#may has gone so incredibly fast

[ionomycin]

mermay

[cornfieldsrambles]

YOU HAVE PERMISSION TO INFODUMP PLEASE TELL ME ABOUT WIGGLY'S SIBLINGS???? THAT HE APPARENTLY HAS????

omg ok SO

Meet the Lords in Black. Charming, aren't they?

Yes, Wiggly does indeed have four brothers who all do different things, so I'll cover them one by one, in order of introduction (since we've already met each of them in Nightmare Time at least once). BTW Nightmare Time has a fuckton of lore in it that I won't go into here, so even though I am about to spoil significant parts of it for you, I do recommend watching it, it's really good and if there's enough interest they might make a third one!

(Also you might notice they're all in doll form in this picture. This is how we knew them up until NPMD introduced us to what I call their Tumblr sexyman forms. Which are rad as hell by the way.)

So you already know Wiggly. That little green fucker, Wiggog Y'Wrath, the Capitalist Cthulu who does uwu-speak and starts a cult by invading people's minds. This will become a bit of a reoccurring theme with these guys. He's also the only one to successfully start an apocalypse, and the only one to have attempted to birth himself into our reality. (Or is he? We'll get to that...) He does seem to have some kind of dominion over the other LiB, as whenever all five of them show up there's always emphasis placed on him, like in NPMD where he does most of the talking while his siblings occasionally butt in.

Now for Bliklotep. Blinky seems to have slightly lower-scale ambitions than Wiggly, but don't let that fool you. Eyeball Boi is still incredibly dangerous. He runs an amusement park, WatcherWorld, deep within the Hatchetfield Witchwood. But it's not for the amusement of the patrons. Oh no. It's for Blinky's own amusement. Once you step inside, every insecurity, every shred of potential conflict will be ripped to the forefront, turning people against each other to the point of trying to kill each other until he's fully infected their minds. It's implied that, if not all, but a significant chunk of the workers at WatcherWorld were once patrons before having their minds taken over by Blinky. He's also implied to be the thing in Trail To Oregon that Jack Bauer sees during his venom-induced hallucination, as Blinky is referred to as "The Watcher With 1,000 Eyes", which is exactly what JB says he sees? Making Blinky the only LiB to induce a Starkid crossover. My headcanon is that the Dikrats founded Hatchetfield. But regardless.

Next up on the roster is Tinky. T'noy Karaxis, the Time Bastard. You may be wondering about that one line in NPMD where he recognised Pete as a Spankoffski, and said he "could have the whole set in his toybox". Has Tinky gone after Pete's relatives?

Well. Um. You know Ted, right? Yeah, his name is Spankoffski. He's Pete's big brother. We actually got the surname reveal before the brother reveal, lol. And that's not the only reveal we got about Ted. Our boy Teddy Bear has this whole entire tragic backstory and it turns out he gets fucked over in literally every timeline! Isn't that fun?

So, to summarise an entire episode: Tinky makes travel fuckery happen, Ted wants to go back in time to fix his life, accidentally goes back to before the time machine was created and gets stuck in the past, literally. Tinky is watching and laughing at the whole thing, then shows up to blow Ted's brain to smithereens with his weird little magic box, the Bastard's Box, where he stores all the people he toys with. Anyway Ted eventually catches up with the present by aging, except now no one knows who he is, he's... actually I won't spoil that. But once he dies he ends up eternally trapped and tortured in the Bastard's Box. Yaaay.

Fast forward to Nightmare Time 2 and we get introduced to Nibbly, in possibly the most unexpected way imaginable. He's revealed to have been behind a whole episode literally right at the end of said episode, and even though it was kind of foreshadowed, it hits you like a freight train in the best way. Remember when I said Wiggly was the only one who tried to birth himself into reality? That was kind of a lie. Nibblenephim can sort of do that anyway. Every year, he can possess a bunch of carcasses and create a living form to walk the earth for one night. He also has a cult of followers who provide him with the carcasses, as well as a sacrifice to feed on. There's a little more to it, specifically with how the sacrifice is chosen, but again, I'm trying to spoil as little as possible. Go watch Nightmare Time. Nibbly also seems to have a "pig" motif, and his theme song, The Nibbly Ditty, is a banger, easily my favourite of the three LiB theme songs we've heard so far.

And finally, we are introduced to Pokotho, in the very last episode of NMT2.

Except no. We were formally introduced to Pokey there, yes, but we've seen his apocalypse already. Long before NPMD, before Nightmare Time, even before Black Friday.

Yeah, remember me saying that Wiggly was the only one to successfully start an apocalypse? That was also a lie! Pokey already did that, and he did it without ever showing his masked face. Remember The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals? The blue spores that came down in a meteor and turned everyone into singing zombies? That was Pokey's doing! That's his blue spores! That's his apocalypse!

This also provides an explanation for why blowing up the meteor didn't work. Emma and Hidgens were right about the hivemind thing, but wrong about the location of the central brain. It wasn't the meteor - the meteor was just the vessel which carried the spores to Earth. The central brain was sitting safely up in the Black and White, laughing as Paul blew himself to smithereens. The central brain was Pokey, the Singular Voice, the most uncompromising of his brothers. The one who hates every voice that is not his own, hence the hivemind and making all of his zombies speak in HIS voice.

Anyway in NMT2 he's happily collecting musical zombies by taking on a human form and infiltrating a fighting ring of superpowered children until he has enough to kickstart another apocalypse. (Don't question it, we're almost done). He also calls himself Otho, not Pokey, making him the only LiB to have two different abbreviations of his name. Hannah is also there (remember her? Lex's little sister?) and she is like incredibly important to this whole thing, she has a super powerful mind, but that's a whole other thing.

But I did mention Hannah for a reason. Because you said "Wiggly's SIBLINGS". And while the Lords in Black are always referred to as brothers, they do have one more sibling. A sister. A Queen in White. And her name is Webby.

Yep, Hannah's imaginary friend isn't imaginary, who could have guessed? She's benevolent, always trying her best to combat her brothers' antics, but given that there's one of her and five of them, this is a bit of an uphill battle. Webby doesn't have a full name that we know of, nor does she have a doll. We don't know much about her. And she may not be all-powerful - but then again, neither are her brothers.

Infodump concluded. Hope this helps, it was very fun to write.

[aquickstart]

i need to talk to you guys about the colors of the Cattons (Felix specifically) and Oliver. the clothes they are wearing are telling the story of Oliver taking over and leaving his mark throughout the whole movie, with Oliver's failures and successes and a final triumph. holy shit. get in. this is long and ends in ancient greek culture trivia. let;s talk please.

disclaimer: am starting from Oliver's arrival at Saltburn. before that the outfits are also very intentional, but it's a lot more complicated and it has been discussed before. the world distorts once we are at Saltburn and the story gets truly gothic there, and every detail—including color!—is enhanced in meaning. also, special thanks to @kivlaro for doing this with me, the thoughts on this specifically and the Saltburn craze on the whole. pics and detailed analysis under the cut!

let's start from the beginning. here is Oliver at the door. simple, blue shirt.

the shirt is sort of its own character. logically it makes sense as Oliver's suitcase is small and he spends the whole summer there, of course he'll rewear stuff a bunch. but it is blue.

in contrast to Felix, in yellow. yellow is one of Felix's colors (he is the sun, which i've talked about here btw, so this makes sense).

same to Pamela, in blue. first time we see her, she is next to Elspeth, wearing the color that is Oliver's, taking the place that he takes right away, in this very scene. the only other time she is physically present on screen is at dinner, in black and white, and black and white are a blank slate. she is stripped of color and gone very fast.

a bit of crucial data for later: Oliver, in blue, and Felix in pink. pink is very important on Felix. this is their first morning together. they are separate and opposite, solid, contained.

where it starts to get good is the morning after the vampire strike.

Venetia is a Felix extension, just as everyone in the house is to Oliver. i will eventually rant about Saltburn as a whole entity and Cattons as aspects of one self, and Oliver as psychosis, but not here. so, yes, Venetia is a pink riot, a euphoria of self-containment because Oliver gave her a piece of something she felt she lacked to feel whole (validation, attention, care), not a piece of blue, of himself. Oliver is expectedly solid blue. Felix is incredibly interesting and something i didn't pay much attention to at first: predominantly blue, incredibly upset at Oliver for ditching him, with a tile of bright red (on the left! close to heart! over-reaching here but like still!), which still tracks. i mean, really, if i had so much foreign color bleed into me and then abandoned, i'd be pissed, too. nice little touch is sir James' beloved hydrangeas, behind Felix, also pink, very pink, always pink; i don't think i've seen them blue in the movie, although the sort exists.

Farleigh. sweet baby Farleigh i love you. I'm not dead-set on my interpretation of this specifically but i think multiple things are happening with Oliver and Farleigh here. like Rent, which is their song, blue is their color of outsiders and the triers to fit in. Farleigh points out the favoritism and preference of Oliver to him and his mother here, so it may also be appropriation of color to draw attention to Farleigh as almost (but never quite) Oliver. it may also be as simple as that Farleigh, as much as he denies and resists, still retains Oliver's influence, which bleeds into him very slowly.

a nice little moment of Felix wearing blue swim shorts with just tiny specks of a pink pattern. Oliver's shorts also have a bit of pink, but less than Felix's. Oliver is pretty good at remaining unaffected and uninfluenced overall.

and we're getting to where it all clicked and started for me. the Quick family house, the failed reconciliation, and the immediate aftermath. oh it's so good.

on the drive there, Oliver is blue, Felix has a pink polo shirt with a solid blue pullover over it. this is the most blue Felix has ever been (this is the most blue he will ever be!), this is trust. however shaky and toxic it is, Felix loves Oliver and accepts him into his world. as a side note, Oliver's parents are also very blue, mom more so than dad. nice!

and then it crashes. immediately after, it's the evening of the same day, but Felix is not wearing the blue pullover anymore. this is very, very important. this is rejection. it's the end for Oliver in Felix's world and with his trust. Felix, again, in solid pink, Oliver in solid blue. Felix successfully rips him out with the roots and everything. ouch.

daddy. sorry. is that highlighter? sweat? fuck. let me- daddy. SORRY

no i actually have a point about this.

the clothes are replaced by the lights, but we roll with it. Oliver basks in the blue-green light, while Felix is on the other side, in pink and purple and red. sure, blue shines through, and Oliver also walks through the slashes of pink, but it is mostly pretty separate, Oliver watching Felix's pink in his own blue from a distance.

the morning after palette is deep. the wine color that is so prominent in these scenes is fascinating to me. if i were to over-reach again i'd say it's the Oliver in Felix's attributes and in his place that requires the robe to be so dark, not usual definite pink, because deep blue has leaked into the color itself, mixed with it, made itself integral to the shade. but it's also just a nice color, and it is pink in its core. the flowers (with sir James in the background) i think are also this specific shade for the same reason. you look at what remains of Felix everywhere here, and it is his color.

and finally oh the lunch scene. the last supper. the judgement day. the who's afraid of virginia woolf madness.

i think we've established what's up with Oliver, but i also think it's important that he is his own color at lunch but in Felix's pink/wine right before and after. lunch is where he attacks, whereas before and after is where he grieves and enjoys. Farleigh is almost completely blue save for a strip of the same deep pink, and he is soon cast out, and Venetia is striped, blue and pink/salmon, affected deeply by Oliver yet still clinging on to the Catton pink with grief, probably, but also love for Felix.

and after all this, Oliver leaves himself.

no, like, actually, literally himself. sure, he'd got a taste of the Cattons and the pink, but he is a monolith, a solid blue when he leaves Saltburn. he has not been affected by the house, he has taken what he wanted but stayed true and whole. what a power move, honestly.

but it's an even bigger deal that 16 years later, Elspeth runs into Oliver wearing all white and a blue scarf. oh, she's not let this go, alright; it was a long time ago, "but not to me," she says. What Oliver has been up to in that time is a great question, without a doubt he's been keeping tabs on the remaining family as much as he could; but Elspeth has never moved on, either. She has held on to Oliver's blue and the pink is not important at all now. Oliver, of course, is invariably, unwaveringly blue. welcome back to his show.

and welcome back to his triumph.

the only color (except for, again, white and black) we see him wear in the flashback about Saltburn inheritance is the all-too familiar deep pink. wine. bright pink mixed with deep blue.

now i will take a liberty and step back, over-reach, over-interpret and go insane. here's a fun bit on ancient greek culture trivia for you.

this is an interesting and complicated historiographical and linguistic debate that i will not even attempt to relay here, but the essence of it is this: for us, the sea is conventionally deep blue. historically, one of the most prominent civilizations considered "deep wine" to be the descriptor for it (not necessarily the color but the property. highly rec to look this up it's so fascinating). what it gives me here is that Oliver has changed color, but not his self. he has integrated, mixed, but persisted, completely winning over, triumphing. long live the king!

in conclusion, i would just like to propose "colors" by halsey as the next cattonquick anthem. thank you for your attention, please let me know your thoughts. yours, yes, you. cheers. god. peace out

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕙𝕠𝕨 𝕥𝕙𝕖𝕪 𝕖𝕒𝕥 ⋆*･ﾟ𝕥𝕙𝕖 𝕓𝕒𝕕 𝕓𝕒𝕥𝕔𝕙

➼ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ ☆ ꜱᴍᴜᴛ, ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜱᴇx, ᴄᴜɴɴɪʟɪɴɢᴜꜱ, ꜰᴀᴄᴇ-ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ, ꜱʟɪɢʜᴛ ᴏʀᴀʟ ꜰɪxᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ɪɴ ꜱᴏᴍᴇ ᴘᴀʀᴛꜱ

⋆ ★ ɢᴇɴᴜɪɴᴇʟʏ ɪᴅʀᴋ. ɪ ᴡʀᴏᴛᴇ ᴛʜɪꜱ ɪɴ ᴏɴᴇ ꜱɪᴛᴛɪɴɢ ᴡʜɪʟᴇ ᴛᴀɴɴɪɴɢ ᴏɴ ᴛʜᴇ ʙᴇᴀᴄʜ ᴀɴᴅ ɪᴛꜱ ᴊᴜꜱᴛ ꜰɪʟᴛʜ ꜰʀᴏᴍ ᴍʏ ᴍɪɴᴅ ᴘʟᴏᴘᴘᴇᴅ ᴏɴᴛᴏ ʜᴇʀᴇ ꜰᴏʀ ʏᴏᴜ ᴛᴏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ. ʜᴀᴠᴇ ꜰᴜɴ

➼ ᴛʜɪꜱ ꜰɪᴄ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴀɪɴꜱ ɴꜱꜰᴡ ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ. ɪꜰ ʏᴏᴜ ᴀʀᴇ ɴᴏᴛ 18+ ᴅɴɪ

⋆ ★ ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴏɴ ᴀᴏ3 ⋆*･ﾟ ᴛᴀɢʟɪꜱᴛ ꜰᴏʀᴍ

Hunter - Actively drowns himself

Hunter thinks the best place he could ever be is buried deep into your cunt. He loves the feeling of every jerk of your legs, every single fold and crevice of your sex. Even then he feels like it isn’t enough, and presses himself to you so adamantly and for so long he leaves with his entire face drenched.

