#another thing to add to the list of long ass posts I have to make... sigh...

[s-wave-entertainment]

NO BECAUSE I DON'T THINK WE TALK ABOUT THIS ENOUGH WE DON'T TALK ABOUT THIS ENOUGH CAN WE TALK ABOUT THIS? BECAUSE

Yeah okay that's a pretty terrifying thing to see, and I can pretty logically assume this is hallucination on N's part, but does that stop him from literally CATCHING HER IN THE NEXT THREE SECONDS???

NO THE FUCK IT DOES NOT LOOK AT HIS HAND LOOK AT HIS HAND UNDERNEATH HER HEAD LOOK AT IT

CAN WE ALSO TALK ABOUT THE CHANGE IN EXPRESSION THAT I CAN ONLY ASSUME IS DUE TO WHAT HE SAW?? Like also I assume yeah obviously he's worried about Uzi because who the fuck wouldn't be (Cyn) but like LOOK AT THIS BULLSHIT

HIS EYES DON'T HOLLOW OUT UNTIL SHE NEARLY HITS THE GROUND AFTER THAT WHOLE THING OCCURS AND YOU CAN SEE THE FUCKING SWITCH FROM "Oh my fucking god what the hell is happening" TO "BEEP BEEP BEEP RED ALERT SHIT'S GOING DOWN OH BISCUITS OH FUCK"

"Myrah what the fuck are you on about it's 8:30 in the damn morning?"

I AM UNWELL ABOUT THESE TWO GODDAMNIT

[thatsdemko]

without you there’s nothing to live for - l.norris

masterlist

pairings: lando norris x fem!reader

warnings: jealousy + insecurities + fluff + build up(kinda long I’m sorry about that) + some errors here or there

a/n: while I had bits and pieces of this work in millions of other lando drafts I think I have to give credit where it’s due to @userlando and her anons ☺���🫶 I’m in such a shit mood so i figured posting this might make me feel better. enjoy xx

Lando Norris was annoying. a childhood friend of yours that somehow stuck throughout the years and never seemed to vanish. he was like a a piece of gum stuck to your shoe, he just never left.

and while you’re thankful he’s the longest lasting friendship you have; did you fail to mention he could be annoying?

his hands drum against the kitchen island, a distraction worthy of you flicking your pencil in his direction, but he’s too quick the pencil would just end up behind him, so you result in throwing him a very pointed look that shuts him up.

“is that pencil up your ass too today?”

you give him another look before staring down at the empty grocery list you failed to create, because lando has claimed your flat as his flat. the lavish lifestyle penthouse was abandoned at the instant call of your arrival to Monaco, and now all of his expensive taste clutters your space.

“did you put eggs on the list? I need eggs. it’s good protein—“ he shuts up to the sound of you breaking the pencil in half, another annoyed look tossed his way.

lando could be a lot. but there was no one who could keep up with you. there was no one like him in your corner, and while he pushed your buttons you were eternally grateful for his loyalty despite your rather jaded friendship.

“let’s just go to the store? I’ll drive.” he says like there’s another alternative to the store. ever since he got his license and moved in, you’ve never even put your foot on the accelerator. you’ve almost forgot the thrilling feeling of driving.

“eggs have been added to the list.” you finally say, typing up your notes of a grocery list once you were finally able to think straight without lando tapping away or chatting your ear off.

god was he annoying, but you loved him for him.

—

his wallet funds are bigger than what you have. you feel guilty every time he buys, but it’s not like you have the funds to do so. he knows that guilty look across your face when he ends up paying for 10% groceries and 90% female hygiene products. he doesn’t mind, just shoves his card in the machine and says a thank you for the person who bags your things.

“you have to let me pay you back—“

“no, nonsense.” he cuts you off, the conversation goes like it always does. you beg, and beg, to try and wiggle in a payback, but he refuses. all those years of your parents giving him shelter, taking him to races, or letting him play in your backyard it’s the least he could do.

“but the price adds up, and you’re paying for most of the rent—“

“I won’t have this conversation with you. just get in the car.” he says it without letting you have another word in. it’s his turn to shoot you down with pointed looks every time you try to mention money.

“y/n?! is that you?”

lando’s heart nearly drops to his stomach at the sound of that voice—that voice, being your ex boyfriend. he came out of nowhere, like the stalker he is, and finds himself walking around lando’s spiffy mclaren with wide eyes and confusion at your presence with the formula one driver. he must’ve forgotten lando was your best friend.

“you going to introduce me to your new boyfriend?”

before you can protest lando shakes his hand. you can tell by the grip lando has on him it’s a firm hard handshake. one to prove a point about the 2 a.m calls of you crying to your best friend from across the world. he was a shitty man, and maybe showing lando off like that would put him in his place.

“this is lando, you guys met awhile back.” you say.

you watch the two of their eyes glimmer in the sunlight with hatred for one another. lando was the guy you told him not to worry about— and he still was— and he was the guy lando was desperately wanting to kick ass.

“don’t remember that.”

“I actually remember, didn’t you spend half the night snogging another girl?” lando’s gentle reminder makes your ex’s face flush pale. you watch a little smile lift to lando’s lips before you both excuse yourselves to head home.

“my new boyfriend is so cool.” you say in a sarcastic tone once it’s just the two of you in his car.

lando let’s out laugh, and just puts the car in reverse. the simple act makes your head spin. his hand reaching behind the head of your seat, the way his eyes quickly glance on you before he looks back to ensure no one is coming. these thoughts were never present until this run in. would lando be a good boyfriend?

you can’t help but explore those thoughts in the twenty minute car ride home in pure silence.

your mind wanders to the idea of waking up to him in your bed. his legs tangled with yours, lazy soft kisses pressed your cheeks. you could melt at just the thought of it.

or maybe he’d make you eggs. you’d wake to the smell of bacon grease and him shirtless—like he always is in the kitchen— creating a masterpiece meal that you devour in minutes.

what switch has suddenly changed in you? because now when you look at lando, your heart does things it never did before. your head spins of ideas of him as your boyfriend and it’s so sickening you could throw up.

“I’m going to unload the groceries, you’re more than welcome to sit and stare into space for as much as you need.” his words spook you. a little yelp escaped your lips that he’d caught you. your eyes bug wide—like they always are when you get into your daydreams— and mind so full you lose track of time and often forget your surroundings. you had no clue you’d been sitting in the driveway this whole time.

“where do you want the tampons again? I seem to forget.”

“under the bathroom sink please.”

you wonder if you can shove your thoughts under there too. a nap is needed to clear your mind of whatever seems to be boggling it all about lando.

—

a nap certainly did help, however, waking up to lando shirtless in your bed also napping? yeah, all that hard work of suppressed thoughts came right back.

you think about taking your finger and running it all over the divots, curves, and muscles of his body. you think about how much stronger he’s been looking lately and how the little hair on his chin is growing onto you. what is going on with you?

it was common for lando to come in your room and sleep with you. nightmares were rare for you, but they happened more often than you expected and lando always wanted to be there for it. but this was just a nap? why did he have to come in and sleep with you? he could’ve just slept in his own bed, that certainly would’ve helped your heart if he did.

you roll out of bed and tip toe around your bed, until your heart makes you stop. you stare at his peaceful state. the way his curls fall over his forehead, the thick long lashes you desperately want, the soft smile on his lips— his eyes are opening, shit, you think to yourself.

you quickly book it out of the room to save yourself from the embarrassment of him catching you watching him sleep. what a creep you were becoming in the matter of hours. this is why you shouldn’t like your best friend. hell, this is why you shouldn’t let your man best friend live with you. it was destined for one of you to fall in love.

but it was also destined for you to most likely get your heart broken.

lando doesn’t date women like you. you’ve seen his roster of women rotating in and out of your place, none of them looked like you: an average woman with average looks. who’d want that?

a little part of hope lingers in your chest when you see him enter the kitchen. his lips press against your temple as he mumbles a good morning.

“how was your nap?”

“not long enough.” you admit watching him type away on his phone. his elbows are pressed against the granite counter tops, his fingers work vigorously against the screen. a little smile appears on his lips that make you nauseous. it could just be max, but it could be another girl.

almost two hours ago this wouldn’t of mattered to you. you wouldn’t of cared if lando invited a girl over and you stayed locked up in your room, but now all of a sudden it’s bothersome.

“what’s got you all smiley?” you ask, partially out of curiosity but partially to just kill your heart with his response. he sets his phone face down on the counter resting his chin in the palm of his hand, “max is coming over, and so is pietra.”

“exciting.” you grin, though the words disagree with your expression making his face drop with worry.

“are you worried max is going to take your best friend spot? he could never, y/n.”

best friend. yeah, that’s all you’ll ever be when girls like ria and pietra exist. deadly beauty that could put a man in his place. when was yours ever going to show up?

—

you’re tipsy off the expensive bottle of wine max brought. your body is pressed against lando’s for support as you all laugh about something max said. you can’t help but wrap your arms around his strong bicep, resting your head against his shoulder listening to pietra expose Max’s recent mess up.

lando doesn’t take notice in the way you’re seated. he knows you’re beside him based off the heat that radiates off your body. you always got overly warm when drunk, and sometimes a bit too affectionate, but he didn’t mind. he actually loved it when you wanted to be beside him.

“so when did this happen?” pietra points her finger between you two, a bright smile pressed against her lips as she cozies herself up to her own boyfriend.

lando clears his throat. he practically yanks his arm out of your grip leaving you to fall back against the cushions beside him. you hide your face into his back out of embarrassment suddenly becoming aware of how you two look. “oh umm—“

“oh gosh! I’m so sorry. I think it’s the wine talking in me.” she quickly apologizes, a blush filters her face similar to yours.

“it’s not the first time today that’s happened.”

“do tell,” max sits on the edge of his seat listening to lando explain the run in, your face is still pressed into his back. you’re hoping that maybe if you just stay there you would disappear into thin air or end up in your bedroom sound asleep away from all of this.

“I still want to kick that guys ass—“

“wait,” pietra cuts off max, her voice demands all the attention in the room. you pry your head from out of lando and peer behind him at her, “you didn’t even tell him you are just friends? you let him assume that you’re dating?”

lando’s mouth opens and closes. nothing seems to come out making max throw his head back in a laughing fit, “oh god! I owe ria money for this, you like y/n!”

Lando’s face is flushed red, a similar color to the glass of wine in his hands. there was nothing he could say. he couldn’t even protest it when it was true. he hadn’t even realized he never corrected your ex boyfriend, because truth be told, he wanted to be shown off as your boyfriend.

“come on pietra, let’s leave these two alone.”

they leave as quick as they came, leaving only the half full bottle of wine for yourselves. you both sit in silence, no one musters up the courage to speak.

you both get ready for bed like nothing happened. the awkward silence eats you up. you want to speak up and tell him you feel the same, you want things to go back to normal. you just want annoying lando back.

when you finally finish your nighttime regiment, you’re ready for bed. you turn the corner into your bedroom and see the silhouette of lando reflecting against the wall. your night light was on, and he was laying in your bed, cozied up under the covers.

“sleeping in here tonight?” you ask slipping under the covers beside him, he moves himself closer to you occupying the middle of the bed.

“you don’t mind, do you?”

you shake your head curling your body against his, “I like it when you sleep with me.” you say making a sense of pride soar through his chest. he likes the way your body molds against his.

“your new boyfriend will protect you.” he smiles down at you, carefully place a kiss to your forehead before reaching over and turning off your lamp.

“thank goodness he’s here, I can’t sleep without him.”

“you know I’m talking about myself right?” he lifts his neck up, face looking down at you, your eyes closed practically half asleep already.

“goodnight, boyfriend.”

“goodnight, girlfriend.”

tags: @oconso @xcicix @imsorare @weasleyswizardwheezes-blog @monzabee @lpab @frreyaa @motorsp0rt @lovelytsunoda @smoothopz

want to be apart of my tag list? let me know here!

[thepascalofus]

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

AO3

Part Two

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader

Summary: You’ve been Mando’s crew partner for a year now. Throughout that year Mando has warmed up to you and given you signs that your heart throbbing crush on him is reciprocated. There’s one thing making you hesitate. The condoms he bought on the most recent supply run.

Word Count: 19.1k (HAHAHAHAHAAA)

Chapter Summary: Previous feelings for each other are revealed, and then those feelings are explored. An exchange, if you will.

Content Warnings: 18+ only, MDNI, nervous!reader, soft!!!!!!mando, reader loves facial hair, fluff fluff fluff, helmet comes off, cuddling, SMUT: making out, grinding, PRAISE kink, lowkey size kink, big dick mando, consent king mando (consent king mando is the hottest mando, it is law), m and f masturbation, dirty thoughts of reader and of mando, piv, unprotected and protected piv, fingering f receiving, ass grabbing, a lil nipple play, half naked and naked mando, lovey dovey sex hehehehehe, physical descriptions of reader are as neutral as possible but reader has a vagina

A/N: I cannot thank you all enough for your responses on the first two parts. I also cannot thank you all enough for your patience for part three. It is longer than part one and two combined (y’all voted for me to post in one long part, ya get what ya ask for!), so I think it was worth the wait. Also I didn’t proofread this because I was too excited to post it. Will read over it later though! ENJOY!!

THREE MONTHS PRIOR

A thudding sound was produced by Mando’s footsteps up the Crest’s ramp. Looking up from the article you were reading on your Holopad, your eyes were trained on the lowering ramp. You nestled a bit further into your reading nook–a pile of blankets and some pillows stacked against the wall–as you anticipated the outside air hitting you.

Mando entered the Crest covered in mud. His footprints left a trail up the metal of the ramp. That’s another thing to add to the list of chores, you thought. The planet’s surface was half-swamp, so of course he would come back looking like he just rolled in bantha shit. A struggling bounty that Mando was dragging by the cuffs snapped around their wrists only made the mess worse. 

With a grunt and a push, the quarry was frozen in the carbonite cell before Mando could finish the harsh grit of his, “Dank farrick.” His muddy, gloved hand left a mark on his vambrace when he touched it to close the ramp. 

Silence.

A modulated exhale.

He stood with his expansive shoulders slumped and helmet turned downwards a bit. An apologetic tone crackled through the helmet, “I’m really sorry about the mess,” he slowly said as he used his hands to gesture around him.

Yeah, it wasn’t the most fun chore in the galaxy, but the alternative would be sitting and reading an article on your Holopad. Or sitting next to Mando in the cockpit, the streams of light gleaming off of his armor as you two have a sleepy conversation. They do sound like better alternatives, but you wanted to maximize your time with Mando.

You knew that Mando would help you clean up the mess. More time with Mando greatly sweetened the task of scrubbing the hull.

“I’m going to uh,” he glanced down at the muddy ensemble that covered his body, “go rinse off real quick.” He began his path towards the fresher door and stood still in front of the door. The helmet turned towards his right shoulder, like he was lost in thought. You could tell he concluded his reasoning as the helmet turned back to face the fresher door and he reached up to unlatch his armor. 

First the chest plate was placed on the floor.

Tung.

Then the thigh guards.

Tang. Tang.

Vambraces.

Ting. Ting.

Pauldrons.

Dunk. Dunk.

It wasn’t unusual for Mando to remove his armor outside of the thresher. Occasionally the planet he needed to hunt on was sweltering hot, and removing the armor helped him cool down. Other times it was the inverse, the armor was too cold and he needed to heat up. It made sense to you this time as well. His armor was dirty so removing it before stepping into the fresher helped him clean up easier.

You didn’t realize he would apply the same logic to his mud-soaked flight suit.

Reaching up, his gloved fingers fiddled with the buttons at the top of his shirt. Eventually he was successful in undoing them and brought his hands behind his neck. He gripped the collar of his shirt and pulled it up and over the helmet. Off of his torso and onto the floor.

Plap.

The saturated long sleeve clung to his upper body like a surgical exam glove. Every muscle. Every ripple with his movement. They shined in the light of the Crest and displayed every lean curve of the Mandalorian’s body. Once more he reached up, this time undoing the buttons on his long sleeve.

Oh kriff.

Hands gripping the back collar of the shirt, the removal of the wet, black fabric revealed golden tan skin. Scars littered the expanse of his back from the years of combat he’d endured. The muscles that previously rippled underneath black fabric now gleamed under tan skin, coated with a layer of sweat.

Plap.

Oh kriff.

You were behind the nearly beskar-less man. Knowing he couldn’t see you, your jaw dropped.

Mando stepped out of his shoes, which revealed clean black socks. Hopefully his boots were equipped with mechanisms to keep his feet dry. Lastly, he slid off his gloves.

Plap. Plap.

Veiny, golden hands–matching his torso–were ungloved. His fingers were thick with well kept nails. You supposed that longer nails would make hand-to-hand combat difficult. As he opened the fresher door you watched his hand flex around the handle. His biceps bulged in the process of pulling the metal door open.

Once he was inside the fresher, you heard shuffling. After a minute or two, the door opened slightly. A large hand and toned forearm reached out and discarded his pants and underwear on the floor.

Plap.

The water began to run in the fresher and the pattering of liquid hitting the fresher floor filled the Crest. Occasional variations in the pattering occurred when Mando moved his body underneath the stream of water. 

Then the pattering stopped. Mando must have been drying himself off, the slight shuffling sounds made their way to your ears. Those sounds ceased as well.

The Mandalorian cleared his throat and called out your name, “Um. Hey.”

Blinking a few times, you snapped out of your daydream-like state, “Yeah?” You called in response.

A pause. “Would you mind getting me some pants, please?” His voice was tight–possibly in embarrassment.

Your eyes widened and body sat still, “Uh, yeah sure! Where do you keep clean pairs?” You asked.

“Right side of my bunk. First cabinet on the left.” He raised his voice in order to enunciate his words. 

Before you knew it, you were leaning into Mando’s bunk. Your gaze floated around the space in a quick glance. It was clean and organized. After witnessing his wide and tall frame the bed looked almost too small. Or maybe he just looked that large.

Your hand opened the first cabinet on the left and the other hand selected a clean pair of pants off the top of the stack. They were soft, fleece-like. Realizing they were sweatpants you extended your arm to put them back, but then hesitated as your hand hovered over the pile. Mando just came back from a hunt. A swampy, muddy hunt at that. He should get to be comfortable now.

The sweatpants remained in your hand and your footsteps took you to the fresher door. “I got you a pair,” you shyly announced. 

A squeak came from the fresher door’s hinges as the crack in the door allowed Mando’s hand to stick out of the space. His palm was open, waiting for the pants to meet his touch. Your arm reached forward and placed the soft pants into the grasp of his thick fingers.

“Thank you.” The smooth bass of his voice entered your ears and went south. Air moving through his vocal chords produced warm, honey-like vibrations and they made you melt. “I’ll get the rest,” he concluded, and shut the fresher door. 

You stood and studied your bleary reflection on the fresher door in awe at what you’ve experienced. Mando’s actual voice–without the helmet.

Shuffling began and ended abruptly. Lost in the awe, you didn’t realize the Mandalorian opened the door and took a step out. In consequence, his chest collided with your torso and sent you tumbling backwards. Backwards into a small puddle of swamp water and peaty mud.

“Di’kutla,” Mando let out a now modulated grunt.

Useless, worthless in Mando’a. Your heart stung a bit at the word. It’s not like you wanted to be covered in swamp gunk.

“Sorry, I-I didn’t mean to make more of a mess,” you stuttered, nervous at the potential of him being mad at you.

Without a word, he reached down and hauled you to your feet, large hands grasped you at your waist. You became off balance and placed your hands on his chest for leverage. A slight gasp escaped your throat at the sudden movement–and at touching Mando’s bare chest.

His skin was soft, but rough. Thin black hairs littered his sternum and the surrounding skin. A light trail made its way down his soft, yet toned, stomach and disappeared past the waist of his sweatpants. Once you realized where your gaze settled–the soft bulge displayed behind the black fabric–your eyes snapped back up to his visor and your hands returned to your sides. Mando’s hands brushed the insides of your forearms. The skin on his hands was rough and warm, just like the skin on his chest.

The T shape tilted and then shook from side to side, “I’m di’kutla, not you. I’m the one that pushed you over.” 

His head peered downwards and noticed the placement of his hands, he quickly jerked them back to his sides and nodded, “Let’s get cleaning.”

–

The Mandalorian quickly pulled an outfit together, which lacked his usual beskar–the same black sweatpants, a black t-shirt, and a pair of black socks–and you mirrored his actions. Thankfully, he only caused your clothes to get dirty and not the rest of you. Your clean outfit was more revealing, which allowed you to bend and twist to scrub the mud off of the Crest’s interior.

While scrubbing, you would catch Mando out of the corner of your eye as he stole glances at you. An eyebrow of yours raised at his glances. You shot him a quick, “Don’t worry Mando, I’m getting it all,” in a teasing manner.

Looking back at the beskar-less man, he shook his helmet and chuckled, “I’m not worried about you getting it all. You keep the Crest sparkling clean. Was just…seeing if you needed help over there.” His visor returned to focus on the task of removing the mud from the floor of the hull.

–

The cleaning finished after an hour and a half. You were shocked at the efficiency, but you supposed two people cleaning aided in achieving the cleanliness of the Crest. Scrubbing the silver floors and walls tired you out, and Mando certainly felt the same after his hunt and scrubbing.

Sleep permeated throughout the air of the Crest and nestled itself into yours and Mando’s bodies. Fluid motions weaved your bodies past each other throughout the hull. Mando went back to change in his bunk while you used the fresher for your nightly routine. Once you were finished, you closed all the cabinets in the small space, signaling the return of your nightly products to their original places.

Which usually signaled Mando to stand outside of the fresher door.

His footsteps became louder as he strode to his usual spot across from the metal door of the fresher. You weren’t surprised to see Mando leaning against the wall of the hull.

But you were surprised at the bare chest staring back at you. The dark hairs on his chest littered your vision once more. The Mandalorian’s arms were crossed, which displayed every finely tuned muscle in the dim light of the hull.

You wanted to jump his bones. Climb him like a tree. Feel the expanse of his trunk-like arms under your palms.

“Are you all done there?” His modulated bass crackled through your thoughts. Straightening up and snapping out of your daydreams, you stepped to the side and nodded. Mando’s frame became larger as he approached you. Once your bodies were about to pass each other, an ungloved hand settled on your hip and gave you a slight squeeze.

“Thank you,” he said. His visor met your eyes before he closed the door to the fresher. 

You got comfy in your makeshift bed–a nice pillow, a thick sleeping pad, and a cozy blanket–and waited for Mando to finish his nightly routine. You always tried to stay up and say good night to Mando before you drifted off to sleep.

