#to be fair “flesh” is generous | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

aila0veyou2death · 3 months ago

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𝐒𝐨𝐟𝐭 𝐅𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐡, 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐩 𝐅𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬

𖹭 pairing: viltrumite!mark grayson x flesh-hungry!female!reader (A.K.A warlord prince with god complex x bio-engineered monster girl built for carnage)

𖹭 TW: DUB CON, dark content, blood, gore, violence, power imbalance, swearing, possessive behavior, death, non-human biology, captivity, enemies-to-lovers trope?, face-fvcking, p in a v, size difference, breeding k1nk, dumbification, belly bulging, master/pet dynamic, overstimulation, biting, marking, p0rn with a plot.

𖹭 author's note: This fic is long, messy, heavy edited and 100% born from my horny little brain while watching Invincible Hope you enjoy :P

Silence had never sounded so victorious.

What was once a vibrant blue planet, bursting with resistance and stubborn will, now lay in ruins. Cities crumbled. Skyscrapers reduced to bones. Blood dried into the dirt...Humanity tried its best—they fought with desperation, with all the fire they could muster.

But in the end, it was never a fair fight.

The Viltrumites walked the Earth's surface like gods claiming what was rightfully theirs.

Mark Grayson—son of a human mother, molded by a Viltrumite father—flew alongside the others in silence, dressed in the same white uniform. His gaze was sharp, scanning the rubble below. He didn't blink. Didn't speak. Just watched as his people moved like a plague across the land, searching through the decay not for survivors, but for something more valuable.

Secrets. Weapons. Leftovers of mankind's final, frantic efforts to defend itself.

They scoured beneath the ash, the collapsed buildings, the bones of a world that had tried to resist. Eventually, they found it—underground bunkers hidden deep beneath the crust of a dead world.

Inside, scraps of humanity clung to life. The scent of sweat, fear, and filth hit them first. Then came the screams—raw, panicked, and pointless.

The survivors didn't beg. They knew better. They cried, they clutched each other, they tried to run.

Mark said nothing. Not a single word. He didn't interfere. He simply watched, unmoved, as the others handled it. Blood filled the halls and screams died quickly.

There was no mercy left to give. Only silence and death.

Not a single emotion flickered in his eyes. No sorrow. No pity. No guilt. Nothing.

Not even as he hovered above the charred remains of the planet that birthed him.

Earth burned. And he watched.

He had been taken away before he ever had the chance to experience what this world could have offered him—just a boy when his father brought him to Viltrum, to be raised as one of their own. As a soldier. As an heir.

There were no childhood memories to mourn. No human attachments to cloud his judgment. To him, Earth was not home. It was a mission. A conquest. Another name on the long list of worlds that fell beneath the Viltrumite flag.

A hand landed firmly on his shoulder.

He didn't flinch. He knew that grip—it was measured, heavy, and commanding.

He turned his head slightly, meeting the sharp, weathered gaze of his father. Nolan stood beside him, armor stained with blood and ash, his cape fluttering in the dead wind. He looked at his son, not with warmth or pride—but with the calm precision of a general addressing his equal.

Nolan's eyes narrowed, his gaze shifting from his son to the smoldering wreckage below. The quiet crackle of still-burning buildings echoed between them like a lullaby of conquest.

"It's pathetic." he muttered, voice slicing through the smoke. "The ones hiding underground. Crammed in piss-soaked bunkers, clinging to some foolish hope that their heroes would come back for them."

Mark said nothing, but the corner of his mouth twitched.

"They should've surrendered," Nolan went on, colder now. "Some did. The smarter ones. But the rest?" He scoffed, shaking his head. "Cowards. Hiding like insects in the dark. It’s disgraceful."

Silence stretched between them, broken only by the distant wind and the distant creaking of a collapsed tower.

Then Nolan spoke again, glancing sideways at Mark. "We should check the GDA's underground facilities. Cecil was always hiding something. Back when I worked with him, I caught whispers—rumors of illegal experiments, unnatural weapons… even bio-creatures bred for war."

Mark’s brow furrowed slightly. "You think they actually built something strong enough to stop us?"

Nolan let out a low, humorless chuckle. "Doubtful. But who knows? If there is something down there, it could either be a useful tool… or a lingering threat. More likely, just another one of Cecil's pathetic failures rotting in the dark."

He looked ahead, eyes sharp. "Whatever it is, we can't leave it unchecked."

Without another word, Nolan lifted his hand and gestured.

From above, four Viltrumites dropped through the smoke in perfect formation, landing beside them in silence. Their white uniforms were stained with dirt and streaks of blood, but their expressions were calm and ready.

"Head to the GDA headquarters," Nolan ordered. "New York is nothing but bones now, but if they hid anything, it's down there. Deep." He turned to Mark. "We dig. We search. No stone left untouched. I want their secrets exposed and buried with them."

Mark gave a small nod and took off, the others following behind. They soared through the grey sky, silent wings of death gliding over what was once one of the busiest cities in the world.

Below, skyscrapers stood like charred tombstones, windows blown out, steel skeletons groaning in the wind. The familiar spire of the GDA building jutted out from the rubble, half of it caved in, the rest barely standing. Whatever was beneath it had remained hidden even through Earth’s last breath.

The Viltrumites landed and began tearing into the rubble like it was paper, shoving aside steel beams and broken machinery.

They crashed through steel and concrete with ease, moving deeper into the abyss beneath the ruined city. Reinforced floors gave way. Labs long abandoned passed in a blur of rusted equipment and glass. The dust thickened. Lights flickered, dim and weak like dying stars. The silence turned heavy. Tense. Wrong.

Then they found it—buried farther than any of them expected. A sealed facility, hidden beneath layers of stone and steel. Carved into the earth like something meant to stay forgotten. The air down there clung to them, thick with rot, blood, and iron.

The hallway ahead was narrow, smeared with the stains of time and something more violent. Rust bled down the walls in lines like veins. Blood left in handprints. Claw marks. Torn restraints bolted to the walls. Some of the doors were dented from the inside.

Nolan stepped forward and shoved one of them open with a metallic shriek.

WEEOO-WEEOO-WEEOO—

The alarms wailed like dying animals, echoing up every floor and spilling out into the ruined city above. Scarlet lights flooded the hallway, pulsing like veins. It was a scream. It reached the top of the building. The streets. The sky. Every Viltrumite nearby the area turned their head at the sound that's coming from crumbling structure.

And in the depths of that pulsing red light... something laughed.

Soft at first, childlike and playful.

Then it grew louder. Sharper. Hungrier.

A small figure dragged itself from the darkness of a ruined chamber, half-naked, blood-stained, nails cracked and filthy, hair tangled into a wild, matted mess. Your eyes were wide, glowing faintly under the emergency lights. Your body was trembling—not from fear, but from hunger. You hadn’t fed properly in months. Maybe years. And their scent—those clean, proud Viltrumite bastards reeking of blood under their pristine uniforms—hit your senses like a drug.

You smiled wide.

Your gaze snapped to the Viltrumites—and your pupils dilated.

You lunged.

It all went to hell from there.

The first Viltrumite barely had time to blink before you slammed into him, your fangs tearing deep into his throat. You shook your head violently, ripping out chunks of flesh like a starving beast. His scream gurgled to nothing as you twisted—snapping his neck and tearing it free with a savage pull.

You bounced off the falling body, landing on all fours like an animal, with his head still in your hands. Then you bit into it, chewing with noisy satisfaction, like it was the best thing you’d ever tasted.

The others quickly charged, and one swung but missed.

You dropped the head mid-laugh, and grabbed his wrist, twisted it until the bones snapped loud enough to echo. He screamed. You slammed him into the wall so hard the stone cracked. The third came next—until your claws tore through his chest and you punched into his stomach, yanking out his organs like candy from a piñata.

"Oooh, so warm~!" you cooed, blood dripping from your chin. "Fresh meat really hits hard."

Mark stood frozen, mouth slightly open. His fists clenched and unclenched like his brain hadn't caught up yet. "What the hell...?"

Nolan didn't speak. His expression was hard, unreadable. But his eyes narrowed—and he took a single step back when you ripped the body in half, gore spraying across the floor in a wet splash.

No mortal prisoner stood before them—but a demon cloaked in flesh.

Heavy footsteps echoed down the hall as more Viltrumites stormed in, drawn by the alarm—only to find two of their own dead, one barely clinging to life, and you at the center of it all. Blood-drenched, crouched low like a beast, surrounded by the shredded remains of their comrades. You grinned from ear to ear, fangs glinting in the scarlet light, eyes sparkling with joy.

You looked up at the new arrivals and waved with a severed hand.

"More food?" you asked sweetly, licking blood from the stiff fingers in your grasp. "Hell yeah! Looks like we're going full course for breakfast today."

Mark's stomach twisted. He couldn't tear his eyes away. He was frozen in shock, even as his fists clenched on instinct.

Nolan's eyes darkened, his jaw tightening with rage.

And then you moved again—laughing, a blur of gore and teeth as you lunged forward.

The fight erupted.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

You left a trail of carnage in your wake—bodies were torn, blood still warm, the taste of Viltrumite flesh clinging to your tongue like candy. They fought hard. Harder than you expected. But not hard enough to stop you.

Some were left twitching on the ground, ribs shattered and lungs heaving. Others were little more than red pulp smeared across the concrete. You didn't kill all of them—not out of mercy, but because you were too full, too high on the rush of violence, and too focused on one thing now.

Escape.

You burst through the final floor like a cannonball, tearing through the layers of the GDA's underground like tissue paper. The red lights still flashed behind you, alarms screamed themselves hoarse. Your bare feet slammed into the cracked pavement of the surface—them you froze.

For the first time in decades, you felt air that hadn't been filtered through vents or tasted like copper. The sky opened above you—gray, grimy, sick with smoke, but still a sky. Buildings stood in disrepair, cracked and leaning, some half-swallowed by the earth like rotting teeth. The world wasn't at peace. But it wasn't the warzone you remembered either.

You stood on shaking legs—bare, blood-streaked, sun-drunk—blinking hard against the harsh, unfiltered daylight. Everything felt too big. Too open. Too quiet. You could still hear the screams of the underground, the alarms howling like dying things, the wet crunch of bone in your teeth. Blood still clung to your mouth like honey.

What happened here—?

A sudden gust of wind blew behind you—it was sharp, fast, and heavy.

Before you could fully turn, something slammed into your cheek like a meteor. The impact sent your body spiraling backward through the air, crashing through an abandoned car and skidding against the pavement before you dug your claws in, stopping yourself with a screech of broken concrete.

You snarled, wiping blood from your mouth, eyes snapping up at the figure hovering midair.

Dark hair. Blood on his fists. Chest rising and falling with tight, controlled fury.

Mark Grayson.

His eyes locked onto you, not with fear—but something worse. Cold, seething frustration. His fists clenched at his sides, twitching like he was holding back the urge to rip you apart on sight. He was scratched up, bruised, panting. Signs of your earlier encounter still painted across his skin. Behind him, more Viltrumites descended from the clouds like vultures, with Nolan among them, arms crossed, silently watching.

"Well, well," you purred, dragging yourself up to your feet with a crooked grin. "Aren't you a pretty one."

Mark didn't waste time. He charged.

You stepped aside like you were dancing, catching his arm mid-swing—but he twisted, and the two of you went crashing into the ground. His body slammed into yours, forcing the air from your lungs. You hit the pavement hard. It cracked beneath you.

You laughed.

Your legs locked around his torso, muscle to muscle, as you twisted and the two of you crashed through the skeleton of another half-standing building.

"Is this how you greet girls these days?" you breathed, grinning at him. "Tsk. No flowers? No sweet talk? Geez. What's up with men lately?"

Mark gritted his teeth, trying to overpower you.

You leaned in close, whispering against his jaw. "You always this rough on your dates, pretty boy?"

The two of you clashed again and again—flesh against flesh, teeth bared, blood spilled. The ground split open beneath your feet with every collision, debris flying, the city echoing with the sound of carnage. You were laughing—breathless, wild, drunk on adrenaline. Mark was giving you a fight, and god, it felt good.

But he was starting to slip.

You saw it in the way his chest heaved, in the slight delay between his punches. And worse—he hesitated. Just once. His gaze dropped to your mouth, flushed and slick with blood, and he flinched when you licked it slow, grinning through the chaos.

"Fuck, that hurts so good..."

That's when they invaded.

The other Viltrumites descended like mad hounds. You didn't get a warning—just the sudden weight of five bodies crashing into you mid-lunge. You screamed, thrashed, tore into one's side with your claws and sent another flying with a headbutt. One tried to grab your wrists but you quickly snapped his fingers like twigs. Another went for your legs and you sunk your heel into his jaw.

You were brutal. A machine built to kill. But they didn’t care. They kept coming.

You growled, nearly feral, muscles screaming under the strain of so many hands forcing you down. Your feet left the ground. You were held in place by sheer numbers that had your back arched and neck straining. One arm was pinned behind you, another around your ribs, another around your throat.

Then you saw... him.

Nolan.

Hovering just out of reach. Watching you with cold judgment in his eyes.

Something inside you snapped.

You lunged, with your head whipping forward like a beast. You nearly got him—teeth bared, inches from tearing into his throat—but you were yanked back at the last second. Still, it rattled them. They didn’t expect you to go for the general.

And neither did Mark.

He moved without thinking and slammed into you with enough force to break a mountain, shoulder in your gut, arm locking around your chest as he drove you to the ground.

"Stop!" he shouted, his breath hot against your skin.

You twisted in his grip—then bit down. Hard.

Your sharp teeth sank into his forearm, tearing its skin, ripping the muscle. He shouted, blood running warm across your tongue. You could taste him—Viltrumite blood, rich and violent, flooding your mouth like a reward.

He yanked his arm back and without pause, drove his fist into your jaw—forcefully.

You were still smiling as you went down, lips smeared in red. "...fucking awesome." you muttered breathless, the taste of Viltrumite blood still warm in your mouth. Your eyes rolled back as the world cracked sideways. Your body slumped and the sky above you blurred. You barely heard the other Viltrumites yelling before your knees buckled and your vision started to go dark.

The last thing you saw was Mark's face—shocked, bleeding, staring down at you like he didn't know whether to be petrified or fascinated.

And then, there were arms around you.

Strong and steady. Definitely his.

Mark caught you before you hit the ground completely, lowering you into his hold like he wasn't still bleeding from your bite, like he didn't just knock you out cold. You didn't feel the relief in the others, or the weight of containment cuffs snapping around your wrists. All you felt was warmth, before darkness swallowed you once again.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

You stirred with a groan, pain blooming at the base of your skull. Your body ached, heavy and sore like you've been hit by a planet—and maybe, in a way, you had. Your thoughts came sluggish, swimming through the fog in your head. Voices echoed around you, distant and distorted at first, like they were bouncing off the walls of your skull. But slowly, they grew clearer—they sharpened into words, whispers, and conversations.

Your eyes cracked open.

Bright lights seared into your vision.

You were kneeling.

Both knees pressed against freezing tiles, with your legs spread apart as if it forced open with no mercy. Thick restraints clamped tightly around your wrists behind your back, made of some dense, unyielding alloy that even your strength couldn't break through. The cold kiss of metal crawled over your spine. Chains dug into your skin where you had already been bruised, holding you still.

You were naked.

Completely.

There was no cloth, no covering—nothing to shield you from the cold or the sea of eyes watching from every corner of the stadium. The air prickled along every inch of your exposed skin, and the lights were focused solely on you, spotlighting every inch of your body—every inhuman line, every unnatural curve, every scar and every mark. Every part of what made you a monster was put on display.

A muzzle clamped tightly over the lower half of your face, molded hard against your jaw. It silenced you completely. No speaking. No biting. Just the soft rasp of your breath through your nose, quick and sharp, barely enough to calm the burn in your lungs. Your mouth was sealed shut.

A low growl rumbled from deep in your chest.

The sound cut through the low hum of voices like a blade.

Conversations stopped. Heads turned. The entire stadium fell silent.

Dozens—no, hundreds of eyes snapped to you.

They were all Viltrumites.

All of them. Rows of them, seated in ranks dressed in pristine white uniforms, most of them were cloaked—like some twisted cult of gods looking down at their captured beast. Their faces were cold, observing, and judgmental.

You shot the crowd with a venomous glare.

Then, one of the seated figures stood.

"It seems the beast has finally awoken."

The voice cut clean through the silence—calm, commanding, sharp as a blade. "Good."

General Nolan stepped forward, his presence heavy like gravity, each step deliberate. The stadium seemed to tense beneath his weight. He didn't look away from you, not even once, not even while the crowd of white-cloaked Viltrumites leaned in, listening. Hanging on his every word.

"This is the weapon that slaughtered twenty-seven of our finest." he announced, voice crisp and brutal. "An Earth-born experiment that crawled out of her hole after decades of silence. Not a soldier. Not a warrior. A threat. One that’s proven herself to be something far more dangerous than even a Viltrumite..."

You weren't listening to him.

Not really.

You didn't care for his dramatic little speech. All you cared about was the weight of the chains digging into your wrists and the deep, familiar ache that sparked in your muscles. You shifted on your knees, raw skin scraping against the cold metal floor as you tested your bounds again. Harder. Rougher. You knew they were watching. You simply didn't care.

Your breath came fast through your nose, the muzzle clamped over your mouth keeping you from speaking, biting, screaming. It was tight. Containing. But it wouldn't hold you back forever.

A low growl rumbled in your throat.

Then came the footsteps.

One by one, other Viltrumites stepped forward—soldiers, elites, survivors. Each of them wore the scars of your fury like badges of shame. Torn uniforms, burned skin, bruises blooming down their jaws and ribs. Some limped, others stood stiff and bloodied. They looked like warriors who had fought something far worse than their own.

They stood beside Nolan, forming a silent wall of evidence, an undeniable proof of your destruction.

"...To those who doubt what she's capable of," Nolan continued, gesturing toward them, "Let these survivors be your reminder—of the massacre she unleashed. Of the destruction this monster has caused."

A ripple of hushed awe and unease moved through the stadium. Even behind disgusted whispers and down-turned mouths, you could feel it.

Fear.

Respect.

Even some admiration.

They weren't just looking at you like a monster. No. Some of them were looking at you like you were unstoppable.

A force of nature.

You kept your head high despite the chains, the cold, the exposure. And as your gaze flicked across the stage, your eyes locked on something else—someone else.

Pretty boy.

He was standing just behind Nolan. Silent and stiff.

His face was hard to read, his jaw tight, but his eyes never left yours. Even after everything, he wouldn't stop looking at you.

And then there was Anissa, standing beside him like a shadow. Arms crossed, chin lifted slightly, like she was trying to figure you out. Judging and calculating. Not impressed—but not dismissive, either. She whispered something to Mark, a sharp little comment masked behind a smirk.

He didn't look at her. Didn't react. His gaze was locked on you.

And despite everything—despite the bruises on your body, the metal biting into your wrists, the weight of every eye watching—you smirked behind the muzzle.

Even now. Even here.

You could feel it.

That heat in your veins.

That wild pulse in your chest.

That hunger.

And he was still watching.

Their voices rose around you—cold and calculating, debating your fate like you were some unruly creature rather than a living being. The Viltrumite council spoke in harsh tones. Some suggested you be kept alive for study, molded into a living weapon. Your strength was too rare, too valuable to waste. You were a weapon, after all—unrefined, but powerful. Others disagreed. Their voices were sharp with caution, insisting you were too dangerous, too unpredictable, as you had already killed too many.

But then, the conversation shifted. It spiraled—quicker than your still-throbbing head could follow. But you caught enough.

They weren't talking about justice anymore, or even punishment.

A new thread had slithered into the room, it low and quiet at first. A suggestion that made your skin crawl.

"She's female." one of the council members said plainly, studying you with clinical detachment. "And clearly fertile."

Your jaw clenched behind the muzzle.

"She may be human in origin, but her body’s resilience and strength—those are above even standard Viltrumite females." another added. "Breeding with her could produce a hybrid that surpasses us. A child born of her might become the key to furthering our strength."

Disgust curled in your gut.

Breeding.

Shit. They were seriously discussing breeding you.

You could feel the weight of their eyes on your bare form. They weren’t just looking at a criminal anymore. They were evaluating you like a broodmare.

The female Viltrumites didn't object either. One of them tilted her head and added, "Her frame suggests high reproductive capability. The musculature, the hips, her bone density—everything aligns."

You wanted to laugh. To rip the muzzle off your face and tell them to shove their breeding program up to their asses.

But all you could do was breathe. Controlled, but furious.

And yet… somewhere under the heat of that fury, something twisted—a perverted, morbid curiosity coiled in your gut.

Breeding you?

Like you were some kind of baby-making machine.

You were trained to kill. Built for war. A monster, they said—and now suddenly, they were talking about your hips, your womb, your usefulness as if you were nothing more than a vessel. A thing to be filled, broken, used to build their empire from the inside out.

Your stomach turned. The word fertile echoed in your ears like a curse.

What were you now, a walking cradle? A fucking incubator for the Viltrumite legacy?

And worse—part of you wondered. What would it even look like? You, monstrous and wild, collared and panting beneath someone they chose for you. With your body betraying you. Bearing Viltrumite blood. Creating something terrifying. Something worse.

Something like you.

Your eyes narrowed, seething through your lashes.

You weren't going to let them own you.

But gods, the idea wouldn't leave. It curled around your brain like smoke. Sick. Curious. And Violent.

They didn't want to kill you.

They wanted to breed you.

A tall, scarred warrior stepped forward from the group of survivors—his arm still in a sling, a fresh wound slashed across his chest.

"If she is to be contained," he said, "then she must be broken. Handled. Someone will have to... train her."

The word train sent a flicker of rage down your spine.

"She won't yield to just anyone. Most of us tried, and barely survived. But according to the surviving officers…" His eyes narrowed at you. "There was one who managed to fight her back. Who held his ground longer than anyone else."

You stopped moving.

"Mark Grayson." he said.

The silence that followed was loud. Heavy.

"She responded to him. Almost like she enjoyed it." another commented. "We observed it—she was smiling. Laughing. Every time he hit her, she hit harder. She didn't want to kill him. It's almost like she wanted to play."

The crowd murmured again.

"She was having fun, and yet he still managed to injure her. To bring her down."

Mark's hands were clenched at his sides now, his brows furrowed, jaw tight. His silence said more than words could.

"She's a beast." the first speaker said. "But beasts can be trained. And if anyone is going to do it… it has to be him."

General Nolan finally turned slowly to face his son. "Mark."

Mark lifted his eyes, and for the first time, you saw the faintest flicker of conflict in them.

Nolan's voice rang clear, loud enough for all to hear. Cold. Final.

"She's your responsibility now."

"Break her. Tame her. Turn that wild thing into something useful. Think of it as… training a new pet." Nolan sharply commanded.

The word pet hung in the air, heavy and cruel.

And just like that, the decision was made.

You were no longer just a monster.

You were his task. His burden. His possession.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

You were moved into Mark Grayson's private quarters two days later.

You were escorted like an animal—your wrists locked in thick cuffs, a black gag secured tightly between your lips, and a gleaming high-tech collar locked around your neck. It pulsed faintly red, a constant reminder of the shocks it could deliver. You had already learned its bite. The plain white prisoner uniform clung to your body neatly but it couldn't hide the tension in your muscles or the defiance in your eyes. Your hair had been washed, but left wild and tangled, like they hadn't cared to do more than rinse you clean.

His father led the procession, flanked by five other Viltrumites. They walked in silence—grim and towering, like they couldn't wait to be rid of you. When the door to Mark's quarters hissed open, they shoved you forward without care. You stumbled, unbalanced, but didn't fall. You landed on your knees before him, like a stray beast dumped at the feet of her new master.

Mark said nothing.

He stood tall in his pristine white Viltrumite uniform, arms crossed over his chest, expression unreadable. His eyes moved over you—your face, the collar, the gag, the subtle twitch in your smile. You could feel his gaze, cold and heavy, like he was judging you.

He didn't look surprised. He didn't even look particularly interested.

But he looked at you like you were his. Like you were already his.

The cage in the corner of the room was built just for you. Reinforced alloy. Thick bars. It wasn't hidden—it was a fixture in the space, something he'd clearly made room for. You were shoved inside it without grace, and the door clanged shut with a low, echoing finality.

His father said a few quiet words before departing with the others. Something about obedience. About control. Mark nodded, silent and cold, never once looking at you again until they were gone.

Only then did he approach the cage.

You were lying inside, already curled on your side like a cat. When he finally turned his gaze to you, you met it with a wink.

He stared at you with an unreadable expression. There was no lust, no hatred—just something… calculating. You could sense the effort it took him to stay composed, to look down at you and not act. You could feel the discomfort behind that stare. And you loved it.

He left you alone after that.

But when he returned hours later, the cage was torn open like it was made of paper. One of the bars was bent backward, and sparks flickered where the internal locking system had fried. You sat lazily in the center of his bed, legs tucked under you, the remains of your uniform hanging from your hips. Your upper body was bare—slick with sweat and blood, lips red from raw meat as you gnawed on something half-cooked

It stained his bedsheets. It stained your fingers.

He stopped in the doorway and stared at you for a long moment.

Then he exhaled slowly and murmured, "I really hoped you'd stay in the cage."

You licked your fingers, then flashed him a lazy grin. "I'm not an animal, Grayson."

He said nothing as he entered, stripping out of his uniform until he was half-naked. He moved toward the small kitchen like you weren't there, calm and composed, even as you followed him with your eyes, your teeth still sunk into the meat in your lap.

"Don't you have anything better to wear? Didn't my father give you something?" he asked over his shoulder.

You stood behind him now, silent, completely naked. You stretched your arms up—slowly, deliberately—exposing yourself without a single shred of shame.

"Ooh, don't like what you see?" you asked, with your voice sickly sweet.

Mark didn't turn around. "You don't get to tease me, pet."

Your smile widened. "That collar says otherwise."

And then—before you could take another step toward him—it sparked. Electricity crackled across your throat in a violent shock. You collapsed to the floor with a hiss, trembling and panting, but still smiling through the pain. He still didn't turn around.

"You're mine." he said flatly. "And pets don't speak without permission."

You lay there twitching on the floor, laughter bubbling from your throat even as your body spasmed.

You were such a problem. A walking mess of temptation and chaos. A feral, sharp-toothed creature he hadn't tamed yet. You stalked around his space like a spoiled cat—shedding blood, climbing on his things, curling up naked where you didn't belong. You didn't eat the rations he gave you. You rejected everything cooked. Mark quickly learned that the only way to keep you fed was raw meat, still dripping. And when he gave in and brought it, you looked at him with gleaming eyes like he was rewarding you.

He hated that. Hated the way you made him feel like he enjoyed your presence. Like he looked forward to your games.

You were always touching his things, brushing against him when he walked past, whispering into his ear when he tried to sleep.

"You're fun when you're pretending not to want me." you whispered one night, your breath warm against his neck. "I was just wondering how long it would take before you finally snapped."

His hand gripped your jaw tight, forcing your gaze to meet his. His thumb brushed slowly along your collar

"I will break you..." he murmured, voice low and lethal. "And you'll beg me for it."

You met his threat with a wicked smile, eyes gleaming with challenge.

Gods, you were such a naughty thing.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

Living with Mark was a war of nerves.

He didn't speak much, not unless he had to. He gave orders, not conversation. Every time he walked into the room, he expected obedience—and every time, you gave him the exact opposite.

He tried to tame you with structure. Routine. Food. Clean quarters. The cage—still bolted to the corner of his room—was meant to remind you that no matter where you roamed, this was still captivity. You were still his.

And yet, you prowled through his space like a cat. A filthy, bloodthirsty little thing with sharp teeth and mischief in her eyes.

You made a game out of pissing him off.

You ripped the sleeves off the black Viltrumite uniform he had ordered for you, claiming they were itchy—then refused to wear anything else. You slept wherever you pleased, most often curled in his bed, stretched across the sheets like you owned them. You dripped blood on his floors from your stolen snacks, purred at him in mockery, and bared your teeth every time he looked too calm. You called him "pretty boy," "master," "hot stuff" and "Grayson," depending on what reaction you were hunting for.

Sometimes, you stood right in front of him, naked and smiling, collar still glowing red.

Sometimes, he didn't say anything.

Sometimes, he did.

And when he did, it was never nice.

Still, you could feel it—beneath all that authority and arrogance, something was cracking. Every time you got under his skin, every time his jaw clenched and his fists curled, you felt it coming closer. That first fight between you hadn't just been survival—it had been ecstasy. Something deep in your corrupted instincts craved the collision again. The pain. The rush. The blood. And the way he had looked at you, panting, bruised, victorious.

You wanted to taste it again.

But Mark had been sent off-world. Called away on a brutal conquest with other Viltrumites. Rumors spread fast—it had been ugly. Ugly and loud. You could practically hear the taunts in his ears, the rage in his fists. You knew how he got when pushed too far.

So you pushed him further.

By the time he returned, there was blood on Viltrum's walls.

You had tried to escape.

You tore through six Viltrumites before they even realized what was happening. Ate one. Injured another so badly they couldn't walk. You laughed the whole time, dripping with gore, half-mad with the thrill of it. You're not actually trying to leave, not really. You just wanted to fight. You wanted to feel alive again.

Once they captured you, they threw you into one of their most heavily guarded prisons. Chained you like the monster they said you were. But not before you left your mark.

So when Mark came home—wounded, furious, soaked in blood and sweat—he didn't go back to his quarters.

