No. I didn't like that." His voice was low and raspy, but only because he was trying to keep the boiling rage in his chest from blowing his fucking helmet off.

"Tell me what you didn't like." You stepped over the quarry to your man, running your fingers from his balled fists over his silk and steel arms until you were at his shoulders. You could feel the slightest shudder under all his layers at your touch.

"I didn't like him touching you. Nobody should put their hands on you, cyar'ika" His fists lowered to his sides but his visor was still on the floor. You let your hands wander up his neck to the bejeweled recesses of his helmet and turned him to meet your eyes.

"Why not?"

"B-because..."

"I want to hear you say it."

"Because you are mine." He growled through his helmet so hard that you swore you saw it vibrate, sending a delicious tingle though your spine. Atta boy.

“Again.”

“You are mine!” Even behind the beskar you could hear the clench of his teeth biting back deeper desires. His hands went to your waist, pulling you tightly to his chest. The fire coming off of him was scalding, you had pushed your luck too far with this one, and you could feel the volcano inside his ribcage boiling over. He was furious. His heavy armored head pushed against your brow, and you let your thumbs wrap around the bottom of his helmet to find the thinnest sliver of skin where the metal met the man.

“That’s right, I’m all yours.” When you had said that line to him the first time, you had been plotting your escape from his clutches, but as the reassuring words left your lips you knew there was nobody else in the galaxy you would have running their hands up your sides; and you mentally crossed ‘seduction’ off of your list of hunting skills for good. His oath of me'dinuir had swore him to your side alone, and now you knew without a shred of doubt that you wanted it to go both ways; whether you were Mandalorian or not.

You kissed at the bottom of his visor, so close to getting to feel the true, living flesh of him, and yet so far. You had to have him, you had to purge the demon’s touch from your body with the purifying fire of your protector’s rage. A choked, needy groan made its way out of the modulator, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin. How desperately you wanted to taste it, fill your mouth with the flavor of him to replace the vile spotchka. You pushed up on his jaw, giving you just a tiny glance at his scruffy chin, and you forced your kisses into the tight, unyielding space of the beskar prison. It wasn’t enough for you, but it was a start, and you could feel his body starting to unwind at your touch. “Kiss me. Please, Mando.”

“Cyar'ika, it's not safe here.” He hated the sound of his own words, the denial of them crushing his very soul. You glanced around the dark penthouse and saw you were alone save for the crumpled devil on the floor and the designer purse that had been stashed in the corner of the room, its occupant still working on the bags of cookies. No eyes on us.

“I won’t look, just... lift your helmet a tiny bit, tin man, I need you, I need to kiss you.” You guessed you were safe enough from prying eyes, but you wouldn’t spill his name to the night just in case there were any sneaky listeners. You squeezed your own eyes shut and nipped at the armors edge again, and just ever-so-slightly began to push up on the unforgiving metal with your thumbs. You were just waiting for his hands to shoot up, to grab your wrists and halt your actions, but they were locked to your sides. Inch by inch you gradually lifted the armor, he would have all the time in the world to stop you, but when you felt the heat of his lips crash against yours you almost let your knees buckle out from under you. His strong arms were tight on your back, pulling you into him so he could kiss you harder.

So much better than spotchka. He was delicious, his taste, his feel, his scent, everything about him was intoxicating. So much more so than the despicable brew you had been throwing back all night, and a thousand times better than anything Elios could have offered. Blech. You realized then why the bounty had smelled so bad to you, though his perfume was expensive and his clothes freshly pressed, he was wrong for you. The wrongness was so overwhelming that it had nearly made you lose your drink, and you didn’t realize how wrong something could be until you tried to compare it to what was right. Din was right, he smelled of leather and beskar and the sweat of a man that had nearly combusted when someone else was at your side. And fresher soap! Thank the Maker.

A soft leather hand went to your head, pulling you into him so he could taste you better. His tongue ran over your lips, darting into you to find yours so they could dance together. You bit him playfully, and the way his breath hitched in his throat sent the fire of your core shooting all the way to your fingertips; and you knew right then that not even kissing his forbidden face would be enough for you. You pulled yourself from his lips, the snap of teeth following your retreat, reluctant to let you leave from the heat of the moment. Carefully, you let the beskar slide back down to cover him, and the anguished whine he let out into the night air almost broke your heart.

“I know, I know, I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” With him covered you glanced around the room until you saw the private bar. With your thumbs hooked in the pockets of his borrowed vest you guided the two of you towards it until the granite countertop knocked against your ass. You used his shoulders for leverage, hopping up onto the cold surface and wrapping your knees round his waist, happy to find exactly what you were expecting to throbbing between your legs. He pushed himself against you, the feel of his stolen silks on your holstered thighs giving you goosebumps. His heavy metal head fell against your shoulder, and you wrapped your arms around him to hold him close while he ground up against your heat. He couldn’t contain himself around you, though you wouldn’t want him to if he could. You rocked your hips in time with his needy thrusts, and the growls in your ear almost made you think he would come undone with his pants still on. Can’t have that now, can we? "Mando, please fuck me, I can't wait anymore."

You heard thunder rumble out of his chest, sending electricity from where he was pressed to your shoulder straight down to where he was pulsing against your core. He was going to bring you the stars, alright, but not the ones in the night sky. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes from behind his visor, bringing a hand up to caress your pleading face.

"No, I don't want to fuck you." Your eyes shot wide, shocked that he wouldn't want you when he was rutting so hard into you that you could almost feel the dampness of precum through his layers. He saw your face and shook his head. "Elios wanted to fuck you, all of those creeps at the bar wanted to fuck you.” His helmet shook, trying to loosen the words he wanted to say. “No... I- I want to be better than them, I want to give you something else, s-something more.” He was struggling, his inexperience making it difficult to say what was on his mind. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be like them, he wanted to be worthy of you in ways they never could.

“Then make love to me instead.”

 “Yes!” The words leaving your lips were like music to his ears, so much more lovely than any song. “I want to do that! I want to make love to you, cyar’ika, if you’ll have me?”

You laughed, nodding your head to hide your bright red cheeks. How he managed to be so ferocious and so sweet on the same day was a mystery you didn’t want to solve. He quickly glanced around the room one more time just to be sure you were alone, the light of the gilded city sending streaks of color over the charms you had pressed to his cheeks. Satisfied that you were the only ones awake in the room, he leaned away from you to rip the constricting blazer off of himself so hard the fabric around his chest and shoulders started to tear. Beskar plates twinkled in the limelight, sending stars flying around the room while he worked his pants open. The sight of him springing into view made your heart flutter, among other things. Long and strong, a pearl of precum glimmering in the dark of the penthouse. His hands went to your legs, the leather of his palms snagging on the straps still belted to your thighs as he pushed the elegant fabric of your dress up to your waist. 

“You’re soaked.” You wished you could see what he saw through his visor, the sound of hitched breath telling you he could see you blooming for him clear as day, drinking you in with his hidden eyes. He hooked a thumb in the wet fabric of your panties to pull them out of the way, using his other hand to grip his cock and run the tip over your entrance, bumping against your clit while he lubed himself with your slick. You had to lean back until you were laying on the cold granite countertop, tilting your hips to the edge of the bar so he could see all of you on display. He pressed himself up and in, filling you slowly so he could indulge in every inch that disappeared inside. Your stretched walls clenched around him, making him shiver with each coiled squeeze. The Mandalorian you were giving yourself to pulled himself out of you carefully before thrusting back into you again, fighting every animalistic urge to just plow you into the bar. He was going to make good on his word, he wasn’t going to just fuck you.

