#not to Possess them but to possess them if you know what i mean

[loveanddeepdick]

sweetheart

obsessed!pervy!roommate!geto x f!reader

cw: roommates with tension to lovers, pervert geto, he’s kinda insane lol.., tracking, obsession, piv sex, kinda angry sex, creampie, possessiveness, panty stealing/sniffing/licking, NOT PROOFREAD IM JUST HORNNNYYY 😜��

notes:part of my obsessed!geto series hehe, not completely the same as my hcs, but it kinda just combines all of them as best as i can 🫣

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

“care to explain, suguru?”

you were holding up three pairs of your panties, dangling it in the air in front of geto as he’s standing in the doorway of his room.

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

you’d moved in with geto nearly three months ago. you thought it was too good to be true, the rent was a little too cheap and the apartment looked somehow nicer in person. you knew suguru, he was close friends with satoru who’d been nothing but kind to you your whole time in high school and now in college as well.

suguru’s aura seemingly changed after the first month of you two living with eachother. you felt his eerie, purple eyes boring into your space and your eyes. you felt the air around you almost tense up when you mentioned guys. it was like he was gripping your soul sometimes.

of course, he knew you were looking back at him as well. when he got out of the shower and his towel was clinging onto his abs. maybe even when he came back from the gym and untied his slicked back hair while his black locks fell onto his muscular shoulders.

one night on your birthday when you both came back from your birthday dinner, he’d given you a special present, a small heart locket. he held his breath as he stood behind you, clicking it into place as he watched how every hair fell from its root in your scalp, how smooth your nape was, how your delicate hand held your hair out of the way.

he had hid a small, unnoticeable tracker inside the locker, tucked away in small details carved into the heart. the way you were carved into his.

he was whipped for you

however, naive of the deeper issues that were lying under your nose, for the past few weeks, you noticed that your underwear had been going missing at a concerning rate. it’d gone from reasonable to unexplainable and it pissed you off. honestly, you wouldn’t have even expected it was geto until he slipped two days ago.

you’d been running around the apartment, checking under tables and in drawers for your missing undergarments that you set out on your bed as you prepared a bath. you groaned before calling out for him

“sugu, have you seen my underwear?” you yelled while pacing the living room, hoping he’d hear you from his room.

“no, i dont even go near your bed”

you huffed, turning away before taking out an old one from the bottom of your underwear drawer until it hit you.

how would he know it was on your bed if he didn’t go in?

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

there you were, snooping through his closet when you found exactly what you were looking for, your missing panties. you picked up a fraction what was hidden away in his closet and called out for him while you held them up. he came quickly, stopping at his doorframe as he watched you with the stolen undergarments.

you knew he wasn’t stupid, i mean, he had kept it going for so long. maybe he let it slip on purpose , maybe he wanted you to catch him.

“shiiit, looks like your laundry got in the wrong room,” he chuckled, wiping the shocked expression off his face before stepping into the room, “lemme put that in the laundry basket for y—“

“hell no!”, you shrieked, pulling your panties away, “you’re the reason why they’ve gone missing!”

geto bit the inside of his cheek before sighing and throwing his hands up, “you think they just grew legs? yes, it was me. think about it, sweetheart, who else would it be? the boogeyman?”

your jaw dropped at his words while he quietly laughed at his own joke. he’s perverted and corny. you hadn’t expected such a straightforward response from him. did this man have no shame? he stared at you while you were trying to find the words.

“cat got your tongue? i like you, sweetheart,” he lowered his hands as he grinned, his eyes traveling to the little locket he gifted you, “hope you’re not mad at me, i mean, i’ve seen your browser history, m’not the only person with some fucked up kinks—“

you threw your panties to the side before walking up to him. fuck it. grabbing him by his plain black shirt, you pulled him down and crashed your lips against his. he smiled against your lips, leaning into you before you pushed him away again.

“you asshole! you’re so weird, stealing my underwear when you could’ve just opened pornhub,” you huffed, wiping your mouth and chin with your sleeve.

“running away so soon?” he smiled as you turned away. you wished you could punch him in the mouth.

“yes.” you flatly stated as you try to push past him. he caught your wrist, pulling you back into his chest as he wraps his arms around your torso.

“don’t go, sweetheart. i know you want me,” he leaned in, taking a short sniff of your hair before he rested his chin on your head.

“i don’t want—“

“then pull away. i’ll stop everything, leaving you alone, and pretend nothing happened,” he mumbled, pulling away and holding you by your shoulders. his eyes bore into your face as your eyes wandered elsewhere, ignoring his gaze.

“use your words, baby,” he whispered, his hand coming up to cup your face as you unconsciously lean into him.

“i-i do..” you admit, looking down in shame.

“aww, baby, s’okay..” he chuckled, bringing you back into his arms as he squeezed you, “i know, i know.. don’t be embarrassed, i’m sorry for taking your panties,”

it felt like he was babying you but you couldn’t help but reciprocate his actions, slowly returning the embrace. you look back up to him, his eyes already on you as you go on your tippy-toes, capturing his lips.

“i want you, sugu”

┈┈・୨ ✦ ୧・┈┈

geto wastes no time, throwing you gently onto the bed as tugs your pajama shorts off, prying your legs open as he smiles as the small damp spot on your panties. embarassed, you try closing your legs but he keeps them open, clicking his tongue in faux annoyance.

he dips his head in, pressing his nose up against your little clit, rubbing it a little as you whimper. he sharply inhales, whining from your scent before his tongue darts out to taste your slick on your panties.

“s-sugu!” you yelp, jolting from the feeling of his tongue and how shameless geto was being

“shh, shh, jus lemme do it,” he whispered, his tongue darting back out to lick back and forth from your clit to your clothed pussy. he pulled back finally, to admire how sheer your little panties had gotten before he pressed his nose in one last time, whining as he inhaled the mess he caused.

he stood back up, gesturing for you to sit up on the edge of the bed, guiding your hand to his crotch. you look up at him for approval before he nods, your hand cupping his erection before unzipping it, his black boxers doing nothing to hide his huge cock.

there was a small trail of black hair making your mouth water, a stairway to heaven, or maybe hell. you cautiously pulled his boxers down, his hard cock springing out as his tip slapped against his tummy.

geto hissed as his cock finally spring free, watching you wrap your hand around it. he couldn’t believe his eyes, he’d been fantasizing about this for weeks, seeing his little roommate beneath him, seeing you finally accept him in.

the moment you wrapped your lips around his cock, he couldn’t do it anymore. he already felt like he was going to cum in your mouth and he’d be damned if his first time in you wasn’t in your little pussy.

pushing you down again on the bed, he yanked your panties off, giving your clit a small spank as you gasped.

“please, sweetheart, lemme cum in your pussy first. we can do whatever you want after,” he whined, pumping his cock as he lined himself up to your wet pussy.

you nodded frantically, reaching down to the bottom of his abs and trailing to his neatly cut pines above his cock. he groaned, his eyes rolling back as he pushed inside you.

“f-fuck.. yes, baby, fuck, i’ve been wanting this for so l-long..” he groaned, loosing himself in the feeling of your wet heat.

“be—shit! be quiet suguru.. just fuck me!” you cried

his head snapped up, his cock hardening impossibly more as he moved his hips, suguru’s girthy cock pushing all the way up and kissing your cervix. he loved you this way. being able to submit yet put him in his place, he loved you.

“fuck, fuck, baby, you feel so good!” suguru’s head dipped down, his eyes widening almost maniacally as he watches his special necklace bouncing in tandem with your tits.

he reached down, running his hands over your chest and the necklace as he pounded your pussy mercilessly. suguru moved his hand down, running your clit with his thumb as he watched his cock disappear into your pussy over and over again, making a translucent white ring of juices form around the base of his cock.

his tip was dragging over your g-spot in an almost euphoric way as he groaned profanities in your ear. he ran his tongue along your collarbone, licking up to his neck to leave marks on your neck.

“say it, sweetheart, say you’re mine” he pleads with you, his eyes furrowing as he grabs your face gently, making you look at him.

“i’m yours, sugu..” you mumble, drunk on his cock as your drool on his hand.

“use your big girl voice, baby, ‘can’t hear you”

“i’m yours! all yours!” you cry, “f-fuck, sugu i’m gonna cum!”

his pace quickens, continuing to hit your g-spot until all you could see was white.

“cum for me, sweetheart, cum all over my cock.. fuck!”

you unravel on his cock, squirting all over his cock, making him cum as well. his cock shot warm ropes of cum deep into your sweet pussy as he paused, not pulling out just yet. he leaned back, admiring you as he rubbed your clit, letting you ride out your orgasm before giving your tits a small spank as well.

“good girl, good fuckin girl.. you’re all mine now, sweetheart”

[walks-the-ages]

For the record, the OP of the "stockpile hrt" post has now edited it to vaugely mention the legal dangers of stockpiling T (in a very condescending way I might add) but you still need to be aware of the possible legal repercussions of "stockpiling T" based on a tumblr post.

Illegal possession of a Schedule III controlled substance can, on your first offense mean:

A $1000 fine.

Up to one year in Prison.

The OP of the "stockpile hrt" implied that any warning about felony charges is simply "fear mongering" and .... That's not what this is.

(Cough. The actual fearmongering was the original post which was acting like hrt was gonna get instantly banned everywhere to everyone and you need to stock up now before its gone forever! Lets panic people who are already stressed about their healthcare!! )

To be able to be safe, you need to be fully informed about possible legal and health consequences of something before you move forward.

Telling people to commit felonies without warning them that's what they're risking is not "harm reduction".

Making sure people know all of the risks they are taking if they go forward with a plan so that they are fully informed and can decide if what they're doing is worth it if things go wrong is harm reduction.

Everyone can and should make their own decisions, but they do, indeed need to be fully informed decisions.

You cannot endanger some of the most vulnerable, scared people by casually telling them to do x without warning them of the potential legal consequences that can fuck up their entire life.

And for fucks sake, stop posting on your tumblr and social media that you're commiting a felony and giving detailed instructions on how to do so to other people 🤦

I know all the posts about how to stockpile hrt come from a good place but yall. Stockpiling T on purpose is a felony and its not one i judge you for but...STOP admitting it out loud on your blogs frankly and with none of the "teehee THEORETICALLY" shoplifter blogs used to have. Im seeing people talk abt the stockpiles they already have AND their plans to share it and my guys... this website WILL give your personal info to the government if subpoenad. Idk that its LIKELY but I know itd be embarrassing as hell to go to JAIL for felony possession of controlled substance w intent to distribute bc you couldnt stop yourself from YAPPING on a fucking tumblr post and then mr hammers gave your email and login ip to the cops. I KNOW youre all not using secure enough burners and vpns and shit 4 that Cmon now

[soupandsorcery]

Beaux wakes abruptly, mouth dry, heart in their throat. For a moment, they don't remember where they are, and it's...disorienting. Like being in a mental free fall that has their stomach swooping unpleasantly. The light is odd, which doesn't help. Shifting, rippling, blue-green and eerie. There's something there on the edges of their memory, like a half remembered dream. It wasn't a nightmare, they don't think. There's no gripping fear at the very least.

But there's something...

"Smells like apples and heat. Warm. Wet."

The rasping voice cuts through the bleary half consciousness, and it all comes back to Beaux in a rush. They're in their room at the Lighthouse in a rare moment of down time. And Lucanis—no, that voice is Spite's, isn't it—is standing over their bed.

"Shit," Beaux swears, rolling into a sitting position. Their instinct is to defend themselves, even though they're trying to keep an open mind where Spite is concerned. For Lucanis' sake, if nothing else. Leading by example, so the rest of the team will do the same. They don't reach for a weapon, so that can be compromise enough. "What are you doing in here?"

"Watching." Spite's eyes glow stronger in the dim light, casting their own shadows.

Right. Of course.

"Watching me sleep? That's a new level of creepy, even for you." They rub a hand over their face. "You have to let Lucanis sleep, Spite. And the rest of us too."

"He sleeps. And not interested in the rest," Spite says, leaning closer. "Only you."

Beaux frowns, and really, they're too tired for this conversation. "You're not making any sense right now. Can we do this in the morning?"

"No," Spite says sharply. "He won't let me talk to you in the morning. He's protective." He says it like it's a bad word. "Warns me to keep my distance. He's keeping distance for us both!"

"Can you blame him? Generally chatting with demons isn't the best idea."

"Wouldn't hurt you." Spite makes a face, offended. "Not you."

"I've seen you hurt Lucanis, and you're sharing his body. What makes me so special?"

In a flash, he's even closer, one knee up on the cushion, pressing right up into Beaux's personal space. There's really nowhere for Beaux to go, unless they want to jump over the back of the couch and end up on the floor, and they feel caught. Pinned. Staring into those glowing purple eyes, set into a face Beaux is coming to know pretty well these days.

But this isn't Lucanis. Lucanis never gets this close.

Sometimes...sometimes Beaux thinks he wants to. Thinks they can see him holding himself back with effort. But it's always on the fringes of their vision, and by the time they turn to look properly, Lucanis is back to his usual restrained self.

It's Lucanis' hand reaching up to touch Beaux's hair now, though. His fingers sifting through, rubbing the silvery strands like they're precious.

"Soft. Warm. Trembling," Spite purrs, and it's a low, deep sound that thrills something deep in Beaux's gut.

"I am not," Beaux breathes. Their heart is pounding in their chest, and they should be pushing Spite away. Should be waking Lucanis up so he can put an end to this.

Only...

Only.

Spite inhales deeply and closes more of the distance. "Want to keep you. Want to taste you."

"Oh. I—"

An annoyed look crosses Spite's face���Lucanis' face—and he pulls away suddenly, leaving Beaux struggling to remember how to breathe.

"He's trying to wake up. Bothersome. Cowardly."

"Be nice to him," Beaux whispers.

Spite says nothing, just turns and leaves as silently as he came, presumably so Lucanis will wake up somewhere else other than Beaux's room.

And Beaux lies awake for hours afterwards, absently touching their hair where Spite touched it, wondering at their lack of disgust for this whole thing.

[solelifauna]

When you say the love interest might be worse, does that mean "being mean to reader" wise or "being possessive over the reader" wise?

ERMMM...both I'd say. The love interest for the Werewolf AU is Jon Kent. He's about the same age as the reader and older than Damian by one year (From the time-skip space mission that he went on that aged him). But bro, this boy is fucking nuts.

Yes, Kryptonians aren't werewolves in this universe, but Lois Lane is. And a strong one at that, coming from a military family and all that jazz. So Jon Lane Kent is literally one of the strongest beings on earth, being half-kryptonian and half-werewolf.

Now i know what youre thinking.

But wouldn't Jon also be outcasted from werewolf society/wouldn't the bats not like him cause he's a half-blood?

WRONG!!! Yes, Jon is a half-blooded werewolf, but the other half is Kryptonian, one of the strongest species in the universe. If anything, his breeding makes him a very respected figure and the Bats definitely find him worthy. He and Damian are still the best of friends.

Now Jon's relationship with (Y/n). Yikes. Funnily enough, it was (Y/n) who started crushing on Jon first. She'd see him around the manor often, and she'd watch as he interacted with the Waynes or messed around with Damian. From what she could see, he seemed nicer than her family, so maybe she could be friends with him right? Plus, he's super cute!

And of course, this doesn't end well. I mean, this is a dark au. First off, Superman doesn't quite see humans as equals. Werewolves, they have his respect, and all the other races too. Yes, Clark Kent's adoptive parents were humans, and yes he loved them, but they were weak. Fragile even. And he made sure to instill that teaching in Jon as well.

Did Jon love his grandparents? Absolutely, but that meant that Ma and Pa stayed confined to Smallville and their house. They were too weak, they needed to be protected.

Lois also helped push Werewolf culture onto him as well. Weaker werewolves and humans were subservient to the stronger, and if necessary, could be killed and eaten. Jon didn't quite get the eating part, finding it quite gross actually, until he had his first taste of flesh. And, yikes, the boy was hooked.

In his mind, humans were either things to be taken care of (like pets) or food.

What's even more scary is that he's sweet around his family and friends, but those he deems as lesser? Well, let's just hope you don't catch him in a bad mood or piss him off. Which is why when weak, pitiful, abandoned (Y/n) Wayne comes up to him, he's insulted.

Why on earth did you even think you were worthy of talking to him?

Yes, he's seen you watching them, lurking around the manor, keeping your distance. It was quite annoying actually, he could practically hear your heart leaping out of its chest every time you saw him. He knew your intentions, trying to make friends with him.

He just looked down at you, eyes pooling with something nobody could explain, whilst you smiled at him and made small talk. Or tried to make small talk.

"Damian, should I snap her neck? Or is your family still insistent on the old laws?" Jon says.

You freeze, eyes widening in fear. Ah...you've made a severe lapse in judgment.

So much for a new friend.

"You know what? How 'bout I just go?" You quip nervously before trying to run off.

It's too bad Damian grabs you by the back of your shirt, basically choking you in the process. You let out a strangled noise as your body loses balance and lurches backward. When Damian lets go, your having a mad coughing fit, trying to get as much air as you could into your lungs.

Damian only makes an annoyed sound while Jon watches, a sick type of glee in his eyes. "When the time comes friend, you may feast with us. Now (Y/n), apologize to Jon."

You do not even have to think twice about that. "I'm sorry-I'm sorry! I shouldn't have approached you, I'm sorry." And at this point, you're crying. (reader is 14 when this happens)

And god doesn't that make Jon smile. He wouldn't deny, that you were pretty (I mean, you do have half of Bruce Wayne's DNA). But as much as he'd consider coveting you, you weren't worth that honor, no, he'd much rather taste your sweet, sweet flesh. (He could practically smell it wafting off you).

But alas, he'd have to wait.

But of course, in normal yandere fashion, he goes from wanting to eat you to wanting to eat you. The obsession starts to change around (Y/n)'s 16th birthday party that the Waynes throw. It's customary that all children do some public ball or whatever, so this was yours. Jon and his family are there obviously, and you're there as well, looking as miserable and tired as usual (and still somehow being the most beautiful thing in the building). However, he sees you light up in a way he's never seen you do before when your (what he's guessing) friends show up. They're human. They're weak, like you.

Seeing you interact with them, hearing you talk normally(super-hearing, duh) without fear, watching the way you laughed...He realizes he wants. And he wants bad.

Looks like you've got a new problem now.

Anyways, this is all I got!! I don't want to spoil the story more than I already have, but yeah, say hello to "absolutely bonkers Jon Kent". Hope you enjoyed!!!

[mlyscha]

↳ DRESS TO IMPRESS? ⭑

𝓼ynopsis. in which you convince your boyfriend to play dress to impress with you, will they slay the runway? 𝓹airing. enha!member x female!reader 𝓰enre. fluff, crack, trendy. 𝔀arnings. curse words, not proofread, riki is that annoying player and almost all the members are bad at this game ㅠㅠ, english is not my 1st language. 𝔀𝓬. 1k+ 𝓶asterlist.

♡ 𝓪melie's 𝓷ote: oh gosh i had so much fun writing this, especially because i am addicted to this game lol anyway, do you guys have any headcanon request? i am curious...

― 𝓱eeseung: gets upset but doesn't quit playing.

you might be wondering why heeseung changed his mood like that, and that's because placing on the podium in dress to impress is hard ― for him. in the beginning, and sometimes unfair. when you told him you wanted to play with him ― your boyfriend was feeling very happy and giddy, creating his account the same second, not knowing how he would feel a few rounds later...

"BRO?! HOW DID SHE PLACED?!" he screamed after standing up from bed while his hands rested against his head, indignant. "LOOK AT ME, I LOOK MUCH PRETTIER!" and heeseung turned his ipad screen at you after laying back on his stomach on bed. "hee, baby... your skin is literally blue, that's not what coquette means..." you replied. "nonsense, even my fit is better! and you placed second you can't say shit! i am not playing this game anymore." he argued, throwing his ipad away from him. "don't quit, continue playing with me," you pouted, waiting for a new round to start. "i'm sorry, baby, but this game is absolutely dog shi- a new round has begun?" when the sound of a new round starting echoed, his mind seemed to have changed. "... yeah?" "okay, maybe one more round won't hurt..."

― 𝓳ongseong: gets into arguments with 8 year olds.

jongseong is a good, caring, handsome and mature boyfriend, however, immatureness possesses him when playing dress to impress. just to clear things up you had asked him to play the game with you before, so nothing was new to him ― neither to you: hearing him raging about a girl talking shit about his fashion sense. i can't forget to mention that he takes this game very serious ― especially when his girlfriend has an awesome ranking.

"look at me, i look so good," "yeah... you do..." you couldn't ignore how terribly your boyfriend's makeup was done. "give me five stars, okay?" "'kay..." "baby, if this girl tells me i look terrible one more time i'll do something really bad." "babe-" " 'you look ugly'...?" he read the chat. open his microphone: "SHUT UP, YOUR FIT LOOKS LIKE A TRASH BAG AND A PIECE OF SHIT JUST HAD A BABY," "JAY! she's a kid!" "and i am eating with this outfit- tha-that's how you guys say right? eat and all...?" "yes, you ate that outfit up babe."

― 𝓳aeyun: you have to be patient.

don't get me wrong, jaeyun is good at games, however, not in this one specifically. it took him about two days just to learn how to walk on roblox's games and how to jump, etc. imagine when you introduced this fashion game which you have time to dress yourself up, oh boy, he was confused. if learning the basics from controlling your avatar on roblox took him days, it took jaeyun a week to understand how to put on items, take them off, where you choose your hair and face... well, it was a pain, but he was able to get through it and play it almost normally.

"babe, why you're skin is grey?" "i didn't know where to change it," shrugs then tries to pose. "oh my god, babe, i showed you where a minute ago!" "okay, chill...! where do i pose though?" "oh my god, jaeyun..."

― 𝓼unghoon: has lots of difficulties but doesn't give up.

sunghoon is like a mix of heeseung and jake, which means he gets addicted, angry but can't stop playing and still has to be handled with patience and love. with that being said, be prepared to hear a bunch of questions and him leaving and then joining your server a few many times. also! can't forget that sunghoon is still a english learner, so the themes might be misunderstood by him sometimes heh... (ᵕ—ᴗ—)

"y/n~" he whines. "i'm done with this game!" leaves "babe, the theme was baggy and you literally dresses up as a trash bag..." "baggy means... bag? what did i do wrong?" "baggy is a style, not a trash bag," "should've told me earlier, y/n!" "hoonie-" "now everyone on the server thinks i am stupid! let's change server, join me now."

― 𝓼unoo: is the one who places first.

sunoo is undeniably the best dressed on the game among the members, usually winning against you. he has almost all the poses, knows how to layer and is always creative, even reaching top model before you.

"baby, can we play dress to impress together? i'm so close to reach top model." "yeah, su- WAIT! TOP MODEL?!" ― ooohhh, i might have forgotten to mention... sunoo plays dress to impress without you sometimes. "baby, just join me 'kay?" "sunshine, explain me how'd you reach top model before me? i play more than you do," "uh... i surely play more than you do, but okay," "wait, wha-" "babyyyy just join my server, i want you to celebrate this with me, alright?" "okay..." your heart softened when you realised he wanted you to be part of his reaching. "can we duo?" you asked. "we can, but just once; i would much rather vote you five (5) stars."

― 𝓳ungwon: jungwon.exe stopped working.

jungwon is like jake and oh gosh why i feel like every single one of them is a bit like him?!?! anyway, jungwon would be more than happy to join you, but has already told you that his skills might not really show up in this dressing game ― discreetly admitting that he doesn't know how to play it. he actually heard about the game because the other members seem to enjoy it. still, it's just not his cup of tea. however, since you were so excited about him playing with you, sigh, he might make this sacrifice ― in which he slowly gets very excited as well.

"wonnie, baby, why are you posing? you have to dress up before the times is up!" you warned him after spotting him on the game. "huh? it doesn't make sense, we have to dress up? where?" "there, baby," you gently took the ipad out of his hands and guided him to the changing booth. "oh... but is too far away from my spawn and why do i walk slower than that girl?" "because she bought a walk faster pack, now dress up wonnie, hurry up...!" "i want to buy that, how do i buy her pack?" "jungwon, dress up now, you have literally one minute." you spoke between your teeth. "okay, okay... y/n, where do i get the items though?" "jungwon..."

― 𝓻iki: it's that annoying giggly kid who doesn't follow the theme.

if you ever played dress to impress you probably came across to one of those annoying players who never follows the theme, with that, you might refuse to believe riki is this type of player; but trust me, he surely is. and why? because he doesn't take the game that seriously, doing whatever he wants and trolling people ― making them believe he's gonna gift them vip or one of the other packs.

"RIKI? HOW'D YOU PLACED FIRST?" "i'm just too good, i guess," your boyfriend shrugged, but you couldn't believe him. "you're lying." "are you saying i am not good at this game?" "..." "y/n," he would call you after suddenly bursting out of laughter. "what?" your annoyed tone of voice echoed and it sounded like his favourite music to his ears. "wanna know how i placed first?" riki looks up at you, hiding just half of his face with his ipad. "mhm..." you hummed, confirming. "i tricked a few girls saying that i would gift them vip if they voted me five (5) stars," he giggled, knowing you were about to get angry at him. "RIKI! you can't do that, imagine if that was me..." you pouted. "oh, yeah? i should've done worse then." "RIKI!" "OKAY! SORRY, enough of riki now, okay? i am baby, not riki..."

© 𝓪𝐦𝐞𝐥𝐢𝓮, 𝗺𝗹𝘆𝘀𝗰𝗵𝗮 𝗌𝓽𝓾𝖽𝗂𝗈𝓼. ⋆

[valenteal]

Okay I actually really hate this take I’m sorry. Anakin was not possessive or selfish and that’s not what the Jedi taught him.

The way I think of it is that Jedi pursue inner peace by disconnecting themselves emotionally from situations, they feel empathy in a very detached way. That’s what having no attachments means. It’s in the word. The Jedi are Detached from reality as it is perceived by humans.

The Force gives Jedi a glimpse of what it is to be a 4th dimensional entity with consciousness no trapped in a single moment in time. So to a certain extent they don’t actually perceive time linearly and thus do not feel they’ve lost something because it still exists in the past.

So now that we’ve established that yes Jedi are detached from the present let’s move onto the more problematic statement about selfishness and possessiveness.

It is not selfish to want unconditional love. That’s basic human nature. Anakin, a person who clearly suffers from borderline personality disorder which comes with symptoms such as fear of abandonment, an unstable view of the self, devaluing or overvaluing relationships to the point placing of one’s self-worth entirely in another person’s hands, and more, literally needs unconditional love and support. And he developed this disorder in large part because of the Jedi order and the way they treated him. He was simultaneously considered the “chosen one” and considered a burden or a problem. He had to change everything about the way he thought to fit the prescribed mold of what a Jedi should be, and he was held to higher standards because of his perceived “chosen one” status and people were disappointed when he failed to meet them. I know from experience how truly awful it is to be told “i know you can do better” in a disappointed voice when you’re honestly trying your best.

And that’s not even touching on how in Phantom Menace he created strong bonds with both Qui-Gon and Padmé only to have both of the ripped away right after he’d left behind everything he knew and loved. After the movie he was around nothing familiar or comfortable. He didn’t know Obi-Wan and he knew that Obi-Wan hadn’t actually wanted him as an apprentice or even in the Jedi order. So he was surrounded by a bunch of people who all thought he didn’t belong and only let him stay because of a dead man’s wishes. He was NINE and being told that everything he ever learned was wrong and backwards and leads to being evil and that he needs to be perfect for anyone else to think he belonged because even the smallest mistake would just confirm their preconceived beliefs about him.

And that’s not even mention Sidious’s manipulation. Anakin never would have become anything like Vader without Sidious leading him.

Also! There is a difference between possessive and protective! Anakin is protective! He has lost so much he’s clinging desperately to what he has! He wants to protect the one good thing in his life. He doesn’t try to control Padmé, they actually have a very healthy relationship, it’s the situation that’s toxic. Anakin doesn’t view Padmé as a possession, I don’t know why anyone would think that. Oh wait the Clovis arcs. Right. Those exist and other people actually consider them canon. That’s a whole ‘nother rant about writing that I’m not going to get into here. But let’s make this one thing clear, Clone Wars Anakin and movie Anakin are 2 totally different characters psychologically because of the awful reception of the prequel trilogy when it came out.

"no attachments" in SW literally just means "don't be selfish and possessive". that's it. that's all there is. doesn't mean jedi can't have friends and loved ones. they can. just. don't be possessive and selfish about it. don't murder thousands of people in an effort to save one.

[lale-txt]

❦ IDLE HANDS (Kuroo x f!reader)

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two.

a/n: little something for @husbandograveyard ♡ writing this made me a Kuroo girlie. i get it now. i really, REALLY do. also when i started writing this i was aiming for 1k or so idk what possessed me but here we are. maybe listening to bouncy while writing this wasn't the best idea (lie)

tags: f!reader, mild enemies to lovers, fluff, mutual pining, shameless flirting, food mention, bit of a slow burn, they're so in love your honor

wc: 3.7k

Kuroo Tetsuro is a heartthrob.

With his stupid messy hair and his stupid rolled up sleeves, showing off his stupid toned arms while he’s mumbling stupid sweet things to your favorite cat that’s currently coiling underneath his stupid big hand, getting the best belly rubs of her life from the looks of it. 

It’s not like you’re jealous or something, no; it’s just that you’ve been coming to this cat café for a year now and you thought you and the calico shared a special bond. Maru, who is just as her name implies, very round and very soft, has been sitting and purring by your side while you spend hours typing page after page of your next book. She’d also stretch out all over your laptop and remind you to take a break when you’ve been going at it for hours. Yes, it took you some bribery to win her heart but over the past months she really warmed up to you. Wow, she usually isn’t this friendly with people, you remember the café owner say once. 

What a blatant lie. 

Your peace has been disturbed. A slight shift in the universe when he showed up for the first time merely a week ago. It was easy to remember him, because he was sitting in your spot with your favorite cat purring in his lap, looking like he didn’t have a single worry in the world except maybe that untamed hair of his (and even this was kind of charming, you had to admit begrudgingly).

Sharing usually wasn’t a big deal for you–until it was. You come to this cat café almost every day, feeling much more inspired to write here than in the shoebox you call your apartment at the other end of town. Your landlady doesn’t allow pets, so this place has been a lifeline in the tiring times of deadlines and rejected book deals. At the end of the day there was always a cat rubbing against your legs, reminding you that not everything was bad and that no matter how severe things got, there was always a kitty waiting to be picked up.

You hold this place very dear to your heart, a secret gem you felt a need to protect. It is hidden away in a side street, far from the hectic buzz of the city. The interior is cozy, it isn’t too big and the owner, an elderly lady with candy cotton hair and knuckle tattoos, lives upstairs and treats the place like her second living room with all six of her cats. There’s never too many other guests around and in the corner seat by the window you can unravel your thoughts quietly. It feels homey, something you haven’t felt in a long time.

But now there is an intruder in a business suit and you didn’t really know how to deal with that new found irritation.

“That’s my spot.”

Balancing your laptop, notebook, a slice of carrot cake and a hot drink in one hand, all manners aside, you point at the stranger with your other. In your right mind you know it is rude to point at people, but to be fair he kinda started it by sitting where you rightfully belong. His eyes, a certain gleam in them, follow your movement down to the cat curled up on top of his thighs. With the amount of cat hair sticking to his suit pants you could only pray for him that he had a lint roller somewhere at his desk. 

He cocks his head to the side, giving you a boyish smirk that maybe would make your heart skip a beat if it wasn’t for his audacity. 

“Usually I ask someone’s name first and take them on a few dates before I let them sit in my lap, but I guess I can make an exception,” he replies and you never in your life before wanted to strangle someone so badly. If that wasn’t already worse enough, the tuxedo cat lifts its small head and slowly blinks at you before jumping down from his lap, as if it was trying to make space for you. My bad, didn’t know this seat was taken. Here, girl, you have it.

