#god or whatever is in heaven make it easy (or fun at least)

[moominmanoneandonly]

My most important exam is tomorrow.

I hope everything goes great.

Pray for me

[dangermousie]

Male Lead-off: Xie Xingchen (The Blossoming Love) v Wu Geng (Burning Flames)

Ah yes, one of my favorite types of posts - pitting two hot tortured men against each other.

But, you may ask, why Burning Flames v TBL. Because despite the vast difference in tone, plot and perhaps genre, both the narratives possess a hero who is a royal in the oppressed human race who rebels against unjust gods and gets punished for that, who also has a sliver of himself running around separately and who also has a ride or die girlfriend who is a human version precious substance (crystal v pearl.)

So, let's go!

Enter competitor 1:

And competitor 2:

So, categories:

Daddy:

That's easy. XXC's dad was a pet bunny killer who looked like a prune with a beard, and WG's Dad was basically Spartacus who was hawt enough to nab a celestial wife and looked like this:

Winner: Burning Flames

Girlfriend:

Both of these ladies are ride or die who never waver, both can change the fate of the world, both don't care if ML is aspect, full being of prophecy, royal, not royal, whatever. But only one of these ladies literally stormed heaven for her man. Plus, I am sorry, the BF otp is cute but rather vanilla while between the drama and the novel scenes, we all know XXC and MXL sex life is so hot than it probably creates a fire hazard.

In general, TBL is a romance while BF is about other stuff, so the OTP in general is much more delicious.

Winner: The Blossoming Love

Gang of Friends:

XXC has his frenemy NXY, the Jade Himbo (tm @fake-married-my-dead-fiance), and Miss Gao, plus a bunch of disciples. That's all well and good, but Wu Geng has a lady who rides a unicorn, a hot uncle, an ambiguously evil prince, a cursed city lord (who was a deity hideously punished by other deities for falling in love) and this gentleman:

Also known as Mousie's favorite character in that drama, BDSM Demon Elf Nitian Erxing. I rest my case.

Winner: Burning Flames.

Demon Quality:

Demons in BF are actually noble and oppressed (see sexy gentleman in the cap above) but demons in TBL are awful but that is because SPOILER SPOILER SPOILER (hint - perhaps next time be less psycho, deities and take the deal offered.)

Winner: well, in terms of complexity, BF but in terms of twist and making fun characters to hate, TBL. So tie.

Bad Guys and/or Suckier Set of Deities:

Bad Guys in both dramas are not that exciting, but BF does has this gentleman as the big bad dude in charge:

Barefoot Jeremy Tsui playing divinity leaching color from the world? Oh yes, baby!

Also, while the deities in TBL are unpleasant to say the least, deities in BF are a whole other level of gross and make Romans in Spartacus seem benevolent.

Winner: Burning Flames.

Shirtlessness:

Despite the valiant efforts of Peter Ho's neckline and other assorted small treats, there is no comparison. Have you SEEN Zhang Bin Bin's torso and arms? Chosen of Heaven indeed.

Winner: The Blossoming Love.

BDSM Action (required in a costume cdrama, as per me):

Burning Flames provides plenty - ML becomes a branded slave at one point, BDSM Demon Elf likes begging for punishment etc:

I mean...

However, TBL makes most of its bleeding and tying up explicitly sexy and sexually charged (and if you read the novel, it's deliberate) so

Winner: The Blossoming Love.

FINAL RESULT:

Now that I have tallied these very objective and important categories, the official winner is:

US the Viewers!!!!!

[the-single-element]

Good morning.

Last year, we heard a lot about the nature of the Kingdom of God. In particular, both on the shore of Galilee and the synagogue in Jerusalem, Jesus used a whole flotilla of parables to describe the necessity of readiness. That if we are to enter into the Kingdom, we must be on a hair-trigger to recognize, and take, whatever opportunities to touch it that we can get.

Two weeks ago, we discussed how earthly luxury can get in the way of that readiness. But outside the context of James's startlingly direct preaching… Jesus encouraged us to look around for whatever is making us unready – whatever will prevent us from acting on the insistent urging of the Kingdom. He didn't single out money, at least not yet; the same principle applies much more broadly, even to things we don't buy.

But today, when we read about Jesus talking with a rich and zealous stranger, whose zeal stumbles on the stumbling block of wealth specifically… when Jesus responds by specifically pointing to wealth as hazardous… what's going on?

Why is this, in particular, so hard for us, that even someone as zealous as the man in today's story can't get past it?

Why, in particular, is Jesus so fixated on warning us against it, that he uses this famous imagery of trying to thread a needle with a camel? That his go-to response, his suggestion to this stranger, after being struck with love for him in today's Good News, is to tell him he ought to stop being rich?

Well… why do we want to be rich in the first place?

Money's weird, isn't it? It doesn't do anything on its own. There's only two things you can use it for: spend it on something you actually want, or invest it so it turns into more money.

But that means it's also a kind of mental chameleon. If you want comfort, money is comfort. If you want safety, money is safety. If you want control, money is control. And even when our goals are kind and just and noble… if we see a way to achieve those goals by using money, "getting money" takes on all the shine of the goals we plan to achieve by spending it.

And when we go to invest money, to make money at interest… the same thing happens, except that its chameleon nature becomes more like camoflauge. For the lender, what the borrower does to repay their debt is hidden from sight, forgotten and irrelevant. For the borrower, what the lender would prefer they do is hidden, and all they can think of is, "well, I have to pay my debts, right?"

In both cases, money's strange, unique property is its ability to hide the complexity of life behind a single, numerical value: easy to compare, easy to equate, easy to treat interchangeably with itself… and with many other things in this world.

So why do we want to be rich? Why do we want to have riches? For the fruits of riches. For the things that riches can buy.

Because you can buy food and clothes and a roof over your head. Good medical care. Locks on your doors. In short, you can buy safety – a freedom from the fear of death.

You can buy the nicer things in life – fun, intellectual stimulation. In short, you can buy comfort – an escape from suffering.

And you can even pay people to do and act as you would prefer – to defer to you, to do things your way. You can buy control.

Which of these attracts you most? You can have it, if you want. But that also means giving up money means giving up what you value most. Better to save it, right? Better to keep it aside as extra protection, so you don't lose your treasures later.

In short, there's an internal logic to riches, and to money in particular. And that logic is compelling. And we get practice at thinking by that logic every day of our lives.

And nearly every part of it is at odds with the logic of the Kingdom of Heaven. The simplification of being able to think of human relations in terms of credit and debit is a deathtrap, and attempting to do math with our virtue produces meaningless results. The Kingdom's way of thinking fights tenaciously against the idea that we can use abstractions to ignore the people behind them, and has rejected the basic idea of "interest on loans" – at least within one's own community – even as early as Sinai.

And even beyond all these examples… there's the example of Jesus tempted in the desert. Think back to that moment. Try to remember: what was he tempted with?

Aren't you hungry? Don't you want to be comfortable? Pick back up the power you set aside, and turn these stones into bread. You could do it easily, if you want to.

Aren't you scared of death? Don't you want to be safe? Reclaim the power you relinquished, and summon the angels to protect you from harm. You could do it easily, if you want to.

Aren't you about to spend three years ridiculed and misunderstood? Don't you want to be in charge, in control? Draw forth the power you sheathed to be born in that barn, and conquer the world. You could do it easily, if you want to.

Every single underlying form of bait which leads us to favor Mammon over God… which dulls our response time to those moments where we have to give it all up to buy the Pearl of Great Price… is bait that Jesus, too, had to face. Bait that he had to reject in favor of his mission, there at the very beginning, when he chose to live as a human being… that is, when he chose to feel the same hungers any human knows, rather than sate those hungers by renouncing his humanity.

There's a reason that the Wisdom poet today compares "wisdom" – that is, internalizing and living by God's word, God's logic – against riches and gold.

Jesus understands this. He experienced it himself: both the dreadful allures that riches can dangle in front of us, and the deeper concerns to which they can blind us. So he warns us against even having to face that temptation, cautioning us that it's better to stop being rich than to keep the riches around and risk getting tricked into reasoning by money's logic. At the same time, given his own experience, he admits that if we didn't have God's grace backing us up, if we didn't have the Kingdom of God and its justice to ground ourselves in, then the temptation to defect to something that promises exactly the thing we want would be too great.

But he also gives us good news, today, in the form of a promise of his own: you buy the Pearl of Great Price because you're getting something worth more than everything you gave up. By Mammon's own logic can Mammon be defeated, even if it may bring us controversy and unpopularity until the job is done. And people who are able to take their opportunities and let go of their earthly wealth to store up treasure in Heaven will see their investment pay off.

[go-bonkers-go-foolish]

okay yes episode 6 killed us all and there's a lot about this season to love and talk about and dissect but i wanna talk about episode 2, specifically the temptation scene in the cellar because my friend and i were watching it and it got me thinking

so we saw that crowley was the one who got aziraphale into human food, right? which is a super fun character detail but then i thought, why?

crowley doesn't eat, at least not that we ever see. not in that scene, not in any of the restaurant scenes. like it's almost an unspoken agreement that their "lunches" are going to be aziraphale having lunch and crowley just kinda being there. so it's not like crowley wants someone to share meals with or bond over enjoying food with.

and he was so INSISTENT about aziraphale trying it. and then of course, he does and he loves it.

what i think is that crowley absolutely knew aziraphale would like it, because, like he says, he's "just enough of a bastard to be worth knowing", and he's been like that since day goddamn one. crowley sees right through the holier-than-thou angelic guard that he uses to protect himself (that's mostly made up of guilt and repression), because crowley is the exact same way (but with curiosity instead of material pleasures).

they're both fallible in a way that makes them both incredibly human, in a way that puts them on their own side, and this scene is where aziraphale realizes that crowley and him are alike in this way, and that crowley seeing this aspect of him isn't a bad thing.

being "human" in the way that he is is aziraphale's deepest insecurity due to his angelic nature and his environment. part of BEING an angel is the constant need to be perfect and holy and untouchable or else you'll fall and then you're cast down for being unforgivably, fundamentally wrong. it's living in constant fear of being "found out". (which is a very queer experience but that's not the point.)

aziraphale is terrified of indulging himself or slipping up or admitting doubt, it's his biggest fear at the time this scene takes place. that's another aspect of himself that crowley recognizes in aziraphale, but one that he doesn't still have. crowley fell. he knows the world doesn't end when you stop being an angel, and he knows that experiencing pleasure doesn't make someone a bad person, or angel, or whatever else. so when he sees that little inner hedonist that aziraphale just can't repress, what does he do? he tempts him into letting go, into indulging himself, because he knows aziraphale will love it.

even if it's "sinful" or "bad" in the eyes of god, it isn't the end of the world. this scene is where aziraphale starts to understand that. and on top of that, he starts to understand that crowley still likes him in spite of his perceived flaws, or maybe BECAUSE of those flaws.

which is why, after so many millennia, crowley still buys him wine and desserts and expensive lunches even though he himself couldn't care less about it. it's why aziraphale acts so differently around crowley than he does in heaven - he's more openly hedonistic and honestly a little bitchy, but that's what makes him easy to love.

this show is so fucking good

[circle-bircle]

any obscure games I can feel like a hipster playing? don't care if they're technically mediocre sometimes they vibe more that way.

sure here's a list of niche games (perhaps not obscure) i enjoy:

final fantasy 2 - obligatory rec; technically mediocre for sure and i guess you'll either feel like a hipster or a nerd and i think both are acceptable. please please please please please please etc etc

lufia 2 - as someone who has only played loz link's awakening this feels like that with jrpg fights. it is really good and the og is on my to-play list eventually but this game is just so fucking cool. plot is a little wack but whatever. music is really good too

suikoden - i personally like the first more than the second but both ps1 titles are really good - standard jrpg affair but i would consider them niche enough to put on a list here. i am sloooowly playing through the third game but i have enjoyed my time with it through the first few bits

legend of the dark witch - anime babe platformer. decent mix of easy and hard entries but i had a fun time with the series

terranigma - truthfully I haven't gotten very far into it but it is niche so could be worth your time nona

vagrant story - tbh I don't care for the plot but the gameplay is straight fire and sydney losstarot is very cool

legend of dragoon - BURNING RUSH... SPINNING CANE... MORE AND MORE.... COOOOOL BOOGIE... SUMMON FOUR GODS... etc etc. plot gets kind of wack in the later discs but holy FUCK is the gameplay so good.

etrian odyssey just in general - i had a fun time playing the fafnir knight; prolly best to google this series bc youtube can explain it better than i can

final fantasy tactics advance - not obscure but my favorite tactics game. it's a tactics game. not much more to say

ace combat - probably obscure to you if you're looking at my blog; but i really liked ace combat 2. if you enjoy plane shootey games it is good

if you like schlocky fanservice games lord of magna: maiden heaven is a fun romp with hot anime babes. twas little circle's awakening to the vast world of video games (outside pokémon and project diva) so it holds a special place in my heart. grant george voices the antag. so.... yeah

if you like mystery dungeon games i really enjoyed chocobo dungeon 2; the ffx-2 dungeon game I didn't really get into but it is niche

once i finally escape from Scholarly Hell for summer the next game i plan on playing is legend of legaia. truthfully it seems like xenogears with the combat system but i cannot tell whether it is better or worse but i will probably make a post about it in a few months

oh. you know what? play xenogears. play xenogears, nona. you should play xenogears.

or final fantasy 2. because it is good. at least if you squint really hard and tilt your head and squint a little more

[interstellarsystem]

Honestly, being raised the way we were (not necessarily in a cult, our family wasn't part of a larger organised thing because they "didn't agree with the general Christian or Catholic opinions" and they thought that our family has it right compared to everyone) we understand a lot of this? And it might have more of an influence on our alterhumanity than we thought.

Like yeah! We were also taught that the body we occupy now is not "us", nothing matters down here, not even our body or what happens to it. Not our job, not our life goals, pets, houses or fun toys or cool clothes. Our friends only will matter in the end if they join us in heaven. And we won't care in the end when we're in heaven because we'll be pure, and above mortal possessions. Everything down here is a test to see if our spirit is good enough to fight back against sinful human nature and able to resist corruption just long enough that we can join god in heaven. Because he needs to make sure only the best get into heaven, so no one will ever have to be harmed again.

Human is just the thing we are as a flawed being right now, not as a part of heaven or what god created. We're a soul, in a body, above all other life on this planet because we're what god made in *his* image, but we're also the ones who have been corrupted and need to make the choice. We're the ones being tested. Animals just get into heaven because they haven't been able to sin, they don't have "higher thinking" and they don't have human nature--they can't make those choices. They're souls, and they have not sinned, so they go to heaven when they die. And we need to be sinless, just like them.

Of fucking course we ended up largely alterhuman. Being raised to praise god and fear him do whatever we can to be perfect for him.

...Honestly the dissociation from a sense of self also explains why we're so good at masking. And why it's so easy for us to have our opinions swayed, or honestly for us to just be a people-pleaser in general. The reason we can't describe what we like or what we want despite the fact that we do like and want things. The fact we can't describe any of our personalities if you ask us to. We have our objective identities, like "I am a trans man who is crowkin and a plural system"--individual members have their own ones too. But we don't have selves deeper than that--at least that we can describe in any way.

We're nonreligious now and don't believe in any of the things we were taught, though we still pretend at home. But it's kind of... Interesting, seeing that they might have played directly into us being alterhuman in the first place. We didn't think that any abuse we went through added to it, much less the religious stuff, but... I guess we hadn't thought about it enough.

I'm both glad we're not alone and sorry that so many others share similar experiences. Take care, all of you.

Who wants to talk about borderline alterhuman identity acquired through cult socialization and separation of the self from human identity at an early age

[the-illiterate-pirate]

La Squadra NSFW headcanons because I'm feral ♡

Cut for length (and content ofc)

Risotto

- Literally one of the most vanilla guys you'll meet in the Mafia. Don't get me wrong my man has his kinks but he's pretty bare bones

- Contrary to popular belief he's not a big fan of blood play and doesn't like to mix work with intimate affairs. He does have a bit of an oral fixation (giving and receiving) and really likes saliva though

- His member is pretty average sized actually. I mean compared to this mountain of a man it may look a bit small but trust me, he knows how to use it

- Does in fact have a cock piercing. It's a magic cross, have fun looking that up. Apparently it helps stimulate too

- His favorite position is cowgirl

Prosciutto

- Sleeps around a lot tbh but really wants to settle down with a special someone after leaving the gang

- Honestly I would not trust him with aftercare he thinks it's lighting a cigarette with a glass of (insert liquor because idk wtf Italians drink)

- Super lazy but can be a really good brat tamer if you push him

- Doesn't have a daddy kink but loves being called "Sir" and likes a power imbalance

- Will smack that ass and it will hurt

- Will fall asleep after finishing his glass but will at least offer to cuddle

Pesci

- Dreams of becoming the perfect man in bed. But I mean he's already got 5/5 stars with aftercare so he's halfway there. Like he can be buck naked and shaking but he'll still ask you if you're okay and try to comfort you afterwards

- Has the BIGGEST dick in the group I won't take criticism or notes my man is PACKING HEAT he just doesn't know how to use it (yet) take caution

- Low-key a masochist and likes to be bossed around but can be a little fragile, please be good and make sure to check up on him uwu. If things get too heavy he might try to force himself to do something to the point he ruins the experience for himself :( communication is key with him

- On a lighter note he VERY MUCH enjoys queening/kinging and will gladly let you sit on his face

- PRAISE HIM PLEASE HE'S A GOOD BOY TRYING HIS BEST AND HE NEEDS TO KNOW IT

Formaggio

- Okay yes he likes pet play are you happy. Luckily he's a major bisexual switch so it can go both ways. He likes being your good puppy <3

- STOP GIVING RISOTTO THE SIZE KINK WHEN IT RIGHTFULLY BELONGS TO THIS KING HIMSELF. He WILL use his Stand on you when you least expect it because he's an ass this is your warning

- Like stated before big switch energy, is a nasty dom when he wants to be but will only bottom if you soft dom him because he does not believe in equality

- He FALLS ASLEEP IMMEDIATELY afterwards and he SNORES because he HATES HIS S/O /j

- Also really loves oral and giving sloppy head. Mf DROOLS EVERYWHERE

Illuso

- Likes to act like a bad bitch but loves when he gets pampered like he will melt if you play with his hair

- Another switch (like most of the JoJo cast but whatever) but it's easier for him to bottom because he's lazy.

- LOVES receiving overstimulation for some reason like suck this man dry until he cries he'll be living it up. Safe words exist for a reason and he use it to his (dis)advantage

- VOICE KINK !! All types of noises from you can get him off. With good ole' Lulu it's important to be vocal, tell him how you feel, make noise, dirty talk, the whole nine yards

- Has a little issue with self worth so like praise this baby, worship this baby, he'll be in heaven

- Shockingly? Pretty good with aftercare

Ghiaccio

- Oh my god it's so easy for him to get overwhelmed and he HATES IT I'm begging for your sake treat him gently

- Easy to fluster because he's pretty new to relationship stuff and he'll need you to show him the ropes. You could very well be one of his first, sex is very intimate for him and he'd like to stick with one person

- Low-key bites

- Due to Stand reasons his limbs are very cold, he will use this against you

- I said Risotto was vanilla but man Ghia might take the cake, he's a bit of a stiff when it comes to the bedroom, but that isn't always bad. He likes good old missionary and making sure he takes care of you, but if he's overly stressed he'll give you the reigns for the night

- If all goes well, and he isn't overstimulated, sex actually really helps him relax, he's a lot more bubbly afterwards and likes to stay up with you, talking, drinking water (but not eating anything because he refuses to have crumbs in the bed)

Melone

- Has the WEIRDEST fixation on bodily fluids like I get where he's coming from but WHY

- As smooth as a baby. Everywhere. We think he waxes but we haven't seen proof yet. He's also got a pretty dick.

- Ribbons, ropes, chains, leather, he's a really big fan of restraints as long as there's a safe word and you're both on the right track

- Totally down to try anything, just ask. He's eager to please.