But maybe he should have.

“Bing!” 

The penthouse elevator door chimed, and both of you pointed blasters on the figure that walked out from the pink haze of the lift into the dark of the room. “Elios? I know you’re up here, I’m just going to get- Oh. There you are.” The stranger spotted the crumpled, unconscious body on the floor, crossing the room until they stood over him. “About time someone split that beautiful lip of yours, Lee-lo.” The stranger that Mando had run into on the casino floor turned their tired eyes to the pair of you, noticing your obvious state of passion. “Oh please, don’t stop on my account, that’s not the worst thing I’ve walked into up here.” They squinted in the dark, then gasped softly, “Wait, it’s you! Oh good! I saw you when you were dancing and was just heartbroken when Lee-lo came between you.” The tall stranger did a little dance. “Fucking Elios.” They kicked at the Devaronian on the floor, “All he lives for is breaking hearts. I’m glad you two made up.”

The wisp of a stranger bent down to the motionless figure on the floor, yanking one of the gold rings from his horns. They said something too low for you to hear, then got up and left in another cloud of pink smoke, the elevator door closing behind them.

You both lowered your blasters, trying to wrap your collective heads around what had just happened. Mando was still buried to the hilt inside you, and you could feel him pulsing with need; but he had been right from the beginning. You weren’t safe here.

“That’s probably not the only spare key. We should go.” You whispered, trying to get your blaster back to its holster under your dress. He groaned, he was getting sick of being torn away from you. He pulled himself almost all the way out, thrust in one more time for good luck, and released himself with a pop! He pulled you to your feet, helping you down from the bar and onto the Maker-forsaken boots you still had on. Fuck these. You ripped the boots off, chucking them somewhere into the dark and crossed the room barefoot to where the oversized purse held the foundling. You were happy to see him all tuckered out in a pile of cookie wrappers, probably not the healthiest thing for him, but it worked. Behind you, your armored companion was hauling the quarry over his shoulder none too gently, ‘accidentally’ knocking his bloody head against the wall as he turned back to you. You both made for the balcony door to the speeder you had noticed earlier, tossing the bounty in the back seat like a bag of garbage. 

The ride back to the Crest was thick with anticipation, you weren't finished with each other just yet. Mando pulled the speeder right up to the ramp so you wouldn’t have to walk across sharp gravel, chucking the bounty in after you so hard he slid through the messy cabin and smashed into the wall. You slung the damned devil into the carbonite chamber, punching the freeze button with gusto. The ramp closed behind your armored companion, barely giving you a chance to get up onto the hoverskiff that still dominated the cabin floor before the lights went off. You yanked the dress over your head, listening for the sound of more fabric hitting the floor, then the clanking of beskar being tossed carelessly aside. Belts and snaps and zippers went flying, and you had to try not to laugh at the absurd amount of clothes he had to take off. The skiff tilted with new weight, and the body of a Mandalorian was on top of you, warm lips hunting for yours.

He’s naked! Every piece of armor and shred of clothing was gone, and the feel of bare skin against your body was electrifying. His mouth crashed against yours, fervent kisses desperate to taste you again. You let your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him into you to kiss back. He was hungry for you, biting at your mouth and tongue like a man starved. Plush lips made their way from your mouth down your neck, nipping at your throat and sucking the tender skin until you had bruises to match the ones on your thighs. His hands wandered down your body, rubbing at your breast and teasing your nipples until you were gasping for more. The devious digits moved on until his hand was between your legs, pushing at your folds and finding your clit to spin circles on. He was becoming an expert at finding what made you squirm and whine from his touch, rolling callused fingertips into you until you were making a delicious mess on the pile of stolen silk. 

But he wasn’t done there. The fuzzy kisses went from your breast down your belly to where his fingers were working into you. He pulled his hands from your soaked cunt and replaced them with his face, pushing his tongue up against the tiny ball of nerves that had so much power over you. Short, quick circles between long, languid licks had you arching your back and pulling his hair, demanding more. Lost in the heat of your thighs he was happy to give you everything, pushing the smooth muscle of his mouth into your slit and upwards against your clit until you were seeing stars again. 

Your hands couldn’t stop exploring him, from his thick head of curls to the strength of his shoulders. The muscles kept going, tight coils on his back and the warm, rigid wall of his chest. The trail of fuzz on his belly went up farther than you were expecting it to, and the fine hairs tickled your fingers on almost every inch of his skin. Your hands trailed over the numerous, vicious scars that marred his flesh like a road map of every near-death experience he had lived through. Gashes on his arms and burns on his sides had healed over into smooth, textureless skin, the marks of a seasoned hunter that nobody but their barer had ever seen.

Having drank his fill, he pulled his face from the apex of your thighs, pushing your knees apart and quickly sheathing himself in you with a ragged groan. Mando’a praises poured from his lips, some you were familiar but many you weren’t, though all of them made your heart flutter. Strong hands wrapped around your knees to keep you in place on the wobbly sled while he pounded into you, the feeling of bare skin on the backs of your legs making you wish you could see him in the light. But the darkness was the greatest keeper of secrets, hiding your love making from the condemnation of his creed. 

Make love. Though the phrase was just another on the long list of euphemisms used for sex, the pair of words weighed heavy with meaning in their new context. You wanted to explore the concept the way your hands explored his body, but the fire of your core was thrumming with heat, demanding your undivided attention. Din fell forward to your chest, the sweat of his efforts sticking to your breasts. Wandering kisses sent fire over your skin as he made his way over your peaks, sucking hard on their tender buds. Beskar-strong hips rocked against yours until you saw fireworks again, bearing down so hard on him with your orgasm that he sank his teeth into the crook of your shoulder. Bites made their way from where he had surely drawn blood on your flesh up your neck til they turned to kisses again. His brow pushed against your forehead, though your lips were right there he still defaulted to the only show of affection his armored inheritance allowed. Hot gasps of air puffed over your skin from the heat of his breath, and you knew he was close. You locked your legs around him, forcing him to pump every last drop of himself into you, painting your walls with his seed until it was spilling down your ass onto the piles of clothes.

The strength of his arms gave up, and he let himself fall against you, his face pushed against your cheek. You could feel his bristles brushing over your skin as his breath heaved, soft but scratchy. His hands wrapped under you and up your back, hugging you to his bare chest so hard the air was squeezed from your lungs. Fuzzy-lipped kisses dotted your cheeks and face, taking extra time to kiss your lips, each one a promise of more to come. You dragged your nails over his back, making him groan and shake at the touch. Never had anyone to scratch that itch, have you, tinman? Tight muscles loosened under your careful touch, making him sink harder onto you until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began. 

You wanted to stay there forever, but as the sweat on your bodies cooled it became sticky and made pulling yourselves apart a chore. Both of you reluctantly made your way off of the skiff, clinging to the walls of the cabin while he hunted for his helmet in the dark. Lights came on gradually once his bucket was back in place so you could find your own clothes, and when you had both gotten yourselves put back together you piled everything you had stolen onto the hoverskiff and pushed it back down the ramp of the Crest. The Mandalorian was back in his beskar, and he cocked his vambrace back and shot a wall of fire onto the little sled, incinerating all evidence of your thievery and passion. The bonfire burned brightly on the gravelly beach of the Cantonican ocean, sending flaming ash into the light of the new dawn. 

