#hehehehehe wanted to do a bit more for this ask

[vulpixisananimal]

is there ever a time mal has no choice but to be around odile before she knows about it?

(You and Siffrin were at the Library. It was quite a sizable one. One of the many boons of Siffrins little 'fit', you got to visit Jouvente with your friends... No, that word still didn't feel quite right.)

"Find anything interesting, Siffrin? Picture books, maybe?"

(You were looking through a detailed essay on the defenders advances in Protection Craft.)

(Siffrin didn't respond.)

"Lost in a good book?"

(You say sarcasticly, turning to look at what they had picked up.)

(Looking over their shoulder, whatever book they found, its text was giving you a headache)

"... Siffrin?"

"Nope, just gibberish."

(... Curious.)

"Gibberish? It looked like you were quite invested."

"I couldn't understand a word! A terrible translation job."

"Siffrin-"

"Let's look somewhere else, nothing of interest in this section.

(Before you could say anything, Siffrin put the book away and walked off, you'd catch up in a second but...)

(... You check the section Siffrin was looking through. All books, all gibbrish, all giving you a headache.)

(Something's up.)

[ssahotchnerr]

can i request jack wanting reader to be his valentine? 🥹😭❤️

like, aaron had no idea & his son just totally steals his thunder (bc he’s been pining over reader, ofc lol) but he can’t even be mad? it’s just so sweet & cute!!! but ofc, aaron gets the girl in the end hehehehehe <3

something exhilarating

happy valentine's day <3 cw; bau!reader, mutual pining, fluff!!!!!

"jack!" you grinned as he rushed towards your desk, aaron following right behind him.

"happy valentine's day." he gushed, with newfound shyness you've never quite witnessed from him.

"happy valentine's day!" you grinned, getting up from your chair to crouch, allowing you to be more at his eye-level. "did you have a fun party at school today?"

jack nodded, rocking back and forth on his heels a bit. "we passed out valentines, played games and ate cookies and candy. but dad said i'm not allowed to have any more today. or else i'll never go to bed tonight."

"well." you looked up at aaron, who nodded amusedly. your mouth drew into a humorous yet sympathizing line, returning your gaze to jack. "i'm sure your dad is right."

jack shrugged and quickly changed the subject, holding his hand out. "i brought you a card."

"you did?" you blurted gently in surprise, taking the small valentine card from him.

"uh huh," the shyness returned, his big brown eyes looking as sweet as ever as he asked, "you'll be my valentine, won't you?"

"um i'd be completely honored." you agreed instantly, your speed of which and enthusiasm also prompting a smile above from aaron.

"cool!" jack beamed, throwing himself into you as a hug. once back on his feet, he reached for the ziploc clasped in aaron's hand. "dad, can i have the rest?"

"sorry about that," aaron chuckled once you stood up, the two of you watching jack bounce from desk to desk excitably, passing valentines out to the rest of the team. "he told me he was only passing out his cards."

"no worries. he made my day." you grinned, looking down and admiring the character valentine in your hand, which read 'you r2 cool'. "star wars huh?"

aaron nodded, naturally crossing his arms over his chest. "we scoured the entire valentine's day section for those. he's been really into it recently, all he wants to do is watch the movies."

you flipped the card over, reading both your and jack's name scribbled in his kid-like handwriting - it was adorable. "never seen them."

"oh c'mon," aaron laughed in disbelief, before his expression turned to a lighter stoic than usual, "seriously?"

"i swear." you admitted, a slightly embarrassed laugh shaking through you.

the two of you fell into a comfortable silence; still watching jack, both laughing gently as derek tossed him into the air (aaron did vocalize a careful warning). as you both stood there, there was a mutual, something you could only describe as a buzz, going back and forth between the two of you. something eager, exhilarating.

"maybe you could come over and watch them with us sometime."

aaron said it so nonchalantly, so naturally, you almost questioned if you heard him correctly. but yet, you knew you had. somehow, it just made perfect sense.

"i'd love that." you replied, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

"and maybe," aaron paused, as if he needed just a bit more courage. "we could get dinner afterwards. you and me."

"i'd love that even more."

[noiriarti]

The Winner Takes it All: Anakin Skywalker x Reader (Enemies-to-Lovers Modern AU) | Chapter 2

NSFW! Minors DNI!!! Summary: The moment the thesis competition was announced, you knew your biggest threat. Anakin Skywalker, golden boy of the engineering department. He's the only other person smart enough to beat you, and the only other person insane enough to stay in the lab until midnight every night. He's also an asshole, but you're starting to think maybe he's not as bad as you thought he was... Pairing: Anakin Skywalker x Fem!Reader CW: mentions of masturbation WC: 6.9k AN: hehehehehe this chapter was so much fun to write and i fear i have added a bit of a plot to this pwp fic. next chapter will get even wilder! as always, asks and requests open <3

Ch. 1, [Ch. 2], Ch. 3, Ch. 4, Ch. 5, Ch. 6

Chapter 2: Testing

Anakin stumbled to his room on unsteady feet. When he entered, it was 1:43 am, but he had never felt more awake. He couldn't have slept even if he had wanted to, because you were haunting him. The wood of his door as he unlocked it felt like the lab bench under his fingers. His lips felt phantom kisses from you. Your angry voice echoed in the creak of the hinges. His pillows were soft like your clothes, like your skin.

The more he thought about it, the harder he got, which he wasn't sure was possible, really. His cock was pressing against his jeans so hard that he was relatively certain he could get off just by thrusting into the material a few times. Anakin rocked his hips experimentally against the rough material, and a shiver of pleasure ran down his spine. Jesus. He was definitely sensitive enough to cum like that. But he shouldn't. He really, really shouldn't. It would be weird and creepy, when you told him you didn't want to do more of this. He shouldn't. He resolved to sleep it off, but found sleep was still evading him about an hour later when he lay awake in bed. Fuck my life. Fine. If he was going to be up, he might as well get some work done. So, he spent the night typing at his desk, which he distinctly had to try not to imagine kissing you against.

Anakin didn't hate you. Far from it. Okay, maybe not that far from it. But if he hated you, he something-else-ed you with equal measure. He just wasn't sure what that something else was. Did he like you? This wasn't like any crush he had before. You were so rude sometimes, but he would snap right back, and then escalate. Anakin didn't love that personality trait in himself, but it came out in spades around you. In freshman year, your name on the posted top homework of the week was exhilarating. Finally, some competition. Someone who loved engineering as much as he did. Someone who understood the fire that got him out of his backwater town and into the world. Then he met you, and that exhilaration turned a thousand times stronger. You weren't just a peer, you were a challenge. Every jab you threw at him, every time your bot would beat his in the traditional end-of-year tournament, he'd feel like he was suddenly on fire, electricity shocking through his very being. It was the same feeling he chased in taekwondo, that edge where he wasn't sure if he'd win, but he was so, so close. It was easier to interpret it as anger, as hatred, as fuel.

Even though he thought you could be a know-it-all, he had to admit that he always had a sort of begrudging respect toward you. You worked on a group project together, three times, once per year on average, and he could consistently rely on the fact that you'd never be a slacker. Others on the team would sometimes ghost, which annoyed you both in equal measure. The two of you would butt heads over what to do in the projects, but you were always 100% dedicated. He respected it about you, even if you were critical of his admittedly shoddy handwriting or the logical jumps in his proofs.

By senior year, he was unknowingly nursing what could affectionately be called a crush, though it was masked under layers and layers of frustration and competition and anger. Anakin wasn't very self aware, but it was beginning to dawn on even him that, perhaps, he liked you. There were several signs. Late nights in the lab were torture for him. He'd sit there, trying to focus on something, anything, but he kept seeing that piece of hair that fell into your face when you bent over your bench and your deft hands wiring capacitors. Sometimes, when you passed him and he caught a whiff of your smell, his heart would speed up. When he heard your voice in class, he would start smiling. It was honestly kind of embarrassing.

In retrospect, it was surprising he hadn't broken and kissed you earlier. But, now that he had, all he could think about was kissing you again. As he sat at his desk thinking, the next steps for his thesis slipped through his hands like grains of sand. At practice the next afternoon, his technique was sloppy, which his teammates riffed on endlessly. In class, the professor could have said the secret to traveling faster than light, and it would have gone in one of Anakin's ears and out the other.

You had said it couldn't happen. Why? Did he do something wrong? At the time, he was clouded with arousal, joy, and exhilaration, so he didn't ask any questions, just agreed mindlessly, but your statement was haunting him. We shouldn't do this again. Why not? His body was screaming for it, at the very least, and so was his heart, but he chose to ignore that.

Anakin was pondering this issue over a piece of tech for the Jinn lab, where he worked part-time during the semester, when Obi-Wan walked in and headed straight for him. Though Obi-Wan was technically his supervisor, being a third-year graduate student advised by Professor Jinn, Anakin considered him a friend. Though he was usually pretty serious, Obi-Wan appeared thoroughly amused today and looked a bit like the cat who got the cream.

"Anakin," Obi-Wan said by way of greeting as he passed by his chair.

"What's up?" Anakin asked as he tried to get a particularly annoying screw tightened.

"Were you in the thesis lab last night?" Yes, he was, in fact. He was making out with you, but he didn't need to mention that.

"Yeah, working on some hardware for my next prototype, why?" Obi-Wan's smile spread further, if possible.

"Did you know there's cameras?" The blood froze in Anakin's veins. The suggestion in his voice was unmistakable.

"What?" His voice came out like a whisper.

"Good thing you were simply working on your prototype. You should warn other students to take… dalliances elsewhere," Obi-Wan said, winking.

"I-um-fuck--I." The words died on Anakin's tongue. Holy fucking shit. "I didn't see cameras."

"They're small. Qui-Gon had me install them this year. Nevertheless, things happen," Obi-Wan said, pausing, then quickly added, "Good luck." Obi-Wan patted Anakin on the shoulder and walked into his office in the back of the lab, leaving Anakin frozen in his chair.

Later that evening, once he'd worked (read: sat in shock) for four hours at the Jinn lab, finished two assignments for his gened, and led a practice for the TKD team, Anakin dragged his tired ass to the thesis lab. He was still restless since Obi-Wan's revelation. There was a video of the two of you, and he found himself wondering more than a few times if he could get it. For safekeeping, of course. No other reason.

He nodded at Barriss, who was on her way out, on complete autopilot. Seems she's getting in gear for the competition, he would have thought had he been mentally present in the slightest. He was the only one in the lab, a relief considering the fact that all his brain cells tended to leave the building as soon as you were near him, so he could get some work done. Get some tests in, make some actual progress. Maybe he could even pull a win on the competition, if not just an A on his thesis. He'd written some code during thermo lecture that he loaded onto an Arduino, turning over the device and its sharp pins in his fingers before disconnecting it from his laptop and shoving it into a breadboard. It looked ugly, clunky, and inelegant, but it was just a temporary setup for the test run before he attached the Arduino to the current motherboard. Sometime midway through the code running, the door to the lab clacked open.

It was you. Who else would arrive to the lab at 8pm? You looked gorgeous today, which hit Anakin like a punch to the gut. Cool, cool. This was normal. He could handle this. The cold had darkened your lips and cheeks a bit, so subtle he wouldn't have noticed if he wasn't staring. But he was, and he looked away quickly, back to his computer, and choked out a "hey." Anakin heard the tell-tale smack of your backpack on the floor, then each layer you shed (thump for coat, gentle taps for gloves, barely a thunk for hat). His eyes were fixed intently on the screen, even though there was nothing to look at there. When he looked up, you were right in front of him, close enough to touch.

"Hi," you said. Your eyes were gazing up at him earnestly and he could almost see his reflection in them. Fuck. You were standing incredibly near him, much closer than anyone else in his life would.

"Hi," he breathed. Was this it? Were you going to tell him that, actually, you wanted him? That maybe you could go on a date, or, at least go back to your place? Just going back to yours for sex wouldn't be exactly what he wanted, but then again beggars can't be choosers. And he was definitely a beggar right now.

"I need the small pliers." You reached out your hand expectantly. Oh. Okay.

"Yep." He handed them over, then watched as you walked back to your table.

Awesome. So Anakin was still horrendously awkward around you. He knew how to speak to you after the past several years, where he'd found himself getting little kernels of knowledge about your life and thoughts. It was more that he didn't know what he could say that wasn't a confession that he really really wanted to kiss you again.

The dark had already fallen outside hours ago when you began to put away your prototype. All of the world was asleep, the hallway outside the makerspace dark. The only light outside the lab were the streetlights glowing through the open windows, casting shadows over the sidewalk. Time was fictional in those moments, stretching and shortening and contorting until a minute passed in what felt like an hour, or the other way around. Nothing made sense in those moments. His calculations. The unease he felt. Least of all, why you didn't want to kiss him again. Why he didn't just tell you that he couldn't stop thinking about you. But you were already putting your coat on, slinging your backpack over your shoulder, and--

"Wait," he called out desperately, gesturing with his hand toward you. He fell silent. What was he going to say? He'd ask you to talk, to explain that he actually really enjoyed yesterday and that he'd really really like to do it again. He'd tell you that he didn't hate you, actually. That he'd actually enjoy going on a date, maybe to dinner or a movie, he wasn't picky. The words were on the tip of his tongue.

"Can you just stay for five more minutes while I use the drill press?" Close enough.

You looked at him and simply nodded. You kept an eye on him while he used the drill press, and his hand almost slipped three times under your scrutiny. But then he was done, and you both went through the paces of closing up the room. Vents off, machines off, check printers, check laser cutters, lights off, leave.

On the walk home, Anakin looked up and saw an empty sky, so different from the one on the farm at home. No matter where he turned there, he saw constellations and different worlds. Here, between the tall buildings and under all the light pollution, it was just black. You walked home wordlessly again.

The next day, he was determined to be more normal, and immediately asked you how your project was going. He could tell you were guarded based on the wariness in your eye, but you still answered. That you were dealing with a test not working. He offered to take a look at it, but you shot him down.

Later, you asked him if he knew how to deal with an issue with your CAD model, which he did, and he helped you extrude text on the curved surface. Anakin tried not to notice how close your body was.

The normalcy returned within three hours between the two of you. Sure, there was an elephant in the room (or, really, a herd of elephants), but you two were getting comfortable again, casually chatting about class and boasting about your projects. You revealed the thermo midterm hadn't gone so well, and he confessed that it hadn't for him, either. He was very worried about the class, actually, but the thesis was his priority. When he told you, Anakin couldn't figure out what your expression meant. Surprise? Anger? Sadness? Sympathy? He shrugged it off. Probably was a shock to realize he wasn't always perfect.