- Yes.... He has a breeding kink. He wants a big family

- Idk what you call it but pls pls pls let him suck on your titties while you jerk him off. He can die happily

- Really likes the 69 position (with him on top)

Sorbet & Gelato

- Buy one get one free, you cannot get one without the other let's make that clear. They're both sadistic meanies and will not let you top

- Double penetration or spit roasting is a MUST

- Being in a relationship with each other for so long they've gotten good with aftercare, Gelato is more touchy feely while Sorbet is all about snacks and vitamins

- Sorbet bites, Gelato fucking claws. They're both very into marking you up everywhere and love the embarrassment they get from you

- They love you, they really do... But sometimes they can get a little caught up in the moment with their own makeout sessions

- Afterwards you all just collapse into a pile of limbs lol

[mariaofdoranelle]

Look at Us Now — Ch. 7

Fic Masterlist

Do I see change in the horizon? Yes, I do!!

Also, I added 4 chapters to our outline! Yay!! I’m going to update the masterlist soon

Warnings: language, incarceration

Words: 4k

“Could you stop staring at my stomach?” Aelin asked, feeling her cheeks burn and hoping Rowan couldn’t see it with the bad lighting of his cell. Her baby bump was barely visible, but he still did that thing where his mind seemed to go far away while he stared at her stomach.

“It’s very hard not to,” Rowan rasped.

“My stomach looks the same way after I leave an all-you-can-eat buffet.” Usually with Aedion. He was the most fun to accompany at those places, always impressing the employees with his binge-eating skills.

He didn’t reply, so Aelin went back to her book. Things were easier with him, though. She visited him again after they made amends to drop two pregnancy books, since he didn’t have internet access in the guardhouse, and now she was here once again.

It wasn’t weird that she was seeing him three days in a row, right? It didn’t feel weird, at least. Besides, they were already seeing each other every day for the past three months. Except that now she was seeing him on weekends too. And not having sex.

The first visit was to reconcile, the second to do him a favor. Now it was Sunday, and Rowan doesn’t have work, so it would be cruel to leave him alone in a cell the whole day.

“You’re out of here on Wednesday, right?”

“Mhm,” Rowan confirmed without taking his eyes off the book this time.

“Good. I scheduled my first appointment for Thursday afternoon. Do you think you can make it?”

“Aelin…” It was very easy to spot the alarm bells on his tone. “Tell me you’re not waiting for me to get out of jail to go see a doctor.”

“But you told me you wanted to be at every appointment!”

“Aelin.”

“Look, I work at a hospital. I can take my vitals whenever. I feel fine. I can wait until Thursday to hear the heartbeat and do the ultrasound, okay?”

Rowan relaxed again, but he still looked wary. “Fine. But it doesn’t sit well with me.”

Aelin snorted over his fussing and opened one of her lunchboxes she prepared this morning. Gods, she was so freaking hungry all the time. She opened the sandwich, but her eyes were locked on the mango. It looked so orangey and ripe. She held it with her free hand. So soft to the touch.

“I should eat the sandwich.”

He hummed. “You should.”

“The problem is: what I want to eat this mango. But the mean sergeant in the entrance confiscated my knife.”

Rowan snorted. “That’s outrageous. Do you think I should lock him up for it after I finish being locked up?”

She sighed, still conflicted over what to eat. “I don’t think you have another option, Rowan. I feel like this mango is staring at me. Begging to be eaten.”

“You don’t need a knife to eat a mango. Just bite it.”

If only it was that simple. She looked down, staring at her uniform. Wearing it meant she was supposed to look as put-together as possible, only being excused if something bigger than a mango happened, like a mission that involved rain or mud. Aelin didn’t even need to wear it to visit Rowan on a Sunday, but she figured it’d be a lot easier to get inside the base with it.

Fuck it, her hangry pregnant brain said, making her take a huge bite without analyzing the situation further, feeling mango juice slide down her fingers and chin.

Aelin leaned back on her chair and hummed in delight, closing her eyes while chewing the sweet, sweet mango she stole from her cousin’s kitchen. This was fruit heaven.

She stopped mid-bite when she noticed the look on Rowan’s face. The corners of his lips here half tugged-up, as if he was trying to stop himself, and he had the weirdest glint in his eyes.

Aelin squinted her eyes at him. “If you laugh at me, you’re dead.”

Whatever was going on with his face turned into a real grin. He turned back to his pregnancy book, chuckling. “Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Aelin looked at Rowan, quietly reading the book she bought for him. She wondered if his large shoulders could be comfortable in a hard, small bed like the one he’d been sleeping on the past week. Because of her. He didn’t complain to her about being locked up once after finding out she was pregnant, but there was always this reminder in the back of her head that she was the reason this happened to him.

Illicit. Unforgettable sex. Improper sexual conduct. Their baby.

Aelin didn’t know how he felt about all that, so she’d work with what she knew. She knew Rowan was being a good sport about his incarceration, at least in front of her. She knew Rowan wanted the baby. She knew that even inside a cell, she felt comfortable and at ease with him.

Rowan briefly looked up, sending her a shy smile before sipping water. She watched his throat bob as he gulped it down. She watched his hair move with the gush of air that came from the window.

Aelin felt the bottom of her stomach fluttering. It was probably just the baby moving.

“How far along are we?” Rowan asked, snapping her out of her thoughts.

“Somewhere around 12 weeks. Maybe 13?” She scrunched up her nose. “I know I’m a doctor, but I’m not trusting my math in this.”

He hummed in acknowledgement. “Here it says we can already know the gender.” Rowan closed the book and focused on her. “I’m not a fan of surprises, but I can wait to know if it’s important to you.”

“To be fair, I’m not really focused on that. We can know by Thursday if you’re okay with it.” Aelin didn’t understand the fuss over baby’s sex. It’s not like an ultrasound would determine if her kid would be a he, she or they. She paused. That didn’t mean Rowan wouldn’t care about that, though. “Do you want to have one of those gender reveal parties?”

“Not really my style. Do you?”

“I have a better idea.” Aelin wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

Rowan raised his own. “Do tell me.”

“We go and ask the doctor. If it’s a boy, we’re getting cookie monster ice cream after the appointment. Strawberry if it’s a girl.”

“Sounds nice,” he agreed, but his face said otherwise. “I’m not a fan of ice cream, but I can buy you some. That way I’m still part of the celebration, right?”

“You what?” Aelin blurted while her whole world stopped. Her baby daddy doesn’t like ice cream. Was she supposed to trust someone like that to teach her kid about morals and values?

When Rowan opened his mouth, a loud voice down the hall stopped him. She didn’t recognize it, but it was clear how it made the color drain from his face.

Before she knew it, a sergeant was bringing a couple that looked so much like Rowan it was unsettling.

“Hey… what are you doing here?” Rowan’s voice was cautious, his whole body stiff. From that moment alone, Aelin had an inkling of how much his parents knew about her or the baby. Her guess was nothing at all.

“I took a plane to visit my son in jail! The last words a mother would ever want to say!”

Aelin’s eyes widened at the same time she felt her pulse skyrocket. Rowan’s parents hadn’t seen her yet because she was leaning against the same wall his cell’s door was at, but they would any time now. There were pregnancy books all over the room and, looking down at herself, she was covered in mango juice. Fuck.

She silently reached over her lunchbox to get a napkin and try to clean herself, but Rowan’s father spotted Aelin before she could help herself.

“Hey! I didn’t see you there, sorry.” The man had a kind smile aimed at her while he extended a hand. “I’m Owen, Rowan’s father.”

Aelin quickly cleaned her palm in her uniform, fighting a cringe at her own gesture and the state she was in. She shook his hand. “Aelin. I work at the hospital.”

Rowan’s mom was by Owen’s side in a second, too interested in her son’s visitor to continue the scolding.

“Hi, dear! I’m Rory. Very nice to meet you.” She turned her head to her flabbergasted son. “Rowan, is she the girl you refused to tell me about?”

“Yep,” he confirmed, voice tight.

Aelin forced her jaw to stay right where it was. What did she mean by that? And how could she know there was a girl if Rowan didn’t tell himself?

After exchanging a few pleasantries, she was starting to feel more comfortable and forgetting about her ruined uniform. Rowan’s parents were nice. They were a lot more talkative than him, but while his dad was on the quieter side like him, Rowan’s mom talked enough for the three of them. It could be a little overwhelming for a first meeting, but Aelin liked her a lot.

“Darling, you’re absolutely gorgeous!” Rory marveled, one hand on Aelin’s shoulder while she inspected the young woman’s face. “No wonder Rowan wouldn’t send me a picture of you. I bet these phone cameras can’t do you justice.” A pause. “Rowan’s cousin is hosting dinner tonight, we’d love to have you there.”

Aelin’s grin widened an inch or two. Complementing her looks and offering food. It’s like that woman knew her way straight into Aelin’s heart.

Rowan didn’t look pleased, though. His jaw dropped. “What about me?”

Rory turned to her son, a reprimanding look on her face only a mother could master. “You can’t attend dinner while you’re in jail, can you?”

Snorting, Owen sat by his son’s side on the bed. When he grabbed the book by Rowan’s side, Aelin froze, Rory’s voice becoming only a background noise to what was about to unfold.

“What To Expect When You’re Expecting…” he quietly read the cover out loud. Then stopped, eyebrows raised. Owen blinked, then slowly turned to his son.

Not missing a thing, Rory took a sharp turn in Rowan's way, and finally noticed the pregnancy books around. She looked between the two of them, waiting for someone to speak, but no one would dare. Aelin’s heartbeat was so loud she couldn’t utter a word, and Rowan’s eyes were so bulged he probably felt the same on the inside.

Since no one would speak, of course Rory would break the ice. “Grandchildren!?” She asked in a high-pitched cheer.

After exchanging a look, Rowan and Aelin cautiously confirmed.

His parents’ smiles wouldn’t be that big if they had won the lottery.

~~

“Do you want to go with the jean shorts, or with the pink ones?”

“ELSA!” Maisie screamed, her face red and puffy because Aelin wouldn’t let her go to the park with her Elsa costume.

Aelin kneeled on the floor so she’d be the same height as her daughter. “Honey, that dress has long sleeves and polyester fabric. It’s too hot outside for that, you won’t like it when we get there.”

“Don’t care.” She sniffed and rubbed her little nose. “I want my Elsa dress.”

“And what if we make a deal?”

That seemed to perk Maisie’s interest. She immediately squared her shoulders, looking at her mother expectantly.

“If you wear one of the shorts I asked you to, we can invite your father to the park.”

Maisie’s mouth fell open, a hopeful glint in her eyes. “You’d do that?”

Guilt squeezed the back of Aelin’s throat so tight she couldn't say a word. She didn’t like that Maisie was so astonished both of her parents were willing to hang out. Spending time together wasn’t part of most co-parent’s arrangements, yes, but it still didn’t sit well with her.

Truth was, Aelin has been considering this all morning. Her interactions with Rowan after their therapy session hadn’t been easy-going, but there hadn’t been any fights either. Now it was Saturday, none of them had approached the weekly quality time subject, and tomorrow they already had lunch at Orlon’s.

If Rowan really wanted to go through that part of therapy, he’d have mentioned it, right? She sighed. Aelin wasn’t eager to hang out with him either, but she really wanted to make this therapy thing work. And she was the one who made him go there. Aelin opened their text thread.

Aelin: are you busy?

Rowan: What happened?

He answered in a matter of seconds, as if he was waiting for her to fuck up. She rolled her eyes.

Aelin: why would you think something happened?

Rowan: Why would you reach out to me?

Aelin rolled her eyes. Looking over her phone, Maisie was bouncing with excitement as she picked a shirt.

Yeah, putting up with Rowan’s bullshit was worth it.

Aelin: because we share a daughter, remember?

Rowan: Very hard to forget when she’s as sassy as you.

“Mom!” Maisie called her attention and pointed at two shirts she laid out. “You think I’ll look prettier with giraffes or kittens?”

”You always look pretty, Mais.” Aelin praised. And paused. As much as she wanted her daughter to be confident, letting a four-year-old pick her own outfit could easily lead to a disaster. “But the kitten shirt will look better with the shorts you chose. But you’ll still look great in both.”

“Right.” Maisie nodded. “Did Daddy say if he can come?”

She forced a smile. “Let me see.”

Aelin: are u busy or not?

Rowan: Yes. Why do you ask?

Aelin: nevermind

She looked over her daughter, thinking about how to break the news that her father couldn’t come. She shouldn’t have told Maisie—

Rowan: Aelin.

Rowan: My house is 3 minutes away

Rowan: I’ll be there in 2 if you don’t tell me what’s going on.

Aelin: i’m taking Mais to the park.

Rowan: Okay?

Rowan: I’m confused.

She held back a groan, not wanting to look distressed in front of Maisie. As frustrating as this was, his reaction was understandable. He was never invited to her outings with Maisie.

Aelin: do u wanna come?

Rowan: Oh

Rowan: Do you want me to?

Aelin: i told Maisie I’d invite you

Aelin: she has expectations now.

Rowan: I’ll meet you at your place in 10.

He arrived in eight minutes.

It was pretty quick until they arrived at the park, but not for Maisie. She was so eager to feed the animals, not even Disney songs could distract her from that goal.

The park had a little center of activities for kids, and one of them was feeding the animals. People could do it freely a few years ago, but now it was only with the proper food and supervision. Maisie was left with a small group of children and two of the park employees, then Aelin and Rowan settled the picnic blanket somewhere they could watch her.

This was… okay. Aelin could feel her body slowly relax. She could tolerate him like this. Well, Aelin always got along with Rowan when they weren’t speaking, so—

No. Absolutely not. This was not the time or place to have inappropriate flashbacks.

Rowan cleared his throat. “How are you?”

“Maisie woke up early. She was out like a light because now we’re drinking chamomile tea instead of wine slash grape juice. I made her grilled cheese, and she didn’t even complain about it being a little burnt. Then she had a meltdown because I wouldn’t let her come dressed as Elsa.”

“It’d be uncomfortable for her to play,” Rowan agreed, nodding. But he had a distant look on his face, and Aelin wondered which thing he was going to complain about today. He darted a glance her way, and she couldn’t decipher the look on his face. ”But I was asking about you.”

“Oh.“ Aelin wasn’t expecting that. She ran a hand through her hair, hoping she wasn’t blushing because of her mistake. “I’m fine, thanks.”

Rowan nodded. Aelin had prepared for a superheated day, but this was nice. There was this gentle breeze caressing her cheeks and ruffling her hair. A little further, Maisie seemed to be having the time of her life while feeding the ducks with the other kids.

“Is it still quality time if we use it to discuss something about Maisie?” Rowan interrupted their peaceful moment.

“She’s not going to soccer practice tomorrow morning.”

He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. “Because she should’ve been at dance lessons this morning?”

“Exactly. I’m glad therapy is making you reasonable.”

Rowan was glaring at her, jaw tight. Aelin looked away, pretending she cared about nothing but the wind against her skin.

“Speaking about therapy, should we tell Yrene how sexist you’re being?”

“Sexist?” Aelin screeched.

“What? You think just because Mais’ a girl, she can’t play soccer?”

Aelin gaped, feeling her blood boil. “No, this is about you neglecting your daughter’s artist’s soul?”

“Are you calling me neglectful?”

“Yes, I am!” She fumed, inching her face closer. “And it’s on a Sunday morning! Who does that?”

“Oh, so it’s not about sexism. It’s about you being too lazy to wake up early.”

Aelin opened her mouth to retort, then closed it again. The pounding heartbeat. The ringing in her ears. Her tense muscles.

Aelin was about to escalate this argument so much further. Instead, she got up from the picnic blanket.

Rowan just watched her for a moment, frowning. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to take a freaking walk.” She gestured around the park, then rested both hands on her waist. “And when I get back, we’ll be so civil Yrene will be beaming next Tuesday. Are we clear?” She checked with a stern voice, but both of them knew it wasn’t a question. Rowan carefully nodded before she went away.

Aelin tried to not think of Rowan for a second, just taking in the mixed scent of grass and stinking trash cans only a city park could have. Aelin breathed in, a lot slower than the joggers passing by her. And breathed out, now that the main sound she could listen to was the kids playing in the background. It always brought a smile to her face, now that it reminded her of her daughter.

Maisie, who was soon joining either soccer or dance classes. Aelin had so many assumptions about why Rowan was so adamant on this, but Yrene’s voice was on the back of her head, telling her to put all assumptions and blaming aside to hear him out. Looking at her watch, she had been gone for more than ten minutes now. Time to return.

Aelin would go back there and be so calm and peaceful even fucking Buddha would be jealous of her.

She opened the e-mail Yrene sent with the pdf about communication techniques and sat back with Rowan to start, but he beat her to it.

“I’m sorry I called you sexist and lazy.”

Aelin nodded. “And I’m sorry I called you neglectful. I—“

She sighed and checked the instructions on her phone before she started.

“I want Maisie to do dance classes because I feel like she’s more inclined to arts than sports, and as a mother, I’d like for her to explore that.“ A pause. ”And I don’t feel comfortable with the idea of becoming a soccer mom.”

Rowan’s eyebrows were very low on his face. “Soccer mom?”

“Soccer mom culture makes me feel…” Aelin swallowed. “Scared, old and cringey. I genuinely think Maisie would adore dance classes, and it aligns better with my plans for MILFhood.”

“What the hell is soccer mom culture?”

Now that Aelin had said everything out loud, she wanted to get up and flee like she just did. She’d just bared her soul to him, and that was her answer?

“I’ll explain later.” She gave him her phone with the pdf on communication tips opened. “Your turn.”

“Okay…” Rowan rubbed a hand up and down his face. “I suggested soccer classes because it’s the best option that has Sunday classes, and you know Lorcan can shove classes down my throat any time—“

“I’m so sorry,” Aelin blurted.

The dance classes were on Saturday mornings, and sometimes Rowan had classes at that time, even if it didn’t happen often. She knew it, but she didn’t remember.

“And when you insisted on dance classes,” he continued with Yrene’s step-by-step pdf, “I felt…” Rowan clamped his lips together and took a deep breath. “I guess I felt—“ His shoulders started shaking, and he pressed a hand against his mouth. He looked down, breathed deep, then up again. “I—“

This time, there was no hiding. He tilted his head up, and when his mouth opened, it was to blast a cackle so loud she could barely believe it was coming from Rowan.

It didn’t take a genius to understand this wasn’t true amusement, it was just nervous laughter. But seeing Rowan like that, it made Aelin laugh too.

They looked near euphoric, losing their breaths and holding their stomachs like this.

“I can’t believe we’re in therapy,” Rowan wheezed.

Aelin cackled in response. “It feels like co-parent jail!”

Rowan nodded, cracking up at her pun. “I hate it so much.”

Even if it was nervous laughter, her view looked quite good through half-opened eyes. Rowan Whitethorn was laughing, and Aelin was beaming because she couldn’t remember the last time he smiled at something that wasn’t his daughter.

Aelin didn’t see when a small body knocked her down on the grass, laying on top of her.

“You’re not angry?”

“No, honey, I’m not angry.” Aelin rearranged a strand of hair out of her daughter’s face, smiling so much at this sweet assault her eyes crinkled. “Why would you think that?”

“Because I saw you leave the blanket, and you looked upset, but now you don’t look upset anymore.”

“We were angry, but we talked it out and now we’re not angry anymore.”

Maisie nodded, understanding, and then turned to her father. “Daddy, do the *not angry* thing!”

“The… not angry thing?” Aelin asked, head tilted.

“Yes!” Maisie eagerly nodded. “When Daddy gets angry, and then he stops being angry, he gives me a kiss right here.” She pointed at the top of her head. “To show me he’s not angry anymore.”

“Oh.” Aelin struggled to give her daughter a proper reaction. “I don’t think that’s necessary, Mais.”

Maisie didn’t insist, but her big green eyes darted warily between the two adults.

Rowan gave Aelin a pointed look, and her shoulders immediately melted at his worried expression.

He didn’t want to kiss Aelin either, but that’s what Maisie needs to feel reassured about their reconciliation.

If a kiss on the top of Aelin’s head was what their daughter needed, that’s what they’d do.

Aelin slid closer to Rowan, careful to not knock down their things. His hands carefully holding the sides of her head were like pressing a button to start her heart, and she closed her eyes when the sight of his throat bobbing was too much.

The gentle peck near her hairline was quick, but it felt like a million years before Maisie was cheering on their side.

“How was feeding the ducks, Mais?” Rowan asked, eager to change the subject. Aelin was so sure he hated that little moment, it only made things more awkward.

Maisie laid on the blanket beside them on her cloud-shaped pillow and nibbled on cheese like the little princess she was. “I don’t speak duck, but I think they liked it.”

Since their daughter wordlessly declared it was snack time, Rowan opened the other lunchboxes while the little girl rambled about feeding the animals.