Facing the side of the Crest the fresher was on, your head hit the cushion of your pillow and your thoughts wandered.

Mando looked so fucking good. Deliciously good.

You’ve had thoughts about him before. Perverse thoughts. But they were never this strong. But you’ve also never seen him this bare this many times.

His strong arms could wrap around you and flood your body with his warmth. Broad hands would travel up and down your back, soothing any negative thoughts away. Warm skin against yours could act like a salve for your worries.

You could think of everything vividly. His arms. Hands. Chest. Even his legs.

But the feel and morphology of his lips was blurry in your mind's eye.

Yet, you wanted his lips so bad–wanted him so bad–that you didn’t mind the unfocused image in your brain.

You wanted his lips to chase after yours like they were a bounty with the highest reward he’s seen. You needed to feel the slick of his saliva mixing with yours. The dancing of your two tongues in a battle of lust. Not only did you pine after his kiss, but you sought everything that would accompany it as well.

Mando’s ungloved hands would run up and down the planes of your body. Squeezing and palming your features as he pleased, expressing his want for you. The comfortable weight of him on top of you as your mouths molded together. His shifting muscles underneath your palms as you copied his wandering hands. You’d trail your fingertips over the never-ending expanse of his firm back. The pressure of his hard shaft would grind against your mound.

And the sounds.

The sounds.

You’ve heard him grunt before, in pain, effort, exertion, while he handled his bounties.

But you wanted to cause the sounds instead.

His lips could slide against yours and vibrate as he lets out a soft groan of pleasure. The bare chest on top of yours would rumble, sending shivers of delight up and down your spine. Your fingers would dig into his back in response, which would only increase the intensity of his groans. His breath would hitch as the head of his cock rubbed against the point in your walls that had you reeling.

And finally his voice.

Modulated or not, you hoped he would reciprocate the want you had for him. Your thighs pressed together in an attempt to soothe the ache between them.

“Maker, you feel so good.”

“Need you right now.”

“You like that, baby? Yeah? Good.”

“Fuucckkk, always so good for m-.”

You were cut off by the squeaky hinges of the fresher door, accompanied by Mando’s footsteps. Still shirtless, he came into one side of your vision and slowly walked to the other side. Your face heated up at his presence and the thoughts you just had about him. He stopped in front of his bunk and looked at you. 

The T of his visor became diagonal, “You okay?” He questioned you.

Realizing he caught on, your face heated up even more as you produced a response, “Y-yeah! Yeah. Just…thinking.”

Nice save.

His helmet returned to its natural positioning. “What’re you thinking about?” He questioned once again. His large hands clasped in front of him just below his waist. Maker, he was huge. Mando put the width of the doorframe to shame as he continued to stare at you.

“Just…” You quickly tried to remedy the one sided awkwardness. “Just thinking about a book I’m reading. The plot is getting more complex.” Your shoulders rose and fell in a shrug to make your answer seem nonchalant.

“What book? Is it the cowboy one?” Mando replied. He leaned against the doorframe to get comfortable.

Your heart throbbed at his thoughtfulness. The cowboy-related book was one you brought up to him a couple weeks ago, when he asked what you were reading. Not wanting to lie to him, you shook your head and told the truth, “No, I finished that one a couple days ago. This one is about,” you trailed off, and then lied, “This is a romance book.” Your face became hot once again. At least you weren’t completely lying.

“Romance?” Mando asked, “What’s this book called?” His helmet tilted in interest. You could pick up a teasing tone if you listened closely enough.

“Oh, I don’t think you’d like it,” you returned. He usually asked for book titles when he was interested in reading them as well. 

His bare shoulders shrugged, causing his chest to flex for a moment. “Was just curious what you were reading.” He sounded a bit disappointed. The door frame appeared to widen as he turned to enter his bunk.

Not wanting to leave him hanging, you made up a book title, “Hunter and Prey.” Your eyes widened at the sheer explicitness of the three words that left your lips. Hunter and Prey? Really? It would have been easier just to tell him what you were daydreaming about him railing you. 

Mando’s broad frame filled the entrance to his bunk once again. “Hunter and Prey?” He said in a teasing tone, one much more decipherable. 

You throw his tone right back at him, “Oh c’mon. The book has romance and adventure. Two birds with one stone.” You’ve told him how much you like adventure books, so hopefully your lie stuck.

The beskar helmet slanted in thought. “I guess so,” he settled his playful response and paused. A playful tone arose from his modulator once more, 

“Don’t get too interested in bounty hunters. I think getting caught is only fun in the books.” His chest, dark hairs splaying across the surface, vibrated as he chuckled.

A slight smile spread across your face at his joke, “You never know, some bounty hunters don’t take their job as seriously as you do,” you stuck your tongue out at him in jest. 

Mando shook his head, probably biting back a chuckle, and faced his torso towards you for the final time that night, “Good night.” 

Still smiling, you responded, “Good night.”

The bunk door shut and only a dim light in the hull remained as a light source. Shadows from different cargo boxes cast themselves across the silver wall. It would take too much work to decipher which reflections on the walls belonged to which items. Warm light from a lamp near your living space casted a blanket of relaxation over the area. You couldn’t escape the feeling, and your body slumped into the material of the sleeping pad.

Once you closed your eyes, you realized your body was the only thing that the warm light seemed to calm down. In your mind, one thought took center stage.

Mando.

The way he leaned against the door frame. A broad expanse of dark hair covered his chest and traveled down past his waist, the horizontal and vertical lines of hair mimicking the T of his visor. Crossed arms were decorated with a smooth topography of muscles. His voice, laced with relaxation and ease. How attentiveness was like second nature to him. 

How far did that attentiveness extend?

You thought about how carefully he listened and remembered details from your conversations. Picking up on things you’ve needed without you even realizing they’re necessary. Like the sleeping pad you’re laying on. The warm, cozy blanket he came back with one day. 

Would he do the same in bed?

Your hand traveled down to your mound. Dipping under your waistband, your fingertips found your clit. Slow motions started to stimulate the bundle of nerves, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. It wasn’t the first time you masturbated on the Crest, you were human after all. But it was the first time you masturbated without assistance–from a book, video, or picture–and were spurred on by thoughts alone. 

He’d probably listen to your breath hitch as his thick, veiny fingers hooked into a spot on your inner walls just right. And he’d continue, hitting that exact spot over and over. With trained precision. Like it was nothing.

Upper teeth bite down on your lower lip as you thought about his fingers inside of you. How thick they are. How skilled he would be with them. Wet seeped from your slit onto your bottoms. The fingertips from your clit reached down to collect your wetness, and you resumed rubbing your clit at a faster pace.

He’d make you cum like it was his duty, as if it was part of his Creed. With confidence. Pride. Mando’s fingers would be soaked, so soaked that he’d raise them to meet your mouth. “Open.” He’d demand.

You knew you’d get that wet for him because you were already that wet for him. One of your hands continued rubbing your bundle while the other dipped into your entrance. A singular finger eased its way into your hole, but you wanted to feel the stretch. The stretch you knew his fingers would easily provide. Bringing another finger against the original one, you prodded at your entrance once more. You pushed into your wetness with two fingers.

That’s it.

Your eyes closed. Jaw dropped. 

Your thoughts wandered to his fingers once more, syncing your thoughts with the way your body felt. 

You’d take his fingers into your mouth and suck your slick from them. Right before they would retract, you coated the two digits in a layer of saliva. He observed his own fingers and understood your silent plea. “You want more, baby?” You nodded. His fingers returned to your wet hole and filled you once again.

Your own two fingers weren’t as thick as Mando’s, so you got used to the feeling of two. You needed more. The circling at your clit kept a constant pace as a third finger joined your other two. Your thoughts jumped to something that wasn’t his fingers.

His cock.

The soft bulge underneath the black fabric of his sweatpants. It was sizable, even when he was soft–you assumed he was soft–so how big would he be when he’s turned on? If his genetics maintained their pattern, he would be big.

He’d lean over you and line his hips up with yours. Each of your legs rested on one of his sides. A large hand would grip your hip to steady you, as he pushed the thick head of his cock into you. Mando would remain attentive. You knew he’d watch your face and listen to your breaths, your moans. His heavy cock found the same spot inside of you that his fingers did.

Your inner walls clenched around your three fingers. The strokes you took were slow and drawn out, savoring the fullness of your warmth.

Once he saw that you were comfortable, he’d pick up his pace. Your moaning increased, littered with, “please,” and, “Mando,” over and over. He’d groan at his name, fucking into you with more strength. Mando put the weight of his body behind his thrusts. Your body shifted up the mattress from the effort he put in. 

A small, wet sound began to echo across the hull, but you were too close to care. The hand at your clit fell into a perfect rhythm with the thrusts of the fingers entering and leaving your soaking hole. You bit your lip as you quieted a moan that threatened to leak from your mouth.

Mando’s broad palm and thick fingers would lace between yours, holding your conjoined hands above your head while he fucked into you. The head of his cock perfectly brushed against a spot deep within your walls. A place that you couldn’t reach by yourself. The Mandalorian’s hot breath fanned across your neck, he panted and groaned from his exertion. 

Another brush against your walls and you squeezed around him. “Fuucckkk,” he’d moan into your neck. He continued his pace and littered your neck in sloppy kisses. “That’s a good fucking girl.”

Both of your hands worked faster. Three fingers fucked into your hole, curled to try and hit the spot deep inside of you. Your other hand increased the pace of the study rub over your throbbing clit. The bottoms you wore felt soaked against your lower hand, yet you couldn’t care less.

Mando’s thrusts would be relentless. Hard. Fast. The weight of his heavy balls slapped against the tighter hole beneath the one he was fucking. 

Plap. Plap. Plap.

Each thrust would be so final. Conclusive. He fucked you like he knew exactly how this would end. His visor hovered over your face. Your jaw was dropped and your eyebrows were furrowed. The horizontal line of his visor filled your vision. His voice was merely a growl, as he demanded, “Cum for me.”

Your body went stiff as euphoria washed over you in waves. Each wave took you apart and brought you back together. The wetness of your hole only became wetter, the sound echoed a bit louder than before. Despite your attention to staying quiet, your orgasm raged on. Every reassembly from each wave of pleasure calmed your being, and your stiff form slumped into your sleeping pad. Your hands kept moving, but at a slower pace. Another wave followed every thrust of your fingers. You savored the warmth your orgasm brought you. Halting your hands, your mind came-to. 

That was the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had.

–

That hunt kriffing sucked, Mando thought.

Cold water ran down Mando’s body as he rinsed himself off in the fresher. Drops of liquid pattered onto the metal floor, pooling at his feet. Everything in his body felt limp, a result of his exhaustion from the hunt. 

The only thing that wasn’t limp was his dick.

Mando was already on the edge of his perverse thoughts. Seeing you, comfortable and cozy, made his heart swell–and his cock. Providing for you was like breathing. After every hunt he looked forward to meeting your gaze and a soft smile spreading across your face. 

Not only did he get to see you comfortable, but he saw you displaying your attraction to him. A display that included dropping your jaw when he took his shirt off.

He caught you gawking at him in the reflection of his chest plate. Your jaw dropped when he removed his final layers, and Maker, it only made his situation worse. Not only was his body dirty, his thoughts were dirty too. 

Before his brain started to spiral, he quickly completed his rinse-off and turned off the shower in the fresher. Stepping out, he realized he didn’t bring any fresh clothes in with him. 

Shit.

You were in the hull and would probably bring him something if he asked for it. But what does he ask for? A full outfit? He at least needed bottoms. He thought of how complicated it would be to explain where multiple things are in his bunk through the metal door of the fresher, so he opted to just ask for one thing–pants.

“Um. Hey. Would you mind getting me some pants, please?” Mando asked. He was a tad embarrassed. He plans hunts meticulously to save the most amount of time, he’s attentive to every detail in combat, and he forgot to bring pants into the fresher with him.

You brought him the pair and the Mandalorian quickly changed. Pausing before he touched the door handle, Mando became nervous. What if your jaw-dropping was one of disgust and not of attraction?

Only one way to find out.

–

Mando laid on the mattress in his bunk and finally let his thoughts wander. They wandered like a desperate quarry. So desperate to find a discreet place to live, but showing themselves at some point in the end.

He thought of the book you were allegedly reading: Hunter and Prey. You were reading a romance novel. About bounty hunters. 

His hardened cock only made his sweatpants tighter. Hips shifting upwards, he sought relief in adjusting his position. The only thing adjusting did was rub the head of his cock against the fabric of his pants. Black fabric created a heart-stopping friction against his tip. 

Dank farrick.

Finally giving in to his perverse thoughts, he let them wander. Just like how he would let an easy bounty wander around town. At any minute, he could capture them and complete his hunt, but sometimes he enjoyed “playing with his food” first.

His imagination put you on center stage. Your hair. Your eyes. The shape of your body and the planes of it he sought to run his hands over. Warm skin would glide underneath his palms and act like a sedative. Calmness washed over his mind. Then he thought of your lips. So delicately crafted. Your lips framed your gorgeous smile, like they were housing an ancient masterpiece in an art gallery.

The smile you gave him whenever he returned from a hunt made his heart melt. You’d be snuggled up reading, bent over the small stove cooking, or hunched over a mechanical issue. No matter the situation, you would look up and find his gaze behind his visor. Something anyone else could rarely accomplish. He finally felt like he had a purpose hunting, besides survival. 

You.

You’d meet him halfway and wrap your arms around his torso. His arms would snake around your torso and hold you in a tight hug. “I missed you,” he’d say. “I missed you too,” your response would vibrate against his chest. His hands would run up and down your back, relishing the feel of your body in his capable arms. 

He groaned at the thought. In frustration of not being able to have you. The simple image of a hug had him reeling, desperate to meld his being with yours. You were so perfect and lived in his damn ship. You spoke with him as if he were just Din, and not Mando. Images of domesticity juxtaposed images of his bounty hunting profession. It was a blessing and a curse. 

The pair of you would retreat to his bunk and turn off the lights. Your bodies would press together as the two of you shared the space of the mattress. He would press his helmet into your hair, smelling the faint scent of you through the metal–and the shampoo you recently bought at a market. He’d use his broad hands and thick arms to bring you closer to him, nearly crushing you via cuddling.

Mando’s face heated up at the thought. Feeling the heat of your body against his was something he would be willing to get on his knees and beg for.

Hands would begin to drift and adventure in a bold manner. His palms would glide up and down your body, stopping occasionally to grasp and rub different areas. He thought of the way your ass would feel in his palms. Soft. A cushion. A spectacle he almost didn’t feel deserving of. His hands would wander north and his fingers would tease your nipples through your shirt. You’d gasp in response and squirm against him.

Maker. He almost forgot. The sounds you would make. The Mandalorian groaned and reached down to palm his cock through his sweatpants. Relief flooded his body like how precum flooded from the head of his cock. Rough palms glided up and down the silky skin of his shaft. Once the friction became too much, he reached into a side compartment and produced a small bottle. Squeezing the plastic sides of the bottle, a small dollop of lube was squirted onto his fingers. He quickly returned to his thoughts and his actions. The lube allowed his large grip to seamlessly run along the length of his shaft.

Shit. Would you be this wet?

After exploring the feel of your body, Mando would pull you to sit in his lap. You’d be in between his legs with your back facing him, your legs resting out in front of you. He’d grip the insides of your knees and encourage you to let your legs fall to either side. Once he was pleased with the positioning he asked, “Is it okay if I take these off?” Rough fingertips pinched at the waistband of your pants and underwear. Getting an enthusiastic nod and a small, raspy ‘yes’ in response, the Mandalorian pulled both articles of clothing off of your lower half. 

He focused his strokes near the tip of his cock. The nerves in the head of his shaft sent electric currents through his body. Normally his self-pleasure sessions weren’t this intense, but you did something to him. You were special. Better than any brothel service. Any piece of pornography. You were gorgeous. Beautiful. Mesh’la. 

He thought of dipping his fingers into your slit. Hopefully, that would pull another gasp from you. Every breathy exhale and pleasured sound only increased his need to hear them more frequently. Starting with one finger, his fingertip would push into your entrance. He’d go slow at first, pumping in and out of your wet sex knuckle by knuckle. Mando would give you some time to adjust to the feeling, and then increase his pace. Moans and gasps fell from your lips much more frequently than before. Your pussy was soaked from just a few fast strokes from his thick finger. If you were comfortable with it, he’d slip another finger alongside the singular one. His pace slowly increased to resume the speed that had your back and shaking legs pressed against his. 

“Ohhh, Ma- Mando-o,” would quietly cry from your throat.

“Fucckkk,” Mando said under his helmet.

Wet sounds emanated from the action of stroking his rough grip up and down his thick shaft. Underneath the helmet, he bit his lip in frustration. He already imagined you could feel heavenly around his fingers, but he needed to feel your slick walls around his cock.

First he would make you cum with his fingers. The orgasm would send you reeling back into his hold. You’d be a shaking and stuttering mess, reaching for one of his broad hands and lacing your fingers between his. An effective way to ground yourself.

“Good girl,” he’d praise.

After you came down from your high, his strong arms would bring you to lay down long ways on the mattress. Parting your legs once more, Mando’s broad hips settled between yours. Glistening folds were presented to him at the center of his vision. You looked delicious. He wished to taste you, but his need to fuck you overtook the pleads from his tastebuds.

His thumb rubbed slow circles on the bundle of nerves between your legs. Your sparkling eyes would meet the gaze behind his visor and your brows would furrow in desperation. He’d do anything you wanted. Anything to please you. 

“What do you want, mesh’la?” His gravelly voice echoed throughout the small bunk.

You’d bite your lip, shyness creeping over your face, but you overcame the feeling. He loved it when you were confident in asking for something from him. “I want you to fuck me,” you requested.

Mando let out a strangled groan at his thought of the words. He loved knowing that you wanted him. He loved when you voiced your desires, sexual or not. Your comfort in his presence was the most potent aphrodisiac Mando could consume. The tip of his cock throbbed at the thought, and his thumb reached up to attempt to sooth the sensation. Bare hips bucked into the air at the touch.

He would line his hips up with yours and prod the wide head of his shaft against your wet entrance. Before pushing in, he reached towards a cabinet to produce his bottle of lube. Mando quickly spread a generous amount over the veiny surface of his cock. As much as he wanted to fuck you, your comfort was his upmost priority. Giving himself a few strokes with his large grip–your eyes trained on his hands–he lowered his hips once more. The T of his helmet stared into your face as he slowly pushed into you. 

Your jaw would drop, just like it did in the reflection on his chest plate. The slick walls of your pussy hugged his thick cock, making his jaw drop in unison.

His wide hand tightened around his hardness. Each stroke had him fucking himself into his grip. Mando’s jaw clenched in concentration, the combination of his hand and thoughts of you were furthering him closer and closer to the edge.

The Mandalorian nearly collapsed on top of you, but he caught himself on his elbows, caging you in his hold. Silver beskar making up his helmet hovered over your face, his eyes trained on yours. A whimper escaped from your throat when the head of his cock brushed against a particular spot. He honed into the point and hit it repeatedly, with precision. 

Your fingers dug into his bare back, most likely leaving crescent marks in their wake. He dropped his helmet into the crook of your neck. The action allowed him to hear every sound you made. Sometimes simple breathy moans, interrupted by his slow, yet strong thrusts. Other times, you’d attempt sentences:

“Ma- Mando. Maker, you feel so good.”

“K-kriff you’re b-big.”

“Mm-mm-mm, don’t, stop.”

A knot coiled in the pit of Mando’s stomach. He threw his head back into a plush pillow and focused his grip towards the tip of his cock. Quiet, slick sounds filled the space of the metal-lined bunk. His breath quickened as his imagination delved deeper.

Mando’s thrusts slowed to a near halt as he raised an arm and propped an elbow to hit a switch on the wall. The space went dark. Everything went silent.

Hiss.

Tunk.

In a hurry, he muttered, “can I kiss you, baby?”

Instead of replying in words, you craned your neck to meld your plush lips with his. Delightful needles ran up and down Mando’s body in pleasure. In disbelief. Feeling your lips on his was something he’s only dreamt of, knowing that completing the action would be a risk to his Creed.

But at this moment, Creed be damned, he craved the motions of your mouth against his. Fighting and expressing a bond that he longed for, slick lips slid against each other in a battle of lust-influenced emotions. Mando pushed his tongue into your mouth, and in the same motion, pushed his cock further into your wet heat.

His mouth swallowed your moans as he rutted the head of his cock against the particularly sensitive spot within your walls. The grip you had on his broad back became stronger. Skin against his hips brushed against the skin of your inner thighs, and your legs captured his body closer to yours. Lips tightened against his, shifting into a portrayal of pleasure, leaving you unable to kiss him properly. In response, the Mandalorian buried his head into the crook of your neck and placed sloppy kisses along your skin.

Almost there. Jaw clenched and teeth gritting, Mando fucked into his fist at a brutal pace. Soft pants accompanied the slick sounds in filling the space of his bunk. Maker, he hoped you were asleep. He didn’t know how much louder he’d get, and more importantly, how much control he had over his volume.

Unable to maintain a steady grip on his back any longer, your grasp traveled to the soft, wavy locks of his hair. The Mandalorian groaned. He didn’t realize how much he craved that simple contact, one many took for granted. Your fingertips massaged his scalp, and it was as if you massaged all of his worrisome, negative thoughts away. 

“Oh, kriff Mando, keep going. F-fuck, you make me feel s-so good.”

A few more firm, yet gentle thrusts of his cock made you squeeze your soaking walls around his shaft. His balls felt heavy against your ass. He knew he was close.

“Mando, oh, oh, Mando, I’m gonna cum,” you whined out, the sound filled his ears as he continued his pace and his languid kisses against your neck.

Mando squeezed his eyes shut. Teeth dug into the thin skin of his lower lip, the hairs of his mustache tickled the skin directly below his lip. Large hands maintained the quick pace along the silky skin of his cock. Just a few more strokes and he was done for.

A knot twisted and turned in the pit of his stomach, and he fucked into your glistening seam with more vigor. Your moans became strangled whines. Each escaping gasp climbed octaves until you finally snapped and clamp your pussy around his cock.

“I’m cumming, oh fuck. Oh, Din!”