He went straight to the prison.

And when the cell door hissed open, there you were. Naked again, legs casually crossed, sitting on the floor like a satisfied beast after a feast, while still wearing your collar like a choker. Your mouth was stained with red. Your arms were chained above your head, but your eyes were calm—glowing with smugness and something else.

You tilted your head. "Welcome home, pretty boy~"

He stepped inside. The door sealed shut behind him with a cold hiss, and he didn't speak. He just stared and his silence was loud.

You didn't lower your gaze. Didn't shift or flinch under the weight of it. You wanted this—you wanted that fire in his eyes, the heat of fury crawling down his spine. You wanted that unhinged thing in him to wake up. To bare its teeth. To bite you back.

You smiled, slow and sharp. "You look like shit."

His jaw tightened. The cuts on his face were still fresh. Blood streaked down the side of his neck, half-dried, and his hands were trembling from self-control.

You cocked your head, chains clinking above you. "What's wrong? Mission didn't go so well? Or are you just mad I had a little fun while you were gone?"

You let out a giggle as he moved closer. Boots echoing off the cold floor. You shifted, legs still crossed, thighs open just enough to tempt.

"You killed six." Mark said, voice laced with coldness, "Injured five more."

You smiled with your teeth. "I was hungry."

His palm cracked across your face before you even finished the sentence.

Your head jerked to the side, the taste of copper blooming on your tongue. You spat, a string of red falling to the floor between your knees, then looked up at him with a smug, bloodstained grin. "There he is…"

He stepped closer. Towering. Trembling with restrained fury.

"You think this is funny?" he snarled.

You laughed, low and taunting. "It's hilarious, actually. They cried so loud. Struggled like babies. You should've seen their faces, pretty boy." Your voice lowered to a mock whisper. "I think you're getting soft on me. Not the same Viltrumite who left me broken on a battlefield."

His eye twitched. His chest rose and fell like he was holding back the urge to throw you through the wall.

"What do you want, huh?" he snapped. "Another beating?"

You cocked your head, smile dripping arrogance. "I want to see you snap. I want the same fire that pinned me down and made me feel alive. You've been boring since you brought me here... there's no fun."

Something shifted in his face—a cold fury, flickering with something darker.

His hands moved.

He simply undid the belt of his white Viltrumite uniform, then let the fabric drop away just enough to free his cock—thick, flushed, and mean. Veins tracing the length like dark roads, the head was wet and angry.

You blinked. Frowning, your mouth twisting into a sneer. "Eww, gross—what the fuck do you think I'm gonna do with that!?"

Mark stepped forward, towering over your chained form. His hand wrapped around your collar, tilting your head back roughly.

"Open your mouth."

"Fuck you."

"I swear," he growled, leaning down until his breath scorched your lips, his voice is low and seething, "If you don't open your fucking mouth, I'll tear your jaw open and shove my cock down your throat until you forget how to breathe."

Your eyes narrowed as you watched Mark stand tall before you, his 8.5 to 9-inch cock jutting out, the swollen tip slapping lewdly against your parting lips. You could feel the heat radiating off his thick shaft, smell the heady musk of his arousal. His girthy length hovered dangerously close to your face, a silent threat and a promise of what's to come.

You opened your mouth slowly, not out of submission or eagerness, but to bare the sharp, wicked teeth you were so proudly known for. It was a challenge, a silent dare. Your tongue darted out, flicking against the weeping slit of his cockhead in a teasing caress that was barely a touch.

Mark's eyes flashed dangerously as you slowly parted your lips, revealing the glint of your sharp teeth. This was no act of submission, but a silent challenge thrown down between you. "Tuck those fangs away." he growled, his grip in your hair tightening warningsly.

You met his glare with a defiant tilt of your chin, not complying. "Make me." you taunted, your voice dripping with insolence even as his fingers dug into your scalp.

A dark snarl rumbled in Mark's chest. "Brat," he spat. His other hand shot out, gripping your collar possessively. "If I feel even a graze of those little fangs on my cock, I will snap your fucking neck. Got it?"

Before you could react, he pushed it forward, the thick head of his dick forcing your lips apart and stretching them obscenely around his girth. You gasped as he pushed deeper, your throat squeezing around its size. The tip of his cock kissed the back of your throat, making you gag reflexively.

Mark paused, allowing your throat to adjust to his size. His thumb stroked along your jawline, not a gentle caress, but a dominant, controlling gesture. "Breathe through your nose." he commanded gruffly. "You can take it."

Trapped and stuffed full, your glare was your only remaining weapon. Mark started to move, his thrusts initially slow and deliberate. Each drag of his thick length along your tongue and throat sends jolts of unwanted pleasure through you. As if your body is betraying you, you can feel your cunt pulsing, clenching around nothing as he used your mouth.

His pace increased, fucking your face hard and rough. Wet, filthy sounds of flesh slapping echoed through your cell. Drool and precum mingled, dripping down to your collar and to the floor. He gripped your hair tighter, holding your head still as he hilted with each brutal thrust.

He forced you to take his entire length, over and over, balls slapping against your spit-slicked chin. Tears streamed down your face from the relentless face-fucking and lack of oxygen, but he showed no mercy.

Suddenly, with a harsh tug on your hair, he yanked your head back and pulled out abruptly. You gasped desperately, drawing ragged breaths, thick ropes of your saliva was connected to his cock and the head of his dick was an angry red, flushed and leaking, hovering inches from your face.

It was then silent between the two of you, nothing but the sound of heavy breathing filling the tense air. His chest rose and fell, sweat beading at his temples, while you knelt there—lips swollen, throat aching, eyes glassy and unfocused from the brutal rhythm he'd forced on you.

Your head swayed slightly, lightheaded and dazed, the aftershocks of it still buzzing through your body like static. You blinked up at him, not out of defiance this time, but because your mind hadn't caught up yet—too fogged to realize he had pulled out without even cumming.

Mark grasped the metal cuff binding your wrists and, with a simple flex of his superhuman strength, tore it apart like it was nothing more than paper. The sudden release sent you off balance that you collapsed forward with a grunt, catching yourself on your hands and knees in an undignified sprawl. Before you could push yourself up, his fingers hooked under your chin, jerking your head back to meet his gaze.

A slow, mocking smirk tugged at his lips as he took in the sight of your disheveled state. Then, without a word, he grabbed you and with a sharp, effortless motion, hauled you over his shoulder like you weighed nothing. The air rushed out of your lungs as your body collided with the hard wall of his chest, muscles shifting beneath you as he began walking out of your cell.

As you attempted to slip free from his hold, one hand gripped your rear possessively, giving it a sharp, punishing slap. The stinging pain radiated through you, a silent warning from him. You bit back a yelp, determined not to give him the satisfaction of hearing you cry out.

Mark walked down the corridor in heavy silence, his steps echoing ominously as he carried you like a trophy draped over his shoulder. Viltrumite guards paused to stare, their gazes lingering on your bare, used form. You could feel their eyes crawling over your skin, filled with assumptions, judgment, maybe even envy at the power play unfolding in front of them. You shot them a sharp side-glare, though the faint blush dusting your cheeks betrayed the heat pooling beneath your skin.

Without breaking a stride, Mark took off into the air, the force of his flight making the wind whip past your ears. In seconds, you landed hard on the balcony of his private quarters. He barely gave you a moment to react before tossing you onto the bed like you were nothing more than his personal possession. The moment your back hit the mattress, he was already stripping off his bloodied uniform before crawling on top of you, pinning you down with the full weight of his body.

And then his mouth crashed onto yours. It was not gentle or loving but a brutal claiming. His tongue forced its way past your lips to dominate your mouth. He poured all his pent-up frustration and lust into the kiss, one hand gripping your hair to hold you in place as he plundered your mouth.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, he released your bruised lips, both of you panting harshly. "You've done nothing but push and provoke me—every damn chance you got." he snarled, his voice low and dangerous. "But now? You're right where I want you."

With one swift motion, he caught both of your wrists and pinned them above your head in one large, unyielding hand, pressing them into the mattress. His body hovered close, radiating with heat and fury as he leaned down, his breath hot against your ear. "No more games."

Mark shifted his hips, positioning himself between your spread thighs. The thick head of his cock nudged against your entrance, already slick with your unwilling arousal. "It's time someone taught you the meaning of obedience." he rasped. "And I'm going to enjoy breaking you in."

With a single, brutal thrust, he slammed forward, burying himself to the hilt inside your tight, dripping cunt. A guttural moan tore from his throat as his aching cock sank into the silken heat of your depths. Your back arched off the bed, a scream of pained pleasure punching from your lungs as you were split open on his massive shaft.

"AAHH~!"

"Fuck, you're so goddamn tight..." Mark grunted, giving you a moment to adjust to his size stretching you wide. "This cunt was made for my cock." He rolled his hips, grinding against your cervix, before pulling back and slamming in again.

Each relentless thrust sent lewd, wet sounds bouncing off the walls, your moans rising higher with every slap of skin against skin. His free hand roamed up your body, seizing your breast in a firm grip, fingers digging its softness as he pounded into you without mercy.

"Aah! Aah! Aah! Fuck! Mark! Mark—!"

Mark's mouth found your neck, his lips and teeth teasing over the sensitive skin. He licked and nipped at your racing pulse before soothing the sting with his tongue, almost tenderly. Mark's lips trailed up to your ear as he continued his relentless pace. "That's right. Scream for me." he demanded, voice a guttural rasp. "Let them hear who owns you now." His hand slid from your breast to your throat, fingers wrapping around it possessively, not squeezing, but with the clear threat of doing so.

He pistioned his hips faster, each powerful thrust striking your cervix and sending bolts of white-hot pleasure spiking up your spine. Your cunt clenched and fluttered around his plundering cock, slick walls gripping him like a velvet vice. The stimulation was overwhelming, pushing you rapidly towards a peak.

Mark panted harshly, sweat dripping down his brow from exertion. "Take my cock. Fucking take it, you whore." His grip on your hair and throat tightened in tandem with his increasingly brutal thrusts.

He could feel your body tensing, your legs starting to quake. "No." he growled. "Don't you dare cum without my permission." To emphasize his point, he reached between your bodies and pressed down hard on your clit, pinching the sensitive nub almost cruelly.

"No! No! Aah! I-It's too much! Aah! I can't—AAHH~!" Your back arched, a scream ripping from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you. Your cunt spasmed and clenched wildly, milking Mark's hard cock as wave after wave of ecstasy consumed you.

Mark groaned, the rhythmic squeezing of your cunt pushing him closer to his own release. "You think you deserve to come after all the shit you've pulled? You'll be punished for this." he growled, his hips slamming into yours with a punishing force as he chased his own pleasure.

With one last, brutal thrust, he buried himself balls-deep inside of you. His cock jerked and throbbed as it unleashed it's hot, thick ropes of seed directly into your spasming walls. He filled you with his essence, flooding your empty womb, until you were overflowing.

As the final pulses of your shared climax fades away , Mark collapsed onto you, pinning you into the mattress. He caught your lips in a searing kiss, more passionate and intense than the one before. When he finally broke away, he rested his forehead against yours, eyes searching yours with a dark, triumphant gleam.

"We're not done yet. You think you get to rest after cumming without permission?" he growled.

Your hazy eyes fluttered open, cheeks flushed deep red. Still breathless, you gave him a small, teasing smile as you slowly dragged your wet tongue across your lips, hungry for more.

𖹭 𖹭 𖹭

The night blurred into a haze of relentless, brutal coupling. Mark's stamina seemed boundless as he took you in every position imaginable, each thrust driving into you with punishing force and precision. The bed creaked and groaned beneath the onslaught, a lewd symphony of carnal lust.

You were drunk on pleasure, drowning in the overwhelming sensations of his body claiming yours over and over. Laughter bubbled from your lips, interspersed with wanton moans and cries of ecstasy. It was a stark contrast to the pain and fury of your first fight; this was a different kind of battle, one where you found yourself surrendering to the enemy's touch.

"Look at you," Mark growled, voice thick with satisfaction as he pounded into you from behind. "Taking my cock like a bitch in heat." His hands gripped your hips bruisingly, fingers sinking into the flesh as he rutted into you with wild abandon. "Such a good little pet."

He leaned down, teeth finding your ear as his hips snapped forward, striking your cervix dead-on. "You're going to look beautiful, all round and full with my child..." he murmured, voice dripping with dark promise. The filthy words sent a shiver down your spine, even as a traitorous part of you thrilled at the idea.

Your body was a canvas of marks and bruises, each one a testament to his ferocious desire. Your breasts bounced with each powerful thrust, the two slick with sweat and come. The obscene squelch of his seed sloshing inside you with each roll of your hips was the only sound louder than your escalating moans.

You lost count of the number of times he filled you, painting your insides white with his release. Your womb was flooded, as your belly starting to swell with the sheer volume of his cum. It looked as if you were already pregnant, the bulge of his seed a perverse parody of new life.

As dawn approached, Mark finally slowed, his thrusts growing less urgent as he chased his final climax. With a hoarse shout, he buried himself to the hilt, cock jerking and pulsing as he pumped you full once more. He collapsed against your back, crushing you into the mattress with his weight.

After a long moment, he rolled onto his side, spooning you from behind. Mark's strong arm wrapped around your waist, pulling your limp, body flush against his chest. He nuzzled into your hair, breathing in the scent of sex and sweat that clung to your skin. You could feel his heart pounding against your back, gradually slowing as exhaustion claimed him.

As exhaustion threatened to pull you under into a deep, dreamless slumber, Mark's strong arms encircled you from behind, holding you close against his muscular chest. He curled around your limp body like a lover, one hand possessively splayed across the slight swell of your belly, feeling the way it strained with the heavy load of his seed trapped inside you. A look of dark satisfaction flickered across his chiseled features as he surveyed the results of his relentless claiming.

"Rest now, my love." he whispered against your ear, a tender darkness in his tone. "Close your eyes… because when you wake up, I'm going to make you mine all over again."

. ݁₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . ݁₊˚⊹ ᰔ

𖹭 please don't repost, publish, or translate this shit anywhere. You don't have the right to do that. Thank you for understanding.

Divider made by @cafekitsune ୨ৎ

#𝒂𝒊𝒍𝒂𝒑𝒐𝒕🐈‍⬛𖹭.ᐟ #viltrum mark #viltrumite mark #viltrumite mark x reader #invincible variants #mark grayson x reader #mark grayson x you #mark grayson smut #invincible fanfic #invincible #invincible x reader #invincible x fem!reader #invincible smut

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pome-seed · 17 days ago

Text

Lipstick Stains ♡ Bucky Barnes

Pairing: Sub!Bucky Barnes x Reader

Summary: Bucky's self-conscious, so you cover him in lipstick stains while telling him how beautiful he is.

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: Graphic Sexual Content. Body image issues. Submissive Bucky. Whimpering & whining Bucky. Hand jobs. Kissing. Kiss marks. Self confidence. Affirmations. Established Relationship

18+ blog, Minors Do Not Interact.

Authors Note: Inspired by a video I saw. God I wanna cover him in kisses. If you want to be apart of the taglist, let me know :)

Masterlist

It’s fair to say that almost every person alive has a complicated relationship with their body.

Whether from years of self inflicted hatred, or from unwanted outside opinion, everyone feels a certain way.

That includes Bucky.

Bucky is a large man. He’s tall and broad, full and sculpted. He’s a statue of muscle and scars, and you’ve always believed he was the most beautiful man alive. Because generally, he is attractive. Nearly perfect, to the modern era's beauty standards.

But it's not that simple, not for him.

Because his body is a prison, a shell, a glass cage marred with the shadows of his past. And when he looks at himself, he doesn’t see what you see. He sees blood, and burns. He sees scars, pale and swollen. He sees metal fused with flesh, reminding him constantly that his body isn’t really his.

So when you find Bucky in your bedroom, staring at himself in the mirror, you know. You know what he’s looking for.

Because Bucky doesn’t admire himself. He doesn’t take pleasure in pictures, or passing glances in the mirror. He doesn’t like looking at himself.

But you do.

You always will.

“Whatcha doin?” You pipe up from the doorway.

Bucky nearly flinches, his gaze finding yours in the mirror. “You’re home early…” He mutters, a soft sigh tumbling from his lips.

You shrug, carefully approaching him. “Not really,” you set your bag on the floor. “Same time as always. How long have you been standing here?” Your hands brush over his hips, where a towel clothes his hips. He must have just gotten out of the shower- except his skin was dry.

“I lost track of time,” he relaxes as your arms circle his waist, your chin propping up on his shoulder.

“What’s goin’ on in that head of yours?” You stare at him through the reflection of your standing mirror.

“Just thinkin’...” He swallows, his large palms petting over where your hands rest on his stomach. You frown, wishing he’d look at you.

“You wanna talk about it?” He shakes his head. He always says no when it comes to this. He just can never get the words out. Never muster the courage to talk about it. “Mkay,” you mutter, smacking a soft kiss to his shoulder.

You don’t pull back, because the way he keeps your hands locked in place tells you he wants you where you are.

Something Bucky made clear from the start was that he was touch starved. He never said it out loud, but the way he practically purred beneath every brush of your skin told you everything.

You often think he’s too embarrassed, which is why he’s grateful you never confront him about it. Instead, you wrap him in your arms and curl up against him.

You pet a hand down his muscular stomach, soothing and slow. “You’re beautiful, Buck,” you whisper, your lips pressed to his nape. He shivers, his throat bobbing. “Really, really beautiful. The most handsome man I’ve ever seen.”

“Y/n…” he huffs, his cheeks heating under the praise.

“Sometimes I can’t believe you’re real, just by looking at you,” your thumb strokes over his naval. “I wish you could see what I see, James,” you rest your cheek against his shoulder. “I wish you could see how perfect you are.”

He stiffens, his arms slack at his side. His heavy gaze lifts to the mirror, but this time he tries to focus on where you’re connected. On the way you touch him.

“If I could,” you start, your breath fanning across his skin, “I would spend my day just staring at you. Admiring you. Touching you.” Your fingers brush over the hem of the towel.

He sighs softly, leaning back against you.

You don’t have to look to know he’s already worked up. Emotional vulnerability works him up more than anything else.

“If I could, I’d spend my life worshiping you.” You tug his towel loose, letting it fall to the floor.

He makes a soft sound in the back of his throat, deep and flustered, as he’s greeted with the sight of his naked reflection. “You’re dramatic,” he mutters, watching your hand inch closer.

“I’m not,” you protest, your free hand petting along his side, over the notch of his hip. “I mean it, James. I mean every word.”

He groans as your fingers wrap around his stiff erection, his stomach tensing. “You-” he licks his lips. “You’re ridiculous…”

You chuckle, your hand still, just holding the weight of him. “You wouldn’t be saying that if you could see what I see.” You mutter, brushing a kiss over the shell of his ear. “I’m lucky, baby, I really am. To be with you, to hold you,” your thumb strokes the base of his cock, his skin smooth and warm. “To touch you.”

He groans, his hips twitching.

Bucky stares in the mirror, astonished and only a little embarrassed. But your touch, to him, is like a drug. It’s like something he needs in his veins, in his soul, down to his very atoms. He needs it, doesn’t matter how.

A brush of your fingers at breakfast, a hand on your hip as he passes you by, or a sweet kiss before bed. It doesn’t matter. He craves it. He craves you.

You look over his shoulder, catching his eyes in the mirror. “Look,” you insist. “Not at me, at you.” You rest your cheek against his shoulder. “Look how pretty you are.”

He makes a choked off noise, his ears tinting pink. “Jesus…”

You bite back your smile. “Are you embarrassed?”

He turns his head to the side, a frown curling at his lips. Because the only thing worse than feeling embarrassed, was being asked if you’re embarrassed.

“You shouldn’t be,” you smile. “It’s a fact, Buck, you’re pretty.”

He huffs, his hips twitching forward into your still hand. “Y/n…”

You carefully release him, stepping back just enough to feel his warmth slip away. He looks over his shoulder at you, watching as you dig through your purse. He says nothing as you open up your small makeup bag.

You find what you’re looking for and move back into his space, carefully pushing him back against the dresser. “I want you to feel it,” you mutter, your hand skating down his waist. He frowns at you, shifting on his feet. “To like what you see.”

“Y/n, I…” he shakes his head, reaching for your hips. “Knock it off…”

A soft smile spreads across your face. “Can’t. Gotta make my point.” You arch up and drag a slow kiss across his lips. He leans into you, sighing as your tongue strokes over his.

You pull back too soon- a disgruntled sound rumbles in Bucky’s chest. You bite back a cheeky smirk as you sink to your knees before him. His breath catches in his lungs, his fists curling around the edge of the dresser.

But you don’t acknowledge his heavy erection, not at first. Instead you open your hand, revealing a tube of lipstick. You uncap it and carefully apply the silky pigment to your lips. Bucky watches you, his brow pinched in confusion.

“I don’t think you realize how perfect you are Bucky,” you whisper, rolling your lips together. Your warm hands stroke down his outer thighs, over the rippling muscle beneath the flesh. “Every small thing,” you whisper, leaning in. You press a soft kiss to the curve of his left thigh.

“Your thighs,” you hum, pulling back to admire the red stain left behind.

“What are you doing?” He swallows, his stomach tensing as he watches you.

“I want you to see what I see,” you whisper, pressing another firm kiss to his right thigh. His hips shift, his aching erection twitching. “Have I ever told you how much I like your legs?” You mutter, glancing up at him as you peck his outer thigh.

“So thick, so pretty.” You press red marks into his skin, the shape of your lips carved perfectly with lipstick. “I’ve always liked how they look in your dark jeans.” You slide your hands up the back of his thighs, grabbing a handful of his ass. “And how good your ass looks in them too.”

Bucky swallows, his back arching nervously as you touch him. He stares down at you, his jaw clenched so tight, his ears ring. “Y/n…” he calls your name, sounding breathless.

You kiss along his inner thighs, the red pigment stark against pale skin. “So pretty,” you drag your hands back down his legs, petting him affectionately. You peck kisses between his legs, trailing them up to his hip. You glance up, nudging his cock with your cheek.

Bucky grunts, his cheeks dusting a furious pink. His heart hammers heavily against his ribs, pounding and thrumming beneath his skin.

“Every part of you,” You cup him in your hand, your fingers wrapping around his base. Bucky holds your gaze as you press a gentle kiss along the side of his shaft. His stomach twitches, a soft whine falling from his lips.

You smile, your spare hand stroking from his waist to his leg. You press another kiss just beneath the head of his cock, your lipstick staining him red.

Bucky squirms, his hips twitching forward. His fists tremble against the dresser, his skin painted pink with embarrassment. “Christ-” He pants, watching you. You curve down, your eyes falling shut as you gently kiss along the curve of his balls. He flinches, a choked whimper falling from his lips. “Why are- oh god,” his lashes flutter as your fingers gently squeeze the base of his cock.

You tilt your head up, his heavy erection resting against your cheek. “It’s okay, baby,” you whisper, dragging another firm kiss along the side of his length. “I want you to watch.”

He groans, his tongue swiping over his lips. He blinks down at you, embarrassed under your excessive devotion. “Okay…” He swallows, his chest stuttering with breath.

You stroke your thumb along the thick vein traveling along the underside of his cock, just barely offering stimulation. Heat sparks in your gut as he obediently keeps his eyes on you- only momentarily glancing at the many lipstick stains marking his body.

He forces himself to look back at you, too flustered and worked up. But he knows it will stain. He knows those marks will last, even after a shower.

He knows the next time he sees himself naked, He’ll see himself covered in your admiration.

You lick your palm and wrap your fingers back around his length.

“What else?” He blurts, his voice breathy and light.

“Hm?” You glance up, your lips pressed to his balls.

“You like my thighs,” he gasps, his legs spreading to give you room. “What- what else?”

You smile, pulling back. “God, there’s so much.” You chuckle, dragging your tongue along his weeping slit. Bucky chokes on a broken whine, his body arching into you. “I like the cut of your hips,” You arche up, smearing lipstick into his sharp V line. “I like your stomach,” You peck below his belly button.

“I like when you lift your arms over your head, and I can see your happy trail.” You thumb over your last kiss mark, where short dark hairs are stained red. “I like your back, how big you are.” You whisper into his stomach.

He pants, his mouth falling open as he tries to grind into your hand. He doesn’t get much from it though, making him whine softly. “Uh-huh…” He looks pathetic, chasing pleasure as you cover him in lipstick, begging you to take mercy on him.

But this wasn’t just about sexual pleasure, it wasn’t about chasing a high. It was about physically marking Bucky with your love, with your devotion. It was about holding his attention and showering him in gentle affection.

Because he wasn’t used to this- he wasn’t used to offering himself up, vulnerable and weak, for you to handle. But he trusted you, more than anyone else.

He trusts you to pick him apart, tease him to the edge, and fall apart. He trusts you to not make him feel pathetic as he whimpers through it, squirming and twitching beneath delicious pleasure and affection.

“I like your arms,” you gently pump his cock, nuzzling into the base. “Both of them.”

“Yeah?” He gasps, his chin dipping to his chest as his muscles clench.

“Mhm,” you mouth along his shaft, his pulse spiking beneath your tongue. “I like your shoulders, so broad and strong. Your chest, your smooth skin-” you pause as he chokes on a whine, his hips squirming closer. You smile, slowing your hand to a stop.

“Fuck-” He pants, his pink lips wet as he continues to swipe his tongue over them.

You pull back, staring up at him. Your stomach flips at the sight before you- Bucky, blushing and breathless, his brow knit tightly, shadowing those sharp blue eyes. His chest rises quickly with breathlessness as he struggles to ground himself.

“Tell me what you like,” You ask, continuing to slowly stroke his cock.

“I- Ngh-” He chokes, his body trembling as he takes it. “What I like?”

“Tell me your favorite part of your body,” You explain.

“I don’t know-” He gasps, grinding into your hand.

You carefully push his hips back against the dresser, trying to get him to focus. “Try,” you ask, smiling when his lashes flutter.

He swallows hard, his jaw tensing as he tries to speak. “Uh-” he pants, blinking down at you. He has to turn his head away, his face aflame at the sight of you pumping his lipstick stained cock. “I like my jaw,” he whimpers.

“Mm, me too,” you grin, thumbing the curve of his tip. “What else?”

“I-I don’t mind my legs,” he moans, trying not to fuck your fist.

“Come on, baby, gimme more,” you whisper, kissing his hip.

He whines, his head lolling back. “Fuck, I-” he pants. “My lips, I like my lips.”

You smile, nodding along. “Mm, those are my favorite.” You stare up at thim, at the way his teeth dig into the plush curve, trying to silence himself.

“My height,” he groans, your fist tightening slightly. “I like my height.” He swallows, trying to gather himself enough to think. “I like my muscles,” he mutters, embarrassed at the admission. “I like being strong- knowing I can protect you.”

Your lips twitch in a soft frown, affection burning in your chest. “Look at me, baby.”

He blinks down at you, his body twitching.

“You always make me feel so safe,” you whisper, satisfied by the mewl that falls from his lips. “Knowing you’re with me makes me feel protected.”

He moans, the thought of your faith in him making his stomach burn with arousal. “Yeah?”

You nod, slowly pumping his length. “I like knowing you’ll always take care of me,” you whisper, your lips pressing a soft kiss to the tip of his cock.

Bucky moans, the sound wavering, breaking into a soft whimper. “Y/n, I-” He calls your name, the sound falling from his tongue like a prayer. “Fuck, I- I have to-” he gasps. “Can I-? Oh fuck, please?”

You shiver, arousal burning through your veins. “Of course,” You press gentle kisses to his tip, his slick precum smearing your lipstick.

Bucky’s whole body draws tight, like a wire ready to snap- and it does. He chokes on a broken sob as he spills over your fingers, cum dripping to your thighs. He squirms, writhing against the dresser as you fist his cock, helping him through it.

“Oh god-” he sobs, his hips twitching as you spread his release over his stiff cock. “Oh fuck,” whimpers fall from his lips, spiking your pulse like a drug.

“So good,” you kiss his slick head again, listening to him whine.

“Fuck-” he gasps, overstimulation making him flinch. “Okay, stop- stop-”

You release him instantly, your hands stroking down his thighs. He groans, his body slumping against the dresser. You smile, resting your cheek against his thigh.

His trembling hand slides into your hair, petting you gently. It takes him a while to come down from that heady space, from the overwhelming pleasure.

You just stroke down his leg, curling up against him.

“I’m-I’m gonna have to shower again…” He whispers, panting softly.

“Yeah, these aren’t coming off with just a little soap.” You smile, tracing the many red lipstick stains.

“I know…” He swallows, his stomach twisting from the possessive act.

When he looks down at himself, at you, he blushes softly. His pale skin is speckled with dark red, the shape of your lips burned into his body.

He bites his lip to suppress the embarrassed smile that fights its way across his face.

A/N: The submissive Bucky requests are appreciated. I love a whiny Bucky.

Minors/ageless bios WILL BE BLOCKED.

Taglist:

@a-world-with-pure-imagination @frog-fans-unite @1967barracuda @akkklys @cherryheairt @lonelyghosts-stuff @mysoulbelongstobuckybarnes @devilslittlehelper @miss-chuchu @dollface-xoxo @natalia42069 @thuul-box @local-crazy @justachillgirllui @pleasecallmeunhinged @cookies-and-music @fallen-w1ngs @unicornqueen05 @bloodmocha @sleepysongbirdsings @fadingcollectivenightmare @hosshihusshi @sharkylalala

Tagged because they said I should write sub Bucky stuff:

@projectjuvia @scarlet-bitch @nicolesholes

I won't tag you again unless you asked to be tagged in further works...I don't wanna bother you... <3

554 notes · View notes

usedpidemo · 4 months ago

Text

Filmic (fromis_9 Chaeyoung, Nagyung, & Jiheon)

The first ripple is what you see: the waves of smooth flesh sending shocks throughout her body. Her nails digging into the sheets, her muscles shaking as it struggles to stay on all fours.

