#But I think I got all the rest! Even Heaven! :D Fun fun

[sysig]

#Meme #Shitpost #The Stanley Parable #WPTSP #I decided to replay the Detonation ending to see if he had any change in dialogue if I just chilled near the main controls lol #He didn't - but he Did have something to say about me replaying this specific ending so #That was fun #There's a lot of things I've forgotten in the interim hehe ♪ The shock didn't last long but it was fun while it did <3 #I do like the image of Stanley just patiently and calmly making his way to this point and then plopping down on the catwalk haha #I did have to annoy him with the Broom Closet a couple times first though hehe He deserves it #Little guy :) #And with that I think I'm done for the moment - I got all the endings I could recall and test through without spending four hours on one end #I like the Art ending but I never intend to get it haha #But I think I got all the rest! Even Heaven! :D Fun fun #I dunno why I saved all the heavy ones for tonight heck - even though I know them they still make me a bit uneasy #Especially the Apartment ending ahh I still remember being freaked out the first time I saw that one #Makes me want to replay the original HL mod hehe - what became the Museum ending is so different! #And also the device used to haul Stanley around haha #Temptinggg #Anyway happy almost 4/27 here :3c #WPVG

[crow-stars]

❝WET CLOTHES, WET HAIR, WARM SMILES❞

❦summary; just because it's raining outside doesn't mean you can't have fun. it only makes it better when there's a friend joining in too. ♪the characters in this story; gn!reader, epel felmier ✎word count; 847 ❀what do the ghosts say?; platonic, playing in the rain, epel gets in trouble, just having a grand old time ☛the author's notes; tomorrow is a rest day! so nothing will be posted on that day. actually have a rest day every 7 (or 8 i think it is??) days, so the next ones will be on the 16th & 24th! ☪look at the catalogue?

It was raining again today. It was the third day in a row.  Epel sighed as he stared out the window, lips formed in an almost pout. His cheek pressed against the cool glass, perhaps the only good thing out of this incessant downpour. Epel loved the rain, always loved jumping around in puddles and playing in the mud since he was a kid, but he couldn’t do that now, not under the watchful gaze of Vil. 

Epel sighs again. He feels like he’ll begin to lose air from how much he’s sighing. 

“Monsieur Crabapple, why are you so sad?” Rook came up next to Epel suddenly, that all knowing smile on his lips that unnerved pretty much everyone. “Could it be the rain that has brought upon such a dreary look upon your delicate features?” 

Epel groaned and rolled his eyes, pushing away from the window and towards one of the couches in the lounge. If there was one thing that Epel was glad for, it was how soft the couches in Pomefiore were. He could hear Rook move over to Epel’s side, the hunter’s hands lightly poking at the freshman’s side. 

“Will ya stop that?! I ain’t in the mood for this...” Epel groaned out, slapping Rook’s hand away before plopping his face back into the cushions. Having Rook bother him on top of the despair of not being able to go out into the rain and have fun only made Epel’s mood sour. Thankfully, Rook’s footsteps leave Epel alone in the lounge and he’s left to his self wallowing.

After a few minutes of lamenting to himself, he heard his phone ring in his pocket. Epel lifted his chin as he turned on the device, seeing that he received a message. From you specifically. 

Do you wanna go play in the rain? 

A second message came in after that. 

I can sneak you out ;D

Epel sat up, eyebrows raising in interest. He took a look at the clock. Vil wouldn’t be coming back to the dorm for a while. A grin came over his lips and he practically jumped to get his raincoat, putting it on over his dorm uniform and rushing outside the dorm. Epel could already feel the rain droplets on his head the moment he steps out, the air pleasantly cool on his skin. 

He meets you in the hall of mirrors, also wearing a raincoat of your own. You were smiling almost as widely as Epel was, taking his hand and racing outside together. The first drops of water against Epel’s face felt like heaven, cold and fresh and better than staying inside his dorm. The two of you were running around in the rain soaked school grounds, jumping in whatever puddles the two of you happened across. 

Epel’s suddenly hand suddenly left your as he slipped on a puddle, yelping in surprise as the impact of his fall causes a large splash around the two of you. The feeling of water permeates through Epel’s coat, the droplets of water soaking his dorm uniform uncomfortably. Some of it even wets his hair, making the pale purple locks stick to Epel’s skin in a way he didn’t wish. Before he could even begin cursing out his frustrations, you laughed, a big, loud boisterous laugh that got Epel giggling as well. 

Epel manages to stand with your aid, letting the hood of his coat fall off his head. It made the rain begin to drench Epel’s hair, yet he didn’t mind, how could he when you both were enjoying the feeling of the rain against your skins. 

The cold shivers that Epel felt did nothing to put a damper on his fun, chest filled with glee that never diminished as the two of you frolicked and played in the rain as if you were children again. 

Your play continued all the way up until Rook and Vil interrupted it, Rook holding an umbrella over Vil’s head while he wore a raincoat. By that time, Epel looked absolutely messy, mud smeared on his cheeks, wet hair sticking to his forehead, dorm uniform muddied and dripping with rainwater. 

Vil was like an angry mother as he approached Epel, delicate fingers taking Epel’s ear and pinching it. Epel yelped and rubbed at his ear to soothe it. “Look at you,  you’re so messy. And your uniform─” Vil heaves a disappointed sigh and pinches his nose with his free hand, shifting his hand to grab Epel by the back of his uniform. “Come on. I’m taking you back to the dorm. Rolling around in the mud...”  

Epel protested as Vil dragged him back to the dorm, only managing to wave goodbye to you as he was swiftly taken away. Rook also waved goodbye to you, leaving with a pleasant smile. 

Epel was ‘grounded’ by Vil, forbidding him from going outside and playing in the rain ever again. It left Epel sulking about it, but it was only to be expected with how badly he messed up his uniform. 

But hey, at least he had fun.

#✎haunted books✎ #briarvalleyarchives #twisted wonderland #twst #disney twisted wonderland #disney twst #twisted wonderland writing #twst writing #my writing #epel felmier #twst epel #twst epel felmier #epel felmier twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #epel felmier x reader #epel x reader

[jophiel-extras]

summary :: sfw alphabet with Angel Crowley. Reader is assumed Angel in these.

warning :: none, fluffy!

note :: don’t think I’ve seen Angel Crowley for an x reader yet, so here you are my beloveds

A = Affection

Crowley (before his sauntering) was one of the more affectionate angels. He didn’t particularly mind being in someone’s personal space and wasn’t quite aware of their possible dislike of it. He was very prone to hanging off any angels he fancied as friends. As hugs weren’t yet a thing back then, Crowley would show his affections in other ways, mainly standing very close to you and having one body part touching you. Spending quality time with you was another big factor. Crowley would love to sit and chat with you for some time. Once, you’d almost spent a whole week chatting, unknowing of the length because the concept of time simply wasn’t thought up yet.

B = Best friend

Crowley was such a bright Angel, it wasn’t hard to befriend him because of his outgoing personality and once he considered you a friend it was hard not to be his best friend. Mainly, because most angels wouldn’t be very fond of his “weird,” (as they’d put it) ways, so when he found someone that he got along with, he’d stick to them like glue.

C = Cuddles

If they’d been around during his time as an Angel, I’m sure Crowley would’ve quite enjoyed embracing his fellow ethereals, especially the ones he cared for as close friends. He certainly would’ve been a tight squeezer that would pick you up.

D = Domestic

In terms of “settling down,” for Angel Crowley, that meant sitting with the stars in peace. He wanted more than anything to be upon he stars and fly within nebulas for the rest of his eternal life. Of course, he wanted you to join him, too.

E = Ending

Nothing ever really ends, not when you’re immortal.

F = Fiance(e)

When Crowley got rumoured news of the forever binding law of marriage, he’d wondered first if you’d be up for it, then second if it was reserved for humans only. The answer to that sorely disappointed him.

G = Gentle

Crowley could occasionally get overexcited, but he was an Angel and from that, everything he touched was a generation from the grace of God. He was as gentle as they came.

H = Hugs

Yes! As already established Angel Crowley would’ve loved hugs!

I = I love you

Surprise, surprise, declarations of love weren’t all the rage in heaven way back in the day, though Crowley would save things like that for his special angel, you.

J = Jealousy

Haven? Jealousy? The concept hadn’t even been felt yet by Lucifer!

K = Kisses

Well, someone had to come up with the idea of a “kiss,” and whether it was you first, or Crowley did not compare to how much he loved doing it. Sure, Angels showed affection but none quite like you and Crowley, it was so different in fact that you both preferred to hide it away from the other Angels. The way Crowley kissed you was quite fun, and most times ticklish, inducing laughter and giggles.

L = Little ones

Children weren’t yet a reality, but I’m sure he would’ve loved them, as he did most things.

M = Morning

By the time mornings were established, Crowley was unfortunately sizzling in hell, though I’m sure he would’ve been keen on watching a sunrise with you.

N = Night

The same, but a sunset.

O = Open

Crowley was always quite open about the thoughts that ran through his head, almost too much. Unabashedly he was honest about his love for you, after all embarrassment wasn’t something that existed yet.

P = Patience

He wasn’t one for waiting, but for an immortal, patience is endless (despite how eager he was for the universe to start existing).

Q = Quizzes

Crowley has always had quite a good memory and often picks up little things about you. From the beginning he’s had a keen memory of your interests, attitudes and general way of expressing yourself. He might not verbalise that he know so much about you, but he does.

R = Remember

You had asked Crowley what his favourite planet was at the time of his star-y creating and he’d taken you to Mars. A large orange planet that oddly matched the colour of his hair. At a closer inspection, Crowley remarked at the dullness of it and jested that you should help him create some life forms to liven things up. Dumbfounded by the proposition you quickly said no, to which he pleaded “But you’re so creative! C’mon, let’s spice things up,” and you had caved, leading to a bit of an ecosystem on Mars with water and plants that quickly died out before the humans had found them. Honestly, you still wonder how you weren’t found out.

S = Security

Other than some passive aggressive Angels, there was nothing to protect you from in heaven. All Crowley ever wanted was just to have alone time with you, where you could chat to him about a lifetime of unimportant topics in peace.

T = Try

Crowley would often pull you from your heavenly duties to goof around. If it wasn’t for that, the two of you would’ve barely seen one another. He had always put in the effort to see you and it’s what kept the friendship strong.

U = Ugly

Crowley’s bad habits would usually consist of him either bending or completely breaking the rules. It had gotten you in trouble more than once.

V = Vanity

Vanity only became a problem for Crowley when he began hanging out with the wrong Angels. He was always beautiful of course, but the realisation and indulgence of it was one of his early sins. He’d fallen soon after.

W = Whole

Not if you weren’t there. Crowley feels the loneliness, being so different. Without you and the strong friendship you had, Crowley feels empty.

X = Xtra

Whatever duties you were given during the creation of the universe, Crowley would usually find a way to sneak in, add his own little touch and meddle. It was usually charming, when it didn’t end up with you in trouble.

Y = Yuck

Angel Crowley could never break through to some of the harder Angels like Gabriel or Micheal and had usually found their personalities… distasteful.

Z = Zzz

Practically invented sleeping! After doing so, he beckoned for you to try it but you could never doze off, not with him staring over you like an excited dog.

#good omens #crowley x reader #crowley x y/n #crowley x you #crowley good omens #Angel Crowley #Angel Crowley x reader #x reader

[intimidating-fettuccine]

I think its time some of the creeps got some fluff :D

Puppeteer, Hobo, and Kate experiencing some wholesomeness with their S/Os? Mayhaps? Snuggles and cuddles oh my!

I tried to make it winter themed because it's that time of year :)

Puppeteer:

Listen, he's already pretty clingy over you, but once winter hits you basically never get rid of him. He always gets worried that you're gonna get too cold out there and get sick, and so he tends to hover over you, making sure you're dressing well and that you're staying warm enough in all of this winter weather. Winter is also the time of year when he starts (insisting) suggesting that you wear his clothes because they'll keep you warmer. He'll bundle you up in his sweaters, or a scarf of his, or a nice thick jacket, claiming it's totally necessary when really half of it is just that he thinks you look incredibly adorable when you're wearing his clothes, and so he gets super excited whenever you do so during the colder months. If you ever tease him and say that if you wear all his clothes he won't have any left for himself he will go out and buy doubles of his outfits so that you can't use that excuse anymore. Also, Pup never wants to let you out of bed in the mornings. He just wants to stay curled up beside you, cuddling with you, and spending the day resting with you because he feels much weaker and more tired because of the cold, so his solution to that problem is to get a good grip on you and just cuddle you until you can somehow manage to escape him about an hour later than normal.

Hobo:

Hobo is probably one of the cuddliest creeps, and you'll find that could pretty early on in your relationship with him. Nothing makes this poor touch starved bird boy happier than being able to get some love and affection from you, and luckily you're always happy to provide it. Nothing beats lazy mornings with you both sprawled out in bed, your body wrapped up in his arms and wings, the two of you content to lay there for as long as you'd like, in no rush to do anything else. Although, with it being winter, sometimes Hobo likes to get outside with you and spend some time exploring in the cold. He's never gotten to have fun with people out there before, and you're always excited to give him a chance to experience that. He's often entranced by the falling snow, spending hours just watching it fall. He'll sit out there with you, a wing protectively draped over you so you don't have to worry about it soaking into and chilling you. After you've spent some time outside, head in and make the two of you some hot chocolate, curl up in front of the fire or on the couch, put something on the TV, and just relax together underneath a blanket, and you'll have Hobo thinking he must be in heaven with how relaxed and content he feels beside you. He's a simple guy, and it doesn't take much for him to feel fully cheery and at ease beside you.