An hour later, he was thinking about going home, but then he saw you staring at your computer with your headphones in.

"Whatcha watching?" He hoped the question sounded casual. You paused the video and looked up at him.

"An old Criminal Minds episode," you responded with a hint of a smile. His heart leaped.

"Can I join? I'm waiting on a print, and I need a break anyway." Was that smooth? He couldn't tell. You nodded, and he pulled up a chair. He was endlessly thankful you were using wired earbuds today (you had explained you'd forgotten your usual wireless ones at home), so that he had an excuse to sit near you. It was just how far the cord reached, not how badly he wanted to press himself against you. That was all.

"Oh, it's totally the teacher," he remarked at one point, midway through the episode. Your legs had gotten closer, almost pressing the sides of his thigh to yours. That did not make his heart race. It was probably the tension in the episode.

"Obviously, dumbass," you chided, smacking your leg into his, but there wasn't any bite to it. It was affection, and he reveled in it the whole way home.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

Ahsoka Tano wasn't stupid. She had eyes and a capability for critical thought that she thought two particular people in her life lacked. When her roommate came home from the lab one day in mid-November, dead silent with hair mussed and lips still swollen from making out with someone, Ahsoka knew something had happened between you and the only other person who would be in the lab that late. Finally. But there was a clench in your jaw, a hard set in your eyes, that told her it wasn't all positive. But it was progress.

The first time she met met Anakin was when she was a freshman and joined the Coruscant U taekwondo team. She'd seen him around the competitive taekwondo circuit, of course; he was national champion two times running in the 16-18 division. Anakin was precise, vicious, and powerful. By the time he was a freshman, he was about to reach the fourth Dan, a feat which took most people years. He was just that good.

When Ahsoka met him, she was certain he'd be the kind of arrogant that could only come with prodigy status. And, though he was a bit full of himself, she was surprised to find him to be kind. Not nice, necessarily, all quips and snipes and sarcasm, but definitely kind to the younger students, and to her. When he asked her to be his vice-captain, she said yes immediately. There was no one better she could learn from.

The first time she noticed the tension between you was at the first competition she was in, when you came to watch her. At some point, Anakin's name had been announced, and you looked like you'd smelled curdled milk. When she asked you about it later, she hadn't expected the total word vomit that spilled out of you about how annoying and horrible and infuriating Anakin was in class. Your actual issues with him were fairly minor, she thought: 1. He gloated (definitely true), 2. He sabotaged other people's projects so he'd do better (probably not true), 3. He was always getting praise from the professors (probably true), and 4. He always assumed you didn't know what you were doing (probably true).

But Ahsoka saw a side of him you didn't. At a competition in her sophomore year, in the dead of night at the Airbnb the team had rented, she saw him frantically sewing his expensive competitive dobok, heavy with embroidery befitting his dan, when one of the seams tore mid-match the day before. It took some digging, but he confessed that he didn't have a backup. He couldn't afford a new one right now. Anakin didn't talk about home much, and, when he did, it was in clipped sentences saying that yes, he had a mom and a new stepdad. Yes, he was from a small town. As vice-captain, she had access to the list of students who the team was sponsoring at competitions because they needed the financial aid. Anakin was on the list every time. Ahsoka didn't mention it to him, ever.

Over the past three years, she had watched the spark between the two of you ignite into fights and frustration. She'd heard Anakin ask about you in a way he thought was subtle, but was actually glaringly obvious. She'd heard you complain that he was so annoying enough times. Now that something had actually happened between you, that was it. She was going to do something about it.

♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡♡

"A taekwondo party?" You had asked.

"Yeah! At Rex's," Ahsoka had said. To be honest, you kind of needed a break. Or, at least a night to not think about circuits. You were beginning to see that Anakin was smart, even smarter than you had thought, and it was creeping up on you that, maybe, just maybe, you wouldn't win no matter what you did. Maybe he was just too brilliant. You wanted to forget that, and getting drunk seemed like a great way to do just that. "Anakin will be there," Ahsoka's voice echoed in your head. Why did she say that? The peace you had settled into with Anakin was tenuous, but there. Did she know about what happened between the two of you?

You still weren't sure when you arrived on the door of the brownstone. Tau Kappa Delta wasn't an actual frat, but it was a house full of the TKD team competitors who called each other "brothers," so the nickname stuck. It was a bit out of the way of campus, but it was the prime place to hold parties if you wanted to get raunchy in a safe place. You and Ahsoka had gotten dressed up, you in some kind of short black silk dress she shoved in your hands, and her in a strappy ensemble that looked a bit like battle armor. There were straps around the arms that extended into fingerless gloves and some kind of tactical belt was slung low over her hips. Her halter top showed off her strong arms, and, for an instant, you wished you played sports for the university. How she wasn't shivering in the cold air, you'd never know.

The door swung open and the warmth indoors hit you, thick with bodies and sweat and beer, and some guy ushered you in while Ahsoka gave him a hug. This must be one of the team members you had met, some sturdy guy with an accent. You couldn't quite place if his name was Cody or Vaughn, but it was one of them, you thought. The room you entered was full of coats and bags, as well as a few people standing and chatting with drinks in their hands. Through the doorway, music blared in what was probably the living room. You couldn't make out any furniture through the dancing crowd.

Ahsoka reappeared with a shot in each hand, offering one to you with a wink.

"To a good night where you can relax, because God knows you need it," she toasted, bumping her shot glass against yours and downing it in one go. The tequila burned as it went down your throat. You coughed for a bit, then asked her for another. Might as well get the party started right. Another shot went into you, and then Ahsoka dragged you to the dance floor. The lights in the room were flashing all kinds of colors--red, purple, blue--and the music was loud enough that you could feel it vibrating through your organs. Ahsoka pushed her way past some people, closer to the center of the room, and then found enough space for the two of you and started dancing. The rhythm flowed through you, and you were just drunk enough not to care if you looked stupid. It was perfect. The two of you danced for three, maybe four songs, before Ahsoka went to get you both another shot, and then another. Some of Ahsoka's friends had joined you, not that you knew them, but you were in your own world, having fun. People bumped into your shoulder, leg, elbow, whatever, but you were on cloud nine. The bass felt like one heartbeat connecting all of the strangers on the floor to you, like you were all one beast. Dancing with your friends like this, going to parties, that's all that you cared about. This would be one of those memories you treasured, you were sure of it.

And then you saw Anakin. Much to your annoyance, he looked particularly good that day, his hair still as touchable as it was every day in the lab. He was wearing light-wash jeans (like that night, a small part of your brain reminded you) and a black, comfortable t-shirt. Oh, and there was a woman with him. Like that wasn't the first thing you noticed. She was shorter than him by a good bit, standing in front of him so you couldn't see her face, just her annoyingly shiny chestnut hair and perfect neck. Cool. Fine. They were in the corner of the room, with him leaning against the wall and her standing in front of him, shouting conversation over the loud music. Anakin shot her a warm smile, the one he rarely turned toward you, and then she put her hand on his chest. It was the alcohol that flipped your stomach, you were sure of it. And anger at seeing him, nothing else. You tapped Ahsoka and got close to her ear.

"Who's that?" You asked. She turned closer to you, her eyebrows drawn.

"Huh?" She half-yelled back. You lent in closer, trying to get to her ear.

"The girl?" You could barely hear yourself over the noise.

"What?" Oh, fuck it. You full-on yelled, but it didn't even come close to the level of bass in the room.

"Who's the girl with Anakin?"

"Oh," Ahsoka yelled back. "That's his ex." Awesome. Whoop-de-fucking-do. There was, objectively, no reason why that should have annoyed you. But it did. The girl waved to Anakin, then left, leaving him looking incredibly hot up against that wall. Your eyes took in the width of his chest, the muscles and veins in his arms. And then he was looking at you.

He had caught you. Fuck. He gave you a little wave with a smirk, then left into the next room. Shitfuckmotherfucker. Ahsoka grabbed your shoulder, shouting something about how the two of you should get some air. You nodded and let her pull you out of the dance floor, then to a room down the hall, where you could hear voices talking, laughing.

You recognized a few of the people. Jesse, Echo, the one whose name you'd ascertained was actually Cody, Fives, and Fox were all there, and, of course, so was Anakin. They were sitting in an uneven, horrible circle that was really more of a convex shape around the couch. Some girls you'd seen before around campus but you hadn't really met and some other team members were strewn about the room, sipping beers from their red cups. Anakin greeted you both with a wave.

"Hey, come join us, we're playing truth or dare," he yelled across the room. Ahsoka grinned and almost pulled you down with her to the floor.

"C'mon, let's play," she said as she grinned up at you. Truth or dare and other party games had never really been your thing, and you kind of were feeling the number of shots you had taken, so you decided you were out.

"Oh, I'm not sure--" you started.

"What, gonna chicken out?" Anakin's voice called. That motherfucker.

"Never," you shot back, plopping your ass down. You weren't sure there was a way to win truth or dare, but you were going to find it, goddamn it.

"Okay, Rex. Truth or dare?" Jesse started. You'd only met him once, but he had a nice voice and a glint in his eye that made you like him immediately.

"Dare," he responded gruffly. Some oohs peppered the room as they watched their intrepid assistant captain about to get loose. Jesse thought for a moment.

"Take two shots!" The crowd chanted as Rex sighed, poured himself two shots of tequila, and downed them with only a small wince. After he was done, it was his turn.

"Ahsoka, truth or dare?"

"Truth?" Ahsoka crinkled her nose.

"Aw c'mon Snips. Bo-oring," Anakin teased. Ahsoka shot him a look that said if I weren't across this circle, I would smack you right now.

"Only 'cause y'all can't think of a better dare than drinking," she said. Chuckles bubbled through the room.

"Fine, then, have you ever kissed Lux Bonteri?" Rex's question apparently hit the nail on the head as all the color drained out of Ahsoka's face.

"I changed my mind. Dare." Ahsoka's eyes were wide, and you knew why. She and Lux had kind of had a thing going, but he was on another school's team. She'd come back home after matches with stories about what he said, asking if you thought it was romantic or platonic. But she'd never admit to doing anything with a member of their fiercest competition. Rex rolled his eyes as people booed, Anakin especially loudly.

"Fine, fine. I dare you to… call your ex," Rex conceded. That was easy enough for Ahsoka, given that her only ex was Barriss, who she was still good friends with. Barriss had broken it off to focus on work over a year ago, and it had been hard on Ahsoka at first, but they got over it and were back to just being a little bit awkward. With an eye roll and a scoff, Ahsoka pulled out Barriss's contact and pressed the call button. The phone rang out on speaker, just getting Barriss's voicemail. "There, ya happy?" Ahsoka asked, then turned to someone else.

The game went around and around, questions about the last time someone had sex and dares to kiss someone else flying across the room as the team members who obviously knew each other too well publicly tortured one another. Eventually, someone said your name.

"Truth or dare?" It was Echo, who Ahsoka had told you was finally competing again after tearing his ACL. He had kind eyes, and the room seemed electric, so you made your choice without much thought.

"Uh, dare?" Echo smiled in a way that seemed apologetic, and you realized that perhaps this was a terrible idea. Was the room holding its breath, or was it just you?

"Okay, I dare you to straddle Anakin for three minutes." The room erupted, cheers and hollers coming from every player in the nearby vicinity. "Get it, Cap" came from somewhere on your right, and a whistle came from your left. Anakin looked white as a sheet, and you noticed he was staring at Echo with murder in his eyes. They'd pay for that in practice, most likely. He was leant back on his arms, legs criss-crossed, but the position suddenly looked tense. A muscle in his jaw bulged. The chants weren't stopping, and you decided to get it over with.

Whether it was the alcohol coursing through you or some newfound bravery, you weren't sure, but you started moving over to Anakin, who was three seats to your right, near a wall. He made eye contact with you, his gaze softening, and you could practically hear him asking you if you were okay with this. You were, you realized. It was probably the alcohol talking. The wolf whistles of the other players faded away, and sitting on his lap suddenly became the only thing you wanted.

You hitched one leg across Anakin's body, then sank down so that you were sitting on him. The rough material of his jeans slid against your bare thighs, and you cursed your choice not to wear pants. Your stomach was pressed to his chest, and you noticed that, even though your cleavage was in his eyeline and you always thought he was easily swayed by tits and ass, his eyes were intently staring into yours. In your shadow and the dark light, they were blown wide, the black almost consuming his blue irises. A world away, someone yelled that they had started a timer.

Somewhere behind your back, Ahsoka slipped Echo five bucks. You wouldn't have noticed if she had done it in front of you, because you were too busy trying to slow the beating of your heart. Or was that his? You couldn't tell. Everything was a bit fuzzy. In this position, you were above him for the first time, looking down at those eyes that were casting you a look that churned something inside you. With that look, you were back in the lab, and he was telling you to jump up onto the table, and his hands were all over you. You'd lose yourself in that moment, if you could.

Anakin's eyes traveled down your figure with a hard gulp that bobbed his Adam's apple. His gaze lingered on your low-cut front, tracing over the seams, then reaching down to your thighs. In your drunken state, you hadn't noticed the amount of skin that was exposed when your dress rode up. He definitely did. You felt something slowly changing beneath you, and it took you a second to comprehend that he was getting hard. Because of you. You rationalized it as the reaction any person with a penis would have to being straddled like that. Right?

His heavy breathing seemed to confirm it, and Anakin mouthed 'sorry' when he felt himself press against you subtly. You distinctly did not mind. His eyes flicked down between your legs, where the skirt had ridden up so that one wrong--or right--move would let him see what was underneath it. Him seeing you didn't bother you one bit, actually. You kind of wanted him to put a hand to you, press his fingers inside you. Maybe he could take you upstairs to one of the rooms and fuck you furiously. Or maybe you could shove what you were feeling against your legs into your throat. Or maybe one, then the other.

His gaze met yours again before sliding down to your lips and staying there. The same energy that he had when he was one-upping you, confidently answering a question in class, or telling you to re-solder your work grew in his eyes. That intensity. That fierce desire for success. You found it incredibly attractive then, but now, it was irresistible.

The timer beeped, and you thought of the 3D printer that night in the lab. Cockblocks, the both of them. The others in the room cheered as you got off him instantly, then slinked back to your usual seat. Now that you were sitting on your own, it became obvious that the heat between your thighs was not entirely from his legs warming you up. You pulled the hem of your skirt down just a tad. The adrenaline of the moment hadn't stopped, even though you were reminded of the existence of the crowd that had just watched you. You didn't want it to end. You'd give anything for the room to be empty right now, like the lab at night. You pulled out your phone and sent a message to Anakin, your fingers wobbly on the keyboard.