Like a peace offering, Rowan handed her a mango and a knife. She didn’t know if it was intentional, but the sight of it spread a gentle, nostalgic warmth through her chest.

Aelin devoured mangos throughout her pregnancy, a lifetime ago. He didn’t know a lot of her eating habits outside of that period frame, but she couldn’t blame him. It’s not like they spent a lot of time together after that.

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[thatonepikminperson]

It's Hey Pikmin's Turn, and uh, warning. It's gonna be long as HELL, so uh it's below

Title: Ah, yes, the title. I honestly don’t like this one, it’s not my style, but hey, it’s still nice to hear it for more than five seconds!

Options: Yo, I’ve never opened this part of the game once. WHY IS IT SO TECHY BRUH THE TITLE IS SO CALM AND THEN THIS. Weird, kinda like it?

Opening: Ah, I remember this. I like it, even without the cutscene’s visuals. Surprised it has the sound effects in the song. Neat-o

Prologue: This also has the sound effects. Wowza. OH WAIT THIS IS THAT CUTSCENE HAHA GET OWNED PIKMIN

Sector 1 ~Brilliant Garden: aaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA nooooo not again please. This is a decent song, just… god some of the levels with this song were not fun (to me at least)

Expedition Complete: Yippee we did it! OLIMAR ASCEND TO THE HEAVENS N O W !

Select Sector: Ah yes, Instead of actually selecting a sector, do what I did, and just quickly move around this planet like you're having a seizure. (Good song though wtf) 

Inside the S.S. Dolphin II: Eh, not my cup of tea. 

Select Area (Sector 1): Actually pretty nice. I like it, good job Hey! Pikmin.

Expedition Start: Either the ‘yay new level’ theme, or the ‘I’ve reset this level 180 times and I STILL HAVE YET TO LOSE NO PIKMIN.’ Take your pick.

Sector 1 ~Brillant Garden (Back Side): Oh yeah, THAT’S NOT OMINOUS AT ALL WHEN DID THIS BECAUSE A HORROR GAME WHAT

Expedition Results: Yippee, more pikmin, nice to hear this for more then like fifteen seconds max lol

Pikmin Park: LET’S GO, THE THING THAT HAS LAGGED MY 2DS BEFOREEEEEEEEE!

Pikmin Park (Treasure): Omg I love Pikmin, the theme

Secret Spot: GET THE PELLET OLIMAR, THE PELLET, GET IT, GET ITTTTTT

Secret Spot (Olimar is Down): If you hear this you suck. I’ve never heard this, like… ever

Secret Spot (Results): *Gets the Pellet* Mmm Pikmintasium

Underground: OH HELL YEAH GOOD SONG LET’S GOOOOOO. Also banger stages for the set with this song, no joke, some of the best in the game. (Fight me)

Underground (Back Side): Yo, a banger back side let’s go. Man this one slaps, for some reason. (Kinda reminds me of the ghost pirate ship dungeon from Skyward Sword, idk man)

Sparklium Springs: I keep forgetting these exist, wait why does this theme slap. WHY IS THIS GOOD HUH WHAT?!

Sparklium Springs (Results): Yippee, more sparklium. Why would you ever need more lol.

Inside the S.S. Dolphin II (Boss Found): GO OLIMAR DO THOSE STRETCHES LET’S GET EM

Boss Area: I love this theme so much, for no clear reason lol

Red Bulborb Cutscene: Hey, they have the sound effects, let's go.

VS. Red Bulborb: oh no, a basic enemy in most games, whatever will I do??? /s (Wait, why is it actually pretty good? HUH why are the percussion instruments cooking oh dear lord they are vibing, literally) 

Boss Defeated: VICTORY SCREAM AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA

Select Area (Sector 2): Yo, banger alert w h a t

Sector 2 ~Verdant Waterfront: And then I get hit with this. BRUH HEY PIKMIN MAKE UP YOUR MIND, DO YOU WANT BANGERS OR NOT??? (I don’t even remember the levels with this soundtrack.)

Sector 2 ~Verdant Waterfront (Back Side): Why are there two types of back side music, Bangers, and horror. 

Game Over: Why is the game over theme HERE?! Bruh should have been later on, with the snow-ier levels.

Long Water Dumple Cutscene: The what, hold on, looking this up so I remember this guy

Vs. Long Water Dumple: OH THE SHITTY EEL BITCH yeah easy as hell boss. Why is its theme also a damn banger? Hey! Pikmin, why do you do this to me?

Select Area (Sector 3): OH BANGER ALERT FUCK YEAH why was sector 3 like the best goddamn sector in the game. Bros peaked so early man

Sector 3 ~Sparkling Labyrinth: HELL YEAH BABY THIS ONE SLAPS SO FUCKING HARD LET’S GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO (Can’t you tell I loved these stages yet)

Sector 3 ~Sparkling Labyrinth (Back Side): Yooo a kinda creepy one with banger vibes? I’ll take it

Logs: mmmm yes, the song I listened to for .9 seconds before leaving cause I needed to get that NEW logo off of the icon

Armurk Cutscene: I forgot this guy was in the game, that’s how boring this boss fight was

VS. Armurk: He’s got a pretty nice boss theme tho I HAVE TO ADMIT. Your boss fight might be total ass Armurk, but damn you got a nice boss theme. Still doesn’t make it a good boss fight tho

Select Area (Sector 4): wait this was a world. Why don’t I remember it. Why does this kinda sound like some Wii Channel music da fuck

Sector 4 ~Ravaged Rustworks: Again, I don’t remember this world, but damn, this gives the vibes of the sand place in Skyward Sword

Sector 4 ~Ravaged Rustworks (Back Side): Yoo a good backside. Like it for some reason

Electric Cottonade Cutscene: THIS FUCK GET EM YELLOW BITCHES

VS. Electric Cottonade: Dude the Xylo player is having the time of their lives. Also a good boss theme dude.

Select Area (Sector 5): This doesn’t feel like a Pikmin song. DON’T GET ME WRONG IT’S GOOD IT’S JUST NOT THE PIKMIN VIBES

Sector 5 ~Leafswirl Lagoon: This kinda also doesn’t have Pikmin vibes. I feel like the past two areas have been like something you’d hear in Skyward Sword

Sector 5 ~Leafswirl Lagoon (Back Side): Why does this kinda sound like something from Terraria lol or wait, NO JET ROCKET THIS SOUNDS LIKE IT’S FROM JET ROCKET HOLY SHIT

Sector 5 ~Leafswirl Lagoon 2: woah that’s new WOAH THAT’S GOOD

Sector 5 ~Leafswirl Lagoon 2 (Back Side): AND WE’RE BACK IN THE HORROR GENRE I MISSED YOU 

Queen Shearwig Cutscene: WOMAN AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA (THE MOTHER FUCKING SLIDE WHISTLE HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA)

VS. Queen Shearwig: Coolest regular boss fight man, Winged Pikmin carry, literally. Queen Shearwig cooking not only the boss fight but her boss theme too

Select Area (Sector 6): Woah another world I don’t remember at all (Why are there so many of these guys)

Sector 6 ~Sweltering Parchlands: This kinda sounds like a Slime Rancher song idk why tho. It’s good thooooooooooooo

Sector 6 ~Sweltering Parchlands (Back Side): what is this bro. Why do I remember this backside? W H Y

Sizzling Precipice: WE GO FROM HORROR INCARNITE TO HAPPY TIMES WITH FIRE BROOOOO HAHAHAHAHA

Sizzling Precipice (Back Side): And a backside that doesn’t sound like horror, nice. Why does this kinda sound like an average cave theme from Pikmin 2 bruhhhh

Fiery Blowhog Cutscene: AAAAAAAAAAAA A BASIC ENEMY IN LIKE EVERY OTHER PIKMIN GAME, RUN FOR YOUR LIVESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

VS. Fiery Blowhog: Nice boss theme, where’d you get it from, the boss theme store??? (yes this is a fandub reference shut up I love that shit)

Select Area (Sector 7): Snow, what’s that Idk what that is de fuck is a snow.

Sector 7 ~Snowfall Field: Dude the snow area got a banger here. What the hell this is like the last thing I expected from this game

Sector 7 ~Snowfall Field (Back Side): WOAH ANOTHER BACK SIDE THAT’S NOT HORROR SOUNDING (still kinda sounds like it’s from Terraria tho)

Over Wintry Mountains: Ah yes, the insta fucking kill snowballs. Nintendo WHY. Still a banger tho (Kinda sounds like it should be in Nintendo land tho)

Luring Sluker Cutscene: The WHAT hold on give me a second, I need to look this guy up. OH IT’S THAT GUY oh yeah I like this goober

VS. Luring Sluker: Oh hello good boss theme hell yeah dude. The percussion section happily celebrating in the back as they get good parts this time lol

Select Area (Sector 8): PTSD FLASHBACKS HAPPENING OH GOD NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

Sector 8 ~Lushlife Murk: BIGGEST FUCKING MIDDLE FINGER TO BURNING BOG THAT LEVEL CAN DIE IN A DAMN FIRE . can you tell I tried to do a no death of that level and figured out that the hitboxes on some of the things in this level are ✨terrible✨

Sector 8 ~Lushlife Murk (Back Side): I heard this so many times that it doesn't affect me anymore. Horror is not music, it's the level no death.

Olimar’s Madcap Ride: Oh right this was also a level in the game. Nice concept, REALLY NICE MUSIC. Kinda sounds like something from Celeste damn

Emperor Bulblax Cutscene: Why does Olimar sound like that damn bro

VS. Emperor Bulblax: Hola bitch, at least you get a better boss fight than in Pikmin 2. Also why does your theme slap so hard?

Berserk Leech Hydroe (Buried Form) Cutscene: CALL AN AMBULANCE,

VS. Berserk Leech Hydroe (Buried Form): Aka, the phase you beat in like, 3 cycles because this is like the second easiest phase. Kinda slaps tho

Berserk Leech Hydroe (Quadruped Form) Cutscene: CALL AN AMBULANCE!

VS. Berserk Leech Hydroe (Quadruped Form): Aka, the easiest phase of the three, like not even joking. Still kinda slaps tho

Berserk Leech Hydroe (Winged Form) Cutscene: BUT NOT FOR ME, *PULLS OUT ANOTHER GOD DAMN PHASE*

VS. Berserk Leech Hydroe (Winged Form): This motherfucker has too many phases, in all honesty. Kinda why I hate the damn boss fight so much, it’s way too long. Still still kinda slaps tho

Berserk Leech Hydroe Defeated: NEVERMIND CALL THAT AMBULANCE FOR ME I HURT MY BACK

Epilogue: And then Olimar immediately had to go back because we all know the President fucked up again somehow

Ending: This is when every Pikmin fan went “That was it? That was just a Platformer with some plants.”

Staff Roll: Though, to be fair, the Staff Roll rocks, and we did get promised Pikmin 4 for like… 9 years of nothing (4 years at the time this game came out)

Banner Intro: OH IT’S THAT COOL neat

Pikmin Park Sparklium: YAY You’ll never need this ever but it was fun

Olimar is Down: HOW BRO HOWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

Secret Spot Clear: Yippee you did a basic task correctly!

Sparlium Springs End: I forgot these existed oops

Secret Spot Failure: how did you manage bro seriously HOWWWWWWWWW

Secret Spot Intro: DO THE THING OLIMAR, USE ONE BRAIN CELL

Log Complete: YIPPEE YOU DID IT YOU PERFECTIONIST

Sparklium Springs Start: Hello thing no one outside of challenge runs ever used

Emperor Bulblax Defeated: Why is this here in the sound track? I DUNNO, but nice we killed an Emperor, all hail Olimar

Ok so, I've never really listened to either the Nintendo Land Pikmin Game's soundtrack, or Hey! Pikmin's soundtrack, because I have... memories of the games (One is with the boss rush, and the other is the sometimes weird hitboxes of the game) so, I'ma give them a shot, I'll update y'all about this when I'm done with one. (Gonna start with Nintendo Land, because that fast as balls frog still haunts me to this day. Cool boss, so many deaths)

(Gonna do the Playlist by scoubi1 Gaming for Pikmin Adventure's ost (29 Tracks) and Vivi's Radio Backup Channel for Hey! Pikmin's ost (89 Tracks)

[spyoikawa]

still on that saiki k brainrot so hear me out-

metori, saiki, teruhashi, aren and hairo with an s/o who really loves to bake/cook-

no thoughts just Reader learning how to make coffee jelly for saiki (like maybe they make him a tower of coffee jelly for an anniversary or his birthday-). no thoughts just Reader cooking something for metori who pretends to not want to eat it cause it’s ‘peasant food’ but ends up really enjoying their cooking. no thoughts just cooking/baking date with teruhashi. no thoughts just teaching aren how to cook/bake and having a food trade with him, bringing him lunch/a snack to school. and no thoughts just hairo hyping Reader up while they cook/bake and making stuff for him to bring to class rep meetings-

thank you! <3

the excitement I got got I saw teruhasi- i don't see a lot of writing for her and I get happy when I get to do less than common things! Thanks!

I'm running low on creative juices, so please I hope you don't mind if I use the exact scenarios you suggested 💀

Note: some of the things I wrote felt really rude so please don't mind the tone tags in parentheses, also i have not edited this yet

Saiki, Teruhasi, Hairo, Aren, and Saiko with an S/O who can cook/bake

♡romantic♡

Saiki Kusuo (italics = saiki telepathy)

Although it was undeniably tasty, your boyfriend's obsession with coffee jelly was not only getting out of hand but also quite expensive-

I mean he spent 3,000 yen for one serving-

But yanno what it's ok, coffee jelly is easy to make, and this gives you an excuse to hang out (not that you need one)

"Ok Ku, i had an idea"

I like it, just make sure you teach me how to do it too

"Rude. I wasn't finished"

You did in your head

As endearing as it could be sometimes, Saiki's mind-reading could be a pain occasionally

You wound me.

"Good. (/j)"

After a long debate over recipes and serving sizes, there it was, in all its glory, your first batches of coffee jelly

it was heaven

You did end up sharing the recipe with him, but it still became a little tradition to make the coffee jelly together

It just tastes better that way :)

Kokomi Teruhashi

In the midst of your TV and cuddles date, Kokomi huffed and turned off the TV

But of course it was rude to just turn off the TV, so she offered to play a board game instead

You did play with her, but your curiosity was begging as to why she wanted to change the activity

"Hey Kokomi, this game is fun, don't worry... but why'd you turn off the TV so suddenly?"

"Oh, it was nothing! I just thought you would like this game, and I wanted you to enjoy yourself more!"

Now, that's the answer the most perfect girl in the world would give

But Kokomi is still human, there's gotta be something wrong

You spent a while thinking to yourself about what you were watching, you two agreed on a documentary, then after the documentary, the channel played a cooking show with a guest baker/cook Makoto Teruhashi- oh.

So that was it

At the end of the round, you stood up and offered your hand to pull up Kokomi with you.

"Hey, wanna make a bet?"

She looked up with a bit of curiosity.

"I bet you, I can make your favorite dish, far better than Makoto can"

She smiled a bit, "sure!"

Her favorite food was simple, so you taught her to cook it and added in some other things just for fun (and so she can't recreate it without your secret ingredients)

Now you guys have cooking dates often and always find ways to spice up foods (and beat Makoto at whatever he was doing on tv)

Hairo Kineshi

my thoughts and prayers go to you

we all saw what happened when he tried to make crepes

but in his mind, it was a learning opportunity

You guys were taking an after-school stroll, the weather was really nice, it would be a shame if you two just went home and did nothing. Walks like these tend to get sentimental and nostalgic, so your conversation subconsciously started to drift towards school life.

"And do you remember that time we had to get kuboyasu, kaido, and nendo to play on a baseball team? Oh my god thank god it didn't go too poorly, that one player really pulled through at the end..." you laughed out

"Haha I do remember that, I can't believe we got them to play, it really could've gone worse" He smiled as he remembered that day, but then his eyes drifted up to a bakery across the road. "Speaking of poor experiences..."

after he explained to you he and kaido's crepe disaster, you couldn't help but tease fun at him for a bit

but you did agree to teach him more about cooking and baking

he's a bit too passionate about cracking eggs, but hey, at least you can work faster

after many, many burnt crepes and pans, there it was, a fallen appart, incorrectly folded, but still a properly cooked crepe sat there in all its beauty

it kinda looked like this

Although he does learn many different things with you, crepes will be the thing he makes over and over again, even when he has it down to a science, just because it's the first thing you taught him, and he will keep that sweet memory forever (get it. sweet? Cause crepes? Im funny i swear.)

Aren Kuboyasu

He actually knows how to cook pretty well

He's not really sure when he picked up cooking, its kinda just stuck around, but he enjoys it, it makes him seem more goody

and he can treat you :)

I will die on my "aren lives for the most basic/domestic activities hill"

cooking with him is always an experience, he will play music in the background, and pull you aside to dance at random times

also does that really hot thing where he stands behind you, reaches around to hold your hands, and basically has you in a cage while showing you how to do something

it's one of those spontaneous things to do, if there's nothing else to do, might as well make something to eat

firm believer in "if you have to eat to live, you might as well eat delicious foods" so he will always try out new things with you if its healthy and tasty

"bab look at this show" you called out from where you were sitting, there was a cooking show/food documentary on, and it was showing a special food. "it says this chicken has a secret sauce they dip it in"

he walked over to the tv and watched it for a couple seconds, thinking a bit.

"...wanna figure it out?"

"yes. I'll make the chicken if you figure out the sauce?"

"deal."

will you ever know if you got the secret sause? Nope, but you did figure out a chicken recipe that is good as hell

he probably writes down all the recipes you "invented" together for safekeeping and so he can return to it later, but he refuses to show it to anyone

Saiko Metori

as much as I love him, we all saw in that one episode how picky he is while eating, and is probably a bitch to please while cooking/baking

so after a lot of convincing, you got him to sit in the kitchen with you so he can watch you bake for the two of you

in reality, all you have to do is give the dish a fancy rich-sounding name, you just have to be really careful with what you say

like this 💀

you decided to bake for him today, baking is a lot more "by the book" than cooking, so you thought he would take a bit of comfort in knowing it was done in a professional way

"alright tori, so I think I'll make a heavy pastry made with fine cacao and extracts, baked into a rich dessert for a fine sweet palette"

"you're making brownies aren't you"

"🧍‍♂️"

Told you, you have to be as specific as possible

He does eventually get interested in what you're doing though, as he never really sees his personal chef cook, and wants to help you by the end

He really did enjoy it! It quickly became one of his favorite treats

But funny enough, no matter how many bakeries he tried or how many times his chef tried, they never tasted the same

(you put in special spices as your own little mark on the treat)

so he ends up having you over for more cooking dates

Which he really does enjoy btw

as a tsundere he will look all annoyed and probably call you a plebe, but these are his favorite types of dates

[zodiakuroo]

Un(holy) Trinity

Pairing: Dabi x Fem!Reader x Shigaraki

Content: 18+ dubcon/noncon, threesome, manhandling, rough sex, corruption, degradation, humiliation, breathplay, stepcest, breeding, blasphemy and sacrilege, elements of mindbreak and god complex (?) 

Word count: 4.1k

Notes: my first threesome and idk how to feel about it but here it is! If it’s bad I can blame it on the fact that I just had my wisdom teeth extracted and am currently in a world of pain :) also i’m on bedrest and incredibly bored so if anyone has requests or thirsts or just wants to chat... yeah

also if this banner is shit i’m sorry i rushed and made it on my phone cause i just rly wanted to to post

This is part 2 to my other fic Love Thy Brother which you can read here 

Now the serpent was more cunning than any beast of the field which the LORD God had made. And he said to the woman, “Has God indeed said, ‘You shall not eat of every tree of the garden’?” - Genesis 3:1

Twelve days.

Twelve days since you lost your virginity.

Twelve days since you lost your virginity to your step-brother, no less. 

The night that it happened, you lay awake in your bed dreading the aftermath of the horrific incident. How could you face him again? How could you face your family? How could you face God? 

You were too cowardly to face the rest of your household. The Todoroki family welcomed you into their home only for you betray them by sleeping with Touya. Ever since you were little, your mother would say she had a sort of sixth sense that meant God would always tell her when you’d been up to mischief. It sounds silly but there was no explanation for how she would always catch out in lie or know things that you never told her. You feared she would take one look at you and know the sin you committed. And so you chose to make yourself scarce, taking extra shifts at work and choosing to study at the campus library rather than at home. Your siblings seemed to notice how busy you suddenly were, often remarking how they missed you around the house. That just made you feel more ashamed. 