The Mandalorian snarled as thick streams of cum erupted from the head of his cock. Translucent, white liquid covered his stomach and chest. His head spun as the waves of pleasure washed over him. The sensations dug themselves deep into his bones and he felt like he was floating. A cloud of ecstasy trapped him and he didn’t want to leave. Seeking to draw his orgasm out longer, he continued fucking his hand until the sensations became too much. Mando’s chest dramatically rose and fell in the aftermath. Panting, he looked down at the mess he made on himself.

That was the strongest orgasm he’d ever had.

Reaching towards a different cabinet, he grabbed a soft towel and began wiping up his mess. Thoughts rushed throughout his mind, in contrast from his usual mindset after masturbating. In the chorus of wandering thoughts that still occupied his mind, one made itself bold and prominent.

Maker, he needs to ask you on a date.

–

Mando stood a meter or two in front of you. His hands hung uselessly by his sides. Posture slightly askew, you could sense he was doubting himself. Thick fingers played with the strings on the bracelet while he waited for your response.

Your jaw went slack, eyes widened. So you weren’t crazy. Everything added up. He made caf for you every morning. The small ‘good nights’ he gave you every night. The even smaller ones with an added word in Mando’a, one he never said around you. The things he told you, about his son, about his feelings, that he never said to anyone else. How he was careful around you, trying not to look intimidating. He tried to make you comfortable at all times.

He cared just like you cared.

You placed one foot in front of the other, giving Mando time to back up if he wanted. He remained in place as he waited for your approach. The armored man stood like a statue in the hull. The beskar and the metal of the Crest became one. If you didn’t focus on him too much, he almost looked like a statue erected in the middle of the hull. As the toes of your boots met the toes of his, you snaked your arms around his waist and pressed your head to his chestplate.

Mando instantly wrapped you up in his solid arms. His helmet was buried into the crook of your neck, the cold metal delightfully stung your skin, and he squeezed you. The Mandalorian’s large hands ran up and down your back as his hold refused to let you go.

You didn’t want to let him go either. Your body sought fusion with his warmth, with his being. All of the comfort he provided. All of the safety that he gave you. It seeped through his body to yours. A sense of peace washed over you.

Mando’s helmet shifted towards your head more, the modulator crackling near your ear, “Is it safe to say we feel the same?” His broad hand continued to rub along your back. The warmth from his palm created the most soothing sensation you’ve experienced. Bringing yourself out of the state of bliss to recognize the question he was asking, your brows furrowed. He almost sounded uncertain of himself, voice tinged with hope.

You leaned backwards to look into his visor. A Mandalorian. The Mandalorian. Sworn to a creed of combat and honor. Mando didn’t have a problem taking down a dozen people at a time, but confessing his feelings to you made him nervous. A small chuckle escaped from your chest at the realization.

The corners of your eyes crinkled from your laughter. His helmet tilted in confusion. “Yes, Mando, we feel the same.” You raised a hand to hold the crook of his neck, rubbing your thumb along the fabric of his cowl.

He pulled you into another hug, this one with more space between the two of you, so he could look down and into your eyes. Your hands rested on his chest plate, and his rested on your waist. A rumbling feeling against your hands made your head tilt in confusion this time. Mando continued to clear his throat. His breaths got slightly quicker.

“I feel like I need to explain th-,” the Mandalorian cleared his throat once again, “I need to explain the condoms.”

Your eyes widened. He doesn’t have to explain himself, but if he wasn’t going to the brothel, why did he need them? Mando only expressed interest in you, as far as you know.

Oh.

Oh.

The beskar-clad man’s chest rose and fell with a deep inhale and exhale, preparing himself for explaining the condoms on the receipt from the market.

“I was going to ask you out on a date. Just something simple,” he shrugged and brought his covered eyes to meet yours, “I bought your favorite snacks, got us some takeout, and I was going to give you the bracelet then. I just wanted to be prepared in case anything…escalated.” 

Cheeks burning, you took Mando’s hands into yours. You smirked and gave him a light chuckle. “You would try to fuck me on the first date, Mando?”

He looked down at the floor of the hull and shook his head. “I’d only do what you’re comfortable with,” he said, giving your hands a squeeze. 

“You also don’t even know if I would have said yes to a date,” you teased him.

A low rumble resonated from his chest, he hooked a finger through one of your belt loops to pull you closer. “I think I might have made a fair assumption.”

Hands glided up Mando’s chest, and you clasped them behind his neck. “You’ll never know unless you ask…” Another rumble came from his chest. A hand snaked its way from your waist to your chin. Mando’s index finger and thumb grabbed your chin and made you look at him face-to-face. 

“Well, would you like to go on a date with me?” The beskar helmet tilted and gleamed in the faint lights of the Crest’s hull. 

“Yes, Mando, of course I do.” Your eyes took after Mando’s helmet and they gleamed with joy. The dull silver of the hull starkly contrasted your excitement. Warmth between the two of you radiated and exploded throughout the space. Your energies seeped into the metal of the Crest just as your feelings seeped into each other's consciousness.

Mando’s large hand returned to rub long lines up and down your back. “I got your favorite snacks, some takeout…” He reminded you as his speech trailed off.

“How soon can we go on the date?” You asked eagerly in response. Snacks, takeout, and Mando sounded like the perfect combination. A perfect way to turn around the anxious thoughts that clouded your mind not even an hour ago.

“We can do it now…?” Mando suggested slowly.

“Yes! Yes please!” You bounced in place and threw your arms around the Mandalorian. He reciprocated your hug with an even tighter squeeze and pulled away from you.

“Let me find a good place to park the Crest,” Mando walked away and climbed the ladder to the cockpit. You went to follow him, but he turned and stopped you at the base of the ladder. “You stay down here, it’s going to be a surprise.” Before you could respond he bounded up the ladder and began takeoff.

–

Mando pressed his vambrace and the ramp slowly revealed the market in the distance. Lights flashed and others were lit in different colors. Rolling hills were lit up by the faint glow. The sun was fully set, which allowed the sky to display an array of stars.

“This is beautiful, Mando.” You turned towards the man in silver and he wasn't looking at the sky. Not looking at the gorgeous colors streaking out from the center of the market, onto the landscape. Not even the different lights and colors that lit the small town.

His gaze was focused on you.

“I was hoping you’d like it.” He took a few steps closer to you with the market bag, a blanket, and two pillows in hand. Stepping in front of you, he laid out the blanket where the hull’s floor meets the ramp. Reaching into the market bag, he took out an assortment of snacks and a takeout meal for each of you.

“Mando, you didn’t have to do all of this,” you chuckled in amazement.

“I didn’t have to, yes. But I wanted to,” he bends down to sit on the blanket and he offers a hand to help you down. You took it and plopped down next to him, your thigh brushed his as you reached for different food items. Mando leaned on his arms placed behind him, watching in amusement as you enjoyed yourself.

The assortment he managed to purchase amazed you. Each item was something you’ve mentioned to him before. A shiny bag of one particular food, a box filled with something else, and a steaming takeout container of another dish. Relishing the diversity of it all, thoughts of Mando’s enjoyment prodded your mind.

You turn to him, “Aren’t you going to eat?” 

His helmet turned towards you and he waited a second. The helmet. No kriff, he can’t eat with you.

“I’m sorry, I for-.” Mando stopped you.

“You know I don’t mind when you eat in front of me,��� he started.

He was right. You felt bad in the mornings when you sipped on your caf and indulged in your breakfast. He was probably hungry after a night’s rest. The Mandalorian told you at the time, “I’m used to it. Mandalorians never bonded over food or eating.”

Expecting the same reasoning to leave his mouth and filter through the helmet, you were shocked when he chose a different path.

“I’ve been planning this for a while, mesh’la,” he paused and adjusted his positioning on the ground, “I’ve been thinking of ways to eat with you…” He explained, and then trailed off. 

He’s been thinking of ways to eat with you. To eat. With you. Something he’s never done with you before. In the past, you’ve tried to get him to, even saying you’d wear a blindfold, but he never wanted to take that step.

And what does mesh’la mean?

“You don’t have to, I understand if-.” You began to tell him.

“I think I found a way that I would be comfortable with,” Mando said.

“What is–. Oh, Maker!” You squealed as Mando scooped you up and placed you in his lap. Your back to him and your legs tangled with his. As soon as you settled, the Mandalorian took his takeout container and brought it between your back and his stomach. 

“There’s one rule,” his modulator crackles in your ear as he rests the temple of his helmet against your actual temple, “you can’t turn around.”

“I won’t,” you squeaked, heart beating out of your chest, “I swear to you.” 

The cold feeling of the beskar disappeared from the side of your head. What you didn’t expect was the hiss of the helmet breaking its seal around Mando’s head, even though it was implied. What you definitely didn’t expect was for Mando to place the helmet just enough forward that you could see it in your peripheral as you ate.

You forgot Mando was a human. He had a head and a face. And his face was not the one that peaked at you from the corner of your eye. His face is the one directly behind your head.

The popping sounds of the food container being opened snapped you out of your thoughts. Mando’s utensils clinked against the sides of the container as he gathered food to put into his mouth. 

“Mmmm,” he grunts out, his mouth probably full of food. A few more seconds went by, “that’s really good.”

His voice.

His unmodulated voice.

It was like honey dripped over your body. Soaked through your skin and traveled through your veins. Soothed you. The warmth between you two increased yet again. Not just physical warmth, but the warmth you felt when you discovered new things about each other. When you discover new ways to care and new things to remember.

“What’s on your mind?” His large, calloused hand found the crook of your knee and gave it a light squeeze. His other hand set his empty food container to the side. That was fast, you thought. But you suppose he eats for business, not for pleasure.

“What does mesh’la mean?” You asked him as you marveled at the sight of the market again. His knees pressed into yours and the hand not on your knee snaked around your waist as he pulled you closer to him. 

He tucked his face into the crook of your neck. His breath fanned over your ear and he tightened his arm around you as he spoke, “Mesh’la is Mando’a,” he hummed as he pecked a quick kiss onto your neck, “Mesh’la means beautiful.” 

You smiled, face heating up, and hummed another question, “and what does cyar’ika mean?”

Mando buried his face into the back of your hair and left another quick peck on your head. He pulled away to mutter near your ear, “Cyar’ika roughly translates to sweetheart.”

Your torso vibrated against his, that’s really sweet, you thought, but you wanted to tease him a bit, “First date and you’re already calling me beautiful, huh? And you’ve been calling me cyar’ika for a while now.” A smirk splayed across your face.

The Mandalorian went stiff and asked, “For a while?” Confusion radiated from him and his beskar.

Your smirk morphed into a small smile. “Sometimes I wait up for you when you go on hunts, or I happen to be awake when you come back,” your heartbeat picks up at your confession, but you continued, “I like hearing you say good night to me. It’s…comforting. But then you started tacking ‘cyar’ika’ onto the end of it.” You shrugged like it was nothing.

Mando shifted underneath you, realizing he’d been caught red handed. Then he countered with, “One year of being crew partners and you’re already planning matching bracelets, huh?”

He got you there.

Softly giggling, you reach an arm backwards and bat a hand at his chest, playfully tapping him. A chuckle comes from behind your head. His hold around your waist fastens and he brings his wrist donning the bracelet out in front of you. He wraps his large hand around yours, the one with your bracelet on your wrist. You peer down and admire the identical weavings of thread.

Mando’s throat clears behind you and he speaks softly next to your ear, “I think you have good taste. It matches my armor,” his knee comes up to nudge yours. A moment of silence followed, “The green is for my son, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,” meekly comes from your throat. The broad grasp covering your own gave your hand a squeeze. Mando rested his chin on your shoulder and faced the crook of your neck. Soft breaths fanned over your exposed skin.

“Did I get his color right?” You questioned. He previously said Grogu was a light green color, and you hoped the color on the bracelets mimicked his color.

The Mandalorian brought your joined hands up to focus on the color of the light green thread weaving from between the silver and brown. When he spoke, his tone sounded strained, “Yeah, yeah that’s probably it.”

When Mando last spoke to you about his son, he said it’s been a year or so since he gave them to the Jedi. A year without his little one, the bundle of joy that Mando cherished. Then the reason for his uncertain answer and strained voice washed over you.

“You,” an exhale steadied your soft speech, “You can’t remember his color that well, can you?”

A shaking breath made the man’s torso shudder against yours, “No, I can’t,” he admitted in a tight voice. His face pressed deeper into the crook of your neck and he held you close to his chest. You rubbed circles along the back of his hand in comfort. Hesitantly, you brought your other hand behind you and ran your fingers through his hair.

The texture of it made your heart melt. It was longer than you thought it’d be, you assumed he would keep it short so it didn’t bother him within the confines of his helmet. Soft waves brushed through your fingers. Your fingertips lightly scratched at the roots of his hair on his scalp.

You thought your heart melted, but Mando melted exponentially more. The large frame that was his body nearly crushed yours with the tension he released. A soft groan left his throat and vibrated against your neck. Mando’s body loosely wrapped around yours in a protective shell.

“I was hoping that the green on the bracelet would make you think of him. It could make you remember,” you explained to him, continuing the scratches against his scalp.

Then it was silent. Sounds of your exhales and the small rustling sounds of your fingers through his waves of hair were the only ones that traveled to your ear drums. The Mandalorian was heavy against you, boneless, acting as a beskar-weighted blanket. His warmth permeated from his body to yours. It was comforting. He was comforting.

Then a sharp inhale from Mando, “I have to thank you,” he began.

You nearly snapped around to respond, but you kept your gaze trained on the twinkling lights of the market. “For what?” You asked.

“For everything,” he added.

Was Mando really giving you a job review right now? On your first date? “Mando,” you chuckled and shook your head, “I’m just doing my job.”

“I’m not talking about the job, cyar’ika.”

Your eyes widened. Oh. No words exited your mouth.

Mando continued, “I need to thank you for making me feel safe. You’re, you ju–,” he sighed in annoyance with himself. “I’m sorry. I’m not too good at this.” His strong arms gave your waist a squeeze. 

Before you could reply, he resumed his train of thought. “You make me feel emotionally safe. I know I can tell you anything. Share whatever is on my mind. And you’ll be there for me,” a deep inhale interrupted his speech, “and I haven’t had that since I had Grogu.” 

His tone was strained once again and he shook his head while it was nestled near your neck. Gaining composure, he explained, “People look at me and see this bloodthirsty Mandalorian. They’re scared of me. Kriff, I’m sure some have mistaken me for some emotionless droid,” his speech snarled at the word.

You smirked at his distaste for the metal beings, but you didn’t want to interrupt his thoughts with a snide remark.

“But you see me as human. As a man with emotions and thoughts. You talk to me like I’m just a guy that happens to be covered in beskar.”

That was where you butted in, “Because that’s what you are Mando. And you’re not just some guy. You’re a Mandalorian, an actual one, the ones that no one seems to recognize today. Mandalorians are bound to a Creed of honor. Mandalorians stick to their word. They rescue. They protect. They care,” you paused to grasp the hand laying on top of yours, “You’ve told me enough about your Creed for me to realize that very little of it is truly about being solely physically and mentally intelligent. It’s about the combination of those strengths with emotional intelligence. Because what is using your head if you aren’t using your heart too?”

Mando was silent behind you. His body was stiff, no longer relaxed. Shit, did you offend him? You weren’t Mandalorian, should you have been interpreting the Creed?

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t be analyzing your Creed like that. I’m not Ma-”

“No,” he stopped your speech, and resumed his, the baritone of his voice being small within his throat, “You got it all right.” Strong arms squeezed you. Mando held onto you as if someone threatened to take you from him. His face returned to its spot by your neck and he whispered, “Maker, you’re perfect.”

The words sent chills down your spine. Before you could fully relish in the implications of his phrase, small kisses were being planted up and down the curve of your neck. Eyelids closed, you bit your lip at the brushes of his lips against your skin. No longer distracted by the visuals of the market lights, your attention focused on the feeling of his face on your neck. Soft lips meticulously placed pecks up your neck. His face slid against your warm skin, leaving a prickling sensation in its wake.

Prickling…your eyes widened and you straightened up, just slightly.

Mando froze in his tracks, voice laced with concern, “you okay?” 

You cleared your throat and let out a small chuckle, “Yeah, yeah, I just,” your body vibrated against his as you chuckled again, “I just realized you have facial hair,” you explained as your face heated up. Half in embarrassment of not realizing earlier, and half in excitement. You loved facial hair.

“Oh. Yeah,” he hesitated, “do you not like it? I can shave if you-.”

You stopped him before he could finish, “No! No, I mean. I like facial hair,” you explained sheepishly.

A smirk grew on Mando’s face, and you didn’t even have to see him to know it was there. Stubble prickled on the skin of your neck once again. This time, the man rubbed his face across the slope in front of him in an attempt to tickle you.

A giggle bubbled out of your chest and you twisted in his hold. The fanning of his breath over your neck created a delicious warmth on your skin. Warmth that soothed the pin pricks from the man’s stubble. Mando’s trunk-like arms caged you in and kept you tight in his grasp. He stopped after only a few seconds, placing soft kisses on the skin that he just scratched.

The kisses down your neck became more intense. Mando would graze his teeth against your skin and tighten his hold around you. The small marks trailed further down your neckline. Receiving the trail of small marks felt like a dream. Each mark gave you a slight pinch, sending your hips rocking backwards to grind against him. 

A soft moan left Mando’s lips and vibrated against the skin of your neck. His grip tightened near your waist and brought your hips closer to his groin. Soft lips returned to your neck, the other side this time, and began placing small hickeys down your skin. One place in particular, where your jawbone meets your neck beneath your ear, sent your ass grinding down into his lap. 

Then you feel him.

And you kind of freak out.

He’s big.

Were you ready for this? Of course you’ve dreamt about it, you kriffing came to the thought of it, but the opportunity overwhelmed you. Your mind raced. You felt like you didn’t consider all of the factors that went into this. 

Sure, you’ve had sex before, but what if you weren’t good enough for Mando? You’re still clothed and he already has you hot and bothered. You haven’t done anything to him yet. You had to do something or else you’re going to be a dead fish in bed. Were you ready to actually do something with him?

Your hips stilled, and of course Mando noticed.

His actions also paused, “You okay, cyar’ika?” He asks softly. Mando’s words make their home in your heart and you melt. You are okay. You’re with him. But being with him made you anxious. Mando didn’t deserve to put up with shitty sex.

“I just,” you paused and shifted in Mando’s lap, “I think I need to lie down,” you lied to him. He quickly reached for his helmet and sealed it back around his head. The pair of you organized the garbage and the remaining snacks, quickly getting ready for bed.

–

You were almost there. You could’ve done it. You dreamt about it for months and yet you chickened out. His hands were right there, and you got up and went to bed. Dank farrick.

Mulling over your thoughts, you laid on your bed and stared at the ceiling of the Crest’s hull. You could masturbate to the thought of him again, sure, but it just wouldn’t compare. The thoughts of Mando’s hands, his broad chest pressed against your back, the warmth of his legs wrapped around yours haunted your consciousness and refused to allow you to fall asleep. 

It was only amplified by the thought Mando put into the date.

“I’ve been planning this for a while.” He said.

How long? He happened to get your favorite snacks, your favorite takeout, he went back to get the bracelets, and he parked the Crest to get an amazing view of the light-filled market. Mando put all this thought into the date and he made some moves on you.

Your heart and clit were beating at the same loud pace. 

In an attempt to focus on something other than the ghost of Mando’s hard-on on your lower back, you opened a side door and exited the Crest. The door opened and closed quietly with your careful treatment of the doorknob.

The market is still it up beautifully, projecting the colored waves of light onto the surrounding hills. You sat just a few feet away from the Crest, knees tucked up towards your chest, your chin resting on your kneecaps. After a couple minutes of sitting outside, you found that the best way to distract yourself was trying to count all of the different vendors you could see. The lights made it difficult to distinguish one stall from another, and it didn’t help that the market was sizable. 

Forty four, forty five, forty six…

“Do you mind if I join you?” The voice came from the exact man you were trying not to think about. But he was also the exact man you wanted.

You looked back towards him and patted the ground beside you. He accepted your silent invitation and plopped his body down next to yours. A breeze swept through the night landscape and left you covered in goosebumps, slightly shivering. Mando must have noticed, since he draped his long, black cape over your shivering frame. His arm followed the embrace of the cape and pulled you closer towards his heat-radiating body. The other arm snaked under your legs and he barely lifted you, so you settled into the shape of his body. Just like Mando’s cape, silence fell over the both of you. His grip around you remained tight while he did his best to warm you up.

“Why are you sitting out here?” He whispered to you. The helmet crinkled his voice, resulting in the crackling of the syllables. Delicacy laced the syllables that flowed into your ears, despite their choppiness. 

Your shoulders rose and fell and you followed it with a sigh, “I was just thinking too much. Couldn’t fall asleep.”

The shoulder leaning against Mando vibrated when he hummed in understanding.

“Do you want to talk about it?” He offered.

Your head fell to his shoulder to rest. The pair of you talked about a good majority of things. Whatever ended up on your or Mando’s mind. You found it to be a great stress reliever and knew that the Mandalorian did as well. If you didn’t get it out, by talking to Mando, the regretful feeling would just ruminate in your brain forever. At this point you highly doubted that this was a conversation topic that could cause Mando’s feelings about you to change.

“I just feel dumb.” You deadpanned.

“Dumb? Why’s that?” He responded immediately.

You paused and considered your choice of words. Being blunt was probably the best course of action. It was Mando after all.

“You wanted to do more with me and I rejected you,” you sighed and pressed your face into his shoulder.

Another quick response followed, “That’s completely okay. You don’t have to do something just because I want to do it. I apologize if I made you uncomfortable earlier. I meant what I said. We’re only going to do what you–.” 

Your head left his shoulder and faced his helmet to look into the depths of the thin black line running horizontally across the beskar. His speech stopped at your action.

“I wanted to do it. I wanted you to do it,” you admit.

Mando’s bones turned to jelly beneath you–you didn’t realize how tense he had gotten–and yet his helmet tilted in confusion.

Before he could ask the question, you answered, “I was nervous. I haven’t done anything like that in a while. Maybe I wasn’t going to be good in bed.” Your face returned to his shoulder to nestle itself into the crook of his neck.

His embrace tightens around you once more. The T shaped gaze dropped to meet yours and he shook his head from side-to-side.

“Cyar’ika,” his chest jumps from a chuckle, “all you have to do to be good in bed is lay on the mattress,” he slowly grits out. His voice is so smooth you’re surprised his speech is still modulated. Still in doubt, the corner of your mouth pinched upward and your brows bunched together.

He noticed the uncertainty of your expression and slowly added, “I also haven’t done anything like this in awhile,” a pause was accompanied by the shaking of his head and a harsh exhale, “and I’m kriffing nervous too.” 