Kate:

Kate absolutely loves wintertime, and she loves it even more when she gets to spend it with you, her favorite person in the entire world. I'm talking about building snowmen together, having snowball fights, making snow angels, fuck it, she might even ask if you want to put in the time and energy to build an igloo together. Kate just absolutely loves being outside and fucking around and exploring, and all of that is even more fun when you're out there with her. If you get too cold she's more than happy to go in with you, but she loves spending as much time as possible with you running around in the snow. When you finally go back in, she'll make the two of you some of her famous homemade hot chocolate, complete with marshmallows and whipped cream if you'd like it, and she'll sit by the mansion fireplace with you, laughing and telling jokes and stories with you to pass the time while you warm up together. After that is a nice warm shower, and then throwing on your pajamas and jumping into bed to snuggle up together. She'll make a blanket fort or just drown the two of you in a big pile of blankets, snuggle up to you, and just lay there and relax with you in utter bliss until both of you are too sleepy to stay awake any longer. Kate never thought she'd be lucky enough to have someone to do things like this with, so it makes her so incredibly happy to be able to have you by her side. 

#creepypasta #creepypasta headcanon #creepypasta headcanons #creepypasta x reader #puppeteer #puppeteer headcanons #puppeteer headcanon #puppeteer x reader #hobo heart #hobo heart headcanon #hobo heart headcanons #hobo heart x reader #kate the chaser #kate the chaser headcanon #kate the chaser headcanons #kate the chaser x reader

[ruibaozha]

HEY RUI I'VE GOT A QUESTION my sister and i are trying to come up with a conceivable LMK Nezha backstory which is... difficult, and you know more Nezha history so I was curious what you might think.

Nezha was a warrior in Heaven long before Wukong was born, and the whole Ao Bing happened almost a thousand years before Wukong came into existence, so Wukong probably never actually knew that much about Nezha's actual story- only bits and pieces. Yet at the same time, Wukong saying 'when did you stop being fun' implies that Wukong knew him when he was a rebel

and in actual JTTW, Nezha is still kind of a hotshot, so it comes to ask, how/why did Nezha become so much more serious?

JTTW: Wukong and Nezha beat the shit out of people together in between the 8 years of JTTW: (apparently deeply traumatizing thing happens to Nezha that alters his whole personality) the fire sealing: "well great job Wukong, you nearly got us all killed!"

which, honestly, doesn't make much sense?

of course, LMK is very casual with accuracy when it comes to characterization/chronological set up, so…

just interested in what you might think, if you have any thoughts. thanks! :D

Hello hello!

Ahhh this is something I’ve wondered myself and think about every so often. To be honest, I was very confused when Lego Monkie Kid started to use parts of Canonization of the Gods because it is so different from Journey to the West. The publishing of both stories is separated by nearly a full century and from two very different people.

It’s obvious from character dialogue that both Nezha and Sun Wukong have known each other for a very long time. At least within LMK Nezha had consistently been portrayed as overly responsible until the Season 4 specials came out. Honestly I liked seeing Nezha act with sarcasm and a snarky attitude, which is more accurate to how he’s typically portrayed anyway. Maybe being injured interferes with his serious attitude haha.

At least personally I believe a very severe type of betrayal may have happened between them. Again based on character dialogue Nezha used to trust Sun Wukong, probably back when he was still “fun” to be around. Even as a deity serving under the Jade Emperor (or Buddha) he’s responsible but still childish and can be very arrogant at times. As a whole LMK Nezha is confusing to me, as is the rest of the show. And like everyone else I also have to wait to see how this is explained, if it ever does get elaborated on.

This does make me wonder now just how familiar with Nezha’s background Sun Wukong actually is. It’s completely possible that Nezha never spoke to Sun Wukong about what happened at Chentang Pass. If I keep writing this answer I think I’d go into a rant about how LMK handles its own world building - so I think this is sufficient for now.

#li nezha #nezha #lmk nezha #monkie kid nezha #lego monkie kid #nezha lego monkie kid #third lotus prince

[headkiss]

Hi babes !!!

I would like to request a fic of Eddie x Fem! Reader where he sees her in the crowd at one of his shows at the hideout for the first time and that makes him all cheesy and stuff and he goes all out for her…

Im thinking it could be based off the song Say Yes to Heaven by Lana and the part where it goes “I’ve got my eye on you” is going through his head when he spots reader~

It sounds super confusing i know but i feel like you could do it justice (๑>◡<๑)♡

hiiii i really loved this idea tysm for requesting!!! if anyone has anymore rockstar!eddie thoughts pls share | 0.8k words :D

You could be imagining it.

The way the lead singer’s eyes have found you in the crowd time and time again. You could be, but he looks at you once more. How many times is too many to be coincidental?

You listen to Corroded Coffin often, but it doesn’t compare to how they sound live. Not to mention the way they perform.

Eddie Munson is a natural up there. And he keeps looking at you. His hair is a mess, frizzy and some stuck to his forehead with sweat. His shirt practically soaked through. It’s hot.

You stand close enough to the front that you have a good view of the stage, the band. Close enough that they can all probably see you, too. You know at least one of them can.

Eddie’s not sure why his eyes keep finding you in the crowd. It’s like he can’t help but look in your direction even though he’s never seen you before in his life. You’re pretty, and you know the words to his songs, and your smile is beaming almost as hard as the stage lights.

He’s not sure why he goes a bit harder during this show. Showing off, or pulling the hem of his shirt up to wipe the sweat from his face. Okay, maybe he knows the reason and maybe it’s for you.

When it comes time to interact with the crowd, he knows just who to talk to.

“What’s your name, sweetheart?”

His voice is raw from all of his singing, and when you look up at the sound of it you find him staring right back at you, crouched by the end of the stage to see you better.

“Me?” You point to yourself, checking.

“Yeah, you,” he smiles, you melt a little. “What’s your name?”

You tell him, he repeats it back, “beautiful name. Makes sense. Who are you here with tonight?”

“Nobody,” you confess. You’d asked your friends, but none of them were interested. Their loss, you think.

“All alone, huh? Well, are you having fun?”

You nod enthusiastically, “the most. You guys are killer.”

“Killer,” he laughs. “Thank you. What’s your favorite song of ours, sweetheart?”

You take a moment to think, and he watches you the entire time. He’s truly interested in what you might say and he thinks that even if the song isn’t on their planned setlist, he’ll find a way to play it.

He grins when you give him your answer.

“Excellent choice,” he tells you, standing and facing his band mates. “What do ya say, boys? Should we play it?”

The crowd cheers, and so do you. He commands the attention of the audience with ease. Almost effortlessly, it seems. To you, it looks like he was born to be exactly where he is: on stage, in the spotlight.

“Alright, this one’s for you, sweetheart.”

He winks, and then he plays the song.

Your heart stuttered. He dedicated a song to you, then he fucking winked. No way. You’ve harbored a crush on him since discovering their music, and after tonight, there’s no chance of getting over it anytime soon.

The rest of the show is filled with eye contact, sneaky glances between song lyrics. It’s filled with a type of flirting that’s non-verbal. That still has butterflies swarming in your stomach.

When it ends, you linger, not wanting it to truly be over. You eventually start to walk out when a security guard stops you.

“Come with me, please,” he says.

“Did I do something wrong?” You ask, worried and glancing towards the exit.

“No, Eddie wants to meet you. It’s your lucky night.”

Yeah, it really is, you think.

Contrary to popular belief, Eddie never does this. He doesn’t invite fans backstage. It’s usually the time he takes to calm down after the rush of adrenaline that comes with performing, but he couldn’t miss out on the chance to meet you.

After talking to you, his fascination only grew stronger. He couldn’t take his eyes off of you and he’s sure people noticed. He doesn’t care, though. A knock on his dressing room door carries him over, opening it to reveal you.

“Hi, sweetheart.”

“Hi,” you’re a lot more nervous now that you’re alone with him. You pinch yourself as subtly as possible to make sure it’s not a dream.

“Come in, don’t be shy.”

You do, and he smiles. You pinch yourself again, but it’s real. So real you can smell him when he gets close, feel his breath on your heated skin.

“Why’d you invite me back here?” You blurt. In an attempt to explain yourself, you continue, “not that I’m not happy to be here. Trust me, I am. But, you know, I’m curious.”

“Would’ve thought it was obvious, sweets. I’ve got my eye on you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson blurbs #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson imagines #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie x reader #eddie stranger things #stranger things eddie #rockstar!eddie #rockstar eddie munson #stranger things #stranger things fic #eddie blurbs

[danpuff-ao3]

Another May, another Snarry-a-Thon: the best time of year! (Also happens to be my birthday month, which makes it all the more special!) The Snarry community is so full of creative, generous, and supportive folks which always makes for a great event! Plus...more Snarry in the world! :D

This fest has been so meaningful to me over the years, and in celebration of another fest wrapped up, I've compiled a list of some of my favorites! This year had lots of goodies, so make sure to check out the rest of the collection, too!: Snarry-a-Thon 2023 (and the Master List on DW!)

Info: The Want of You, by Ephemeral (@fleetingdesires) Rated: E. Words: 7,337. 8th year. Student/teacher. Clubbing.

Summary:

On his night off, Severus unexpectedly realises that Harry has grown into quite an attractive man. He's just not going to think too hard about it. No, he's not going to think about him at all. It's fine. He's fine. Everything is fine.

Read for: a fun & sexy time.

Quote:

"Merlin, Snape, why was that so hot?" "Because you like breaking rules, and I broke them for the want of you."

Info: My Soul to Keep, by catharticEscapism (@catharticescapism.) Rated: E. Words: 4,027. Fat Harry. Internalized fat phobia. Fat acceptance. Body image & self-esteem. Past child abuse. Bottom!Snape. Fluff & smut.

Summary:

Harry is self-conscious about his weight gain after the war, and Severus reassures him that he’s loved just the way he is.

Read for: heartwarming & wholesome lovemaking.

Quote:

“I have great regard for your body. There is little I enjoy as much as having the opportunity to lay my hands on you.”

Info: Luck of the Draw, by Writcraft (@writcraft.) Rated: E. Words: 11,857. Getting together. Gay bar. Drag queens. Hiking. Minor injuries. Paddington the dog.

Summary:

Severus is enjoying the quiet life when his participation in a Ministry raffle forces him to go on a date with Harry Potter. During a weekend filled with drag queens, hiking, a twisted ankle and a dog named Paddington, Severus begins to wonder if the quiet life is really all it’s cracked up to be.

Read for: humor & fluff

Quote:

Severus has always loved deeply, jealously, greedily. Even if it is utter madness to think of love and Potter in the same breath, now the fire has started Severus knows it is futile to attempt to resist the kind of yearning he believed long since buried.

Info: Nocturne, by NecromanticNoir (@necromanticnoir.) Rated: E. Words: 54,090. Creature fic. Mystery & romance. Fairytale & horror. Angst & feels. Mutual pining. Dark magic.

Summary:

A Gothic Snarry version of ‘Beauty and the Beast’, inspired by the dark and sensual tale from the Czech film version, ‘Panna a Netvor’. I follow some of the plot, but then diverge and do my own thing. Got to make it even weirder, right? An eerie, erotic, brooding, bloody, batty, haunting fairytale.

Read for: erotic fairytales & dark romance.

Quote:

Severus knows he should not watch in secret - but there, through the window - oh, merciful heavens… The young man is bathing, in the large hammered-copper tub, his skin pale as moonbeams. All around the tub, candles burn; a hundred tiny flickering flames. Severus draws closer to the window, mesmerised. The bath water is white, sprinkled with flower petals and herbs of some kind, perhaps rosemary… The water seems to sparkle; the boy bathes in liquid moonshine.  Severus draws nearer still, and he beholds creamy skin - a pale shoulder, like marble. He is watching a rare creature; a unicorn, bathing in pure enchantment…

Info: old fires and phantom limbs, by LilaDiurne (@liladiurne.) Rated: E. Words: 14,514. 2nd person POV + present tense. Severus POV. Minor Harry/OMC. Exes to lovers. Heartache. Angst with a happy ending.

Summary:

A long moment passes. And then he steps out of the shadows of the surrounding shops and into the bright sunlight, walking up to you. "You came back," you say bluntly, unable to look away. "Yeah." He shuffles his feet a bit, slips his hands in his pockets in such a familiar way that a pang of deep fondness strikes through your chest. "Last week," he adds. It seems impossible that he would have been back in the country for days and you wouldn't have sensed it somehow. How could his presence not send shockwaves all the way to Spinner's End? How could you not know, in your heart of hearts, the instant that he returned?

Read for: poetic prose & immense emotion.

Quote:

The passers-by come and go around you, shuffling about on the street this way and that, oblivious to your predicament, your dilemma. They did not feel the earthquake, they did not see your life crumbling. They do not know that your polished countenance is truly in shambles, held together with worn pieces of twine.

Info: Loose Ends, by Arrisha (@arrisha-ao3.) Rated: E. Words: 9,856. Heavy angst. Trauma. Mystery. Romance.

Summary:

I love you, Severus wants to say. But the timing is never right.

Read for: emotional devastation and/or you need to cry and the tears need help.

Quote:

He never doubted that the boy loved him. But something deeper, darker, lurked underneath. Harry was broken. The war had broken him, and Severus was all he had.

~~ BONUS: Shameless Shelf Rec ~~

Info: Devotion, by danpuff. Rated: E. Words: 25,843. Postwar. Background Hinny. Minor Severus/others. Cheating. Mental health issues. Angst. Unhealthy relationship. Ambiguous/open ending.

Summary:

Is there anything more undignified than needing someone so much?

Read for: all of my Snarry feels.

Quote:

The light of him transforms Spinner’s End. In the way of dreams, every wall is familiar and strange. Every book, every shelf in its place. The sofa is still lumpy, the lights still dim. The wallpaper still peels at the edges. The colors are changed. Just a shade off, he thinks. The air is crisp. Sweet and fresh as an apple. Cold and biting as a winter breeze. Harry is the soft warmth of a flickering flame. The heavy heat of a raging inferno. He is the blazing sun. The harsh light beneath which nothing can hide, and nothing survives.