For once in your life you’re too stunned to speak. You watch the stranger check his watch and let out an almost inaudible sigh before he grabs his backpack (one that looks like he has had it since high school) and stands up to full height. He’s in your space now and you have to crank your neck slightly to meet his eyes. Mentally you’re adding stupidly tall to your list of things you hate about him. 

“Gotta get back to work. I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

True to his words he is there the next day, too. This time around you managed to secure your spot by the window, three cats idly sleeping next to you on. You’ve been stuck on a paragraph for almost an hour now when the doorbell chimes and his figure appears at the counter. The cats look up with interest but you force yourself not to pay any attention to him, which is hard when his order is literally “I’ll have whatever she is having”, followed by a nod in your direction and this cheeky smile again. 

This damn smile.

“You didn’t strike me as a dirty chai drinker,” you deadpan when he takes a seat at the table next to yours. The café is almost empty around this time of the day, which is no surprise since most of the workers in this district are having a hearty meal for lunch and not whatever sweet delicacies this place is offering. 

He peels himself out of his suit jacket and rolls up the sleeves of his shirt. The same cat as yesterday jumps into his lap immediately after he sits down, giving you a look of “if you don’t want him, I’ll take him” and you almost roll your eyes. Kuroo (you learn his name from the ID he is wearing around his neck) seems to notice and he grins at you. 

“Then what did I strike you as?” he asks, his chin resting in one hand while his other finds the soft fur of the kitty, stroking it gently. 

You look him up and down, now taking your time while stretching out the silence between you two. Only the purring of the cats and the soft music in the background could be heard. At first glance he seems like your typical office worker in the three piece suit who spends his time filling out spreadsheets and drinking cheap vending-machine coffee from the conbini next door. Everything a little rumpled, himself included, someone so used to tristesse he doesn’t even notice it anymore. 

Only at second glance do you notice the small wrinkles around his eyes, not from age but from laughter. The dimples when he smiles down at the tuxedo cat in his lap, now showing off its belly. His calloused hands, atypical for an office worker, more like you’d see them at craftsmen or athletes. Something in his eyes that radiates warmth and an air of calm confidence. None of it is unpleasant.

“If I had to guess, maybe three espresso with a pump of caramel and honey,” you say, more to yourself than to him. Kuroo looks at you in surprise before barking out a laugh. You hate how you like the sound of it.

It’s the beginning of spring and you award Kuroo Tetsuro the title of the greatest nuisance you’ve ever met.

In the midst of summer, you pity him. 

“I’m just saying that maybe you radiate a natural fragrance of catnip,” you say as you stir your iced oat milk latte. Kuroo got you that one when he popped in during his lunch break and saw that your glass must have been empty for a while. By that time you were hunched over your laptop, trying to decipher your notes from last night. You had saved him a seat at your table, but if he asked you, you’d say you just happened to put all your belongings on one chair and nothing more.

The man is swarmed by the cats of the café. They didn’t even bother to hide who their favorite is, rubbing around his legs, sitting pressed to his side or just straight up climbing his shoulders. It would’ve been enviable if he wasn’t already sweating from wearing a suit in the humid heat of the summer month alone. 

“Can you get at least one or two off me?” he asks and his tone is close to pleading. It makes you laugh as you stretch out in your light sundress, giving him a look as if you’re contemplating his question. 

“I could, but it’s really much funnier seeing you struggle like that. Serves you well,” you chime and pull out your phone, snapping a photo of this moment. You hold it up for him to see, a kitty phone charm dangling from it (they just happened to come in a pack of two and you gifted him one out of generosity, nothing more). He snatches it from your hands and makes a face.

“So you like seeing me suffer, is that how it is?” he snarls at you, a smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. His slender fingers fly over the screen of your phone and you let out a small gasp.

“Don’t you dare delete it,” you huff and grab the orange tabby mercifully off his shoulders so you can lean over him better. 

“Relax. I’m only saving my contact info since you never bothered asking me for it despite being my constant for the past three months.”  

There was this cheeky smile again. You blame the flutter of your heart on the caffeine and not the way his pupils are dilating when he gazes at you. 

He loosens his tie and unbuttons his shirt slightly, just enough to reveal a sliver of skin. Suddenly you’re very aware of how close you’re leaning over at him. Kuroo gives you a little glance from the corner of his eyes and taps the now revealed side of his neck. 

“What do you say? Do I really smell like catnip?” 

Shameless, you think. Unsure if you mean him or yourself when you narrow the distance between you two. You can feel the heat radiating off him and for a brief moment you wonder what it would feel like to press open mouth kisses on his skin. Your eyes flutter shut as you engrave this moment into your heart. 

“Definitely irresistible,” you murmur once you pull back–reluctantly, as if a hidden part of you ached to be in his proximity, in the inside of his soul.  

By autumn you miss him on the days when he was gone. 

He traveled quite a lot. You didn’t know one would need to be on the road so much for something as simple as volleyball (you can imagine the look he’d give you over this). But he was passionate about it and that’s also something you liked about him. The way he talks about the sport holds so much love and you wonder what it would feel like to be loved by a man like Kuroo Tetsuro.

Gentle, you think. Honest. Treasured.

A tap against the window pulls you out of your thoughts and when you look up, you're met with a pair of honey glazed eyes. Whatever he sees when he looks at you, it’s making him grin from ear to ear before he hurries towards the entry door, eager to meet you again.

Kuroo is holding up a bag, some brand of sweets from Hokkaido he’s been texting you about, but you didn’t think he’d actually go so far and bring you some. He sounds breathless when he speaks, as if he rushed all the way to get here and when he keeps on rambling, you order him and yourself a hot matcha boba and a chocolate mousse to share. 

The cats are happy to see him back too, and you laugh when you help him take his scarf off before some kitty claws can tangle up in it. It was a precious gift after all, one you knitted for him, under the feeble excuse of “keeping my hands busy helps me come up with ideas for my writing process”. It makes you happy to see him wearing it, and the color makes you feel as if you took the red string of fate connecting you two and turned it into something to help him stay warm.

You think a lot about kissing him now. Sometimes your hands would brush against each other on the table, neither of you pulling away. He spends his lunch breaks with you and comes to pick you up from the café in the evening, walking you to your station. The two of you still bicker at each other, but underneath lies a certain kind of softness, one that feels too fickle to put it into words just yet but also too bright to ignore. The leaves of the trees are falling and so are you. 

With winter comes snow and the quiet realization that maybe, just maybe, it’s unadulterated love. 

You spend a lot of time huddled together in the corner by the window now. He looks over your shoulder when you type on your laptop, one arm resting idly on the back of your chair, fingertips brushing against your spine sometimes. You don’t think he even notices when he lets them run up and down there. Often you forget which cups on the table belong to who but it doesn’t matter since you order the same things anyway and because this could count as an indirect kiss, right? 

On some days he’d just close his eyes and laze next to you, with his head resting on his folded arms on the table and your fingers idly weaving through his hair, before he had to hurry back to work. On others he would tell you excitedly about a special match he was organizing and you can hear the pure joy in his voice. It’s contagious.You get them now, the cats. How drawn they are to him, like chasing sunbeams. 

He spells L-O-V-E on your back with his fingertips and something inside of you softens. 

Then there’s snow, more snow than you’ve ever seen in your entire life, and Kuroo comes to pick you up early, the tip of his ears bright red and his cold hands seeking yours to warm them up. 

“I’m really sorry but I’m closing the shop early today,” the café owner apologizes and puts a box of cinnamon rolls for you on your table. “You two kittens better hurry and get home, too. On the radio they said they’re gonna shut everything down soon.”

It can’t be that bad, you think. But when Kuroo and you stand in front of the closed station, it dawns on you that maybe you’ve underestimated the amount of snow a teeny tiny bit. You huddle a little closer to him for warmth and to shield yourself against the snow as you pull out your phone. 

“If there’s no more trains running, I better start looking for a place to stay. With some luck there’s still a few vacant rooms in the hotels nearby…”

Kuroo puts a hand over your screen and gives you a stern look when you open our mouth to protest. 

“You can crash at my place for the night. I live close by," he mutters and it doesn’t really leave room to decline his offer. Maybe it’s not really an offer to begin with; more of a silent pleading to stay. Not just for the duration of the snowstorm, but forever maybe. 

His place is just like you imagined it would be like. Not overly spacious but it feels like a home in every corner. There’s photos on the wall, back from when he was a kid to his high school and college years, and pinned with a magnet to the fridge is also a polaroid he took of you back in summer. In it you’re laughing about something silly he said and you’re holding up two cats at once, one strap of your sundress almost slipping down your shoulder. You still remember how he fixed it for you because you didn’t have a hand free and how his fingers lingered for longer than necessary. 

You hope one day he won’t pull his hand away anymore.

The apartment is certainly not messy but you can see he lives in this place, with some papers scattered across the coffee table and the unmade bed and the slightly concerning stock of buldak noodles in the kitchen shelves (in which you peeked out of curiosity into while he was in the shower). You imagine yourself living here, too. Maybe you’d get a cat on your own and plants for the balcony once this winter was over. 

The laundry machine rumbles quietly in the background after you step out of the bathroom, too. It wasn’t just the steamy shower that had your cheeks feel hot, it was also his clothes that he put out for you, with his scent lingering on them and engulfing you softly. Kuroo appears with two cups from the kitchen and pauses when he sees you, his mouth opening and closing again as his eyes flicker over your form. He doesn’t want to stare but also he does want to stare, wants to drink you in and memorize every detail of this moment. 

You can see his Adam's apple bop slightly when he swallows and nods over to the couch, and it’s at this moment that you know you’re not leaving this apartment again before every inch of your skin has been plastered in kisses. 

“It’s not as good as the one’s at the café but I tried my best for my special guest,” he laughs quietly when he hands you your cup, his fingers brushing against yours. The hot chocolate looks impossibly sweet, with whipped cream and sprinkles on top (they’re not ordinary sprinkles, you realize, but tiny cat shaped ones), and the first sip would’ve been enough to send you in some higher spheres if you weren’t in a state of bliss due to his proximity already. You put the cups to cool down on the coffee table and sink into the couch. 

Outside the snow is falling relentlessly, muffling the sounds of the outside world and opening up a new one, right here in these four walls.

In his arms. 

Without realizing you both settled down in your now familiar positions, only closer this time. Huddled next to each other, with one of his arms around your shoulder drawing you nearer to him. It feels natural, the way your head comes to rest against his shoulder and your legs thrown over his lap, the two of you sharing a blanket. 

He’s warm. Kuroo is so warm. 

And when he presses a fleeting kiss on top of your head it’s like everything is falling in place; the months of pining and yearning and unspoken desire. In the midst of a snowstorm both of your hearts are set ablaze, with a tenderness you haven’t experienced in this lifetime before. You sure hope he will find you in the next and the one after that as well because you never want to miss his embrace ever again. 

“That’s my spot,” you murmur and Kuroo laughs, the kind with his head tilted back and his chest rumbling. His grip around you tightens and he pulls you impossibly closer, till you’re really in his lap now, your head tucked under his chin. 

“Damn right it is.” 

You can feel his heart drum, or maybe it’s your own that’s doing somersaults–either way, it’s the same rhythm, a steady thrumming and rattling, begging to be felt. Time seems to freeze at this moment and you’re both quiet. Cat’s got your tongue. Kuroo has both arms around you now, and one of his hands settles on your waist, at the part where your sweatshirt is bunched up a little. His thumb draws small patterns against your bare skin, his touch featherlight and gentle.

You lift your head, only enough so you can catch his gaze. For the first time in your life you understand what it means to have your heart in your throat, because he takes your breath away with a simple glance. His other hand comes to rest against your cheek, cupping your face softly while his grip around your waist tightens a fraction.

“Stop looking at me like that,” he mutters and you can see his sharp teeth flash in the corner of your eyes when he laughs. 

“Like what?” “You know what.” “I think I’ll need to have it spelled out for me.”

He laughs again and this time he leans in closer till his breath is fanning over your skin and everything is happening all at once. Honey and caramel eyes asking you to drown in them. The heat of his body mingling with yours. Your fingers playing with the shaved part of hair in the back of his neck, sending small shivers down his spine.

“Oh, I’ll spell it out for you alright.”

Kuroo kisses you with all the gentleness of the world. It feels as natural as if he had done this countless times before, as if he had kissed you in every life prior to that. He hums into the kiss and smiles when your lips part for him so willingly, and then he deepens the kiss in a way that makes you forget your name for a heartbeat or two. 

Sweet, you think. Soft and saccharine. And warm. So warm. The same what loving Kuroo feels like.

[menlove]

I love when people are like shocked and horrified about the latine vote always going red like. every latine in this country is gonna go "yeah?" like it's not surprising. those of us that are leftists agree that it's fucking stupid and I promise you we're more frustrated than you are, but like. never a shocking event.

[mr-ys-phantasma]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 34:

He pulled the first card, looking at it before he turned it so Agatha could see it too. "The Horse Drawn Carri..."

"The Chariot?" Agatha interrupted him, clearly wanting to get this over with. Plus, it was clear that Billy was not as knowledgeable about it as he claimed to be. "It's literally written on the card."

You looked at your lover. "Let him do it, Agatha. Unless you want to give it a try, " you scolded, knowing fully well how she looked down upon the tarot cards and tarot reading in general.

She would often call it lesser magic or circus tricks.

"Fine," she mumbled and motioned for Billy to continue.

Billy cleared his throst. "Right. So, obviously, you're

leaving somewhere behind, and you have these sphinxes with you, and they represent your... your... mysteriousness."

Agatha placed her elbows on the table and interlocked her fingers before resting her chin on them. "You have a real gift."

"This card hasn't really come up much for me." He confessed and placed the card on one of the carved empty spaces.

Immediately, the sound of metallic objects clanging with one another made you all look up; only then noticing the dozens upon dozens of hanged swords; attached to the ceiling by some sort of string?

You were not sure.

You could not see any details from that distance, but you were quite sure they were not props or fake. Something was telling you that they were real and very sharp swords, positioned in a way that would finish off any one of you.

Billy shallowed hard. "I'll try another one." He drew the next card. "Seven of Swords."

You could not help but scoff faintly. "At least you're on theme." You commented and earned a look from him, clearly not happy with your words. "Sorry," you apologised and gently lifted your hands up as a sign of surrender.

"I know this one. It's about deception and betrayal." He started to explain. "But it's reversed.

So that means the opposite. Are you being truthful?" He questioned and looked at Agatha.

He clearly did not believe her to be saying the truth cause well... she was Agatha Harkness. She won nothing by being honest, and Billy doubted she had ever been, at least with him.

He wasn't sure about you, but considering how you did not expect her visit back then, when they were gathering coven members, and this odd tension existing between the two of you... it was wise of him to assume that you hadn't talked in a while.

And he did wonder if you were even together or had this strange former romantic bond; like how Agatha seemed to have with Rio.

Agatha grew bored of this, not liking be judged or having cards trying to expose her in any way. She had been trying hard to keep that mask, that facade of a tough woman that cared for nothing other than herself.

She couldn't let a few stupid cards ruin that, and she wasn't going to let it happen.

"You know what, I think I will do it instead. My turn." She grabbed the card stack from Billy.

He tried to hold it back, but he was too slowly, and he quickly lost possession of it.

"Agatha," you started, feeling that this was about to turn into a really bad idea.

"Oh, don't you worry now. Tarot is a con like any other, remember?" She asked rhetorically, clearly not sharing your worries or caring about the rules. She never did. "There's no magic to it. There's no skill."

"That's not true." Billy argued. "It's about intuition.

Knowing which card to pull. And it's about interpretation, divining their meaning."

She paid him no mind as she grabbed one random card and placed it on top of the Chariot that he had pulled before.

Suddenly, one of the swords that was hanging from the ceiling was let loose. It pinned itself into the wooden floor, little too close to Billy for his liking.

You looked up with fearful eyes, losing count on how many swords were up there. Worse was the fact that they were so evently spread that it would be impossible to find a spot and be safe.

Agatha placed another card down and then another, clearly just doing it like that and not using any magic or intuition as one should.

She even cackled like a true evil witch as more and more swords started to fall, some closer and some further away from you.

"Agatha!" You called out her name as one sword landed too close to you, making your heart increase in beat at the fact that had you been stabbing one step to the left; you would not be alive and breathing right now.

Your shout made her stop, seeing you eyeing the sword with fear in your eyes. A quick check made her realize you were unharmed, and that was enough.

"Slow down! What is your problem?" Billy shouted, having moved from his chair to avoid a sword that almost hit him.

Agatha looked at the fearful duo. "This is a numbers game. We keep at it until we get the right cards in the right spots or the ceiling runs out of swords."

"This won't work, Ags," you said, shaking your head faintly to emphasise your disagreement.

"I'm not sure how much math you did back in Salem, but that will take forever." Billy argued.

"We still have some time."

"I wish Lilia was here."

And as if the Road had heard him, once again, it happened. The bookcase behind you was pulled open, and Jen with Lilia entered the room; their outfits also changed to fit the trial's theme and mood.

Jen had been affected the most with her evil queen hag outfit, coming along with grey big eyebrows and a nose; an enjoyable sight for you after all the times Jen's attitude had tested your pat

Lilia, on the other hand, seemed to be some sort of good witch based on her outfit; though you could not tell for sure.

What you could tell for sure was the fact that something was going on because Lilia was switching moods.

For example, how, at first, she said she was okay with Billy; holding no grudges, and then... she flipped.

She pointed a finger, harshly pressed against his chest. By instinct alone, Billy started to walk backwards, and Lilia simply kept advancing.

"Whoa! Ow! I thought we were cool!" He exclaimed, eyes daring to glance at you and Agatha for help.

"We are not cool, Teenager." Lilia said, surprising both Jen and Yoi.

"Damn, using his full name." Jen commented, and you nodded silently.

"She is definitely angry, " you commented next.

Lilia was always the calmest, even her threats being of a low tone; which was what was so unique about her.

This time, though, you could see the fire behind her eyes, and even you would not dare to stand in her way.

After all, one would be wise to fear the calm people when they stopped being calm. It was always them that held the most destructive rage.

Ironic, for the same had been told about you; at least until people realized you were never calm. You simply expressed your worry differently or passed phases when you were indiffirent to everything; the world around you sliding off your body and nothing capable of sticking on you.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have lashed out at you. You didn't deserve..." Billy started to apologize. "I wasn't hiding my power from you. I didn't know that I could... I'm not lying to you.

It was a surprise to me, too... if I'd have known, I would've..." he paused for a moment as his telepathic abilities started to work. "Yes, of course, I would have used it to save Alice."

Lilia looked at him, trying to study him behind her aged but expeencd eyes. "You're reading my mind." She picked up.

"Only because it's so loud. No offence." Billy offered a weak small smile to show he had no ill intentions.

And as Lilia started to remember how she had met Billy before, as William; you chose to interfere.

"I don't want to ruin any reunions, but we need you, Lilia," you said, moving to stand close and use your hands to separate them faintly. "This is your trial, and either we do it right, or we can kiss our lives goodbye."

[manorinthewoods]

((This fits, almost exactly, the current ending of a character in one of my many start-and-finish-only plotlines I've come up with.))

Fifty years.

Fifty years I tracked Magister Bellos. Fifty years I grew up, fatherless, motherless, without guardian or bloodmate. Fifty years, adrift in the seas of the earth, without purpose except revenge. Fifty years training, working, honing whatever meager scraps of power I had, the sight of my mother's flesh melting from her bones in the fires of his army.

Twenty years I spent helpless, watching that man as he took control, went from nobody to everything. Twenty years watching every nation overthrown by this nobody. Watching him set the world like dominoes. Divide Kandemark. Conquer Maredan, weak from its new acquisition. Take that strength, and invade Laene, and Ellada, and Ishar.

I watched him burn cities. I watched him slay hundreds without a thought. I watched his men, armed with the fellest of magics, burning the corpses of those they slew to fuel the rings that gave them the strength of a hundred in the hands of ten.

And then he vanished. His castle fell. This Emperor - worshiped like a god! - gone, just like that. And yet his Empire did not fall. It stood, stronger than ever, the ghostly hand of the king of kings rendering it unassailable. I knew then, and know now, that nothing I can do can break what he forged. But I can punish him, if nothing else. I am strong enough. I know how he gained his power. And I have replicated it.

So what am I to do when I find old Nennos Corven, painting in the square, teaching children how to capture time? What do I do when this harmless old man looks at me and says, "Welcome"?

I am tempted - so very tempted - to simply strike him down. But something stays my hand. And so, I say, "Bellos." And he looks at me, cocks his head, and says, "Who?"

I scoff. The children look at me, concerned. They look back at the old man. But they think nothing of it. I am disheveled, weakening in my age. And he looks nothing like the statues.

"Don't kid me. I know who you are."

Nennos turns fully, setting down his brush, and says, "I'm not sure what you mean. Surely you must be mistaken? I'm certainly not the Emperor. Couldn't be!"

"You fell from your castle, and used a spell to change your appearance. Magister Akulesta identified a stranger fitting your appearance as possessing immense magical power, but revised the report two days later to state that this was a false alarm. An alarm repeated by two other magisters, both of whom assumed you to likely be a member of the Emperor's inner circle in disguise, given your level of power. They also revised their reports to false alarms.

"Those in the court believed you to likely be Archon Nimiter, hunting for the Emperor. But I happen to be aware that Nimiter was posing as Queen Cassidia IV of Maredan at the time, until her daughter was of age to inherit the kingdom. At the timeframe of your travel north through Kandemark, Archon Barley was preventing the succession crisis from destroying the Empire, of which he succeeded, and Archon Silverthorn was suppressing revolts in Laene. I suspected that you were Archon Kaul, but five years ago word reached the Continent that he had been captured and imprisoned in Cathay. None of the other Archons had the level of power mentioned in the suppressed reports. It would have to be you."

Nennos looks blankly. No - not blankly. It's calculated. The appearance of a blank look. But his eyes aren't quite blank enough. I can see a mind working back there.

I notice, too late, that he's watching my eyes.

A shadow falls upon the square. The children gaze blankly, then walk away, their trains of thought lost, returned to a carefree nothing. They skip away, and slow, and stop, some mid-stride. The whole air has turned dark, clammy, still and sludgy. Fires have ceased motion. Leaves hold in the air, wind silenced.

The Adamantine Emperor of the Hundred Kingdoms of Mediterra looks at me, all pretenses dropped. His eyes are cold. Very cold.

"...Why are you here?"

"Revenge."

He chuckles. It sounds sincere. It shouldn't sound sincere.

"Understandable. I'm sure I've wronged all too many people over the years."

"You killed my family!"

"Oh, did I? I've forgotten. I've killed a lot of people, you know. I was rather violent in my youth. Somewhat like you, I suspect. Only you never grew out of it."

"You're calling me violent? The blood of millions is on your hands!"

"The law judges men, but history judges kings. For it is the place of the common to work for the present, and kings to work for the future. I killed many, yes - perhaps too many. But the Empire I have forged has saved the lives of many more. Famines occurred thrice a decade before I reigned. Now, there has been one, in forty years, in an Empire I no longer rule. And consider all the petty wars that are not fought. It is impossible to know how many would have died had I not taken the throne, or whether the great war would have been bloodier, or less bloody, had I not seen fit to act. But I did act. Thus, the Empire."

I set my hand on my blade, that I have cultivated for thirty years. "And when the people came to strike you down, you fled your judgement."

"You can hardly call that band of ruffians 'the people'. Did you not see how they mourned me? They would not have deified me after my fall, if they had hated me, like you do. And besides - what good would judgement do?"

Bellos gestured to the frozen town. "Here, I am harming nobody. I have not used magic in thirty years - until now, thanks to you. I have not taken up arms, even against burglars. The people here trust me. I watch their children, and teach them.

"When I am not painting, I mix medicines, and take care of the ill. The plague twenty years hence slew only one man here, and I mourned him as much as everyone else did. All others survived, because I remembered an old potion my teacher taught me how to brew. And I sent word to my local magistrate that physicians should be taught to use it, and the magistrate sent it to the local prefecture, and the prefecture wrote it into law. And so we survived the next plague.

"What would be gained by punishing me for the crime of forging such an empire? What would be gained by striking me down, when I do not intend to hurt a soul?"

"Do you expect me to believe that? Believe that you wouldn't hurt anyone ever again? Believe the word of an immortal? You have a thousand years to change your mind, and then we're back to where we started. Better to strike you down now, and end this."

"What is the point?" He looked pained. "Killing me won't bring anyone back. I've tried resurrections before, and it's strictly two or more sacrificed trying to bring back the dead, killing one man wouldn't be enough. Do you want to set an example? To who? There is nobody on this earth who holds the power I held. Certainly there is nobody who would believe you for a righteous avenger and not a maddened, traumatised, murderous vagrant. And even if you could somehow make this truth appear to the world, nobody who walked my path would be deterred. I know this because I walked the path, and I know all too well how much such a conqueror can dismiss all doubts, ignore all risks and the inevitability of the fall. It was only twenty years after I fled my post that I realised how great the risk of my own death would be, had I retained the crown. I left because I was bored! No precedent would have kept me from the throne, and only unshakable dissatisfaction or a stronger foe could remove me.

"Besides, what would be the trade, to an aspirant? A century, two, of ruling like a god? The final days wouldn't be pleasant, but such a man would have already well outlived the time allotted him. They would find it a fair trade.

"So, you see, there is no real reason for you to strike me down, here. You would not reduce the risk of a tyrant like myself from rising again. I will teach no students the arts I learned. And if I were to die - how would that help? I would bind myself to an oath, if asked. In fact, I left a rather comprehensive one in the Book of Contemplation, and thirty years of discussion will have dealt with the holes. Any that remain can be patched, there's a clause for it. So demand I take the oath of my own design. It would keep me from harming others, from seeking power, from working for my own gain, from seeking to outwit the oath, from causing destruction, directly or indirectly, for any reason, with any justification, save the prevention of greater destruction, and even then only if no alternatives appear. And if my knowledge was needed, it could be used for whatever great goods are conceived.

"But, of course, that's not why you're here. You don't want to make this world better. You just want to satisfy yourself, to quell the urge of revenge, an old, fleshy thing, to keep the law in a lawless earth before kings proclaimed their kingdoms. You just want me to die."

"Yes."

I strike.

The most ancient blade of the House of Kandemark, wielded by hero after hero in service to the realm, until it ended in the hands of Archon Silverthorn and then myself, dissolves into ash. The hilt flies from my hands and lands, with the softest of noise, into the palm of Bellos. The dust of its blade collects there, and forms again, the sword renewed to its highest glory in an instant. He contemplates it, almost with contempt. Then he speaks, quietly, and I see the runes bind it, its edge shimmering.

"...I expected more of you," he says. "Please, give this blade back to Peregrine. It belongs to him, as the heir to Kandemark - you'll find the records, if you look. It does not need to kill. It is significant enough without that."

I howl in wordless rage. But it is nothing. The great viridian fire of my magic is gone. I cannot draw it forth. I remember how the power filled me, lent me a totality. But there is nothing now. It is there, but I cannot reach it.

"So presumptuous. You heroes always are. If you see me as deserving of death, merely for having the risk of rising to conquer the earth, then there is nothing you can do, for only those with a greater risk of doing so would be able to defeat me. So unless you wish to follow my path, and seek the throne of the earth, I suggest you walk to the city, and become a potter. I have much respect for potters. They do more good than a warrior can."

When you were a child, a mercenary made you watch as he killed your entire family in front of you. You swore revenge. Decades later, you've finally tracked them down- …only to find they're now a pacifistic geriatric who's beloved by his community.

[myownwholewildworld]

THE WAY TO A GREAT WIDE SOMEWHERE

↪ a the mandalorian x beauty & the beast crossover

main masterlist | read on ao3 pairing: beast!din djarin x f!reader. summary: cursed to spend the rest of his days in Mand'alor, Din Djarin faces a threat that may break his peace: you. -or- a retelling of the beauty and the beast story. a/n: HAHAHA *manic laugh* HI! this has been a long time coming now. first and foremost, i'll start by saying that this whole brainrot was inspired by this beautiful moodboard by the very talented @almostfoxglove, please go see it because it's the main reason i wrote this fic. i have gone crazy trying to link both worlds so i hope some of you see/understand the easter eggs. feel free to come screech at me if you like it because i have been screaming into the abyss for weeks now. love you all, take care! <3 x warnings/tags (beware spoilers): 18+, mdni. set after the events of S2. grogu is BRIEFLY mentioned. if you're a SW purist, this ain't your fic, my friend. the stockholm syndrome is stockholming. beast!din. a fair bit of smut (you know all the usual warnings). sensory deprivation. kinda dom!din. monster fucking (this is a BATB crossover after all, sorry). death of a secondary character. reader is a blank slate. alternating pov. no use of y/n. italics means it's spoken in mando'a OR it's the beast's pov 👀 THIS IS THE WAY. w/c: ~24.3k. (HAHA SORRY) divider by @saradika-graphics taglist at the end 💖

11 ABY

“Take it with you. Don’t let anyone hav―” your father choked on his last words, a chesty cough wreaking havoc in his damp, bloody lungs. “It’ll take you to where you need to go. Find it. And destroy it,” he muttered as his grey eyes, crowned by bushy, white brows, bore into yours.

In your hands you held the device that had been passed down every generation in your family. It had been commissioned by Tarre Vizsla himself over a thousand years ago when he created the Darksaber ― a Pillio star compass to find not a physical location but his most valuable possession. For almost a millennium, your family had been the guardians of it.

And for as many centuries, your Jedi ancestors had been looking for the Darksaber after they had stolen the star compass from Vizsla. That Jedi blood was far too diluted now, just a remnant of what your family once was since none of you seemed to be Force sensitive. But the mission remained despite the passing of time, not so much the reason behind it.

Since your birth, this was all you knew: the thrill of the chase. Never settling down anywhere, never creating bonds with anyone outside of your tribe. You all were wanderers ― nomads who made home of no world. You knew no other life. It was what it was.

The Jedi star compass fit perfectly on the palm of your hand ― it was circular and slightly bigger than a locket. This one though was different, special even, because it was made of beskar, a metal alloy from Mandalore.

Your fingers caressed the lid, tracing the astromeridian lines with the tips, feeling each groove. Undoing the aurodium clasp, you opened the compass to find a plasma-encased supraluminite lodestone, perfectly centred. The plasma in this specific one, however, was not of a shimmering blue, but a deep, stagnant black. Its magnetism was so strong it buzzed, emitting a low vibrating noise.

You tapped the stone with your thumb, and the vibration pierced through your flesh and bone, travelling up your forearm and dissipating into your body before it reached your chest. You quickly removed your thumb, taken aback by the intensity of it all, eyes slightly widened.

“But father, you heard them. It’s already been destroyed. It’s over,” you whispered, tears trespassing the waterline of your tired eyes.

“They lie. Never trust one of them. Those power-thirsty ra―,” he coughed, pressing the wound that stained his clothing to stop the bleeding. You covered his hand with one of yours, the other still holding the compass. “I know we were close, we had to be. Promise me you’ll keep looking.”

“I promise, father,” you hushed, repressing the sob that threatened to tear your throat.

You laced your hand with his, unbothered by the blood, as you watched his eyes become dull, opaque and dead. His lungs exhaled the last breath while the grip of his hand on yours loosened.

You remained there for a few minutes, pain and grief gnawing at you, knelt by his deathbed, tinkering with the Pillio star compass. With your mother taken from you at childbirth and now your father perishing to an enemy, you had no blood relatives left. You were alone, stripped from the comfort of family.

You still had your tribe, but your connection to them was circumstantial. You grew up in their midst, but always felt like an outsider, a misfit who people felt forced to interact with because you were “the daughter of.”

It didn’t matter anyway.

You might not have known why your family kept on looking for the Darksaber, but now you knew why you had to search for it. It was your father’s last wish and that was enough reason for you.

“We must go,” Ashton’s voice reached your ears, but not your brain.

When you didn’t respond, he slowly approached you, kneeling by your side.

“Hey, I know this is hard, but we are really running out of time,” his firm arm wrapped around your waist to help you stand up.

Your knees trembled like a newborn qartuum but managed to stay upright on the soles of your feet. Taking a deep breath, you nodded.