You decided to keep the red pocket square that you had tucked in on his costume, though you weren't sure what you would need it for again. Sentimental. You went to the supply crates where your backpack and droid mask were kept so you could squirrel the thing away, when you caught the familiar glowing blue of spotchka at the bottom of the larder. The horrible color made you fucking nauseous after today, but even more distressing was that you realized it was just sitting there unsecured when there was an impish child onboard that could easily get into the bottled brew and make himself sick, or worse.

“Din, we need to put this somewhere safer.”  You held the liquid lantern up for him to see what you were talking about. “What if our foundling gets into it? He might get really sick or-”

“Our?”

Shit. “Sorry, your foundling. Your foundling might get-” Din crossed the small space of the cabin until he was standing close to you, the child in question tucked against his chest. The baby’s big, nebulous eyes glittered up at you, and you couldn’t help reaching out to rub his sail-like ears. He chirped happily at your touch, and as much as you wanted to keep your eyes on him, his father was towering over you, making you squirm under his tilted glare. 

“Say that again.”

“Your foundling.”

“No. The other word.”

“Our?” 

“All of it.”

“Our foundling?”  His helmet cocked to the other side, doing his big metal bird impression. The arm that wasn’t holding the child pulled you up against his chest, squeezed right against the baby in question. The familiar galaxy-erasing hug made you realize how many times you had thought of the child as your own, he was your little buddy, your missing baby when he had been stolen away, your secret weapon that you had hidden in your purse. But he wasn’t your child, he was Din’s, so for him to also be considered as yours…

“Ours.” Above you the word was spoken like it was new, as strange on his tongue as Mando’a was to you. “Our foundling. I like that.”

You couldn’t turn your head up to look at the man who had you wrapped against himself so tightly, but you could smile at the green little child that was flashing you his adorable toothy grin. You little fart, you thought with a laugh, you’re gonna make me go all soft. Almost as though the creature could hear your thoughts he squealed in delight, patting your cheeks with his fat baby paws. You let your arms circle around the boys that had made your life a roller coaster of emotion blasting through the endless sea of stars. It might be a hell of a ride, but you weren't ready to get off any time soon. The memory of the sands of Tatooine where you had been trying to forget the dangers of the universe was starting to fade away, replaced by the moment you were losing yourself in. You were happy to see it go, though your past self would be shocked at how comfortable you had gotten with a magic alien baby and a man with no face.

“Yeah… I like it too.” You hummed into the beskar, feeling Din’s arms tighten even more. You were glad he couldn’t see your face, because the lovely smile had vanished. This is all going to end soon. You buried your face in the tiny space between the foundling and his father’s armor, trying to ignore where the coaster’s rails ended. Only one stop left.

Nevarro, here we come.

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[officialleehadan]

Takes Two

Inspired by THIS DANCE (Yes, I know it's about a lost love. Ignore that part.)

+++

“Dance with me?”

Cami looked up and stifled a sigh of relief. She had been involved in a very interesting discussion with three of the other dancers, all of them old enough to be her mother or older. The discussion, unfortunately, had turned from pointe shoes, which Cami was always happy to talk about, to her love life, which Cami would prefer not to discuss for a great many reasons.

Not the least of which being her somewhat inappropriate crush on the man presently pretending to be her boyfriend.

Who, as it happened, had truly spectacular timing.

“Always,” she said and took his hand before any of the aunties could stop her. Not that they would. Julian, by virtue of genuinely being a sweetheart under his prickly outer shell, had been winning the aunties over in droves. Cami had been asked when he would be proposing twice, which wasn’t a lot, but twice was already more than enough. Julian drew her onto the dance floor with his little smile playing about his lips. “Good timing.”

“You looked like you might need a rescue,” he said with chuckle. The band had been playing waltzes for most of an hour, which Cami loved, because they were the perfect music to talk to, or to dance to, or just to enjoy. “But I admit, it wasn’t entirely selfless. One of the older men wanted to give me ‘advice’ that I would rather not repeat.”

“Uncle Chuckie, huh?”

“Among others, yes.”

Cami giggled. Uncle Chuckie was good people, sweet as pie, cursed like a sailor, and had absolutely zero brain to mouth filter. He also had sixchildren, four of which were his own blood, and liked to give everyone advice on how to acquire children of their own.

She liked children, and Julian had mentioned that he wasn’t opposed to the idea himself. There was only the small problem of them not actually being together.

Well, that and Uncle Chuckie’s profound lack of boundaries.

The music changed gently as their current waltz ended, and Cami didn’t have time for regret before it slipped into something faster, and more sultry. A tango.

When she glanced at the band, she saw Sanderson grinning like a hyena and looking very pleased with himself.

“Dance with me?” Julian asked again, low in her ear, and Cami fought down a blush. It was a dance. She lived for dancing. She was not going to lose her composure dancing a sexy tango. Even if it was a sexy song, and Sanderson almost certainly knew that when he requested it. She didn’t know what he was up to, and resolved to corner him later. “It’s almost like our first dance, remember?”

“I wondered what made you ask me,” Cami said. She stepped closer, until they were nearly pressed together, and let him guide her into the half-familiar steps. It was strange to be dancing a dance she hadn’t taught him, but she loved tango, and so did he, if he stayed in practice even with no one to dance with. Now they were used to each other, to moving together, and it was easy in a way their first dance hadn’t been. “You didn’t know I tango, did you?”

“I’ve seen you dance,” he said, close enough to smell his aftershave and the faint scent of wood smoke that clung to him from the bonfire off to one side. “You did a showcase… two years ago I think? It was the first time I saw you dance anything but ballet.”

“That was more than a year before our arrangement,” Cami said, somewhat surprised. He took her weight, and she spun weightlessly in his arms before settling back to the hard-packed dirt. It was a long way from the polished wood of the dance halls, and intimate in the low light of the tiki torches and the bonfire. They had danced more often in casual clothes than formal ones, but it was different somehow, to be dancing without their armor. “I didn’t know you were there.”

“I’ve come to every one of your performances I could,” he said softly, almost against her ear when she leaned into him, their steps matched almost exactly despite his height, and her bare feet. “First it was an easy way to socialize without socializing, but I wanted…”

He trailed off, uncertain and soft in the low light. Cami let him spin her again and stepped back into his arms.

“I wanted to get to know you,” Julian told her to the soft sounds of the people around them, the music, and the crackling fire. “And you love dancing. And I do too. With you.”

It was an offer, almost like his first, in a way, with a gentle question hidden under it. She knew him now. Knew that if there was even the slightest hint that she wasn’t comfortable, it would be nothing but a dance. Nothing but two friends with an arrangement that helped them both. He would never, ever put her in a bad position, on the dance floor or off it.

So really, it wasn’t that hard a decision.

“Takes two to tango,” she whispered, and smiled up at him. “And good dance partners are hard to find.”

She might have said more, but the music trailed off, and she realized all at once that they were alone on the dance floor. Their audience burst out into delighted applause. Julian ducked his head, always a little uncomfortable in the spotlight no matter how used to it he was, and stepped back, her hand still in his. Cami, of course, was comfortable on stage, and gave a half-bow and a grin to the aunties, who were all whooping and hollering delightedly.

Before there could be requests for more, she pulled Julian off to one side, and the band cheerfully picked up a faster tune rather than hold the mood. Julian looked down at her, and Cami pulled his arm up around her shoulders and leaned into his side again.

“Let’s take it slow,” she said in their quiet little bubble of night, while the dance floor filled again. “But I think I’d like to get to know you too.”