A small smile spread across your face at the confession. It did make you feel better. He was going through the same emotions you were. The somersaults of butterflies that wound your stomach into knots. Lightheadedness that flooded through your bodies at the sight of the other. Your emotions were so strong, these physical responses accompanied them.

The Mandalorian’s actions put you in a state of awe for the trillionth time. He does things that would make you freeze, panic, scream for help, for his help. Physical conflict was like breathing to him. It was involuntary. Completed without thought.

So many nerves bubbled within him. All because of you. All he had to do was confess his feelings to you and his composure shattered into a million pieces.

A million pieces you would pick up and put back together. You would reassemble the puzzle that was Mando over and over again. If it meant spending time with him, you would do it for eternity. Each time finding a new piece, a new feature to treasure and combine with the rest. 

Mando continued to hold your body and your gaze. The combination of him and his cape have warmed you up considerably, and you find yourself being languidly pulled closer into his torso. Your butt settled between his two thick thighs. Both of your thighs settled on top of one of his. The warmth and physical contact was appreciated, and you rested your head on the Mandalorian’s shoulder once more. 

You’re quite literally being cradled by him. One of his toned arms finds its way behind your back to keep your torso against his. The other arm found its way to your knees, holding you closer to him as much as possible. A gloved hand runs up and down your thigh once he’s satisfied with the method of cuddling. 

The friction his leather hand creates on your thigh is delicious. Every bit of heat from the contact is being transported throughout your body. You felt heavy and relaxed. But the heat from his hand turned into a burning need. The strokes up and down your thigh got riskier. His hand made its way farther up your thigh. Thick fingers splayed across your clothed limb, the wide spread covered more surface area, which drove the heat from his touch right to your clit. On some strokes, his thumb would graze the inside of your thigh. Almost there, but not close enough.

Bathing in the warmth of his touch, you didn’t realize your eye contact with Mando was maintained. He must have noticed your expressions morph into ones that you make when deep in thought. His thumb grazed the inside of your thigh once more, and you bit your lip at the tingly sensation on your bundle of nerves.

That’s all he needed to see what was on your mind. Still maintaining eye contact, his hand stopped on your upper thigh. Mando’s grip gently tightened as he spoke. The modulated voice sailed across a smooth sea of honey as he laid out his words.

“Tell me what you want me to do, and I’ll do it. Anything, mesh’la.”

You got your do-over. There’s no way you’d reject him now.

The bone of your teeth grazed your lip. Eyes closed, you took a deep breath and gained some composure. Mando’s helmet filled your vision once you opened your eyes. His chest rose and fell in anticipation.

A small smile made its way onto your face. “Can you pick up where we left off?” You suggested.

Rumbling emanated from his chest, his grips on your back and your thigh tightened in delight. He pulled you closer to him in a hug and buried his modulator near your ear.

“Here or in the Crest?”

“Crest.”

The beskar man helped you onto your feet and led you back inside of the Crest. Once the door was shut and locked, and once Mando triple-checked the security systems, he sauntered over to you. His hands found their way to your waist as he pushed you back in the direction of his bunk. 

His bunk.

Before you could fully process it, you were lying on the long bed watching Mando as he stood, removing his armor from his body piece by piece. Just his flight suit remained on his large frame. He hardly gave you time to admire him before he sat beside you and pulled you into his lap once more. The Mandalorian’s hands–now bare–settled back into their previous positions. 

Feeling more confident than you were before, you leaned into his neck and placed light kisses along the curve. A deep groan rumbled from his chest and his hands ran up and down your body. You playfully bit the skin of his neck and sucked, bringing a hand up to rest on his neck to keep it in place. Your hickey-like kisses trailed upwards towards his jaw. Once you met the juncture where his neck met his jawbone, you sucked on his skin harder and left a light mark. 

He loved that. The grip on your thighs and waist became impossibly tight as he growled. Every noise that escaped from his helmet went straight to your clit. Your hips ground downwards onto his thigh, but to no avail. A look of desire painted your face but a sound of frustration–desperation–left your mouth.

Mando hummed in agreement. The low tone through the modulator questioned you, “Where do you want me to touch you first, mesh’la?”

You turned into a puddle. A horny, wet, puddle.

“I’ll do anything.” He said conclusively. 

Biting your lip, your brows furrowed in delight at the sensation of his grip. The hand on your thigh was higher up your thigh than any time before. Warmth from his palm traveled from the neurons in your quads to the nerves in your clit.

“Rub my clit? Please?” you asked. Desperation leaked from your mouth at the request. If Mando didn’t put his hands down your bottoms in the next thirty seconds, you were sure you were going to explode.

Mando’s chest vibrated as he chuckled, “Mmmm. I like it when you ask nicely. Good girl.”

Oh. Fuck.

You were molten beskar in his hands, at his forge. You trusted him. His skill. His knowledge of you. His perceived obligation to you. And you were ready to be shaped. Molded. Created into something new. With his support. 

His stare remained on your face as his fingertips found your clothed clit. You tensed at the contact and his motions slowed. 

“That alright?” He asked, concern melded to the grit of the voice that left the modulator.

A confirming hum vibrated from your throat. Your nod accompanied the sound.

“Have to hear you say it.” He responded. At first you thought he was teasing you, but the tone he used and the intense stare that was glued to your face said otherwise. 

“I need to and I want to make sure you’re alright every step of the way, yeah?”

You nodded up at him.

“Good,” he reacted to your body language, “then be a good girl and tell me if this is okay. Tell me how it feels.” His voice dropped incredibly low with his demand. It was gentle, but firm.

A shaky exhale escaped from your mouth as you whispered your reply, “I-I want you to keep going. It feels so good.” Wide eyes looked up at Mando and he continued his motions.

The friction of his fingers on your clothed clit was delicious. Each movement sent sparks up and down your limbs. Your head fell to rest on Mando’s shoulder as he maintained his pace. His gaze remained glued to yours. 

Then you realized he was wearing too many clothes. The friction against your clit was amazing, but you wanted as little friction as possible between your bodies. Reaching down, your fingers tugged on the edge of Mando’s shirt.

“Can I take this off?” You asked.

“Of course,” he replied. Thick fingers deftly undid the buttons at the top of his shirt and you aided him in pulling it over his head. The tight long sleeved layer was removed in the same fashion. Mando’s chest, littered with dark hairs, filled your vision. Broad plains of skin rose and fell, making his pecs stand out on his chest. Strong shoulders that framed his chest only made his body look wider.

While you were gawking at him, Mando slid his hands partially under your shirt and around your waist. His fingertips pinched at the hem of your shirt.

“Can I take this off?” He echoed your previous question.

You nodded and muttered, “yes,” in response, helping him pull the fabric over your head. 

His fingers became more confident and he applied more pressure, quickening the strokes of his fingertips over your clothed bundle. Your jaw dropped in response. As you returned Mando’s stare, your eyelids drifted downwards over your eyes, but not all the way. Your breaths were more audible, bordering on being moans.

Mando seemed to love your reactions, the hand you placed on his neck rumbled as he let out a guttural moan. He picked up his pace in response. The clothing between your bundle of nerves and his fingers created the perfect friction. Wetness pooled in your underwear with the increasing speed of the Mandalorian’s thick fingers.

Then his digits left your clit.

You let out a slight whine, disappointed at the loss of his touch. Before you could question him, his fingers dipped just below your waistband. Not enough to really feel anything. Just enough to make a point.

Making eye contact with Mando, his visor tilted in questioning.

“Can I pull these down?” He asked gruffly.

You nod at him, knowing your gaze is burning into his from behind his beskar. 

“Do it,” you half demand, half plead, “it feels so good when you touch me.”

His helmet drops next to your temple in reaction to your words. A crackle escapes the modulator with his harsh exhale. Without hesitation, his hand slid down past your waistband and brought your bottoms with it. Mando threw them to the side and slipped his hand down your underwear. His fingers easily found the pressure point of pleasure past your mound.

You thought the feeling over your clothes was delicious. The feeling of his bare hands on your bare clit was divine. Nothing could replicate the feeling. Nothing came close to the sensations he willed your body to produce. The sensations he produced with just his fingertips.

Mando resumed the slow pace he set previously. He was testing the waters, seeing if the feeling was just as good before. Your hips bucked up into his hand and another exhale left his helmet, this one quicker.

“Mmmm, okay, okay,” the modulator let out a soft understanding.

His fingers sped up to reach the fast pace he had set over your clothed clit. This time, the feeling was a thousand times more potent. The fibers facilitated most of your pleasure before, but now it was all Mando. Rough skin on his fingertips, created by years of pulling triggers and colliding fists, produced amazing friction. A feeling so electrifying you swore you could feel every ridge and valley of his fingerprints.

Your cunt squeezed around nothing and you mewled in desperation. Mando’s helmet still stung your temple with the cool temperature of the metal. His breathing was heavy, arm stiff, making sure your pleasure was maintained.

One circle around your bundle. Then another. And another. The pleasure was phenomenal, which caused your wetness to leak from your hole.

Mando looked down and groaned at the sight.

“Ffuucckk. So wet for me.” He gritted out, continuing the pace of his fingertips around your nub.

Your hips attempted to follow his motions to make more friction, but to no avail. Mando’s fingers were amazing, but his digits just on your clit weren't how you wanted to cum.

The sentence flowed through your brain: “Have to hear you say it.”

Before when you were sitting in Mando’s lap, his fingers inching towards your waistband, you didn’t know if you were ready. You didn’t know if you would be enough. Hesitation blocked your desire and you worried about taking too much and giving too little.

But now you wanted it all. 

Everything you thought about before. His hands. His fingers. His lips. His unmodulated voice. His cock.

You needed it.

It was as if Mando had a switch to turn you off and on. The motions of his fingers wavered your switch off and on, and your confidence flickered on. No more shyness. You had to be direct, and then you would get what you were desperate for.

“Mando…mmmm…M-Mando,” you attempted your request.

His fingers slowed, his attention divided between your speech and your clit. “Yes, cyar’ika?” His grip on your back tightened, indicating that he was listening.

You bit your lip in nervousness, but mustered up the confidence to finally say what you needed, “I want you to f-finger me,” you said between waves of pleasure.

Mando stopped altogether and dipped his fingers lower, edging his reach towards your hole. One finger prodded at your entrance and that feeling alone made you squirm.

More liquid seeped from your seams and your thoughts returned to the ones you had earlier today. You wanted to kiss him. So badly. 

Biting your lip at the thought, you accidentally stuttered out, “I-I w-want.” You realized your request was ridiculous and buried your face in his shoulder, acting as though nothing ever left your lips.

His fingers trailed upwards along your wetness and then back down, hesitating before he began your request. Confused, you brought your head up to look at him.

“What do you want, baby?”

Baby.

Kriff.

You shook your head, “It’s nothing.”

His helmet tilted in a, “I know you’re lying,” type of way. “It isn’t nothing, and we both know it,” he gently reasoned. A large hand ran up and down your back, the other rested on your sex. 

Shaking your head once again, your eyes widened and the corner of your mouth turned up in matter-of-factness, you whispered, “You wouldn’t do it.”

Immediately, “Try me,” he calmly demanded.

Kriff it. The most he would do is reject you.

“I want you to kiss me.” You confessed.

The T of his visor stared at you blankly. In contrast to the steady gaze of his helmet, his chest heaved and lowered at a faster rhythm. 

Then you were on the mattress, Mando was standing up in his bunk, going for the door. Dread hit you like a brick wall. 

“Mando, Mando I’m sorry. I knew it was ridiculous! I-I shouldn’t have even asked,” you pleaded to him.

Then it was dark. And a large pair of hands were on your waist. 

Hissss.

Your brows furrowed in confusion and your eyes remained wide in a pleading expression. 

“Relax.”

The word dripped from Mando’s lips and traveled to your ears. His tone was like thick, warm honey. A soothing bass resonated throughout the room and into your bones. Once the tone reached the marrow within them, they turned to jelly. Your body slumped into Mando’s broad hands.

A dip in the mattress alerted you to his positioning within the bunk. He sat beside you, hands remained around your waist, and he gave you a slight tug as a request to move closer to him. Once you were close enough, Mando slid you into his lap to resume your previous entanglement. 

Your head relaxed on his shoulder and he pulled your torso closer to his with the tree-trunks he had for arms. Instead of his hand slithering down to find the band of your underwear, it traveled up your arm and towards the crook of your neck. The Mandalorian’s thumb rubbed soothing circles on your jaw, just in front of your ear. He shifted a bit, and then you felt warm air fanning over your face.

His helmet was off. The room was dark. Yet you knew that you were looking him right in the eyes. You knew his face was centimeters away from yours. The series of events amazed you. If the lights were on, his Creed would be broken. You didn’t know if the Creed had a clause about being helmetless in the dark, but you knew this situation was risky.

And yet Mando was willing to put his Creed at risk. Just to kiss you.

As if he was reading your mind, his thumb halted its motions. The air that fanned over your face did so with a higher intensity.

The honied voice washed over you again, “I’m going to kiss you now, mesh’la.”

In shock, you could merely nod and whisper, “Please, Mando.”

You daydreamed–and actually dreamed–about this moment for months. Months. Different visions clouded your mind. Soft, supple kisses could be placed on your lips. Feather lip and hesitant in how they approached. Or the kisses could be rough and demanding. Muscles and embouchures would battle in combat motivated by lust.

In reality, Mando was a mix of both. His lips were soft, yet firm. Intention laced the way he moved his mouth against yours. Saliva soon wet both pairs of lips in your entanglement. Your mouths fell into a synchronized rhythms of pecks, tongues, soft bites, and sloppy kisses.

You were so focused on his lips that you didn’t notice the calloused hand making its way down your underwear. His fingers rubbed your clit once more and your hips bucked into his hand. Teeth clashed together as Mando smiled into your kisses.

He placed shorter, close mouthed kisses on your lips and pulled away to speak. Tension from the waistband of your underwear alerted you to Mando’s gesture.

His warm breath fanned over your face, “Can I take these off, baby?”

You nodded vigorously, realizing he couldn’t see you, you stuttered out, “Y-yes, please.”

In haste, the underwear was peeled from your legs and thrown into the darkness of the man’s bunk. Warm, wet lips crashed onto yours once more. You reached up and tangled your fingers into his hair. Soft waves traveled through your hands as they ran through his locks. 

The Mandalorian let out a low groan at the presence of your fingers in his hair. Firm and demanding lips met your mouth, and small bites pinched your lower lip from time to time. You supposed that this was one of the first times someone carded their fingers through his hair. 

Then you felt a rough finger at your soaking entrance. You clenched your walls around nothing in response. His fingers needed to be inside you. Fantasies have filled your mind’s eye about them for months. They’re thick, and you know the digits would stretch your wet hole. Thoughts of the tasty feeling manifested into words.

“Kriff, plea-please Mando. I want your fingers in my pussy,” you pleaded.

He stopped kissing you, but his breath remained close. The motion that was in his lips translated to his finger. One thick, large digit sunk into your wet heat.

From between the clouds of pleasure that fogged your head, you heard Mando’s syrupy voice in your ear, “You’re going to cum like this.”

Your body melted into his. Reaching up, you grabbed where you thought his face was. After a second of wandering in the darkness, your hand cupped his jaw and kept his face in front of yours.

Soft moans and gentle groans emanated from your chest. Each individual knuckle of his finger rubbed along your walls and left its own unique feeling. Mando pumped his middle finger into you slowly. After you were used to the feeling, it was as if his finger was the one pulling moans from your throat.

Mando picked up his pace and you began to pant, moans mingling between your loud exhales. Gripping his jaw and his neck, you anchored yourself to him. His large arms were easily holding you against him, and his torso was solid, but the deft finger in your wet pussy made you feel like you were levitating off of him.

“Maker, baby. I knew your pussy would get fucking soaked,” he gritted into your ear.

Wet sounds of his finger pushing in and out of your heat filled the darkness of his bunk. Your legs were spread wide in his lap, allowing Mando room to curve his wrist to push his finger along the tight walls of your sex. His fingertip traveled and searched, like a hunter after a bounty, and it finally found its reward.

Your hips jumped into his hand at the euphoric feeling. Awe swept over you. You thought Mando was going to be attentive, but attentive was too light of a word for his focus. 

Groaning, he remarked, “Mmmm. That’s it, huh? That’s my girl.”

The Mandalorian was obsessed. His obsession led him to hit the pressure point on your soaking walls over and over again. Mando’s chest rumbled when your pussy clenched around his fingers. Resistance against his fingers only spurred his actions further.

The grasps of your hands tightened around his face and neck. Every muscle in your body clenched. Your face was screwed together from pleasure. Not only was your body taught, your moans were too.

“Nnnghh, oh fuck. M-Mando, yes.”

All because of one of Mando’s fingers.

Your grasp on his jaw shifted when he inquired, “You want another finger, mesh’la?”

Without thought, you moaned in response, “Yes! Oh Maker, please Mando!” 

An empty feeling in your pussy almost made its way to your brain, but then you felt the stretch. Two of his fingers made you see stars, and the delicious stretch created by his thick digits went right to your clit.

His chest vibrated against your shoulder as he let out a deep, rumble, “That’s my good girl.”

A whimper escaped from your throat and your hips ground onto his fingers.

“I- mmf, I thought about this so many times,” you admitted.

Mando growled, “Fuck. Yeah? Tell me what else you thought about.”

His fingers picked up their pace, hitting that soft spot on your walls repeatedly. The Mandalorian made you a whimpering mess in his arms. More wetness weeped from your seams, dripping out past his thick fingers.

“I-, oh, fuck, I th-thought about y-your cock,” you confessed another fantasy that plagued your thoughts.

“Mmmm. What about my cock, cyar’ika?”

The sounds of your wet pussy and both of your moans filled the small space of Mando’s bunk. 

Shhlkt. Shhlkt. Shhlkt.

“H-how you’d st-stretch my pussy w-with it,” you managed between whimpers and shaky exhales.

Fingers fucked into your messy hole faster and faster. “Is that what you want, mesh’la? Need me to stretch your pretty pussy out?”

“Yes, yes. Oh-oh fu-fuck, please,” you begged him. The hand on his jaw brought his lips down to meet yours. Mando’s tongue immediately dove between your lips, wrestling with yours in vigor. Rough, scarred skin was grounding in your hands. Each pump of his fingers tightened your muscles, curling your figure into his strong hold.

“You want my cock next, baby? Hm?” He cooed at you, never faltering the rhythm of his fingers.

Your mouth fell away from his when your jaw dropped. “Mh-mmm-mhm. Yes, please!” You squealed in reaction.

His face leaned down to hover in front of yours, “Then cum on my fingers, pretty baby,” he growled to you.

Shhlkt. Shhlkt. Shhlkt.

A few more pumps and your wet walls clamped down on Mando’s thick fingers. Broken gasps left your mouth as your body stiffened in his strong arms. Your legs shook and you left crescent marks on the man’s back.

Despite your body-shaking orgasm, the man continued his motions until you placed a hand over his to push it away. Your limp body slumped into his, the waves of pleasure left a warm sensation glowing in your skin. 

No amount of dreaming could have predicted the feeling of Mando beckoning an orgasm from you like he swore to do it. The situation you were in wasn’t exactly what you dreamt of, but the reality was so much better.

A strong hand grazed your back, leaving a trail of heat from its up and down motions. Another hand pulled you in closer to him, and the warm air from his breath made its presence known on your face.

The tone he used starkly contrasted the growls from earlier, “How was that? Are you feeling okay, cyar’ika?” A deep tone, covered in honey, was laced with a small amount of concern.

“Mando…holy shit,” you said breathily. 

Silently chuckling at the state you were in, the Mandalorian peppered light, slow kisses on top of your head and over your face. You relished in the feeling. His lips mimicked the sentiments of the kisses he placed on your wrist earlier in the night. 

“This means everything to me.” 

The phrase echoed in your mind. Of course Mando let you know before that. He didn’t have to say it, but it showed in his actions. Every cup of caf. Every conversation. Every inquisitive response he would give after you told a story. Every small intention behind each action built up within you, and you guided Mando’s lips to meet yours.

Your lips moved in sync and in slow motion. Ridges and valleys imprinted on your lips and in your memory. If Mando was dedicated to his Creed, you would be dedicated to the set of lips pressing against yours. The set of lips that made you laugh. The lips that reassured you. The lips you looked forward to hearing produce words everyday.

You didn’t even know what they looked like.

And you couldn’t find it within yourself to care. They were his lips. Mando’s lips. That’s all that mattered.

After a long stint of sloppy kisses and crescendoing moans, Mando removed his lips from yours. He was panting and en route to placing the same sloppy kisses onto your neck. His plump lips traveled down, leaving saliva marks in their wake, and then they trailed back up, settling next to your ear.

The thin skin of his lips tickled the shell of your ear as he spoke, “Still want me to fuck you, baby?”

Baby.

He’s said it before, but the word still made you squirm a small amount in his arms. Your teeth imprinted on your lips before you let out a meek, “Yes, please.” If the lights were on, Mando would see your wide eyes and your scrunched together brows. As if you had to beg him for it.

Kisses between the two of you resume as the Mandalorian shifted both of your positions on the mattress. His strong arms still clutched your figure as he slowly leaned downwards, until the pair of you were lying on the bed. Both of your hands reached up and weaved your fingers into the soft waves on his head. Mando’s thick hands traversed the planes of your body, randomly grabbing onto you and giving you a slight squeeze where his hands were.

“Uhhhgg, fu-fuck,” left his chest and escaped from his throat when you gave his hair a small tug. One of his firm, capable hands reached down and encouraged you to spread your legs. In the same motion, he shifted upwards to settle between them. 

Your locked mouths never broke. Mando’s lips remained on yours as if he were tethered to them, like they were the only thing keeping him in this universe. His groin pressed against yours and your hips bucked upwards at the feeling. Your mouth watered, like it was somehow conditioned to, after sensing the large curve of his cock covered by black fabric.

One of your hands reached downwards and palmed his shaft through the clothing. Mando’s hips ground down into yours in response, and he let out a low growl.

Your fingertips found the elastic waistband of his sweatpants and tugged on it in suggestion. Before you could even ask the question, the Mandalorian sat up, leaving your upper body to feel the cold air of the bunk. 

Shuffling came from in front of you. Then a soft, muted, plop.

The man was back onto you like it pained him to be away. Moans and rumbling exuded from his chest as he kissed you. Firm muscle of his tongue lapped against yours, challenging you to lustful combat. You accepted and the volume of your pleasure joined his. A couple kisses felt like forever, but it was the best eternity that you could be stuck in.