I’ve expressed before that his nose is a clit tickler and I still stand by that. He presses against it while he lets his tongue fuck into your hole, letting out heavy breaths that make you sigh and twitch against his face.

He wants everything from you. Wants you whining and bucking into him. Groans into your cunt “C’mon pretty, give it to me. Let me have it, oh, let me give you this,” when he’s making you reach your peak.

Tech - Treats it like a scientific experiment

There’s a method to making you orgasm thoroughly and pleasurably, Tech has discovered, and as a man of logic, it wouldn’t be correct to treat pleasuring you any differently than he does other situations.

The first time you let him between your legs, Tech takes his time to thoroughly take you in, and he collects his observations, infers what might make you cum the hardest, the fastest, and soon after he begins to run his “experiments.”

He concludes quickly that it’s all about the combinations of stimulation and how they’re applied, how hard or gently he sucks your clit in his mouth while his fingers probe your entrance, the speed of his index and middle pumping into you while his tongue gently licks around your folds. Tech won’t rest until he’s figured out everything that makes you click and cum.

Wrecker - Wants to be your chair

If you think Hunter is messy about how he eats your pussy, you haven’t seen Wrecker yet. This boy wants to be so roughed up and drenched you’ll be in need of a shower before he even gets his cock wet.

And he wants you to sit. Not hover, not squat, sit. You may express insecurities or worries of hurting him at first, but Wrecker is extremely adamant it’ll all be alright. I mean, come on. The man is huge, and any worry of crushing him is gone the instant he grabs onto your hips and situates you right on him.

Wrecker is incredibly eager when he laps at your cunt, tongue and fingers reaching any place he can, encouraging you to move and grind all over him so you can get your fill. If he gets your spend dripping down his chin and trailing down his neck, that just means hes given you and you’ve given him everything you can feasibly give, and he can wipe it away with a pussy drunk look on his face before asking if he can make you come again.

Crosshair - Does it more for himself than you

You could reasonably argue that Crosshair likes eating you out more than you like getting eaten out. This man craves it like he’s addicted, forever hooked on your taste, your body, every twitch and sigh and slight movement of your body forever ingrained in his mind.

Somehow, despite giving, he manages to be selfish. Crosshair is groaning into you, whispering things he knows you can’t hear because hes talking to himself (or your cunt). Even through that, he makes it good for you; being selfish doesn’t mean it won’t be enjoyable for the receiving party. If he’s slow and thorough about it (which rarely happens) he can make you see stars with the gentlest of pets. But usually, you come fast and hard. And no matter what, he makes you feel good.

Echo - Slowly but surely

Echo is probably one of, if not, the most romantic when it comes to eating you out. He doesn’t want you to do any work; “Don’t grind your hips, sweetheart. I’ve got it. Just feel good for me.”

Giving is something he feels is necessary to show his love and appreciation in the bedroom, so he wants you to lie back and let him make you fall apart at his own pace. And Maker do you fall apart.

Echo knows every single rhythm with his licks and pumps and sucks, every pattern he could follow that will make you feel so good your eyes are brimmed with tears once you do finally finish. But he’s quick to rise up and kiss them away, whispering little nothings while his hand traces the curves of your body, easing you back down from the high.

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil @wolffegirlsunite @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @sunshinesdaydream @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @thebomb-diggity @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @cw80831 @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @mythical-illustrator @a-single-tulip @isaidonyourknees @salaminus @mekuiikore @crosshairscrustysock

[i7nn8a]

Warning: Contains explicit content.

Thinking about !satosugu, who are not only your boyfriends but also your best friends, and !name, a famous screenwriter who writes inappropriate stuff as practice for their craft.

!satosugu, where Satoru has to leave for a business trip for his father's company in two days and tries to spend as much time as possible with you two.

!satosugu, where Suguru is incredibly busy finishing a tattoo design that he needs to deliver to a client in a few hours.

!name, who really needs to finish the script for that episode — it’s the second season of the series, and the first was a huge success. You're so close to finishing the script, so why are you writing such an explicit adult fanfic?

That’s exactly what Suguru is wondering as he sets aside the iPad he was using for his drawing, now resting on his lap, while leaning over your right shoulder to read what you're typing on your computer. Meanwhile, Satoru is literally lying on your left side with a bag of chips in hand, closely reading everything you’re furiously typing on your laptop.

!satosugu, who can’t even remember if they had anything else to do, simply letting themselves get caught up in the story you're writing. You barely finish typing a sentence, and they’ve already read it.

!satosugu, who are completely absorbed by your story about two neighbors with immense sexual tension, where the !olderneighbor sleeps with her as a way to thank her for taking such good care of his nephew. Suguru can't wrap his head around how you, one of the most critically acclaimed screenwriters of recent times, are writing this. Satoru, on the other hand, has never been this entertained. Of course, neither of them dares to say a word so as not to disturb you.

!satosugu, who start losing their minds when the !olderneighbor uses a popsicle to have sex with the girl. A popsicle. They simply can’t believe the direction your mind has gone.

!satosugu, who pay attention to every—yes, every single—detail, intending to use them with you later. After all, if you’re writing this and letting them see it, it must mean you wouldn’t mind if something similar happened to you, right?

!satosugu, who, as soon as you finish writing, head out to buy a popsicle, specifically a coconut-flavored one.

!satosugu, who may or may not have you spread open on the bed, crying, with a popsicle buried inside you. Maybe. Maybe not.

!Satoru, who goes on his business trip happier than ever and hopes it goes by quickly so he can return to you both as soon as possible.

!Suguru, who finishes the tattoo design as fast as possible so he can dive deep into all the stories you read. Not that he’s grabbed your phone to check out your account or the stories you’re into or anything.

!satosugu, who might have started following you on your anonymous story account with anonymous accounts of their own.

Note: Maybe I’ll write the story about the !olderneighbor.

Hope you enjoy it.💞💞

[hobby1008]

My whore

If you use a translator, the sentences may be strange.

jiwoo x m reader

tags: non-con, anal, creampie

NMIXX Jiwoo She is a lovely, pretty and cute woman. Every time I saw her, I always thought I wanted to have sex with her, and to suppress that desire, I masturbated every night while thinking of her, but my feelings for her grew stronger, and I thought I wanted to rape Jiwoo to relieve my desire.

The next day, after NMIXX finished her schedule and returned to the company, I put my plan into action.

After sending all the other members in, I went to the most secluded place in the company with Jiwoo if there was anything I could do, and as soon as I got there,

I pushed her against the wall and kissed her deeply. She was startled and tried to resist, but my momentum overwhelmed her, and I didn't plan on giving her a chance.

I took off her pants and exposed her pussy, and she resisted and tried to get away from me. I spread her legs and started caressing her right away. When I put two fingers in her tight pussy, she moaned and stopped resisting, and I started to humiliate her. "Do you like it that much? Look forward to it. I'll make you crazy today."

I kissed her again and poked her pussy at an incredibly fast speed, and her legs gradually lost strength from my caresses, and as her love juice increased, I took my hand out of her pussy and showed it to her. "Our Jiwoo has a lot of love juice, and it's the best."

Then Jiwoo's legs completely gave out, and I lifted her up and placed her on the desk. She then cried and begged, "Please stop. Please…"

and took off her pants and took out my cock.

However, Jiwoo looked shocked when she saw my cock that was quickly erect, and I began to feel satisfied with her expression. "Do you get excited when you see my vagina?" I said and started rubbing my vagina against her vagina, and she shook her head from side to side, and begged, "No, stop, please…" but I grabbed her head and fixed my gaze on my vagina, and said, "Look carefully," and slowly started inserting my vagina into her vagina.

Her vagina was so tight that it was hard to insert. But soon I filled her vagina with my vagina, and said, "Feel it well, Jiwoo. When I'm done, you'll beg for more," and started poking Jiwoo's vagina.

Then a moan burst out of her mouth, and more love juice came out, lubricating my vagina, and I started enjoying her vagina at an even faster pace.

"Jiwoo, you're so good. You're better than I thought." At the same time, I took off her top, exposing her breasts.

Her nipples were erect for me, and I caressed them by rubbing them with my fingers. "Do you like it that much, with our Jiwoo standing up to the top?"

She shook her head in cute rebellion, and I grabbed her nape and fixed my gaze on her, and said, "Jiwoo, I'll do it faster, feel my cock well."

I increased the speed and started fucking her pussy indiscriminately.

Then her pussy started to ooze love juice and squeezed around my cock even more.

As if it had been waiting for my cock.

"You whore, do you like it that much? You're squeezing it wildly while panting," I said, and began to humiliate her, and gradually increasing the speed, and caressing her in various ways.

While mixing in kisses, sucking and caressing her nipples, and occasionally rubbing her g-spot with my hand, she stopped begging me to stop earlier, and just moaned and squeezed, and it seemed like she was enjoying sex with me.

I felt that I was reaching my limit and told her, "Jiwoo, you're going to cum, you're so good" When I said that, She immediately started begging.

"Please, not inside, please…"

But I ignored her pleas and

I thrust deep inside her one last time And started to cum.

Her pussy was too narrow to hold my cum, And when I pulled out, My cum and her love juices mixed together and came out, And she looked exhausted and panting, And that was enough for my pussy to get erect again.

I stroked my pussy again and "It was so good, Jiwoo, but it's all gone again. Let's go to round 2 right away." When I whispered in her ear, She looked surprised and "Ah… no, it's too hard, please…" She begged, and I rubbed the mixture coming out of her pussy on her anus. “Don’t worry, Jiwoo, there are other holes left.”

She was surprised and tried to resist, but when I put two fingers in her anus and caressed her, she started to gasp and moan, and I lubricated her anus even more with the mixture from her pussy, and when her anus was ready, I immediately put my dick in and said, “What does Jiwoo’s anus taste like?”

Her anus gave me a tighter feeling than my pussy, and I started to poke her anus indiscriminately. Then Jiwoo moaned and panted louder than when I poked her pussy before, and said, “Jiwoo, you are a real natural whore,” and at the same time, I started to caress her pussy with my hand.

When I poked her pussy and anus at the same time in rhythm, her moaning became louder and more erotic, and she started to ejaculate. I thrust her anus and vagina at a faster speed for her, and eventually she ejaculated the most, to the point where she spurted all of my semen.

"Wow, Jiwoo, you were such a great whore. You were raped and you really wanted this?"

But Jiwoo couldn't respond to my words because of her ejaculation, and I also reached my climax once again, and after thrusting her anus indiscriminately, I ejaculated deep inside, and I immediately pulled my cock out of her anus.

Then she collapsed with all her might, and I was so satisfied watching a large amount of the mixture come out of her two holes, and I took a picture of her like that, and I whispered again, "You're really great. You were the best woman I've ever been with, and if you don't want the pictures to be made public, I'll be nice to you in the future."

Then she glared at me with a resentful expression, and I gave her a short kiss and left.

[eetherealgoddess]

TR: ꨄYANDERE HEADCANONSꨄ

Sano Manjiro, Hanemiya Kazutora, & Sanzu Haruchiyo x Reader

Characters are 18+

❦We already know that these mfs have a crazy streak to them. That’s why we love them :) ❦

❣︎A lil gift for my unpredictability. Hopefully I’ll get to some of the pending requests soon. If not, just know that i love youuuu <3

Not fully proofread

MY TR FANDOM WORKS ARE ONLY ON TUMBLR & AO3 UNDER EETHEREALGODDESS! REPORT IF YOU SEE IT POSTED UNDER ANYONE ELSE BUT ME!!!

Notice:

✩Y/n is 18+. I picture her as a black female but you can see her however.

✩Some parts of the story may not be realistic or factual. After all, this is a work of fiction.

✩Although it's a dark 'romance,' I do not condone any of the behavior displayed.

✩Dark content such as: gore, violence, triggering topics, graphic scenes, vulgar language, explicit sexual content, etc.

✩There may be scenes that involve non con and/ or dubcon so don’t read if that makes you uncomfortable

✩That being said, this story is for 18+ only.

Enjoy!

Mikey: Manjiro Sano, publicly known as Mikey, has been your favorite, famous racer since you found him unexpectedly on social media a couple years ago. You’ve never really been into the motorcycle scene until you saw the attractive blonde when swiping through your for you page.

You’ve even gone out of your way to visit him at the different raceways and arenas he’s raced at, cheering him on from afar along with the crowd’s roars. Although your passion for him was strong, you knew that you were nothing but a mere fan out of numerous supporters. An extra in his show.

What you failed to notice is that for the first time he noticed you was during the end of the first race you attended as he slowly paused in front of the crowd who cheered his name. As he observed with a genuine smile, you seemed to have caught his attention. As he eyed you, the energy you radiated as you applauded the short man caused him to envision his deceased older brother, along with the rest of his family who stood beside the visualization of Shinichiro.

During this time, you could’ve sworn you made eye contact before he swiftly turned away, slightly giddy at the smile you might have received.

Unknown to you Mikey’s fixation on you continues to intensify, his behavior towards you becoming incredibly invasive as well as a distant attachment forming to the idea of you. He begins to monitor your every move on social media, watching your every update and interaction with others. As his attraction deepens, he becomes determined to keep you close and under his control, going to great lengths to ensure you remain in his presence.