#danpuff recs #snarry-a-thon 2023 #snarry-a-thon #snarry #snarry fics #snarry recs #also a self-rec just cuz

[strwberri-milk]

Hi again! I wanted to thank you for the Kaeya/plus size reader and was wondering if you were interested in exploring the smut parts more if you have some free time! Tysm!!

ive just done a bit more for it here!! i decided to indulge just a bit!! reader is neutral!! i try to write my fics neutral overall/leaning towards this scale bc i am not small by any means other than height and i am definitely self indulgent - thats why i write so much kaeya :D

There's nothing more Kaeya adores than spending time with you. He's super touchy and you're super warm which totally combats the way that his body runs colder.

That means he's constantly trying to snuggle you up, resting his head on your lap or curling up into a ball on your chest. Wherever you are, he's going to make himself fit to practically lay across you.

It also means that sometimes, your hands might wander without thinking, more so just trying to reach out and touch him without realising it, or do the damndest things while he's holding you to make his mind blur. This was most definitely one of those times.

You have no idea what you did this time to set him off. Genuinely, sometimes it feels like if you breathe a little too light it'll make him go feral because it almost sounds like you're whimpering.

Now, he's got you pinned against the wall, towering over you with his arms at the side of your head. Your hands rest on his waist, unsure of what he's doing until you feel the soft pressure of his lips against yours, letting his hands fall to pull you into his chest.

"You've been so touchy today," you laugh slightly, giggling more as he presses kisses against your cheek.

"Just let me have some fun with you, alright? You can't think I'm not going to indulge when you've spent all day being the sweetest thing on Earth?"

He continues to kiss you, tongue slipping into your mouth and sliding against yours to distract you from his wandering hands. You squeak a little when you feel him slip into the pockets of your pants, gently squeezing the plush of your ass.

"Okay? You're okay with that?" he whispers against your lips, giving you a very obvious look.

He's a big squeezer. I can't explain it but someone give this man a fidget toy he'd love it. For now, he's just going to use you, squeezing and kissing at your thighs from between your legs, looking up at you as if you are singlehandedly responsible for bringing the world to life.

He managed to lead you towards the bedroom, laying you down on the sheets and stripping you down to nothing for his hungry eyes. His gaze wanders, making room for himself and letting your thighs rest against his hips as he presses more reverential kisses down your skin.

Just to tease, you can feel him trail his lips down your skin before going where you need him most. His mouth immediately goes to suck and lick, blunt nails digging into your thighs as he prevents you from closing up over his head. He's obsessed with the way his fingers imprint your skin, only parting with your sex when he decides your thighs look a little lonely.

You push and push against his grasp, failing miserably and whimpering pathetically at the sight of his muscular arms flexing to push against you and keep you in place. His back flexes, neck craning up to look at you and you think you've died on gone to heaven. He just digs his nails more into you, obsessed with the way his fingers force your body to give under his strong hold.

"You're - ah! -" you whine, burying yourself in Kaeya's face as he continues to insist on lapping up your nectar as though he's a man starved.

There's nothing you can say outside a safeword to stop him, not even registering that he's finally parted from your spit-soaked thighs and dripping slit to sit up and admire the mess he's made just with his mouth.

His hands begin to feel you up again, squeezing and lightly scratching down your skin as you catch your breath. He adores every part of you, lust-filled gaze trying to figure out what other noises he should try to draw out of you and how. For now, he decides to press your thighs to your chest, presenting your desperate hole to him.

"Too much? Do you need me to stop?" he asks lowly, biting his lip at the way your chest heaves with each breath you take.

"No, it's okay," you say softly, shuddering as he rubs circles under your knees.

"Good. Because I just want to make you melt."

He slides into you easily, making you let out the breath you didn't know you were holding as he starts off with slow strokes. He savours your body, relishing the warmth you've surrounded him with that increases tenfold once your thighs lock around his waist. He grinds up against you, smirking at the noise it brings out of you.

You feel his chest meet yours, kissing you hard again as his thrusts pick up, hips slamming home against yours over and over until you really do end up melting all over him.

#kaeya x reader #kaeya smut #genshin x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact

[weird-writes]

Easy Mark (The Mandalorian, E)

Title: Easy Mark (10k)

Series: Part two of Creed, a non-linear series about Din Djarin and his favorite... distraction. 

Description: The Mandalorian comes home drunk, desperate, and absolutely unwilling to admit anything to himself. So you do it for him.

Pairing: Din Djarin x Female Reader

Real, unbroken sleep on a planet with diurnal cycles will be nice, he thinks resolutely, even if he'd had other plans for that luxurious bed. And there are advantages to privacy. He unlatches his helmet with a hiss that sounds like a sigh, strips off his gloves, and then begins to unstrap his beskar, fingers taking him through the motions automatically. When he's done, and with his blaster in easy reach on the table beside the bed, he lays back into the enveloping softness and dims the already low lights. He wants to sleep but he knows it won't be possible yet. His body has started its own cycle, as inexorable as the spin of a galaxy, and he won't be able to rest until he completes it.

Warnings: Explicit sexual content, sex work, masturbation (mutual if you squint), ruined orgasm but on accident, dry humping, dirty talk, hand kink kinda sort, oral sex, fingering, a pinch of D/s, alcohol use, hangover, canon what canon, no betas we die like men

Tropes: you know that thing where you're talking with someone and it turns out you're having two totally separate conversations, yeah like that but with sex, idiots with feelings, angst, the helmet stays on, boy HOWDY does that helmet stay on

Author's note: Writing the first one was an out-of-body experience and then it turned out Din and his distraction weren't done with me yet. A couple days later I woke up in the middle of the night and said to myself: "listen bitch i have two words for you - helmet riding." So here we are. Set before Distractions, in the bad but fun times before our idiots sorted out their feelings. Please note that this one does involve Mando visiting a sex worker while lusting for the main character, so if that's not your cup of tea no worries. Personally I like 'em hot, confused, and suffering.

***

This was probably a mistake.

The woman on her knees in front of him is beautiful in a generic sort of way. What Din can see of her face in this position is smooth and symmetrical, and she's groomed her brows into the fine expressive lines that are fashionable in the Core, or at least were fashionable several years ago when he was last there. She has high cheekbones and dark eyes and the rest of her is probably equally well-tended but he can't tell since she's got her mouth around him and is doing something with her teeth that is both precise and masterful. It feels like heaven, the clutch of her throat around the head of his cock a welcome respite after so many months of artificial substitute. She's been working him with lips and tongue for quite a while now, and though he's hard enough that she'd at first had trouble getting her jaw around his not-inconsiderable thickness, the sensation has not yet ticked beyond pleasant relief.

Okay, this was definitely a mistake.

It's not that Din's body isn't willing. He can tell from the dull throbbing in his balls that the purely mechanical parts of him would love nothing more than to empty quite a lot of pent-up frustration into this girl's talented mouth. No, the problem lies elsewhere, and not with anything as obvious as his mind either. He's not thinking about anything in particular, and when he closes his eyes no troublesome images burn themselves on the backs of his eyelids. It's a feeling in his chest instead, a nagging tightness when he breathes in, a sort of perpetually suspended flinch that reminds him of nothing so much as the infinitesimal time between watching someone pull a trigger and hearing the blaster bolt. He's keyed-up, jittery, waiting for an explosion that isn't coming, and he has no idea why.

It had all seemed like such a good idea at the time. He's no stranger to brothels. He has needs, and his mind is calmer and his work better if he attends to them. Not frequently, not enough to be an indulgence. Just enough to remind himself that the same physical facility that lets him shoot straight and fight hard has more demands than only food and rest. He's been distracted lately and the tidiest solution is to find someone who makes it their business to solve problems like his. It's really no different than bounty hunting, and unlike fellow hunters, none of them have ever objected to him keeping the helmet on.

He's learned the wisdom of seeking out professionals the hard way. There are plenty of beings of all species who'd jump at the chance to fuck a Mandalorian. In his youth, he'd sometimes indulged them. It had never gone as poorly as it might have, but eventually he'd understood the motivations every entanglement distilled to in the end - sex was just a clever way to keep him on a leash. Whether it was through intimidation or seduction, everyone was after the same thing: control. And if it worked they'd forever feel they'd won, that they'd somehow put one over on an untouchable Mandalorian. That smug surety had been a source of trouble more than once.

Damaging his public image will not be an issue here. Everything from the decor in the foyer of the tasteful building in the corporate district to how the woman currently servicing him is touching him with her slim fingers screams of discretion and professionalism. She's as practiced with him as he is with his weapons, although to her credit it comes off as attentive rather than perfunctory. When he'd first arrived and made his very specific wishes known she'd acquiesced without fuss, happy to provide what he needs within such clear boundaries. Then she'd used her mouth to release the buckle on his belt, one hand holding it steady while the other slid up his thigh. She'd even smiled up at him once she'd gotten him as undressed as the occasion called for. He suspects her enthusiasm isn't entirely feigned - if the reputation of his people sometimes comes with a cost, it also has benefits.

So now here they both are: her with one hand cupping his sack and the other curled around the base of his cock as she parts her tinted lips, him watching her slide her tongue along his slit with an appreciation that refuses to rise past tepid despite his best efforts to convince himself otherwise. He feels bad that he is not enjoying this more, ashamed of himself in the most absurd way. It seems horribly impolite, as though he is choosing to refuse to respond to her talent, one professional snubbing another. And the problem with someone like her, who makes her living by being perceptive about others' pleasure, is that of course she can tell.

His guilt is amplified when his companion lifts herself off his cock and gives the tip what feels like a genuinely sympathetic kiss. "You like this, but you don't love it," she says gently, and it's very much not a question. She stands and one hand tips his helmet up to meet her kohl-rimmed eyes. "I think you need something else. Something a little more... engaging." She feels him flinch, and her hand dips to smooth his cowl as she comes closer, the soft edges of her robe tickling his knees. "I'm not asking you to undress. There are all sorts of possibilities open to us." The word open is lightly emphasized, lingering on her tongue like a sweet, and oh she is good. There's a world of promise in that one sound. Perversely, it makes him feel worse.

"No," he says, and clears his throat. "I mean, no thank you. I don't think so. I appreciate... your work. I think it's better if we stop here."

"Are you sure?" she asks. Her fingers are skimming along his shoulder now, a touch that's both flirtatious and reassuring. "It doesn't cost more, you know. You have me booked for the whole night. It's my pleasure." This close to him, she smells wonderful even through the helmet, like refrigerated flowers and expensive cloth.

"Thank you," Din says again, because he doesn't know what else to say. "That– won't be necessary. I intend to pay in full, but I don’t think… I don't think I want company."

She hums a little in acknowledgement as she steps away. "Well, it's certainly up to you. If you need anything just touch the button by the door, that's the comm. And really--" she leans forward again, just enough to show the tempting swell of her breasts under the thin fabric, "-- if you get lonely, Mandalorian, don't hesitate." There's a warmth in her tone that sounds like she means it. She blows him a breezy kiss on her way out the door, the privacy panel sliding shut behind her.

Kriff. Kriff. She's gorgeous and she knows it and he likes that in a woman. She knows what she's doing, too, and he likes that as well. And even if he is paying her she clearly doesn't object to him, and he likes that best of all. And he'd just sent her away like an idiot. Leaving him with nothing but an uneasy feeling he can't name and a tight ache in his balls that promises real pain if he doesn't attend to them sooner rather than later.

Din toys with the idea of calling her back, telling her he'd changed his mind, but there's no reason to expect the outcome to be any different the second time around. It's late, and at least he'll be able to sleep as long as he wants. Real, unbroken sleep on a planet with diurnal cycles will be nice, he thinks resolutely, even if he'd had other plans for that luxurious bed. And there are advantages to privacy. He unlatches his helmet with a hiss that sounds like a sigh, strips off his gloves, and then begins to unstrap his beskar, fingers taking him through the motions automatically. When he's done, and with his blaster in easy reach on the table beside the bed, he lays back into the enveloping softness and dims the already low lights. He wants to sleep but he knows it won't be possible yet. His body has started its own cycle, as inexorable as the spin of a galaxy, and he won't be able to rest until he completes it.

It's nothing like the serene attentions he'd been receiving before he'd asked to be alone. He's flat on his back and completely undressed now as he would never be with another person in the room, and his callused hand is a poor substitute for her soft touch. He wraps his fist around his cock and brings himself back to fully erect with a few short strokes, uninterested in prolonging this experience beyond the necessary. At least he no longer feels the pressure to applaud an artist at work; he knows himself and knows exactly how to get this over with while still wringing out the pleasure he seems to periodically require. His hand speeds up as he replays the night in his mind: her fingers on his shoulder, her mouth on his cock. He's imagining her still and that's an appreciation of its own, assuaging the sting of guilt.

His eyes drift closed and his grip tightens, stroking over his length, rushing him toward the conclusion of this little farce. It's not what he wants, not really, but at least he'll feel better. He feels the pressure rising in his gut, the knot in his groin tightening, and there's a brief instant where he thinks about his hand - about his fingers - about a few nights ago and where his fingers have been and the slick wet heat he'd wanted to suck off them -

And that feeling of waiting for the blaster bolt crashes in again, knocking the building tension of his orgasm askew and ripping his touch away from himself to seize convulsively at the cool sheets.

Din opens his eyes and sits up so fast his helmet clatters to the floor. His chest is heaving and his palms are damp and there's a piercing pain around his temples that presages an exceptionally memorable headache. The moment of climax is gone as surely as the woman he'd sent away, and he knows himself well enough to know it's not coming back tonight. "Fucking-- kriffing-- fucking-- hell," he mutters and then descends into the most offensive Mando'a he knows, trailing off only when he runs out of rude words. He collapses back into the blankets, wrenching a pillow over his face. He needs to clear his head. He needs to sleep. He needs to come. One isn't happening without the other two, and at least one of the other two apparently isn't happening at all.

Well. If he already can't sleep, and his cock is not going to cooperate, he can at least do something else equally unwise. He'd paid for the room for the night and he intends to use it. He touches the built-in comm by the door and it clicks into life instantly, the concierge's smooth tones rendered only a little tinny by the size of the speaker. "Can we do something for you, sir?"