Mando’s body shifted lower to grind his hips against you once more. His thick shaft slid through your folds. A whimper came from your mouth as the head of his cock grazed your clit. Moans from the man only became more gravely, animalistic. The grit of the vibrations could have convinced you that he put the helmet back on–if his mouth wasn’t sealed to yours.

Swollen lips broke the seal from yours and Mando’s head fell into the space between your head and your neck. Heavy breathing flooded the audio in your brain. Rough hands ran up and down your inner thighs, intermittently squeezing the flesh there. 

A chaste kiss met the side of your head, above your ear You could feel the slick on his lips against your ear as he gently demanded, “Tell me what you want.”

Without hesitation you replied in a whining whisper, “Please put your cock in my pussy.”

The side of your head vibrated when he let out a blissful groan into your hair. His broad chest left yours as he sat up and pulled some items from a nearby drawer. Your face heated in anticipation.

Sounds were the only thing available to you to figure out what he retrieved. A crinkling and then a tear echoed through the bunk.

The condom.

Rubber noises made their way to your ears as Mando rolled the condom onto his shaft. Maker, you wish you could see him. Those large hands forming a strong grip. The thick head of his cock leaking before he puts the contraceptive on.

You thought you’d feel him shift back towards you, but then a short pop echoed through the bunk. Like he just opened a bottle of shampoo. 

Silence. 

Then the slick sounds of his large grip stroking his shaft filled the air.

Your heart swelled at his thoughtfulness. You were definitely wet enough, but the consideration for your comfort made liquid seep from your pussy.

The mattress shifted around you as he lowered his torso towards yours. One side dipped much more and the slick head of his cock teased your entrance. A small moan left your throat at the contact.

Mando paused when he was lined up with your wet hole. A wet kiss was placed on your forehead before he asked, voice strained, “Are you ready for me, my cyare?”

“Yes,” breathy and quick, passed through your swollen lips.

Maker. His cock was thick. The feeling of him pushing into you was fucking amazing.

The walls of your pussy wrapped around him. A delightful stretch pricked at your soaking entrance and your eyes rolled into the back of your head. Mando was slow and careful as he pressed his wide shaft into you. Movement ceased once his balls laid flat against the flesh of your ass.

You were so lost in the new sensations that Mando’s heavy breaths suddenly made their way into the foreground of your mind. Warm air fanned against your face and his strangled moans vibrated against your chest. Head heavy, his face found its way to the crook of your neck.

“Oh, f-fuckkk. Kriff, cyar’ika, you put my dreams to shame.”

Your arms weaved around his torso and your fingers ran down his back. His face only pressed further into you, and your walls were straining against the thickness of his cock.

“Mmm-Mando. Please. Fuck me, please.”

Another rumble from his chest vibrated against you. His hips shifted backwards, and the thick head of his cock dragged against your walls. The pair of you moaned in unison, amazed by the feel of the other.

His torso rose up and slipped from your hold and you involuntarily whined. A small, gravely chuckle left Mando’s lips, “You want me back down there, baby?”

Your hands reached into the darkness and collided with the man’s chest. Hairs brushed against your fingers as you attempted a grip to pull him back down. Before you could adjust your hands to pull his shoulders down instead, he lowered himself once more and nestled his head in the space above your shoulder.

“I-I-, nngghhh,” you tried to justify your desire, but the ridges of his cock grazed against the warmth of your pussy just right. But then you tried again. “M-makes me f-feel safe,” you let out a whimper.

“Aghhh, fuck baby.” The speed of his thrusts picked up, but his strokes were still long and languid. “Want you to feel safe with me,” he grunted as his breath fanned over your neck.

You always felt safe with him. Without question. In populated cities with shoulder-to-shoulder crowds. Out in the wilderness, the forest canopy darkening the forest floor. At a run down market with nasty glares being sent your way.

“I always have,” you manage to clearly respond.

Another deep groan resonated in your ear drums. A large, calloused hand found your arm and dragged its grip towards your hand. Thick digits intertwined with yours, and the pace of his hips picked up once more.

The hair above his shaft created mind-numbing friction on your clit. Each stroke sent a shockwave of bliss through your body. The bliss made its way back down to your pussy. Wetness dripped out from around his thick cock. Soft, wet sounds filled the space of Mando’s bunk.

“Kriff, cyar’ika. Maker, you’re fucking soaked for me,” he gritted out into your ear. His mouth found yours and weak, distracted kisses were placed on your lips. 

Fingertips dug into the skin on his back. You reeled into his touch. His thick cock still left a tinge of stretching throughout your walls. Each thrust of his hips soothed and invigorated the sensation in your pussy. You thought back to your fantasies and masturbation sessions. Squeezing three fingers into your soaking hole just to get a taste of how he’d feel. Now you have the real thing. And it’s so much better than your fingers buried deep in your cunt.

“What’re you thinking about, mesh’la?” The smooth baritone filled the air around you.

You bit your lip. How the hell did he know you were thinking? Small gasps left your lips, releasing the skin from the hold of your teeth. You knew he wanted you to say it, but your cheeks became hot in embarrassment.

You probably waited too long, because Mando grunted out, “I can tell you what I’ve been thinking, baby,” a soft grumble came from his chest, “been thinking abou- fuck. About how much of a good girl you are for me.”

Mewling left your throat and you tightened your wet pussy around his hard length. Mando growled and quickened his pace in response. A combination of moans and exhales from your chest were punctuated from each of his thrusts. Thick fingers splayed across the underside of your thigh and shifted your hips slightly upwards.

 He found the spot. The same one his fingers came familiar with.

Brows furrowed and eyes scrunched, you moaned out a whiny, “O-oh-oh, Maker. Mando!” 

“Tell me what you’re thinking about, my cyar’ika,” Mando repeated.

“Y-your cock, oh k-kriff, your cock, Mando,” you let out a shaky breath to conclude, “I’ve been thinking about your cock.”

A low hum came from the man, “What about it, mesh’la?”

You let out a keening noise when Mando reached down and grazed your clit with his thumb, drawing circles on your sensitive nub. Strong fingers splayed across your lower stomach as he rested them there. He listened to your moans and shaky breaths and concentrated on a technique. The Mandalorian figured out your body and had it down to a science. Every movement and sound that resonated from your body was a signal to him. Sound waves from you were like signals, and he replied to your every call.

His hips remained flush against yours as he gave your cunt shallow thrusts, repeatedly brushing the firm head of his cock over the most sensitive point deep within you. The combination of stimulations made your pussy clench around his shaft. A guttural moan emanated from Mando in response.

Your fingertips dug into the broad expanse of his back when you confessed with a whine, “Th-thinking…fuck…you’re so-o bi-ig.”

The thumb rubbing your clit sped up, and Mando’s other hand tightened its grip around yours. You let out a breathy sigh, your cunt only became tighter around him. The Mandalorian’s bunk was filled with the sound of your combined moans, heavy breaths, and light plaps of skin against skin.

Visions of what he looked like fucking you flashed through your mind. His huge shoulders, strong arms, veiny forearms, thick fingers. The delectable tree-thunk thighs accenting his toned waist.

You pictured a man with dark hair, probably brown eyes, with the softest lips your pair have ever met, framed by dark stubble. The man would be focused, brow furrowing in concentration. His eyes rolled back into his head and his jaw fell open when you tightened around him. Just like Mando, he’d growl in response to your wet heat, and bring his jaw back up to tighten it while he focused on you.

His hands. His cock. His voice. His lips. Kriff even the feel of his hair and skin. Each component came together to melt you into a puddle of pleasure. Moans escaped from your throat in higher and higher octaves. Sentences didn’t exist anymore, as you could barely form them.

“Think, oh shit, Ma-Mando. Think I-I’m gonna cum,” your voice sounded desperate as you alerted him.

Harsh breaths blew onto your face from Mando’s focused exertion. Your lip was captured under your teeth for the umpteenth time. Only tight whines left your throat. Pussy squeezing around Mando, your body followed suit. Thighs wrapped around his waist and the embrace of your arms held him close.

The Mandalorian left lazy kisses across your face and muttered endless praises.

“Such a good girl.”

“You’re so perfect, mesh’la.”

“Not going to last long after you, my pretty baby.”

Then his kisses paused from being placed on your face. “Hey,” Mando said to get your attention, “listen to me, cyar’ika.”

You whimpered in acknowledgement, but Mando wasn’t having it, “Have to say yes for me,” he let out between strokes.

“Yes-yes I’m listening,” you quickly blurted. 

Almost lost in your pleasure, you realized you had to actually listen to him. To comprehend and process his words. Not that you weren’t listening to him, but the motions he pressed into you made your mind blur together. Your mind snapped to attention at his words.

Mando spoke in a gentle, yet commanding, tone. The grip sealing your conjoined hands together tightened.

“My name is Din.”

Din.

It was simple and to the point, just like how Mando was. No wasting any time. No frills. No banthashit. Just Din.

Then the tight knot in the pit of your stomach snapped. Sounds that once poured from your body ceased as your figure curled into his. The pleasure was something you couldn’t have fathomed before this. Every cell in your body ignited in a passion filled radiance.

“Din! Din, oh fuckkkk, Diiiin!”

Your wet heat clamped onto Mando’s thick cock, sending him into a frenzy of growls and grunts. His calloused thumb remained on your clit until the spasms of your orgasm fizzled out. Then you were left empty handed, but your body lifted up slightly off of the mattress. The Mandalorian snaked his arms behind your shoulders, his hands under the pillow cushioning your head.

Sloppy kisses met your mouth. Tongues pushed into mouths to wrestle with their counterparts. It was like Mando wanted to memorize every ridge of your lips and tongue. To add them to his Creed. Worship them forever.

His head dropped next to yours and your ears were filled with breathy grunts.

Plap. Plap. Plap.

Softly bounced around the metal walls of the bunk.

“Wanted this for so long, baby.”

“Always thought about you, fuck, I think about you all the time.”

The intensity of his grunts increased and you could feel his cock swelling inside you. Soft lips brushed against the shell of your ear, hastily whispering out, “Where do you want me?”

Digging your fingers into the waves of his soft hair, you eagerly responded, “In the condom, Din.”

“Fuucckkk,” he groaned.

His cock started to twitch within your warm walls. The speed and depth of his thrusts no longer followed a formula. Your head raised slightly when large fists balled the bedsheets into his hands. One of your hands drifted up and down his back, soothing him through his release. He was shaking with every excess thrust he gave your wet heat.

Then his heavy body slumped against yours. Mando’s breath was still heaving, sending strong winds across your neck. Open mouthed kisses were gently placed onto the skin there. Your fingers massaged his scalp and he let out a satisfied sigh. Silence filled the space of the bunk.

What if he regretted this? Was this just a one time thing?

“Mand-,” he cut you off with both his voice and the motions he put the pair of you through.

Suddenly you were on top of him. Your head found the plush meat of his relaxed pecs and you laid your head on them. A firm grip from Mando came to wrap around you. His strong arms held you against him like someone threatened to take you away. Mando’s fingertips traced languid shapes across your back. The tip of his nose dug into your scalp as he pressed a couple soft kisses in your hair.

“Din. Call me Din, cyar’ika.”

Your cheeks rose in temperature at his insistence. Fighting your nerves, you asked, “Is this a one time thing?”

The Mandalorian stiffened underneath you. Here it goes. You’ll have to crawl off his body and resort to the sleeping pad in the hull.

“No. Mesh’la, of course not,” a low baritone soothed your worries. Your head slumped onto his chest even more. Feeling nervous, yet confident–even though you literally just fucked him–you brought a hand up to feel his face.

His hand resumed its drawings of small shapes on your back. Humming came from beneath you when your hand made contact with his stubble. Your thumb grazed the short hairs and your fingers followed the curve of his jaw.

His lips felt as soft as they did when they were on yours. Your fingertips reached upwards a bit more. Longer hairs tickled at your digits and you let out a small giggle.

“Mmf, what, pretty girl?” His tone was laced with sleep and curiosity.

You smiled at him in the dark, “You have a mustache,” you told him in a whisper, as if he didn’t already know. A smile from him creeped up under your touch.

“Mmm. Yes, I do,” he replied matter-of-factly. 

In a teasing tone, you inquired, “Who’s that for?”

A low chuckle from Din’s chest made your head rumble. The hand on your back ceased its movements. His nose dipped down to find yours, aiding him in lining up his mouth to kiss you. A gentle kiss was placed onto your lips, and you were acutely aware of the hairs that made up his mustache.

He sighed in content and murmured, “At first it was for me. I don’t know. I just liked it,” his shoulders went up and down in a shrug, he continued with a hum, “but you like it. So now it’s for you.”

Your face became hot at his words. Slightly embarrassed, you nestled your face into his chest. The thin hairs there wisped at your face. 

Sleep quickly caught up to you and your whole body relaxed against Din’s. His large frame made for a comfortable bed. Muscles, none of them tense, gave you a plush surface to melt into.

Din’s strong arms wrapped around you. He continued to press soft kisses into your hair. Right before you slipped out of consciousness he whispered to you.

“I meant what I said,” he paused to wait for a response. You didn’t register him speaking until it was too late, but he continued his sentence nonetheless.

“I’ll do anything for you.”

Supply Run - Review (part four) (Coming soon)

[bangpop91writing]

hii! I have this picture in my head of Tommy in bed on his back sweating whilst Buck is riding his dick and holding his(Tommy's) hands/wrists above his head. Buck has his head smushed in Tommy's pit(s) and is getting drunk on the smell his man... care to write something about that? pretty pretty please!!!! <3

I love it! This is right up my ally and it's been awhile since I wrote some fun scent kink. I hope you enjoy!

I am really sorry about how long this took me to post. Between a god awful migraine and parenting writing took me awhile. I hope it was worth the wait!

Send Me Prompts

Sweat wasn't really something Buck put a lot of thought into before Tommy. Sure he enjoyed working out with his exes and getting sweaty between the sheets, or anywhere else they had sex. But Tommy had unlocked more doors for Buck than just his bisexuality. Buck has a list.

Getting man handled is one of the hottest things that he has ever experienced.

Beard burn is way hotter than it has any right to be. Especially between his thighs and on his ass.

Experimenting with the differences between getting fucked by Tommy's dick and toys.

He loves sucking dick and eating pussy(or ass) in equal measure.

He thinks he might be a little bit of a size queen… Or maybe that one is just a Tommy specific thing.

Sweat is kinda(really) fucking hot.

Read the rest on AO3 or bellow the cut

The list is obviously longer than that, and there's another list of things he wants to try with Tommy. But honestly he can't remember anything else at the moment. Not when he has Tommy pinned under him and definitely not he has Tommy's dick in his ass.

Tommy's promoter friend Alvey, had put together a charity fight featuring first responders from around the country to raise money for cancer research and had asked Tommy to participate. Buck is only a man, and watching his man win fight after fight had really done it for him. How could it not? Watching a hot, sweaty, Tommy in those skin tight shorts man handling other guys was almost as good as being the one manhandled by a hot, sweaty Tommy.

Buck hadn't even given Tommy time to shower after the last fight of the night, which Tommy won, before dragging Tommy up to their hotel room to somehow his boyfriend just how much he'd enjoyed the fights. Buck still doesn't really get why Tommy enjoy watching UFC fights as much as they do, but he has developed his own appreciation for Maui Thai. Actually that also is probably a Tommy specific kink to add to his list.

But after a fight or spar, when Tommy is still high on adrenaline and pent up aggression he is more likely to roughly manhandle Buck, leading to really hot, rough sex and tonight was no exception.

They had barely made it into their hotel room when Buck had been pressed against the wall with Tommy absolutely devouring him while tearing Buck out of his clothes. There wasn't much to tear Tommy out of, just the soft zip up hoodie and those sinfully tight shorts that made Tommy's thighs and ass look even more delectable than usual.

Buck had pushed Tommy back towards the large hotel bed, not making it far at all before Tommy had growled, squatting just enough to grip Buck's thighs, wrapping them around his waist before picking him up carrying him the short distance to the bed. At first Buck had been perfectly happy to let Tommy manhandle him, putting Buck exactly where he wanted it.

It is so hot. Buck is not small, he's never been small, even before he started packing on muscle. Sure him and Tommy are the same height and similar builds, but Tommy knows how to use the muscle he has on Buck to pin him in place. Which is with Buck on top of Tommy, his ass in Tommy's face while he buries his face in Tommy's sweaty groin, sucking Tommy's cock and balls while he is licked and fingered open by Tommy.

He's flipped onto his back, with his knees pressed to his chest when Tommy finally slides his cock into Buck. There is no teasing, no slow roll of hips, or tender kisses. Its fast and hard and biting. And Buck is perfectly happy with letting Tommy fuck him like that, well for awhile anyways. Buck gets his legs wrapped around Tommy's middle, then uses his muscles just the way Tommy had taught him during those Maui Thai lessons to flip them over so that Buck is the one on top all without dislodge Tommy's cock. He grabs Tommy's massive hands in his own pinning them over his head.

"Stay." Buck growled, impaling himself on Tommy's massive cock, grinding down against his boyfriends hips. As hot as it is being pinned under Tommy, it is equally hot being the one doing the pinning. There is something heady about having all of that raw power and strength pinned obediently under him that makes Buck feel powerful in a way he had never experienced before Tommy. He doesn't have to worry about holding back, about being careful, Tommy won't break under him.

Tommy isn't exactly pliant under Buck, still to keyed up from the fight. Tommy bends his knees pressing his feet into the bed thrusting up into Buck meeting each of his own downward thrusts.

Buck doesn't release Tommy's hands at first, he wants to make sure Tommy will stay where Buck put him. He only has to remind Tommy to stay put once when Tommy tries breaking the hold Buck has on him. Buck doesn't know how effective his growl was considering it had been more breathy moan than actual growl, resulting in Tommy grinning up at him wolfishly.

"Don't worry, kitten, Daddy's got you." Tommy had practically purred with the danger of a large cat. Buck didn't even have time to whine in protest when Tommy broke the hold easily freeing his hands from Buck's tight grip. With one arm remaining extended over his head, the other came up gripping his fingers in the back of Buck's hair, tangling his fingers in the curls there. Tommy uses his grip yanking Buck forward pressing his face into Tommy's underarm.

"There you go, kitten. Take exactly what you need." Tommy growled. And Buck does exactly that. He smothers himself in Tommy's armpit inhaling the sent of sweat and musk like the first breath of fresh air after a fire.

Tommy's continued grip in Buck's curls is completely unnecessary, he is more than happy to bury his face in Tommy, nuzzling the sweat damp hair, licking away the sweat, while imprinting the scent in his memory. But he loves the forceful grip holding his head in place and Tommy knows it.

Their thrusts become frantic as they race towards their orgasms. Their hotel room is filled with the sound of slapping skin and low, animalistic moans. Buck gets one of his hands between them, fisting his cock, jerking it frantically in time with their increasingly sloppy trusting. Buck comes with a loud drawn out moan, feeling completely surrounded by Tommy even though he's the one on top.

It doesn't last long though before Tommy rolls them over again, pounding into Buck, chasing his own orgasm. Tommy comes with his own low moan, while biting down on the space where Buck's neck meets his shoulder. They collapse in a sweaty, sticky heat, exchanging slow kisses as they come down from their frantic fucking and the high of their orgasms.

Later, after cleaning up in the shower. Buck is getting dressed when he sees the bruise on his shoulder in the shape of Tommy's teeth. Turns out he has something new to add to the list.

Getting marked with hickies.

[lambilegs]

LAMBILEGS' 1K CELEBRATION!

HIIII baes! so, that's right, we've hit 1K followers :") thank you so much to everyone who's followed me and shown me support in any facet, whether it be likes, asks, comments, etc. like, it truly means so much to me that you guys enjoy my writing, as well as trust me to execute your ideas into a reality. so, yeah, thank you so, so much. I'm so grateful for every bit of support, and I am so happy I made the decision to start this account. sure, sometimes it's a bit rocky, and I'm currently trying to figure out how to form a healthier bond to it, but nonetheless, I'm incredibly grateful.

so, I wanted to do something a bit special and out of the ordinary to celebrate with you guys! rules are below <3

STORY REQUEST: ✰ OPEN UNTIL FEBRUARY 28TH (REMINDER: I am still on a break + not accepting requests for anything other than the ones for this celebration-thing) choose any three terms/phrases you like from the following lists: list #1, list #2 and list #3. they don't have to be from the same list. the words you choose will essentially frame the request you're sending in to me. (this idea about requests based on aesthetic words came from another writer in the tlou fandom, but I cannot find their original post, so if anyone has any idea who they are, please let me know so I can credit them!) along with this, add if your requested story will be lee x reader or sevika x reader, and if you'd prefer your work to be sfw or are if you're open to nsfw content. + if you'd like, you can also make specifications about: what world or scenario you'd like this story to fit into (such as: knight!lee au, or college!au with sevi), if there are any specific themes you'd like for it to follow (ex. coming-of-age, religion, first love, etc.), and/or any specifications about yourself to make your reading experience more comfortable (for example, if you're a butch or a femme, if you're plus-size, etc.). again, though, adding any of these to your request is optional and you can add all, some of none or the specifications included this paragraph. send in your request to my inbox anytime between now and the 28th, and boom! there you go <3

please be kind in your request! I'm just one person, and because of that, I'll warn rn: it might take me a long ass time to get to these (especially since I'm already quite drained + still on hiatus, so I won't be writing these anytime soon). and if I get too overwhelmed in the future, I may not get to every request. I'm sorry if that feels negligent or unfair, but again, writing is hard work sometimes and therefore, I cannot make promises that I will complete every request, let alone at a fast pace.

works will most likely range anywhere from 200 to 800 words (though, I may go higher if needed LOL), so expect something short and sweet. 😛

have an amazing day/night!! you all have a piece of my heart, and I cherish each of you.

dividers by: @/notaorbital and @/cafekitsune

[heartofwritiing]

could you write wilbur soot confessing his love to a crush? 👉👈

something about how he's been pinning after this crush for so long, but the crush seems a bit avoidant or something

but that's because the crush also has a crush on him and is very very shy qpwimsmanssjslslek sorry im not good with requests

You and me need never be, lonely again.