The second is what you feel: the tightness of her cunt as it pulses against your throbbing cock, overriding every other thought. Your hands deeply burrowing into her pale skin, trying to maintain some semblance of control, all while you try your best to make yourselves look good in front of the poorly setup camera under a dimly lit bedroom.

No wonder you can’t get it right the first time; you just can’t.

—————

It’s never as easy as it looks. You can’t simply go through the motions like with any other job. And to be fair, it isn’t exactly your fault: you can blame Chaeyoung for having a tight ass and pussy.

No matter how many times you fuck her, no matter how many positions you put her in, the end result remains the same: one take just isn’t enough. No amount of practice and experience can ever prepare you for just how tight she is, how close she gets you on the initial entry, and how each thrust is like driving a stake through your loins. She feels so good that it’s unbearable.

It doesn’t help that she’s quite the mouthful in bed.

“Ah—oh my God—yes—” she mindlessly drones on, delivering her demand in comically overexaggerated fashion that you have no clue whether it’s all part of the act or Chaeyoung being Chaeyoung. Same goes for how she backs her ass against your hips, making sure you fill her to the hilt. “Hm—fuck me with that big ass fucking cock—oh fuck—”

To her credit, she’s quite the natural in taking it all. The push and pull of your bodies against each other is enough to generate its own center of gravity. If this were simply a one night stand, you’d already be more than satisfied, but to be her partner, her fuckbuddy—you couldn’t have asked for a better job, even if by all accounts, you’re not doing particularly well right now.

As her ass bounces against your cock, the arch of her back and every ripple caught on camera, she’s putting on quite the show. On the other hand, you’re struggling to keep up, gripping her waist as you pound to her pace, only to find the knot in your stomach burning brighter and hotter. It’s a mistake that comes with the package of having to fuck such a tight, godly woman like Chaeyoung. Slaps of skin rubbing against skin fill the space between thrusts, complemented by the echoes of her whiny cries reaching to the ceiling—

And you’re asking yourself, what sane person—hell what degenerate—even gets off to this shit. Then you look at what's right in front of you. There’s your answer.

“Christ—you’re gonna make me fucking cum—oh my fucking God—” Chaeyoing whines, tossing her dark hair around, so off-putting, you almost lose grip at how unexpected she is. “Keep fucking that big dick in me—”

You can only respond in deep grunts and frantic breaths, straightening what little resolve you have to at least do your part. Keeping your gaze fixated on the tremble, the little jiggle of her shapely ass, your cock entering and exiting, getting wetter with each slam, staining her sheets—

“Gonna cum for you, baby,” you mumble, biting your lower lip, closing your eyes, trying to stretch moments into hours. “Gonna fucking cum—”

Here’s the thing about Chaeyoung: you don’t have a say when it comes to how long you last, because she dictates it for you. And the moment passes by so quickly, you’re left more blueballed than satisfied.

You don’t remember the last time you’ve spent longer than five minutes inside her, but it certainly won’t happen tonight. Not while you’re violently throbbing, gasping for air holding your dick as it pulses inside her creamy cunt before you painfully draw it back. Blasting around the entrance of her core, hot and heavy, cumming all over her ass. Her body takes it—as in, effortlessly sucks up your cum, her skin glistening so bright it’s almost blinding. Your only respite is watching it slowly drip down her thighs and onto the sheets.

As the aftermath of your orgasms wash over you both and pass, Chaeyoung rolls onto her back and out of bed. Like you weren’t aggressively pounding into her and tearing into her foundations mere minutes ago. She limps toward the camera, still filming you, before she stops the recording. Checking through the reel, she shows you the footage. Watching yourself go hard into her, your mind can only focus on the noises you’re making, the stark contrast in tones. She laughs; you cringe.

“Wanna go at it again?” she asks you, drawing out a bottle of lube from the bedside drawer, eager to spread it all over herself—and to spread on all fours once more.

Hand on your beating chest, you tilt up to the ceiling, exhausted, doing something only a rare few on this planet would ever try to Chaeyoung, even though it’s your primary purpose: “How about we get out of bed and go to work?”

—————

Several floors down her apartment building is where your day job lies: a seemingly innocuous bar. The place is usually empty during weekdays, so you barely spend time ‘working’ there, but the weekends are when business picks up.

To be fair, you can hardly call it a job; you co-run the place, but you’re mostly there to serve customers and play matchmaker, most of which happen to be pretty women. It helps that Chaeyoung also hangs out most of the day to entice people inside, giving herself fresh material to work with.

And she sells.

You’re already sure of what it is, before she even shows her phone, and wouldn’t you know it: it’s the 14th straight video of her back dripping with cum from her latest client, with nausea-inducing shaky cam included. Doing it with you on the side wasn’t enough; Chaeyoung has to get her daily fill from desperate men who have all the money to throw around, or desperate loners to find some temporary companionship. Perhaps both. They get to fuck a hot woman, she gets paid big bucks. It’s a win-win for all parties involved.

You see the large, burning red blot covering most of her ass. It tells you everything.

A quick glance away from her proud look and you see a guy scrambling out of the restroom with a hand between his pants, tissue barely hanging on his fingertips.

Yep. That’ll do.

Back to the stats: it’s another hit. It hasn’t even been 5 hours and her latest post has over half a million views and just as many likes from her subscribers. She’s running up her numbers, and she’s telling you how she’ll make millions in less than a year. You’ve crunched the numbers, and she’s right: you call it anal-ytics, and she just punches you in the arm. Your interpretation of comedy is radically different from hers (and unfortunately, she doesn’t appreciate your sense of humor).

“You should really get on,” Chaeyoung tells you, proudly showing you post after post, every thumbnail almost indistinguishable from one another: each a still frame of her heart-shaped ass. Almost every video has three million views or more, even if none of them pass the five minute mark. Same goes for her pictures. She can post a picture of any of her body parts and it’ll make money. “It’s really tough in this economy, you know? For you, it’ll be light work, just like fucking me.”

“Easy for you to say, Miss ‘I can’t be assed to work a real job so lemme whore out for some cash’ Chaeyoung.” You’re saying this, knowing full well you’re no better than her.

“Look who’s talking, Mister ‘BIG-1, the number two male pornstar in Korea.’ How’d you end up paying for this bar and every food truck you send to your co-stars? Hm?”

As expected, the rebuttal is brutally honest. You’ve got no counter to that.

But see, the experience has become so numbing: it’s not as easy to get the complete satisfaction of fucking a girl these days, no matter how hot they are. No matter if they’ve got the thickest ass or the biggest tits on the planet. It also doesn’t help that you’re in Chaeyoung’s ass almost every other day when you’re not ‘working.’ At some point, the law of diminishing returns has come to take its dues.

Before the two of you can continue to bicker back and forth, the entrance door bell chimes, and in comes a familiar face, bringing her share of books and laptop with her.

“Hey. Don’t mind if I brought a friend with me today,” Jiheon says to the four people inside the bar. Trailing right behind her is a fresh face to your small circle. And like most of your guests, she’s undeniably pretty. A face worth plastering on magazine covers and billboards.

There’s a common ground that you and Chaeyoung can stand on. Now you’ve both got some ideas in mind. Fresh blood is much needed around here.

“I’ll have the usual,” Jiheon says out loud, as if everyone recognizes that she’s a regular—which she is. Her partner has been unusually quiet, only mumbling to her with a hand around her face. “My friend will have the best seller,” she shouts right after, essentially acting as her friend’s mouthpiece.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the place, Chaeyoung is goading you into making the first move. “I did the last one. Your turn.”

You lift an eyebrow, hesitant. “Don’t think she’ll want to talk to me—or anyone for that matter.”

“Since when has that ever stopped you?” she replies. You’d assume that Chaeyoung would be more than willing to talk, considering these two are friends and have some knowledge around the industry. Nope—she’s protecting herself by using you as a shield if it falls apart. “Plus, that’s Jiheon. She’ll make anyone open up. Better than me, even.”

Begrudgingly, you concede. Walking over to the counter, you get their drinks. That’s how you get customers to stay for more: by making them feel welcome and making their experience personal. Jiheon’s too focused on her laptop to care at the moment, while her friend is on her phone, quietly scrolling. Shifting in her seat, shaken and uncomfortable, seemingly looking for an excuse to see herself out.

“Thanks,” Jiheon eventually notices, adjusting her glasses. “So—how’s it been?”

“Not much, really,” you reply, “And you?”

“Same. You know how it is.” She’s clicking through what appears to be some form of academic document. You’re so used to seeing Jiheon in uniform for all the wrong reasons that you tend to forget that she’s an actual student outside of the internet. Then again, she’s hardly on social media, with months between posts. “God, research is so boring. I just wanna go full-time with work.”

“Right?” You chuckle, trying to get through her so you can get to her friend, quietly sipping on her drink. Jiheon’s beverage has been hardly touched. “So—who’s your friend here? She’s new.”

Looking up from the laptop screen, she stares directly at you before turning to her shy friend. “Oh, yeah. This is Nagyung. Nakko, this is a friend of mine,” she says, encouraging her to shake hands, which you both do respectfully.

“Nagyung? As in, the actress? Lee Nagyung?”

“Mhm,” she nods, her first spoken word and hopefully many more to come. That explains her quiet and unusual behavior; she doesn’t want to be found and spotted in public. She’s had a few supporting roles here and there, got some awards, and her face is easily recognizable, even if she hasn’t completely broken into the mainstream. How you didn’t catch on right away is a mystery to you.

“Relax. Like I said, he’s a close friend of mine, and this place generally doesn’t get a lot of people, so I like studying here,” Jiheon reassures Nagyung, and she does mostly calm down, albeit still a little tense and jittery. “So—what’s up?”

“Well, you see—”

“Hi! I’m a huge fan of your work in Shadow Beauty,” interjects Chaeyoung out of nowhere, pushing you aside to energetically shake both of Nagyung’s hands. What little goodwill you’ve built between you, gone in an instant. She’s smiling awkwardly, clearly on edge by her manic energy. You’re surprised Chaeyoung can even name one drama she’s starred in, even if that’s what got her on the map. “You know you’d be quite the face in po—”

“Wait.” You immediately cover Chaeyoung’s mouth with your hand, resisting her effort to fight through it and speak her truth. Pulling her aside, you blurt out to Jiheon and Nagyung you’ll return to them in a moment before distancing yourselves to speak in private.

“What the hell?” you question Chaeyoung, pouring out your newfound frustration. “She was just getting comfortable y’know? You can’t just come in and yap up a storm. Not everyone is like that.”

She looks at you with a baffled gaze. Like this is normalized behavior. Like you should expect this to happen with every new person you two meet. “Dunno, she seemed quite into me.”

And you fire a blank-eyed stare back, in complete disbelief at her interpretation. “You can’t be fucking serious right now.”

“Maybe.”

You can only shake your head and sigh—exasperated.

“I’m just saying. Maybe she knows,” says Chaeyoung, in what appears to be an attempt at sounding optimistic. “I mean, isn’t Jiheon—”

“Yeah, no. I don’t think so.” You shut her down before the notion even finds ground. While Jiheon also is a star on her own, she’s quiet in her own right to keep her idol side and personal life completely apart. “Let’s not get any ideas right now, especially with her around.”

“Fair enough. But if she even gets the slightest hint, I’m gonna reel her in.”

“Why are you so adamant about putting Nakko onto porn?” you ask, slightly bothered by Chaeyoung’s resolve. It’s almost twisted in a way. “Last time you did that, Saerom—”

“Okay. That may have been a little too fast,” she interrupts, chuckling at the incident that caused Saerom to walk out. You haven’t been in contact with her since. That was several months ago, and not much has changed since then. “But swear to God, I won’t make that mistake again.”

“You better not.”

So you go back out there first, telling Chaeyoung to wait a few minutes before she can rejoin the conversation. Jiheon and Nagyung are talking it up when you suddenly slide back in.

“Sorry for that,” you interject, putting on your best smile. Like you’re working service for once. Thousands of possible scenarios are playing out in your head, ranging from ideal to the worst. You’re looking at Jiheon first, then turning your attention to Nagyung. “So—Nakko, right? How’s the whole acting gig working out for you?”

She blinks a few times. Looks at Jiheon, who simply lifts her eyebrows and smiles back, shrugging her shoulders.

“It’s—” she’s pausing, prolonging the last sound of that word. “Fine? I haven’t had any scripts coming in lately. It’s tough. But I’m doing okay.”

“Hm. Well—I know of a few people who can get you some gigs,” you tell her, your confidence shooting through the moon as you haven’t fumbled through your words. “Trust me, I’m an actor too.”

“Really?” Nagyung intently looks at you upon hearing that you’re a fellow actor..

“Let me introduce you to my friend, Chaeyoung. She knows her connections.” You’re looking over your shoulder, anticipating for her to have your back. You’ve got it all rehearsed and practiced in your head. She doesn’t show up.

Way to kill the momentum. Again.

“Oh Jesus—Chaeng.”

Chaeyoung finally emerges from behind the wall, more invested on her phone than the situation. “Oh. Sorry, got caught up with a new client,” she casually says, hastily tapping on the screen. “Anyway, are you interested in doing porn?”

—————

“So you don’t have to show your face?” Nagyung asks, gobsmacked at what Chaeyoung is showing her on the phone. One look at her face tells you she’s trying to make sense of all this to no avail. Jiheon has put aside her homework to help guide her through the process.

“They’re locked behind paywalls, but these do so well that those are basically bonuses,” she replies, proud of showing her ass getting blasted on camera in every single thumbnail. Between her videos and all the illicit content she posts on the regular, she’s got the best of both worlds in quantity and quality.

“And you don’t get tired of it? Like at all?”

“Nope! I’d say it’s the best job in the world,” she says, making sure Nagyung sees the monthly revenue on her account, in the millions. All on simple five-minute videos and nude body shots.

“Heoni, tell me you’re not doing this too,” Nagyung looks at her friend, arching an eyebrow, hoping she isn’t playing along.

Jiheon can only shrug her shoulders and flash a gummy smile back.

Nagyung can’t believe it. Both hands on her forehead, her head is gonna explode in light of this revelation. “Oh my fucking God.”

“Well. I figured you wouldn’t take it so well,” says Jiheon, cheeks flustered and red from embarrassment. “I mean, with you being a serious actor and all.”

“I thought you said you were acting too,” replies Nagyung, feeling a little betrayed by her friend from hiding her secret hustle. “Like theater or drama acting in college—or something.”

It’s a good thing the bar is relatively empty right now, because you’re certain every other sane person would have walked out at this point hearing this conversation.

“I do some of that, yeah,” Jiheon tells her, still shrugging her shoulders, flippant. “But nothing compares to being myself on camera, you know? And also, it does pay extremely well. I can vouch.”

Chaeyoung shows her the most viewed pages on the site, even though Nagyung has no intention to look. This is too much for her to comprehend. At the top spot is Jiheon aka creamandheoni, with chaengrang in second place. It isn’t even close; the disparity between them both is about as large as the gap between runner-up and everyone else. They’ve been dominating the rankings over the past several months, even though their content is mostly them being dominated and used over and over again.

Nagyung’s shaking her head in denial, refusing to buy into their attempts at convincing her. There’s no way in any universe does selling their bodies make more money than true, honest-to-God acting. In no way should they be rewarded more for doing less. It’s far too outrageous of a concept to be taken seriously.

“We’re not bullshitting you, Nakko,” says Jiheon, patting her friend’s back. “If you want firsthand proof, join us tomorrow to see how it works.”

“Why would I want to go to a porn studio?” questions Nagyung, giving Jiheon a judgmental look for even proposing the idea. “And if one paparazzi or fansite sees me in there? A stray camera? My career will be over before it even starts.”

“It’s a lot more intricate than that,” Jiheon reassures her, her voice a persistent calm in spite of the uncertainty. An admirable feature that makes her a great professional. “It’s almost the same as filming a drama or movie, with just—a few more gratuitous sex scenes.”

The youngest girl blinks. Realizes there’s a lot more than advertised. “Okay. Maybe a lot more sex scenes, actually.”

“God.” Nagyung’s cursing under her breath, vehemently in denial that she might as well cover her ears.

All of you could sit here and continue convincing Nakko about trying something new. You’re surprised she hasn’t walked out with the repetitive use of arguments. Show her the monthly stats, the paychecks, the follower counts—it isn’t enough. As a new customer walks in, you figure that this was the sign to stop. The lively air in the room quickly changes to brutal awkwardness.

But after a while, Nagyung finally breaks the silence, sighing. “All right. I’ll go—”

Before she can go on, you can feel the giddiness emanating from Chaeyoung, so infectious that you contract her fresh spark of energy. Jiheon’s smiling.

“—but if I’m not convinced, I won’t do it, and you won’t be able to change my mind.”

That she was finally won over is more than enough of a reason to celebrate. Even if it’s out of kindness for a friend. You can sense by the appalled look on her face that she’s already regretting this.

—————

And sure enough, Nagyung follows through on her word. Timely and professional, showing up early in the studio. She’s hilariously overdressed, covering herself with a hoodie, sunglasses, and the thickest layers of clothing possible to maintain complete anonymity.

“This is where you shoot stuff?” Nagyung asks you, the earliest one inside. The other two women, one of which being your on-screen partner today, haven’t arrived yet. It’s a relatively unassuming, normal building, all things considered—not a grimy shithole that she imagined.

“Yeah. Productions tend to be incredibly cheap, so much so that we tend to reuse everything,” you tell her, matter-of-fact. “For maximum profit, you know? Like a normal studio.”

“I can believe that.”

Looking out into the distance, you see Jiheon running for her life, almost losing grip on her belongings in her haste. She manages to hold on, successfully catching up with both of you at the studio entrance, with her legs being spent at her expense.

“Sorry I’m late,” she huffs, gasping for air, hands on her knees, tired. A look at your schedule tells you she’s actually almost an hour early. “I had a last-minute photoshoot to do, but here I am.”

You wanna tell her the truth, but you don’t. She’s too sweet of a person to break her heart.

On the other hand, Nagyung doesn’t care. “Heoni, filming doesn’t start for another hour.”

“Really? Damn.” Jiheon flashes a defeated look at her friend and you, devastated at her efforts going to complete waste. She laughs the pain away; it’s evident on her face. “Well that’s what happens when you’ve got your schedules all messed up.”

Not long after, you get a message from Chaeyoung telling you she won’t be able to make it on time, leaving you down to three. Another client, she says, meaning she’s gonna spend most of her day getting railed and filming herself for new content. For her, the grind never stops.

So you climb up the elevator together, the eighth floor is where the magic happens. Passing through a narrow corridor, a nude woman suddenly emerges from one of the production rooms. Her body trembling, she gives you an inviting wink as she walks in the opposite direction. Nagyung looks back, then at you and Jiheon, alarmed that this is a seemingly normal interaction.

The woman walks into one of the bathrooms, her ass swaying hypnotically as you look back. As she completely disappears from view, Nagyung refocuses her attention back to you, baffled.

“What the hell? Who was that?”

“Oh, Seoyeon?” You chuckle. “We know each other. Most of us.”

“Most of us?”

As you step inside the room at the far end of the corridor, you explain to Nagyung, “Yeah. The girls are the stars here, and us guys trade partners every week.”

“Jesus.” You can sense the regret in Nagyung’s voice. “That’s gross.”

The comment doesn’t faze neither you nor Jiheon; it was a given considering she’s still an outsider. It’s no different than kissing a traditional co-star—mostly.

But moving on to what’s ahead, the film set is already ready, with the production crew making last minute adjustments. The director fixes his glasses, realizes his cast have finally arrived, and he looks tired. The guy looks so done, even though nothing has happened yet.

“There you guys are,” he comments, noticing the elephant in the room. “And who’s that?”

“Oh, that’s Na—”

Jiheon’s mouth is suddenly stopped by a harsh blow to her ribs courtesy of Nagyung’s elbow.

“Sorry. I mean—Christine.”

“Well tell them if they’re not a cast or crew, they should kindly buzz off.”

“No, no. She’s here to learn and wants to join at some point.”

“Join?” He shoots back a puzzled look. Taps his foot. No one in the right mind willingly wants to do porn. It’s the lowest of the low, you’ll admit, and there are better ways to find exposure into the greater entertainment industry, especially if you’ve already got one foot inside. If not for your friend’s influence, you’d keep your double life separate too, just like Jiheon. “Hm. I don’t know.”

At the worst possible time, the director has an existential crisis. He’s hesitant to let her in, but at the same time, doesn’t want to kick her out either. Before his head explodes from anxiety, he tells you to head into the dressing room to get ready at once.

—————

Inside, Nagyung continues to be stunned at how casual everything is between you and Jiheon. That you’re both undressing right in front of each other, at how normalized nudity is, like you’re in your homes and not preparing to film sex in front of cameras and random strangers. The younger woman brought her actual university uniform along because the company can barely afford to film props, and same goes for you—a simple suit and tie.

“So this is totally normal? Normal for both of you to just do this? No intimate feelings whatsoever?”

Both of you nod back, humming a harmonious mhm in unison.

“Kind of numb to it at this point,” you say, buttoning the last of your shirt. “I mean, there are some feelings, but we’re professionals. It’s all done with consent, obviously.”

Jiheon chuckles, her trademark gummy smile bouncing back through her mirror as she brushes her hair, putting on the finishing touches on her appearance. “It helps that you’ve got such a nice cock.”

Both of you end up laughing heartily, much to Nagyung’s dismay.

“But for real, I trust you more than anyone,” she tells you, walking over to your side to fix your tie properly, playfully slapping your cheeks. “I mean, that and you being the number one male—”

“Right. Not a real achievement.”

“Come on, carry yourself with pride,” Jiheon remarks, repeatedly clapping your face, turning that little frown upside down. “Who else can say they’re the top male porn star in Korea for six months straight?”

Before things get a little more personal, you hear the director calling your names. It's go time.

—————

Nagyung casually sits behind the others on set, keeping her identity concealed, but she easily stands out based on how overdressed she is compared to everyone else. No one can hardly be arsed to dress up on the job, showing the lack of seriousness. They want to get this over with and move on to better, more dignified work.

The director tells you to look into the camera as you’re put into this compromising position; Jiheon bent on the prop desk, her damp underwear in view as you press your bulging pants against her lifted skirt. The job never becomes easy, no matter how much you rehearse. Your co-star, on the other hand, is already having the time of her life; it’s written all over her face. How she wants it. How she badly needs it inside her right now.

Your cock wants her too. The feeling is mutual.

The director checks through the script, which doesn’t matter at all. The story is about as cookie cutter and as generic as anything you’ve seen in theaters lately. She’s the bratty student looking for an out, you’re the teacher with a moral crisis. Of course you’re gonna fold; you don’t need a prompt telling you that you’ll fuck her and bend the rules behind everyone’s back. You’ve seen this movie play out over and over again in different ways. The only difference being that the student is Jiheon. She’s the splitting image of the hot student fantasy that it’s an astonishment this is her first go at the premise.

Ironically, Jiheon follows the script by the book, word for word. You can tell that it’s been written by people whose only experience with sex is through porn and nothing else. If she wanted to, she could genuinely act. There’s something distracting hearing her deliver her lines in a surprisingly professional manner that you flub your cue multiple times. Not to say she’s entirely responsible, but she does contribute quite a bit; you couldn’t be arsed to read yours. So you’ve been winging it, much to your director’s annoyance.

The guy wasn’t expecting to actually direct today.

“What’s going on, man?” he rages while on the chair, frustrated that you’ve blown your lines eight times. He’s suffering. “Did you even read the script?”

“Mhm,” you tell him, playing down the seriousness of his predicament. The consummate worker she is, Jiheon takes you aside privately for a word as he calls for a quick breather.

“Something up today?” Jiheon asks you, redirecting your wandering gaze back to her while you search for Nagyung. She has seemingly disappeared between takes.

“I don’t know,” you tell her, unable to figure out the issue yourself.

“Is it because of Nakko, right?”

“Maybe.”

She looks around the set herself, with Nagyung nowhere to be found. “Well, that’s not what matters right now. If she doesn’t want to, then it is what it is, right?”

You pause for a moment before nodding. “Right.”

A moment later, Nagyung emerges from the dressing room, taking a seat away from everyone else on set. It’s all in your head. The doubt. The unease. Parting in an instant. Like you’ve got something to prove.

So when you go for your ninth take, you feel a completely different person than you were minutes ago. The responses come naturally, even if it’s mostly ad-libs and improvisation. The director keeps it rolling as you effortlessly pace through the nonexistent teasing and pleasantries: commanding Jiheon to drop to her knees and unbuckle your pants like the naughty student she is.

Even in front of cameras, you can only see her.

The director makes sure your erect cock is in clear view, already dripping with precum. Right on cue, Jiheon looks over her shoulder and looks directly at the camera, wrapping her fingers around your base. A thumbnail worthy shot. She makes sure the sound equipment hears every slurp and hum from her lips when she takes you into her mouth; bobbing her head back and forth as she sucks you dry, making you squirm on the chair.

Grabbing her by the hair, pacing her suction and forcing your cock deep in her throat. Staining her otherwise pristine face and pretty lips with thin streaks of white. Taking slow, passionate licks on your tip, giving herself a taste. Internally, you’re telling yourself you’ll nail this in one take; if you don’t do it now, you won’t do it ever, and no amount of visual effects and post-production can come close to filming that level of authenticity.

You’re not sure whether you’re filming porn or actually going for it at this point.

As more of your cum splatters on her face, Jiheon has your cock gripped in one hand, unbuttoning her shirt with the other. Giving you a blurry glimpse of her cleavage, the ecstasy feels so good that finding focus is nearly impossible. You’re losing it. Meanwhile, the cameras are still rolling, capturing every single detail. Besides the lewd sounds you’re making, the set is eerily quiet, as if they’re letting you both run the show, which you are.

“Yeah—fucking do it—do it baby—” Jiheon rasps, pumping you fast and reckless without concern or consideration, demanding you cum for her. “Come on—give your favorite student what she deserves.”

And quite frankly, you just might.

Thrusting, following her pace, gasping for air, gritting your teeth. As though you’re dangerously close to falling off a cliff. As if her hand wasn’t enough, Jiheon teases you with the faintest touch of her tongue. That needy, thirsty tongue. Tip to tip, squeezing the smallest drop of cum out of your cock, in the lewdest expressions imaginable. She’s putting on quite the show. If you weren’t so preoccupied with keeping yourself together, you’d be disappointed for not keeping up.

The camera absolutely loves Jiheon, that’s for certain. She’s taken to being under the spotlight as easily as putting on shoes: quite effortlessly. All eyes are drawn toward her as she lets it go: pointing your throbbing cock all over her shirt, her bra, and all over her face. She milks you for all your worth; the sensation feels so damn good it hurts. Half her face is painted in your cum, as if her skin can glisten any brighter. And once she finally empties you clean, she licks herself, tastes whatever amount of you she can reach.

If it weren’t for the cameras rolling, you’d pass out right then and there. But there’s still more to do, all in the name of fanservice and views.

As you prop Jiheon on top of the desk, barely able to drag your legs, a quick glimpse of Nagyung tells you everything you need to know. She’s got a hand covering her mouth; you don’t need to see through those sunglasses to sense her shock and disbelief. If only she could walk away now, but she can’t. But before your attention lingers a few moments longer, Jiheon redirects your gaze back to her. Back to what’s important.

You don’t even realize she’s borderline naked, only keeping her stained skirt on her body. Slipping your hand between her legs, you shed her panties down her legs. It’s just as drenched as you expected; there’s no faking it.

“Smell it,” Jiheon whispers to you, catching you completely off-guard. This wasn’t in the script. You can’t tell whether she’s speaking for herself or if it’s part of the act. Perhaps both.

Before you can even question her, the cameras remind you to stay in character. So you follow.

Grinning as if she’s caught you in her trap, Jiheon spreads her legs wide, giving you a peek of her soaked pussy. Drawing you like a moth to a flame, you grab her thighs, spread her that extra inch wider, and dive headfirst into her cunt.

She keens. Her body glued flat to the surface, shaking while your tongue makes work of her slick core. There’s no better place to drown in. The taste is so intoxicating, you can lay in it forever.

Jiheon lets out these scuffed, disjointed cries of pleasure. Can’t formulate complete sentences, only erratic noises and volumes of profanities. “Fuck—fuck yes—so—so good—mmh—”

All while you’re filling up the room with the sounds of slurping and humming, drowning yourself in the savory nectar of Jiheon’s cunt. The desk begins to rock the rougher and deeper you go, losing yourself in the suffocating sensation of her pussy as her legs close in on your face.

Oh, you’re doing it for real, if there was any doubt.

As Jiheon straightens her knees upward, you can hear her whining grow louder. “Almost there—don’t stop—don’t you fucking stop—”

Like you had any intention to.

“I’m gonna cum—please—it’s so—”

And Jiheon’s voice cracks before she can finish. Turns into an airy whine as you’re tongue deep in her to care.