You were excited when you received a private message of your favorite racer wanting to meet you. You thought it was fake when you first noticed it until you saw the blue check mark and viewed the profile. Despite a slight uneasiness, you proceed with conversation and attend his races. The support becomes more personal as you become closer, his clinginess prominent though you can’t seem to find a care. Who wouldn’t want THE Manjiro Sano to link to them?

Time passes and you begin to realize how fast the relationship between you two is going. Before you know it, he’s basically moved you into his home as he requests your presence almost every single moment of the day. There were times when he even showed up to your job to get you off work so you could hang out. Luckily for you, your manager is a huge fan of the racer, but you were starting to become very uncomfortable with the off - putting behavior.

After more weird actions you made an attempt to distance yourself, only for him to question your loyalty and gaslight you into feeling guilty for trying to leave him, especially when you’re the closest person to him. Regardless, you held your ground, ready to live for yourself and to stop accommodating to the one you used to be a fan of.

“Let me show you how to ride a motorcycle.”

An eyebrow rose as you contemplated his ‘request.’ Shrugging you decided to allow it considering after this session you will continue distancing yourself from the needy man. Taking you to the nearest arena to practice, he showed you the basics and even displayed it on his own bike before handing it off to you.

Feeling nervous and yet the adrenaline boost causing excitement, you began on your own way around the arena, gaining momentum as you pressed the gas pedal, helmet tight on your head.

A few minutes pass when you decide to slow down, though when you hit the brake pedal, it doesn't show any signs of halting. A rush of anxiety and pure fear shoots through your chest as you desperately attempt to slow down. You attempt to scream for Mikey, turning your head to meet his gaze only to catch a quick glimpse of his stoic facial expression.

“Oh my God!”

Realizing the motorcycle was only speeding up to no end, you forcefully push yourself off the bike, landing harshly on the ground as the motorcycle falls off the trail and slams into a nearby wall, pieces flying everywhere. The pain in your body numbs out before engulfing your nerves as you groan before falling into a deep slumber.

Two months have passed since the devastating incident and your whole world has changed. You sit in your wheelchair in your former favorite’s home while he sits in between your paralyzed legs on a small stool. Your fingers trace through his blonde locks to pull half of it into a ponytail. He couldn’t help but sit with a smile, knowing that you’ll be tied to him for a while. At least for your recovery.

Unfortunately for you, the feeling of a grin was long forgotten as your whole reality became sucked into his, and you couldn’t do anything about it.

Kazutora: The arcade had always been a place that held fond memories from your childhood. While it was open, you’d visit almost daily after school was released. You remember getting scolded everytime you would skip out on your homework or give minimum effort just to play on the machines and hang out with your friends. You always thought the building would be your preferred spot, even in your adulthood.

It never crossed your mind that one day, the business would shut down, the owners eventually abandoning the nostalgic structure and leaving the walls to rot. You also never thought you’d be sitting with your arms wrapped tightly around your knees as you lay your head down in an attempt to block your vision from what is playing out in front of you within the walls of the old arcade that used to be your comfort zone.

Unfortunately, your hearing exposed you to the disturbing impact of skin against bloody, torn flesh as fists make contact with the unconscious victim lying on the grimy cement. Your eyelids are shut tight as your hidden expression holds a grimace. Your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip, drawing a drop of blood as the metallic taste reaches your tongue.

You ignore the blood thirsty men who cheer on the violent endeavor. Their voices echo throughout the room, making it harder for you to tune out the situation. You had only heard of Valhalla before you were forced to meet them. Your certified ‘boyfriend’ made sure to show you off once he had a hold of you, almost like a prized possession he claimed. You never even agreed to the title, but you knew not to test the unstable man.

“Kazutora.” Although your voice is muffled, he’d never miss it no matter how quiet you are. Even in a room full of intimidating men. The sound of skin connecting halts as the room goes quiet. Your grip tightens around your limbs as you hear steady footsteps come towards you. Ignoring the whistling and whispers from the males watching the display, the footsteps stop in front of you before a hand gently grips the back of your head. You could feel the moisture of the red substance seeping to your scalp, causing a shiver up your spine. The golden eyed male guides your head up, forcing you to make eye contact as you give him a distressed gaze.

“H-he only greeted me. Stop… please.” You demand, your fingers fidgeting with the tight skin against your legs as you eye him crouching in your line of vision. He gives you a blank stare, the orbs wide with an unreadable expression that causes a prominent discomfort. He removes his hand from your head as he rests his arms against his bent legs.

“You’re taking his side now? That kinda hurts my feelings, Y/n.” His head tilts as he gives a sheepish smile with his eyes closed, scratching the back of his streaked locks.

“I-I’m not!” You shriek, eager to prove him wrong so as to not rile him up more. The poor male lying on the ground got caught in the crossfire of this psychopath’s wrath all because he greeted you. You were tired of others getting hurt in the process of even being near you. He’s an innocent bystander and it isn’t fair.

“Oh, Y/n. How could you be so insensitive to your lover’s concerns?” Hanma, a guy you’ve never liked, adds fuel to the flame as he sits with his legs crossed in a chair, leaning on the palm of his hand with a sly smile. “It seems she hasn’t learned her lesson. I’d give him a few more rounds for good measure. He can take it.” He shrugs with a smug expression.

You glare at him while the rest of the men agree and add their own two cents before facing Kazutora, who only stares back at you with an intense gaze that makes you shift uncomfortably.

“No, I’ve learned my lesson. I won’t talk to him again. Please just stop the violence.” You notice the blood running down his arms from his hands as it stains his pants. Your eyebrows furrow at the sight and strong smell which only grew as he placed both palms on your cheeks while kneeling. Both of your foreheads connect gently as he breathes your scent in.

“You’re mine, you know that right? You won’t ever betray me like that again?” He questions with his eyes closed. You feel his thumbs caress your skin as the blood smears, nodding your head to answer his questions.

“You promise?”

“Yes, I promise.”

Sanzu: You couldn’t help but feel like someone is playing a cruel psychological prank on you. The nagging feeling of being watched no matter where you go, even in your own home. The glimpses of a shadow figure in the corner of your eye, only for you to turn your head to see nothing. You ignored it at first, continuing your days as if everything was normal.

It wasn’t until a corpse was found in your bathroom, awaiting your arrival to view the disturbing display of a decaying body. You screeched until your throat couldn’t release sound anymore. After calling the police you sat in your living room. Once the authorities reached the scene, there was no sight of any dead body.

A few weeks pass and you just got off from work, ready to shower and throw yourself on your bed. You allowed the heat of the water to relax your muscles as you rubbed along your dermis with the soapy cloth. Once you were finished, you stepped out of the bathroom in your towel before heading to your bedroom.

Once you were dressed, you hopped into bed and switched your lamp off, the moonlight shining through the cracked curtains.

Although your eyelids were closed, you were interrupted from drifting off to sleep when a palm covered your mouth as a weight held you down. Your eyes shoot open, an icy blue glaring down at you through the darkness, as well as pink strands draping over the male’s shoulders. The lump in your throat burns as the tears threaten to fall out of your eyes as you stare in fear at the growing, scarred smile.

You watch as his free hand comes towards his mouth, his index finger pointed upwards and landing against his lips.

“Shh…” He motions for you to stay quiet as he feels the vibration of your whimpers against his skin. The free hand moves behind him before a shiny object is pulled out and pressed against your neck. Your eyes squint as the tears fall down your cheeks, body trembling as you feel the cold surface make contact with your skin.

“Did ya recognize him?” He questioned in amusement, just above a whisper. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as you searched your brain for what he could mean.

“Why would you let a scum near my pussy?” You almost jerked back at the chuckling crazy guy. You have no clue who he even is nor who he’s talking about. That is… until it hits you.

The memory of the corpse you found in the bathroom plays out in your head. At the time you weren’t really focused on the identity because of how distraught you were to find the dead body. Now that you remember, the familiarity of the male’s face wasn’t hard to depict. He had been your most recent booty call, a friend of a friend who became your temporary close friend.

How you couldn’t recognize him was because you rarely ever called each other so it was only a couple of times you hooked up. Why the hell did this guy kill him and why is he referring to your vagina as ‘his pussy?’

You take a really good look at the man in front of you to try and figure out his thinking process, when it finally clicked.

That face… those eyes… those scars.

“Haru?!” Your voice is muffled against his hand, the male you happened to meet when he was blonde and masked. The boy you went to middle school with. The quiet boy you sat with at lunch, conversing even when he didn’t respond. The boy you created a close and yet distant friendship with. The boy who slightly broke your heart when he disappeared and was never heard from again. What the hell happened to him? Was he always this psychotic?

He observed you as realization hit, the crazed grin seeming to stretch wider than before. The glint in his eyes seemed to shimmer as he leaned closer to you.

“This time, you’re coming with me.”

[professorlaytonarchive]

THE ORIGINAL DEATHLY MIRROR HAS BEEN FOUND.

This is not a drill. All 6 chapters of MotDM's original version are found and playable through emulation right now, thanks to the brilliant folks over at KeitaiWiki!

Now, remember this is the original version, not the ReMix, and the whole thing is in Japanese (yes, we're working on a translation) - but this is an amazing find for several reasons.

One, of course, is preservation. Having this game accessible and available is a fantastic thing for a multitude of reasons I don't feel the need to explain here.

Two, it's amazing news for our remake, too. There were a few missing pieces that we were not sure what to do about. That worry has been solved entirely, and all of these things can now be incorporated into the remake. Like what, you may ask?

For starters, there's 15 new puzzles that we can now localise and incorporate. Some are a bit more difficult to work with (there's a few based on specific uses of Japanese grammar), but we feel confident we'll be able to deliver fun and interesting interpretations of these new puzzles. For those of you keeping count, yes, that ups the minimum total of new puzzles in our remake to 60.

Another thing we're very happy to have recovered is the minigames, and the diary entries they reward you. There's one minigame in Chapters 1-3, and another in Chapters 4-6, for which we did not have any gameplay, assets, or even rules. While the loss of the second mingame could have been overcome by simply giving the first minigame more levels, the diary entries they reward you would have needed a lot more work and imagination, with our writers having to try to create new entries that would follow the original vision. This is now no longer an issue, and we can bring the original vision for these diary entries into the remake as they are.

On top of that, there were a few characterisations and storylines that were different between the original and the remix, where we would have had to pick the remix version by default, because the back half of the original was missing - this recovery gives us far more wiggle room to combine and reconcile these versions and make this game the most interesting version of itself. (Also, at the back end, having access to the original assets makes our recreation department very, very happy.)

So, all in all, a fantastic morning for the Layton fandom!

And then, what? Well, it might be a bit quiet on the update side of things for the time being, given that our job right now is to translate and localise about a million different things - and that just isn't a super interesting process to be sharing. We may have more to tell you once we've unpacked and analysed the files (we've only just got our hands on them, that's how fast this whole thing has gone), and we definitely have some other fun stuff we're working on that we can't wait to share, but after this massive update (maybe the biggest we'll ever do, because, wow), we'll need some time to work.

So for now, keep on keeping on, keep an eye on this subreddit and our youtube channel, and go check out the incredible work KeitaiWiki is doing. This whole thing, from the beginning, would not have been possible without them. (Seriously - they've been with us since the start of it all.)

Thank you.

-Nordic

from Team Enigma and Team Professor Layton Archive

[cybershock24601]

I have more Veilguard time travel thoughts but do you guys think Spirits would be affected too because I've been plagued with thoughts of Spite and Manfred remembering the future and the chaos that would come from that.

Manfred is suddenly talking and Emmrich is delighted though perhaps a bit confused about what has caused this sudden leap in capabilities and why Manfred seems so fixated on birds (Manfred keeps repeating ROOK ROOK ROOK ROOK ad nauseam).

Spite on the other hand is super confused about where is Lucanis, why can't I find Lucanis, I want Lucanis! and ends up going to search for Rook instead because Lucanis always listens to Rook, Rook can fix this. The next part is a little dependent on my Lucanismancer Watcher Rook who is suddenly getting relentlessly badgered in the Fade by an incredibly worked up Spite, manages to calm him down and explain the situation to him, and then says I got you when Spite wants to still help and manages to bind him to a suit of armor. I was originally thinking a skeleton but then I thought about how funny it would be if Rook and Spite were to travel around Thedas Fullmetal Alchemist style with an incredibly mouthy child ready to throw hands at any time and a giant imposing suit of armor with them though Spite isn't nearly as polite as Alphonse, he's just Spite.

So anyways, Rook and a newly bodied Spite make the journey south from Nevarra and by the time they reach Ferelden/Orlais the Inquisition has settled into Skyhold so it'd be a lot harder to deal with Solas so instead they have to settle on just keep an eye on him and making sure he can't cause trouble. Unfortunately, a big suit of armor with glowing purple eyes going to attract a lot of attention especially since Spite is absolutely a mouthy bastard and now Rook has to talk real fast to keep everyone from trying to kill him because they're in the South and just see Spite as a demon and Rook is shouting everyone down with an incredibly impassioned lecture about how the classification of demons and spirits is stupid and they're all just spirits and Spite isn't even (that) malicious. This all ends with Rook and Spite accidentally getting inducted into the Inner Circle because they are a package deal. Do Not Separate or else you're going to have to deal with a very grumpy Spite.

On the bright side at least everyone learns to appreciate Cole a lot more because Spite is a bit of a menace. Especially to Solas but Rook is also an exceptional bitch to Solas. No one can figure out what that one is about because clearly they have some issue with Solas and Solas seems to know exactly what they're talking about half the time but its also incredibly clear he doesn't know them and the entire confusing situation is driving Solas just a little mad because how does Rook know these things?? The reason why Rook seems to get really emotional when they're around Varric or Scout Harding is also a mystery but Rook definitely seems to have latched onto them.

I can also see Emmrich showing up in Skyhold because the Crypt Baby is missing and Manfred seemed to be fixated on finding them so Emmrich volunteers to track them down and Rook and Spite make a rather memorable pair so its easy to figure out where they have gone. His confusion is not helped when they arrive at Skyhold and Spite excitedly goes up to Manfred to show off that he has feet! and hands! Rook may or may not end up explaining the situation to Emmrich even if they're otherwise keeping their mouth shut.