Paring: cc!wilbur soot x fem!cc!reader

authors note: Thank you so much for requesting! I hope you don't mind the reader being a content creator and i’m sorry she’s not super shy because im not really sure how to write shy lol but i hope you like the request! I just thought it would add to the idea and I've wanted to do something similar to this for a while! This is a request back from august. I am so sorry this took me so long to get out. I've been going through some shit irl but I'm finally starting to come back to writing because I genuinely love it and posting on here since it is my safe space!

line from this prompt list

warnings: friends-lovers, reader lives in the US, brief description of anxiety, the reader sends mixed signals, swearing, kinda angsty, happy end, super unedited!

"No! That was such bullshit!"

The voice of Tommyinnit ran through the speakers of your computer causing you to let out a chuckle that you were the reason for his outburst.

You were playing Gang Beasts on stream with some of your closest friends, and you had grabbed Tommy's character and thrown him off the map by picking him up.

Laughter rang out amongst the group as the screen card popped up saying your username won. You cheered as everyone groaned but dispersed into 'ggs' then that's when everyone started to bid goodnight. You hadn't realized it had been four hours of streaming and playing games, showing the good time you were having with friends.

"Alright chat, that's gonna be it for me today! Please remember to click the follow button if you're new to stream that way you'll know when I go live! byeee!" You did your outro, quickly closed your stream down, and logged out of Twitch.

It was an uneventful stream session, thank god. You’ve noticed more and more how your chat gets when you even mention wilburs name.

“you logging off completely y/n/n?” Ranboos voices asks through your earbuds.

“No, I’ll play a few more rounds if you guys are down,” you respond.

“HELL YEAH!” Tommy boasted. “IM GONNA KICK YOUR ASS THIS TIME Y/N/N!”

“Oh, it’s on gremlin child!” you replied.

Wilbur listened to this conversation on his end, letting out a chuckle. He honestly doesn’t know why you make him laugh so easily. Anytime you threw a genius comment toward Tommy that was deemed insulting, or calling him a name Wilbur fell for you more and more. If only he had the guts to tell you.

You as well wouldn’t admit it but every time Wilbur laughed all you could feel was butterflies punching your stomach and a smile that made your cheeks hurt. You were also falling hard for him.

After about another fifteen minutes, Tommy and Ranboo had bid their goodbyes for the night and ended their calls. You were left in call with Wilbur, the silence could be cut with a knife.

Knowing him for two years was hard. Wilbur was everything to you. He was funny, smart, charming, and overall made you feel comfortable. Something you thought you’d never have with anyone. Having to only talk on call and video made things easier for you. On call you could hide your blushes and smiles from him, but not from your chat who caught every interaction between you and Wilbur when you streamed. The constant ’Wilbur x name confirmed?’ tweets and comments in your twitch chat were recently repetitive and you wondered when you became such a beacon of attention. It gave you such anxiety to have all eyes on you when you wanted to spend time with your best friend.

It was getting obnoxious to the point where you debated making a tweet to get the fans to stop shipping you both, even if you were dating it was no one’s business. Still you never dared to say anything out of fear of stans coming at you in anyway. You didn’t need to draw more unwanted attention to yourself.

“You logging off? it’s getting pretty late for you,” you spoke up.

“Yeah, we both should, by the way what times your flight tomorrow?”

Right, you were flying less than eight hours from now to finally meet your friends inperson. You all had planned this for months, booking hotels and flights, making a whole deal about it. Then you really wouldn’t be able to hide from him for a whole week.

“Around seven-thirty,” you reply.

He hums.

“I’ll let you get some rest, see you tomorrow night darling,” his voice purposely going lower on the ‘darling’ part that you almost didn’t catch it, making your knees go weak.

“N-night Will,” you stutter, end call and slump back into your desk chair trying to calm your racing heart. Meanwhile Wilbur all the way across the ocean in Brighton has a smile plastered across his lips.

About a plane ride, a train ride and car ride later, you are stood in the hotel lobby in Brighton waiting for a late Tommy and Wilbur to arrive. You were super nervous to meet them. Having only been friends for what was a short time, it felt like you knew them for years, so why was this so scary?

You debated in your mind about texting them to see if they were close by, but you didn’t want to come off as annoying and impatient. You wanted to make a good first impression, but again these were your friends. Why were you shaking with nerves?

You fiddled with your thumb’s absentmindedly until you felt a pair of hands on your shoulders, causing you to jump out of your skin. You spin around to be met with a cackling Tommy who is clucking his stomach from laughing so hard at your reaction.

“Fucking gremlin child,” you huffed under your breath, not realizing the evident blood rushing to your cheeks from being startled so easily.

“It’s nice to hear you say that in person,” a deep voice said from behind Tommy. You shifted your eyes to see a very tall Wilbur, who was wearing his round glasses pushed up his nose and curly hair fluffed to the side.

His dark sweater selves rolled up to revel his arms tucked into his side as he gazed at you with a soft smile. Finally after two years of being separated by seas, your best friend was standing right in front of you. It was surreal to say the least.

You laugh and jump forward to embrace him. The number of times you’d tease him over-call about his height made you regret your words. He towers over you as he bends down to your level to give you a long awaited hug. His arms are soft, yet firm as they wrap around your back and cage you into his embrace.

You both pull away, both grinning from ear to ear. He looks down at you with a hint of something behind his eyes, he seems to be genuinely happy to finally meet you in person. which makes you blush at the thought of him looking forward to this moment since you told him you wanted to come here. You're quickly brought out of your moment when Tommy speaks up behind you.

"So he gets a hug and I don't?!" his tone slightly offended.

"Yup, cause you're annoying," you bring a hand up to flick his forehead, causing him to let out a irritated noise. you had only just met him in person but something compelled you to do that. Maybe it was just a reason for you to break the ice and it was working because you all broke out into giggles.

“Im just kidding Tom,” you motion him into a hug.

Wilbur just stood observing the entire interaction between his two best friends. He was thrilled to finally have you here, he couldn't wait to show you all his favorite places, hang out, and get to know better in person. Finally.

The two boys had managed to drag you to the beach, and even though it was freezing Tommy insisted on going to the arcade to try and win another 'vlog gun'. After suffering through loosing a few games, Wilbur managed to win you a little stuffed cat that you promptly named Mr Whiskers.

It was endearing to watch him struggle at most of the games so he could get enough tickets. It was all worth it in his eyes to embarrass himself by losing ski-ball to you, twice, he saw the evident blush on your cheeks and the look you gave him. As if he hung the stars in the sky just for you. It made his chest hurt in a good way.

The rest of the night went smoothly for the most part. More and more, Wilbur had been getting more touchy with you. Though you didn’t mind it at all, maybe he didn’t realize how much he was putting his hand on you as you walked side by side as he led you through crowds. How he held doors open for you. It was sweet.

Maybe he was doing it just to be nice. That small voice in the back of your head telling you thats all it was. Because thats what friends do.

Eventually, the three of you met up with Ranboo and Charlie. They were just how they were online, which made meeting them a whole lot better. Walking around Brighton, making inside jokes and teasing each other. You hadn't been this happy in a while. You can remember the last time you genuinely enjoyed yourself, your friends were the product of that. You were fortunate to have found them when you did. Quarantine was hard on you, much like the rest of the world. So when you were invited to join a group game call, you couldn't pass up the opportunity. That night, something had clicked between you and Wilburt specifically. Then you started to join more calls with the gang and the rest was history.

Sometime in the night, you found yourself walking behind with Wilbur by your side chatting about nothing in particular. Until the comfortable silence filled the air between you, you took a moment to take in the nightlife of Brighton. The street lamps guide your way through the beachside and the pubs on the corner were starting to fill up. As if the city was somehow more alive at night.

"I'm really glad you came," Wilbur speaks, sincerely.

You stop your wide-eyed gaze to look at him and smile softly at him.

"I am too," You gush. "I'm honestly considering moving here,” Now he’s smiling.

Wilbur's brain starts to go a million miles a second. His heart leaped at the thought of you living closer to him. Seeing you in person everyday seemed like a dream come true. He begins to slow his step and a frown replaces your smile. Your own thoughts running rampant now, assuming you might've freaked him out by voicing that you wanted to move here so soon after meeting him in person. Maybe it made him uncomfortable. it was too soon to say something that bold. You had only just met him in person today.

"Listen, Y/N..."

You stopped and your brain got the best of you with his tone. You shouldn't have said anything like that to him. It was too soon.

“I don’t want to sound cheesy, but I need you to know how I feel.”

Oh... OH.

You knew what this was leading to. Realizing why he was acting the way he was all day.

"I like you, more than like you. You're funny, beautiful, smart, and everything I could've hoped for in a best friend. But I can't keep pretending I don't think of you when we aren't talking, or how when I look at you my chest hurts."

Wilbur liked you. Really liked you. You would jump for joy and shout to the rooftops about how much you reciprocate his feelings but something in the back of your mind told you not to. The doubt in your mind from yourself, both your fans online judging. It made you slowly start to panic. You felt as though you weren’t good enough for him.

You saw the aftermath of when his fans shipped him and Niki together. It almost ruined their friendship. You didn’t want that.

"Please say something?" he stops his rant to notice you are staring up at him with blank eyes.

"I-uh," you stutter. "can we maybe not do this now?"

His face falls and it instantly crushes you with regret. His disappointment shows as he gives you a forced smile and nods.

"Y-yeah, let's catch up with everyone, Tommy wants to do this big stream at his place." he gestures for you to move along with him, all while you feel horrible for doing this.

You wish you could take back what you said. You know you've hurt him, It's painfully obvious when he doesn't talk to you for the rest of the walk. You glance at him a few times but he keeps his eyes forward and stoic.

If only you didn’t let your anxiety get the best of you. You had to talk to him at some point, but for now you pushed it aside. The rest of the group didn’t seem to notice the sudden tension between the two of you, if they did nothing was remarked about it.

As you continued the journey to Tommys flat, you and Wilbur still walked silently side by side. With what little courage you had, you reached out your hand and held his in a moment of truce. Giving it a gentle squeeze with your fingers to seal the deal that you would talk later. You heard his soft inhale at the contact and he squeezes back. Your shoulders drop from the weight of tension being lifted off. Maybe, just maybe this ment this conversation wasn’t over.

Back at Tommy’s, the monitor in his cramped bedroom with everyone packed together like sardines; shows the twitch chat flashing by with viewers comments.

“WELCOME BACK TO THE STREAM EVERYONE!” Tommy shouted causing you to hold your ear in slight pain.

“God Tommy, could you be anymore loud?” you wince.

“Look who’s here chat!” he gestured to you with his hands, ignoring your complaints. You waved at the webcam as chat went crazy. He introduced everyone else as they all broke out into a chorus of conversation.

Wilbur was mostly quiet on your left, an occasional sarcastic comment made here and there. You could practically feel his eyes buring into the side of your head. Hopping chat wasn’t noticing how he was looking at you, your eyes shifting to your lap to fidget with your fingers.

Out of view, Wilbur reached over and took your hand picking at the skin around your nails. You had stopped your nervous tick and opted for squeezing his hand. Nobody seemed to notice the sudden shift in both your behavior.

Suddenly you felt tense, the feeling of having everyone’s eyes on you made your mind start to spiral.

Letting go of Wilburs hand, you quickly had excused yourself and walked out of Tommys room and into the kitchen.

Everyone had a mix of concerned and worried expressions as they watched you leave the room but didn’t say anything about it. Wilbur had followed you in pursuit. He found you in the kitchen hyperventilating Your panic had taken over and now your lungs were paying the price for the burning sensation from not breathing.

“it's okay,” he took your face into his hands and held you. “just follow my breaths.

he took a breath in, and you followed.

When you came to your senses, Wilbur had asked you what was wrong and you just began to cry. Everything came rushing down on you.

“Im sorry. I-Im sorry I shot you down earlier, Im sorry for h-hurting you. I-i,” you stuttered over yourself. Wilbur shakes his head at you. He probably thinks you’re such a mess.

“I don’t understand, I know you like me too, so I don’t understand why you rejected me after I poured my heart out to you. Then you go and hold my hand while we're walking.'

Wilbur was right. Playing with his feelings was selfish and cruel. He was completely in the right to question you. You were practically flirting with one another all day, and then you shut down his advances of trying to open your relationship.

“I do wanna be with you.” you sniff. “I'm just really scared.”

"Why darling? It's just me, your silly old Wil." he pokes at your sides causing you to let out a giggle. Your best friend, who looked at you with the prettiest chocolate eyes, who stayed on call with you all night when you couldn't sleep. The only person you told your deepest fears and dreams to.

You take a shaky inhale as you begin to explain. "I don't wanna ruin our friendship, we have something I've never experienced with anyone else in my life. I care about you too much to let me be a distraction in your life, and I am scared that the fans will-"

Wilbur interrupts you with a hand on your arm.

"The fans? darling who cares about that, I care way too much about you to even care about what strangers think. It's no one's business who I, or you for that matter have a relationship with." he clarified. "I love you and nothing or no one will ever change that."

Those three words made your heart leap in your throat.

"Y-you l-love me?" you stutter in disbelief.

"Yes, of course I do."

Tears roll down the apples of your cheeks as you lean forward to engulf Wilbur into another hug. His arms wrapped around your back reciprocating your embrace. your face buried in his neck as you inhale his cologne and your tears dampen his skin.

"I love you too Wil," you whisper.

He squeezes you closer to him in return and this time you don't hold yourself back...

-

taglist: @trashcanduck @ax-y10 @mysticalsoot @idontreallyexistyet @loonalvjy @toastyliltoasts41

[youtry2replaceurself]

good morning, good afternoon, good evening, and goodnight!

Also nothing about this post is organized but I would like to add that yes I do take drawing requests and they are very very encouraged, and there's a 50/50 chance the drawing will be shit :3

And I have a huge tag list so ask me if you want to be on it or if you want to be taken off it

OC stuff hERE look

Pronouns are anything other than she/her, preferably they/them

Wattpad is @asri3l_dreemurr, @spamton-detector is my gimmick blog, @thermodynamics-lawyer-esq was abandoned 💔,

aalso @redleavesandteardrops WAs my WoF side blog but fuck you

and @sonder-wof is my fan-made WoF continent blog thing

dni if you're a bitch I guess, don't want a long ass list of terms I don't like lmao

Btw I'm a lynx, reindeer, and crow/magpie (idfk I'm trying to figure out) therian wahoo !! And also some kind of owl but I'm not sure and I'm really confused help

Important links/posts I think are particularly cool and blinkies and whatevers belowww

Important links I think people should see: (actually mostly stuff I just want to go back to later)

Alright, usually, I put the most recent links at the bottom, but I need y'all to reblog this now.

This might be already on here but, if you find someone that tried to commit suicide via pills:

Internet safety and how to identify pdf files/pedophiles

Important sites for while Trump is president

How to be prepared for Trump's presidency

Like the above link

Something to remember about Project 2025

What to do if you suddenly find yourself homeless

^ written by someone who has been homeless

Text... Font... Thing...

Writing resourcesssss

TIME TRAVEL, BITCH

Books Trump might ban, I think

Depression tips

Words instead of "said"

When your character...

Rizz

Some links for a bad day

Suicide hotline that isn't call (was told this isn't working at the moment)

Goodbye medical debt!!

Tree noise<3

Petition to ban perfume in schools

How to bypass YouTube's anti ad blocker thingy

I didn't have the attention span to. Fully read this so I am so so sorry I can't summarize this properly but I'm fairly sure that it is important and worth reading if you're, unlike me, capable of reading this

Thank You Mister Deli Woman

Kewl resources for artists

In the US? Wanna learn new and terrible things about where you live?

Cold shock response

????WHAT THE FUCK ???????

BOYCOTT COCA COLA PRODUCTS AND NESTLE PRODUCTS!

Classic meme templates

THIS ANIMATIC MADE ME CRY

Self care assessment thingy

free movies

How to draw arms and legs

Lineart turorial

Becoming an adult cheat sheet

taxes

How to fight back against ICE agents

Something something food recalls. I'm stupid and don't know what this means but I've heard it talked about seriously

Awesome seawing art

WoF headcanons I wanna go back to

Fuck Google

March 15

Sound

Wobble worble

"Jesus in a hot topic"

Call the police on their pedophile ass

“I have all these OCs! But no story…”

Fuck ice, know your rights

Web games

Fuck paywalls

Survive the next 4 years

Might have another similar thing here but how to identify AI (writing, voices, videos, "art")

Literally everything you need to make a character

Holidays :)

Buy stuff from native people!!

Wholesome thing I wanna save so I can go back to it

AO3 summaries: help

Site to totally avoid

Speaking from ignorance

Top surgery tips!

Consent

Project Gutenburg

Finding your lost pets/your lost non-human family

First aid for seizures

Dragons and unicorns.

Food or drugs that have been recalled

What to do if...

STATISTICS

Substitutes for AI!

The whole untitled wolf sheep comic thing

Kris. K-kris. I don't smoke weed. I DONT SMOKE WEED! I DONT SMOKE WEED! I DONT SMOKE WEED !!! KRIS !!!!!!!

tips

VERY important tips

Deltarune animation I very much love, chapter 3 spoilers beware

Yet another deltarune animation I love, again, ch3 spoilers

Tenna gifs (thank you ezgif I love you ezgif)

Education is a right, not a service

2dollarbeer

TENNA MOUSE??

Fun behaviors to give dragons

Anygays here's my other platforms bc I'm so slay

og art blog:

Will wood blinky is made by @skelpiescool

Deny defend depose blinky made by me :3 if you use mine please credit btw, not "credit to the artist" that's not credit

[halfetirosie]

💫 Important info from the [Shine ☆ Gemstone Heart] PV! 💫 (Reaction post)

1) Awwwww!!! The fluff balls have their own lil' bows, too!

(˶˃ ᵕ ˂˶) ♡♡♡♡♡

🧐 Are those little fellas holding their own magic wands? Or are those just extra-fancy potion vials??

2) Looks like Kuya's character has a sprinkling of Snow White's Evil Queen? 🤔 🍎

But I must say; it's a little strange seeing Kuya, instead of Rei, with a laboratory setting! Especially one centered around potion-making. 😊

(Add this to the list of Reasons Why Rei and Kuya are Hella Similar---a list that Kuya is definitely going to track me down and set me on fire for creating.....or Rei will sneak into my room at night, forge my signature and steal my fingerprints, and then I'll wake up on a dissecting table missing several organs. 😇)

It just seems like, if anything, Kuya would only ever willingly research spells, the arts, etc. You know; things less boring than chemistry. 😈 Shoutout to ALL Science Classes I've Ever Taken, my detested. 🖤

3) Hmmmm..... Is this cool knotted tree going to act like a poral? Like the rabbit hole in Alice in Wonderland? 🕳️

Like, the daylight-pic is of the tree in Reality (Klein), Eiden & Co. go through the gap on the bottom, and they come out the other side through the night-time pic tree in Magical Girl AU World.

4) 🎉🎉🎉 KUYORB FINALLY GETS SOME PROPER ANIMATION!!!! 🎉🎉🎉

LOOK AT THE LITTLE GUY WAVE!!!! (˚ ˃̣̣̥⌓˂̣̣̥ )づ♡

5) Goddamn, this might be the MILF'iest Kuya we've ever seen...

(⸝⸝ ♡﹃ ♡ ⸝⸝)

He's even MILF'IER than Flaming Trial---and that's saying something!

Kitsune ✅ Bedroom Eyes ✅ Beautiful Long Locks ✅ Cool-ass hat ✅ Cool-ass boots ✅ Boob-window ✅

But I won't lie--- I, like many others, am very disappointed that Kuya didn't get a skirt. It would've looked so good!!!!! He's never gotten a proper skirt before, and that's a damn crime!!!! 😔😔😔

(It's been pointed out to me that Forest Night technically does have a skirt, which I guess is correct, but I don't think it really counts. Kimonos are their own separate thing!)

Or, at the very least, they could've given him booty shorts!!!

🔥🔥🔥 Let Kuya flaunt his legs, dammit!!!!! They're always all covered up!!!! 🔥🔥🔥

(╯◺□◿)╯︵ ┻━┻

6) ❗ Looks like the Monster-Fuckers, who have been praying for another tentacle scene for forever, are finally getting their prayers answered!

I'mma be honest; I am absolutely NOT one of those people. A solid 90% of the time, tentacle scenes actually really gross me out. I really hope this scene isn't one of those ones.....

Another thing working against it [for me personally]; that tentacle around Eiden's neck is giving me PTSD from Billowing Widlfire R5.💧💧💧💧💧

(I'm sorry to those who loved it, but I HATEDDDD that room. So much so, it made me like Kuya less as a character... I don't think Eiden will be strangled in this room, but I still feel shooketh.)

(ᵕ⊙ᴗ⊙)

Although, Kuya looking down and touching Eiden's cheek makes me feel a little better. ❤️

7) FUCK.....

The little details bring the look together so damn well!

The fluff ball matching Blade's expression: HELLA CUTE.

BUT LOOK AT THAT LITTLE HINT OF BOOTY!!!! 😭🙏

---AND THAT MEANS THAT BLADE'S PROBABLY GONNA GET SOME CUTE PANTIES THIS TIME, TOO!!!!! Good for him, he so deserves it!!!! 🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉🎉

8) This is my new #1 Favorite Blade Design!!! ✨✨✨

And you know why I can say that with confidence? Because I've never wanted to pull on a Blade Banner so badly!!!

Not to say that Blade designs are bad or anything. Just, they usually don't "speak to me" as much. They haven't had as much magnetic attraction. Idol Apprentice and Starlight Snapshot are strong contenders, but this one tho.....

Visible pretty eye ✅ Fairy wings (I've always loved fairies!) ✅ Soft bright color scheme ✅ Choker necklace ✅ Cold-shoulder top ✅ Ruffles ✅

AND JUST LOOK AT THIS LEGS!!!!

THIS IS THE BEST HIS LEGS HAVE EVER LOOKED!!!! FUCKKKKK!!!!!!

🦋 _(´ཀ`」 ∠)

9) Oh shit, Eiden has long hair again!!! ◝(ᵔᗜ��)◜

I feel like it's been a long time since we've gotten a new proper Long-Hair Eiden design. This time, I hope it's longer than just shoulder-length!

10) Garu looks so precious!!! 💖💖💖

The blushies with that little smile..... 😊

Also, they seem to have gone just as hard on this SR card as they did on the SSRs, which is a delightful surprise! (As in, this design has just as many details; while other special SRs have been comparatively less ornate than the SSRs.)