“We need to leave Nevarro. It’s just a matter of time until our covert is discovered. They’ll come looking for him,” your head tilted in your father’s direction, voice flat and emotionless now. Stretching your back, you put distance between you and Ashton. “You find somewhere safe in the Outer Rim to lay low for a while. I need to see this done once and for all.”

“This what, exactly? You heard the same thing I did. Gideon crushed it. It’s over. We can finally live our own lives, find a home, settle down,” he muttered, a gloved hand looking for yours yet not finding it. He sounded so hopeful.

“I know what we heard. But my father… he thinks― thought it may be a ruse. I have to try, Ash. I can’t just leave this life behind, as if everything I’ve done has meant absolutely nothing,” you replied between gritted teeth, frustrated.

“Don’t waste any more years of your life on a wild goose chase, please. Let’s go back to the others. We can―” his hand finally found yours, lacing your fingers.

You looked down at your intertwined hands. It just felt odd, out of place even. Ashton was nothing more than a brother in arms to you.

You shook your head no, pulling your hand from his, breaking the contact, and looked at him directly in the eyes.

“No, Ash. There’s no “we” here. You do what you must, and so will I, simple as,” you rejected the unspoken offer, seeing the hurt consuming his blue eyes.

“What makes you think you can do this alone? Thousands of people have tried for centuries,” he quickly tried a different tactic, but his reproach unfazed you. “Let me come with you at least.”

“No. Our people need you to lead them into this new lifestyle, Ashton,” you refused, not even giving his proposal a second thought. “And you just made it clear, this is not the life you want, but it’s the one I do. Now go.”

Ashton pressed his lips together in frustration, gobsmacked by your bluntness. He’ll be fine, he’ll recover, you thought to yourself when you saw the pain of your rejection finally dawning on him.

“Have it your way then,” and with that, he left.

The compass weighed heavy on your hand and in your heart. But you couldn’t afford distractions nor being delayed by people. Not this time.

19 ABY

Weeks turned into months. And months into years. Eight, to be exact.

The passage of time was unfaltering, but so was your determination. Despite the many dead ends, the several disappointments and the near misses, you never stopped looking for the Darksaber.

There were days, however, that it all felt like an impossible task, that you truly believed that Moff Gideon had destroyed it. You couldn’t accept it though, not when you had spent eight more years hunting it down. It still had to exist. Right?

It was hard keeping the spirits up with no company to hear you vent your frustration. You had started talking out loud to yourself, your voice bouncing off the metal walls of your spacecraft.

Some days you regretted rejecting Ashton’s offer. The man had been nothing but kind to you, loyal too. You had your suspicions about his true intentions, but you never really saw him as anything more than a friend. You hoped that after all this time, he would have found someone who reciprocated him. Ash was a good man and deserved better than what you could have offered him. What you both wanted were two completely different things, incompatible ― he wanted a quiet life, you had preferred an adventurous one.

Given the same option today, however, you were not so sure of what you would have chosen.

Toying with the star compass, you looked through the windshield of the cockpit. Jumping through hyperspace at the speed of light always put you at ease ― the flashing of light as you passed through it left a rainbow of blue hues. The static noise was so calming, you relaxed into your seat.

Your attention returned to the device on your hand. Opening it again, you eagerly watched the metal semicircle twinkle, reflecting off the colours from the Hydian Way. It had not moved for a while, so you had set the course in the direction it pointed towards.

Unsure of the way it was taking you to, you had learnt to just let it take you where it pleased. Like a bantha following its herd on the vast, arid lands of Tatooine, your life for the past eight years had been reduced to following the hands of the star compass, and nothing else. And now, like every single time before, you would wind up in the middle of the great wide somewhere. Or nowhere.

Even if your eyes hadn’t been lazily transfixed on the lodestone, you could not have missed the louder buzzing it was emitting. You rapidly sat up on your seat, your thumb hovering over the stone while your heart jolted up to your throat. As the humming increased, the black plasma inside swirled and radiated a white, shimmering glow.

Only once had you seen it do something like that before, right before finding out that the Darksaber was supposedly destroyed by Gideon. You thought yourself so close to your objective in a stroke of sheer luck, you all had rushed towards the direction it marked and found absolutely nothing.

With blood drumming in your eardrums and heartrate spiking, you faced the panel of your starfighter and touched a few buttons in a trained dance of movements. Then you pulled a lever, and a sudden jerking motion stopped the spaceship on its tracks, easing out of hyperspace.

Back flattened against the back of your padded seat, you squinted your eyes to see where you were. It took you a good moment to recognise the worlds in front of you. But that couldn’t be, made no sense at all. Furrowing your brows, you looked down at the scope in front of you.

No, you were not mistaken. That was Mandalore and one of its moons, Concordia. The compass was vibrating so loud now, you had to close the lid to contain it. Did a double take on the scope, then back out to space.

You knew the story of what had happened here fifteen years ago ― Mandalore had become uninhabitable after the Night of the Thousand Tears. The Empire had made sure of it by brute force and unfair use of fusion bombs and rays, which reportedly left the surface of the planet crystallised and its atmosphere poisoned. No one who had ventured had ever returned, or so the legend went.

The compass hummed louder, still pressed between your hands, as if compelling you to decide, and to do it now. It couldn’t be that the Darksaber had found its way back to its homeworld. It completely defied common sense, the laws of space itself.

Concordia, on the other hand, was more promising, you thought. The best choice out of the worst possible options. Safest too. Probably.

Setting course towards the moon, the spacecraft slowly trudged forward. A loud sputtering sound coming from the thrusters almost made you jump, quickly followed by the incessant beeping sound of an alarm.

“Thrusters stabilizers compromised. Negative power couplers overheating,” the robotic, monotonous voice advised you.

Then your astromech droid, a yellow trimmed R3-D3 unit, started screeching so loud through your headset, you had to remove them.

“Fuck!” you exclaimed, taking complete manual control of the helm.

If the couplers didn’t cool down, you only had minutes until these completely overheated, causing an explosion.

Weighing your options, you let go of an expletive. Mandalore was closer, but you feared that the moment you entered its atmosphere, your starfighter, and you inside it, would combust to death. Concordia was further, which meant the possibility of exploding before reaching it was very high.

You were fucked either way. Both were evils, none the lesser.

“Alor (boss), something has entered the atmosphere,” Nau’ul, his protocol droid, announced in perfect Mando’a, with a metal finger pointing out the window.

Din’s brows knitted together, not that anyone could see with his helmet on. His attention drifted to the direction Nau’ul was indicating. The wrinkles between his eyes pronounced as his head tilted.

A small spaceship had breached the atmosphere of Mand’alor, appearing through the greyish clouds with a burning tail following it as it rapidly plummeted towards the surface, leaving a smoky halo behind.

With muscles tensed, Din got up from the chair and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window, trying to catch a better glimpse of the type of aircraft that dared to break his peace.

It couldn’t be the New Republic, and he hoped to hell it wasn’t an Imperial ship either. Everyone thought Mand’alor was a thing of the past, a barren planet harbouring no life.

He had thought so too before finding himself adrift in space, injured within inches of his own death. Crippled as he was, his Razor Crest survived the bumpy ride and even bumpier landing, all thanks to the droids aboard. The same droids that had managed to nurse him back to health. Or, close to, anyway.

Through the visor of his damaged helmet, Din eagerly saw the spaceship disappear between the dense foliage and slab stones, nearby the Mines. He waited and hoped to see a column of dense smoke towering above the vegetation, but that vision never materialised. There had been no crash, at least not a major one. Which meant that, whoever was commandeering the ship, had probably survived.

“Fuck. Where’s Mrs. Kri’gee?” he turned around to face Nau’ul.

The protocol droid lifted his arms above his head, running towards the door, panicking.

“Mrs. Kri’gee! Mrs. Kri’gee! Where are you? You’re urgently needed! Report immediately!” the high pitch tone of his robotic voice almost pierced his eardrum.

Din stuck a gloved fingertip in his ear canal and wiggled it to ease the pressure building up in there. Nau’ul was too dramatic and too loud for being a mere droid.

He had not even turned the corner into the main hallway of his decrepit abode, that Mrs. Kri’gee appeared in front of them. Nau’ul got the jumpscare of his life, one of his hands landing on the metal breast piece where a heart should be had he been truly human.

“Mrs. Kri’gee reporting, jatne vod (sir),” replied the IG-series assassin droid, one of her hands flying to her temple to salute him. “How can I be of service?”

“We seem to have visitors. Follow me, gedet’ye (please),” and with no further ado, Din walked almost blindly through the maze of corridors, then down the lift, until the cold breeze greeted him.

The temperature outside was almost freezing, especially in winter. This winter was chillier than usual too, so Din and his droids only came out when it was strictly necessary. Even after all this time, it still surprised him how glacial it was out there. With not even a tiny patch of skin uncovered, Din could still feel the biting cold clinging onto his beskar armour, seeping in through the smallest nook it could find. It could clutch around the bones easily, freezing you in place in a matter of minutes.

Not that he could tell the difference anyway, considering how fucking cold he felt under his skin. How icy it was inside of him, a never-ending snowstorm waging war on his numb heart.

Perhaps he shouldn’t hurry ― if he slowed down enough, and with a bit of luck, the unwanted guests might perish to the unforgiving cold of wintery Mand’alor.

With Mrs. Kri’gee on his heels, Din moved through the terrain as if he was one with it. After many years, he knew the topography as if it was the palm of his hand. Where he could step and where he couldn’t. What paths to avoid at specific times, and which ones were safe to hike, always mindful of the creatures who had withstood the Great Purge.

He might not have many things, but free time was definitely one of them, which allowed him to explore this world he had called home for the last eight years. There weren’t many pastimes in Mand’alor when he was the only human inhabiting it. Maybe that was why he had renamed the droids with more human-like names, to feel less lonely ― only if he could truly feel something.

The emptiness within him had only grown with every passing year on the planet. The curse that ran through his veins had slowly overtaken him, leaving an ever-growing void in his chest. Din could not remember the last time he felt anything ― joy, contempt, happiness, anger, hope, despair. Nothing.

He was an empty carcass, a non-sentient monster merely existing. Sometimes he wondered what the point of it all was, not because of an emotional response but because of pure boredom. But then his eyes would fall on the source of his misfortune, a brutal reminder of how he came to be where he stood, and the lingering questions would vanish. This was the way, his way.

And if that wasn’t enough, he also had to deal with the other side of the coin.

Din trudged along the faded path, now overridden by vegetation, to the Mines. His magnetised boots helped him find his footing more than once, sharp and loose rocks making it difficult to remain vertical. Mrs. Kri’gee, on the other hand, had no issues whatsoever.

Fifteen minutes later, they reached their destination near the Mines, close to a cliff. The lush bushes and thick trees blocked the sight at first, but Din found the perfect spot to stalk the unwelcomed visitors. Down on his knees and through a gap between the leaves, he made out the shape of a T-65B X-wing starfighter ― a pretty old one, at least twenty years old. It could have well served during the Galactic Civil War.

The starfighter could only carry the pilot and an astromech droid, which meant he only had to deal with one sentient being. Could have been worse, Din thought. The prospect of being found didn’t sit well with him though, unsure of why this person had found themselves stranded in Mand’alor, out of all the fucking planets in the Outer Rim.

The Mandalorian tilted his head, trying to get a better look at the person on the other side of the ship ― they were sat on a flat rock with their back towards him, knees propped up, elbows placed on them and crouched forwards. Din stuck his head out just enough to look over their shoulder, good eye squinting ― there was an astromech droid lying in front of them. By the looks of it, it had been fried to death, still sparkling and smoking a little.

Mrs. Kri’gee laid low behind him, still but ready to accept a command. Din waved a couple of signs to the IG-series assassin droid, and it moved silently, gracefully as a loth-cat, to reposition itself northwards, facing the target.

The Mandalorian kept his fist closed, indicating Mrs. Kri’gee to wait, when he saw the person standing up, removing their helmet and taking in a deep, exaggerated breath. It was the side profile of a woman in a bright orange spacesuit, human as far as he could tell. Din’s eyebrows furrowed under the visor, confused as to what could possibly have guided her to this inhospitable planet.

Perhaps he had been alone for too long, only the droids keeping him company for almost a decade, but the sight of you unsettled him. Had he been able to feel something, he was sure an uncomfortable weight would have grounded his stomach.

Kaysh cuyi mesh’la (she is beautiful), he thought ― a simple, objective observation a man could make with only half a vision.

Your hair shined even when the sky was gloomy; your big, bright eyes sparked with frustration; your plump lips fell into a flat line before smacking them with disapproval at your wasted andromech droid. Your fingers curled into your hips while one of your feet tapped the crystallised ground underneath nervously.

“Well, I’m not dead yet, so I guess the air is breathable,” you talked to yourself out loud, sounding almost disappointed. “Stinks like a swamp though, ugh.”

That was a good observation from your part. Stupid, but good. What was your plan if it wasn’t? Suffocating to death? Bit reckless if you asked him. And yes, the sulfuric smell coming off a bog nearby was not great, but there were worse places in Mand’alor to find yourself in. He knew damn well.

He eyed you for a little longer, Mrs. Kri’gee lying in wait. He didn’t need to kill you yet, first he needed to find out why you were here and if you were part of a larger group ― if there was a remote possibility of someone looking for you, he had to know.

Din signalled to Mrs. Kri’gee to come out of hiding but to not attack yet. And so she did promptly. The droid walked out in front of you, startling you so bad you almost fell backwards.

“Identify yourself,” his droid asked you.

You snorted, hand slowly moving backwards towards the blaster pistol in your holster.

“You identify yourself, you little piece of― metal,” you bit your tongue back.

“Nicknamed Mrs. Kri’gee by my Alor. IG-11 assassin droid. Serial Number 730X21G. Manufactured by Holowan Mechanicals in 1 ABY. First assigned to―”

“Alright, alright. Whatever,” you scoffed, fingers curling around the grip of your gun. “What is a droid like you doing here anyway?”

While you were distracted chatting to Mrs. Kri’gee, Din had come out of his hiding place, heavy boulder on hand. Stealthy as a predator, he raised his arm above your head and smashed the rock against your skull with no hesitation at all.

You plummeted to the ground instantly, rendered unconscious in a split second. Towering above you, Din walked around your body and crouched down in front of you. His gloved fingers moved a few strands of silky hair out of the way, following the tiny stream of blood dripping down your temple. The wound wasn’t too bad ― he was sure you’d survive the blow.

“Pick her up,” he commanded the droid, who willingly complied.

In a matter of seconds, Mrs. Kri’gee was carrying you over the shoulder, as if you were a light sack full of gloomroots.

What a banging headache. You were barely able to string two thoughts together.

Eyelids heavy, you did your best to open your eyes. It took you a couple of attempts, but you finally got there. Vision still burry, your pupils widened to adapt to the darkness surrounding you.

The room you were in was all rough, square edges. It reminded you od the inside of a spacecraft with all those panels on the walls. Here though, the cables were hanging out of the electrical panels, snapped and peeled. The scarce futuristic, metal furniture dotted around was broken and upside down everywhere ― the whole space was derelict, abandoned.

It has to be, because this is Mandalore, you suddenly remembered where you were before you lost consciousness. And how did you faint, anyway? How did you get here? Was it the freaking droid?

With a pitiful groan, you tried to reach the back of your head, where the pain was radiating from. To your dismay, your hand didn’t budge one inch. Confused, you looked down and around you, only to find a sturdy syntherope tethering you to the chair you were sitting on.

“What the varp!” You exclaimed, fighting the fetters to no avail.

You rubbed your hands together in the hopes to loosen the grip and slide one hand out, but whoever bound you, had tightened the rope really well. Did that stop you though? No, not one bit. You tried and tried and tried until the skin on your wrists was raw.

You were in the middle of attempting to break free when the creaking noise of the door made you still in place, half hoping to see the assassin droid.

Instead, a Mandalorian walked into the room, and you immediately ceased your endeavours. With a droid you could deal, but with a sentient being… and even worse, a Mandalorian out of all the fucking possibilities.

By the shape of his armour and predatory gait, you could tell he was a man, around five feet twelve. He wore a black body stocking covered by different metal pieces ― vambraces, shoulder pauldrons, breastplate, thigh and shin guards, and kneepads were all made of unaltered beskar. The shiny patina indicated that the alloy had been polished but not painted, as most Mandalorians would have them.

But what struck you as odd was his helmet. Manufactured with the same polished beskar, a black visor protecting his eyesight, you noticed the big crack that ran diagonally from the bottom left, all the way to his right temple. The transparisteel of the visor had also been damaged. It all had been welded back together, albeit by a novice hand.

You stiffened your back as he approached without exchanging one word. Your gaze followed his every movement, wary of the man in front of you. Your tribe instilled on all its members a gut-churning hatred for Mandalorians, although such strong feeling never really deepened within you.

Always mouthing your curiosity, your constant questions as a child were never well received by your tutors. Even your father had a hard time convincing you to hate someone irrationally. It just wasn’t in your nature to hate for the sake of it.

However, the Mandalorian in front of you… well, that was a slightly different story. The bastard had kidnapped you and had the guts to stop in front of you, arms folded, and head tilted. As if you just happened to be there, disturbing his peace.

“Release me now,” you demanded, narrowing your eyes as you leaned forward on your chair. “I’ve done nothing wrong.”

A stony silence ensued, leaving you wondering if he was mute.

“Why are you here?” His voice was distorted by the speech scrambler integrated in his helmet.

Repressing a taunting jeer, you stared him right in his eyes ― where you assumed they were, anyway. When he didn’t respond, your eyebrows scowled.

“Are you, like, for real, man?” You couldn’t hide your incredulity. “It’s obvious I don’t want to be here. I didn’t mean to land on this forsaken planet. For all I knew I was about to die, I thought it was uninhabitable! I actually meant to go to Condordia―”

“Why would you go to Concordia? You’re not Mandalorian. Obviously,” he interrupted you, his hand waving up and down in front of you almost scornfully, pointing out your plain clothing.

“I― Well, that’s none of your business, actually. Look― Sorry, what’s your name? I didn’t catch it before you kidnapped me,” you asked with a pinch of rancour tarnishing your voice.

“I haven’t kidnapped you,” he quickly replied defensively. “Just Mando.”

“Okay, Just Mando. Look, you let me go and we both can pretend none of this ever happened. I go on my merry way and you― well, you stay here, doing whatever it is you do,” coming to think of it, you also had questions. You cocked your head, “What are you doing here anyway? When did Mandalore’s atmosphere become breathable again? I thought the planet was completely ruined after the Great Purge.”

“For considering yourself a hostage, you sure ask too many questions. And it’s none of your business, actually,” he snapped back throwing your own words at you with a snarky edge to his voice. “You and the whole universe think Mand’alor is unliveable, and it will remain like that for as long as I live, at least,” his tone turned sombre. “You ain’t going anywhere, I’m afraid.”

His last words shocked you. What did he mean you were not going anywhere? Of course you were. You couldn’t stay here; you had a mission to complete. And Just Mando didn’t seem to be the best company either, the man was so dispassionate you were sure he had a pole up his ass.

“Wait, wait, hold on one varping second. Let’s not rush into making stupid decisions, shall we? I get it, you want to be left alone for all eternity, don’t want anyone to disturb you. I won’t tell a soul you’re here, I give you my word,” you stumbled over your words, panicking at the perspective of not leaving this planet. “Please, I can’t― There are people looking for me,” you lied.

You had not been in touch with your tribe for weeks now. And by tribe, you meant Ash. He was the only one you had been communicating with over the last eight years. Life had been hectic, and you were never the best at keeping in touch.

“Then I’ll kill them if they come looking,” he shrugged, matter-of-factly.

“Wow, okay. Calm down. No need to threaten my people,” you tried to diffuse the situation, although Just Mando seemed pretty calm.

“And just so you know, I’ve just come back from where you landed. I’ve destroyed your engine and the navigation console, so you ain’t going nowhere,” he unfolded his arms, lacing his gloved fingers on his back, quite the measured gesture.

You glanced up at him incredulous, mouth agape while your lungs emptied. You were stranded here, forever, with him. The magnitude of his words had still not dawned on you, when a faster thought made its way through to the surface.

The star compass. Had he found it? Had he destroyed it too? Not that it would be useful here, but it was the last memento you had of your late father. Not that you could ask, anyway.

“Why… why would you do that?” Your trembling voice almost gave way to desperation as you leaned back against the chair.

You blinked fast to tame your feelings, all bravado leaving your body soft and boneless. For once you were speechless, your eyes searching for his under the damaged visor. But you only saw your reflection on the transparisteel, his pose not budging at all.

“Please, Mando. Tell me you’re lying. Tell me my X-wing was not the only way out of this forlorn planet?” You begged, a dense knot forming in your throat, collapsing your airway.

“It is. It was,” he corrected himself. “I can’t let you leave. I don’t trust you nor your word. This way, I make sure you have no other option than staying here for as long as you live. Death is the only way out of here.”

You deflated on the chair, looking at him in disbelief, almost unable to breathe. Although his voice was warped by the modulator, there was no emotion in it. He spoke as if talking about the damn weather, not like he had just clipped your wings forever ― literally.

“I― What… Why are you behaving like a fucking monster? Don’t you have feelings?” There was no edge to your question, you were past subtleties now.

He shrugged again, unbothered.

“‘Cause I am. And I don’t,” was his cryptic answer before turning on his heels and leaving you alone with your thoughts.

The door slammed behind him a bit too forcefully for his liking ― a reminder that he would need to ask Ca’nara to grease the hinges. Din then put the latch down to ensure the door could not be opened from the inside.

Without another thought in his mind, he turned around and almost crashed into Nau’ul.

“Master?” asked the protocol droid, dubious, one finger lifted in the air to draw his attention.

“What?” he replied, exasperated. Din just wanted a moment alone ― that conversation had burnt the last energy he had reserved for socialising. If it wasn’t because he could harbour no feelings, one could say he was socially drained already.

“Since the girl is going to be with us for quite some time, I was thinking that you might want to offer her a more comfortable room…” Nau’ul suggested.

The damn droid was more human than he was. Din had not even thought about moving you a different place within his derelict fortress. He had made the once royal prison his home, suspended off the ceiling of Sundari’s bio-dome, or what remained of it. A suitable place for a worthy character like him.

Din just stared at him, weighing his words. Did he have to care about the needs of his captive? She’s not my captive, just a… lifelong visitor, he quickly corrected himself.

“Then again, maybe not,” Nau’ul quickly retracted, dropping his hand to one side, mistaking his silence.

Fuck, I should have thought that, not the droid, he almost reprimanded himself. After so many years in his self-imposed exile, Din had really lost all touch with his humanity. Solitude, along with the curse that plagued his veins, were to blame.

With a grunt, he turned on his heels, unbolted the door and walked right back in, coming to a halt behind you with just a few strides.

“What are you doing?” you asked in a small voice, sniffling.

You had been crying and were now trying to hide it, show him you were unbreakable. He should have felt like a dick but didn’t. Couldn’t, really.

He knelt behind you and removed his vibro-knife from one of his pockets. The blade hummed, vibrating, when it got activated and Din cut you loose, restoring the blood flow to your hands.

“I’ll show you to your room,” was his only explanation to your question.

“My room? But I thought…” the doubt in your words slightly angered him. A fleeting feeling.

Anger? That’s new, he thought, eyebrows momentarily furrowing under the helmet.

“You wanna― you wanna stay here?” he muttered, teeth almost gritting.

“No,” you hushed, wide eyes looking up at him when he walked around the chair to face you.

Unsettling.

“Then follow me.”

Turning on his heels, Din made his way to the door, hoping you would follow. And you did, possibly because you had nowhere else to go.

The royal prison was a cross-shaped structure with several floors. Most of it was completely abandoned, except for the last two levels where he had accommodated himself in this senseless life he lived. The height gave him vantage point, with a good view of the surrounding buildings and further afield.

If it was for him, he would live between wreckage and filth, but his droids had made it their purpose to make the prison somewhat liveable. Not that he cared.

Din looked over his shoulder for one second to see you rub your wrists, eyes focused on the floor. Red lines were imprinted on your skin and for a brief second, he wondered if he had secured the syntherope a bit too tight.

Oh well.

He walked you all the way through a maze of corridors until you reached an elevator which was already waiting to take you up. Din stepped in and then to a side ― it wasn’t too big, but there was enough room for the both of you without having to invade each other’s personal space. You reluctantly followed.

The minutes dragged; the silence heavy although he did not find it unbearable. By the way you fidgeted with your fingers, he knew you did. Despite your discomfort, Mando did not open his mouth ― better getting used to it now, he didn’t want you to think he was the talkative type.

Then a ding announced your arrival to the top floor, and you almost let go of a relieved sigh. Din glanced at you sideways but didn’t catch much of your expression ― you were on his righthand side, and his right eye was completely blind.

The floor was well illuminated, clean and free of debris. It was well looked after, pristine almost. The corridors were empty, giving the whole place a very diaphanous appearance. As you walked by his side, he pointed out a few rooms you might want to make use of.

Arriving at an intersection, Din took the east corridor, ignoring the opposite one deliberately.

“What’s on that corridor?” you asked curiously.

You were too damn perceptive. Too perceptive for your own good.

“The west wing is forbidden,” he grunted abruptly, a growl even, stopping in his tracks to face you. “Forbidden,” he repeated slowly so the words, and the threat in his modulated voice, would sink in.

His reaction took you aback, but he could see you subduing your fear. You would not let him see it ― how scared you really were. You might not want to show it, but he could sense it.

The thought of you sniffing around the west corridor should make him panic, but his reaction was a mechanical one ― once upon a time, he would have cared excessively, worryingly even, if you discovered what he was hiding. Now, however, it wasn’t that he didn’t care but couldn’t.

The reason behind it, the reason why his emotions had become sterile and why a beast lurked beneath his skin, was stashed away in the west wing.

And it was his life mission to prevent anyone from finding it.

When Just Mando opened the door to your new cell, you were pleasantly surprised to discover it was an actual bedroom. The walls were still polished stainless steel slabs, so it wasn’t the coziest place ever, but it had a double bed with fresh linen, a nightstand, a wardrobe, a chest and one single chair. Everything was immaculate white, not one speck of dust in sight. There was another door that you assumed would lead to an ensuite bathroom.

You entered the small room and walked towards the bed. Opened the drawers of the furniture not really hoping for anything, so your eyebrows furrowed when you discovered they were packed full with clothes. Weird, but good.

With a little jump you sat down on the bed, testing its springs and overall comfortability. It was strikingly soft and smooth like a cloud, beckoning you to lie flat on your back and drift away to your dreams. You were not expecting that ― seeing how the rest of this floor was decorated (it wasn’t), you thought there would be one single spartan bed which would be hard as ironstone.

You were even amazed to see a floor-to-ceiling window. An actual, big, massive window that faced the outside world. And there were no metal bars covering it. Incredible, really, that he would trust you with one. Not that you were planning to escape, considering how desolate the planet was ― where could you go? Nowhere.

Looking up, you saw Just Mando leaning against the doorframe, arms folded while his biceps flexed against the fabric of his body stocking. He had been watching you the whole time you were inspecting the room.

Suddenly you felt the weight of his eyes on you and that made you feel skittish. You couldn’t see them, but you knew his sight would be intense, drilling and thrilling. What did he look like under that helmet? Would his expression be as impassible as his tone? Did he really not care at all or was that a façade he could afford because you couldn’t dissect his face?

“So… can I come out of my room? Or are you going to lock it too?” you asked tentatively, hands laced on your lap, challenging him with the soft curve of your raised eyebrow.

“It’ll stay locked until I know you can be trusted with freedom,” he straightened his back, hand on the doorknob.

“You call this freedom? Wow, okay,” you paused, letting that spoken thought sink in. “Is it because I asked about that corridor?”

Just Mando stilled under the doorframe, head cocked. Unknowingly, you bit your bottom lip, your teeth massaging the plump pillow underneath.

He didn’t answer.

You had had enough years of silence, the quietness of your cockpit being your only companion. Only broken by the fleeting moments when you met civilisation, you had unintentionally craved that connection. You just hadn’t realised it until you were faced with the possibility of being accompanied by someone for the rest of your life.

Even if that someone was… well, him. Guessed you would have to make do.

“You’ve already condemned me to live here with you, Just Mando, for-fucking-ever. You’ve destroyed my ship, so it’s not like I can go anywhere, can I?” you pleaded with him. “This whole planet is already my personal jail, don’t make it even smaller or I’ll go crazy.”

In your begging, you had gotten up and cut the distance between you. The tips of your shoes bumped into his weathered, leathered boots. He didn’t move, not even one inch ― completely unbothered by your proximity. Your face was so close to his helmet, the steam of your breath almost fogged up the transparisteel of the visor.

And, for a second, he seemed to consider your petition. Or so you had liked to think. You measured each other up, no one giving in or up.

“Until you can be trusted,” Just Mando remarked. The Mandalorian was the first to finally retreat, taking a step back into the hallway. “It’s up to you how long that takes.”

Flabbergasted, you looked at him in disbelief.

And then he shut the door. The click of the lock quickly followed.

Hours had gone by until you heard the door unbolt.

A different droid, an astromech one, greeted you.

“Beep boop, beep!” it happily chirped.

Luckily you knew enough Binary to unsderstand that it said, “dinner is served”.

“I don’t get it. I’ve already had dinner. Don’t need to be here,” Din complained, arms crossed at chest level, manspreading on a chair in the dining room.

“Try to be understanding, sir. The girl has lost her freedom,” Mrs. Kri’gee almost reprimanded him.

“Least you could do is keep her some company, Alor,” Nau’ul chipped in.

Din scoffed, irritated. And such irritation surprised him. He shouldn’t feel anything but a void in his entrails.

Nau’ul picked up on his unusual display of feelings as quick as he did.

“Master… Have you thought that perhaps this girl could help you break the spell?” the protocol droid ventured, almost stammering towards the end when Din snapped his head back to look at him.

If looks could kill, Nau’ul would have dropped dead.

“Fucking nonsense. You heard the witch, the spell she cast,” Din muttered, jaw so clenched it almost hurt him. “Stop looking for solutions and just accept it. After eight years, you should have already giving up your futile hopes.”

“Someone has to keep the spirits up around here. Depressing enough as it is,” the droid retorted.

“If you allow me, Master, Elsbeth’s exact words were, ‘until you find your maker once more’, and that is up to interpretation,” Mrs. Kri’gee added.

Din remembered very well the cursed that Morgan had spitted in his face before he took possession of the Darksaber and sunk it in the witch’s belly.

I condemn you, Din Djarin, to an eternity of loss, Of emptiness, apathy and thorns. At full moons you will be at your worst, With nobody to keep you warm. You shall walk this Galaxy alone, Until you meet your Maker once more.

They still resonated inside his head, clear as the pale ale in the jug in front of him.

“It dims more and more every day, Alor. The Darksaber is losing its glow. You’ve been ignoring it for years, but I fear that if you do nothing about it, well…” Nau’ul voiced his worries, hands twisting ― a very human-like gesticulation.

Mando had spaced out, not listening to one word. He only snapped out of his trance when the door creaked, announcing Ca’nara’s and your arrival.

The bags under your eyes were screaming for some rest, which apparently had been evading you. He had given you enough hours alone to get some sleep and freshen up, so why hadn’t you? If you looked so miserable, that was entirely down to you, not him. Of that much he was sure.

Din straightened his back, sitting up properly, while Nau’ul rushed off his feet to serve you the food the droid had prepared. With a flourish of his hand, he presented you with his creation.

“It’s tiingilar, a Mandalorian stew of meat, vegetables and spices. It’s hot, very hot, be careful,” the protocol droid warned you.

From across the table, Din could have sworn he saw your eyes watering, then you blinked a few times, grabbing the spoon.

“Oh my stars, how many spices have you put in here?”

“Oh, you don’t like spicy food?”

“Well, I do, but it smells so spicy, I’m about to cry, phew!” you swept along your waterlines with your index fingers, making a point.

“Alor prefers it this way. I can prepare something else…”

“No, no. It’s fine. I’ll eat it. Thank you…?” You dragged your words, looking for a name.