She’s trembling all over when she cums. Turns your face into a canvas, an outlet of her orgasm. A torrent of her juices wash over your face, and you graciously take it all, drowning yourself in her bliss. There’s an authenticity that an intimacy coordinator can’t replicate. Genuine emotions pouring in, of pleasure, of pain, of everything in between. The correct thing to do would be to let it pass organically before moving on.

But of course, the director can’t even do that right.

“Cut!” he yells from his chair, ruining what otherwise would have been a perfect sex scene and continuation. Jiheon’s still in the throes of her peak when the cameras stop rolling, your face still buried deep in her aching core. As you rise up for air, your face is soaked twice over in her slick. Gasping, heaving for much needed air. Another still-worthy image.

Making Jiheon cum and cumming on her is a reward in and of itself, but still: some positive remark or compliment from the director would have been nice.

“That was good,” he tells you as the other crew come in to clean up your mess. “But I would have liked a little more dirty talk coming from you. Some degradation, you know? Like maybe calling her a slut, but we can fix that in post. Good work today, guys.”

—————

“So—what do you think?” you ask Nagyung in the dressing room. That one take was all that you did. You and Jiheon are done for the day. At least that’s what you believe.

“I—I don’t—I just—” Nagyung is too stunned to speak. She laughs, because she can’t find the right words to say. The entire time, she had been watching behind her sunglasses, never once removing them. For her eyes and sanity, probably the best decision. “You guys are really fucking crazy.”

“We don’t know what else to tell you,” says Jiheon, calm and casual about the whole thing. Like you didn’t just have sex in front of her for real, despite the film set serving as a backdrop. “I mean—I wished we went through with the penetration, but it is what it is.”

“Thank God you didn’t.” Nagyung remarks, tone sarcastic. “My eyes are gonna need bleach after seeing all that.”

“It’s me, so what I do is honestly tame by comparison,” Jiheon replies, swiveling her chair around, kicking her leg up. “You’ve got girls in threesomes, gangbangs, free use—”

“Okay, we get it.” Nagyung interrupts. “No need to explain any further.”

“But Nakko, wouldn’t you have to do a love scene at some point?” you bounce the notion, using her background as a means to get on equal footing. “I mean, yeah, you’ve got an intimacy coordinator, but—”

She’s quick to shut you down. “I’m not doing a love scene. Not in a million years.”

And you stop talking right then and there.

Nagyung pinches her forehead, stressed out by her internal quandary. You can sense that she doesn’t want to, but can’t say no. It’s palpable through her veins. She’s come at a crossroads with her career. On one hand, there’s opportunities for work and pay, but the implications it could have long term outweigh the short term benefits.

A few minutes of awkward silence follows.

“I don’t have to show my face—right?”

“Nope. Don’t have to,” you answer.

“Your voice though,” Jiheon says, concerned about her friend’s future too. “Your face can easily be masked, but your voice—”

“Yeah, I know,” replies Nagyung, deeply exhaling. “But—I’d rather do everything now and regret it later than not doing anything at all.”

“But your career—” Jiheon is alarmed by her friend’s sudden change of heart.

“Maybe no one recognizes me through my voice and I can moonlight like you do,” says Nagyung. “If it’s a flop, then at least I don’t have to do any more,” she tells her. “I want to test myself. See how far I can go.”

Jiheon takes a look at Nakko before turning to you. You’ve been convinced since she asked that first question. You’re only waiting for her.

You nod. And that’s what finally puts Jiheon at peace.

“Okay.” Jiheon rises from her seat, smiling. “Looks like we’re doing this. No regrets?”

Nagyung smiles back. “No regrets.”

—————

“Shit—oh fuck—oh shit—” Jiheon pants, her suffocating legs wrapped around yours while you pound her against the wall with running water washing down both your drenched, tangled bodies. “Keep going—I need this—need you—fuck!”

The feeling is mutual. Turns out, you can’t get your much needed satisfying orgasms when you’re in front of cameras. Some things are better behind closed doors and between two people alone.

The showers in the studio aren’t designed for quick clean ups; they’re an outlet. A conduit for co-stars to get their proper climaxes in when the cameras aren’t rolling. They’re designed to be as loud and proud as possible. It’s all the more evident when your moans are bouncing off the walls in thunderous, shattering echoes. Not even the running water can cover your tracks. Anyone in close proximity to the bathrooms can hear you. It’s the perfect place to unwind after any filming day.

“So—fucking—embarassing,” you tell Jiheon, more a shot at yourself than a comment about how needy she is. It comes with the package when it comes to shooting porn; something about fucking your partners in private ticks those marks compared to doing it in front of a professional crew. “Can’t believe you made me cum so fucking much—”

“Isn’t that the point?” she whispers back, her nails clawing down, taking lease of your back. Between moans, her body trembles wildly with each thrust you give her. Burying your cock deep inside her needy cunt with each stroke. You give her more of a reason to cling to you. “But maybe—maybe—” she stammers, her head drowning in so much ecstasy that she goes tongue tied. “Maybe—I should have let go sooner—”

Pumping Jiheon at an erratic rhythm, your hips gained a second wind after that much needed respite after filming. Struggling to capture her lips, you barely kiss her. “You can now. Fucking cum for me. Christ—”

The sound of flesh slapping flesh ripples through the room, overpowering even the continuous shower noise. You’re fucking her like you’ve got something to prove. Using her cunt liberally, her walls pulsing tightly against your throbbing cock, quickly burning through what little resolve you have built up. Try as hard as you can, the knot in your stomach lingers and lingers, slowly flooding your head, until you have no other choice—

It all comes crashing down.

Jiheon melts in your arms, barely hanging on for dear life. The orgasm washes over her in turbulent ripples, shuts her up in an instant. Mouth hung wide, head tilted up for you to rest your head on her neck, moaning these sweet profanities that are music to your ears. She cums all over your cock, urging you to follow her right after—which you do.

The way you cum so soon, it makes you second guess why you’re in this position to begin with. It doesn’t match your best male KAV pornstar title. Nevertheless, you fill her, give her what she’s been fiending for the longest time. It makes the entire ordeal worth it.

You stay in Jiheon a bit longer. A lot longer than you internally promised. Even as your cock withers, you keep yourself buried with what little you have, letting your orgasms pass over quietly. Resting underneath the shower, your bodies entangled like pieces of a puzzle meant for each other, your lips meet halfway in an intimate, delicate kiss.

So maybe you’re starting to catch some feelings. But before it blossoms into something more, Jiheon breaks off the smooch, grinning against your face. She’s flustered all over; she feels the same way.

“I thought you needed help getting hard again,” she remarks, as her fingers push on your lower lip.

Blinking a few times, you reply, “You didn’t help anyway whatsoever.”

She laughs, smilingly cuddling against you before going in for another passionate kiss.

—————

A week later, you’re back in the studio, this time together with Chaeyoung and Jiheon in what’s basically a pornographic blockbuster. The two biggest female stars and the top male star in an internet-breaking film. Your careers have been building toward this moment. Hell, in a rare act of restraint, you decide to abstain from your regular escapades to prepare for this. Inside the dressing room, there’s a little predicament: Chaeyoung’s having a little fit about taking cum head on, because she doesn’t want to mess up her makeup and hair apparently. She’s spoken to the director about changing the scene multiple times to no avail. She’s frustrated. The ironic thing is: she’s the one who’s been talking about it nonstop. So this sudden change of heart comes off as strange and unusual.

“How about I do it?” Jiheon steps in, seeing the frenzied, panicked state Chaeyoung is in. She’s walking back and forth, close to pulling her extensions off, possibly making a bigger mess of herself more than what you’re about to do. “Is it this serious for you to back out last minute, Chaeng?”

“Yes,” Chaeyoung yells at her, making sure everyone hears her desperate plight. “I’ve got a client tonight, and he’s apparently a chaebol, so—”

“I thought you weren’t taking any clients today,” Jiheon says. Even this shoot is that important of an occasion to skip escorting—at least only for today. Apparently not.

“It’s not often you get a million dollar payday,” Chaeyoung remarks, looking at herself in the mirror, examining every single detail about her. You can sense that she’s itching to leave at the earliest possible opportunity.

“Is it gonna hurt you to tell him that you can delay the meeting for tomorrow?” Jiheon asks, only to immediately realize the answer she’ll give. “Oh yeah—”

“It will.” Both Chaeyoung and Jiheon speak synchronously.

Suddenly, you enter the dressing room, catching their attention. “Good news, Chaeng. I’ve gotten them to change the scene.”

Before you can say another word, Chaeyoung breathes out a needed sigh of relief, while Jiheon shakes her head. “Thank God,” Chaeyoung says, rubbing a hand on her chest. “So—what now?”

“Told me to come up with a scene,” you tell her. “And I’ve got an idea.”

—————

You can barely hear the director’s echoes from underneath Chaeyoung’s supple ass. Her butt almost fully presses on your face, cutting off most of your sensory functions. You need Chaeng and Jiheon to relay the question for you to fully understand.

“He’s asking if you can finish in this position,” Chaeyoung shouts, while you can barely breath down here.

“What a ridiculous question,” you’re mumbling to yourself, as if anyone can even hear you right now, while you’re basically dying. To make matters worse, Jiheon’s squatting down on your cock, already buried in her cunt as a sort of unfinished business, sequel baiting move from last week’s session. The two girls are facing each other, all of you already in the nude. Even though you’ve been on-screen for half the runtime, this is their show, and you’re merely a glorified stage prop.

The only reason you can move is because of the grind of Chaeyoung’s ass, which is basically the stand-in for the director yelling action!

If only you can see what’s up there. How hot it would be to see Chaeyoung and Jiheon making out and caressing each other’s bodies. You know that’s what’s happening because you can hear the sound of muffled hums and gentle kisses. Even without your presence, this one scene alone would singlehandedly break the internet. The two top Korean pornstars fucking is about as surefire of a hit as any theatrical blockbuster.

All the better, Jiheon’s taking your cock as she kisses her co-star, her rhythm constantly disrupted, giving Chaeyoung all the leeway to go down on her svelte body. As always, she’s the loudest one in the room, the one with the highest sounding cries, the one with the sharpest moans. Chaeyoung’s got her arms wrapped around her back, taking purchase of her frame between passionate kisses. She goes down on the one thing she’s envious of, beside her ranking as number one: her supple, shapely tits.

Meanwhile, you’ve got your tongue buried between Chaeyoung’s ass, licking up her slick core, drinking as much of her nectar as you desire. You haven’t had a taste of her in a week, so this was like quenching thirst in the middle of a hot, dry desert.

Squatting on top of you, both women are gingerly bouncing on your helpless body, taking as much of you as they possibly can. Shared experience and common interest working at play. The pleasure sends shockwaves through their nerves, causing them to abruptly freeze in place. Taking this opportunity to dig your hands on Chaeyoung’s thick thighs, deeply slurping into her suffocating heat. They’re making music with their passionate, lust-filled moans.

The pleasure appears to be far more overwhelming than thought. Chaeyoung and Jiheon tremble atop you while they ride you in slow, sloppy motions. Their bodies feel heavy to move smoothly; this is your handiwork. You feel the harsh grip of their nails on your chest. The desperation. The need to cling for support.

“Oh,” you hear a prolonged whine, unsure who it’s from. “Oh God—”

Their breaths are heaving, deep, heavy. Moments stretching into minutes. Minutes stretching into hours. You’ve found true solace between Chaeyoung’s ass and inside Jiheon’s cunt.

You hear a follow up groan. A continuous crescendo. It’s familiar enough for you to guess it’s Jiheon, and you’d be proven correct. In the midst of this mess, you never realized your own undoing had passed, and it’s because your mind lingered on Chaeyoung’s hole. You never felt the twitch of your cock at all. The creamy load that you were intending to share between the two women, all of it sucked up by Jiheon’s needy pussy instead.

It’s gonna be a challenge to tell Chaeyoung that she’ll have to drink it out of Jiheon’s cunt.

A brief stir, followed by a gravelly echo, and then Chaeyoung hops off your face, letting you see the light. Jiheon also clambers off your cock, your connection broken by a thick string of cum glued between your skin.

The director rises from his chair, seemingly frustrated for some reason. He’s surveying the scene; it’s a mess. “God dammit. You came too soon.”

Your hips are drenched in a pool of your own sticky load. Likewise, Jiheon’s thigh is dripping to the floor full of you. It’s unlike you to finish quite prematurely. Elsewhere, your face is coated in Chaeyoung’s slick, but not to the same extent as your groin.

“How much did you film?” Jiheon asks him, professional sounding like always, albeit barely suppressing her laughter.

“About four minutes.”

Four minutes is about 20 short of what was expected. As much as you savored the sensation, you’re not sure you can spend another five beneath Chaeyoung’s ass.

The director pinches his nose, thinking of possible ways to prolong the scene and deliver the best product possible. It may be porn, but it’s still people’s livelihoods at stake. In the meantime, the assistant calls for a break, meaning all three of you head back to the dressing room for a breather and additional touch-ups.

Taking a chair for yourselves, you can’t find the words to speak. So do your co-stars.

The sound of the door swinging open captures all your attention, foregoing the customary knock. An unprofessional action, but then—

You see the person entering the room, and you all shut up.

“Hey y’all,” Nagyung says, bringing half a dozen shopping bags with her. She’s wearing sunglasses to hide her identity, of course. “Don’t mind if I make myself comfortable.”

You have no objections, even if you couldn’t outright say it. The other two share your sentiment. After all, it’s been a week since you last saw her. Something about a magazine feature, Jiheon said, explaining her sudden absence from your small friend circle. But now, she’s here, in the flesh, visiting during one of your more important film shoots.

The first thing Nagyung points out after setting her bags aside is the thick layer of cum on Jiheon’s skin. “I must have missed out on a hot scene,” she remarks, her gaze lingering on the large blot. Not even her bathrobe can hide the evidence.

“You only got here just now?” Jiheon asks, to which she merely nods.

“Should have gotten here earlier,” Chaeyoung comments, chuckling at her absent friend. “I swear, it was so—so—hot.”

“I bet it was,” Nagyung replies back, lightly shaking her head.

Before it goes awkwardly silent once more, you turn to Nagyung, asking her the big one. “So—have you decided? I thought you weren’t gonna come back.”

Facing you, Nagyung hesitates for a moment. “Well,” she pauses, taking a deep breath to formulate her response. “I have thought about it. A lot. And as you know, I’d like to challenge myself, so—”

“Does that mean—” Chaeyoung interjects.

“Quiet, Chaeng.” You shush her.

Pausing again, Nagyung has this look of resignation and acceptance on her face. “Might as well give it a go.”

In an instant, Chaeyoung’s eyes light up, brimming with newfound energy. On the other hand, you and Jiheon silently nod.

“Do everything and regret it later—”

“—Rather than not doing anything at all.” Everyone, including you, finishes Nagyung’s sentence in unison.

“Exactly.” is her remark, amazed at how well all three of you know her mantra.

“I can’t wait,” Chaeyoung tells her, excited at the countless possibilities. “Us three, running the top of the ranks. It’s gonna be so fun.”

“Easy there. Nakko, I know this is gonna be a little bit of an adjustment, but it’s really a blast. Trust us,” says Jiheon, approaching her to be her guide through her new job. “And wouldn’t you know it, you have the best worker on standby to help you out too.”

“And who would that be?”

Jiheon points directly at you. Across your seat, Nagyung gently smiles, expectant and excited. Her friend is giving you a thumbs up, as if you’re a hundred percent down for the responsibility, when in reality, you’re not ready to guide a newcomer through the ropes. Especially one with a well-established public reputation like Lee Nagyung’s.

—————

“So, are you gonna like post that?” Nagyung asks, looking over her shoulder with a wary look. You’ve got her in bed laying on her stomach, her clothes lost on the floor save for her shirt, and you towering behind her, her bare ass trembling with your cock’s touch. With Chaeyoung out for tonight, the little studio where you normally shoot your films with her is available for practice—and you’re gonna take advantage of her absence. “My fees are hefty, you know.”

“No,” you tell her, shaking your head with a slimy, shit-eating grin. On one hand is your cock, pumping yourself hard against her core, the other holding a camera. Her ass is already wiggling against your shaft, and you don’t know whether you can capture this view perfectly once you start rolling. “This work of cinema is for my eyes only.”

Nagyung braces herself and clings to the edge of the mattress as you slowly dip into her pussy, suppressing her moans before she’s utterly consumed by your cock. By the way she reacts, you recognize that she’s born for the cameras, born for this moment.

—————

Later that week, you hear an unexpected knock on your apartment door. Under any other circumstance, you wouldn’t bother to entertain it at all; Chaeyoung’s sudden booty calls happen hours in advance. She would never come over this late. A look through the outside camera shows you a new presence: Nagyung.

You’ve got some questions running through your mind, but you’ll cross that bridge when you get there. So you welcome her inside without a second thought.

As soon as she enters your place, Nagyung sheds off the thick coat she’d been wearing unceremoniously, letting it fall to the floor. Her tits are protruding through her shirt, and she’s sporting the skimpiest pair of jean shorts you’d ever seen.

“Thanks for letting me in,” she remarks, tone low. Picking up the discarded clothing off the ground, she opts to lay it on your couch rather than the rack close to the entrance. “Sorry if this is all out of nowhere—”

“No worries,” you miraculously manage to blurt out, your gaze lingering on her fine pair of legs. Her slim yet toned physique makes your mouth water. Can’t find the resolve to look anywhere but her eyes, no matter how hard you try. “But—how’d you get my address?”

“Friends know friends. Wasn’t hard.” She’s walking around your apartment, taking mental notes of your place. For someone with your line of work, it’s relatively modest and normal, like you’ve been doing a 9-to-5.

“Right.” You pick up her coat and set it on the rack without her noticing.

Nagyung turns around, facing you eye to eye as you approach her in the living room. Hands behind her pockets, graceful and cordial. The words that come out of her lips aren’t. “You’ve got the best dick around, and after that little trial run we did, I’d like a little more of it.”

It’s so sudden and unanticipated that you can only blink in response..

“So show me then. I need to see it again.” Every step she takes toward you, another step over that line. Her gaze, fierce and intense, goes from you down to your pajamas. Her hands reach for your pajamas, clawing at the fabric to feel your cock. The reaction is immediate; you can feel yourself throb at her hands, the need to free your raging dick. “You wouldn’t turn down a pretty girl like me, would you now?”

Never. Not in a million years. This seems like the exception. You know there are better ways to ease her in, to make the process a lot more comfortable. It’s not an easy adjustment. However, her eyes are begging, pleading in earnest for her to be thrown straight into the fire.

Under the shallowest guise of morality, you hesitate. Swallowing your throat, your voice goes hoarse—falls flat, lacks conviction: “I—I don’t think you should—it’s too soon.”

Your answer falls on deaf ears, because Nagyung continues to hold your cock, squeezing your ballsack. She gives you this teasing, offended look—a response to your half-assed attempt at convincing her otherwise. Sticking her tongue out like it’s second nature, the same manner she does on her Instagram photos. “Really? Did you say this to Jiheon too, huh?”

It seems to light a fire in Nagyung’s soul. She slides down your loose pajamas, enough to let your cock breathe in the air—and for her fingers to touch your tip. Enough for some precum to spill into her hand. Your head begins to spin; you’re feeling lightheaded.

“Christ—Nakko—we can do this—just not now—” you say, deeply inhaling as she releases you from her grip.

She takes a finger into her mouth, tastes a bit of you, before coating her lips with your sheen. Lifting an eyebrow, she appears totally unconvinced. “Again. Is this what Jiheon heard when she wanted to do this the first time?”

“No—”

Before you can get another word off, she drops to her knees, forcing your pajamas down to the floor. Your erection inches away from her nose, one hand wraps around the base, delicately pumping you, disrupting your train of thought. Her other hand holds onto your thigh, pulling you close. She dives in, takes you into her mouth, without hesitation. Filling herself with cock and soft hums, her tongue works backwards, licking from the hilt up to your tip in abrupt, erratic motions.

Fucking hell, she’s such a natural at it.

“Everytime you answer incorrectly,” she mutters, struggling to take in your length, choking halfway before lodging you back in comfortably. “I’m gonna make you cum, but you won’t get to unload in my pussy.”

There are some fates worse than death; this is one of them.

Nevertheless, Nagyung continues to blow you effortlessly, like she was meant for it. This is essentially her audition and she’s passing with flying colors. Her harsh suction and smooth slurping splinters your senses, sends chills down your spine. The only thing you can do is grab her hair, find some semblance of control, but she moves at her pace, at her rhythm—and it’s a mess.

Not even thrusting into her throat can impede her.

“Just be honest with me,” she says, her voice making your cock vibrate. Her fingers remain active pumping, jerking you hard, measuring your load. “You’re trying to protect me, right? You wouldn’t want to be responsible for ruining my acting career?”

You shake your head in denial, even as she continues her assault on your senses. Wrong answer.

“I don’t really care all that much. I just want your cock right now.” Nose to chest, Nagyung’s cheeks hollow out as she invites you throat deep. No gag reflex, even as she whimpers quietly, suffocating, gasping for air. Your fingers thread between strands of her hair, holding her in place, exactly as she wants.

Merely a blur between your legs, she lightly bobs her head back and forth, relinquishing control into your hand. She’s too far gone, and so are you. You’re more than happy to oblige.

Taking a brief opportunity to look up at you, Nagyung looks directly into your eyes. She’s never been more proud of herself. Proud to prove a point, proud to make you shut up like this. Internally, you are too; you’ve never had anyone blow you like this, take you into their mouth like it’s built to hold cock.

“This is all on you, Nakko,” you huff, shutting your eyes, relishing the hot sensation of her mouth and lips. The yank on her hair tightens. “You wanted this.”

She songfully hums, her only response, currently immersed in taking as much of your cock as possible. You reward her, thrusting into her throat without care for comfort or rhythm, without respite. She coughs, she whines, she keens. Tears begin falling from her eyes, but she continues to take it extremely well.

But neither of you can take it for long. Especially you with how new this sensation feels coming from her.

Your fingers twist her hair into a makeshift leash, controlling her pace to match yours. Except not really, you’re still going at full speed, never letting up for even a second. The ecstasy, the euphoria from using her mouth is too good to let go. Both her hands have given up, settling on your thighs for support. She has conceded complete control into your grasp. You’re now responsible as to whether or not you will ruin her career.

And you just might. After all, she’d given herself over, essentially coming to your side for greener pasture. You can only hope she really doesn’t regret it later.

“Gonna cum,” you groan out, pumping into her mouth, unrelenting. She feels so good, you can barely keep one eye open while she essentially rests on your pelvis, close to flying over the edge.

Nagyung makes this incomprehensible sound, garbled by cock—something between the lines of cumming all over face and never stopping. The thought never crossed your mind. Beside, you’ve got other concerns—particularly, the knot in your stomach tightening past repair.

For a few precious moments, you feel it: the blaze of lust burning everything in sight, including Nagyung’s face. She chokes, gags on it one more time before releasing you from her grip, her hands returning to the base, intent on making sure you don’t miss a spot on her pristine features.

Instead, your plunge between her lips again, her eyes widening, and fire away. Her mouth floods with a torrent of cum, thick, hot, filling her throat to the brim. She swallows it all, avoids wasting a single drop, and even she can’t fight it off any longer. She gave up her rights the moment she forced you into her mouth.

Even as the pulse weakens, and you eventually pull out again, Nagyung graciously drinks it up. Savors the taste like its water, like you’re the key to life itself. And while you’re able to avert a career-ending scandal by preserving her pretty face, there’s enough residue to stain her lips and chin, something you can wave off as an accident.

The same can’t be said for her body hugging shirt. It’s mostly drenched in slick and sheen. Unsalvageable.

It’s the least of your worries right now. Your legs turn wobbly, and you slump back onto the couch, your strength drained all thanks to Nagyung.

“Okay. You got me,” you say, gasping between sentences, gathering as much needed oxygen for your lungs. Placing a hand on your chest, a glance at the woman and she’s licking up her lips for whatever cum’s left. “But—I still don’t think we should—”

Nagyung gets up from the floor and removes her shirt, tossing it aside. You’re rendered speechless at the last second. She’s not wearing any bra, her tits are out in full force, nipples taut and hot. But she’s not done yet; she makes quick work of her shorts, kicking aside her shoes before baring herself completely before your eyes. The sight leaves you shellshocked, your jaw completely agape.

As if you needed any more convincing that she’s ready to do porn. She’s got the makings of a top star; the looks, the body, the expressions, the voice—everything.

Extending out her hand to you, you grab and she pulls you from the couch before taking you to the bedroom. She lands belly first on the mattress, before arching her back, showing her plump ass directly before your presence. More importantly, she’s showing you how needy is through her wet panties, which you quickly slip off. Her wet holes, splayed and throbbing, drawing you in.

“Don’t you see how badly I want it,” she tells you, straightening her body on her fours as you join her in bed. “I’m ready. Just—please shove that big fucking cock inside my slutty hole. Please.”

It’s about as lewd as it sounds, yet still sincere. She’s too good of an actress to be doing mindless pornography.

For a moment, you consider otherwise. But then she’s continuing to whine ‘Please’ in the softest tone possible, and you can’t help but concede. Besides, you knew in your heart you were never gonna turn down a body and pussy like hers.

Lining your cock between her aching core, you give Nagyung a slap on her ass. In return, she yelps. Then another. Two should be enough, one for each cheek. But the visual of her body jiggling, rippling with each palmful as her skin turns from pale white to fiery red sets you further down an addicting, dangerous spiral.

“Fuck, you’re really good at this,” you mutter, helping yourself to another palmful of ass. Her body trembles, glides down till you have her melted on the mattress. “Calling yourself a slut? Just like that? And I thought you wanted to be taken seriously as an actress.”

“No. I’m a slut,” she whines, her nails digging into the sheets, holding on for dear life. “I’m a slut for big cock, and I don’t care if it ruins me. Just please—shove that big cock inside me already. I can’t take it anymore.”

You want to test her a bit longer. More. To see how long it’ll take before she completely breaks. To find her limits and push them. And based on how needy she sounds, not that much longer.

“If you insist.” You hiss against her ear, spinning her around so she can meet you eye to eye. She’s trembling, anxious, ready to receive what she deserves. Hovering atop her, helpless and vulnerable, you gently slide in—and then she keens.

Nagyung’s cry of pleasure reaches high to the ceiling, filling the room with a sharp echo. The impact is immediate; her walls pulsate against your cock so tightly that it steals your breath. Impossible to drag yourself out. You can only gasp and catch yourself from grunting as loud as her, though it may have been better to give in.

You feel her refusing to let go, the grip she has on you nigh inescapable. But you eventually slide back out, only to slip back in. Another whine forced from her lips. She’s doing it on purpose, you conclude, a way to break you back. A means to get you to fly over the edge.

Pinning her down to the sheets, going down on her neck, Nagyung’s sensitive to the touch. She quivers beneath you while you acclimate to her warmth, pounding her needy cunt at a slow, tempered pace. The tightness of her pussy enraptures you, continues to take your breath away. She’s all but a blur in your eyes, with her voice being the only guiding light as you fuck her. Her legs slowly wrap around you, keeping you in place so that you have no outs.

Not that you had any intention of pulling away any time soon.

Especially when she’s beginning—pleading—in the most strained of tones.

“Ah—this—cock—this is so—oh my fucking God—” she whines, breathing heavily between words, her lips twisting in ecstasy. By impulse, her nails leave marks over your back, clinging to you desperately. “So fucking big—don’t you ever stop—”

“Never,” is your only response, and it’s oh so right. Your cock glides in and out of her core like water, effortless and silky. Your head is in a daze, going overboard through the unforgiving heat of Nagyung’s cunt. You’ve got a hand squeezed on her breast, surprisingly hefty for her proportions and size. You’re forcing out these noises from her, whether it may be a little cry or a deep whine. You can’t simply touch and admire her; you have to ruin her.

She’s dangerous; she’s an addiction you can’t get enough of.

The bed begins to rattle, joined by the repeated, rhythmic smacks of skin slapping against skin. Pushing further along into her cunt, like you’re going to drown if you’re not balls deep inside her. It’s unlike you to go farther than normal, but you’re past the point of rational thought; the only thing that can set your mind right is what’s waiting on the other side.

“Nakko,” you mouth, and it comes out naturally. Like it’s meant to be. You can’t stop; you’re so far gone at this point.

As you try to pull your head away, Nagyung twists her arms around your neck, wrapping you in an awkward, uncoordinated kiss. It’s sloppy and disjointed; your lips barely meet, her breath tense and hot, but passionate and sincere. Mouthing the gentlest ‘more’ and ‘so good and ‘harder’’ something you’re quite familiar with. A little reprieve and distraction from what’s to come.

But the calm doesn’t last too long. The feeling continues to balloon higher and higher till it’s you’re at the tipping point of exploding. It doesn’t help that Nagyung continues to encourage you with all the little things; her shrilly whines, her clawing at your hair and back, her body bouncing with each thrust, causing her tits to ripple, and of course, the tightness of her cunt.

“So close—I’m gonna cum—oh God I’m going to cum—” Nagyung cries, biting on her lower lip, moving her head around to find your lips again. She narrowly misses you, your lips by her chin, breathing on her neck.

“Cum for me, Nakko,” you tell her, keeping her breaths labored and erratic, your thrusts unrelenting—like you’ve ripped the brakes off your own hips. The grip around your waist is beginning to waver. “Just—cum all over me—cum for me, slut—”

That one word. That one damned word that she’d been avoiding this entire time—is what breaks her. She embraces it now. Forget about saving face; this is who Nagyung really is. A slut.