💫 End of report! 💫

[taffywabbit]

[kind of a longwinded vent post i guess, i was gonna just make a sort of tired joke post but then it actually wasn't a joke oops. don't feel obligated to read this, i just need to put my thoughts somewhere]

man. i am wayyy too damn busy this week to be getting hit with as many heavy thoughts and potentially entire-perspective-on-life-altering realizations about my identity and mental health as i have been. why can't i ever have important stuff to think about during literally any time when my life affords me the time and energy to think about it properly. it just ends up being loud background static behind my existing stress every time because it's like... i obviously do have tangible stuff i NEED to prioritize, and it's reasonable for me to put that first, but i still end up feeling like i'm somehow being cowardly or irresponsible by putting off the internal processing that's demanding i pay more attention to it.

i'm literally just living that one post that's like "i'm probably nonbinary but i have a job so i don't really care about that right now" or whatever, except i'm already trans so swap that first part out for a growing list of possible untreated mental illnesses, an increasingly-hard-to-ignore identity crisis, the looming dread that i cannot keep treading water in my current stagnant career forever. also, most notably, a general sense that i have no idea where my life is going or what i want from it now that i've finally broken down my mental wall labeled "you can't pursue anything else you want until you get your ass in gear and start transitioning already", gotten some joy out of that, and then realized there wasn't much else it was actually obstructing. and it's like. breaking that wall DID at least give me a clearer view of things and now i have plenty of other important stuff i could unpack, but it feels like i'm just stuck on a nonstop conveyor belt of "actually i don't have time for that because i'm behind on work again" that prevents me from making real tangible progress in figuring my shit out, even now.

like i am aware this is very much a "GOD i need to talk to a therapist" type situation but guess what! seeing a therapist costs a lot of money (yes, even in canada) and takes time and effort to set up, and if i want those things i'd better get my work done! except oops now i'm once again too busy to do anything BUT work, because i burned out and slowed down and the work took too long again and now i no longer have the time for the genuine proper break i needed in order to do anything for myself besides earn money.

one of the most frustrating parts is that HRT has seemingly made me a lot more emotionally sensitive and outwardly reactive (as it reportedly does for many people), and instead of that being the cathartic experience it should be, it usually just manifests as all my shit very visibly unraveling at the seams as i spiral and make an ass of myself and push people away, where i previously would've at LEAST been able to hold it together a bit better. so not only do i feel like i'm not making progress, it's constantly taking all the energy i can spare just to avoid crashing out and burning all my bridges and leaving myself with no external supports. my friends are kinda all i have right now, and i'm painfully aware that the more i procrastinate sorting out my issues, the more danger there is that i'll damage my relationships with those i care about if any of this internal pressure leaks out at the wrong time. which then becomes yet another fear to add to the pile of stuff i'm not equipped to deal with right now

idk. i was about to instinctively say "i'm fine tho" and that's very clearly a lie, but like. i WILL continue to manage at least. i'm not in any physical danger from myself or others, nothing is gonna happen to me, you don't have to worry about anything like that. i'm just overwhelmed and exhausted, and i don't have any good outlets for talking about this shit anymore besides just dumping it on friends at random, which feels shitty and i would really prefer not to make a habit of it. i just feel like i'm waiting for some kinda stroke of good fortune to come along and perk me up and give me enough of a jolt of extra energy to start doing things differently, kinda like last year when i suddenly stumbled into getting my transition stuff started and then THAT gave me enough confidence and excitement to seek out an ADHD diagnosis a couple months later. just something to break me out of this routine temporarily and help me feel unburdened enough that i can do SOMETHING, y'know?

but in the meantime i feel like i just need to like. signal in some way that i am Really Going Through It, if only to counter my own instinctive efforts to always maintain this illusion of perfect functionality and never cause any problems or allow anyone to worry about me or be annoyed by me ever. professionalism be damned, i make art for a living, i do not have the luxury of separating my job from my self-expression and trying to pretend everything's going smoothly in terms of work will always kinda inherently come at the cost of trying to convince myself it's going smoothly in my personal life too. to some extent i suppose MOST people don't - the shit that affects you at home is gonna affect you at your office job too, sooner or later - but in my case the false wall of work-life balance is like a two-way mirror, because drawing is also my most treasured hobby and lifelong source of comfort, and any outward-facing concept of professionalism i construct only exists for my audience. there's no fooling myself with this stuff, it's all i have and all i do and the only difference is that sometimes people pay me for it so it becomes "work", but not the kind i get to clock out of at 5pm on weekdays. if i'm going to talk about what i'm going through and be open about my feelings at all and encourage people to see me as a living breathing person, it inherently is going to make me look like i'm also complaining about my job, because my job is to make art and my art (paid or not) conveys a part of who i am. i cannot present myself as brand-safe and a human being at the same time, at least not without driving myself (more) insane

anyways this isn't an essay or anything, i don't have a conclusion? thank you for being here i guess. i feel like i'm at least breathing like 5% easier after getting all that rambling out of me, so that's something at least? i will now go buckle down and try to finish my remaining art obligations and then hopefully when that's done i will make a responsible choice and wait long enough before piling more work onto myself to just like. breathe for a sec and seriously consider if there's perhaps a better way to be doing what i'm doing so it does not make me crumble into dust. and also maybe pick like ONE life-shattering realization or crisis to poke at a little bit, if i feel up to it. hey btw did you know this whole post was originally going to just be a very short one where i half-jokingly reflected on the possibility that i might actually be autistic, but then started thinking way too much about why my brain refuses to latch onto that thought and keeps pushing it aside with a big stick labeled "who cares, i'm tired" and this post happened instead. yeah. anyways that's the most recent small addition to The Pile in case you were curious, yippee

[becauseimanicequeen]

Timelines and the Color Red in 4 Minutes

(I've already published this in a reblog of my timelines post. However, since I know not everyone has the energy to read through all that (since it's basically three long-ass posts so far), I've decided to add this in a separate post as well.)

First, let me summarize my thoughts on the timelines so far so that you have an idea of what I've been thinking these past 4-5 episodes. (Also, I've highlighted my theories in purple so that you can choose to ignore them if they want, lol.)

I still believe there have been at least 3 timelines present so far:

The present timeline.

The 4-minute timeline (which is Great's do-over timeline).

The real past/Tonkla's timeline.

I also still believe that both Great and Tyme are having OOBEs (and a possible third character), and that we will now get to see Tyme's perspective on what's happened. In other words, I will most likely add another timeline to my list at the end of this post.

How I've been able to see/notice the different timelines so far, has been primarily through:

The clocks/watches and the times they display.

The difference between Great's environment before vs after his 4-minute phenomenons (4MPs).

Details that change throughout the scenes (like items and their positions, lamp colors, etc.).

I won't go into detail about these two aspects in this particular post because I want to focus on something else this time. However, we did get to see the clock move to 11:03, first on Great's wall:

And then on the news:

There was also the way Great's mom talked to him before vs after he had his vision of her getting shot. Before he was sent back, she was almost pleading for him to apologize to his dad, while after he was sent back, she was more commanding. Also, as he came back, the gunman was ready to shoot before Great even had a chance to leave his mom and drive off, the way he did before his visions.

(This moment of precognition was very different to his previous ones, btw. This time, he only saw the things happening rather than "living" them.)

There also continue to be the smaller details that tell me there are different timelines/realities at play. Like the things on Chanin's desk in the scene where Samarn went behind Korn's back vs in the scene when Korn is scolded by both his dad and Great's mom:

The lion figurine is facing the wall behind the desk in the first scene while it's facing the room in the second, and the framed family portrait is on Chanin's right-hand side in the first scene and on his left-hand side in the second. (Those two items in the second scene are placed in the same positions as they were in the 1st episode when Korn walked into his dad's office to talk about his new position at the company, btw.)

In other words, this episode was also consistent with the time, the differences in the before vs after Great's precognitions (even though this one was different than the 4MPs), and the other details to show us that different timelines/realities are at play.

With that out of the way, though, I want to focus on something entirely different in this post. It's still related to the timelines, obviously.

I want to see if a theory I have about a specific color is true or not, and if that specific color can help us figure out the backbone of the story (about the core events of the story). In other words, I have a theory that may (or may not) tell us which of the events we've seen in Great's 4-minute timeline so far also happened in the real past.

So, in this post, I'm going to go back for a moment before I make some predictions of where we might be heading in the next episode and onwards.

But, first, I need to emphasize Den's research, and especially what he reiterated in the 5th episode: What people go through during their cardiac arrests varies because of their experiences.

In other words, if what we've seen so far has been Great's OOBE (which I believe), then it means that (most of) what we've seen so far was his interpretation of what really happened (as well as filler content of stuff he might've wished had happened, but I won't focus on that here). And now that we're going to get Tyme's perspective (at least I believe we will, in one way or another), that will be colored by his experiences and be his side of the story (and possible filler content from him as well).

We've all heard the saying that "there are two sides to the story", which is true. But that doesn't mean either side is completely forthcoming about what really happened because the truth is usually somewhere between those two (or more) sides. But that doesn't mean there isn't at least some truth in the two (or more) sides of the story.

I want to focus on that middle ground in this post. Specifically, if the color red tells us which scenes are the backbone of the story. So, let's get into it.

Does the Red Reveal What Happened in the Real Past?

I think we all know that the color red is often used to indicate the red thread of fate (mostly in Asian media). Where I'm from (northern Europe) we also have a red thread saying, but it's used more as a synonym for theme. For example, an essay can have a good red thread if the theme throughout the essay is clear and concise.

Red is also a great color to use to capture attention (which mine was as soon as I saw the trailer). So, I've been tracking the red (and other colors) throughout the show so far to figure out if it had a specific meaning. (I even made posts for the red in episode 1 and in episode 2.)

It might.

And, it might not.

But, let's go with Great's idea and start connecting the dots with the red...

My theory as I go into this is that the red shows us the things in that middle ground I wrote about above. Those scenes/events might be the backbone of the timelines that are at play. Let's see if that's a hit or miss (or somewhere in between).

I will only focus on a few major scenes from the currently released episodes and mostly focus on Great and Tyme's part of the story (because I only have 30 images to play with, which is giving me a headache, btw). So, let's start from the beginning and go through it in chronological order of the episodes.

When Tyme is shot in the first episode, there's a red light behind the shooter:

And when the patient is flatlining in the same episode (whom I believe is Great), red lights are blinking:

Whether everything we've seen so far was triggered by these events or if these events were triggered by something else, Tyme being shot and that patient flatlining is at the core of the story.

Then we see Great and Korn's dad wearing red when he gives Korn the responsibility of managing the illegal gambling sites:

That surely happened in the real past as well, right?

Chanin also wears that same outfit during the family dinner later on in the episode. And while I don't believe Manee survived in the real past, I do believe the dinner happened, it's just that the conversation would've been different.

Then we have Great, who hit Manee with his car, where the seats have red lines on them:

So far so good, right?

Then there are red roses when Tyme gets home and jokes about Coachella:

He and his grandmother also eat from porcelain plates with red flowers on them when we find out Tyme's motivation for becoming a surgeon (to make a better life for his grandmother and himself), which I'm sure was part of the real past. (Unless Great, in his OOBE state, made up the story about Tyme's parents being murdered by his dad...)

Then we have Lukwa, who carries something red the first time she enters Den's office to talk about her own cardiac arrest experience.

She clearly has an important role in the story since she's the woman in that gallery with the red lights where Great saw her. (Perhaps it's the red from that gallery that spills into the story to show us what the key events are?)

I will forego the legendary Tonkla by the lighthouse opening of the 2nd episode where he has blood splattered across his face because I feel like that's the future from our current vantage point, and right now I'm more focused on looking at the things that could've happened in the real past.

Dome clearly saw what happened between Title and View in front of that red trashcan (with a 4 on it, btw):

Which led into this scene where we have the red lights from the car plus the red blood when Title kills Dome:

Considering I think that most of Tonkla's timeline (at least in the beginning) is the real past, Dome was definitely killed.

There are also red folders on the desk Win is leaning against when Tonkla comes in to identify his brother's body:

Which is probably how they met in the real past as well.

And then we have the red Aston Martin Great parks as Title barges in and accuses Great of betraying him:

Now, what's interesting about this scene is that it only seems like Great is in the timeline where he saved Dome while Title isn't. First of all, Title already had that bruise on his face when Great got into his car that night he killed Dome:

The other side of his face doesn't even display any evidence that Great clobbered him with the rock. That's why (apart from the red) I believe this scene happened in the real past as well. It's just that, in the real past, Title was pissed at Great for betraying him about something else rather than saving Dome.

Then we have the hacker attack, which turned their screens into a multitude of reds:

Then we have the shareholder with the red umbrella who was, more than likely, shot in the real past as well. What impact he may or may not have on the story remains to be seen. But I still wanted to mention him here (even though I'm saving on the image limit with this one, lol).

Then there's the red tea Tyme gave to Great:

Which he might've given Great in the real past to get closer to him (due to his family) rather than telling him to check his wound at the hospital (which might not even exist in the real past). Great might've taken that as a sweet gesture, which might've been why this scene popped up in his timeline.

After that, we have Great in the red gallery with a mystery woman (which we know is Lukwa):

This is where things might get a little wonky. But, I think this is meant to highlight a connection between Great and Lukwa that happened in the real past, which is why they are both in that (subconscious?) gallery together. That's why I've included it here. (Also, like I mentioned before, what if it's the red from that gallery that spills into the story to show us what the key events are?)

Then we have Great driving Tyme home after their claw machine date in his red car:

I don't necessarily believe they had a claw machine date at the mall in the real past, but I do believe Great drove Tyme home after a possible date at some point.

Then there's the red light as Tyme walks out of the operating room:

That leads into the scene outside where Tyme tells Great to get out of his sight (before the 4MP changes things). The way Tyme acted in that scene (before the 4MP) was a lot more like the Tyme we saw in the 1st episode than Great's rizzless version of Tyme. So, that might've been the real past Tyme bleeding through in that particular scene.

Then we also have Tonkla's red cat collar, which goes even further back in time as he buried his cat while at Uni, but also now that he's thinking back to that time when he and Korn started their relationship/situationship:

Both those scenes (burying the cat, which leads to his thing with Korn, and looking at that collar after having a fight with Korn and fucking Win) could've happened in the real past.

Why do I think this matters to the story, though? And why do I believe it's part of the backbone of the story? Well, I'm basing this off my theory that Title is Fasai's brother. If that's true, there's a chance that Title knew about Dome's brother (Tonkla) being Korn's "toy" (as Fasai put it). That could very well be the reason Title clearly hates Dome as much as he does. And it all started with Tonkla burying that cat at Uni.

Then there's the blood around Nan as she's held captive and is beaten (and later shot):

Which, in the real past, might've led to Great and Korn fleeing town in Great's red car:

And considering we still haven't seen the scene from the trailer where they're lying in a boat out on the water (which I think is at the same glamping site as at the beginning of the 5th episode), they're probably going back there again in Tyme's timeline. And if they're going back there, there's a big chance it happened in the real past as well (since both characters are imagining it).

The same goes for when they returned to the city in Great's red car. They likely returned to different circumstances in the real past, but they must've returned either way.

Then there are the red features on the news as they report about the accusations against Great's dad and his company (which can be seen in an image above).

I'm sure the evidence Tyme had gotten on the illegal gambling sites leaked somehow in the real past as well (it might've been Tyme who did it, which might've led to Great and his mom being shot).

Then we have the sign on Tyme's place saying "House for rent" in red letters:

Whether he (in the real past) left because Chanin bribed him or because he just wanted to take his grandmother somewhere safer is up for debate.

But at least I'm pretty sure Great was shot (and, most likely, his mom too):

Just look at that red splatter.

This is as far as we've come in the show right now.

So, does it make sense that the red tells us what happened in the real past and/or which events are the backbone of the story? Yes.

Do I think I cracked a code or something? Not really.

But it does make me eager to keep tracking the red in the remaining episodes to see if it will keep being the red thread of the real past/the backbone of the story or if any pitfalls will come up.

Now, let's move on to my predictions of what might come in the coming episodes.

Jewelry, Clothes, and Bruises

At first, I was going to write about the jewelry after the 5th episode because I've been tracking them (besides clocks/time, numbers, and color, to name a few things) since the start, and I think it will play a role now that the show is moving toward Tyme's perspective instead. But, @yakdee wrote amazingly about the jewelry in this post, which means I don't have to. I recommend you read that post first.

To that post, I want to add that the 5th episode ended with Tyme wearing the clothes he was wearing when he was shot in the 1st episode (he also doesn't wear any jewelry in the scene when he's shot):

Is he still in Great's timeline here, running towards his own death so he can have his own OOBE, or is he in the real past?

Or, a third option, perhaps he's in both at the same time, which could be indicated by the bruise on Tyme's nose that he had in the 1st episode when he was shot (image above), which also showed up every other time the lights flickered in the last scene in the 5th episode:

Perhaps the spinning of the camera in that last scene was to show these two versions merging together. Perhaps it showed one Tyme ending while the other Tyme beginning. Or, perhaps it just showed that everything is upside down.

Now, whichever version of Tyme it is that gets shot, I believe that will be the trigger that moves the show into Tyme's perspective of whatever happened in the past. Because I do believe we will be sent back into the past again (somehow) since there are scenes from the trailer that haven't yet shown up and yet would've chronologically happened in the past from our current vantage point (I'll get back to these in a bit).

(I would personally argue that the Tyme with the bruise is the Tyme from the real past. I also believe it's that version of him we'll see get shot in the next episode like we did in the 1st episode, and that will be the trigger that sends us into his OOBE timeline.)

In other words, this is where I believe we're headed.

Tyme's Timeline

I've had the theory for a while that Tyme is having an OOBE as well because there are times when the thunder has broken through into the events we've seen, which I think is his real present reality bleeding through (the thunderstorm at the abandoned place where he was shot in the 1st episode).

So, what can we expect from Tyme's timeline? Or, what will I keep my eyes open for when (if?) we get Tyme's timeline?

Again, considering the things Den commented about in his research, it's obvious that the person from which perspective we're seeing is coloring the narrative.

We might be getting a completely different vibe going forward when seeing things from Tyme's perspective. And just like @yakdee wrote in that post, there's still the scene at the bar from the trailer as well as the sex scenes Great had visions of. The vibe in those scenes is very different (in my opinion) from what we've seen so far from Great's perspective.

There's also this scene of them lying in that boat out on the water:

Which I believe is at the same countryside/glamping site they were at in Great's timeline.

We know that these scenes will show up at some point and we'll likely get to see them from Tyme's perspective, which will be an interesting contrast to Great's.

Also, from a color perspective, Great's OOBE timeline had him in white and Tyme in black for the most part (that might not change very much in Tyme's OOBE timeline, but it's definitely something I'll keep my eyes on). Just look at that image of them in the boat, though. Great is wearing primarily dark clothes with a white jacket while Tyme (who has basically only worn black clothes excluding his doctor's robe, his gray clothes when visiting Great's Uni, and the clothes he wore when he was shot) is wearing a black shirt and white pants... (Also, look at the yin and yang they're creating lying there in that boat. It's just so visually stunning.) That's super interesting to me.

I will keep tracking clocks/time, the color red (and other colors), numbers, more tilting camera shots (which also appeared in this episode, but I don't have the brainpower, or the images left, to write about that right now), and more as the show continues.

So, if I'm to summarize the major timelines right now, they would be:

The present timeline (where Great and Tyme are dying).

The 4-minute timeline (which is Great's do-over timeline).

The real past/Tonkla's timeline (which may be the same timeline or have diverged into separate ones as the show has progressed).

And the addition I think we'll get in the next episode: Tyme's timeline (which may get another name if he also develops a supernatural ability).

I can't wait to watch the next episode and see how wrong I am.

Is it Friday, yet?

[diminuel]

A "small" continuation of Angst thoughts.

I would like to add hurt/comfort is my fave thing lol, so I’m gonna expand a bit more on my first thoughts.

I think during the pregnancy, Crocodile is less resentful to the baby and more resentful towards Dragon. (I know my wording made it sound like he hates the baby, but I don’t actually think that.)

There was just a lot of hurt and complicated emotions going on at that time. I don’t think he could ever truly hate his baby. It was just more hate towards Dragon, for leaving him with this, and not considering what he truly needed.

Crocodile probably just viewed the baby more apathetically. Not wanting to get too attached with how unsure his future looked. He was probably just in this autopilot mode.

I think the birth made him snap out of it a bit, maybe he did want to be a parent, maybe he could work things out with Dragon, but Dragon took his choice out of it. Even if he wanted to try, he couldn’t. So this part of his life was dead to him now.

Marineford was a BIG moment for Crocodile. I think Iva would have put things together quick after Luffy told them who he was. With how close Iva and Dragon are, there’s no way Iva didn’t know about Crocodile and their relationship. But Dragon kept the pregnancy a very close secret. I think partly because of the shame and guilt he feels about how things played out. Maybe he doesn’t want to hear Iva say the things he already knows. So Iva being unaware of Crocodile thinking his baby is dead, but putting the pieces together, probably tried to subtly hint to Crocodile he knows Luffy is his kid.

All of that flies over Crocodile’s head, in his mind his baby is dead. It’s more likely that Dragon knocked someone else up and just had another kid. Maybe Crocodile doesn’t even want to acknowledge the possibility of his baby being alive, ESPECIALLY that baby being alive as Luffy, the kid he tried to kill in Alabasta. To find out Dragon lied to him to think his baby was dead, and was actually Luffy this whole time. AAAAAHHH big shit right there.

I think he eventually puts the pieces together, but probably knows it would be really random to suddenly be all over Luffy. So does his best to protect him and his brother during Marineford. Seeing Luffy so emotionally hurt when Ace dies probably felt like a punch to the gut for Crocodile. I like to think Iva and Crocodile are pretty decent friends. So after everything happens at Marineford maybe they meet up, and have a heart-to-heart. Crocodile drops the bomb that he didn’t know Luffy was his kid or even alive, and that he almost actually killed him. Iva then has a very strongly worded call with Dragon and kicks the shit out of him next time they meet.

I'm not sure Dragon and Crocodile could truly ever rekindle a relationship, but I do think they could get to a less hostile point. It would just take a lot of healing.

Also, sidenote, I think Crocodile finding out how Luffy was raised was just another thing added to the shit list on Dragon. Like Imagine you find out the baby you had wasn't dead, and wasn't even taken care of by the man who told you it was dead. Just tossed to the side to be raised by some bandits in the mountains and by his crazy ass marine grandfather.

;w; (Here's the previous post.)

Yeah, I think it's really difficult for Crocodile to get over the fact that Dragon took the choice away from him. I think Iva would ultimately understand why Dragon did what he did (after some explosive anger of course) since they've known Dragon for so long, but they would still feel with Crocodile. And they'd probably try to bridge the gap between all these people because they get tired of all the moping.