Upstairs. Follow me in 3 mind, the text said. Fuck. Maybe you were a bit drunk. *Mins, you corrected. Anakin checked his phone almost instantly, his eyes still locked on you from before, and quickly typed something back. k. You waited two more rounds of questions before getting up.

"I'm gonna go to the bathroom," you said to Ahsoka, who was absorbed in some kind of debate with Fives and Cody. She nodded at you, and then you were off. You weaved through people, up to the floor with the bedrooms, which was much less populated than the downstairs. There were a few rooms that seemed either occupied or locked, but one at the end of the hall sat ajar. You entered, leaving the door cracked so Anakin would know where you were, then sat down on the bed. It was a twin, in a decently clean room that had a bunch of posters for bands along the walls. Whoever lived here really liked Pink Floyd, apparently. It was actually nice up there; the music was pumping through the building, but it was a nice backdrop this far from the speakers. The window was open, so the cool breeze was flowing.

A few moments later, the door opened. The second you saw Anakin, you pounced on him. He let out a slightly surprised mmph, but then feverishly kissed you back. Anakin tasted like alcohol and orange juice, but you didn't mind. As long as he was kissing you, he could taste however he wanted. One of his hands scrabbled behind him to find the door handle and shut it, while the other came up to your jaw. Whatever desires he had downstairs, he was clearly showing them now. His hand went down to grab your ass, his fingers pressing into the soft flesh. You pressed yourself against him, just like you were downstairs, your whole bodies melded together until you didn't know where he began and you ended. The way Anakin kissed you was intoxicating, more so than any of the shots you had taken that night. More than any drug you would ever take. That fire, that anger-desire-passion-whatever that burned in you intensified until the music downstairs and the unfamiliar surroundings faded away, and all you could feel was him.

You rocked your hips forward, just to test his response, and he growled into your mouth with a ferocity you didn't expect, but loved anyway. Fuck, you'd do anything to hear that again, to hear it all the time. He pulled your hips into his, grinding against you in the process.

Suddenly, he twisted around so he was pressing you against the door with his body enveloping you. Anakin trailed down from your lips to your jaw to your neck. The little nips and wet kisses were driving you wild, so you decided to return the favor and snaked your hand down his chest, which was shockingly hard and muscular, until you reached the hem of his shirt. Your fingers toyed with the edges where his skin met the soft cotton, and you could feel his ragged intake of breath when you trailed even further up. He pulled away, his breathing still heavy. You thought and hoped he would take his shirt off. To show you what you'd seen on the rare times his shirt had ridden up while he took off a hoodie or jacket. Instead, he just looked at you and stopped.

"Fuck me, please," you whispered into the room. For a moment, he looked like he was strongly considering it, and you found yourself praying he would say yes.

"How many drinks have you had?"

"I don't know, like four? Does it matter?" You shrugged. "It doesn't change that I want you," you whispered in a way you hoped was seductive. Anakin got off you so quickly that you were almost hurt, but he still remained close enough that it soothed the sting.

"I'm sorry. It's going to kill me to say this, but we shouldn't do this now. I've only had one drink and you're clearly not thinking straight," he said. His eyes were so full of concern that you almost didn't get mad at him. Almost.

"No, I'm thinking very straight. I'll say the alphabet backwards if you want," you offered, getting closer to him again. He took another step back.

"I'm talking about your decisions. I don't want to have sex, and then have you wake up in the morning and regret it. Just--let's go back to yours." He caught the look in your eye, which clearly meant that yes, you would indeed like to go back to your place, then hurried to add more.

"Not like that. You go to sleep. I'll stay in your living room. In the morning, if you still want to do this, I'll fuck you right then and there." Anakin rumbled the last words out so intently, so full of promise, that you finally conceded.

"Fine, let's go. But as soon as I wake up, I'll take you up on that. And then I'm going to the lab. I've gotta get back to work," you said, letting him past you to open the door for you. Anakin chuckled.

"Maybe you're more sober than I thought." The two of you went back down the hallway, past the other closed doors to the staircase, which was somehow even sweatier than you remembered, then past the living room to the entrance. Anakin's hand was clasped around yours the entire time, to make sure he didn't lose you, and you found that, actually, you didn't mind the contact. You wanted to do it a lot, even sometimes outside of sex. But that was the tequila talking. In fact, the tequila was doing a lot of talking right now, and the world was a little bit wobbly and fluid. Your head was heavy, and you found yourself stumbling a few times in your impractical heels.

Somehow, in all the chaos, Anakin found Rex by the entrance. You couldn't hear every word he said, but you caught "too drunk," "going home," and "make sure Ahsoka gets home safely." The 15 minute walk home passed by in a blur because you were a bit too distracted by the smell of Anakin's jacket around your shoulders. You really were stumbling around, and Anakin had to catch you a few times, but you made it back to your dorm in one piece.

This time, instead of going to the west elevator, Anakin followed you to the east, then up, up, all the way until you got to the tenth floor. Your key scraped against the lock, and you could hear Anakin's impatient sigh as you missed the hole again. You finally got it in, then got into your apartment and immediately flopped face-first onto your bed. Everything was a muddled mess after that. Anakin helped you take your shoes off, though not without making fun of you for being so drunk first, and then handed you a makeup wipe. You slapped it across your face a few times, then tossed it to the side. With a quick "good night," Anakin was about to leave your bedroom to crash on the living room couch.

"C'mere," you called, sitting up and stopping him in his tracks. He approached the bed, then sat down next to you until you put your head on his shoulder. This was bad, you knew, but it felt, for a moment, like that didn't matter. "Stay." Your voice was so small, so quiet. Vulnerable.

"I want to, but, no, I really should--" You interrupted him, still a little drunk and groggy but definitely annoyed. Could the bastard stop trying to be chivalrous for one second?

"If you don't stay, I am gonna dunk your Arduino in water. After you've soldered it." The threat was slightly diminished by the way you nuzzled his shoulder, but it worked anyway. Anakin was always a sucker. His deep sigh confirmed it.

"Fine. Just--oh God this is weird--let me take off my jeans if I'm going to sleep in a bed." You nodded and watched as he stood up, then unbuttoned them and pulled them down so he was in loose boxers and his t-shirt. His strong legs were on display, and you filed the image away for later as he crawled in behind you on the tiny twin bed. Your bed was shoved into the corner of the room, so he had to smush himself between you and the wall, but he managed it with only minimal complaining. He was so warm, so big and comforting. Maybe this was the relaxation you needed tonight, not a stupid party. Maybe you could do this more often. Anakin put his arm around your stomach, pulling you into him. Yup, you definitely had to do this more often. His breath tickled the back of your neck delightfully, and his bare legs felt incredible against yours.

"Is this okay?" You didn't have time to answer with anything more than a mhmm before you fell asleep. It was the most restful sleep you had in months, but that wasn't because of Anakin. Maybe it was. Maybe, just maybe, he wasn't so bad. Maybe you liked him a bit, when he wasn't being an ass. But that was probably the tequila talking. It was the tequila, really.

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[idyllic-affections]

Would u please do Arlecchino adopting a reader? I just want to be adopted by our dearest Arlecchino

warmth.

summary. arlecchino's warmth is quite an effective repellent for snezhnaya's everlasting cold.

trigger & content warnings. home invasion, gunshots are mentioned, a bit of violence in general, reader's parents are murdered (not by arlecchino) but it is non-descriptive and reader does not witness it.

tropes, pairings, fic length, & other notes. hurt/comfort, found family-ish. arlecchino & child!reader. 1.1k words. they/them pronouns used for reader.

author's thoughts. hehehehehe arle <3 i was supposed to write a fic featuring kafka (hsr) today in celebration of her coming home. Erm. yeah. That did not happen! clearly. /lh

       It happened all too quickly.

       It truly was a peaceful night, just like any other. The fire crackled on soothingly in the background, shadows dancing on the walls, and the warmth staving off the frigid cold that was all but characteristic of Snezhnaya's nights. Peering out the window would reveal the light, steady snowfall; typically, more blizzard-like conditions would be present, but perhaps the Tsaritsa was in quite a good mood that night in particular, for the snow was gentle in its falling and the winds did not rage on cruelly, biting and nipping angrily at any unfortunate person caught out in the middle of the storm.

       Their mother hummed a soft lullaby to them as her calloused fingers, all thanks to years of sewing and hunting combined, rubbed up and down their back. Their father had been in the kitchen—cooking was a responsibility shared between their parents (and really, how could he have asked his wife to move when their beloved, sweet child was half-asleep on her lap? That was a /far/ too wicked request. No, he would not dare disturb theirs and their mother's peace).

       ...And in a split second, it had all come crumbling down.

       Someone's weight was thrown against the door, causing a loud slam! to resonate within the walls.

       Once, and their mother sprung up, jerking them awake with her motions. In their half-asleep state, they hardly understood what was going on as their father rushed defensively out of the kitchen with an axe.

       Twice, and their mother gathered them in her arms before darting towards the back of the house—the absolute farthest end—at her husband's command. She rushed into one of the bedrooms, swiftly ripping the closet door open and pushing them in, insisting quietly that they hid among the pile of thick winter coats where they would not be seen.

       "You just have to hide for a little, okay?" she murmured softly, deft hands pulling coats over their little body and face. "And remember—stay quiet, okay? Shh."

       At the end of her sentence, she made a shushing motion with a shaky, trembling smile.

       Perhaps it was her attempt at soothing them, but children are often not so easily fooled. The gesture did naught to calm their pounding heart. She had done her best to look certain and reassuring, but all it did was make them all the more terrified.

       Their mother stood up, closing the closet door only slightly; it may look suspicious if it had been closed completely, she thought.

       Then, she was gone, and they were left only with the company of their thoughts.

       It was mostly quiet for a few minutes. They could vaguely make out the muffled sounds of talking—fighting, more accurately. It sounded angry. As if these invasive strangers were demanding something.

       They choked back a sob as the walls shook around them due to the noise. A scream, then a gunshot, then another, and then silence.

       Through the silence, they could discern the sound of wet slicing. Their heart dropped further into the endless pit of their stomach as they tried their best to curl further into themselves and the pile of coats.

       Click, click, click...

       Heels, gradually getting louder as their wearer approached. Someone was coming. Someone was going to find them.

       It all happened far too quickly.

       ...And now, before them, none other than the Fourth of the Fatui Harbingers was kneeled. It was not hard for her to find them, not with all their shuffling and shaking and heavy, anxious breathing.

       Interestingly, she was far less threatening than what they thought she might be. They didn't doubt that she had the capacity to be absolutely horrifying, but with them...

       "You can come out now," she encouraged. Her tone could hardly be described as forceful; if anything, she was... suprisingly gentle. Patient, even, as she held out her hand invitingly. It was as if she were coaxing a frightened animal out from its hiding place. "There is no longer anything to be afraid of."

       Still, they hesitated. "Where—" Their throat was dry with terror and their little voice trembled as it came out. With shaking hands, they moved some of the coats off of them. The Knave did note, however, that they clung to one particlar coat; it must have belonged to one of their parents, if she had to guess. Children clung onto sentimental items like that. They swallowed and tried again: "Where are my parents?"

       "They are no longer with us. I am sincerely sorry. Had I arrived sooner, they might have lived."

       A tremble shook their whole body—whether it was from the cold seeping into their house through the open front door (though the room they were in was a few twists and turns in a hallway away, the Snezhnayan cold was a unique beast in that it could turn a house frigid in a matter of seconds) or from grief, they could not be sure.

       "Where..." They sniffled, hands balled into small fists as they tried to rub away the tears gathering in their eyes. "What do I do? I don't wanna be alone..."

       "You won't be," Arlecchino said. "You will come with me. You will never be alone again."

       All they could do was stumble out of the closet, coat held firmly in their hands and nod. Where else were they supposed to go? Furthermore, how were they meant to say no to a Fatui Harbinger? She was kind enough to offer to take them somewher, and truly, anywhere would have been better than the cold and lonely house in which their parents were killed.

       Though, it was greatly debatable whether the Fourth was being kind or opportunistic.

       At their young age, they couldn't wrap their mind around any ulterior motives she may have had. They could not so much as consider such a thing, not when she so kindly and tenderly took the coat from their hands, wrapped it around their shivering body, and hoisted them up into her arms. She radiated a warmth that they could not help but lean into, head coming to rest on her squared and confident shoulder. It was not so unbearbly cold when they were in her arms.

       One might regard her mannerisms... parental, as if she had great experience with young children and their needs. It surely seemed so, considering how effortlessly and fluidly she handled them. It was like she had done it a million times before.

       Indeed, it would not be surprising if that were the case.

       Arlecchino hummed, adjusting their weight in her arms slightly.

       Then, her nails softly raked over their head and through their hair. Her smooth, self-assured voice reached their ears with a command they could not deny or resist:

       "Rest for now, little one."

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[thepascalofus]

Supply Run - Exchange (part three)

AO3

Part Two

Pairing: Mando/Din Djarin x afab!Reader

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

Word Count: 19.1k (HAHAHAHAHAAA)

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

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

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

THREE MONTHS PRIOR

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

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

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

Silence.

A modulated exhale.

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

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

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

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

First the chest plate was placed on the floor.

Tung.

Then the thigh guards.

Tang. Tang.

Vambraces.

Ting. Ting.

Pauldrons.

Dunk. Dunk.

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

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

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

Plap.

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

Oh kriff.

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

Plap.

Oh kriff.

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

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

Plap. Plap.

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

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

Plap.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mando looked so fucking good. Deliciously good.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And the sounds.

The sounds.

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

But you wanted to cause the sounds instead.

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

And finally his voice.

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

“Maker, you feel so good.”

“Need you right now.”

“You like that, baby? Yeah? Good.”

“Fuucckkk, always so good for m-.”

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

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

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

Nice save.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Still smiling, you responded, “Good night.”

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

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

Mando.

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

How far did that attentiveness extend?

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

Would he do the same in bed?

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

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

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

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

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

That’s it.

Your eyes closed. Jaw dropped. 

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

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

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

His cock.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Plap. Plap. Plap.

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

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

That was the hardest orgasm you’ve ever had.

–

That hunt kriffing sucked, Mando thought.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit.

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

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

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

Only one way to find out.

–

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

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

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

Dank farrick.

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

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

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

You.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shit. Would you be this wet?

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

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

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

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

“Fucckkk,” Mando said under his helmet.

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

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

“Good girl,” he’d praise.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ma- Mando. Maker, you feel so good.”

“K-kriff you’re b-big.”

“Mm-mm-mm, don’t, stop.”

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

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

Hiss.

Tunk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’m cumming, oh fuck. Oh, Din!”