"Yes, I hope you can. Do you have a cantina on the premises?"

***

Something is wrong.

It's Mando's walk that gives him away. It's not that it's sloppy or loose; it's that it's tight. Normally the cadence of his boots sounds - relaxed. Ready, confident, easy in himself and his capabilities. You've become familiar with his long stride coming up the gangway, the slight hitch in his gait born from years of maneuvering in layers of armor and weapons. Right now it's too precise, too measured, as though he is concentrating entirely too much. You don't know what the problem is but you can hear that something is different, and by the time he's in the cargo bay that difference is blaring in your consciousness like a proximity alarm.

You wouldn't have noticed with anyone else. You've never attended to the messages of another's body as closely as you do his. You're not sure precisely why you feel the need to catalogue every variation of his mood through the tip of his helmet and the semaphore of his hands. Maybe it's to do with the fact you don't know his face, so you cling to every other detail. Nevertheless, your careful scrutiny reaps a reward: you can't see him, tucked into your own bunk folded down from the wall, but you can tell something has changed just from the sound of his steps.

Your first assumption is the obvious one. He'd left you last night, saying something about meeting a contact, and the life of a bounty hunter is risky even when not chasing quarry. Old marks hold grudges and old friends can turn into old enemies. A blaster graze or a stab wound, neither of them catastrophic, could easily be the cause. But he's back, clearly well enough to return to the ship under his own power, and he hadn't commed you to ask for entry which means he retained his vambrace and his ability to remotely disarm the ground protocols. It can't be anything too serious. He knows where the medkit is. He can patch himself. There's no need for you to get out of bed.

You've drawn the curtain to your bunk closed behind you and your bare feet are touching the floor before you have time to invoke your better instincts. Despite how your - whatever this is - has evolved recently, the Mandalorian often remains closed off to you, withdrawn behind the remote shine of his armor. Finding out exactly what's going on is at least a way to participate, to gain some level of understanding about his person and the kind of life he leads when you're not trapped together in the forced proximity of hyperspace. And if he refuses you - well, it's morning, and the thought of caf is enough of a consolation.

It's early still and the breeze through the open gangway brings with it pale dawn and the smell of growing things. The heat is already oppressive, promising another stifling equatorial day. Mando is leaning against a bulkhead, hip hitched casually on a crate, visor tilted to the floor. One pauldron is in the square of sunshine from the hatch and the tiny imperfections on its surface bounce pinpoints of light through the hold as his chestplate rises and falls with his breathing. It's the only movement you can see, and your stomach flips uneasily. You can tell he's holding himself back somehow, every line of him composed. You've seen him go still like this when he's angry with you. Maybe his meeting went sideways after all, but there's no blood or any of the other telltale signs of violence.

You're already regretting your curiosity. Whatever this is, it doesn't look as simple as a wound.

Mando must know you're there, his instincts too sharp for anything else, but he doesn't greet you. So you don't bother with the niceties either, saying "Are you all right?" in a voice still thick with sleep as you move towards the small galley and the plasma heater and the battered pot that serves as a makeshift kettle.

"What?" His head comes up too fast, as if he's only now remembering your existence, that the public areas of his ship are no longer places for himself alone. "Oh. Yes. Yes, I'm fine."

He doesn't offer more than that, and you resist the urge to pry further. Your - your what, exactly? Your traveling companion? Your erstwhile employer? Your occasional fuck? Better to stick with the obvious, you suppose - the Mandalorian - is hardly expressive at the best of times, but standing silent in the cargo bay this early in the morning with a stillness that implies nothing so much as intense concentration, as he would focus his attention on a difficult target or a mark in a crowded street, is unusual even for him. He's not blocking your path to the galley though, so you occupy yourself with the business of hotplate and kettle instead. You'd found your favorite brand of instant caf at the last trading post and somewhere in a drawer there are still a few packets of dehydrated milk.

You're distracted by the familiar routine, which is probably why you ask. "Would you like some caf?"

A stupid question, and one that makes you cringe as soon as it's out of your mouth. Of course Mando doesn't want caf. And even if he did, he couldn't drink it anyway - not with you there, your presence restricting him as surely as a pair of magcuffs. You've managed to avoid offering him anything that would require the removal of his helmet so far in your time together, but it's so early, and just for a minute you... forgot. Forgot he's Mandalorian, offered him something you would literally any other sentient creature who was awake with you at such an atrocious hour of the day.

His response surprises you. "That seems like a good idea," he says, which is a weird as hell way to put it but whatever. And what about the helmet? Maybe he'll take it to his rack and drink it there. Not your business. You open two pouches and rummage in the cabinet that holds the cheap tin cups. You chase the caf with hot water from the pot, watching the brown grains bleed into something that nearly passes for drinkable, then add milk in one cup and hesitate over the other. You don't know how he likes it and it seems strangely invasive to ask about his eating habits again. After a second’s indecision you tip two of the milk packets in and stir, same as yours. If he doesn't like it he can make his own.

When you're done you take both cups in hand and turn. At some point he must have changed positions, although you hadn't heard him. How he moves so quietly in all that metal is a mystery that continues to elude you even though you see it happen regularly. Now he's sitting down, leaning back against the wall, folded in on himself in a way you haven't seen before and that immediately makes you question whether or not he is, in fact, all right. Maybe you were wrong, and the injury just doesn't show under all his layers of cloth and steel. His posture mutes the inertia you'd sensed and he looks... if you're being honest he looks just a little pathetic, or as pathetic as a man wearing so many weapons can look, which is not very. It's oddly affecting. You don't know him well enough to judge with any level of precision but if it were you against the wall  looking like that, you'd say you'd just lost a fight.

Impossible. Mandalorians don't lose fights. At least, this Mandalorian doesn't.

"Would you like some company?" you ask before you can stop yourself. It's apparently a day for firsts. You've never inquired if he wants your presence before, except as a matter of expediency on a hunt or going into a settlement. It's something in this morning's particular tableau that pulls it out of you, memories of your own bad nights echoing in sympathy with the set of his shoulders. It's easier when he's sitting down, too, the level of his helmet well below your eyeline. You wouldn't have dared if you were facing the wall of beskar that comprises a Mando upright.

His response is direct as he is always direct, and polite, as he is nearly always polite with you. "That would be... acceptable. Thank you."

So you slide down the wall next to him, probably graceless and noisy in comparison, still holding both cups. As you do the wind outside shifts, stirring the heat and bringing with it the inevitable warm damp of impending summer rain. It brushes past your strangely moody Mandalorian, pushing steam from the caf before it and tapping your hair against your cheek, and as it does you're hit by a wave of the familiar. A scent everyone who's ever worked a bar or relaxed after a long day in any town in the galaxy knows.

It takes you no time at all to recognize it, and only a beat longer to locate the source. Mando smells - and not subtly - like alcohol. The sting is unmistakable, announcing itself in the air between you. You can't even contemplate how much worse it would be without the intermediary of his helmet. A sequence of events clicks into place, as tidy as a relay switching shut. That's why he's so still, why his walk up the gangway was so careful. He's hungover. Or maybe still drunk. The Mandalorian is drunk.

You don't even know how he got drunk, considering the constraints of his helmet. You can't imagine him sitting in a cantina all night shoving a hydration tube under the faceplate and sucking in spotchka. The thought is so undignified that you almost laugh out loud. You choke down the impulse but it must show on your face somewhere because Mando says, in a tone that even through the modulator veers close to petulant, "What?"

Now you are laughing, the image of the feared warrior staggering - well, as close as he'll ever get to staggering, which is basically the exact opposite - into his own ship and half-collapsing, felled by something as mundane as alcohol, too ridiculous to ignore. "Oh, I see. Leaving late, coming in early, needing caf. What did you get up to last night, Mando?"

It's a sing-song question, meant as a tease, but that glacial quiet comes over him again and you swear the temperature between you drops several degrees. He's silent for a long while, contemplating an answer that seems weighty for him in a way you didn't intend. Did you upset him? Was intoxication forbidden to Mandalorians? Are you witnessing something as simple as a temporary lapse in judgment - and Maker knows you've had plenty of those yourself - or as serious as a violation of his Creed?

"I made some bad decisions," he says finally. "I thought it would... make things a little easier. It didn't."

And you have no idea how to interpret that, if he's talking about the job that went sideways that brought you to this planet in the first place or the drinking or something else. Or if you could be classified as a bad decision, one that he might need the escape of alcohol to make a little easier. Your brief moment of levity twists in your mouth, turning sour, and you shove the second cup toward him across the bay floor with unnecessary force, sloshing milky caf over the rim to puddle on the metal.

Mando doesn't comment on your lack of tact. He doesn't say anything at all, picking up the cup and contemplating it as though it holds the secrets of the universe. You'd slumped back against the crate after your little outburst but you're still watching him in your periphery. Not a single atom of you believes that he's going to remove his helmet. Not for something as banal as this, not with the hatch open for anyone to see, certainly not in front of you. But he might have some trick you haven't seen yet. A port somewhere, some way of getting sustenance in public when necessary. Maybe that's how he'd made last night's bad decisions.

He doesn't quite bring the caf to where his mouth would be but it's close. You don't see anything about the faceplate change, but the Mandalorian next to you inhales deeply and makes a quiet, satisfied noise. Then he does it again and you realize what's happening - if the visor weren't in the way he'd be burying his nose in the cup to breathe the bitter, scented steam. It's a mundane thing to do, nothing you haven't seen a thousand times before, and you want to be irritated by it. He makes another sound, the modulator obscuring its finer details. You hear it anyway, casually warm and appreciative, and your own mouth goes dry instead.

You are suddenly extremely aware of your body in proximity to his: your shoulders a few long inches from each other, your crossed knees so close to his strong thighs. You didn't mean to but you've turned your head to face him now, lips parting, and you can feel the rush of blood rising up your neck and creeping along your collarbones. You've caught his attention too, your reaction to his enjoyment nowhere near as subtle as you'd like. He doesn't put down the cup, doesn't do anything as predictable as reaching for you. Instead he slides across the floor and presses one long leg against yours, hip to knee, not touching you with intent but just... letting you feel him, solid as granite and twice as unmoving. Then he raises the cup again, slower this time, draws the steam toward himself, and makes the same noise again, deliberately.

Sweat springs up on your skin, the warmth of his nearness combining with your flush and the hot breeze still fluttering through the gangway. The helmet is pointed straight ahead but you can feel him considering you, the stalemate of shared desire spreading between you like ink in water. He seems to be waiting for something but you'll be damned if you're going to start coming out of your clothes just because you like the way he drinks - no, not even drinks - his caf. So you wait too, expecting him to call your bluff, or at least wordlessly take charge as he has taken charge of things between you before.

Nothing happens. You drop your gaze, fixing it on the way he cradles the cup, the tips of his gloves flaring orange against the dull alloy. It's precisely because you have expended so much attention on his hands as a substitute for his face that you notice it: a tiny motion on the surface of the liquid, a gentle waver like the very beginnings of a boil. It's not that the cup is trembling, not really, it's just... not entirely steady. You've already seen his grip around a blaster more times than you can count and you've sure it's always been reliable as a sun. This is new. Is he really that far gone?

"Would you do me a favor?" Mando's voice is carefully neutral, as if he's noticed your scrutiny.

"Sure," you say, not really listening. You could tell him no, discourage whatever drunken whim this is, but you're still watching the minute quiver of his hands, visible only through the ripples in his caf.

"Take off my gloves."

***

It's an insane request, and most of Din is having trouble believing he just said it. The words came out of his mouth unbidden with no direction from anything as capable of higher functioning as his brain. The rest of him - the part he’s forced to admit is housed mostly in his cock and in the bottom of a bottle discarded several hours ago - can't believe he's waited this long to ask. He saw the way you looked at him, the tip of your tongue suspended over your bottom lip. He's painfully aware of the soft skin of your thigh pressing against his, even if he can't feel it through his armor as more than a light pressure, a ghostly kiss of heat. He wants your touch somewhere, anywhere, ideally on the rock-hard erection that's straining against the buckles of his belt, but even as he thinks it he holds back, knowing it would be too much. The gloves instead then. The feeling he thought he'd drowned in revnog is back, the tightness in his chest ratcheting to life, making him shake with anticipation for something he doesn't even know the shape of.

Suddenly he's worried that he's overplayed his hand. You've allowed him to take liberties for your benefit before, but this feels different. This is you touching him for no reason other than he's asked you to and that's dangerously close to crossing the line he's drawn for himself. He sets down the caf and is about to say something sensible like "Never mind," but you're already reaching toward him.

***

Mando doesn't raise his arms for you, doesn't do anything at all to make his demand easier to meet except for putting down the cup. The hand closest retreats to rest on his hip and you chase it without thinking, picking it up like you would any other piece of equipment he’d tasked you to maintain. You can feel a faint tremor all through the capable muscles of palm and wrist. You yourself are sober as a Jedi but that doesn't stop you from fumbling at first, trying to understand how to get around the knuckle guard and loosen the magnetic tab cinching it tight just over the point of his pulse. You pull the glove over his fingers as efficiently as you can.

It's the closest you've ever come to the Mandalorian, which is an absurd thing to say considering what you've been doing, or rather what he's been doing to you, intermittently these past weeks. It's also true, and you feel your breath fraying as you reach for his other side. Undressing him even just this inconsequential amount seems unbearably domestic, an intimacy you haven't earned and probably never will. You remove this glove the same way, running your fingertips over the leather to find the catch, working the fingers loose in a movement that can't help but feel obscene as your smaller hand encloses his bigger one. Then you draw it off, still holding him, and stop. Because you have no idea what to do next.

There's a halting moment where you think he's looking at you and you're definitely looking at him and the tension is enough that you snag your lower lip between your teeth -

"Let go," Mando says softly. You drop his wrist like a thief caught in the act. You expect him to stand up, escaping from your proximity as he often does. You unwisely hope this might be one of those occasions where he turns you around instead, pushing your sleeping shorts down and plunging his fingers between your thighs where a needy hum has just hopefully kicked to life. An even more unwise part of you, a part you try very hard to ignore, wants him to pull you closer, face-to-face.