Because she cums. Hard. Her pussy quivers, her body tenses up, and her feet curl in the air as the orgasm washes over her. Tilting her head to the side, letting out this impassioned cry of pain and pleasure as you fill her to the hilt, filthy and heavenly in every single way. Fingers embedded deep into your skin, uncaring about all the marks she’s leaving on your body; a fair trade-off for what you’re leaving in her.

She washes all over you, a fresh wave of slick and nectar that floods your cock, and as you push further on, you realize you’re not any better. If anything, you’re dangerously close to falling apart too.

“Gonna fucking cum—” you hiss, kissing her cheek repeatedly, pulling on her dark locks, going down on her neck again in a last-ditch effort to delay the inevitable.

“Please—” she murmurs back, unable to resist you, unable to find a moment to catch her breath. “Don’t cum anywhere else—cum inside me—fill me up—please—”

With a tone like hers, it’s impossible to decline such an offer.

And mercifully, the end comes not long after.

Pressing Nagyung deep into the mattress, your bodies melt as one. Burying yourself deep inside her, leaving an evident mark on her neck as your connection reaches its apex. You feel it—the violent, continuous pulse of your cock unloading shot after shot inside her needy cunt till she’s drained you of your worth. A cacophony of whispers fall against your ear, the same comment of ‘so warm—so much—’ in that order, until you’re both met with a calming silence, only accompanied by your steady breaths.

Can’t move, even as your cock withers in her warmth, insisting to stay. You’ve got each other in a warm embrace, unwilling to let go. You’re resting your head right beneath hers, kissing what little of her chest you can reach. Basking in the afterglow of sex, taking all the time in the world to let everything sink in. Even now, it’s all a blur; a complete disruption of the status quo.

Tilting her head down to glance at you, Nagyung quietly breathes, her lips melding into a little smile. “Well—this is—” before she goes blank, still overwhelmed over the events that have transpired.

“Yeah,” is all you can say, just as tongue tied, like you’ve both come to the same conclusion.

As she leans in to meet you for a deep, passionate kiss, you both hear a voice echo in the distance. ‘Cut!’ the director tells you, and you both lay down, drained and exhausted. His applause echoes around the room while he approaches you both, pleased with your efforts.

While he yaps on about something, you take a moment to hush something to Nagyung. “Christ. Nakko, you’re a natural.”

She smiles at your remark, caressing the back of your head. “You’re not half-bad yourself.”

—————

“Jesus.” Nagyung looks at her phone in utter disbelief and shock. Across the table, Jiheon leans forward to take a peep herself. The title is irrelevant (but partially responsible); what matters is the view count. And to no one’s surprise, it’s a hit. Her debut ‘film’ has notched 14 million views in a little over 24 hours, a new site best, surpassing the previous record by a complete landslide. It isn’t even close; just like that, a new star is born.

“See?” Jiheon looks on, proud. “By the rate you’re going, you’ll surpass me and Chaeng in no time. And it’ll be rightfully deserved.”

“Sure, but—” Nagyung looks around the bar, trying to catch a glimpse of Chaeyoung, whom she hasn’t seen in a week. “I don’t wanna post as often as you do, you know? Make it a big deal whenever I do this. Also when my agency eventually finds out, I’m toast.

“Doesn’t matter. We all know it’s you,” Jiheon jests, raising her eyebrows playfully, much to her friend’s annoyance. By request, Nagyung had her face explicitly blurred out and cut whenever possible during sex scenes, even though she had taken up the daunting task herself instead of getting a body double. “But we’re all well protected, and this is all under the table, high security shit. So don’t worry. Besides, it pays well, if not better for a day’s work.”

Just then, Chaeyoung emerges from the restrooms, adjusting her jeans as she walks over to their table. Taking her seat besides Nagyung, she gives her a friendly kiss and embrace. “Congrats on the debut, Nakko. That was very hot, by the way.”

“Thanks.” Nagyung quietly smiles at her, tone respectful and gentle. “So—where’s he?”

Right as Chaeyoung is about to open her mouth, you come out of the bathroom, wiping off soiled tissue roll glued to your fingers and pants. Chaeyoung smirks while the other two silently giggle and suppress their laughter. It’s been a week since she’s had her hands all over you, and this is how you catch up with each other.

“So, what’s next?” Chaeyoung asks, addressing the elephant in the room. “I assume you’ll be going back to doing regular acting roles now that this is all behind you—”

“Mmm—I don’t think so.” Nagyung interrupts. “Still haven’t got a new role yet, officially, but I’ve been penciled in for one as a rich asshole student.”

“You sure that wasn’t for me?” Jiheon interjects, eliciting a hearty laugh out of everyone around the table.

“Good one. But that was a fun experience, honestly. All thanks to this guy over here,” Nagyung says, pointing her finger directly at you, drawing all the girls’ attention.

Tilting your head, you remark, “Just doing my job, that’s all there is to it.”

“Easiest job in the world, am I right?” Chaeyoung teases, smirking devilishly, like she’s ready to go another round.

Trying to remain well-mannered and polished, you reply, “It wouldn’t be as easy if she wasn’t cooperative on set, so there’s that.”

“Right.” Chaeyoung looks down, tone sarcastic, her fingers tapping on the table. “Definitely didn’t practice the night before. Am sure.”

“Anyway,” Jiheon interjects, redirecting the conversation back to the topic at hand. “So—what will you do, Nakko?”

Nagyung gives herself a moment to think. Then, her eyes pop wide open, like an idea just hit her.

“How would you three like to break the internet one more time?”

—————

(A/N: Thank you for the commission! I hope I was able to deliver a worthwhile product; between IRL stuff dragging the whole month of February down, barely had time to truly focus on writing. And funnily enough, the three idols requested all happen to be part of the redebuting fromis lineup. I'm glad fromis will continue on in some capacity, but it's still a bummer that we lost out on Saerom, Seoyeon, and Jisun (which, considering how much they've been shelved and mismanaged since debut, is understandable). Thank you for reading!)

#kpop smut #fromis 9 smut #lee nagyung #lee chaeyoung #baek jiheon

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missmonsteruniverse · 4 months ago

Text

~Spring Season~

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Head cannon

Themes: Fluff💖, Nsfw🔥

(Warnings: ⚠️Adult Content⚠️ breeding, p in v, penetration, slight oral, some slight whiny monsters)

Monsters: Harpy Eagle Harpy 🦅, Fairy 🧚‍♂️ , Naga 🐍 , kitsune 🦊

(I apologize for any spelling mistakes)