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

That was the strongest orgasm he’d ever had.

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

Maker, he needs to ask you on a date.

–

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

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

He cared just like you cared.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh.

Oh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

–

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

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

His gaze was focused on you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And what does mesh’la mean?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

His voice.

His unmodulated voice.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He got you there.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“For everything,” he added.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then you feel him.

And you kind of freak out.

He’s big.

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

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

Your hips stilled, and of course Mando noticed.

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

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

–

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Forty four, forty five, forty six…

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I just feel dumb.” You deadpanned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Here or in the Crest?”

“Crest.”

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

His bunk.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh. Fuck.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded up at him.

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

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

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

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

“Can I take this off?” You asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Then his digits left your clit.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Mando looked down and groaned at the sight.

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

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

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

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

But now you wanted it all. 

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

You needed it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you want, baby?”

Baby.

Kriff.

You shook your head, “It’s nothing.”

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

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

Immediately, “Try me,” he calmly demanded.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Hissss.

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

“Relax.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Nnnghh, oh fuck. M-Mando, yes.”

All because of one of Mando’s fingers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmmm. What about my cock, cyar’ika?”

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

Shhlkt. Shhlkt. Shhlkt.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Shhlkt. Shhlkt. Shhlkt.

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

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

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

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

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

“Mando…holy shit,” you said breathily. 

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

“This means everything to me.” 

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

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

You didn’t even know what they looked like.

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

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

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

Baby.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The condom.

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

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

Silence. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Mmm-Mando. Please. Fuck me, please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Such a good girl.”

“You’re so perfect, mesh’la.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“My name is Din.”

Din.

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

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

“Din! Din, oh fuckkkk, Diiiin!”

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

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

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

Plap. Plap. Plap.

Softly bounced around the metal walls of the bunk.

“Wanted this for so long, baby.”

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

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

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

“Fuucckkk,” he groaned.

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

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

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

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

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

“Din. Call me Din, cyar’ika.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ll do anything for you.”

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

[daddyfordaeddy]

Pairing: werewolf! Yunho x f! yn (you can imagine yn as any species, she's kept ambiguous)

Word Count: 1910

Warnings: cursing, smut warnings under cut

Genre: Fluff, smut, supernatural au, werewolf au, E for explicit

Summary: On the week of the solstice, Yunho's rut starts.

Written for @cultofdionysusnet’s winter solstice event <3 took me a bit to get it down lol, and a big thank you to @sanjoongie for beta'ing hehehehehe <3 love u bae

Smut Warnings: unprotected sex (DONT DO THIS unless you discuss safely outside of sex!), praise, degredation, cum play, breast play, lactation kink (guys ignore the science behind it), knotting, breeding kink, overstimulation, subspace (i think it falls under it), creampie, multiple rounds, pet names

I've never written a werewolf au before so i hope its good <3

-

You perk up at the sound of the door opening, hearing the tell-tale signs of your boyfriend jingling his house keys as he hangs up his coat. “Yunho, you’re home early,” you call out, finishing up washing your lunch plates and wiping your hands. “Is something wrong?”

“No, nothing’s wrong, my love,” Yunho responds, his voice liting. You know the sound well—his pre-rut is starting and you’re sure he’s hard in his pants. “I just got sent home because I started my pre-rut early. Must be the solstice.”

Bingo. The week of the winter solstice is when the werewolves’ inner selves are their strongest, and schedules are thrown off every year. You’ve been quite excited for this year’s solstice rut—the last two Yunho wasn’t comfortable enough sharing that side with you and after long discussions, it will be the first time you spend it with him.

You take a deep breath in before coming around the corner to properly greet your boyfriend, unwilling to make him feel pressured by your eagerness. “Do you want something to eat?” you ask as you wrap your arms around him and tiptoe to press a kiss to his cheek. “I can make you the beef we have in the freezer.”

Yunho shakes his head, letting it drop to your shoulder. He takes a deep breath in, enjoying the scent of your body wash. “No, not right now,” he sighs through his nose. “I need a moment. You– you smell good.”

You open your mouth to say something but your breath catches in your throat as you feel his growing hardness against your hip. You knew his dick was big, but…it feels…bigger. Subconsciously, you squeeze your thighs together.

“YN.”

Yunho’s voice breaks you out of your fantasies. “Ah– yes?”

“Are you ready?” His voice is strained and you cock your head, confused. His eyes are dark and he licks his lips, neck veins popping as he holds himself back. “Coming home didn’t help with my pre-rut. You smell too good. Too fertile. I need you and I need you to tell me yes or no now before I lose control.”

“Fertile?” Your eyes widen more and you only vaguely remember a conversation held a while ago when Yunho warned you that in his solstice-rut, his wild instincts take over more so than usual and he will be saying and doing some out-of-pocket things. And somehow, it only serves to make heat sear in your core.

“Answer me, YN.” Yunho’s voice dips and your arms tighten around his waist.

“Yes.”

-

Teeth sink into your neck and your hands scrabble to grip at Yunho’s back, scratching down the skin. You’re sure there will be marks when the morning comes, not that it would bother him at all.

“Shit– Yunho–” you moan, back arching as your boyfriend drives his thick, throbbing cock deep inside you. “Fuck–”

You can hardly get a word out without Yunho rearranging your guts with every thrust. You should’ve known this was bound to happen, with the winter’s solstice landing on a full moon, and in turn, the werewolf’s rut landing on the week of the solstice. Not that you’re complaining about how perfectly Yunho nails each thrust into you.

“Look at you, lying there so perfect for me,” Yunho groans into your neck where he has been littering bite marks all over your skin. You’re sure if anyone who didn’t know the both of you saw it, they’d be worried for your safety. But the deep purple marks only serve to make you proud of your boyfriend. “Letting me use your sloppy pussy to my heart's desire like the whore you are.”

Not a thought exists in your brain as Yunho bites down on the junction between your neck and shoulder, where the old scarring from his mating bite sits. You’re pretty sure you’re melting into the sheets as he grabs your waist and moves you up and down on his twitching member like a ragdoll.

Come spills out of you so easily but Yunho doesn’t stop, just fucking it back into you and letting it foam up around the base of his cock where his knot is slowly growing.

You can’t even count how many orgasms you’ve had at this point, every time you think you can’t, Yunho somehow manages to drag one after another out of your body. The only thing you can feel is Yunho’s cock pounding into you at an unforgiving pace, stretching you out so deliciously.

Your boyfriend has come a couple of times too, your thighs and pussy lips coated in the sticky white substance, but he still hasn’t popped his knot and you know this isn’t going to end until he does. With a groan, you try to shift up, but the bite he has on your skin increases and his hands grip your hips even tighter. “Ah–” you moan, sinking back onto the pillow. You can feel pleasure roll in your stomach and your cunt clench, and you know you’re on the brink of your nth orgasm of the night.

“Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight,” Yunho whines in your ear, his thrusts erratic and you can feel the base of his cock swelling. “You’re going to look so pretty carrying my pups, all round and perfect for me. God, I’d fuck you over and over just for you to carry my babies. My little cumdump.”

You moan, his words pushing you over to your next orgasm and you throw your head back in a silent scream. You swear your vision goes white and you can hardly hear anything as your hips and cunt convulse. Through your high, you can vaguely feel Yunho still snapping his hips into you as he moans against your neck.

And just as you come down, you feel him push his thick knot inside you, stretching out your walls even further. As soon as it pops in, you can feel him shudder and his dick twitch as searing come fills you up so full. “Shit–” you groan, grinding down subconsciously at the feeling. “Your knot is so big inside of me, baby.”

Yunho groans, thrusting as much as he can, the slightest bit of cum leaking out around his hard cock. Your thighs are burning but you can hardly feel it, just another addition to the pleasure slowly building once again. You’re not quite sure how much more you can take, but you don’t mind finding out.

Before you can think too much more, Yunho’s mouth travels down until he reaches your chest, taking one of your nipples in his mouth and sucking gently on it. “Oh–” you gasp, squeezing your eyes shut at the sparks it sends straight to your core. The way he flicks his tongue around the bud makes you shiver and your hands come up to grasp at the soft strands of his hair.

“These tits are so perfect, God,” Yunho groans around the mound of flesh. “Taste so perfect for me. Look at you baby, I’m affecting you so much in my rut you’re making milk, huh.”

Your eyes widen and they trail down your body to see the milky liquid trickling out of your nipples. “Yun–”

“Hush and let me taste you some more,” Yunho groans, dipping his head to capture your breast in his mouth again.

His voice is deeper than the ocean, rough around the edges, and it sends vibrations through your body. The grip he has on your hips tightens even further and you’re sure you’ll have bruises blooming in no time. Without warning, he bites down on your sensitive nipples and you squeal, fingers pulling at his hair as your cunt grips down on his cock. Without mercy, his fingers immediately come up to play with your unattended nipple, rolling the bud between the digits. You can feel milk streaming out of it and you moan.

“Yunho, please,” you don’t know what you’re begging for, and Yunho chuckles.

“So needy for me again, slut,” he hums around your breast, sharp teeth scraping the skin gently.

You open your mouth to complain, but before any words can come out, you feel a great pressure on your pussy and with a pop Yunho pulls his knot out. “Fuck!” His hips have been slowly grinding into you, knot deflating bit by bit, but it was still big enough to sting when he pulled it out carelessly. But the pain is what you absolutely adore and your mouth drops open as he leaves the tip of his cock in your hole.

It’s still pumping come into you slowly, but with how loose you are after that fucking, you can feel his come pouring out of you. You try to squeeze your legs together to stop the flow and keep the full feeling, but your legs are too jelly to even curl your toes. Yunho just chuckles, bringing the hand down that was playing with your breast to lazily press his come back into you, as well as the milk clinging to his fingers.

“God, you don’t understand how much I want to taste you right now,” Yunho growls, his cock twitching again. “But keeping you nice and full and stuffed is my top priority. Fill you with my pups and keep your tits full.”

Before you can say or do anything again, he slowly pushes his dick back in your wet heat, his knot popping back inside you with ease. Your body is hardly able to react, soft moans and whines spilling out of your mouth.

As Yunho smirks down at you, he scoops up the leftover come on your walls and brings his fingers to his mouth, licking off the sticky remains. “Fuck, you taste just how I dreamed of,” he sighs, eyes fluttering shut as he flashes his sharp canines. “Really should keep you warm and pregnant for me—you’re so impossible, YN. I don’t know how the fuck you do this to me.”

You don’t think he even knows what he’s saying, too drunk on the winter solstice’s power to fully comprehend what he’s saying. You can’t get pregnant from him right now anyways, the birth control you use specifically for multi-species relationships. Plus, his come doesn’t have the right potency until the full moon and there’s no way in hell you’re letting that monstrous cock near you (although you dream about it).

Your thoughts are cast away as Yunho’s hands come up to fondle your breasts again, causing more milk to leak out and he immediately dips his head down to suck at your peaked nipples. “Yunho,” you breathe out, no energy to call out his name even louder, “please.”

The ache of your body is finally hitting you and you’re limp on the stained sheets. The haze in Yunho’s eyes clear up a little and he shifts, keeping his cock in you but slowing his grinding. “You’re so sweet for me, YN, letting me use you like this. You can sleep if you want, I need the knot to go down anyway.” His large hands leave your breasts to brush strands of hair away from your sweaty face. “I’ll wake you up for dinner,” he hums, leaning in to press a kiss to your forehead.

Exhaustion takes over your body and you feel your eyes flutter shut as Yunho continues to stroke your hair. “I love you, puppy,” you mumble, halfway to sleep already.

“I love you too, my moon.”

[schoenpepper]

Intro: You choose the diamond bracelet.

Warnings: bad writing, awful grammar, proofread by quillbot, photos aren't mine, kinda suggestive maybe idk are u a prude

A/N: While Kalim isn't my favorite character, I like this ending a lot hehehehehe

Masterlist

The diamond bracelet makes its way to your wrist easily. To be honest, you feel like Kalim might cry if you choose not to be his date for the night, and you've always been one to spoil the prince. At the party, you're spotted and tackled before you even know what's happening. "Y/N! You're wearing my bracelet!" He sounds so happy that you're glad you made this choice.

"Of course, you know you're my favorite." You laugh and tease him, pinching his cheeks gently. Oddly, he doesn't seem too fond of your actions today. Kalim holds onto your wrist and pulls you towards an empty lounge in the banquet hall, closing the door behind him. "Kalim? Is something wrong?" You ask out of concern. For your Kalim to be acting this way is very strange, but then again, this little brother figure of yours has been acting weird for a while now. He's been giving you more and more gifts, more pouty when you spend time with others, and he seems to enjoy monopolizing you and stealing you away when you've made plans with other people. You chalk it up to his usual clinginess. But now, with the way he's hovering above you after he's pushed you down on the bed, his fingers intertwining with yours, one knee squeezed in between your legs...

Maybe you should have thought about this a bit more.

"Kalim?!"

He leans in closer to your face as he whispers. "Hey Y/N, why do you always treat me like a child?"

You don't have an answer for him.

"I'm older than you, you know? I'm not your younger brother. In fact, our lineages are very distant at this point in time." You're breathless and speechless, dazed by his words. "Distant enough for us to get married with no problem."

"Wait, wait, Kalim!"

"No, Y/N, I don't want to wait anymore." His face is so, so close to yours.

"I thought we were friends—"

"I don't want to be friends with you. Hey, Y/N?" You let out a weak hum in response.

"Can't you look at me as a man?"

Try Again?

[phyrestartr]

The Intern [2] | Miguel O'hara x M!Reader

#NSFW, Age Gap (mid 20s and mid 30s), reader's a homewrecker, Miguel's a cheater, mentions of toxic marriage, male!reader, bussy loading, porn with feelings, Miguel's a bit of a dickhead, top Miguel (for now), bottom reader (for now), blowjob, reader gets lectured and likes it, reader has daddy issues

Note: heheheheh

-- The Intern --

[ How it Started: 1/2 ] [2/2]

Miguel had to admit, he was surprised–he didn’t expect you to carry on like nothing happened.

Most people he’d fucked around with in the past, be it in school or during his tenacious dating life, would stomp their feet and quit whatever club, sport, or job they’d joined just to get close to Miguel, just to get a shot with him. He couldn’t blame them. He saw himself as a pretty good-looking guy, a smart man, one that took care of himself and could turn on the charm without even trying; he got what he wanted more often than not, and that included the people who threw themselves at him. He always wondered why they thought they’d somehow cement themselves into his life after just one night. 

