#metal building repair service

[milerhomeimprovement]

Residential Tips in Clinton Township: Ventilating a Metal Roof Home

The best kinds of metal roofs are available in a wide range of materials for homeowners in Clinton Township. However, long-term longevity and outstanding durability are virtually impossible if there is poor ventilation. Even when using a high-durability material like metal roofs or various metal roofing styles, attic ventilation is necessary for all types of roofs.

With all kinds of metal roofs, attic ventilation is essential.

With the help of attic ventilation, the stack effect, and wind effects, the temperature can be circulated throughout the roofing material as well as its structure.

When heated air rises and exerts pressure against the attic's highest points, such as the ridges, stacking occurs. Only vents and a cool air intake from the lower section of the attic can allow the hot air to escape.

Whenever the wind blows on the roof from the outside, it causes the wind effect, which increases the volume of both cold and hot air. The majority of properties in Clinton Township do not typically face severe winds, but if they do, the well-ventilated roofs effectively dissipate heated air.

Snow on rooftop ridges and all over your terrace will melt in the winter due to the warm air that heaters produce and that gets trapped. This can result in ice dams, that can soak your inside roofs and cause leaks. Additionally, it increases the longevity and robustness of all varieties of metal roofing for residential buildings.

How can I ensure that the vents in my attic are installed perfectly?

The best method to assure that you get the perfect attic vent installations for all kinds of metal roofs is to hire a professional roofing contractor that has been living in and servicing Clinton Township buildings for years.

Miller's Home Improvements offers high-quality commercial and residential roofing and  will assist you if you haven't yet located a trustworthy roofer. Providing top-notch roof and attic venting services is what we've done for decades. If you want your attic organised quickly, contact us today!

#commercial and residential roofing #residential roofing #metal roof repair #roof sheathing #roof construction #roof issues #hipped roof #hip roof #roofing services #metal roofing for residential buildings #home construction #metal roofing #latest news #commercial roofing #construction #trending

[sanctus-ingenium]

What happens when an engine “dies”?

Depends on how it dies!

If it reaches the end of its service life via accumulated wear and tear or just exceeding the number of cycles it can go through safely - it is retired and placed within a collection of old engines which can be taken apart and studied by enginesmiths who either replace it with a 1:1 replica, or create an improved version. Creating an impressive improved version usually elevates someone to master status, but it's not always needed. If it's just a single part it's most likely to just be replaced with an identical part. Old parts are treated with respect and reverence, and hearts in particular get preserved in a memorial hall which is among the holiest sites in the theocracy.

Old voice engines are preserved specifically to allow people to hear the voice of a beast and inhale their breath. Many higher-ranking members of the church choose to die while inhaling the breath of a holy beast, and will deliver their final prophecies in the heightened mental state this practice promotes.

If it fails more spectacularly, there are a couple of options. If pieces remain intact, it can be repaired with patched-in metal or replacement parts. If nothing remains intact (because it went out popcorn style) the engine is replaced by following the build guidelines in the parts manual produced for each component. These are highly valued top secret documents.

As for what happens to everything around it when it dies - again, depends. A heart engine failing mid-battle is a catastrophe and call for an immediate emergency evacuation because there's excited fuel that now isn't being pumped anywhere and a bunch of engines all experiencing fuel starvation at once. Best case scenario the beast stops moving, worst case is big explosion. But if it's something like a voice engine - we don't really need that to keep functioning. Shut off the fuel line and carry on. A muscle engine breaks - it's okay, there are so many of them that the system can deal with a few dead ones up to a certain extent.

The knight can sense and indicate any engines which are no longer functioning correctly and pass the info along to the enginesmiths in the heart who shut off the appropriate fuel line.

#setting: mez #failure to shut off the fuel line increases the chances of everyone on board going out popcorn style

[seat-safety-switch]

I don't know if this is still a thing, but when I was a kid there was a stereotype that all dentists drive Porsches. Like all "all" statements, this one can be trivially disproven by finding a counterexample. Allow me to submit into evidence the example of my own dentist, who drives a 2021 Toyota Camry XLE in Resale Value White Metallic.

Sure, this Camry makes more horsepower than virtually all Porsche 911s throughout history ever made, and costs more than a large majority of them prior to the 80s, but it's not about numbers. What people really resent is the idea that someone else, a trained and educated professional, is making money off their fucked-up, never-flossed teeth. Porsche owners have bank, and consider themselves to be a world apart from the people they're forced to cut bad-smelling holes in the bones of every day. That's the origin of the stereotype.

You can see similar complaints about the labour rate of the humble neighbourhood mechanic, but the stereotype doesn't follow. The only difference is: no decent mechanic would ever be so dumb as to drive a Porsche to work. Not when they could instead operate some dangerous combination of half-completed engine swap, un-repaired crash damage, and loose wiring lying on the floor that they have to bonk together if they want turn signals. It was a good deal, you see. Instead, mechanics are painted as being straight out scammers. He told me I needed four new tires, but I was fine just replacing the worst one for a month or two before my car inexplicably slid off the road. Fucking liar.

Is there a kind of high-labour-cost service job out there that doesn't receive complaints and stereotypes? Outside of "horse boarder," I can't really think of one. Perhaps the universal constant amongst all of humanity is to look at several thousand hours of education, and then go "hey, I could do that." You can start right now by building your own 911. All it takes is one of those old rusty Beetles on the end of the junkyard, and a 302 out of one of those Lincoln Town Cars. Then you can really show your dentist what's up, as long as you don't bonk out your luxury bones on the steering wheel the first time you spin it into a ditch. Race car drivers are so overpaid.

[quaranmine]

ranking fire lookouts i visited last week

i didn't expect to see like...any on this trip. most of them snuck up on me LOL and yet we were able to find FIVE of them! who knew all I had to do was go to national forests in a different state? here there are ranked from highest to lowest

1. The Probable Federal Crime

this one was the coolest! i climbed this one! It's 100 ft with a 7'x7' cab up top. It was in service until 1987 but it still serves as a radio repeater. There are several buildings at the bottom, one of which clearly had the sound of machinery behind the door. It had signs of recent maintenance even though it has been decomissioned. It had spectacular views, with no towns or human settlements visible in any direction:

2. Rich Mountain Lookout

I could have broken into this one but I did not. I withheld my desire to commit a crime. My dad mocked me for not crawling under the fence LOL. This one has a proper catwalk and was possibly a live-in one. A whole family lived here in the 20s when it was first built, but this version is a replacement from the 50s, so I have no idea what it looked like before them. It is approximately the height AND style I have been imagining in my AU so I was delighted to see it. It is slightly taller than the one in the Firewatch game, but a remarkably similar design other than being steel instead of wood.

3. Devil's Knob Lookout

Not in good repair at all. Missing the ladder at the bottom and the final flight of stairs. We saw two deer. My dad climbed it anyway because he's an idiot

4. The Occupied State One

we spotted this one from the main road and turned down the next side road to hunt it down. We ended up driving along the wildest road of FANCY vacation houses, mostly still under construction. A few of these houses had the steepest driveways I've ever encountered in my entire life. Eventually we found the correct turn off for the lookout, drove straight past the no trespassing sign with confidence, only to immediately turn around because there was a guy there despite it being the holiday. Later I learned this is one of the few still in operation in the state. Unsure why it might be manned in November since there is a lower risk of wildfire in fall/winter, but it is in operation so maybe that guy was working.

Bonus:

the tire shop pulled this out of our tire the next day after we went poking around the vacation home construction site. miraculously this did not ruin the tire and they didn't charge us for a patch!

5. Supposed Former State Forestry Lookout

This one has basically no workspace up top and I'm interested (mildly suspicious) of its history since it seemed out of the ordinary. Clearly it was used as an observation tower but as a regular, everyday job? unclear

Also, I had to break into this one too. I jumped the fence. This was because the quarter-fed turnstile did not work. It was $1 per person but we put $4 into it and it only started turning once. Then it stopped turning immediately and briefly trapped me in the middle of that metal cage. Fortunately it turns freely in the opposite direction so I could escape and was not, in fact, trapped forever in its bars. Although the moment it stopped did put the fear of God in me a little before I realize I could still get out. Thus I did not feel bad for climbing the fence. We actually overpaid.

Bonus:

devil's head lookout, you are still #1 in my heart

#i need a tag for when i'm just being insane about a particular topic #i guess i'll throw it in my #hc_firewatch_au #tag even though it's not directly related. it's. research i suppose LOL

[staurraia]

Personal design: Giovanni

copy pasted: Giovanni (or Vanni) is kind of hard to understand and still a working project. However, most elements of her design remain intact since her creation. I can't scrub her of her sparkledog, but I do like to play up her brutality and ferociousness. She was originally a hellborn creature, but I don't know if I would go with this now. Nobody quite knows what Giovanni is, even before her little "incident," which left her disfigured. But she is generally assumed to be some sort of chimera, obviously. In the aforementioned incident, she had her entire torso destroyed essentially. Leaving her with mortal injuries to the majority of her organs and bones. She had to be repaired by the same human physician who put together Nurse. She lost her original torso and soft tissues mostly, but from what was salvageable, a new and improved one was fashioned. Her skin is latex like in all physical properties, reflective and even stretchy the way latex is. It resembles a one piece to adequately cover the damage done. Her arms faired better but suffered from corrosive burns. Her hands are possibly evidence of this, but it is likely her hands were raw long before she suffered the loss of her torso. Vanni's height (9") and her build make her an imposing opponent; despite her underdeveloped lower jaw, she has a nasty bite and large eggshell blue teeth. Mostly conical and similar in size and shape; for slashing and tearing, with chewing molars in the back. Her proboscis is also quite prehensile, often utilized as a third hand, especially for food. Anthros like Giovanni are uncommon but exist, they're mainly a recent phenomenon with the advancements of medical technologies. It's more common for anthros and mixed anthro/human people to have these transhumanist esque enhancements. Due to their often unique anatomy and the real threats in their world. Giovanni is a particularly unique, high-risk case. She has a taste for the sweet metal of blood and gets a rush from intense sparring sessions. Her fur is often matted with her own blood or her opponents'. Bruising, gashes, broken bones, bloody noses, and scars aren't uncommon either. She has a reputation for being aggressive and somewhat unpleasant. In battle, she is brutal and merciless, often playing the role of dirty mercenary. She's fair and curteous when she spars, but many scraps with her end in ''it's you or me". Vanni also takes up a secret life as a well beloved dominatrix. Mingling at the club she's employed at with customers and providing them service. Her being null technically via injury kinda makes her perfect for the role in my mind. Her biology was irreversibly altered by medical engineering.

Although the face anatomy is no longer accurate; her colors are still the same. I ended up just like the silly "elephant shrew" looking face more LOL.

#oc #furry #anthro #kemono #anthroillustrator #open commissions #original art #illustration #doodle #character sheet #character design #reference #original character #sketch #concept art #long #talky #text post

[shattered-glory]

𝕐𝕠𝕦 𝕄𝕒𝕜𝕖 𝕄𝕪 𝔾𝕖𝕒𝕣𝕤 ℂ𝕙𝕦𝕣𝕟 (Funtime Freddy x Reader) Preview!

"Yes sir, I will be there at 12 AM tomorrow morning. Yes. Thank you, I will and you too, goodbye," you placed your phone face-down on your desk and kicked your feet up, sighing in joy. You were just hired for another gig. You preferred to stay away from Fazbear Entertainment and Afton Robotics LLC., as you'd seen some messed up stuff in those companies. For example, weird assets such as genitalia in their machines, a dead body here and there, etcetera.

However, you couldn't pass up an opportunity like this. You were getting paid $40 by the hour for this, so you jumped on it faster than a whore on a man. You stuffed your phone back into your pocket and shuffled out of your room and into your workshop to gather the tools you were going to need later tonight. Wrench, Screwdriver, nuts and bolts, the usual stuff. You were lost in thought when your alarm went off.

"I better start getting sleep now before I have to get up early," you yawned and scuffled your hand through your pocket to find your car-keys so you could get home in time to eat and sleep. It was certainly going to be an interesting job this time around, Circus Baby's Entertainment and Rentals? That place gave you the creeps as a teenager. Especially the bear. Something about him felt wrong.

Once you managed to drive home with an order of McDonald's, scarfing your burger and fries down before you could even get home, you brushed your teeth and curled into bed. You were tired, but you couldn't help your nerves bouncing around like children at a playground.

BEEP BEEP BEEP!!!  You jumped at the sound of your alarm. It was 11:30PM, and you didn't even remember drifting off to sleep. You yawned and rolled out of bed to get ready. You turned on the coffee machine as you hopped into a shower, the warm water rolling down your sore muscles. It was going to be a LONG night.

Once you finished getting dressed, fed, and caffeinated, you loaded yourself up into your car and began to drive towards the building. It was a dark night, with stars blotting the sky and the moon casting light down upon the earth. It was chilly but peaceful.

As soon as you made it to the large, metal door, you noticed a note from Afton

'Sorry, couldn't make it. Go down the elevator and go through the Funtime Auditorium, the Maintenance Room and Parts & Service is straight across - Afton'

You grumbled a curse lightly before stepping inside and found what looked like an extremely well-built elevator with buttons galore. You gawked at the look, before squealing when it started to move down, down down.

It stopped with a loud beep and the doors opened. It was a tiny vent and you groaned, beginning to crawl. 'Just Wonderful' you thought, cramped and uncomfortable. 

At last, you finally made it through BOTH sets of vents and the large, dark auditorium, the door labeled "MAINTENANCE" in big, bold letters came into view.

You stepped silently into the Maintenance Repair room, clicking on your flashlight and looking around in the dark until finally, you saw the big, 6 foot white and purple bear sitting on the conveyor belt, powered down and ready for you to fix him. The clipboard from the owner sat beside him, explaining his issue. You felt your heart drop when you saw him.

You sighed and almost gagged in anxiety, stepping closer and setting down the toolbox on the conveyor next to him. You stared at him for a moment, his lifeless eyes staring out into the darkness. You shuddered "Yeah... no, I'm not getting paid enough for this" you grumbled, picking up and reading the clipboard.