“Nau’ul,” he replied. “Anything you need, please ask.”

And then all three droids disappeared from sight, leaving you both alone in the dining room.

You glanced up from your plate, eyeing him above your spoon while you blew on it to cool it down.

“Are you not eating, Just Mando?” you raised an eyebrow, inquiring.

If Nau’ul was still in the room, Din would have snarled at him. Instead, he folded arms again and shook his head no.

“I’ve already eaten,” he explained dully.

He couldn’t―wouldn’t―remove his helmet in your presence, or anyone’s. Not even his droids had seen his face in all the years they had been together. Din had been raised to follow the Mandalorian Creed and even though he was no longer part of the Bounty Hunters’ Guild, he still believed. It was intrinsic to him, to who he was. Or had been. The only thing that kept him true to himself.

“Because you can’t remove your helmet in front of me. Right?”

Din tilted his head in surprise. He did not expect you to know that. Were you acquainted with the Mandalorian culture? And if so, why? You were not one, he could tell. But what were you? Your accent was a mixture of different ones, so he could not pinpoint where you originated from.

“This is the Way,” he found himself saying. It had been a long time since those words last escaped his mouth. “Where are you from?”

“Oh, from here and there, everywhere and nowhere…” Then you took the first spoonful of the stew and started coughing almost instantly. “Fuck, this is spicy,” you whispered, tears in your eyes, as your hand lunged forward to eagerly down the drink.

Din almost smiled at your severe reaction. The corners of his lips began to curl up but quickly dissipated, his own body fighting against such act of rebellion.

“So you’re a nomad?” He asked with certain curiosity in his voice, while he leaned forward to pass you the jug full of ale to top up your drink.

“Yes. I don’t have a homeworld. I don’t even know where I was born, we moved around so much my father didn’t even remember,” you went on almost absentmindedly, pouring the beer in your glass. “What about you, Just Mando?”

“Why do you keep calling me ‘Just Mando’? It’s just Mando,” as soon as he said it out loud, he understood the joke. He pressed his lips together, slightly amused. “I see,” he mumbled.

You laughed as if it was the best joke ever. The warmth in your laughter was vivid, hearty, compelling. Like a melody it filled the air ― suddenly the room was not as bare as before. As cold either.

“So? Were you born here in Mandalore, Mando?” the smirk coiling your lips told him you were teasing him.

Din debated whether to open up or not. Whether to tell you the truth or a lie. But Nau’ul was right, if you were to spend the rest of your lives together, lying was not a good start.

“I was born in Aq Vetina, but was raised in Concordia,” was his succinct answer.

Your eyes unsuccessfully searched for his under the visor. Din could tell you wanted to press him, get more information out of him, but that was as much as he was willing to share today.

“Eat up. It’s going to get cold,” he urged you, wanting to leave so he could be alone.

“So bossy,” you whispered to yourself, rolling your eyes to the back of your head, before attacking the tiingilar.

Nine weeks later

You turned to the next page of the book on your lap, your mind completely captivated by the story of the pages in front of you. Books were scarce in this day and age, but Mando had managed to salvage a few after years of rummaging through the rubble. This one in particular was a storybook for children ― a story about a Mandalorian fighting the Mythosaur down in the Mines.

You were immersed in it, curled up in your bed with a thick duvet and a few pillows around you. Your room was not bare anymore ― you had decorated with a few trinkets you had found in your day trips to the outside world, with Mando as your guide. The fear of the first week had slowly eased, giving way to a new sense of comfort.

Forgotten was your thirst for freedom. With the passage of time, you learnt that Mando was not joking when he first said death was the only way out. And since you didn’t want to die, you slowly had embraced this new way of life. You had made friends with the three droids and had really tried to form sort of friendship with Mando.

The Mandalorian was a tough nut to crack. He was not keen on showing emotion, so much so you even wondered if he was capable of feeling anything. You had noticed that, many a times, he relied on Nau’ul to show him how he should act or react. A droid teaching a human how to be human ― unfathomable. Perhaps all these years alone in Mandalore had taken its toll on him.

And so you liked to think that you were somewhat helping him reconnect with that side of him you thought long gone. By ‘helped’, maybe you meant ‘forced’, but Mando had thrown you in this situation, so now he had to put up with you.

The door to your room opened suddenly, startling you so bad you almost threw the book at Mando.

“One of these days you’re gonna give me a heart attack. Don’t you know how to knock?” You screeched, hugging the storybook to your chest and burying yourself under the duvet ― you were only wearing a shirt and your underwear.

“Are you not ready yet?” you had grown used to the exasperation in his voice.

“Ready for what? It’s only half seven in the morning, Mando!”

“You wanted to visit the Living Waters in the Mines and see for yourself if it really is a Mythosaur’s lair, remember? Since you don’t believe a damn word of what I say,” he scowled, still under the doorframe.

“Oh, shit! You’re right!”

How could you have forgotten? You had been insisting for over two weeks now, and only yesterday did he capitulate. You were no Mandalorian, so shouldn’t be in such a sacred place, but you managed to convince him that it would do literally no harm to anyone if you visited.

In your excitement, you jumped out of bed, forgetting you were half naked, and looked for some clothes to put on.

“I’ll… I’ll be waiting in the parlour,” he muttered and disappeared into the hallway.

Ten minutes later, you were outside, on your way to the Civic Center. As you approached this new-to-you, unprobed area, the destruction around you made your stomach churn. The Great Purge and then years of neglect painted a gruesome picture in front of you. Inside was even worse, although you couldn’t see much considering how dark it was.

You followed Mando diligently ― he had been here before, so you trusted his instinct. You stepped where he did and remained silent while you descended into the ground.

After a few more minutes, a humid, warm cave appeared in sight. There were massive pillars holding the crumbling ceiling, and piles of debris everywhere. Stairs led a path to the Living Waters below.

“This is beautiful,” you mumbled in awe, looking around you.

The place was eerie and silent as a tomb. Seeing it with your own eyes, now you could understand why people would believe in the existence of a mythological creature.

There was a plaque on a stone nearby and you got closer to read it. However, the writing was in Mando’a, so you cocked your head to look at Mando.

“What does it say?”

He walked towards you and stopped right behind you. His proximity sent a warning shiver down your spine. You ignored your body’s reaction, focusing on the words you didn’t understand.

“These Mines date back to the Age of the First Mand’Alor. According to ancient folklore, the Mines were once a Mythosaur lair. Mandalore the Great is said to have tamed the mythical beast. It is from these legends that the skull signet was adopted and became the symbol of our planet,” he relayed, his voice ricocheting between the bare walls.

“And you are sure you’ve seen it? Mandalore the Great lived, what, hundreds of years ago? In all that time, you’re telling me, you’ve been the only man to witness the rise of the beast?” One perfect eyebrow raised into your forehead, a smirk curling up your lips, as you taunted him.

Although you couldn’t see, you liked to imagine the frustration distorting his features. Lately you had wondered who the man under the helmet was, but you knew you would never find out. Mando took the Creed very seriously, too seriously.

“I did,” he replied concisely. “I don’t care if you don’t believe me.”

“And what were you doing in the water anyway? It does not look very inviting.”

“I had to redeem myself,” you could tell he hadn’t mean to tell you that, because he nervously adjusted his posture.

“Why?”

You were like a loth-wolf with a bone ― you wouldn’t let it go that easily.

“I had broken the Creed and had to atone for it,” his voice lowered, uncomfortable with the topic.

“How did you break it?”

“Will you ever stop asking so many damn questions?” he growled, evading your probing.

You lifted your hands up in the air in a peaceful gesture, but not without a subtle grin on your mouth. You loved driving him crazy, it was one of the little fun you could have in this place.

“Alright, alright.”

You bent down to grab some flat stones off the ground and practiced your stone skipping skills. That was until Mando’s big hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you mid-throw.

“Stop that, you’re going to awaken the beast,” he snarled, pushing you close to his chest a bit too forcefully.

“Oh, come on. Gimme a break, Mando. There’s no Mythosaur, you must have imagined it.”

“There is and I didn’t,” his grip loosened, and you took the opportunity to throw another stone. “Fucking quit that attitude now,” he warned you, grabbing you by both of your wrists, your hands flush against the beskar breastplate.

Your pelvis was sweetly pressed against his, your thighs touching his. Even with the beskar pieces, you could feel all his edges, his― Shit. His manhood resting just above where slick heat was gathering in your core.

You laughed to release your own tension ― your head snapping back, exposing your neck to his eyes.

“Oh, wow. You’re serious,” you managed to say between laughs, ignoring how close you were to him. Ignoring how wet your pussy was.

“Of course I am. You don’t unders―”

The sound of water abruptly moving forced both of you to look in the direction of the pond. Something enormous had risen, taking up the whole airspace, and water cascaded down its sides.

You froze in place, your mind rushing to come to terms with what you were seeing, as you looked at the gigantic figure towering above you. The water kept falling, so you couldn’t really make the shape of the monster underneath. But in that moment, you knew Mando had not imagined jack shit. The Mythosaur was real. Very real.

Mando pushed you back and put himself between you and the imminent danger. Above his shoulder, you saw horns sticking out and a big pair of eyes staring you down. Its skin was covered in scales and small horns, giving it a very reptilian appearance. The Mythosaur was massive beyond comprehension, and you could not, for the life of you, visualise it being tamed or, worse, ridden.

Time stilled and so did the beast. Its eyes were transfixed on you ― no, on Mando. As if they were measuring each other up, as if they were communicating somehow. Since that was impossible, it was obvious you were imagining things.

Before any of you could react, your heart pounding manically and your breath hitching, the beast went back down below the water level, and a massive wave dashed towards you. Within a matter of seconds, the Mythosaur was gone, and you and Mando were soaked to the bones.

Mando reacted before you did, turning around and forcing you to walk back.

“Let’s go, now! Move!”

In the safety of your bed, after a hot, steamy shower, you let your mind drift back to the moment in time where Mando had held you close to his chest earlier that day. How your body had unwillingly behaved to his closeness, how you ached for him to reach below your hips, right between your thighs…

With a soft moan, you gave in to the desire that had been pooling low in your belly for a while now. Your fingers dipped under your underwear, finding that sweet bundle of nerves in your wet slit. Your index tapped at your clit a few times until you stroked it ― electricity shooting up your spine.

That felt so good, you did it again and again and again, while your brain came up with different scenarios where Mando was giving you hell. With half-lidded eyes and lips parted, you smothered the beating nub with your thumb, two other fingers finding the entrance to your pussy and submerging in your wet heat.

You picked up a relentless pace, imagining they were Mando’s thick fingers, as the first orgasm in a long while started to build up inside you. Your own hand made you whimper, teeth sinking in your bottom lip so hard you almost drew blood. Your back arched involuntarily, stroking your pulsing clit more harshly now, your fingers reaching further in.

The squealing noise of the door opening alarmed you, your orgasm evaporating into thin air. You just about managed to remove your tantalising hand from your panties and throw the duvet above you. Panicking, you looked at the door.

Mando was under the frame, so still you thought he was a statue. You had tried to conceal what you were doing, but the rigidity of his posture told you he had seen enough.

Your cheeks reddened, your face on fire at the realisation of being caught masturbating. By none other than the protagonist of your wet dreams.

“Mando! I told you to fucking KNOCK!” You screamed at him from under the quilt. “You can’t just walk in like that!”

When you didn’t hear the door close ―because you were not expecting an apology from him―, you peeked above the duvet.

The Mandalorian had not moved one inch, and you really feared he had become immobile forever. But the tent on his groin showing through his body stocking told you otherwise.

And then he walked into the room, closing the door behind him. It was the first time he had trespassed the doorframe, you noticed. Butterflies filled your stomach and your lungs as he approached the bed you were lying on, your widened eyes looking for his unsuccessfully ― always unsuccessfully.

Mando didn’t say one word as he removed his gloves, coming to a halt by your side with his shins pressing against the bedframe. When they dropped to the floor, your eyes drifted right up at him, searching for clues, anything that could be crossing his mind.

His naked fingers were the first time you saw his skin, a bit of him. He was real, and he was right in front of you, caressing your cheek. You found yourself closing your eyes and leaning on the palm of his hand ― a tender gesture amidst your unresolved sexual desire.

Mando tilted his head, and you understood. An unspoken petition that you willingly granted. Driven by your lust, you scooted over to the other side of the bed, making room for him, dragging the duvet with you.

“Nuh-uh,” he clicked his tongue as he knelt on the mattress after having kicked his boots.

He yanked the duvet off you, exposing you to him with just your shirt and underwear.

You leaned back against the mountain of pillows and looked at him doe-eyed ― then your sight followed his right hand as it landed on your pubic bone. You pressed your lips into a fine line, swallowing a moan at his touch. His fingertips traced your wet slit over your panties.

“What were you doing, hm?” he husked, his long finger dragging against the garment.

“I, uh… well…” you stammered, unable to look for the words.

“Were you touching yourself?”

“Mhmm,” you nodded.

“Were you close?” a sliver of care transpired through his modulated voice.

“Yes,” you cooed.

“Sorry, mesh’la (beautiful). Let me help you with that,” he offered at the same time his fingers dunked under the waistband of your panties.

You melted into the mattress, audibly moaning, when he stroked you. Your eyes shut to focus on the pleasure his fingers were expertly working on you, sliding through your slit a few times, from your thudding clit to your dripping hole ― your clit hitching between his fingers every time he traced them back up.

He worked your flesh with his bare digits, and after a few minutes, his index and middle fingers went back down to your hot entrance. He tempted you with the tips but didn’t go in ― you were tiptoeing on the precipice of your pleasure.

You whimpered, annoyed.

“Please, Mando―”

“Din. Call me Din, mesh’la,” he hummed, the tip of his finger circling your entrance.

“Please, Din,” you blurted out, eyes flying open and transfixed on his visor, begging.

You let go of a pitiful groan when Din―you liked how his name rolled off your tongue―finally gave you what you wanted, what you needed. Two of his thick fingers dove in your seeping pussy, slightly parting your walls in preparation―hopefully, if you were lucky―for his dick.

First slow, then a devilish rhythm his fingers imparted on you. The orgasm quickly built up again, Din’s dexterity beckoning you to climb to the hilltop. And you did, you let yourself feel all the pleasure he was giving you until it was too much, your clit raw and overstimulated by his precise thumb. You reached the top of the mountain and jumped into the abyss underneath. The wave of your climax washed over your, drowning you ― your cunt spasming around his fingers while your knees pressed together.

When you opened your eyes again, all tearful due to immensity of your frenzy, you were relieved to find that Din had released his throbbing erection through the zipper in his body stocking―you didn’t have the patience right now to unclasp all the armour pieces, you needed him now.

The sight of his engorged dick made your mouth water. The girth and the length of it should have made you flinch, but instead it made your pussy wet itself a bit more. It had the perfect size to fill your insides to the brim. Din’s hand moved up and down on his shaft, slowly pumping himself although he was already hard.

You lifted your hand towards his manhood, and he removed his to let you touch him ― for a second you were fascinated by the soft swaying of his cock. Then you wrapped your fingers around it and Mando grumbled, sitting on his heels, manspread for you as a tasty offering. He was a sight to see ― knelt and sat on his heels on the mattress, fully clothed, helmet on, armour hugging his body, and his erection peeking out through the zipper, leaky and throbbing just for you.

Giving him a few pumps, you looked up at him with a smirk. And before he could complain or stop you, you came closer to him and gave the plump head a lick, then sealed your lips around his leaking glans.

The groan that bubbled up his throat spurred you on to bob your head down, taking half of his pulsing length in your mouth.

Din’s hand tugged at your hair abruptly, pulling you off his twitching dick.

You glanced up at him confused.

“I can’t―I don’t think I can take a blowjob without blowing my load, mesh’la. I need to fuck you now,” he was honest with you.

It was understandable. He had been stuck here for at least eight years, which meant that he had not laid with a woman for at least as long. You would have lost your mind too if someone hadn’t touched you in that time.

“Come on then, fuck me, Din,” you mumbled, laying back down on the pile of pillows so your upper body was propped up.

You spread your legs, making room for him. Din swiftly shifted, dragging himself into position.

It was a fucking sight; one you had been dying to see. And he was finally there, all cozy in between your thighs. He parted your legs, resting the back of your knees on his shoulders. He pushed your panties to a side, leaving you completely exposed.

You couldn’t see, but you knew his eyes were focused on the prize―your damp, puffy folds, clit twitching and hole begging.

“Been wanting some pussy for a while now,” he confessed in a grumble, head tilted back when the tip of his veiny cock slipped up and down your damp furrow.

“Here I am, take what you need.”

How altruistic of you.

His mushroom, precum-covered head caught on your slick entrance and Din bucked his hips a little, only the tip smoothly going in. Your heartrate spiked, your walls imploring for the full length of him to clench on. And then, Din thrusted in harshly, pushing his cock in down to the hilt in one smooth jolt. You both howled in unison at the intrusion ― his a deep, guttural moan, yours a high-pitched one.

Mando held onto your knees on his shoulders as he started with the slow sway of his hips impacting on the back of your thighs, building the perfect pace. His dick dragged along the right spot inside you as he jackhammered you into the pillows, another orgasm gathering in your core. Din’s rhythm became frantic, frenzied, to the point where he had to let go of your knees and lean forward, his hands holding onto the rattling headboard.

Mando fucked you hard, drilling you like a man starved. You could feel him stuffing you full, his hard dick disappearing between your swollen, greedy pussy lips. Reaching up, you held onto his arms above you, fingers wrapping around his elbows. Your body rocked up and down on the bed below him with the force of his unrestrained charges.

Your cunt couldn’t take it anymore ― it contracted around his girth, announcing your second climax, which quickly overtook your senses. With stars in your vision, you wailed his name, now fisting the bedsheets as you came, a never-ending wave making your twitch under him uncontrollably.

“Fuck, I… Fuck,” he growled, his hips bucking and stuttering erratically at the sight of your fucked-out expression.

He was close, you knew by the way his dick constantly pulsed inside you ― he just needed a bit of prodding. That was your signal to clench your walls around him, squeezing him as hard and snug as you could, clamping on his thudding cock, never wanting to let him go.

That was his undoing ― you felt Din’s warm, thick spend painting your inner walls, his steely cock convulsing with the last waves of his release.

When you opened your eyes, you saw Din between your legs, his dick still buried inside you as it softened. The inside of his visor was fogged up and you doubted he could see much.

“I didn’t mean to come inside, I was gonna pull out―”

“It’s okay,” you cut him off. He didn’t need to worry about that.

His helmet tilted, but whatever question lingered in his mind, he didn’t ask.

His thumb lightly pressed your relaxed clit with gratitude, massaging it softly, before he pulled out and your pussy released his shaft. That gentle stroke ignited your nerve endings, slowly coming back to life. His thumb then went down, gathering the cum your pussy was releasing, and shoved it back inside you.

You bit your bottom lip to stop a needy moan.

“Wanna go again?” you asked, grinning. Offering.

Din laughed. He fucking laughed. You had never heard him laugh before.

“Sure do, but I need a minute, mesh’la.”

Every night for the next two weeks Din found himself stranded in the corridor leading to your room, like a lost, thirsty man looking for water in the harsh desert of Tatooine.

The internal struggle was always the same ― he shouldn’t seek you because, after all, you were his prisoner. You were stuck here with him because he had forced you to, giving you no other choice. Sure, he had not imposed his presence on you―quite the opposite, in fact―but it still seemed wrong to take advantage of you like that.

But then he would see you come out of your room, almost as if you knew he was marooned there, and would approach him with caution. Willingly you would take his hand and lead him to your nest, erasing any doubts he could have about your eagerness. You were as keen as he was ― fucking had become an entertaining pastime. And a calming balm for the beast within.

It was the same dance every night, without failure. And tonight had been no different, except for the hushed “I want you so badly, Din” that had dropped from your parted lips as you rode the last wave of your orgasm, a blissful expression softening your features.

As he stood outside of your door, back towards it, Din wondered what you had truly meant. Was it just a benign slip of tongue or was there something else behind it? He hoped for the first, because he couldn’t afford the second.

Feeling something―anything―was out of the question. Even if he wanted to, didn’t matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t. Elsbeth had cursed him to an eternity of apathy, and it had worked ― over the curse of the last eight years, Din’s feelings had dimmed, diminished and then disappeared, while his inner monster became more powerful, feeding off his emotions like a leech sucking blood out of its host. Mando had tried to feel to keep the beast at bay ― would even make the droids try to anger him in silly competitions, but the dull sense in his chest just grew bigger and bigger, like a tumour rotting his entrails.

Din couldn’t remember what happiness felt like ― he had a barren wasteland for a heart. So cold were his insides, he even thought all his organs were covered in beskar. That was what brought him back to your room every night ― your warmth, how it would seep through the cracks of his skin, warming up a part of him that he thought dead.

Tonight, he had allowed himself to really feel your body against his ― helmet still on of course, you both had been stripped naked for the first time, your skin rubbing his, heating him up. Whether he would admit it or not, he craved you. Yearned for your warmth.

With a shake of his head, his feet finally unglued from your doorstep and sauntered towards the west wing. A single light at the end of the corridor twinkled, snuffing out the moment he stepped below it.

He swung the door open to a room he had not visited in a very long while. Din preferred to pay no mind to the source of his emotional detachment, but Nau’ul’s words had been nagging him for weeks now, an annoying reminder scratching the back of his brain.

“It dims more and more every day, Alor. The Darksaber is losing its glow.”

He had to see for himself.

The room should have been dark if it wasn’t for the light the Darksaber’s blade emitted. Din trudged towards the display stand in the middle of the empty space, where the Darksaber rested under a glass case. Two metal, U-shaped pins held the Darksaber upright.

An electrifying, white glow encased the black blade, but it was certainly fainter than what he remembered. Significantly fainter. It had taken him a few years to understand that the Darksaber was the vessel of his curse ― as his feelings dwindled and the beast grew fonder of control, so did the light of the Darksaber. He was not sure though about which one caused the other to wither away.

As he stared at it, Din pondered what would happen the day the light from the Darksaber would flicker away. Morgan had died before he could fully understand the idiosyncrasies of his malediction. At first, the frustration of the unknown had only driven him mad, especially when the full moons would bloom on the night sky, leaving him at the mercy of his curse.

The first time he had transformed, bathed by the white light of Concordia, Din thought he was dying. The burning sensation, the bones breaking and fusing back together, the stretch of his skin, the blood becoming cold in his veins and his mind spiralling out of control… He hadn’t died, but he sure wished he did. Only at dawn was he able to gain back control, so exhausted he just laid on the dirt near the Civic Center for an entire day before finding his way back to the royal prison.

Only with the insight of time did he decide it did not matter. The end was the end, and if that was the way, then he would greet it.

Din sighed, his eyes dry under the helmet. Looking around and knowing himself on his own, he carefully removed his helmet, wincing in agony, and placed it on top of the glass case. He pinched the bridge of his aquiline nose in an attempt to clear his mind, one hand resting on the glass.

Eyes shut for a long minute, he ended up fluttering them open. His reflection greeted him ― a terrible, gruesome sight, a face he almost didn’t recognise anymore. The scar that ran from the left of his chin diagonally to his right temple had distorted his features ― his chin slightly dented, the left corner of his mouth raggedy, the flesh on his upper left cheek mildly sunken around the scar, his crooked nose even more angular and his split eyebrow giving him a permanent frown. And then his right eye, completely blinded with a white discolouration covering his iris and pupil.

He could still feel the blade of the Darksaber melting his beskar helmet as Morgan pressed it against him. It hadn’t completely cut through the Mandalorian alloy, but the fire filtering through had burnt his skin, leaving an everlasting imprint on his face.

Din remembered the heat, the panic building up and the sizzling sound of his skin as it thawed like ice under the sun. The smell of burnt skill still haunted him sometimes when the helmet became too overwhelming.

The damaged tissue was thick but extremely sensitive ― every time he pulled the helmet off his head, the fabric inside would drag against the scar tissue, making him flinch in pain.

Shaking his head to release his mind from such memories, Din stared at the Darksaber for longer than intended, lost in his train of thought. For the first time in ages, he wanted to know if the curse could ever be broken.

Until you meet your Maker once more.

That had a pretty definite sentence to it. Death was the only way out.

“I didn’t see you last night,” you mumbled, repressing the need to add an ‘again’ to the end of your sentence.

You had noticed that there were certain nights when Mando would vanish, wouldn’t visit you at all. You wouldn’t see him in the morning either and if you asked any of the droids, they were as evasive as their master.

You still didn’t know why and every time you prodded him about it, his answer was…

“Had stuff to take care of.”

You sighed, pressing your lips into a thin line. The idea of slapping him had its appeal.

“Are we still going?” you quickly changed subject, not wanting to be disappointed with him today. “I’ve not really asked you for anything in the three months I’ve been here.”

You watched his gloved fingers drum on the metallic surface, helmet tipped to one side as he considered your words. You wanted to believe that in the time you both had spent together, Din’s undaunted façade had softened a bit. His replies had become less snappy, his posture slightly more relaxed, and his hands way more caring as they canvassed your skin every night.

An invisible force had been towing you towards him, his gravitational pull irresistible. Din Djarin was a challenge to you, a puzzle you had started putting together. He strived so hard to remain indifferent, it was now an exciting game to make him feel. The only downfall? You were falling for him. Perhaps him being the only man to walk this planet had something to do with it, you had no other options. Also, you knew that fucking the brains out of each other every night would eventually lead you here.

Considering that you had a lifetime to spend on this world, letting yourself feel for Mando was something you could afford. And even if he didn’t want to show it, you were positively sure he was not as apathetic towards you as he let on.

“Alright. I don’t see the harm,” he accepted.

You mumbled a “yes!” with a smile crooking your lips as you pushed the chair back to stand up.

“I’ll be back in a minute.”

You rushed out of the room to run to yours and change. The winter was receding, but the cold was still bitter and nippy, so you decided to put on appropriate gear. A few minutes later, you darted towards the lift, where Din was already waiting.

Couldn’t help yourself, you had to smile at him, the softness of your grin reaching your eyes.

Din cleared his throat, face facing forwards to avoid your orbs meeting his.

The way down in the elevator was soundless, but you had grown used to his silence treatment. The short journey to the crashing site was as tranquil as the trip down the lift. Mando was truly a man of few words.

When you caught a glimpse of your T-65B X-wing starfighter, you overtook Din and ran towards it in excitement.

“Careful there! The ground is slippery, you’re gonna―”

Before Mando could finish his warning, you recreated what his next words were going to be: you slipped on an icesheet. Waving your arms so you wouldn’t lose your footing, you ended up falling face first. You managed to partially stop the fall with your hands. The rocks underneath slashed your winter trousers, cutting your left shin.

By the time Din had gotten to your side, you had already stood up.

“You okay?” he asked with worry in his voice.

You nodded, smirking at the preoccupation he was showing.

“Yeah,” you lied. If he knew you had hurt yourself, you would be turning around and returning home empty-handed.

“Be more careful, will you? The ship ain’t going nowhere,” he snarled once he knew you were fine.

You rolled your eyes at him before strolling to the aircraft. Your old X-wing had seen better days ― the glass of the cockpit was smashed; vegetation had grown over the body. Moss covered most of it, painting it green instead of white. When you peeked inside the cabin, you realised it was flooded, all electrics wet. It was truly done for ― if you ever had any hope of leaving this planet, it would not be aboard your X-wing.

Din stood watch as you foraged for the item you were here for. After a few minutes, you located the star compass under the seat in the cockpit, drenched. Looking over your shoulder to see where Mando was, you opened the compass and water leaked everywhere. The black lodestone was static, unmoving ― maybe it just needed to dry off. Despite how damaged it was, you hoped it would still work. You were not planning on using it, obviously, but it was a reminder of your old life, one that now seemed very far away.

You couldn’t say you missed your previous life. The constant travelling had taken a toll on you in the last few years, having almost lost sight of searching for the Darksaber. Now that your feet were back down on the ground, gravity keeping you centred, this new life was not so bad after all.

“You found it?”

“Yeah!”

You quickly clasped the lid back down and jumped out of the cockpit. Perhaps you had lied to Din about what you were really looking for, but something in you told you not to tell the truth. So, when he asked you that morning why you wanted to go back to the shipwreck, you simply lied, telling him you were looking for your family’s locket ― a relic that had been passed down for generations.

The object was small enough to pass for one. You waved it at him quickly, not really showing it to him, before you shoved it in one of the pockets in your vest. Luckily Din didn’t ask for it, otherwise he would have realised it was made of beskar.

“Let’s go back then.”

“You’re bleeding,” Din’s fingers grabbed you by the elbow, yanking you back before you crossed the door to your room.

You looked down, having forgotten about the wound on your leg. You shrugged, downplaying it.

“It’s nothing, I’ll just take care of it now.”

“Like hell you are,” he growled with clenched teeth while dragging you inside.

He only let go of your elbow when you were by your unmade bed. Din stopped right in front of you, hands on hips. He nodded to you, commanding you to remove your trousers so he could see.

Your eyes rolled in frustration and clicked your tongue.

“It’s fine, Din. Don’t worry about it,” you dismissed him with a wave of your hand.

“I’ll decide if I have to worry or not.”

And, without prompt, he pulled down your trousers in a swift movement, leaving your legs bare. You huffed but let him help you out of them and remove your boots. Mando signalled you to sit on your bed and so you did. Din knelt in front of you, grabbing your hurt leg by the ankle until your heel was resting on his bent knee.

He inspected the wound for a minute after having removed his gloves. His fingertips burnt your skin where they ghosted over it.

“It’s not too deep, just a scratch.”

“I told you it was nothing. You have some unresolved trust issues, Din,” you joked, slightly leaning back with the heels of your hands flat on the mattress.

You couldn’t see but knew his eyes squinted under the visor.

“I’ll go get something to clean it. Wait here.”

Mando walked out and you took the chance to remove the uncomfortable coat. A minute later, he had returned with a clean rag and a small container with lukewarm water. He knelt in front of you again, grabbing your leg, and dutifully cleaned the wound.

You couldn’t help but sigh at the feathery touch of his fingers on the back of your knee. His proximity was enough to lighten your need for him. Also, being only in your underwear and a shirt while he was knelt between your legs did not help at all. Your imagination was already running wild ― and so your legs parted slightly, almost involuntarily.

Din’s attention shifted from the wound to your core. He tried to hide he was being distracted, but the helmet kept tilting to one side so he could have a better look at where your thighs met.

You chewed on your bottom lip, slick warmth pooling in between your legs.

“Din,” you hushed his name, your hand searching his so he would stop cleaning the wound.

The Mandalorian didn’t need much prodding after that. He towered above you rising to his feet, his hips at your eye level. You knew he was hard already, so couldn’t ignore the call of the siren.

With rigid steps, he walked towards the chest and placed the container dow. He scrunched the rag so the water dripped back into it. Soon enough, he was in front of you again, clean rag on hand.

“Do you trust me, mesh’la?” his modulated voice was low and husky.

You nodded vehemently.

“I want to try something different this time,” he murmured, the rag twisting in his hands. “But you gotta promise me you’ll behave for me.”

“I will,” you promised, breath hitching in anticipation.

“I’m going to blindfold you and remove my helmet. But I have only two ground rules: you can’t take it off and you can’t touch my face. At all. No excuses. Are we clear?”

A rush of lustful excitement ploughed through your veins. You found yourself nodding again, your neck hurting.

“Use your words, cyar’ika (beloved).”

“Yes. Crystal clear, Din,” you mumbled, widened, almost adoring eyes staring at him. You hadn’t missed the endearment term, although he seemed to not have noticed.

“Good,” he curled one finger at you.

You sat back up, hands laced on your lap patiently waiting as Din blindfolded you with the damp rag. He secured it with a very tight knot on the back and made sure three times that it would not go anywhere.

“If you break your promise, I’ll have to kill you,” the threat was very real, not even a hint of joke in it.

Your mouth went dry and your clit irremediably pulsed ― your pussy was already wet and warm for him. You shouldn’t get off on a death threat, but apparently Din could reduce you to a slick mess just like that.