But then there was you. You, who still sat with Gabi when you had the time. You, who still helped her with her homework, who still listened to her long-winded rants about whatever movie she obsessed over that week, who still got the shy little thing to talk and smile and laugh. It made something weird and thick weigh down Miguel’s chest, like molasses found a way to suffocate him from the outside. Maybe you didn’t deserve to be fucked and forgotten like the rest. 

And he found you there, still, on a day where Gabi was busy with a playdate at the Parker’s household. Maybe this was the best chance he’d get to talk to you again. 

“Alone, huh?” Miguel asked before sitting across from you, a cup of coffee warming his hands. “Kinda sad.”

You sighed and looked out the window, filled to the brim with drama. “You’re tellin’ me. I got abandoned by a kid. This is worse than bein’ stood up, let me tell ya.” 

Yikes. Was what Miguel did the same as standing you up? He wasn’t sure. He didn’t want to think about it too much. 

"Right, right." Miguel cleared his throat and leaned in a little. "About the other night–" 

"What?" You asked, looking a little too dumb for your internship spot suddenly. 

"Halloween." Miguel looked at you meaningfully and your lips pursed slowly, just like the day he first saw you. Miguel gave a tight-lipped smile. 

You leaned back in your seat and crossed your arms. "I, uh, dunno if this is the right place to talk about that. Dunno if there is a right place to talk about that, if 'm bein' honest." 

"Let's talk in my office," Miguel said, not offering room for argument or questions as he stood and started walking. 

"Wh–now?" 

"Yes, now." 

–

Well, you were supposed to be talking, not blowing him under the desk. Thank god the department heads got their own private spaces. 

One of Miguel's big hands fisted in your hair, holding back your soft locks so he could get a good look at your face as it twisted in concentration. You took him too easily for how big he was, each languid dip of your head welcoming him down your tight, hot throat until–until–

"Mierda–" Miguel pushed your head down to his base, forcing your nose flush up against his well-trimmed hair and blushing skin. You groaned and gagged as he bucked into your mouth and unloaded thick, sticky strands of cum down your throat. You swallowed around him, doing your best to take it all down. 

A harsh bite from you had Miguel letting go and leaning back in his seat. He panted and rubbed his face, but his eyes snapped back to you as you took your time getting off of him. He expected you to pull off and make a mess while you snapped and scolded him, but you went slowly, not rushing. 

Your tongue worked him through the aftershocks, rubbing under his length and thoughtfully tracing the thick veins and sensitive muscle still pulsing from your pampering. Miguel's fingers carded through your hair again as he watched you work; your hand slipped up and gripped his base once enough was out of your mouth to hold. You ran your tongue around him once, twice, thrice, before sucking on that thick, darkened head for much longer than necessary. Maybe you just wanted to be thorough. Maybe you just couldn't get enough of him. 

"Gonna get me worked up again, 'f you keep doing shit like that," Miguel warned, something of an excited laugh fluttering through this soft panting. 

You took a second to swallow (Oh, God, you were torturing him) before wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. "Do you want me to get you all worked up again, Doc?" 

That pesky hand around his shaft tightened before stroking him firmly and fully. Miguel sighed and melted into his chair. He could probably let you pamper him for hours, if his sex drive were to be trusted. Maybe he could–

"Kidding," you said with a mean wink. You kissed the tip of his cock before letting go and parking your ass on his desk. "So. About Halloween?" 

Miguel blinked away the whiplash and scrambled to tuck himself away. "I, uh–yeah. Halloween." He nodded to himself in thought, definitely remembering what he wanted to discuss. 

You stared at him, so expectant, before leaning in and resting your elbows on your knees. "N'awe, did I suck the brain cells right outta your pretty head, Doc?" You fake pouted, and Miguel scowled. 

And he blushed. Just a little. "I just–I was just–y'know what? Maybe you deserved it."

"Pft. I deserved what?" You asked, leaning back onto your palms then. “Bein’ hit then quit?” 

Miguel frowned. His brows drew together and his jaw set uncomfortably while he looked away. It seemed to make you a little uncomfortable by the way you moved to reach toward him before deciding against it. Your hand combed through your hair instead and you sighed, surrendering. 

“Look, I–if I seriously expected the royal treatment from a guy totin’ a wedding band on his pretty lil’ finger, I’d be a shockin’ moron, alright?" You sighed and rubbed your face with both hands. "I mean--it's just s'pposed to be sex, man. Sex ain't complicated like that." 

Miguel narrowed his eyes at you. "I’m–what are you–sex is complicated." His palms landed on your thighs as he leaned in. “You don’t actually think–”

"Sex is busting and moving on with life,” You interrupted sharply. You grew tense for a moment, but forced a relaxed laugh. “I'm kinda surprised you didn't get me fired, if I'm being real."  

The realization hit Miguel fast and hard, knocking the goddamn wind out of his stupid lungs--you were the type of guy left in the dust, the sort that shit heads like Miguel hit and quit, fucked and forgot. The sorry dregs of an exciting sex life filled with names he didn't care about and some he couldn't bother to remember. But Miguel knew your name. But did that even matter to you?

"But, uh…I should get goin', so. Yeah. Good talk." You made your move to shuffle off the desk, but Miguel's hands on your thighs didn't budge. "Oy, I gotta go, old man. You hard of hearing already? Should I call the nursing home or–" 

"Santa Muerte, do you ever stop talking?" Miguel sighed and shook his head. "I haven't said my piece yet, kid." 

You pursed your lips, probably holding back some cursed joke about giving him a blowie, and nodded. "Okay. Say your piece." 

"I will. And you're gonna shut up while I talk, got it?" 

"Got it." 

"Good." Miguel took a deep breath to calm the storm in his chest. "First of all, you've got the wrong idea about sex. It matters. Even if you're just sleeping around, it's because you're looking for that connection. It's a good thing. A beautiful thing. So, I don't want to hear you say all this shit about sex not mattering. Especially when you're talking about sex with me." He looked you up and down, and the fond feeling curled up his chest stretched and lazed like a cat sunbathing. "Got it?" 

You nodded, a vibrant dusting of red saturating your skin. That doe-eyed look was back on your face, just like the first time you'd hooked up with him in his office. He really did adore it. He maybe kinda adored you. 

"Good." He fidgeted with your slacks, pulling on the crisp material with busy fingers as he thought about sentence structure and syntax and connotation and–and– 

Just say it, Miguel. "I shouldn't have left you on Halloween." 

You laughed shyly. "I--what?" He watched you rub your cheek like you were trying to rid yourself of the scarlet blush staining your skin. Miguel had to admit, your reactions were doing wonders for his ego. 

"I said," He started, leaning in a little, lowering his voice. "I shouldn't have left you on Halloween." After a pause, a beat to get you to say something, he continued, "I'm sorry, alright? It's not happening again." 

Another laugh (more like a giggle) bubbled out of you, just as nervous and shy as the last. Your hands fussed with your hair and your tie, your lab coat and your cuffs, until your nerves calmed a bit, the slow circles rubbed into your thighs helping to ease you down from hysteria. It was embarrassing. You were embarrassed. But you were happy.

"Y-yeah, alright. Cool. Neat." You coughed. "Awesome. Uh, I just–you–I have to–" and you leaned down, almost tumbling off the desk, and kissed him. 

Miguel hummed deep in his chest–a heartfelt welcome to your needs and wants. His chair shifted slightly as you haphazardly slipped off the desk and into his lap, expertly never breaking the kiss, and getting comfortable; your arms looped around his shoulders, your hands fisted and carded through his hair, your thighs rested on either side of his slim waist. 

“You’re shockin’ hot when you’re bein’ nice t’ me,” you mumbled against his lips, maybe a bit into his mouth. “But in that, y’know, authoritative dad kinda way.” Your breath stuttered when a mischievous hand slipped into your slacks and cupped your toned ass with a firm squeeze. 

Miguel smirked. “Daddy issues, huh?” Your small scoff and the firm tug of his hair answered him. His smirk warped into a grin. “Want me to scold you more, huh? You get off on that?” 

“You keep talkin’ shit and I’m calling you papi in public, dickhead,” you mumbled as you fumbled with the zipper of his pants. You paused though, and looked up in thought. “But you could help me with my taxes. That’d be really sexy of you.” 

Miguel blinked stupidly for a moment before chuckling and shaking his head. “Why am I not surprised you’re shit at taxes?” God, you were cute. 

“Hey, hey, I’m not shit at them, I just hate them.” You shrugged before very casually slipping his hard-on out of his pants and giving it a few preparatory strokes. “Could use some tips.”

“Or an accountant,” Miguel offered. It was your turn to blink dumbly. “You think I handle my own money? I pay someone to do it.” 

“Huh. You’re seriously in a different tax bracket.” You squeaked when Miguel somehow managed to rip down your slacks down to your mid-thigh. “Hey–” 

“I’ll buy you a new pair.” He helped the pants off of you while you half-stood to get the damn things off, letting them hang off one leg in your haste to get the party started. “And I’ll get my accountant to take care of your taxes.” 

That had you beaming. “I think we’re entering sugar daddy territory, Doc.” You grinned between the sweet kisses you dotted along his jawline. Miguel felt the barest scraping of teeth against his skin, and his cock swelled more. What he wouldn’t give to let you bite and marr him as you wanted. 

But he couldn’t, not with Dana’s skeptical eyes and Gabi’s naive glances watching him from every angle. 

“It’s our little secret,” Miguel whispered with a kiss left against your cheek. 

Your lips found his again, letting your  impish smile sear his skin with sanguine intent, like a contract signed with the devil. 

Miguel would do anything to keep extending that contract. 

[multifandoms27-blog]

I got inspired by a certain season to request this. Can I request headcanons of Yugi, Yami and Kaiba reacting to their S/O joining an evil organization and challenging them to a duel please? (Whether it's their own volition or their being brainwash, is up to you~)

I love battle city so I went with Marik controlling them for this! Lets go boys and ghouls hehehehehe

Content: Yugi x gn!Reader, Yami Yugi x gn!Reader, Seto Kaiba x gn!Reader (separate)

Warnings: Mentions of attempted amputation, drowning, and beheading

Notes: Sorry this took so long! I couldn't decide what to do for Yugi's part for a very long time!

• ───────────────── •

❥Yugi

He pushed the pharaoh away from this duel. He wanted to save you, just as he saved Joey.

He may even tune out his friends to save you, or split off from them completely. He loves his friends, but he loves you more.

He demands Marik release you, and when he doesn't, he goes through with the duel.

He wins, expectedly, and when he sees a saw heading straight for your neck he wails out in terror.

"Y/N! NO!" He rushes forward and tugs you onto the floor just before the saw rips past.

In your confusion, you blink open your eyes and look up at Yugi. "Yu...Yugi...?"

"I'm here, I'm here. You're safe now." His tears streamed down his face as he slowly lifted you up.

He put a hand on your cheek and went in for a long kiss. The cries of his friends interruped him, making both of you turn and look at Joey, Tristan and Tea. Joey spoke first. "Y/n! Yugi! You okay?!"

"We're fine!" Yugi yelled from across the arena, then turned back to you. "I'll make sure nothing like that happens to you again."

"What...even happened?" You asked.

"I'll explain when we leave. I'm just so happy you're safe." He wiped his own tears away, then took you by the hand and led you out of there.

❥Yami Yugi

You mean so much to him, so much that he didn't allow Yugi to take over for this duel. He would rescue you himself, and then tear Marik apart.

Yami cursed Marik as he took over your every move and forced you to duel in a death trap.

He knew he had to beat you in order to have Marik relinquish control over you. As soon as he summoned Dark Magician, the duel was over.

The trap Marik had you in forced you under water, but in a tank. Not open water like Joey's.

Yami dove into the tank after you plunged. Marik released control of your mind, making you try to gasp for breath. In your confusion, you swallowed a lot of water.

Yami swam as fast as he could to you, hooked his hands under your arms and began trying to pull you up. His own strength could only take him so far, but before he knew it, Joey and Tristan had jumped in to help. Together, the three men pulled you out of the tank.

You coughed up some water after being turned on your side so you wouldn't choke. Yami held you close as you did, shaking and holding in tears.

"I thought I lost you forever..." He whispered.

"I'm here, I'm here..." You spoke reassuringly to both Yami and yourself.

"And you're not going anywhere without me." Yami tightened his hold just a little bit.

❥Seto Kaiba

He hates this. This is just like Mokuba being kidnapped, but you're right there.

You're right there but he can't reach you.

He doesn't know whether to beat you or let you win so you can be spared. It brings him back to his own antics towards Yugi during Duelist Kingdom.

Except you're not doing this of your own volition, he knows you aren't. He doesn't normally believe in supernatural things, but this is different.

He decides to beat you. While the duel goes on, he has a plan in his mind to free you from the trap as well as himself.

When he beats you, Marik laughs in your mind as he lets go of your mind control, thinking you're about to die. Seto however, springs into action, freeing you from getting a limb chopped off.

You have no idea what's going on, and honestly you feel really dizzy and your vision is blurry. Seto holds you close, calming down slowly knowing you're alive in his arms.

"S...Seto?" You asked, looking up at him.

Your vision was slowly coming back to you, and you recognized his white jacket. He didn't say anything for a moment, just continued to hold you. Then he spoke.

"It's okay, I have you now. Let's get out of here." Seto stands with you in his arms, leaving the building.

"What...happened?"

Seto begins to tell you the events leading up to the duel, how Marik had somehow possessed you and forced you to duel to the death with him, but he had managed to free both you and him. He then informed you that you were not to leave his side for the rest of his tournament.

• ───────────────── •

Here is my Masterlist in case you want to request, or look for more of your favorite character!

[sp-by-april]

You know what makes me feral??? DRY HUMPING. something where the reader sneaks into Kyle’s bedroom in the middle of the night Kyle sneaks her in for a simple romantic movie night together but things get steamy because the reader is HORNY and so they start making out and dry humping eachother heheheheh

Maybe they almost get caught by Kyle’s parents or brother so she has to hide in the closet. After he can just eat her out if they can do it. Or both!

Yessssss! This is what I'm talking about!! A++++ prompt execution. Let me feed off your excitement. 🧛🏽‍♀️🦇

Kyle x F!Reader

[Submit a prompt that makes you FERAL] [Kyle Broflovski Master List]

I came in through Kyle’s window. We were cuddled up on his bed, just catching up on some streaming stuff on his laptop you know? A cute, perfect date night.

And it really was perfect!

Kyle was holding me. I was on his bed. I could smell his scent all over and feel his weight on me. God, I was so turned on, but I tried to ignore it.

Then of course the hottest sex scene I’ve ever seen came on.

I pressed my thighs together to try and alleviate a little bit of the tension caused by the wet warmth pooling between my legs.