It stated that the animatronic had suffered a malfunction of his power supply and also explained how his, quote, "Face Plates" would sometimes become stuck open, scaring the children, and his voice-box glitched out a lot, too. The name ''Funtime Freddy'' was written on the clipboard, along with a number to call in case any more problems would occur. His blueprints, manual, previous maintenance logs, and information were attached as well. 

"Funtime Freddy, huh" You repeated, setting down the clipboard and picking up a wrench. "Well, are you ready, Freddy?" You laughed at your own rhyme, and felt dumb about how you were talking to a broken machine who wasn't even sentient. You shook your head and continued to read in the attached manual about how to open him up.

You followed the manual on how to open him, pressing all the buttons in order and eventually opening him up. You saw that one of the face plates was stuck. It should have been open, but his face sat frozen, staring straight ahead, a creepy, wide grin across the bear's face, showing off his teeth.

You shuddered again, you hated working on these things; however, you never touched this one, though, nor even seen him this up-close. You figured that he wasn't that big, but his paperwork says otherwise. You were skimming over previous mechanic's jobs, and realized that there was a disclaimer where, Freddy beat up the previous maintenance repair team so bad, they were stuck in P.T for 6-8 weeks. You felt my heart drop to your stomach.

You realized that, if Funtime Freddy was capable of injuring the ENTIRE staff of their Maintenance team, he could easily do the same to you which gave you a nasty taste in your mouth. You took his face plate and attempted to force it open, however, even with all your force, it wouldn't budge.

You sighed and used screws to loosen the joint, pulling it open and tightening it back. Perfect! You could have sworn the bear looked at you, though. You felt your hair raise on your arms and neck but disregarded it as your mind playing tricks on you. You sighed, and thought the job was done; however, you forgot that his power module needed fixing, so you followed the steps to open his stomach plate to find it. It was definitely busted, so you went into the parts and service area to find a new one, leaving Freddy alone on the conveyor.

As you looked through the shelves and drawers to help a replacement power module, you felt a feeling of someone watching you. You looked around in the room but saw no one. You ignored it and continued, eventually finding a new power module in Funtime Freddy's model. It seemed to be brand new, the small, red light blinking on it rapidly. 

You sighed, clicking back on your flashlight to prepare to face the bear once again, and went to walk back to the conveyor. Your shoes clicked against the tile, making a satisfying echo but to your dismay, once you looked back up towards Freddy, he was gone. You dropped the module and froze. The hair on your arms and neck raised in terror as all you could muster to whisper was a measly; "Oh.. oh god"

You scanned the whole room, but could not find Funtime Freddy. All of the other animatronics or empty endos who were in the Parts and Service room were sitting dormant in their respective places, so you knew it couldn't be one of them. You tried to remain calm, until You heard a door open somewhere in the room, causing you to freeze and let out a slight whimper from your throat. You stood, absolutely still, listening for the next sound.

Your blood ran cold as a loud voice spoke from behind you.

"HELLO, BIRTHDAY GIRL..." Continue reading here!

#funtime freddy #fanfic #fnaf #sister location #Funtime #fanfiction #wattpad #ao3 #quotev #freddy #freddy fazbear x reader #funtime freddy x reader #x reader #y/n #x y/n #mechanic #animatronics #circus baby #ballora #funtime foxy #fnaf stuff #fnaf sister location

[blueiskewl]

The House of the Vettii in Pompeii Reopens

The House of the Vettii, one of the largest and richest homes in Pompeii, prodigiously endowed with a fresco of Priapus that has become an icon of the city, reopens to the public on Tuesday after years of complex restoration.

The House of the Vettii was the home of Aulus Vettius Restitutus and Aulus Vettius Conviva, freedmen brothers who made a fortune as wine merchants and ascended the social ladder. Restitutus was a candidate for aedile, a magistrate responsible for holding public games and the maintenance of public buildings. Conviva was an Augustalis, a priest of the cult of the deified Augustus, a position of civic importance that was more akin to a magistracy. In this role he would have funded major public works projects.

The Vettii bought the house, originally built in the 2nd century B.C., after the earthquake of 62 A.D. It was in a tony neighborhood that many of the wealthy homeowners had left rather than rebuild. When the rich moved out, the nouveau-riche moved in. Freedmen who had made big bucks in trade like the Vettii were a prime example of the trend. They bought the aristocratic villa, repaired it and expanded it, adding a huge peristyle garden with statues and fountains. Every room was lavishly painted with frescoes on mythological motifs, telegraphing their wealth and the new status it bought them. Priapus, his massive phallus balancing on a scale against a bag of money, welcomed visitors in the vestibule of the house. Two large bronze strongboxes were placed in the atrium so everyone who got past Priapus would be confronted with the the most literal possible representation of the wealth of the Vettii.

The frescoes are mostly in the Pompeiian Fourth style, a combination of the previous three styles (faux marble veneers from the first, architectural trompe l’oeil from the second, ornate, stylized ornament from the third). The Vettii frescoes provide unique insight into the transition between the Third and Fourth style of mural painting. There is also a remarkable series of striking black and red frescoes depicting groups of cupids performing a variety of tasks, mythological ones like celebrating a festival of Bacchus and a festival of Vesta, sure, but of particular note are the representations of daily work, including the gathering and pressing of grapes, buying and selling the wine, dyeing and cleaning clothes in a fullery, picking flowers and making garlands for sale, making perfumed oil and making coins. The cupids are also captured at leisure, hunting on goat-back, racing in chariots pulled by deer and taking part in an archery contest.

The room adjacent to the kitchen was painted with a series of explicit erotic frescoes. It may have been a visual menu of options offered by an enslaved prostitute Eutychis who advertises her services for two asses (plural of as, the lowest-value Roman coin) on a graffito at the entrance of the house.

The domus was first excavated between late 1894 and early 1896. In the 1950s reinforced concrete roofs were added to the peristyle to protect the architectural remains from the elements. It was no longer protecting it, however. On the contrary, the flat concrete roof was unsound and directly contributing to water infiltration and damage.

Already affected by works in 1995, when the problem created by the concrete roofs of the 50s was evident, the house was partially reopened in 2016, after 12 years of closure and then closed again after 3 years for further restoration. Interventions that involved the roofing but also the paintings, with the removal of the patina created by previous restorations.

The old concrete roofs have now been replaced with sloped roofs formed from hollow blocks on metal frameworks. The wooden roofs added in the 1990s are still functional but needed refurbishment, and a new rainwater drainage system was devised to integrate the new roofs with the existing drainage system.

Conservators also cleaned and conserved the wall and floor decorations and the fixtures of the garden. It was a painstaking process of cleaning, regrouting and integrating interventions from different periods with the aim of recovering the legibility of the images and colors.

#The House of the Vettii in Pompeii Reopens #fresco of priapus #pompeii fresco #ancient artifacts #ancient art #archeology #archeolgst #history #history news #ancient history #ancient culture #ancient civilizations #roman empire #roman history #roman art

[dark666posting]

Next Time?

TW: NON-CON, NON-CON, NON-CON *** dark!Billy, non con/ dub con?

     The warm early morning sun peeks through your window as you prepare for another day at your new job. As a send-off to the seniors, your school attempted to find suitable employment for each graduating student. Due to your proficient knowledge of cars, you were the perfect and only candidate for the local auto repair shop. You're already adept at simple tasks like changing oil and patching tires, so you're the best help they've had in months. 

     Your boss is a stout, dark-haired man with little to say. You gained his trust in just a few weeks, so he leaves you to close up most days. The shop is just an old house with a few customizations to make it flow like a business establishment. So the front looks similar to a residence, but the back is a full-service garage. It's easy to lock up quickly and head home after a long day.

      Minutes before closing, a blue Camaro pulls into the lot. Emerging from the driver's side door is a familiar face. Billy. He graduated the year before you, but before that, he was a reoccurring issue in your life. Often going out of his way to insult you or make you uncomfortable. Your stoic reactions only fueled his efforts. 

     "I'm sorry, sir. We're about to close," You put on your best customer service voice and hope he's forgotten about you. 

     "Doesn't look like it," He glances at the clock on the wall as he confidently approaches the consultation counter. He takes the toothpick from between his teeth. "I just need a tune-up." 

     "A tune-up?" You jest. You don't mean to say it aloud, but you do. Who comes in at closing demanding an urgent tune-up? Does he want you to hit the engine with a wrench a few times? What the fuck? He turns his head to face you, raising his brows and smirking as if he's shocked or planning something. "I-I mean, is there a certain part you're concerned about?" 

     "No, just wanna make sure she's running right," He toys with the toothpick using his tongue. You don't think he recognizes you; he's being too formal. 

     "Alright, pull it into the garage," You gesture to the large section of the building and disappear behind the employee-only door. Billy bites his lip after the door closes behind you. A devious, dark look looms in his eyes as he does what you say. On his way out, he flips the Open sign to Closed and locks the door behind him. 

      He carelessly whips his vehicle into place, but you give him little to no reaction. The truth is, Billy never let anyone work on his car. He'd never set foot in an auto shop before, but he heard you started working here. At first, Billy just wanted to pop in and be a menace, but your deadpan tone and refusal to react only make him want to try harder. He doesn't like being ignored. His annoying plan quickly becomes something much darker.

     "Can I have your keys?" You hold out an empty palm, expecting him to hand over his keys as most customers do.

     "Hm," he exhales. He seems to deliberate for a minute before dropping the jingling metal in your hand.

     "Thank you." You stare hard into his eyes, unwilling to let him think you remember him. You pop the hood and start checking out the engine, taking mental note of anything that could be cleaned or fixed. "When was the last time you changed your oil?" You ask, annoyed.

     "I'm not sure." A lie. 

     "Okay," You try to hide the annoyance in your voice. You rummage through a large, disorganized box of oil filters and find the one meant for Billy's car. "This will only take a few minutes. You can wait up front if you want." You lift the vehicle on the jack and slide underneath. You work quickly and quietly while Billy stalks around the garage. 

     You're unable to hear him messing with things. He flips the locks on the large, garage door with a dull clank.

     "Everything okay out there?" You ask, peeved at the idea of him messing with your things. 

     "Oh yeah, must've been the wind," he says. The tone in his voice makes you want to tense up; he does remember you. He used to say the same thing when he knocked all your books from your hands in the hallways. You roll your eyes before sliding out from under the car. You can only imagine what he has planned to piss you off, so you try to streamline the service as fast as possible. 

     "Just gotta switch the filters and give it a refill, and you'll be on your way," you explain, desperate for the 'on your way' part to stick.

     "That's great, thanks," he reaches a hand toward the name tag on your chest. His knuckles graze against your clothed breast as he lifts the small plastic oval. "Y/N." You remain unmoved, eyebrows and expression ever-flat. You know he knows your name, but the closeness of his hand threatened to make you blush. You shake the intrusive thoughts from your mind and finish up the oil change. 

     You managed to get a splash of dirty oil on the front of your boilersuit, so you unzip it to your waist and tie the sleeves. As you finish pouring the oil and replacing the cap, you realize Billy has seemingly left the room. You scan your peripheral and find nothing. You didn't hear the bell from the door that leads upfront or the door that leads to the lot. 

     Just as your pursing your lips to say his name, a pair of strong arms wrap around you from behind. He lifts your feet off the ground and carries you back through the door you came through. With one hand wrapped around your neck, holding you against him, he knocks everything off the consultation desk. One quick toss lands you right in the middle, knocking the air from your lungs. 

     Billy towers over you as you try to kick him away and get off the table. He grabs your ankles and drags you so your knees are on each side of his hips. You're still gasping for air as he lifts his white muscle tank between his teeth, holding it up so his hands can undo his belt. He drops the shirt hem from his mouth before climbing on top of you. One arm supports him on his elbow while his hand holds your head down by your hair, and the other one works on sliding his jeans down. He grinds against you, alerting you to the throbbing bulge in his jeans.

     "What the fuck!?" You finally form words through the pained gasps. You free yourself from his grip and run straight for the door. You don't realize it's locked, and in the few seconds it takes for you to unlock it, Billy already has you back in his arms.

     "Look at you, now. You weren't feeling very expressive before," his words are raspy and breathy. Like he's holding back from something he's been thinking about for too long.

     "Get off of me!" You snap, only to be laughed at. 

     "Okay." He keeps his grip on your hair and painfully yanks you off the table as he climbs off. He pulls you to your knees in front of him, and your heart begins to race with fear.

     "Billy, please don't-" You're cut off by his erection springing forward, grazing your lips. He presses the tip against your mouth. 

     "Already begging. That was easy." His pressure against your lips grows. "Make those faces for me," he laughs, noticing your upturned brows and terrified eyes. You realize he's getting off on scaring you, so you return to your deadpan state. Billy's laughter quickly fades. He tightens his grip on your hair again and forces your jaw open with the other hand. With no time to register anything but the pain of his fingertips dug into your cheeks, he shoves himself as far down your throat as he can. 

     "Wait!" You try to beg, but he just keeps thrusting into your mouth.

     "Don't do anything stupid, Y/N," he warns in a cold, hateful tone. You do your best to remain expressionless, knowing he's going to take you no matter what; at least you can avoid giving him the satisfaction, even if it does make him angry. Billy disregards any need you might have to breathe, ruthlessly throat fucking you. You stare forward, focusing on the patch of hair leading up to his toned abdomen. He chuckles as he watches the tears and make-up roll down your cheeks. 

      "It's almost like you want me to do this," Billy huffs. "You want me to see what it's gonna take to make you break." You shake your head back and forth, unintentionally causing Billy to throw his head back with a moan. "Oh fuck, good girl." You're disgusted with yourself, but his compliment makes you wet. You can't fight the blush rising in your cheeks.

     "Oh?" Billy smirks as he notices. "Getting a little excited?" He tilts his head. You avoid eye contact, just hoping he's going to stop soon. "Don't be embarrassed. I'm gonna make you feel so good, you'll drop that stuck-up, bitch persona in no time." 

     Billy slips his cock from the back of your throat, and you take a giant, desperate breath of air. His strength makes it easy to slam you back on the desk again. He rips the boilersuit down your legs, exposing your tiny denim shorts. Keeping you restrained with one hand, he rubs your thighs and grips your hips before unfastening your shorts. 

     "Okay, Billy. Stop-" You try to get stern, but you're met with a powerful smack to the face.