No such luck. The only sound is your own breathing buzzing in your ears. At this angle you can see the cowl around his neck has shifted, revealing a glimpse of his throat. His pulse shows through the thin skin, tripping steadily but fast. You can't drag your eyes away from it, a warm and traitorous bit of humanity amidst hard metal. There's only been one other time you've seen him like this and on that occasion his reserve, when it finally broke, heralded a storm you’d swear parts of you were still recovering from.

You're kneeling beside him, frozen in the same position you'd used to remove his gloves, and it's easy to notice how much lower and richer his tone is, even through the modulator, when he speaks again. "I'm sorry, mesh'la. I'm not trying to be rude. I just-- I can't."

"Can't what?" you probe, bewildered by the combination of his denial and the unmistakable heat threading through his voice.

"Can't... this." He makes a vague gesture that somehow encompasses himself, you, and the narrow space between you.

"Okay," you say. "Okay. You can't." Fuck whatever this is anyway, you're tired of him being the one to decide all the rules of engagement, where and when and how and if you are even in a position to look at him during. You start to move away but his bare hand briefly finds your knee, pinning you in place with no effort on his part. Even with that feather-light touch you can feel the rough texture of his palm. It raises the fine hairs on your neck with how much you want more of him.

"I can't," Mando says again, as though you'd asked him something, and you realize what he's telling you. He can't.

You can.

Something ignites in your blood, racing down your spine to pool between your legs. He's not refusing you, he's making you an offer, a chance to decide for yourself how this encounter will go. You wonder why now. Is this a misguided attempt at chivalry, a way of making sure that he doesn't push past your limits while he’s under the influence? More importantly - are you going to take him up on it?

You feel your heartbeat accelerating as you reel through the possibilities. You could touch him like he's been touching you. Would he let you? Could you remove more of the layers between you, finally chase your pleasure on his cock like you've spent so many furtive hours thinking about? Or you could deny him, get up and take your leftover caf and leave him to face his biochemical consequences alone. He wouldn't stop you, would accept your choice without protest, and somehow that feels most powerful of all.

The helmet is still watching you. Mando's gloveless hands are quiet in his lap, his chest under the armor rising and falling evenly as though he hadn't just implied you might want to use him like a toy. You meet the eyeless gaze of the visor, seeing only stark lines and your own warped, unrecognizable reflection. Just for an instant you let yourself pretend, wishing he had a face you could read anything in at all. Then you lean forward and grasp his hands in yours and stand up, putting one bare foot on either side of him, taking his hands with you. You hook his fingers into the drawstring at your waist, your meaning clear. Take them off.

You know exactly what you want. And you're almost sure Mando will give it to you.

Your shorts slide easily over the curve of your ass, puddling to the floor as you step out of them. You're wearing nothing underneath and his skin against yours is excruciating as he traces the hard bones of your shins, the backs of your knees - and stops, making it wordlessly clear that he's leaving you to dictate what happens next. You shrug out of your shirt and trail up your body to cup your tits, tossing your hair over your shoulder. Then you look at the Mandalorian under you and give your first order: "Touch me."

Your meaning is obvious even though technically, he's already touching you - hasn't stopped since you began your little show. His hands resume their wandering course, running up the dip of your waist and chastely smoothing sweat across your spine. You use the warmth of his touch as fuel for your own fire, pinching your nipples to greedy points and letting your back arch. It's beyond bizarre to expose yourself like this, presenting to the impenetrable wall of his armor in nothing but your own unassailable nakedness. Mando might deaf and blind for all the reaction the blank faceplate gives you. It's as dislocating as losing one of your own senses, giving everything a surreal, hallucinatory quality. 

It's also indescribably arousing.

Mando is getting bolder, touching you with more purpose. One big hand ghosts up your thigh but you stop it before it reaches its goal. You've had his talented fingers in you plenty and you have other plans. "Hold my hips," you say, and though you meant it as a command it comes out more like a plea. He obliges you instantly, thumbs settling against the swell of your pelvic bones. You want him to participate in this, even if he won't take the initiative, and you want him to feel the same sting of desire you do, even if you can't see the results.

Your excitement is growing more acute now. You drop one hand from your breast and part your folds easily, slipping your fingertips up to tease your clit before dipping them just inside yourself. You moan a little at the feeling of it, so much better than when you do the same alone in the 'fresher, and when you pull out and move back to circle your clit again, spreading your slick over your lips, you feel his grip on you convulse. You follow that theme for a while, aimlessly chasing sensation for no reason other than you want to and it makes him wait. It isn't until you slide two fingers into your aching sex, pressing up and in to fuck yourself slowly in front of him, that you hear Mando make a noise.

It's nothing at all like how he sounded over the caf. It's rough and urgent even through the modulator, and it lights a shameless fuse in the cradle of your thighs. Time to find out exactly how far he wants you to go.

"Hold still." You advance on him, still straddling his lap, tilting his head to where you need it. He doesn't let go of your hips, and if he has any idea what you're about to do, he doesn't show it. He's perfectly capable of stopping you, you remind yourself, could probably throw you across the cargo bay if he wanted. He’d invited you to be the one in control. The knowledge gives you courage to come closer still, close enough to cant your hips forward...

And push your wet cunt directly into his helmet, right against where his mouth would be.

The sounds you both make as your warm flesh hits the beskar mirror each other in their desperation. You can't help but keen as the softest parts of you feel metal, cool even in the hot morning air. The Mandalorian under you jolts at the contact, letting out a broken, bitten-off growl. He's still holding you, could easily push you away, but he does just the opposite, adjusting the angle to bring more of his helmet flush against you. Even that small action makes some deep part of you seize with empty frustration, desire roaring through your veins. It's exactly the way a lover would part your legs to give themselves better access, but all you can feel is the smooth plane of the visor and you need more.

You close your eyes, put your hands on the crest of his helmet, and give an experimental thrust. Your thighs slot easily into the curves of his faceplate and what the beskar lacks in texture is made up for by the knowledge that you are a scant inch away from riding his face. You squirm a little, opening space to shove two fingers crudely back into yourself, already past the point of trying to provoke with anything more subtle. The movement brings your clit into contact with the low ridge over his faceplate and you hiss out a word that sounds very much like yes. You squirm again, fucking yourself down onto your hand at the same time the ridge pushes into your folds.

Mando understood your purpose as soon as your cunt touched metal, the eerie ability for reading others you've seen in combat brought to bear on you. His callused hands are working your hips in earnest now, grinding you against him. It's half fuck and half shared fantasy, the helmet providing only the meanest friction against your clit while the idea of Mando's mouth - his mouth, even in the privacy of your bunk you've never dared to imagine the details of his mouth - on you stimulates you far more. The thought of all his skill and focus narrowing to pleasing you has already gotten you wetter than you imagined possible, but it's more than that. If you just could feel him that way, close the loop on the circuit between you, know he's there with you, as desperate as you are - you aren't sure you'd ever be able to stop.

The tide between your legs is rising, orgasm kindling in the nerves of your sex. His bare skin against yours, your own fingers nudging something humming and electric inside you, the hard press of the helmet: it all adds up to an obvious conclusion, your body racing to finish the equation. The closer you get the more noise you make, until you finally realize you're talking, words spilling out of you with no intention from your brain. Words like Mando and more and please. Words like feel so good and I want you, which makes your heart stop for a moment with fear, but his only response is to your hips as he holds you tighter, grip pressing hard enough to bruise.

You're teetering on the edge when you tell him what you really mean, reveal the thing you've wanted since he told you he couldn't and then tempted you with the merest brush of his hand over your skin. You would never have said it otherwise, but it's there now, the truth pushing insistently behind your teeth. You wait until the last possible moment; until you feel your climax catch and flare, pulling you into a whirlpool of mindless pleasure.

"Fuck, I-- I wish I could see you like this. I've thought about it-- about you," you confess. It feels like you're baring the filthiest, worst part of your soul, admitting that you've imagined what it would be like with his naked face buried in your cunt. The concession is equal parts humiliating and exhilarating, a glimpse into something so private that you've barely examined it yourself, a breach of your painstaking respect for his way of life. "I want to feel your mouth on me."

You can feel the shudder that runs through him when you say it and there's an indescribable sound from under the helmet, something like a groan but hungry, full of desire and frustration - the noise of a man who sees a feast in his dreams after years of famine. It goes right to your core, a bolt of lust beyond what you knew was possible sparking from the crown of your head to the tips of your toes, and your eyes fly open. You look down. It's his face, the face of his helmet, the only face you know him by, framed by your thighs as you rub your slick against the transparisteel that tips you past the point of no return, your cunt clenching and your knees buckling as you come.

***

He’d been doing so well holding himself in check. He’d even managed to tell you that he couldn’t provide what you were looking for, the service he’s done for you with great regularity lately. Din is mostly sober, or thinks he is, but he doesn’t trust himself after yesterday. His interrupted lust is still seething just under the habitual discipline. He’s not afraid that he wouldn’t stop if you asked him - there’s no world in which he’d ever be inebriated enough for that - but he’s afraid of what you might say yes to. What you might eagerly permit him. He’s clinging to his Creed like a lifeline but that’s the problem with the Way: it rarely tells him what to do, only that he must do it honorably and with intention. He doesn’t feel especially honorable right now. It would be so much easier if he were outright forbidden this, your rapid breathing and your erratic heartbeat and the convincing wetness of your cunt.

What’s happening right now couldn't be more different than the practiced passion of last night. Unlike last night, however, the chaotic tangle between you occupies all his senses. His already-interested cock has swollen to impossible hardness, somehow more sensitive to the uncomfortable bite of his own clothing than it was to any of the clever tricks that had been used to coax his enthusiasm twelve hours ago. He can't see you, but he can smell you, your musk and the scent of the regulation soap he always buys mixed with sweat. The perfume of your sex, warm and more than willing for him, is one of the things fueling his nearly painful hard-on but for some reason it's the soap that gets to him, replacing every coherent thought with wild, driving need. It's a smell he associates with himself, with his ship, it's the same soap that he's bought for years at every surplus depot in the galaxy and he's never thought about it for even a second but suddenly it’s all over you. It's him, he can smell himself when you push into him, and it makes him feel like he's going insane, like he'll never be able to get inside you deep enough or make you come hard enough to stop himself wanting more of you.

Now you're talking to him and he can hear that just fine, your breathless admission that you want this too, that you've thought about him beyond those times where he's behind you and you're begging for release, imploring him with a name that isn't even a name, just a category. He can hear when you urge more, more, and short on sleep and still half-drunk he can pretend you mean more than more pressure, more than right now, more than Mando.

And then you say the thing that ruins him, making his cock jump and his throat dry and his heart a triphammer in his chest. You tell him you want him - not the armor, not the Mandalorian, but him; his naked face, his naked self - his hips buck, driving upward against nothing, every bit of his carefully won control in pieces around him -

And the explosion he’s been waiting for rips through him, the suspended moment between trigger and blast slamming shut at last. He makes a noise he can’t even try to stop, loud and feral and animal, and comes, his orgasm taking him as hard as a fist to the gut.

***

You’re still partially on top of Mando when your breathing begins to normalize. Once the aftershocks had faded and your knees were no longer shaking quite so hard, you’d stepped off him and gently collapsed, your back against the crates and your legs draped across his cuisses. You know how debauched you must look, still naked and covered in sweat. Absurdly, it makes you feel shy, girlish in your need to conceal your soft and affectionate smile from the helmet next to you. “Holy shit, Mando,” you say instead, hoping your voice doesn’t give you away. “You should get drunk more often.”

That seems to take him by surprise, what sounds like a genuine laugh huffing through the moderator. He doesn’t respond but a hand moves up to your ankle and rests there, filling your chest with hazy satisfaction. You could probably spend forever like that, bonelessly content, but your post-coital bliss is reminding you what he missed while you were busy using him for your own pleasure. 

"Do you want--" you say, reaching tentatively for his belt, but what you mean is please let me, which makes it worse when he jerks away from your touch like it’s a soldering iron, pushing you off his thighs and letting your legs slide to the floor. You hadn’t meant to offend but clearly you have somehow, breaking the rules of your little game without even knowing what they are. You open your mouth to apologize but Mando is getting to his feet and his silence is already somehow back into place between you, impregnable as a fortress. You watch him walk away from you towards the ‘fresher, sealing the door behind him with a thud that lands heavy in your ears, and all you can do is stare after him.

In a kinder version of your world, you'd get off lightly from this. The man whose armor you'd just ruined would be drunk enough to forget, or at least drunk enough to forget details. He'd wake in eight or ten hours with a pounding head and a helmet that needed polish, but he wouldn't remember exactly why, and you'd be spared the self-inflicted invasion of your privacy. But you knew there was no chance of that, no chance that your Mandalorian's mind, even clouded with alcohol, was any less reflexively capable than the rest of him. He would remember what he'd done, and what you'd done, and what he hadn't even had to ask you for. You could have kept quiet. You could have stayed in your bunk. You could have declined to imagine, or at least to declined to share, what his mouth would feel like on you.

Too late for that now.

***

Din can’t regret his choices, not if they brought him here, with you warm and sated on top of him and his own body still coming down from the stupendous high of climax. Still, he’s forced to admit to himself that he’s struggling, the bill for his past abuses rapidly coming due. A truly monumental hangover is stalking through his synapses and he can't tell if the nauseous twist in his stomach is from the alcohol or all the things he wants to say and can't. He'd thought it would fade with the last haze of orgasm, but the urge to tell you how much he wants you remains overwhelming.

He tamps it down. All social creatures have a psychological urge to reciprocate the sharing of a secret. That's all this is: the reciprocal urge. He's used it himself when tracking bounties, a false confession from him eliciting a true one from his mark. It doesn't seem like you're lying to him, not exactly, but he thinks maybe it's not quite real either. You didn't mean it the way it sounded. You like what he can do for you, that's clear, and that liking is enough to earn your tolerance of his company the rest of the time. There was no way you could be conversant with all the complex overtones that imbue something like telling a Mandalorian you want his face between your thighs. Maker, he has to stop thinking about it.

