#instead of catering to what will sell the best
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ur tabletop takes are fucking insufferable i can't stand the constant 5e hate coming from u and ur clique
what does it matter if i want to use 5e to play everying, do u want me to learn a new game for every setting? let people play what they want, u have no right to tell me what to play
Lemme screenshot something real quick.
Like. If you find my opinions so insufferable then good news! you aren't forced to look at my blog or the blog of any of the handful of intense weirdos who agree with me. Blogs that post nothing but 5e content outnumber us dozens to one, go follow those instead.
WotC has largely succeeded in getting every mainstream space within this hobby to cater to people who think exactly like you. The idea that it's okay to never branch out from d&d and you can hack d&d for any setting you wanna play doesn't need to be defended, it's the default opinion in this hobby.
Go to any popular tabletop space and the most common response you'll find to "i want to play a game set in ______" is "here's how to reskin d&d for it". Many publishers are releasing 5e conversions of their non-d&d games, or straight up ditching their own in-house systems in favor of 5e because they know they won't sell enough to stay afloat otherwise. Go to the RPG section of a bookstore and non-5e material will take up at best a tiny fraction of the shelf space if there is any at all.
You won. Your opinion is the dominant one and still you can't resist the urge to butt in on the little spaces that people who don't agree with it have carved for ourselves just to rile yourself up about the fact that people who don't share the dominant opinion exist at all.
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All Access Card {Mando x F!Reader}
Rating: Explicit
Word Count: 12.6k
Warnings: Sex work/prostitution, bondage, spanking, sub/dom tones, unprotected sex, oral sex (male receiving), thigh riding, threats of death, removing helmet, pregnancy
Comments: Instead of credits like he was promised, Mando is given a card to one of the most exclusive brothels in the outer rim. There is one that caters to Mandalorians and when Mando decides to go, he finds much more than just satisfaction.
Co-written with @storiesofthefandomlovers
|| MasterList ||
Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.
The black t visor of the shiny helmet tilts down, staring at the card that has been extended to him, then slowly easing back up. “This wasn’t the deal.” The modulated tone was flat and would have caused a lesser being to flinch under the harshness that could be interpreted from the essentially monotone statement.
Instead, the Togruta laughs, shaking his head and smirking at the Mandalorian in front of him. “No, this is much, much better.” He insists, turning over the card and flashing the bright red logo before he presses into Mando’s leather clad hand. “This guarantees you access to the most exclusive sex club in the galaxy.” He winks and chuckles as he steps back. “You’re welcome. Just don’t get too addicted. Those cards are worth more than most ships in the realm.”
Mando watches the man practically glide away from him without stopping him. Sighing, he looks down at the card in his hand. “Great.” He mutters, tired and ready to return to the covert to figure out what he needs to do next.
When Din returns to the covert, card in hand, Paz immediately notices it. “What do you have there, Djarin?” He grabs it from his hand and his eyes widen under his helmet. “Kriff, you lucky - this is - it’s for that place.” He declares and Din sighs.
“What place?”
Paz chuckles, “you haven’t heard of it? It’s the best place in the galaxy. A sex club and there’s women there who cater to Mandos. They know we can’t remove our helmets, they work around it. You gotta go there and ask for a certain girl. That’s what I’ve heard and I - I’ll take the card if you don’t want it. That’s worth more credits than I have but I’ll give you something if you don’t want the experience. I’ve heard it’s incredible.”
Din scoffs, plucking the card back out of Paz’s grip and tucking it into his belt. He doesn’t want the damn thing but he is damned if he will let that big blue bastard have it. Maybe he will go and see if he can exchange it for credit at the club itself. Surely he can since that is probably where the card came from. “I need to clean up.” He grumbles, shuffling past Paz and down the hall to the small quarters he was assigned in the covert.
When the Mandalorian enters the club after showing the card, everyone knows. Din gets tired of the eyes on him wherever he goes but he is used to it. With a sigh, he makes his way over to the gilded desk, surrounded by what appears to be receptionists. “Hello Mando. How can we help? Are you here to see our Mando tamer?” The twi’lek asks with a smirk, holding out her hand with a smirk.
Din shakes his head and holds up the card. “I want to exchange this for the value in credits.” He tells her, catching sight of scantily clad men and women of all species roaming around. His cock twitches, but he’s not here to indulge. He rarely indulges in his personal needs.
“Sorry. Those cards are coveted. We don’t do exchanges. You can, however, give that card to someone in exchange for credits. Many people would chop your hand off for a chance to even hold one of those cards. It’s one of the most sought after things in the galaxy. I’d suggest you try it at least once. It’s unlimited. Never expires. You can try whatever you fancy here and then try to sell it on.”
Din’s brows raise up under his helmet. He’s never heard of something like this but he doesn’t search out brothels often. Usually just a quick fuck behind a cantina with someone who is obviously enamored with the idea of a Mandalorian suited his needs. “Alright.” Din sighs again and looks around. “There was someone who specializes in Mandalorians?”
The twi’lek nods, “she is available now if you wish to see her.” Din nods and the twi’lek sends a communication to your room to alert you that you have a client. Thankfully, you are on your shift and this is your first customer, allowing you to look your best in the sheer gown that covers you but is translucent.
“Send him in.” You respond and the twi’lek grins, guiding Din through the lounge to the private corridors. Moans and groans echo down that hall until the twi’lek reaches the last door, swiping the card to unlock your room.
“Have fun Mando.” She winks and sways her hips as she walks down the hall.
Din steps into the room, carefully looking around. Despite the advertisement that this is a pleasure house, he still has to be wary of anyone looking to trap or double cross him. The lighting is low, but clear enough that he can see the opulent room, various toys and tools for sex nearly lined up along the wall. The bed, large and in the center of the space is covered in silky sheets and there is a woman curled up in the middle.
"Hello Mando." You greet him, shocked at seeing a Mandalorian in your room. It's been a while and this one has beautiful beskar, shining and new. It's gorgeous. "Welcome. What kind of pleasure do you seek? Do you want to fuck or be fucked?" You ask, shifting off of the bed to stand. Slowly, knowing that Mandos can be spooked.
Din gulps under his helmet, slowly taking in your curves and the expanse of undoubtedly soft skin. There’s so much of it on display, from your nipples to the soft curls that cover your cunt, right down to your brightly painted toes. “What do you want?” He asks suddenly, surprising you and himself by the question.
"I want whatever you want." You walk towards him, looking up at his visor, and you tentatively reach out to run your fingers along the shiny beskar. "I like your beskar. Clan of two." You murmur, remembering your own clan of two but that is not what you need to focus on right now.
He tilts his head, surprised that you know that. The small etching on his signet giving it away. Maybe it’s because of your familiarity with Mandalorians. “I am in charge.” Din decides, knowing that he will feel more comfortable with that arrangement.
You nod, "you are in charge. I have blindfolds if you wish to remove your helmet. If not, you can keep it on. You are in control and I am yours to do what you want with. I will tell you my limits. I do not want knife play, no watersports or scat. Other than that, I am yours to use." You tell him, excited already at the idea of the Mandalorian taking you. You always get turned on at the feel of the beskar, so familiar, and comfortable.
Din groans quietly. He’s never taken his helmet off with a lover, blindfolded or not. Never wanting to risk something happening. “That’s acceptable.” He nods, stepping closer to you and seeing the look in your eyes at the shiny, unpainted beskar. “You can touch it.” He allows, wondering if you have an armor kink.
Your hand slides along the beskar, your eyes flicking up to the visor, and for a moment, you wonder what he looks like beneath it. “It’s beautiful.” You declare, admiring his form as he looms over you. “Would you like to touch me?” You ask, wanting to feel his hands - gloved or not - on your skin.
“Yes.” He does want to touch you, wants to see if your skin feels as soft as it looks. He reaches out, not removing his glove and strokes a finger up your arm. “I don’t remove anything.” He tells you, explaining previous encounters. “But I want to touch you with my bare hands.”
“You can do that. I don’t discuss anything to do with my client. Anything that happens here will be confidential. Even your bare hands. Can I?” You ask, reaching for his glove and his helmet nods. You grip the edge, pulling the glove off to expose his hand. “Both?” You ask and he nods again. You repeat the action on the other hand so both are exposed and you wait for him to make the next move after you carefully set the gloves down.
His stomach twists in anticipation, he’s had a barrier between him and the galaxy since he had sworn the Creed. He had never touched someone without his gloves since then. Inhaling a deep breath, he reaches out, unaware that his hand is trembling slightly and caresses your cheek.
You feel the tremor in his hand and you stay still, letting him lead. It’s clear he has touched anyone since he took the Creed and you won’t rush him. Tilting your head to allow him to explore however he wants. “Feel good?” You ask, a little breathless from how intimate this is. Most of your clients would be inside of you by now.
His hand slides down the column of your throat and he pauses with his hand there, watching your chest expand in a deep breath. Notating that for later. “It does.” He agrees, fingers webbing out over your skin and down to your breast where he cups it, groaning over how soft you are. “You said I could have anything I wanted?”
You are already wet. This imposing Mandalorian has enthralled you with a simple touch you find yourself willing to do whatever he wants, your unusually submissive side coming out. “Whatever you want, Mando.” You promise, fingers twitching with the need to touch him but you refrain.
He groans again. “Okay.” He pinches your nipple and loves the way your lashes flutter. “What about bondage?” He asks. He’s not the type to take without asking, not from a sexual partner. “Can I tie you up, Mesh’la?”
The idea of this mandalorian tying you up and doing what he wants to you has you dripping. “Yes. Maker, yes. You can tie me up.” You respond a little pathetically. It’s been so long since someone was so in tune with what you wanted despite you being there to service your clients.
“You like that.” Din hums, Slightly amused and pinches your nipple again. You respond so beautifully. “I think you like a bit of pain with your pleasure.” He observes, reaching up to cup your other breast and squeezes it roughly.
“Mando.” You whimper, tilting your head back in pleasure. “I do like it. I love it. Not - usually I’m in charge. That’s what most men want. They want to be out of control but I know you want control, don’t you? You want to be in charge. To use me.”
Din groans under his helmet, hissing slightly. “Yes.” He reaches down and grips your hip to pull you closer to him. Dragging you against his chest. “Show me your ropes.” He orders.
You are soaked, watching him methodically tie you up and it seems so natural to him despite you knowing he hasn’t done this before. He must be a bounty hunter. The thought makes a whimper escape your lips. “Thank you.” You offer when he finishes and you look into the mirror across the room, admiring the way he has you tied up and standing.
“Do you want the blindfold?” He asks, holding up a black scrap of fabric. “Add sensory deprivation? Or do you want to see what I do to you?”
“It’s up to you. You want to take your helmet off? I - if you aren’t, I want to see you.” You tell him, knowing that he will be a sight to behold if this is the first time he’s doing this.
“Helmet stays on.” Din tells you, still uncomfortable with the idea of removing it. It’s a loophole in the Creed, to use a blindfold, but he doesn’t want to test it. Even if no one but you would know, he would know. “Look at you.” His helmet slides up and down as he looks at your bound body. “I can do whatever I want to you. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”
You can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips. “You can do whatever you want to me, Mando. Want you to- to touch me however you want. I’m yours to use.” You offer, watching him as he walks around your bound body, the beskar shining under the lights.
He doesn’t know where to start. There is so much that he wants to see, so much to do now that he’s given into the idea of doing this. Din stands behind you and draws his hand back, slapping your ass harshly.
You gasp, loving seeing this dominating side coming out of the silent but lethal mandalorian. "Maker." You hiss in both pleasure and pain. You love being treated like this. Your kinks are being explored, unlike your clients who want you to spank them. This is what you want. "Again." You order, impatient as always.
“Hush.” His hand snakes around you, gripping your jaw in a tight hold. His helmet presses against your ear and the cool beskar soothes the sting of the slap. “You get what I give you.” He growls, enjoying the way that you are begging for him.
You let out a whimper that you’ve never heard from yourself before. “Yes, Mando.” You squeak, allowing yourself to give yourself to him like he wants. “I’ll take what you give me.” You agree, fingers flexing around the silks.
“Good girl, Mesh’la.” Din has never played like this before, never taken his time and indulged and he wants to do everything. His hands slide around you, down your stomach and over your mound. “Does it make you wet, knowing you’re at my mercy?” He asks roughly, cock hard in his flight suit and pressing against your ass.
“Yes Mando. I’m soaking wet for you. Because of you. You could do anything to me right now and I’d be happy. Just please.” You want to beg him to touch you but you know you can’t, that will make him mad. “Please Mando.” You whine when his fingers hover over your clit.
He chuckles, aborning your whine and wishing he could save it, keep it for when he’s alone in the Crest. So different from the pleas for freedom, or their lives that bounties give him. “I’ve got you.” He promises, swirling his fingers around your folds and before he sinks them into your cunt.
“Oh fuck!” You cry, eyes closing as his thick digits push deep into your pussy without warning. “Yes that’s it, Mando. Maker, your fingers - they are so big.” You pant. You want to tangle your fingers in his hair but you can’t. Your eyes open and you look in the mirror, seeing his frame crowding you and you watch his fingers push deep as he starts to pump them.
His own visor looks to the mirror, the startling contrast of skin and beskar turning him on even more than he could imagine as he watches you. His fingers, his skin disappearing into your cunt and being sucked deeper with every gasping flutter. “Fuck, you’re going to feel so good.” He huffs, drawing his other hand back and slapping your ass while he curls his fingers up.
You cry out when his fingers pump deep and his other hand smacks your ass. You wish you could see his face, knowing his eyes look unhinged, but you can’t. You know it wouldn’t be right. “Fuck Mando. It’s so good. You’re gonna make me cum.” You practically sob, nails digging into your palms.
His hand grips your ass, massaging it until he feels something. Pulling back and looking down as he spreads your cheeks wider, finding a small plug in your ass. “Beskar?” He asks, bewildered.
“A gift from an old client.” You lie, cheeks burning as you realize how it comes across and you hope he doesn’t mind. “I like to keep a plug in just in case someone wants to fuck my ass.” You reveal, trying to grind down as his fingers have stopped moving inside of you.
Din hisses at the thought, gripping the plug and twisting it while he starts pumping his fingers again. “I might.” He growls. “I might fill up both holes tonight, let you drip my cum out of both.”
“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Yes, Mando. You’re gonna make me cum. Gonna make me - oh shit!” You squeal, clamping down on his fingers when he twists the plug again, and you swear you’ve never felt such pleasure before. You almost black out.
Shocked that he’s already made you cum, Din growls as he works you through it. He knows that he’s good with his hands, he tries to make sure his partners are satisfied, but rarely is he watching their face when they fall over the edge like he is with you. Pumping them even harder into you while they squelch and your cum drips down his wrist and absorbs into the shirt under his vambrace.
When he works you through it, you swear you could cum again. Leaning against him as the silks hold your weight, your head lolls and you haven’t cum that hard in forever. You don’t think you ever have. Not even by your own hand. “Mando.” You whimper, chest heaving as your heart pounds.
He can tell you are overwhelmed. His fingers quickly pull out of you and reach for the ropes. Steadily working to free you of the bindings before he carries your relaxed body over the bed and lays you down.
You frown when he lays you down and stands up straight. “Do you not - don’t you want to fuck me?” You reach for him, hands shaking a little as you watch the Mandalorian above you. “You haven’t cum.”
He stands there for a moment, his cock is throbbing and he wants nothing more than to fuck you. Especially when you take his hand. His fingers curl around d yours, squeezing. “I thought it might have been too much.” He tells you, trying to give you the option. Even if you are there for him to use, he’s not interested in hurting you.
You shake your head, eyes hazy as you look at him. “You can fuck me. I want you inside of me. Please Mando.” You whine, spreading your legs to display your weeping cunt. “Gedet'ye.” (Please) You beg, wanting to feel him.
Din stiffens slightly at the use of Mando’a. Thinking that you have been taught it by another Mandalorian. It’s slightly erotic, hearing it from your lips when he can see your face. Making his cock throb harder. “Turn over.” He orders roughly, reaching for the zipper of his flight suit. “I want to see the plug while I fuck you.”
You moan, shifting onto your hands and knees, your arms shaking slightly from the anticipation and you watch him in the mirror as he kneels behind you. You hear the velcro on his flight suit and you shiver when his hard cock brushes your ass, pushing slightly against the plug. "Please Mando."
“I’m going to fuck you.” He promises, deciding to take the time to slide his cock through your folds rather than just push inside you. You’re so fucking wet from your orgasm and he loves how easily the head pushes inside when he does line up. “Maker.” He groans and rocks his hips forward to slam inside you.