I'm a hopeless person so I think Dragon and Crocodile could eventually make peace with the situation and move forward. I mean the resentment would be on Crocodile's side so he would have to be able to overcome that hurt (and the anger and really, Dragon? Mountain bandits and your crazy ass marine grandfather?! Crocodile has had the misfortune of being sent on Warlord missions with the guy.) Whether Dragon would have held on to whatever love he had for Crocodile or if he stopped caring is another question.

(They definitely have to meet and fight it out. Maybe they could have hate sex about it too I don't know. Sorry. Sending myself to jail. )

[mistypsych]

ANATOMY OF A CRIMINAL - CHAPTER 8

/ yoongi / suga / agust d /

summary: as a doctor you never expected to be dragged into “the criminal life”, nothing and no one seems to be true anymore, your whole world turns upside down after you save him.

pairings: yoongi mob boss x f.reader x non idol bts members.

warnings: smut, guns, knives, stabbings, blood, gore, murders, drugs, criminals, gang life, medical emergency, illness, abuse, swearing, angst, dubcon, gang violence, corruption, manipulation, lies, cheating - 18+ minors dni.

Note: Hi! This is an attempt of writing a fanfic long after not writing anything at all. Please keep in mind English is no longer my first language and it might be a bit rusty at times. Comments and thoughts are well appreciated. Don’t hesitate to ask questions, state your thoughts for me to post up and have me add you to the tag list!

Sorry it took me a while to post this chapter. It isn’t too long but I didn’t want to leave you all hanging without anything. I had a lot of things to handle - family visit threw the holidays as well as I met someone and got into a relationship - first time since a couple years. Work has also been busy so I hope you guys will forgive my absence! I will try and post more frequently now! Please comment. Your words always are motivating!

The dead toned beep of the ended phone call rang in your ears mercilessly. Taking a couple seconds to compose yourself after Yoongis brutal truth, you looked at the mirror and took in a deep, sharp breath. Shaking your head, you grabbed at the bridge of your nose. This was all getting chaotic and you did not like that fact at all.

You’ve always lead a quite composed life. Yes your work was complicated and very intense at times but outside of that you lead a peaceful life up until now. Up until you got dragged into this fucking mess by your best friend. Up until you found out your fiancé was a liar and cheater. Up until you screwed Agust-D, or should you say - it was more like he screwed you.

Walking into the hot shower you tried to get rid of all those invasive thoughts. Your brain kept playing scenes of the black eyed gangsters lips attacking all of your skin, all of those sensitive parts, all the places that mattered. Your hands wiped down your face as if trying to toss off all the images together with the water droplets. This was not going to be an easy task. Sleeping with the long haired brunette just made your already complicated situation even more messed up.

Once you were wiping your body off with the soft towel you let out yet again another frustrated sigh. Knowing you had to get out of the bathroom and face Hoseok angered you. All you wanted to do was punch him in the face and break his perfect little nose. The vision of having to keep this relationship going for the greater good and to put his ass behind bars wasn’t in any way ideal for you. But it had to be done. You knew in the long run this was they only thing that would make up for all the heartache he put you threw.

You let your still wet hair drop on your shoulders. Wrapping yourself up in a comfortable bathrobe you walked out hesitantly. The smell of freshly made breakfast, deliciously tickled your nostrils. Well at least he was good for some things - you muttered soundlessly to yourself.

Stepping in the kitchen you saw the cheater himself hovering over some pans, while humming some tune. You used to love this view, you used to watch him quietly with a big smile on your face. These gestured used to matter. Now all they did was poke a deep hole in your heart. You could not help but feel as if dead inside towards the one you thought you’d end up spending your life with.

As if on queue Hoseok turned to you with a plated meal and a sweet smile on his face.

“Sit love” he said with a hum while placing the dish on the table. You felt you stomach clench while you braved yourself to put on the best fake loving face you could. “Thanks… hun…” you said a bit hesitantly, what he picked up right away.

Sighing loudly he looked at you with sad eyes and said “Hey… I know lately it has been rough… and I work a lot… and I don’t give you the attention you deserve. But that will change soon babe, I promise…” he whispered while leaning down to kiss your temple.

It took all of your impulse control not to push away from him. Forcing yourself to take the kiss you said quietly “Yea… it has been rough…”. After your words fell, he gave you a worried look. Knowing you well he decided not to continue this topic. Instead he gave you another peck and told you to eat up while he makes coffee.

Your eyes turned to the back of his head as he brewed the caffeinated liquid. You wished you could burn a hole in his skull, purely by your gaze. Giving up on that ridiculous thought, you focused on your food. You had to eat. You had work this afternoon. You didn’t want to feel weak and tired. Work was about the only thing that still made sense in your life. All the rest seemed to be going down in flames.

Once your fiancé put a cup in front of you, you gladly grabbed at it. Keeping yourself occupied and your mouth full was the best option to avoid senseless talk. You were only willing to answer what you had planned for the day. You really didn’t want to force the conversation. Thankfully Hobi seemed to think all the tension was coming from his lack of time and his hectic work schedule. Who were you to correct him? Even if you wanted you couldn’t. You had a deal with Jimin. The vision of the cheating bastard in front of you, being set behind bars was the only thing that kept you sane.

When you finished up your meal, you decided to do the dishes. You didn’t want to seem too upset. It was a usual with the two of you. When one cooked the other took care of the dishes. The brainless action made you zone out. The bubbles on your hand felt oddly relaxing. As you were about to calm down from all the anger your felt a pair of hands wrap around your waist.

You took in a sharp breath and get tense right away. It was something you could not control. It was just a natural reaction of your body to the touch of someone who you saw as a traitor. “Are you that displeased with me?” he asked, his lips almost touching your ear. Anxiety was attacking your nerve system mercilessly. You had to swallow the big ball that formed in your throat before you spoke “It just had been very awkward between us… that’s all…”.

Shaking his head slightly he kept on hugging you “I know baby… and I wanna fix it… you know what they say… good sex can cure many arguments…” hearing those words you felt your stomach flip. The last thing you were feeling up to was going to bed with this asshole. But did you have much choice? This was your thing. You guys used to use the act of desire take over you when in disputes. You didn’t want to raise red flags and have him suspicious of your behavior. There was so much at stake.

An idea popped in your head. You could use the fact he clearly wanted to sway you, please you. This was your way to get threw this. Turning around slowly you gave him a dark smile. Your brain automatically switching to imagine someone else was standing in front of you. “Is that so? You want to fix the situation?” you asked with a deeper voice and he nodded in agreement.

“Then get on your knees and please me. Since you didn’t have time to give me attention lately… today will be all about me…” you voice was sultry and tainted with a darkness you never let out yet. Hoseok was clearly taken aback for a second, completely not expecting such a thing from you. But you were right, he did want to sway your mood. So he smiled gently while dropping down slowly to his knees.

His long fingers grabbed at your shorts and pulled them down. You closed your eyes imagining it was those digits covered in rings doing this to you. At this moment you were great full for having a good imagination. You needed it to survive this, to take pleasure from it.

When you felt the hot breath hit your core, you bit down on your lip, visioning it was the dark haired mobster in front of you. The image of Agust-D on his knees made you soaked in seconds. “God you’re getting wet…” Jung gasped, his voice distracting you a bit, so you shushed him with a “Get to it then…”.

Once you felt his tongue on your clit you almost jumped. The next movements and sucking making you almost moan Yoongis name. He was right. You would be thinking of him… fuck you were already and this was the only thing making you enjoy the moment. It didn’t take you long to jump over the edge. Biting down on your tongue you made sure to not scream the name of another.

Luckily for you, your fiancé was so out of it all and happy with himself, he believed everything between you was ok for now. The fact he had to head out to work soon, was just the cherry on top of the cake. You on the other hand had time to get ready for the afternoon and think about how Yoongi read right threw you. His words from your last phone call echoed in your brain. Shaking your head you mumbled to yourself - Stop. This needs to stop. I am just gonna use what happened to imagine things, to survive around Hoseok as long as I need to.

The little pep talk was supposed to set you straight. You decided you would never give into temptation again. You’d never jump into the arms of a gangster. You couldn’t. He was bad news. Or maybe bad news was him. It was hard to decided which of the two was correct. But the fact was - this man was danger and it was best to stir clear of him. So that is what you planned on doing.

Work was going well for you even tho you didn’t get to have the shift with your friend. But maybe that was better. That way you could focus on the job and not risk falling into discussing the whole gang situation. Your phone was silent as well. No messages from you soon to be ex. No one to bother your. No one to disturb your flow.

You were telling lucky to have a couple of light surgeries scheduled. They were just basic procedures. You did not need to think too much about what you were doing. You were great full that you enjoyed your job. That it was left undisturbed. That it could be your anchor to sanity. You could lose yourself in it. Forget about all the other chaos. Just be present in the moment. Just focus on your hand work, on what needed to be done. Nothing else mattered then and there.

The wrecked mood from the morning switched to a content and relaxed on. The evening was nice. You decided you’d take a walk home. You lived not too far away. Some exercise would do you well. Taking out your phone you thought for a moment and texted Jungkook. You wanted to check if maybe he was out drinking in some of the bars close by. You’d gladly join him then.

While walking and awaiting and answer from your coworker, your turned into one of the allies to take a shortcut. It was still not that late and usually the are was safe. All seemed to be the same this time. That was until a black SUV appeared at the other end. Stopping in your tracks you felt the flight or fight mode sweep over your body.

Clenching your hands on the purse strap you were thinking on what to do. Once the doors of the car opened, you were ready to run. But suddenly the well known gravely voice hit the air.

“Didn’t your parents teach you allies tend to be dangerous?” he chuckled a bit at his own words clearly enjoying he gave you a scare.

Your feet became heavy. It was as if the got cemented to the ground. A shiver ran over your spine. Standing there you stared as the brunet slowly made his way to you. The heels of his elegant shoes clicking over the ground. The sound bounced off the bricked walls. It all seemed just like in the movies. The hunter walking over to his helpless prey.

As he came close he tossed the end of his cigaret to the grown and blew out the last smoke your way. You felt your knees becoming weak. This guys was something else. Everything about him was screaming danger, but somehow you couldn’t move, you couldn’t run, you just stood there, your eyes glued to him.

“I told you we’d meet again Y/N… and you owe me a morning…” clearing your throat you finally spoke “Do I? I don’t recall anything about spending the mornings with you in our agreement…” the words made him leans his head back and laugh. “What a mouth you have…” he spat out and grabbed your face with his hand. Pushing down on your cheeks. His black eyes piercing right threw your soul. “I have better use for it then starting up discussions…” his voice was low and coated with something you could not put your finger on. Was it desire?

The next thing you knew, you were pinned to the cold wall, his face inches from yours. As you were about to speak, he silenced you with his lips.

tags: @wobblewobble822 @nansasa @nochook @kootieful @kooslilhoe @yoongisducky @xjiminsthighsx @danielle143 @llallaaa @idkjustlovingbts @darcyw16 @missusally-blog @honsoolgloss @nochuel @kaitieskidmore1 @starrlo0ver @geek-lara-nerd @jwnghyuns @xyahrinx @acquiescence804 @prettytaesworld @i-have-three-feelings @citypop-princess

[croquettish]

Hiiiii!! Ive been reading your asks and damn finally people who write essays too! I always get a little insecure when i get all literature geek on others and write whole ass books in the comments/asks analysing EVERYTHING. Bane of being beaten with critical thinking for years during class.

But to the point!! Hans and his desperate attempt to look The Perfect Heterosexual Man. I think part of it that hasnt been mentioned is his need to get hanushs approval. You know like people with daddy issues. He wants it so bad but the only thing he ever does is dissapoint him, which makes his mental health worse. He IS useless and pathetic and a failure of a man and an heir and a friend and- everything. Thats why henry is so perfect for him, he WILL tell hans how much he worths and how smart and capable and a good friend and a good leader he is until the day he dies (or until hans believes him. But then again not like that would stop henry). I also think hans has a lot of spite in him, for himself and when he is lashing out, for others.

An other point that was brought up was the line in the pillory where henry says he can take hans' anger. And it hits hans not just because he is afraid henry will leave him but because he realises at that point just what he is doing. Henry not just able to take it he WILL take it if it makes hans feel better after. But of course he can. He survived skalitz. He lost everybody and everything dear to him and yet he is still here, still smiling and being kind and understanding. Taking hans shit even if he bitches about it too. Staying by his side no matter what. (Like a loyal dog who would sooner gawn his own leg off then to turn away from his lord). Henry has taken so much already yet he is here willingly taking on hans' anger and spite and his lashing out and he is Hurting henry but henry doesnt care. Only hans matters to him and it makes hans feel soooo much worse. It hurts like nothing else and pushing henry away is even worse, but what can he do? This is just how it is. How its supposed to be, and will be forever. He is drinking poison but whats the worse that can happen? He dies? Not like anyone would miss him. Certainly not hanush. Surely henry can get over it easily too. Thats why it breaks my heart when they meet again at the wedding and hans is so genuinely shocked that henry is still there. That he was looking for him.

Another funny thing about him being Very Heterosexual is the whole ass bath scene. Like its soooo bro behaviour to go bathing with your friend. And the first scene of kcd2 he just goes Henry!! Strip right now!! We are going to be silly and play in the river!! :D soooo no homo. The whole ah! I sense women! Part is After they went in. It wasnt about spying on them originally but then the whole scene has this vibe that makes you think it was. Plus the scene when he asks henry if theyre going to fight with their cocks if you go to him sword fighting in your underwear enough....like bro. Why are you thinking about that. Why is that on your mind hans. Is sword fighting a metaphor for sex for you or something.

And after he realises his feeling he is so scared. Of loosing henry. Of ruining everything. But he also so so so very brave for doing it anyway. And his face when henry rejects him!! I was shot dead. Its was like his life was over. The anguish!! Ughhhhhh.

Anywaaay. I tried to be coherent but english isnt my native language 🥲 Have a lovely day!!

Long responses my beloved. I'm fairly certain that this is the result of a) academia and b) my brain making up for my time on twitter. Like I can finally?? add NUANCE to things?? Don't mind if I do!

Anyway, this ask made me realize that I desperately need to put up a pinned post of sorts where I list all the meta I've written. Like yeah there's the kcd meta tag but much like the kcd memes tag it has become ungodly long to sift through and I wouldn't want to subject anyone to that labor (and it would be a fucking labor).

The reason I bring it up is because I actually have spoken at some length about Hans' relationship with Hanush and how his desperate desire to please him is intertwined with everything else in his life. Henry is the one thing that can sort of… dislodge that need. It's yet another reason why he's so afraid of losing Henry. The alternative to Henry is a full descent back into a self-loathing he's been trying so hard to claw his way out…

(It's entirely possible that you're just doing a "yes and" here, in which case I apologize!! It's entirely possible that you didn't need that link at all <3)

Your read on them at the wedding is actually slightly different from mine. I don't read him as surprised that Henry was there and looking for him, he always struck me as bitter.

HEAR ME OUT

Had to go digging for some of my earlier meta. We know that this is his mentality throughout the divorce arc. He convinces himself that he's not good enough for Henry regardless of what Henry says. And that emotion stays with him even at the wedding.

The other aspect here (and the reason why I said he felt bitter) can be seen here, from conversation with him during their divorce arc: Hans wanted, more than anything else, to be the path for Henry to get into the wedding. Hans wants, more than anything else in the world, to be needed. If you need me, you won't leave me. But Henry is so self-reliant. Of course he doesn't need him. It's always the other way around.

You also nailed some of those bits that pinged my comphet gay man radar. The FEMALES! bit is so over the top I could not believe what I was seeing. Even just in that whole sequence he does indeed keep bringing up Henry's junk. He's covering so hard and it's equal parts hilarious and deeply sad.

You mentioned Hans' expression after his perceived rejection, but here is where I feel obligated to make sure that you've seen the gif that made me literally cry irl when I looked at it too long. Because it's so much worse than the faces we see in game. Holy shit.

Wishing you a lovely day as well!!!

[pforestsims]

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08.04.2024 - Bar worktop OMSP was edited and now it doesn't block bar functions, I also added second (1 slot) bar OMSP for the lower shelf.

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*If you use RPC you probably haven't experienced the blue shadow flashing but I recommend you update the sconce package anyway.

Old updates list is HERE<<

[alystar00]

Hello everyone

So, I made some posts about Kingdom of Fantasy and now I will tell you more about the Italian editions (also compared to the English ones) for those who are curious.

Let's start with this. In Italy right now we have two editions of KoS: the original hard cover one and the paperback one that is the reprint of the hard cover one.

I have the hard cover ones so I went to see how are the new ones. A couple of things are missing:

- the scented pages: the original hard cover books have at least one scented page for volume. For example, in the first book Geronimo and Scribacchius / Scribblehopper change kingdom going through a gemstone: well, in the hard cover edition those gemstones are scented (I don't remember every scent, but if you are curious about it I will make a post when I am back home with the books) (Anyway I will give a second look about this at the stores because I looked at the new covers online and it says there ARE scented pages. I am confused)

- the small glossary at the end of the books. Almost every KoS book has some pages at the end of the book with various topics, from worldbuilding stuff (my favourite is the life of books from the fifth adventure probably) to little games for kids to mythical stuff and so on. They are not essential for the story but it's interesting. Again, I don't have the books with me, so if anyone is curious I'll add things another day

These things should be missing also from the English editions. I am sorry.

There are then three things that changed:

- The Geronimo Stilton logo. This is not really a surprise, they updated it since the drawing style changed since the start of the series.

- The style of the title (the new one is... Fancier, I'd say? You can see it below)

- The drawings on the covers! They were updated as well! So I can recognize the books but I also see that there is something off! Luckily the pictures inside didn't change.

And about this: did you know that the English and the Italian covers of the books are different? I found out about this doing that long ass list of names of the characters both in Italian and English (link). Not only the English books have an "actual title" (while the Italian books are just called like "Third voyage in the Kingdom of Fantasy"), they also have different drawings (not all of them but many of them)! It made me confused af I swear.

So to make things clear for me and everyone else, behold! The list of covers (Italian hard cover, Italian paperback, English edition)!

First book (The italian one says "In the Kingdom of Fantasy"):

Second book (Italian title: "Second voyage in the Kingdom of Fantasy: The Pursuit of Happyness"):

I didn't noticed that in the Italian paperback the second title was removed. Also, THE ENGLISH ONE IS OUR FIRST ONE! WHAT!!

Third book (Italian title: "Third Voyage in the Kingdom of Fantasy"):

What happened to the English edition???

Fourth book (Italian title: "Fourth Voyage in the Kingdom of Fantasy"):

There are all different alright

Fifth book (Italian title: "Fifth Voyage in the Kingdom of Fantasy"):

I have many questions about the English editions but maybe it's better if I don't know what is going on :')

Sixth book (Italian title: "Sixth Voyage in the Kingdom of Fantasy"):

Seventh book (Italian title: "Seventh Voyage in the Kingdom of Fantasy"):

Eighth book (Italian title: "Eighth Voyage in the Kingdom of Fantasy"):

Ninth book (Italian title: "Ninth Voyage in the Kingdom of Fantasy"):

The tenth and eleventh books in Italian have the same cover as hard cover and paperback (Italian titles: "Tenth / Eleventh Voyage in the Kingdom of Fantasy"):

Yes I am aware that the English one is the twelfth of the series and not the eleventh. From what I could gather, it happened because in English they gave a number to the books in chronological order, but in Italian we have eleven "normal" adventures AND the arc that starts with Il Grande Ritorno nel Regno della Fantasia / The Phoenix of Destiny and ends with I Custodi del Regno della Fantasia / The Keepers of the Empire.

I can't add more images so to add the last covers I should put them in a reblog. At least the "normal" series is here all together :)

A little fun fact: for the first book there is also a special edition for the 20th birthday of the book that feature a small extra story. I haven't read it yet, I just know that the pictures are taken from other books xD I was reading the whole series when it came out and I spotted a too much familiar picture when I gave it a look.

(I did this post with only the English and Italian editions. If in other languages there are similar or different things and you want to talk about it, you can do it! I am curious! Both about covers and name characters, since many people are mad about the English translations xD)

[untamedtempest]

CHARACTER SOUNDTRACK

List some songs that give off the Vibes™️of your character, whether it’s something they would listen to or just gives that delicious writing and muse inspo!

 I was Here- Beyonce: I'm 100% sure to the shock of no one I'll say I have multiple Beyonce songs on both Or.oro's personal and many ship playlists. However, I set a rule that I could only include one song of any artist here, and this is less obvious than other songs from her that are on the playlist. It's beautiful and dramatic, and I can picture her saying every line or even putting it to paper as a goodbye of sorts. Goals for her life perfectly put into song by my fav, and one of the oldest songs on the playlist.

We Don't Need Another Hero - Tina Turner: 80s punk, Age of Apocalypse, and many other areas and versions of S.torm. And O.roro is her own damn hero. Also, in canon, O.roro's singing voice has been likened to Tina's AAH! Goddess to goddess, how could you not love it? Plus epic drama feels and just a hint of camp *chef kiss*

Ain't No Stoppin Sunshine- Yoli: First on the playlist. Before I ever started writing anything for her. I heard it while watching Deliver us from Eva and instantly thought of Or.oro. Melody, lyrics, it HER, and it always makes me think about a fav St.orm quote every time I hear it.

 I Like That-Janelle Monáe: Another artists who has multi songs on multi playlists. Her whole being has an Or.oro vibe. Comfy, confident in myself, flaws, contradictions, and all, songs are quite helpful to get into goddess headspace.

Diva Song- Diva Plavalaguna: BEAUTY. DRAMA. SOMETHING TO CRY AND KICK ASS TO = O.RORO. (Yes, I'm aware it's two songs, but they're a masterpiece together. They're O.roro together. )

Believer- Imagine Dragons: I don't add something to the main playlist just for having weather or god/goddess references. Ex I don't have It's Raining Men on there cause the song itself doesn't fit. (Just my opinion. Great song, though. I do have it on a crack playlist for when fun feels are needed.) This FITS. In so many ways, this post would get excessively long explaining, and since this is a vibes list, I'll leave it at good for feels and fight things.

Tagged by: @escapedartgeek , @snkts @asgardianhammer @utsxlevshiy ( i think? Got tagged a few times swiped from a few. Sorry if I mixed up or missed anyone.

Tagging: everyone.