“I-I won’t remove it. You have my word. Please.”

“Be a good girl for me and lay down on your back,” he commanded you and you happily obliged.

Your heartrate spiked as you heard Din discarding the beskar pieces over his body stocking. Maybe you were too eager, but he was taking too damn long. Then a hissing sound told you his helmet was gone.

This was fucking torture. You wanted to see him, to see the face of the man who made you wet with just a few words. It was cruel of him to impose something like this on you, such a prohibition. However, you understood what his Creed entailed and respected it.

Hated yourself right now for respecting it, but you did.

Din placed his hands on the back of your knees and lifted your legs up, the soles of your feet resting on either side of his naked hips. The warm palms of his hands caressed your ankles, massaging them briefly, before travelling up your calves and inner thighs, leaving goosebumps in his wake.

Unceremoniously, his fingers curled around the hem of your panties and pulled them down your legs; you couldn’t see but were sure he had thrown them away.

The Mandalorian exhaled audibly the moment his hands landed on your knees and pulled your legs apart. You squirmed, knowing he was devouring you with his eyes.

“Din, please, just―” you whimpered, moany and needy, anticipating.

“Shush. Don’t be so impatient, mesh’la,” he chastised you while stepping back.

That was the first time you listened to his real, manly voice. It was deep and raspy, surly yet sweet.

Your feet, no longer supported on his hips, dropped to the ground.

“Go on your fours,” he talked you through the position he wanted you in as you obeyed. “Now lean down, rest that pretty face of yours on the mattress for me.”

With your perky ass up in the air, you felt very exposed with your inner thighs pressed together and framing your swollen pussy like a pretty picture just for him.

One of his fingers traced your wet slit and you had to stop yourself from wiggling your hips until his finger was partially inside you.

“Look at her, all drippy and puffy for me. She knows what’s coming, doesn’t she? That’s why she’s so fucking wet,” he hummed, shuffling behind you.

You couldn’t see him, but you were damn sure he was on his knees at the feet of the bed.

Din placed his hands on your ass cheeks and parted them, the skin in your sticky furrow stretching while his thumbs caressed your labia. Your cunt was on full display, and you could feel the cold air of the room against your damp, sensitive skin.

“At last, I can claim her as mine,” Din whispered, his hot breath fanning on your pussy now, sending shivers up your spine.

You moaned, finally understanding what was coming.

He didn’t keep you waiting. Din’s tongue lapped your whole pussy in one go and your entire body trembled at the wet touch, his beard prickling your skin. Covering your mouth, you swallowed a pitiful whimper while your eyes rolled to the back of your skull. Mando’s broad hands squeezed your ass, grounding you, as he leaned forward again to drink from the fountain of your pleasure.

His tongue dipped in your creamy slit and stroked it slowly, deliberately loitering around your clit, but never really paying it much attention. He kissed your swollen lips, making out with them as if they were your mouth, the tip of nose intimately caressing your perineum. With the help of his fingers, he splayed open your quivering cunt, your hole accessible to the apex of his mischievous tongue.

Din licked you for minutes on end, ignoring your pulsing clit on purpose. The tension inside you coiled almost uncomfortably, so intense it would snap at any given moment. His devilish persuasion was relentless, more so when he would introduce his tongue in your very core.

You bucked your hips against his mouth, grinding. Desperate.

“Din, please, please, here,” you begged, slipping one of your hands down your belly and in between your legs.

You parted your slippery pussy lips, your clit hitching between them, showing him exactly where you wanted his goddamn tongue.

“Here, please,” you insisted, teary-eyed, at the edge of your patience.

“So impatient, mesh’la,” he chuckled behind you, still on your fours for him.

Finally, his lips latched onto your clit, and you whined out loud, pure elation running through your veins at the sweet suckling of his mouth. His teeth grazed the sensitive nub, and you saw stars behind your eyes, head slightly tilted backwards as you mewled until your throat felt raw.

Din sucked on your clit harshly at the same time two of his thick fingers found their way to your oozing hole. You screamed a resounding “fuck” at the perfect intrusion. The combination of his tongue and his digits were more than what your nervous system could take. Lick, pump, lick, pump ― the perfect rhythm making your toes curl, your pussy clench and your clit set ablaze.

The whole pussy-eating-from-the-back situation was too much ― his fingers ever so tantalising, you surrendered. Rubbing your cunt against his mouth, you moaned his name as the best orgasm of your life almost rendered you unconscious. You came on his mouth while Din just sipped from you, drinking all your discharge as if it was the last drops he would ever taste.

You could only hear your heart beating in your eardrums, all your senses overwhelmed. You were so out, you had almost forgotten the rag blindfolding you.

“You’re gonna come again for me, mesh’la,” only then did you realised his fingers were still inside you.

You panted, gathering your thoughts.

“I don’t think I can,” you mumbled, entranced.

“Oh, you can and you will,” he groaned, accepting the challenge.

And with that, his wicked lips pressed against your cunt, and he started all over again. As it turned out, he was fucking right. His tongue and his fingers were working you so well, there was no way you could resist. However, this time, there weren’t two fingers stuffed in your whole, but four. Your walls were so outstretched it should have been painful, but it wasn’t ― he had made sure to get you ready, pliant under his dutiful care.

“I wonder if you could take him. Bet you could,” Din whispered in a moment of respite.

“Huh?”

All thoughts dispersed when the second climax spread across your entire body, leaving you exhausted; a pitiful, sweaty mess on the bedsheets.

“Turn around and lay down. I’m gonna fuck you stupid,” the crudeness of his words should have made you frown but instead you smiled, completely blissed out.

Din made good on his promise. On your back and with your legs parted, you heard him moving around until he was between your thighs. Then he leaned forward, his hands on either side of your shoulders to keep his weight off you, and his hard shaft dove inside your cunt with no resistance. When he bottomed out, he snapped his hips back and then forth, until he was rutting into you like a man on death row.

Your hands held onto his back, your nails digging in his skin. You wanted to move them up and sink them in his hair so badly, your palms were itchy with longing. He had said you couldn’t touch his face; he hadn’t said anything about his hair. Hoping he wouldn’t notice your intentions, your hands drifted up his back, arriving at the nape of his neck.

So close to burying your hands in his hair, so fucking close…

“Don’t,” he growled at you, the snapping of his hips against yours unforgiving. “The fucking audacity. I. said. don’t. fucking. touch,” he punctuated every word with deep, sharp thrusts.

You winced and gasped at the depth of his dives, your mouth shaping a perfect O, back arched off the mattress below you. Every stab of his dick kissed your cervix, and you just couldn’t stop moaning uncontrollably. The mild pain quickly blossomed into ecstasy; your skin electrified with pleasure.

Suddenly you felt his mouth ghosting over yours; his unfiltered, gruffy grunts were music to your ears. You reached up, wanting to steal a kiss from him to taste his lips for the first time, but he slithered back.

“You don’t respect boundaries, do you?” Din rumbled.

His voice should have had a tinge of anger, but instead it sounded… amused?

“You have had a taste of me, it’s only fair I get something in return, Din,” you bargained breathlessly, but got no reply. “Please?”

Imploring for a measly kiss from your captor while he kept on fucking you. That had to be a new low in your book.

You couldn’t see him as he jackhammered you into the mattress, but knew he was debating. Whatever inner debate he had, the side you were banking on won.

“You keep your hands on my back at all times. Yes?” One of his hands moved to your neck, his dextrous fingers wrapping around your throat. “Or I’ll―”

“Kill me. I know. Elek, Alor (yes, Master),” you whispered in Mando’a, breath hitching.

His mouth came crashing down on yours, teeth colliding in a very messy kiss. His tongue sought yours with fervour and sucked it into his mouth. He tasted like you.

You couldn’t help but moan in midst of the sloppy kiss, your heart finally content at his small yet meaningful surrender. The grip of his hand around your neck softened but didn’t dissolve, adding another layer of excitement to his unabating thrusts.

“Gar serim, cyar’ika (that’s it, beloved). You’re so good, so fucking good for me. Warm, tight pussy always ready for me when I need her. She never disappoints,” he maundered, your brain spiralling with his praise.

Praising your cunt, not actually you, but you would take anything he would give you.

A few minutes later, the breathy groans of your making out along with the squelching sounds of your lust filled the air, quickly followed by the loud moans announcing your climaxes. Your cunt clamped on Din’s dick―a promise you’d never let him go―and he blew his load inside you. The tackiness of his cum filled your insides as his cock pulsed one last time and his lips pecked yours.

Din dropped to your side, panting with exhaustion, and you just laid there pondering all the decisions that had taken you there.

You’d never let him go.

When the fuck did that happen?

“How long does winter last here?”

“A good part of the year, around six months,” he replied dryly.

He was aware of the fact that you had been trying to get words out of him for the past week. Make conversation, talk about his story, his past, his interests. See if there was any common ground between you. But Din couldn’t bring himself up to actually share personal details.

And every time you tried, and he would dodge your attempts, he would see the disappointment painted across your face. And every time, something unknown would uncomfortably stir within him. He suspected you had started to harbour feelings for him ― and even if he wanted to, he couldn’t reciprocate you. Didn’t want to break your heart.

It was his fault, really, for seeking you out every night. You were so giving and him so greedy, he just mindlessly took what you offered without giving you anything in return except for a few orgasms and a good time.

“What did you do last winter? Bet it was boring being home with just the droids…”

Din knew very well what answer you were expecting: It was. Your presence has been a great improvement. You make my days―and nights―more bearable.

But instead, he shrugged.

“Dunno. Kept myself busy with stuff,” he muttered frugally.

He kept on walking before you, making the way back home after a quick stroll around to breathe some cold, fresh air.

The Mandalorian did not expect to be attacked by a snowball, which hit the back of his helmet. He quickly turned around.

“What the hell are you―?”

Before he could finish his question, you hit him again with another snowball, dead centre on his visor.

“You are such a prick, Din Djarin,” you snapped between gritted teeth, patting another snowball between your gloved hands. “Would it actually kill you to be a bit more open, hm?”

This time he saw the attack coming and was able to duck, avoiding the next snowball.

“Are you mad?”

“Yes, I’m mad, you fucking idiot!” you yelled at him, trudging forwards with another snowball on hand. “I’m mad for you, but either you’re fucking blind or you’re a cold-hearted jerk.”

Little did you know he was actually blind in one eye, but it didn’t seem to be the time to point it out.

The sudden love confession caught him off guard. You were not supposed to say that. You were not supposed to feel that way, not for him.

Din remained calm as you cut the distance and tried to smash the fourth snowball on his covered face. His fingers gripped your wrist before you were able to do so.

“You’re just confused, mesh’la. All the sex is blindsiding you, but you really don’t feel anything for me,” he reasoned.

You looked at him as if he had slapped you and took a step back.

“Of course, because you, the freaking Tin Man with a dead heart, know better than myself how I feel. Un-fucking-believable, honestly. Go fuck yourself, Din,” you scoffed, pushed him to one side and walked past him.

Din saw you disappear through the sliding door, while he stood there in disbelief.

What the fuck had just happened?

You kind of expected Din not to show up at your door tonight, but his absence in your bed stung either way. Sure, you had told him to go fuck himself, but now with a new―horny―perspective, you would prefer if he fucked you instead.

Infuriated with him, yourself and the situation, you sat back up on your empty bed. You reached for the drawer in your nightstand and opened it, grabbing the star compass inside. Fidgeting with the aurodium clasp, you wondered why the fuck Din didn’t open up. After three months and a half with him, you had thought you had been able to break through his armour ― the figurative one, not the real one.

Every time you tried to talk about your relationship with him, Din would shut you out or wouldn’t even engage in the conversation at all. He was more stubborn than a falumpaset, and that was saying something. Despite his indifference, you believed that, deep down in that cold, dead heart of his, he cared for you. Maybe he didn’t love you, but at least cared for you.

You didn’t even know if you loved him, anyway. Infatuated was, most probably, more accurate, you’d like to think. Most days you pushed that thought to the remotest corner of your mind, not wanting to consider it. Because, after all, you were his prisoner ― you might forget it some days, but the reality was that Din Djarin was your captor. So maybe it wasn’t love ― perhaps it was just a survival mechanism. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

Amid your pondering, you almost didn’t realise that the hands of the compass had moved, and the lodestone was humming, the plasma inside slowly swirling around. Your heart jolted in your ribcage, almost dropping to your stomach, when you finally paid it attention.

“Shit!” you exclaimed, jumping out of bed.

You had hoped it would work once it fully dried, but you were not expecting it to be actually functioning. It seemed to sense the Force emitted by the Darksaber, but that couldn’t be possible. If the Darksaber was here, in Mandalore, Din would know―would have told you. Right?

No, he wouldn’t have.

With that thought in mind, you put on some more decent clothes and cracked open your door. Carefully, you peeked in the corridor to confirm the coast was clear. It was close to midnight, so you hoped everyone―Din and the droids―would have gone to rest.

Tiptoeing through the hallway, you followed the path the star compass was pointing to, only to find yourself in the west wing after a few minutes. You knew you shouldn’t be here, but the compass hummed louder, vibrating on the palm of your hand, as you turned another corner. Looking up from your family’s relic, you saw a door at the end of the hallway.

“BEEP BEEEEEEEEEEEEP BOOP! BIP! PIP!” Din’s astromech robot, an old R2-D2 unit, screeched at you loudly, skidding and coming to a halt in front of you. It even had a red light flashing at you.

You almost threw your heart up there and then, the little robot giving you the biggest scare of your life.

“CA’NARA!” you told him off as your heartrate slowed down. “Fucking hell, you almost killed me, little devil.”

“BEEP! PIPIPIPI!” the droid beeped at you, going around you in circles.

“I know I shouldn’t be here, sorry!” you whispered, “I-I’m a sleepwalker!”

Ca’nara seemed to calm down, only for Nau’ul to appear in scene.

Great, fucking great.

“Ca’nara, what’s going on?” the protocol droid turned the corner, almost bumping into you. “Oh! What are you doing here?”

“I- Uhm, I was just telling Ca’nara that I’m a sleepwalker. He literally just woke me up. I didn’t mean― you know I cause no trouble, Nau’ul,” you pleaded with the affable droid.

“Of course, of course,” he took a couple of stiff steps back. “What’s that on your hand?”

Fuck. You looked down, coming up empty with a lie.

“I don’t know. I literally just woke up, I don’t know where I got it from,” you stammered a bit, but the droid didn’t pick up on it.

“I’ll take it. Alor will know what it is and where it belongs,” Nau’ul extended his hand towards you.

If you didn’t give it up, it would arouse suspicion. So, unwillingly, you passed it on to him.

“Where’s he?” the question slipped your tongue before you could refrain.

“Alor is… indisposed, miss. He needs to rest,” he replied cryptically as you both walked back to the main corridor where your bedroom was.

“Indisposed? Is he sick? Is he okay?” you instantly worried.

“He’ll be better in the morning, fret not,” he paused in front of your room, and you opened the door. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Nau’ul,” you mumbled before closing the door behind you.

What a varping disaster. Nau’ul had confiscated your star compass, which meant that Din would eventually see it. If it came to it, you were not sure what you would do. And you still didn’t know what was in that room, why the compass had gone crazy as you approached it. But you had a pretty good idea. Chances were, the Darksaber was on the other side of that door at the end of the west corridor.

Sighing, you sauntered towards the big window in your room. Two perfectly aligned full moons dominated the night sky, their white, sparkly glow bouncing off the walls. It was a beautiful sight.

Something in the path below caught your attention. A metallic reflection. Your eyes drifted down just in time to see Din running towards the Civic Center, as if a thousand ghosts were on his heels.

You frowned, confused. Where was he going at this witchy hour? Wasn’t he sick?

A scary thought formed in your head. Were you under attack? Had Ash come looking for you after several weeks without returning his messages?

Heart pounding with worry, you darted to the door and then the lift. Whatever threat was coming, you would face it with him. With such resolution in mind, you followed his trail.

Your concern for him skyrocketed when you arrived at the Civic Center and saw nothing but pieces of his armour scattered around. You snatched the shin and thigh armour off the steps to the main door, only to look up and find more bits spread around the entryway.

This made no sense at all. Why would Din dispose of his armour? Something was wrong, very wrong, but you were not under attack.

You gathered all the armour pieces in your arms while calling his name but heard nothing except the whistling of wind passing through cracks and crannies.

Suddenly, you felt the need to look down the stairs to the Living Waters. A hunch rooting in your core, wrapping around your heart. Then a faint, painful growl came from underneath and all your senses flared alive.

What was Din doing down there? In the Mythosaur’s lair?

Panic hiked up your throat as you hiked down the stairs, the animalistic snarl louder now as you drew nearer. At the bottom of the steps, eyes fixed on your shoes, you dared to glance up.

His armour fell from your arms on to the ground, clattering. You were not prepared to see what you found.

Din was half curled up on the floor, naked and dragging himself towards the water. Only he was way bigger ― almost seven feet tall, his body much more muscular with chiselled, blueish veins across the whole of him, hands big as paws with his nails digging the dirt underneath.

You took a step forward, catching a better glimpse of him. Then you truly saw ― his skin had a viridescent tint to it and had started to scale. Rugged lumps raised from the skin on his back, tiny bones protruding through. No, not bones ― small horns, like those of a reptile.

Not like a reptile. Like a Mythosaur. Only smaller than the beast you saw a few weeks ago.

With a guttural bellow, he removed his helmet, throwing it to on side as he crawled towards the rippling water. His head was crowned by thick, short, greyish curls ― exactly what you had imagined.

“Din?” you whispered, taking a precautious step towards him, one hand extended in front of you to appease him.

His head snapped around at the sound of your voice.

You gasped at the sight of him. What first struck you was the scar across his face, one that would perfectly line up with the mended crack on his helmet. It ran diagonally through his rugged features, distorting them and hugging that crooked nose. His teeth seemed slightly pointier too. The next thing you noticed were his blown, bloodshot eyes with pupils as big as his sclerae.

Not eyes, one eye ― the right one was completely discoloured, covered in a white sheen.

He still looked like Din, but… not really.

The vision in front of you should have scared you. Even more so when Din stared at you, and you saw nothing in his expression ― he didn’t recognise you. Whoever, or whatever, this was, he wasn’t the man that had kept you company for the last few months.

Logic dictated you should run in the opposite direction. Instead, you propelled forwards towards him, knees skidding on the dirt and landing by his side.

The warm touch of an alien hand grounded him for an ephemeral instant. The bitter cold crawled under his scaled skin, rejecting the heat like a limping animal avoiding the helping hand of a human.

He snarled, creeping back and away from you, as if your mere proximity was a threat to him.

Because it was.

“Din, I’m here, let me help you,” you besought, dragging your knees towards him again.

He didn’t know who Din was. Where he was or had gone. Did he ever exist? The Beast didn’t know―didn’t care. So he growled again, but his futile attempt didn’t keep you at bay. Guessed you had a death wish, only that could explain your blatant refusal to his rejection.

Both your hands fell upon him, like warm blood spilling and enlivening his senses. For once the cold running wild through his veins minimised, giving way to a hot flush that was foreign to him. The sudden warmth surprised him ― but what shocked him the most was how soothing it was, how easy was for him to crave your touch. A primal need.

The Beast had forgotten what warmth was, having been cursed to a lifetime of coldness for as long as he could remember. Crazed by this newfound feeling, he slowly sat back up on the ground, eyeing you like a predator watching his prey.

Your hand reached up to him to cradle his cheek and the Beast closed his eyes, that warm feeling running down his neck, wrapping around his dead yet beating heart.

“You’re so cold,” you mumbled as you cut the distance some more, your chest nudging his side.

Another heatwave flashed through him ― your warmth beckoning, your body too inviting. He wanted to dive in, to let your warmth surround him, make him surrender. He craved it so bad, so fiercely, the Beast bowed down to sink his forked tongue in your mouth ― unannounced, unrequited.

You moaned at the intrusion, your hands lacing on the nape of his neck, and that only spurred him on. He gave in to your warmth and gave up his restraints. Growling, he plundered your mouth as he forced you down onto the ground.

Towering above you, his tongue slipped out of your mouth to graze your neck, and you shivered under him. Biting your chin, he returned to your lips to kiss you, to suck out your warmth to replenish himself. Like a leech he drank from you while his rough, broad hands roamed your body.

“Din,” you mewled.

He didn’t like this Din whose name you were moaning. So he kissed you, not wanting to hear it again and tugged at your clothing. Impatient, he almost tore your garments apart and only relaxed a little when you were completely naked beneath him.

Pressing his bare body against yours, he revelled, soaking in your heat. But there was a part of you that was hotter, and he could sense it ― like a tracking fob, he pursued the warm feeling as he slithered down your frame.

The heat pulsing from between your thighs called him home, hypnotising. You pressed your knees together and he snarled, his sight darting to your glassy, dreamy eyes, silently distraught at your denial.

He leaned down over you to graze one of your nipples, smothering it raw to show you what he could do to you down in your balmy core. His demonstration worked, because the next time he coaxed your legs apart, you showed no resistance.

So down he went on you, fingers splaying out your puffy folds to display the focal point of his desire. Like a thirsty animal his bifid tongue darted out and swept the length of your damp slit in one slow, sweet sweep. He howled into your pussy, besotted, his arms wrapping around your thighs as he devoured your seeping cunt. Warmth poured from your clit, and he latched onto it rather harshly, finally finding the beacon that reeled him in.

“Fuck, that― Mhmm,” whatever you were going to say died in your lips as a moan hitched in your throat and your body trembled.

A rush of liquid fire met his tongue, and he accepted your offering as your thighs quivered around him ― the strength of your release eased slowly, but his tongue didn’t.

His fingers found the warm cave he needed to nestle in. But before he could do that, before his brain got fucked out into oblivion, he had to prepare you to take him. He massaged your leaking entrance one digit at a time until you were sweetly stretched around four of his fingers.

You whimpered with the first pump and slowly you eased into it, into the feeling of being full to the brim. He licked and flicked your throbbing clit, the hot nub driving him wild. Your inner walls tightened, announcing another climax, and he pulled it out of you with his fist still immersed in your pussy.

Once you came down from your high, the Beast unburied from between your thighs and loomed over you. Your half-lidded eyes and fucked-out expression only made him harder, hotter. He hungered for the moment your bodies would connect; the moment he would finally feel only warmth running through his veins. The moment the cold was forgotten, albeit only fleetingly.

The tip of his cock nudged at your pliant entrance, and he trailed the head up and down your dewy furrow a few times. Your eyes blew open the moment he poked at your hole, parting your flesh, and you looked down at his dick kissing the mouth to your cave.

“Din, I don’t think― Oh, holy FUCK,” you mumbled something uncoherent afterwards, head tilted back and your teeth sinking in your bottom lip as your pleading metamorphosed into moaning.

His whole frame blanketed yours as he supported his weight off you by placing his forearms to either side of your head.

Slowly, inch by inch, he buried himself in you, suffocating heat radiating from where you two met. He growled, an animalistic bellow bubbling up his throat as he felt your walls swallowing him, sheathing his throbbing cock. And when he was fully embedded in you, buried almost down to the hilt, you whined as he remained still ― your walls adjusting around him. He was maddened by the warmth of you.

Only when he felt you relax around him, did he start pumping in and out of you. His mind went blank as his sight transfixed on yours and your foreheads touched, another bridge between you. The Beast rutted into you, first paced, then madly, as he stared into your soul. Your body rocked up and down underneath him, your back arched so your nipples caressed the bare skin of his chest.

The movement of water behind him made him look over his shoulder. The Great Mythosaur had resurfaced, only the top of his head and his eyes were above the water table. Watching, ever present and lurking. Eager. Wanting.

He growled at him, a warning to back the fuck down ― he wasn’t sharing you; you were all for himself and himself only. His exclusive prey, no one else’s. With a low rumble, the Great Mythosaur disappeared under the water, and he refocused on you.

Tension built up at the base of his spine, his cock pulsating so hard it was difficult to ignore it any longer. And then your pussy clenched around him as you orgasmed once more, and that inevitably milked him dry ― both of you moaning in unison as ropes of thick, white cum painted your inner walls, leaving a lasting imprint in your core.

The Beast panted above you ― all coldness deserted from his body, destituted by your unique warmth.

He sat back up, his engorged cock leaving your entrails. Through the daze in your eyes, you looked at him with a satisfied grin. As you sat up straight, you lifted one hand towards him, softly placing it on the center of his chest.

“Come back to me, Din,” you begged, and all hell broke loose within him.

The pain, the shearing pain, blinded all his senses as his bones snapped and rearranged again. His jaw clenched to stop the agonising screams hiking up his throat. Din hunkered down as his body adjusted back to normal size.

As grievous as it was, it was over very quickly. Too quickly. He had not fully transformed into the Beast, which meant easing out of it was not as traumatic.

What was traumatic was the sudden landslide of overwhelming feelings taking form inside him. Almost a decade of apathy meant years’ worth of emotions repressed ― emotions that would emerge to the surface if given the opportunity. And whatever you unleashed within him, flooded his brain and his heart.

A myriad of sentiments rushed through him ― joy, anger, hope, disappointment, serenity, desperation. All at once, a cacophony bursting his eardrums. So loud were his emotions, all boiling together inside him, his thoughts were drowned. He couldn’t think ― panic was setting in.

Din panted as his arms and legs trembled uncontrollably, lungs vacating all oxygen in sharp exhales. His ears rang and his heart threatened to climb up his throat and run. Eyes closed shut, he grasped for control.

“Din, I’m here,” your hands slid on his back, grabbing him by the shoulders.

A soothing balm taking many of his worries away. Your palms smoothing out his skin felt like an anchor. One he desperately tried to hold onto.

Through the fog of his anxiety, he saw you knelt by his side, hugging him close. Naked as he was, a sweaty patina clinging to your skin. Although Din had not been in possession of his own body, he had been relegated to the background and had been witness to everything that happened. Forced to watch him take you.

He felt sick to his stomach.

“I’m sorry. I can’t control him, I just―,” he wheezed as he sat back up.

Your soft eyes sparkled, a faint smile curling up your lips. Your fingers snaked through his hair, combing it back.

“You have nothing to be sorry for, Din,” you hugged him tighter, reassuring, kissing one of his shoulders.

“Are you hurt? Did I― did he…?”

“I’m completely fine. A bit… sensitive and raw. But in a good way,” you added with a faint chuckle.

The comforting caress of your hand rubbing his back and your lips brushing the skin on his shoulder made him believe you.

Even though the look in your eyes had not changed, he could see the questions dancing in your pupils. Questions you were holding back, but that would eventually spurt out.

Your free hand reached for his left cheek, and he almost flinched at the proximity. Your thumb had come too close to the scar, sending a shot of pain down his neck. But he didn’t lean back away from you. Instead, Din stilled under your touch.

“I knew you’d be gorgeous underneath that helmet,” you whispered, your mouth close to his.

Din grunted, taking your compliment as an offense. Why were you mocking him? He knew how he looked ― he didn’t need you making fun of him for it.

And why was he upset? He shouldn’t. He couldn’t.

Your tiny fingers wrapped around his wrist when he reached for the helmet nearby. You yanked his forearm until his eyes met yours.

“I wasn’t joking. I mean it, Din. Truly,” you husked, hand again on his cheek and thumb too close for comfort.

He couldn’t see a sliver of jest in your features. You were deadpan serious. And that scared him.

Din looked away, coming to terms with the flaring emotions. Emotions. Even the unspoken word tasted weird on his tongue.

You moved away from him to quickly gather your clothes and put them on. Then returned to his side with his armour and clothing.

“Let’s go back home, Din. You look knackered,” you mumbled, kneeling by his side again.

Din didn’t reject your aid when you helped him get dressed again. Taking the helmet between your hands, he bowed down his head so you could put it on for him.

His body ached in places he didn’t even know could hurt ― all the restructuring his bones had to endure always took a physical toll on him. So much so, he needed your help to stand up ― his legs felt like those of a newborn humbaba.

But today… today it also took an emotional toll on him.

He really was exhausted.

You probably needed time to process what had happened tonight, a whirlwind of questions and doubts battered around in your mind. But you didn’t want to leave Din alone, not when he looked so fatigued, a moment away from breaking.

Walking down the silent corridor beside him, arm draped around his waist, you went past your room. You had never been to his and hoped tonight would be the night where he would let you spend it by his side.

Hand heavy on the handle, you pushed it down and the door swung open. You didn’t know what to expect and, somehow, the bareness of his room did not surprise you at all. The metalwork on the walls had been painted black and the furniture was sparse. A massive bed with black bedsheets dominated the room.

Despite the monochromatic theme, it felt cozy, inviting even. Dragging him towards the bed, you gently pushed him down on to the mattress and knelt in front of him to remove his boots.

“I can do it,” his words slurred.

“I know. But let me do it, please,” you muttered, throwing the shoes to one side.

Din hummed in agreement, so slowly you unfastened all the beskar pieces again. Removed the vest underneath and unzipped his body stocking down the side, helping him out of it.

There was something extremely intimate about undressing him. Not with a deprived end in mind, but a caring one.

I could do this forever. Only if you’d let me, the intrusive thought didn’t startle you. Because it was true.

Last, you placed your hands to either side of his helmet to pull it up. By pure instinct, his hands darted up to yours to stop you from uncovering his face.

“It’s okay, Din,” you reassured him softly.

Din crooned again, arms falling to his sides, surrendering, and you took it off, leaving it on the nightstand.

You could truly get used to this; you’d never tire of looking at him. His rugged features, although distorted by the nasty scar, were pleasant. His soft, brown and white eyes, the aquiline nose, the moustache blending in with the beard, the strong jaw. You only saw beauty, no beast.

Mando let himself fall backwards and you stood there by the side of the bed, unsure of what to do with yourself.

He decided for you.

“Stay, please,” he purred, half asleep by the time his head touched the pillow underneath.

He didn’t need to say more. Removing your clothes, you joined him under the bedlinen with a smirk.

The first lights of the morning filtered through the big window in Din’s bedroom. You had been awake for an hour now, but he had been so peacefully sleeping, you didn’t want to disturb him.

A tangled mess of limbs you were, your legs intertwined with his while your right cheek rested on his bare chest. Your left forearm was splayed across his abdomen, the tips of your fingers mindlessly caressing his ribs.

Pressing a kiss to his left pec, he stirred under you, slowly coming out of his slumber. You hugged him tighter, an easy smile surfacing.

“Good morning,” you husked when he looked down at you with just his left eye open, lips slightly curled downwards.

His addled expression made you snicker as you kissed his jawline.

“Morning,” he hushed back once his brain registered your words.

“How are you feeling?”

“Better. Everything hurts, but I’m okay.”

The arm of his under you moved, bringing you closer to him in a half embrace.

“I know you have questions,” he said a few moments later.

“Understatement of the year,” you joked, lifting your head slightly up to rest your chin on his chest. “Is now a good time?”

“Might as well,” his reply was accompanied by a smirk.

“You didn’t transform fully last night, did you?”

Din shook his head. “No, just halfway. I think your presence stopped it from happening.”

Did that mean that you could soothe the beast? That you could help Din in a way that really mattered? The mere possibility filled your belly with butterflies.

“And, well, the most obvious one… How?” you emphasized the last word.

“A witch cursed me before I killed her,” you looked at him quizzically, eyebrows raised, and he sighed. “A man by the name of Moff Gideon had someone I held dear under his grasp. A kid I was fond of,” he paused to gather his thoughts while your breath hitched at the name of Moff Gideon. “I fought Gideon to free him. I won, but he had backup I did not see coming. A witch named Morgan Elsbeth. She came to his rescue and I ended up killing her. Her last breath cursed me to an existence of apathy and becoming a beast. Guess it worked,” he scoffed, shaking his head. “That was eight years ago and ever since then, my ability to feel has been dying out while the beast has only gotten stronger.”

Your head spun with so much information, you almost felt dizzy. Did Din fight Moff Gideon? Was it his halo you chased eight years ago?

“Is that how you got the crack on your helmet and the scar?” you ventured, heart pounding.

“Mhm,” was his only reply. “How I lost my right eye too.”