The cry you let out is unlike anything you’ve ever done before. His cock is big, even bigger with the plug inside of you, and you slump forward onto your elbows. “Oh Maker Mando!” You choke when he pushes deep, pressing against your cervix. “Fuck me. Take what you need.” You plead, his bare hands caressing your spine before he grabs your hips.
He’s not gentle. Not when you say that. He sets a brutal pace and loves every cry that falls from your lips. You like it, you fucking try to rock back against him and Din is about to lose his mind at how good this feels.
“Yes yes yes Mando. Maker, you’re so deep. Fucking me so good.” You whine, not putting on an act like you usually do. You don’t have to. He’s punching your guts with every thrust and you look in the mirror to watch him. “Yes cyar’ika, just like that. Just like that.” You ramble, grinding back onto him.
His pace falters for just a second before he’s doubling his effort. Gripping your hips so hard that you will wear bruises under your skin, feel him for days between your thighs. He huffs, sinking a hand between your thighs between the slaps of his hips against your ass and starts rubbing your clit. “Cum for me Mesh’la.” He growls. “Squeeze my cock.”
Hearing him speak Mando’a combined with his fingers on your clit has you clamping down on his length, soaking him with cum, and crying out ‘Mando’ in lieu of his sacred name. “Oh fuck.” You pant, falling forward as much as you can with his hands gripping your hips.
He follows you, keeping his cock buried with hard, deep strokes. Growling as he gets closer to cumming. With one last, hard push, Din slams his cock deep and fills you with a roar. Painting your walls with his hot seed.
You pant, cheek resting on the silk sheets, and you are certain you've never had a client fuck you so hard and so good before. It's left you speechless. Maybe it's because he's a Mandalorian. You have a reputation for knowing how to handle Mandos but you have never been fucked by one like this. "So good." You murmur, finally finding your voice.
Din pants under his helmet, fogging up the HUD. He’s never had sex like that before and it scares him because while he was cumming, all he could think about was ripping off his helmet and biting your shoulder while he filled you. When he catches his breath, he straightens, quickly pulling out of you and tucking his cock away.
You mourn the loss of his cock inside of you, whimpering as you remain slumped on the bed. It takes a moment but you catch your breath, sitting up to watch him putting his gloves back on. “Is everything okay?” You ask, wondering if you did something wrong. You know that Mandalorians aren’t known for post coital cuddling but you have never had one leave so fast after orgasming.
“It’s fine.” His words are clipped, even though he didn’t mean for them to be. He’s confused and honestly a little nervous about how intense and intimate that felt. He hadn’t been expecting it and he needs to be alone to think about it. Reaching into his pouch, he withdraws credits, a large stack of them and he sets them on the table. He knows the card gives him access, but he wants you to be able to do something for yourself. “Thank you.”
You frown at the stack of credits, “I don’t - I don’t understand. I get paid as part of the membership.” You tell him but he shakes his head, “consider it a tip.” You watch him go, rushing out of your room and you sigh, sitting back as his cum drips out of you onto the silk sheets below.
****
This time when he walks in the door to the brothel, Din is more confident. He walks up to the counter and flashes his card to the hostess, asking for you by name. Shuffling slightly as he waits to learn if you are available.He’s had time to think about this. Shaking off his initial discomfort as being out of his element. He had still thought about it when he wrapped his hand around his cock every night since then. Coming back at the first available opportunity.
You get the notification that the Mandalorian is back. You recognise his member number and you swallow harshly, already wet in anticipation. You’re nervous too, worried that he wasn’t happy last time he came to see you. Maybe he was nervous. You hear the door as it opens and you stand there, exhaling as you lay eyes on the imposing Mandalorian. “You’re back.” You declare, a soft smile on your face.
Nodding, Din steps into the room and lets the door close behind him. This time he turns and twists the lock himself to ensure privacy. “Did you - did you buy yourself something nice?” He asks, wanting to kick himself for asking such a stupid question. You must think that he’s an idiot.
Your smile changes to a grin, “I, uh, I did.” You walk over to your closet, opening the door so you can pull out the dress you’d bought yourself. “I haven’t really got anything nice to wear and I just wanted something in case I get out of this place eventually. I’m usually naked.” You fluster, holding up the dress. “Do you like it?”
“It’s- it’s very nice.” He can’t help but notice that it’s the same silver as his beskar. Shiny and sleek, sexy although it’s not made to seduce someone. He knows it will look beautiful on you. “Put it on.” He demands before he decides to soften it. “Please.”
You are surprised at the request but you follow it, stripping off your silk gown, letting it fall to the floor before you put the dress on. You can feel his gaze on you the entire time and you are nervous, hoping he likes it since you bought it with his credits. “I’m hoping to wear it one day for a dinner.”
Din tilts his head at you, wondering how often you get to leave the club. He doesn’t think you are a slave, he’s seen no collar or tracker on you. As he thought, you look gorgeous and he nods. “You should.” He tells you. “Take a night off and go out to dinner.”
You sigh, “I can’t take a night off. I wish I could but I’m- I can’t go out. I can’t leave here.” You don’t reveal why, not taking the risk to tell him. You know he won’t understand your reasons for why you’re here.
“Why not?” He asks, making you bite your lip.
“It’s a long story…and you’re not here for stories.” You reach for the hem, pulling the dress off to reveal your naked form. “What would you like today, Mando?”
He can tell you are hiding something, the way you are hedging your answer and trying to distract him. He wonders what your secrets are, but reasons that everyone has secrets. His cock twitches as he takes in your naked body. “I don’t know.” He admits, not really having a plan, but just wanting to come to see you again. “Any suggestions?”
You shift closer to him, careful not to move too fast. “I know you don’t want me to see you but I - I want to suck your cock. Can I do that Mando?” You ask, reaching out to touch his beskar clad thigh as you kneel down in front of him. “I can close my eyes if you want.”
He groans softly at the thought. He’s never had someone suck his cock, too worried about how vulnerable he could be, especially with X’ian always chomping her sharp teeth at him and giggling. Still, he’s watched halo videos with oral. “I-okay.” He agrees, slightly nervous. “You don’t have to close your eyes.”
“Do you- do you want to pull your cock out? Or do you want me to do it?” You ask, wanting him to be comfortable and you rub his beskar covered thighs as you look up at his visor.
“Take it out.” He orders and you nod, reaching for his flight suit to undo it, carefully taking his hardening cock out.
“Maker, no wonder I ached.” You chuckle, admiring his impressive girth.
Din frowns under his helmet, not sure what you mean. He’s…normal, isn’t he? “Is there something wrong?” He asks, never having talked to a partner about things like that. Normally he would never see them again, but they always seemed satisfied. At least, as much as they could be from the encounter.
“Something wrong? Cyar’ika, you are…girthy than most cocks I see. Your cock is…beautiful.” You declare honestly, running your finger along its length and you smile when his cock twitches. “Possibly the best cock I’ve ever had.” You tell him truthfully, looking up into his visor as you wrap your fingers around his girth, marveling at how your fingers don’t even touch.
There’s probably a little evidence of pride as his chest swells. Looking down at your hand around him and your praise makes him feel important. Even if he shouldn’t care what you think, he finds that he does. Although you could tell every man you sleep with this, he feels like you mean it. “You enjoyed last time, Mesh’la?”
You nod, starting to pump him, and you like how proud he looks. “I really enjoyed last time.” You say, fully meaning it. No one you’ve slept with since compared to him, there was something so intense and intimate about the experience and no one has competed with it. You lean closer, his cock now hard in your grip, and you tentatively flick your tongue over the head of his cock.
“Shit.” He hisses softly, watching your tongue slide over the tip and twirl around the head gracefully. It feels amazing, and his gloved hand immediately goes to the back of your head, although he doesn’t apply any pressure.
You hum, enjoying his suddenly unrestrained move. He always seems so composed, so tactical. You want to see him unhinged. You take him deeper, shuffling closer and you look up as the head of his cock hits the back of your throat, your fingers curling around the edge of his beskar.
Normally when someone grips his beskar, he’s ready to fight, but he’s totally relaxed right now. Understanding that you are using it to hold on and pulling yourself deeper. He chokes out when you swallow around him. “Fuck.”
You take him deeper, choking a little as you push past your gag reflex. You moan around his cock, loving how he curses again. You close your eyes as you concentrate before your nose presses against the coarse hair at the base of his cock.
“Maker.” Din groans and his other hand wraps around your jaw, feeling where his cock is bulging in your throat. “Good girl.” He manages, knowing that you deserve praise for this if he is as endowed as you claim. “Feels so good.”
You are glad you’ve had practice taking a cock down your throat as your eyes water while you take him. “So good.” You love his praise, egged on and practically dripping onto the floor below as you suck his cock. His gloved hand on your jaw and you wish you could see his face, see the pleasure that would be clearly displayed.
His eyes would close, if it’s not for the way that you are looking up at him. He knows that it’s crazy, but the urge to rip off his helmet is strong. To look you in the eyes without the digital display between you. “Make me cum.” He orders you softly, wanting to feel what it would be like to be sucked off.
You groan around his length, bobbing your head to take him over and over again down your throat until he lets out a loud groan, his cock twitching before he starts to spill down your throat. You struggle to keep up but manage to swallow every drop he gives you. Working him through it and you finally close your eyes at the sensation.
He’s panting under his helmet when you suck the last drops out of his twitching cock, making his toes curl in his boots. Pulling his hips back gently and smearing his thumb through the drool running down your chin. “Do you want to get off?” He asks, voice raspy. “Ride my thigh?” He’s learned that there are plenty of ways to get someone off without sex and he’s excelled at those methods.
You don’t waste the opportunity. Enthusiastically saying yes and standing up to straddle his beskar clad thigh. When his gloved fingers dig into your hips, you moan and start to grind, finding the ridges of the otherwise smooth beskar. “Mando.” You whimper when the ridge catches your clit.
He knows this is completely for you. He doesn’t get anything out of this, and yet he can’t stop watching you. Your head tilts back as you grind against him, pushing your tits out. He wants to bite them. He wants to pull his helmet off and press his face between your breasts and inhale your scent from your skin. He growls, a small rumble in his chest. “You like this? Riding my beskar?” He demands. “You’re the only one who has ridden on this plate.” He can feel the vibrations when your plug clinks against his cuss.
“Fuck. I want to be the only one.” You blurt out, unsure of why you said that but you couldn’t help it. “I want to be the one.” Your words come fast and heavy as you grind down onto his cock, whines of ‘Mando’ escaping your lips as you seek your orgasm. “Fuck.” You grab onto his shoulders, grinding down harder and faster.
He groans, enjoying the show. Helping you by guiding your hips with his hands. “Want you to cum.” He huffs, his visor fixed to your face. He lets go of one of your hips to slap the side of your thigh. “Are you gonna cum, Mesh’la?”
The squeal you release is unlike anything you’ve ever done before. Thighs shaking with the effort to work yourself through your orgasm and your cum smears on the beskar as Mando works your hips for you, taking over to work you through your high. “Mando. Oh Mando.” You slump against his beskar clad chest.
Chuckling, he lets you lay against him while you recover. Stroking your back with his gloved hands and humming softly. “When you clean up, put that dress back on.” He tells you, deciding that he wants to spend some more time with you rather than leave right away like he did before.
You are taken back by the request, confused that he wants you dressed after sex. “I- okay.” You tilt your head as you lean back to look into his visor, wishing more than ever that you could see his eyes. “Is - did I do something wrong?” You ask him softly.
“No.” Din shakes his helmet and reaches up to grip your chin to tilt it up slightly. “I’m going to take you out for a meal.” He explains. “Is there somewhere specific you want to go?”
Your first reaction is to smile at how sweet he is to want to take you for a meal, until you remember the consequences if he does just that. You bite your lip, caressing his chest plate. “Thank you but - but I can’t. I can’t leave here.” You tell him and he frowns.
“What do you mean? You aren’t imprisoned.” He counters and you frown, wondering how you could possibly explain.
“I’m sorry Mando. I can’t - thank you for the offer.” You shuffle off of his lap, grabbing your dressing gown.
He’s confused. You had just told him that you wished to get out for a meal and yet you are turning down the opportunity to do just that. He watches you throw the gown on and decides that he will bring a meal to you, since you will not go with him. “Wait here.” He orders you, striding to the door and opening it. He disappears out of the door without another word and it slides closed behind him.
You are shocked, standing there and watching the door, and you sit down on the edge of your bed, thighs still wet with your orgasm, and you wait for Mando to come back. He’s gone for a while, returning without you having another client. “Did you sign out? You used up so many minutes on your card by having me wait for you.” You shake your head at him, knowing those minutes are precious.
“Sit down.” He ignores your question. He didn’t care about that. He cared that you didn’t have to see another client while he was gone. The container in his hand is set down on the small table in your room. “I brought food to you, since you won’t go out.”
You are surprised, walking towards the small table, and you want to ask him to join you but you know he won’t. You know he won’t join you for breakfast. “Can you sit with me while I eat?” You ask, offering him a small hopeful smile. You sit down, opening the container, and moaning at the smell of the food.
Din walks over and sits down in the opposite chair from you. Watching as you start to pull out the food and utensils. He hopes that he didn’t get something that you don’t like. He doesn’t really care, as long as it’s food, but some people can be picky over their meals. “It’s not the same, but I -“ he flushes under his helmet. “I wanted to give you something you wanted.”
You smile, reaching out to touch his gloved hand. “Thank you. It’s - I love it. I don’t go out and get any food so I - thank you so much for getting me food.” Your heart thumps in your chest and you start to eat, knowing it’s awkward since he can’t take off his helmet but somehow, it’s still intimate.
Din beams as you eat your food, watching happily. There’s not a lot of times that he thinks about eating a meal, it’s often a solitary, quick thing. But right now, this is perfect. He leans in, observing your moves and wondering how you normally eat. “You have things delivered? Or do you eat ration packs?”
"It depends. Sometimes, I will have things delivered but that is very rare. Only special occasions. Most of the time, we order food for clients and the bosses don't want us to eat in case we ruin 'the illusion'. That's why I would love to wear that gown somewhere outside of this place. To be free but I- I can't." You dig back into your food, avoiding what you were gonna say.
"Why not? Why - what or who keeps you trapped here?" Din asks, ready to fight for you.
"It's - it's a long story." You reply and Din crosses his arms,
"I got time left on my card."
You shake your head, "I don't want to talk about it. Okay?"
“Okay.” Din knows you are hiding something, but he won’t push. It’s not his place right now. He’s not hunting you. Instead he leans back in his chair and watches you. “What would be your favorite thing to do. If you could do anything, go anywhere?”
You contemplate his question for a moment. "If I could go anywhere, I'd go back to my home. To my people. I couldn't go back there though. Not after what I did. I can't go home." You say vaguely, sighing as you play with your food with the fork. "Or I would go to Canto Bight. Con those self important idiots out of their credits." You smirk, "and wear a beautiful dress while doing it."
Din hums, wondering who your people are, but he doesn’t ask. Your smile is too playful right now. “You could always do that, you’d be good at it.”
“Yeah?” You chuckle, tapping your fingers on the table while you take a break from eating. “I think so too. I think I could be good at it. I just- I don’t want to do this forever. I don’t want to have to hide anymore.” You confess, feeling yourself once again wish you could see his face. Just once. You know he can’t. He won’t. Still, it doesn’t stop you wanting it.
“Are you done?” He asks, nodding towards your food. You bite your lip and Din pushes back from the table. “Come here.” He wants you again. This time he wants you to sit on his cock. “I want to see if you can finish eating while I’m inside you.”
It’s an odd request. One you haven’t had before, but you agree, shrugging off your gown while he pulls his hard cock out. You smile, sitting onto his lap so your back is pressed against his chest. “I doubt I’ll be able to finish my food like this.” You admit breathlessly after you lift up, sinking down onto his cock.
Din nuzzles his helmet as close as he can, imagining taking his helmet off and whispering in your ear. “Yeah?” He groans, twitching inside you. “Distracted by something?”
You moan when you feel the vibrations of his visor against your head, making you shiver on top of him. “Fuck Mando.” You lean back against him, hand shaking as you pick up the fork, unsure if you can eat while his girth stretches you out. “Mando. I need-” You grip the table, using it to leverage yourself to begin working yourself up and down his cock.
“I’ve got you.” He grips your hips and lifts and lowers you on his cock, groaning at the way you slide around him. It’s what he imagines the finest silk to feel like. “That’s it, take another bite.” He urges you.
You gather yourself, forking a piece of food and bringing it to your mouth just as he pulls you down onto his cock. A moan escapes your lips and you struggle to place the food into your mouth as your eyes close in bliss.