He's still in control of himself enough to push the subject away for now, bury it for later when he can examine it later with a clearer head. What he doesn't know is how to stop the feeling that flares when you’re close to him like this, the sensation of hurtling towards something he can't stop, dogged as a footrace toward the edge of a cliff. He's dizzy and sweating and suddenly everything feels too hot. You've been on his ship twelve weeks and he's had you a dozen times by now, coming so hard around his fingers so hard he can feel the clench, choking on the pleasure he tells himself only he can give you. Today he can add another entry into that catalogue, your words searing through him as you fucked yourself against his visor, and he already knows it's not going to be enough. He's going to need it again. He might need even more. He might - with the sudden taste of bile rising in his throat - he might need to go be sick in private.

At least you didn't realize how far gone he is for this, the thing that stretches between you as powerful as a riptide. Your offer to accommodate his own needs made it quite clear you had no idea what you'd done to him, even if Din’s treasonous body had made sure he wouldn't be tempted by beating you to the punch. He wants to say something to soothe the hurt he’s inflicted, something that might help the new and giddy warmth between you linger, but he has no idea what - except the truth, which would be catastrophic.

He leaves the cargo bay with no ceremony whatsoever instead, shoving you off his lap and surging to his feet. He makes his way to the 'fresher, shuts the door behind him with more emphasis than he means to, and urgently fumbles his armor off. Then he half-collapses onto the lid of the vac tube, leaning over the tiny sink, and closes his eyes.

It's only when he feels the cool bite of beskar on his lips that he realizes he's resting his face against his helmet.

***

“I’m heading to town. I’ll be back in a few hours.”

It's late, the triune suns of this world long since dipped past the horizon. The heat is still suffocating. The landing site is bathed in purple shadows, the endless violet lightning of distant summer storms flickering across the sky. You've taken your schematics outside to work, sitting cross-legged on one of the antigrav loading lifts as it rests quiescent in the mud. You're dressed in clean clothes, having already done penance in the 'fresher with the temperature dial cranked all the way to a punishing cold and the plain white soap washing away any trace of beskar and leather. You are doing your best to fill your head with wiring diagrams, ignoring the way you can't seem to control your hands as they alternately brace and rub at the back of your datapad.

Mando is clearly back to being his sober, achingly polite self, making sure he doesn't leave without informing you, which for some reason is infuriating. You don't want to ignore him entirely but you can't find anything to say that won't meet his courtesy with childish irritation. You make a noncommittal noise of acknowledgement instead. He must not have heard you, because a gloved finger drops into your line of sight and taps the top of the datapad: once, twice.

Unwillingly, you drag your gaze up, fixing it on his left shoulder. You know you're a coward but even in the semi-dark you can't meet the cool line of his visor. Not yet. You wonder if you'll ever be able to look at him again, and then - a stray thought welling up from somewhere dangerously close to hysteria - you wonder if all Mandalorian helmets are the same. You've never noticed, never had reason to pay that much attention before. What if it's not just him, what if you'll never be able to see a beskar-clad bounty hunter without blushing? Maybe it's time to find a new line of work.

"Hey," the Mandalorian in front of you says, his inflection very neutral. You still won't look at him and you know your cheek is twitching and Maker, you must look insane. "Did you hear me?"

You wave him off. "Yeah, I'm fine. Go get... whatever it is you need."

It's not a double-entente, not really, and you didn't mean it that way anyway, you just hadn't been paying attention when he'd announced where he was headed, but the shoulder you've locked your eyes on flinches and there's a slightly choked noise though the modulator. It should be funny, that your slip of phrasing could have that much effect, when you half-naked and begging for him didn't.

It isn't. It kills any shred of humor you've found in the situation instead, slamming your teetering smile to a halt abruptly as a bounty in carbonite for the second time today. You suddenly feel exhausted, the empty space yawning in your chest a poor exchange for the satisfied purr of the space between your legs. Fuck but you wish it was your turn to get drunk. Anything to get away from this for a while. Whatever this is.

But Mando is solving that problem for you, at least temporarily. He nods, already turning away to collect the speeder and head back to the city, and you wonder if he's as eager to flee the awkward interaction as you are. You wonder if you'll ever have any other kind of interaction with him ever again. Is this it for you now, prolonged silences and painful courtesy and the occasional white-hot orgasm as he spurs you - or you goad him, you aren't even sure - to acts more depraved than you've ever dreamed of?

You're still looking down when he leaves, which means you see his booted feet cross the clearing, noting that his stride is once again relaxed and elastic in all the ways that are now painstakingly familiar. Undeniable evidence that he is back to his aloof, controlled self, as though this morning had never happened, as though you hadn’t used the thought of his mouth to take yourself apart.

Now he is no longer looking directly at you, you can lift your eyes to watch him with less embarrassment. It's dark enough you can't make out more than shaded contours and straight lines as he checks over the speeder, kicking the throttle to life with a roar. Then another flash of the ever-present lightning, light cracking across his armored form, every inch of beskar gleaming as clean and precise as his practiced hands as he slings his rifle slant-wise and releases the brake. A following moment of shadow after and your Mandalorian gone, vanishing in the twilight, but you don't need him there to know what you saw. The ubiquitous helmet, shining as if newly minted, every trace of you wiped and buffed and polished from its surface. 

You turn your head to follow the progress of the speeder bike across the plains into the night and wonder if you ever left a mark at all.

series masterlist

#the mandalorian #din djarin #pedro pascal #din djarin x you #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x reader #din djarin x female reader #reader insert #star wars

[blorb-el]

hullo! I read your chapter of your au with the Very Horrible Lex and the Very Baby Kon and the Very Sad Clark and i love it sosososo much! The GOOD ANGST my dood.

I want you to know i’ve been daydreaming abt it. Heck, i was daydreaming WHILE reading it- i mean that’s actually normal for me when i’m invested in smthn, but fr i kept getting distracted by So Many Thoughts and Feelings tm. Took me longer to read than it should’ve but rest assured that’s a positive thing!

i read the fic you based it on, and it was great! But so far im liking yours better >v>

I wanna see the rescue and the recovery! I wanna see it get worse first! I wanna see Clark attempt to raise Kon the best he can in the worst of circumstances! The love and human connection thriving even in the midst of a hurricane of cruelty— it’s so good bestie!

uhh anyway! The point of this ask: I wanna know, how did you come up with the title? “We shall be free; we shall find peace”? oVo?

Thank you!! That's basically how it came about, daydreaming about the fic that inspired it!

So I really love the fanfic tradition of using lowercase AestheticTM song lyrics as titles. Fic is already inherently intertextual, and I think it's fun to add another layer of intertextuality onto that; I named one of my other fics with a lyric mostly because 1. the lyric fits their relationship! and 2. the juxtaposition between Wholesome Radio Pop Lyric and soft d/s xeno tentacle pwp still makes me laugh.

At first the draft was just called 'horrible lex au,' and then I thought about using two other quotes before settling on the title. That's the tl;dr of it all, the rest of this is under a cut for plot spoilers for the overall arc of the entire fic, and also so, so much rambling:

The first title I was thinking about was be sure your heart is brave from Aeschylus' Agamemnon, but that quote is the chorus speaking to Cassandra right before she's about to be killed; her bravery is a heavy burden reaction to the monstrous injustices that have brought her to that point, like Clark and Kon... but then she's brutally murdered. Plus the power dynamic situation is... let's say, very different. It's an extraordinary, immortal line but the narrative arc I've got planned strays too far from the original arc, and in the end I decided I didn't want the shadow of a way better tragedy hanging over my little fanfic.

Chorus: Woman, be sure your heart is brave; you can take much. Cassandra: None but the unhappy ever hear such praise.

The next line I was thinking about went too far in the other direction, taste a morning out there, which is from one of the best 'I Want' songs, Out There from the Disney Hunchback of Notre Dame. Quasimodo's story of being thought monstrous and being imprisoned and gaslit by a socially powerful manipulator parallels Clark and Kon better than Cassandra's, but in the end the literal line itself doesn't fit right with either Clark or Kon. Clark, at the beginning of the fic, has atrophied to the point where he can only conceive wanting for such things through wanting them for Kon, and Kon, as we'll see soonish, isn't locked up underground the way Clark is. Plus, the fic is... lighter than the Orestia for sure but a hell of a lot grimmer than Disney, lol. I do have it on my writing playlist though.

So in the end I went back to one of my absolute favorite pieces of media ever, Fidelio. We shall be free; we shall find peace is a line from the Prisoner's Chorus in that opera. The solo prisoner that sings the line invites the rest of the prisoners to begin hoping, and from there, despite the sobering reminders of the dangers they face, that they're being watched, the music swells into a yearning for freedom so powerful it's difficult to understand how it passed the censors in 1805.

First solo: Hope whispers softly to me: We shall be free, we shall find peace. Chorus: Oh Heavens! Salvation! What happiness! Oh freedom, freedom, will you return? Second solo: Speak softly! Be on your guard! [The jailer's] eyes and ears are on us.

And then - the head jailer returns, and the prisoners are brought back to reality, forced back into their dark cells at the end of the act. The temporary respite is over.

Farewell, warm sunshine - how quickly you fly from us. Night is fallen upon us, from which no day shall break.

The simple act of hoping is like a breath of fresh air, temporarily alleviating their suffering, but it doesn't materially change their circumstances; it takes a number of outside forces to do that, which will be paralleled in the fic. Love and hope is all they have, and it's not enough, but it does make the torment bearable until Bruce/Leonora uncovers the extent of The Horrors and Diana/Don Fernando can deus ex machina everyone into the sunlight.

All in all, the line is a very succinct summary of the plot. Clark and Kon will be free, and they will find peace, but they have to find out what both of those mean, reclaiming their agency in the process.

oooor at least that's the plan. chapter 2 is about 90% edited and can probably be ready this weekend, I hit a little plot snag in chapter 3-5 so chunks of that are undergoing rewrites, but the good news there is that the rewrites are SO much better than the original draft and there will be some bats showing up earlier than there otherwise would have been. I did uhhhhhhhhhhhhhh kind of lose my job a few days after posting the first part, so updates will be slower than I'd like, especially since I'll have to move to a different state if I get the positions I'm currently applying to 😓

#thanks for the ask :^) #bahfev #fic: we shall be free #my writing

[ssuminshan-official]

Yao: *all decked up for his wedding*

Mo xuanyu: you look very gorgeous, Yao gege.

Xue yang: Lan lips is going to faint when he sees you.

But if he does, can I tie him up?

Yao: *laughing* no muffin. Spare him.

Xue yang: fine. Just because it's your wedding day.

Su she: *blushing* you look stunning.

Yao: thank you Shanshan.

Mo xuanyu: reminds us of when he married us lol. Even though it was a short wedding.

Su she: yea.

*holds a-Yao's hand.* come my king.

Your wedding caravan is ready.

Yao: *blush* mn.

Mo xuanyu: I love you, Yao gege. And I'm ready to fight Xichen if he breaks your heart!

Xue yang: I don't think I can share you with him.

Su she: stay with team D.

Yao: of course I will, team dimple. I love you guys a lot.

Trio: awww.

Su she: Huangdi, your dimples become deeper when you're happy.

And I love that.

Mo xuanyu: you should always stay happy, Yao gege.

Yao: *blushing*

Su she: *caresses hand for a little bit* you're so delicate.

Xue yang: because he's lavish. He's a diva.

Mo xuanyu: how can he lift a finger when everyone obeys him.

Team dimple and his staff, that is. Heehee.

Su she: and lan Lips. He finally did something right.

Yao: oh guys. Lol.

Mo xuanyu: Yao gege, you're the most precious thing in the world ok.

~

A-Yao entered into his special peony shaped caravan, which is designed to bloom and reveal him sitting elegantly in its center.

The caravan was led by about 1000 fox spirits as well as team dimple.

Then, when A-Yao entered his court, everyone, especially Xichen dressed in red was astonished by his spellbinding beauty.

Xichen: *blushing*

Yao: *also blushing, while walking towards him*

The two became so lost on each other! Whereas team dimple was drooling over A-Yao in the corner.

Xichen: *clears throat* A-Yao....

Yao: *lowers gaze* Huan.

Xichen: *kisses his dimple*

Officiator: let's start the three bows!

Huaisang: *still dressed like a eunuch* STOP THE WEDDING!

Huaisang: You just can't marry Xichen!

Yao: *sarcasm* oh what a resourceful opinion. Rest assured, your comments will be respectfully discarded.

I thought you were under house arrest.

Huaisang: I was!

Yao: *sigh* anything else to add?

Huaisang: I had an affair with Xichen!

Team dimple: *gasps*

Xichen: ew no. That's not true.

Xue yang: Xichen is a playerrrrr.

Xichen: huaisang isn't my type.

Mo xuanyu: *crying dramatically* what if he WAS!!! WOULD YOU DO YAO GEGE LIKE THAT! And for that Nie disaster!

Su she: our hearts are broken. You have killed team dimple, Lan lips!

I'll destroy you for breaking A-Yao's heart.

Xue yang: are we really going to listen to Huaisang who's cosplaying an eunuch.

Yao: not impressed.

Huaisang: well I'm pregnant for Xichen.

Yao: Huaisang, you're a man.

Huaisang: *scoffs*

I'm tired of this! *exits*

Yao: the guy gave up so quickly.

Xichen: he has got nothing else to say.

Yao: he could have planned his script.

someone make sure that he's back in his room. And get someone to have him under surveillance.

Fuying: yes Huangdi.

Yao: how careless of me.

I'll deal with him afterwards.

Officiator: let's continue the ceremony, Huangdi.

Bow to your ancestors, the heavens and to each other.

Xiyao: *completes the ritual*

Everyone: Congratulations Huangdi and Lan gui fei!!! *cheering*

May you have a happy married life!

You're officially a member of Huangdi's harem!