The helmet was made of beskar, one of the strongest alloys in the Galaxy. Only a weapon strong enough would be able to melt it. But you couldn’t push him for more details, or it would be suspicious.

And did it really matter? Did you care that much about the Darksaber? Yes, you had spent your whole life looking for it; yes, you had promised your dying father you would finish the mission. But that felt like a lifetime ago.

“What was the kid’s name? What happened to him?”

“Grogu. He is Force sensitive, he went to the Jedi for training,” he pursed his lips, and your fingers smoothed out the crow’s feet around his right eye.

“You miss him,” you hummed, your fingertips tracing imaginary lines on his skin.

“I didn’t think I did. Till now,” he confessed, stirring under you. “I don’t know, it’s weird. Since last night I have started to… feel again. And it’s overwhelming.”

Your heart did a little jump against your ribcage. If he could feel now, did he feel for you?

You were too scared to ask, so didn’t.

“Maybe the curse is fading?”

“Maybe,” he said back, sounding unconvinced. “You hungry?”

You nodded.

“I’ll go get something. Bet Nau’ul has prepared a feast. Whether it’s edible or not, I don’t know.”

You chuckled at the joke and moved off him so Din could get up. In silence, you watched him dress, his back muscles rippling with every movement.

Yes, you could get used to this.

Fuck the Darksaber. Fuck everything. You just wanted to live your life. With him. Here, in Mandalore. Only if he’d let you.

It was selfish of you to think this way, but Din’s curse had become your blessing.

Every night since you discovered his secret, you’d go to his room and spend the hours of darkness with him. He would reluctantly take the helmet off, but each time you would reassure him he couldn’t scare you away, that what he thought he looked like didn’t matter in the slightest. And you meant every single word. In your eyes, he was perfect just the way he was.

There was still the issue of his Creed forbidding him, but you wondered if it was more habit than anything else.

And every full moon, you would follow him down to the Mythosaur lair to let him take you, excitement running through your veins every single time. You knew you shouldn’t enjoy it but allowing him to fuck you in beast form was exhilarating. Even with practice you had still not been able to take him fully ― his cock too big to bear. It was worse when you attempted a blowjob on him ― your jaw almost dislocated. But you were more than happy to try, obviously.

And of course, it helped him regulate, which was the most important point of all. He had told you he didn’t feel as cold either. Even if his body was hot to the touch, Din had explained how his organs, his blood, felt like icicles. Ever since the beast had had a taste of your warmth―Din’s words, not yours―it seemed like his feelings were slowly crawling back.

That had been interesting too. After so many years spent numb, Din had had a bit of trouble dealing with his emotions. Sometimes they were extreme, out of proportion even, but he was learning how to manage them. Although most days felt like one step forward and three back, especially when it was a touchy subject such as love.

You had tried, but Din was still of the idea that he couldn’t truly feel ― that this was just a glitch, a shortcut, but not the real thing. And because of his stupid theory, he didn’t want to hear you say anything about The Matter. You had seen how much he had improved, how much better he could deal with everything, and yet he wouldn’t listen to you in that respect.

You rolled your eyes, still thinking about it, as you trekked through the mud. It was a crispy morning, but the cold had started to recede. Poor Ca’nara had a faulty retractable third leg ― the inside mechanism was getting jammed regularly. You had decided to be proactive and walk to the landing site of your X-wing, in the hopes that some parts of your astromech droid were salvageable. An extremely long shot, yes, but you had to try at least.

In full armour, Din sauntered towards the dining room, where the three droids seemed to be conferring about something.

None of them heard him coming, and Nau’ul startled dramatically when he saw him.

“Oh! Alor! What― Uh, do you want something to eat?” he asked, looking at Mrs. Kri’gee and Ca’nara nervously.

Din frowned, suspicious of their jumpy, evasive behaviour.

“No, I’m fine,” he mumbled as his eye caught a glimpse of something shiny Nau’ul was holding, trying to conceal it. “What’s that?”

“Ah, this? Well. You see, I― It’s― Nothing really. I don’t really know what―” his stammering was riling Din up.

He was a damn droid, not a fucking human. How could Nau’ul get edgier than himself? Unbelievable.

“Give,” he extended his hand towards the droid, palm up, and curled his fingers with impatience.

The three droids shared weird looks, but Nau’ul finally handed him the object.

Din turned around the metal item and as soon as he did, he recognised the beskar. Brows knitting, he inspected the grooves and quickly identified them as astromeridian lines. This was not a simple object; it was a Jedi star compass. Confused as to how this came to be in the possession of Nau’ul, Din unclasped the compass and lifted the lid.

His breathing hitched and his heart skipped a beat. This was not any star compass; this was the star compass. One that all Mandalorians believed to be a myth. But the black plasma in the lodestone didn’t lie. In his hand he was holding the very same star compass that Tarre Vizsla had commissioned to keep track of the Darksaber in case it ever got stolen.

“Where did you get this?” he snapped, fingers clutching the device tight.

“I― Well, it’s complicated. I thought―”

“It’s hers, isn’t it?” he interrupted.

The memory of that day trip to your ship came back to him. A locket, you had said. Bullshit.

Nau’ul nodded.

“How long have you had this?”

“Weeks, Alor. I did recognise it from the lore I knew about House Vizsla, but we didn’t want to worry you unnecessarily. She’s doing you good, Master, you’ve improved―”

“Unnecessarily? Are you for fucking real, Nau’ul?” Din replied angrily, teeth gritting.

Without expecting an answer, he turned around and stormed out of the room.

You were kneeling on the ground, elbow’s deep in the core of your old R3-D3 unit, trying to reach a hidden screw, when you heard heavy steps approaching.

“Good you’re here, I can’t get to this screw. I’ve been at it for five minutes now. Can you try?” you asked Din, who stopped inches away from your back.

When he didn’t say a word, you turned around and glanced up at him.

He radiated tension through every pore, his posture stiff and shoulders squared. Eyebrows furrowed, you got up, cleaning the palm of your hands on your trousers.

“What’s the matter, Din?”

“This. Why did you have this?” his voice transpired how mad he felt as he handed you an object you quickly recognised.

The star compass that Nau’ul had confiscated from you weeks ago. You had assumed the droid didn’t know what it was and hadn’t bothered to show it to Din.

Your eyes shot up to where you knew his were.

“I can explain,” you reached for him, your fingers wrapping around his forearm.

“You better start talking now,” even if he hadn’t backed away from you, he felt so distant.

Your mind raced and your heart galloped inside your chest. You could lie your way out of this situation, but you didn’t want to. You loved him, and nothing else mattered. He would understand. Eventually.

“Din, listen to me, please. I’m not gonna lie to you: it is exactly what it looks like. My family, my tribe― we are trackers. Have been tracking the Darksaber for generations. I was raised to hate your people, but the message never really sunk in for me. Our purpose was to find the Darksaber and destroy it,” you explained while he remained deadly silent. “That was why I was travelling through the Mandalore system. I was tracking the Darksaber. I was going to Concordia, but I ran into technical problems with my X-wing and had to divert here. I think― I thought it was there.”

Until that night you sneaked out to the west wing. You had been caught before you could confirm your suspicions but were pretty sure that was what Din was hiding in the west wing. The reason he wouldn’t let you be anywhere nearby.

“But now you know it’s not in Concordia,” he finished for you.

You nodded.

“But I don’t care for it anymore, Din. Once I figured you likely had it, I made a choice. I chose you,” you whispered, closing in on him until your bodies met. “You have to believe me.”

He didn’t talk at all. Silence strung between you, dense and worrying, like a rope wrapping around your neck, forcing the oxygen out of your lungs. You didn’t want to panic, knowing that Din probably only needed time to think, to digest and ruminate.

Minutes went by and your grip on his forearm loosened. You were ready to take a step back, give him some space to process, when Din finally spoke in his modulated voice.

“I believe you,” a wave of relief washed over you, “and I choose you too.”

Your heart dropped to your stomach and then climbed up your oesophagus. It was beating so hard, so fast, you were seconds away from passing out.

He chose you.

Before you could throw your arms around his neck with pure elation, Din took a step back and one hand reached towards the back of his belt. Confused, you followed the movement of his hand, a deep wrinkle burrowing between your brows.

Din presented you a black hilt, waved it a little, and then the black and white blade appeared, humming very loudly, although dimmer than what you expected. Your eyes widened at the sight of the Darksaber ― the item your whole family had been searching for, right there, in front of you, an inch away from your fingers.

Lifting your right hand, you reached for it.

Suddenly, a firing sound broke the silence and, inexplicably, Din leaned forward towards you, the Darksaber dropping from his hand.

You held him by the elbows, not understanding what was happening, as his hands grasped for you. Then a second firing noise uprooted a painful groan from him while he almost dragged you to the floor.

“Din? Din!” you whispered, on your knees with him in your arms, as your hands roamed his body.

You felt the warm blood before you could see it and panic settled in fast. He was profusely bleeding from two gunshots on his back, right below the beskar piece that covered his six.

“No, no. Wait. What―” you sobbed as Din groaned, his consciousness drifting away.

You were losing him fast, and you didn’t even know how.

“Are you okay? Is he dead?”

A male voice came from behind a tree near the cliff. A voice you had not heard in a long while, but quickly recognised.

Ashton.

Blaster still pointing at Din, Ash had frozen several meters away from you. Ahat was he doing here? How did he get here unnoticed? Why? Fucking why?

But none of those questions left your mouth, gutted as you were, holding onto Din, worried he would slip away from you. You couldn’t move, couldn’t talk, overwhelmed as you were.

Din stirred in your arms, and you saw the panic reflected in Ash’s eyes as he cocked the blaster in Din’s direction again. There was no time to think, to beg, to ask him to leave. To tell him you loved the man he was intent on killing.

So you did the only thing you could do. Your fingers found Din’s blaster in his holster, lifted it up, pointed to Ash, and shot.

The light beam flashed before it hit dead center between Ash’s eyes. He stumbled back and fell into the abyss behind him. And just like that, you had killed the only friend you had known.

You should have doubted your actions, but you didn’t. It all happened too quickly, and you had bigger worries than having killed one of the few people you cared about. Like losing the love of your life.

Dropping the blaster, you rushed to remove Din’s helmet.

“Din, please, just hold on. Please, stay with me. Please, don’t leave,” you screamed and cried, hands trembling and pressing on the wounds on his back.

His eyes fluttered open, only a tiny slit ― his gloved hand reached up, cradling your cheek.

“Cyar’ika,” he could barely talk. “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum (I love you). Don’t cry. It’s okay.”

“No, no. NO. You ain’t saying goodbye. No,” your words slurred as your sobs intensified, your heart breaking into a myriad of tiny pieces.

You removed the glove of his hand to kiss the palm, your tears streaming between his fingers. Yours wrapped around his wrist, holding him there.

As you cried your eyes out, you noticed the Darksaber humming louder, almost deafening, and its light shining brighter. Its vibration called you, hearing your name inside your head. A Force deep within you awakening, beckoning you to touch it. A need as basic as breathing.

Through teary eyes, blinking fast, you gave in ― you grabbed it.

An electrifying sensation ran through you, all your muscles coiling at once. Your mind spiralled out of control, for a moment losing track of time and space. The Force was so intense, so primitive, you thought you would be obliterated by its magnitude.

When you could finally open your eyes, the blade had dimmed considerably and then it completely snuffed out. Your cries had not stopped though, so loud you almost missed Din’s voice.

“Mesh’la,” he rasped, trying to straighten his back, “you― you’re Force sensitive. You’ve used the Force of the Darksaber to heal me.”

Your wet eyes darted to him and then his wounds. Or where the wounds had been but no longer existed. Mouthing a gulp of air, you instantly dropped the Darksaber to hug him tight, crying louder than before.

“It’s okay. I’m fine. We’re okay,” he hushed, comforting you.

“I love you, Din,” you mumbled in the crook of his neck, relief running through you loosening your taut muscles. “Don’t you fucking dare die on me again or I’ll kill you myself.”

Din chuckled, one hand smoothing out your hair.

“Noted, cyar’ika.”

Cradling his handsome face, you pressed a kiss to his lips. Salty yet sweet. You kissed him again, looking for the solace of his tongue.

The wind carried some words you barely made out.

“Maker met.”

Four full moons had come and gone, and the beast was no more.

Din’s curse was broken. For good. Forever.

You couldn’t have asked for anything else. Anyone else. You loved him and he loved you back ― he had shown you many times. Right as he was showing you now.

Your lips brushed his tummy right above his belly button, leaving a trail of kisses as you found your way back to his mouth. Din was laying on his back, his rough hands caressing the back of your thighs as you kissed his scar and then his right eye, lips soft as a cloud.

He didn’t flinch anymore whenever you touched the sensitive skin or his blind eye. Instead, he sighed, as if your caress was soothing, calming. As if you could take away the pain he felt sometimes.

You sat back up on top of him, straddling his hips as his mushroom head hitched in your entrance, his hands compelling you to impale yourself. But you didn’t ― not yet.

Instead, you leaned over a bit, taking the helmet off the nightstand. It was heavy. Curious to know what it felt like, you put it on. The padding inside was soft, your face snug. It was slightly claustrophobic, but also comforting. Weird.

“It suits you, cyar’ika. You should consider taking up the Creed,” he mumbled, eyes full of desire, of yearning. Of love.

You chuckled and stirred your hips above him, the tip of his cock going in ever so smoothly.

“For you, I just might, Din.”

@baronessvonglitter @bishtrouille @natalieispunk @iknowisoundcrazy @almostfoxglove

[slfcare]

you are so kind. i just discovered your blog and im crying while reading your posts because you radiate a light and hope through your words that inspires me despite everything. i love that you write anecdotally since it feels so much more real and tangible that i could also achieve what you have than a generic positivity post which, while im sure are made with good intentions, always feel so distant. you are a stranger across the world from me yet i feel i am talking to an older sibling from across the kitchen table in my childhood home. i don’t know you and yet my fears and struggles were once yours… and now i have yet another source to look to and say to myself “you can’t give up yet. look. it will not be like this forever. there is proof.”

i hope for every single star in the sky to conspire to give you the brightest future ever and may your path be filled with opportunities abounding. i hope you never waver and that even if you do, your heart fortifies itself with the knowledge that you have so much goodness in you. i hope that one day i can be at least a little like you.

i am actually speechless. i probably typed up and deleted tens of responses to this but none of them seem to capture / convey how i actually feel.

thank you so much for your genuine message and the fact that you sent it even though you didn't have to! thank you for taking the time to read my posts and sit at this metaphorical kitchen table with me. thank you for even opening up enough to receive what i'm saying, because i can have the most beautiful words ready for you, but they wouldn't mean anything if you weren't hearing them.

i hope that with time you will learn to believe in yourself with the exact conviction and faith you believe in me with, and in the meantime i'm always here for you, rooting for you and sharing my random thought pieces in the hopes it will help you forward. whether it's as the sibling at the kitchen table or as a symbol of 'future you' or simply as words on a screen by a stranger across the planet.

whichever one i am, our futures are equally as bright, our paths equally as opportunity-filled, our hearts equally as strengthened by the goodness we both possess. you will be okay as i am okay. i have no doubt about it.

[littlefireball]

ʜᴊ|ɴᴏ ᴏɴᴇ ʙᴏᴛʜᴇʀꜱ ᴜꜱ (ᴍ/ᴀ)

Happy Birthday to Hongjoong~

ꜰᴀᴋᴇ ɢᴏᴅ ꜱᴇʀɪᴇꜱ (ʀᴇᴀᴅ ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ ᴀꜱ ꜰᴀᴋᴇ ɢᴏᴅꜱ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ~ ʙᴜᴛ ɪ ᴄʜᴀɴɢᴇᴅ ᴛʜᴇ ᴘʟᴏᴛ ᴀ ʙɪᴛ)

ᴋɪɴɢ ᴏꜰ ɢᴏᴅꜱ ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ x ᴀɴɢᴇʟ ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ 

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ: ꜱᴍᴜᴛ|ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ|ᴜɴᴘʀᴏᴛᴇᴄᴛᴇᴅ ꜱᴇx|ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ᴏᴜᴛ|ʀᴏᴜɢʜ ꜱᴇx|ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ ꜰᴇʟʟ ꜰɪʀꜱᴛ, ʙᴜᴛ ʜᴏɴɢᴊᴏᴏɴɢ ꜰᴇʟʟ ʜᴀʀᴅᴇʀ|ᴅᴀʀᴋ ʀᴏᴍᴀɴᴄᴇ (ᴏᴏᴘꜱ)|ᴍᴇɴᴛɪᴏɴᴇᴅ ᴏꜰ ᴋ*ʟʟɪɴɢ

ᴡᴏʀᴅ ᴄᴏᴜɴᴛ: 4.8ᴋ

other members

Summary: He initially aimed to wield Cupid's arrow to ensnare your heart, hoping you would devote yourself entirely to him. Little did he realize that he would end up being the one to give up everything.

Hongjoong reclined on his majestic throne, his fingers interlaced as he scrutinized the list of angels before him, his gaze sharp and predatory. Whispers of insurrection had begun to ripple through the celestial realm, murmurs of discontent brewing against his iron-fisted rule. Tsk, just a bunch of tiresome guys. Perhaps the abundance of idle time in heaven had led them to entertain such foolish notions of rebellion. Hongjoong, with his towering arrogance and self-obsession, saw no flaw in his reign. Clearly, a firmer hand was required to govern these lesser beings; any hint of compassion would only serve to deepen their moral decay.

Naturally, he couldn't simply brush aside the swirling rumors, yet he needed someone to handle the grim tasks for him─eliminate anyone who crossed his path. With their help, he could reclaim his lost reputation under the guise of delivering justice. How perfect the plan is! But, who would he find? 

A sudden knock echoed through the room. "Come in," he commanded, setting aside the documents that had occupied his lap. In walked Cupid, the God of love, his gaze fixed on the ground as he approached the throne. "Your Majesty," he murmured, kneeling on the plush carpet, his wings gracefully draping beside him.

"Is it true that your arrows possess the power to make people fall in love with me?"

"Indeed, Your Majesty," Cupid replied.

"Good," he said with a nod, turning to descend the stairs, his hands clasped behind him. "The throne of the queen has remained unoccupied for quite some time. Now is time to consider it," he murmured softly, though this was far from the truth. Deep down, he was unwilling to let anyone encroach upon his authority. Yet, he knew he must feign concern to keep everyone in the dark.

"Of course I know everyone loves me but I need someone willing to sacrifice themselves for me." He bent closer, a sinister grin curling at the corners of his mouth, making Cupid not dare to meet his gaze. "Am I right?" 

"Ye-yes…" 

Hongjoong straightened up, striding over to Cupid to grab his bow and arrow, fiddling with them playfully. "Okay. It's none of your business now. Get out." 

Cupid slowly backed away, his steps echoing in the vast chamber. As he reached the door, he paused, hesitating before turning to face Hongjoong once more. "Your Majesty, be warned. The consequences of such an act may not be as simple as you think." 

Hongjoong's expression did not change, and his voice was cold as ever when he replied, "Do you understand the meaning of 'none of your business?" He shifted his gaze from the weapons to him, said "I said Get Out. Don't make me twice." 

Cupid nodded and apologized, slipping out of the room and leaving Hongjoong alone with his thoughts and the arrow in his hands. Now here's the problem─who should he shoot? The room fell silent as he scanned over the list of angels before him. He knew that Cupid's power was not infinite, and he would need to find a suitable target to use the arrow on. The idea of someone falling in love with him was abhorrent to him, but he saw it as a means to an end. He would use this power to quell any further whispers of rebellion and strengthen this grip on the celestial realm. 

He needed someone who would be both powerful enough to be a threat and vulnerable enough to be manipulated. 

But is it enough? The answer is No. 

Obviously. 

"What's on your mind, Joong?" The gentle caress on his cheek brought him back from his thoughts as you leaned in to plant a soft kiss on his lips, your smile lighting up the moment. "You space out." 

"I'm just wondering how I'm so lucky to have you by my side" he replied, his hold on your shoulder firm as he drew you nearer, placing a tender kiss on your forehead. You laughed softly at his sentiment, nestling your face into the warmth of his neck.

"Don't lying~" 

"I could never. I'm the King of Gods, Y/N." 

You lifted your chin to catch his eyes, which wandered to your lips. With a silent understanding, you shut your eyes, and he leaned in, his lips brushing against yours. The kisses grew more intense as he hovered above you, the warmth of your body igniting as your nipples pressed against his chest. There was nothing but only your kissing sound rang in your ears, bringing both of you to pleasure.

An addictive pleasure.

Yes, the King of Gods. How could he fall in love with you? Though he never openly confessed it, his body revealed the truth. Each time his gaze fell upon you, a deep-seated desire awakened within him.  He found it impossible to resist the urge to possess you, to make you his own. Physically. What began as a stare soon escalated into a touch, a peck, a hug, and finally sex.  It was the work of Cupid's arrow; he accidentally wounded himself when he shot you. And that's how this tale unfolds. Actually he could eliminate the effect of Cupid's arrow, as long as he healed the wound, but he never did it. Maybe he got used to it, to you being there beside him, fulfilling his every whim.

He chose you for a reason. It's simple; you are strong, loyal, and above all, you love with a passion that defies logic. He spent lots of time gathering information on the various angles and their strengths and weaknesses. You were the most perfect one, fulfilling all the requirements he needed. 

"Y/N?" he murmured, pulling away from the kisses, his voice a gentle whisper.

"Hmm?" you replied, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, feeling the warmth radiate from him.

"I need you to do something for me," he said, taking your hand and bringing it to his soft, pink lips, where he pressed a tender kiss against your palm.

"What is that?" 

"The angels." His voice was resolute as he tightened his grip on your hand. "Kill them all." 

You frowned for a moment, but it quickly transformed into a smile. "Yes, my lord." 

"You're not asking why?" 

"I'll do everything for you, no matter how hard, as long as you ask, " 

"Oh my dear. You're really my good girl." He leaned down to kiss you again, prompting a delighted giggle from you.

"So can I get some reward?" You tilted your head, pulling him closer. 

"Of course you can. My lovely girl." 

You both drew closer, lost in a fervent kiss that ignited the air around you. His hands eagerly sought yours, intertwining fingers with a firm grip as he buried his face into the curve of your neck. His lips brushed against your skin, tracing the delicate patterns of pink and purple hickeys that adorned you. Each caress sent waves of warmth through you, making you feel as if you were melting away, surrendering completely to the moment. Breathy moaning flew from your tongue as something solid rubbed against your sensitive clit, the excitement built up within your body. 

Your legs climbed up to his waist, encircling him to pull him nearer. Each subtle movement of his cock sent waves of sensation through you, teasing you until you found yourself pleading for more. He won't do anything even if he has an impatient temper. He needed you to beg, begging for his alms, his mercy. His proud spirit would never allow him to fulfill the desires of others without a sense of triumph. He would only grant his "gifts" when he could relish the power that came from your desperate pleas.

"Please…please…joong. I need you." You let out a small whimper as everything was too gentle for your liking, the emptiness almost driving you to lose control. An evil-like smirk came out from his body as one of his hands reached down to grip his cock, moving up and down to rub your clit with its tip. He made sure you could feel every hard press, every movement, every vibration when he let out a low growl.

"Oh baby, see how beautiful you are." He stared at your reddened clit covered with his pre-cum, flattening his thumb to press against your bud. You tumbled as the sudden pleasure rushed through your mind, feeling your bottom lip begin to shake as he kept brushing. "Tell me baby, do you want my cock, huh?" 

"Ye-yes. Please fill me up with your seeds, my lord. I need you." "Good slave." Your broken voice stopped as he shoved his cock into your cunt without warning, making you hold your breath. Shutting your eyes tightly, you let him to batter your sweet spot to chase his high and enjoyment. 

Not knowing why. Your heart twisted painfully at the sound of the word 'slave.' It wasn't the first time he had labeled you this way, yet the sting felt fresh. Was it merely a dirty word used on the bed, or did it reflect the reality of how he perceived you? Memories flooded your mind, taking you back to the beginning. When did your feelings for him begin to blossom? And when did he start to see you in a different light? What could possibly draw a King of Gods to a mere angel, one without power or the strength of the other goddesses?

It seems like everything suddenly changed overnight. 

"You space out." A commanding tone escaped his lips, prompting a startled gasp from you. His hand moved to clutch your cheeks, applying a firm pressure that stung. As you blinked open your eyes, you found his gaze locked onto yours, brimming with fury and envy. He squinted, scrutinizing you like a predator assessing its next target. 

"Are you thinking about other men?" 

"No. My lord. I could never do that."

He leaned down, his hot breath pooling against your skin,sending shivers down your spine. "You can only think about me, understand?You're mine, only mine." 

You were hesitant for a while but you soon brushed aside the doubtness within your mind, wearing a smile and repeating what he liked to hear. 

"Yes, my lord. I'm yours, forever yours." 

"You better remember this." Before he finished his words, he shoved back with all his might, plunging your spot over dead on. "Joong!!" Your back painfully arched at the way his hard tip battered your ruined cunt; his fat cock rubbed along the curve of your wall harshly to ensure you feel every vein of that. A powerful push after a powerful push. He suddenly stopped thrusting and got off the bed, clenching your ankles to tug you to the side until your ass hung in the air. His cock pushed back to your cunt once his fists clenched around your wrists for balance, plunging your depth again. 

You let out a broken moan as his ball slapped your ass and his thighs hit yours, producing a loud skin slapping sound. The jolt of the impact radiated from your thighs, enveloping your entire body in a wave of pain that left you breathless. Tears streamed down your face, spilling over and soaking the crumpled sheets that bore the marks of your tumultuous struggle. Watching you in this state, he felt an unexpected pang of sorrow, though he quickly dismissed it. It was just that damned injury, he reasoned, not any deeper feelings for you. Gradually, he eased his pace and intensity, allowing you a moment of respite. With a firm grip, he lifted you and settled back onto the bed, positioning you on top of him.

"Ride me." 

Almost without thinking twice, you started swaying your hips in a circle, rubbing each other's pelvis at a steady pace. His cock went so deep in this position, let alone the way he pressed you lower by gripping firmly on your waist. "Joong…it's too much…" "Oh dear, don't you want my seed?Huh?" "Ye…yes…" "Then fuck yourself harder and make me cum or I'll fuck you until you pass out." It wasn't a decision you could make; it was an order, and you had no option but to obey him. A quiet whimper escaped your trembling form as you started to move rhythmically, letting him penetrate as deeply as possible.

"Oh fuck, Y/N. That's so good." He leaned his head against the pillow, a deep moan escaping his lips, enjoying how your velvet wall was tightening around his cock. There was something intoxicating about witnessing his blissed-out expression; it felt like you had finally brought him joy. Yet, this moment felt altered. A nagging sensation crept in, making you feel like nothing more than an object, a plaything. Why?What happened to your mind? 

"Baby, cum for me. I need to feel you." 

But you couldn't as the pain had already replaced the pleasure. He sensed your uneasiness so he pulled you down without a word, making you laid on him completely. 

"What's wrong?" 

"No-nothing." 

"You worry about the mission?" 

"Huh?" You raised your eyebrow but soon nodded. But you knew that's a lie.

"Don't fret, darling." He brushed his lips against your forehead, a playful smile dancing across his face. "It's a piece of cake. I'll lend my power to you, and you'll take them down effortlessly. After that, no one will disturb us, and you'll be my wife, my queen."

He vowed once more, fully aware of your longing, your weakness. You craved more than just a physical connection; you yearned to be his true partner, his other half. Yet, he kept your bond a secret from the world, merely whispering that he would marry you someday. Each time, you found yourself softening, placing your trust in him. Perhaps love truly was blind.

"You promise?" 

"Of course, sweetheart. I would never deceive you. He wriggled you to the bed, his lips capturing yours in a passionate embrace. "Let's finish what we started," he murmured between kisses, effortlessly erasing any lingering uncertainty from your mind.

—-----

Y/N, what are you doing?!” your partner yelled, agony etched across his face as he pressed his hand against the gaping wound, desperately trying to halt the blood that seeped through his fingers. “Are you…trying to kill…us?!” His sword fell from his grasp, clattering to the ground as he gasped for air.

With your blade, stained with his blood, you pointed menacingly at him. “Just following orders.” In a swift motion, you lunged forward, your sword gleaming in the sunlight as you aimed to strike.

Just as you were about to slice through his throat, a massive beam struck you from the side. “Damn it!” There was no time to evade the blow. An earth-shattering explosion erupted the instant the beam made contact, engulfing you in a cloud of smoke that choked the air with its acrid stench.

“Did I do it…?” your partner whispered, the glow at his fingertip dimming as he crumpled to the ground, lifeless. The smoke gradually cleared, revealing the heartbreaking scene before you, yet you stood there, unmoved. The recent assault had been devastating, but Hongjoong's strength had mended your wounds and lifted the "curse" that had plagued you.

"What have I done...?" you whispered, your voice trembling with the weight of your thoughts. A rush of memories surged through your mind like a relentless wave, momentarily paralyzing you in its wake.

“Hands up!Put down the weapon!” You spun around in terror, your heart racing as you beheld a squad of angels, their weapons drawn and aimed directly at you in perfect synchrony. You recognized the armor they wear and their roles─the army of the King of Gods. 

“Get her!” Before you could react, darkness enveloped you as they pulled the triggers and stole your power. 

—----

Hongjoong stared out the window, savoring a sip of wine while he awaited your return. Once you completed the last elimination, he could leverage your involvement to restore his tarnished reputation in court. By shifting all the blame onto you, he believed everything would finally revert to the way it once was: The archangel's strength had diminished with the departure of his followers, leaving him unchallenged; soon, he would gain renown for his pursuit of justice.

And the wound left by Cupid's arrow….?Well, he would heal it. Maybe. His understanding of his own heart was murky, clouded by the belief that everything stemmed from that fateful shot. True love seemed an impossibility for him; to him, you were merely a means to an end, a plaything. As long as you served his needs and followed his lead, he would reciprocate. This was the narrative he spun for himself, blind to the way his heart ached at the mere thought of your leaving. 

"Finally, no one can bother me anymore." An evil-like laugh echoed in the chamber. 

—---

Upon discovering the massacre of countless angels at your hands, he feigned outrage, wrongfully charged you with insurrection, and swiftly took you into custody. As you knelt before the temple, your wings draping beside you, you lowered your head in submission to Hongjoong's decree.

"Do you know what you have done?" Hongjoong asked.

You lifted your chin, locking eyes with him. There was no warmth in his expression, just the thrill of imminent victory. As you averted your gaze, a weight settled in your chest under his stare. You knew you had to utter the words Hongjoong longed to hear. "I sacrificed the lives of soldiers to eliminate the demons," you declared coolly, betraying no hint of regret.

"They were not just soldiers, but your brethren, your fellow warriors!" The archangel on the judgment seat curses loudly, heartbroken for the companions you sacrificed. 

"I apologize for being direct. Angels chosen to defeat demons are destined to become martyrs. From the moment we were created, we have been ready for a noble death in combat..." You followed all the words Hongjoong taught you before. 

"Absurd!" The archangel's booming voice interrupts your explanation. "Y/N! As an angel, you are meant to hold life sacred and not justify such careless disregard for it with false reasoning! Merely being born as warriors does not give you the right to treat life so frivolously!" 

"Silence!" Hongjoong's cold voice cut through the archangel's roar. "Y/N, I once saw you as a loyal and formidable angel. Your unorthodox methods were accepted by me. But I never anticipated that you would overstep boundaries and disregard life for your own ambitions."

"No…I…" "Y/N, for betraying the divine, you shall be stripped of your angelic status and condemned to live on Earth until you reform yourself."

"No!!" Your cries fell on deaf ears as no one heeded your pleas. "Take her away to prison and set a date for her execution," the heartless judgment sealed your fate, and despite your frantic denials, it was all for naught.

—---

 Hongjoong returned to his chamber with a heart full of joy, having finally achieved his dream. Yet, as he swung the door open, he was met with an empty room, devoid of any warm welcomes or affectionate kisses. How could he have overlooked your absence? You were supposed to be there, weren't you? He shed his clothes and sank into the sofa, yearning to pull you close, to feel your presence beside him. But all he grasped was the emptiness of the air. No one was there. 