Grunting, he keeps working you up and down on his length, feeling your walls contract when he spears up into you roughly. “Good girl.” He manages, gritting his teeth together.
His praise makes you moan and you swallow your bite, struggling slightly and you grab onto the table as you force yourself to fork up some more food. When he hits something deep and delicious inside of you, you drop the fork, a squeal escaping your lips in surprise. “Oh fuck Mando.” You hiss, leaning back against him.
He chuckles and continues to fuck up into you. Watching your head tilt back against his pauldron and he can barely see you out of his visor. Reaching out, he starts rubbing your clit vigorously. “Want you to come cyar’ika. Want you to soak me.”
You completely forget about the food, focusing only on the pleasure as he thrusts up into you. “Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Oh fuck!” You squeal, thighs shaking as you clamp down on his cock, soaking him as you follow his order, cumming on his cock. “Mandooo.” You pant, trying to grind down onto him, “cum. Cum for me.”
He growls harshly, pushing up off the chair as he chases his own release. Grunting while your walls tremble around him and it doesn’t take long. Five slick slaps of his cock into your sopping cunt and he’s falling apart, burying his cock deep while he lets out a low groan of the name you gave him.
Your real name is on the tip of your tongue, to hear it from his modulated mouth, but you don’t. You can’t risk it. “Mando.” You sigh in bliss, pressing your head against the cool beskar. “Always so good.” You confess, truly meaning that. You never have to fake it with him.
He doesn’t think that you are faking, it feels too real, you get too wet. He pants softly and squeezes your hip with the hand that’s still gripping it. “Perfect.” He agrees, he’s never been so relaxed after sex before, slouching back in the seat and bringing you with him. The two of you just sit for a moment, his cock pulsing inside you while he relaxes.
You reach behind you to caress the beskar, enjoying him just holding you for a moment. “Well, I didn’t finish my meal.” You chuckle breathlessly, feeling his responding snort through the beskar. “Mando. Thank you for the food and the orgasm.” You grin, knowing he paid you but this doesn’t feel like a service. You look forward to him visiting you, everyone else pales in comparison to the point where you don’t want to bother taking any other clients.
Din hums, hating that he’s softening inside of you. His time is coming to an end and he needs to go. He pats your hip and leans his helmet against the side of your neck. “You’re welcome.” He chuckles quietly. “Thank you for the orgasms. I’m relaxed and I’ll sleep like a baby tonight.”
You smile, wishing you could ask for him to stay but you can’t, that’s not the arrangement. You don’t want to take any more clients today, wanting to spend your time thinking of Mando, of what you can never have. You’re certain you love him, insanity since you haven’t even seen his face, but no one makes you feel like he does. “You’re welcome, I - I wish you could stay longer. Maybe spend the night but I know you can’t.” Won’t is the correct word but you don’t want to push him.
Din doesn’t know how that would work, but he wants it too. His heart pounds in his chest and he squeezes your hip again. “I have to go.” He doesn’t want to, but he needs to leave and go pick up his next pucks. There is a ship full of carbonite slabs ready for Karga and the guild. “I’ll be back though.” He promises, knowing he won’t be able to stay away from this place now. Not while you are here.
You nod, realizing that he needs to go, so you shift off of his cock, moaning as his cum starts to drip down your inner thigh and you reach for your gown, grabbing a clean cloth to clean yourself while he tucks himself away. “I’ll see you soon Mando.” You walk towards him, reaching up to caress his beskar helmet.
He captures your hand, not because he’s afraid that you will try to remove his helmet. He knows you won’t. Instead he presses it against the side and leans in, pressing his forehead against yours in the Mandalorian version of a kiss. When he steps back, he reaches into his belt and pulls out another stack of credits. “Spoil yourself again, Mesh’la.” He murmurs before he turns to walk out of your room.
You watch him go, your heart aching, and you know you’re a fool for falling for a man who can never love you back. You can never leave this place for your own safety and you know you can’t risk Mando like that. Maker, you don’t even know his real name and he doesn’t know yours. You belong to the card holders, that’s how it goes. You could never belong to the Mandalorian.
****
“Ahhhh Mando!” Grief Karga’s voice booms over the noisy din of the streets, his arms spreading wide in greeting. “Wondered when I would see you again.” Din scoffs slightly, used to the greeting since he was consistent. “I have just the bounty for you. I’ve been saving it.”
Din isn’t really too concerned. Probably just another priority target for Grief himself. He likes sending Mando after them. Told him once after too much spotchka that it was a status thing, sending a Mandalorian after them.
Grief sits down at the table, gesturing for Din to join, and he places the puck on the table after ordering a drink for himself. “Got a good one here, Mando. She’s been escaping bounty hunters for way too long. She’s smart…and she’s one of your own.” Grief reveals and Din frowns under the helmet, curious at what he means by that.
He’s not too concerned when the leader of the guild says a name. It’s not yours. However, it’s your face that pops up when he turns the puck on. Your face, a chain code, along with the fact that you are Mandalorian. Din’s entire body tenses and he leans forward, absorbing the image and the information displayed. “Her helmet is gone.” He spits. “How did you know she was Mandalorian?” It suddenly makes sense why you had never asked about his helmet and how you know Mando’a. The beskar plug. His jaw clenched under his own helmet when he reads your supposed crimes.
“She is from Mandalore. She’s a Mandalorian but during the war, she fled. War crimes made her wanted by the Empire and now, she’s crossed too many people to live in hiding. People want her head and are willing to pay good money to get it. You find her, her beskar that she’s stolen is yours.”
The Empire. Din scoffs under his breath and reaches for the puck to snatch it off the table to tuck into his belt as he stands. “Since when do you work for the Empire, Karga?” He asks, making the older man give a shrug and look around.
“The bounty comes in, the guild accepts it, no questions asked.” He reminds Din.
Turning around to walk away, Din pauses and says over his shoulder, “maybe that rule should change.” He tells Grief before he strides away towards his ship.
****
You grin when the notification comes in that Mando is arriving and you rush around, tidying up your place and you check your appearance in the mirror. Your heart thumps in your chest and you anxiously await his arrival. When the doors slide open, you stand up from your chair, walking towards him. “Hi cyar’ika.”
Cyar’ika. The fact that you are calling him that makes his heart pound in his chest even though he doesn’t respond. He’s hurt that you didn’t tell him about this, as though he was nothing more than a client. He was bound by Creed to help you. Angry that you continuously sold your body to Mandalorians and didn’t reach out. Instead of relaxing, Din puffs his chest out, his stance more bounty hunter than lover as he strides closer, reaching for the puck on his belt. “I can bring you in warm.” He rasps. “Or I can bring you in cold.”
Your blood runs cold at his words, realizing that he knows about your bounty and he wants to take you in, reap the rewards and get the credits. “Mando. I- please. Don’t do this. I can’t - they will kill me if you don’t do it now. They want me dead.” You back away from him, heart breaking that he won’t even let you explain.
He continues to walk towards you, even as your eyes fill with horror that breaks his heart and you start stepping back. Away from him. He opens the puck and sets it on the table. “You were Mandalorian.” He spits, hurt that you did not tell him. “You said a client taught you Mando’a.” He remembers that conversation, the way the words slipped out easily, as if you were used to using them. It had made him jealous, wondering how many men you called cyar’ika thinking that it sounded cute.
“I am Mandalorian.” You counter, making him shake his helmet.
“You are not wearing a helmet. You have betrayed your Creed. This is the way.”
You shake your head, reaching for him before you think better and lower your hand. “There is another way. The way you know is…it’s extreme. They don’t believe in soulmates, in Mandalorians having soulmates. You can only recognize your soulmate through your eyes meeting and the sect you came from believe that shielding the eyes behind a visor allows the Mandalorian to focus on the Creed, on the way, and not themselves. For once you find your soulmate, they are your priority, not the clan. They didn’t want that so they decided to divert from the traditional way, create a more extreme set of rules to ensure the clan comes first. Sex was for breeding, not love making. I lied about knowing Mando’a because I knew you were a bounty hunter, it’s in your very gait. I was scared. I didn’t want you to take me. I don’t want you to take me in. The Empire…what remains of it…will kill me.”
Din huffs under his helmet, not completely believing you, but he can’t say that you are lying. He can tell when someone is, but the honesty in your tone and your body language is very telling. “Why does the Empire want you dead?” He demands, needing to know why. “Why would they care about one Mandalorian who removed their helmet? You don’t even wear your beskar.”
You sigh, sitting down on the edge of the bed. “I had to take it off. I had to hide. They wanted to kill me. The Empire…they wanted war on Mandalore so I had to do something. I got a group of revolutionaries together and we - we planned to blow up a base. We succeeded. Then the Empire killed every Mandalorian involved in that revolt and I escaped by removing my armor and I’ve been in hiding ever since.”
“So how do they have your picture?” He demands, pointing to the puck, clearly showing your face as the holo image blinks at him. “They have your name. A name you didn’t give me and your face.”
You rub your cheek, “I thought I was clever, escaping and not wearing my armor but the Empire…they figured it out. I’m not - my Creed and your Creed are different. My Creed allows me to remove my helmet. The way means Mandalorians finding their soulmates, having families, and protecting the clan. That’s the way. They managed to find an image of me without my helmet prior to blowing up the base, so I’ve been on the run ever since and ended up here so I could hide from the Empire. They are growing powerful again. They want anyone who wronged them to die.”
Different Creeds, soulmates. The information makes Din’s head swim and he reaches for the puck and shuts it off. “You are worth a lot of credits.” He murmurs, shoving it back into his belt. “Someone wants you to be found.” He sighs and motions for you to sit down. “And I’m not happy with the Empire, so you’re in luck.”
You look up, watching him with hesitation, and he sits down beside you. “Well that’s something. Can I- can I know your name?” You ask him, wanting to know what to call him instead of Mando.
He tilts his helmet towards you, “Djarin. My name is Din Djarin.”
You smile, liking the sound of it and you repeat it softly. “I know it’s a lot of information but I just want you to know that everything we did in here wasn’t just because I was getting paid, I wanted to be with you.”
He hums, wondering if he was a fool for believing that. Maybe it was because he’s Mandalorian. “The plug.” He chuckles softly. “No wonder they would send Mandalorians to you. And why you couldn’t go to dinner.” He turns his helmet towards you again. “Anything else I need to know?”
You look down at your hands, knowing he has no reason to believe you but this feeling - it’s similar to what everyone described and you are certain you’re right. “I, um, I also think we could be soulmates.” You reveal, glancing up to see your own reflection in the visor.
“We could -what?” His modulated voice is in disbelief.
“This feeling. You being with me, inside of me. I’ve never felt that before, have you?”
He wants to deny it and opens his mouth to do just that. But he doesn’t. Instead, his head tilts slightly and he thinks about the cravings to take off his helmet. He’s never thought about it before with someone else, not even when he was balls deep and cumming. “No.” He admits quietly.
You tentatively reach for his gloved hand, moving slow to remove it so your skin can touch his. “Have you ever felt that before?” You ask, enjoying the electricity that passes between you. He shakes his head, knowing he’s never felt so alive just from a simple touch. “I want - I know it’s so much to ask but I want to see your eyes. I just want to look into them because - because I think I will have my answer.”
Guilt eats at him. He wants to say no, he should say no. It’s on the tip of his tongue to immediately deny you, but then he stops. He’s not sure what to believe, if he should risk removing his helmet. You have, you have given up your entire existence because of your beliefs and you’ve never tried to remove it. You know the importance to him. “You- you’re covert….you remove helmets?” He verifies again. “And you are still considered Mandalorians?” You nod and Din sits in silence for another moment, feeling the buzzing of his skin against yours. He’s wanted to take off his helmet around you since the first time and that concerned him. If he was your soulmate it would explain some of that desire. “Okay.” He decides quietly. “We will see if you are right.”
“Din.” You reach for his hands to stop him for a moment, “if we are soulmates, your Creed is still intact. It’s - your sect believes that revealing your face to your soulmate is still within keeping your Creed since they are your family. If we aren’t soulmates, you are still Mandalorian in my eyes, in the eyes of the Mandalorians I know. Either way, if you remove it and we aren’t and you wish to remain in your Creed, we can deny it ever happened.” You promise, wanting him to be completely comfortable and know what he’s doing before he reveals his face to you.
He nods, one quick incline of his head. He knows that you are just making sure, but he is ready to do this. Taking a deep breath, he reaches up and grips the sides of his helmet, watching your eyes widen slightly though the display and closes his eyes as he starts to lift the helmet off his head.
You watch him slowly remove the helmet, your breath bated as you eagerly wait to see his face, the one you’ve yearned to see since the moment he came into your room. When he removes it, you gently take it to set it down, his eyes still closed, and you swear you’ve never seen such a beautiful man. You reach up, tentatively caressing his cheek, and you bring your other hand up to caress from his forehead down to his chin, just marveling in his features.
He feels like he’s going to be sick, or maybe it’s anticipation. He can’t quite tell, but the feeling of your hand on his face nearly makes him flinch. His heart is pounding in his chest and he tells himself to just open his eyes. Slowly obeying his own command.
When he opens his eyes, his beautiful brown eyes, you swear your entire being lights up. Your heart pounds in your chest and yet you feel the most at peace you’ve ever felt in your life. You smile, your eyes on his, locked together, and you are certain you are his and he is yours.
Din feels his heart nearly burst, flooded with the complete knowledge that this woman in front of him is his. That you are his soulmate, one he never thought he had. “I-“ He swallows and manages a smile. “Wow.”
You grin, cupping his cheeks and just staring at him. “All this time…I thought soulmates were just something we were told to give us hope but it’s true. It’s true and I - Din, I love you.” You reveal, knowing it to be true. You feel it with your entire body. Your soul.
His eyes close and he absorbs the words, tucks them into his heart and savors them. He sighs softly and opens his eyes again, startled by how clear they look without his helmet. The digital display was not nearly enough. “I love you.” He murmurs softly. “I- the first time I came here, I had the urge to take off my helmet, it’s why- it’s why I left so quickly.”
Your thumbs brush his cheeks, and you can’t stop smiling, amazed by the Mandalorian. “I felt it too. I would never - I’d never remove your helmet without you telling me to but I just had this urge to look into your eyes. I haven’t - I haven’t had anyone in my room since the last time you came here. I couldn’t. It just - it felt wrong. I was waiting for you. Only you.” You promise, bringing his head down to yours, pressing your forehead against his.
His brow swung up in surprise, sure that you had many visitors since he had met you. He hadn’t wanted to admit to his jealousy though. “I’m sorry I was gone for so long then.” He murmurs before he reaches up and caresses your face. “Cyar’ika….” He sighs. “You can’t stay here.”
You sigh, knowing he’s right but you are scared. “If I leave…the Empire will find me and have me killed. Do you think you’re the only bounty hunter with that puck?” You ask him, reaching for his hand to hold it in yours, reluctant to let him go.
He knows that’s true. He’s had experience with that before. Nodding, he sighs. “So we give you to the Empire.” He tells you. “The puck says dead or alive.”
You frown, “how - are you mad? They will kill me if I go there alive and if I’m dead…I don’t - explain. Please.” You demand, praying that your soulmate isn’t considering killing you for a bounty. It’s unheard of but he is from such an offset of Mandalorian culture, perhaps he thinks this is a solution to maintain his Creed.
“You still have your beskar?” He asks, making you nod cautiously. “I will give them ‘proof’ of your death. It doesn’t say I need to bring your body back. You burnt up in the atmo when you were running from me.” He explains. “And your armor can be refashioned by the armorer of my covert so your identity will be protected. I know someone who can get you a new chain code.”
You are surprised at his quick thinking, wondering how he came up with this plan. You feel protected and cared for, something you haven’t felt since you were a child. “Thank you.” You surge forward to wrap your arms around his neck, tangling your fingers in his hair to pull him close so you can breathe him in.
Din moans quietly, not meaning to, but the feeling of your fingers in his hair has him thrown off. It’s so intimate, he can barely think about anything but the fact that he can kiss you. “Mesh’la.” He murmurs softly, his own arms wrapping around you and tugging you close. “I- I want-“ he flushes slightly, not even able to voice it.
You know what he wants, you’ve wanted it too. “You’ll be my first kiss.” You reveal, knowing that it’s unusual considering your job but you always withheld that intimacy. You cup his cheek, bringing him closer and you brush your nose against his. Your body warms under his touch, and you tentatively press your lips against his.
Din sighs into the kiss, holding you tighter and clumsily moves his mouth slightly. Trying to show you that he wants to deepen the kiss, obviously succeeding since you open your mouth and let his tongue inside.