Have fun in his harem!

Chuan: and we hope that you don't stress out team dimple!

Yao: *laughing slighly*

Xue yang: paid him to say that.

Su she: he's stating facts though.

Mo xuanyu: that must be said.

Trio: congratulations again, Jiggy and Lan Chicken.

Yao: heehee. Thanks team D!

Wait right here, I have to chat with some people, as they want to congratulate Huan and I.

Xue yang: yea Jiggy.

Mo xuanyu: I'm so happy for Yao gege.

Su she: yea. Even though I dislike Xichen. I just love to see my A-Yao happy.

Once he's happy, nothing else matters.

Xue yang: yea for real. And I hope Xiyao break the bed while doing papapa.

~~~

During the wedding banquet~

Team D: *judging people*

Su she: Huangdi is truly too hot for this world.

Mo xuanyu: I know right.

Xichen: *breathes*

Trio: how dare he.

Mo xuanyu: he's taking up our Yao gege's spotlight.

Xue yang: very selfish.

Xue yang: he should ask Jiggy for permission to breathe.

Su she: he doesn't have any respect for the emperor.

Mo xuanyu: poor Yao gege.

Yao: *exhales*

Trio: awww, his dimples.

Xue yang: work of art.

Mo xuanyu: baby is sleepy from all these ceremonies.

Su she: awww. He's truly majestic.

Lan zhan: team dimple.

Su she: Hanguang Jun. *death stare*

Mo xuanyu: little lips what are you doing here?

Lan zhan: it's Xiongzheng's wedding.

Xue yang: did you just say little lips? *laughing*

Mo xuanyu: yea. He's Lan lips' younger brother. So little lips.

Lan zhan: why did you bully my Xiongzheng?

Xue yang: we didn't bully him!

Lan lips can handle a test!

Lan zhan: what test?

Su she: he has to be perfect for Huangdi.

Mo xuanyu: so he must be drilled by us

Lan zhan: Xiongzheng is very ideal.

Mo xuanyu: is he ideal for Yao gege? Has he pass the dimple test!

Xue yang: it's our job to test him!

Lan zhan: dimple test?

Xue yang: that's where he has to squish Jiggy's dimple without touching his face.

Lan zhan: now how's that possible.

Su she: exactly.

Mo xuanyu: guys, stop scaring little lips.

We just gave him a shovel challenge as well as a shovel talk interview. No harm.

Xue yang: well the kitchen almost caught on fire, but.

No one got hurt!

Do you have anything to say Lan zhan?!

Su she: since that you had the audacity to question and blame team dimple.

Lan zhan: Su she, stop being a simp. Mo xuanyu, it's illegal to look like Wei ying and xue yang. You're annoying. *walks away*

Trio: *offended*

Mo xuanyu: how dare he.

Su she: he's not qualified to speak to lianfang zun.

Xue yang: mean! When have I annoyed the crusty Lan.

I just annoyed Lan Qiren.

Mo xuanyu: sometimes I don't know what's wrong with these Lans.

Su she: they're always cranky. Surprisingly Xichen isn't.

Xue yang: cuz he's Jiggy's choice.

Jiggy has an amazing taste.

Mo xuanyu: I know right. Like look at team D. We're hot as well.

Su she: but not as hot as our boss.

Zixuan: *hugs* congrats A-Yao*

Yao: thanks Zish.

Zixuan: and I hope that Xichen gives you gold things, and not twigs and well water tea.

Yao: Zish *laughing* how do you think Lans live.

Zixuan: I don't know, in a cave right?

Yao: you went to school there, lol.

Zixuan: that was their home?? Why did I think that it was a nature resort?

That clears everything up.

I was wondering why they were having classes in a nature resort.

Yao: *laughing* oh my goodness.

Zixuan: I remembered that you came in with Huaisang. You were so cute!!

I really wished that you were in class with me.

Yao: that would have been so fun.

Zixuan: sadly I was stuck with that annoying Wei wuxian and the rest of people I can't remember their name.

Oh! And A-li! Of course. She was the normal one in the class.

Yao: aww.

Zixuan: you were so cute and young! Well still are.

But you were such a young and humble hulijing emperor.

Yao: yea. I'm always humble. Also I was trying to climb the social ladder.

Zixuan: as you should. You deserve to be a Jin. And you were treated unfairly.

Xichen: wait...why did you think that my home was a nature resort.

Zixuan: because it was smaller than Jinlintai and was close to nature. Duhh.

By the way, your food was a bit plain. Can you tell your chefs to improve.

Xichen: b..but.....*sighs* yes Huangdi.

#jin guangyao #dimpledlianfang #su she #the huli jing emperor #su minshan #mdzs #meng yao #xue yang #mo xuanyu #mo dao zu shi

[bellewintersroe]

Can I have a band of brothers ship please :D

Pronouns:she/her

My looks: i am 5'1 and i have very long curly brown hair( not so curly at the bottom because it's damaged as hell from bleaching it 💀) i have brown eyes petite i got an olive skin tone

I'm naturally very quiet but if i see something i find hilarious or someone acting a fool i will without a doubt start making jokes at there expense or just in general about the situation haha. I am a very loyal friend though and will stand up for my friends despite my lack of muscles

I love baking and watching movies and my aesthetic is fairy grunge and i am Sagittarius infp :D

thank you for your request!! <3

I ship you with… George Luz!!

Who doesn’t love George, seriously?

I don’t know why but the first thing I thought was that Luz definitely loves his partners hair!

he’d constantly have his fingers curled in there (he’d deffo get them stuck when your asleep and you’d be awoken RUDELY by Luz trying to detangle the mess he’s made).

whether your hair is brown or you bleach it, he’s wowwwwwwed by how it compliments your face.

when you first start seeing one another as friends, he’s mesmerised by your eyes, you’d literally be given puppy eyes every time you made eye contact. It would be so difficult to not fall for him 100%.

maybe because you’re a little on the quiet side, George is super calm around you at first rather than bombing you with jokes and puns.

but when you see, let’s say Cobb, acting like a drunken fool, and you start cracking the jokes and laughing your ass off George is in literal AWE.

He literally says out loud “where da hell did that come from?!” But he doesn’t question it for too long because he’s too amused by your outburst.

gets SO SO SO excited around you, Perconte deffo has to be like “Luz calm down you’re gonna scare the poor girl away.”

but he doesn’t, you give him a funny kinda smile one day and Luz is confident enough to ask you straight out- of course you say yes.

I feel like nobody would ever try threaten, intervene or get involved in your argument. You both are such a lovable pair that everybody would probably go out of their way to spend time with you.

the first time you see Luz serious it would probably make you feel a little shy??? Idk, you’re so used to seeing him all joking and laughing, so when he’s calm and literally just relaxing you probably think something is wrong?

But no, Luz can be calm no matter how much golden retriever energy he gives off.

let’s say you’re baking a cake, if he’s in a chilled out mood, he definitely would come up behind you, wrapping his arms around your wait and rest his head on top of yours.

“You’re really short, y’know that?” Yeah, thanks for reminding me every single day Luz.

would never ever ever take a joke too far with you, he couldn’t think of anything worse than seeing you upset. When he does he wants to cry too.

omg he’d hold you so close and so tight, he’d mutter words of reassurance to you- and he’d be sooo good at this omg.

even when you were just hugging in general Luz would hold you so tightly.

a Sagittarius and a Gemini is a match made in heaven ;)

The both have you different interests, but I feel like you’d both be super open to trying each others out. This would make great fun for spontaneous date nights- I can imagine the fun you’d have together would be amazing.

luz would 1000% take you on holidays (vacations) as much as he could possibly afford. He loves getting away with you, even if it is just to the neighbouring state. He will always fine something to do with you.

he puts SO much energy into the relationship, yet it works so flawlessly because the two of you would make such good friends as well as lovers.

I truly believe that the key to such a fun, long lasting relationship is to be best friends with your partner, and this is what you and Luz are 🥰🥰🥰

#Band of brothers ships

[incarnateirony]

Oh my god it really is only hitting the thick sods trying to hate argue with me that I've literally been using videos to leak the plot for a year in a way their ignorant asses couldn't even start fights about because they lacked the interest to find the context to argue to begin with

oh my god

they still haven't realized the metanarrative WHAT

OH MY GOD

THIS IS JUST GONNA KEEP MOWING THEM DOWN WITH REALIZATIONS ALL SUMMER ISNT IT

NOT EVEN LIKE JUST MY SHIT

LIKE ALL OF TPTB'S SHIT. JUST HOW DEEPLY THEY'RE SOCIALLY AND SYSTEMICALLY FUCKED NOW

LIKE THEY'RE FINDING IT A PIECE AT A TIME LATE

O H M Y G O D

yall i'm not even kidding, your expiration dates are so far past due here that you are literally going to be excavating how embarrassed you should be all year.

Here's a fun one. Where was the beyonce leak from for alien superstar to drop just to take the piss and leak about roxy and adjacent plot

wild shit right

you guys literally do not comprehend everyone has your number AND already blocked it oh my god KJDFKSDJFS?????? YALL GO CHECK MY VIDEOS THE LAST YEAR THEN DELETE YOUR ACCOUNT

NOBODY CARES IF YOU THINK ITS FAIR, NOBODY CARES IF YOU DONT WANT TO BELIEVE IT WHY ARE YOU STILL TRYING TO SPAM MY NOTES WHEN I AM LITERALLY LIKE, I DO NOT WANT TO ARGUE WITH YOU IDIOTS. I LITERALLY DEVISED AN ENTIRE LEAK STRUCTURE TO AVOID YOU CLUELESS **fucking** IDIOTS ARGUING WITH ME WASTING MY TIME

JESUS CHRIST, NOBODY LIKES YOU, STOP WASTING AIR. fucking listen to the words coming out of my keyboard for one time in your fucking life without preloading an argument without reason. You have been outplayed in ways you will be digging out until you're old and gray, if you don't give up in embarrassment and your sunken costs first.

Nobody that matters cares what you think, myself included. Nobody has to prove anything to you. You're still the one angry, confused and lost. I'm the one with 2 years of leaks you were too stupid and argumentative to understand at all, because you were too busy trying to argue it piece by piece to witness the whole thing building out into what it was always foretold to be. Stop. Stop trying to argue with me. I literally do not care if you do not want to believe me. Stop showing up to tell me how much you don't believe the thing I'm not trying to argue with you, because you're mad at the result and don't know where else to direct your anger. And deep down, you know the closest responsible target, but I Do Not Care.

We've got our new gay better supernatural with destiel and hookers, and you're not invited, and you can be as mad as you want. But it isn't changing. Dean will not rest until he finds the peace that he did not have in the original ending, which isn't Sam or anyone else. Act as clueless as you want, lower yourself as low as you are willing to go, but don't pretend you can't see what's happened just because an actor was overbooked, or what they've said the following seasons will be. Guys it's over. Believe however we got here however you want but stop arguing with me. You said Jensen calls the shots. His shot means he needs to face Cas to ever even let himself into heaven to meet Sam, cuz that ain't enough. Good shit, eat my dust and suck on my dick.

[the-silver-peahen-residence]

A nsfw drabble for mr. constantine and mr. solishart please, the sage giving the investigator the love and affection he deserves, letting john have angel food cake ;D

((Alright, lets see what I can write for you my dear. Just to let you know, my writing is not good but will have some errors and stuff. This is all for fun after all but I hope you like it.))

Silver butterfly mun/peahen mom

"Oh come now, Mr. Constantine. Their is no need to be all shy all of a sudden. I won't bite~"

John was flushed not believing this was really happening! At first, it was him being invited to his home to know more about Angel. Now, here he was sitting on his bed with the other who was laying against him. His eyes looked right into his own, a hand resting on his chest to savor the moment. His lips were brushing against his neck, leaving love bites after a kiss.

"I uhhh...I know you won't bite but I was not expecting my night to end up like this." He did admit, Angel looked really breathtaking like this but he was already getting a lovely gaze from the sage. Geez, if only looks would kill he would have died and gone to heaven.

"Oh? Well, seems this night is a big changer for both of us. You done so much and helped stop the little problem in town. So, that only deserves a reward now don't it?" He slide his hand down John's chest hearing a slight shiver from the hellblazer. Even his touch was nice! John just groans to hear a soft chuckle from Angel that leans in close that their lips almost touched.

"See? Your even being precious right now, growing so heated from a slight. touch." As he speaks, his fingers move down his chest now resting on his thigh. He can see John blushing more that he only grips the bed sheets seeing this man teasing him. At first, he looks quiet then heard the sage sigh.

"I get the feeling you been wanting to do this with me because I am in your thoughts..your dreams. Seems you been thinking about me. Of having a chance to touch me or so much more?"

"............"

"Even now your being too precious. No worries, I can always still reward you for being so-" As soon as he speaks, his lips got caught by the others making the sage silent. His lips were warm but hot while seeing John kissing him for that moment before he breaks the kiss holding Angel's cheeks.

He can see that the kiss got him to relax but he was not expecting the other to sudden kiss him so soon. John looks to him only to try thinking of what he can say.

"If you wish to reward me, at least let me do that too. It's not fair you do that to me but not you." He mutters softly that as he tries to kiss the other's lips he just leans up against him as they made out slowly. Feeling the touching of their lips and hands, John ran his fingers through Angel's red hair to hear the angel break the kiss.

"Already getting eager hmm?" He panted softly to smirk at him as he sits up to look down at the other. However, John panted seeing him look down till noticing his hands.

"Well then...if your really eager to keep going with this. I'll be more happy to enjoy this too." He moves his hands up to start undoing his shirt, releasing a button at a time to show off his chest for him. John saw him and slowly exposing his glory to him.

Damn, he's already losing it but he kept himself calm when the last button was gone to Angel looking down at him. "Like what you see?" He saw John nod slowly to touch his cheek but his other hand was resting on his lower stomach again.

"Since you caught my interest over the last few days, you get the chance to really see stars." He gives John a soft kiss but he feels him holding his hand even if it slips down his pants to feel him.

John breaks the kiss with a soft moan but heard Angel chuckle. His touch was hot too! It felt pretty good to lean his head back. The sage's hands were like magic till he heard some unbuckling of his jeans with Angel stroking him slowly feeling how excited he was.

"Oh my, already eager hmm?" He chuckles to even kiss the tip a little to see John sit up looking at him.

"I hope you like sweets because tonight, you'll be getting my special Angel cake. It's to die for~" he winks before kissing his neck. This was going to be a fun night.

#OOC #scattered silver rose petals #ask answered #mun answered #silver butterfly mun #peahen mom #the mansion owner #John and Angel #sageofjustice #short drabble #gold angel fantasy book #peahen writer

[jamiepelaez]