[gotham-daydreams]

What would've happened if Y/n wasn't even in Gotham? Maybe they went to another country or something

If that did happen, then I think the Batfam would put their connections to good use (superhero or otherwise)!

Bruce Wayne would report the reader as missing, and they'd effectively have everyone and their mom on the reader's ass, and lets just say that Y/n wouldn't be gone for long. Especially not when the Batfam has connects with the Superfam and, well, I don't think I really need to mention anything besides they have incredible hearing and can fly super fast. (Alfred definitely shows some of them recordings and such he has of the reader so they know what the reader looks like, and what their voice sounds like if they don't know the reader already. Even if one of members of the Superfam probably does, even if I don't know who that'd be in particular.)

Granted it may still take them a while because the reader is one whole person in a world full of billions of them, but if there is one trait the Batfam shares is that they are absolutely relentless. Some are more stubborn than others, yes, but stubborn nonetheless.

Eventually they'd find the reader, and considering who these people are, along with who they're working with at this point, I can imagine that they'd find the reader pretty quickly considering things.

Not to mention that the reader is a pretty well known musician at this rate (albeit not to a super popular/famous degree, but well known enough for people on the street to kind of notice who they are in a little surprised but mostly casual way), and most likely has no idea that the Batfam is even looking for them until they see an article of them, or one of their friends mentions that they're apparently "missing".

Which gets extra awkward because, well- obviously they're just living their life at this point, and still making music because it's their passion and dream. They're not just going to stop because they left the manor, and have probably released a few songs with a performance of theirs coming up. Even if the location may not be disclosed yet, it's like the announcement itself cements the reader's fate. Since it's almost acting as a signal that's like a "hey!! i'm here!!" And again, this is a family full of Detectives and such, they can get details from most places other people probably wouldn't.

So, maybe they'd find the reader after a few weeks to a month or two at the very latest. Especially with them, at this point, going full yandere because they've been obsessively looking for the reader over however long it took them to find them. That obsession of the Batfam's growing more and more by the day, and their own paranoia and worries fueling each others. Maybe it even gets to Damian a little, who knows.

Regardless, whenever they find Y/n they are at their wits end. Now it isn't even up for debate if they kidnap the reader or not. They will. They do.

It's swift, it's sloppy, it's impulsive, it's reckless, and even it isn't thought out at all, it's quick. Almost painless.

They all just want to hold the reader and say all these things — but they can't. Not here. Not while Y/n isn't home. Not yet. But they will. Soon.

Whoever holds the reader first doesn't get to hold them for long. They're practically snatched and grabbed from all of the members of the family as they fight over the Reader's unconscious body like starved, savage dogs trying to get that last bit of meat before they have to endure the pains of hunger again.

Eventually, they do settle, especially thanks to Batman and Alfred, and decide who would be the best fit to carry the reader for the rest of the trip. That sparks another fight, but eventually someone is chosen, and some of them even take turns as everyone heads back to Gotham, returning home safely with the reader. Bringing them back home. To their real home.

Safe to say, the reader's freedom? Absolutely taken away, it practically doesn't exist anymore. Along with their personal space, as the Batfam needs a BIG recharge after all that searching, and the reader is just the thing they need. Expect a lot of hugs and a bunch of boundaries to get broken within that first month or so. They're never letting go, not ever again.

Tldr: Reader is still fucked either way, but it does take the Batfam significantly more time to find them, and when they do the family is basically mentally fucked over. All screws scattered on the floor- everything. So they're a little less lenient and immediately jump the gun, just that much closer to completely losing their mind, and so despite being so far away — the Reader is immediately brought back to Gotham once found, has basically all of their rights stripped away from them, and is suffocated in affections, hugs, cuddles, and the like for over a month into their captivity as a result. No exceptions. Not anymore.

Hope this answered your question! If anyone else has a question, or you yourself have something else you'd like to know the answer to, feel free to send in an ask! If you'd also like me to clarify something or anything like that, an ask is the way to go a well!

[lagerloutfic]

would like to preface this by saying feet are not my thing, but they certainly seem to be someone else's thing. The evidence is compelling. Thank you to @ctimenefic and @latecomersprivilege for the encouragement.

Alex has had exactly one and a half beers but he’s been in the sun all day. He hasn’t touched alcohol since the summer break so it just may have gone to his head. 

He takes a photo to send to Lily of the pristine beach, the perfect weather, his toes wiggling about on his deck chair. Then with a complete disregard for the well-being of every single social media intern at Williams, posts it to his Instagram stories. Giggles as he writes the caption. 

Alex finishes his beer and looks back at his phone. The reactions are coming in so fast the app crashes on him. He turns off notifications for Instagram and settles back into his chair, sweat cooling pleasantly on his chest in the gentle breeze. With the season he’s had he deserves a little fun. 

The Hot Rookie Slagssss group chat buzzes. 

Lando: how much?

Alex: ???

Lando: for feet pics

Alex: you can’t afford it

Lando: mate

Lando: who u drivin for again?

George: Sorry, Why do you want Alex’s feet pics?

Lando: never said i did

George See above.

Lando: just asking like what u charge

Alex: i don’t

Lando: why not?

George: Why are we having this conversation?

Lando: check Alex’s stories

George: Oh God, Alex!!!!

George: Does no one mind you? Does no one tell you off?

Alex: all the time

Lando: HELLO

Alex: it’s not the amount that’s important. It’s that they are worth something

Lando: to who

George: freakos on the internet

Lando: ???

George: wikifeet.com

Lando: fuck me

Lando: wow

Lando: ew

Lando: this what u in2 Albo?

Alex: no i’m not into it

George: the lady doth protest too much

Lando: well some1 is into it

George: internet freakos

Alex: how are you only hearing about this? This is basic internet shit

Lando: cause im in2 normal parts of girls like boobs and vag and stuff

Alex: remind me again why you’re single

Lando: cunt

Alex grins, signaling for another beer. Knows this needs to be his last one before he heads back to the hotel, getting ready for whatever mental media shit the team has scheduled for the next 24 hours.

Lando: sum of these r disgusting

Lando: i could do better

George: Why would you want to?

Lando: dunno, might as well like give the freakos something nice

Alex: like what

Lando: hang on

Alex is mid-pull on his beer when the photo loads. He chokes on it, spluttering like he’s drowning, beer running down his torso, soaking into his shorts. 

There’s no way to know it’s Lando out of context. Two fairly nice looking feet, toenails neatly trimmed and incredibly tanned. Taken from above by Lando judging from the downward angle. 

His feet are covered in two long stripes of pearly white liquid, starting to ooze between Lando’s toes. Alex knows this because he zooms in with sweaty fingers, lingering over the mole just below Lando’s little toe. 

George: Christ almighty is that…

Lando: it’s suncream

George: uh huh

Lando: fewtrell was off his tits in ibiza and overshot

George: He what now?

Lando: fuck off

Alex must be drunker than he thought. Or perhaps it’s the desert sun. He’s not used to it, makes him feel all out of sorts. He hasn’t eaten much today. Probably the reason for the weird pang in his stomach.

He zooms in again. 

He can almost taste it, the chemical tang of the suncream, gloopy and thick, mixing with Lando’s sweat, pores oozing from last night’s shots. He’s struck by a mad thought of lying down in the sand and feeling the delicate arch of Lando’s foot rub against his cheek, toes wiggling against his nose. 

Lando: reckon i could get some cash 4 that?

Alex: yeah. probs.

George: Danger! Warning! Alert!

Alex shakes himself, presses the back of his hand to his forehead, and feels how clammy he is. Would be just his luck to be coming down with something right before the race. His skin feels very tight, everything tingling ominously, like right before you spew. 

Alex: see but you’ve fucked up

Lando: how

Alex: well you gave it away for free didn’t you?

Lando: yeah

Lando: but that’s how we lure you in. first ones free then you’ll pay triple for more. marketing strat, innit?

Alex: lure who in

Lando: oh now whose the idiot

George: Lando, old boy. I think we found one of those internet sickos. 

Lando: 🦶🦶

[slimybeth69]

Touch: Part 2

Din x f!reader 18+ MDNI

Summary: The Mandalorian thinks you're an incredible artist and he just loves your doodles so much that he couldn't stop himself from doing what he does. He makes up for it though.

a/n: I know so very little about the Star Wars universe. I dunno shit about fuck when it comes to planets and ships and how things work. You'll see what I mean in later chapters, but I'm just warning you that I make a bunch of shit up, and am probably entirely incorrect about some of the things I may talk about in this chapter or upcoming chapters. I'M SORRY. I JUST LOVE THAT HELMETED MAN AND HIS GREEN CHILD, OK???

unbeta'd, poorly proofread because of my AHDH

Mando was gone when you woke up the next morning. Bed empty. Left you wondering if it was all a dream. He’s gone. 

With your notebook. 

It’s gone too. Nowhere to be found. At your own expense, you tore the ship apart looking for it but you can’t find it anywhere. The child loved this game. He helped massively. 

Maker.

What is he doing with it? Why does he still have it? 

You think you know the answers to all those questions but you’re still freaking out a little. Mostly because he has it.

Really it’s because now you’re stuck with nothing to do besides stare at the child. Which you’re currently doing. Just staring at him. And his big eyes and ears. Little robe. Where’d he get that little robe? You should make him a new one. Ask Mando to buy fabric and sew him a new one. 

He’s so cute. You pick him up and carry him outside so you can lay in the warm sun together. He does, for a while. Snuggles beside you and then moves to your head and plays with your hair. You make him a flower crown.

You don’t know where you are. You stopped asking Mando. Stopped caring, mostly when he made you stay with the ship. He brought you everything you needed. You had to stay with the child. Something about a fire and the ship being at risk if the kids left alone for too long. You don’t know. You didn’t care then but now you’re bored. And your mind is wandering.

The kid just stares back at you.

“I know. I’m bored too.” You say to the child, he responds in little baby coos and warbles. He looks at something on the ground by his feet and picks it up. He inspects it for a long time and then looks between you and the object in his clawed fingers. Then he holds it up to you to take from him. You do, and you inspect it as well.

It’s a dead bug. 

“Thank you...so much .” You gently set the dead bug down next to you. The child goes searching for more; he thinks you love your gift. You must want more. So he goes to find you as many as he can. You end up with a little pile of dead bugs and leaves and pebbles next to you. 

You think you love the child and that's weird to you. Because it's a baby and you don’t normally like babies. But he’s not like any baby you’ve ever met before and you think about what’ll happen when Mando doesn’t need you anymore. It actually knocks the air out of your lungs. 

Impossible. 

Unthinkable. 

You didn’t really plan for this. To get attached to the child. 

It just happened one day. Now it’s your child. You’d do just about anything for the lil’ green squirt. 

But he’s also not your child. He’s Mando’s. Don’t forget that. It’s his kid. 

Mando was gone for two days before you saw him again. When he did return the child was already asleep. But you were still outside looking up at the stars around the fire.

“I told you not to–” A voice rings out in the darkness and you nearly fall into the fire. You move so fast you almost stumble right into it trying to get away from the voice behind you but there’s a strong hand on your shoulder and stops you from moving. 

“What the-” You place a hand over your heart and pant softly. “Why!?” You shout, pushing his hand away. “Always! With the shaking me and scaring me in the dark!” You snap.

“I still didn’t shake you.” His helmet is tilted down to look at you. “Do you need me to define the word shake to you?” 

All you can do is blink at him. 

“Where is my notebook!?” You point a finger at him accusingly and attempt to leer at him. “I thought you’d put it back when you were done.” You say with contempt because you really did think he was going to put it away. 

But really, if you’re going to be honest with yourself, the last two nights have been you laying in his bed thinking about what he’s doing with your notebook. And you’re doing the same thing he you hope he’s doing. And you can smell him on his sheets. It’s his natural muskiness and it’s amazing. You fall asleep when you’re done cradling them to your face just to try and be close to him. And he wasn’t even the one who made you come that night together. You did it yourself! You cannot stop thinking about it though. Not at all. It’s the only thing you’ve thought about besides keeping the child alive. 

“I took it with me. I also told you not to be outside after dark when I’m not here.” He said it sternly, like he did when you made mistakes. 

You could hit him. Maker, you could. You think about how the beskar would feel on your dainty- has never seen any sort of forced punch– fist. Also, he’s got a lot of weapons in there. And the Amban on his back.  So you decide that in his best interest, you shouldn’t hit him.

“Well, it’s a good thing you're here, isn’t it?” You snip at him. He shakes his head. 

Mando stares at you for a long time. Saying nothing like always. Maker please, make him speak. 

“I got you something.” He says quietly from behind the modulator. 

What was that Maker? Huh? What’s a notebook? I’ve never seen a–

“You what?” You ask, stunned. Because he’s barely said a total of twenty non mean words to you this whole time before two nights ago and now he’s getting you gifts? As in something you didn’t tell him you needed and he got it with credits you gave him for it? You know, because he doesn’t let you go anywhere.

“Here.” He says, pulling something out from underneath his cape, maybe stuffed into a pocket or a bag, you dunno, but he pulls out another notebook. Not your notebook.  But another one. A new one. There's a new charcoal for you as well. 

You take it from his outstretched hand and stare at it for a long time. You’re the silent one now. 

“Do you like it?” Mando asks after a few quiet moments. You nod, unable to really find the words for how you feel about it. He watches you, looking at your gift and stands by the fire with you. 

“Thank you.” You finally look up at him. He’s got his head tilted down at you still. 

“You’re welcome.” Said so simply like he didn’t just make the last two days so lonely and bori– Hold on one Maker loving minute.

“Where's my other notebook though!?” You ask suddenly. There is no alarm in your voice, just curiosity, because now you kind of like the idea of him carrying it on him while he travels without you.

Mando’s head turns away from you, like he’s observing your guys’ surroundings so intently. 

“Mando.” You drop your head to look at him through your lashes. 

He doesn’t say anything, he’s staring up now and then points his finger up to the sky. 

“Do you see that star-” He starts. 

You groan in frustration, closing your eyes and putting your forehead in your hand.

“Did you lose it?” You ask after a minute. “I won’t really be that upset if–”

“I didn’t lose it.” He’s offended. “I can keep things safe.” He responds quickly. You blink at him. “I keep the child safe. You.” He motions to you with an up and down gesture.