You let his tongue slide against yours, humming in enjoyment, and you shift to straddle him, his beskar biting into your skin in some places and making you shiver from the cold metal. “I love you Din Djarin.” You declare breathlessly, kissing his jaw. You feel safe, knowing that he will protect you, and has a plan to protect you. He’s your soulmate and you couldn’t be happier about that.
“I love you.” He reaches down and palms your ass, hauling you closer to him. He’s going to fuck you again, there’s no way that he’s going to leave this building without having you once more, but for now he groans as you bite down on his ear. “Are you- are you going to be happy wearing armor again?” He pants out, wondering if you’ve been without it too long.
You smile against his cheek, “I’m excited to wear it. It’s been a long time. I’m ready to put it back on. Right now though, I want yours off of you. Now.” You say, reaching for the clasps of his chest plate.
He shudders slightly, not stopping you from starting to pull off his armor. The door is closed, unable to be opened from the outside and you are his soulmate. If there is anyone he should strip down with, it’s you. “Mesh’la.” He groans when you pull the chest plate off and work on his pauldrons.
You work fast, used to taking off the armor for the years you wore it. When he’s in his flight suit, you reach for the zipper and look into his dark eyes. “Is this okay?” You ask, wanting to make sure he’s comfortable. When he says ‘yes’ you pull on the zipper, pulling it down to expose his bare skin. “Maker. You’re gorgeous.” You sigh, leaning forward to kiss his chest while you push the sleeves off of his shoulders.
He shudders again, soaking up the praise, and kicking off his boots while you grind down on his already throbbing cock. There is nothing to strip off of you except for the thin, sheer robe that you wear and he’s already pulling that off of you, leaning in to run his lips and tongue over your skin like he imagined.
You sigh in delight at the feel of his tongue over your skin. Your hands caressing every inch that gets revealed to you until the flight suit is pooled at his waist. “Din. Mesh’la.” You murmur, fingers tracing the faded scars of past battles he has won. “Riduur.” You say unconsciously, feeling that with all of your heart.
Groaning, he pulls you against him, loving the feel of your breasts against his chest. "Maker." He breathes out, scraping his teeth over your shoulder. "Riduur. Yes, you are my riduur, already. I am yours." He promises.
Tangling your fingers in his hair, you enjoy the feel of him all over you, making you grind down onto his cock. “I’m yours. Have been since you first came here.” You tell him, loving how much skin is pressed against yours. You caress every scar, every blemish, following your fingers with kisses.
Din groans, nodding and starting to press fervent kisses into your skin. “Good.” He grunts into your chest. “Gonna keep you. You’re mine now.”
You push him backwards until he is laying on the bed, reaching for his flight suit to pull it down his legs until his hard cock rests on his lower stomach. You toss the suit aside and crawl back up his body, kissing his thighs and stomach. “Mesh’la. You’re so beautiful, Din.” You murmur.
He flushes slightly, unused to this praise. He reaches up and caresses your side gently. “I think you are the most gorgeous thing I’ve ever seen.” He confesses. “I’ve thought it since I walked into your room.”
You shift to straddle him, leaning down to softly kiss his lips before you reach behind you to grip his cock, positioning him at your entrance before you slowly sink down. “Riduur. Cyar’ika. I love you.” You declare, leaning down to kiss his lips.
Din moans your name, not the one you had gone by, your real name. Holding onto your hips like they are a lifeline and sliding them up your back to press you firmly against his body. Relishing every inch of you pressed together. “I love you.” He pants, nearly overstimulated by the feeling.
You kiss his neck, starting to move and you rock back and forth on his cock, unhurried and just enjoying every moment of being with him. You pull back to look into those beautiful brown eyes. Unable to believe you’re looking into the eyes of your soulmate and he loves you, he wants to protect you.
“Maker, cyar’ika.” Din watches you with sonder. “I never knew that I would be able to do this. Never thought I had a soulmate, or that I would meet them.” He rambles as you ride him at your slow and methodical pace. “But you’re perfect. You’re going to stay by my side.”
Your hands are everywhere. In his hair, caressing his neck, cupping his cheeks, and you press your lips against his. His cock twitches inside of you and you know he loves kissing. It’s so intimate and you adore it. “Din. Oh Maker. Din. I love you.”
He loves the fact that the two of you are exchanging breaths. That he can feel the warmth of your breath across his skin. It makes him thrust up into you frantically every time you whimper and clench down around him. “I love you, oh fuck.” He groans, “I - cyar’ika, I need you to cum.”
You pant, the pleasure taking over from the emotions, and you rock back onto his cock. Your hips pressed against his so the coarse hair at the base of his cock brushes your clit, and you are gone. Clamping down on his length, soaking him as you cry out his name, collapsing onto his chest.
Growling in pleasure, Din rolls you under him, thrusting into you harshly as he fucks you through your high. Wanting you to enjoy cumming for him this time most of all, this time was special. Bracing his arms on either side of your head and looking down at you blissed out in pleasure.
Your head is pressed against the pillow and you force yourself to open your eyes, to watch your lover as he seeks his own high. You just about manage to rock your hips up to meet his and you cup his cheeks. “Cum for me riduur, cum for me Din.” You plead, wanting to see his face for the first time as he orgasms.
Your words push him over the edge. Gasping out and his brow pinching together in the most pleasure he’s ever felt, his entire body seizes up. He buries his cock deep and cries out your name, his eyes locked onto yours, helpless to look away while he can see your face so clearly.
You swear you cum again just from watching him. He’s gorgeous and he’s yours. Your heart pounds in your chest and you stroke his back when he calms down, coming to a stop inside of you after painting your walls with his hot seed. “I love you.” You whisper, knowing it’s been said so many times but you mean every syllable.
Instead of pulling out of you, Din presses you deeper into the bed, kissing you softly. “I love you too, Riduur.” He knows that eventually you will have to exchange vows, but he already feels like you are one. You have been since he opened his eyes and saw yours without the digital display between them.
You smile against his lips, caressing his shoulders and back as he rests on top of you. “I want a life together. I want foundlings. Our own children. I want to be with you and be safe. That’s what I want most of all. Safety and to live free. I want to be with you for the rest of my life.”
Din hums softly. “You will be.” He promises, rolling onto his back and bringing you with him so he is sprawled out on top of him. “We will make sure that no one comes after you again and then we will make sure our clan is strong and large.”
****
“Slow down!” You call out to your son as he rushes down the hall after you received news that Din has returned to the covert. After leaving the club, Din had his contact change your chain code and the armorer refashioned your armor. As far as the Empire is concerned, you’re dead. You huff, annoyed you cannot wear your chest plate since you are heavily pregnant, ready to have your second child with Din any day now.
Din strides through the covert, eager to see you and Tye. Not stopping to talk to Paz or the armorer as he hears a shriek of happiness and grins under his helmet. He spots the little boy running for him, a wide smile on his face. “Buir!” He yells and launches himself towards Din when he’s within range. His father catches him and swings him around and tosses him up in the air while the young boy screams with laughter.
You smile under your helmet, excited to see your husband and you watch him with your son, making him laugh and rejoice that his father is home. “Riduur.” You coo, loving the way Din presses his helmet against yours in greeting. “I missed you.” You tell him while your son clings to his side.
“I missed you too.” Din promises softly, his free hand sliding over your belly gently. “How is our other ad doing?” He asks, having hurried home from his last hunt so he could be here. You are due any time now.
“Restless. Always kicking. I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since you left between this one moving around and our bed being cold.” You admit, covering your hand with his. “I can’t wait for them to come so I move around properly again. Especially when this one is running around everywhere.” You reach up to cup your son’s cheek, making him giggle.
“Soon there will be two.” Din’s hand slides down to your back and he starts rubbing, knowing that your body is taking a beating with his child inside you. “I will run Tye until he is sleeping in his food tonight and then I will make sure that your entire body relaxes.” He promises, only slightly smirking at the thought of touching you. You haven’t been in the mood for sex and that is perfectly fine with him, but he will make sure that your poor feet and back are rubbed and his tongue caresses your clit before you give birth to his next child.
You moan softly at the thought, knowing that he will take good care of you. You take his gloved hand and bring it back down to your stomach. “I love you, riduur. So much.” You promise, leaning in to press your helmet against his once more. “Come on, let’s go to our rooms and we can get started on relaxing. This one needs a nap.” You reach out to caress your son’s cheek as he rests his head on Din’s shoulder, his eyes fighting the urge to close.
Din hums happily, turning and following you through the halls of the covert. He had been alone for so long and never knew that he needed a family of his own as much as he did, his clan expanding and growing beautifully everyday. All because instead of credits, he was given a card to your establishment. It had been the best payment he had ever received because he had found his soulmate. You.
#pedro pascal#mando#the mandalorian#the mandalorian x reader#the mandalorian x you#the mandalorian x f!reader#the mandalorian smut#the mandalorian fanfic#the mandalorian imagine#mando x reader#mando x you#mando x f!reader#mando smut#mando imagine#mando fanfic
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Grocery spree
Summary: short description of boys' behaviour when they are tasked with buying groceries at the local supermarket;
Characters: all students of NRC;
Warnings: no Yuu/reader, no relationships, just ordinary shenanigans;
Side notes: it came to me in a dream (while I was tring to fall asleep extremely late at night but still). I only now realised that I'll need to put 22 names in the tags...
Riddle
— he goes extremely in depth about each item on the shopping list: what brand, price, quantity, quality, size, packaging etc you name it. The answer in likes of "just buy whatever" is not satisfactory!! When Riddle can't find exactly what he was "supposed" to buy, he immediately jumps from one shop to another until he finds what he needs. It's best if he is accompanied by someone...
Trey
— wonderful candidate: no issues, no problems at all. Except don't expect to see cakes, cupcakes, pastries, bread, desserts and such. Why? Well, he can bake everything himself of course. That's why Trey returns with tons of eggs, sugar and flour every time instead. Maybe a few dental care products (just in case) along the way;
Cater
— usually gets everything, even saves up quite a bit of money! Since he is always on Magicam, coupons and discounts are his guiding lights — Cater already has his hands on discount goodies before they are swept away by others. The only problem is that ginger doesn't like carrying shopping bags, so he often searches for whoever is available to shop with him. Buys trendy food of the week for pics;
Ace
— nah, he hates going for groceries, especially if he is alone and he has to give the remaining money back. It's best not to assign him with a chore because Ace will most certainly not only forget half the stuff from the list but the whole list itself. And he will (try to) secretly buy snacks for himself, so ask for receipt and recount change if you want your money to be spend accordingly;
Deuce
— he may not always come back with everything that was on the list but at least he is reliable. Each time he goes to supermarket, Deuce is staggered with how prices have risen, even if not by a lot. He is well versed in grocery shopping thanks to frequently aiding his mom. Checks every egg in the carton box when purchases eggs;
Leona
— do you really expect him of all people to go to supermarket for groceries? Exactly. If by any miracle Leona is going, he hates every second of it. Throws ungodly amount of meat in the cart, very expensive one too. It may look like the beastman doesn't even bat an eye at the price tags, however he does read, it's just he has enough to spend. Hates standing in the queue at the checkout with burning passion, falls asleep mid through;
Ruggie
— the guy just doesn't understand the appeal of supermarkets, you can't even haggle there... At any rate, don't give Ruggie huge budget unless you want to see long boa in place of receipt. If he has no room for grand purchases, he always makes sure to cut himself enough money for a treat from what he was given. Unapologetically eats a lot at food sample stands, even takes some with him if he is able to;
Jack
— safe choice for the most part, not if there is a huge sale or something because then he may unwillingly run into someone rude who will most likely throw him out of loop. Jack is adamant on holding the basket or cart, honestly he likes his role far more than buying things. When he sees anything with pears in it he immediately thinks of his family back home;
Azul
— he would rather "request" aid from someone else but if Azul is to go, he will make sure to make it as useful as possible. He will closely observe different tricks and tactics that the staff uses to sell more goods, for educational purposes naturally. Merman's least favourite aisles with snacks. Seriously, why do they put mountains of cola and chips on full display?? Each time he has to resist the temptations....
Jade
— neat and perfect, on the first glance. Jade's scouting for groceries can end up not as smoothly as it should be, which he doesn't mind per say. Ah, but it's already the fifth supermarket where he has been mistaken for his twin brother and forced to leave. He would rather not go in circles around for a chore, so Jade just verbally "convinces" stuff to relent and let him finally do the shopping;
Floyd
— oh boy, better pray that something good will happen with Floyd or nothing out of ordinary along the way. Because it directly influences which content he brings back — it's hard to pinpoint the exact number of success rates. Since supermarkets are quick to bore him out, the hobby of his is to go straight to the fish aisle to taunt living fish in the aquarium. The merman is banned in several stores already--
Kalim
— oh yeah!! Kalim is not used to going to supermarkets for "reasons", so he is very much thrilled first time around. This excitement is quickly brought down by the set grocery budget. Waaah... turns out buying things with such restrictions is far more difficult than he anticipated. Surprisingly, Kalim bought everything needed, though he did return kind of dejected;
Jamil
— absolutely perfect. The stuff on the list, the time taken, the receipt, the discounts — just all boxes checked. Boom, done. Jamil is truly capable of everything, going to supermarket is not a big deal at all, it's even better in a way than the markets he is so used to attending solely because there are no bugs. What else he needs rather than such great reassurance?
Vil
— he doesn't need to be told to go for groceries as he is buying them for himself anyways. Though Vil prefers to buy fresh vegetables and fruit elsewhere. The problem with going to supermarket is in keeping low profile, unless your face isn't plastered across popular drinkable yogurt brand? Said yogurt is quite tasty and plenty healthy, which is why he had taken up the gig. From bystanders' perspective, Vil looks like someone's mom or aunt with his whole cover get-up;
Rook
— this guy is delighted to go to somewhere like supermarket. Rook prefers to seek and hunt food for himself, but he can't deny this certain allure of the place. He also enjoys watching people's thought process right before his eyes: like how one can easily replace spaghetti with discount cheap liquor in an abundant quantity! This fascinating phenomena does hold him off a bit from his task, but how can he be blamed?
Epel
— not too enthusiastic about going for groceries until it strikes him that he can show off how reliable and strong he is. Okay then, count him in! Shakes his head in disapproval while browsing the fruit section. The choice of food overall is big but not on par with the one in his village in terms quality. It kind of sours his mood... not until his eyes fall onto the cool products that he has never seen before back home;
Idia
— no. Literally, the delivery drones work all the time, same with 24/7 convenience stores. Besides, why would you pick someone with such a low strength stats, are you out of your mind- And here Idia was, in a huge scary supermarket full of people. The fright was so intense that he only bought what was nearest to him and didn't bother looking for other stuff. Almost left fire marks on the floor with how fast he bolted through the self check-out desk;
Ortho
— it's true that technology has advanced enough that it's much less energy consuming to order things online, however going somewhere is just fun! Ortho is really up to it, he can analyze the content of food directly instead of only what's written in the package to better understand nutrition value and he can unwind in general. The boy generally is very helpful too!
Malleus
— never ever has been to supermarket before, so that's definitely a new experience for him. From others' point of view it looked like Malleus has come to an art museum instead: he even stood still for a few minutes listening to music from the speakers. The fae is amazed by the choice of foods that is available, even seeing products he had never encountered back at Briar Valley. He does find queues bothersome, but it's something he could overlook, this time;
Lilia
— like a fish in the sea. Lilia can wander around the store for hours, coming up with all sorts of recipes he could cook! Constantly adds things not on the list and takes away those he deems "unnecessary". If you take a look into his cart, you will never guess what he was going to cook with all those ingredients, none of which can even work together. Buys candy for his children, club members and friends too;
Silver
— are you sure you want him to go? Yes, Silver can indeed complete such simple deed, and yet him falling asleep at any random moment will surely hinder the whole process. If he is still going, the knight then also buys some nuts, vegetables and fruits for his animal friends. Something for lord Malleus, father and Sebek as well, yet often forgets to buy something for himself;
Sebek
— he is so up to it he may forget to take the list with himself, provided the chore was assigned by Malleus or Lilia, or at least anyone Sebek respects for that matter. Believe me, he is not above making a scene if someone takes the last goodie that was on the list, which he deems extremely important, only to cool down when the store worker rolls out the cart full of the thing in question. Thanks Seven neither lord Malleus, master Lilia nor Silver saw his blunder...