That was a mistake. It made me want it so much more.

I pulled Kyle into a kiss. Of course, he was receptive. His tongue slid in my mouth and as our tongues rolled over each other, I was only getting more and more worked up because he started to run his hands over my body.

We kept kissing as I climbed on top of him. Then he grabbed my hips and pulled me down, grinding against me.

That bit of friction felt like something that I needed.

I rolled my hips over him in the hopes of getting a little more relief and I’m pretty sure he moaned in my mouth. Either way, I could feel how turned on he was. He was throbbing underneath me so hard, it was driving me even crazier. Luckily, I had a skirt on, so my panties made it easy to feel everything as I rubbed my clit right against the hard-on pushing up against his zipper.

Then we hear creaking on the stairs and in the hall. His parents came home.

Kyle looked at me, “Hide. Now,”

He grabbed the laptop and put it on his lap while I jumped up as quietly as possible and tucked myself away in his closet.

There was a knock at the door, just like he predicted.

Kyle cleared his throat, “Yeah?”

“You’re still up?” It was his father’s voice.

“Can’t sleep,” Kyle said plainly, “Got that big test tomorrow, you know?”

I never knew Kyle was such a good liar. I almost believed him and asked myself if I should have been studying.

“Gotcha, but you should still try to sleep,” His dad believed him too.

“Well, I’m in bed and the lights are off, so…”

“Fair enough,” Gerald said, “Goodnight, Kyle,”

“’Night,” He sighed as his father closed the door.

I slowly opened the door and peeked to make sure the coast was really clear.

Kyle put the laptop down and gestured for me to come back as he sat on the edge of the bed.

I hastily made my exit and climbed onto his lap. He quickly pulled me into another kiss and slid his hands under my shirt.

He helped me pull it off and unclasped my bra. We pulled that off too. I dipped my hands between us so that I could unbutton and unzip his pants. He helped me push them down and I finally had him in my hand.

Kyle had such a great dick, it was unbelievable. I loved just stroking him sometimes and watching him throb and drool for me. As fun as that always was, I didn’t have the patience for it. I needed him immediately.

I slid my wet slit over him and his breath hitched the moment we touched. He grabbed my hips and pushed me down. I gasped as he squeezed inside of me and he pulled me into another kiss as I began to rock my hips.

Finally. A little bit of relief. I was so determined to get off, and I was so revved up that if I didn’t come immediately I was convinced the pressure, the warmth, the aching, would kill me. I started moving faster and using more pressure and Kyle moaned openly in my mouth as I rolled my hips.

“Fuck, you’re too good,” He sighed against my lips, “Be quiet,”

His eyes rolled back as I rolled my hips again, so I pulled him into another quick kiss, “You’re the one who needs to be quiet.

I locked my mouth onto his to dull the noise and I just fucking went for it. He held onto my hips and groaned into my mouth as quietly as possible, but God, he still sounded so hot. Knowing he was enjoying me so much just threw me over the edge.

I pushed a small, trembling moan into his mouth as all my muscles tensed up. The wave of pleasure completely took me over. Nothing else existed to me in that moment. My soft, silky walls fastened up, gripping Kyle and holding onto him like a pathetic, needy vise.

Then his hips bucked up into me so hard, my body jumped and I almost cried out. He groaned low into our kiss as his cock pulsed and pulsed so strongly I could feel every spurt as he pumped a hot, sticky mess inside of me.

He panted in my mouth for a bit and smiled, “Thanks for coming over,”

Then we heard a familiar creaking in the hall.

[guppydoll]

This Isn't Barbie Land: Chapter 2

Ken x Fem!Reader

>:3 hehehehe. I've been in a bit of a writers block but here is chapter 2. Also don't hate me but it's left on a cliff hanger! I felt bad for no updating as much as I want to but I figured I give you all this teaser and how much fun chapter 3 is gonna be hehehehehe

I'll be completely honest this has been super hard to write. I want to just get it out but damn writing Ken is just exhausting. I also have a little plot in my head but I'm making it up as it goes. I'm used to writing something cute but don't worry my angsty hands will be ruining all of their fun shortly

This is 18+

Warnings: porn watching, almost smut, making out

Word Count: 2172

Ken didn’t expect that there was so much to being a real person. Drinking actual liquid, eating real food, and actually sleeping and time not passing by magically. He wanted to do everything with you. When you had made a makeshift bed on the couch for him, he ended up sneaking into your bed after you had fallen asleep. Which ended up in him being smacked in the head with a pillow when you woke up. Apparently there were some things people did alone, e.i. bathing.

He learned that when he barged in on you showering, naked and ready to join, instead of the “Hi Ken!” he expected you had screamed at him to get out. Ken also learned that being nude in front of each other wasn’t normal either. When you had exited the shower he had been waiting for you, still naked. Again, to his surprise, you slammed the bathroom door shut and hid from him. He tried to coax you out but you made it very clear that until he was clothed you weren’t coming out.

You ended up giving him your laptop and told him he could look up any questions he had when you went to work. Ken hated you leaving, you were gone for what felt like an eternity. What made it worse, by the time you got back you were too tired to do anything and went straight to bed. You explained to him that your job was only open late. You went to work at 3pm and arrived back at 11pm. Ken would try to sleep while you were gone but he just couldn’t. Why couldn’t you just stay home with him.

He moping on the couch, the laptop in front of him playing a video on horses. He had only been in the real world for a week and you had worked every single day. He partially understood why you felt so lonely, you were busy every single day working yourself to the bone. He snatched up the laptop and began typing away in Google.

Things to do for your girl after she’s had a stressful week

Ken gasped when the search engine corrected the word girl to girlfriend. Did those mean the same thing? His heart had that weird feeling again. Hammering away in his chest so fast he swore it would burst. 

It didn’t take long before Ken had fallen down a rabbit hole of “Things to do for your girlfriend”. Some articles said to cuddle and kiss her, while another mentioned cooking a romantic dinner for her. Another said to buy her a gift, a necklace or chocolates. Ken didn’t know how to cook or have any money, and the thought of holding you tight caused his heart to soar. He began typing away once more. 

Romantic dinners when you can’t cook

A list of restaurants nearby showed. He could take you to dinner but what would you do afterwards? You had mentioned something about dinner first then something else. A switch flipped in his brain, you said he should take you to dinner before beach sex. He had forgotten all about that! He had been meaning to ask you about what beach sex was earlier but you had been so busy he was more focused on getting to know you first in the small time he had with you. Ken knew everything there was about the beach and yet beach sex didn’t ring any bells. You had made it seem that beach sex comes after dinner, and if dinner would help relax you then beach sex must do the same thing.