As for God, you felt like you needed to do whatever necessary to prove your faith. You wanted Him to know the extent of your shame and remorse. You were weak in spirit, making you an easy target for someone as devious as Touya. You prayed and begged for forgiveness until your knees hurt but no matter what you did, the guilt was inescapable. You realized it was because, irrespective of the regret and remorse you felt, you couldn’t deny that you enjoyed what happened. You liked the way Dabi made you feel and you hated yourself for it. But no matter how much you liked it, something like that could never happen again. As penance, you banned yourself from bringing your hands anywhere near your groin. After all that temptation is what brought you to this point in the first place. But the thread of your self-control is thin and withered so at night when you’re certain everyone is asleep, you’re humping your pillow like an animal and biting down on your lip trying to keep from moaning his name. At least you weren’t touching right? 

Dabi, by some God-given miracle, made himself scarce as well. It wasn’t uncommon for the noirette to disappear for days at a time doing heaven knows what only to arrive back at home like nothing happened; so no one really questioned his absence. Perhaps he  felt the same way you did and was avoiding facing you and the other Todorokis.

Yeah right. 

Shame? Todoroki Touya doesn’t know the meaning of the word. 

In any case, you had become used to a Dabi-less house and so lulled into a false sense of safety, slowly but surely reverting back to normal. That’s why as you make your way downstairs, prepared to go to your church, the sound of gunfire and explosions from the living room doesn’t alarm you. Probably Natsuo or Shouto playing one of their video games, you thought. But when you get to the bottom of the stairs you’re met with unmistakable dark locks. Not just him. The back of another person’s head, one with pale blue, shoulder length hair. Before you can stop yourself, you let out a gasp. Neither of them react, seemingly too focused on their game. You don’t waste any time feeling relieved, choosing instead to make a silent escape. 

You could only dream of being so lucky. 

“Oi!” Your step-brother calls without turning around. He hasn’t seen you, you think. If you move quickly you can still get out of this. “I know you heard me, brat. Get over here before I drag you over here.” He still doesn’t bother to turn around but the sharpness in his tone lets you know that you’d be smart to listen. You take a second to steel your nerves and make your way over to the couch, trying your best to look as intimidating as possible. You scowl at both men but they are so engrossed in their video game, they don’t even acknowledge that you’re standing right there. “Aren’t you gonna say hi? We have company.” 

We?

The company in question is Shigaraki Tomura. He’s been to the house before although he’s never even so much as glanced in your direction, too busy with his phone or playing games with Dabi. Despite your hard expression you can only manage a meek “Hello Shigaraki.” 

He responds by finally looking at you, with a sleazy grin, a pair of crimson eyes, surrounded by creases meet your own. “Sup.” 

Beer cans litter the coffee table, one of them being turned into a makeshift ashtray while both have smouldering cigarettes perched between their lips. “You’re not supposed to smoke in the house.” 

“You’re not supposed to smoke in the house.” Dabi mocks you with a nasal voice. 

You simply roll your eyes, not interested in continuing this interaction any further.  “Whatever. I’m leaving now.” You state with as much firmness as you can muster. You spin on your heels but are kept in place by long, slender digits wrapped around your wrist. 

“Where are you off to anyways?” The game paused, both boys now looking at you. 

Out of habit, you answer truthfully. “Bible study.” 

Shigaraki and Dabi burst into raucous laughter. 

You should have lied. 

“Nah you’re gonna hang out with me and Shigaraki for a bit.” 

“Dabi, I have to leave.”

“You don’t have to do anything except what I tell you and I’m telling you to sit.” 

Before you can protest you’re being hauled on to the couch, squeezed between the two of them. 

“Nice necklace.” Tomura snorts, hand reaching out to grab at your crucifix but you swat it away. His gaze is unnerving. It makes you wonder if- no. He promised he wouldn’t. 

Just like that, their game is resumed, as if you were never there. A few rounds pass, no words exchanged between either of them, only curses muttered under their breath. “Dabi, can I please go. I’m bored.” 

Wrong choice of words. 

“You hear that Tomura? The princess is bored.” His fingers are still moving rapidly over his controller. 

“Really now? Come on then Todoroki, let’s show her a good time. I’ve seen how she likes to have fun.” 

His comment on your necklace suddenly makes sense, but you still can’t believe it. “You didn’t…” you whip your head back to look at Dabi. 

”Sorry doll, you made your Nii-san so proud, I just had to show you off.” Dabi smiles shamelessly, lighting himself another cigarette. 

“You’re fucking sick Touya.” Tomura says, however his tone is not one of disgust but rather of admiration. 

“You promised...” Your voice breaks. You’re humiliated beyond belief. 

Both of them laugh at you again, discarding their controllers. “Told you, it’s adorable how stupid she is.” Dabi remarks to his friend, as if you’re not sitting right next to them. 

You try to force your way off the couch but get pulled into Dabi’s lap, one of his arms hooking around both of yours, securing them behind your back. You squirm in his arms but he stills you with a hard slap on your inner thigh. “Be good okay? Don’t embarrass me.” He nuzzles into your neck. 

Shigaraki flips up your dress exposing your white lace panties. He runs his thumb up and down your clothed slit, he fabric slowly becoming even more transparent. One severe jerk to the top of your dress and the straps are torn clean off, revealing the matching bra. “Yo, Touya. I thought she was a good girl.”

Dabi peers over your shoulder to get look. “Who’s all this for babe? You screwing the preacher or something? Or were you hoping I’d do something like this?” He tugs down your bra until your breasts are spilling over the top of it.

“Dabi…” Your choke on your plea when he sinks his teeth into your neck. He bites down so hard you’re positive he’s left a mark.

“Who?” 

“T-Touya-nii.” You whimper. 

“Better.” 

Your destroyed dress is discarded somewhere across the room and you find yourself on your hands and knees with Shigaraki kneeling on the couch in front of you and Dabi behind you. 

“Go easy on her alright Tomura. It’s her first time sucking cock.” He chuckles. 

Your eyes go wide. “Wait...” you mewl but neither pay you any mind.

“And you.” Dabi yanks a fistful of your hair. “No teeth. No puke. Or I’ll let my boy ream your little ass as punishment.”

“Yeah. What he said.” Shigaraki mutters, pulling his semi out of his sweatpants, rubbing his tip against your lips. His is not as scary as your step-brother’s but him staring down at you like this, makes him seem every bit as intimidating. 

Pre-cum dribbles from the swollen tip. You’re not entirely sure you want that in your mouth but you’re also not sure if you have a choice so you open up hesitantly. 

Dabi’s right. It is your first time doing something like this. You don’t know what you’re supposed to do but as it turns out you don’t have to do much, not with the way Shigaraki starts thrusting his quickly hardening member into your mouth.

“Move your tongue slut.” The man in front of you grunts. You do your best despite the heavy intrusion to obey his command, moving from side to side, swirling around the head when he pulls out of your mouth. He looks down at you with cruel vermillion eyes, panting as he strokes himself in front of you, spreading your saliva across his shaft before sliding deep into your mouth again.

Behind you, Dabi spreads apart your cheeks, squeezing the flesh in his calloused hands. “Remember what I said. Be good and I’ll give you a reward.” He pulls your panties to the side and lets out a whistle at the sight of your dripping slit. “She’s enjoying it. Make her take it deeper.”

You can’t possibly fathom how much deeper he can go when his head is already nudging at your tonsils. You try to swallow the saliva building up in your mouth, making your cheeks hollow out around Shigaraki’s shaft. Seems like that was the right thing to do as his hand flies to the back of your head. “Shit. Shit. So good.”

Dabi’s breath wafts over your pussy. He spreads your lips apart and you feel his hot tongue lick up the juices leaking from your hole. You squeal around Tomura’s dick. You want to pull off but his spindly fingers hold your head in place.

“Told you angel. Good little sisters get rewards.” With that he takes your clit between his lips and suckles on it gently while one of his fingers circles your entrance. Knuckle by knuckle he slides into you, making you keen. You arch your back trying to shift your hips backwards against his hand, silently urging him to find that special spot he showed you last time. He establishes a loose rhythm. Hot wet muscle and cold metal of his piercing circles the sensitive bundle of nerves, before applying suction while his fingers work you open.

The sensation is overwhelming, a form of heavenly torture and your thighs quiver barely able to hold you up while you use your last bit of mental strength to focus on suppressing your gags. That mental strength all but evaporates when the digits inside you graze that rough patch embedded in your walls. It’s so pleasurable your reflex is to run from his fingers. Luckily for Shigaraki, that means you move forward, taking him further into your mouth.

“This where you want me? This your spot, angel?” Dabi taunts you. Shigaraki holds you in place while two of your step-brother’s fingers drill your cunt, hitting that spot over and over again. Garbled moans and cries leave your mouth and reverberate around Tomura’s cock, proving to be too much for him ultimately. 

“Shit Stop!” Don’t wanna come yet.” He pulls out your mouth so that a string of your drool drips down to your breasts.

“God! Touya-nii!” You sputter out.

“Still with the God shit?” He uses your hair to force you to look at him, neck twisted at an awkward, uncomfortable angle. “God ever make you feel this good?” His fingers thrust into you harder. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire.

“Ngghh-N-no –oh! Oh!” is your incoherent answer.

Dabi forces you back down, shoving you face first into the cushions. “See? Fuck him. Give up on god. Give up on everyone except your big brother cause no one else can make you feel this good.”

You’re so pathetic. The way you’re rocking yourself in unison with the motions of his hands. The way your tongue hangs out of your mouth, impeding any sort of intelligible verbal response. The way you’re mindlessly nodding along to whatever filth is coming out of Dabi’s mouth.

“C’mon Touya. Turn her around. Wanna try out that sweet pussy you’ve been bragging about.” You’re reminded that you aren’t alone. No, your brother’s best friend is right there to witness exactly how pathetic you are.

“Yeah in a minute. I’m still having my fun.” Dabi answers, face pressed against your mons before working you with his mouth once again.  

“Man! Come on!” Tomura whines.

 “I said in a minute.  Not my fault you can’t last.”

It’s amazing how they can bicker like this right now, as if you aren’t on your hands and knees for them, gummy walls still pulsing around his fingers. However, it’s not long before Dabi’s focus is back on you taking you to the brink of orgasm. He slows his fingers, keeping you balanced on that razor thin edge. “Should I make you cum angel?” His voice is dripping with fake concern. “Dunno… what’s in it for me?”

“Anything! Touya-nii please!”

“Anything? You gonna obey me? Do whatever I say like a good little angel? You gonna worship me?” You can’t tell if he’s being serious or if he’s mocking you.

Probably the latter. And you deserve it too.

Your faith was the thing you deemed more important than anything and anyone else but Dabi, all too easily, convinced you to disregard that. Made you lose all sense and give into lust by showing you mindblowing pleasure, only magnified by your awareness of how deeply sinful this all was. That’s the extent of the power he has over you. The story of Adam and Eve is one you know forwards and backwards and yet you were so easily tempted forbidden fruit and left completely corrupted.  Yeah, he’s definitely mocking you.

“Any- fuck- anything” You’re wiggling your ass, goading Dabi into finishing you off

“Cum in my mouth. Angel, give it to me” That’s the final straw. You explode around his fingers. Despite your walls, clamping around him, he manages to piston into you, hitting that squishy spot with astounding accuracy. His unyielding stimulation makes it feel as though the high won’t end. You’re not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Eventually, it does end though, his fingers drag out against the pull of your swollen pussy. He licks you clean making sure he gets every last drop of your cum, both inside and out, on his tongue. The ball of his piercing catches onto your rim making you yelp. He soothes the sting with gentle laps of his tongue.

“Tastes so sweet angel. So sweet knowing I’m the only one to ever fuck this pretty pussy.” He snickers before adding “So far.”

“Yeah, can I fuck her now?” Tomura was turned on before but seeing the way you fell apart at the hands of your brother? His minimal patience has run out. All he can think of now is being inside you.

 “You heard him babe. Turn around.” He spanks your ass. You try to turn around but thanks to your shaky legs you nearly fall off the couch. Dabi catches you before that happens and he dutifully sets you up on all fours, held up by quivering limbs. You hear heavy breathing from behind you as Shigaraki taps his head against your puffy clit while you twitch in place.

“She wants this so bad. Had no idea your Christian little sister was such a whore.” Shigaraki mutters. He holds you still as he buries himself in you, breathing becoming more erratic with every inch until his hip bones are digging into your soft flesh. He’s so deep. You feel so full. You squeeze shut your eyelids, savouring the stretch. 

Calloused fingers press into your jaw, making your eyes shoot open. “Pretty angel, did you forget about me?” Dabi looms over you, making a show of spitting in his palm and using it to stroke himself. He slips his thumb into your mouth, pad pressing down on the plush pillow of your tongue. “Gonna stuff you nice ‘n full angel.” All you can do is blink up at him with teary eyes, pupils blown wide with desire. 

Shigaraki begins thrusting into you, hips moving at a brutal pace. Dabi isn’t far behind him, replacing his thumb with his cock and you don’t waste time waiting for him to tell you what to do. You close your lips around his shaft, engulfing him in the wet heat of your mouth.

Unlike his friend, Dabi starts off slow. His piercings drag across your tongue and you taste metal and the salt of his pre-cum. It takes some time for you to get used to taking him in your mouth, the jewellery an added obstacle. 

You feel so full. 

Shigaraki is bottoming out with every thrust, it’s so lewd the way it makes you squelch around him. Dabi’s shaft is rubbing your throat raw and still, you make an effort to take him deeper. He keeps one hand on the back of your head while he fucks you mouth.

He looks so ethereal, so euphoric, letting out little moans and whispered expletives. The sounds he makes are divine, so heavily contrasted by everything you know about him. It leaves you star struck. He recognizes the adoration in your eyes and responds in kind with a cocky smirk. He remembers how you looked at him when you first met. Disdain and judgment. Now you look at him like he’s your only salvation. 

It’s sad actually. How you’re so desperate for someone to tell you how to live. And what a sweet, adoring little follower you are. Wasted on religion if you ask him. So soft and pliant, perfect for your big brother to mould and corrupt into his personal fuckangel. 

“Angel, Nii-san’s gonna fill you up. And you’re gonna take it yeah?”

Your whole life you aspired to this holy standard of perfection in the hopes of escaping eternal damnation. But you’re beyond absolution now.

“All of it down your throat.”

It’s okay though.

If heaven doesn’t feel like this, you’re not sure it’s worth all the effort to get there. 

He holds your necklace behind you like a leash, twisting it around his fingers. Between the way he’s basically strangling you and the way your swallowing muscles contract around his cock means that you’re not getting much air into your lungs. Your head is spinning, from being both oxygen deprived and cock drunk.

“Your God doesn’t want you anymore.” The clasp snaps and he dangles the charm in front of your face. The mould of Christ nailed to the cross taunts you.  What was once a symbol of divine love and God’s boundless forgiveness and sacrifice is just a reminder of how far you’ve fallen into depravity, creaming around Shigaraki’s cock as he ruins your cunt while your Nii-san claims your throat “You’re filthy.” Touya sneers at you as he holds himself in your throat, watching you cry and choke around him. “Dirty fuckin angel.” He grunts as he floods your mouth with the taste of his cum. It’s not exactly pleasant but you try to swallow it all down. There’s just so much. That means he’s pleased with you right? You want him to be pleased. Good girls get rewards he said 

“It’s okay.” He muses as he pulls out of your mouth. “You have me. I’m better than God and I Iove you when you’re nasty like this.” He empathizes his point by dragging his wet, softening cock across your face. “Nii-sans perfect little angel.”

It’s so pitiful how the small praise makes your heart bloom and makes your hole flutter.

You’re coughing up Touya’s cum while your body shakes with Shigaraki’s thrusts.

“What about me hm? I’m fucking you. What? You don’t like it?” Tomura’s going harder now, determined to get his fair share of your attention.

“Shig-Shigaraki – shit. Slow down!”

You’re ignored by both of them once again. If anything, Shigaraki starts fucking you harder

.”Yo’ dustpot. You better pull out. That hole still belongs to me.”

The warning falls on deaf ears, Tomura is too far gone. “So warm, she’s squeezin’ me. Fuck. Fuck.’’ No thoughts, just your tight cunt.

“Gonna do whatever I tell you?” Dabi’s talking to you now, cerulean eyes boring into yours.

You nod still staring at him with absolute devotion.

“Touya-nii’s will be done? Huh? Has a nice ring to it.”

When you don’t respond he grabs you by your cheeks forming an open mouthed pout. “Say it.”

“Touya-nii’shhh will be done.” The words come out distorted but he’s satisfied

“Oh yeah? Then be good angel slut and come on his cock for me.”  

You’re pushed over the edge, coming for the second time. Your walls clamp down around him as you sob out both their names in the form of incoherent babbling. It hits you as hard as the first one. You’re so caught up in your high you barely register the vice grip on your hips, the frantic humping against your ass. “Tight. Fuckin tight! Gotta breed! Breed this fucking hole.”

His hot, sticky cum floods your walls with, your throbbing cunt milking him for everything he’s got. He ruts against you a couple more times before removing himself completely.

You hear the familiar click of a camera. He’s sorry (not really) but the sight of your fucked out hole leaking globs of your cream and his cum was too hot for Shigaraki to not add to his spankbank. 

“Thanks for that little sis.” Dabi is resting on the couch, head thrown back smoking a cigarette.

“Yeah thanks sweetness.”  Both men, tuck themselves back into their pants

Everything feels so surreal. You cautiously move you hand between your thighs. Feeling your sore abused cunt in an attempt to grasp the reality of what happened.

Wait a minute. 

It’s too much, that too sticky to be just your arousal down there. The more you squeeze, contracting your pelvic floor, the more it seems to seep out of you. 

“You… You came inside.” You murmur as your eyes well up with tears. Whatever daze you were in seems to be broken by this revelation. Instead it’s replaced by fear of what the consequences of this might be. 

Dabi smacks his friend upside the head. “You fuckin’ dumbass. I told you not to.”

Judging by his grin, Shigaraki doesn’t register the insult. He’s too busy basking in the afterglow. “Aw, don’t cry babe. You were gripping me so tight, I thought you wanted it. ‘S’okay, your Nii-san will get you a plan B”

“Fuck no. That’s your jizz inside her.” He scowls, eyes focused on the cum that’s leaking out of your spent pussy.

“C’mon Dabi don’t be like that. I’m broke right now.” Shigaraki pleads.

Touya huffs and rolls his eyes.  “You can get yourself a morning after pill right? Tomura will pay you back.”

“Yeah babe. I promise.” He gives you a dopey smile.

It doesn’t take a genius to figure out he’s lying. Yeah, you know better now. You just nod as you pull up your panties, cringing at the sticky, wet sensation against your cunt.

 “Me and Tomura are heading out. Make sure you clean all this up before anyone gets home.”

“B-but Touya-nii-“ you snivel.

“No buts. Clean up or you won’t be sitting comfy for a week. Are we clear?”

“Yes Touya-nii.” You reply defeated.

“And do it properly. Fuyumi has 3 brothers, she knows what a cumstain looks like and I don’t wanna have to do any explaining to her.”

You only nod, trying (and failing) to blink away tears.

Dabi rewards you with a chaste kiss to your cheek. “Best little sister in the world.” And he leaves you with that.

[spideyhexx]

filthy; s. r.

pairing; steve rogers x female!reader

a/n: this is dedicated to @vineridden💕 mean/evil steve is superior

masterlist reblogs/comments/feedback is appreciated!

summary; you intentionally piss steve off, but at least you get what you want!

NSFW 18+ MINORS DNI PLEASE!!!

WARNINGS: mean!steve. lots of teasing/humiliation. slapping. hair pulling. oral (female receiving). riding. crying but good crying. unprotected sex. squirting. spitting/cumplay.

word count; 2.6k

---------------------------------------------------------

You’d be lying to yourself if you said making Steve angry was an accident.

Granted, it’s pretty easy to piss him off. He wanted everything to be perfect, always. Mister “my plan is the best plan” even though the old Captain has had his fair share of mishaps.

Ever since the tension broke between you and Steve just a few weeks ago, a fiery kiss that resulted in him pounding into you against his bedroom wall, he’s been a bit more cold.

You can’t tell if he’s being rude to continue fucking with you or if he truly regrets having sex. Either way, you wanted to light his fuse. You wanted to see the deep crease in his brow and how serious his face gets.