#twisted wonderland headcanons#twst headcanons#riddle rosehearts#trey clover#cater diamond#ace trappola#deuce spade#leona kingscholar#ruggie bucchi#jack howl#azul ashengrotto#jade leech#floyd leech#kalim al asim#jamil viper#vil schoenheit#rook hunt#epel felmier#idia shroud#ortho shroud#malleus draconia#lilia vanrouge#silver twst#silver twisted wonderland#sebek zigvolt
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Meet Clarabelle! My Jack Horner x OC because I’m falling for this purple asshole so hard.. haha I wrote some info about her under the cut if you’re interested in reading! (Will make more posts abt her to add more lore.. hehe)
Some information about Clarabelle
Clarabelle is one of twelve sisters from the fairytale “The Twelve Dancing Princesses”. She is the fourth eldest sister and considered the most airheaded, however Clarabelle is very friendly to all she meets regardless of status.
Because nobody remembers or bothers to learn the twelve dancing princesses names, Clarabelle can easily disguise herself as someone else without being recognized. This is beneficial to her because she has more time to focus on herself and her hobbies.
Clarabelle enjoys dancing (obviously), singing, and cooking/baking! She can make a mean stew but her baking skills are lacking.. Many of Jack’s bakers wonder why he even had her work for the company.
Since Clarabelle burns pie crust left and right, Jack tells her she can work in advertising instead.. but she is required to wear a different uniform.. to you know.. attract paying customers.
Surprisingly, Clarabelle’s upbeat attitude and totally not because of her uniform brings in more sales to Horner’s pie company. Some think she’s really good at faking loving her job, but in reality she genuinely enjoys it.
“Come try Horner pies! They’re the best treat that can’t be beat!” :P
Even though Jack doesn’t really need more sales (Seriously, he’s already super wealthy.) he finds it amusing to see so many people buy his pastries only because his sales girl is so cute.
Also, he doesn’t know why she hasn’t noticed his pie company is a cover up for his crimes. He knows for a fact that she’s seen his henchmen carrying off a body or two.. or the maids cleaning up blood in the pantry.
Clarabelle is just too focused on doing a good job for her boss. And totally not because she finds him handsome or anything..
Eventually, Jack grows bored sending Clarabelle off in the village with two henchmen (He wouldn’t let any inferior peasants even think of fraternizing with her!) and decides to keep her close by his side for awhile within the factory walls.
Clarabelle is more than thrilled to be closer to her boss. When they’re seen together outside his office, she’s practically beaming in the grim factory and trying to taste all the pies.
“Look, boss! You got another big catering order! Can I help with the tasting?”
Jack eventually asks her to stop calling him boss, and just “Jack”.. because he likes hearing his name roll off her tongue.
“I already told you to stop calling me ‘boss’. It’s just Jack!”
Months pass and Jack can’t handle the way Clarabelle just looks so cute selling his pies.. that he starts to drop more than subtle hints on courting her. Unfortunately, because she’s so ditsy, it takes her forever to realize.
He literally leaves a gilded rose preserved in magic dust inside her house with a note attached-
“My darling, if I were the moon, I would like you to be my brightness. - J
She is so flattered but doesn’t know what “J” means..
A week passes and Clarabelle doesn’t understand why Jack has been so moody lately.. Before she can ask him he tells her he has a private meeting and expects his office to be cleaned before he gets back.
As Clarabelle picks up different papers Jack as signed, she notices his initials on a few of them and is in awe with how pretty his handwriting is.
Then it dawns on her.. The “J” on her anonymous love note matches Jack Horner’s handwriting. Oh.
Oh..
“How come you’re so dense, Clarabelle?!”
When Jack gets back, he’s in for a surprise kiss and a million apologies for not knowing the letter was from him.. and that she’ll do better to understand cues in the future.
I’m sorry if this is a lot NVDSBVHFDS I’m just writing down my ideas hehe.
#Big Jack Horner#original character#puss in boots oc#puss in boots: the last wish#jack horner#my art#the twelve dancing princesses#im a simp what can i say#fan oc#dreamworks
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!¡A/N: I TOLD YOU I’D WRITE SOMETHING HAH- anyways I wanted to make some headcanons for my Camp NRC Au so here we go. I feel like Heartslabyul got the most headcanons hh- If you have any tell me I wanna see them.
!¡Includes: GN reader, Camp NRC Au
!¡Context: Information about this Au can be found on my pinned post or here
←Bridal Style Cooking→
・Riddle probably brought 100 cans of bug spray, sunscreen, water, etc. Yeah, he could just buy it from Sam’s shop, but why would he do that when he can just bring his own?
・He probably forces everyone to spray themself with said sunscreen and bug spray before they go out to do any physical activities. He’s not gonna deal with a bunch of sunburned and bug-bitten campers.
・Tr*y is highly valued when it’s their turn with cooking duty.
・He probably makes and brings snacks for people to eat whenever they go out to regain energy.
・Cater loves the camp with all it’s greenery and wild life, but gets upset when he doesn’t have enough reception to check up on Magicam and other stuff.
・Every summer his account is just filled with photos he takes there along with selfies of him and other people, such as at a campfire roasting marshmallows or a flower he had found while hiking.
・Ace probably gets annoyed by all the bugs, serves him right for not listening to riddle and putting on the bug spray but he does fairly well when doing the activities.
・His pranks often land him in cooking/cleaning duty, only for him to go and play more pranks again. He probably drags Mc and Grim into doing these with him, using the excuse that they’re best friends and should help eachother.
・Deuce loves all the activities, it gives him a chance to use all his pent-up energy and be active, much more fulfilling than just doing the track team.
・He’s probably teased alot by Ace if he decides to study for school the next year. He just wants to make sure he will do well the next school year and learn ahead(much to Riddle’s enjoyment)
・Leona finds having to get up and go do camp activities too tiring and annoying, often skipping out on them and staying in the cabin instead.
・Ruggie might go to the list and found and steal find all sorts of things fir him to use or sell back to other campers.
・Jack, like Deuce, enjoys all the activities he can do, often coming back sweating and tired.
・I can already imagine how bad the cabin would smell, 10 thaumarks that when Mc goes there they are also bringing 20 bottles of febreeze for them.
・Azul built a side building from the cabin for the Mostro Lounge, except this time it’s more of a cafe for campers to come and hang out because how the fuck do you have a random restaurant in the middle of the woods
・He’s not the best at the physical activities—ok he sucks at them, but when it comes to the others he makes sure he excels at them to make up for it.
・Jade absolutely loves it. How could he not? There’s so much plants, specifically mushrooms, for him to study and collect. He’s even more dangerous now, please don’t let him “try” new recipes.
・Floyd is chaotic, same as before really. No matter what he’s going to bring chaos and disorder anywhere he walks. A simple Wednesday afternoon? Too bad Floyd is barging in to the cabin covered in mud with a snake in his hand.
・Kalim probably spent alot of money on the cabin, making Scarabia far fancier than the others.
・When it comes to their turn for cooking and cleaning duty Kalim tries his best, he really is, but he just can’t, often ending up with Jamil doing it instead. Who would’ve guessed
・Jamil is Jamil. I’m not sure what you wanted me to say, he does good with the activities, he watches over Kalim and the cabin, nothing really changes.
・Do you think Vil came because he needed practice for an upcoming camp movie? (/j)
・Ok but on a serious note Vil would do fine really. He would probably get a but annoyed when it’s too loud for him to sleep, or he isn’t able to get more face-wash from his favorite brand, but other than that he treats it like camp.
・The only thing he really dislikes is when he starts to sweat. He knows it’s natural but sweating too much will ruin his complexion and he’s not risking that.
・Rook is happier than me when I got Lilia’s SSR card. A camp? In the forest? With a bunch of campers, majority he deems interesting? Oh he loves it.
・He has the chance to both explore and be active while also observing others there.
・Suddenly Epel finds a way to make Vil even angrier than he would have been able to before.
・It’s a camp in the middle of the forest, what’d you expect? He can go out and come back sweating and with dirt on him and Vil can’t complain because what’d he expect, it’s a camp.
・Let me just get this out of the way, Idia is in complete torture. Honestly how could he not be, he’s in some camp in the middle of nowhere. There’s no way he’d be able to check up on the latest updates from his favorite game, or to even get on his game with the “service” out here.
・He thinks of it as more of a prison then a camp. There’s a bunch of people who he had to interact with and complete activities with, torture really.
・Ortho on the other hand has a wonderful time. He does fairly well with all the activities, since he is a yknow a robot-
・Really the only problem is that sometimes while they’re pit he may run out of battery, causing someone to have to carry him back to the cabin to be charged.
・Malleus finds the idea of it interesting. Every summer you come out to the middle of nowhere to male friends and have fun? Emphasis on the friends part.
・He is probably still left out from some of the activities, being forgotten to be notified for when it happens, but he tries his best when he dies attend and to learn about the thing you do here.
・I will be surprised if he manages to keep the “covering up every shred of skin” thing up. It’s summer it’s going to be hot, I mean sure he’s done it before, but only for a few days, what about 3 whole months? I just want to see Mal-Mal in “summer” clother hh-
・Lilia has fun here. He takes part in as many activities as he can, and hopefully remembering to bring along Malleus.
・He tries to make the most of it and make it a fulfilling experience for Malleus, just don’t let him on cooking duty- please-
・Silver really just sleeps through it alot, but he still tries to have fun and attend as many activities as he gets dragged to can.
・He probably enjoys all the wildlife, the animals, plants, etc.
・Silver probably has to tell Sebek to hush up or else he’ll scare away the animals with all his yelling.
・Sebek thinks Malleus is too good to be doing cooking/cleaning duty, but Malleus makes sure he does his part when the time comes.
・Sebek is just Sebek I don’t really know-
©rayisalive 9/16/22 None of my work is to be translated, plagiarized, or reposted without my knowledge. If I inspired you be sure to tag me so I can check it out!
#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x mc#twisted wonderland x yuu#twisted wonderland x reader#headcanons#fanfic#riddle rosehearts#trey clover#cater diamond#ace trappola#deuce spade#leona kingscholar#ruggie bucchi#jack howl#azul ashengrotto#jade leech#floyd leech#kalim al asim#jamil viper#vil schoenheit#rook hunt#epel felmier#idia shroud#ortho shroud#malleus draconia#lilia vanrouge#sebek zigvolt#silver twst#Camp NRC Au
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in commemorace of me almost busting my ass on the slick ass dominos floor I'm assigning the twst boys jobs at dominos and my reasoning why, we have had like 10 gms at one time so not that unrealistic lmao
riddle- riddle is a heavy stickler for the rules so as much as I could see him being a corporate inspector that would ruin the fun of this so for the sake of this post rank 3 general manager and future franchisee. he trains new employees the "right" way even though it's not as efficient (like cutting sandwiches with the pizza roller cutter thing instead of the giant guillotine blade we use for the actual pizzas) he's the reason the store would get a perfect score on inspection
trey- treys pretty responsible and his parents run a bakery so I can def see him as a rank 1 or 2 gm they honestly don't really have any special roles other than just being helpful in my experience, definitely works make line or oven most of the time. he used the cutter blade on sandwiches all the way efficiently maximize profits, and I KNOW this fictional twst dominos store would be busy af.
Cater- Rank 2 gm but specializes up front, this man can talk to people great customer service skills and is pretty enough to get good tips and sell extra food just because he's cute.
ace- I don't trust this man at all making my pizza but that's the thing most people get trained on first unless they have something that makes them appealing or more fit for something else, ace is cute but I don't think he's fit for register. he probably works on making and loading sides as those aren't that hard to mess up half the time your throwing 8-32 peices of chicken onto a little trey or putting in like cookie brownies or like twists in.
deuce- my man is trying his best to make his way up to main makeline he probably makes the simple pizzas like a simple Hawaiian because I think he would struggle a bit with specialitys he probably knows what goes on like a meatzza or deluxe but struggles with like Honolulu Hawaiian.
leona- he could be promoted if he wanted too but he doesn't care that much, definitely a driver. is their stuff they are actually suppost to do? yes, do any of the drivers at our store do it? no never not in a million years. I'm like 75% percent sure their suppost to clean out our hot bags according to the schedule but I've never seen anyone at our store do it half of them are just on their phones or chilling in their cars. in Leona case it's napping he's not aloud to sleep in his car anymore because he has gone back to sleep and ended up not delivering a pizza.
ruggie- he's either a GM in training or driver GM they both get payed more than the rest off us and ruggie is pretty competent so I think it fits, drivers get payed the most out of standard positions and I think driver managers get payed a little more than that, drivers also get really good tips too.
jack- he's on main makeline, jack has good grades and studies so it's fair to say he memorize all of the abbreviations and what goes on each side. you yell out "large extravaganza and philly sandwiche" and he's got it. he probably doesn't make the prettiest pizzas but he's got a good memory to make up for it and double checks whatever ADeuce duo makes for the days they are on main makeline.
azul- he owns a restaurant so as much as I could be cheap and say he's the actual owner who never comes into the store and just collects the money I'm not, GM level 4 he's the "boss" and the most likely to get his own store in a few years time. he never closes ever I could maybe see him opening but I really just see him coming in a few times a week for like 3 or 4 hours and sending out the schedules. I know he's a hard worker but I can't see this man making pizzas at all he's either up front taking orders and ringing people up with cater or working oven with trey. their not "easy" jobs but don't require you getting your hands too dirty especially if your the boss and can get someone else to do the dirty work.
jade- GM level 2 again not many "responsibility" level 2 gms tend to just be their for questions and occasionally helping or training new employees, might work up front from time to time but I can see him slapping dough sometimes. does what he's told without complaining.
floyd- this man doesn't have the patience for anything else this man is a driver on a pretty good driver on a bad day you better give him all contactless for the safety of the customers, sorry Floyd fans but I have to be real with yall.
kalim- I love kalim as much as the next person who lives off of sunshine characters but this man only has the skills to work up front at register, I don't think he'd complain if you asked him to hop on makeline or like sweep or do dishes but he's not happy. he likes to give people their orders and make the kids smile.
jamil- Jamil is more than capable and can easily get stuff done and doesn't complain what you tell him to do, tell him to clean the absolutely disgusting hot bags? he's on it, need him to clean out the catch treys? those are going to be sparkling and you don't even have to worry about them almost being dropped. he will rack cheese and clean the deep freeze no hesitation. he's a great GM but he has definitely fumbled a few times, he has sent most of the drivers home exreamly early right before a huge thunderstorm hit and incase you didn't know people order more deliveries when the weather is cold rainy and overall icky. he didn't tell anyone that he send home over half of the drivers so their were Many frantic phone calls from the rest of the GMs to get all the drivers back. (that is based off of a true story we had to call our boss and atleast 15 more drivers because he only had 3 clocked in and our delivery times were over a hour and a half)
vil- when training people on makeline we have the fact that we must make the prettiest pizzas known to man, pizza making is a form of art and you better be the next da Vinci or atleasr give your best effort. GM level 2, fast and efficient and has good customer service skills so he works up front when understaffed. if vil works up front for a whole day their is definitely a jump in carry out sales. although he would rather not do the gross and disgusting tasks he will if theirs gloves he is not washing pans and grabbing them out of the disgusting and greasy pan bucket empty handed no matter how much you pay him. heavily inspired by my 4th favorite manager and myself no matter how much you pay me I am NEVER grabbing and cleaning pans empty handed yall don't know how gross that is.
rook- definitely works main makeline with vil and even though he's not as strict on making the best pizzas known to man he can be particular he will make sure pizzas aren't burnt and under his watch their won't be any illegally big bubbles on pizzas or too dry cheesey breads. whenever he's upfront he memorized peoples orders to their faces he doesn't even have to ask if it's a carside he definitely memorized peoples license plates
epel- he is not aloud to work up front no matter how understaffed we are he's always on makeline he has no customer service skills, if he and vils schedules overlap then maybe he could answer a phone or hand people a pizza. they have sent him to get something off of the top shelf in the walk in and almost brought the whole self down on multiple occasions (based off of many of my true stories where the latter was no where to be found I almost died that day) he's pretty strong and helps with some of the more physically demanding tasks like refiling the sanitation buckets (those get unbelievably heavy for no reason okay and I'm pretty strong) or refilling the fridge he can definitely carry more than one of the packages of 20 onces and the stacks of 2 leaters get pretty heavy too.
idia- If he wasn't so anti social he would have good potential of working up front when you have to type in your social security login a million times a day or type in someone's credit card info it helps to be able to type fast but my man could not even ask someones name on their order to hand it to them, good in theory terrible execution. he would probably be a driver or stick to cleaning like doing the dishes, most of the time you don't have to talk to anyone if your a driver then you have to get them to sign the receipt and I think he would implode. dishes Is the best job you don't need to talk to anyone and most people do it alone unless your like some of my managers who like too do it together and gossip. perfect for putting on music or a podcast and zoning out too.
ortho- even though he's a child when he grows up I see him working up front, he's pretty social so I don't see him struggling that much
malleus- people think he's scary and tend to avoid him so even though he's pretty sweet I feel like customers and some coworkers would go out of their way to not talk to him, would probably be a okay delivery driver he wouldn't even have to stair people down to get a good tip his threating aura would mean people would do it so they could run back inside with their pizza asap
lilia- he's honestly pretty flexible but I feel like he would be a terrible driver I feel like he would be the definition of r/maliciouscomplalence or a huge troll and no inbetween. if someone said bring pepper flakes for a better tip without saying a exact amount he would bring the whole box of pepper flakes. no one needs a 100 packets of pepper flakes but they didn't say an amount so rip. he's probably only aloud to do it when they are really desperate for drivers.
silver- probably just a general insider and will do whatevers needed pretty flexible and chill, probably not aloud to work oven just incase he falls asleep we can't have a pizza falling out of the oven.
sebek- he Is also not aloud to work up front due to the fact he has no volume control we can't have him scarring away customers can we??? if not a general insider than maybe a driver I honestly don't have much of a opinion of him or what he's good at sorry sebek enjoyers but I honestly have no idea what he would be good at.