"Tsk…"He sighed softly, glancing at the cut on his finger with a hint of irritation. Flopping onto the sofa, he tried to shake off the nagging thought. Yet, a chill crept over him, and instinctively, he called out for you, "Y/N. Cuddle." He longed for your comforting presence, just like always. He soon realized he missed your existence again, feeling more annoyed. Why? He shouldn't behave that way. The truth is, he didn't have feelings for you. Or did he? If that's the case, why did he long for your presence and feel a deep ache in your absence?

He straightened his posture, his fingers weaving through his hair as he pondered for a moment. Perhaps it wasn't so painful to have you close by. After all, having a compliant angel by his side wasn't a bad thing at all. He could still rely on you to fulfill his desires. Yes, it was perfectly fine that he wished for you to remain. 

As he made his way to your cell, a sense of conviction washed over him. He dismissed everyone else, feeling a thrill of anticipation at the thought of being embraced by you once more, just like before.

The door creaked open but you didn't come out.

"Y/N?" He felt a twinge of disappointment when you didn't envelop him in kisses. Little did he know just how deeply he had missed you. 

You reclined in the cell, your eyes fixed on the moon's glow. Upon seeing him, you sank to your knees, the sharp clatter of metal resonating through the space.

"Your Majesty." Your tone was icy, sending a shiver through the air. Hongjoong's brow furrowed, struggling to adapt to the chill in your demeanor. 

"We're alone here, my dear." 

"No. Your Majesty. I beg you, don't address me that way." 

Hongjoong's heart sank as he realized the change. He stepped closer, trying to read the emotions in your eyes. "Y/N, what's wrong?Why are you so distant from me?" 

You looked up at him, your eyes filled with a mix of sadness and resignation. "Your Majesty, I cannot bear the weight of your expectations any longer. I'm not the obedient angel you seek." 

"What're you talking about?" 

"I've wanted to be more than just a pawn in your game. But I was wrong. No matter what I did, you just saw me as a tool." 

"Who told you that?" He let out a nervous chuckle, looking guilty.

"Cupid's arrow." 

"What?You…?" Hongjoong's heart contracted as he took in your words. He didn't expect you to know the truth. 

"How did I know that? Do you want to ask?" Your eyes filled with pain and a hint of defiance, tears streaming down your face. "Thanks to your power. It heals the wound left by the arrow." 

"No, I…Y/N…don't be like this." Hongjoong stumbled over his words, his voice a mere breath against the silence. His heart twisted painfully, overshadowing any joy he felt upon achieving his aim. Could a mere scratch evoke such torment? Certainly not. He had been captivated by you for ages, yet he had been too oblivious to see it. 

"You don't have to pretend to love me anymore. It's over." 

"That's not acting." Hongjoong took a step forward, his hand reaching out to you but you flinching away. 

"Yeah, you're right. You're not acting as it's what you want to do." You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head and your tears falling faster. ""You manipulated me to eliminate anyone who stood in your way. You made endless promises to earn my trust, yet not a single one has been fulfilled because you never intended to let them into your heart."

"No, Y/N." He pulled your hands into his, gripping tightly as if he feared you might slip away. "I can make you my queen, my wife. I haven't forgotten any of the promises we made. Just please, don't act like this, alright?"

"Why can't you understand?Hongjoong?" You took your hands back, letting out a heavy sigh. "I can't be with you the way you want me to be. I can't be your obedient angel anymore." 

Hongjoong's heart sank as he realized that you were leaving him. He had never felt this way before─the fear of losing you was consuming him. 

"Y/N, please stay with me. I need you." 

"You just need a slave, not me." 

Hongjoong watched you sit down on the chair with your eyes closed. His heart was heavy with loss. He had never realized how much he needed you until now. "I understand." He stepped backward, tears filling his eyes. His sad voice made your heart sink, you shouldn't though. 

"I know what I need to do now." He let out a bitter smirk before walking away from you, leaving you alone in the cell. 

—----

From that moment on, Hongjoong slipped away from your world. Even after mending the ache left by Cupid's arrow, he struggled to let go. His days blurred into a monotonous routine within the confines of his room, where he gazed at the familiar walls, lost in memories of the moments you shared. He sought someone to fill the void you left behind, but no one could ever occupy the special place you held in his heart. He longed for your presence, for your touch, for your warmth. But all he had was the memory of your final words and the emptiness of his chamber. 

It pushed him to the brink of madness, leaving him in a constant state of irritation. He felt utterly misunderstood, with no one to offer him solace. Despite the pleas for compassion from those around him, he stood unmoved. The once-familiar feelings of superiority and joy he had derived from this situation had long since faded away.

There was only one way to deal with this problem─Make everything go back to the past. 

The moment of reckoning has finally come, and you find yourself bound to a pillar at the heart of the execution ground, staring at Hongjoong, who presides over the judgment from his elevated seat, flanked by angels and deities who harbor a deep loathing for you. 

A chilling breeze caresses your cheeks, making the hem of your white skirt flutter softly; your disheveled hair obscures part of your face, yet it cannot shield you from Hongjoong's piercing gaze. Perhaps the pain has dulled your senses, and while fear should grip your heart, you feel nothing but a profound stillness. All you desire is to escape this torment and leave the haunting memories behind.

The judge's voice echoed in the courtroom as he started to deliver the verdict. You shut your eyes tightly, indifferent to the portrayal of you as a monster, a devil steeped in vile deeds, with some even daring to claim you were in league with the devil himself. Meanwhile, Hongjoong, perched on the elevated platform, gripped his fists in silence, each word striking at his composure. Though his expression remained impassive, the tension in his hands betrayed him, veins standing out starkly against his skin.

"Y/N has committed a heinous crime and should be executed upon questioning!"

Hongjoong rose from his seat, striding purposefully toward the execution platform. The gods gazed at him, their expressions a mix of reverence and disbelief. Wasn't this he yearned for so long? Yet, it felt wrong. Instead of triumph, his heart ached as if it were being ripped apart, and no amount of admiration could fill the void of sorrow within him. Especially when he met your calm gaze; it was as if his heart was ensnared by thorny vines, leaving him breathless. Perhaps he didn't truly understand love; all he knew was that the agony of loss eclipsed any pain he had endured before.

Thus, he yearned for your return, for you to stay by his side forever.

With a fierce determination, he raised the long sword, its blade crackling with the energy of lightning, pointing it skyward. Dark clouds gathered ominously overhead, and a thunderous roar echoed through the air. Lightning danced across the heavens, illuminating the swirling storm, causing gasps of terror to erupt from the onlookers. 

His eyes blazed with a brilliant light as he felt every ounce of his power converge at the sword's tip. With a swift motion, he brought the sword down, unleashing a torrent of lightning that struck the unsuspecting gods around him. The explosive force sent shockwaves through the air, and you could only watch in horror as the once-sacred temple transformed into a nightmarish battleground.

Paralyzed by fear, words escaped you. Before you stood a figure descending slowly, a bloodied bow and arrow in his grasp—Cupid's arrow.

"Y/N," he murmured your name softly, but it sent a shiver down your spine. He advanced toward you, each step drawing closer, and you could only stand frozen as his shadow enveloped you, tightening its grip.

"I said I never forgot my promise." 

"What're…you doing…?" 

"I can make you my queen now." He pressed the arrow firmly against your chest. As you gazed into his eyes, reason slipped away, leaving only confusion. Yes, you felt utterly foolish. How could he possibly let you escape? He was determined to seize everything and everyone he valued, regardless of the cost.

"Hongjoong…" 

He ignored your words. 

"You belong to me, now and always. You know you love me, and there's no escaping this." His voice was a soft whisper against your ear, punctuated by a tender kiss.

"And no one will bother us anymore." He struck at your heart like an arrow, causing a sharp gasp to escape your lips. His arms enveloped you, his touch a soothing balm against the ache.

"Will you stay with me forever, Y/N?" 

With a slow, deliberate motion, your hands found their way to his waist as Hongjoong broke your handcuffs, pulling you closer. 

"Yes, my lord." 

A warm smile spread across his face as he tucked a strand of hair behind your ear, his fingers trailing down to caress your cheek before resting gently under your chin. 

"That's my good girl." 

You were his, again.  

[redvexillum]

This story has me absolutely WEAK. 😩💖

The way it starts off with such a casual, comfortably possessive vibe from Alastor and Lucifer is so freaking cute, with their warmth, teasing, and soft morning interactions. You can feel the intimacy and tenderness radiating off them—Alastor's cheerful voice and that delightful, smooth vibe he gives off is just so freaking sexy. But then—OH THEN—it all goes wildly chaotic and steamy, and I am HERE for it. 😍🔥

I mean, you get this cozy, sweet moment where Alastor is all playful with his "Five more minutes" routine (and let’s not forget the adorable clinginess), but the tension starts building in such a perfect way! The way Alastor starts getting possessive over you, especially with his little teasing growl and that claws on your hip moment? HOLY. The whole situation is a mix of flirty and intensely dominant, which I am living for. 😏

But THEN—Lucifer, the king of all sarcastic taunts, just casually gets involved in the morning shenanigans, adding a whole new layer of playful power struggle between the three of you. I love how Lucifer is just amused by the whole thing, casually letting you get under Alastor’s skin, while also knowing what’s coming. The humor and banter are delicious. 😌💖

And let’s talk about that little wiggle moment. I can't even—Alastor’s warning growl? The shivers from his sniffing and nipping at your neck? Like, the tension building here is so juicy that I’m practically sweating. His voice, dripping with that playful but dangerous tone, is just—ugh, it's everything. Punish me, Alastor, please. 😈

Now, can we just take a second to appreciate how the anticipation builds even more after you take your sweet time with that shower? Like, you know what's coming, but the waiting, the teasing—you’re in trouble and you’re loving every second of it. 😏

And then—OH MY GOD. The moment you walk back into that room and Alastor is just ready for you, Lucifer all riled up, and everything goes into full sexy chaos mode. The power dynamic here is insane. I am dying at Alastor’s feral grin, his complete control over the situation, and how you're just so done for.

But the climax (pun intended) of this whole scene? Lucifer, still not quite ready to give up that easy, being the perfect foil to Alastor’s dominance, while you’re stuck in this incredible trap of heated kisses, possessive groping, and literally being pinned down by two men who just adore making you squirm..

And can we just talk about the sensory overload?! The music metaphor for how Alastor and Lucifer work together? Ugh, it’s so perfect! The tension and buildup were absolutely killer, and the way they both took care of the reader, balancing pleasure with just the right amount of pain? OOF. SO GOOD. 😩💓

This whole scene was just so… overwhelming and sensual, like, I don’t even know how to recover from this. I’m dead. DEAD. 💀 It's pure magnificent madness and I'm so here for it. More, please. MORE. 🙌

@redvexillum made me another banner go and give her love, ilysm Azalea 💜

Alastor x Lucifer x FReader

CW: P in V sex, biting, blood, blood consuming (Alastor mild), threesome, anal sex, reader is a brat, small amounts of Dominance/Submission.

Good Morning. 

Buzzzzz.

You hear the static hum as awareness seeps back into your consciousness. 

Warmth is the second thing that registers with you. A warm bundle under your right arm that smells of pome fruit, and aftershave. Your arm tightens slightly in possession, as you feel the same done to you from a weight over your own abdomen. 

A strong arm resting over your waist, the essence of woodsmoke tinged with iron drifts over your shoulder as you feel breath against your cheek, you know the sound you heard means he’s awake. 

“Good morning dearest,” Alastor’s cheerful voice is never tired, and you groan in complaint, he chuckles, and you feel your hair being moved off your forehead as the press of his lips meets the side of your temple, you can feel the ever-present smile on his face even with your eyes still closed. 

Snuggling down into the warm plush pillow, your bladder decides to make itself known as you feel pressure and the need to relieve yourself, grumpily you start to shift around, prepared to clamber over Lucifer to get out of the bed, knowing there’s no way you’d get past Alastor, as he’s very clingy in the mornings. 

As you sling one leg over the Fallen Angel’s waist, Alastor’s arm pulls you back against him, “and where do you think you’re running off to Dear?” A slight growl in his voice, as Lucifer finally rouses, a sound of complaint in the back of his throat as you're pulled away from even cuddling him anymore. 

“We talk about this every morning Al... I have need of the facilities.” 

“Well, Dearest, you know the rules,” came his taunting sing-song voice, as he taps your nose condescendingly, even Lucifer, who has turned over by now to observe, chuckles at your predicament. 

“Five more minutes,” you grumble. 

“Correct, ‘five more minutes’” Alastor hums, pleased, wrapping both arms around you, effectively trapping you, but being mindful not to squeeze your lower abdomen. 

Lucifer snuggles against your front now, boxing you in, and you whine in complaint, but Alastor simply responds by wrapping a long leg over the top of yours, pinning them down too. 

“You two will be the death of me,” you whinge. 

“Good job you’re already dead then isn’t it my sweet,” Lucifer laughs. 

“Don’t you start too,” you complain, making both men laugh. 

“You know how needy Alastor is in the morning love, just let him do his thing,” Lucifer says, kissing you gently as you blink your eyes open, smiling at him.

“Yes, my King,” you say with a mischievous grin at him, knowing it irks Alastor when you give Lucifer reverence of his station. As evidenced by the increase in the sound of static from behind you and the annoyed huff that makes your hair ruffle slightly.

A devious thought enters your head, quickly you grasp Alastor’s knee, and gently tug him even closer to you, causing a pleased sound from your Deer Demon as he presses himself against you fully. 

You then wriggle your bum. A sharp inhale comes from behind you, as Lucifer snorts in laughter, knowing full well what you’re doing. 

“Do you really think you want to do that right now dear?” Alastor’s voice warns you as the stimulation causes a slight swelling to press against you. 

You giggle, “Absolutely,” wiggling again causing his claws to prick your hip as he hisses. 

“You’re looking to be punished... aren’t you dear?” Alastor taunts, his nose burying in the crook of your neck, the hair on the back of your neck standing up as it tickles you slightly whilst he sniffs you. 

“Me? Never,” you feign shock as Lucifer basks in your warm embrace, pressing his head against your soft chest, his eyes closed as he listens to the pair of you in amusement, his own morning issue throbbing slightly between his legs, but he wasn’t going to let you know about that yet, not when taunting Alastor is so much funnier to watch. 

You try to wriggle away from Alastor again as he sniffs your neck harder, effectively tickling you, causing you to flinch and laugh, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, okay you win,” you laugh as he doesn’t let you go. 

Alastor stops his antics, his grin triumphant as you look over your shoulder at him, your bladder spasms again, reminding you of its growing desperation, “all right, now let me up,” trying to wriggle out of his grasp, he growls once more and you huff, increasing your resistance. 

He puts head back in your neck and his teeth sink into your flesh in warning, causing you to yelp in surprise. Lucifer laughs at your dilemma, “It’s not time yet,” he chuckles. 

“How long,” you say in a whiny voice. 

“Oh... right about... ... ... now,” Alastor says cheerfully as he releases all his hold on you, leg and all. Lucifer also lets his embrace relax, accompanied by a laugh. 

You huff in annoyance; Lucifer lets you hurriedly clamber over him to get out of the bed. 

“Oh Dearest? Do hurry back...” Alastor says amused, “You wouldn’t want us to ‘relieve’ ourselves without you after all,” of course he knows Lucifer also has a hard on. 

You are feeling stubborn, so stick your finger up over your shoulder as you go to walk out of the room, you feel a light thud on your back, you look around in annoyed confusion as a duck falls to the floor with a squeak, your eyes narrow at a suspiciously ‘innocent’ looking Alastor. 

Annoyed and deciding to be disobedient this morning you decide to take your sweet arse time, lest he get too cocky in his control over you. As much as you badly want to rush back to them and not miss out on a second of time with them, you decide to take a shower too. 

After a shower, knowing full well you’ve earned unescapable punishment by now you decide that you should go for all or nothing, and go downstairs to take things a step further, so you make a coffee for yourself, taking your time to drink it, smirking to yourself as Husk asks why you’re so happy today, you give a non-committal answer, mind already back upstairs. 

Deciding you’ve left them both (Alastor) to stew for long enough, you prepare a coffee in his favourite mug for him and a plate of pancakes for Lucifer knowing full well there’s no chance Alastor would let your attitude go unpunished for long enough that they don’t get wasted. 

Wandering back upstairs, you school your features before walking back into the half bayou bedroom, as soon as you open the door you hear the moaning, you close the door swiftly behind you so no one else can hear. 

Looking over at the bed to see Alastor’s red piercing stare directed unerringly at you, as Lucifer, hooked sideways across his lap, gets teased with his claw tips, stimulating the head of his aching weepy cock. 

Alastor looks threateningly at you; Lucifer’s eyes are squeezed shut as he whimpers, Alastor expertly keeps up with teasing him, his claws gently pressing into the clearly abused flesh. 

“We’ve been waiting for you Dear, poor Lucifer has been taking all my attention while you’ve been absent without leave,” his static voice dominating the room. 

Your hands shake, half in fear, half in excitement, you know what Alastor’s displeasure means for you, but deciding to play it cool, you breeze over to the bed, placing the mug and plate down on the bedside table, “I brought breakfast,” you say ignoring his statement, despite the heat pooling in your belly, and moisture saturating your undergarments. 

Alastor’s smile turns absolutely feral, you look into his eyes defiantly as Lucifer whimpers as his hand releases him, you feel rather smug at being able to draw such emotions from his easily readable eyes. 

You shriek as a clawed hand grasps the front of your night gown, Lucifer is indignantly shoved aside with one hand, in favour of swiftly pulling you down on top of Alastor, who keeps a firm, sharp grip on you, making you wince as his eyes darken to radio dials. 

“I suppose you found your little stunt terribly entertaining,” he purrs as he pulls your face down to meet his brutal kiss, as Lucifer huffs in annoyance at being neglected now, so he presses himself into your side, kissing your shoulder as your nightwear gets shredded, exposing heated flesh. 

The world spins, and you feel the plush mattress on your back as you’re caged in by long arms, not many have been in this position with the Radio Demon and lived to tell the tale, you feel rather smug, as you moan into the kiss, his tongue forcing its way into your eager mouth as you give as good as you receive. 

Lucifer’s tail winds around your arms, pulling your wrists together as he starts kissing your neck. The dual attentions making you moan. 

“You my Dear, I’m afraid, are in big trouble.” Alastor's voice is back to being deliriously happy, which makes you more nervous, as it means he has formulated a meticulous plan for revenge, not driven by emotions anymore. 

His nips to your body, are indeed punishing, making you cry out with every single bite, not too deep, but enough that each one bleeds, he makes sure to taste every single one, getting lower and lower as he goes, Lucifer lying beside you, watching with heavy eyelids, stroking his impressively thick cock as he watches Alastor’s progress down your body. 

You lick your lips as you spot the bead of precum on top of his tip, but Lucifer just smirks and bringing his palm up to the top of his cock gathers the moisture to rub into his already moist skin, he tsks at you, fully agreeing with Alastor at your need for punishment. 

Which is technically giving you exactly what you want, but you’d never tell them that. 

You wince and gasp as your attention is drawn back to Alastor with another sharp bite that smarts, and makes you hiss, right around your nipple, Alastor smirks again, suckling at the blood in pleasure before moving on, down your stomach, small bites that leave marks in a straight line slightly off centre, avoiding your belly button, before sinking his teeth into your right hip. 

He keeps his torment up, until he spreads your legs open wide, Lucifer catching your left leg to keep it open, and Alastor keeping his hand on your right knee joint, making sure you stay spread wide as he inhales your mouthwatering almost floral fragrance of arousal. 

The sound of jazz floating across the room as the radio comes to life startling you slightly, drawing your attention away from the sinful demon between your legs briefly, before a sharp piercing pain on the inside of your right thigh causes you to cry out, your eyes shooting back down as your still bound hands tangle in his hair, catching on his antler in your haste. 

You feel a huff of air as he laughs, still keeping his teeth lodged in the meat of your inner thigh, he bites a little harder, causing you to half moan, half cry out in pain, you tug sharply on his hair in protest. His smile, impossibly widens, keeping his teeth steady, threatening you for just a little longer with them, before withdrawing, and licking the wound soothingly as you whimper.

“Now, what do you have to say for yourself Dear?” Keeping up with the soothing action of running the flat of his tongue on the reddened, bleeding bite, this one worse than all the others. 

“I brought you a coffee,” you say cheekily as he growls in warning, knowing the kind of brat you can be. 

You cry out as Lucifer’s teeth sink into the other side of your neck as he punishes you this time. 

“Don’t be naughty sweetheart, you wouldn’t want to provoke our dear Alastor now, would you?” Lucifer says lovingly, his bite not nearly as vicious as Alastor’s had been. 

“No, my Liege,” you say to wind Alastor up even more, by giving Lucifer more attention and respect than Alastor. 

You gasp as you feel cool air suddenly hit your puffy, excited mound as your underwear meets the same fate as your sleepwear, tossed unceremoniously aside. 

A rough tongue plunging inside you, you feel immediate sparks from static inside you in his annoyance, making you moan as your inside's spasm, almost like a mild electric shock. 

“Already so wet love?” Lucifer comments, his hand hadn’t stopped rubbing his own throbbing need even once. 

All you can do is whimper in response before Alastor drags his tongue out and up to your needy clit, rubbing the flat of his tongue over it just once before pulling away, making you whine in protest, feeling empty, desperate in a different way than this morning. 

“Ready to apologise yet Dear?” Alastor raises a brow. 

“Make me,” you growl back, making both men laugh in delight. 

“Oh, don’t worry, I will.” He mutters, his fingers sinking deep inside you, as Lucifer gives attention to your non agitated nipple, his long tongue making you arch your back into his mouth, whining for more. 

Alastor’s fingers firmly but slowly rubbing the inner walls of your soaking wet pulsing heat, your hips buck, trying to make him speed up, the tips of his fingers bumping your soft g-spot each time, making you feel frenzied. 

Feeling a tentacle wrap around your wrists as Lucifer’s tail releases you, your arms raising above your head are pinned, making you let go of Alastor’s hair, a sound of complaint escapes you. 

You do spot Alastor’s wagging tail over his shoulder, making you smirk. 

You protest again at not being allowed to touch. 

“Touching is for good little pets, not brats who don’t follow the rules,” Alastor growls with a harsh push of his fingers, making that thrust in particular hit your cervix, making you cry out again.

Lucifers tongue and sucking mouth not giving a moments reprieve. His hand a blur on his own length now. 

You feel the tightening in your stomach as you get built up on their combined efforts. 

Just as you feel yourself about to burst, everything stops, Alastor's fingers stop, and even Lucifer withdraws from your chest, as you open your eyes you see Alastor’s fingers wrapped in Lucifer’s hair, clearly having dragged him off you. 

You pant, the flush in your cheeks and mess of your hair from the heat of the moment making you look delightfully debauched, you see Alastor’s arousal through his pyjama trousers, (The annoying deer hadn't even gotten nude yet, much preferring the power dynamics of having both you and Lucifer bare and at his mercy, before indulging you both, only after you are desperate and needy for him). 

You whine, arching your back enticingly, trying to make one of them (Lucifer) break, and take pity on you. 

“Ah, ah, ah” Alastor says, his smile unchanging, a sting from a slap to your inner thigh, lower than the bite, punishing you again for your obvious attempt at manipulation. 

“Say it,” Alastor demands, his claw tips digging in where he left his hand on your trembling inner thigh. 

“Please,” you try again, making Alastor laugh and Lucifer to moan. 

“Nice try, but you know what I want to hear Dearest,” his voice lowering, static crackling, his eyes darkening to dials again as he teases you by taking over stroking Lucifer, your hands still bound, keeping you from touching either of them. 

You growl again in need, frustrated and trying to tug fruitlessly at your restraints... both men of power laugh at the pathetic look in your eyes as Alastor breaks down your resolve. 

“I’m sorry,” you whisper. 

“Louder pet,” Alastor demands with another slap to your thigh, another tentacle taking over to stroke Lucifer for him as Lucifer whines and moans, falling back onto the bed as the tentacle is fast and rough with him, making his hips buck, the sight driving you mad. 

“Okay, Okay, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t follow the rules... please, I need you, PLEASE.” you struggle against the tentacle restraining you. 

“Lovely,” Alastor praises, the audio stimulation far better than any other so far as you beg him. 

His fingers return to your weeping slit and your head throws itself back as he starts thrusting inside you at a much more pleasurable pace than before, as he takes control of both yours and Lucifer’s pleasure simultaneously, working you both to your peaks. 

He stops once more, an evil grin on his face, as you both cry out to him, begging for mercy, it’s music to his ears, they twitch in pleasure, as he greedily observes both of your needy swollen throbbing cores. 

Slowly he kicks off his own trousers, making sure you’re both looking, before excruciatingly slowly, dragging himself up your body and sinking inside your glistening, soaking wet, boiling heat with uncanny accuracy. 

You feel like exploding around him instantly as your tight hole stretches to accommodate the intrusion, you moan and thank him profusely. 

His tentacle resumes its torment of Lucifer, as he sharply thrusts his hips inside you once, wanting to hear the melodious cry you always make when he overstimulates you. 

Without fail, the keening whine escapes your throat at your heat tightens from the feel of his cock hitting so deeply inside you with a jolt, fuzzy static filling your ears. 

“Please Al...” You pant, trying to move your hips, but he stalls you by gripping you  tightly, keeping himself fully seated within you for a while longer as he watches Lucifer’s plight. 

You look over and Lucifer is certainly a sight to behold. 

Flat on his back, moaning, his hips rising and falling with every rub of the tentacle around him, claws cutting through the mattress below him, eyes screwed tightly shut, sweat covering his lovely, unblemished body, cheeks puffed out, wings spread out and crushed below his body, feathers rustling as they tremble. 

You feel the return of the blood flow in your arms and your attention is brought back to Alastor as he starts thrusting consistently now, making your head return to the pillows as you scramble for purchase on his back, nails digging in deeply making him groan. 

You moan in supplication, needing more, he leans forward kissing you as his hips pump his cock as deep as possible inside you, his hands helping you raise your hips to the correct angle that has you babbling and incoherent and you feel your entire needy sex clenching as his cock nudges your soft spot inside with precision. 

Moaning muffled by his mouth, trying to kiss him back, but being quite useless as he uses his body to bully yours into submission, crying out as the feeling is too delicious for words to accurately justify. 

“Fuuuuckkk...” feeling more like a doll than a thinking feeling being at this point. 

Alastor hums, pleased, and pulls out of you, making you grab at him in panic, tears in your eyes at the thought of being left in such a state... denied pleasure. 

He laughs in amusement as he scoops you up, and deposits you on top of Lucifer, who’s tentacle friend had withdrawn as you were dropped onto his lap. 

He’s in just as much of a state as you, “H-hello... love,” he manages to pant. 

“Mmmmm,” you reply slumping forward over his chest as you feel Alastor behind you, directing Lucifers cock inside your desperation, making you both moan in relief but also cry out at the pain, even with Alastor preparing you Lucifer’s girth still makes you burn, once you get accustomed, you realise your shaking legs are too weak to ride him, and you almost cry again. 

Alastor chuckles, and strokes your back, “patience Dear,” he coos. 

You moan as you feel wetness between your cheeks, groaning in pleasure as you feel Alastor working your other hole to stretch you in preparation to take them both. 

Otherworldly sounds escape you straight into Lucifers mouth this time as he holds your face, kissing you to help you through this. 

“So tight love, you’d have thought we’d never done this before,” Lucifer says between kisses and his own noises of pleasure. 

You can only whimper as Alastor stretches you with a third finger, thrusting, testing over and over again until he deems you ready. 

You cry out once more as you feel the thick head of his cock pop past the tight ring of muscle, that was still quite tight around his own impressive thickness. 

“Almost there, Dear heart, you’re doing so well my love.” Alastor praises, his caressing not stopping as he eases inside you, you're panting and gasping not stopping. 

Lucifer kissing your face and neck in support as he lets you breathe through this part, leaving your mouth unoccupied, grasping his shoulders tightly. 

Finally, Alastor manages to go balls deep within your most private channel, praises and caresses not stopping as your mind and body try to catch up, slowly you calm down enough. 

“Good pet,” Alastor praises, you nod your head to indicate he can move. 

His hips move in little thrusts this time as Lucifer holds still, getting your body more pliant and used to the feeling again. 

Your fingers dig into Lucifers shoulders harder, drawing blood, he doesn’t mind, his own hands are in your hair as he keeps you both steady and still, showering you with love and kisses as Alastor’s on your hips keep you still. 

Alastor is currently making you make the sounds that come out of your mouth, music to both their ears... it's the closest they think they’ll ever get to heaven, or back in Lucifer’s case. 

Once they both silently agree you’ve had enough care and preparation, they both begin moving in tandem, your volume increasing as you are trapped helplessly between them. 

A blur of overwhelming sensation from the two powerful men. 

Lucifer thrusting up into you, rubbing every inch inside you and feeling Alastor through the other side of your walls, making him moan as you are stuffed to capacity. 

You feel so much heat and tightness, Alastor’s attentions causing slight pain as he speeds up his own thrusting, rolling his hips. Gauging from your sounds, exactly how far to push your limits. 

They work your body like a finely tuned instrument, Alastor’s fingers pressing into your hips, like the keys on a piano. 

While Lucifer’s fingers start rubbing your clit, strumming like a guitar... or acting as the bow he uses on his fiddle. 

Your moaning reaches a crescendo, you cry out as the innumerable sensations overcome your body. 

Squirting violently around Lucifers cock, the cries tearing from you becoming so loud that Alastor adjusts the radio with his power accordingly, as Lucifer tries to hush you with his mouth on yours again. 

Both of them moaning as your holes grip them both like a vice, it’s so tight Lucifer feels a throb of pain, he can’t move an inch, but it matters not as the sensation of you squirting a torrent right onto his pelvis has his own pulsing reach its limit, as he explodes deep inside you, spurting without even needing to thrust, already buried so deep not a single drop escapes. 

Alastor waits patiently for you both to finish, his smile soft, before chasing his own end, using your relaxed body, lifting you by the hips to work his length in and out of you at a speed the isn’t quite painful for you, but enough of a stimulation for him. 

He growls as he bites you on the nape of your neck, one last time, his balls drawing up and reaching his inevitable end. 

“Mine.” 

Alastor pumps his load deep inside you, his hips smoothly thrusting through the transition as his balls empty, making sure to fill you and not waste any of his seed either as you feel the warmth flooding inside you, as he finishes filling you up. 

All three of you slump in an exhausted pile on the bed, Alastor’s ears and tail twitching, Lucifers wings rustle, and you... you’re a trembling mess between them spasming at the slightest twitch within you. 

Alastor is the first to recover of course and withdraws gently, then proceeds to help pull you off Lucifer, you and the King of Hell both make sounds of protest as Alastor’s swiftness makes your bodies jolt. 

Alastor obviously doing so to entertain himself and punish you again for your audacity this morning. 

Situating you so that you’re cuddled into Lucifer’s chest, who presses a kiss to the top of your head bringing his arms around you. 

Alastor makes a noise of displeasure drawing your attention... “Coffee is cold,” he says in disgust, placing the mug back down, and uses his powers to vanish it and the plate of pancakes, much to Lucifer’s annoyance, but he says nothing, content to have you in his arms. 

A hoarse laugh escapes you. 

Alastor grumbles, and snuggles back in behind you, spooning you again, a facsimile of when you first woke up, but now you’re all a sweaty mess of tangled nudity, he kisses your temple again, before nuzzling the back of your neck, smelling you. 

“Good morning indeed.” You chuckle. 

A/N

Please be gentle this is my first time🤣💜💜

[wihellib]

Satan won the Favourite King Personality poll here by almost 10 points with Mammon in 2nd and Lucifer a close 3rd. Asmodeus came in last.

I don’t like tsundere love interests or ones that are mean to me. Leviathan possesses all the personality traits that I’m not fond of, so he’s at the bottom of my list.