All you did was take a turn in the dimly lit, abandoned HYDRA facility.

Albeit a left turn instead of a right, like Steve instructed you to. How were you supposed to know a group of HYDRA agents were stashed away in one of the rooms in that hallway?

Regardless, it still jeopardized the mission and cut it short, leaving the team empty handed.

To be fair, you felt a little bad. Rebelling against Steve’s orders to purposely get on his bad side was fun, but maybe you took it too far? Nobody got hurt, but also nothing was accomplished.

Usually when Steve was mad he’d shout a few angry words at someone but this time he’s completely silent.

He gives you a stern look before jumping in the passenger seat, shrugging off questions from the team.

You began to worry you did take it too far. But a light ‘ping’ sound goes off and you check your phone to see a text from the Captain himself.

Skip the debriefing. Come to my room after you wash up.

The text bubbles pop up then disappear, leaving you with those two sentences to interpret and overthink the whole way back to the compound.

You couldn’t scrub the dirt off of your body faster as you take the quickest shower of your life.

Pondering for only a moment before deciding, fuck it, you throw on your favorite lacy set, covering it with a big t shirt. As you walk down the hallway to Steve’s room, you hope to dear god he’s really as into you as you are into him.

He’s most likely still mad at you, but that’s how you got fucked in the first place. You called him a jerk and it struck him deeper than you expected. So he fucked you until the only words out of your mouth were about how perfect he was.

You knock lightly on his door and it whips open. Steve pulls you in and shuts the door with a kick.

“Would you like to explain yourself?”

He stands tall with his arms crossed, raising an eyebrow at you expectantly. His eyes quickly look down at your bare thighs. You feel small under his stare.

“I just took the wrong turn,” you state and he scoffs, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“Just took the wrong turn, my ass.”

“Listen-”

“No! No, you know what?!”

Steve lets out a deep sigh before continuing,“I don’t care if it was just some wrong turn you cost us this fucking mission! Now we have to regroup and make sure we have a competent team next time, not including you.”

You stare at him wide eyed.

“Uh, no you’re not benching me,” you start but he’s standing his ground, shaking his head at you.

“Well I am. Because I’m allowed to, that’s what a Captain does right? Based on your actions honey, I think you deserve a time out.” he says.

The nickname falters you for a moment, stopping any words that were about to come out of your mouth. Steve notices, tilting his head to the side.

“Oh, I see,” he mumbles, stalking over to you and leaning closer to your face. You wonder if he could feel the heat radiating off of your cheeks.

“Was this a little ploy to get back in my bedroom? Hmm?”

His eyes bore into you, as though he was trying to read your mind. Your eyes lock onto his and you try to keep a straight face as his gaze drops to your lips.

“Tell me, honey.”

You say nothing and a slight smirk etches it way onto Steve’s face.

“Really? Quiet treatment? I’ll talk for you then. I think you fucked up the mission just to be here...with me...right now. Was my dick really that tempting? Such a desperate girl. Selfish, too really. Don’t give a fuck about anything because you got cockdrunk after one fuck. What a-”

You strike a quick slap across Steve’s face before he could finish and his head barely moves. He chuckles and you grip your hand that’s stinging slightly.

“Is that all you got? That’s your slap?”

Steve moves away from you to laugh.

“It’s not funny,” you mutter. You did slap him as hard as you could.

“It really is. You can’t fucking slap. Try it again,” he demands while still sporting his teasing smile.

You lay your hand on his cheek lightly before pulling away and slapping him as hard as you could. It is definitely a little harsher than the last, but Steve still laughs.

“That was a little better, but still shit. You want me to show you how it’s done?”

Steve cups your face in both of his hands, his thumbs drumming against your cheekbones. You nod at him eagerly.

“Ah, ah, you know I want to hear you say it, honey,” Steve teases, then leans his lips down to your ear, “tell your Captain you want him to slap you.”

You feel yourself melt into his touch already and you take a very quick moment to thank the heavens for already how good it feels to be like this with Steve.

“Captain, I want you to slap me.”

Steve moves one of his hands down your body to grip your waist. The other one rubs your cheek affectionately one more time before he draws his hand back and strikes it across your face. You whimper and his hand is back on your face, soothing the burning skin.

“You see? That’s how you hit someone.”

His hand drifts down to lightly grasp your neck. You jut your bottom lip out at him and he smiles.

“You’re a brat,” he mumbles, taking your bottom lip between his teeth and biting it.

Your breaths are heavy and before you could respond, Steve’s pressing his lips to yours. He grips your hips with both of his hands, shoving you as close to his body as possible.

You rake your nails through his hair and he bites your lip again, making you moan.

Steve pulls away breathless, “look at you, already moaning? Seriously? Fuck, you’re going to be so noisy once I get my cock in here.”

He cups your core and moans when he feels your lace underwear.

“Look who’s moaning now,” you retort and Steve winds his hand into your hair, pulling harshly.

“Get on the fucking bed,” he spits out and carelessly lets go of you. Without hesitation, you get on his bed, lying on your back.

Steve rucks up the shirt you have on and tosses it over his head.

“I really didn’t think you could possibly seem more desperate, but look at this.”

Steve trails a finger down your bra strap, then above your tits.

“Got yourself all pretty looking for me. I wasn’t wrong when I said you were cockdrunk.”

“Steve,” you whine out, your hands fisting the sheets a smidge tighter, even though he’s barely touching you.

“Steeeve,” he mocks your whine as he moves down the bed to settle between your legs. Roughly, he pulls them apart, placing each of your thighs over his shoulders.

Steve presses a quick kiss to your inner thigh before his lips are right above your core. His fingers trail the waistband of your underwear, then down the middle. The action already had you trying to buck your hips.

“None of that. Or do you want me to keep making fun of you?”

“Just...just get on with it, please,” you beg him and Steve chuckles.

“Filthy girl, can’t wait, huh?”

He presses a kiss to your clothed pussy, before you hear a tearing sound. You look down to see Steve had ripped your underwear completely off.

“Are you kidding me? You didn’t have to-”

“Aw is the little princess sad her panties were ripped,” he mocks, faking a frown. You let out a sigh and Steve pinches your thigh.

“Steve, you have to replace them.”

“Yeah, sure whatever. But it won’t matter in just a couple seconds will it? Cause my tongue will be on your cunt?”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right,” you relent.

“That’s a good girl. Finally.”

He licks a stripe up your core, smiling devilishly at the squirm of your hips. His tongue laps at your cunt, not holding back from plunging you into pleasure.

Steve groans at how wet you are and the feeling of you soaking his mouth. He’s been thinking about stuffing his face into your pussy since he first fucked you and now that he’s doing it, he’s relentless.

He attempts to keep your hips from squirming at every lick, but eventually he gives up, just wanting to enjoy how much you like his tongue.

“This good, honey? Sure fucking looks like it is,” he growls, moving his fingers up to rub your clit in small circles as his tongue dives into your opening.

You feel like he’s trying to lick every inch of you. All your moans are strings of ‘yes’ and ‘fuck’ and little whimpers as the sensitivity grows.

“Fuck, show me this is what you needed, princess. Cum on my face, come on.”

Your body stills as your orgasm rips through you, your toes curling as you scream out his name. You don’t miss how Steve’s moaning against your cunt as well, lapping up as much of your slick as he can.

Once your high has calmed down, Steve’s getting off the bed to rid himself of his clothes. He sits back against the headboard and practically pulls your body into his lap.

You take the opportunity to take your bra off yourself, not wanting him to rip that too.

“Listen to me,” he says, gripping your jaw so you could only look right at him. As he looks into your eyes, he could tell you’re already a bit dazed.

“Are you listening?”

You nod and squirm in his lap, his hard cock presses into your thigh and with each passing second, you feel more hungry for it.

“I want you to ride my cock. Do all the fucking work.”

He releases his hold on your jaw and leans back. You look at him and Steve points his head to his dick. Holding the base, you guide yourself slowly down his length.

Once you’re fully seated on him, you take a few breaths, already feeling the pleasure building from how much he fills you.

“You gonna do anything, princess? Or is it too difficult for you? You're the girl who's cockdrunk so you better show me how true that really is.”

With his words spurring a sense of motivation within you, you steady your hands on his chest, his hands loosely resting on your thighs.

Slowly, you begin to grind down on him, whimpering at how deep he is in you. A deep groan leaves Steve’s mouth and it turns you even more. As you get into the groove of feeling his cock again, you start to bounce on him.

“My girl, fucking herself on my cock. How cute, huh?”

You moan out a ‘yes’ and he chuckles, his gaze stuck on his cock as it disappears into you. Your hips are already stuttering and it’s difficult to keep a steady pace.

“Think you could go faster than that? Poor baby couldn’t slap right and now she can’t even fuck herself right?”

“Please, Steve, just help me,” you whimper at him, clutching tightly enough at his shoulders, you’re sure you’ll leave marks.

“You sure? That means you’re giving up, honey. Admitting you can’t do this-”

“I know, fuck it. I need you to fuck me, Stevie,” plead and he’s quick to push the two of you down the bed a little so he can lay down more.

He plants his feet on the bed and holds your hips. You’ll probably both have marks from each other’s fingers.

Steve gives one experimental thrust up into you and it sends you reeling against him, dropping your head to his neck. He chuckles breathlessly before fucking his cock up into you.

“So much better, right?” He asks, kissing right under your ear.

Compared to your sporadic bounces on his dick, Steve’s pounding into you. He thrusts hard and fast and his frequent chuckling at the noises you’re making gets you closer and closer to the edge.

One whimper makes him still though and he pulls your head up to look at him.

“Look at this,” Steve coos, using his thumb to wipe the stray tear that left your eye.

“Why’re you crying, honey?”

For a moment, you think he’s genuinely concerned but the way he’s trying to hide his smirk tells you otherwise.

“I’m sensitive,” you mumble and he hums.

“Your cunt’s sensitive?”

You nod at him and he begins to fuck you again, but his movements are slower, deeper.

“So what you’re telling me is...you came once from my tongue and your pussy’s already so sensitive that you’re crying? Think you could even handle cumming again?”

“Mhm, I could do it, Stevie, just so close.”

You knew you could, it’s just him that makes you extra riled up.

“Alright then, princess. You better fucking cum soon, then.”

Just as you were getting used to his slower thrusts, Steve picks up the pace again. He grabs one of your wrists and pushes it down to your cunt.

“Rub it,” he says, his lips pressing against your ear, then leaving a few sloppy kisses on your jaw. Your fingers work fast on your clit until you feel like you’re going to burst.

And you do, as Steve delivers one more thrust and you dissolve into pleasure, with him following and filling your cunt with his load. Steve pushes you off of him and laughs as he looks down at his bed.

“Made a mess, honey. You’re washing the sheets.”

He looks over to you, splayed out on his bed, breathless and still coming down from your orgasm. Steve moves back between your legs and you instinctively shut them from the oversensitivity.

“I’m just cleaning up,” he says.

Steve groans at the sight of his cum dripping out of your cunt and dips his head to lap it up into his mouth.

He moves back up to you and opens your mouth. You stick out your tongue and Steve spits his cum, mixed with yours as well, into your mouth. He closes your mouth for you and you swallow without him telling you to.

“There you go again, being a good girl.”

You watch as Steve picks up his clothes and puts them on.

“Am I really benched?”

You put on your best pout and Steve sighs.

“Yeah. Only stay out for one mission, then you can come back. That sound good, honey?”

You nod at him and he kisses you, his lips lingering against your own for a couple of moments before he’s pulling away.

“You wash the sheets or buy me new ones and I’ll buy you whatever pair of slutty panties you want.”

[darkacademicfrom2021]

It’s very ambiguous

Pairing: Loki x reader (gender neutral)

Summary: You have finally come to age; your soulmate mark draws itself in your skin. You can't figure out who it connects you with, but, oh dear, you can only hope and wish it is to him. But Loki won't make it easy for you to find out. Will you both overcome the pride and fear that would involve your love?

Word count: 4.6 K

Warnings: a bit of angst. (English is not my mother tongue and it’s my first time writing fanfiction in english, so forgive me if there’s any errors, and feel free to correct them!)

Sighing at your reflection, you stared for the Norns know how long to the fresh image that drew itself in the side of your abdomen.

You thanked it was easy to hide; saving you endless mockery from your friends if they saw that. The vivid portrayal of who you loved the most, in the most ambiguous drawing you could’ve ever gotten. How ironic.

What the Heavens would that mean, you asked yourself at least five times until the impatient knocking on the bathroom door pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Hurry up, we’re late”, said Sif. You knew she was already all dressed up for the Ball, and she would kill you, seeing you were still on your robes. You opened the bathroom door slowly, with burrowed frows. You couldn’t hide it, as much as you tried to. “Oh, for God’s sa…” she started complaining, but stopped as soon as she realized you were in a terrible state of mind.

“I got it”, you explained after she made you get out of the bathroom and sat you on the edge of the bed. “I got the mark. Impossible to guess”.

“Don’t worry about it, you’ll know who they is when the time is right”, said she, comforting you and eyeing the outfit you’d chosen earlier. “But crytime is over. Guess what time it is now. Yes, you guessed right. The Ball”.

The last thing you wanted to do in that moment was to dance; or to stay in a chair drinking wine the entirety of the night, for that matter. You didn’t need another reminder of your frustrated attempts at making him notice you. And you knew he wasn’t the one (if he were your soulmate, it would’ve already happened years; no, decades ago). But you still couldn’t help but falling in love at every little smirk, every little comment, every little thing he did. Dear, you were lost, completely gone in love.

That’s why you knew you wouldn’t find your soulmate for a long, long time. At least not until your crush for Loki had finally gone away.

“I’d rather stay”, you stated, and she rolled her eyes.

“Well, I want to go, and I can’t go alone. Please, at least do it for me”.

“Why would you want to go? Ever since we’re on age of being asked to dance, we have only gotten invitations from… well, anyone except them. And in the Balls we can’t even be their friends”.

“We can be friends, if they talk to us first we can talk back”.

“Yeah, we could, but they don’t talk first. They never do”.

Both of you were completely lost for the princes. But, unlike you, Sif had a chance with Thor. She was graceful, divine, a wonderful woman; a whole Goddess, an amazing warrior. There was no question Thor would sooner or later find love in her friend. But you… why would a prince like Loki lay his eyes on you? Romantically, he never showed a single trace of interest in anyone, much less someone in his friendgroup. You were the closest to him, yet he never said a thing.

He probably knew you drooled over him. He must have noticed how you looked at him in the library when he read to you, how you always defended him from everyone else’s mockery, how you intentionally pretended like you didn’t know any better in spells so that he could help you out. How your heartbeat raced when he fell asleep on your lap. He must have noticed, yet he said nothing.

She finally managed to convince you to go, with the condition that if you weren’t asked to dance at all, or even talk, you’d go back to your manor early.

You got in your best clothes, and undressing the best attitude possible, you both arrived at the palace and entered the ballroom as quick as your feet let you. The ambient was marvelous. Subtle lighting, most of them by candles. The golden details that characterized Asgard so well were everywhere. Both King and Queen were sat in their thrones, waiting patiently for the rest of the royal family to arrive before giving the annual speech and getting the party started.

“Do you think they’re not coming?” asked Sif as you got comfortable in your seats, eyeing the entrances.

“They can’t miss it, they’re sort of the hosts”, you said, “but… well, I don’t know. The other day after training, Thor mentioned something about this year being particularly difficult for them”, you added in such a low whisper that Sif had to pull closer.

“What did he say? He didn’t mention anything to me”, she whispered back. You two looked like you were merely gossiping, if it weren’t for the lack of giggling that would usually follow.

“He said… he said something along the lines of ‘we’re expected so much more than before in these dances, they’re more than just for fun now’, and, Sif, I think he meant…”, but she abruptly interrupted you.

“Courting? Oh, for the Norns, they’re not expected to choose a partner now, so soon, aren’t they?”.

“Soon? Sif, they’re already at each other’s throats for who’s becoming King, and they have been for a while”.

“They’re not exactly competing, anyways. You don’t have to worry about this. It’s not like Loki’s the one winning” said she, earning a subtle kick in the leg. “Auch!”.

“Would you stop being so hard on him?”.

“You know I’m right!”. 

“You know it hurts him. If you think so, at least keep it to yourself, Sif”.

You could’ve kept lecturing her if it weren’t for the sarcastic clapping of the Queen upon seeing the arrival of her sons. You read the ‘you’re late!’ on her lips and the apologetic looks on their faces. But nothing of that distracted you from admiring how marvelous Loki could get sometimes. Just when you thought he couldn't look any better, he outdid himself. You let out a sigh and Sif laughed.

“You’re staring”.

“And rightfully so. Look at him”.

But no matter how much you looked at him for the whole evening, you couldn’t get even a gaze from him. He didn’t even eyed you from the distance. You would’ve even gotten actually mad at him if it weren’t for the fact that he wasn’t looking anywhere. He didn’t seem like he was avoiding you; he was actively staring at the floor, with the saddest look on his face. And Thor looked pissed off.

“There’s a story in there and I will ask for as many details as possible once Loki spills the beans to you”, said Sif, elbowing you.

“I don’t think he will. Look, it looks like more than a fight. He looks so upset”.

You could only wish you were brave enough to break the stupid rule of the royals approach first so you could take his hand tightly and comfort him in whatever he was going through. As you always did. As he always let you.

The music played for three hours. Everyone was on their feet, dancing away, drinking away and chatting away, as one should in a Ball dance. Everyone except you and certain dark prince you didn’t even bother staring at anymore. You gave up looking for his attention an hour after the dance properly started, and it did nothing good to your pride to have been trying for that long anyways.

Sif got her chance, of course. Thor took his time, but after long he gave up with whatever quarrel he was having with his brother and approached her decisively. You were past pissed. Disappointed. After another sip of your wine, you couldn’t resist and stole a glance to Loki’s seat. To your surprise, you met his gaze. The God of Mischief was staring at you, and he apparently has been for Gods know how long. He quickly dropped his head and went back to looking at the floor, now with a completely red face.

You soon realized he was even more upset than before, as he watched Thor and Sif dance. And then you understood. Everything fell into place. Of course. Of course he liked Sif. Who wouldn’t. That’s why he fought with Thor. That’s why he was so worked up. You didn’t even need to read his mind to confirm it. 

You waited, still holding your eyes on him. You waited for another half an hour, but your patience was already on thin ice and he didn’t look like he would do anything more, anyways. So you did what you should’ve done hours ago. You got up and left.

“No, brother, you can go, I’ll let Mother know I’m staying”, said Loki from his room.

He could hear Thor’s patience shatter in pieces from the other side of the door.

“Don’t be ridiculous, we can’t miss the Ball. Father will kill you”.

“It’s not my problem”.

“I think it is quite your problem, brother”. Loki sighed. He wasn’t in the mood for his mockery. Thor sensed it and lowered his tone of voice, insisting. “Tell me what it is, Loki. I promise I’ll try to help out”.

But he only scoffed and locked the door, to start pacing around the room, feeding his anxiety even more. He covered his arm with his palm and tried his best to make it go away. It’s just an accidental illusion. I’m making it out of nervousness. I need to make it go away, he kept saying under his breath. But it didn’t go away. It wasn’t an illusion.

“Oh, FOR THE NINE REALMS”, he kicked his chair as a sudden burst of anger ate him alive.

“Loki, let me in!”, insisted Thor. “I’m going in”.

“You can’t help me”.

“I might, if you just tell me what is it. You love the dances. Come on”.

“I do love dances, Thor, I’m not particularly fond of the weight this one has on us; not this year” he growled from the floor, knees on his chest. “Not with what I had planned, I can’t do it now” he whispered. Thor pretended like he didn’t listen to that last bit.

Loki had been circling around the idea of asking you to dance for the last few months. It was all he wanted; to caress your hand and gently hold you by the waist, to move at the pace of the music, to feel your heart on his chest, his rising heartbeat with every breath you took. He wanted you, and if that wasn’t possible (and he was sure it wasn’t) he wanted to dance with you all night long.

But now, he would have to court you and marry you if he did. And, of course, it was what he wanted. It was definitely all he wanted. But he knew you wouldn’t. And he wouldn’t risk your beautiful friendship over anything in the world. What if he lost you forever? He could never bring himself to lose you, in any form or way.

“Brother, let me in. Or get out of the room. We’re late”.

“You’re late, Thor. Must I repeat myself? I’m not going”.

“I’m kicking the door”.

Loki sighed, and waited to hear Thor’s intense footsteps get closer and closer to the door to open it just in time and see him land on his face. Thor got up off the floor with blood on his nose.