     "I don't know what part about this you don't understand," He rips your panties to remove them easier. "But I'm not stopping until I'm finished." He positions himself between your legs, rubbing the head of his dick up and down your wet slit. You whimper as an unwilling knot forms in your abdomen. "God, if you wanted it this bad, all you had to do was ask," He teases. You look away in protest, fighting the dark red blush on your face. 

     With one more angry huff, annoyed at your expressionless face, Billy slams into you as hard as he can. For a second, the pain is greater than the pleasure, and you release a loud cry into the empty building. Billy buries his head in the crook of your neck and laughs as you whine between each rough thrust. You beat against his chest, weakly attempting to shove him off of you. He picks up his pace, and you're about to climax. The sounds you're emitting reflect that. He smirks deviously before biting at your neck. 

     "Tell me what you want," Billy teases. His words bring you back to reality. Regardless of how you're body is betraying you right now, you want him to stop... right?

     "S-Stop!" You manage to whimper through desperate moans as the knot in your stomach becomes too much. But this time, he does stop. He slams into you one final time and slowly slides his shaft out so that only his head is inside you. Your brain blanks, and suddenly your back is arching, desperately inching you further down his cock. 

     "Fuck," Billy grins and roughly wraps a hand around your throat. "Don't tell me to stop again, or I will." He picks up his previous pace and fucks you over the edge in seconds. Your back arches further and further as you finish all over Billy and the desk. You moan so loud, it's almost a scream. Your eyes roll back, and your mouth hangs open. Billy smiles over you as he keeps fucking the thoughts out of your head. 

     "Can I cum in you?" He asks deviously. You widen your eyes, desperately looking for the words, but all you can do is frantically shake your head no. "Too bad." Billy picks up his speed and starts releasing more and more breathy moans. Weaker than ever, you try to squirm away, terrified of letting him finish inside you. He moans softly in your ear before quickly pulling out of you and tossing you on the floor where he finishes all over your face and hair. 

     You breathe deeply, still moaning quietly as your pussy throbs. You're relieved he pulled out and your brain is foggy from how many times you orgasmed in total. 

     "W-Why did you-?" You start to ask why he pulled out. 

     "'Cause now you're grateful to have my cum all over your face." He answers, already dressed and composed as if nothing happened. He grabs your ripped panties and stuffs them in his back pocket. "And next time, you won't expect it when I really do it," he casually adds before swiping his keys from the counter and exiting the garage. You listen to the sound of his car getting further away as you continue to lie breathless on the floor. 

     "N-Next time?" You whisper to yourself before giving in to exhaustion and falling asleep. 

#tw: noncon #billy hargrove #billy hargrove imagine #billy hargrove non con #billy hargrove smut #billy x reader #dark!billy hargrove #dark!fanfiction #dark!fic #non con #dub con

[the-broken-truth]

Love's Bite - Yandere Vanessa x Reader

Broken: The Great @security-breach-imagines created these images and I did a one-shot for the first one. I'm making this one for the second image. Now, let the words wave together.

[Mega Pizzaplex - The Animatronic Repair Room]

Your eyes were wide at the sight before you - Vanessa, the Night Guard and your best friend of several years was standing there before you with a butcher knife and a crazed look on her face, her face red from her blushing and her shirt open a few buttons and her chest was rising and falling as she panted with her mouth ajar. You were asked to come to the Supplies and Repair Room to do some inventory on the spare robot parts and when you were done, you heard Vanessa lock the door behind you, when you turned around, you saw Vanessa standing there with a knife in her hand and a smile on her face.

"Nessa? What are you doing with that knife?" You asked as you gulped when she started chuckling when you called her by her nickname.

"I love it when you call me that - so intimate and lovely. That's one of the main reasons I love you so much, but I've been seeing you talking to other women - whores that don't deserve your time or affection but you still give it to them and their brats but that doesn't matter." Vanessa started as she looked up from her knife and smiled at you - you could see the hearts in her eyes. "Once I am done with you, you're going to love me and be mine and mine alone. Now, hold still, and let me mark you, my love."

She started walking towards you with the knife in her hand, your eyes were wide as you turned and ran away from her, up the stairs to the Mascots Service Elevators but none of them were answering your call, you looked to the side and jumped back just in time to see Vanessa swinging a knife at your hand when you tried to called Roxanne's Elevator.

"You really think I wouldn't make sure you couldn't escape me? No, my love, I made sure that you would be trapped in this cage like the little bunny you are. Now, come to Nessa and let me mark you - it's going to be alright and only hurt for a moment." Vanessa said as she lunged at you while slashing the knife down, she barely missed your hand before you turned and walked away; she reached out and grabbed your short hair before yanking you back and pounding your face to Monty's Elevator door, making your nose bleed, before throwing to yo the ground. You groaned and held your nose as the blood came rushing down your face before grunting in pain Vanessa kicked up to the side and made you roll over on your back, making you look at her lovesick face. She grabbed your hand and handcuffed it to the metal guard rail before sitting on your lap and started unbuttoning your shirt before using her knife to slice into your shoulder blade causing your screams to echo through the emptiness of the room, she licked her lips as she pulled the knife away from the wound, letting your blood flow through the wound.

"There we go. Now, hold still for Mama. It's gonna be quick." Vaness placed the knife out of your reach and lowered her head to your wound before wrapping her mouth around the wound and started drinking your blood with a purr. What the hell was she, a vampire?! You grunted in pain as you felt Vanessa's Tounge running along the wound before she pulled away and lifted her hand to her bloody face as she licked her lips with a sick smile on her face.

"You... You... You taste delicious! I knew that you were going to taste good but I never know that you were going to taste this good. Now, you and I are going to head to my place and we are going to establish our relationship. Be good, I won't hesitate to cut you again." Vanessa said as she uncuffed the handcuff from the metal rod and cuffed it to your other hand before collecting the knife and forcing you to your feet by yanking you by your sore arm. She walked you to the door unlocked it and led you out of the door to the main building, to her car, and pushed you into the back seat before getting in the front seat and driving away. Your blood still staining her face and chest while you whimpered in the background.

#fnaf security breach #yandere vanessa #xreader

[upinteriors]

Autobarn by Bindloss Dawes

The Autobarn is the realisation of our client's long-term dream to house his collection of classic German cars. The project is composed of two volumes: a clean, five-bay garage for everyday use and a taller workshop for repairs and future restoration projects.

Beyond satisfying this initial use, the project ambition was to create a flexible, 'long-life, loose-fit' building that could be used for a range of different uses. Currently it doubles up as event space, however the ambition is that the Autobarn could one day become a low-energy house.

Located on the outskirts of a small Somerset village, the project is set within the grounds of an eighteenth-century Grade 2 listed house. It replaces several haphazard outbuildings and consolidates their amenity into an elegant architectural proposal, nestled within a glade of mature trees.

The project's design references the language of neighbouring agricultural barns. As a practice we are interested in reassessing the rural vernacular, both for its contextual appropriateness and its lessons in low-cost, pragmatic design. As such, the Autobarn re-interprets simple forms and methods of construction, adapting more temporary, rudimentary methods into a robust and elegant paradigm for low-cost, rural architecture. Composed of a concrete base and steel framed structure, intermittent timber cladding and zinc metal roof, the Autobarn adapts barn typologies with varying levels of refinement. Consideration was also given to its weathering, with the natural zinc roof dulling to complement the silver patination of the sweet chestnut cladding.

Like many barns, permeability to light and air is controlled through a series of movable layers. First experienced as a closed solid mass, the barn walls open up via a number of doors, including an heroic 7m sliding timber screen. The intermittent timber slats of the screens create internal dappled light during the day, which is reversed at night as interior lighting illuminates the surrounding landscape. Internally the steel structure is expressed in an array of simple portal frames, with sustainably-sourced wood-fibre acoustic board forming internal wall and ceiling. The garage space is calm and gallery-like, while the workshop space presents a tougher, taller workshop, surrounded with concrete wainscotting and designed to accommodate a car lift.

The building's 'long-life/loose-fit' ambitions have meant that the insulation and energy performance exceed residential standards. Although thermostats are currently turned down for its current use, the building includes underfloor heating powered by an Air Source Heat Pump, as well as additional first fix services hidden behind the internal wall paneling for future conversion.

Construction started in November 2020 and was completed at the end of 2021, with the project effected by the global pandemic and building material inflation. Despite these challenges, and the inclusion of some one-off expensive items (such as the electric garage doors), the Autobarn was built for under £2,300 / m2. In tandem with high energy performance and the use of natural materials, it combines our studio's goal to combine beauty, affordability, and sustainability.

Design: Bindloss Dawes Location: Frome, United Kingdom Area: 165 m² Year: 2022 Photography: Building Narratives

#architecture #gable roofs #garages #barns #british barns #british garages #united kingdom #bindloss dawes #building narratives #interiors

[milerhomeimprovement]

#hip roof #hipped roof #roof sheathing #metal roof repair #metal roofing #roofcleaning #roofing services #roofreplacement #residential roofing #door #home #contractor #construction #building #roof issues #roof construction #roof #real estate #commercial roofing #blog #treding #latest news #trending news #services #interiors #home construction #home improvement #remodeling services #residential remodeling company #remodeling contractor

[softbeebee]

Dina nolastname headcanons (the last of us 2 / tlou2) |

Dancing is Dina's favourite hobby apart from music and games for sure, she mainly got into any video game because of Ellie.

Dina loves abba, that is just a fact and her favourite song is dancing queen + angeleyes as well.

Dina's love languages would be physical touch, acts of service, and words of affirmations.

If Dina was an animal, she would be a cat for sure. She is totally an animal lover, especially for cats.

If she could, she would take all the local cats in Jackson home with her if she could.

Dina more than likely teaches dance classes and has taught most of her friends different styles of dancing.

She truly didn't think she had a type till Jesse pointed it out, and it turns out Ellie had been her type even before she knew it.

I believe Dina knew she was bisexual after she settled into Jackson properly and began socialising more, an early realisation when she was like 12 years old (me too d).

She is one of the nicest popular girls you could talk to ever, despite the stereotype I feel she did above average in her classes and it made others jealous to realise she has such a good heart and a good intelligence about her.

She is a massive fan of horror movies. Her favourite series from what she has been able to find/trade with people passing through is the evil dead franchise.

Dina, as we know and can tell, is a playful yet bold drunk. She isn't ashamed of that for the most part.

In canonverse and non outbreak verse, she, despite how she may dress, enjoys a lot of punk/metal/rock/alternative pop punk music. As a babymetal fan, I know Dina would of loved them.

She doesn't get jealous too easily, unless she really knows she likes that person a lot. When she does get jealous, she tries to cope with it and put most times others happiness before herself.

Her favourite meals are between lasagna, homemade sauce and pasta, and a homemade soup.

She more than likely learnt a lot of her sewing skills from repairing clothes and fixing holes in blankets, eventually in my mind she made some of JJs baby clothes.

She more than likely has a generalised anxiety disorder, though she is more confident now with how she goes about her life, herself, and the build-up of confidence with her patrol and jobs around Jackson. Although the anxiety may sit there for sometime.

#dina nolastname #dina woodward #dina tlou #tlou dina #elliedina #the last of us #the last of us 2 #tlou #tlou 2 #dina nolastname headcanons #dina headcanons #tlou headcanons #tlou2 headcanons #tlou fanfics #tlou writing #tlou2 fanfic #dina x reader #i love her #one of the best and under appreciated tlou characters #bee writes #writing

[ltwilliammowett]

A light on a reef

Until the end of the 17th century one of the threats facing shipping heading to Plymouth on the southern coast of England was the isolated and treacherous Eddystone reef, 23km directly offshore. Much of the hazard is underwater, creating complex currents, and extraordinarily high seas are often kicked up when conditions are very windy. In 1620 Captain Christopher Jones, master of Mayflower described the reef: "Twenty-three rust red [...] ragged stones around which the sea constantly eddies, a great danger [...] for if any vessel makes too far to the south [...] she will be swept to her doom on these evil rocks." As trade with America increased during the 1600s a growing number of ships approaching the English Channel from the west were wrecked on the Eddystone reef.

King William III and Queen Mary were petitioned that something be done about marking the infamous hazard. Plan to erect a warning light by funding the project with a penny a ton charge on all vessels passing initially foundered. Then an enterprising character called Henry Winstanley stepped forward and took on the most adventurous marine construction job the world had ever seen. Work commenced on the mainly wooden structure in July 1696. England was again at war, and such was the importance of the project that the Admiralty provided a man-o-war for protection.

The Winstanley Lighthouse, by English School, 17th century (x)

On one day, however, HMS Terrible did not arrive and a passing French privateer seized Winstanley and carried him off to France. When Louis XIV heard of the incident he ordered his release. " France is at war with England, not humanity," said the King. Winstanley's was the first lighthouse to be built in the open sea. It was a true feat of human endeavour. Work could only be undertaken in summer and for the first two years nothing could be left on the rock or it would be swept away. There was some assistance from Terrible in transporting the building materials, but much had to be rowed out in an open four-oared boat in a journey that could take nine hours each way. Winstanley's lighthouse was swept away after less that five years, during the great storm of 1703.

John Rudyerd's wooden lighthouse of 1708, by Issac Sailmaker, c. 1708 (x)

Winstanley was in it at the time supervising some repairs- he had said that he wished to be there during " the greatest storm that ever was." The next lighthouse was built by John Rudyerd and lit in 1709. Also made largely of timber and with granite ballast, it gave good service for nearly half a century until destroyed by fire in 1755. During the blaze the lead cupola began to melt, and as the duty keeper, 94- old Henry Hall, was throwing water upwards from a bucket he accidentally swallowed 200g of the molten metal. No one believed his incredible tale, but when he died 12 days later doctors found a lump of lead in his stomach.

Smeaton's Eddystone Lighthouse, by John Lynn (active 1826-1869) (x)

John Smeaton, Britian's first great civil engineer, was the next to rise to the challenge of Eddystone. He took the English oak as his design inspiration - a broad base narrowing in a gentle curve. The 22m high lighthouse was built using solid discs of stone dovetailed together. Work began in 1756, and from start to finish the work took three years, nine weeks and three days. Small boats transported nearly 1000 tons of granite and Portland stone along with all the equipment and men.