#amari writes stuff or something#twisted wonderland#twst wonderland#disney twst#riddle rosehearts#trey clover#cater diamond#ace trappola#deuce spade#leona kingscholar#ruggie bucchi#jack howl#azul ashengrotto#jade leech#floyd leech#kalim al asim#jamil viper#vil schoenheit#rook hunt#epel felmier#idia shroud#ortho shroud#malleus draconia#lilia vanrouge#silver twst#sebek zigvolt#silver vanrouge
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I think there's an interesting kind of girly media that is either aimed at men or gets a large male audience (especially a cishetero one) that is like...
I mean, one. I personally often like these shows/games/etc. So it would by hypocritical as fuck for me to slight any man for liking them. So this isn't me being like, "these guys are creepy" or whatever, because I don't actually think that's the case.
Instead I think it's just a really good example of how being raised in a certain media atmosphere often means you need an entry point (or perhaps sometimes and excuse) to explore media outside those boundaries. And how that can become fraught when the systems that created those isolated media towers are themselves fraught.
So, you get this stuff that offers men a safe way to explore really girly shit that acts as a ladder from one window to another, or a plausible deniability that allows them to let their guard down.
It's ironic/subversive (My Little Pony). It's gritty (Madoka Magica). It's a waifu collector and surprisingly hardcore video game (Love Live!).
Where then when you go into the fandom spaces and discussions there, often what becomes really clear is just that
like
these guys like cute shit. They have clearly wanted an excuse to talk about costume design and ponies and magic and dresses and pop songs. They may be coming at it from a different angle than me, but they clearly like it for the same reasons underneath.
And obviously with My Little Pony that was accidental. But I think there's something interesting about media like Love Live! that is specifically and purposefully catering exactly to that.
Actually, Love Live! is a masterclass is plausible deniability. On paper it is PG rated and in tone it is indistinguishable from the kind of thing you'd see aimed at tweens on the Disney channel. The fanservice is there, but it's so tame as to be the anime fanservice equivalent of, like, a Victorian lady almost showing an ankle.
So the franchise gets to plausibly chaste. They get the plausible deniability of being like, "oh, no, we thought this would be popular among teen girls" even though that is clearly not their target audience.
Meanwhile the dudes get to be like, "I just like hot anime babes", or "I just think it's one of the best mobile rhythm games" when clearly if they wanted those things, there are other more direct sources. If you want hot anime babes, there are hundreds of other saucier things you could watch. If you want a good rhythm game, there are many good rhythm games.
Like, they are there for the cute pop songs and costumes. And, yes, the characters, which are part of the package. But they are fans of them in the exact way girls are fans of boy bands and pick their favorite. Like, this is an incredibly girly activity they are partaking in.
But there's this genius layer of marketing and psychology at play to sell this incredibly girly kind of entertainment experience, that of course men would also want to have sometimes, to men in a way they feel comfortable with.
Which, like, I am absolutely positive the reverse exists. I just think it's interesting.
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On Overcompensation: Josh Hawley’s “Manhood”
Sen. Josh Hawley has come out with a new book about manhood. Why? Because there is nothing more misogynist than patriarch-enabling dimwits, they like to do more than spend time rationalizing and justifying why they are "special" and why their whims and desires need to be catered to. This way, Hawley can have his political PACs buy up thousands of copies as a way of laundering money and pumping up his wingnut cred by being able to claim, "New York Times best-selling author."
In an essay, "The Antidote to Dependence Is Building," an adaptation from his book, Hawley pulls out all the typical bullshit to make his case that conservatives, and only conservatives, are and defend "real men." Using their hands, creating things, and building things are how men are of value to society and how they earn their mythical "man points" until they get enough to be called a "real man" at the "Real Man Ceremony" at their local Cracker Barrel.
Let’s put aside the fact that Hawley went to a private Jesuit prep school, went to Stanford as a legacy, graduated from Yale Law School, and spent his adult life as a lawyer, Missouri Attorney General, and U.S. Senator. These are hardly the tracks to manhood Hawley argues for and claims to defend. Instead, let’s focus on how he sets up the problem and his arguments.
Hawley starts defining "manhood" with a description of his uncle, Bruce, who ran a concrete company:
"The truth is that manual work of the kind Bruce does has become less and less valued in our society, not least because the elites who set the cultural tone largely disdain those who work with their hands." The media regularly admonish schoolchildren to go to college precisely to avoid the kind of labor Bruce has been doing for 40 years. "The tech start-up wizard and the Wall Street maven are liberal culture’s beau ideals."
Manual labor has become less and less valued in our society. However, not because of left-leaning disdain but because economies around the world have shifted and a big chunk of those doing the type of work Hawley ties to manhood are minorities, Democrats have been trying to get better wages and working conditions for the people in this country doing manual labor forever. Republicans have been demonizing them. Hawley doesn’t go down this road because it exposes the bigotry and racism built into today’s GOP. Hawley wants to use the example of his white uncle and cousin as a stand-in for all manual laborers, even though they represent the minority of this group.
Next, Hawley claims the media admonishes kids to attend college to "avoid the kind of labor Bruce has been doing for 40 years." Without providing even a single example of the "media" doing this, Hawley throws all media under the bus. Why? because it is a lazy trope. When all else fails, blame the "media," because the GOP base has been conditioned for decades to believe that the media is run by elite leftists. Hawley knows this and is readily willing to use it to support his bullshit position.
The media hasn’t been the one pushing for kids to get a college education. Parents who want their kids to have a better life than they do are behind this push. Businesses run by GOP owners, CEOs, and managers have been demanding college degrees from their workers. The world economy has been behind this push. What Hawley is mad about is the fact that women have been earning bachelor’s degrees at a much higher rate than men since 1981.
Having more educated women and minorities defeats the "men are superior" bullshit. If women and minorities excel scholastically, financially, and culturally, then the entire "men are superior" house of cards comes tumbling down. Women and minorities earning college degrees, especially at a rate higher than men, is just another reason for Republicans to denigrate a college education.
You don’t get to bitch and moan about how American kids are falling behind kids from Japan, India, South Korea, etc. when it comes to test scores while undermining college educations. If you want American kids to be able to compete with kids from around the world, then they need to be as well or better educated. These won't happen through thoughts and prayers.
You don’t get to bitch about having to see medical personnel and specialists with names you can’t pronounce while complaining that American kids are being "admonished" to be better educated.
You don’t get to bitch about people from India, Indonesia, China, etc. taking over tech jobs in Silicon Valley while berating those pushing for more STEM programs and education for American kids.
Wanting kids to attend college isn’t about avoiding the "kind of labor Bruce has been doing for 40 years." It is about wanting kids to have the necessary skills in an ever-more technical world. If you want to be nostalgic, there used to be a time when stories about a manual-laboring father making sacrifices so his kids could go to college and not have to do the hard work he’d endured were seen as the epitome of the American Dream. I guess if "dad" in this story is "mom" and/or the child going to college isn’t a white male, it doesn’t count.
Hawley claims being a tech start-up wizard and Wall Street maven are "liberal culture’s best ideals." What the actual fuck? A lot of tech start-up wizards are not liberals. They are libertarians. If you don’t understand the differences between liberals and libertarians, you probably think Hawley’s claim has merit. It doesn’t. Elon Musk, Mark Zuckerberg, Larry Ellison, Jack Dorsey, etc. might have some liberal views when it comes to social issues, but they are ultra-conservative when it comes to things like tax cuts, regulations, government oversight, etc.
As ridiculous as claiming liberals are fans of the start-up tech bros is, stating liberals love Wall Street mavens is not just outlandish; it is an outright lie.
Vulture capitalists and hedge fund managers are reviled by the left. Democrats, from FDR to Joe Biden, have tried to regulate Wall Street mavens, sometimes successfully, often not. When the housing market collapsed in 2008–09, it was on the left, not the right, behind Occupy Wall Street. Since Reagan, Republicans have catered to, fawned over, and lionized Wall Street mavens. If there was a Wall Street ball gargling contest, the top 100 ranked garglers would all be Republicans.
After lying about who caters to Wall Street and why college educations are encouraged, Hawley does what any Republican trying to make their argument unassailable does—tie it to the Bible.
"The antidote to dependence is building." The antidote to passivity is work. And work is, according to the Bible and the Western tradition it defines, an invitation that speaks to every man. "It is an invitation to do what every man wants to do: matter in the most lasting way possible."
This is the Yale Law School reframing of "Give a man a fish, he eats for a day." "Teach a man to fish; he eats for life." It might sound smart to the rubes, but it is overly simplistic and ignores all economic progress over the past three thousand years.
In an agrarian society where it was necessary to work hard in order to survive, this kind of pithy view might have made sense. In the high-tech world economy, it doesn’t. Humanity has intentionally created things to make their lives easier. Whining about this and/or demanding some allegiance to the past is moronic. There are good reasons why humans live longer, have lower poverty rates, and are better educated than their ancestors. It isn’t because we still churn our own butter or work the back forty from dawn to dusk. It is because science and innovations have created a world where more and more of us don’t have to do things that shorten our lives and make them more difficult.
Hawley’s view that men get value from work is very similar to the view that slaves were lucky to have work and be of value to their owners. Work is only valuable if it gives value to the person doing it. Hawley seems to believe that work has some intrinsic property and that merely by doing it, a man gets value.
Working = value is useful for Hawley and the right because if this is true, then there is no reason to increase the minimum wage, have workers place safety measures, provide healthcare, or have some sort of pension plan. If you are a good Christian American, you should work for the sake of work because it has some magical property that gives you value.
All this bullshit about work, for Hawley, is limited to men (and by his examples, white men) because "being a man," in these very specific ways, is necessary to protect the white Christian American male world Hawley grew up in and needs to keep him in office.
He could easily use the same work = value argument for women, but he doesn’t because it is necessary for him to have a world where men are the ones who need to have value. I’m sure if pressed, he’d say women do have value, but as wives and mothers, because that too protects the world where he and his ilk are special, they need to be reminded they are special, and their specialness must be protected at all costs.
Hawley and his ilk are hothouse orchids. They grew up in a world where they were the default members of every social pyramid. They didn’t have to really compete in an open job market because women and minorities weren’t allowed or given equal consideration. Television, movies, magazines—they told them they were special. What these mediums didn’t tell them is that they were told this because they were the largest consumer group. They were told they were special for so long and in so many different ways that they believed it. Why are white Christian men special? because white Christian men wrote the book on who gets to be considered special.
Instead of recognizing this and doing the bare minimum to change, people like Hawley make up new and uninteresting arguments as to why they are special. Their entire self-worth is tied to this notion of being special. As America becomes more diverse and cultural norms change to be more accepting of women, minorities, and the LGBTQI community, it becomes more difficult for people like Hawley to claim and defend their archaic worldview. The more examples of non-male, non-Christian, non-white people succeeding and doing as well or better than their white Christian male counterparts, the more obvious it becomes that the Josh Hawleys of the world are overcompensating because, whether they will ever admit it or not, they know they are full of shit.
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pink (like the holes in your heart) (ryujin/yeji)
Yeji leads a completely ordinary life—she works in a cafe by day, and dances at a club by night. She has friends, and her life is good. For the most part, she's content. But one night, she meets a hot older woman, and opens a new world full of new dangers and new delights.
Chapter 1 | next mlist
Characters: Yeji, Ryujin, the rest of itzy
Genre: romance, fluff, angst, smut, age gap, stripper!au
Pairing: Ryujin/Yeji
Warnings: AGE GAP (older ryujin, younger yeji), d/s themes in smut, mommy kink, bdsm and general rough treatment, alcohol mentions, sex work (nothing wild)
Rating: Mature
Length: 4k
I put this disclaimer on all my age gaps - I don't condone large age gaps in real life as these relationships tend to have an imbalanced power dynamic. However, because this is fiction, I can warp the world to my liking and guarantee everything is the way I want. Also, it's fiction, and we're all just here to have fun. If you don't think you're going to have fun, you can leave the way you came. I promise it'll be fine.
listen to the official playlist here!
The day everything changes starts like any other day.
Yeji wakes up around ten. It’s Monday, and she usually gets off work earlier on Sunday nights, since the cafe closes at eight instead of nine. And since she swore off working anywhere that sells coffee on Monday mornings, she gets to sleep in and take the day to get ready for her shift at the club. She puts her hair up just so it’s off her neck, and wanders from her bedroom to her cramped little kitchen, adding water to her coffee machine and turning it on, absently scrubbing at the handful of dishes she left in the sink the night before as she waits for her coffee to brew.
Coffee made and dishes washed, she makes her way over to her couch, sitting carefully and pulling up her texts on her phone to see what she missed when she was sleeping. Not much—just a text from Yuna saying she got home safe, and a text from Chaeryeong asking her to “call me and don’t stop if you don’t hear from me by three”. Yeji sets a reminder and folds her legs up into criss-cross-applesauce, reaching for her TV remote. If Chaeryeong doesn’t need to start getting ready until three, then she shouldn’t, either.
Chaeryeong dances at the same club Yeji does, though she’s been there longer and has a wider client base. That’s why Chaeryeong only works one job, while Yeji works two. It’s not necessarily that Yeji needs the cafe job—she’d survive without it—but she likes to have a backup plan. And besides, Yuna works almost all the same shifts she does, so it’s kind of fun.
Yeji, though she’s a year older, graduated university at the same time as Chaeryeong. She had to redo a grade when she was younger, bedridden with a complication of illnesses. She spent a lot of time in the hospital that year, and missed way too much school to make up in time to move on with her age group. Since then, she’d just embraced being older than her classmates, and she’d made a couple of pretty good friends along the way.
Chaeryeong is the best of them. She was already working part time at their club, Crown, when they were still in university, so when they graduated and Yeji realized she wasn’t going to pursue a traditional career in music like she’d planned, Chaeryeong had vouched for her at Crown, and Yeji had been offered a seat at the table. She made herself indispensable quickly—she’s always been a talented dancer, so it wasn’t difficult for her to adjust. Besides, she likes performing, so it’s a win-win. At any rate, she brings in money, which is really all anyone can ask for.
Crown doesn’t cater to a specific clientele—instead, they advertise what they have, which is mostly girls, and then whoever wants to show up can stay as long as they pay. As Chaeryeong had once put it, people are people and money is money. Yeji has to agree. Though she’s always identified as straight-ish, she doesn’t mind dancing for women. There’s something nice about it, something safer, so she can’t complain.
Yeji spends the day half-assing chores around her apartment and lying in bed scrolling social media, letting her brain melt inside her skull. She deserves it, she thinks, after last week. She’d taken on extra shifts at both the cafe and the club, so this week she’s going to take it easy. At least dancing is simple, and comes naturally to her, and she’s coming off a slow Sunday evening at the cafe.
Three rolls around; Yeji’s phone buzzes to remind her to call Chaeryeong, so she pushes herself up out of her bed, putting her phone on speaker and going to rummage through her closet as it rings.
“I’m up.” Chaeryeong sounds groggy. “Thank you.”
“Welcome,” Yeji replies. “Late night?”
“Yeah, we had a puker,” Chaeryeong says, disgust entering her voice. “I had to spend forever washing it out of my hair. Didn’t get to bed until, like, seven because I couldn’t find a ride home.”
Yeji makes a face as she pulls out a tight black bodysuit. It’s made of a satin-y material and has a heart cutout to show off her cleavage; she throws it on her bed and moves on to her shoes. “That’s gross, I’m sorry,” she says. “I dunno how it hasn’t happened to me yet.”