+++

Ballet Heels:

Camille fought and bled to get into Julliard.

Julian fought and bled to build his company into what it is.

He needs a dance partner, and it so happens, she’s good at ballroom.

Cut a Dance Floor

Shuriken Toaster

Agreement in Paper

Friends and Rivals

Arm in Arm (Subscriber Only!)

Secret Steps (Free on Patreon!)

Dance the Steps

Along a Logging Road (Free on Patreon!)

Dapper Diamond  (Free on Patreon!)

Festival Festival (Subscriber Only!)

+++

More Stories!

+++

[slasherbaby]

YEEEESSSS!!!! I would love a match up! Slashers I'm most familiar with but literally anybody you think works is fine I'm excited by the concept!

Meg, she/her

I am 5'4" and extremely aggresive yet the sweetest nicest person. Only gets aggresive and intimidating when necessary like to keep creeps away or to protect my friends. But any other time I'm a bit of an airhead. Get distracted by looking at the world a lot. Love cute things and cooking. My fashion changes based on how I feel often cute dresses with a hat with a pokeball pin on it. Vintage or very kawaii. Or a complete dapper suit and ultra elegant sexy dresses. Depends how I feel but it's hot rn so usually cute dresses. Fashion is a huge hobby and I'm usually found in old markets diving through used clothes piles.

Very independent and bright. I like to think I'm a very kind and giving person. I give everything for friends and family often too much tbh at times I struggle with that. Imaginative and resourceful I love making things. Cooking, baking, diy projects. Writing and watching movies constantly. I love to sing and am quite proud of my singing voice I've worked very hard on it.

I'm indigenous, tan skin, very short hair in a pixie cut, large round gold glasses. Usually wearing a flower in some way. Can strut in heels like nobodies business. I'm very well endowed and curvy. Confident and love uplifting others. Not easily hurt or swayed as I worked very hard on my self esteem.

Very cuddly and love affection. Also giving it.

Not sure what else to say this is getting pretty long, so sorry if I made this difficult lol

Yesss I got so excited when I saw this! I love how long it was- the only difficult part was choosing which slasher to pair with you! I was stuck between Lester, Brahms, and Jason! Ultimately, I chose Jason ♡

I’d match you with Jason!

He would love it when you sing, especially if you two are cuddled up, his head in your lap, with you singing to him. Jason’s a tough guy, but he also loves very hard. He’d definitely always bring you wildflowers, and once he warms up, he’ll hand you all but one, and then tuck the last one behind your ear. If you’re sneaky about it, you could probably manage to do the same to him. Either tucked into the strap of his mask or behind his ear. He’d keep it on all day, pretending like he ‘didn’t notice’ he was wearing it, but secretly it would make his heart warm whenever he remembered it, because it would remind him of you.

Jason would be worried about you getting hurt or lost when he’s not around, especially since you get distracted easily. He doesn't see your kindness as a weakness, but he also knows it would do little to help if anyone wanted to hurt you, or if you fell and got hurt while alone in the woods. At first, he’d feel very overprotective of you, especially because you stand at 5’4 and in comparison to his 6'5, you're tiny. He’d be very concerned that you wouldn’t be able to protect yourself- he’s over a foot taller than you, after all. What if something happened while he was gone and he wasn't able to do anything to help you?

He gets over this very quickly, however, after he sees your aggressive side come out. Jason never really had anyone stand up for him when he was being bullied as a child, so seeing how you would do a lot to protect your friends? It would make his water-logged heart melt. Also seeing this would make him realize and respect that you can protect yourself. Honestly he probably falls in love with you right then and there, watching how you turn from the sweet, adorable person he knows to defensive and protective when needed. After that, he wouldn’t have any second thoughts when you two are apart.

While he doesn’t have much variety in his closet, he’d love the way you dress and how your style changes. If you came to his cabin in a fancy outfit (either suit or dress) he’d probably just die from how amazing you look. He may not outwardly show it, but he would definitely take the time to look over you, noting the different ways you express yourself through fashion. Jason wouldn’t want to join you when you go to old markets, he rarely leaves the woods after all. But he’d 100% adore it when you came back with bundles of new clothes, bonus points if you give him a little fashion show.

Jason may not seem like he’s sensitive, but he’d be very wary/not want to take off his mask in front of you for a while. He’d also be apprehensive to show you physical affection at first. You’re gorgeous, first of all. Second of all, he can lift a car off the ground without breaking a sweat. The last thing he wants is to hurt you, or scare you away.

He doesn’t think he has a low self-esteem, but that's mostly because he's been living in the woods almost all his life. He can protect you, keep you safe, get stuff off of the top cabinet for you- hell, the man would build you another cabin if you asked! But the things that don’t require brute strength? Like kissing, holding hands, and cuddling? He doesn’t think it’s possible for him to do them.

With your confidence and uplifting personality, you’d really help him ‘come out of his shell’ so to speak. It might take a long while for him to actually take off his mask, and even when he does, it would only be for a few minutes or when you two go to bed, but he’d definitely get more comfortable with physical affection. Maybe not outright seeking it out (at least not at first), but he would be more than happy when you sought him out for cuddles, or held his hand when you two went for walks. You trusting him would honestly make all the difference in his self-esteem.

You would probably end up introducing Jason to a lot of movies, but just be aware you’d need to bring a projector or movie player of some sort to be able to watch them. He would start off super apprehensive, but eventually cuddling up and watching a new flick with you would become one of his favorite times of the day.

NSFT under the cut!

If you’re into sex, just be wary that he’d treat you like you're made of glass at first. He’s never had sex before, so the main thing he’d be worried about is hurting you by accident, or not being able to fully satisfy you. Remember, he’s self-conscious. Especially about his looks.

I don’t think he’d be into rough stuff, or at least him being rough with you. He cares about you too much to even think about you in pain, let alone get off on it (even if you tell him that you’d enjoy it, it would only make him uncomfortable).

You would have to make the first move, after a while of the two of you dating. His favorite position would be you riding him. He would adore being able to see you fully as the two of you make love, especially so that he could run his hands all over your body. For such a big guy, he’s extremely soft in bed. His touch is never harsh or rough, and he loves worshiping you.

He’d desperately want to hold you close to him afterwards, or vice versa. He’s not opposed to being the little spoon, or being held. In fact, he loves it. You two may have to adjust your positions a bit because of the height difference, but it would make him feel so loved and comforted.

If you aren’t into sex, that’s perfect too! He would never made you feel pressured to do anything you don't want to do. Just having you by his side is more than enough for him.

[prurientpuddlejumper]

Out Tonight (Part 1)

Part 2 ->

Summary: Barba would never admit to being a RENT geek, but when he gets drunk and no one from the SVU squad is there to see him, he can’t resist the siren call of the karaoke stage. You would never approach a stranger at a bar, but when you hear Barba singing your favorite musical, you gather the courage to ask for a duet. 

Rafael Barba x Female Reader

Warning: NSFW, 18+, Dub-con!! Everyone is enthusiastically willing, but also super drunk. So... use your best judgement. (No smut this chapter just some intense kissing)

4,144 words

The thing about Scotch whisky is, it’s a drink meant to be sipped. A.D.A. Rafael Barba drank a Scotch every day, especially after a difficult case. One or two, mulled upon over the course of an hour. 

At over 40 percent alcohol by volume, the practical difference between Scotch, the gentleman’s drink favored by lawyers and Wall Street executives, and the tequila swigged by rednecks ripping their shirts off at a dive bar is the speed at which the beverages are consumed.