  Sir James N. Douglass's Eddystone Lighthouse, Plymouth, England, photochrome print, c. 1890–1900. The remnants of John Smeaton's lighthouse are at left. (x)

The Smeaton lighthouse stood for over 100 years. In the end it was not the lighthouse that failed; rather that the sea was found to have eaten away the rock beneath the structure. In 1882 it was dismantled and brought back to Plymouth, where it was re-erected stone on the Hoe as a memorial, and where it still stands.

The Eddystone lighthouse today (x)

It had already been replaced by a new lighthouse, twice as tall and four and a half times as large, designed by James Douglas, which now gives mariners a beacon of light visible for 22 nautical miles (40,78km).

#naval history #lighthouse history #eddystone lighthouse #17th - today #age of sail #age of steam #modern

[ahdraftingco]

Oneshot: Let Me Help You

Pairing: The Mandalorian x Reader

AO3 Crosspost: https://archiveofourown.org/works/40326249

Rating: Explicit, readers are advised to read the warnings below before proceeding.

Warnings (in no particular order): Gender-Neutral (AFAB) Reader, Porn With Plot, Depictions of Anxiety, Blood and Injury, Swearing, Domestic Fluff, Angst/Hurt/Comfort, Rough Sex, Choking, Dom/Sub Dynamic, Caretaker Kink, Dirty Talk, Praise Kink, Clothed Sex, Multiple Orgasms, Overstimulation, Forced Orgasms, Glove Kink, Cock Worship, Doctor/Patient Relationship

Summary: You and the Mandalorian have a very peculiar deal. He can come by anytime he needs a home-cooked meal, a bed to sleep in and a medic to patch up whatever mess he has gotten himself into. In exchange, you are allowed to request his help with anything you need, like home repairs or bringing back souvenirs from his travels. It's a rather peaceful exchange and neither of you ask too much of the other…until something happens that forces the desire brewing inside the both of you to finally boil over.

Word Count: 19.6k+ (this oneshot can be read in chapters on AO3)

A/N: Yay, another very long oneshot that has plot but is mostly shameless smut, also set in the middle of Book of Boba Fett! 

This story is written with a gender-neutral (afab) reader in mind. I do mention certain afab body parts (like "clit") but I don't mention pronouns or use gendered terms (like "girl") so I hope my lovely non-binary people can enjoy the read too ♡

This isn't the first time the Mandalorian has crashed through your front door, stumbling in with his hand over some open wound. You are considering buying a rug just so you don't have to keep spending time scrubbing the blood out of your light wood floors. Note to self, next time you build a safe house, invest in darker wood…

You let out a quiet sigh before walking over to the metal operating bed he's laying on. You have a sterile corner in the house that's all metal, since it's easier to clean, where you tend to your patients. Though, as of late, the Mandalorian is taking up all of your time. That was the agreement, after all. Until he no longer needs your services, he's your exclusive client, the only one allowed to use your safe house in the wilderness of Naboo.

Why did you agree to such restrictive terms? Because he pays well for it. That's what you tell yourself but it's not the full truth. In actuality, he saved your life months ago and ever since then, you've grown to care about him. A lot more than you know you should care because he can terminate this relationship whenever he wants and you'd have to let him go.

You hate thinking about the day he finds somewhere else, someone else, and leaves you. But, you chose to accept this deal so you choke back any feelings about it, hiding them deep in your heart. They aren't real feelings anyways. You firmly believe it's just a crush you'll get over. How can you actually like a man you've never even seen before, other than his open wounds?

You shake away the thoughts as you carry your supplies over to the small metal tray beside him, sitting on your little stool with wheels that help you maneuver around. You slide down to his leg wound and examine it before asking, "what happened this time?"

"Sliced into my own leg." He tries to move but you stop him. You can't let him cause the wound to fester more.

"Again?" You shift your eyes to look up at him disapprovingly. "You said you'd be more careful."

The Mandalorian just shrugs his shoulders in response and you roll your eyes at him. You should've assumed this would happen again, since he hasn't been very good at using the Darksaber. At least you read up on how to treat these kinds of wounds in preparation, so you do a much better job patching him up this time around.

It's pretty late into the night when you're done bandaging his wound as securely as you can. You let out a breath of relief as you get up to peel your blood stained gloves off and wash your hands. Though, you're only going to get them dirty again in a bit when you have to mop your entryway.

"There's a change of clothes for you in the refresher." You tell him, gesturing over to the nearby door. "Do you need any help getting there?"

He sits up, touching the bandages with his gloved hand. Then, he lifts his head, facing his helmet towards you, and says, "I'll be fine."

"Alright then. I've got a floor to clean." You point back at the bloody mess he left for you. "So, I'll be up if you need me."

Thankfully, it isn't too much blood so you end up getting it all scrubbed out by the time he's limping towards you after showering and putting a new set of clothes on. He's carrying his beskar plates in his hands so you quickly do one last wipe of the floor before rushing up to him, taking them from him.

Before he can make one of his stubborn comments, you state firmly, "I won't argue with you over this. Go rest and let me handle this."

The Mandalorian is reluctant as always but he eventually can't keep standing in one place with his leg injury so he gives in and lets you take over. You lug his armor onto your dining table, setting it down piece by piece so you can wipe the blood off of them until they're nice and shiny again. Exhaustion is slowly setting into every fiber of your being and you try to stretch to keep yourself awake but you're reaching your limit as you throw the clothes he was wearing into the wash.

You need to keep it together. You need to stay useful to him, which means being able to work even when you're tired. You just need to stay awake long enough to hang the clothes from the wash so they can dry and you can go to sleep then.

It's only a few more minutes. You can do it, just stay awake…

You catch yourself before you fall asleep on your arms at the dining table. Then, you curse mentally to yourself when the Mandalorian goes, "you seem tired."

You look up to see that he's not asleep yet. "You seem tired too, so you should sleep."

"I'll sleep when you do." He says as he turns to look at the space next to him.

When he does stay over, you both share the only bed in the whole house. Why? Because he refuses to let you sleep on the little daybed you have, even though you've explained to him several times that the actual bed isn't your bed. It's mainly for patients so you usually do most of your sleeping on the daybed.

He doesn't like that fact at all. You don't know why he's so particular about it, but in your agreement, he made sure that you slept in bed with him whenever he was staying over. You really shouldn't have said yes to it. It's not good for your heart when you wake up to the sheets smelling like him after he has left.

You hear the alarm go off for the washer so you tell him, "I'll be there soon."

The Mandalorian gives you a slight nod of his helmet and you leave to get the clothes hung up to dry. Then, you wash up for the night and change into more comfortable clothes before making the trek back to the bed.

Again, note to self, get two beds, or better yet build two rooms, in case you end up with another patient as stubborn as the Mandalorian next time you build a safe house. It is definitely more convenient to have an open concept when you have to keep a watchful eye on patients and since they never stay for more than a day or two, you don't mind sharing the space for a bit. That isn't the case when he's here, but how else are you supposed to feel when you have to share a bed with a man that makes your heart race?

When you do get to bed, you settle yourself under the covers rather quickly, facing away from him. The sleeping arrangement goes like this: you stay under the covers and he stays over them. That way, he doesn't get blood on the sheets and you don't have to have a panic attack on the off chance he brushes up against you in the middle of the night. Plus, he normally sleeps partially sitting up, since he always wears the helmet.

Every time he's here, you offer the same thing. "I promise I won't look if you want to take the helmet off to rest. I'll keep my eyes in this direction."

The Mandalorian never takes your offer, which is understandable. There's no way for him to be sure that you won't accidentally catch a peek of him somehow. There's a lot you've had to adapt to in order to take care of him. You close all the windows and the curtains in your house so that no one can look in and see him while he's vulnerable. You eat at the kitchen bar, so you're faced away from the dining table when he's eating too. You cut around his clothes to tend to his wounds since you know he doesn't like to show any skin. You can't help him strip for the refresher for the same reason, and also because your heart would literally burst out of your chest.

Kind of like it does right now when you hear him say, "only if you let me hold you while we sleep."

You blink a few times, trying to comprehend if this is a dream or actually reality. It's hard to tell. "What did you just say?"

"I'll take the helmet off if I can hold you to make sure you won't flip around and look at me while we sleep." He elaborates and surprisingly, it makes sense.

If the Mandalorian kept his arms around you to hold you firmly against his chest, it would be unnatural for you to turn your head accidentally. You already promised not to look and he must trust that you won't but he has to ensure that he isn't taking any chances either.

However, will you survive the night in his arms? Suddenly, you're wide awake and all the tiredness you had felt earlier has washed away as your mind swirls at the thought of him spooning you. Yes, the Mandalorian would be technically spooning you. It would be completely platonic and more so just you helping a patient sleep so…

"Okay." You spell out your consent. "You can hold me if it'll help you rest better. Are you going to stay above the covers?"

"Do you want me to?" Why did he have to ask you that…

"The bleeding has stopped so you don't have to." You're really digging your own grave by giving him that option but you can't help yourself. The prospect of him holding you while sharing the same blanket is too tempting.

"Then it'll be easier if I'm under the covers too." He says in such a monotone that it really feels like this means nothing to him. Of course it doesn't. Why would it? He's only here to get treated and he'll leave once he has healed up like he always does.

They always leave you. If you aren't giving them what they need of you, then they leave. You're only worth as much as you put out and the moment you have nothing left to offer, why would anyone want to stay?

You take a deep breath, not wanting your terrible thoughts to bring tears to your eyes. It would be embarrassing if the Mandalorian caught you crying. You're a professional. You can't cry in front of a patient. That would be ridiculous.

So, you choke back your feelings like you always do while you wait for him to make his move. He does eventually, after waiting for a while. You guess it was to test to see if you would actually stay turned away, or maybe he was just waiting for you to fall asleep first. Your eyes are shut but you are most definitely not asleep when you hear him take off the helmet for the first time. He keeps it on the bed with him, so it's easy to grab in the off chance he has to throw it on.

Then, you feel the covers shift and he gets under them. It isn't the first time he has slept under the covers. He did during the colder season a few months ago, but he stayed sitting up so only his lower half was underneath. Now, he's fully beneath the blanket with you and you watch as his arms slip around your body, tugging you slightly towards him. You hold your breath when your back presses up against his chest, not wanting to react to how warm and comforting it feels to be held like this.

The only problem is…you have no fucking idea where to put your arms. He has one arm under your pillow with the other wrapped around your waist. You can't extend them or tuck them under your pillow without running the risk of brushing up against his arms. So, you decide to tuck your arms against your chest. It's definitely not comfortable but it's the best you can do in this situation.

That is, until you feel his hot breath against the exposed skin of your nape as he says, "I need you to hold my hands."

"What?" You are unsure if you heard him correctly. Did he just say–

"I need to make sure you won't move around." He clarifies his intent. "It'll be hard to sleep if you're fidgeting."

You didn't even realize you were fidgeting with your hands. It was completely unconscious so you understand that he needs to be able to sleep peacefully. "Sorry about that."

"There's nothing to apologize for." He moves his hands to grab a hold of yours before getting them back to where they were previously.

You don't know why you feel a bit surprised that he still has his gloves on. The Mandalorian wouldn't want to hold you with his bare hands, you should've assumed that.

"Do you always pretend to be asleep?" He asks you, letting you feel every word against your skin once again.

"I'm not pretending." You defend yourself, not wanting him to get the wrong idea. "It's just been a while since I've been held like this so it's a bit of an adjustment. I'll be asleep soon, so you should focus on sleeping too."

"How long has it been?" His natural voice is oddly soothing, all low and deep and a bit sleepy. It almost makes you not realize the weight of what he's asking. The Mandalorian isn't one for small talk and yet he's curious about you.

"A long time." You tense up a bit at the thought of how lonely you've been but you have to try to shake it off because you know he can feel it when you get all stiff. "I've never been all that good at having lasting relationships."

"I don't think that's true." He tells you and you don't know how to react to his words. "We've known each other for a while now."

You stifle your laugh but you're sure he knew you laughed a little. "I don't think this relationship counts."

"Why not?" He sounds genuinely curious.

You shrug in response, though you can tell that isn't enough of an answer for him by the way he's holding you a bit firmer now. You don't know why, but the words slip out before you can stop them, "because our relationship ends the moment you don't need me anymore."

You turn your head more into your pillow then, so you can muffle any kind of sad sighs that threaten to slip from your lips. You chew on the inside of your mouth in hopes to not expose any more of yourself and your insecurities. He's just a patient. You have to remind yourself of that. He doesn't care about you. This is temporary. It always is and it always will be…

You decide to take control of the situation, not wanting to talk anymore, so you tell him, "I'm going to sleep now. Good night."

As per usual, he doesn't say it back and you don't expect him to. It's easier this way. He keeps his distance and you keep yours.

Even if you are falling asleep in his arms right now.

❈❈❈❈❈❈ 

You haven't seen him since that night. You didn’t even wake up until he was gone. A part of you thinks you made the whole thing up but you saw the blood stained gloves in your trash compartment so it had to have happened. Your sheets smelled like him too, which was another sign that it wasn't all a figment of your imagination.

As part of your deal with the Mandalorian, he helps you by bringing supplies you need replenished every three to four weeks since it's a hassle to get into the city and back when it's a two day trek for you. It's been about two weeks since you last saw him and you don't know if you're thankful or not. You keep thinking about how nice it felt to be held in his arms, even though you know you shouldn't be feeling this way. It wasn't for any reason other than to keep you from turning around. You're putting too much meaning into it. He has probably held a bunch of people just like that and yours is most likely the most meaningless of his interactions.

You wipe the tears that threaten to stream down your eyes. You don't know if you're more sensitive because you've been feeling sick all week but it's been hard for you to keep your emotions at bay. It must be a combination of everything that's making you feel a bit more vulnerable and a little lightheaded.

You'll blame your tears on the vegetables you're cutting. They always make you cry when you chop them. That's why you're tearing up, obviously. Not because of the Mandalorian.

Though, it's like you've summoned him with your thoughts because the moment you move the vegetables from the cutting board and into the stew you're making on the stove, he barges through your front door. You whip around, expecting to see him injured in some way, but he…isn't? You look him up and down, a bit confused at how completely okay he looks.

Then, he just says the word "rain" and you understand why he's here. He's just looking for a place to stay the night. He must be on a hunt in Naboo then.

"Did you want to shower before dinner then?" You mix around your stew a bit as you speak, "the food will be ready soon if you're hungry."