———————💗———————

~~~The first spring time that you catch your monster lover during their mating cycle~~~

———————💗———————

~Harpy Eagle Harpy Bio~

Height- 6-6’10 (As harpy eagles are pretty big birds I’d imagine they would more on the taller side)

Physique- Lean with abs and decent muscles

Shaft- Perfect thickness, with 8-9 inches

Looks- Pale skin tone, Silver eyes, white feathers that ombré to grey and black. White hair which also has the crowning of feathers as well.

You and your harpy lover have been together for over a year barely missing last spring season when you and him got together in a relationship, and now this time spring season had just began once again, after getting some pastries from the bakery you start leaving the village heading to the nearby mountain, where your lovers cave resides. Once reaching the cave you walk in, but soon freeze the moment your hear the sound of deep groans and feathers ruffling, walking deeper into the cave you reach a large room, on the far side of the room was your harpy lover on the large nest of blankets and pillows, hunched over.

He was grunting, his feathers all ruffled up, he moans out deeply your name. “Baby” you murmur out. Snapping his head towards you, his grey eyes seeming to glow in the low light of the cave, within seconds your harpy lover stands before you pulling you against his semi toned chest, his body felt much warmer than usual. He buried his face into your neck, inhaling deeply, relishing in the scent of you.

“I fucking need you” your lover rasps deeply. “Whats the matter” you spoke out as you pull back slightly looking up at your harpy lover. His pupils being dilated, he spoke, “It’s spring time”, leaning in towards your ear he murmurs, “and my mating cycle has began, I must fuck…my pretty mate…..you’ll allow me right..”.

With a soft smile you lean up kissing your lover, as you then whisper out your consent, with that your lover, sweeps you up in a quick manner, causing your to drop the bag of pastries you were holding. In seconds your on your back, your harpy lover over you, his eyes gleaming, as his claws quickly undress you, his breathing was raised as he was so eager to have you, his cock which has been hard for the past hour since his cycle started was leaking his excitement.

With your legs around his slender waist, the hot flesh that transitions down to white and grey feathers, your harpy lover leans down closer to you mumbling with a deep voice, “Your mine for the rest of the day, the rest of the week my feather, mine to breed”.

Your arms wrap around his neck, as your lover kisses at your neck, his clawed hands feverishly touching around your body, eagerly seeking out your arousal preparing your body to fully settle his aching cock within you. Be sure to know that your harpy love kept his promise, that entire week you were mostly in his bed, him filling you over and over.

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~Fairy Bio~

Height- 5’5-5’11 (I imagine fairy’s to be more in the average range of height were occasionally some would be taller, rarely ever 6 ft)

Physique- Slightly more on the slender side with very slight muscle

Shaft- slimmer in thickness, 10 inches veins running along

Looks- fair skin tone, golden eyes, black hair, wing type (Green moss peacock)

Your fairy lover doesn’t generally go into a mating cycle like other monsters lovers do, but just know that once your fairy lover has first mated you, he will only ever want you for the rest of his life, as I believe fairy’s mate for life. And damn right does your fairy lover adore to make love with you, his precious partner. You and your fairy lover were at a beautiful meadow, a shimmering lake off to the side, you both were having a wonderful picnic.

Sitting on the picnic blanket, the both of you sharing sandwich’s and a bowl of fruits, simply enjoying each other’s company underneath the beautiful sky. As your fairy lover and you lay on your side facing each other smiling softly. Murmuring soft words, of affection, as then your lover reaches up to tuck a strand of your hair back, leaning closer laying a sweet kiss to your lips.

When you return the kiss your fairy lover moves his form to hover over yours, his sweet kiss becoming more heated, his hand which cupped your cheek moved down caressing your body, to soon reach far enough for his warm hand to dip under the skirt or your dress. You release a soft moan when your fairy lover grips at the flesh of your thighs, his emerald green shimmering wings fluttering in delight.

“My pretty girl, I need you” your fairy lover murmurs into your ear, leaning up kissing him deeply, you give your lover the consent he needed. He pushed up your dress skirt revealing your underwear to him, your arousal evident on them once he pushes your legs apart wide for him to settle in between.

With his hard cock pressed against your clothed cunt, his hips buck forward causing the both of you to whimper out softly. Leaning down your lover whispers in your ear, “hold your pretty underwear to the side as I make love to you”. Without hesitation you pull your soaked underwear to the side as your fairy lover unbuttoned his pants, pushing both his pants and boxers down just enough for his cock to be free.

Once pushing his cock into you, your fairy lover shudders, a whiny moan leaving his lips as his wings are fluttering erratically, due to the feeling of your warmth, hugging your body up to his, his hips move in a desperate pace, his face in your neck, leaving love marks. Your fairy lover was just so lost in the feeling of you, almost as if lost like a beast lost in heat.

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~Naga Bio~

Height- If standing up right would be 6-7 ft tall (without the inclusion of the entire length of the tail, with tail from the top of their head to the tip of the tail around 12-14 ft)

Physique- Slim muscular build (strong muscles to climb up trees and to pin down their mate to breed 😌)

Shaft- Double time, Shaft has ridges along it (I imagine one shaft being thicker and bigger than the other, definitely would use the smaller to prep you before relentlessly fucking you with the larger one)

Looks- tan skin tone, black hair, golden eyes (which slit during mating cycle), scale pattern (Caucasian viper, black and golden yellow streaks)

It was the first day of spring, you and your Naga lover having been together for 2 years already, you we heading to visit your lover at the temple he resides in, even though you and your lover were together for 2 years you’ve missed his first mating cycle as, at the time you were busy with work you had the past year, unknowingly not being there during his cycle.

Walking into the marble and stone temple, you head to the bedroom, as your reach the curtain covered door way, you hear hisses, the sound of moans and your name falling from your lovers lips. You gulp thickly as you feel your cheeks heat up, you pull the curtain open peeking into the room. You see your naga lover on his bed his hands stroking his cocks uncontrollably, his arms adorning more of his shiny scales. He whines out gasping your name and pleas, as your more nonchalant naga lover had tearful eyes.

“Baby” you murmur out, causing your naga lover to freeze, looking over at you, he lets out a hiss of desperation sitting up, he continues his stroking movements on his larger cock, “please come to me, fuck I need….”, your lover whimpers out. You walk closer to your lover as you spoke, “Love what’s wrong”, as you got close enough your lover whips his tail to you dragging you onto the bed, pinning you underneath him.

Looking up at your naga lover you notice his golden eyes glowing slightly, his irises in slits, as he speaks out, “I need you please, fuck please I need you….to fill you…to breed you full of our little snakelets” your lover lets out a low hiss as his tail coils around your legs, his hips rutting against your clothed pussy. Letting out a soft whine you murmur, “you’re acting differently what causing you to be like this…”

“My mating cycle” Your naga lover speaks out as he licks along your neck taking in your scent, “Please will you let me….” Your lover speaks out his hands gently roaming under your shirt touching the soft warm flesh of your belly, your lover could smell your arousal, and was desperately holding back, as he wanted to hear your approval before he let go, having his way with you.

Gently wrapping your arms around your naga lover neck you speak out your approval, within seconds your naga lover kisses you feverishly, his hands pushing your shirt up groping your chest over the fabric of your bra. Before pulling away slightly, to fully begin to undress you completely. Kissing down along your body your naga lover, kisses at your thighs before licking up your arousal, letting out a moan from the sweet taste of you.

With the foreplay of your naga lover devouring your pussy, drinking up your arousal, to then stretching you out on his smaller length. Your lover grips your legs around his slim waist rutting his leaking tip against your aching core, his pushes forward, in a fluid motion his larger cock hilting fully within you as his other slightly smaller cock rubbed at your clit, which only added to the pleasure. “My perfect mate, all mine, taking me perfectly” your naga lover murmurs, the rest of the day your naga lover, bred you perfectly, leaving the both of you satisfied and exhausted. Your lover holding you against his chest his tail coiling around you, acting as a shield, keeping his perfect human mate safe.

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~Kitsune Bio~

Height- 5’10-6’2 (occasionally some can be up to 6’5, the taller they are the more bigger their ego 😗)

Physique- Slender with slight muscle

Shaft- Long (cocky fuckers), pretty thick to but not so bad.

Looks- pale to fair skin tones, silvery eye color, white long hair, ears and tails are white that ombré to a red.

you and your kitsune lover are at a hot spring resort, enjoying your third year anniversary, your lover has reserved a bedroom that had its own personal patio with its own hot spring pool for just the both of you, the cool breeze as the day was winding down the sun starting to set, as you both relaxed in the pool chatting softly, you sitting on your kitsune lovers lap, your back resting agianst his chest.

Your lover is gently caressing your thighs as he kisses at your shoulder, humming out softly as you speak out chatting about anything that came to mind. His hands soon stopped once he felt a wave of heat washing through his body, a familiar feeling of his heat cycle beginning. Your lover adjusts his sitting position as you soon feel something poking at your ass, turning to look at your lover his face was flushed and his eyes glowing and glossy.

You tease your lover as he becomes more flustered and slightly irritated with embarrassment looking away, he grumbles, “it’s not my fault my heat cycle is beginning”. With a smile you move positioning your self to face your lover straddling him, you murmur, “what is my little fox, embarrassed”. With a soft growl your kitsune lover looks at you his eyes shining brightly, he stands exiting the hot spring pool, your legs wrapped around his waist.

Walking over into the bedroom your lover lays you onto the bed pinning your hands over your head with a low voice he speaks, “who said I was embarrassed, I’m simply bothered”, “bothered by what” you whisper out. Your lover mumbles into your ear, “bothered that I still don’t have you screaming for me, begging…”.

You can feel the hot breath of your kitsune lover lowering from your ear to your neck, running open mouth kisses down from your collar bone to you breast, giving attention to one of your hardened nipples, his hands releasing the grip on your wrists caressing along the flesh of your arms moving down to hold onto your hips, while his lips moved to kiss and suck on your other breast.

Sitting up right your lover pushes your legs back just enough for him to settle perfectly in between, his thumbs caressing your thighs he speaks gently, “Perfect……my pretty girl, let me claim your body, to be utterly mine tonight, to hold our little kits we’re to have”.

Grinding his hard cock against your warm cunt, your kitsune lover murmurs lovingly to you, “please, give me little kits, a family to love forever” as he then gives you a passionate kiss, a kiss revealing how badly your lover wanted to breed you badly, to ravish you all night long, but holding back enough needing for you to also want this, to want his kits, to want the future family you both would have.

With your soft affirmation, your kitsune, pushes his hips forward entering your warmth, with a shuddering gasp your lover fully enters you. Laying his forehead against yours, your lover murmurs sweet words of love to you. Kissing you with fierce passion, as he moved his hips in a deep sensual manner. A manner that leaves you both breathless yet craving for more, which gladly he gave you more throughout the rest of the week you both stayed in the resort.

#monster boyfriend #monster fucker #monster fudger #monster lover #monster romance #monster x human #monster x reader #monster smut #monster x you #kitsune #naga x reader #naga #kitsune x reader #harpy eagle #harpy x reader #fairy x reader

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lisasmuts · 5 months ago

Text

The Debt Paid off.

Lalisa Manoban (Lisa)

12.25k words

previous part here

( The debt finally paid off... )

Lisa's eyes fluttered open as she felt a warm, viscous liquid trickling down her thighs. To her surprise, she realized it was Y/N's seed, spilling from her well-used ass as he continued to thrust into her.

“10 AM?”

she gasped, her voice thick with sleep and residual pleasure.

“You've been at it for 3 hours while I was sleeping?”

The thought of him taking his pleasure from her unconscious body only heightened her own arousal.

“You insatiable beast,”

she purred, her tone dripping with wanton need.

“I should have known you wouldn't be able to resist filling me up.”

Reaching back, she tangled her fingers in his hair, pulling him close. Her lips sought his in a searing kiss, her tongue exploring his mouth with unbridled passion.

“Well, since you've already had your way with me,”

she whispered against his lips,

“I suppose I should return the favour.”

Lisa's eyes sparkled with mischief as she shifted her position, straddling Y/N's hips. With a coy smile, she leaned in, her lips brushing against his ear.

“I'm going to return the favor by taking what's mine,”

she purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“After all, you've had your fill of me. Now it's my turn.”

Trailing a line of feather-light kisses down his neck, Lisa slowly began to grind her hips against his, eliciting a guttural groan from Y/N. Her fingers danced across his chest, tracing the contours of his muscles.

“You've been so generous, my love,”

she whispered, her tone laced with feigned innocence.

“It's only fair that I repay you in kind.”

With a swift, fluid motion, Lisa sank down onto Y/N's throbbing shaft, a gasp of pleasure escaping her lips. She reveled in the sensation of being so completely filled, her body clenching around him.

“Now,”

she murmured, her gaze smouldering with unbridled lust.

“Let me show you just how much I appreciate your... attentions.”

Lisa's eyes sparkled with mischief as she took control, pinning Y/N's hands down to the bed. With a coy smile, she slowly sank down onto his throbbing shaft, a gasp of pleasure escaping her lips.

“Now, my love,”

she purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“It's my turn to have my way with you.”

Gripping his hands tightly, Lisa began to ride Y/N's cock with a steady, deliberate rhythm. Her hips undulated sensuously, her inner walls clenching around him in a delicious vice.

“You've had your fun, Y/N,”

she murmured, her tone laced with feigned innocence.

“Now it's time for me to take what I want.”

Throwing her head back, Lisa moaned softly, her body trembling with each impalement. She revelled in the sensation of being so completely in control, her every movement calculated to maximize her own pleasure.

“Just lay back and enjoy it, my love,”

she whispered, her gaze smouldering with unbridled lust.

“I'll make sure you get every last drop.”

Lisa's body moved with unbridled passion as she shamelessly rode Y/N's thick shaft. Her hips undulated in a steady, sensual rhythm, each impalement drawing a guttural moan from her lips.

“Y/N!”

she cried out, her voice dripping with wanton need. Arching her back, she cupped her ample breasts, kneading the supple flesh as she ground down onto him.

Her long, raven tresses cascaded down her shoulders, framing her flushed, beautiful face. Lisa's eyes were half-lidded, her gaze smoldering with unbridled lust. She felt so full, so deliciously claimed by Y/N's impressive girth.

Leaning forward, Lisa braced her hands on Y/N's chest, her nails digging into his skin as she chased her own pleasure. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the air, punctuated by her breathless cries of ecstasy.

“Yes, yes!”

she panted, her hips moving with increasing desperation.

Lisa's eyes flew wide as Y/N's hand pressed against her sensitive pussy, sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through her body. With a strangled cry, she tumbled over the edge, her inner walls of her asshole clenching rhythmically around his shaft.

“Y/N!”

She wailed, her voice dripping with unbridles ecstasy. Even as the intense orgasm wracked her frame, Lisa continued to bounce on his cock, desperate to milk every last drop from him. True to her insatiable nature, Y/N’s release triggered her own, and with a guttural groan, he spilled himself deep within her quivering passage. Rope after rope of his seed flooded her abused asshole, adding to the mess they had already created.

Collapsing against his chest, Lisa let out a contented sigh, her body trembling with the aftershocks of their shared climax. She knew there would be no rest for the wicked, not with Y/N’s seemingly endless stamina. But for now, she revelled in the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed.

Lisa winced slightly as Y/N's palm connected with her tender flesh, but the pain quickly gave way to a thrill of excitement. However, as he propositioned her for another round, she found herself uncharacteristically hesitant.

“Actually, my love,”

she murmured, her voice soft and slightly breathless.

“I think I need a bit of a break. Why don't we just... talk for a while?”

Reaching up, Lisa gently caressed Y/N's cheek, her gaze filled with a tenderness that belied her usual wanton lust.

“I want to savor this moment with you,”

she whispered.

“No more frenzied coupling, at least for now. Let's just... be together.”

Snuggling against his side, Lisa let out a contented sigh, her body still thrumming with the afterglow of their previous exploits. For once, she was content to simply bask in his presence, to let the intensity of their passion simmer rather than boil over.

Y/N cupped Lisa’s boobs playing with her nipples he accepted,

“I do love you Lisa, but I can’t betray my best friend ELI, but due to our agreement which we made I was able to use you however I …”

Lisa's eyes shone with a mix of vulnerability and desire as she gazed up at Y/N. Cupping his face in her hands, she pulled him into a hungry, passionate kiss, cutting his sentence in between, her tongue dancing with his.

“My darling Y/N,”

she purred against his lips, her voice dripping with seduction.

“I know your heart is torn, but you needn't worry. I love ELI dearly, but you... you hold a piece of me that no one else can.”

Trailing her fingers down his chest, Lisa's expression turned coy.

“And thanks to our... special arrangement, I'm free to indulge in my cravings for you, whenever and however I please.”

Shifting her position, Lisa straddled Y/N's hips, grinding against his hardening length.

“So please, my love,”

she whispered, her eyes smouldering with unbridled lust.

“Don't hold back. Take me, claim me as your own. I'm yours, now and always.”

Lisa's body trembled with unbridled ecstasy as Y/N's thick shaft plunged into her waiting ass once more. A guttural moan of pleasure escaped her lips, her nails digging into his shoulders as she clung to him.

“Yes, Y/N! Fuck me again, fuck me harder, I'm your dirty whore!”

she cried out, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Use me as your personal fuck toy!”

Arching her back, Lisa met his powerful thrusts, her hips undulating in a desperate rhythm. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the air, punctuated by her breathless cries of bliss.

“I need your cum, Y/N!”

she begged, her tone laced with desperation.

“Fill my slutty holes, mark me as your property! I'm nothing but a cum-hungry bitch for you!”

Lisa's body trembled as Y/N's thick shaft pulsed, flooding her abused passage with yet another torrent of his seed. A shuddering moan escaped her lips, her mind reeling from the sheer intensity of their coupling.

“Yes, Y/N!”

she cried out, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Make me your cum-dumpster! I'll take every last drop you have to give!”

Grinding her hips against his, Lisa reveled in the feeling of being so thoroughly claimed. Her inner walls clenched rhythmically, milking every last bit of his release. She had become an insatiable vessel for his desire, and she wouldn't have it any other way. As the final spurts of his orgasm subsided, Lisa collapsed against Y/N's chest, a satisfied smile playing on her lips.

In just a few moments, Lisa began grinding her ass against Y/N's cock once more, eagerly fucking herself on his thick shaft. However, the moment was suddenly interrupted by the shrill ring of her phone.

Glancing down at the caller ID, Lisa's eyes widened as she recognized ELI's name. Panic flashed across her features, realizing that she had neglected to show up at the office as expected.

She quickly wears the t-shirt lying nearby Y/N’s head, which helped her cover her perky aroused tits from the sex she is having with Y/N.

Steeling her nerves, Lisa quickly answered the call, her voice tinged with feigned nonchalance.

“ELI, darling! I'm so sorry, I... I'm not feeling well today. I'm afraid I won't be able to come into the office.”

As she spoke, Lisa continued to rock her hips, grinding against Y/N's cock in a desperate attempt to maintain her composure. Her free hand clutched at the sheets, knuckles white with the effort of keeping her voice steady.

“Please, don't worry about me,”

she purred, her tone dripping with false sweetness.

“I'll rest up and be back before you know it. I wouldn't want to miss a moment with you, my love.”

With a coy smile, Lisa glanced down at Y/N, her eyes sparkling with mischief. She knew she was treading a dangerous line, but the thrill of it only heightened her arousal.

Lisa's heart raced as ELI's concerned questions poured through the phone. Biting her lip, she struggled to maintain her composure, all while grinding her hips against Y/N's throbbing shaft.

“I'm fine, my love, truly,”

she purred, her voice dripping with false reassurance.

“Just a little under the weather, that's all. Nothing to worry about.”

As ELI pressed for more details, Lisa's eyes fluttered closed, a soft moan escaping her lips as Y/N's thick cock filled her so deliciously, and the thrill of deceiving her boyfriend only heightened her arousal.

“I promise, I'll be back before you know it,”

she lied, her tone laced with feigned sweetness.

“In the meantime, why don't you treat yourself to something nice? You deserve it, darling.”

Ending the call with a coy smile, Lisa tossed her phone aside, her full attention now focused on the man beneath her. Bracing her hands on Y/N's chest, she began to ride him with unbridled passion, her body trembling with each punishing thrust.

“Now, where were we?”

she purred, her gaze smoldering with wanton need.

“I believe you had a promise to keep, my insatiable lover.”

Lisa's body trembled as Y/N's thick shaft pulsed, flooding her abused asshole with yet another torrent of his seed. A shuddering moan escaped her lips, her mind reeling from the sheer intensity of their coupling.

“Ohh, Y/N...”

she whimpered, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“It feels so good to be your little cum dumpster. I love having your seed spilling out of me, even with ELI just a phone call away.”

Glancing over at her discarded phone, Lisa felt a thrill of excitement course through her. The thought of betraying her beloved boyfriend only heightened her arousal, making her clench greedily around Y/N's softening length.

“Tell me,”

she purred, grinding her hips against his.

“How does it feel to know you're defiling me, even as I lie to the man I claim to love?”

“OH I love to defile and debase and claim you my darling.”

Y/N purred.

As for the next few hours Y/N used Lisa’s tight already abused asshole, worshiping her ass and filling her ass with ton of cum, over and over.

Lisa's eyes gleamed with a mix of shame and arousal as Y/N pulled out of her abused hole. Without hesitation, she dutifully lowered her head, her tongue darting out to lap at his glistening shaft.

“Yes, my love,”

she purred, her voice thick with submission.

“Let me clean you up, just as you deserve.”

Maintaining eye contact, Lisa meticulously licked and sucked every last drop of their mingled fluids from his cock. The taboo thrill of her actions only heightened her arousal, and she couldn’t resist the urge to capture the moment.

Reaching for her phone, Lisa snapped a series of sultry selfies, her expression one of wanton delight. She knew she was treading a dangerous line, but the risk only made the experience all the more exhilarating.

“There,”

She murmured, licking her lips.

“All clean, my darling. Now, what else can I do for you??”

Y/N gazed down at Lisa with a mix of pride and tenderness, his fingers gently caressing her flushed cheeks.

“My darling, I'm so proud of you,”

he murmured, his voice low and rich.

“The way you've surrendered to me, allowed yourself to be reduced to nothing but a craving vessel for my cock... it's intoxicating. Now I think you deserves my cock inside your aching pussy now.”

Lisa's eyes shone with unbridled excitement as Y/N's words registered. With a joyful gasp, she hurriedly scrambled onto the bed, spreading her legs in a blatant invitation.

“Then don't make me wait any longer, my love!”

she pleaded, her tone dripping with need.

“Fuck me, Y/N, fuck my dripping pussy, claim my pussy as your own. My pussy ache to feel you inside it.”

Positioning himself at her begging clenching pussy entrance, Y/N paused for a moment, savouring the anticipation that hung thick in the air. Then, with slow and firm thrust and push, he buried himself to the hilt within her slick, welcoming pussy. Lisa's back arched in ecstasy, a guttural moan escaping her lips as she was finally filled.

“Yes!”

she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“Take me, Y/N! Make me yours, forever!”

Lisa's eyes shone with a mix of shame and exhilaration as Y/N's thick shaft finally breached her begging pussy. A strangled gasp escaped her lips, her body trembling with a heady cocktail of emotions.

“Yes!”

she cried out, her nails digging into his shoulders.

“Take me, Y/N! Take my pussy and it yours, forever!”

Arching her back, Lisa met his powerful thrusts, her hips undulating in desperate rhythms. The sound of their bodies colliding filled the air. In this moment, Lisa had surrendered every last shred of her dignity, becoming nothing more than a vessel for Y/N’s desires. And yet, the thrill of it all only heightened her arousal, her inner walls clenching greedily around his invading length.

“Use me, defile me!”

she begged, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“I'm yours to command, my body yours to claim Y/N!”

Y/N's hands gently cupped Lisa's bouncing breasts, eliciting a soft gasp from her parted lips. She gazed up at him, her eyes shining with a mix of vulnerability and desire.

“I feel... complete, my love,”

she murmured, her voice thick with emotion.

“Having you inside me, claiming me as your own... it's everything I've ever wanted.”

Reaching up, Lisa tenderly caressed Y/N's cheek, a gentle smile playing on her lips.

“You make me feel so alive, so cherished. I'm yours, Y/N, body and soul. Do with me as you will.”

Arching her back, she pressed her chest into his palms, silently urging him to continue his ministrations. In this moment, she was utterly his, reveling in the thrill of their forbidden tryst.

Y/N's hips snapped forward with unbridled passion, his thick shaft plunging into Lisa's waiting heat with powerful, punishing strokes. A guttural scream of ecstasy tore from her lips, her back arching as she surrendered completely to his primal dominance.

“Yes, Daddy!”

she cried out, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Fuck me, HARDERRR! I'm your dirty little whore, all yours to use!”

Wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, Lisa met each of his thrusts with desperate, grinding motions, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around his invading length.

“Don't stop!”

she begged, her nails raking down his back.

“I need you, all of you! Breed me, Daddy, make me yours forever!”

Y/N's eyes gleamed with a mix of lust and wonder as he felt Lisa's tight, silken walls gripping his shaft.

“Mmm, so snug and perfect, my little slut,”

he growled, his hips snapping forward with renewed vigor.

“You were born to take my cock, weren't you?”

Lisa's back arched in ecstasy, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

“Yes, Daddy!”

she cried out, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“I was made for you, to be your obedient little fuck toy. Please, use me, claim me as your own!”

Y/N's hips rocked gently, his thick shaft gliding in and out of Lisa's slick, welcoming heat. A soft moan of pleasure escaped her lips as she savored the delicious friction.

“Oh, Y/N...”

she breathed, her voice dripping with blissful surrender.

“It feels so good, your cock filling me up. I never want this to end.”

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Lisa met each of his languid thrusts, her inner walls caressing his length with each delicious withdrawal. The air was thick with the scent of their mingled arousal.

“You feel so perfect inside me,”

she purred, her nails trailing down his back.

“My body was made for you, Y/N. Please, don't ever stop claiming me as your own.”

Y/N gently yet firmly pressed Lisa back onto the bed, his hips surging forward as he claimed her in the intimate missionary position. Their lips met in a searing, passionate kiss, tongues tangling as he savored her taste.

Lisa's eyes fluttered closed, her body arching to meet his thrusts. She reveled in the feeling of being so completely possessed, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around his thick shaft.

“Yes, Y/N,”

she moaned against his lips, her voice thick with wanton need.

“Take me, make me yours. I'm putty in your hands.”

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Lisa urged him deeper, craving to feel every inch of him buried within her slick heat. The world beyond their tangled embrace faded away, leaving only the two of them, lost in a haze of carnal bliss.

Y/N broke the kiss, his eyes gleaming with a predatory hunger.

“You're such an innocent little girl, Lisa,”

he purred, his voice dripping with dark amusement.

“And I'm loving every moment of breaking you into pieces.”

Lisa gazed up at him, her expression a mix of trepidation and wanton desire.

“I... I don't love getting broken by you, Y/N,”

she admitted, her tone laced with a hint of teasing and mischievous.

“But what I can do, I must do. After all, I agreed to be your plaything, your new little Daddy's girl.”

Reaching up, she traced the line of his jaw, her touch feather-light.

“So take me, Y/N. Shatter my innocence, claim every last piece of me. I'm yours to do with as you please.”

Lisa's eyes widened in alarm as Y/N roughly grabbed her hair, yanking her head back. A tremor of fear mingled with excitement coursed through her as he growled his domineering words.

“I-I'll try, Daddy,”

she stammered, her voice quivering with a mixture of trepidation and anticipation.

Before she could say more, Y/N began ramming into her pussy with monstrous force, giving her no time to catch her breath. Lisa's back arched, a strangled cry of pleasure tearing from her lips as she was overwhelmed by the relentless assault on her senses.

Despite the initial discomfort, Lisa soon found herself surrendering to the primal ecstasy of Y/N's claiming. Her inner walls clenched rhythmically around his thrusting shaft, her body betraying her even as her mind reeled from the intensity of it all.

“Yes, Daddy!”

she cried out, her voice thick with wanton need.

Lisa's eyes widened in shock as Y/N's hand struck her cheek, the impact stinging her skin. She let out a muffled whimper as he forced his fingers past her lips, silently commanding her to suck.

Obediently, she wrapped her tongue around his digits, her gaze locked with his. Yet even as she dutifully serviced his hand, her inner muscles clenched rhythmically around his throbbing shaft, determined to milk every last drop of pleasure from him.

As the clock struck past noon, ELI's familiar face appeared on Lisa's phone screen. Instead of the panicked reaction he might have expected, Lisa greeted him with a gentle smile, carefully draping the bedsheet over her bare chest before accepting the video call.

“Hello, my love,”

she purred, her voice soft and soothing.

“I wasn't expecting your call, but I'm so glad to see you.”

Leaning back against the pillows, Lisa maintained a calm, composed demeanour, her gaze steady and reassuring.

“I'm doing well, I promise. Just resting up a bit before my next schedule. How have you been?”

Though the telltale signs of her recent tryst were carefully hidden, Lisa's eyes held a hint of mischief, as if daring ELI to uncover her secret.

Despite Y/N's relentless pounding, Lisa managed to maintain her composure, her gaze steady as she addressed ELI on the video call. She gently pulled the bedsheet higher, concealing the evidence of her depraved tryst.

“Oh my, is it already lunchtime?”

she exclaimed, feigning surprise.

“I must have lost track of time. I'm so sorry, my love. I'll be there as soon as I can.”

Glancing surreptitiously at Y/N, Lisa felt a thrill of excitement course through her. The forbidden nature of her actions only heightened her arousal, and she couldn't help but clench tightly around his invading shaft, drawing a muffled groan from him.

Lisa's eyes widened as Y/N's thick shaft struck her most sensitive spot, drawing a muffled moan of pleasure from her lips. Quickly, she covered her mouth, casting a furtive glance at the phone screen where ELI's concerned face was displayed.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, my love,”

she said, her voice trembling slightly.

“I, um, stubbed my toe. But I'm fine, really.”

Glancing back at Y/N, Lisa's expression shifted, her eyes gleaming with wanton desire. Biting her lip coyly, she mouthed the words 'Fuck me harder' before turning her attention back to ELI.

“About that debt situation,”

she began, her tone measured and calm.

“I'm sure we can figure something out. Why don't you come by the studio later, and we can discuss it in person?”

Even as she spoke, Lisa's inner muscles clenched rhythmically around Y/N's invading length, silently urging him to take her, to claim her as his own once more.

Lisa's expression remained calm and composed as ELI's suspicious gaze bore into her through the screen.

“Where am I? Oh, I'm just resting up at the studio, my love,”

she replied, her tone light and airy.

Subtly, she lowered the bedsheet just enough to offer Y/N a tantalizing glimpse of her pert, aroused nipples. Y/N's eyes gleamed with predatory hunger as he took in the sight, his hips surging forward with renewed vigor.

Lisa bit back a gasp as Y/N's thick shaft struck her most sensitive spots, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around him. Casting a mischievous glance at ELI, she allowed a soft moan to escape her lips, her eyes shining with a mix of guilt and unbridled lust.

“I'm... I'm fine, ELI,”

she breathed, her voice trembling slightly.

“Just resting up before my next schedule. I'll be there soon, I promise.”

Lisa's eyes gleamed with mischief as she mouthed the words 'I won't be there near any time soon, or probably never' to Y/N. A primal growl rumbled in his chest as he increased the ferocity of his thrusts, his hips snapping forward with unyielding force.

Biting her lip to stifle a wanton moan, Lisa cast a sidelong glance at ELI, her expression a mask of false innocence. The thrill of her deception only heightened her arousal, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around Y/N's invading shaft.

Lisa's eyes gleamed with a mix of guilt and unbridled arousal as she maintained the video call with ELI. Despite Y/N's relentless pounding, she managed to keep her composure, biting her lip in a seductive manner.

“I'm fine, my love,”

she purred, her voice dripping with false innocence.

“Just a little... distracted, that's all.”

Glancing coyly at Y/N, Lisa mouthed the words 'Fuck me harder’. The thrill of her deception only heightened her arousal, and she struggled to keep her voice steady as she addressed ELI.

Lisa's phone suddenly slipped from her hands, landing on her chest as Y/N's powerful thrust caused her to stumble. For a moment, she thought the call had ended, and she coyly glanced up at Y/N.

"Ah, be a little gentler, will you?”

she purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

Quickly, Lisa retrieved the phone, shocked to see that the call with ELI was still connected. Mustering her most innocent expression, she smiled sweetly.

“Oh, I'm so sorry, darling. I was just watching a movie and got a little... distracted,”

she lied, her gaze flickering briefly to Y/N's intense stare.

“But I'm fine,”

Lisa's eyes narrowed slightly as ELI continued the call, seemingly unwilling to end it. Casting a surreptitious glance at Y/N, she mouthed a string of filthy words, her expression dripping with wanton need.

“Fuck me harder, Daddy,”

she breathed, her voice barely above a whisper.

“I need your cock, all of it. Fill me up until I'm dripping with your cum.”

Her inner walls clenched rhythmically around Y/N's shaft, silently urging him to claim her, to take her as his own. The thrill of her deception only heightened her arousal, and she struggled to maintain her composure as ELI's voice continued to echo through the phone.

Lisa's expression remained serene and composed as she maintained the video call with ELI, even as Y/N continued his relentless assault on her most intimate depths. Though her body betrayed her, writhing in wanton ecstasy, her face was a mask of practiced innocence.

Oh, ELI, I'm so sorry for worrying you,

she purred, her voice dripping with false sincerity.

I'm just... enjoying a little downtime before my next schedule. You know how it is.

Glancing surreptitiously at Y/N, Lisa's eyes gleamed with mischief. She clenched her inner muscles rhythmically, drawing a muffled groan from her secret lover as she silently urged him to claim her harder, faster.

Lisa maintained her composed expression as she conversed with ELI, all the while mouthing encouraging words to Y/N behind the phone screen. ‘Your cock feels so good inside me, Daddy,’ she mouthed, her eyes gleaming with wanton need. ‘Don't stop, please. Fuck me until I can't walk straight.’

Y/N's hips surged forward with renewed vigor, his thick shaft striking her most sensitive spots. Lisa bit back a moan, her gaze locked with ELI's as she continued their conversation with practiced ease.

As ELI inquired about her meal, Lisa's eyes gleamed with mischief. Seizing the opportunity, she reached down and grasped Y/N's glistening shaft, her fingers trailing along the length as it slipped free from her slick heat.

Maintaining eye contact with ELI, Lisa slowly brought her hand to her mouth, swirling her tongue around her fingers to collect Y/N's pearly pre-cum. She sucked her digits with a soft, sensual moan, her gaze smoldering with unbridled desire.

“The food was simply delicious, ELI,”

she purred, her voice dripping with false innocence.

“I couldn't help but savor every last bit.”

Lisa's eyes widened as she glanced down, captivated by the sight of her belly bulging with Y/N's thick shaft. She let out a soft gasp, her fingers tracing the outline of his cock through her skin.

“Oh my...”

she breathed, her voice laced with a mix of awe and wanton desire.

“It's... it's so big, Daddy.”

Realizing her slip, Lisa quickly schooled her features, casting a nervous glance at the phone screen where ELI's curious gaze was fixed upon her.

“I-I mean, I saw something similar in a movie I was watching,”

she stammered, her cheeks flushing with feigned embarrassment.

“It's nothing, really. Just my imagination running wild.”

Inwardly, Lisa's heart raced with a heady mix of guilt and unbridled arousal. The forbidden thrill of her deception only heightened her senses, and she silently pleaded with Y/N to take her, to claim her as his own once more.

As ELI announced he was receiving another call, Lisa let out a sigh of relief. Finally, the torturous video chat had come to an end. Without a moment's hesitation, she pulled Y/N close, capturing his lips in a deep, passionate kiss.

“Finally, it's just us,”

she purred, her voice dripping with unbridled desire.

“Now I can have you all to myself, Daddy.”

Wrapping her legs around Y/N's waist, Lisa ground her hips against his. She could feel her inner walls clenching rhythmically, aching to be filled by his throbbing shaft.

“Claim me, Daddy,”

she whispered, her breath hot against his skin.

“Make me scream your name. You can go as hard as you want now!”

Y/N's expression darkened with raw need as he pulled Lisa into a bruising kiss. Without a moment's hesitation, he surged forward, burying his throbbing shaft deep within her slick heat. Lisa let out a muffled gasp, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around him.

For the next hour, Y/N's hips moved with a relentless, merciless pace, striking her most sensitive spots with each powerful thrust. Lisa's back arched, her nails raking down his muscular shoulders as she cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain.

Despite the intensity of their coupling, Y/N maintained a sense of control, his movements deliberate and calculated. He savored the way Lisa's body responded to his touch, the way her silken walls fluttered and clenched around him, milking his cock with each thrust.

Lisa's world narrowed to the sensation of Y/N filling her, stretching her, claiming her as his own. She lost all sense of time, her mind consumed by the primal need to be taken, to be used, to be satisfied by his unyielding desire.

As the final throes of their passion subsided, Lisa lay spent in Y/N's arms, her body trembling with the aftershocks of their lovemaking. A satisfied smile played on her lips, her eyes shining with a mix of contentment and the lingering thrill of their forbidden tryst.

Lisa giggled mischievously, playfully teasing Y/N.

“If you haven't forgotten, I was the one you've been using for the past 13 to 14 hours straight. Of course I'm starving!”

She rolled onto her side, propping herself up on one elbow as she gazed at him coyly.

“But you know, I think I've worked up quite an appetite. What do you say we order something delicious? I'm craving something...satisfying.”