The thing about being a Scotch drinker is, you’re only ever one particularly bad day and a few extra drams carelessly tipped down the hatch away from getting well and truly shitfaced.

This would never happen to A.D.A. Barba. He had complete control of himself at all times. In the courtroom. In his manner of dress. In his speech. He won cases other prosecutors wouldn’t dare to take on, because he was meticulous. He was relentless. And he never let his guard down.

But on this particular day, nothing was going according to plan. All week, in fact, a case he was certain of had been falling apart piece by piece, slipping through his fingers, until today, a man who made Barba’s stomach sicken walked out of the courtroom a free man.

It was his fault. He got cocky. The victims subjected themselves to retraumatization just to testify on the hope of getting some kind of justice, and it was all for nothing. He let them down. He let the SVU team down. The look on Benson’s face when the foreman delivered the not guilty verdict made Barba want to crawl inside himself.

So he did what he always did on bad days, and went to his favorite bar alone to sit quietly and numb his sorrows over a glass of Macallan.

Except it wasn’t fucking quiet. This was supposed to be a subdued, sophisticated establishment that didn’t draw a big crowd. This was his bar! But for some godawful reason, the new manager had decided—unbeknownst to Barba—to try hosting karaoke night.

Karaoke!

He scowled at the colored stage lights. Glowered at the rambunctious crowds of young people. Seethed at the bad 80’s music and off-key bellowing. He dropped heavily into his usual seat at the bar and exchanged withering looks with the bartender, who slid him his usual drink without needing to be asked. What the hell was happening to his life? Barba began to wonder whether he had anything under control at all, downing the dram in one shot.

As he gasped on the fiery liquid burning down his throat, he gained determination. They were not going to take his bar from him. Not a chance. If these tourists and college kids wanted to have their revelry, they would have to do it with a grumpy old killjoy glowering at them. He ordered another round.

***

An hour and a steep tab later, and Barba was gripping the microphone with sweaty fingers, belting out One Song Glory at the top of his lungs.

He rationalized it as “better bend than break,” but the truth was, he had dreamed of becoming an actor before going to law school to please his mother. His inner theater geek was always waiting to slip out whenever he let his guard down, but since that was never, it was side he rarely indulged. Tonight, his head was spinning, and it didn’t seem like a bad idea.

“One song to redeem this empty life. Time flies—and then no need to endure anymore!”

The wooden bar stool creaked as his weight sank back down on it, and he ordered another drink to question about his life choices. “Will I ever be remembered for anything besides my failures?” he asked the glass. He’d come this far from the poor barrio where he grew up, but every step was a fight. He couldn’t just be good, he had to be better than the privileged WASPs he was competing against. He had to be the best. Every little mistake, every lost trial, could be the end of all he had worked for.

Barba was so busy nursing his latest drink, he almost didn’t notice someone else drunkenly belting a track from RENT. Except, as his head swung up to listen, it wasn’t drunken belting at all. A woman with a low-cut blouse and tight jeans that hugged her curves was singing so seductively, staring right at him. She winked and sweetly begged him to take her out tonight.

No—he was imagining it. He was just drunk, lonely, and pathetic. She was working the crowd, making everyone feel like she was singing just to them. Maybe she was a Broadway performer to have that skill, or at least a master at flirtation. Either way, she was way out of his league. There was no chance she had singled him out.

***

So what if you didn’t know anybody, and it was dangerous to go alone? You were in Manhattan on a Friday night—you were going to go out and have a good time, dammit!

The promise of karaoke drew you into a small but packed bar, and you were a few drinks in when you heard a voice like an angel and a rock-star had a baby singing a song from your favorite musical ever. The voice belonged to a singer wearing old-man suspenders, a pink tie, and a light coating of stubble from not having shaved since morning. He was fashionable, you guessed. Dapper. But it was that expressive voice that mesmerized you. As he sang, your gut was wrenched with the emotional pain woven through each note.

You were smitten. You tried to go talk to him, but the moment the song was over he vanished into the tightly-packed crowd. It was silly. It was far too bold to approach a stranger in the big city, but the warm tipsy feeling in your gut gave you confidence to hatch a plan.

Step one: Locate him from the stage.

Step two: Impress him.

Step three: Bond over mutual love for RENT.

Step four, if you managed to get that far, was a bunch of squiggly question marks and “kiss his face?” hastily scrawled in pencil. It was a long shot, you knew that. You were way too shy, and he was far too handsome not to have a girlfriend, or a boyfriend, or a husband. Frankly, even if he were single, he was way out of your league. But still, the nebulous step four could simply be “Have a fun night with your new karaoke buddy,” and that possibility alone made you feel like glitter was exploding inside of you.

When it was your turn to sing, you found him from your elevated vantage—he was sitting far from the stage, at the end of the bar—and tried to catch his eye. You’d been using Out Tonight as your karaoke icebreaker for years, so you’d gotten good at playing up the sexiness, tossing your hair and biting your lip. Your clumsy ass had even picked up a few dance moves to spice it up, and you gave them your booty-shaking all when you saw him look up at you.

You were glad you’d worn the jeans that made your butt look fantastic, and your sexiest, strappiest sandals (which were actually Tevas with a two-inch wedge heel, purchased from an outdoor gear store). He was watching you with fascination as you pouted the lyric, “don’t forsake me,” at him.

It sent a shiver down your spine to think he might really be looking at you that way.

The moment you got off the stage, you were bombarded by guys offering to buy you a drink, asking for your number. It was discouraging that Sexy Suspenders was not among them. Apparently your sexy routine worked, but entirely missed its intended target. Then again, a man like that probably let women come to him.

Ducking and weaving past your suitors like they were physical obstacles and not people, you reached Suspenders. The bar stool next to him was open, held by a briefcase and folded suit jacket. His shirt sleeves were rolled up to the elbow, and his hair was a little mussed. He appeared to be deep in conversation with his empty glass. You took a step forward to approach him, but an anxious constriction in your chest froze you in place.

Who do you think you are?! A gorgeous, sharp-dressed city guy will never even give you the time of day! Your mother’s nagging voice chimed in to warn you not to talk to strange men in bars when you’re out alone, in New York City, no less. You grimaced at your awesome double-dose of anxiety. He would either laugh in your face, or you were about to get murdered. Hooray!

But there was a loneliness in his demeanor that encouraged you he wouldn’t laugh, and up close, you noticed he was so short you could probably pick him up like a little baby chipmunk if things got out of hand. Ignoring how thick his forearms were, of course. But if he crushed you with those, you would die happy.

***

The next singer on stage had started screeching a rendition of Don’t Stop Believin’ with ten drunk buddies, and Barba was squeezing his eyes closed to try to drown them out, so he was caught completely unaware when a tap on his shoulder startled him.

“Is this seat taken?”

His vision blurred. He had to rub his eyes and look twice to be sure he was seeing who he thought he was seeing. “Mimi!” he blurted. “From the—nice, um—no. No one’s sitting here.”

He moved his belongings to the top of the bar, and you sat on the vacated stool, quite pleased with yourself. The bartender immediately handed you a pink icy cocktail with a slice of lime, and pointed his thumb to someone at the other end of the bar who paid for it. Barba followed his gesture to a very cute guy in his twenties and felt a twinge of double-edged jealousy that the most beautiful woman he had ever seen was most likely about to get up and leave him, and that the drink hadn’t been for him, because frankly, he couldn’t blame you. You did get up, but only to crane your neck to find your benefactor. When you did, you gave the world’s dorkiest thumbs up, while conspicuously putting your hand on Barba’s shoulder.