He doesn't answer you so you turn to face him again and are startled to see him right next to you. Then, he says, "you go shower and I'll watch over it until you're back."

You look down at your clothes and you realize how much of a mess you've made. You're not cautious enough when you're under the weather. It'll be weird being so dirty for dinner. "Alright, thanks. Just, um, stir it every now and then. Oh, and taste it while I'm away so you can tell me what to add to make it to your liking."

You nod your head at him then and rush to grab a change of clothes before getting into the refresher. You take a pretty quick shower, since you don’t want to keep him waiting by the stove too long.

When you're back from your shower, you see that he's…putting your supplies away? The Mandalorian didn't bring them in when he got here. You thought this wasn't a supply visit and he was just getting out of the rain.

"You don't have to do that." You walk up to him as he finishes putting the rest of your usual vegetables in the cold storage. "I've got the rest. Go sit and I'll bring food over for you."

His question catches you off guard. "Do you always do everything by yourself?"

You stumble a little bit in your step. You don't know how to answer that kind of blunt question other than honestly. "I guess so."

"Then, who takes care of you when you’re sick?" Again, another question that you're ill-prepared to answer.

How does he know you're sick? You gave yourself a good look in the mirror before and after you showered and you're certain you didn't show any physical signs of your sickness. You would barely even call this being sick. You're fine.

"I can take care of myself. Besides, I'm not that sick anyways. It's just a headache and some stomach cramps. They'll go away soon enough." You can't let the Mandalorian think you're not strong enough to take care of yourself or he won't trust you to take care of him and then he'll leave and you'll be alone again and you can't let him–

He cuts through your rambling thoughts by saying something that throws you for a loop, "stop doing that. I hate it when you pretend you aren't sick, or tired, or overworked. Why can't you just be honest and ask for help?"

You swallow nervously at his words. What does he mean? You don't have anyone to ask for help. You're alone. You've been alone. That's just how you've always lived. No one takes care of you besides yourself.

"The stew is going to boil over." You glance behind him at the pot on the stove, avoiding his question as you go to mix it around again before it spills out and makes a mess you'll have to clean up.

If only it was that easy to stop your own emotions from boiling over. You barely catch the tears before they start falling from your eyes and it only makes your headache worse and your stomach is doing flips because you're so fucking embarrassed that the Mandalorian saw right through you. And he hates it. There's no way he's going to stay now and you don't expect him to.

"Why are you crying?" He asks and you curse at yourself again. You thought you hid it well but you're starting to realize it's hard to hide things from him.

"I'm sorry." You say reflexively. "It's nothing. I cry a lot when I make this stew. The vegetables release a chemical that causes the eyes to tear up."

Maybe that’s why you made it today, so you had an excuse to cry other than your jumbled up emotions and your throbbing headache. Fuck, it hurts all over now. You feel so ashamed that you're acting like this in front of him. Where is the professional persona when you need it? You're too exhausted to put up an act.

"You need to go to bed." He tells you and you shift your eyes up to look at him. "Go, now."

"I told you, I'm fine–"

"Don't make me say it again." His voice is so stern that you jolt a little at his words.

You lower your head and immediately go over to the bed, sitting up against the headrest with the covers in your lap, since you can't bring yourself to lay down. You feel terrible that you're burdening him like this, making him worry about you. Though, is this worry or is he just annoyed at you? Maybe he doesn't like sick people. Not everyone can do what you do. It's hard watching people get hurt or fall ill. It's not like you're all that sick…you'll be fine. You're always fine. A week or two of a constant headache and an ache in your lower stomach is normal.

"When was the last time you've eaten?" He asks and you shrug in response. "That's a horrible answer."

You chew on your bottom lip before finally admitting, "I've eaten, just not a lot."

"What about water? Have you been drinking enough of it? From the look on your face, I'm assuming that's a no." He reads you like a book and you look straight down at your hands on your lap. The Mandalorian has never spoken to you like this before and it makes you nervous. He's really angry at you, isn't he?

"I'm sorry." You say again out of habit.

You hear him sigh and you can't bring yourself to look back up at him. You're thankful that you can’t see his face because you wouldn't know what you'd do if you saw him staring back at you with any form of hatred in his eyes. You really fucked up. Why couldn't you hide it better? You're a mess…

"There's nothing to apologize for." He sounds so close all of a sudden. "So, don't cry."

You watch as he sits down beside you in bed and he lifts your chin up so you're looking directly at his helmet. Then, you feel something damp and warm press up gently around your eyes and you realize he's wiping your face with a towel.

"I-I got it." You reach for the towel in his hands but he snatches your wrist before you can.

"No, you don't." His voice is stern again. "You're sick and you need to let me help you."

"There's no reason for you to help me." Your thoughts spill out and you blink back more tears. "You should just leave me be. I'll be fine. I don't want to burden you."

You put on the nicest smile you can muster, in hopes that he'll drop this. You can't let him take care of you. It'll just make it harder for you to let him go later if he shows you any kindness now. You have to keep your distance. The more you let him in, the harder it will hurt. You've made this same mistake before. It's not worth it…

"Why do you always do this?" He pulls the towel away from your face and you honestly miss the feeling already. His words cut through you like a sharp blade. "You always pretend that you're okay when you aren't. You never ask for help. You are constantly pushing yourself too much. Why won't you just take a break? Stop acting like you don't want to be taken care of and let me help you."

"That isn't how this works." You hate having to talk back but you must make him understand. "I'm the one who's supposed to be taking care of you. This safe house is for you. That's what you pay me for. Why would I ever ask for help from a patient? That's not right. I'm the one helping you heal. I can't–I can’t be sick or else I'm not useful anymore. Then, you'll just find someone else better to go to."

The moment you say those words out loud, your heart sinks in your chest. Why did you say that? Now, he's going to think you’re truly incapable of doing anything when you're fueled by fear like this. You're too afraid to be left alone and you just admitted that. How fucking sad. Your headache has gotten worse and you're nauseated by your own emotions. Why couldn't you just keep it together…

"Is that really what you think?" The Mandalorian asks and you can't decipher what his tone of voice means. "Do you actually believe I'm going to leave you if you act human for once and not like some medical droid? You're allowed to get sick. You're allowed to be tired. You're allowed to rest and ask for help. I honestly wish you would ask for my help so that I had an excuse to stay."

"What are you saying?" You can't comprehend anything through your pounding headache. There's no way he just said… "Do you want to stay here with me?"

"Isn't it obvious?" The Mandalorian surprises you once again. "I thought I made my intentions pretty clear when we decided that you weren't going to see anyone else but me or when I told you to share a bed with me. I was sure that I gave myself away when I asked you to let me hold you while we slept. Now, I get why you never saw me as anything but a patient. You were so afraid of me leaving that you never once thought that I wanted to stay."

This can't be real. You have to be dreaming. You're going to wake up soon and this will all have been some kind of fever-induced dream. There's simply no way that the Mandalorian is saying what you think he's saying.

And yet, you somehow find the courage to ask, "do you want me to see you as more than just a patient?"

He places his gloved hand on yours, squeezing it gently as he answers, "I want you to see me as a man who wants to stay and make you feel better. Let me help you, like you've helped me."

You find yourself letting your fingers interlock with his, seeking out the comfort you've been craving. Then, you fight through your fears so that you can reply, "I can do that. I'm sorry if I'm…nervous about this. It's been a long time since anyone wanted to help me."

"You don't have to think about the past anymore. I'm here right now and that's all that matters." He tells you kindly before standing back up. "I'll get you a bowl of stew so you can take some medication and then I'll hold a heat pad against your stomach for you until you fall asleep. Does that sound good?"

You nod, smiling as you feel a warmth blooming in your heart. "That sounds really nice, thank you."

"Anytime." He moves his hand to pat your head gently. "Ask me if you want anything else."

"I will." You know it will take you a while to be truthful about what you want but you'll take small steps at a time if the Mandalorian is willing to be patient with you. It seems like he wants to be and that makes you feel so much better.

He brings you a tray with some stew, a glass of water and a little cup of pills. They're all the correct medications for your symptoms and you like that he remembers the things you've given him over the time you've tended to him. He really has been paying attention to you, hasn't he? The thought heats up your skin a little but you brush it off by eating. For the first time in a few days, food goes down easily. It must be because you're able to relax and not think about anything for a bit.

The Mandalorian is taking care of everything for you, from setting your empty dishes into the dishwasher to getting your heat pack warmed up to a good temperature. He peels off his armor plates then gets into bed beside you. You flip onto your side so that he can take off his helmet and spoon you. Soon enough, he does exactly what he said he would. He presses the heat pad against your lower stomach and you let out a sigh of relief. It feels so good and normally, you can't get it this hot because it torches your hand when you hold it but since he's wearing gloves, he can easily handle a bit more heat.

You feel his breath against the back of your neck just like the other night as he says quietly, "I like helping you feel good. Tell me if I'm in the right place."

"That's perfect." You put your hand on his, touching his now-warm glove from the heat pad. "This is almost too nice."

"Are you tired yet?" He brushes his lips lightly against your skin and you can't help but smile at the subtle touch.

"Not anymore." You say honestly. "I can't sleep. I want to enjoy this for as long as I can."

"Just close your eyes then and enjoy." The Mandalorian is trying to coax you into at least resting. You listen, letting your eyes droop shut.

You focus on the rise and fall of his chest against your back. You like the feeling of how tightly his arms are wrapped around you, keeping the heat pad on your stomach. Your cramps are slowly subsiding and your headache is practically gone. All you can think about is how much you want him to lean in and start kissing your neck so you can feel more of his soft lips.

"You're fidgeting." He calls you out for your tiny movements. "Do you need something from me?"

"It's nothing." You definitely can't tell him the kinds of thoughts that are running through your mind.

"I told you, if you want something, then ask." He leans in closer then. "I'll give you anything you want as long as you ask for it politely."

You really shouldn't do this but…you take a deep breath and ask, "will you kiss me a little? I like the feeling of your lips against my skin."

"You mean here?" He gently presses his lips against the nape of your neck and trails kisses along your shoulder. You hold yourself back from making too much noise in response to how nice it feels. But then, you feel one of his hands slip down your body as he says, "or do you want me to kiss somewhere else?"

You might actually go into a mild panic if he's suggesting what you think he's suggesting. "You can kiss me wherever."

"You shouldn't give me that kind of power." His words send shivers through you. "I might not be able to hold myself back."

You bite your lip, squirming just a bit. But, you don't stop yourself from saying, "you don't have to hold back. I trust you."

"Then, can I trust you not to lift the covers if I go down on you?" He sounds so sultry in your ear, his voice a bit more rough than usual. "I need you to be good and not peek while I make you feel good. Can you do that for me?"

You nod, though you know you have to be verbal so you tell him, "I'll keep my hand over my eyes the whole time, I promise."

"Good." He praises your obedience and you go absolutely crazy over it, your mind swirling. He's more demanding now that he knows you'll listen. "Keep your eyes shut for me and lay on your back."

You put your hand over your eyes while squeezing them shut before laying onto your back. The Mandalorian takes your other hand and places it on the heat pad, so you're keeping it there since he's no longer holding onto it. You hear him shift beneath the covers and you gasp when you feel his hands at your hips, grabbing the waistband of your pants. You lift your hips up to let him pull them off of you, along with your underwear. You're thankful it's nighttime and obviously dark under the covers because you wouldn't be able to bear how shy you'd get that he's right up against you like this.

"I can't tell you how much I've wanted to do this." You can feel every word he says right against your inner thighs. "I've dreamed of it. The way you taste. The way you sound when you come. I have to hold myself back or I'll be here all night, learning how to make you go crazy with my tongue."

How can he say these kinds of words like that? His voice is all too enticing with how low and slow he breathes out every word. You want to let him do what he wants so you tell him, "I said I trust you, so you don't have to stop until you've had your fill. I'll say something if I want you to stop."

"Promise me you won't regret that." He feels much closer to you now.

"I won't regret any of this. I'm already feeling so good and you haven't even done anything yet." You grip onto the heat pad, the anticipation killing you as you can feel how wet you're getting with him just hovering near you like this. You can't handle waiting anymore so you plead, "please make me come."

"I'll make you come as much as you want, so focus on feeling good for me." That's all he has to say before you finally feel his tongue on you. He definitely knows how wet you've gotten from his words. The Mandalorian hums in approval, enjoying the way you taste.

You can't breathe. The air keeps getting sucked out of your lungs with every subtle movement of his tongue. Your light, airy moans fill the room as he starts to tease you, tracing circles around your clit at a slow pace. Every now and then, he leans in and wraps his lips around it, sucking enough to pull soft whimpers out of you. You're so close but you hold yourself at the edge for a moment, wanting to savor the feeling of him.

Then, when you're ready, you let your orgasm wash over you, drowning in the pleasure he has given you. He licks all of it up and you can feel him smile against you. You bet he has a beautiful smile. You wish you could kiss him and feel him smile against your lips, but that would be asking too much so you focus back on his tongue building you up to your next orgasm.

Every wave of pleasure gets better and better and at a certain point, you're mumbling things to him in your daze. You can't recall your exact words but you're pretty sure you told him how good he makes you feel, how much you like that he wants to take care of you, how you hope he'll actually stay with you. You pretty much said everything you'd normally be too shy to because you're in a dreamlike state. Eventually, you drift into a tranquil slumber after coming so much. Despite your sleepiness, you can still make out the feeling of him kissing every inch of your exposed skin before cleaning you up and putting your pants back on. He shifts you back onto your side and spoons you again. You feel the familiar warmth of your heat pad and you realize he has reheated it so he can hold it against you as you sleep. How sweet of him.

Now, all you hope for is that you'll wake up in his arms…not just tomorrow, but every time he comes by.

❈❈❈❈❈❈ 

You half-expected this to be a one time thing. Why? Because the idea that it would be happening as frequently as it has been is…incomprehensible. Actually, it is more than that. It's fucking unbelievable, the way the Mandalorian not only stayed more than that one night and held you while you both slept, but he also went down on you every night he was here.

You've been falling asleep to the intense over-stimulation of him between your legs and honestly, how are you ever supposed to learn to sleep without it now? It's already been over a week since he had to leave to hunt his quarry, which means he might not be back for a while.