Beach Sex

Ken clicked the first link there and it led him to a lot of videos. Videos of beach sex. It couldn’t hurt to watch just one, this was for you after all.

~~~~~~~~

It had been another exhausting night but you were thankful your seven day stretch was over and you had a full five day weekend. You knew you had to shop for groceries seeing as you were feeding two mouths now and also stop by the mall to buy Ken some clothes. He had only moved in with the clothes on his back and you hadn’t had time to pick some up for him. At least you had an obsession with men’s clothes for pajamas so at least Ken didn’t have to go naked. You cursed a little, remembering him being butt ass naked in front of you when you had been in the shower. You had expected a doll body but nope, he was fully equipped. You also had to give it to him, he was equipped very well. 

“Ken, I’m home.” You opened the door of your apartment, kicking off your heels and bracing yourself for the immediate bear hug Ken always gave. Instead you were greeted to the sight of Ken, bug eyed watching your laptop, with loud moans and slapping noises blaring from its speakers. He was watching porn. Ken was watching fucking porn.

The blonde quickly paused the video and jumped up, rushing towards you. You wanted to shrink, avoiding looking anywhere near his nether regions, scared of what was most certainly there.

“You’re home already!” Ken beamed. “I lost track of time! I wanted to set up a surprise for you before you got back!”

“That’s very sweet of you Ken…” Excuses rushed through your brain, trying to find one that would allow you to lock yourself in your room.

“I want to say thank you for letting me stay, so I was looking things up on the internet websites that I could do.”

You wanted to scream, the internet was the wild west. Of course Ken would come across porn, you just didn’t think you’d walk in on him watching it. At least it had just been porn and not some insane website filled with awful garbage or a scam website that would fill your computer with viruses. 

The gentle touch of Ken’s hand tucking a strand of hair behind your ear pulled you from your thoughts. You looked into his eyes as he softly dragged his fingers over your cheek, then your jaw making you swallow hard. Ken’s face was stern and focused as his fingers drifted down your neck, his palm just ghosting over it.

“Ken? W-what are you doing?”

“I’m trying to help you relax.”

“Ah. Um, thank you Ken.”  He was not relaxing you in the slightest. You pushed his hand away and began inching towards the bathroom. “But I’m gonna go shower, hehe you know how sweaty I get at work.”

“No.” Ken grabbed your wrist and pulled you back to him. The look he had was intense, you didn’t know how to react. You couldn’t meet his eyes, a blush crawling up your neck. You were used to his big smiles and shining eyes, not this.

“Ken..”

“I can’t cook for you or buy you gifts, but I can hold you. Kiss you. Fuck you.”

You would be lying if you hadn’t been eyeing Ken up for the past week. He was hot. He never wore a shirt or when he did it was always an open shirt. He would flex at you “subtly” whenever the two of you chatted. On top of that he was sweet and excitable, and so so beautiful. It was a small crush, now that crush just said he could fuck you.

“I looked up what beach sex was and in the videos they kept calling it fucking and the man said he would fuck the lady. So I searched what fucking meant and if that could help relax you. I learned sex, not just beach sex, can be therapeutic.” Ken grinned, very proud of the big word he used.

  “Ken, it’s very sweet that you want to help me relax but sex isn’t something we should do together. Those people are couples, usually, sometimes not but that's not the point.”

“But you're my girl, apparently that's another word for girlfriend.” Ken pouted, stepping even closer to you.

“That’s not what that means in our context, Ken.” You stepped back, bumping into the door behind you. Damn, you really had failed at escaping.

“But it fits how I see you!”

“Ken you really only known me for a few days, you don’t-”

“But I’m your doll!” Ken cut you off, stepping even closer, trapping you against the door. You watched him fidget with his hands before he rested them on your hips. “Let me help you relax.”

You opened your mouth to protest again but Ken forced his mouth onto yours. The kiss was terrible. Sloppy and teeth clicking together. He was pressing too hard, letting neither of your lips move in sync. You slapped his arms sporadically trying to get his attention but he was lost in the kiss, if you could call it that. He finally pulled away for air and looked down at you with pupils blown wide and an even wider smile.

“Wow.” He moaned and you squeezed your legs tight. His voice was like honey and you needed to hear more.

“Ken..” You gasped, dumbstruck with what just happened. You were speechless as the blonde held you in his arms, who also noticed your hesitance. He took your hand and placed it on his chest, feeling the warmth of his skin and the beating of his heart.

“When I look at you, I feel things I don’t understand. When I was watching those videos, I kept thinking about you. I also learned that another name for sex is making love. I want to make you feel loved. That’s the reason why I wanted to find you.” Ken leaned in close to you again, hot breath tickling your face.

Fuck it, you had nothing to lose. You placed your hand on his cheek, leaning towards him and kissing yourself. Ken tried to push hard again but you pulled away to look at him.

“Gently Ken, let me show you.”

He kissed you again but softer, letting you take the lead. You ran your tongue on his bottom lip causing him to gasp. You took the advantage and pushed your tongue into his mouth. You swallowed the low groan he made, allowing him to push you against your apartment door.

“Y/N…”

Ken’s moans were music to your ears and you continued kissing along his jaw and down his neck. You bit down on his pulse and Ken bucked his hips into yours, forcing a whine from you.

“Bedroom. Now.” 

“Okay!” Ken didn’t even struggle, lifting you with ease and carrying you straight to your bedroom. 

He unceremoniously dropped you onto the bed and jumped back into kissing you. Ken was a faster learner, it didn’t take long before he was the one in charge of the kiss. His large hands roamed your body and you mimicked what you had done to him earlier, kissing along your neck and biting hard hard. He licked at the spot you knew that a mark was gonna form in the morning but that didn’t matter now. Ken was all that mattered.

“Pants off.” You fiddled with Ken’s belt and made a mental note to thank him for rarely wearing shirts. Ken excitedly hopped off the bed and dropped his jeans with record speed until he was on you again. He was excited, so excited he wasn’t allowing you to breathe. It had been so long since someone had smothered you with this amount of love. You actually weren’t sure if you’ve ever been shown this amount of love before. 

Ken was touching you but not the same other men had. He was soft, admiring your bumps and curves. He didn’t fight with your dress, leaving it on, not even pushing his hands up the skirt. His hands ghosted over your breasts afraid to touch them. You had to shove his hands down onto you just so you could half of the friction you desired. 

“Ken… let me get out of my clothes.”

Ken was a good listener, pulling back immediately. You finally got to admire the man in front of you. His face was flushed and a smile was plastered over it. Ken’s chest looked fake, the perfect contour of each muscle was mesmerizing. You sat up, one hand behind you finding your dress’s zipper and the other running down his chest. You paused at his navel and you played with the waistband of his boxers. His cock was straining hard against the fabric, begging to be touched. You danced your fingers over the bulge, forcing a whimper from Ken.

You retracted your hand, looking up at Ken. His baby blue eyes were watery now, shifting uncomfortably from the lack of your touch. You laughed and peeled off your dress, thankful for the constrictive clothing to be gone. Ken’s eyes looked as if they were going to explode from his head as he watched you unclasp your bra, freeing your breasts. This was gonna be fun.

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Tag List!

@stanfanfiction

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[kit-williams]

Sentience Husbandry Black Templars Thoughts plus more about Brother Arnault

ya'll want unhinged ramblings about Black Templars in Sentience?

And plus Black Templars are such an INTENSE chapter I feel the need to go over how they handle bonds as well as talk about Arnault and Roland.

@sleepyfan-blog and I had a small chat about Black Templars and I decided to share some of it.

@egrets-not-regrets @liar-anubiass-blog @barn-anon @bleedingichorhearts @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan

If these sort of deep dives into chapter specific behaviors helps feel free to ask me for another

So I will first of all say it will probably take the Astartes awhile to figure out where they are when they first get here. Given how stars will (from my understanding) will shift in 30 and 40 thousand years respectively.

Sure they will look up into the night sky and see the utterly beautiful sight of the milkyway's arms... they all have probably seen it. But then they get a hold of some maps of the milkyway and when they ask where they are in relation of course the human will be helpful and point to where we are... right. at. holy TERRA.

When more powerful telescopes are made and the Astartes... borrow the facilities they do in fact check the eye of terror (because a lot of them are "oh god who is going to stop the demons from coming out) and they are very surprised it's not there (and wont be for awhile because the Eldar haven't fucked up yet)((HEHEHEHEHE Puns)) so that is how they are able to provide evidence to new arrivals that "yes this is ancient terra"

Every. Single. Astartes. Is. N O R M A L about this. (No no they are not. Know who is SUPER normal about this? Every single Imperial Fist and successor) So when they find out they are on Ancient Terra this is when a large number of resistant loyalist space marines actually accept their bonds and when a LARGE number of Imperial Fists integrate (a small play on the Last Wall Protocol)

However Black Templars do not wish to bond. Black Templars are not human killers but they literally seem to only have two bond types... weak or intense and while some might try to sever a weak bond with killing their human Black Templars are sons of Dorn and have a sacred duty to protect Terra and her people. However, Black Templars see bonds as very warp related (deny the witch and all) and do their best to break bonds.

For brothers with weak bonds this is easy as the "warband" (basically nomadic groups of Astartes are just called a warband though the Black Templars are trying to get their called a crusade) will travel a couple hundred miles away/get the battle brother away. At some point the bond snaps and he feels the minor backlash which is just sweating and some anxiety for a bit but usually its all very calm.

However intense bonds do not break as Arnault and his brothers discovered. But first a bit about Arnault.

Arnault is the Black Templar author from this. Arnault is from M40 and by the time he died he became an Emperor's Champion (as that resulted in the end of his life). Arnault has ice blue eyes and striking white hair. Arnault is a renown duelist amongst his brothers and later brothers know of techniques that he had utilized. He has his sword always by his side even in civilian clothing it is wrapped around his waist with a chain that he can easily wrap it around his arm. Arnault like many other Black Templars rejected the concept of a bond, he had a few weak bonds before his current bond and of course broke them...

Bonds are precious things don't you know...

Arnault got struck by an intense bond and simply walking away wasn't helping... in fact it was killing him. The further away he got the more he deteroriated violent fits of vomiting... tremors... sweating... basically he was being punished for rejecting his bonds. But because his later brothers knew he was destined to become an Emperor's champion they couldn't let him die; which is what the fear was if they didn't bring him back... to what he would call his angel. (Funny enough her name is Angela)

Arnault was not an author before he met his bonded. In fact the only reason he started writing and eventually (under a pseudoname) published his first series called "of the flesh" (there are 4 books Sins, Desires, Healing, and Redemption) ((This is the series written about a human and a CSM)) he started writing to try and process his feelings for Angela. As because he tried to break his bond with her... when he was reunited the bond violently "snapped" or solidified into a very intense bond (also into a carnal bond). Before his first series he wrote a novella and some reason got it published and it was VERY popular.

He felt initially disgusted with himself for writing and sharing his writings. The publishers that he works with are Astartes and one is a Dark Angel so they keep his secret very tightly of who their prized author is. But Arnault eventually would start his "- of the Flesh" series writing it twice basically as one would be for mortal readers (this is the "edited" version) and the other would be for Astartes.

SIDE NOTE on smut written for Astartes. Besides it being written in gothic it is written very differently. There are a lot of scenes that when translated sound completely unappealing... example like describing the mortal in what we would think would be unflattering terms like how their scent is... near medical text descriptors of their skeletal structure... using chemical formulas to describe scents and tastes... it reads very clinical at times. Which I see as being far more... stimulating for them because Space Marines interact with the world very differently... because saying that their mortal's lips had a sweetness akin to C12H22O11 does something to them than simply saying Sugar.

Back to Arnault... eventually when he actually got comfortable enough to admit his feelings for his bonded is when the guilt went away and he started another romance "series" (loosely related novellas) involving a Black Templar and a mortal. Somehow someone found out that the prolific lurid author was a black templar and told the higher ranking Black Templars that it was Arnault.

Arnault and Roland were already social outcasts because they had embraced their bonds. Roland's other sin was that he also had sex with his bonded. Arnault's additional "sin" is that he writes tawdry Slaanshi novellas (which would be a death sentence for any Brother normally) HOWEVER because Arnault hasn't become the Emperor's champion yet and for later Black Templars he still does become the champion they argue that Arnault clearly makes up for his sins if the Emperor still chooses him to be his champion.

So Arnault might have accidentally caused some conflict amongst the several different warbands. (His and Roland's standing is vastly different depending on which warband you ask) And that for the sake of other lower ranked brothers who look up to Arnault's eventual sacrifice for the Emperor to not tarnish that image they have of him they keep it under wraps and simply say because he embraced his bond in an impure way he is a social outcast.

Which is how amongst the majority of the Black Templars Roland and Arnault are simply known for their sins of not being able to break free of the warp bond and also human fucking (serious crimes). Arnault is pissed that someone tried to get him executed and declared a traitor but what he does is a secret between him and the heads of the black templar warbands at this point. (That lovely Dark Angel at the publishing house helped in finding the traitor marine that tried to get Arnault killed and everyone had a great time.) ((except for the traitor))

So what are Black Templars in Intense bonds like? Like most other space marines in intense bonds. Again it doesn't have to be a carnal bond (aka the sex bond) but for black templars they basically love their human in a same way as they love the Emperor of Mankind. (Some say that a Black Templar bond is akin to an intense Word Bearer bond) There is no in between for them it's either a weak bond (which they go about breaking) or an intense bond.

They are doting towards their human but the real change comes from how they are willing to interact with Traitors and Renegade marines if their human is willing to (Oh they are more than happy if their human doesn't like the filthy traitors also!).

[arrowsperpetualcringe]

https://www.tumblr.com/arrowsperpetualcringe/716483661130874880/hehehehehe Hoe does Mario meet Knight!Luigi?

Hi hey hello omg someone's actually asking about this au---

I'm panicking for no reason but also I'm so excited and so happy to share!!!

So, tbh, there's no need for Knight!Luigi and Mario to "meet", and by that I mean--- Luigi and Mario were never seperated and they already know eachother.

Luigi's whole deal, and the reason he was able to become a knight in the first place, is that he kinda... just sorta moved out.

Let me explain: He in this au, Luigi of course loves Mario dearly, that's his twin brother, his main man, his bestfriend, his homeslice breadslice dog. However, after retrieving some subpar treatment, he decided to seperate from Mario, and go his own little journey of self discovery. He's never been apart from Mario. And though he's scared, he's terrified even, he wants to know who he's capable of being on his own. So he leaves to go journey, Mario of course wishes him good luck, but is SO fucking nervous something bad will happen to him and encourages him to write him.

(More Backstory under cut cause this post is looooong)

Most of his journey is fine, and well and good, until he gets dundundunnn caught by Bowser. (For the purposes of this au, let's imagine that Kamek freed and unshrunken him post Mario Movie)--- So, he catches Luigi to get revenge, but at this point he's developed a bit more of a backbone and some serious skills to defend himself, so he almost escapes the castle, but is stopped by Bowser himself, who--- in a twist of fate is impressed by his skill.

Basically the interaction that follows goes "Ayo I'll let you live if you work for me" "I'm still very terrified of you so bet" (ofc he's plotting to return the whole while, but needs to find a time when it's safe)

So now mans lives in the castle with Bowser, and he gets training to really hone his skills--- they gradually get used to eachother, and since this is a Bowuigi centric au, yall already know the deal fr.

SORRY I got SO incredibly sidetracked, but since I already wrote all this I ain't deleting it--- to get to the core of the question---

If Mario were to ever meet Luigi in his knight formmmm hmmm.

If he were to meet while Luigi was doing some on duty shit with Bowser watching, he'd have to resort to going completely nonverbal to avoid being recognized--- in my very first post about Knight!Luigi he can avoid being recognized as his usual self by switching from an italian accent to a brooklyn one, but--- seeing as Mario knows his brother, and knows his voice, he'd recognize either one. This would probably give off an impression of a really intimidating, serious and skilled Knight to the opposition, when really Weggy just tryna to avoid being recognized---

If they just happened to cross paths with no eyes on them, Luigi would shed the mask SO fucking quick and give him a hug. Though, since Luigi has risen through the ranks and became very known as someone to be feared in his persona, this would leave Mario both very relieved, and VERY confused.

and uuuuh

yeah that's it.

OH wait

One more thing.

In this au, Luigi's Knight persona is just known as "Knight Guy"

everyone assumes he's a really weird shy guy and no one bats a fucking eye FOEJROFEJROJ

TL;DR: They'd most likely meet in a battlefield. If on duty, they just sorta,,, duke it out (Luigi will refuse to hurt Mario though) If off duty, hug time.

[cebwrites]

Hey hey! I'm not new here but I am quite shy!!

I'm a little buzzed though so hehehehehe ╮⁠(⁠.⁠ ⁠❛⁠ ⁠ᴗ⁠ ⁠❛⁠.⁠)⁠╭

If it's okay, could I ask for Sanji's reaction to a male s/o wearing his shirt? Maybe it's a tad too big? XP

Sanji's just.. filled with love? Sorry I'm a little hehehehehehe

a/n: liquid courage to help the tumblr asking go down!! thank you for sending this in and enjoying my work from the shadows 💕

(i'm adding some north blue boys for space filler under the cut if you don't mind <33)

reacting to their boyfriend wearing their shirt (Sanji, Drake, Law)

masc reader, he/they law word count: 0.5k

Sanji

Like you said, anon, he's completely filled with love <3

Sanji whines and twirls for you at the drop of a hat for no particular reason on the average day anyway, but for this? Shit, he might have to actually sit down for a minute

When you roll your eyes and lightly whack his shoulder for the theatrics, Sanji takes ahold of your hands to press the gentlest of kisses against them, you note how the scruff on his upper lip tickles your skin

He'd take a moment to spin you slowly admiring you in his loose dress shirt in the blushing morning light, pulling you close for even more kisses in his lap when he simply can't take having even an inch of space away from you

He's completely and utterly smitten with you, hiding the heat radiating from his face in your shoulder before his own embarrassing thoughts can get the best of him, but would you really have it any other way?

Drake

The first time he sees it, Drake doesn't quite know how to process this information - tangled up in the sheets, a few loose strands of hair framing your face, and the comfy dino shirt he usually wore to bed on days off adorning your sleeping figure instead

He may or may not have blown a fuse from the cuteness

It's not that you're small by any means, the average man's height with decent bulk, but Drake is just, well - huge, standing at 7'7, the guy does tower over most regular folk quite a bit ('regular' people in the Grand Line need not apply)