“It combines with your crimson cape, brother, no need to worry” said Loki mockingly.

But Thor paid little attention to his silvertongue. Instead, his eyes were fixed on his arm. Then, he understood exactly why he was acting so terrified. Loki covered his arm as soon as he realized, mortified, but it was now too late and Thor had already seen it.

“Do you need any other reason to invite them to dance with you?”, he said with a grin of pride.

“It's not them. I’m certain”.

“How are you so certain? It’s such an ambiguous drawing, and you haven’t seen theirs!”.

“They doesn’t even have a soulmate mark yet. They told me the other day”.

“You didn’t have one at that time either, it must have changed. Come on”.

Loki sighed and put on a long sleeved outfit, while letting Thor rant about how much he was sure you’d reciprocate his feelings. And Loki couldn’t say anything against it, because it would only bring ruin to everyone; to spill the obvious secret that haunted him everyday.

The fact that you lusted over Thor.

And it hurted him like anything else, because he knew even though you didn’t say anything. He knew he was the lesser prince. The one that gets looked over. The shadow in his brother’s spotlight. The always-prince, never-King. It hurted like Hell.

But there was nothing he could do about it. And now he had a mark that linked him to the Norns know who, but he only had eyes for you.

Because you were always there. You were the one to defend him against his own insecurities, and everyone else’s accusations. The one to laugh the loudest at his jokes, the one to hold him the tightest when you were in fear, the one to call him first to anything. And you were perfect. But you, for obvious reasons, didn’t think the same of him. You thought the world of him, but not in the way he wished.

And he wouldn’t even get to see you happy from someone else’s love, because his brother didn’t even have eyes for you. The idiot of Thor could not see your brightness, and Loki wondered how could anyone not fall in love with you.

“You need to try, Loki, you’ll never know if you don’t risk a little”.

“A little? To you this is a little? Do you have any idea what would happen to me if I lost them forever? If the person that I love the most leaves me because I just decided to stop hiding my feelings?”, yelled Loki, completely angered.

“Ah, there it is. If I decided to stop hiding my feelings”, repeated Thor, crossing his arms and rolling his eyes.

“What is that supposed to mean?!”.

“You are afraid; so incredibly afraid of letting anyone know you fully. That is your problem, Loki. They’ll accept you no matter what, because they already know you. You think you’re hiding, well, you’re not so good with this little lie of yours”, said finally Thor, tired of biting his tongue about it.

“You know nothing about their feelings”.

“I know enough”.

“Believe me, you don’t. And you don’t get to say a word about my love life, or anything about this situation, for that matter. You don’t get to make light of my situation, as you do with everything regarding me. Now, leave. Me. Alone”.

They continued fighting about it until one of their tutors had enough of their unpunctuality and came to look for them. Both entered the ballroom still highly upset at each other and said nothing about it all night. Frigga knew exactly what they were talking about, and didn’t make too much of a fuss about the delay in their arrival.

Loki tried to not look at you in the entirety of the night; avoided all the eye contact he could with anyone, specially you. He was too afraid you’d choose that exact time to practice your special abilities at mind reading (since you’ve done this at previous dances, when Loki didn’t approach you), and if he didn’t see you, you couldn’t do it. Because if you dared reading his mind you’d only find yourself. And in those little moments he got to glance at you, while you were distracted with something else, he sank in sadness, because all he wanted was to embrace you and dance with you. You looked as fantastic as you always were and more. You looked especially excellent. And it didn’t go unnoticed to him that you looked annoyed. From the eye-sided glances he got to steal from you, he saw you staring at the seat he and his brother were in. You were expectant. You wanted to be taken out to dance. And Loki’s suspicions about your crush on Thor only got reassured when he asked Sif for a dance and you looked the most annoyed you’d ever looked in ages.

You left the dance early. After about ten minutes Loki decided to go after you. Outside of the ballroom you could still be a friend; that was the whole point of swallowing his feelings. He wandered the palace until he heard fireballs collapsing against the huge walls of your typical training spot, but he lingered his entrance to observe you in an incredibly angry state of your magic.

“You’ll set the palace on fire” said a gut-wrenching familiar voice. Of course Thor was there. Of course Thor would get earlier to comfort you in something that he destroyed.

“Then so be it”, you answered with a crack in your voice. Loki didn’t mean to invade your privacy, but he couldn’t help himself but to listen.

“I know why you’re upset. Believe me, it upsets me too”.

“You have no idea what upsets me”, you answered, and Thor chuckled. Loki could sense that Thor was thinking about how similar you and Loki were. You threw another fireball against the wall.

“Let me guess”.

“Enlighten me, your majesty”.

“You didn’t get to dance with the man you like”.

“You know nothing about the man I like”.

“When will you all stop treating me as if I were blind? Come on, why won’t you tell me? I’m your friend. I know you’re burning up in love and you still think you don’t have a chance because… because what? Because he’s the prince of Asgard?” said Thor. You stopped your magic and stared at him with teary eyes.

“Because the prince of Asgard I love, is in love with Sif. And there’s nothing I can do about it” you answered. Loki’s heart broke. Hearing you admit your raw feelings to Thor that way, and Thor not even understanding you were talking about him.

“What makes you think he’s in love with Sif?!” insisted, still clueless.

But Loki didn’t need to hear any more of that. He ran through the halls of the palace until he got to lock himself in his room.

“What makes you think he’s in love with Sif?!”, Thor asked, and you scoffed. You lowered your gaze to the floor, trying to make the tears go unnoticed. They didn’t, and Thor hugged you tightly.

Thor was almost like a brother to you. You grew up together, but it was more than that. You were always for each other. He never had to ask about your love for Loki, he always knew. And you never had to ask about his crush in Sif; it was transparent. So you both supported each other. You didn’t even bother telling him how she felt about him, it was bound to happen. Now, you and Loki, on the other hand…

“He is, you can’t deny it”.

“I’m denying it, I assure you”. You wiped your tears away and touched your mark over your clothes. He smiled. “You got the mark, didn’t you?”.

“Yeah”.

“What is it?”.

“Ugh, it doesn’t matter. Maybe I should just forget him and start looking for my soulmate. If the mark showed up today, then it must be for something. There has to be a reason”. Thor nodded, still smiling. “What are you so happy about, dumbass? My heart’s broken".

“Nothing. You keep on looking. Can I see it?”, said he, patting your back.

“It’s too ambiguous, you won’t guess it”.

“So I expected”.

“What’s that supposed to mean? Do you know anything?”.

“Nothing whatsoever”.

You got in your fighting position. Loki bent down in his seat, focusing on the next fight. He was sure you’d win; he has been teaching you new moves and you completely mastered them. And your rival didn’t know any better, anyways.

One kick from your opponent; you avoided it and threw a punch. Another kick. Another punch. The rival grabbed your leg, making you lose your balance and almost fall down, but you used that impulse to push him away and get him to the ground. He got up and started using magic. A blue light shone around him and started getting closer to your feet. You closed your eyes and focused intensely; soon, water drops started emerging from the tips of your fingers. They quickly transformed into a stream of water that wrapped your opponent from head to toes, making his electricity magic attack him, instead of you. Loki smiled.

Your rival pushed further his strength and one of the electrified waterjets hit your leg. You fell to the ground with a scream. It hurted, a lot. Loki gasped and Thor had to grab his shoulder to remind him it was just a training fight. For his tranquility, you got up on your feet soon and started using your magic again.

An aura of sparks and wind formed around you while you closed your fists, extremely concentrated. Your opponent waited without attacking, but behind the shield of his armour. Loki saw Thor smile proudly; this was the part he taught you. For your fire side of your powers, Thor was the one to train you thoroughly. Loki sighed, frustrated because you haven’t yet shown what Loki had taught you with such enthusiasm. He still observed you with attention.

“This part is awesome, look, brother”, whispered Thor in his ear, which only made him angrier.

“I’m sure it is. They is awesome. And wait until you see what I taught them”. Thor chuckled.

“No need for jealousy, Loki. They’s all yours”. Loki rolled his eyes and directed his attention to the fight again.

The sparks and wind grew bigger and bigger around you, circling your whole body. Once the sparks became fire, you directed your whole energy to your opponent, sending him against the wall. If it weren’t for the gigant fire-proof shield, he would’ve gotten completely roasted.

You put your guard down, and as you did so, the wind and fire around you dispersed. Loki got to see you again once the magic flew down, and realized you had your clothes slightly lifted up. He tried not to look out of respect, but Thor gasped, and that drew his attention directly to what surprised his brother. And it did not disappoint. Loki’s chest got as tight as it has ever been. His breathing became irregular and unsteady, and his face got completely red. You didn’t notice your shirt had lifted up, so you didn’t realize what was going on. You got closer to your defeated rival and shaked his hand.

“You win. I see you’ve been well trained”, he said.

“I have”, you answered, and directed your gaze to the princes who were watching the fight. You walked closer to them to chatter, as you always did, but Loki got up fast and ran out of the training room. Thor told you to follow him, and Loki heard your footsteps behind him for the entirety of the hall, until you two got to the gardens.

Loki was shaking. He didn’t want you to be there. He didn’t want you to see him that vulnerable. And you knew it, so you didn’t get closer than two meters apart.

“Loki”, you said after a while, behind his back. “What’s wrong?”.

He turned around, face still red. He was usually cold, but at that moment he was burning up inside and out. Maybe he was burning out of love for you. Maybe out of anger, for being so pessimistic and making himself a martyr when his brother was clearly right. Maybe out of rage to himself, for waiting so long to make a move and losing so much time lost in his own head. But you were still standing there, concerned. And he had to say something, because you still didn’t know anything.

“I saw your mark”, he stated. Now you were the one with the red face.

“Oh… I, I don’t, uh…”, you stuttered, and he got closer to you. He grabbed both of your hands and you looked at him in the eyes, clueless. “I try not to give it that much attention”.

“Why?”, he asked. “It’s your soulmate. The person you’ll love the most”.

“I already love someone” you said, in a burst of confidence. Loki swallowed in nervousness. Your hands started to get sweaty. “I… ugh. Sorry. I don’t want to say…”.

“Who? Tell me, I’m your best friend”.

“I don’t want you to be”, you finally said. “It’s you, Loki. It’s always been you. I don’t care about this stupid soulmate mark, because I know I’m in love with you and I always have been”.

Loki stayed silent, which only made your anxiety increase. He finally looked at you in the eyes and formed a subtle smile.

“I thought you loved Thor”.

“What? Why would I…?”.

“I heard you after the Ball; you said the prince you love was in love with Sif”.

“Yeah, you”.

“I’m… what? I’m not… I’m not in love with Sif, darling”.

Your heart stirred, and you weren’t sure if it was because of the pet name he just gave you, or the fact that you got it all wrong. He wasn’t in love with Sif?

“I’m sorry, did we both think…?”.

“We’re idiots, apparently”.

You both laughed. That was it; that cotidianity, that normality that felt, even in the most embarrassing and intense moments, completely fine. Because you were, before anything, friends.

You hugged him. He returned the hug and caressed your neck and back with one hand. You felt his heartbeat rise, and from that position, he whispered in your ear with that beautifully deep and raspy voice; “I saw your mark”.

“I don’t care about it. I don’t want to ruin our friendship, ignore my feelings if necessary. But my heart only beats for you”, you whispered back. He sank his nose on the crook of your neck and felt his mouth form a smile against your skin. You shivered and felt warmth in your stomach.

“I don’t want to ignore your feelings”.

“I love you”, you said once again, regretting it in that instant. You couldn't stop your words from falling out of your mouth. You felt like you sounded desperate.

“I love you too, my dear”.

You, in shock, looked at him in the eyes. He kept smiling, and putting a strand of your hair behind an ear, placed a small kiss on your red cheek.

“I don’t know what to do next. I like being your friend”, you said. “And I don’t think we’re meant to be. I got a mark, and you haven’t, so it’s obvious we won’t end up together anyways. And I want you by my side for all my life; even if it’s just as a friend, you know? I don’t want to lose you”. Loki chuckled at your rant. “What?”.

“What makes you think I didn’t get my mark yet?”.

“Well, I… I don’t know. Did you?”.

“Yes”.

“What does it look like?”.

He smiled.

“It’s very ambiguous”, said he, sarcastically.

“Hard to guess, is it?” you chuckled, realizing what was going on. Loki lifted his sleeve, uncovering an identical soulmate mark to yours.

“Hard to guess, yet so obvious”, he said. He grabbed your waist and neck and both melted in a long, desired kiss. You sank your fingers in his hair, caressing his scalp. “Yours?”

“It’s very ambiguous too, you know?”.

[mandoinevarro]

WILL BUY STOLEN GOODS FOR LOWER PRICE

Rule Maker, Rule Breaker: Chapter 1

Words: 8.4k 

Rating: E

Warnings: shooting, non-descriptive death, SMUT, fingering, mentions of masturbation, AND masturbation now that I remember, penetration, creampie! just general filth, gambling?

a/n: SO literally nobody asked for this, but I decided to turn NO REFUNDS into the prologue of a short series (you don’t really need to read NO REFUNDS, it’s only for context.) Anywayyys heavy feelings, heavy plot, heavy smut. Have fun. 

……………

Maker, you need to start cheating. That way you wouldn’t be in the middle of a staring contest with your cards, like you can change their colorful drawings and numbers if you only glare hard enough. You’ve never been particularly good at sabacc, but a little luck wouldn’t hurt, especially since this is the third round in a row you lose.  Duma deals the last couple of cards across the coal black table and stacks the deck, signaling the start of the game.

Well, you suppose it doesn’t really matter; you doubt your sabacc buddies have better hands. These days, everyone in Nevarro is short on luck. Luck and food and water. Others are less pessimistic: As soon as Greef Karga glances at his hand he leans back on the carcass of a cantina booth and slaps his belly. “Ha!” he bellows, “by the end of this round, you filthy gutter womp rats will have to borrow from your womp rat mothers to pay me.”

“Quit bluffing, Karga. We know you don’t have shit,” Cara mutters. She picks up her cards and pulls a face like she bit on lemon, but still the veteran goes all in, pushes forward a couple of stabilizing coils, an identity beacon you could’ve sold at a decent price some months ago and—maker—even a pouch of nova crystal dust. Nobody here is stupid enough to gamble with food, but you’re surprised that even nova has lost its worth and been demoted to casino chip status. “This place smells like shit.”

“Bad bluff, piss-poor trash talk too,” you taunt. “Looks like all that time doing business with Imperials smoothed your brain, Karga.”

“Ex-Imperials,” he corrects. The ex-Guild leader slides a few more credits to the center of his ex-cantina’s table. “We live in a jolly Republic now, didn’t you hear? You’ve been liberated.”

“Fuck ‘em.” Duma turns her head, spits on the melted floor. “Can’t eat liberation, can I?” She throws a few more worthless credits onto the growing pile of nothing. At least, for now, it’s nothing. Credits and ship parts and every other type of currency haven’t meant anything but props in Nevarro for five months, when the siege began. That whole mess with troopers and Greef and Cara was bound to bring some repercussions—aside from making Karga’s cantina look like a volcano erupted inside. For five months, Imperial forces have surrounded the planet, and for five months, food and resources haven’t been allowed inside. They won’t let up, rumor has it, until they find the culprit: one particular Mandalorian with a valuable asset. They think he’s still hiding somewhere in the planet, but you know better. You watched the Razor Crest’s fly off-orbit and leave everything behind. Everything and everyone.

“This place smells like shit,” Cara repeats.

“Not shit,” replies Duma, “ash.” She picks up a card from the deck with long fingers. “You never did explain how that Mandalorian managed to torch this place.”

Cara’s sabacc face melts. Her fingers tighten and bend her cards as she exchanges a complicit look with Greef. “Never said it was Mando.”

“Who else? I was there in the first shootout. That hunter was fierce.” Duma dons a wolfish smile, because this is how she always wins: She plays with people, not cards. In fact, she abandons her hand face-down on the table and—oh no—gives you a once-over. “You knew him well, didn’t you?” You almost want to show her your garbage hand so she doesn’t bother trying to throw you off your inexistent game.

“Swung by the store a couple of times,” you answer as casually as you can manage and pretend the most interesting book is written on your cards. “But we weren’t exactly chummy, if that’s what you’re asking.” Creeping warmth attacks your face and there’s no stopping it. Shit.

“Funny, could swear I saw him leaving your store more than a couple of times.” You feel Duma’s eyes piercing into your forehead. “Pretty late at night, too.”

“Is that so?” Cara pipes with a lopsided grin.

“I thought you two were…friends,” Duma adds.

“Yeah, well,” you mutter, “you thought wrong.” Friends don’t leave friends to their luck in the middle of a fucking siege. It’s the same prickly thought that’s plagued you since you watched the Mandalorian take off triumphantly. It’s a stupid feeling. He was under no obligation to take you with him. You didn’t lie to Duma, you two weren’t friends. You couldn’t even call what you had a fling, even those require some degree of making-love-below-the-stars, quoting-passages-of-Naboo-Nights-to-each-other romance. Flings are shooting stars. No, your…thing, whatever it was, did not belong to the heavens. It was earthy. Human. It was counting credits and arguing about fuel prices or old modulators. It had weight—too much, apparently, to escape gravitational pull and fly away with him on the Crest. It was doomed to planets, both feet planted on the ground.  

Still, you remember times when earthy was good. There was never anything airy or celestial in the way he’d take you. The shoved clothes, the harsh grunts, the rough hands, the pleasure, it was all palpable and primitive; earthy was dirty. Your furtive encounters had beating heart of their own, and there was always hard evidence left behind in case either of you ever needed a reminder: marks on the skin, ripped clothes, stained bedsheets. The bruises he left always took too long to heal, as if his touch enhanced your mortality, made you more human. Stars, those moments are what you miss the most. Five months is a long time to be neglected of touch—six, actually: five months since the siege, six since he last came to you. Earthy expires.

It’s not like there’s nobody in the planet willing to help you soothe your needs; quite the opposite, actually. Lately, it seems like handjobs are the new Nevarran handshake. Just last week you caught Cara feeling up some pretty market girl in an alley. You saw her, she saw you, you rolled your eyes, she grinned and got back to work. You were almost offended. Everybody’s screwing their time through the siege, while you’re left with nothing but reruns of filthy memories with the Mandalorian. You just know nobody but Mando will do. You replay your moments with him like a sad, mental porno on the nights you spend trying to get yourself off. Trying and failing, like having to put out a fire by spitting on it, because the only person in the galaxy with a hose is too busy playing hero lightyears away.

“Last round. Place your bets,” Karga announces and pushes a few more trinkets forward. Cara follows, and you pat around your pockets for something to lose. It’s all just rusted metal anyways. Only…shit, the last three games drained you. And Duma reads it on your face like you’ve got “BROKE” written all over your forehead.

“All out, huh?” She reaches down the table for her bag and drops a beskar pauldron on the table with a thud. A Mandalorian pauldron.

Cara purses her lips and balls a fist, but Greef shoots her a warning look. As if cantina brawls could make this place look worse.

“Still can’t believe you didn’t take anything that day,” Duma continues, shaking her head. “Regret it?”

“I’ll regret it,” you answer and go fish, as if a new card—the right card—could fix a life’s worth of bad luck, “when you learn how to chew beskar.” That earns you a signature “Ha!” from Karga and a cocked eyebrow from Duma. She can arch her eyebrows all she wants, but that much is also true. You don’t regret leaving the Mandalorian covert empty-handed.

You were the first on scene that day. After the smoke cleared, the remaining imps left to lick their wounds, and the Crest flew away, you went to check on Karga’s child, his pride and joy. You were met with a gruesome scene. The cantina, Nevarro’s most sacred landmark, had been reduced to its black skeleton, third-degree burns all over, gone. It sounds dramatic, but the cantina used to be the closest thing to a place of worship on this planet. God Booze was dead.

You kicked around the bar’s guts, until you found a gaping mouth on a wall, leading down, down, down into Nevarro’s entrails. Finding purgatory would’ve surprised you less than what you stumbled upon: an underground tunnel, an abandoned covert, and a sinister, unguarded pile of Mandalorian armor. Stars, it would’ve been so easy. You could’ve hoarded the spoils and stashed them away for better days. That amount of beskar could’ve bought you a one-way ticket out of this dumpster and an early retirement. But when you lifted a helmet, it stared back. It was blue and definitely not his, but Mando was all you could think of while you studied the helmet’s unique curves and creases. You heard his exasperated sighs when you got on his nerves, his moans when you’d touch him. And you just couldn’t do it. You sat back and watched as this skughole’s scavengers crept into the tunnels to pillage. Easy as that, everyone in Nevarro but you and Cara now has a beskar toy or two. Soon enough, this planet will house the wealthiest corpses in the galaxy if the siege is not lifted before reserves run out.