“You’re scarier, I think you intimidate the really drunk ones,” Chaeryeong says. “Or I just have really bad luck. What are you wearing tonight?”
“My black heart-cutout bodysuit, and I think my red pumps with the heart shaped heel?” Yeji pulls them out and holds them up to the light. “And I’m gonna put my hair up in those triangle minibuns.”
“Ooh, cute,” Chaeryeong gushes. “Okay, sounds good. I’ll wear white, then.”
“Virgin fantasy?”
“Virgin fantasy,” Chaeryeong confirms. “You know how they are. Okay, I have to eat, so I’m gonna hang up, but I’ll see you soon!”
“See you!” Yeji calls, digging through her bag to make sure she still has her makeup kits. Her phone beeps faintly; Chaeryeong has ended the call.
* * *
The bus ride is pleasant. It’s still cold enough that Yeji can throw sweats and a jacket over her outfit, so no one looks at her funny when she sits down. Her shoes are in her bag, with a backup pair of black stilettos just in case. She knocks her Converse together at the heels as she waits, tapping in time to the music in her headphones.
Familiar shops blur by in the late afternoon light. It’s still early spring, so the sun is weak, but still Yeji has to squint at her phone. In their group chat, Chaeryeong has written, Yuna fighting! Tomorrow we’ll treat you to celebrate.
If my exam doesn’t kill me first, Yuna has written back, along with a string of various crying emojis.
Cheer up, Yuna! Yeji types. You’ll do fine! And no matter how bad it goes, just remember Chaeryeong got puked on last night, so it can’t be as bad as that.
Why would u say that, Chaeryeong sends.
Thanks guys, Yuna says. Yeji can almost hear her giggle.
Yuna’s a couple years younger, and still in school. She works at the cafe around her class schedule, and spends a lot of her free time studying. She comes to the club sometimes over the weekend to surprise Yeji and Chaeryeong with dinner or some kind of treat, but it’s rare since she’s still a student and has plenty else going on—especially now, with midterms coming in strong. At least Yuna’s first final is for her math course, so she can get it over with.
Yeji realizes she’s only a few blocks away from her stop, and reaches up to pull the cord, standing carefully as they swing around a corner. She hikes her bag up on her shoulder, taking slow, measured steps to the door. The bus lurches to a halt, doors creaking open, and Yeji steps out into the brisk evening air.
It’s already loud and chaotic backstage when Yeji pushes her way inside. Chaeryeong is there, carefully applying some eyeliner in the mirror. She doesn’t look away from her reflection when Yeji approaches, just gives her a “hey”.
Yeji unzips her jacket, shaking it off. “I like this,” she says, nodding to Chaeryeong’s outfit. “Is it new?”
Chaeryeong twists a little, trying to show her lacy crop top and panty set off without standing. “Yup,” she says. “Got it two days ago. I just hope I don’t get puked on again tonight, I don’t know how I’ll get the stains off.” She shudders; Yeji makes a sympathetic face.
“I have a stain remover stick I swear by, Judy,” one of the other girls, Karina, says from Chaeryeong’s other side. “You’re welcome to borrow it if something happens—you too, Lucy.”
“Thanks,” Chaeryeong says warmly.
They use stage names just to protect their privacy—and to make themselves more memorable. One- or two-syllable names are usually best, though clearly it isn’t a hard and fast rule. Aside from Chaeryeong, Yeji doesn’t know any of her coworkers real names, and they don’t know hers. She’s sure with time, some of them would become her friends, but she’s only been here for about six or seven months.
Yeji changes her shoes and then shoves everything but her makeup into her locker and sits down next to Chaeryeong. The noise around them swells as more girls show up, as more fashion emergencies occur, as drinks get passed around. Yeji takes only one. She likes to stay lucid unless it’s a special night. Besides, all she does is dance. Even in the private rooms, her clients know not to touch her unless she tells them to, so there’s no need for liquid courage.
That’s the other thing about Crown: it’s safe. Mom runs a tight ship, and she doesn’t hesitate to ban customers who make her girls feel uncomfortable. She also doesn’t have qualms with firing girls for causing drama, even if they’re good performers. Though she can be strict, they all know it’s for their own good, and that she has their best interest in mind. Plus, she usually brings them pre-show snacks.
A mini croissant appears under Yeji’s nose. “Hi, Mom,” she says, meeting her eyes in the mirror. Just like the rest of them, Mom’s real name is unknown. She’s just Mom.
Mom smiles. “Hi, baby,” she says. “Eat up. We haven’t done carbs in a while, and some of you are getting too skinny. Can’t dance if you don’t eat.”
“Thanks,” Yeji says, accepting the croissant and tearing into it happily. It’s flakey on the outside and soft in the middle; Mom must have baked them herself just this afternoon.
Yeji has a solo stage tonight, so she spends a little extra time to make sure her makeup is perfect. Luckily, the newbies are opening while they wait for the club to fill, so she has a little more time to fuss in the mirror. Chaeryeong stays back to help her with her hair, even though she could be out pulling clients.
“You have a solo,” she says when Yeji protests. “And half an hour isn’t going to bankrupt me.”
Yeji is waiting in the wings when her name is announced; she strolls onstage, waving to a few regulars she recognizes before immersing herself in her dance. Her only prop is a chair—unlike Chaeryeong, she’s not good enough at pole yet to base a whole routine around it—but the small crowd that’s formed around the stage presses closer. She can feel the warmth of their bodies when her choreography brings her closer to the front.
She’s breathless by the time her set ends. Luckily, cleanup isn’t necessary, so she slips backstage to touch up as the next girls come on. The club went digital some time ago, so any tips are made through devices around the room and at tables. Though it takes some of the old-school fun out of it, it’s efficient, and definitely more secure. After deductions, it all goes into their weekly paychecks, which are deposited into their accounts every Tuesday. Some clients still like to tip in physical cash, but that rarely happens for stage performances. It’s usually reserved for private dances, where they can be sure the money ends up in the right hands.
Yeji wanders through the crowd, pausing to watch the girls currently on the stage for a moment, smiling to herself faintly. Though it’s loud, the bass thrumming through her entire body, there’s something peaceful about this. It’s her second home, where she gets to do what she loves, where she’s surrounded by other girls who love the same things.
“It’s Lucy, isn’t it?”
Yeji turns, blinking at a woman standing just a foot away. “Yes,” she says, smiling to cover up her surprise. Though it’s not the first time, Yeji is rarely approached by women. Maybe it’s the hair today; sometimes men are put off by complex looks. “What can I do for you?”
“I think I’d like a dance.” The woman is sizing her up, almost, as she says it. Yeji takes the opportunity to look her potential customer over. She’s about the same height as Yeji, though a little shorter, even without the heels. She’s wearing white slacks and a silky blue button down dress shirt. Her hands are in her pockets, and some of her black hair falls into her face, casting shadows. Yeji can’t quite be sure, but something tells her this woman is older than her—by a pretty significant margin. No matter. People are people, and money is money. She’s pretty, age aside; maybe it’s this that makes Yeji’s heart stutter in her chest.
“A private dance?” Yeji asks.
“Mm,” the woman hums. “I’d rather not share. I’ve been told I don’t play well with others.”
Yeji giggles; she would’ve even if the joke wasn’t funny, but this is genuine. “Let me bring you to the bar, then,” she says, reaching out a hand. “One of our boys will get us all set up.”
Instead of taking her hand, though, the woman offers her arm instead. Yeji takes it, somehow flattered. Hand-holding is for kids; being offered an arm feels much more sophisticated.
Yeji’s given the key to one of the rooms about halfway down the hall. She hooks her finger around the keyring and leads the woman towards the back. “I haven’t seen you here before,” she says as they walk, just to make conversation. “Is it your first time?”
“No,” the woman says. “But I’ve only been coming for a couple of weeks. I don’t go out much.” Yeji looks at her and sees her smiling. “I’m too old to be going out every other night.”
“You don’t look that old to me,” Yeji says, truthfully. Sure, she clocked her as older, but she would be surprised if she was a day over thirty-five. “You have beautiful skin.”
The woman laughs softly. “Thank you,” she says. “You don’t need to flatter me, though.”
“I mean it,” Yeji insists. “It’s better than mine.”
They stop in front of the door; Yeji extracts her arm so she can unlock the door. “I doubt that, but I’ll take it,” the woman says. “But I didn’t come here for flattery. I came here to watch a very pretty girl dance for me.”
“I know,” Yeji says, holding the door open for her with a smile. “Please, make yourself comfortable. Would you like to order anything?”
The woman shakes her head. “I’d like to remember you,” she says simply, and a shiver runs all the way up Yeji’s spine. Something in her tone sits with her, or maybe it’s just the way her gaze is dark and heavy. Yeji can feel it still, even with her back turned.
Yeji rarely actually gives a full, honest-to-god lap dance, just because it kind of limits her. There’s only a certain set of moves you can do when you’re trapped in someone’s lap. She’ll get up close, but she doesn’t often do what she’s about to do now.
Yeji turns the volume down on the speakers before hitting play, then turns and crosses the room to her client. She sinks a knee into the plush leather of the couch, just inches from the woman’s thigh. She rolls her hips forward, reaching one hand out to the back of the couch to help her balance. “This okay?” she asks softly. “You can touch me, you know, I don’t mind.” Yeji doesn’t really know where this is coming from, either; usually she just guides her clients’ hands to her hips and moves out of range if they try to touch anywhere else. But she wants this woman’s touch everywhere. “I’ll tell you if I don’t like it.”
The woman doesn’t need any more encouragement. She brings one hand up to Yeji’s waist; the other she slips through the gap between Yeji’s hip and arm, laying her palm flat against the small of Yeji’s back as she lowers herself onto the woman’s lap.
The music thrums in Yeji’s ears like a second heartbeat as she gathers the courage to look the woman in the eyes. It’s not difficult, usually, but something about this dance has been different since the beginning. It’s not fear or anxiety, though; it’s a thrill of something else, something sweeter. Something darker, too. Yeji meets her eyes and finds her watching, waiting, like she knows what Yeji’s going to do next before Yeji does.
“Never give them power over you.” It was the first pointer Chaeryeong gave her. “They pay us, yeah, and if they like it, you can act submissive as much as you want—especially if it’ll get you a good tip. But it has to stay make-believe, do you understand what I’m saying?” This kind of intensity is rare from Chaeryeong, so Yeji nodded her head. “No matter how much you think you like them. They come here to escape into a fantasy. You come here to work. The instant you find yourself slipping into the fantasy too is when you’re in trouble.”
Yeji fights to keep her head above it. Sometimes, she’ll catch herself and brush it away, but it’s easy, it’s always so easy. So why is it hard now? She grinds into the woman’s lap, trying to hide how badly she wants more without coming off as timid, bringing her free hand up to the woman’s cheek. “What do I call you?” she asks softly. “You never told me your name.” Usually, when that happens Yeji’ll just call her client something like baby. They like the intimacy of it. But somehow, that doesn’t seem right here. This woman isn’t her baby, no matter how good Yeji is at playing pretend.
The woman’s smile is lazy, though her eyes are sharp and keen. “What do you want to call me, babygirl?”
Yeji is glad for the red lights; they hide her blush. “I dunno,” she admits, trying to keep her tone coy. “That’s why I’m asking.”
“Hm.” The woman runs her thumb back and forth over Yeji’s hip bone. “I like to be called a lot of things. Miss is good. Ma’am is better.” She pauses, cocking her head, like she’s trying to gauge Yeji’s reaction. “Mommy is best.”
“Mommy,” Yeji breathes immediately, not even to please her, just because she wants, wants to say it. It feels right.
The woman’s smile grows. “Good girl,” she says softly, and Yeji thinks her body might be on fire. Nothing’s felt like this—and isn’t that pathetic? Nothing, not all the boys she’s kissed, not any of the crushes she’s had, certainly not any of her other clients.
“Yeah?” she asks. It comes out more breathless than she means it to, heart pounding in her chest, in her head. “You like it, mommy?”
“I do,” the woman agrees. “Perfect for me, such a good dancer.”
Never give them power over you. Chaeryeong’s voice is in the back of her head, a warning. No matter how much you think you like them.
But, oh, Yeji doesn’t think Chaeryeong’s ever met someone who made her feel like this. It’s like the ocean tide, Yeji’s wanting, helpless against the gravity of the moon, waves cresting slowly, so slowly she didn’t even notice at first. Not until now, not until she’s seconds away from going under.
So what? Yeji thinks. Why not, just this once?
She can’t look away, can’t tear her gaze from the woman’s eyes. There’s no sharp edge to the way the woman is looking at her now; it’s all gentle, all careful intent, like she knows she’s already caught Yeji. She doesn’t have to try anymore—not that she had to try very hard to begin with. Yeji was hers from the beginning.
The minutes blur together. Yeji lets her body take over; dances like these are easy to her now. All she can see are this woman’s eyes, always clear, always watching, even when they’re half-lidded. She murmurs praise Yeji just barely registers, head already too full of everything else. Her hands are hot on Yeji’s back, her hips, her thighs, and still it’s not enough; with a jolt, Yeji realizes what she really wants. A vision of this woman above her tears into her mind, her smile, her lips, her fingers, her—
Yeji stifles a gasp, but the woman’s eyes flash anyway. Her fingers twitch, and for one instant, Yeji allows herself to imagine that she wants it too—all of it, every scene of the movie that’s playing in the back of Yeji’s mind. She leans close, chasing it, and feels the hot wind of the woman’s breath on her cheek, and shakes.
And then the song ends, and Yeji is wrenched from a dream. She crawls off the couch, almost staggering, like she’s drunk, only all she’s had today is water. She blinks, and the woman blinks back. She’s smiling, Yeji realizes.
“Do you work here most nights?” the woman asks, reaching for her pockets.
Yeji nods, trying to find her voice, trying to find her way back to earth. “Usually,” she manages, hoping she comes off as flirtatious instead of awkward. She doubts it works, but she gets points for trying, right?
The woman produces a wad of bills; standing, she presses them into Yeji’s hands. “Thank you,” she says, “for the dance.”
The words are lodged in Yeji’s throat. She shouldn’t ask. She should accept the money, thank her, say goodnight. But she can’t help it. “Will I see you again?” she asks as the woman opens the door, holds it for her. “Mommy?”
The woman smiles, following her back out into the hall. “I think you will,” she replies. “I think I want to see you again.”
Yeji doesn’t know why the relief sluices through her like poison, why it makes her weak. She nods again. “I’d like that.”
They’re nearing the floor now; the bass pounds, loud and demanding. But Yeji doesn’t miss the woman’s smile as she peels away, wide and expectant. “I’d like that, too,” she says, and then she turns and walks across the room, leaving Yeji alone with a stack of bills growing sweaty in her palm. She watches as the woman makes her way towards another woman her age, as they link arms, as the other woman gives her a kiss on the cheek. Yeji’s heart sinks. Of course she has a partner, of course she’s out on a date. Why would someone older, someone so beautiful, be alone? And why should Yeji care? A lot of her customers have partners; why does this feel different? Yeji watches them leave, eyes almost unblinking as they follow the two women out the door.
“Oh my god.” It’s Chaeryeong, at her shoulder. Yeji startles, tearing her gaze away from the exit. The music floods back into her ears; she doesn’t know when she stopped hearing it. “Is that your tip? Those are hundreds.”
Yeji stares at her for a second, and then brings the bills up to her eyes. Chaeryeong is right; five one hundred dollar bills are growing sweaty in her fist. “Yeah,” she says faintly. “I guess they are.”
“Did you check them?” Chaeryeong asks, tugging her towards the register.
Yeji’s stomach flops. “No,” she admits. “I… I…”
Chaeryeong’s gaze turns from shock to concern. “Are you okay? Did you drink something, or…?”
Yeji shakes her head, handing the bills over to one of their servers to verify. He checks it over, under a flashlight, then a UV light. At long last, he hands them back, shrugging. “They’re legit. Congratulations, Lucy.”
“Thanks,” Yeji replies, folding them and slipping them into her bra. Chaeryeong is still staring. “What?”
“Who was that?” she asks. “Did you get her name?”
Yeji shakes her head. She feels like she’s floating, her mind far away, swimming in that woman’s waters. Mommy, she thinks. She thinks about the warmth of her palms. “No,” she replies dimly. “I don’t know.”