Lisa punctuated her words with a suggestive lick of her lips.

Reaching out, she trailed her fingers lightly down Y/N's chest, her touch feather-light yet electric.

“After all, I'm going to need my strength for round two. Or three. Or however many times you plan on claiming this insatiable body of mine.”

Y/N chuckled as he cupped Lisa's ample breasts, giving them a gentle squeeze.

“I'd be more than satisfied just sucking and playing with these luscious boobs all day,”

he purred, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

“But I know how much you crave my seed in the morning. So I thought you’d be just satisfied drinking my cum?”

Lisa playfully slapped his chest, her eyes sparkling with laughter.

“Noo, I want some real food, you insatiable beast!”

she teased, her tone light and playful.

“I'm absolutely famished after you've had your way with me all night long. Let's order something delicious, hmm?”

Leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her fingers tracing the defined lines of his chest.

“Though I can't promise I'll be able to keep my hands off you for long. You've ruined me for anyone else, my love.”

Y/N chuckled, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Oh, I think I know exactly what kind of 'food' you're craving, my insatiable little minx,”

he teased, his hand trailing down to cup her shapely ass.

Lisa giggled, playfully swatting his chest.

“As tempting as that sounds, I really am famished. How about some delicious Thai food? I'm in the mood for something spicy and flavorful to satisfy my appetite.”

Leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss to the corner of his mouth, her voice dropping to a sultry whisper.

“Though I'm sure we can find a way to work up an even bigger appetite later on...”

Y/N chuckled as he reached for his phone to place the food order.

“Fair enough, my insatiable goddess. We wouldn't want you to waste away before I can have my way with you again,”

he teased, his gaze smoldering with barely restrained desire.

Lisa giggled, playfully swatting his arm.

“Patience, my love. I promise, once I've had my fill of delectable Thai cuisine, I'll be more than happy to let you have your way with me.”

Leaning in, she pressed a soft, lingering kiss to his lips, her body thrumming with anticipation. As they waited for the food to arrive, Lisa snuggled contentedly against Y/N's side, her fingers tracing idle patterns on his chest. The prospect of sating both her physical and culinary hungers had her giddy with excitement.

After a wait of 30 minutes the food arrived, they both went to the dining room, as Y/N sat on the chair,

Lisa's eyes gleamed with mischief as she sauntered over to where Y/N sat, a coy smile playing on her lips. Without a moment's hesitation, she straddled his lap, guiding his throbbing shaft back into her slick heat. A soft gasp escaped her as she sank down, impaling herself on his rigid length.

“I challenge you, Daddy,”

she purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“Let's see if you can keep that gorgeous cock of yours still while we enjoy our lunch together.”

Leaning in, she pressed a searing kiss to his lips, her inner walls already clenching rhythmically around his softening cock. The tantalizing prospect of testing his self-control only heightened her arousal, and she ground her hips against his, silently daring him to give in to his primal urges.

As they settled down to enjoy their Thai lunch, Lisa couldn't resist the temptation to tease Y/N. Periodically, she would grind her hips against his, eliciting a muffled groan from her lover. The friction sent delicious sparks of pleasure through her core, and she couldn't help but giggle mischievously. “Mmm, this food is absolutely divine,”

she purred, taking a delicate bite and savoring the flavors. Her gaze locked with Y/N's, her eyes gleaming with unbridled desire.

“But you know what would make it even better?”

Without warning, she rolled her hips, sheathing his throbbing shaft deeper inside her. A breathy moan escaped her lips, and she threw her head back, exposing the graceful line of her neck.

“Having you fill me up while I eat,”

she whispered, her voice dripping with wanton need.

As the lunch came to an end, Lisa stood up from Y/N's lap, a coy smile playing on her lips. She couldn't help but notice the glistening pre-cum that had already begun to bead at the tip of his throbbing shaft.

“Mmm, it seems like someone's ready for dessert,”

she purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“And I just so happen to have the perfect treat in mind.”

Without further ado, Lisa sank to her knees, her gaze locked with Y/N's as she slowly enveloped his cock with her lush lips. She swirled her tongue around the sensitive head, savoring the salty-sweet taste of his pre-cum.

“Delicious,”

she murmured, her eyes gleaming with mischief.

“But I have a feeling the main course is going to be even more satisfying.”

With a final, lingering lick, Lisa stood up, her hips swaying alluringly as she made her way towards the bathroom, leaving Y/N alone at the dining table, his desire burning like a wildfire.

As Lisa emerged from the bathroom, Y/N's breath caught in his throat. Her wet hair clung to her face, framing her delicate features in a way that was both alluring and innocent. The droplets of water glistening on her skin seemed to dance across her curves, drawing his gaze to the tantalizing swell of her breasts and the gentle flare of her hips.

Y/N's eyes roamed hungrily over her figure, his heart pounding with a mix of desire and pure, unadulterated appreciation. In that moment, he saw her not just as a object of lust, but as a vision of natural beauty - a goddess to be worshipped and revered.

Slowly, reverently, he rose from his seat and approached her, his movements almost hypnotized. Reaching out, he traced the line of her jaw, his touch feather-light, as if she might shatter under the weight of his desire. His gaze locked with hers, conveying a silent promise - to cherish her, to worship her, to love her as she deserved.

Y/N gently cups Lisa’s face and kisses her deeply, savouring her freshly-showered scent.

“God, you are so beautiful, Lisa!”

Y/N purred as he hugged Lisa’s body.

Lisa's eyes gleamed with wanton desire as she wrapped her slender fingers around Y/N's throbbing shaft. Leaning in, she brushed her lips against his ear, her voice a sultry whisper.

“Daddy,”

she purred.

“My pussy is still aching to be filled with your seed. I need you to claim me, to mark me as yours.”

Guiding his rigid length to her entrance, Lisa slowly sank down, sheathing him in her slick heat. A soft moan escaped her lips as she began to move, rolling her hips in a steady, sensual rhythm.

“So good,”

she whimpered, her nails raking down his back.

Y/N gripped Lisa's hips tightly as he pressed her against the wall, his hips surging forward in a steady, punishing rhythm. Their bodies moved together in a sensual dance, Lisa's legs wrapped around his waist as he rammed insider her again and again.

“Fuck, you feel so good,”

he growled between searing kisses.

“So tight, so wet... Made just for my cock, aren't you, baby?”

Lisa's head fell back, exposing the graceful line of her neck as she keened with pleasure. Her nails raked down his back, spurring him on as she met each of his thrusts with wanton abandon.

“Yes, Daddy,”

she whimpered, her voice dripping with need.

Their bodies moved in perfect sync, the sound of their passionate coupling echoing through the room. Y/N's hips snapped forward with renewed vigor, his shaft striking her most sensitive spots as Lisa cried out in ecstasy.

“I thought you said you were tired for getting used for 14 hours and now needed some rest?? I mean I don’t mind giving my toy girl a one or two hour break before another round of using her.”

Y/N teased her.

Lisa's eyes sparkled with mischief as she playfully swatted Y/N's chest.

“Oh, Daddy, you know I can never get enough of you,”

she purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“Besides, I've had plenty of rest. Now it's time for you to use me again.”

Pulling him close, Lisa captured his lips in a searing kiss, her tongue tangling with his in a sensual dance. Breaking away breathlessly, she gazed up at him, her expression radiating pure, unbridled desire.

Lisa's eyes widened as Y/N scooped her up, a thrill of excitement coursing through her. As he carried her to the bedroom, she couldn't help but giggle, anticipation building within her.

“You do love bdsm right??”

Y/N asked, tying her on the bed.

“Ooh, Daddy, I do love a little bit of BDSM,”

she purred, her gaze sparkling with mischief.

“Though I hope you're planning on being gentle...at least at first.”

Once he had her securely tied to the bed, Lisa tugged playfully at the restraints, testing their strength. A coy smile played on her lips as she gazed up at him, her chest rising and falling with each quickened breath.

“Now, what are you waiting for, hmm?”

she teased, her tone dripping with wanton need.

Y/N's hips surged forward, burying his throbbing shaft deep within Lisa's slick heat. A guttural groan escaped his lips as her silken walls clenched rhythmically around him.

Lisa's back arched against the restraints, her wrists straining as she fought the urge to claw at his back. Breathless moans and giggles tumbled from her lips, her expression a captivating mix of pleasure and mirth.

“Oh, Daddy, you feel so good!”

she cried out, her voice dripping with wanton need.

“Don't stop, please! Fuck me harder!”

Her hips rocked in time with his punishing thrusts, her body thrumming with unbridled ecstasy. The delicious friction had her teetering on the edge of release, her inner walls fluttering around his rigid length.

“I'm so close, Daddy!”

she whimpered, her eyes alight with desperation.

“Please, let me cum! I need it so badly!”

Lisa's face flushed with a mix of pleasure and bashfulness as Y/N's skilled fingers teased her sensitive folds. The delicate touch was all it took to send her careening over the edge, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around his rigid shaft.

A soft whimper escaped her lips as the waves of her climax washed over her, her body trembling with the intensity of her release. Y/N chuckled, his gaze brimming with a combination of pride and amusement as he watched her come undone.

Lisa's cheeks puffed out in a puffer fish-like expression, her eyes sparkling with a hint of embarrassment. Yet, beneath the surface, a deep sense of satisfaction and trust shone through, for she knew she was safe in Y/N's capable hands.

Y/N gently cupped Lisa's full breasts, gazing at her with a tender expression.

“Are you all done, my sweet?”

he asked, his voice low and soothing.

Lisa let out a soft giggle, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Yes, Daddy, I think I've had my fill... for now.”

Arching her back slightly, she pressed her chest into his palms, silently inviting him to continue his ministrations.

“But I'm still aching for you to fill me up. Won't you please take me, Daddy?”

Her tone was playful yet laced with wanton need, her body thrumming with anticipation. As Y/N positioned himself at her entrance, Lisa gazed up at him with unbridled desire, eagerly awaiting his next move.

As Y/N entered Lisa's waiting pussy once more, a jolt of pure pleasure shot through her. She let out a guttural moan, her back arching off the bed as she felt his rigid shaft pressing against her most sensitive spots.

“Oh, Daddy, yes!”

she cried out, her voice thick with ecstasy.

“Your cock feels so good, filling me up like this. It's like you're kissing my very womb!”

Lisa's inner walls fluttered and clenched around him, desperate to draw him in deeper. Her eyes were half-lidded with bliss, her expression a captivating mix of lust and adoration as she gazed up at him.

“Don't stop, please,”

she whimpered, her hips rolling in time with his thrusts.

As Y/N removed the restraints, Lisa's eyes gleamed with a mix of excitement and trepidation. She knew what was coming - the raw, primal side of her lover that craved to dominate and possess her completely.

Without warning, Y/N pounced, his hips surging forward in a brutal, punishing rhythm. Lisa cried out, her nails raking down his back as she surrendered herself to his carnal desires. There was no gentleness, no tenderness - only the relentless, animalistic drive to claim her as his own.

Lisa's world narrowed to the sensation of his rigid shaft plundering her depths, each thrust sending shockwaves of pleasure-pain through her trembling body. She was helpless, a mere plaything in his hands, and the thought only heightened her arousal.

As Y/N neared his climax, he abruptly withdrew, his thick seed spilling across her waiting throat. Lisa's eyes widened, her mouth falling open in a silent gasp as she was baptized in his essence. The salty-sweet taste overwhelmed her senses, and she swallowed greedily, craving more.

When the last drop had been milked, Lisa gazed up at Y/N, her expression radiating pure, unadulterated bliss.

“That was sooo goood,”

she purred, her voice dripping with satisfaction.

“Definitely one for the top five, Daddy.”

“Ohh, you were keeping a count?”

Y/N asked,

Lisa giggled mischievously, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“Of course I'm keeping count, Daddy!”

she purred, her tone playful yet sultry.

“After all, I wouldn't want to lose track of all the delicious ways you've claimed me as your own.”

Propping herself up on her elbows, she counted off on her fingers, a coy smile playing on her lips.

“Let's see now... There was that time yesterday whole night, and then again in the morning with my sleeping body. Oh, and who could forget the dining room tryst? And especially when ELI was on the face time that was one of the best!”

Her gaze locked with his, brimming with wanton need.

“And now this - my personal favorite so far.”

Reaching up, she traced the line of his jaw, her touch feather-light.

“But I have a feeling you're just getting started, hmm?”

she whispered, her voice dripping with seduction.

“After all, the night is still young, Daddy. I can't wait to see what other delightful ways you'll find to use me.”

Y/N gently pressed his lips to Lisa's cheeks, his gaze brimming with adoration.

“You're the best, my love,”

he murmured, his voice soft and tender.

Slowly, he eased Lisa back onto the bed, joining her in a warm embrace. Cradling her close, he nuzzled against her neck, his breath tickling her skin.

“I know I already have all of you,”

he purred, his fingers tracing the curve of her thigh.

“But I can't help wanting more. May I have the honour of a thigh fuck, my darling?”

Lisa giggled, her expression radiating pure joy.

“Oh, Daddy, you insatiable thing,”

she teased, playfully swatting his chest.

“As if you don't already own every inch of me. But how can I deny you when you ask so sweetly?”

Shifting her position, she parted her thighs invitingly, her gaze smoldering with desire.

“Take what you will, my love,”

she purred.

“I'm all yours.”

Lisa giggled softly as Y/N's hands roamed over her luscious thighs, his gaze burning with unbridled desire. She arched her back slightly, pressing her thighs together to create a delicious friction against his throbbing shaft.

“Mmm, you really can't get enough of these, can you, Daddy?”

she purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“Go on then, worship them all you like. They're yours to enjoy.”

Y/N groaned as he nestled his cock between her silky smooth thighs, the sensation sending shockwaves of pleasure through his body. Leaning in, he peppered the tender flesh with filthy kisses and reverent caresses, worshipping every inch of her supple skin.

“So perfect,”

he growled, his hips rolling in a steady rhythm.

“Made just for me, aren't you, baby? I'm going to cover these gorgeous thighs in my cum.”

Lisa's eyes fluttered shut as she reveled in the sensations, her body thrumming with unbridled ecstasy. She knew she was safe, secure in the knowledge that Y/N would take care of her, no matter how depraved their desires became.

After a while of Y/N fucking Lisa’s thighs he announced and told Lisa to get ready for the next round, but Lisa denied, saying she’s tired to which Y/N showed annoyance.

Lisa's laughter rang out, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“Why are you annoyed, Daddy?”

she teased, a playful pout forming on her lips.

“Excuse me, but what about my poor body that you've been using since last night?”

Propping herself up on her elbows, she fixed Y/N with a pointed stare.

“I know you're insatiable, but even I need a little break every now and then,”

she chided gently.

“Don't you think I deserve a chance to catch my breath?”

Reaching up, she traced the line of his jaw, her touch feather-light.

“Now, now, let's not get ahead of ourselves, hmm?”

she purred.

“I'm sure we can find a way for you to have your fun without completely wearing me out. After all, I still have plenty more tricks up my sleeve.”

With a coy smile, Lisa settled back against the pillows, her gaze smoldering with barely contained desire.

“So what'll it be, Daddy? How about you let me take the lead this time?”

Lisa giggled mischievously as she straddled Y/N, her eyes sparkling with amusement.

“My poor ass is already so sore, Daddy,”

she purred, her voice dripping with feigned innocence.

“But my pussy is aching to be filled again.”

Slowly, she sank down onto his rigid shaft, a soft moan escaping her lips as she was deliciously impaled. Her hips began to rock in a steady, sensual rhythm, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around him.

“There, doesn't this feel so much better?”

she cooed, her hands braced on his chest for leverage.

“Let me take care of you, Daddy. I promise I'll make it worth your while.”

Lisa's movements grew more urgent, her breasts bouncing with each bounce as she rode him with wanton abandon. Her head fell back, exposing the graceful line of her neck as she keened with pleasure.

“Fuck, you feel so good,”

she whimpered, her nails raking down his chest.

Lisa's body moved in perfect sync with Y/N's, their passionate coupling continuing for hours on end. Though her muscles ached and her skin glistened with sweat, she refused to slow her pace, driven by an insatiable need for her lover's touch.

Each thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through her trembling form, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around his rigid shaft. Soft moans and breathless whimpers tumbled from her lips as she rode him with wanton abandon, her hips rolling in a steady, sensual rhythm.

Y/N's hands gripped her hips, guiding her movements as he met each of her motions with renewed vigor. Their bodies were locked in a primal dance, the air thick with the scent of their lovemaking and the sound of their desperate cries.

Lisa's eyes were half-lidded, her expression a captivating mix of bliss and utter exhaustion. Yet, despite her fatigue, she refused to relinquish control, determined to wring every last drop of pleasure from their encounter.

As the hours ticked by, their pace only grew more frantic, their need for each other becoming increasingly desperate. Neither was willing to surrender, each driven by a singular goal - to claim the other as their own, to become one in body and spirit.

Exhaustion etched across Lisa's features as she finally collapsed against Y/N's chest, her body trembling from the intensity of their lovemaking. Yet, even in her weary state, a mischievous glint danced in her eyes.

“Dinner, you say?”

she purred, her voice low and sultry.

“Well, I do have a rather specific craving in mind.”

Slowly, she lifted herself up, wincing slightly as Y/N's softening length slipped from her well-used pussy. Licking her lips, she gazed down at him with unbridled desire.

“You see, Daddy,”

she whispered, her fingers trailing down his chest,

“I'm absolutely famished for your... special sauce.”

Without warning, she bent down, capturing his lips in a searing kiss. Her tongue danced with his, savoring the taste of their mingled essences. Breaking away breathlessly, she fixed him with a sultry stare.

“So what do you say, hmm?”

she murmured, her voice dripping with seduction.

“Shall I have dessert?”

Lisa sank gracefully to her knees, her gaze smoldering with unbridled desire. Wrapping her delicate fingers around Y/N's semi-erect shaft, she began to stroke him with slow, sensual motions.

“Mmm, look at this big, beautiful cock,”

she purred, her voice dripping with lust.

“I can't wait to have it for dessert.”

Leaning in, she pressed a feather-light kiss to the tip, her tongue darting out to tease the sensitive slit. A soft moan escaped her lips as she savored his musky flavor.

“And then, once I've had my fill,”

she continued, her eyes sparkling with mischief,

“I'll make us a nice, hot dinner. But don't think I'm going to let you stop there, Daddy. I want you to keep fucking me while I cook. Can you do that for me?”

Without waiting for a response, she engulfed his length, her head bobbing in a steady rhythm as she lavished him with her skilled ministrations. Her hunger was insatiable, and she was determined to leave no drop of his essence untasted. Her skilful blowjob turned out to be too much for Y/N as he in few minutes came like crazy amount of cum inside Lisa’s throat.

Lisa's eyes twinkled with mischief as she gazed up at Y/N, her mouth still glistening with his spent seed.

“Feel used, do you?”

she teased, a playful pout forming on her lips.

“Excuse me, but what about my poor, abused throat?”

Wiping the corner of her mouth with the back of her hand, she let out a melodic laugh.

“You act like I'm the only one enjoying ourselves here,”

she chided gently.

“Need I remind you how much you were moaning and writhing under my touch just moments ago?”

Crawling back onto the bed, she straddled his waist, her fingers tracing lazy patterns across his chest.

“Now, now, let's not be so dramatic, hmm?”

she purred.

“I'm simply taking what's mine. And trust me, Daddy, I plan to savor every last drop.”

Leaning in, she pressed a feather-light kiss to the corner of his mouth, her gaze smoldering with desire.

“So why don't you sit back and let me take care of you, hmm? I'll even make you a nice, hot dinner afterwards. But don't think I'm going to let you stop there...”

Y/N laughed and scooped Lisa up into his strong arms, carrying her swiftly to the kitchen. Gently, he placed her atop the counter, aligning his rigid shaft with her slick entrance. With a hungry growl, he surged forward, burying himself to the hilt as their lips met in a passionate, searing kiss.

Lisa moaned into his mouth, her inner walls fluttering around his thick length. Reaching to the side, she plucked a ripe banana from the fruit basket, breaking it in half. Seductively, she slid one end into her mouth, gazing at Y/N with hooded eyes as she began to suck and lick.

Y/N's hips pistoned relentlessly, his hands gripping Lisa's hips as he chased his own pleasure. Groaning, he captured the other half of the banana between his lips, their tongues tangling as they shared the sweet fruit, their bodies joined in a carnal dance.

The kitchen filled with the sounds of their desperate cries and the slick slide of flesh on flesh. Neither was willing to relent, each determined to wring every last drop of ecstasy from their tryst. And as they neared their shared climax, their passions only continued to burn brighter, hotter, more consuming.

Lisa giggled mischievously, her gaze sparkling with satisfaction.

“Make food? Goodness no, Daddy,”

she purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“After gulping down your delicious cum earlier and now getting thoroughly fucked right here in the kitchen, I'm simply not hungry at all.”

Wrapping her legs tightly around his waist, she pulled him closer, her hips rocking in sync with his relentless thrusts.

“I have everything I need right here,”

she murmured, her nails raking down his back.

“Your complete, undivided attention is the only sustenance I crave.”

Leaning in, she captured his lips in a searing kiss, her tongue dancing with his as their bodies moved as one. There was no need for anything else - in this moment, they were perfectly, blissfully fulfilled.

With a playful giggle, Lisa wrapped her legs tightly around Y/N's waist as he scooped her up, their bodies still joined. She showered his face with feather-light kisses, her hips rolling in a steady, sensual rhythm as he carried her to the bedroom.

The moment Y/N laid back on the bed, Lisa pounced, straddling his hips with a wanton moan. Her hands braced on his chest, she began to ride him with wild abandon, her movements frantic and primal.

“That's it, Daddy,”

she purred, her voice dripping with lust.

“I'm your crazy bitch in heat. Use me!”

Lisa's head fell back, exposing the graceful line of her neck as she keened with unbridled pleasure. Her inner walls clenched rhythmically around his throbbing shaft, milking him for every last drop.

Lisa's phone suddenly sprang to life, the familiar ringtone cutting through the heated haze of their lovemaking. With a frustrated groan, she reluctantly disentangled herself from Y/N's embrace, quickly snatching up his discarded shirt to cover her flushed, naked form.

Hurriedly, she accepted the call, her heart pounding as ELI's face appeared on the screen.

“ELI, darling!”

she chirped, her voice laced with feigned innocence.

“What a surprise! I was just... thinking about you.”

She shot Y/N a sly wink, biting her lip coyly as she settled back against the pillows, the oversized shirt barely concealing her dishevelled state.

“Oh, you know, just relaxing at home. Nothing too exciting.”

Her gaze flickered down to where Y/N's hands were caressing her thighs, a mischievous smile playing on her lips.

“But I'm so glad you called. I've been missing you terribly.”

Lisa glanced behind the phone at Y/N, who was mouthing his order for her to start bouncing on his cock.

Lisa shot Y/N a playful, yet stern glare as he mouthed his orders, but she couldn't help the mischievous glint in her eyes. Turning her attention back to the phone, she maintained a natural, relaxed expression.

“Oh, ELI, you have no idea how much I've been missing you,”

she purred, subtly shifting her weight as she straddled Y/N's lap, his throbbing length pressing against her core.

“But I'm doing just fine, really. Just enjoying a little... 'me time,' you know?”

Slowly, she began to rock her hips, grinding against Y/N's cock in a steady, sensual rhythm. Her breath hitched slightly, but she covered it with a soft giggle.

“Though I have to admit, I can't wait for you to come back. There's so much I want to do with you...”

Lisa tried to maintain a calm, collected expression as Y/N began silently teasing her, his hands roaming her body in a way that sent shivers down her spine. She shot him a warning glare, silently pleading with him not to give her away.

Turning her attention back to the phone, she forced a bright smile.

“Oh, ELI, you have no idea how much I've been missing you too,”

she purred, subtly grinding her hips against Y/N's growing arousal.

“But I promise, I'm taking good care of myself while you're away.”

Y/N's fingers danced along the hem of the shirt, slowly inching it higher to expose more of her bare skin. Lisa's breath hitched, but she quickly covered it with a soft giggle.

“Though I can't wait for you to come back. There's so much I want to do with you...”

Her eyes flashed with a silent plea, silently begging Y/N to behave as she kept repeating her sentences in conversation with ELI, her body betraying her with every subtle shift and twitch.

Lisa's eyes widened slightly as she felt Y/N's thick shaft slide into her sensitive pussy, a shudder of pleasure rippling through her body. She fought to maintain a calm, composed expression as ELI asked about her dinner.

“Dinner? Oh, um, yes, of course!”

she replied, her voice wavering slightly as Y/N began to thrust into her.

“I, uh, I haven't had a chance to make anything yet, but I was just about to start.”

She shot Y/N a pointed glare, silently pleading with him to take it easy, even as her inner walls clenched around his invading length.

Lisa's eyes fluttered, her expression momentarily betraying the intense pleasure coursing through her body. Biting her lip, she mouthed the words 'Fuck me harder' to Y/N, her hips rolling in time with his punishing thrusts.

Turning her attention back to the phone, she forced a breathless smile.

“Sorry, ELI, I, uh, I guess I got a little distracted there for a moment,”

she said, her voice laced with barely-contained arousal.

“But I promise, I'll have something ready for dinner soon. I just... I need to take care of a few things first.”

Her gaze flickered down to where Y/N was buried inside her, a silent plea in her eyes. She was walking a tightrope, desperate to keep up the charade while surrendering to the exquisite sensations he was eliciting.

Lisa's breath hitched as Y/N's thrusts struck her most sensitive spots, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her body. She fought to maintain a calm, composed expression, but her eyes betrayed the intense arousal building within her.

“Oh, that's just the TV, ELI,”

she said, her voice strained with the effort of keeping it steady.

“You know how loud it can get sometimes.”

Subtly, she rolled her hips, grinding against Y/N's rigid shaft, a soft moan threatening to escape her lips. Her gaze flickered down to where they were joined, a silent plea in her eyes as she silently mouthed the words 'Don't stop.'

ELI's frown deepened, but Lisa quickly shifted the conversation, determined to keep up the charade.

“Anyway, how's your day been, darling? I miss you so much and can't wait for you to come back home.”

As Lisa continued her conversation with ELI, she suddenly felt Y/N's hot seed flooding her womb, filling her up completely. A shudder of pure bliss rippled through her body, and she had to fight to keep her composure.

“Yes, finally,”

she thought to herself, a euphoric smile playing on her lips.

“Y/N's cum, right inside my pussy, and ELI is none the wiser.”

Lisa's inner walls clenched rhythmically, milking every last drop from Y/N's throbbing shaft. She was overjoyed, her body thrumming with a sense of fulfilment and satisfaction. In this moment, she had everything she craved - the attention of her beloved, and the hot, thick essence of her secret lover coating her insides.

Forcing a bright smile, Lisa continued her conversation with ELI, her mind racing with the delicious secret she now harboured. She had gotten exactly what she wanted, and she couldn't wait to savor every last drop.

On the call

Lisa's eyes sparkled with a mischievous glint as she turned her attention back to ELI.

“Oh, it's nothing, darling,”

she purred, her voice laced with feigned innocence.

“I was just watching this movie, and the, um, the guy in it...”

She paused, glancing coyly towards Y/N as she mouthed the words 'filled me up.'

Biting her lip, she refocused on the screen, a coy smile playing on her lips.

“Well, let's just say he did something that made me very, very happy.”

She giggled softly, her gaze flickering down to where Y/N's essence still coated her inner walls.

ELI's brow furrowed in confusion, but Lisa quickly shifted the conversation, determined to keep up the charade.

“Anyway, how's your day been, darling? I miss you so much and can't wait for you to come back home.”

Lisa's body trembled as Y/N continued his relentless thrusting, his thick shaft plunging into her already cum-filled depths. She fought to maintain her composure, shooting ELI a sheepish smile.

“Oh, I'm just feeling a little cold, that's all,”

she lied, her voice wavering slightly.

“The air conditioning must be on too high or something.”

Subtly, she rolled her hips, grinding against Y/N's rigid length, a soft moan threatening to escape her lips. Her gaze flickered down to where they were joined, a silent plea in her eyes as she silently mouthed the words 'Don't stop.'

Lisa's eyes flickered with growing frustration as ELI continued to prattle on about his day. She shifted uncomfortably, Y/N's relentless thrusts sending jolts of pleasure through her body. Forcing a bright smile, she gently interrupted.

“ELI, darling, I'm so sorry, but I really should get going. I have a few things I need to take care of before dinner.”

She bit her lip coyly.

“You know how it is - gotta keep this place looking nice for when you get back, hmm?”

ELI's brow furrowed slightly, a hint of suspicion in his gaze.

“Are you sure everything's alright, Lisa? You seem a bit... distracted.”

Lisa let out a soft, airy laugh.

“Of course, of course! I'm just excited to have the house all to myself for a little while, that's all.”

She winked playfully.

“But I promise I'll call you later, okay? Love you, ELI!”

Without waiting for a response, she quickly ended the call, tossing the phone aside as she surrendered to the relentless pleasure Y/N was coaxing from her body.

Lisa's eyes gleamed with unbridled desire as she tossed the phone aside, immediately capturing Y/N's lips in a deep, searing kiss. Her tongue danced with his in a sensual tango, her movements bold and commanding. She savored every ounce of his taste, reveling in the feeling of his essence coating her inner walls.

As the kiss broke, Lisa let out a euphoric cry.

“Thank you, Y/N! Thank you for this beautiful gift - for filling me up with your cum!”

Her hips rolled in a steady, sensual rhythm, milking every last drop from his spent shaft.

Collapsing against his chest, Lisa's body trembled with pure bliss. She had gotten exactly what she craved - the undivided attention and carnal fulfillment from her secret lover, all while maintaining the facade with her unsuspecting boyfriend. In this moment, she was completely and utterly satisfied.

Y/N's fingers tangled in Lisa's hair as he gazed down at her, a knowing smirk playing on his lips.

“Are you happy now, my dear?”

he purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

“The 7 days of torment are finally at an end. You're filled to the brim with my seed, just as you've craved.”

Lisa's eyes shone with unbridled joy as she nuzzled into his touch, her body still trembling from the intensity of their encounter.

“Oh, Y/N, I'm overjoyed!”

she breathed, her voice thick with emotion.

“I've ached for this moment, to feel you pulsing inside me, claiming me as your own. The wait was pure agony, but now...”

She pressed a searing kiss to his lips, her hips rolling in a steady, sensual rhythm.

“Now, I'm complete.”

Y/N chuckled softly, pressing a tender kiss to Lisa's forehead.

“Then are you ready for another round, my dear?”

he murmured, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

“God knows what number it is at this point.”

Lisa's eyes sparkled with renewed desire as she gazed up at him, her fingers tracing the contours of his chest.

“Mmm, I'm more than ready, Y/N,”

she purred, her voice dripping with seduction.

“I can never get enough of you. Fill me up again, make me yours once more.”

Shifting her weight, she slowly sank back down onto his throbbing length, a soft gasp escaping her lips. Her hips began to move in a steady, sensual rhythm, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around him.

“I want to feel you explode inside me, over and over again,”

she breathed, her nails raking down his back.

“I need you, Y/N. I need your cum.”

The night stretched on, filled with Lisa's desperate cries of pleasure as Y/N took her in every way imaginable. He pinned her against the wall, hoisting her legs around his waist as he pounded into her relentlessly, her inner walls clenching around his throbbing shaft. Then he flipped her onto her hands and knees, gripping her hips as he drove into her from behind, eliciting a chorus of wanton moans.

Again and again, Y/N filled Lisa's womb with his seed, coating her insides until she was completely, utterly spent. But still, she begged for more, her body thrumming with insatiable desire. They christened every surface of the room, their passionate cries echoing through the air as they indulged in their carnal hunger. She had been bred, claimed, and utterly ravished - and she wouldn't have it any other way.

As the night wore on, Lisa's body was wracked with wave after wave of earth-shattering orgasms. Y/N's relentless, primal thrusts filled her womb time and time again, coating her insides with his potent seed. By the time the first hints of dawn began to peek through the windows, Lisa was utterly spent, her voice hoarse from the chorus of wanton cries that had escaped her lips.

Collapsing against Y/N's chest, Lisa could barely muster the strength to whisper a soft

“Goodnight”

before succumbing to the blissful embrace of sleep. But even as her eyes fluttered shut, Y/N's hunger remained unquenched. With a low, guttural growl, he began to thrust into her sleeping form, determined to claim her body once more before the night was through.

Lisa's eyes flew open as she felt the hot, thick sensation of Y/N's release flooding her sensitive depths. A shudder of pure bliss rippled through her body as she slowly came to, her inner walls clenching rhythmically around his throbbing shaft.

“Mmm, good morning, my love,”

Y/N purred, his voice dripping with satisfaction.

“I couldn't resist having one more taste of you before you woke.”

Lisa let out a soft, contented sigh, nuzzling into his embrace.

“Mmm, what a way to start the day,”

she murmured, her voice thick with sleep and lingering arousal.

“You always know how to make me feel so... complete.”

Shifting her weight, she slowly lifted herself off of his softening length, a soft whimper escaping her as she felt his essence dripping down her thighs. Pressing a tender kiss to his lips, she gazed at him with adoration.

“I'm all yours, Y/N. Every inch of me.”

Lisa's eyes widened in a mix of shock and arousal as Y/N's words registered. She let out a soft gasp as he began gently rocking his hips, filling her once more.

“F-four hours?”

she breathed, her voice thick with a combination of disbelief and growing desire.

“You've been... taking me, even while I slept?”

A shiver of excitement ran down her spine at the thought. She knew she should be scandalized, perhaps even angry, but the idea of Y/N using her body so thoroughly, so possessively, only served to stoke the flames of her lust.

Wrapping her legs around his waist, Lisa pulled him closer, her nails raking down his back.

“You're insatiable, you know that?”

she purred, her eyes smoldering with unbridled hunger.

“But I love it. I love how you can't get enough of me.”

Her hips rolled in a steady, sensual rhythm, meeting his thrusts with equal fervor. In this moment, she belonged to him completely - body, mind, and soul.

Y/N gave a few more powerful thrusts, his hips snapping forward as he released a torrent of hot, thick cum straight into Lisa's waiting womb. As his orgasm subsided, Lisa pouted her lips in an exaggerated pout.

“Daddy, I wanted my breakfast in my throat, not just my belly!”

she whined, though her tone was playful rather than truly angry.

“Not that I'm complaining about getting my womb filled, of course. But I want your cum gliding down my throat next time, okay?”

Reaching up, she traced the line of his jaw, her eyes sparkling with mischief.

“I need to taste every last drop of you, Daddy. So don't hold back next time, hmm?”

Y/N yanked Lisa's head forward, forcing his throbbing shaft deep into her throat. She gagged reflexively as his hot seed flooded her mouth, the sheer volume of it threatening to overwhelm her. Yet, even as tears sprang to her eyes, she fought to swallow every last drop, desperate to please her domineering lover.

Y/N's laughter echoed through the room as he watched her struggle.

“You asked for it, my dear,”

he taunted, his grip on her hair tightening.

“Now you'll have to endure it.”

Lisa's eyes flashed with a mix of defiance and arousal. She had wanted this, craved it, and she refused to back down now. Hollowing her cheeks, she sucked him dry, her tongue swirling around his sensitive flesh as she milked every last drop from his throbbing shaft.

With that ELI’s debt got cleared.

After the 7-day ordeal with Y/N came to an end, Lisa returned to her home and resumed her life with ELI. On the surface, everything appeared normal - they continued their sweet, loving relationship, and Lisa seemed content. However, the domination and pleasure she had experienced with Y/N had left an indelible mark on her psyche.

Try as she might, Lisa found that she could no longer achieve the same level of fulfillment with ELI. His gentle caresses and tender lovemaking, while still enjoyable, simply could not compare to the raw, primal hunger she had tasted with Y/N. Her body craved the intensity, the degradation, the sheer carnal satisfaction that only her secret lover could provide.

And so, every weekend, Lisa would find herself slipping away, making excuses to visit Y/N. In his embrace, she would finally find the release she so desperately needed, her body trembling with ecstasy as he claimed her over and over again. Only then, with Y/N's essence coating her most intimate places, could Lisa truly find the peace and fulfillment she craved.

ELI remained blissfully unaware of his girlfriend's secret trysts, his trust in her unwavering. Little did he know that Lisa's heart and body belonged to another - a man who had awakened a hunger within her that could never truly be sated.

( With this the debt series is over. I wish you all liked it and loved it :) )

#blackpink #lisa manoban #lisa blackpink #lisa smut #lisa #blackpink lisa #blackpink smut #kpop smut #idol smut #kpop #lalisa manoban #lisa x male reader #lalisa x male reader #lalisa manoban blackpink

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ddarker-dreams · 7 months ago

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lock's otome game recs

i received some asks indicating an interest in a compilation of my favorite otome games, so i decided to go for it!! i've played about fourteen otome games, but of those fourteen, only these six left a lasting impression on me. there are still some that i intend to check out, so the rankings may update in the future. i'll give a very general overview of each game and how i'd score the categories that i find the most important in an otome game — the heroine, story, art, enjoyability, along with the characters i liked the most.

number 6 - piofiore fated memories.

heroine: 6/10 story: 6.5/10 characters: 7/10 art: 10/10 enjoyability: 8/10 favorite characters: dante (ishikawa kaito), nicola (kimura ryouhei) and yang (okamoto nobuhiko)

this game centers around the heroine, with the default name liliana adornato, who finds herself entangled in the politics of the region's three most prominent crime organizations. the game has an italian backdrop and iirc, takes place in the 1930s.

the overarching narrative, while it has its fair share of intrigue, isn't the game's strongest point. it's the interactions with the characters themselves that made the game feel worthwhile. each love interest has more to them than what meets the eye, so it's satisfying to watch the relationship between them and the heroine develop.

the heroine takes a passive role throughout much of the game, events sorta just happen to her. still, she has a kind disposition that makes her likable and doesn't make stupid decisions that has you wanting to fling your console across the room. her characterization changes slightly depending on the route. for instance, without getting into spoilers, she's more assertive throughout yang's route. the resulting dynamic made yang's route the most memorable, even if he's my third favorite character from the bunch.