Karga clears his throat. “Well, ladies first. Let’s see those cards.”  

Duma ignores him. “You know,” she tells you, “I’ve more beskar than I know what to do with. I’ll trade you a vembrance for a couple of ration packs.”

“And what am I supposed to do with a Mandalorian vembrance, play dress up?”

“The cards,” Greef urges.

“You’ll be rich.”

You snort. “The rich don’t starve.”  

“Give me a break, we both know you’ve got portions to spare.”

Elbows on the table, you lean forward and closer to Duma. She sniffs weakness like a Corellian hound, and if you falter she’ll sink her fangs. “I’m not interested in your fucking loot.”

“Cause it’s stolen? You never had a problem with that before.” She mimics your move and leans closer. Karga fiddles with a coinage of calamari flan, like you’re both Canto Bight slot machines and he’s trying to decide where to put his money. “What, did you grow morals all of a sudden? Or maybe, you’re too worried of what your Mandalorian friend would think.” You flinch. She smirks. “Oh my, what would the disgraced hunter, code-breaker, cult member say—”

The tiny noise of Karga’s coinage clinking on the table is not enough to distract you from the verbal beating Duma is laying on you. But his voice—like he got the air knocked out of him—is enough to grab your attention when he murmurs, “Ask him yourself.”

Cara, Duma, and you turn to Greef Karga, who stares saucer-eyed at the window. All three of your heads move simultaneously, guided by the line of his eyesight. Outside the window, on the deserted street, stands a trooper barking orders. It’s one of those in all-black armor, the extra trigger-happy ones with a side of god complex because they think the change of color magically makes their aim less shitty. His blaster is drawn (surprise, surprise), and on the receiving end of its barrel…

Maker’s fucking mercy.

You don’t even see the blaster shot, only smoke snaking out of a hole on the shiny breastplate. The trooper plummets to the ground like his puppeteer cut off his strings: no last steps, no resistance. Now, anyone else would’ve walked away from what’s clearly worm food without a second look, but one does not become the best bounty hunter in the parsec by taking chances. A mountain of unpainted beskar looms over the corpse and kicks the blaster off the imp’s limp hand. The Mandalorian sheathes his own weapon—that blaster you’ve tweaked and polished so many times you know it as the palm of your hand—and scans the perimeter for danger.

You don’t tell your legs to move, but they don’t need the command. You find yourself trailing behind Cara, Duma, and Greef, rushing for the door. Outside, all four of you stumble and stop on your tracks to blink stupidly at the Mandalorian, the way children stare wide-eyed at soldiers on military parades. But this warrior stands grander than any Republic or Imperial officer you’ve ever seen. He’s clad head to toe in silver beskar—except for one armorless thigh that makes his other leg look even bulkier. His old armor, the one you used to shine and buff, is gone. This one you’ve only seen from afar, on that day he crashed the imps’ safehouse, and later when the battle broke out. You know it’s him, but in this new getup it’s easy to doubt. Maybe he’s a stranger. Maybe he won’t recognize you.

The Mandalorian studies each of you one by one, his hand near the blaster in case he spots any enemy faces. The hand twitches when he sees Duma—she doesn’t have the cleanest reputation around here—but she’s shocked and unarmed, so his arm relaxes. To Greef and Cara he gives short nods that they return.

And then you. He actually takes a step back when he spots you, like you pushed him square on the chest. The helmet lingers on you and tilts, shamelessly rakes over every feature like he’s memorizing you. You hold your breath. It reminds you of the day you met, that weight on your chest from knowing you’ve been seen. That’s how you know it really is Mando: Whenever he stares at you, you feel it in your bones.

You realize the moment’s dragged out for too long when Karga clears his throat. The spell breaks.

You and Mando look bashfully away from each other. You squint up at the clouds, your hands stiff on your waist in a forced, generic, looks like rain! pose. He turns to his boss (ex-boss? enemy? You never asked for an update on Mando’s most recent status in the Guild) and mutters a short, “Karga.” To Cara he’s warmer, offers a comradely clasp of hands and a pat on the shoulder. “Good to see you again.”

“You too,” Cara drawls, as she stares suspiciously between you and Mando. You squint harder at the clouds. “Didn’t expect you back during a siege, though.”

“I have to…” he spies a furtive glance at Duma and lowers his voice, “I’ve something to do here.”

Duma rolls her eyes and clasps her bag across her chest. “Don’t worry, Mando. I’ll leave you girls to catch up on the hot goss.” She strides into the cantina (probably to bag the bets, the asshole), and goes back outside.

She points at the window of a crumbling building. “Careful with snitches.”

You glance back to the window. Nothing. Jerk. Duma’s not above a made you look moment, apparently. You turn back to her but she’s already disappearing into an alley.

Cara waits until she’s gone to grab the Mandalorian by the arm. “Mando, where’s the…” she glances at you and hesitates. You fold your arms and raise your eyebrows at the veteran. If she expects you to leave graciously like Duma she’s got another thing coming. You’re actually very, very interested on the Mandalorian’s hot goss. Especially it comes with an explanation as to why he left you stranded here. Even though he doesn’t owe you one. Technically. “Y’know,” she finally says and drops her hand. “The asset.”

“On the ship. I need to get back.”

“You, my friend, need to lay low,” Greef says with a raised index. “Every imp in Nevarro will be looking for you. Maker—” he spreads his arms “—they already are! And someone must have heard the blaster shot. You have ten minutes or so until an Imperial squadron gets here. The, uh, asset will be fine.”

“The asset,” Cara exclaims, “is a ch—is…is delicate. He can’t just leave it on the Crest!”

Mando interrupts their game of taboo. “Cara,” he starts, “you go to the ship and check on…the asset. Please. I landed where I did last time. I…I’ll lay low in the covert.”

“About that,” Greef mumbles. He looks at Cara for support, but she steps back and raises both hands: You say it. Greef sighs. “They…they found the tunnels, Mando.”

The helmet crooks slowly to study Karga.  “Who’s they?”  

“Everyone. Half of Nevarro is living down there, you…you can’t go back.”

Silence.

You imagine all four of you go through the same checklist: Even if Cara didn’t already have a top-secret assignment with whatever the asset is, she doesn’t have a place of her own yet. Every week, she crashes on one of her sweethearts’ couches. On their beds, more likely. There’s no way Karga is letting him near his house, not after what happened at the cantina. That leaves…

“Stay with me,” you blurt before you can really think it through.

≈

The cramped storage room you call a home sits a story above your store. It’s four walls and only the essentials: a bed, an armchair, a table, a stove, and the only detached room is the refresher. It’s enough for you. But the Mandalorian looks like he squeezed into a dollhouse when you usher him inside and close the door behind you. He stands in the middle of the room, all fighter’s bulk and grandiose armor, like he’s afraid he’ll break something if he moves. As if he’s never been here before, which couldn’t be further from the truth. The apartment may be small, but it’s so filled with memories you could turn it into a museum of your dirty escapades with him. And if you look to your right, you’ll see the armchair where he sat while I went down on him on a stormy night.  

“So,” you say and lean against the front door, “business or pleasure?”

He moves to stand to the side of the window opposite the front door and his glove moves the old washed out curtain to the side to peer into the street. The sun is setting, and the last streaks of light paint the beskar with warped yellow-orange streaks that stay as still as an undisturbed pond. So this is how he wants the evening to go: quietly and with a reasonable amount of distance between you. Disappointment knots in your stomach.

“Business.”  

You open your mouth to cut into the silence, but you’re all out of words. Maybe you’ve lost your touch. It used to be so easy to tease him, but now…a heaviness seems to weigh down on his shoulders, some heightened sense of duty. But also determination: He stands taller now, prouder, like he woke up one day and knew exactly what he needed to do and why. Whatever that purpose is, you’re pretty sure it doesn’t involve you. You’re a detour, and not even the fun kind, judging by the space between you. Maker, this man used to pounce on you. Has the siege really battered you up that much?

“Been busy?” The sudden question startles you. He’s never been one to break the ice, that was usually your job.  

“Sure.” Nope, not at all. “Store and all.” You closed the store three months ago. Turns out nobody buys equipment for their ships when they can’t fly past the atmosphere. “Plus, somebody needs to keep Karga distracted from his mourning. You owe him a cantina.”

“He told I did that?”

“Just a guess.” You move a couple of steps forward, like you’re approaching a nervous lothcat. When he doesn’t move away, you sit on the armchair, a little closer to him. “You like that flamethrower too much.”

“That what you four were doing in there?” The helmet moves to the side so he can spy deeper down the street. Always careful. “Assessing my damage?”

“No, just sabacc. Different kind of damage.” He’s making small talk. The Mandalorian, whom you’ve overheard have conversations solely based on grunts and sighs, is chatting with you. He’s not just answering out of politeness, he’s prompting you to go on, to keep running your mouth. That’s something he said once between thrusts, perched over you right on this floor: Keep running your mouth, see what happens. The memory warms your neck. Maker, not the point. The point is, before, he always said you had a smart mouth. Sometimes he’d chastise you for it, other times he’d encourage it. And you used to have the suspicion (or, let’s face it: fantasy) that he actually liked it. That somewhere hidden, beyond his pride and honor’s jurisdiction, he enjoyed the teasing and the banter, the challenge of having to deal with you. Better yet: More than once it crossed your mind that he got off on it, too. It’s been a long time, but some of that might remain. Maybe you’ll take his advice: keep running your mouth, see what happens.

You sit straighter, arch your back a bit just in case he’s watching. “You interrupted a round with your little stunt.”

“Yeah?” The helmet doesn’t move, but his hand runs up the curtain, considering. “Sorry. I bet you were winning.”

That makes you smile. It’s a dig at you. Far and wide across Nevarro, your uncanny ability to lose every single game of sabacc you play baffles locals and foragers alike. Yes, you know you suck, but the game amuses you anyways. You like the trash talk, the double-guessing, the bluff-calling. So much so that you forget to actually play. But what’s important is he’s teasing you, and that’s more than charted territory with him, a match you have a shot at winning. Okay. Game on.

“I was, actually.”

He huffs. “Don’t believe you.”

“Then I don’t believe you’re here on business.” Pause for effect. You can almost see a question mark form in a cloud above the helmet. You lean forward and lick your lips, lower your voice. “I think you missed me.”

You’re used to the helmet’s features remaining impassive, so you don’t look for clues on there anymore. Mando’s hands are more telling. You want to believe you actually see his fingers twitch and clutch the curtain a little tighter, that he takes too long to answer. That’s what trying to read him is all about—blind-guessing and wishful thinking.

“Don’t know about that. Six months and two weeks without your cons, I’m almost rich.”

Down to the week, huh? “Okay, if you want to make it about money we’ll bet on it. Twenty credits says you missed me.”

“Last time I was here you weren’t a compulsive gambler. Store’s doing that bad?”

“Last time you were here,” you coo, “there was a lot less talking involved.” You stare into the visor, and pray he can’t see the desperate hope in your eyes.

Your prayers are answered. In a way. Mando ignores you, doesn’t even look at you.  You hear your clumsy attempt at seduction buzz around him like a one-winged bee, crash into the unmoving, unmoved Mandalorian, and fall to the floor in a pointed-lined spiral. You’re so embarrassed you want to step on it. Well, that settles it. Six months is apparently enough for a Mandalorian to lose interest.

“And store’s doing fine,” you lie to try and sway the conversation away from that lame innuendo that missed its mark. He really just wants to talk, then. No big deal. It’s fine. “Nobody gambles for money anyways.”

“Then why?”

You shrug. “Why do you hunt?” He’s never told you, but you saw him chase down a bounty once. He was ruthless, sweating adrenaline and with far too much stamina to only be chasing a bag of credits. “For the risk. The thrill.”

He lets your words float for a second. “You get a thrill out of losing?”

You roll your eyes. “I only lose cause everybody knows my bluff.” That is, except you. “You need to know someone to know their bluff. Greef and the others already know me too well. You, on the other hand.” You smile. “If you and I played, I’d get to keep so much of your stuff you’d think I’m half Jawa.”

And, only then, he seems to tense. That stupid throwaway line is what makes his spine grow visibly rigid and his hand drop from the curtain to his belt, where the leather of his glove creaks with how tightly he clutches the buckle. White and blue streetlights that reflect on his armor glide around like it’s water instead of beskar, and they’re your only indication that he’s shifted slightly. Slowly, so slowly you expect his neck to creak like a door, the Mandalorian turns away from the window to look at you. He holds there quietly, and you feel ants running down your back…stars, you’re nervous. For the first time in a while, he makes you genuinely anxious.

“You’re saying I don’t know you?” he rasps under the helmet. No, not really, but if it gets a reaction out of him…

“All I’m saying,” you start, summoning all your strength to keep your voice from faltering, “is you’ve been gone too long.” You try to make it sound a bit playful, but the words come out tasting bitter when you remember the sharp little edge that’s been digging on your side. He left you here, it whispers, he left you here and didn’t bother looking back. But a heavy boot suddenly drops forward and you’re forced to stop nursing your grudge to try and predict what Mando’s next move will be.

With every step he takes, you’re instinctively swallowed deeper into your armchair, until he’s looming over you. Stars above, the sheer size of him is enough to block out most of the artificial light coming in, and you’re left to squint in the blue twilight. Maker, you don’t remember him this big, this intimidating. Five months ago you would’ve smirked and opened your legs wide. C’mon, I don’t bite unless you ask, you would’ve teased, but now…now you think maybe you are the one who doesn’t know him anymore.

But some things never change, and having him so near still makes your thighs press together. If anything, this new foreignness, the inherent threat of a bounty hunter in your home that never quite poked the right nerve before now pulls on your most sensitive areas. It propels your heartbeat on a sprint. His arm moves, and—oh, you want him to touch you.

Visor trained on you, Mando points to the floor instead. “You hide your credits here.” To illustrate (or just to rub it in that he knows) his boot presses down on the loose tile and shifts from side to side. The sharp sound it makes irritates you less than knowing he found the fox clever hiding spot you used to pat yourself on the back for. “You don’t keep them in the store because it’s too easy to break into. The security panel downstairs is broken, but the one up here works fine.”

You can almost hear his proud smirk under the helmet. There’s a reserved side to him, sure, but bastard can be arrogant when he wants to. And no, you have no idea how he found the spot, but you’re not about to admit it.

“Congrats, boy scout. You can spot a busted panel and you have flat feet. Want a badge?” Your irritation brings back some of your old snark, but you still flinch when he moves closer and his legs brush against your knees.

“You also keep expensive parts inside the stuffing of this—” he takes a tiny step forward and frames  your knees with his legs “—armchair.”  Your blood freezes at his words, but it abruptly runs hot as the city’s lava river when you realize how close he stands now. His legs press against the armchair and there’s nowhere to go. You’re cornered.

A leather glove moves close and you hold your breath, before you realize he’s only toying with the tips of your hair. But his fingers dig deeper, tangle on thicker strands and, without warning, give a short but firm tug. It’s a tiny pull, but maker’s mercy, you feel your core pulse. And then, before you can regain some lucidity, his fingers dip lower, where the tips trace a slow line down your nape. He draws featherlight circles on that spot between your neck and your shoulder that he knows makes your toes curl, and—stars, it’s just been too long—you whimper.

“Still so sensitive here,” he whispers.  

Once, this shielded man knew his way around your body like it belonged to him. You thought that part of him was lost, that he forgot, that he’d truly been gone too long. Those fears dissipate when his palm curls around the back of your neck to hold your gaze on him, while the thumb of his other hand brushes your lips. You know the drill—you open your mouth and give the orange tip some kitten licks. Mando huffs: You can do better than that. Maker, it should be a red flag, how quickly you comply. That urgent need to please him that had never, ever felt so crucial. An O forms in your lips before you can stop them, and his thumb pushes down on your tongue deep and deeper. You should play hard, make him earn it, bite him. But his finger starts to retreat and you panic—no, he can’t change his mind, not now. You seal your lips, trap him inside your mouth and suck. But his grip on the back of your neck grows beskar stiff, and he forcefully removes his finger…only to glide the spit over your lips. Just like that first time.

The visor looms closer to your face, and you catch a ruptured sigh, the pleasured kind that these four walls know so well. If Mando wasn’t holding you down, your chest would balloon with satisfaction and you’d float. His thumb trails down your throat, wetting its path and no doubt feeling the vibration when you chuckle. He cocks his head to the side in a silent question.

“You owe me twenty credits,” you explain, your breath clouding the helmet’s surface. “You did miss me.”

Mando crouches lower, where his helmet brushes your nose, and gropes the tops of your thighs with those wide palms you’ve been dreaming about for weeks.

“Yeah? You like bets?” You’ve never heard his voice so coarse, scratchy like week-long stubble. Did he change the settings of his modulator? Or is it just rash, pent-up need? “Then thirty credits says you’re fucking soaked.” His fingers butterfly higher up your thighs, almost at the apex. Your legs jerk.

“That’s cheating,” you gasp.  

He takes one glove off and settles the covered hand on your hip, while the other disappears between your legs until—stars—he cups your core through your pants. You mewl and he hums when he feels the hot, damp fabric.

“I still win.” He presses the heel of his palm right into your clit and grinds it back and forth. Oh, if you thought you were wet before. The pressure, the friction, him—it all scalds you from head to toe like a fever, but you chase it, greedily push your hips into his palm. His fingers flatten along your slit and grope you tighter. “Gonna pay me? Doesn’t have to be credits.” He pushes viciously into you with that wide, hard palm, preening at the little gasps that escape you. Whimpering, you let your eyes fall shut and focus on something sprouting in your belly. Stars, you’re close—how the fuck are you so close already? It must be all the repressed desire, all that time. Fuck, you’re close—

The Mandalorian halts. You’re eyes flash open to see him straighten and step back, take his other glove off to stuff it snug between his belt and his hip, and remain still as a building. Still catching your breath, you study him head to toe, scanning for a sign of what went wrong. He’s clutching his belt, his stance is too smug. This isn’t him fighting temptation, he’s toying with you. Maker help him, you’re going to kill him. Some corner in your brain reasons that it’s kinda fair, as payback for all the times you messed with him. But in the forefront of your mind pulses the climax he just denied you, cast aside and angry.

Before you know what you’re doing, you push yourself off the armchair. “You—”

Mando beats you to it. A hand on your shoulder and a vembrance across your chest, he lunges forward and slams your back against a wall. He hovers over you, tightly pressed against your body. A fleshy, hard bulge covered by his pants throbs against your belly. Of course. You forgot how much he likes it when you look like prey; how much he enjoys the hunt, whether he admits it or not. The hand on your shoulder trails down to cup your breast. You squeeze your eyes shut and let out a shaky exhale.

“You need it bad,” he breathes as his fingers massage your chest. The movement shifts the fabric of your tunic, brushing it against your nipple. You roll your hips to try and stimulate him, to show you’re not the only one worked up. His erection twitches and you smile.  

“You—mmm—you’re projecting.” You grind again to prove your point, but he catches on to what you’re implying and retaliates by shoving his hand inside your cleavage. Stars, you have to punch down the moan surges up your throat when he pinches your nipple.

“You missed this,” Mando hisses, and whether he’s trying to convince you or himself, you don’t know. What you do know is he’s plotting to settle this stupid inkling of a bet in his favor. He wants you to admit you missed him so he doesn’t have to. You know, because it’s exactly what you are trying to do.

You sneak your hand down his torso, aiming for the hem of his pants—but before you can get even with him, he crushes his hips against yours and traps your palm between them. And he’s not done—he wedges his thigh between your legs and rubs it up and down, drags your clit just right. Your mouth gapes in a silent moan as white hot pleasure lights up your spine. You want to get away from it but, maker, his forearm is still stiff against your chest. Even when you grab the vembrance with your free hand it doesn’t budge. You’re trapped between him and the wall.

“Can take care of m-myself just fine,” you croak as a last attempt to hold on to your dignity. “At least when I’m alone I don’t have to fake any orgasms.”