#hm. i guess i need to join some nets#works#ryujin#yeji#itzy#itzy fanfic#itzy fanfiction#ryeji#ryeji fanfic#ryeji fanfiction#yeji fanfic#yeji fanfiction#hwang yeji#hwang yeji fanfic#hwang yeji fanfiction#ryujin fanfic#ryujin fanfiction#shin ryujin#shin ryujin fanfic#shin ryujin fanfiction#itzy yeji#itzy yeji fanfic#itzy yeji fanfiction#itzy ryujin#itzy ryujin fanfic#itzy ryujin fanfiction#ryujinxyeji#ryujin/yeji#ryujin x yeji#ryujin/yeji fanfic
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where: just a bite
who: open to all | vampires or anyone who’d be in just a bite | @senatusstarters
✧₤✧
It could be tricky at times catering to all tastes, but he tried his best. Vampires weren’t a monolith and each had their own preferences. Gael’s baseline flavor was enough for some, for others he needed to try a little harder. Some wanted his blood sweeter, others wanted a bolder flavor. It’d be rude to ask them to elaborate so naturally he takes it upon himself to tweak his chemistry according to whatever critiques they were kind enough to give. Still, Gael was left constantly feeling like he was walking a tightrope and he loved that. The importance he placed on the vampires’ appeasement meant their approval was almost as sweet as their bites. Almost, because nothing would ever compare to that.
They got to choose, they had the power, and Gael was just the morsel toiling in their palms. There’s no place else he’d rather be on a night like this and it’s obvious that he’s extremely comfortable in the bar. At this point, Gael knows how to behave. He’s forward but never pushy, available but not overeager. He wants the attention of those who crave an easy meal and those who prefer the hunt. If he got lucky he'd be able to attract both. It really doesn’t matter to him, because Gael is just happy to be in the presence of such perfectly beautiful gods.
“No, I don’t drink. Never have. Being allowed to sit this close to you is enough of a buzz for me,” he says, smiling while trying his hardest to not stare at their mouth. His arm is laid out against the bar but he doesn’t dare get closer than he needs to. Gael wants his invitation to be expressed implicitly, though if he thought exposing his desperation was the right avenue to be allowed to feed them, he’d be on his knees right there. Instead, he’s attempting to let his body sell itself. His rings and expensive watch compliment his vascularity well in his opinion, but what he thinks about tonight’s look is inconsequential. “If you don’t believe me, you can try for yourself. Please do me that honor? You don’t even need to grab a cup first, not with me. Blood tastes better when it’s fresh, right?”
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Potential
Sweet as Sugar Masterlist
so anyway this is the general vibe......... if no ones interested i dont have to continue w it but i just had this vivid image in my head earlier today and i had to write it out
tw lady whumper, lady whumpee, classism, pet whump, implied auction of said pets, manipulation, mocking addiction (smoking), dehumanisation
"Ari!" Saccharine stopped when she heard the call, but didn't turn around. Instead she waited for the man to catch up to her, panting as if he'd run a mile to get there instead of a couple steps, watching him intently as he circled around and came to a stop in front of her.
That's what smoking does to you, I guess. Fucking disgusting.
She flashed the man a polite smile, hiding her disdain and impatience. "Myles. I didn't know you were coming. I would've waited for you."
"I wasn't going to," he said, trying to regain his composure and stop gulping down air like he'd just been drowned. "I wasn't, but then- then I saw that you were coming, at the last minute. And I knew I wasn't gonna be able to make the next show, so I wanted to have the opportunity to meet up again. Talk a bit."
Saccharine tilted her head to the side. There was a reason she didn't invite him to tag along, and she wished he would take a hint. Well, didn't matter. Myles was a little annoying, a little gross, but he was clearly obsessed with her - a trait she found quite enjoyable and sometimes even useful in people.
"Perfect. Well, let's talk then. I don't suppose you've met my Palmier yet." She didn't need to tug on the leash for the pet to do her thing, bowing so far down that her forehead touched the floor.
"Nice to meet you, Sir," she said softly, and Saccharine smiled. What a perfect thing she'd created from that atrocious first draft of a woman.
Myles' eyes went wide with shock. "Don't tell me- that's another new one! I swear, every time I see you, you've got a new pet to show off!"
"Oh, we barely see each other! What, once every six months?"
"Don't tell me you think fully training a pet in half a year isn't impressive." He crouched down and said his own hello, grabbing the pet by the chin as soon as she straightened her back enough. There was no resistance as he turned her head this way and that, examining the smooth skin. Not a scar visible. "How do you do it?" he asked in awe, and Saccharine chuckled.
"I would never tell." Myles was good for this. Flattery and adoration. "Get off the floor, they'll think you're a pet too. You'll get a collar soon, I can already see security approaching."
"Very funny." He did stand, the corners of his mouth twitching up into a smile, no matter how hard he tried to fight against it. "Shall we go in, then?"
"I was certainly hoping we wouldn't be standing around here forever."
As soon as she started walking, the pet followed, crawling on all fours like she'd been taught. Saccharine kept the pace even and elegant, allowing the pet to keep up, yet not giving the impression that she was catering to her.
"Are you selling it?"
"Her." She cast him a warning glance, and he looked away, pretending to be looking for empty seats.
"That's what I meant," he said when it was clear the conversation wasn't going to go anywhere until he made some form of a correction. "Are you selling her?"
"Yes, I plan to. These shows are the best places to do it." She strolled over to an empty table, tying the leash to the designated little knob on the side. Myles sat down as well, resting his chin in his hand.
"What about the one you kept? Still got i- him, still got him?"
"We had to part ways, sadly." Saccharine gestured for one of the waiters, ordering one of the more expensive drinks. She saw Myles awkwardly scan the menu over and over to find something he could afford, so she couldn't just stick with some cheap imitation of a cocktail. She had to go all out, to make him squirm. To make him feel like he didn't belong.
Eventually, he told the waiter to please come back a bit later. He'd figure out what he wanted then. Everything just looked so good, he couldn't choose so suddenly.
Saccharine almost laughed in his face as he said it.
"Why don't you keep your little Palmier?" He nodded towards the pet, and she sighed.
"I don't like her that much. She'll be happy with another owner, and I'll be happy alone for a little while. One has to be able to enjoy one's own company."
"I bet you do," he muttered.
And I bet you have no idea what that's like. Has anyone ever enjoyed your company?
"What's going on with you?" she asked, knowing the answer was going to be the same as always.
"I can't find a place that thinks I'm a good enough partner in crime. But I don't get it- I have all this experience, I make all these connections at the shows-"
You make all these impressions on these rich fuckers, fumbling around with a menu for hours until you can find some cheap, three dollar wine. Always showing up without a pet and never buying anything. You've worn the same suit the last six times at the very least. You think they don't notice?
"I wouldn't want a partner in my business."
"You're different." He gestured towards the others before continuing in a lowered voice. "You're better. Compared to you, they have no idea what they're doing. It's only a matter of time before they get caught, and that's why they should hire a partner! To help avoid that!"
To snitch on them when they inevitably get caught sooner. Come on, Myles, you wouldn't survive a day, and we both know it. We all do.
"You'll have to start a business on your own eventually. You can't keep living on these loans." She thanked the waiter as he set down her drink, watching passively as he finally ordered the cheapest item off the entire menu. She wanted to stand up and leave. How embarrassing. "Once you're in these circles, you're either the buyer, the seller, or the product. You're definitely not buying anything any time soon. Which leaves you with two options."
He responded, said something irrelevant, but she only registered it as background noise. It did leave him with two options. And just as he wasn't about to buy anything, he wasn't in a place to be selling stuff either. It left him with one option.
She looked him up and down with fresh eyes, and for the first time, she saw potential. He was a disgusting smoker, but he wouldn't have a single chance to continue with that. He was annoying, but there was nothing a muzzle couldn't solve. She wished she hadn't been joking about the security staff earlier - if Myles had been mistaken for a pet and fitted with a temporary collar, she could've even seen how it'd look on him.
"I'm boring you again, aren't I?"
Saccharine looked back up into his eyes, her friendly smile widening. "Not at all. I haven't been this interested in quite a while, actually."
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Good news and bad news. Bad news first
My original plan: going through the RNIP was a complete wash since even with 10 years management experience and 20 years in the catering industry there's basically no demand for workers from my occupation class so the idea of obtaining a work permit has disappeared completely. In any case I really, REALLY don't want to move to a new country just to end up stuck doing what I've been doing in the UK anyway
The good news: the immigration consultant has stated that the best and easiest way to solve both problems is to obtain a study permit and graduate from a Canadian tertiary institute. She said that despite my pessimism I'm still young enough to make it work
Not only would this allow me to finish the degree I was supposed to finish ten years ago, it would also mean that because it would be a Canadian degree I also wouldn't have to wrangle a work permit if I sign on to a course that includes one upon completion
Not only that I can study something that would end up with a job at the end. My initial thought was something in the media industry, particularly radio but who knows. This isn't something I can rush into and I also need to call my old university to find out if and how I can transfer my credits to a Canadian university. Then I need to find one who will take said credits. Not that I object in principle to being forced to do a full three-year course but if I can transfer credits it'll be a one year full-time or a two years part-time course with working part-time pretty much where ever I choose in whatever industry I choose
I did ask if it was better to finish my degree here in the UK but the consultant said that wouldn't get me any closer since my problem would still be the lack of Canadian lived-in experience. Going to a Canadian university would solve both problems
I guess I now I have a plan of some sort. I've been paranoid about the money side of things and when I went to discuss with my dad he bollocked me and said that he can find the money, he was just angry because he can't find money for a son who doesn't know what he wants. If I'm fully committed to this pathway I can find the money and... well, if I can sell the business I likely wouldn't have to dip into his savings and pension anyway
If I'm lucky I can transfer to a Canadian insitute immediately, finish my degree within a decent timeframe and start work before my funds run out. If I'm unlucky it'll be a two or three year course with the commensurate costs bundled in on top. I think in either choice I would still have to work but if I have to do that that's just how it'll have to be
So... who's got suggestions on where I can go? At least this route would allow me to apply for pretty much anywhere in Canada rather then stuck in Nowheresville. If I have to go back to school I think it'll be better if I go to a large city instead. If anyone has any suggestions or can give me pointers I would be ecstatic to get them
...If I can manage to sign on to a course in time for September it'll be a fucking miracle. Guess I'm spending 2023/4 in the UK too...
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If I'm honest, I think the real reason my friendship of 14 years failed is because it was never a friendship of equals. From the start, I always never spoke about my needs and wants, deferring to my friend instead, because I didn't want to come across as needy. I always knew that I was only valuable because of the joy I provided her, and the moment I would start to want or have needs I knew it would be a burden or a nuisance to her. And the moment I started to have more needs and wants that I wanted her to provide, she did get irritated at me and treated me as a nuisance and someone she didn't want around anymore. And for three years I couldn't understand how someone who said she loved me could treat me that way, and I never understood how I could stop it from happening again- especially since I was now more open about the raw, gaping wound of my own need to have validation and reassurance, and over the past three years I provided less and less of the joy that she found valuable- through my fics, my company, my art. Eventually I was nothing more than just a burden and a nuisance to her, in some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy.
Maybe that's why there was no way that it could be salvaged.
I guess the lesson I learned from this? That I should be open about my needs and wants from the start, that I shouldn't take any shit from someone who can't be there for me when I need them to be. That I shouldn't sell myself short and invalidate my own feelings just to cater to someone else.
I don't know if we could have fixed things. I don't think so. She'd never accept my account of things and she'd probably say that I'm Just Depressed and I Need Therapy. She'd never be able to change for me, and besides, I'm far too needy for her anyway.
I suppose it's for the best too- she wasn't able to accept that maybe I had needs of her and decided to turn that on me by telling me my shortcomings were due to Bad Mental Health and that I had to fix myself in order for us to continue our friendship. Not intentionally, I'm sure, but that's ultimately what I take from the past three years. And honestly? She's a shit mental health expert, and listening to her has caused me so much pain and grief because I ended up turning against myself and loathing myself so much because I couldn't be what she wanted me to be.
I'm happier now. I just miss her, regardless. I wish there was another way we could have made things work. And I hope nobody else makes the same mistakes I did. Your worth should not be defined by other people, no matter how much you love them.
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AO3 (9) Masterlist
part one, part two, part three, part four, part five, part six, part seven, part eight
all that kindred eyes can see (ao3) - natigail
Summary: Teachers Dan and Phil figure that they could quite easily keep their relationship secret while working at the same school. It's only for half a year after all. But the keen eyes of a trio of friends soon start to pick up on little hints and clues. It's a good thing the students mostly just want to admire their love and figure themselves out along the way.
A Right Wrong Number (ao3) - husbants
Summary: Dan texts the wrong number after going on a date. Lucky for him, the wrong number is a kind man named Phil. And then they keep texting.
A Strange Mirror (ao3) - glowingatmosphere
Summary: Dan felt safe escaping to the attic of his grandma’s house, until he found a strange mirror with a strange man trapped inside. The man refuses to reveal the details of his entrapment, but Dan’s feelings urge him to solve the mystery even if it’s the last thing he does.
baby, if you wanna try (ao3) - sunflowerwitches (orphan_account)
Summary: wearing jewellery doesn't work in phil's favour when he sees friends that he hasn't seen in a while and they automatically assume he's engaged. engaged to dan
can we try again? (ao3) - Fictropes
Summary: “Yeah, Phil. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Dan answers, softer than he’d wanted because he already knows what he’s about to do next.
(or Dan doesn't turn up in 2009 and bumps into Phil 11 years later at a youtube convention)
dreamed about you (ao3) - Fictropes
Summary: Firstly, Dan was 29. How was that a mature student?
Secondly, his actual book was on the university fucking syllabus.
(or the one in which Dan tries university again in a desperate attempt to prolong his procrastination, and his lecturer Phil is apparently something of a fan)
i AIM 2 b w/ u (ao3) - counting2fifteen
Summary: Dan’s life is a little bit of a mess. He met his only friend through a chat website, and Dan doesn’t even know what he looks like. The only person he’s ever come out to is said friend. He’s wasting his gap year away.
But hey, at least there’s that cute boy he met at London Pride.
Important Dates in History (ao3) - JudeAraya
Summary: Dan’s spent his gap year spinning his wheels; stuck working at Asda and living at home, the only thing really going for him is his new best (online) friend AmazingFilly. Even though Dan’s only come out to himself and Filly, he decides to travel to London alone for his first Pride. When he meets a gorgeous boy who asks him on a date, Dan takes the plunge. Thank god he has a best friend to talk him through his fears as he takes on his first potential relationship.
ink and alice (ao3) - dizzy
Summary: Dan joins a band instead of going to university, and then he meets Phil.
In my arms I’ll catch you (ao3) - det395
Summary: When their space pod unexpectedly loses power, Dan and Phil must prepare for the unknown as they start drifting toward an alien planet
Just Let Me Adore You (ao3) - Yiffandquiff (paradisobound)
Summary: Dan didn't know what to expect when he agreed to go to Switzerland with his brother to 'find themselves' again. But he certainly wasn't expecting a massive snow storm to pass by and completely shut down any roads, train stations, and airports. However, when the snow gets worse, a mysterious man stumbles into the hostel he's staying at, and Dan figures out pretty quickly that he and the man are going to have to get to know each other fast.
Keep You Like An Oath (ao3) - SoManyRegrets
Summary: Dan and Phil accidentally get married. It doesn't cause an international incident, but it might as well have done.
kiss me in the dark tonight (ao3) - dizzy
Summary: Dan's selling merch for a local dj and crushing on the dj's brother.
Maybe (ao3) - dvp_95, intoapuddle
Summary: They’re only friends but when Dan wants more, Phil gives it to him.
my heart will howl (till you pull it off the ground) (ao3) - islet
Summary: Dan caters to his wanderlust by driving them from London to France, Phil ponders the idea of marriage, and nobody wins at this game of life, after all.
The Art of Progress (ao3) - iihappydaysii
Summary: In 2011, YouTube experiences an unfortunate malfunction and Dan and Phil make a choice. A year later, the consequences of that choice begin to reveal themselves...
Third Degree (ao3) - sierraadeux
Summary: Dan sets fires. Phil puts them out.
When I Fail (You'll Still Be Here (ao3) - parentaladvisorybullshitcontent
Summary: “I'm showing you the past,” Phil says.
“Why?”
Phil shrugs.
“If I told you it'd sort of defeat the purpose,” He says. “Sorry.”
Or the one where Dan's inner Phil decides to take him on a dream-tour of his failings.
where we belong (ao3) - parentaladvisorybullshitcontent
Summary: "Only you," Martyn says.
"Only me what?"
"Only you could end up stranded in the middle of nowhere with a gay author who writes gay books. Jesus Christ, Phil."
In which Phil is snowed in with nobody but the mysterious dark haired author next door for company.
with a bullet (ao3) - waveydnp
Summary: phil returns to his room after a party thrown by his housemates only to discover that there’s already someone in his bed
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