Now, you're expecting too much of him. There’s no telling that he'll keep his word and come back…but you have hope that he will. You have way too much hope whenever you remember how he felt under the covers.

It's going to take you a while to recover from those few days. You were all flustered around him because you couldn't believe what's been going on. You shared meals together, albeit with you still turned away but he lets you sit next to him now. He took you on rides in the starfighter and out to the capital city Theed to shop and explore. He helped you with repairs on the house and even found a rug that blood can wash out of easily, though the merchant was a bit freaked out when he asked about that. You laughed so much with him and the time you've spent has been everything to you.

There's still the uncomfortable feeling of loss that creeps into your mind every now and then. It's funny how the moment you feel happy, it feels like the world wants to give you reasons to feel bad again. The voices in your head are trying to dissuade you. They breathe out lies and from those lies manifest worries and from those worries fester doubt. You wish it wasn't like that, but it is when there's so much uncertainty.

Especially when the man you are infatuated with is a bounty hunter. The thought that he might never come back not by his own choice, but because he has sustained an injury you aren't there to help with or if he was killed by his quarry…you shake off the chills that run through your body when these thoughts come to mind. What can you do about this? Nothing really. You don't have any say nor would you ever say anything of the sort. It isn't your place.

You don't really know what your place in the Mandalorian's life is. You'd rather not think about it because it would spoil the nice moments you are having if you feel the desperate need for more. You only take what he's willing to give. You don't try to push for more, even if there are other desires that flood your mind when he's making you come.

You would give anything to have him let you do the same, but you know that’s literally impossible. He won't even let you see his hands. There's no way he would ever let you–

Almost like clockwork, the Mandalorian stumbles through your doorway, bleeding all over your new rug. Your eyes widen at the sight because…he's about to collapse.

You rush to his side in a panic, slamming the door behind him as you catch his body before he drops to the ground. He's bleeding more than a normal person should be but that's probably because he has several open blaster wounds.

He tries to say something but you shut him up immediately. "Don't waste your energy. Let me handle this, please. I need to focus." You have to get him in the bath. You have enough bacta to fill it and it will completely submerge his body. That's the only way he's going to heal up properly after you clean all his injuries.

"Hey, stay with me." You tell him, shaking him so he stays awake as you guide him onto the operating bed. "Listen carefully. I'm going to clean you up and then I'm going to help you into the bath. I'll have my eyes closed the whole time with the lights off. It'll be completely dark and I'll sit in there with you until everything's sealed up. I promise, I won't look so please let me help you."

After a moment of hesitation, the Mandalorian breathes out in a strained huff, "okay."

That's all he has to say for you to start working at lightning speed. You peel off all of his beskar and drop the pieces onto the floor as gently but as quickly as you can to get them out of the way. Then, you grab your shears and start snipping away at his clothes wherever there's blood. You give him a bacta shot to relieve the pain momentarily so you start treating the wounds.

It's disgusting. There's blood everywhere, though only some of it is his. Most of it is you getting more blood into him via transfusion and then realizing that some of his wounds haven't properly sealed up yet so you have to reseal them before they start fucking spewing blood. His clothes are soaked in sweat from the pain and you have to keep your composure, but you feel yourself wavering. However, every so often, the Mandalorian whispers sweet things to you like "you're doing great," "keep going," "I feel better already" and those are what help you push through.

It takes a while to get the bleeding to stop but when it does, you breathe out a sigh of relief because he's stable and he's going to be alright. He's going to be stuck soaking in bacta for a while but he'll heal up just fine. "I'm going to get everything prepped so just stay awake for me, okay?"

"Okay." He says after a few frighteningly long seconds.

You go into the bathroom and fill your tub with bacta. It's thick and slimy and fucking heavy. You really wish you had a tank that you could just pump this stuff directly into but that would require the use of lights and other tech you can't have right now so this makeshift soak will have to do. Once it's filled enough, you put everything you will need in the bathroom to stay in there for what might be days…

Then, you go back out to help the Mandalorian into the bathroom, shutting the door and enclosing you both in complete darkness. You help him over to a chair and start stripping him, which he allows. You save his helmet for after you get him into the bath and out of courtesy, you drape several big towels over the tub, so in the off chance the lights accidentally turn on, you won't catch a glimpse of him.

"I'm going to take your helmet off now." You have your hands on the beskar, trying not to tremble too much with anxiety. "My eyes are closed and they'll stay that way until you're feeling well enough to get out on your own. Okay?"

"Okay." His voice is strained as he says that but you know it's all he can muster right now so you'll take it.

You wait a couple of seconds before pulling his helmet off and setting it on a small table you've brought in beside the tub that holds the IV keeping him hydrated. You pull up your stool and drag yourself to the back of the tub so you can wipe his face with a cold towel. It's obvious he's been sweating buckets underneath his helmet. He must have been uncomfortable so you try to soothe him with your words.

"You're okay now. You're safe. You're going to heal up great." You whisper as you pat every inch of his face until it's cool to the touch.

You take the time to wash his hair, massaging his head, hoping that'll distract him from any other aching pains he must have. When his hair is dry, you go to drape a warm towel over his face so he can rest but he stops you the moment he feels it. "Wait."

"Do you need something?" You pull the towel away, scooting closer to him with your stool.

You hear him take a deep breath, like he needs all the air he can get to tell you, "we might not get another chance for a while so will you kiss me?"

It's as if your heart fell out of your chest and then found its way back. The Mandalorian…he's asking you to kiss him. Something you've wanted to do all this time. It's the easiest decision you'll ever have to make. You lean down towards him, finding his lips with yours, and answer, "get better soon and I'll do more than just kiss you."

Then, you press your lips against his for the first time. The same lips you've felt kiss your skin before. They taste like blood because you know he was biting them to stop from making any sound at the agony he was in earlier, but you don’t mind it. You don't care because you get to kiss him. It's a light kiss and you pull away quicker than you'd like to but he needs to rest now.

"I'll be right here if you need me." You caress his face, feeling his stubble between your fingers as you guide yourself to kiss his forehead and his cheeks. "I'm not going anywhere."

You lay the warm towel over his face after that, helping it sink into the dips of his face. He lets out a gentle sigh of relief and you are happy to hear it. You make your way over to your little makeshift bed, which is just a pillow and a blanket on the bathroom floor, and you wrap a thin shirt you found laying around over your eyes, just in case. It's hard to sleep but it gets easier when you can hear his light sleeping sounds echoing through the bathroom walls.

This goes on for days. Sadly, you have to wake him from his slumber every few hours to give him medication, much to his dismay. He always wakes up in a panic, since he's helmetless and naked. You have to assure him that it's pitchblack and you can't see a thing. He feels better once he's more awake and realizes he actually can't see a thing so there's no way you can either.

It's around the fourth day that he feels decent enough to stand on his own so you help him out of the bath and into the refresher to wash up. You try your absolute hardest not to touch him too much. You reason that you don't want to accidentally graze one of his wounds but the truth is, you need to keep yourself from remembering that he's a rather well built man with surprisingly soft skin.

The Mandalorian is able to get dressed on his own so you give him back his helmet, which he seems grateful to have on again. You made sure to clean it as thoroughly as you could in the dark. It's crazy to think you haven't seen any light in four days. You thank your lucky stars that it's nighttime when you guide him out of the bathroom, so your eyes don't take too long to readjust to the small amount of moonlight shining into your house.

You get him tucked into bed and since he's able to eat again, you cook up something that tastes terrible but only because you have to pack as many vitamin supplements in it as you can while he has an appetite. Even so, he still says, "it's not bad," which makes you laugh.

"Let's hope you haven't developed a taste for this stuff because I'd rather not stock more than necessary." You say with your head turned away from him. You're sitting on the other side of the bed, eating a bowl of crunchy kernels in batha milk.

"Do you mind sharing some?" You see his glove tap the side of your bowl and you chuckle, handing it to him. "Thanks. That other stuff tastes pretty fucking bad."

"I can get you something else to wash it down too." You know he got you some random fruit juices from his travels that you have yet to consume.

"This is fine." He says in between crunches, sounding a lot like his healthy self again.

You wait for him to finish eating so you can clean up before bed. You wonder how you'll be sleeping. He can't spoon you this time, not with his injuries. You doubt after days of not being covered up that he'll be comfortable pulling the helmet off if he wasn't certain you wouldn't be able to see him.

So, you propose a solution. "I'll sleep with the covers over me and when you have the helmet back on after you've woken up, you can move them off me to let me know. Does that work?"

"Not a bad idea." He doesn't dislike it. "But I want you close to me."

"That's risky." You're worried you'll bump into him in his sleep and hurt him somehow.

"I don't care what the risks are." The Mandalorian's stern tone fills your ears. "You're sleeping right here next to me."

He pulls your pillow so that it's resting beside his chest beneath the covers. You'd be so close to him that you could roll over and snuggle against him. Not that you would do that when he is recovering, but you could.

"Let's go to sleep." He urges you to listen to him so you comply, dipping under the covers and laying on the pillow he has settled beside him. You hear him take off his helmet and set it on the covers above, almost like a weight. That's a smart way of signaling if you're moving too much and might catch a glimpse of him.

"Good night." You say as you lean in a little closer to him, breathing in the scent of freshly washed clothes.

You feel his gloved hand rest at the top of your head, patting you gently, before he tells you for the first time, "good night."

It is definitely a good night because you know he's healing and you get to spoil yourself with his warmth again. Hopefully you'll get the chance to kiss him again soon…and possibly do more.

❈❈❈❈❈❈  

Much to your surprise, you get the opportunity to help him feel good a lot earlier than you originally thought because you wake up to your hand resting against something very hard. The covers aren't over your head anymore so you look up and the Mandalorian has his helmet back on, shifting down to see you staring at him. If he's been awake this whole time, why didn't he move your hand away…

You don't know where you find the confidence but you trace your fingers along the length of his cock, feeling the way it's outlined under the fabric of his pants. He snatches your wrist immediately after, making your lips curve into a smile. With your sleepy morning voice, you say to him, "was I not supposed to do that?"

"You're playing with fire." Those are the words he chooses to say.

"That's not a no. It feels like you need my help." You sneak your other hand down, grazing him lightly again. This time, he doesn't grab your wrist.

Instead, he slips his hand into your hair, brushing it away from your face before telling you, "if you're willing, then hurry up and go down on me."

You grin happily in response, letting his hand guide you back under the covers by your hair and drag you between his legs. You're happy to be able to return the favor, especially since he can't see you. You can really enjoy yourself now without feeling embarrassed about looking too excited.

The only sad thing is it's dark under the covers so you don't actually get to see how nice his cock must be when you pull it out of his pants. You'll have to live with just knowing how it feels so you take your time, stroking up and down his length with your hand, trying to memorize every inch of it.

Then, you hear him speak in his natural voice, so the helmet must be off. "You're taking too long."

"Are you eager or impatient?" You ask the moment you lean in, letting him feel your breath against his cock before you press soft kisses along it.

"I thought you were shy." He sounds surprised that you're teasing him right now.

"I am shy but I've been wanting to do this for a very long time." You answer him before you swirl your tongue around the tip, drawing a sigh out from his lips. "So, let me savor this moment, please."

"Fine." He grips your hair tighter as you lick up from the base of his cock to the tip, repeating this motion until you've felt all of him with your tongue. Then, you do it all over again, enjoying the feeling of him on your tongue. You hear him let out a low growl, almost in frustration, before telling you, "now I'm getting impatient."

"Tell me what you want then." You smirk to yourself, giddy that he isn't able to catch how much fun you're having. "I'll give you anything you want as long as you ask for it politely."

He pulls you by the hair towards his cock right then, the irritation apparent in his voice, "are you using my own words against me?"

"You're wasting precious time bickering with me." You finish your sentence with another swirl of your tongue over the tip. "Don't you want to come in my mouth?"

The Mandalorian grinds his teeth, hard enough that you can hear it. Then, after a moment of thinking it through, he gives in and asks, "will you hurry up and put your mouth around my cock so I can come?"

"Only if you let me do it more than once." You can't resist the prospect of going down on him back to back. "It's only fair, right?"

"Do you want to go down on me for that long?" Is that a challenge he's suggesting?

"If you'd let me, I'd spend all day right here." It would be a good way of getting him to stay in bed.

"Fuck." He curses under his breath and you know he wants it by the way he's gripping your hair. "Once I'm healed up, you're not leaving this bed until I've fucked you every possible way."

"Is that a threat or a promise?" You can't believe he's offering something so tantalizing.

"It's both. So, get to work and make me come for as long as you can handle staying put." He definitely doesn't have to tell you twice.

If the Mandalorian is going to let you stay right here and suck his cock all day long, how could you possibly say no to that? You don't let him wait any longer, sinking your mouth downwards until you feel him hit the back of your throat. You hum at the way he fits so well in your mouth, which he must like a lot because he tightens his grip in your hair again.

Slowly, you find a pace that brings out quiet grunts from him. He throbs in your mouth and you like the feeling when it's deep down your throat. You can already tell you're liking this a little too much, but you don’t hold back regardless.

The first time you make him come, he whispers your name like it's a breath of fresh air. You can tell he's been pent up for quite some time given how much he came in your mouth. You swallow every bit, refusing to waste a drop of it. Then, you tug off his pants a bit more so you can kiss his lower stomach and the top of his thighs. Your hands slip underneath his shirt to caress more of his body, using the excuse of checking in on his wounds. Everything seems to be evening out so he probably won't scar too badly.

When he's hard again, you decide to tease him with your tongue and mouth at an agonizingly slow pace, keeping him at the very edge until he just couldn't take it anymore and started fucking your mouth. He finishes deep down your throat once he's had his fill using you to get himself off. He's breathless this time, inhaling slow, shallow breaths after his orgasm.

"I want to watch you this time." He tells you the moment he has enough air in his lungs. "Will you keep your eyes closed?"

Now, that's a risk. He doesn't sound like he's putting the helmet back on either. If you slip up, you could completely fuck everything up. So, you do the only thing you can think of. "Pull the pillowcase off of a pillow and give it to me."

The Mandalorian listens to your request and hands it to you under the covers. You makeshift a blindfold and tie it tightly around your eyes. Thankfully, you have dark sheets for a reason and it conceals your vision. Then, he lifts the covers off of you and suddenly, his request changes. "Take your pants off and straddle my lap right now."