“First– give me some credit for keeping the child safe.” You’re still looking up at him. “Did you know that he jumped into that river over there–” You point behind you. “Did it two times. He cannot swim. I had to go in after he started floating downstream! I’m here with him all the time. Every waking and sleeping second. I’m not saying you don’t keep us safe.” You hold your hands up. “I don’t really know what you do when you leave us here in these fields or deserts. I really dunno, but I’m sure it is keeping us both very safe. Second– You still have the doodles then?” He nods at you. “Can I have them back please?” He shakes his head from side to side. 

Oh Maker ! Is this what I get for doodling? Is this my punishment?

“I’d like to keep it.” Garbled modulated voice from underneath the helmet says so casually. Like he didn’t steal it out of your bag. Like you let him give it a test run to see if he’d like it and now he does and wants to keep it. “That's why I got you the new one.” He’s trying to justify it, funny.  

You look at him with disdain.

“I’ve upset you?” He asks curiously. “You’re…” 

“I’m just really disappointed in you.” You shake your head at him. You’re not as disappointed in him as you’re saying, you’re just saying that because he’s just being really cute right now but you’re not gonna let him know that. “What do you want it for so bad anyway? Gonna rub the charcoal all off it the way you’ve probably been touching it.” You snap at him. 

“I looked at it while I was gone.” He says. “I thought of you.” 

Okay . He can keep the notebook. He can have it. Because he was thinking about you while he was gone and you wonder what else he was doing while he was thinking of you, looking at it. 

He finally sits down next to the fire with you, not close but he sits, and lets out a loud sigh as he leans against the log behind him. 

“Did you have a rough day?” You ask quietly. He shrugs and picks at something on his beskar. When he does that it reminds you of the child.

“The child got all these dead bugs and gave them to me the other day. Like all the dead bugs he could find. He didn’t try to eat them or anything. Just gave them to me like they were a gift.” You chuckle nervously. 

“I hope you like mine more than his.” He looks over at you. 

“It’s a close one.  I won’t lie.” You smirk at him and wonder if he’s smirking back at you.

“So, can you ever take it off?” You motion towards his helmet. He touches it gently with his fingers. “You kept it on in the complete darkness the other night.”

“I can. No one can see my face though.” He explains carefully. “I kept it on to see you. I like to look at you sometimes.”

“Wh-what?” It’s like the breath got knocked out of you. 

“My religion. It’s a part of the creed I was sworn into.” He explains the helmet.

“ Sometimes ?” You raise an eyebrow. “You’ve done it before?” 

He looks away from you. 

“I’m ashamed of it. But yes. I can’t help it.” He’s still looking away from you, into the woods on the far side of the field and you wonder what he can see over there that you can’t.

You think for a long time, a lot of different thoughts running through your head. 

“What happens if someone were to see you?” You ask, changing the subject because you decide you’re not mad about it. Mando looks back at you.

“I wouldn’t be able to put it back on.” He explains. “I’d be banned from my creed.” 

Oh. That’s serious. You don’t know as much about Mandalore as you thought you did. 

“And that would make you upset?” You’re curious and he’s chatty.

“I’d be…” He trails off again. “ Disappointed .” 

You know he’d be more than disappointed but that’s the word he chose, so, you roll with it.

“Then let's not have that happen. No one likes a disappointed Mando.” You tease, reaching out and he lets you touch your foot to his with a gentle tap. He doesn’t pull away, not even after he sees what you’re doing. 

“Especially you. What’s the ship look like?” He tilts his head down as if he was looking at you through his eyelashes. 

“Clean. Surprisingly.” You snap. “ Someone took my only form of distraction so I actually had to do something today to not die of boredom.” You explain sassily. 

“So I should keep the new one too then?” He teases you. 

“Please Maker no.” You grip the notebook to your chest. “I need it.” 

Then he snorts or laughs or something. But it is the sound of air being exhaled at force through his nose and it's loud enough to register in the modulator. Your head snaps over to him. “Did I just make you laugh?” You’re stunned.

It's been so long since you’ve spoken to someone who wasn’t green or Mando himself that you’ve completely forgotten how to talk to people apparently, because you can’t think of another time in your entire life that you’ve asked someone if you’ve made them laugh. 

Okay. It’s not common that the person you're trying to make laugh has a helmet and face visor on, but still. What a weird question to ask. 

“Maybe.”

Now we're back to the short simple responses and you have an idea. A scary one, but an idea.

“Would you like to know what I did while you were gone? Besides, swimming after the child and cleaning and being bored?” 

The reason you’re nervous is because you don’t know how he’s going to react. At all. He could hate what you’re about to tell him, he’s so particular and he can be a little abrasive sometimes, so yeah, kinda nervous. 

“I would.” He’s still looking at you.

Okay, he’s on the hook and now we just have to reel him in. You lean one elbow on the log behind you and turn to him.

“I slept in your bed.” You say it quickly to see how he reacts. 

He doesn’t move. He doesn’t speak.

“Do you– you sleep on the floor when I’m not here?” He asks, shocked. 

Now you’ve completely forgotten what else you were going to say because you could have been sleeping there the whole time? And you’ve been sleeping on the paper thin mat instead when the bed has been empty.

You blink at him. 

“Don’t do that anymore. Use my bed when I’m gone.” 

You keep blinking at him.

“You didn’t think to tell me that?” You’ve been distracted from your original point. 

“I thought it was obvious.” 

This makes your eye twitch softly. 

“Okay.” Because it wasn’t really obvious. He’s yelled at you every day he’s been here except for the night. So why would he want you in his bed?

“Is that all? Was that supposed to make me laugh?” He asks. You stare at him.

“No. It wasn’t. But now I’m mad and I don’t want to tell you anymore.” 

“Tell me.” He says it softly but the modulator messes it all up and you don’t get his real softness. You might never get it. Probably won't. 

“I touched myself thinking about you touching yourself looking at my notebook.” It comes out way less sensual and sexy than you had planned on saying it but it does the job. He gasps softly but loud enough to register.

“You did?” His voice changed immediately to being filled with awe and excitement rather than just sounding like he was putting up with you.

You nod at him, softening slightly because you like when he talks to you this way. Nicely and sweetly. 

“D-did it g-get..” He pauses. “Did it get wet?” 

You nod. 

“Maker.” He sighs. You can’t help but smirk. 

“How many times? Please tell me.” He’s leaned in, apprehensive of what you have to say. 

“Four.” You sigh at him. “Twice a night. I couldn’t sleep unt-” 

“Would you do it again for me tonight?” He interrupts you. “Twice. Please.” 

“Okay.” 

You barely have time to think about what’s going to happen before Mando is up on his feet, holding his hand out to you. You stare up at him for a moment, not recognizing  the gesture especially from him. You place your hand in his eventually and he pulls you to your feet. Then, he holds your hand as you begin to walk inside. 

“Are there rules about..” You trail off as you get to the ship's entrance. You stop walking. “Are you not allowed to, you know, touch me like that?” You ask as he turns to see why you’ve stopped. 

“No.” He says quietly now that you’re both within earshot of the child again. 

“So why don’t you help me tonight?” You ask hesitantly unsure of how he’ll react. He takes a step towards you so fast you take a step back in fear but he pulls you into him gently. 

“You’d let me? Really?” He asks, surprised, like you weren’t just splayed out at his request a couple nights ago. 

Yes?” You say confused. “Why do you think I said yes the other night?” Mando doesn’t speak. For so long. Again with the silence Maker.

“I don’t know.” 

“You’re impossible. Do you know that?” You ask, rolling your eyes at him. 

“I’ll help.” He says, taking a step backward onto the ramp of the ship. “I can do more than help, too. If you’d let me.” 

“Let you? Like I don’t want it either.” You chuckle to yourself. 

“You really thought about it? About me?” He asks in a hushed whisper as you walk into the ship and you place your new gift in a cupboard high enough that the child can't reach. Once you’re fully into the hull he shuts everything up. You’re starting to undress, Mando has disappeared somehow, he was just in front of you, and you turned to check on the child and now he’s gone. The ship goes completely dark, just like the other night and you’re plunged into the void once again.

“Mando.” You whisper into the abyss. “Mando I don’t like wh-” But you feel his hands.

You didn’t even hear him walk to you, only feeling his hands on your waist. Mando slips two fingers behind the button of your pants and then with his thumb, pops it open. You can’t even comprehend how he did that before his touch is gone again.

“Do you have to keep the beskar on all the time?” You whisper. He’s disappeared from touching you so you start to unbutton the front of your shirt. But then his un-gloved hands move yours away. 

“Do you think I sleep in it?” He teases from behind the modulator. 

“Yeah, kinda.” You respond honestly because why would you not think that? You’ve never even seen Mandos' wrist or ankle. To you, his beskar may as well be a part of him. Something he physically cannot remove. 

He does the laugh again. 

“Do you want me to take it off?” He asks after a moment of silence. He’s undoing your buttons so slowly. 

“If you take it off, am I– am I allowed to touch you?” He doesn’t respond but he’s finally got all your buttons undone and now he’s sliding his hands where your shirt opens in the middle and he’s sliding the flat of his palm across the skin just below your breasts. He groans softly. 

“You want to t-touch me?” He asks, like he cannot believe that you’d want to do that. 

“Yes!” It’s louder than you intended. You put your hands over your mouth because the child is close by. “Yes. You don’t want to just touch each other?” You whisper now.

“No.” He says quickly. “I me– I mean yes. But I want to watch you too. I like doing that. You’re very– v-very… You know how you like to be touched. I want you to show me.” The raspiness of his modulated voice is making your knees weak. 

“Okay.” Is all you can come up with; it’s your favorite word apparently. You wonder if Mando can sense that all the thoughts in your brain just leave when he says things like that to you.

You hear the soft metal clicks of something being set on the floor beside you and now, your heart is racing. He’s a real person under his armor and cape and helmet and you’re about to touch him. Standing in the dark waiting for Mando to disarm himself for you. Your heart is pounding out of your chest, you’re sure that Mando can hear it or he probably had a sensor for it in his helmet, since it’s so  useful to him all the damn time. 

“Touch.” He whispers. You hesitantly reach your hands into the darkness and your fingers brush up against the hottest skin you’ve ever touched. It’s like he’s being incubated inside the beskar. So warm. So… strong . His skin is soft on your fingertips but he’s got muscles under there. You can feel them. You press into him, making sure he’s real because this has got to be a dream.

“Wow.” You manage to whisper in awe into the dark. You’re impressed with how he feels behind your hands, yes, so impressed it’s making your legs tingle again. It’s also nice to feel another person against you again. He’s so inviting now that his armor is off. Now that he’s exposed it’s like a different person is standing in front of you.

You press the flat of your palm against his sides, feeling his ribcage against your hands. Fingers still pressed tightly against his flesh so you can feel him.  

He’s breathing heavily and you’re so close you can hear him under the modulator. 

“You want to keep that on?” You ask, looking up to where the breathing is coming from. He says nothing. “It’s okay if you do, I just wanna make sure you’re comfortable.” You snake your hands around his waist and run them up the length of his back and he’s got even more rock hard muscles back there, Maker, how? He’s like one big rock hard bag of muscles and it’s incredible to feel his strength under your hands this way.

“I’d prefer to see you.” 

You’re pressing your own naked body against his now, the hard peak of your breasts press against him and you feel him shiver against you. 

“I like looking at you.” He rasps quietly. His hands touch you. Really touch you. His flat palms are running down your sides. He started up under your arm and is slowly dragging his hands down your waist and sides. Mapping you out. Taking in every inch of you. 

“I like when you touch me.” You whisper. When you speak, he presses the tips of each finger into your flesh and gropes you gently. 

Maker, the strength behind his touch is almost debilitating. It’s incredible and you feel bad for anyone he’s ever put his hands on in any way that isn’t this because he’s holding back for you. You can feel it, in the tenseness of his arms as your hands now explore his forearms and biceps and triceps. Mando is so tense he’s almost shaking. Like he’s desperately holding back from just grabbing you, tossing you on the bed and not listening or watching you like before. 

You’re obsessed with it, the way he’s breathing while he’s touching and exploring your body. It’s staggered and sometimes, when his hands will roam across your ass or your breasts, he’ll gasp softly like he was surprised. You wish on everything that was good, Maker, that he’d just take the helmet off. You’d do anything to just feel the warmth of his mouth where his hands are right now.

Mando takes both of his hands and lifts you right below your bottom, and lifts so your feet are just barely touching the floor. You have to hold onto his shoulders to keep from falling and your whole body presses into him for support. Mando sighs softly into your ear from behind the modulator before he starts to walk you backwards. You're on just the tips of your toes and you let him guide you to his bed. 

It's not much better than the mat. But it's off the floor and has a little more padding. And the blankets, oh Maker, the blankets are so soft. You’ve slept in them naked the past two nights because they’re the most beautiful feeling on your skin while you twist and turn in your sleep. 

Now, Mando is laying you down on top of them. As he lays you down, he kicks either one of your knees open with his so he can kneel between them, he’s still leaning you back, moving one hand to behind your neck so you don’t fall. 

“I like this better than the doodles .” He says as you finally lay back, his hand slides from behind your neck and over your collar bone slowly. He snakes it around your fleshy mound and between your breasts, still pressed flat against you. “S-so much better.” It’s a sigh through the modulator but you can tell he’s watching his hand trail down between your breasts and over your stomach.

“You can look whenever you want.” You tell him breathlessly as his hand moves across your stomach. His index finger traces over your bellybutton so lightly it almost tickles but this is too erotic to be laughing and squirming from tickles. You are squirming but it’s because he’s still tracing over your belly button but his other hand has found where your thigh meets your hip. Now he’s touching you so close to where you want to be touched but his fingers trace across your lower stomach and he sighs again.

“Do you mean it?” His raspy modulator makes you jump because he’s been quiet for so long. You forgot what you said, it's been so long. He’s been teasing you with his fingers like this for what feels like twenty minutes. 

“Mean what?” You sigh as the back of his hand grazes over your slit. You’re already soaked. If you could think about anything besides how fucking hot this was, you’d be a little embarassed getting to excited for someone who hasn’t even kissed you. 