Yeah, it’s a low blow. A dirty fucking lie too, but desperate times call for desperate measures and all. Good news is it gets you a reaction—he immediately stops moving, as if your words punched him off balance. Bad news is you hit a nerve—his breathing becomes harsh like a bull’s, so much so that you expect clouds of smoke to come out from under the helmet. The Mandalorian creeps closer to your face and his forearm digs deeper into your chest. There’s a promise of danger in the dark visor that makes your pulse race, and a primitive instinct blasts emergency sirens. Maker, this won’t end well for you.

Just as you’re about to backtrack and whisper you didn’t mean it, Mando lets go of you—only for a split second, before he grasps your shoulders and turns you around to push your front into the wall. You jerk back on instinct, but he flattens a palm between your shoulder blades and squishes you right back against it.

The helmet rests right next to your ear when Mando growls, “You expect me to believe that?” His hands drop to your hips as he replaces the pressure on your back with his chest. His body weight holds you in place, and he rocks the hard outline of his erection along your ass. “That I don’t make you cum, you little fucking—” You curl your back as much as his body allows so he can stroke himself tighter against you. He groans and kneads your cheeks, moves the flesh in tandem with his thrusts. “I shouldn’t let you tonight, t-teach you a lesson.”  

The mere suggestion feels devastating enough to let a pathetic whine tumble from your lips. Before, you could’ve turned this into a game, held out a little longer just to watch him break first. But you’re too pent up, too desperate, too sick of waiting. Your fingers hook on the hem of your trousers and push them down. Mid-movement, he traps both of your wrists in one hand and keeps them pressed against your lower back, while the other one gets your pants the rest of the way down, underwear too. You barely have enough time to step out of them before his free hand reaches between the apex of your thighs. You’re sticky, leaking around his fingers, and pushing back against his crotch like you’ll drop dead if he doesn’t fuck you.

“Fucking wet, fuck…” he mutters. His fingers follow the heat and your pussy clenches around nothing. Stars, if he just moved higher, a little higher where you’re hot and soaked and throbbing for him. But he takes his sweet time, molds the inside of your thighs like clay, pulls the flesh, squishes it together, until you’re writhing against him and leaking down your leg. Your vision blurs. “Can—can I…?” He lets his index finish the sentence, teasing at the edges of your outer lips.

Even with the side of your face against the wall, you manage to nod. “Yeah,” you breathe.

Two fingers slide around your folds and you gasp. Mando moves slowly, collecting your arousal and coating his fingers. Your breath catches when the tips finally push into your entrance—only a fraction before they slide back out, so the rest of his palm can cup along your cunt and drag more slick behind it. He’s strategically avoiding your clit, though, and with both arms behind your back and at his mercy, you can’t reach for it yourself. Fuck, you…you only need to hold on a bit more, he’ll get bored of his game soon enough. That’s it, just a little longer. You waited six months, no way he’s making you beg after a few minutes of teasing.

The Mandalorian eventually pulls his fingers away from your thighs and curses under his breath. You hear the familiar rustling of fabric and a divine zip that fills your eyes with tears of relief. Fucking finally. You brace yourself and relax your pelvic floor in preparation, but it’s barely necessary—you’re so ready for it. Your cunt is open and weeping, he can just slide it in. All this time, with nothing substantial inside you, your lower muscles pump and twist painfully with demanding want. Even with his size and in this position, you’re so turned on he might even be able to bottom out. Fuck, he doesn’t have to move much, a few good pumps and he’ll have you cumming, easy. Stars, what’s taking so damn long—

A modulated, battered moan and a wet noise make you turn your head over your shoulder and look for the source. The low light makes it difficult to make out shapes, but there’s no mistaking what you find below you. Hand wrapped solid around his cock, Mando is jerking himself off. With your cum as lubricant. While he treats you like a piece of furniture he’s only gripping for support. A chemical cocktail of lust mixed with fury spikes your blood.

“Is…wh-what are…what the fuck do you think y-you’re…”

“Say it,” he spits between his teeth, “say you f-fucking need me.”

No, no fucking way. As much as the words burn on your tongue and your clit tugs and begs, you’re not saying it. He left, not you. You waited for him. You turn your head as far back as your neck allows without snapping a ligament and look straight into the visor. And pointedly curl your lips inside your mouth, sealed.

Your act of rebellion lasts a good ten seconds.

“You’re so fucking difficult,” he snarls. He stops tugging on his cock, and for a moment you hope he might indulge you, push into you and stop the masochist torment you’ve talked yourselves into. But when it comes to Mando and you, it’s never that easy. Still not releasing your wrists, he grabs the base of his cock, glistening with your stolen juices, and rubs it up and down the swell of your uncovered ass. You gasp, let your lips part and your gaze fall to where he’s rubbing up against you and refusing to push inside.  

He's not going to last long. Swollen and a strangled purple, the head of his cock dribbles warm precum and smears it on your lower back. The veins on his length throb against your ass, and stars, they’d feel so much better inside you. The Mandalorian’s grunts and groans ring more frustrated than lost in pleasure; it’s not enough for him either. He’s torturing you and himself just to prove a point, while you refuse to speak the magic words just to keep your pride. Desperate tears threaten to spill, but you shut your eyes to push them back. Either of you could put an end to it, right now. Maker, it’s on the tip of your tongue: I need you. Spit it out, end it. I need you, Mando, I need you, do whatever you want with me. It doesn’t matter that you abandoned me in this shithole, that you discarded me like faulty equipment, that you didn’t even have the decency to tell me—

The thrusting stops. When you open your eyes, you find the visor fixed on you, cocked slightly to the side, like there’s writing on your face. Mando’s grip on your wrist softens, his frustrated panting slows. Maybe he sees the unshed tears, or maybe your face really is that transparent, because he takes pity on you. Gentle palms on your shoulders, he turns you around to face him.

Night has fallen. Fragments of fluorescent light pour inside through your worn out curtains and give the helmet a fuzzy silver halo. The rest of the armor is shiny black, smudges of light here and there. His head moves around the features of your face, one by one, taking its time. Showdown’s over. He’s not playing a game anymore, not trying to get you to break, he’s just…studying you. Staring his fill of you farewell-style, even though he just came back. It hits you that you don’t know how long he’s staying this time. You open your mouth to ask, but stop yourself in time. If he leaves, he leaves. He doesn’t owe you any explanations.

But when he curls an arm around your waist and holds you against the wall and his cold breastplate, it doesn’t feel like goodbye. It feels like old times—pre-siege, pre-battle, pre-everything—when he confidently grabs your left thigh, sinks his fingers into the plump flesh, and hooks it on his lower back. You drape your arms around his shoulders and hold him closer. You’ve always liked the bulk of him against you, it makes everything feel more real. Buried on the crook of your neck, you hear him sigh when he lets go of your thigh and blindly searches your cunt. With your leg around his back you’re completely open for him, so it takes him no time to find your bud. He presses against it and rubs it in slow but tight circles that make your legs cramp.

You push down on him, demanding more. He groans and complies, inserts one finger and continues rubbing on your clit with his thumb. Maker, this has no right to be so good. He’s doing pretty much the same you’ve done to yourself these past months, but with Mando there are never any ghost sensations, no what ifs. It’s all here and now, and you swear you feel the pleasure of his fingers picking up speed in every corner of your body. He has you moaning and rocking your hips, dripping down his hand, and when he starts rubbing you harder and tighter, you finally whine a tiny, “Please.”

The Mandalorian doesn’t need to ask what you want, but he moves his helmet to look at you square in the face, check if you mean it. You stare droopy-eyed into the visor and nod: yesyesyesyes. Mando groans and grips you tighter. Maker, he’s right, you need it—need the bruises, need his cock, need all of him.

“Fuck,” he breathes. His hand leaves you to grab his cock and guide it to your entrance. He moves it around your lips and brushes his tip against your clit as he looks for your hole in the dark. It doesn’t take long for the head to poke right outside where it needs to go. “Fuck, I don’t—don’t think I can hold back, don’t want to hurt you—”

“Stars, please,” you whine, “I want it rough.” You want it more than rough. After six months, you want it fucking depraved, but neither of you is going to last long enough to make it elaborate. Maker, you don’t care. Right now, you don’t care for risky positions or clever techniques, you want him.

He groans and pushes inside—only the head, still testing, but your walls immediately grip him tightly to hinder any attempts to move away. That’s not what you should’ve been worried about. Fingers tight around your waist, Mando pulls you down as he pushes up. Stars. The brutal thrust reaches the end of you and then some more. Fuckfuckfuck. The dull bam of your skull hitting the wall is suddenly drowned by a slicker, filthier sound coming from between your legs. His length begins to pull out, your pussy complains the whole way, and you can almost hear the Mandalorian gritting his teeth through the sweet torture of feeling you squeeze around him…and thrust back up—harder. He likes the pace and sticks to it—fast, rough, deep, repeat—while you make sounds like you’re choking on air. Stars, it has been long. Long enough to partially forget his size, his fucking girth, currently filling you to the brim and punching high little sounds from your throat.

“Mmmando,” you sob.

Mando groans in response, snakes a hand down to your clit and rubs with the same wild abandon as his pounding. Maker, your memory was never this fucking good. No matter how many details you recalled, there’s nothing compared to the real, human meat of his cock pulsing urgently inside you, hitting your cervix, making you whine. Nothing like his fingers around your waist, or knowing there’ll be bruises tomorrow. The pleasure has teeth, carries a painful bite, but it’s exactly what you need. That tangible grit in his thrusts and his fingers is the missing piece. Your muscles start cramping, you pull him tighter against you—Maker, right there, you can feel it. It reaches your head and makes you dizzy, sheds light on some hidden, shameful words.

“Mando, I…”

“I—fuck—I n-needed this,” he grunts and brings his hand down to feel where his cock is inching out of you, like he has to double check it’s actually happening. Thrust. “Used—used to d-dream about you.” Thrust. Three fingers now push into your clit and draw frantic shapes. You clench your jaw, feel the hot tide in your belly rise faster. Thrust. “Wake up so f-fucking hard—cum in my pants.” Thrust—thrust—thrust.

Maybe it’s his words, maybe the rough pace, but something holds a flame to the dynamite building inside you and it explodes. Maker, your head’s going to burst. You moan long and deep into the spot Mando’s ear might be. Your legs shake, your arms cramp. Months’ worth of frustration gush hot and wet around him, as he babbles encouragement: There you go, just like that, make it fucking good. Your walls are still fluttering, your ears are still ringing, you haven’t even ridden out the last of your climax when his hips pick up the pace.

“Let me—let me cum inside,” the warrior pants, “let me f-fill this cunt…I—I haven’t since—fuck, I didn’t—”

“Yes,” you gasp, “yes, please, Mando, cum, cum inside—”

There’s no space left between you, but Mando finds a way to squish you tighter against him as he pounds into you for a few last moments, until you hear a strangled grunt, and a half-forgotten warmth pools inside you. The extra lubrication drives his last thrust as deep as your body allows. A few more lazy thrusts inside you, short and stunted as you take his load inside you, before he stops. A warm string trails down your leg, and—stars, he’s leaking out. How much did he cum that it didn’t fit inside you?  Fuck.

You take turns panting, whimpering, listening to each other’s heartbeats slow to a semi-normal pace. The Mandalorian moves away from the crook of your neck to meet your glossy eyes. He doesn’t say anything, but you think will. You can almost hear his mouth opening, words boiling and rising in bubbles up his throat—

Zium!

It’s your imagination. It’s your ears ringing from that orgasm, your mind making stuff up. But. You could swear you saw a red flash glade right past your cheek. And from the way Mando’s helmet cocks to the side, you know he saw it too. You turn your heads in unison, to see smoke coming out of a hole a breath away from your ear. It takes both of you too long to put two and two together, and—before he can pull out—more of those red flashes are raining down on you.

…………

Edit: Chapter 2 let’s goooooooo

Taglist: @rosetophighlander​ @hellomothermoon @newyorksins​ @leo-moon​ @benedrylcumbersnatch

[mystic-monkey-express]

👨‍👩‍👦-Hyousuke, Yoshino

🤔-Minori

🎲-Jun

(/◕ヮ◕)/:･ﾟ☆✧

This is a week late but in my defense 1. It wasn't friday 2. Brain full of pudding RIP

Hyousuke Fujimura

👪 - What’s their relationship with their parents like?

Hahahahahahaa what a question to ask for Hyousuke this is a great ask. So him and his mother are on okay grounds with each other. While he does dislike some of the choices she did in the past, he does understand why she was strict. Its not easy being a single mother of a demi-god of war and lust. Hyousuke inherently has a short, borderline violent, temper as well as an aura that attracts demons who wants to consume his demi-god power and life-force to reach a longer lifespan. Having a child as a single parent is already a lot for anybody, but a demi-god child would be too much for anybody. So Hyousuke's mother, to try to protect them both, went the strict "when school is over you immediately come back home" parent rant. But at least she explains to her son why it has to be this way. Anyways he runs away from home when he was a teenager and got way too use to fighting demons before he had to come crawling back to his mom for help with Mitsuko, his daughter, while he has to go to court because he was being framed for murder.

So they're on good terms now, but it was a rocky relationship at the beginning. Hyousuke's mom loves Mitsuko though. Her and Minori compete with trying to spoil her.

NOW LETS TALK ABOUT HYOUSUKE AND HIS BASTARD OF A FATHER!

Hyousuke's dad is Kyou, the major god of war and lust. Hyousuke absolutely despises his dad for multiple reasons and always has. Kyou knocked up his mom as a one night stand knowing damn well he was going to do so because of his curse and then deciding to ditch his mom and monitor from the heavens. Kyou didn't monitor Hyousuke to protect him or out of love, Kyou purely monitor him as a potential successor and/or as a favorite chosen human as well as for his own entertainment. The other main reason as to why Hyousuke despises his father is because Kyou killed his wife.

So whenever Hyousuke catches just a glimpse of Kyou, he goes into a mostly blind violent rage. He has ripped out poles from the ground to throw them at the god as an attempt to kill him. Kyou just see's all of this as a fun game to taunt Hyousuke even more.

Yoshino Iwasaki

👪 - What’s their relationship with their parents like?

Yoshino has an average relationship with her parents. She's not super close with them but she does love and care for them both. She does visit and invite them to festivals. She is more close to her missing grandma though.

Minori Løgner

🤔 - What’s something they’ll never understand?

Minori is a dishonored god of knowledge, use to being the major god of knowledge so there's not a lot that she won't ever understand. She struggles a bit with modern concepts like cars but if she's curious enough and you leave her alone with a mechanic book and a car she can figure it out.

However, she will never understand anime and the culture that follows it. Yoshino can and has explained it time and time again, but it all goes over her head. It's not even a spite thing, Minori's brain just won't wrap itself around the concept of it. She still lets Yoshino show her anime and lets her talk about it whenever she wants.

She likes the passion and knowledge Yoshino has so its pleasant noise for her even if she just doesn't get it.

Jun Masipag

🎲 - Pick a random question to answer from this list

Cool I'm going to pick "💀 - How do they feel about horror movies?"

Jun is fine with horror movies, he watches them from time to time. However he's always jumpy afterwards and will make Yoshino dump the trash before he follows along with a light cuz he scared himself that he sent his friend to her death. Absolutely has the mind set of throwing whatever he has in his hands at the source of a spooky sound before sprinting away.

His phone has a lot of cracks on its screen and his phone protector is absolutely chipped. He's also spooked stray cats and dogs.

[jayswritings13]

Hazbin: Cherub Reader helping out with the hotel

Request: "Hi there! I was wondering if I could request some platonic headcanons of a Cherub reader deciding to help out the Happy Hotel. It doesn’t have to be any specific character, just everyone’s general reactions and thoughts on it. Thanks a bunch!" by anon

Note: This is definitely longer than my other headcanons, but I just couldn't really stop going on and on with the different interactions and ideas.

It wasn't hard to hear about the hotel.

Even from Heaven, there were many talking about the project.

Many believed that it was foolish for the princess of Hell to even try to rehabilitating sinners.

You were curious to say the least.

It actually wasn't too hard to sneak into Hell.

What was difficult was trying to blend in once down there.

After all, it's pretty difficult to hide wings and a halo when down there.

But you found that clothes and hats helped hide them for the time being.

It was defiantly a shock to be in Hell, especially when compared to living almost your whole life in Heaven.

You couldn't focus on that right now, as you had a mission.

Luckily for you, it wasn't hard to find this hotel anyway, as you were not looking forward to asking any of sinners, hellhounds, imps, or succubui that littered the Pride ring.

"Okay, this actually looks nice." you muttered, walking up to the front door and knocking.

It took a bit, and a part of you thought about just walking into the hotel, but eventually the door opened.

"Can I help you?"

You never actually thought that you would make it this far to be honest.

"Are you okay?" Vaggie pushed open the door more, "Did you want to check in?"

"I'm here to help." You mumbled.

Vaggie then turned and glared at whoever was inside with her. "Would you shut it, Angel?!" She sneered. Vaggie gestured for you to come in, "I'm gonna get Charlie. She's who you're gonna want to talk to."

You silently wished that Vaggie didn't leave you alone with the demon that she had just yelled at, as they were eyeing you up and down a little too much for your liking.

"Are you here for the free room too?"

"What....?"

"The free room. God, didn't think drugs made your fucking hearing go too."

"Drugs? I don't do drugs."

"Then what the fuck are you here for?"

"ANGEL!" You turned to find Vaggie glaring once again at the spider demon, with a blonde girl standing next to her.

"I'm here to help!" You said, quickly catching the blonde's attention.

"Really!?" Charlie beamed, grabbing your hand. "That's amazing! Thank you so much! We have been having a hard time getting, well, really anyone to help of check-in, so this is just fantastic!"

From there, Charlie took the initiative to show you around the hotel, and introducing you to the others.

"I'm Charlie. This is Vaggie," Charlie gestured to the girl who had answered the door. "Angel," You turn to find that demon who asked if you had a drug problem winking at you, "Husk..." The winged cat demon behind a hybrid bar/front desk grumbled. "Nifty.." You turn your attention to the small one-eyed demon. "And Al-"

"Alastor! Charmed, I'm sure."

You were a bit taken off by the radio static.

"So....what are you?"

"Angel!"

"What? I can't ask what they are? Are they a sinner? A weird type of imp that no one has told me about?! Wha-Vaggie, don't look at me like that!"

It didn't take long for you to admit that you're a cherub, catching everyone off guard.

"A cherub?" Vaggie asks

"And you want to help Hell's population?" Charlie asked.

You nodded, ignoring the sounds of Angel's laughter and Alastor's amused chuckle.

"Oh, now this is a show." He commented.

"Why?" Vaggie asked.

"As a cherub, I often spend my time helping humans on earth, but when I heard about this project, I knew that I had to help. Everyone deserves a second chance and a safe place."

Charlie's happiness could not be contained anymore.

From that day on, Charlie, Vaggie, and you would try to get more sinners for the hotel, with you even accompanying Charlie to the other rings, because in other words, you technically weren't a sinner.

You often helped Angel with any issues that he had, talking and taking care of him much like a mom friend would.

He claims to hate this and scoffs at you every time you show any wholesome affection his way in front of the others, but you know how much he really cares for you too.

Husk.....is difficult. He finds you to be too goody-goody. But, he has to admit that you're more tolerable than Charlie and Vaggie at times.

He does teach you how to play poker though and then tries to hussle you, which Vaggie then promptly threatens him from doing again

Nifty loves having you around, as you often offer to help her with any of the chores around the hotel.

Alastor.......

You were warned by Vaggie and Charlie to not trust him and they told you about the terrible, terrible things that he had done.

So you did stay away from him, but he seemed to have made it his mission to be by you.

As the two of you spent time together in the hotel, you found that Alastor is actually....okay.

The two of you often talked about music and such, finding that Alastor is actually very calm and easy to approach as long as there's music.

As hard as it is to get sinners to go to the hotel, you love helping Charlie and the others out.

"(Y/N), I really appreciate your help, but you don't have to keep staying in Hell to help us. I'm sure that you really want to go back to Heaven."

"Charlie, are you kidding? This is the most fun I've had! I love helping the hotel and I love your cause. I love your passion. I love Vaggie and how she sings songs in Spanish whenever I'm sad. I love how Angel always is willing to stay up late and talk about whatever with me. I love how Nifty and I can have morning walks around the hotel. I love how Husk shows me different card games so that he has someone else to play with, even if it is to try to gamble and get money out of me. I love listening to Alastor sing while he cooks. I love watching you talk about the hotel and Hell, because you are so passionate about the people here." You sighed, ending your rant.

Charlie quickly engulfed you into a hug.