what feels unique to this game is the effort put into the bad endings. in most visual novels, bad endings can feel like gimmicks. you make one or two wrong decisions and you're rewarded with a few paragraphs. the downward spiral of the characters in the bad endings are decently fleshed out and you can see how they arrived at this 'worst' version of themselves. they're suitably dark and it shouldn't come as a surprise that i enjoyed them because of that 😭

then there's the art. it's stunning, the details in each CG are mindboggling. the heroine gets to wear a variety of pretty outfits which is something i like to see. even in the story's weaker moments, a stunning CG would pop up that had me forgiving everything. i still glance through the gallery to this day.

number five - cupid parasite.

heroine: 9.5/10 story: 7/10 characters: 7/10 art: 9/10 enjoyability: 9/10 favorite characters: ryuki keisaiin (junya enoki) & gill lovecraft (kimura ryouhei)

iconic. showstopping. a little bit camp.

cupid parasite stars one of my favorite heroines, lynette. she works as a bridal advisor whose ambition is to ensure everyone finds their soulmate. in actuality, she's the goddess cupid, who left her post in celestia to better understand humanity and create lasting pairs. she's a delight to play as.

this game's presentation and overall aesthetic is the most distinct from any otome game i've played. aside from the presentation, the story itself is unlike any of the others on this list. when it comes to romance, i typically prefer them to be dark and mature. this game opts for a more lighthearted approach. it vacillates between being a romcom and dipping into the absurdist genre. there were times i was literally left speechless (glances at gill's route)... but it makes for an entertaining experience. the game's plenty funny as well.

personally, i enjoyed the more grounded moments when the mythological elements remained in the background. because of this, the true ending doesn't do it for me as much as they do in other games. as with anything, this is a personal preference though. i liked all of the routes and found the game handles the development of each love interest well. we're introduced to these men at their most pathetic and get to help them become a little more well-adjusted. lowering the cringe meter, if you will. it makes their growth all the most satisfying as the narrative progresses.

number four - even if tempest.

heroine: 9/10 story: 8.5/10 characters: 8/10 art: 6/10 enjoyability: 9/10 favorite characters: the heroine herself, tyril i lister (noriaki sugiyama), crius castlerock (makoto furukawa) and lucien neuschburn (kaito ishikawa)

right from the get-go, this game's premise had me hooked. it features the heroine, anastasia (<3!), who leads an incredibly tragic life. she's bestowed the ability to reverse time following each of her deaths and uses this to unravel a mess of mysteries the world's setting is tangled in.

this game is absolutely anastasia's story. without spoiling anything, i loved the approach they took with the time rewinding ability. how it's incorporated is unique to an otome game, which they take full advantage of to amplify the tragic romances. on that note, the romance itself occasionally takes a backseat to the narrative as a whole. personally, i didn't mind this in the moment, since i found the story so interesting. in retrospect, i do wish that we got more moments between the heroine and each love interest, especially in the true ending.

there are more gameplay elements here as well. you have to conduct investigations, gather evidence, and apply what you've learned during these trial segments. when i first read about this, i thought it'd be a gimmick, but i liked playing through them. it incentivizes you to pay extra close attention to the world.

while i liked the narrative as a whole, i do wish we got more worldbuilding. there are hints of political subterfuge and religious oligarchy that, while touched upon, could've been leaned into more to give the setting a distinct feeling.

number three - olympia soiree

heroine: 8/10 story: 8/10 characters: 8/10 art: 10/10 enjoyability: 10/10 favorite characters: akaza (yoshitsugu matsuoka), himuka (shun horie), and yosuga (yuma uchida)

in olympia soirée, the eponymous heroine, olympia, lives in a society divided into castes based on colors. she is the last surviving member of a clan that can perform rituals to keep the sun aglow. this game is a lengthier title, i believe i clocked in around 25 ish hours (i don't use auto-play so that sheds some time). the story benefits from this, as olympia has rich worldbuilding and lore that's revealed throughout the route's progression.

we get to see the consequences of this caste system and olympia's growth as she becomes determined to realize a better future for the islands. this makes the heroine someone that you want to root for. personally, i'm a sucker for stories that center around a sheltered individual being forced to face the harsh realities of the world and maturing in their own way. this, paired with the struggles specific to this setting, make for a gripping backdrop for the character's routes. all the love interests have problems of their own that they need to address.

this is certainly a mature title, there's plenty of steamy scenes featuring gorgeous artwork. seriously... all the pretty CGs are absolute eye candy. i enjoyed the balance between the main narrative and the development of the romantic relationships, i don't remember ever feeling bored.

ironically enough, i think this is the darkest game from the bunch listed here, surpassing the game with actual horror elements. there's a whole litany of trigger warnings to be mindful of when going through the game's bad ends. they are, as the term suggests, Bad. not light or humorous in the slightest. the poor heroine goes through it. please be mindful of these more touchy subjects.

number two - 9 r.i.p

heroine: 8/10 story: 8/10 characters: 9/10 art: 10/10 enjoyability: 10/10 favorite characters: minami (nobuhiko okamoto), hibiki (shunichi toki), kureha (toshiki masuda), and koyo (ryota suzuki)

i was looking forward to the english localization of this game before it was even announced ... i'd been wanting an otome game with this vibe for ages. and it didn't disappoint! there are four different overarching story sections, with two characters each having their routes fall under them. this makes it difficult to give a summary since each route has a vastly different feel. some routes lean heavy into supernatural horror (such as hibiki and kureha), whereas others are just... supernatural (like with yukimaro and koharu).

the basic premise is that the main character, misa, is a high school girl burdened with her career survey. she's uncertain what she wants for the future and is being pressured by his mother to pursue a career in medicine. in one way or another, depending on the story section, she comes into contact with the afterlife and those who inhabit it.

i loved this game, i couldn't put it down. the routes that leaned heavy into horror were my favorites, which shouldn't be a surprise lol. i do feel some love interests were given preferential treatment of others, i wanted more from sena's storyline in particular, since he's voiced by one of my favorite VAs (tetsuya kakihara, the voice of scaramouche) 😭... apparently this game is receiving a fandisc, so hopefully they'll remedy that in the future.

minami stole the show for me. from what i've gauged online, he's a divisive character, you either find him grating or love him (like i do). i'm biased but i do think he has the most interesting and well-written story out of the love interests, i've played through it three times already. i just adored the dynamic between him and the heroine. he's petulant, selfish, and a bit immature, yet he goes to extremes for her as he realizes his unhinged feelings.

hibiki is a close second. the most yandere-coded of the bunch, he's soft-spoken and polite, but that exterior hides a creepy personality. like all of the characters in this game, there's a tragic element to him. i was worried about the role the heroine would play in helping him 'overcome' this, but i think they handled it well. it doesn't feel like the heroine's fixing him so much as she's helping him have a different perspective on certain events.

yeah i'm not normal about this game, i cannot recommend it enough. it would've taken the top slot if some of the routes were a bit more polished. i didn't care for yukimaro's at all, for example. routes like minami's, hibiki's, and koyo's more than make up for it though.

number one - collar x malice

heroine: 10/10 story: 10/10 characters: 10/10 art: 10/10 enjoyability: 10/10 favorite characters: takeru sasazuka (daisuke namikawa), kei okazaki (yuki kaji), and aiji yanagi (masakazu morita)

the holy grail. the otome games that died for our sins. this isn't just a good otome game, it's an excellent story, with a very human cast, commentary on issues like the nature of crime, and you're left wanting to solve the various mysterious as much as the heroine does. speaking of the heroine, miss hoshino ichika is my all-time favorite heroine. she's clever, resolute, compassionate, and you can't help but fall in love with her a little yourself 😭😭

i'm not sure if this makes sense, but the world feels very... full? you get this sense that ichika exists outside just interacting with the love interests. she has her career, friends, and her younger brother that act as more than passing NPCs. the writers ensured all the characters with portraits are given some level of depth. i left caring about more characters than the heroine and love interests.

each route is dedicated to working through a certain case, which keeps the story intriguing as you progress. finally, all of the little hints that have been littered throughout coalesce into the 'true' route, where questions you've had since the first chapter are given satisfactory conclusions. at the same time, you're left wondering about a few things, such as the complete philosophy of the main antagonist.

ichika's relationship with each of the love interests develops alongside the case they're investigating, which almost always have connections or parallels to the LI's past. this helped ground them in reality and flesh them out into dynamic characters. you come to care deeply about them alongside ichika. the romance feels earned and doesn't come on too fast, which some otome games suffer from.

if you like otome games and haven't played collar x malice yet, i fully recommend it!!!!!!!! it's the strongest title from what i've played so far.

#otome games #recommendations

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plaguechyld · 1 year ago

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Omggg finally a blog with dom reader instead of sub!! I'm so excited I don't know what to even request with all the thoughts in my head! I'm into power play, spanking, dumbification, praise kink and overstimulation. I can't think of a storyline but you can choose one of any of those kny characters (muzan, kokushibo, giyuu, yoriichi or kagaya ) thanks!

i’m glad you’re excited!! All of these are right up my alley too lol

first giyuu work of the blog?? Lets goooo (reader is uppermoon two along with douma)

cw: sub!giyuu, dom!gn!reader, demon!reader, uppermoon!reader, praise, spanking, dumbification, overstim, manhandling, crying, reader is said to have an angelic appearance, you/your used for reader, plot, fighting is flirting, reader has strap/cock (referred to has cock but can be interpreted at strap), demons can purr

This wasn’t the way things were supposed to happen, Giyuu was supposed to be in for a suicide mission, fighting uppermoon two alone.

The demon slayer had been confronted by the demon, you, in the dead of night when he was all alone on a patrol of the outskirts of a town in the wild lands of Japan’s countryside.

The first thing he noticed about you, embarrassingly enough, was how stunning your appearance is. Still, that didn’t stop him from drawing his katana from its sheath and baring it at you.

Giyuu swallowed when he saw your eyes, how could he not? They were beautiful after all, though they held the demonic inscription of uppermoon two.

The battle would be bloody, he knew. Your strength outweighed his by an obscene amount, your flesh could mend itself back together within mere seconds and your stamina was nearly unlimited, something he would soon come to see in a different light.

A soft smile played on your mouth, lips tugged up in a gentle manner as the skin around your eyes crinkle slightly. Each blow the hashira dealt was easily sidestepped by you, making Giyuu somewhat enchanted by you despite himself.

Your movements were so graceful, making you look like a living angel as you danced through the entourage of blade slashes directed at you.

Your smile never fades as you gradually get closer and closer to Giyuu despite him thinking that he has quite a handle at keeping you at a fair distance. The elation surprised him and he found himself soon unable to keep you more than a few feet away from him.

Sweat started beading on his forehead as he tried harder, channeling every skill he knew of from both his breathing style and swordsmanship in general. But despite the worry he was feeling at your nearing presence, you didn’t intend him any harm, you just had to exhaust the hashira to the point where he couldn’t fight back any longer.

Truth be told you found him absolutely beautiful, those deep sapphire eyes and dark black hair framing his pale face. Those fluid water-like movements, a signature of water breathing users, just looked so much better when it was Giyuu moving in that way.

In your century of life you have come across many different demons, demon slayers and normal mortals.. Even playing around with a handful that you found physically attractive, though none ever tugged at any heartstrings of yours, nor achieved a second glance.

This human was different, he was undeniably handsome but also his quiet nature intrigued you.

Mortals and even demons varied in personality, of course. But when they were in the presence of you they either become obnoxiously loud, crying and screaming and whatnot. Either that or they would cower in fear, not even daring to speak a word to you, causing you to quickly become bored with their existence.

But Giyuu was different, he was quiet, not screaming at you for your existence but at the same time his silence was not driven by fear. No, it was driven by the pure focus driving him forward.

Undoubtedly Giyuu harbored some hate towards you merely for the fact you were a demon. It didn’t bother you, however. He was respectful in his fight, never once did an insult slip past his plush lips which you found to be quite a pleasing change of pace.

And so you let him fight, let him display his years of training in such a gorgeous way.

Giyuu wasn’t completely unaware of your silent musing, he noticed the way you gazed at him with dreamy eyes. He saw the way you allowed his every attack to finish, even if it never hit you.

Those small things go unnoticed by many, so many that it has annoyed you for multiple decades. But you knew that Giyuu saw them and that only fueled your interest in him.

The fight was quiet, only the soft rustling of fabric, impact against grass and sword slashes swinging through the air.

But at the same time it spoke louder than any word could. The soft dance you two were in together grew closer and closer like it was nearing its grand finish, however that end would not be in death nor would it come that night.

The both of you seemed to look past the slashing of Giyuu’s sword, focusing on the small gestures of movement that brought a soft hue of pink to the hashira’s ears.

Your hand would graze his blade for a moment before he danced away from you again. He wasn’t that easy to woo, you found, which made you try even more. But at the same time Giyuu never rejected you, no. He was just putting on a show, a beautiful one at that.

The two of you had lived a life of darkness and bloodshed so a meeting such as this was only appropriate, no? To many others it would appear that the hashira’s fate was sealed and in a way it was, though there was no promise of death when he was with you.

It was important for the first promise between them to remain silent, not spoken aloud. The words in early days of meeting are unimportant in such a world, the quiet bond that was being built was much more precious, like a small defenseless thing that you wanted to shelter. It was valuable to you, you realized.

In some ways Giyuu felt the same. He just couldn’t help it, he was lonely. He had been lonely since childhood so the promise from such a seemingly… angelic demon seemed tempting to him. That temptation was already drawing him in, he had fallen to it, how could he not? You were so pleasing to be in the presence of. Despite the clear warning of the kanji inscribed in your beautiful e/c eyes the hashira found himself unable to pull away.

You welcomed him, you welcomed him to you, ignoring the biological hatred between the two of you because why would that matter? You had all eternity to have whatever you desired, why would principles make it any different?

The need, no matter how faint, was all too visible to you. Giyuu didn’t hide it from you, never averting his gaze from your own as if he wanted to drive your primal hunger for him. He didn’t fear your fangs nor your sharp nails that could dig into his flesh if he were to make a single misstep.

As his stamina ran out his muscles began to ache, his movements were growing more sluggish from their dance dragging on too long for his human body to handle.

This notion didn’t slip past your notice, after all the two of you were already so in tune with each other despite never speaking a word.

You let him drop right into your arms from fatigue and somehow Giyuu didn’t find himself afraid of what was to come.

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

Slept left Giyuu after some hours of sleeping. He found himself waking up in a lavish western style bed. The room was comfortable, having a nice scent of something like vanilla and cinnamon.

The hashira found that couldn’t bring himself to sit up out of the bed, feeling too content to even consider it much.

Your presence was easy to sense within the home due to the fact you didn’t bother to mask it from the demon slayer. The trust between the two of you was oddly strong despite the strange nature of its founding.

It didn’t alarm Giyuu when you entered what he could only assume to be a guest bedroom. In your hands was a bowl of pork cutlet, well seasoned with some vegetables on the side. The exhausted demon slayer took the bowl of food with a thankful nod.

As he ate he was able to hear your voice for the first time as you asked him a simple question.

“Your name?” ah, of course your voice would be as attractive as your appearance. The mere sound of it had turned the tips of Giyuu’s ears pink once more as he replied in a soft voice.

“Tomioka Giyuu.” It was a short response but he was happy to see that you didn’t mind his lack of verbalization. You gave him your name in return and he nodded, finishing up his meal with eagerness.

You chuckle softly as you take his empty bowl away and at the same time set down a glass of water. Giyuu smiled softly to himself, hiding it behind the rim of the cup as he took a grateful drink.

This was some of the most gentle treatment he had received after years of tough training, bloodshed and ostracization from his fellow slayers. So he couldn’t help but feel at ease around you, despite your status as an uppermoon demon.

You couldn’t help but feel similarly with his own status as a high ranking demon slayer, a hashira. The two of you didn’t feel like you were in danger when you were around each other which was out of the ordinary but at the same time pleasing.

It was quite comforting to finally be able to form a meaningful connection with someone after all these years.

The wounds he had allowed himself to sustain during a recent mission were now rebandaged, Giyuu noticed. You had spent the time wrapping his arm and waist in fresh white bandages, making the hashira feel a warmth growing in his chest.

Those seemingly small things were quite a gentle and thoughtful thing for a demon to even consider doing, he thought. So the fact that you did it made it all the more special to him.

You had left Giyuu to his thoughts for a little while as you cleaned his dish before putting it away.

You returned to his side not long after and this time the two of you didn’t stay separated for long. Soon you were seated on the comfortable duvet cover of the bed Giyuu had been resting in, looking over at him.

A slight shift in his posture edged his hand just a little closer to your body, a silent invitation for you to take hold of it.

And that you did, your cooler hand slipped into his rather warm and calloused one, gently running your thumb over the top of it as Giyuu allowed his deep blue eyes to flutter shut. Soft touches were so rare in Giyuu’s profession and he was really feeling that fact now.

Some might consider him touch starved, which he couldn’t disagree with. So when you gave him that gentle touch Giyuu could find himself craving more and more. He didn’t care about being greedy and honestly, neither did you.

So a simple hand touch soon turned into you rubbing his arm then to the two of you in a joined embrace on that soft bed. It was painfully comfortable, lying there with Giyuu. So the two of you remained wrapped in each other’s arms for a while longer.

Your hands eventually found his dark black hair, undoing the ponytail it was currently in, letting it hang loose. Giyuu hummed in question only to be met by you slipping down into a lying position on the bed and opening your arms for him.

Who was he to refuse the demon that took him in? So of course he allowed his body to sink against your’s, letting out a soft breath of content when you begin rubbing slow circles on his back. It didn’t bother him that he was without a shirt at that moment, not at all.

All that mattered was being snuggled against you, being pressed so comfortingly against your demonic body. Giyuu loved that you welcomed him into your arms, that you rubbed his back and tended to his wounds. That you cared to make him feel this way.

And maybe.. Perhaps you would also care enough to make him feel better in another way. That thought seeped into his mind with no warning nor invitation but once it was in it made itself a home. Giyuu couldn’t get the thought of you doing such a sinful and loving thing.

Your eyes were busy gazing at his face, admiring his beautiful features. Once he looks up at you he instantly notices how you’re watching him with that sweet look on your face. Instantly he felt blush slowly spreading across his cheeks. You giggle softly at his reaction and cup his cheeks in your hands, gently squeezing them.

“May I?” you inquire with a quiet breath before smiling when Giyuu nods his head. Your lips meet his own soft ones in a tender kiss.

It’s calm at first until Giyuu leans into it more, urging you to take that next step. Of course, who were you to deny him? So your tongue meets his own, exploring his mouth for the first time that night.

Giyuu was so needy yet so inexperienced, he didn’t know where to place his hands and was messily copying the motions of your tongue.

So you take the lead, your hands holding his waist possessively, rubbing all over his skin and bandages with a firm touch.

He tasted so sweet and his little muffled whines were so adorable to listen to. It was so hard to take this slow but you knew that he needed it that way, despite his cold facade he was quite a sensitive thing.

His body remained on top of yours but in no way was the hashira in control, he had relinquished that the moment he fell into your arms.

You eventually sat up with Giyuu in your lap, clinging to you like you’d vanish if he were to let go.

Giyuu felt his air supply running low so reluctantly he parted from your lips, gasping for breath soon after. Your smile never faded and your hands never left his body, they rubbed his waist slowly before eventually grasping it in full.

Your grip wasn’t particularly firm nor possessive at the moment and even so Giyuu could feel warmth pooling in his tummy from the mere touch. It wasn’t long before you sunk your lips back against his, pulling him into another searing kiss.

It was just so perfect that the hashira couldn’t resist attempting to clumsily roll his hips, not knowing what to do but feeling a tightness growing in his pants. After your lips separate for a second time you don’t waste a moment in placing hands on Giyuu’s hips to guide him properly.

A soft whimper escaped his lips, it was breathy and pure, so painfully pure to you. You had to have more, Giyuu was just so stunning when he was like this, after all. Your hands picked up the pace, making the slayer gasp in moderate surprise before leaning his head into the crook of your neck.

You didn’t mind because in that position you could hear each and every sound that Giyuu let out. Every breathy gasp and quiet whimper were easily picked up by you, driving you forward.

Giyuu bit down on his bottom lip out of pure instinct. He was practically in heaven, or so he thought. He knew he wouldn’t be able to stop himself- or you, from continuing the passion that was slowly unfolding in this quaint bedroom; hidden away from the rest of Japan.

“Please, more.” he whispers to you in an almost bashful tone. You knew exactly what he desired and you weren’t about to deny your beautiful human anything, at least not yet. So you obey, unbuckling his belt and “accidentally” brushing your hand against the prominent bulge in his dark black pants.

Each touch of that nature had the water hashira tensing and sucking in a breath of surprise and need. You just had this air about you; it was driving him insane. If you could just do it, touch him there; where he needs it-

Giyuu squeaks at the soft smack that was laid against his now bare thigh. Your hand was quick to rub the soft skin there, of course; but it served as a reminder to be good, to not go off on his own. He needs to listen to you, of course he does; he has no idea what to do.

“Shh, just follow my lead. Listen, baby.” you mutter in reply to his soft pleading sounds. Giyuu swallows before nodding his head, he knows that he has to be good for you to get what he wants, somehow.

Ah, but it was so hard! He was sitting in your lap in only his fundoshi, rolling his hips at a pace you control and to top it off you were still fully clothed. Giyuu merely buried his face even more so against your neck, choosing to stay quiet.

But that just wouldn’t do, would it? No; he needs to voice what he wants with you. You shift him in your lap, placing your thigh between his own so that he can get more friction against his bulge as you whisper teasingly in his ear.

“You want something, what is it?” he tenses slightly as his cheeks flush more. He should’ve known that you would figure it out; after all he wasn’t good at hiding anything from you, clearly. Swallowing his shyness after a moment he replies,

“You still.. Have all your clothing on…” so that was what he was thinking about? How sweet. You chuckle in light amusement before giving him one guided hip roll against your thigh.

“Then take it off.” you reply without missing a beat, making the hashira pause and look up at you with slightly glazed over blue eyes and a confused expression on his face. However that confusion soon turns into blush as he looks down- avoiding your gaze as he nods his head.

With trembling hands he pulls both your kimono and under-kimono open, revealing your chest to his flustered but oh so hungry gaze. You had removed your haori long before settling down in bed with the hashira so now all that remained was your kimono, obi and hakama pants.

Next Giyuu unties your obi with unsure hands. You take the fabric from him and look into his eyes, clearly uninterested in what becomes of it because of the lust that was starting to get to you.

The hashira swallows before continuing to help you undress and slowly, piece by piece, your stunning body is revealed.

But he can’t have all of the fun, can he? So you toy with the edge of his fundoshi for a little while, making Giyuu blush even further before eventually pulling it off. The hashira instinctually covers his erection with his hands, embarrassment flooding through his face.

You smirk softly and take his hands in yours, bringing them away from covering anything. You lay soft kisses on his knuckles as well, smiling at the way he was blushing because of it.

A soft whisper, or rather plea of your name here and there, had your patience nearly snapping. But you had to remind yourself that your baby didn’t know any better, not yet. Giyuu was just calling out for you, wanting you closer, wanting more of your touch; wanting more of you.

“Press your back to my chest.” you instruct in a calm voice, Why were you so calm and collected? Giyuu was blushing so much that he thought his skin was on fire at this point. You really were going to ruin him; though he obeys nonetheless. With his back flush against your chest you wrap your arms loosely around his waist.

You slide one hand to his erect cock while the other trails further up, playing with one of his soft pink nipples.

A light pinch with the first stroke of his cock has Giyuu’s hands flying up to cover his mouth. But even then he isn’t able to hide his squeal from you. You rub your hand up and down the length of his dick, occasionally circling his tip with the pad of your thumb.

“None of that now, darlin’. I want to hear every sound you make.” you whisper, your voice almost a soft hiss. You had to resist being just a bit harsher in your words with him because you knew Giyuu wouldn’t know what to do with himself.

Besides, you had other things planned for tonight…

Giyuu nods meekly as he lowers his hands, instead balling them up into fists as your hand picks up its pace. Another moan is pulled out of the hashira as you give his nipple a sharp tug.

Ah, his bare shoulder is just too tempting for you to not bite… So you lean in and sink your teeth, albeit quite gently for a demon, into the juncture between his neck and shoulder, eliciting a sharp cry from him.

“HnGAH?!~” another bite, another squeal or cry. It was an addicting cycle but you eventually began licking over the marks you had already left, not wanting to be too rough quite yet. Your hand also never stopped, driving Giyuu closer and closer to orgasming.

Your fingers leave his chest to press against his lips, coaxing him to suck on them and coat them with his saliva. For what? He doesn’t know yet; though he will soon. He arches his back, hipping bucking into your hand as he feels the coil about to snap.

“Close, close!~” is all of the muffled warning you get before the hashira comes, pearly white cum staining your hand. You hum, bringing it to your lips to taste much to Giyuu’s embarrassment.

“Mmpfh!” he protests, wordlessly, due to the fingers currently playing with his tongue. You merely hum in response, finding the taste of your darling to be quite pleasant. Looking down into his flustered eyes makes you chuckle softly before giving him a kiss on the head in response.

“Sorry, hun. Couldn’t resist tasting you.” you chuckle quietly before pulling the two fingers you had in the hashira’s mouth out. They were thoroughly coated in saliva now and perfect for what you intended to use them for.

You let Giyuu get another whine out before flipping him to lay with his chest flush against yours once again.

Giyuu can’t help but feel quite comfortable in this position, being able to hold onto you- practically hug you all while feeling your bare skin against his was something he was never going to get tired of.

Your dry hand slowly finds its place on Giyuu’s perky ass, giving it a few rubs before lightly pressing your two wet fingers against his hole.

He sucks in a nervous breath, never having been penetrated before; only jacking off when he was alone at times. But you’re there to soothe his worries, of course you are. You’ve been so sweet to him this entire time.

“Shhh, it’s alright. I’ll go slow, okay?” you murmur in a soft voice before laying another gentle kiss on the hashira’s forehead. Giyuu nods his head as he looks up at you with wide trusting eyes, squeezing them shut when you push your finger in, burying the first knuckle in his warmth. He was grateful you were adding them one at a time as he wasn’t sure if he could take them in from the beginning at once.

“Ngh.. ahn~” his moans are like little mumbles as he smushes his face into your chest, hands holding onto your back as he pushes back on your finger slightly.

Soon enough another knuckle is in him, then another until your middle finger is completely inside.

Giyuu shifts his hips slightly, trying to get used to the sensation of having something inside him like this.

“I’m going to add another finger, alright?” you warn quietly, only acting when Giyuu gives a little nod in response. You slowly ease your middle finger out of him before readjusting so that both your middle and ring fingers slip into the first knuckle. Giyuu lets out a soft hum of pleasure, shifting his hips to let you know that he wants you to continue.

And you do, you ease those two fingers until they’re fully inside of him and at that point the hashira is moaning softly into your chest. You kiss the top of his head as you begin moving them in and out at a nice and slow pace, allowing him to get used to the sensations he’s receiving.

Your fingers work diligently, pressing deep within him every time you move them back in. Occasionally you spread them apart to loosen his muscles, to which he lets out a moan or whine, depending on the distance between your fingers.

Soon enough the tips of your fingers pad against a soft little bump that causes Giyuu to squeal and arch his back without warning. His eyes fly open for a moment before his body shudders and once more clings onto your own.

“Is that where it feels the best?” you ask him, not expecting to receive an answer as your fingers prod away at that sensitive spot. Giyuu can’t answer, his voice too busy being used for moans and whines from the stimulation he was receiving at your hand; or rather, fingers.

Though, to your surprise Giyuu manages a slight nod in response to your question. How sweet… you just had to tease him a little bit, of course. So you press nice and firmly against that spot, not taking your fingers off like before.

“NYAGH!~ Whu-wai-” his moans are like a sweet melody to your ears, he’s begging, pleading with you. It’s too much, he really isn’t used to these types of touches.

So when you finally return to your normal pace he slumps down against your chest again, whining and whimpering to himself.

You eventually find that he’s been stretched enough, though you’re still thoughtful about how his body will react to the real thing. So you reach over to the nightstand and retrieve a bottle of oil.

You pour a decent amount onto his already twitching hole, noticing how he squirms slightly from the feeling. You kiss him on the forehead, whispering a soft reassurance before spreading the oil along his walls.

His hands still grab at your arms, your chest, your back; whatever he can get at he’s instantly clinging onto. He whines softly when you remove your fingers, having grown used to the sensations they provided.

“It’s okay, darling..” you whisper in his ear, your voice calm with barely concealed lustful hunger. A soft sigh makes its way from Giyuu’s lips, signaling the fact he was quite content in your arms.

However a soft gasp does slip past his lips as he feels your tip pressing teasingly against his slick and oiled rim, as if you did such a thing just to hear him moan more.

Your teasing movement was met with a tremor of Giyuu’s legs and his face being pressed against your neck. It was sweet that he was acting so shyly when only a few moments ago he had pleaded with you, whispering your name in that breathy voice of his.

But you could only tease Giyuu for so long, knowing that he wouldn’t be able to take much of it without proper training.

So you gently grab ahold of his hips, squeezing them lightly as you guide him to slide down on your cock. A choked whine sounds from Giyuu’s lips as his hands squeeze you, holding on for dear life.

“Ah! Feels.. W-weird.. Mngh..” he slurs into your neck, hands still squeezing you as tightly as he could manage. You hum softly in response, eyes focusing on the hashira’s hips.

Giyuu shifts around in your lap, trying to get used to the sensation of being so full. Soft whimpers leave his lips every time you readjust him slightly, getting him into place.

“Hngh.. move? P-please?” He asks, innocent eyes looking up into your own demonic inscribed one. How adorable. He was just too cute to say no to.

You hum and place a lingering kiss on Giyuu’s already sweaty forehead as you buck your hips up into him.

Soon enough you move your beauty onto the bed so that he can relax on his back, arms and legs wrapped around your body as you move your hips at a slow and smooth pace.

You thrust your hips forward, driving your cock into the hashira’s tight heat again and again so that you can soak up the sweet moans Giyuu lets out. They’re heavenly to listen to, sounding like a siren’s call.

“Good boy, you’re doing so good.” you whisper in his ear as your hips keep moving, continuing to thrust your cock deep into his hole.

Heat spreads over Giyuu’s cheeks as he clenches around your dick at the praise, making you unable to resist pressing a kiss to his soft lips again.

He bucks his hips up to meet your every thrust as you pick up the pace you were moving at, now bullying his prostate perfectly.

“Mnghh~ close…” he murmurs between moans that continue to grow in volume, signifying the truth behind his words.

“I know baby, I know.” you reply with a few more strong thrusts of your hips, driving Giyuu closer and closer to his peak.

With one more harder movement of your hips Giyuu let out a wail, cum spurting from the tip of his cock as his nails dug into your back.

You made the choice to not allow yourself to heal the marks that the demon slayer was leaving on your back, you wanted to be able to admire them in the morning after all.

However you don’t stop your hips there, no. Giyuu was just too cute and warm for you to be able to control yourself. The hashira let out a startled moan before sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his sounds.

He only let go to whine out, “t’much! ‘Soo m-muhhch!~” How sweet. It was adorable to hear him whine about everything being too intense for him to handle but at the same time thrusting his own hips up to meet your harsh pounding.

Tears cascade down the Hashira’s face, making him seem even more pathetically cute than before. His beautiful blue eyes roll back in his head as you hit that sweet spot over and over again, causing his dick to harden once more.

He can feel himself growing closer despite having come not that long ago. You were just too good, too perfectly attuned to all of his needs.

A second orgasm rips through him, causing him to arch his back and let out a filthy moan that's soon silenced by your lips connecting with his. It's so much, it's too much!

Giyuu feels like he’s drowning in the best pleasure imaginable. Though he expects you to stop now, after all you’ve gotten him to cum twice tonight and that's quite a lot for him, at least.

But you don’t, you keep going and even pick up your pace slightly. It punches sweet little “Uh uh uh”’s out of the poor thing, making it clear to you that he’s too fucked out to whine about it.

Your hand comes down to hold onto his chin, making him look up at you with that oh so pretty fucked out expression of his.

“Hm, you can take another round, can’t you baby?” you ask, the question obviously rhetorical as both him and you know that his brain is too mushy to answer you.

Instead Giyuu gives a weak whine of protest before holding onto you tighter. Though, his body is a stark contrast of the complaint he had just let out; he’s wiggling his hips, urging you to continue moving your own.

So with a soft chuckle you continue, slamming your cock deep into him, ramming so far inside that Giyuu swears that he’s seeing stars.

“AHN!- mnHN~.. ‘Omgohhhdddd!-" The hashira’s voice is broken up by his heavenly moans, unable to stop himself as you continue giving all the pleasure that you could possibly give him.

Your stamina is downright insane, though what could Giyuu expect. After all, you are one of the higher ranking uppermoon demons.

Even then, you can feel your pace slipping as your thrusts grow sloppier- more intense in pace and less like the strong, deep and practiced ones you had done prior.

“‘M close, baby. Want me to fill you up some more, Giyuu? Hmm?” You murmur into his ear, your breath hot and heavy as you breathe in Giyuu’s intoxicating scent.

Giyuu nods fervently in response as he screws his deep blue eyes shut. His cheeks are all rosy and stained with dried tear marks, making him all the more adorable.

He hiccups as you finally slow your pace, hips moving slower as you cradle his shaking body close to your own.

Oh? It appeared he had cum for a third time from that sloppy pace. What a sensitive thing he is.

You kiss Giyuu’s forehead, finding it drenched in sweat with his black bangs sticking to his. He looks up at you with a dazed look when you finally slow to a stop before closing his eyes again.

A smile finds its way onto your lips as you pull out of him, making him gasp, arching his back for one last time.

Giyuu whines softly, opening those tired eyes of his again as he searches for your touch.

“Mmngh.. Stay…” The hashira murmurs, calling out for you in that sweet and quiet voice of his.

How could you refuse? So of course you wrap yourself around his weakened body.

You use a soft cloth you dipped in the lukewarm water that had been sitting out in a glass to clean the cum from Giyuu’s tummy.

Your touch is gentle as you clean him up as best you can for the moment, after all the poor thing was much too tired for a proper wash.

In return the hashira snuggles up to you, peppering shy kisses to your neck as a thank you for the night as he was much too tired to talk.

You release a quiet purr in return, it's a sweet and gentle sound which makes it soothing for Giyuu to listen to.

The hashira curls up properly after you set the cloth down, feeling quite content to be wrapped in your arms like this.

He falls asleep quite quickly, clearly your shared night of intimacy had gotten to him quite quickly.

You merely smile and lay another kiss on him, this time to the top of Giyuu’s head.

“How sweet…” You whisper to yourself. Perhaps it wouldn’t hurt to prolong this… relationship.

#sub character #kny smut #kny #sub kny #dom reader #demon slayer #kny x you #smut #n/sfw #giyuu #sub giyuu #kny giyuu #giyuu x reader #giyuu tomioka #dumb wh0re #demon x #demon x human

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myownwholewildworld · 8 months ago

Text

THE WAY TO A GREAT WIDE SOMEWHERE

↪ a the mandalorian x beauty & the beast crossover

main masterlist | read on ao3 | easter eggs 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. What 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

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