You obey without question, leaving yourself in just your underwear as you swing your legs over him. You decide to hover, so you don't press down accidentally on any wounds. You're sure he can see how wet you've gotten through your underwear and you confirm this thought when his fingers reach forward to trace a line up the center. You strangely like the way the leather feels. It's rougher and provides more texture to feel through the thin fabric barrier. Your breaths grow heavier with each subtle touch and you desperately want to beg him to let you ride his cock or his fingers but he's supposed to be resting right now…

He must notice the way you're aching to be touched because he says in a commanding tone, "rub yourself against my cock and let me watch you make yourself come. I won't move, so I'll be fine."

You've never done anything like that before. He's really going to let you use him to get off? Why does that make your heart pound so much? Probably because you're imagining the visual he's going to see and it's so hot. The desperation consuming you forces you to toss all reason aside and you rip your own underwear off, throwing the fabric away somewhere.

"Someone's eager." There's a playfulness in his voice and you're almost certain he's smirking.

"Focus on getting better soon so we can fuck already." You snap back at him, a little too needy to feel him buried deep inside of you.

For today, you'll settle for taking his cock in your hand and guiding it up against you, teasing yourself with how hot and hard he is beneath you. The temptation to push him inside of you is palpable in the way you rub the tip near your entrance, letting him feel how wet and ready you are for him. Then, you hold his cock steady as you start to grind against it. With every movement, he teases your clit and you can't hold in how good it makes you feel. You've been just as pent up and in need of a release.

You feel his gloved hands settle at your thighs, wanting to participate somehow so he simply holds onto you as you give him quite the show. He's twitching against you so you know he's enjoying the way this feels as well. He gets to see the way his cock slides up against you, gliding along how slick you are.

When you feel your orgasm approaching, you grab a hold of his hands, squeezing them in yours to steady yourself. The wave of pleasure hits you with such an intensity that you're thankful he's there to anchor you. Every inch of your body writhes in response to how hard you just came and you can barely keep yourself up anymore. It feels like there's not enough air in the room to fill your lungs but you don’t care because you're high out of your mind over how good it felt.

"If you came that hard grinding on my cock, just imagine how it'll feel when I'm finally inside of you." He just has to speak so seductively right now, making your mind swirl with stars.

You say the words before you can really think it through. "I want you so badly."

"Me too. Soon." He breathes out like it's a promise he doesn't dare to break.

You nod in response, slowing your heavy breaths so you can find your way back to reality. Then, you ask, feeling his still-hard cock between your fingertips, "can I go back down on you?"

"Only if you'll let me do the same." His words don't register right away but when you realize what he means, your skin lights up like every nerve in your body is flaring all of a sudden.

"You should rest." You don't say no but is he really in a condition to do that?

"How am I supposed to rest when you're dripping wet and I haven't had a taste yet?" His tone is filled to the brim with desire. "Just let me until I come again, then we'll both rest for the day."

The rational part of your brain is screaming for you not to let him so the Mandalorian is forced to rest but you just came so how can you possibly say no to having another orgasm while his cock is in your mouth? It's impossible.

So, you flip around and he tugs you towards his face. You're starting to like the feeling of leather against your skin, especially when he clings onto your flesh so roughly. You use your hands to guide yourself down his body until you find his cock again and you get into a comfortable position.

The moment your mouth is back on him, his mouth leans up against you and your toes curl when you feel his tongue take a long lick, tasting the way you just came. You can taste yourself on his cock so you know exactly what he's experiencing right now and it's dizzying how sensual this whole experience is. You're feeling good at the same time as you're making him feel good. There's nothing more that you could ever ask for.

"Are you holding back?" He says after his tongue flicks your clit lightly.

You pull yourself off his cock, taking in sharp inhales before answering, "I want to come with you."

"You shouldn't have told me that." His voice gets all low and threatening, sending shivers through you in the best kind of way. "Now I'm going to make it very difficult for you to keep edging yourself."

And, he sticks true to his word. He starts solely focusing on your clit, giving you way too much stimulation. Your legs are going weak but his arms hold you firmly so you can't topple over from the way he's trying to force an orgasm out of you. You're trying your hardest to keep it together, to focus on making him come, but you're going absolutely crazy. He knows all too well how to get you fired up after spending several nights going down on you.

You can't stand it anymore so you move your mouth off of him, replacing it with your hand as you grip him tightly and start stroking at the same fast pace he's using on your clit. Your movements make him groan against you, so he pulls away from you to say, "you must be desperate if you're death-gripping me like that."

He doesn't waste time after telling you that, going right back to torturing you with his tongue. It takes you a while to formulate a sentence through your sighs of pleasure but eventually, you're able to respond, "please come already. I want to come with you. I won't last much longer, please."

You don't know how many times you say the word please but you're practically begging at a certain point for him to come because you're going to burst any second now. Your hand focuses on stroking him to the best of your abilities but you're reaching your breaking point. You're going to come. It's inevitable and you wouldn't want it any other way. You like being pushed to the very brink until you can't help but completely let go.

The kind of pleasure that erupts through you when you finally feel him release in your hand is indescribable. You've never had such an explosive orgasm before but it ripples through you and takes control of every single one of your senses. Somehow, you manage to find your way back to his cock, aimlessly licking up every bit of his release in your euphoric daze. The Mandalorian does the same to you, spending a little extra time just idling against you with his tongue as he revels in his own orgasm.

You are in definite need of a cold shower but you don’t have the strength to get up so you simply roll over to the side, shifting your body until your head is by the pillows again. You make sure to face away from him as he resituates himself into his pants. Then, you feel his arm slip under you and pull you towards him. Your back is pressed up against the side of his chest so he is still laying on his back, but he can keep you close this way. You opt to keep the makeshift blindfold on, since you don’t want to take any risks.

After sharing quiet bouts of heavy breathing, the Mandalorian speaks up, breaking the silence, "so, how long until I'm fully healed?"

You think about it for a moment and answer, "I would say two weeks before you can safely do any vigorous physical activity."

"Are you seriously going to make me wait two weeks to fuck you?" Somehow, he sounds so sexually frustrated even though he just came three times.

You chuckle to yourself before saying, "let's check back in a week then and hope for the best."

"That's better." He sneaks his hand down to rest on your inner thigh as he breathes out in that low, seductive tone of his, "in the meantime, I'll settle for doing what we just did."

You roll your eyes then realize he can't see it through the blindfold so you verbally note, "you realize that's only going to slow down your recovery, right?"

"We are not having this discussion. It's non-negotiable." His stern tone peeks back out and you smile to yourself over how much you're growing to like his naturally overpowering voice.

"Promise me you won't regret that." You tease him with your words and he groans.

"I will never regret making you come." He states it like that's the truest fact in all the galaxies.

"Good." You snuggle up against his arm.

You really hope his recovery doesn't end up stalling because you're as impatient as he is when it comes to finally going all the way…

❈❈❈❈❈❈  

It's definitely difficult getting used to feeling so good so often. You tried to convince the Mandalorian that you're perfectly happy just being beside him while he recovers but he refused, stating that since he has already experienced what it's like to give you pleasure, there's no stopping him now.

A part of you thinks he's being purposefully aggressive with his affection since it's the easiest way to show you that he means what he's saying. You're not great at catching the subtle signs as he has come to learn, so he chooses to be upfront about his desires for you. You can't say you don't feel wonderfully spoiled by it.

He has been asking you incessantly if he's finally cleared to have his way with you yet and every single time, you've had to tell him no, which he is starting to dislike very much. That's probably why each time you do have to decline, he makes you sit on his face and won't let you leave until you came so much that you can't hold yourself up anymore. It's not like he couldn't fuck you now but you know he's going to push himself to his limits so you will just have to suffer through what his definition of a punishment is. His favorite form of torture is forcing you to come until you have to beg him to let you get at least some work done for the day.

It's obvious that he's a bit stir crazy since the most physical activities you'll let him do are going on walks with you in the forest and light chores around the house. Though, you keep telling him the latter is unnecessary but you've learned that when he has decided to do something, he's hard set on it. You're slowly allowing yourself to accept his help but you wish you didn't have this ache in your heart where you're reluctant to be too dependent on him.

You already feel yourself slipping up at times in your own mind. You're getting too used to sleeping next to him, especially when you said he could start laying on his side again. He holds you so tenderly while you sleep, whispering sweet little praises to you like "you fit perfectly in my arms" and "you take care of me so well" in his sultry, yet sleepy voice.

It's all too nice and it fills you with both warmth and concern. You hate how doubtful your mind can be and it manifests in the way you want to stay as close as you can get to him whenever you can. Whether it's brushing your shoulder against his when you're on your strolls together through the forest or lingering a bit longer when you apply ointment to his wounds to touch him more, you can see the way you're subconsciously holding onto him but you can't seem to utter a single word about it.

You want to tell him how you feel, but you can't quite figure out what to say. You've told him certain things while you were high off your orgasms but you don’t know if those hold any weight since you're mumbling them while your inhibitions are low. He must know by now that you value his presence in your life and that you'd like it if he wanted to keep seeing you.

Spending these last two weeks with him being rather domestic makes you crave a sort of established permanence. These lazy days will be over soon and you know exactly when. It all ends when you tell him he can do what he's been wanting to this whole time. The moment you sleep with him, the Mandalorian will be healthy enough to leave you once again and…

You have no right to tell him not to go when he's done with you. It may even be a one time thing, though you are hoping with every ounce of your heart and soul that it won't be. You want him more than you can put into words. Not just physically, but in a deeper, emotional kind of way.

It isn't love, not yet. But, you want it to be. You want the chance to love him in the future if you both are on that same path together. You just can't justify this want.

You sigh to yourself as you pull the dried clothes off the wires you've hung outside. It's warmer now and the rain has stopped momentarily so you've decided to let your clothes hang dry outside versus inside. The sun always does a better job anyways.

"Why the long face?" A sudden voice startles you and you jolt in surprise, nearly dropping the basket filled with clean clothes onto the floor but the Mandalorian catches it in time. "Sorry, didn't mean to scare you."

He doesn't let you take the basket back from him and holds it securely in his arms. You look at him up and down. The last few days, you've given him the go ahead to wear his armor again. He seems a lot happier, more complete like this. Though, he looks funny carrying a basket full of clean clothes instead of holding a blaster.

"It's okay, it was my fault. I wasn't paying attention to my surroundings. Definitely a bad habit when I live alone in the woods." You rub the back of your neck anxiously.

That's one of the things you have to work on. You're too relaxed on Naboo. It's peaceful here and you don't ever have visitors besides the Mandalorian since you built this house. All your patients are aware that you have an exclusive agreement so you've designated them to other people for care. Until your agreement is up with the Mandalorian, he really is the only one who should come by here.

"It is a bad habit." He tells you with a shrug of his shoulders. "But it isn’t something you have to worry about. You're safe here and if anyone ever troubles you, I would be there to help you."

"Would you?" You don't know why you ask it so…openly doubtful. You're stuck in your head again and it leaked into your words.

"Do you think I wouldn't be?" He must have caught onto the way your worries are showing on your face.

"How would you know if I needed help?" You ask since you only ever comm him if he's forgotten something at the house or if you need additional supplies.

The Mandalorian sets down the basket then and you're confused by his actions. However, everything is explained rather quickly when he reaches into one of his small pockets and pulls out a chain that looks like it's made out of the same beskar he's wearing, with a ring dangling on it.

You blink at it a few times, not believing the sight in front of you. Especially not when he's walking up to you and putting it around your neck. With a small clasping sound, the necklace lays gently on you and it sits perfectly. It doesn't snag and it feels cool on your skin. You reach up to touch it, feeling the ring between your fingers that the chain is holding.

Then, in a gentle tone of voice, the Mandalorian breathes out into the warm air, "when you're ready, you can take the ring off and wear it. Until then, keep it around your neck like this and push the button on it whenever you need me. It connects right to my helmet, so no matter where I am, I can always be there for you in a moment's notice. I promise."

You grip the ring in your palm and there is a small button on it. You don't press it but you run your finger along it, like you're surprised it's real. You're wearing something he gave you. Why would he…

"Ready for what?" You think back to what he just said. When will you be ready to wear the ring?

He steps up closer, putting his hand on the top of your head, patting it lightly before he answers in that stern but sweet voice of his, "whenever you're ready to be mine forever."

For just this moment, it feels like everything has gone still as you realize what he's saying to you. This can't be real…but it is.

"Are you being serious?" You have to ask. He needs to tell you that this is what he wants too.

"I've known that I've wanted this–that I've wanted you for a while now, so I had this made and I've been waiting for a good moment to give it to you." He moves his hand from your head to your face, caressing your cheek as he continues, "I know you've been in your head about me leaving after I've healed up so this is the perfect time for me to tell you that I'm not going anywhere. This is my home now, if you'll let me share it with you."

Home. That's what he said. This safe house is his home. Your heart is leaping out of your chest. You never had to worry, did you? He was already planning this for who knows how long and you would've never guessed it. You were so scared of losing him but all of that fear washes away immediately when you touch the chain around your neck. It's tangible now. There's nothing left for you to question. He wants this place, your place, to be home.

You blink away happy tears so you can tell him, "it wouldn't be home without you so please share it with me."

"I would be happy to." His words make you smile and sob at the same time and you can't contain your emotions anymore.

You start crying but only because your body needs to have some sort of outlet for how overwhelmed with happiness you are and you feel his gloved hands cup your face, wiping your tears away as they fall. Your eyes are squeezed shut, trying to stop too many tears from spilling out. Then, you feel his hand cover your eyes and you don't know what to make of the gesture.

Not until you feel his lips on yours and the rim of his helmet on the tip of your nose. He has one hand covering your eyes and the other holding his helmet up just enough to reveal his lips so he can kiss you. You want to reach up and touch his face and pull him in and be close with him but you refrain, not wanting to overstep. You settle for putting your hands on his shoulders, feeling the beskar beneath your fingers as you kiss him back.

After what feels like both an eternity and barely a second, he parts his lips from yours and says, "please tell me I can finally have you."

You already said no this morning and narrowly avoided your usual punishment by doing laundry but now that he's asking you while you can feel his lips brushing against yours, it's hard to say no…

"You can't do it again for at least a week." That's the best compromise you can come up with.