Belphegor is too lazy for me. I know he’s Sloth so that’s his whole thing, but I just can’t deal with it.

I’m not a fan of Asmodeus’ weird female thing. However, I might like him more when we learn more about him and see him more in game.

Lucifer is pretty neutral personality wise. Nothing stands out as too good or too bad to me.

Mammon is more laid back/mellow/chill than the other Kings most of the time, which I like as a palate cleanser. His worship of the MC and kindness are big pluses for me. I might get annoyed by his willing obtuseness, though.

Beelzebub has a fun and bombastic personality. He’s definitely not someone I’d want to be around in real life, but in fiction he’s great. I don’t like his forgetfulness, though, and he’s only really nice to the MC after he’s fond of them, which is something to be aware of.

Overall, Satan has the best personality in my opinion. He’s fun, loving, supportive, and very open about his feelings for you. He always encourages you to do what you want, to feel what you want. He’s Wrath itself, but he’s never wrathful towards you. He’s wonderful. I do wish he’d close his eyes while sleeping, though.

[reallychaoticwoo]

Ok. It's kind of long but. An ateez Yeosamg x fan reader. They go down to the area of the concert day before to get some pics and hang out with some friends. While hanging out the topic of virginity and squirting came about and the reader is the only one in the group who never had sex or even touched herself so she didn't have an idea what squirting was. She was wearing Yeosangs jersey at the time* and as Yeosang and Seonghwa pass through Yeosang hears the girls conversation and notices the jersey. And interrupts them and asks the reader to follow him not telling her where. Etc. He makes her squirt more than once if you don't mind. And gives her mind blowing oral, regular sex and rough. And creampies her? From there he realizes how sensitive she was so he makes her squirt after creampie and does after care

It's alot😔

⛓️ Honestly I LOVE requests that are detailed that way i know im writing what you want🖤 With that being said i did take the liberty of adding some possessiveness in there as well, i hope you dont mind lol! As always, i hope you enjoy and thank you for your support!⛓️

✨️A Tiny Trainee✨️

❤️Pairing: Yeosang x reader

📝Word count: 6,834

⚠️Warnings: MDNI!! cussing, smut: fingering, squirting, cream pie, unprotected sex (wrap it up buttercup), slight Dom Yeo, subish y/n, dumbification?, multiple orgasms, oral (f receiving), fingering, slightly possessive Yeo, ummm lmk if i missed anything i suck at these🖤

‼️This is purely for entertainment purposes and does not represent the idol(s) in any way‼️

🖤Hope you enjoy!🖤

It was the day before Ateez's concert and you and your friends could not contain your excitement. You all were currently hanging out in the hotel you'd gotten near the arena they'd be performing at so you wouldn't have to worry about traffic before and after the show.

Wanting to make the most of the day one of your best friends, Hana, asked if you guys wanted to go scope out the area and get a better idea of where you'd be spending the majority of your day tomorrow. Of course, you and your other bestie Fae, agreed.

You all get dressed quickly. You decided on your Yeosang jersey, a little black crop top underneath, and a cute pleated white skirt. You paired the outfit with your black converse and pulled your hair up into a simple ponytail. Finally dressed you all make your way out the door and to the arena.

You couldn't lie, the arena looked a bit small from the outside. You knew it wasn't though, considering how many seats had sold for both of days they'd be there. You walked around for a while, noting the enterances and talking about where they'd probably put the lines for tomorrow. You'd passed a small concrete area that seemed like it'd be a great spot for random dance play. Behind the concrete circle there was a small feild where you and your friends agreed there would probably be merch lines. You guys walked around for about an hour before deciding you all wanted to sit down before continuing your quest of mapping out the area like a trio of pirates mapping their next voyage.

Taking a break from your walking, you made your way closer to the entrance of the building where there were a few trees and places to sit. "So, full delusions speaking, but what would you guys do if you got handed a nda for your bias?" Your friend Hana asked. She was always the first to think of the best (and most delusional) case scenario. "Hmm.. Well besides signing it quickly and jumping his bones?" Fae asked, equally as feral and delusional as Hana. "Well obviously. Okay, okay. Let me ask this then, what would you guys WANT to happen if you got a night with your bias?" Hana asked before quickly answering her own question. "Personally, I'd absolutely die if San did a private performance for me. He'd rip the leather strap off his other sleeve before shoving it in my mouth. Obviously he'd have me squirting repeatedly." Hana sighed daydreaming about her answer. Fae giggled at her friend before giving her answer. "I mean.. I bet it would take less than two seconds for Yunho to make me squirt. Between those hands and the fact we all know that man is hung like a horse, I'd gladly scream his name all night. My only want is that he completely destroys me." You laughed at your two extremely feral friends, not really having anything worthy of adding to their complete smutfest.

Hana noticed you weren't really talking and turned to you, "What would you want to happen if you got a night alone with Yeo? I know you're a virgin but you have to have some fantasies." You thought for a moment. "I mean if i'm being honest, I'd like to just get to know him. I dont even know what squirting is... and I'm not entirely sure if i want to seeing as it has you two loosing your minds. He probably wouldn't even want to take someone to his room that didn't know what they were doing anyways. It'd be nice to just talk.. Get to know more about him then whatever the media posts, ya know?"

What you and your friends failed to realize was that Yeosang and Seonghwa just happened to be walking by and had possibly (most definetly) stopped to ease drop on their fans conversation. They hadn't expected you guys to be dicussing all the sexual things your friends would like to do to their members, but couldn't bring themselves to leave as it was just too interesting to pass up. Seonghwa looked to Yeosang when you were talking and nudged his friend playfully. "You heard her, you can't have that sweet little Atiny thinking you wouldn't enjoy her just because she's a virgin." "Well I also can't just take her virginity for shits and giggles Hwa. That's messed up." Yeosang was quick to reply, a look of disapproval painted on his face at his friends words. "So why don't you at least talk to her? She said that'd be her ideal night with you anyways. See where it goes." Yeosang thought it over briefly as you and your friends continued your chat.

"All I'm saying y/n is it wouldn't hurt to just put yourself out there more." Fae said with a sigh. You looked at your friend with defeated eyes. "I know, but it's not really something I take lightly. I'm not going to mess around with just anyone, and I'm absolutely not just handing over my v-card to someone i don't know won't just take it for granted." A muffled cough caught the attention of you and your friends. Quickly turning your head to find the source of the sound, your eyes widened in shock and awe as you spotted Seonghwa and Yeosang standing mere feet away. They walked closer before greeting you and your friends with a polite smile and wave. "Sorry to intrude on your conversation, but my dear friend Yeosang here couldn't help but notice your jersey. We just wanted to stop and say hi to our fans." The taller of the two spoke with a polite smile, but the gleam in his eyes said there was much more to this greeting than he was letting on. Yeosang was desperately trying to hide the blush creeping up to his cheeks as he turned to you. "Hi, I hope we aren't interupting anything.. I just wanted to say hello and ask if you'd maybe be interested in coming with Hwa and me to talk? It's not very often we get to just converse with our fans, and we're not really supposed to be out and about right now."

You looked to your friends before returning your attention to the etheral looking men in front of you. "We'd love that, thank you." You tried to contain your excitment so you wouldn't scare them off but your eyes were practically gleaming in awe as you looked to them. "No offense to your lovely friends, but we were hoping to chat with just you. I hope that's okay? I can get all of you upraded to VIP and into send off as a thank you for lending us your friend for the evening." Seonghwa directed the second half more towards the two girls staring at you eagerly. "We'd love that!! Thank you so much! We will be on our way then. Take good care of our bestie!" Fae and Hana pulled you in for a quick hug whispering in your ear before they pulled away. "We want ALL the details when you get back tonight!! Good luck girl and please for the love of everything have fun!" With that, your two friends were walking away, leaving you with your bias and your bias wrecker. 'Those horny bitches.' You thought to yourself as they disappeared around the building.

"I hope it's okay we stole you away from your friends.." Yeosang said softly as he turned toward you, bringing your attention back to him and Seonghwa. "Honestly, it was perfect timing. They've been hounding me about my uh.. life choices regarding men so it's a nice break. Plus obviously, I'm a huge fan so I'd be dumb to pass up getting to chat with the two of you." You smiled at him and Hwa as you spoke. The taller of the two spared a quick glance at his shorter friend before focusing his attention on you. "About that, I hope I'm not being too forward, but we did happen to overhear some of your conversation. If you had any questions or wanted to try anything we'd be more than happy to... assist." Seonghwa spoke with such effortless tact. His voice like desire itself, and his eyes pure sin. You gulped feeling a bit insecure under the gaze of someone you were positive knew exactly what he liked and what he was doing. Looking to your feet and shifting from one to the other you tried to come up with a reply that wouldn't have you embarrassingyourself further. Thankfully, Yeosang stepped in before you could open your mouth. "Of course we are more than happy to just keep things friendly! My friend here is just a bit... eager to please. Please don't think we would try and pressure you into anything. If I'm being completely honest I'm perfectly happy just getting to know you." You smiled up at him. "We could uh.. see where it goes then. If that's okay?" You prayed he didn't hear the shaking in your voice. "Of course. Now, are you comfortable coming to my hotel room? We really aren't supposed to be out here right now." Yeosang asked, Seonghwa nodded, confirming his younger members words. You smiled at the two before stepping in between them with a bright smile. "Lead the way!"

The three of you made your way back to Yeosang's hotel room with few words. Once you had all made it inside, the two idols made themselves comfortable. Yeosang took a seat on his bed sitting crossed legged; Seonghwa took to the chair at the desk in the corner of the room. "You can sit anywhere you'd like. You don't have to stay standing. We're hoping you'll decide to be here for a while." Yeosang said while gesturing to the bed and the miniture couch that was not too far away in a small sitting area in the room. "Hah, yeah. I guess it would be pretty uncomforable to stay standing." Your nerves were definately getting the best of you. Depsite the rising anxiety of being in such close proximity to the two idols you most certainly had fantasized about, you made your way to the bed, sitting next to Yeosang.

"Well, it's been a while since we've gotten to have an actual conversation with anyone outside of the company, so tell us about yourself." Seonghwa said as he sat forward, elbows resting on his knees. Yeosang turned in his spot to face you as you spoke. "Well, there's not really a lot to tell. I'm in my 20s, I live relatively close by here. I probably have too many hobbies to count.. Umm, I suck at talking about myself.." You started to trail off, embarassment coursing through your body like a tidal wave. "We could ask you questions then if that's okay?" Yeosang offered. "That works for me." You tired to make yourself relax and not seem so tense as you answered their questions.

SH- "I'm gonna ask a couple, so feel free to answer or not answer whatever you want. You said you have a ton of hobbies, can you list a couple of them? Are you more of a homebody or do you like going out? What's your favorite animal?"

Y/N- "Well, I like to draw, dance, sing, crochet, sometimes i make my own jewelry. Basically anything and everything that can be considered artsy or creative. I also read, build legos, have houseplants. I want to think that I like going out but if I'm being completely honest, I really like being at home and reading a good book or doing any of the hobbies I have. And, hmmm, I know it's weird, but my favorite animal is a capuchin monkey. They're insanely smart and funny. But if we're talking your basic house pets though, I don't really have a favorite. I love them all, cats, dogs, bunnies, fish, they're all adorable!"

YS- "That is a lot of hobbies, but it must be really nice having a multitude of creative outlets. I also like reading and plants. Although, I don't really get to have as many plants as i'd like. Do you have any pictures of your plants? I'd love to see them!"

Y/N- " I do! Here let me show you."

It wasn't long before you found yourself more relaxed in their presence. You were now laid back against the headboard of the bed, Yeosang sat next to you but with a modest amount of space between you two. Seonghwa moved closer, now sitting at the foot of the bed criss crossed facing you and his brown haired friend. "I do want to know, why are your friends so adamant about you getting out there more?" Yeosang shot his black haired friend a warning glare at the invasive question. You choked back a shocked gasp and cleared your throat. " They just want me to be happy and think that somehow getting freaky will make that happen." Seonghwa just nodded to himself at your answer, but Yeosang looked up at you curiously. "Why would they think you're unhappy?" His eyes showed genuine concern even though his face remained neutral. "Well, I guess because I'm always the third wheel when we all go out. They both have boyfriends and I don't. Plus I've complained to them before about how I wish I could find someone I felt comfortable enough to be with romantically and intimately. They think i'm holding myself back, but I don't want to feel like i'm settling, ya know?"

The two men nodded at your confession. Naturally Seonghwa was the only one confident enough to speak during the rather heavy moment of silence. "Do you feel comfortable with us?" Yeosang was quick to shut down his older members train of thought. "No offence Hwa, but I don't think that's really appropriate to ask right now." You glanced up at Yeosang then to Seonghwa and back to Yeo. You shakily reached out your hand to the one sitting next to you. To your surprise, he took it. Taking a deep breathe to gather yourself, you replied. "I do feel comfortable with you two BUT.. there's two big problems with that. One, I don't nessecarily want to loose my virginity to two men at once. That seems..uh.. honestly.. really intimidating. And two, I also don't want to have sex with someone i'm never going to see again. I'm not that kind of person. I always thouoght i'd be in a relationship before I ever did that with someone so I don't really know how I feel about that, even if I know the entire fanbase would probably kill me for passing up the two most gorgeous men that have ever walked the earth." Yeosang's blush was bright red and his hand squeezed yours in understanding. Seonghwa, although he tried to hide it, seemed to blush slightly at the compliment as well.

Yeosang looked to the man on the foot of the bed, a silent conversation going on between the two. Before you could apologize for reluctantly turning them down, Yeosang squeezed your hand again and spoke. "Hwa, I'm going to run over to our managers room to see if we can get some food delivered. Will you come with me?" You were suspicious as to why they both needed to go but before you could ask one of them to stay Hwa was already speaking. "Yeah. I'm starving anyways. Pizza sound good y/n?" You nodded, a sweet smile on your face as you leaned back into the pillows. "We'll be right back. Make yourself comfortable!" Yeosang turned to you with a cheeky smile before shutting the door behind them.

"She is considering it, you know. If you weren't so timid you might actually be able to get her to." The eldest spoke as he walked beside Yeosang. "Despite what you may think, that wasn't and still isn't my goal here. She seems like a really sweet girl and we have a lot in common. I was being completely honest when I said i'm more than happy just getting to talk to her." The shorter of the pair replied a bit sharply. "You two do have a lot in common. Like the fact your friends are also tired of hearing you complain about your lack of love." Seonghwa snapped back before letting out a defeated sigh. "Look it's obvious you both are interested in eachother. I don't care if you end up bringing he back to Korea with us if it means you can actually be happy. Just... just don't keep holding yourself back from possible good things." Yeosang just nodded at the eldest's words. He had a point. Yeosang did like you so far. You two have similar intrests, you've been very sweet and polite, albiet a bit timid, during the little bit of time you all talked, and you were stunning. He had to be honest with himself, he's always hoped that one day when he finally got to settle down it'd be with someone like you.

After what seemed like ages, but was really only ten or fifteen minutes, the pair returned to the room. "Pizza should be here in about 30 minutes. I honestly might pass away before it gets here i'm so hungry." Seonghwa whined as he plopped down on the couch nearby. You giggled at his dramatics finding it rather cute compared to his imdimidating seductiveness from earlier. "I think you can make it 30 minutes drama king. Here I was thinking Wooyoung was the most dramatic of you all." You joked. Yeosang choked back a chuckle while making his way to the bed where you still sat, before adding, "Hwa doesn't play about his food. He might actually pass away if it takes too long. But he most definetly can make it 30 minutes." Seonghwa only lazily glared at Yeosang before pulling out his phone to pass the time.

Yeosang scooted further onto the bed so he could make himself comfortable. "Want to watch a movie while we wait?" He asked. You smiled at him nodding your head. "Heck yeah, movie and pizza is my kind of hang out." You giggled, but internally you were cringing at yourself. Yeosang noticed and quickly asked, "What's your favorite movie?" You thought for a second. "That's hard cause there's so many good ones. Have you ever seen The Fifth Element. It's a bit older, but I love it. It's a si-fi movie and there's a scene in it with an opera singer and her voice is absolutely mesmerizing." Yeosang's eyes sparkled at how excited you were telling him about the movie. "I haven't seen it before, let me see if I can find it so we can watch it." You couldn't contain the giddy smile that spread across your face at the fact your bias was eager to watch one of your favorite movies with you. You felt like you were dreaming. "Found it!" He shouted triumphantly as he pulled up the movie on the TV facing the bed. Pressing play, he smiled at you before leaning back into the pillows and making himself more comfortable.

"You know, we could..uh.. would you want to.. maybe come cuddle?" Yeosang asked looking at you out of the corner of his eyes trying to hide the embarassment spreading across his face. You blushed at his question, but scooted yourself up next to him laying your head on his shoulder. Seonghwa, who was still sitting by himself on the couch glanced over at you two cuddled up together and smiled to himself like a proud mother whitnessing her son's first date.

As you two laid side by side, your head on his shoulder, you couldn't help but stare at the man next to you. He was gorgeous, etheral, like something otherworldly. You couldn't bring yourself to fully comprehend how in the world you ended up next to him in his bed watching your favorite movie, but you weren't complaining. Maybe in a different life Yeosang would be the one you gave up your virginity to, the one you trusted to not leave you. Maybe in a different life he could be the one you ended up with. Maybe.

A knock at the door shook you from your thoughts. Seonghwa shot up like lighting from his seat and answered the door. Grabbing the food from their manager, he said thank you before shutting the door and turning around to place the pizza on the table in the sitting area. The gigantic grin on his face at the sight of the food was priceless and had you giggling to yourself. "He really does love food." You said, turning your head to look at Yeosang. He let out a soft giggle himself, his shoulder lightly moving your head as he laughed. You looked at him with such softness his heart skipped a beat. "You know, I felt you staring at me a second ago. Care to share what you were thinking?" He teased. You hummed in consideration. "Oh, you did? Uh.. nothing really. I was just thinking." "Uh huh, I figured as much. Tell me what you were thinking about." You glanced over to the man stuffing his face full, praying he was too engulfed in his gluttonous love affair to be listening. Looking up at Yeosang you sighed. "Okay but please don't make fun of me... I was just thinking about how if things were different and we met on normal terms that this would be a great first date. How if you weren't an idol who will obviously have to leave in a couple days, that we could maybe actually have a chance at becoming something down the road. It's stupid, I know.." Something inside you almost whimpered at the truth that was inevitable, but you were determined to make the most of the time you have now. "I don't think that's stupid at all. And who's to say we couldn't continue to get to know each other?" You wanted to laugh in his face. There's no way he could think that'd be realistic, but the hope in his eyes said he very much did.

The two of you had made your way to the sitting area. Yeosang claiming the spot next to Seonghwa, and you sitting on the floor in between his legs. "You don't have to sit on the floor ya know?" He said looking down at you. You tilted your head back to meet his eyes and asked, "Well where do you suppose I sit then? You two take up the entire couch." He chuckled at your sassiness and reached down to lift you onto his lap. "You could sit here. That way I don't have to feel all lonely." He replied, earning him a punch on the arm from Hwa who stared at him like he just committed the biggest act of betrayal. "I am literally right here. But I'm glad to see you two finally opening up more. It's actually quite adorable." The matching blush that appeared on your faces only proved the eldest's words rang true.

After quickly eating together you all made your way back to the bed to continue the movie. Before pressing play you and Yeosang filled Seonghwa in on what he'd missed while he was impatiently waiting on the pizza. After catching him up, you resumed your movie, and your cuddling. Once again, you found yourself sparing numerous glances at the man beside you. The butterflies in your stomach fluttering wildy at his proximity, at the fact you were still here with him and Seonghwa and it felt so natural. Seonghwa, feeling a bit left out and lonely scooted closer to you hoping he could join in on the cuddles. Unbeknownst to you Yeosang was quick to glare in his direction, a silent declaration to back off. What you did notice though, was how the brunette pulled you closer into him, wrapping his arms around you and resting his chin on the top of your head. Seonghwa took it for what it was. Yeosang had finally made his decision, even if he wasn't fully aware of it himself. Seonghwa faked a yawn before looking over to the two of you, "Alright you two, I'm gonna head to my room and get ready for bed. Y/n thank you for hanging out and letting me get to know you some. I'll see you tomorrow at the show! G'night Yeo." You said your goodbyes as Seonghwa made his way towards the door. Before he closed the door behind himself he shot his younger member an encouraging wink.

Grabbing your phone for the first time tonight you checked the time, 10pm, and noticed several messages from your friends.

Hana: SOOOO how's it going???

Fae: Girl at least let us know youre alive you can fill us in on the rest later

Hana: I hope your lack of reponce means youre enjoying yourself ;)

The most recent message from a few minutes ago being came from Hana. "Are you coming back tonight or do we need to plan a meet up for tomorrow?'

You looked to Yeosang who quickly noticed the expression on your face. "Your friends message you?" A sigh and a nod, "Yeah they're wondering when i'll be back and it's getting kind of late. I should probably be heading out.." Yeosang's heart quivered at the thought of loosing your company so soon. He wasn't ready for this time together to end, and if he was being honest with himself, he didn't think he'd ever be ready. "You could stay... Ya know, if you want to of course. We haven't even finished the movie and it'd be a shame to have to cut our date short." You glared at him through your lashes, a faint smile spreading across your lips. "Date?" He returned the smile and interlaced his fingers with yours. The simple action sending your heart into a frenzy within your chest. "Yes, date. If you're okay with it being one. I'd like this to be the first of many." You held back your initial reaction to ask him how that would work, how you two would even be able to have more dates. Instead, you squeezed his hand and smiley brightly, your cheeks red and sore from happiness. "I'd love that. Let me text my friends and let them know I'll meet them tomorrow then." He nodded. You quickly typed out a message to your friends, 'Hey, I'm staying the night. I will tell you guys everything tomorrow i promise! We can meet in the lobby in the morning. I'll ttyl!'

Cuddling closely to Yeosang, his arm around you, your head on his chest, your leg draped over his, you felt a pang of want somewhere deep inside you. Deciding to act first for once you looked up at the beautiful man with need in your eyes. "Yeosang..." You whispered softly. He turned his head to look at you, confusion, and something similar to desire swimming in his eyes. "Yes, beautiful?" You couldn't help the immediate blush that dawned on your face. "I...I...I'm comfortable with you.." You couldn't maintain eye contact, looking at his chest as you waited for whatever his response may be. He grinned, softly, sweetly, and lifted your chin so you'd meet his gaze. "Are you absolutely sure?" You gulped, fighting your natural instincts to back out. No. You wanted this, him, it felt right, every single thing about it felt right. "Yes. I'm sure." He nodded and leaned in to take your lips in his own. He pulled back only slightly before he whispered, "Good, I am too."

Before you could so much as question what he meant by that, his lips were crashing against yours yet again. Soft. They were so soft and plush against your own like they had been perfectly made to kiss you and only you. His hand grazed down your side finding its resting place on your hip, his other found purchase at the nape of your neck pulling you closer to him. The smallest of whimpers escaping your lips only to find a home in his. He pulled back to catch his breath, his thumb rubbing gently against your hip. "Lay back for me beautiful. I'll be gentle I promise, and we can stop whenever you want okay?" You nodded as you moved to lay on your back in the center of the bed. Nervousness and excitement washing over you in a melody of increasing desire. Yeosang made his way above you, straddling your hips as he leaned forward to claim another kiss. "Are you okay with me taking off your skirt?" His eyes were soft, caring, and patient. "Y..yes. Please do." You managed to say, already breathless from the rush of emotions you'd long been afraid of letting yourself feel.

Yeosang ever so gently moved his thumbs under the waistband of your skirt. A tingle ran down your spine at the whisper of touch as you lifted your hips enough to let him glide your skirt and underwear down your legs. As the clothing hit the floor he slowly kissed his way up your legs. Placing lingering kisses to each leg slowly moving closer and closer to the place you were now aching most. You absently mindedly spread your legs, a simple but much-appreciated invitation. Two more kisses were placed on the uppermost part of your inner thighs, and Yeosang stopped, hovering right over your needy bud. His eyes met yours, a silent question as if to once again ask if you were sure. The barely audible "Please" that escaped your mouth was all he needed. He placed a soft kiss on your clit before slowly licking it in short precise flicks. The moan that escaped him at the taste of you had your body shuttering beneath him. His kitten licks turned into full-blown laps as he devoured your virgin cunt like it was his last mean. His tongue moving in long lines through your folds before darting inside your walls. You were already lost in pure bliss, a feeling of a spring getting ready to snap slowly building within your core. Yeosang reluctantly pulled himself back so he could insert a finger. Starting slowly, he pumped it in and out at a snail's pace. "Fuuuck.." Your back arched into the feeling as you whimpered beneath his touch. Leaning down to place another gentle kiss on your clit while he slid in a second, then third finger. His pace slowly increased as he found the spongey spot that would have you coming apart for him. Continuing his pace, he moved his thumb to your clit applying gentle pressure as he rubbed in circles. He kissed his way up your body, stopping only long enough to pull your crop top over your breasts so he could kiss them too. He kissed up as his fingers fucked you faster and faster until he kissed your neck and whispered in your ear. "Do you even know how beautiful you sound right now? How fucking good you taste? Fuck... you're going to break me.. and I'm going to let you." His deep whisper echoed through your body like a catalyst that set the spring in your core loose. Your walls clenched down on his fingers as your eyes snapped shut and your world went white. The moan that escaped you was nothing short of sinful, and he only wanted to hear it again and again. As the waves of pleasure and release finally subsided, you opened your eyes, trying to take in your surroundings and bring yourself back to your body.

By the time you were fully past your out-of-body experience, you saw Yeosang at the foot of the bed taking off his soaked clothes. "D..did I.. what was that?" You asked. He only smiled widely as he replied, "You squirted. I can't wait to make you do it again." The tingle that went through your body felt like lightning at his words. You couldn't wait to do it again, for him, because of him, you were far from done. You sat up to remove your jersey and crop top before dropping them to the floor. Yeosang was quick to pick up the jersey though, handing it back to you. "Put this back on, please. I want... I want to see you in it when I finish making you mine." You shivered at his words as you put the jersey back on, leaving it unbuttoned.

Without so much as another word, he was back on top of you, lips against yours, hungry yet patient. His only goal was to make sure you enjoyed yourself. That's what he cared about most, your pleasure. You couldn't help but glance down in between heated kisses, taking him in. He was huge. Way bigger than what you thought he would be, and thick. Your walls clenched around nothing at the thought of him claiming your pussy as his own. Molding your walls to fit him and only him perfectly. As if he could read your thoughts, he smirked and grabbed his generously sized member, sliding it through your slick folds before lining it up with your entrance. You bucked your hips forward, a wordless plea. One that he happily answered as he slowly, painstakingly slowly, inched his way in. He let out a groan as he fully sheathed himself inside."Fuuuckk, you feel so good. So perfect." Your walls clenched around his length as he spoke. He took his time with you, his strokes long, deep, precise. Planting kisses down your neck, your shoulders, your chest, to your perfect tits. You were sensitive but hungry. Finally understanding why your friends would go hardcore feral over their fantasies. You were living a fantasy of your own right now but you wanted, no, needed more. You slid your arms up his back letting your nails gently graze his muscles on their way back down. Again, you repeated the motion but clawed slightly harder. A whine escaped your mouth as you begged for more. "Y- Yeosang p..please.. fuck.. I need more. Please" His soft attentive gaze turned borderline sinister as he grabbed your hips pulled himself out and swiftly flipped you onto your stomach. Lifting your hips so your ass was on full display before spreading your legs and snapping back into you without warning.

You screamed his name at the sudden intrusion, painful pleasure rushing through you causing your toes to curl. He only took that as a sign to continue his torturous snaps, hitting all the right spots, his tip kissing your cervix with each thrust. "So fucking perfect for me. You're taking me so fucking well doll, I could stay here all night buried in this perfect little cunt." You practically purred at the praise. His hand snaked around your front to grip your throat pulling you to your knees, your back flush against his chest. He nipped and sucked at your neck as his grip around your throat tightened. Your walls constricted, your eyes shut, your release so eminent. Just as your body started trembling he reached his other hand around to rub small swift circles on your throbbing clit. "Fuck me... you keep choking my dick like that and I'm gonna bust before I can pull out sweetheart." His release threatened to burst as he lost himself in your warm slick sex. "So don't. Cum in me Yeosang... please. I want you to fill me up..already so full want your cum too.. please.." You couldn't help how pathetic your babbling sounded. You needed him, you needed this, so fucking much. His brutal thrust only became more frantic, hitting deeper and deeper, his fingers on your clit matching his thrusts. You arched further into him, legs shaking furiously, your cunt repeatedly tightening around his dick. "F-fuck...i..g'na..ahhh!" Your voice cracked as you reached your peak. Your orgasm hitting you like a hurricane, your eyes shut as you lost your focus, stars swimming around in your eyes. Yeosang pumped only two more times before your orgasm pulled him over the edge and he was burying himself all the way inside you as he spurt hot ropes of cum deep inside your spasming walls.

Yeosang slowly helped lean you forward pulling out as you laid face first against the bed. You combined release coating his dick and leaking out of your spent pussy as he helped you turn to your back. "I can't believe how sensitive you are... making you squirt could get dangerously addictive, doll." You absent-mindedly hummed in response still reveling in the feeling of floating as you slowly came down from your high. He smirked at how fucked out you looked laying on his bed with eyes still hazy and a spent grin across your lips. "I'm gonna go get some things and then start us a shower. I'll be right back beautiful." You blushed at the term of endearment like he hadn't already called you a few like he hadn't just fucked you senseless. "I don't know if it's the post-orgasm brain talking or the fan mentality, but I'd say you're treating me much nicer than you should be considering you'll be leaving in two days."

The look he gave you was nothing short of disappointed, maybe even a bit pissed. "Me leaving soon has nothing to do with what happened tonight. I thought you'd realized that before we had sex, but since you haven't I guess now would be a great time to tell you. Seonghwa left when he did not just because he was tired but because he went to talk to management and the other members for me. I really like you y/n and I absolutely plan on seeing you again so we worked out a couple of options so you could pick whatever you're most comfortable with. You could come back to Korea with me and we can either set you up a room in the dorms or get you your own place. Or you can stay here and I'll pay for your travel to come and visit as often as you'd like so we can continue to see where things go." Your mouth was agape as you blinked your eyes trying to process what he'd just said to you. The tears in your eyes threatened to escape and you looked at the man before you. "Y..you would do that.. for me?" He stepped towards you and lifted your chin until your lips were mere centimeters apart. "Yes. I absolutely would. You don't have to decide right now, but I do hope I get an answer before we have to leave." His lips met yours in a tender kiss before he moved to get the shower started.

Finally in the shower, after some much-needed help from Yeosang, you leaned into the warm water letting it fall over your body. You took a moment to enjoy the way your body relaxed as the water cascaded down. Once you looked at Yeosang, your heart started singing. How could this man cause you to feel like this within mere hours of knowing each other? Sure, you've been a fan for years, but you were sure that what you saw wasn't always who he was. And, it wasn't, it was so much better. "I think, I think I want to come back with you. It'll be a little difficult figuring out what to do about my lease and all my things, but I've always wanted to leave the States anyway. Plus if this goes as well as I think it will I don't want to be asking you to pay for me to come and see you every weekend." He chuckled and wrapped his arms around your waist. "Don't worry about your lease and all of that, I'll get it handled. The only thing left to figure out is if you want to stay in the dorms with me or would you prefer your own place nearby?" You faked being deep in thought for a moment before answering, "Well that depends, don't you think I'd be a little fast-moving to have someone you're not even dating living with you?" It was his turn to pretend to think. "I suppose it would be a little weird but that shouldn't be a problem if you say yes." You shot him a curious look, your eyes narrowing as you asked, "Say yes to what?" He pulled you flush against him, his hands resting on the small of your back. "It's definitely moving fast but I don't care if you don't. I think this could be something really amazing. Will you be my girlfriend?" You kissed him so fast he stumbled a step back before steading the two of you. "Yes!"

OBLIGATORY YEOSANG TAGS: @evis-gossip @yeosangcutie0615