“I can look whenever?” Mando rests the back of his hand against you and pushes his middle finger into your slit. “Because I would like to. I’d look all the time.” His finger is pushing against your clit gently and it’s sending blaster beams through you. 

“Yes. I m-meant it.” You gasp softly into the dark. The heat of his hand feels like it’s going to burn right through you. 

Mando flips his hand around and cups your sex and pushes. The pressure from your own fold and his hand make you moan softly. Now he massages you, slowly and you assume he watches as he makes you squirm again. You suppress another moan as he increases his pressure and almost pushes you back a little, his massaging getting a little fast. 

“I like watching you try and hold back.” His raspy voice behind the modulator scares you again in the dark after a bout of silence and slow crescendoed increases in his speed of his rubbing. Then he pulls his hands away. You snap your knees up to trap him so he can’t leave and you feel his naked body against your inner thighs and it makes you sigh softly because he is so warm and so inviting as his hands find your legs. He’s gripping you. 

“Don’t leave.” You whine, squeezing him tighter between your legs. You hear him chuckle, a real chuckle and his hands relax and he slides them up to your middle. 

“How could I? You’ve ensnared me.” And then his hands slide up your waist and you can feel him leaning over you. “I won’t leave. Not now.” He whispers to you, his hands now just under your breasts. “I have to touch you.” Mando’s hands slide across your fleshy mounds and he gropes them gently in his palms. Squeezing them. “P-perfect.’ 

“Don’t stop.” You reach up and place your hands on top of his and make him squeeze them harder. “F-feels so good, Mando.” One of your nipples slips between his fingers and he pinches it unknowingly as he gropes and massages. He’s following your lead, feeling the pressure you put on his hands and he mirrors it. “Sss- so- oh shit, Mando.” 

Mando has pressed his erection against your slit, but not inside. You feel the length of him pressed between your legs. 

“Fuck.” He groans through the modulator. “You’re s-so wet already.” The cold metal of the helmet is on your shoulder. “Fuck.” He moves now, slowly and his entire length moves between your folds, the ridges and veins of him moving against your clit. Your hands are still holding his to your chest. “You’re exquisite.” He rasps into your ear quietly. 

“O-oh M-maker.” You moan softly but he pulls away from you, his entire body jerks back. 

“No.” He exhales loudly. “I want to watch you, first.” Like he just remembered that’s what you came here for originally. 

You’re a mess below him and before he can even finish speaking your hands are in between your legs. You’re working yourself in every way you can for him, if he wants to watch you’re going to give him a show. 

Quickly and easily you have two fingers inside you curling and uncurling against your wetness and your other hand is spinning tight circles around your clit. It’s so sensitive it’s not going to take long to get you there. You hear him moan softly in the darkness and his hand holds on to one of your knees that are still resting by his side. 

“Yes, oh y-yes. Little one, d-does that feel good?” He coos down to you. You hear him speak and your fingers are working faster. They’re trying hard to make him want to touch you again. 

“Yes, so g-good.” You moan, the circles getting tighter as he continues to speak down to you.

“Keep going, little one. I’ve been thinking about the sounds you make when you do it.” He grips your knee a little tighter and with the other hand pushes your legs open a little further. “S-so lovely.” 

And then you give him what he’s been waiting for. It starts in your toes this time and you curl them, pressing your feet hard into the bed as your hips lift– either to let him see better or because the feeling is just so fucking good that it’s making you levitate– and he sighs loudly. 

The wetness between your legs and your little choked sobs of bliss are the only sounds in the ship as you come with him kneeling before you. Mando’s grip on your knees tightens as your fingers continue to move around your clit and curl inside of you. He’s listening and watching and you love it. It makes you come harder.

“Mando.” You whimper softly. You wish you could see him. “Fuck.” It’s a strained through another gasp of pleasure. 

“Can I touch it?” He asks so politely. You nod, panting and letting your head fall back again after looking up into the darkness for him. 

Mando’s fingers leave one of your knees and he’s at your entrance. He’s pushing two fingers into you gently and then he pulls away. He does it several more times before you realize what he’s doing. 

“You taste so good.” He whispers but the rasp of his modulator is gone and it’s just a man speaking to you now in the dark. Your heart almost explodes in your chest because it’s exactly what you imagined it would sound like. You try to keep your composure. Then you feel his hands on the back of your thighs and the warm breath – oh Maker it’s so warm– your lower stomach. 

Mando is kissing you. He’s trailing kisses along your stomach and stops at your belly button. He kisses it gently and trails his tongue around the outside of it like he had earlier with his fingers. You’re trembling, biting your lip and clenching your fists to your sides because this is the most incredible non orgasm feeling you’ve ever felt and Mando is the one doing it to you.

His tongue traces your belly button as his hands trail up the back of your thighs and find the bend in your knee. He pushes your legs up gently and the tip of his tongue dips into your belly button for just a moment before he’s planting kisses down your stomach. 

“Much b-better than just w-w-watching, huuh?” You stumble out as he bites and nips at the skin on your inner thighs. 

“If I can make you do what you did, yes.” Then his mouth is on you. Theres no hesitation, no teasing. Just his lips pressed against your slit and he’s parting you with his tongue. 

“Oh.” You weren’t expecting it. Everything’s had such a big build up that you were expecting this to go on until the sun came up but he’s licking and lapping at your still sensitive clit. 

“You,” He whispers against your slit. “-taste incredible.” 

“Can I touch your hair?” You pant. Your hands have been searching for something to hold onto and grasp and tug at in pleasure but you’ve been too nervous to touch him anywhere since he took his helmet off. 

Mando is quiet for a long time and he’s stopped licking you. He’s still holding your knees up to your chest. 

“It’s okay if I can’t, I just wanted-” You start rambling nervously into the dark because you’re scared he’s gonna back away and tell you to go sleep on your mat on the floor. 

“I think that’d be okay.” He says after so painstakingly long. You sigh and let your head fall back again in relief. 

Tentatively you reach for him, unsure of where he is in the dark. Your hand brushes his shoulder and you rest your fingers against him and trail them up his neck. His hair is thick and coarse and you just know it’s dark hair. You can feel it in your soul as your fingers curl in it. 

As your fingers find their grip, he goes back to licking you. He has no real meaning behind his movements with his tongue. You’re semi disappointed but you come to realize that he’s exploring. Mando wants to know every inch of you and he’s taking his time. 

His hair feels so good between your fingers. You pull and tug on it gently every time he presses the flat of his tongue against you and slides upwards. He’s licking you like you are his sweet treat, his dessert. 

“I like that.” He says suddenly. You’ve been laying on your back, you moved one of your feet to his shoulder and have his hands tangled in hair still. He’s been lapping at you leisurely for an unknown amount of time. You haven't complained at all, it’s heavenly, Maker, heavenly. 

“What?” You ask breathlessly. You care what he likes but you wish he would keep his mouth on you. You never want him to stop. It’s incredible how thorough he is with his tongue. 

“Your hands. In my hair.” He’s back to your middle now but there’s meaning behind his movements now, like your voice ignited something in him, maybe, you don’t care. You let your head fall back and your grip tightens in his hair again and you push him against you gently, letting him know you need him there. 

Mando loves it, he lets you know he loves it by increasing those perfect circles around your clit and then he moans. That moan sends vibrations through you that you didn’t know were possible. They’re head spinning. 

This is when he decides it’s a good time to add two fingers into the mix. He pushes his ring and middle fingers into you while his tongue swirls quickly. Instead of curling his fingers, he angles them upwards slightly and then pulls them back out and drags the pads of them along the spot inside you. 

You arch your back and tug at his hair harder because this is the best feeling, this right here. You’ve never been able to make yourself feel this way. You didn’t even think pleasure like this way possible. 

“Mando.” You whimper quietly. 

“Din.” He moans against you. You’re so confused because what’s a Din? Why is he saying that.

“What?” You ask in bliss filled confusion. “What did you say?” You lift your head to look up at him but it’s still dark and you can’t see.

“Say Din. It’s my name.” His tongue is back on you and your head falls back and you can’t even be excited that he’s just told you his name because his fingers, Maker, his fingers.

They’re thrusting into you; hard enough to make you shake every time he drives them forward and his tongue hasn’t stopped moving in just the perfect way. 

“Din.” You whimper and clench your eyes shut. Your fingers are gripped so tightly in his hair you’re sure you’ll still have some in between your knuckles when he’s done. “Din. P-please don’t stop.” You have to whisper but you’re holding back a moan that would wake the child and you’re just so desperate for release that you’d die from frustration if the child did wake up.

Din’s fingers move faster, he knows, he’s so ready to feel you come on him that he’s panting against your clit as he laps at you.

“Ohh Din.” It’s drawn out in a long moan whisper as you feel it wash over you. This time it’s radiating out of you from your middle and your hips start to rock against his mouth– they’ve been still this whole time– but this orgasm makes you pitch and reel against him because it’s just so fucking good. It’s mind numbing. One hand leaves his hair because you need to cover your mouth and nose to stop from moaning. 

Din doesn’t stop, he keeps going as your walls contract and restrict against his fingers. It’s making him work harder and his tongue is lashing against you because the feeling of you gushing against his hand is a new feeling to both of you.

“Fuck, Din.” You whimper as the sensation now becomes too much. You twitch with every touch of his tongue and your legs clamp around his head in disapproval of his touch.

Din doesn’t move for a couple seconds and then, from muffled between your legs you hear him. 

“You’ve ensnared me… again.” You laugh because you really have. You open your legs and he leans up and kisses along your stomach. “Can I do what we did the other night?” He asks impatiently.

“You don’t want my help?” You inquire knowingly. He says nothing back but you hear him, hear his fist on himself and then he’s stealing your wetness to do it.

“N-no.” He grunts out softly. “No, lay back. P-please. Lay back.” 

You do. But you feel weird about it. Like does he not want you to touch him? He seemed excited when you said you wanted to touch him earlier but he’s being different now. You lay there, legs still bent at the knee and spread around Din’s body. 

He slips his hands between your legs to take more of your wetness. 

“Th-th-this is what I-I thought about.” He groans out quietly but the modulation is back. “I want to w-watch and-and I–” But he cuts himself off and you hear him moan quietly. Then he’s leaning over you again, you feel his hand rest beside your head. You reach up and wrap your hand around his wrist gently while he comes on your belly. “So good. It’s so good, Little one.” And then he’s resting the cool metal of the helmet against your shoulder. He rests there for a while, letting you keep your hand on his wrist. 

You grab his hand when he pulls away and bring the tips of his fingers to your lips and kiss them softly. 

“Let me next time.” You whisper and slip one of his fingers into your mouth and swirl your tongue around it gently. “Can you see this?” You ask with the tip of his finger between his lips. He says nothing but you can hear his modulated breathing still. 

“Yes.” He says softly. “Let me clean you up.” He says, but he doesn’t pull his hand away.

“Feed it to me.” You say, licking the tops of his fingers gently. 

“Wh-what?” He stutters at your question. 

“Let me taste you, feed it to me.” Your tongue and lips are still teasing his fingers and with his other hand you feel him swirl two fingers in the pool he shot into your belly button. He brings them to your mouth and you move your mouth to those fingers instead. He moves his saliva coated fingers down to your stomach and picks up more of himself on that hand and puts them into your mouth when you pull away from his other hand. He does that until there’s nothing left. Neither of you say anything the entire time. You just do it. When his searching fingers can find no more you feel him sit back. 

“You like that?” He asked quietly in the dark. 

“Only yours.” You whisper back, laying with your hands behind your head. “You can clean me up now.” You tease. He eases himself off the bed and you also start to ease yourself off the bed but you feel him stop.

“What are you doing?” He asks softly. 

“I’m going to go back to my bed,” You say because why wouldn’t you? The bed he has isn’t very big and it’s also not very comfortable besides the sheets. 

“Why?” He asks. “You don’t want to sleep here?” 

“With you?” You ask suspiciously. He says nothing in the darkness. It’s quiet for so long. Then a damp cool cloth on your belly is wiping you down, getting everything he spread out across you in his search for more to put into your mouth. Dips the rag into your belly button. You’re waiting for him to respond. “Mando?” He pulls away from you.

“I said call me Din.” He rasps from the darkness. 

You had almost forgotten but really, you were too scared. What if it was just only while you had your clothes formality.

“Din, you wanna share the bed?” You inquire nervously. More silence.

“I– I could sleep on the mat.” It sounds like a question but it isn’t. He sounds a little disappointed. 

“No, you sleep on the bed. I’m gonna sleep on the mat.” You nod your head into the dark and go to get your nightgown.

“Not share?” He grabs you by the upper arm as you try to pass him. 

“No. Not share. It’s too small.” You look up and wonder if he’s looking down at you. He releases your arm and you go back to your mat. It’s cool down here now and you feel refreshed. It’s hot underneath Mand- Din. It’s hot. He’s a hot man, 

You get yourself tucked into bed and wonder if he’ll be there in the morning when you wake up or if you’ll be in the stars once more. You’ve been in this same field for four whole days. It’s starting to look boring. You need a change of scenery. So does the child. He didn’t make a whole sound th-. You sit up suddenly

“Din!” You exclaim quietly. You hear something bang against metal and he groans. “Sorry.” 

“What?” He grumbles, no raspy modulation.

“The kid! I haven't heard him once since we turned the lights off, is he in the bassinet?” You’re sweating now and every good feeling you’ve had inside of you just two minutes ago is gone. You hear him bang again on something metal and then he’s at the bassinet. 

“Shit. I have to get my hel-” He shuffles back to where he came from, you hear him, no metal banging this time and then the light comes on and you’re blinded . 

What was once a void, a terrible darkness you didn’t think was possible is ripped from you and then you are plunged into the brightest lights you’ve ever seen. You raise your hand, trying to shield them from the light above you but you’re not concerned with that. You stumble to your feet and look into the empty orb. 

“No.” You mutter and look around. “Nonononononononoo.” You whine, the sweat starts to bead in the center of your back. “Where is he? The ship’s not that big, where could he be?” You look at Mando for the first time since the lights came on. He’s got his helmet and just black pants. You stare at him for a long time, forgetting what you were so worked up over because he doesn’t look like your doodles. He’s muscular, yes very but there is a softness your doodles are lacking. He’s got shape and curves and valleys to his body and it’s beautiful.