Barba’s lips spread into a smug bastard what-are-you-going-to-do-about-it smirk as he stared down his attractive rival. His head cocked to the side pleasantly. The other man’s flirtatious gaze fell into an annoyed tick. You sighed with relief as he moved away.

Turning back to Barba, you realized your hand was still on his shoulder and quickly removed it. You inhaled and said, “I heard you singing you were amazing do you want to do a duet together? Can we? I love RENT! I’ve always wanted to do Light My Candle—can we do it together?” in one breath.

Your flurried gush of words nearly knocked him off his stool—he put his hands up defensively and sat wide-eyed, nodding slowly as you went full babbling-nerd on him. You may not have been as suave as he initially thought, and oddly enough, he was okay with that. It was disarming, and your enthusiasm was infectious.

Because his instinct to distance himself from anyone he might risk forming a real emotional connection with wasn’t working at the moment, he grabbed you by the shoulders, locked his piercing eyes with yours, and emphatically answered, “Yes. We must!”

***

Having a karaoke partner is essential for Broadway musical numbers, as most of them are duets—two or more characters interacting with each other as the plot of the show advances. Light My Candle was one of your favorite songs, and snagging the mysterious suspendered singer meant you could finally perform it outside your shower.

It was a bouncy back-and-forth duet that was fun to sing, but you forgot how aggressively flirtatious it was until you had to ask him—you hadn’t even asked his name yet—if you had the best ass below 14th street, and about wax dripping between your… um, fingers. But the way he looked at you made seducing him so natural. You just had no idea if it was part of the performance, or if it was real.

When the song was over, you bounced on your toes, clinging to his arm for balance as you tripped on the stairs down from the stage, squealing, “That was so much fun!” He put his hand around your waist to steady you. It felt like it was made to be there.

His face was flushed red and his eyes sparkled with exhilaration, and he quickly agreed to another duet, though he muttered, wiping a light sheen of sweat from his brow, “Thank god no one from the precinct is here.”

Performing together with a partner always makes you feel a connection—even if it’s just drunken karaoke. When you sang one part of a harmony and he picked up the other part, your voices became two halves of a whole. And with musicals, it’s as much about acting as it is singing. He threw so much emotional intensity into the lyrics, which gave you something to respond to, throwing it back at him in fluid conversation as your voice soared above his and dove beneath it again.

You hadn’t had this much fun in a long time, and you had a feeling he hadn’t, either.

Not that you had any way of knowing, really. You guessed it by the ease in which he embodied Roger’s stubborn refusal to open his heart, by the mournful way he lifted his drinks to his lips like he was toasting at a funeral. His expensive leather briefcase and formal attire, too, suggested a well-paid but dreadfully boring line of work, like a financial manager.

Your guess was dead-on, in truth. Barba was vigilant against dating anyone he met professionally. Even if there had been a secretary or paralegal or two he’d had chemistry with, for the sake of his career, he could not afford to conduct himself in a manner that could raise even the hint of a scandal or ethical conflict in the workplace. And anyone he met outside of the workplace… well, he didn’t. His entire life revolved around his job.

The bartender had just brought a fresh round of drinks, and your head rested on your fist, elbow on the bar. Barba was staring deeply into your soul with those pretty green eyes, trying to figure out how he managed to get you and how he could keep you.

“We should do Another Day next,” you grinned.

“Who do you think you are, barging in on me and my guitar!” He sang in a gritty rock voice, poking at your chest accusingly while holding an air microphone with the other. You forgot to be surreptitious and blatantly checked for a wedding ring.

After Roger’s verse, you sang back Mimi’s part, seductively leaning in closer to him. “There’s only us. There’s only this...” As you leaned closer, his eyelids drooped, and his eyes darkened. “Forget regret, or life is yours to miss.” The smoky smooth molasses of Scotch was strong on his breath. He studied your face hazily, his eyes drawn down to the movement of your lips. There was no mistaking his attraction for a performance now. You sang softer and softer until your forehead was resting against his, your lips almost touching. Then you just breathed.

“No day but today,” he mulled the lyric and the impulsive circumstances that had led him to being with you in that moment. “I should follow that advice more often.”

“That’s what I’m trying to do,” you murmured. “Here I am in the city, having fun,” your voice slowed to a crawl as your eyes flicked up and down his face, “...with a perfect, handsome stranger...”

His tongue ran over his lower lip again as his eyes dropped to your mouth and clouded over with some sultry thought.

You’re not sure which one of you moved first, but in the next moment his lips were melting into yours, desperate and passionate. That tempting tongue of his ran along your lower lip now, sliding easily inside as your mouth parted to invite him within, swirling in heated wet circles around yours. It was heavy with the taste of Scotch and the faint bitterness of coffee, as if that were all he’d eaten that day. You curled your fingers into his hair and deepened the kiss, moaning into his mouth, and his broad arms closed around your back and pulled you off your bar stool onto his lap.

His skin was burning hot, and waves of heat coursed up through your body like you were both on fire. Your pulse thundered in your ears until it drowned out the off-key music, and each pounding heartbeat sent a corresponding throb to your cunt. Your eyes closed. All that existed was the messy clashing of your teeth and tongues, the woody-sweet scent of his cologne filling your lungs, the heat of his strong hands on your back, and the bulge of his cock twitching beneath you.

When you finally had to come up for air, and hopped back onto your own bar stool, suddenly self-conscious of how pornographic that nearly was, all he had to say was, “I’ve never done that before.”

You blinked. “You’ve never… kissed someone?”

“Not someone I just met in a bar!” his eyebrows shot up and he sounded so utterly scandalized, your euphoric high from kissing him came crashing down. He saw you as some kind of cheap tramp for kissing him. Pretentious asshole. Suddenly you felt like shit.

You turned your attention to the second round of that fruity cocktail that random guy paid for. It turned out to be a pretty tasty drink, so you ordered another. Maybe you should have given that guy a chance.

“So, are you here by yourself?” Barba asked your profile, not bothering to hide the patronizing concern in his tone.

“Yeah,” you said without looking up.

“Jesus. I thought so. That’s really dangerous, you know.”

“Ugh,” you groaned and pivoted away from him further, leaving him confused. So first he implied you’re a slut, and now he was pulling the whole, the city is full of predators, but I’m a Nice Guy—let me walk you home routine. This is what you get for picking a guy based on how good he sings.

“I did not mean to imply that. I only meant that I’m usually more... careful.” Oh. You must have said all of that out loud. Oops. “But you’re right to be suspicious of my intentions. There are… all kinds”— he breathed the word out in a jaded huff—“of tactics predators will use. Manipulations, brute force, drugs, fake personas… And all they have to do is claim consent and half the time the jury believes it even if the physical evidence is horrifying.” He was getting visibly angry thinking about it, his drink dangerously close to spilling as he clenched his fist around it.

You stared at him. “Um.”

“Oh,” he cleared his throat, “I’m an A.D.A. for Manhattan. Prosecutor. I’m a lawyer,” he clarified when the acronym earned no look of recognition in your eyes. “Lately I’ve been working with the Special Victims Unit, so when I see someone drinking alone late at night, talking to complete strangers,” he gestured at himself. “You have no idea how many sexual assault cases start with this exact scenario.”