10/06/10 Ayden's 17th birthday in Heaven has started off to a great start! Benny our dog slept through the whole night instead of waking me up 2-3x to go to the bathroom outside since we moved to our temp place on 9/12. Taking him outside is quite the trek and since there is no fenced-in area, it's a trek and wait which isn't so fun in the middle of your sleep cycle, lol! Which means I slept uninterrupted for the first time in weeks! Halleluyah! It was also the first morning that we didn't wake up to rain, wind and chill-you-to-the-bone weather (that lasted all day & evening) in days. Another blessing! This morning I got to start collaborating on branding for Anna and her chill partner in music Chris. Thank you both for trusting me to help represent your purpose & vision! Another blessing! I got an early morning text from the sweet soul Ilene, who was thinking of Ayden, Jaya, and me and spoke some beautiful thoughts and love over us. Thank you again Ilene! Another blessing! Spoke to my dad James, who is in good spirits and had some good news about his pup Pablo. Another blessing! This morning our business got approved to round II of the lending process at Kiva to help us launch Enter Shaolin 2.0! Thanks to Michael, Klaus, Rick, Tamieca, Eddy, Domenic, Marlon, Lee, USWNT Players Impact Fund, Long, and 8 Anonymous lenders that made that happen with plenty of time to spare! Another blessing! See what we are doing here: https://www.kiva.org/lend/2447187 Larry and I also finalized what we will be offering and helping others with, aka giving back to other Entrepreneurs/Creatives and offering the skills that helped us build our purpose-driven business Enter Shaolin! More on that soon! Another blessing! And because the sun is shining and bonus it is in the 70s, I not only grounded, I soaked in some Vit. D! Both which I greatly needed after this wild stormy cold front we had. Halleluyah! And well the day isn't over yet! I cannot wait to see what Abba has in store for the rest of Ayden's 17th. Thank you, Father! https://www.instagram.com/p/CjjtxRnDMMp/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[uramichislefttiddie]

Life Lessons With Uramichi Oniisan Alphabet

||Contains: Uramichi Omota + Iketeru Daga||

||Warnings: NSFW||

Reminder! Please don’t comment anything that implies your age, I cannot stop who reads this unfortunately but I can at the very least give out a warning that this contains nsfw content.⚠️

please forgive me I could not stop laughing whilst writing this, I had to skip specific words because it did not sound right to me and my childish behaviour😭

Uramichi Omota:

A: Aftercare (how they treat you afterwards)

If anything all this man will want to do is try and get a good nights rest even if it means only a couple hours of sleep. He will make sure however you are cleaned up and are alright before he deals with himself. He’d never leave you to care for yourself, he always makes sure he cares for you first. He’s very touch starved meaning he makes sure he gets cuddles and kisses before you both drift off into a slumber!

B: Body (his fav part of his body and yours)

His favourite body part on himself most likely would be his muscles specifically his toned arms, I mean he’s a former gymnast so what can you expect? On you his favourite part would be either ass or thighs, the reason mainly being it’s something he can rest on, or another reason being he loves to mark your thighs up not caring if anyone can see, also he just genuinely likes groping your ass however he’ll only do that in privacy, he’d rather not have the risk of someone having just witnessed him groping your ass in public. In make out sessions always expect his hands to be roaming either along your thighs or ass there’s no other option it could be.

C: Cum (well I’m pretty sure you can gather what I mean)

Majority of the time he will make sure to not cum inside you meaning hell either do it over your face or body, however once in awhile if you allow him he will not pass up the opportunity to cum inside you. When I say once in awhile, Uramichi will try and make it near enough every time that you allow him to cum inside, he just loves the idea of having the risk you could end up with having his children. (Russian roulette type beat/j) and a plus to him is that if he can cum in you it means less cleaning to do.

D: Dirty Secret (a secret of theirs that they haven’t told)

Now I get a strong sense that this man really wants to try bondage with ropes especially, wether it be you that’s tied up or him he doesn’t care either way he really wants to try it. But he doesn’t want to scare you off by asking so he still hasn’t mentioned it and he doesn’t want you to start making fun off him about it💀 however you’ve had an inkling for awhile that he’s got something about being tied up.

E: Experiance (Do they know what they’re doing?)

Now he may be 31 years of age but this man has never gone past kissing someone before he met you. You were his first and oh boy he had no clue what he was doing, mainly because he was nervous and couldn’t comprehend what was truly happening. He has watched his fair share of porn etc but when it came down to actually doing it himself he mind had become fog. Overtime though he’s come to learn what you like best and least and has took that into account and now it’s as if he’s been doing it for years.

F: Favourite Position (which he prefers to do)

Now he’ll most likely switch between a mating press or doggy style. The reasoning for mating press is it allows him to be more face to face to you and he can see your face during it which turns him on even more. And let’s be real he more than likely has a breeding kink. So mating press + breeding kink = heaven to him. Now the reason for doggy style is because he loves having your bare ass slam against him and watching it jiggle when he slaps it. He also loves leaving marks on your hips meaning doggy style makes that all the easier.

G: Goofy (do they laugh or are they the serious type)

Uramichi is probably the type of be serious, he might laugh there and than every so often if something a bit funny happens but overall he’s pretty much serious and that’s just him.

H: Hairy (shave? Unshaven?)

Unshaven, however he will trim it if you ask him to, but seeing as he’s 31 I think he couldn’t care less about body hair as it’s normal and he just sees it as a waste of time to have to repeatedly shave.

I: Intamicy (how they’re like in bed)

80% of the time he will be rough, releasing out all the pent up anger and frustration, but he still makes sure your ok. Although there will be them days where he just wants to be more romantic than rough and his whole demeanour will have flipped upside down and he’ll be acting all lovey dovey. Plus most definitely a switch.

J: Jack Off (Do they? Or not?)

Nah, not really, if he’s in that type of mood and your not with him he’ll either wait or come meet you wherever you are so he can get relief.

K: Kink (What kinks they have)

Gagging, Breeding, Bondage, Dacryphilia, cockwarming

L: Length (how big they are)

He’s more girthy than long, he’s probably about 6 inches which is a good length all in all.

M: Motivation (what gets them going)

When you start whining at him for attention or if you raise your voice at him because oh boy that really does set off something in him when you raise your voice.

N: No (something they will not do)

Knife play or anything that could seriously harm you even by accidental.

O: Oral (which they prefer)

He prefers giving than receiving but once in awhile he’d just want you to be the one giving it to him and making him fall under your touch.

P: Pace (how fast they go)

He’s not necessarily fast but rather hard. By that I mean he will go full force into you where both yours skins slap against each other and where he will grunt a lot which oh boy is hot.

Q: Quicke (do they do them?)

Surprisingly he does them a lot seeing as he has work 6 days a week which really only leaves him with one day where it can just be you and him all day. So either he’ll do one in the morning or at night but it depends if he’s feeling too tired after work.

R: Risk (are they one for taking a risk?)

Now he’ll hate someone interrupting so he always makes sure you both do it where the chances of getting interrupted are reduced drastically, plus it’d be very embarrassing for someone to walk in. Usahara now always make sure to knock before making his grand entrance into his apartment. The risk of you getting pregnant kinda excites him in a way so you gotta watch out with this man.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can they go for)

On an average he can last around 2-3 rounds but on a very good day it feels like it’s never ending, he just needs that motivation if you get me.

T: Toys (do they use them)

No. He’s never really been into them and they’ve never sparked his interest.

U: Unfair (are they fair)

He’s quite fair to be honest, he makes sure you both equally get what you both want but there can be times he can be a tease when he’s in one of them type of moods.

V: Volume (how loud they are)

Majority of the time he lets out grunts rather than moans, he gets embarrassed if he moans however after the time you told him you like it when does he doesn’t hold back anymore but like I said most of the time he grunts and breathes heavily.

X: X-ray (what they’re like under there)

Like I said, more girthy than long.

Y: Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

It’s shockingly quite high, although it may not show when he’s near you expect him to be quite touchy most of the time waiting for you to get the signal. In simple terms he’s quite the horn dog.

Z: Zzz (how fast they go to sleep afterwards)

I’ll say it straight. He goes to sleep incredibly fast, but he won’t before he makes sure your cleaned up and settled down!

Iketeru Daga

A: Aftercare (how they treat you afterwards)

This boy will give you the best aftercare ever. You hungry? Ok he’ll go make something for you. You want to go for a drive? Ok he’ll take you for a drive. You want a shower/bath? Ok he’ll go prepare you one. You understand me now. He will double check your ok and cleaned up as best as possible. Will always make sure you’ve gone to the toilet afterwards and have had some water. Will fall asleep with you in his arms always whilst reading to you.

B: Body (his fav part of his body and yours)

His favourite part of his body will be his hands, not only because they’re pleasing to the eye but because he knows his long fingers can make you come undone very quickly and easily and that gives him somewhat of a boost. His favourite part of your body to him will be your lips, he loves the feeling of them when he kisses you or when your kissing him anywhere (😏 /j)

C: Cum (well I’m pretty sure you can gather what I mean)

He loves seeing his cum dripping down your face, the way it leaves a shine along your face just looks so pretty to him. So he prefers to cum over your face or in your mouth to where he can see it dripping down yourself. Don’t get me wrong he’d love to cum in you but he’s responsible and would rather wait until you both want a child so he doesn’t need to worry about getting you pregnant.

D: Dirty Secret (a secret of theirs that they haven’t told)

He likes to be choked. Awhile back you had no clue until you accidentally did and that’s when the game got even more interesting. He really just overall loves seeing you in charge.

E: Experiance (Do they know what they’re doing?)

He’s had a few girlfriends in the past but never gone as far as to do more than make out with them, he’s always said he’d save it for the when the right person comes along and he knows it the right person. But he very much does know what he’s doing, he knows how to make you feel good, he’s done plenty of research.

F: Favourite Position (which he prefers to do)

Reverse cowgirl. He absolutely loves you riding him and if it means reverse cowgirl it allows him to smack your ass and fondle it, also allows him to easily guide you with your hips. Damn he goes berserk when your in this position I tell you.

G: Goofy (do they laugh or are they the serious type)

Do I even need to say? Of course he’s going to be goofy, the man laughs at dick jokes. However once he starts laughing that’s it, he won’t be able to stop for awhile, it’s honestly become uncontrollable.

H: Hairy (shave? Unshaven?)

Honestly, he leaves it down to you and what you prefer, he doesn’t mind if you prefer shaven or not either way he’ll go with what you like.

I: Intamicy (how they’re like in bed)

Probably the slow but long stroke type of guy. He loves the way you start to become impatient and fidgety. He loves the look in your eyes when he’s facing you.

J: Jack Off (Do they? Or not?)

He only will if he hasn’t seen you for a few days or hasn’t been able to do anything with you. He prefers doing it with you actually.

K: Kink (What kinks they have)

Choking, Food Play, Cockwarming, Spit, Praise

L: Length (how big they are)

Longer than girthy, he reaches about 7.5 inches, he can definitely reach the high spots.

M: Motivation (what gets them going)

When you start to praise him, especially with “good boy” that will get him going almost immediately, it just switches something on in his mind so very quickly.

N: No (something they will not do)

He’s willing to try most things as long as you feel safe and he feels safe and you both know to be careful and know how far to go with everything.

O: Oral (which they prefer)

He prefers receiving than giving, he just loves being able to watch you go down on him and struggle. But when you want some he will be more than happy to give.

P: Pace (how fast they go)

Life I previously said, he’s the type of guy that goes slow but he makes sure he’s hitting all the right spots that you like and that gets you going.

Q: Quicke (do they do them?)

He prefers to not have them but if it comes down to it and you really want one he will do so, but don’t expect it to become a regular thing.

R: Risk (are they one for taking a risk?)

Oh he’s scarred many peoples eyes and mind because he simply “forgot” to lock the door and close the curtains/blinds. Poor Uramichi as if he hadn’t enough going on. He doesn’t really want to risk getting you pregnant though, so he will use a condom.

S: Stamina (how many rounds can they go for)

He can go for a straight 3 or more rounds, it normally stops when it’s you that can’t take anymore not the other way round, he always waits until you’ve had your pleasure before he’ll stop.

T: Toys (do they use them)

Now he’d never admit it, but before you two started being sexual he had quite the few toys. He most likely had a flashlight, tenga egg and a cock ring for example. Them type of ones.

U: Unfair (are they fair)

He’s the fairest of them all, he’d make sure your getting what you need and than sort himself out, he’s never once been unfair to you.

V: Volume (how loud they are)

Now…this mans a full on moaner and he has no shame about it. He honestly has that type of pretty moan too, where he whimpers at the same time and he will not look away either. Oh and if your the one sucking him off, be prepared because he can’t hold back at all, it’s honestly like heaven to him.

X: X-ray (what they’re like under there)

As already said he’s quite long compared to others, he reaches about 7.5 inches.

Y: Yearning (how high is their sex drive)

Probably around average but if you get him going well-

Z: Zzz (how fast they go to sleep afterwards)

Will not go to sleep no matter what before you, it always has to be you that falls asleep first before he can fall into a slumber. He always wants to know your safe. And plus if you’ve fallen asleep he will clean you up if you haven’t already, and will leave some water and paracetamol next to you for when you wake up and if he leaves before you in the morning or wakes up before you he’ll always leave a little note next to you too.

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