The child.

“Fuck!” You exclaim. “We would have heard the door? Right?” You start to search, every little crevice and door or cupboard you can think of. He’s nowhere.

“He’s still in here.” Din says, looking around much more carefully and less destructive as you are. 

“How do you know? He’s so small Din, what if something happ-” But he shoots his head over at you in a way that steals the words from your mouth. 

“Don’t. He’s still here. I just know.” Then he goes back to looking. 

You two look everywhere for what feels like way too long and finally Din calls to you. 

“I’ve got him.” 

You’re on your hands and knees almost inside the engine  of the ship, a place you have no reason being because you don’t know what goes on inside, just that there was a space big enough for the child to climb through. 

You relax. You can breathe. He’s got the child. Everything is right in the world. 

Making your way back to the room, you wipe off your hands and knees and fix your messy hair because you’ve just been on the floor, crawling around on your hands and knees like an animal. When the child sees you, he reaches for you and you take him gently from Din’s arms. 

“Where were you? Huh? Scared me half to death thinking I lost you.” You cradle him close to you. “Where was-” Din is looking your way with your brand new notebook in his hands. All the pages have been torn apart or chewed on. “How did you even get up there?” You look down at the child who is already sleepily blinking up at you. “How do you do stuff like that?” You rub his forehead with your index finger and he closes his eyes slowly.

“I’ll get you another one. Two.” Din tosses the notebook back into the cupboard. “Sorry.” 

“You didn’t put him in that cupboard… did you ?” You tease quietly now that the kid’s back to sleep. You go to put him in his bassinet but Din stops you.

“Sleep in the bed. With him. Don’t let him sneak around like that again tonight. I’ll sleep on the mat.” Before you can protest he's got his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to the bed. “Please. I feel bad you’ve been sleeping on the floor. I’ll get you a better mat.” 

So you crawl into bed and Din goes to turn the light out. The sheets are so soft. You place the child beside you and curl your body around his. You’ll feel if he decides he wants another paper snack or a midnight stroll around the ship. 

“How do you sleep down here?” Din says with almost no expression from your place on the floor. 

You chuckle and snuggle into the child.

Tag list (I'm putting anyone who showed me love and interest in this story, tell me to fuck off and I'll remove you if you'd like) @glitterymanboy @pedrospookie @thereaperisabitch @furiousmushroom

I'll also add whoever wants me to add them!

<- Part 1 Masterlist Part 3 ->

[wayward-dreamer]

Hi, I was wondering if you could write a story where soilder boy is dating Y/n, and they start talking, and he asks her if she thinks he would be a good dad. Which leads to them talking about starting a family together. And then one of them says something along the lines of "Why don't we try now?" Then it turns into smut. If not it's okay, thanks!

Father Material

Pairing: Soldier Boy x F!Reader

Word count: 1,468

Summary: Curiosity from the public and media has Ben expressing his dream to be a father. Y/N wants to make his dream a reality.

Warnings: Swearing, some angst, mentions of SB's nefarious actions, smut: dirty talk, rough sex, breeding kink.

A/N: This request has been in my inbox forever, so I apologise for long it took! I hope you like it Layla! Happy reading! :) Thanks to my besties/betas @hintsofhoney and @makeadealwithdean for looking over this. Sorry not sorry for killing you hehe

also there's plenty more Soldier Boy content on the way because apparently I've become an SB smut dealer lmaooo

“Do you think I’d make a good father?”

That was the question that sparked the sex marathon they had been in for hours now. Given that he was a supe, Soldier Boy had the stamina for withstanding just about anything, and if he had it his way he could probably last well into the night. She on the other hand was flagging quickly, the downside of being 100% human, but she really couldn’t bring herself to tell him to stop. Not when he always knew just how to make her toes curl and her body quake with euphoric bliss. He may have known what buttons to push to get her going, but that didn’t mean their encounters were predictable. They were far from it, and that day was no exception.

The day started out like any other. He had meetings with hero management, followed by filming a commercial for Cracker Jack, which then led to interviews with different channels. She finally stepped out of their penthouse that night to join him on The Tonight Show with Johnny Carson, draped in an emerald green dress to match his suit, complete with gold accessories. Usually interviews weren’t really her favorite thing to do, but being America’s golden couple meant that they needed to be seen in public in order to keep that status. So they did what they always did. They laughed and joked with quick-witted Carson, charmed the audience and made the nation fall deeper for them with each caress of a hand or sweet kiss. Some may have thought it was just for the cameras, those cynical spectators that didn’t have any business commenting on what goes on behind closed doors, but they both knew the truth about their relationship.

They were in love. They had been since the moment he propositioned her in the elevator of the Vought American building, leading to one of the wildest nights she had ever had. Most would call it lust, but when you understood someone on a deeper level like they both did, it was most definitely love. A warped, messed up kind of love, but nonetheless, that’s what it was. She wasn’t stupid; she knew the kind of man he was, what he had to do during the war, and in Vought’s name since he joined their roster. She knew there were some off the books black ops missions he had gone on, even if she didn’t know the details. She heard the rumors about Dealey Plaza, too. She knew that he was fucked up despite his God fearing, all-American persona for the public, but she didn’t care.

In order to love someone like that, she had to be a little fucked up too. Well, more than a little.

Despite distracting everyone with their incredible charisma, questions of settling down and starting a family came up, and she knew she had to think of an answer fast when she saw Ben’s face go blank. With her biggest grin, she turned to Carson and said “Well, if anything happens Johnny, you’ll be the first to know!” They covered it up with hearty laughs as the audience joined in, along with the host, before he thanked them for their time to raucous applause.

The drive back to the Vought building was quiet, her concern growing for him until his words: “Do you think I’d make a good father?” broke the silence.

“Why do you ask?” she questioned in return, softly as to not scare him from broaching the subject.

“That fucking Carson,” he muttered, staring out the window at the bright lights. “I just… I guess he got me thinkin’, that’s all. Forget it.”

She wasn’t going to. She knew there was something he wanted to tell her, something he wanted of her, and she needed to know what it was.

“Thinking about what?”

“Thinkin’ about… about how I’d do it better than my father ever did,” he confessed. “We’d make some perfect fucking kids, that’s for damn sure.”

She smiled softly, her hand curling over his as she slid across the backseat and pressed herself against his side. She nuzzled her nose along his jaw, leaving small kisses along his stubble as she reached his ear, her breath fanning against the shell as she whispered her own desire to do the same.

“Then let’s start right now.”

And that was how they found themselves in their bedroom twenty minutes later, with her holding herself up on her quivering hands and knees as he pounded into her from behind, his fingers digging into her skin with a bruising hold as his pelvis smacked against the curve of her ass. He had contorted her into every position possible since then for the last couple of hours, with barely a few minutes to breathe between each romp in the sheets. She had lost track of how many positions, and she was about to lose count of how many times he had spilled inside her, both of them getting closer to that release once more.

“Oh god, oh god!” she moaned wantonly, her forehead pressed against the mattress as her hands fisted the sheets. She was completely unbothered about how loud she was and the fact that people had probably heard them by now.

“No need to bring him into this, doll,” he chuckled, the sound broken up by his groans of pleasure. “Just me and you here…”

“You’re so fucking cheesy,” she mumbled, a guttural whimper escaping her at a particularly angled thrust against her g-spot.

“You fucking love it,” he countered, smirking as he suddenly pulled out of her.

Ignoring her whine of protest, Soldier Boy flipped her over onto her back and grabbed her legs, bending her in half as her calves rested on his shoulders, sliding back into her tight heat with a quick, hard thrust. The sounds that left them were nothing short of pornographic, as he began to pick up the pace with each push of his hips against her. He squeezed his eyes shut as her walls clenched around his throbbing cock, both of them balancing on the edge of their blissful climax, ready to go over at any minute.

“So fucking good, so fucking perfect, Y/N,” he growled, their faces close as he leaned over her. “You love the way I fuck you, don’t ya?”

“Yes!” she cried out, nodding frantically as she stared up into his green orbs. “Love the way you fuck me… you fuck me so good, Ben. So deep, and hard, wanna feel it for days.”

“Oh you will, sugar,” he groaned, between rough kisses against her lips. “Gonna fill you up, make you feel so full, make you full and round with my babies. You want that?”

“Yeah,” she breathed.

“Fuck, yeah you do,” he husked. “Tell me, tell me you want it.”

“I want it, I want it so bad, Ben,” she whimpered, the sound practically a sob with how desperate she was to finally let go. “I want you to fill me up, give it to me.”

“Cum for me, doll, soak my cock,” he said, looking deep into her eyes.

Y/N finally felt the dam breaking as a loud, shrieking moan escaped her, her walls contracting around his shaft as her arousal spread over him. He grunted loudly, his hips snapping harder against her, as he tried to hold himself back. His eyes fluttered, about to close, but her hands on his face stopped him, making him pay attention to her as their gazes locked. As she had with each time he had reached his peak that night, she stroked her thumbs along his jaw, slowly nodding her encouragement and desire to feel his seed deep inside her.

“S-Say it,” he stuttered, his neck straining as he held on just a little longer. “Fuckkk, s-say it-”

She bit her lip, knowing how it drove him crazy, before she parted them and uttered the words that sent him over the edge at the end of round that night.

“You’re gonna be a great dad… better than your own.”

Soldier Boy threw his head back, the veins in his neck pressing against his skin as he let out a guttural moan, his cock pulsing deep inside her tight canal. She moaned softly as she felt the warm spurts of his cum coat her walls, filling her up as he had done several times that night already. They both breathed heavily, trying to calm their racing hearts, neither of them wanting to move away from the other. He buried his face in her neck, planting soft pecks along her pulse point, bringing a smile to her face as they basked in the afterglow.

Both of them hoped that it wouldn’t be too much longer before their dream became a reality.

[allyallyorange]

Back at it with Ateez AT AU

Hongjoong in a band + meeting Seonghwa

Read what @nnnnnnnothingtoseehere wrote cus its fun

Hongjoong blames the enormous box of posters in his hands. It’s big enough to entirely block his view of his own feet, and he can’t even see the raised section of the pavement until it’s too late. 

He hits the ground hard, posters spilling out of the box and rolling away. His hands took most of the fall, which is better than his face. 

He sits up slowly, hissing at the sight of his own scuffed up palms. He’s thankful it’s just his palms; he definitely needs his fingers for tonight. 

His palms will have to wait; he has multiple posters suddenly making a break for freedom. 

As Hongjoong staggers to his feet, he has a brief moment of thankfulness for the fact that the venue they’re performing at is located on a quieter street. There aren’t many pedestrians around, meaning less people to potentially step on the posters. 

He still breaks into a jog to try and catch some of them before they roll into the street. Not too fast though; rock stars don’t run. 

He has to bend down to gather up the posters, and soon has an armful. He is straightening up to bring them back to the box when he realizes there’s someone helping him. 

Hongjoong can’t see much of the stranger at the moment, white hair falling into his face as he scoops up several posters. He’s wearing an oversized black and white striped shirt, the demon notices absently, and has a tote bag slung over one shoulder that threatens to fall off as he reaches for another poster. 

The stranger stands up fully, allowing Hongjoong to actually get a look at him. 

He’s clearly human; Hongjoong could tell that just from his skin tone. Besides that, the demon can only make vague guesses about his age. He seems young-ish, but Hongjoong honestly has no idea. Besides that, he has incredibly round eyes, and an awkward smile. 

“Do you have somewhere to put these?” the stranger asks, lifting his armful of posters slightly. 

“Uh, yeah,” Hongjoong answers. 

He immediately turns on his heel, heading back to the box that he left on the ground beside the merch stand. He drops his bunch of posters into the box, suddenly very self conscious about everything he is doing. 

The stranger has followed him, and proceeds to kneel down beside the box to put his armful of posters away, making sure they’re neatly in place. 

Hongjoong stands there watching him for a second before he realizes he’s being weird. He heads back out to gather up the last few posters, returning to hand them to the very detail-oriented stranger. 

“There we go,” he finally says once the last roll is put away. “All done.” 

He stands up then, and Hongjoong realizes very quickly that he is several inches taller than him, despite his boots. He knew he should have gone with the three-inch heel. 

 “I’m Seonghwa, by the way,” the stranger says with another smile.

He sticks his hand out, and Hongjoong tries to take it in a cool and nonchalant manner. 

“I’m Hongjoong,” Hongjoong answers. 

“Nice to meet you, Hongjoong,” Seonghwa says easily. “I like your outfit.” 

Hongjoong can’t resist grinning at the compliment. He likes his outfit too, and may be wearing it hours before he needs to because he likes it that much. 

“Thanks,” he replies. “I like your hair.”

Seonghwa laughs slightly at that and thanks him, reaching up to comb his hair back with one hand. 

“So, what is all the paper for?” he asks, gesturing to the box on the ground between them. 

“They’re posters,” Hongjoong tells him. “I’m setting up the merch stand.” 

He steps slightly to the side so Seonghwa can see the table and booth behind him, already half-covered in t-shirts. 

“Oh,” Seonghwa says, eyes widening. “The Demon Prince? Is that the name of a show?” 

“A band,” Hongjoong corrects. “My band, actually.” 

“Really?” Seonghwa’s whole face lights up in excitement. “You’re the front man?” 

Hongjoong nods proudly, maybe sticking out his chest a little more. 

“What kind of music do you play?” Seonghwa asks, tilting his head as he waits for Hongjoong’s answer. 

“Rock,” Hongjoong answers easily. “Sometimes I switch it up a little, but I’m keeping in a more hardcore punk vein right now.” 

Seonghwa makes suitably impressed noises, and Hongjoong congratulates himself mentally for doing so well at this. This is easy! 

“Rock can be a really nebulous term,” he continues. “I don’t really care for some of the more laid back stuff that people call ‘rock’. Things like that misrepresent the genre and are just bad press in a lot of ways.” 

Hongjoong can feel himself loosening up as he talks; he knows about this kind of stuff and is very comfortable talking about it. He widens his stance slightly, leaning against the booth wall behind him and incorporating a few hand gestures. 

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Seonghwa interjects after a few moments. “But you hurt your hands.” 

Hongjoong had honestly forgotten about his scraped-up palms. He flips his hands over, noting the way some of the deeper scratches are now oozing blood. 