“Big-shot lawyer, huh? Sure, now pull the other one.”

“What?” His head cocked at you in utter bewilderment.

“Pull the other… leg. You’re pulling my leg?”

“I know what it means, I’ve just never heard it said by anyone under sixty. Are you secretly an old man?”

Your cheeks burned. “You’re an old man,” you retorted childishly.

His lips folded in on themselves as he tried to keep a straight face. “I don’t know. What can you tell me about the Model T?”

You took a grumpy swig of the fruity strawberry cocktail.

“What was World War II like?”

“So are you really a lawyer, or do you just use that line to pick up chicks?”

“I am, I am!” he laughed. “I can prove it. Let’s see...” he pulled out his phone, brought up a search result for his name, and scrolled through headlines. “DA’s Office Helps NYPD Persecute Immigrant Families,” “Justice at Last for Serial Rapist Victims,” and others rolled across the screen. He narrowed his eyes as his index finger hovered over each one. “Oh, sounds like I’m an idiot in this one,” his mouth twitched into a sardonic smirk, “and I’m a real asshole here… Oh, look, here’s one where I’m the big hero.” He held out his phone so you could see the photo of him in another flashy suit and bold tie, speaking to crowd of reporters in front of the courtroom steps. He looked so sexy in his full three piece suit, and much more severe, his face hard and intelligent. The caption below it praised his victory putting away a notorious rapist, and identified him A.D.A. Rafael Barba.

“Wow. That is you. Who knew I was doing karaoke with such an important guy?” You slung your arm around his shoulders, which were irresponsibly broad and solid. God, being with him felt so right. Casual touches were so comfortable even though you’d just met, and the way he responded, melting under you, sent a wave of heat through your lower back.

He kept flipping through headlines, his brow quirking a little at one, eyes narrowing at the next. Then he saw one that made him stop scrolling. He put the phone down on the bar and scrubbed his hand over his face and hair, blinking back tears suddenly forming. You caught the glowing screen before it automatically locked. The headline was from today. “Local Teacher Found Not Guilty—.”

His head dropped into his arms on the bar. “It was my fault. If I had done something different, been more prepared...” A sad groan emitted from the Barba puddle.

“I’m sure you did everything you could,” you soothed, and rubbed his back sympathetically. “So one guy got acquitted. It happens every day.”

“I know,” he growled. This fact was the opposite of comforting.

“You’re sure he was guilty?”

“He did it. To at least a dozen kids over the last two decades, but no one wanted to testify, or the statute of limitations was up, and then our key witness… There must have been something I could have done, something I didn’t think of. I let him get away with it.” His shoulders heaved as he sobbed into his arms. “I fucked up.”

You kept rubbing circles over his back, whispering soothing words to him. You leaned down and peppered his head with soft kisses. He shifted off the top of the bar and began crying into your chest, his arms wrapping around you like a baby lemur. You held him tight, suddenly understanding that this was the memory he came here to drown. This was why all night you had caught him looking wistful every time the conversation lulled. “I’m sorry,” you murmured. “It’s alright. Shh.”

His arms tightened around your waist, then relaxed, tension melting from his body. “This is nice,” he sighed into your shirt, enjoying being snugly pressed against you, surrounded by warmth. “Thank you… this is nice.” He never let anyone comfort him like this. Never let his need for comfort show under his stoic exterior. If his judgment were functioning properly, it would have struck him as a red flag how easily he sought comfort from a stranger that he wouldn’t have accepted from his closest friends, but it felt good to let it out.

Eventually, he remembered his dignity and sat up, drying his eyes on his sleeve and glancing regretfully at the wet splotch he’d made in your shirt.

“Sorry,” he said, clearing his throat. He picked up his latest glass of scotch, and swirled its half-empty amber contents before setting it down again. It was possible he had drunk enough.

“It’s OK. You had a bad day.”

His lips tightened at the corners in agreement. “Usually Liv is the only one who tries to cheer me up. So, thanks for…” He closed his eyes and tilted his head. “You’re very nice.”

Your chest fluttered. He was terribly cute, and far too vulnerable for you to be having these lascivious feelings about him.

[starr-fall-knight-rise]

Humans are Space Orcs, “Black Tie.”

I hope you guys like this. Writing has been weirdly difficult for me these past few days, so I sort of hope it isn’t showing lol

This is a little peak into the way that humans try to subtly one up each other in social situations, so Karma is fun :) 

Krill was mildly uncomfortable, and so was Sunny. They had all been invited to what the humans described as a “black tie” event on mars mostly for political delegations, rich sponsors, a couple of famous people, and the occasional member of the UNSC or the GA. Most of the GA reps were Rundi since they tended to like this political sort of thing. There was at least one Tesraki, who had made the executive decision to come since he saw financial opportunity in getting to know some rich humans.

Sunny had been invited to stand in for the Drev counselor, who could not attend due to some issues back on Anum. Dr Krill and Dr. Katie had been invited to attend the event in case medical personnel were required for any reason.

Adam was the only one who had been invited for himself.

The black tie event had been sent by way of a physical letter which Adam had called, “Excessively pretentious.” in a day and age where everything was sent electronically. The fact they had managed to get a letter to him out in the middle of space in the first place was pretty impressive.

Sunny hadn’t really known or cared what all of this meant, but Adam had been nervous and very serious about the dress code. Despite thinking the entire thing was pretentious, that didn't stop him from immediately sending away for his mother’s help.

Sunny was, of course, encouraged to wear ceremonial formal armor to the event.

Krill was keeping very close track of this odd human behavior constantly asking questions as Adam was preparing himself.

“Why don’t you just wear a regular suit?”

“Because that would be a social faux pas.”

“A what?”

He sighed, “I don't know, it's french or something. I think it’s a ballet term. IT just means it would be a social screw up and people would totally judge me for it.”

“They would judge you for wearing the wrong thing?” Krill wondered curiously.

Adam nodded, “That is the point of these parties, and has been for the last two and a half thousand years. These parties are honestly just the biggest pissing contests where people try to out dress each other in subtle ways, and the old people who know what they are doing make fun of the new people for having no idea how to do it properly.” 

Krill looked interested, “how fascinating. So it is a way to show your status subtly.”

“Oh yes. Status is a big deal. It started to go out of style for a while, but this whole adherence to dress code has come back with a vengeance in the last few years. The fashion world has seen an upheaval in pretentiousness, and celebrities have been laughed out of parties for trying to be avant-garde.”

“To be what?”

“Sorry, pretty sure that’s also french too. It means new, interesting, or out of the ordinary usually to make a statement.”

Sunny leaned in a little, “And they expect an air force commander to know how to properly dress for black tie?”

“They don’t, which is why they invited me. I am supposed to make others look good by looking bad. Of course I also make them look good by being invited in the first place. Of course joke's on them because i have a secret weapon on my side…” He patted the front of his shirt, “Thank you mother.” 

“I am now confused.”

Adam waved a hand, “Yeah, I know, It’s pretty stupid 

“I thought you recently decided that you like dressing up.” The human turned in place a couple of times in front of the mirror trying to get a better view of himself, “Correction, I have always enjoyed dressing up -- got that from my mom -- what I don’t enjoy is the pissing contest that comes along with it.

“What is that?”

“Bow tie.”

“You look like someone’s Christmas present.”

He adjusted the bow tie, “Well than someone is getting a sexy as fuck Christmas present now aren’t they.”

He buttoned up the front of the ‘waistcoat’ and pulled on the jacket.