So its natural that his clothes leave more than a little bit of room for you to swim in

It's not hard to make him a flustered mess to begin with, but with this added bonus, you tease him to no end - walking around the house in just his ratty old sleep shirt all day, cuddling in his lap while wearing it, trying on different things from his wardrobe and then asking your dino boyfriend's opinion on how you look - truly, you'll be the death of him

Law

They're unamused, at least on the surface, that you keep stretching out their hoodies

There's no doubt whenever Law gets a new sweater or shirt that it'll hang awkwardly on them within the next few months (it needs some time before it starts to smell like him, of course)

Law pulls your ear and gives you the patent 'angry kitty' stare and pretends to push you away when you want cuddles for doing this, but they can never stay too mad at you for long

Eventually, Law starts to buy clothes that are a little bigger on purpose for when the inevitable happens - of course, there are some hoodies that off limits lest you get the cold shoulder and locked out of their bedroom for the night

But perhaps Law shouldn't complain as much as they do, especially when you catch your beloved captain cutely falling asleep at his desk in one of your animal print hoodies, or see them groggily drag their feet into the kitchen in the morning wearing draws a little too loose on them

[jungkookslipring]

could you do a bts tickle fic x reader? 💜

ABSOLUTELY

Rap Mon? More Like Tickle Mon

summary: When a lee mood gets the best of you, theres on particular tickle monster who will happily fill your needs

pairings: Namjoon x reader with mentions of ot7

genre: fluff, tickle

relationship: platonic

Being in a lee mood was rough, especially if you were alone. But the worst was when it hit you the hardest when you were at your best friends' house. Would they judge you? Of course not! They've poked and squeezed your side on numerous occasions any time you'd be reaching for a cup in the cupboard or stretching, but the idea of having to ask made you flustered. You knew what Namjoon was capable of because you had watched him wreck the other members, especially the younger ones, and you couldn't help but sometimes feel jealous you weren't on the receiving end.

One particular afternoon you were washing dishes because you were bored and decided to help them out. Namjoon came out of the bathroom and saw you scrubbing bowls with citrusy dish soap.

"You don't have to do that," he whined poking your side as he walked by you. You jumped at the feeling and bit back a grin.

"I'm bored and saw the dishes weren't done, its no big deal" you say, already missing the electric feeling on your side.

"If you're bored let's go do something," Namjoon suggested as he poked you a couple times on your side, attempting to get you to stop what you're doing. You couldn't help but smile as you grabbed a small Tupperware container that you're grateful wasn't glass because Namjoon came up behind you and gently squeezed your sides, earning a small squeal from your lips. You threw your hand over your mouth as Namjoon looked at you over your shoulder with a shocked face.

"I didn't realize how ticklish you were," he said cheekily as he squeezed you again. You dropped the tupperware in the sink and did your best to protect your sides.

"Joohoohoohoon," you giggle as he keeps tight grip on your and keeps squeezing your sides. You yelp as he wraps his arms around your middle and drags you to the living room, gently laying you on the floor before straddling you. He started poking your tummy, smiling as the giggles started flowing. You tried your hardest to cover your sides but you were praying he wouldn't actually stop anytime soon.

"Do you want me to keep going?" he asks suddenly. How tf did he know? You don't know how to answer that question, other than to cover up your face. Namjoon couldn't help but coo and pull your hands away from your flushed face.

"It's not weird, I promise y/n," he said sweetly. After a few seconds, you nod hesitantly, giggling louder than before not too long after when his hands find their way to your tummy, scratching and squeezing your flesh as you roll around as much as you can.

"Ihihihit tickles hehehehehe!" you squeal as he alternates between squeezing your side and squeezing your tummy. Namjoon couldn't help but laugh along with you, seeing how happy this was making you. He settled with light tickles on your sides and tummy for a while until he got a hold of both your wrists in one hand and used his free hand to scratch your ribs. You screeched, not realizing how ticklish you were.

"Ohhhhh is this a bad spot?" he teased as he racked his nails up and down your ribs, smiling at the hiccupy laughter coming from you. Your mind was so floaty from the feeling you didn't feel him lift up your already cropped t shirt and blow a raspberry on your ribs.

"AHHHHHHHHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NAMJOON WAIHAHAHAHAHA IT TICKLES SO BAHAHAHAHAD" you screamed as he blew raspberry after raspberry on your ribs, sides, and tummy for God knows how many minutes. Once your laughter became wheezy, he slowed down the tickles and came to a complete stop.

"Hopefully I didn't go too far," Namjoon said moving the hair out of your face. You shook your head as giggles kept flowing.

"I'm okahay...I actually..." you paused. You didn't know if you wanted to say what you were thinking.

"You actually what? Remember I won't judge you," he said reassuringly. You swallowed, its now or never.

"I...I can keep going if you want to," you say, getting ready to cover up your face before Namjoon stopped you.

"I am more than happy to keep you laughing as long as you want," he said so simply yet so heartfelt you wanted to cry. He took your wrists back into his hand and started moving them above your head.

"Is this okay?" he asked, waiting for consent so he wouldn't go too far or make you even the slightest bit uncomfortable. You nod and verbally give him the "Okay" before he went to town on your exposed underarms.

"OH MYHAHAHAHAHA GODHAHAHAHAHAHAHA NAMJOONIEHEHEHEHEHAHAHAHAHA THATS SO BAHAHAHAHAD" you scream as you buck your hips at the extremely sensitive feeling on your armpit. He kneaded, scribbled, poked, and drilled his fingers and thumb into the sensitive skin for maybe ten minutes before you finally tapped out.

"OKAY OKAY OKAY OKAY JOON IM DYING IM DONE IM DONEHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA" You screech before you stop squirming completely and just melt into the floor, giving in to the tickles that were zapping through your entire body. Namjoon let go immediately and let you curl up on yourself, rubbing away the ghost tickles.

"Thank...thank you Joonie," you pant, blushing from the heavenly tortue you just went through. He smiled and pulled you onto his lap, hugging you tight.

"My pleasure, and please don't be afraid to ask for these types of things, y/n, we are the last people to judge you," he said giving you a friendly kiss on your cheek. From then on if you were in a lee mood, everyone in the house was more than willing to fill the room with your laughter.

taglist: @felixmainacc @felixburneracc @myforevermelody143 @dunno-wut-to-do @itzsana-kiddingmenow

[scaredpigeons]

Aqua Regia IV: Screaming at the sunshine, singing in the rain.

Previous chapter // Next chapter // First chapter

Neuvillette x Fem!reader

Word count: 2.5k

The honourable Iudex realizes that you are much more fragile than he is, and perhaps standing in the cold rain isn’t the best for your health.

Authors Note: little suggestive again, but man am i ever loving this awkward tension and inner turmoilllllll heheheheh

————

It was raining again. 

He really couldn’t help himself, the emotions churning within him as he stormed away from the entrance to the fortress. He kept a calm facade as he eyed everyone— people going about their day, although complaining about the rain. 

He’s sure he would complain too, if it didn’t feel so soothing on his skin. 

It poured, and poured. He stood still then, watching as everyone around him rushed off, finding shelter or just running to their destinations as opposed to walking. 

He could barely see three feet in front of him, the rain a heavy curtain on his angst. 

How could he have done such a thing? So careless and violent?

He was well aware of the friendship between you and Duke Wriothesley. He spoke of you with Neuvillette just weeks after you were hired. 

“Oh, you hired her?” Wriothesley said, smiling thoughtfully. “You’ll love her, she’s such a doll. Has she started doting on you yet? Wishing to cater to your every whim if it so pleases his honour?” 

Neuvillette wrinkled his nose a bit at the tease, choosing to ignore the strange feelings stirring within him at Wriothesley’s comments. “You know of her?” 

Wriothesley laughed. “Know of her? She’s the closest thing I have to a best friend. We used to terrorize the streets together as kids. Sneaking out and causing all kinds of trouble. All within the law, of course.” He winked. 

“Oh?” Neuvillette was genuinely intrigued. A friend of the Duke of Meropide was certainly a worthy character. You seemed to be interconnected with many aspects of his life before he even knew you. If he believed in fate, perhaps one might say it was destiny that brought you to his employment. “I thought you didn’t keep many friends, being quite isolated down here.” 

“Is the honourable Iudex attempting to start a personal conversation?” Wriothesley smirked, setting down his cup. “Regardless, she’s one of the few people I enjoy making time for. Very genuine, very caring. One in a million, if you ask me. Don’t go firing her if she does something stupid like spilling your tea, she deserves this job.”

“I am not so petty as to do such a thing, your grace.” Neuvillette bristles. “She has proved to be an excellent assistant, and I foresee her continuing to do so.” 

And you were excellent, he found himself caring very deeply for you. So when he rounded the top of the stairs to Wriothesley’s office and saw his hand resting so comfortably on your arm, he should have been fine, just fine. 

Perhaps he should have cleared his throat, maybe verbally announced his presence. 

But a dark, angry and possessive thing welled up inside him, rearing his ugly green head at the sight of someone else touching you, touching what was his—

Neuvillette hung his head in shame, squeezing his eyes shut at the thoughts running through his mind. 

No, you were not his. His assistant, maybe? 

No, this was deeper. More primal. It ate at a part of him and he wanted it gone. He felt so disturbed, so disgusting and ashamed. 

You didn’t deserve these kinds of thoughts, they were ugly and unprofessional. You were an incredibly hard worker, kind and dedicated—you deserve the utmost respect from him. Not… not whatever this was. 

Just as you ran through his mind, his sensitive ears heard your footsteps running their way closer to where he stood in the rain. 

“Monsieur!” You yelled over the sound of water pounding into the pavement. “Monsieur Neuvillette!” You finally made it close enough that he could see you more clearly now, your dress soaked right through, hair damp and clinging to your face and ears. You blinked the rain from your eyes, looking around frantically until you spotted him, before you ran right up to him, clutching the sleeve of his soaked coat. 

“Sir! Are you okay?” You said loudly, tugging on him slightly. “Neuvillette?” 

“You’re soaked to the bone,” he said aimlessly, watching as water poured over your skin, eyes following the trails down your face and neck, until they disappeared into the heavy fabric of your clothes. 

“So are you!” You looked up at him. “I know you love walking in the rain, but it's rather cold today, don’t you think?” Your eyebrows tightened with concern, a careful smile on your face. 

Your question seemed to snap him out of his thoughts, and he realized that— yes, it is rather cold today, and you were standing here with him, soaked through. While he didn’t have to worry much about illnesses, you very much did. 

“Oh, my!’ He shook away the pity party he was throwing himself, (a term he learned while working very closely with furina for many years,) gently taking your arm and pulling you towards his home, which was only a few buildings away. “Please, this way!” 

You followed dutifully, and he couldn't help but think your skin felt too cold through the damp fabric where he held your arm as he pulled you along. He unlocked his door in record time, ushering you in and closing it behind him. 

“You have my sincerest apologies, but—“ he stuttered, turning to look at you in bewilderment and concern. “Why did you follow me even after it started raining? You should have turned right around and gone back to the fortress! Or to your own home!” 

You wrung out your hair a bit, letting the water splash onto his front door mat, which was now nearly soaked with the two of you standing, dripping on it. “You seemed like you were troubled, I wanted to make sure you were okay.” 

He stared at you, now aware at how close you were standing to fit onto his door mat. 

“I…” his gaze flickered in between your eyes, until it fell to the floor. He felt ashamed for raising his voice, even if it was out of concern. “You need a warm shower, and dry clothes.”

“Oh,” you said, turning towards the door, “I can just go—“

“No.” He said sternly. “No, please. Just one moment.” 

He hurried  upstairs to his room, leaving you in the foyer. He avoided making direct eye contact with his nest as he gathered up what he needed from his room. He stripped down his outermost layers, hanging them up as he went. 

He gathered a towel, a washcloth, one of his spare sleep shirts, and a light pair of his nicest cotton sleep pants, (an older pair with a drawstring) he brought the pile back out into the foyer, and instructed for you to follow him. 

He led you to the downstairs bathroom, setting the pile down on the counter. 

“I’ll be in the kitchen, making some hot tea to warm you further. Please, take your time.” 

You blinked at him in bewilderment, before looking around his bathroom. 

“I…” you shook your head a bit, as if to shake your thoughts away. A rather comical action in his mind, but he was distracted by your form— which has started to shiver. 

“Please, before you catch a cold.” He said, and you simply nodded at him, so he took it as a little victory and promptly vacated the bathroom, closing the door behind him. 

——————

You were in Neuvillettes house. 

In his bathroom, standing shivering in soaking wet clothes. 

Clothes you needed desperately to get out of. 

So why were your limbs frozen? 

Why were you so awestruck at the fact that Neuvillette, someone who purposely kept people at arms length— had invited you into his home, urged you to get into a hot shower and warm clothes, (his clothes) and was probably making you tea as you debated just jumping out the window and making a break for it. 

No, no. You wouldn’t make a fool out of yourself. You would simply do as he instructed, wait out the rain, and return home to pretend that none of this ever happened, for the better part of your sanity. 

All you wanted was to make sure Neuvillette was alright. He’d been acting a bit strangely the past few weeks, and you couldn’t help but worry for him. 

You gave your cheeks a couple good smacks, trying to pull yourself together.

Without putting too much thought into it, you started the shower and began undressing. 

Within seconds, the water was steaming, much better than anything you had growing up, and a bit more efficient than your current apartment shower. 

Neuvillette lived in one of the older buildings in the court, yet the interior seemed to be completely new and updated. You wonder how long he’d lived here. 

You began the grueling process of stripping out of your wet and heavy clothes, hanging them over the top of the shower stall door. 

You tried not to think too much about the fact you were standing naked in your boss's bathroom, and grabbed the washcloth he provided you before hopping into the warm shower. 

You instantly felt better, and let a long groan of satisfaction slip as you let the water flow over you. 

You slapped a hand over your mouth, suddenly remembering that Neuvillette 100% had heightened senses, and could most likely hear every sound you made, considering he could determine your heart rate from across a room. You did not want him thinking you were doing something inappropriate in his shower. 

You let the water fall on you silently as you thought more about him, and his peculiarities that you’d noticed. You had a couple theories about him, perhaps now would be a good time to ask for the truth. 

You looked around the stall, spotting some soaps and shampoos that didn’t seemed to be used very much, and you surmised that Neuvillette must have a personal bathroom in his room, or on the second floor. 

You flushed a bit before you grabbed the soap, bringing it beneath your nose to take a deep breath, smelling the soap.

Yep, it smelled like him. And no, you would not think too hard about why you knew his scent so well. 

Of course Neuvillette would only buy one kind of soap and put it in every bathroom, what happens if he decides to shower downstairs one night? He certainly didn’t have very many guests, considering Wriothesley told you that he’d only just now started opening up to others. 

You chewed your lip as you lathered the washcloth in his soap, before scrubbing away the cold that still seeped into your bones. 

You really hoped that the altercation at the fortress didn’t affect their relationship. 

What even happened there?

Why did Neuvillette react in such a way? Did he think that Wriothesley was harming you in some way? No, he knew better than that, Wriothesley would never, and Neuvillette knows that.

So what was it?

You wracked your brain as the warmth finally spread through you, and the chill from the rain had finally left. You couldn’t come to a logical conclusion and decided you would ask him when the time felt right. 

You finished your shower relatively quickly, indulging only a little bit at the warmth and smell of Neuvillettes soap surrounding you before you got out and dried yourself off. 

Your things were still soaked, but Neuvillette had left some clothes in a pile for you, so you pulled them off the counter and held them up to your frame. 

They were definitely his clothes, and your cheeks felt hot as you realized you would be wearing his things, in front of him. In his house. Smelling like his soap. 

You felt like your face was going to melt off as you shrugged on the shirt, it falling just above your knees and the sleeves being far too long. 

You’d never really acknowledged it before, but Neuvillette truly was a lot bigger than you, he was a lot bigger than most people. Tall, with broad shoulders and a lean waist that he hid under all of that finery he insisted upon wearing. 

You eyed the pants he gave you, seeing that at least they had a drawstring, so you had some hope of them staying on your hips. 

After pulling everything on, you quietly creeped out the door, looking up and down the hallway as if you were expecting him to be standing there waiting for you. 

Instead, you were met with silence. You closed the bathroom door, and as you stepped into the hall, you heard your name called out from a room just a few feet to your right. 

Your bare feet papped against the hardwood as you treaded down the hall, before you stopped in the doorway of a beautiful living room, a large sofa and comfortable looking reading chairs facing a rather opulent fireplace, which was blazing with glorious heat. 

“Here,” Neuvillette said, standing and coming behind you. He guided you to the couch, having you sit against the comfortable throw pillows on the arm rest as he pulled a blanket across your shoulders. The act felt so domestic it made your heart lurch, but you just huddled into the soft fleece and tried to blink away your shame. 

“Are you feeling the cold still? I have tea ready if you would like it.” He turned as if to go get it, but you reached out a hand, gentle fingers tugging on the sleeve of his freshly changed shirt, dry and warm. 

“No, ah—“ you looked in your lap, removing your hand, feeling incredibly embarrassed at your impulsive actions. “I’d honestly just like if you sat with me and kept me company for now, if that's alright.” 

“Oh.” He said, turning back towards you. “That should be fine, yes.” 

He sat down on the other end of the couch, the obscenely long and ornate thing was surprisingly comfortable, and looked incredibly antique, though extremely well maintained. You couldn't help but mourn the space the couch left between the two of you, but you knew those thoughts weren’t appropriate. 

“Are you feeling more comfortable?” He asked, eyes on the crackling fire. 

The warm glow illuminated his profile beautifully, and your heart ached once more at how stunning this man was. You hated yourself for being so weak to something as superficial as someone’s appearance, but Neuvillette had to be the most beautiful man you’d ever had the pleasure to meet. 

He turned to face you, and you watched his lips form your name as he called out to you in concern, obviously waiting for a response. 

“What?” You blinked at him, watching his ethereal eyes reflect the glow of the fire, the light casting part of his face into the shadows of the room, making the contours of his face more apparent. “Sorry, yes. I’m comfortable.” 

You squirmed as you realized your thoughts were at risk of traveling somewhere less than savory incredibly quickly, and you refused to ruin this man's pants with your shame, if only for the fact that you would have to throw yourself from the falls afterwards— and that might upset him more than the pants. 

“Good, good.” He said, turning back and looking towards the fire once more. He seemed stiff, and the silence was becoming awkward. 

You looked past him to the living room window, the darkness of the evening creeping in as the rain battered against the window, showing zero signs of calming any time soon. You were either going to need to learn to start a casual conversation with the Iudex, or this encounter would be the death of you.