“Oh yeah,” he says casually. “It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” Seonghwa tells him. He has stepped closer, and now reaches out to take one of Hongjoong’s hands, his touch gentle. 

The demon immediately freezes, incredibly aware of how small his hands look next to Seonghwa’s much bigger ones. 

“You should really wash them off,” Seonghwa is saying, bending over slightly to get a better look. “You don’t want anything to get infected.” 

“Yeah, I was planning on it,” Hongjoong answers. “There’s a sink inside and stuff.” 

He may have seen one briefly. He honestly isn’t sure. 

For a split second he’s sure Seonghwa is going to haul him to the possibly-imaginary sink right then and there. The human doesn’t, instead letting go of Hongjoong’s hand to dig in his tote bag briefly. 

“I thought I had some,” he mutters, pulling the bag halfway off his shoulder to look inside better. “Oh, here they are!” 

He triumphantly holds up a small plastic container decorated with cartoon animals. Hongjoong blinks at it for a second. 

“What is it?” he asks flatly. 

“They’re bandaids,” Seonghwa tells him, opening the container. “You’re going to need something if you have to play tonight.” 

“Oh,” Hongjoong says. “I guess you’re right.” 

Seonghwa gives him another smile, as well as a small handful of bandaids. 

“Thanks,” Hongjoong tells him, slipping them into his pocket. 

“Of course,” Seonghwa replies. “I’m glad I carry them.” 

Hongjoong watches as he puts the container back in his bag, then adjusts the strap so it hangs comfortably again. 

“Hey,” Hongjoong says abruptly, getting Seonghwa’s attention again. “Do you want to come to the show?” 

“Me?” Seonghwa asks, blinking a few times. 

“Yeah,” Hongjoong says. He doesn’t know who else the human thinks he could be talking to. “It starts at 8 tonight, right here.” 

He pauses for a second. 

“Well, not right here,” he quickly amends. “But at this venue.” 

“I knew what you meant,” Seonghwa assures him. “And while I would love to, I can’t. I have a kid at home, and he doesn’t like crowds at all.” 

Hongjoong nods slowly, thinking quickly over everything he knows about human children. It’s really not much, but he does know it’s probably not a good idea to leave babies alone at home for a long time. 

“That’s cool,” he replies, hoping this comes across as a nonchalant and normal response. 

Seonghwa clearly takes this to mean that Hongjoong thinks children as a whole are cool and that he definitely wants to hear more about them, his whole expression immediately brightening. 

“He’s a really sweet kid,” the human says, digging in his bag again. “Here’s a picture of him when he was little.” 

He holds out a small, well-loved picture, the edges tattered and almost soft. Hongjoong leans forward slightly, squinting at the miniature human who is in turn squinting at the camera in the picture. The demon can’t really make out much of their face, but he supposes they’re rather cute. 

“Nice,” he says vaguely, leaning back. 

“He’s a lot bigger now,” Seonghwa says, flipping the picture back around to look at it for a moment. “I think I have another picture somewhere-” 

“I’m good,” Hongjoong hurriedly says. “I don’t really like kids.” 

“Ahh,” Seonghwa replies, carefully putting the picture back in his bag. 

The conversation kind of dies there, with the two of them just awkwardly looking at each other, the box of posters, then each other again. 

“Do you want a poster?” Hongjoong finally says, desperate to break the silence somehow. “Since you can’t come and did help me pick all of them up.” 

“Oh,” Seonghwa says, looking down at the rolled up posters. “I didn’t realize they were posters.” 

Hongjoong laughs awkwardly at that, bending down to pick one up quickly. 

“Here,” he says roughly. 

Seonghwa takes it with a smile, thanking Hongjoong. 

“I’ll have to hang it up,” he says. “It’s not every day I meet a real rockstar.”

Hongjoong does his best to push down the immediate rush of glee that comes from the human’s words. He should definitely be totally normal about being called a rockstar; he is one, after all. 

“Hah, yeah,” he answers. “And I bet you don’t give other rockstars bandaids either.” 

Seonghwa laughs, but the demon is immediately kicking himself mentally for saying something so dumb. 

“No, you’re definitely right,” Seonghwa agrees. “I’ll certainly enjoy knowing you’ll be performing with gecko bandaids. Not every rockstar can pull that off, but I think you can.” 

Hongjoong can’t stop himself from flushing at the compliment, and he does his best to brush it off as well as he can. 

“Yeah, well,” he ends up saying. “A sense of style comes with the territory.”  

Seonghwa laughs again at that, and Hongjoong notices distantly that he looks really nice smiling like that. The thought is strange, and he shakes his head slightly to clear it. 

“So are you going to set these out?” Seonghwa asks, waggling the poster now cradled carefully in his hands. 

“That’s the plan,” Hongjoong tells him. He glances over his shoulder at the rest of the table. “I should get some of my bandmates to help.” 

“I could,” Seonghwa offers quickly, looking a little surprised by his own suggestion. “If you’re ok with it, that is.” 

“Uh, sure,” Hongjoong says, running a hand through his hair. “If you want to.” 

Seonghwa immediately nods, gaze flicking between Hongjoong’s face and the table behind him. 

“I like organizing things,” he says in explanation. “And I’ve organized everything at home already.” 

“Well, do you want to do the t-shirts?” Hongjoong asks. He steps around to the other side of the table, with Seonghwa doing the same but on the front end. 

“How do you want them?” the human immediately asks, eyes practically sparkling. 

“I mean, they’re all the same,” Hongjoong tells him. “I was just going to set them in piles.” 

“They come in different sizes, though,” Seonghwa points out, picking up the closest shirt. “This one is a small; you wouldn’t want it in with the larges.” 

Sizing hadn’t occurred to Hongjoong at all. He quickly tries to come up with a cool way to downplay this flaw in his thinking. 

“Do whatever you want,” he finally says, waving one hand. 

He probably should have kept the hand gestures to a minimum. The movement agitated his scuffed-up palms, and Seonghwa notices his slight grimace of discomfort. 

“You should go wash your hands off now,” he says, dragging the closest stack of t-shirts forward on the table. “I can watch things here.” 

Hongjoong is opening his mouth to say that it really doesn’t hurt when Seonghwa fixes him with a stern look. 

“Go wash them,” he says firmly. “You’ll get blood all over things if you don’t.” 

Something in his voice has Hongjoong automatically turning before he can even fully register what he’s doing, heading for the door that he left propped open. 

About halfway down the hallway inside, he begins to feel a little stupid. But he does need to wash his hands, and Seonghwa made a good point about getting blood on the merch. 

He spends most of the time washing his hands wondering if he could charge extra for bloodstained t-shirts and posters.

By the time he emerges from the building, Seonghwa has unboxed every t-shirt they have and laid them all neatly out in orderly stacks. He has moved on to organizing the posters, and looks up when Hongjoong steps closer to the table. 

“Did you wash your hands?” he asks, raising an eyebrow expectantly. 

Hongjoong finds himself holding out his hands for Seonghwa to inspect, feeling curiously like a little kid again. 

“Good job,” Seonghwa tells him. “Do you want help putting on the bandaids?” 

“I’m fine,” Hongjoong replies gruffly, already reaching into his pocket for the bandaids. 

Seonghwa watches him for a long moment, but doesn’t say anything. Hongjoong focuses on the bandaids in his hands, having to figure out how to open them first. 

He is surprised to learn that Seonghwa wasn’t joking about the bandaids. The first one he opens is covered in bright orange lizards, presumably geckos. 

No one will see his palms anyways, he quickly decides. And if he really ends up hating them, he can just take them off once Seonghwa leaves. 

Hongjoong puts the bandaids on as well as he can, frustrated at how inexpertly placed most of them are. It’s hard to put them on yourself, and he may regret refusing Seonghwa’s help. However, he does have a reputation to uphold, and so he struggles through the whole handful. 

When his scrapes are covered by various colorful geckos, he stuffs the bandaid scraps into his pocket. 

“Could you look over the t-shirts?” Seonghwa asks, nodding at that half of the table. “I want to make sure you like how I did it.” 

Hongjoong steps closer to the table, slowing down to really look at the neat stacks of t-shirts. They are incredibly exact; the demon wonders absently if Seonghwa has a ruler somewhere in his bag. He wouldn’t be surprised if he did. 

“Looks good,” he says, glancing over at the human. “Very precise.” 

Seonghwa flushes slightly at that, grinning. Hongjoong can feel his own cheeks heating up as well. 

“Thanks,” Seonghwa replies. “Is there anything else, or just the posters?” 

“Just the posters,” Hongjoong tells him. “I couldn’t line up any more merch unfortunately.” 

“What else would you have liked to do?” Seonghwa asks, glancing at him briefly before looking back at the neat rolls of posters in front of him. 

Hongjoong relaxes now that he is back in familiar territory. He easily launches into his plans for future merchandise, which include everything from hoodies to hats to shoes. Seonghwa makes all the right noises at the right times, occasionally asking questions to show that he is still listening. 

They talk like that for quite a while, long enough that Hongjoong loses track of time. He is only reminded of how late it’s getting when he realizes that the light has definitely changed to that distinctive late afternoon color. 

Unfortunately Seonghwa notices right at the same time. 

“It’s getting late,” he says with a bit of worry in his voice. “I should be getting back to Yeosang. He’s probably worried.” 

Hongjoong blinks at him, entirely unsure of who Yeosang is. 

Seonghwa doesn’t seem to notice, too busy looking over the merch table one last time as if he’s making sure nothing has moved. 

“Thanks for letting me organize things,” he says with a smile. “It was a lot of fun.” 

“No problem,” Hongjoong tells him. “I wasn’t going to stop you.” 

Seonghwa laughs at that, taking a half step back from the table. 

“Wait,” Hongjoong calls out before he can walk any further away. “Don’t forget your poster.” 

Seonghwa’s eyes immediately widen, and he retraces his few steps to take a rolled-up poster from Hongjoong’s hands. 

“Thanks for catching that,” he says with a relieved laugh. “I would have been so mad at myself if I’d forgotten.” 

Hongjoong laughs awkwardly at that, watching as Seonghwa carefully puts the poster in his bag, making sure it won’t get hurt. 

“You should come to our next show,” he blurts out. “Because you can’t make it to this one.” 

“I would like to,” Seonghwa tells him. “I really want to see what you’re like on stage.” 

Hongjoong distantly manages to form a coherent reply to that, doing his best to keep from jumping up and down from excitement. 

After his reply, the conversation kind of falls flat again. Hongjoong watches as Seonghwa’s gaze drops to the table again, one hand coming up to adjust his bag’s strap absently. 

“Well I really should be going,” he finally says, making eye contact with Hongjoong. “It was really nice to meet you.” 

“You too,” Hongjoong says awkwardly. “Thanks for helping with all of this.” 

He waves a hand vaguely, encompassing the table and everything on it. 

“You’re welcome,” Seonghwa says with a smile. “Like I said, it’s not every day I get to meet a real life rockstar.” 

Hongjoong chuckles at that, trying to seem cool again as he raises a hand to run through his hair. 

“It’s not every day I meet someone who carries gecko bandaids,” he points out, earning a genuine laugh and smile from Seonghwa. 

“Very true,” the human admits. “I guess we both had crazy experiences today.” 

They exchange mildly awkward goodbyes, and even more awkward waves when Seonghwa turns around halfway to the street and finds Hongjoong still watching him. 

In Hongjoong’s defense, he can’t just leave the whole merch table set up and unattended. That would be poor business practice. 

And maybe he just wanted to watch Seonghwa head off, poster sticking out of his tote bag. 

[thissying]

FORMULE 1 Magazine, 2017, number 6

former go-kart opponents about Max

Dave Blom karted against Verstappen in 2011 and 2012

"I used to defeat Max sometimes: on the Playstation. I wasn't in school, he wasn't in school so we'd be racing against each other four, five hours in a day. We were both incredibly competitive. Still are actually. When Max has time we play a game of FIFA against each other online. And he'll be laughing again when he wins and when I win it's the same. Because we're two years apart in age, I used to kart in a higher class than him but we did hang out together.

"In 2011 we truly met on track for the first time. At a high level: the European and World Championships. During practice I was sometimes faster but in the races Max always finished ahead of me. He was so immediately focused and fast after the start. After the first corner we already couldn't overtake him any more. Max and Jos also did everything to be able to win. Their engines and chassis were always very good. If, after practices before a race, they felt it didn't go quite well, they'd go to a different track in the evening to keep testing. There was so much passion behind it.

"I remember a race in Japan. I was fifth, Max third. Suddenly I see him overtaking those two before him in one turn just like that. Incredible move, is what you think then. That's what you see in F1 now as well. He plans his moves where you don't expect them, puts the car alongside, you lose your concentration for a second and he's gone already. Unfortunately for me it was financially impossible to make the move to racecars. Sometimes I still visit the track, as a driver's coach. I now work as a salesman at a BMW-dealership. Max and I have always kept in touch; he's a good friend of mine. I talk to him regularly and celebrated New Year's at his place in Monaco. In May I'll see him again at the Monaco GP."

📷🎥: instagram 🎤: andré hazes - kleine jongen

[monstermoviedean]

this is eating at me. it's not about "being on the same page," it's about being on sam's page. sam has already made up his mind. what he's trying to do is fast-forward through all of the emotions and the work, and get dean to agree with him. he knows it will happen eventually, so he's trying to expedite the process. and while that may work for sam given his tendency to avoid his own emotions, under no circumstances will that work for dean. so is sam unaware of how dean feels? or is he aware and ignoring how dean feels in order to prioritize sam's own needs?

this brings me to the second quote, where sam is saying dean is wrong to believe that mary (sucked into an alternate universe in front of him) and cas (literally died in front of him) are gone. it reads to me as "don't feel bad, because it will all work out and then you won't feel bad anymore." that's incredibly minimizing. he's painting dean's extremely valid emotions as irrational and, in a sense, pointless. AND damaging to others! he's telling dean that his inability to repress his emotions is making jack scared of him. that's a fucked up way to treat someone in any circumstances, but especially these.

sam needs dean to agree with him, which would confirm to sam that his own feelings are valid. but he's invalidating dean's feelings in order to make that happen, and, to put it mildly, that's not okay.