When he was done, the two aliens had to admit that he really did stand out, all in black black pants black tuxedo jacket, cuff links, black tie, black waistcoat, and a purple/blue carnation threaded through the buttonhole on the lapel.

His shoes were almost as reflective as the mirror behind him.

“How do I look?”

“Like a goofy idiot, but the suit wasn’t going to change that.” He lifted a finger to flip Sunny off.

“Not very dapper of you.” Katie said from the doorway.

They looked up to see Katie, who had also commissioned a dress from Martha, and honestly made Adam look a little plain.

“Ready to go.”

“As I will ever be.”

***

Krill kept a shrewd eye on all the strange human protocols. As far as dressing up went Krill could immediately see who the in-crowd included. Ost of those people understood the rules Adam had laid out for him wearing the proper evening attire, where those not in the-in wore clothing that approximated the rules but missed them on several occasions. 

The way the evening was set up was a little bit more like a ‘ball’ as Adam described being announced as they were walked in, and then ordered to mingle with the crowd. Adam and Katie got a few glances from the in-group who seemed surprised that a simple ship captain would known anything about formal evening attire.

Sunny just found the entire thing hilarious. All of this subtle dressing up to impress each other.

If Drev held balls, instead of dancing they would probably just beat each other to death.

But here, there were a lot of subtle clues and hints that went right over her and the Doctor’s heads, while Adam seemed to know what he was doing.

As they walked in waiters offered Adam an alcoholic drink, while Krill received water, and sunny a rather strange tincture that was generally just water with plant flavoring. It was pretty good though so she didn’t complain.

They were met on arriving by the event coordinator whose eyes opened wide when she saw Adam pausing and holding out a hand.

Due to the conflated and rather twisted nature of black tie events in the future, Adam took the hand, and bowed a bit lowering his head, a strange area between the less formal handshake and the more formal kiss on the hand, which was also not a thing in societies post WWIII

“Commander, I… you look…” She trailed off 

Even to sunny it was clear the woman hadn’t expected him to know anything.

He smiled icily at her.

Krill leaned in in fascination.

This was one of the most intriguing parts of humanity. The polite way in which they were totally rude to each other, “Well than you. My mother has a Ph.D  in the information age and a masters in historical fashion.”

That shut the woman up and she politely dismissed herself walking away straight back.

Adam smirked, “Her dress isn’t the right length for an evening event.”

“I thought she coordinated the event.” Sunny muttered

“She couldn’t coordinate herself out of a paper bag.” He winked at Sunny and Krill, “You can’t out-dress the son of a historical fashion expert. Simply not possible, she even used the correct materials.” He tugged lightly at his jacket.

Dr. Katie had disappeared on entry leaving the three of them to wander about the room as Adam pointed out the other important people.

There were a few military commanders, rundi, and the aforementioned Tesraki. There were at least five major political leaders, and even larger handful of actors who had their hands in charities or political causes related to the event.

Adam was only halfway through his first drink when he was waylaid by one of the younger actors. Even Sunny could tell straight off that he was not dressed appropriately.  He had clearly tried very hard, but his efforts were in vain. While everything looked alright from a distance, up close something was wrong about everything. The material of his jacket, the style of his shirt, the type of pants, the lapels on the coat, and even the patterned pocket square which should have been a solid color but wasn’t.

He was joined by another group of men who then began some pretentious conversation about noticing how Adam was new to these sort of events. The way they spoke made it pretty clear they had no idea who he was or what the proper dress code was either.

Adam smiled and didn’t say anything.

“And what do you do for a living?” One of them asked

“Simply a UNSC representative.”

“Ah that explains a lot.” They glanced down at him with pointed looks 

The conversation continued. Sunn wondered why Adam didn’t just shut them all up by telling them exactly who he was, but Krill had a theory that Adam was just playing with them as a human way to build up the moment so that he could socially crush them.

As humans do, their conversation wandered until it eventually moved around to the UNSC and other related topics. 

One of the men nodded knowingly, “I am somewhat knowledgeable on the subject myself.” Adam raised an eyebrow.

“Are you?”

“Well yes, I have a brother in law who flies shuttles and planes for the UNSC. Tell me, what is your opinion on the D-4 class engine on a F-90 darkfire. I honestly think they are rather overpowered for what is being asked of them.”

Adam frowned, “The darkfire doesn't have a D-4 engine. That is a warp classification which-”

The man raised a hand, “No no. I heard my brother in law talking about it. Personally I think they should have just kept the jet engines they would have been plenty enough power to make it into orbit.

The Commander’s face scrunched in confusion as he shook his head, “No, it's a fusion engine, and the jet engine can’t fly in the upper atmosphere because there is no lift-”

“Look, Adam, was that your name. I generally tend to know what I am talking about. The darkfire jet engines would have plenty of power to make it into atmosphere,”

“But its a jet engine which implies it is for a plane and not for a rocket-” 

The guy cut him off again and continued to ramble onward about how he took some engineering classes in college and would know what he was talking about. Since Adam Joined the UNSC and didn’t go to college, that he probably didn’t know anything at all, or at least that is what they said in not so many words.

Sunny was getting a bit annoyed and would like to have squished the guy, but Adam just shook his head at her.

She stayed silent and grumpy as the other men continued to correct Adam on knowledge of his own favorite aircraft.

“My brother owns a spaceship with a class E warp core one of them boasted.” 

Adam rolled his eyes, “There is no such thing-”

“My brother owns the craft, I am pretty sure I know what I am talking about. It’s one of the most powerful cores in the galaxy.”

“Um, I don’t think.”

“Yes the E is more powerful than the A. A ship like the Harbinger or the Enterprise would only make it part of the way across the galaxy but the-” He kept going. 

Adam looked like he was dying but why didn’t he say anything.

It was just then that someone appeared from the crowd. Sunny recognized a political figure they had met at GA summits on occasion.

He raised his glass and stepped into the group, “Ah commander! I am glad to see you could make it.”

The group of men glanced at each other in confusion.

Adam nodded, “It’s good to see you two counselor.” He motioned to the group we were just having a fascinating discussion on warp engines.”

“Oh yes.” He turned to look at the men, “Than I am sure the commander has told you about his escapades as a darkfire pilot.”

The satisfaction Sunny got from watching their faces was priceless, almost orgasmic. She could tell from the look on Adam’s face that he was feeling similarly, “Well no we had not made it to the subject, “I was just going to explain to them how the duel E 20 engine has both a jet engine and a fusion engine. The jet engine for flying in atmosphere and the Fusion engine for moving out of atmosphere considering that the jet engine is not powerful enough to lift the craft without air buoyancy.”

Sunny was laughing on the inside.

“Ah yes. I seem to recall a discussion along those lines. Tell me commander, what about the Harbinger’s engine is it a class A-1.”

Adam nodded, “Could potentially get you to the other side of the universe if you asked her. The classification system is A-D 1-4 on each, so my ship has one of the most powerful engines mankind has ever bothered to build.”

He glanced out of the corner of his eye and the other men who were beginning to slink away.

Sunny chirped in pleasure.

The rep nodded as they left, “I heard the futility of your conversation from the other side of the room.”

“Thanks for the help. I was dying inside.”

The two men laughed and took their drinks.

Krill was very pleased with his examination on how humans subtly tried to one up each other with their dress and understanding of certain topics, though it seemed odd to him that someone would claim to be an expert when it was, in fact, their brother or brother in law who knew about the subject and not them.

But he supposed that was the social nature of humanity.