"But I can today?" Every one of his words tickles your lips.

"Yes." You finally give in, needing him as much as he needs you.

"Then, let's make it count." He presses one last kiss onto your lips before shifting his helmet back on. Then, he picks you up and throws you over his shoulder, which is not the greatest start to his post-recovery. He almost carries you back into the house when you remember–

"Wait, our laundry!" You wriggle in his hold, trying to break free before the storm clouds that are filling the sky ruin your work for today.

"Fuck." He groans in irritation, dropping you to your feet. "No more stalling after this."

"Yes, sir." You say jokingly before you run back to grab the basket.

You hurry back to his side and he walks you back into the house, shutting the door behind him. You set the basket down on the dining table and tell yourself that you'll fold everything later.

Though, you don't know when later is going to be when you feel the Mandalorian pressed up behind you. You shift your eyes up to look at him as his hands move to sit firmly at your hips.

"I'm trying my hardest right now not to bend you over this table and fuck you right here." He always says such provocative things when he's aroused.

"I mean, you could." You assume that's probably the best way since you wouldn't be able to see him as long as you're not looking back at him.

"Is that really how you'd want me to take you for the first time?" The Mandalorian shouldn't ask you these things. You're not the best influence when it comes down to it. You want him so much that you'd let him do it however he'd like.

"How would you want to do it?" You decide to reflect his question back at him.

"There's too many ways I could fuck you and I want to do all of them." His hands slip under the waistband of your pants. The leather of his gloves tickles your skin way too much and you hold in your breath as he rests them at the top of your thighs. "Should I tell you how I want today to go?"

You nod, then confirm verbally, "yes, tell me."

Using one hand, he nudges you until your legs are spread enough for his other hand to rest between your legs. You squirm a little from the feeling of his fingers pressing up against your underwear.

Then, he starts to speak at the same time as his fingers begin rubbing your clit through the fabric, "first, I'd make you come just like this from telling you exactly how I want to fuck you."

Your heart pounds in your ears at his words and you have to put your hands on the table to steady yourself. If you aren't careful, your legs might give out from how roughly he's trying to coax an orgasm out of you without touching you directly. You bite your lip to stop yourself from whimpering but small, soft ones still spill out.

He slows his touch the moment he speaks up again, so you're focused on his voice and not his fingers, "after you've came once, I'll need to have a taste. I'd make you keep your eyes closed so I could go down on you right here. You'll need to come a lot for me to give me something to look forward to in a bit. Tell me you will."

You love when he brings out that demanding tone of his so you comply through a heavy breath, "I will."

"Are you ready for me to tell you more?" He asks you to distract you from his fingers sliding beneath your underwear, brushing against you directly now. You tense up as you get used to the leather dragging along how wet you are but then you lean into him, wanting much more than just these subtle touches. "You look like you like the way my gloves feel."

"I do." Your words are as light as the air because your mind is going fuzzy from how good it feels. The words fall out without a second thought to them, "you can do more than just touch me with them."

"Are you aching for something inside of you?" His fingers find your entrance and your breath catches in your throat when two of them push in, but only a little bit. "You know what you have to do if you want it."

"Ask politely?" You need to make sure.

"That's right." His palm shifts to press up against your clit, making your eyes roll back at the sensation. The leather is so smooth but there's a firmness to it that applies the right amount of pressure and texture to cause little jolts of pleasure through you.

You take a few sharp inhales before composing yourself enough to ask as politely as you can, "will you fill me up with your fingers, please?"

"Of course." He tells you, thrusting his fingers inside of you without any other warning. You choke back a shocked gasp at how full you feel all of a sudden. "Was that too much? Should I pull out?"

"No, please don't." You manage to get out through staggered breaths. "It's just…new, but it feels good."

It's unlike anything you've felt before. The seams of his gloves rub along the inside of you, teasing the spots that always get you to come too quickly. He tests if you're being honest by pulling his fingers out just a bit before pushing them back in and you moan when he curls them in just the right place. You grit your teeth when he finds a good pace to thrust them into you. You can already feel the tension building up inside of you and you don't know how much longer you can edge yourself. He hasn't even finished telling you his entire plan yet.

"You're so tight around me." The Mandalorian sounds frustrated as he says, "I'm getting jealous of my glove now. Can I touch you directly?"

"You mean…" Is he going to take it off?

"I'll take it off if you keep your eyes looking up at me." He uses his other hand to tilt your chin up to look at him, resting it around your neck. You shouldn’t like the way he's lightly gripping your throat but you do and he can tell. "Do you want me to keep my hand here so I make sure you don't look?"

You nod and he shifts his helmet, nodding back at you. He pulls his fingers out of you then and you can't stop yourself from whimpering at the loss. He caresses your face then, as if to comfort you.

"It won't be long until I'm back inside of you." He reassures you. Then, you hear him put his hand into his pocket, presumably to keep his glove somewhere close by.

When you do feel his fingers again, it's him. You've never seen his hands before and yet it seems like you'll have to get used to being touched by parts of him you'll never see. That doesn't sound too bad, especially not when it feels this good to have his calloused fingers trace along your skin. He must know you want to savor the moment so he takes his time touching you with his bare hand.

All the while, his other hand remains firmly gripped around your neck while his index finger and his thumb hold your chin upwards. You wouldn't look down no matter what but it feels more thrilling that he's keeping you in place like this. The contrast between his gloved hand on your throat and his bare hand between your legs is all too arousing.

You want to participate a little so you muster the strength to ask, "can I touch your hands, please?"

The Mandalorian waits for a moment and then nods his helmet, allowing you to slide one hand up to lay on top of his glove while slipping the other hand down to feel the back of his bare hand against your palm. You close your eyes then, slowly guiding him towards your entrance and he understands what to do, thrusting his fingers back inside of you while you hold onto his hand. You feel every movement and it draws pleasurable sighs out of you. His bare fingers are obviously nothing like the leather. Somehow, they're rougher in texture and have much more flexibility, so he curls them even more perfectly inside of you now.

Unconsciously, you squeeze your hand that's over his gloved one, which signals for him to give your throat a light squeeze as well. You open your eyes again and look right up at him, wondering what he sees when he looks down at you.

He answers your thoughts for you, saying with a ruggedness in his tone, "you look incredible, like you were made to be fucked by me, like you're mine and I'm in control of your pleasure."

"You are in control." You've submitted to him completely a long time ago. "And, I am yours."

"You must be. You're wearing my hand like it's the necklace I gave you." He tugs at the chain around your throat, choking you slightly with it. "Do you like being mine?"

"Yes." You don't even need to think to respond to that.

"Look at that face, staring up at me." His palm goes back to rubbing your clit as his fingers pick up speed, fucking you so ruthlessly, your legs might cave in. "If only you could see the way I'm claiming you right now."

"Should I invest in a mirror?" Your words bring out a growl from deep inside of him, like you've dragged out a desire he never thought of before.

"Next time, there will be a next time." He is firm on it. "But, for right now, I need to focus on this time. Will you last until I'm done telling you how it'll go?"

"I'll try." You admit truthfully. You could come right now but you're keeping yourself at the edge for him.

"I like when you're honest." He praises you before continuing what he has been wanting to say, "I can't wait to taste you after I've made you come with my fingers. Then, I'm going to finally bury my cock deep inside of you."

The Mandalorian drives his fingers further into you as he says that, making your toes curl. You're sure he's smiling at the way you're unraveling from his actions. You don't need to see it. You just know he's having a good time owning you like this.

He stops moving his fingers for a moment, just letting you feel the way you're clinging to him. "Are you imagining how it'll feel when my cock replaces my fingers?"

"I don't need to. I'll feel it soon enough." You grin happily at him when you say that.

"I like that. I like when you're the eager one." He starts to curl his fingers again, sliding them in and out, increasing the pacing as his words increase in intensity, "I'm going to take my time figuring out exactly how you like to be fucked until you can't stop coming on my cock, until you're begging me to come so that you can have a break from the endless orgasms I want to give you. But that break won't last long, will it?"

You shake your head and he grabs your neck tighter in approval. Your hips begin to sway, grinding against his hand as your hand pushes his palm onto your clit, urging him to rub those circles that make your heart race.

You're going to come soon and he knows it, so he picks his next words carefully, "are you going to let me fuck you as much as I want today?"

"Only for today." You say back, trying to be strict about it. "Then a one week break."

He sounds frustrated again, trying to convince you otherwise. "Three days."

"One week." You don't let him sway you. "Doctor's orders."

"Fine." He complies eventually. "But you listen to my orders in the bedroom."

"Deal." You lean up and kiss his helmet right where his lips would be. "Now, will you please let me come? I can barely hold it in anymore."

"You're good at asking for what you want." He compliments you and you smile in response.

"I'm good at listening to my Mandalorian." You don't mind being obedient if it results in this much pleasure.

"You are very good at that too." He pulls at your neck, so your eyes are staring right up at him again before he says, "now, listen carefully. I'm going to let you come and then I'm going to rip your fucking pants off and go down on you, so you need to close your eyes when I do, understood? Say yes sir if you do."

"Sounds like someone liked what I said earlier." You tease him and he tightens his grip on your neck in response, making you gasp at the light choking.

"Maybe I just like you." He says rather sweetly to you.

"I like you too." You tell him back with all of your heart.

"Then, will you do what I said?" He's waiting for confirmation.

"Yes, sir." You let out those words as sensually as you can and he obviously liked it because he's pressing his body closer to you. You feel his chest plate against your back more clearly and you can feel how hard he is through his pants.

"You're such a good listener." His tone is so provocative when he goes, "now let me see you come all over both of our hands."

You hold onto the hand he has between your legs, following his movements as he finally lets you off the edge. You keep your head tilted up but you aren't able to look at him because your eyes roll back the moment your orgasm forcefully shoots through you in such an intense rush of euphoria. The intensity is furthered by his hand gripping your throat just enough to make every moan that leaves your lips come out all breathless. He prolongs your orgasm by keeping his fingers inside of you until you're able to open your eyes again fully.

It doesn't take long for him after that to get your pants off, in quite the rush to go down on you. The Mandalorian pushes your upper body against the table and you shut your eyes then, knowing what happens next. He waits a few moments, both admiring you and ensuring that you're going to stick true to your word. When he's sure of it, you hear him take off his helmet and set it beside you on the table.

Hearing him speak seductively in his natural, unmodulated voice sends an indescribable kind of pleasure through you and it's only amplified when he's talking about you. "You're the most beautiful person I've ever met and seeing you like this is just…I'll never find the right words to describe how much you turn me on."

You hear his armor clash onto your wood floors as he kneels down behind you, taking a good look at how wet you've gotten for him, spreading you open with his hands. You notice that he still has one hand gloved while the other is bare and you like that duality a bit too much. It provides something to think about as he grips your hips with his hands, pressing his fingers into you hard enough to leave an indent. He wants to make sure you're not going to wriggle your way out of his reach, though why would you ever do such a thing? You want him to go down on you as much as he wants to do it too. That mutual interest fills you with such joy.

When his tongue eventually finds its way against you, your body shivers in response, as if it remembers all too well the things his tongue can do to you. It's true though, he's almost too good at making you come like this. You clamp your hand over your mouth, not wanting to make too much noise as he enjoys every bit of you.

"You're so ready for me." His hot breath tickles your skin. He takes a moment to drag his tongue up and down the center of you for just a moment longer before saying, "I've never wanted to fuck someone so badly before."

"Then what are you waiting for?" You don't know why those words come out of your mouth.

"I like when you're impatient." He smiles close enough to you that you can feel it. "Plus, it'll feel better if you come one more time for me."

There's something so sweet about the way he's subtly trying to prepare you to take his cock. It isn't like you wouldn't be able to handle it but you do like that he wants you to be aroused enough for it. He really cares about you in his own wonderful way.

You happily agree to him staying between your legs so he focuses all of his attention onto giving you a slow, full-body orgasm that rolls through you almost too nicely. There's nothing rough or intense about it. It's just soft, pillowy pleasure that relaxes your every muscle, like a loving embrace. It's the kind of orgasm that he'd give you to coax you into falling asleep.

The Mandalorian must be proud of himself because he drags his bare hand against you so he can feel how slick you've gotten for him. "I could really do this all day. I love making you come."

As much as you wouldn't mind letting him do that, you are in desperate need of something more, so you tell him, "then let me come on your cock, please."

"I can't resist a request like that." He gives you one last lick before you hear him stand up again.

There is not a better sound than the Mandalorian unbuckling his belt and pulling his cock out of his pants. There is not a better feeling than him lining his cock right up against your entrance.

The anticipation is killing you and you want to beg him to just take you already but you stop yourself because you want him to savor this moment for himself as well. He does so by getting his cock nice and slick from your wetness, rubbing your clit with each movement. Once he's satisfied, he moves his cock back to your entrance. He presses into you but stops with only his tip inside.

"If you want more, you have to ask for it." He demands as his hands grip your ass and you quiver at the contrasting feeling of them against your skin.

You don't hold back anymore. "I want you to feel all of you, please."

"You really are good at begging." He tells you as if it's both an insult and a compliment and you don't know which you like more.

You don't have time to think it over because he starts slowly sinking his cock into you. You feel every inch as he goes deeper and deeper until his hips meet his hands that are holding onto your ass. When he's fully inside of you, you feel like you could pass out from the way he's filling you up entirely. You knew the size he'd be because you've had him in your mouth before but it's nothing compared to having him inside of you like this.

"How does it feel?" He asks, his bare hand sliding beneath the fabric of your shirt to rub your back, comforting you. "Is it too much too soon? I can stop at any time."

"It's perfect." You assert, your desires spilling out. "Don't stop. I want to feel more of you so will you please fuck me already?"

That's all you need to say to get the Mandalorian to finally give in. You cling onto the table as he starts pounding into you, trying to see what pace you like the most. You honestly like them all. You like the slow, long strokes that let you relish every inch of him sliding in and out of you. You like the quick, almost brutal thrusts that hit a spot so deep inside of you that you can’t help but scream from how good it feels. You like the in-between, where he is maintaining his own composure, not wanting the moment to end too soon because he got ahead of himself.

At a certain point, the Mandalorian discovers the perfect sequence that draws an orgasm out of you almost every time. He'll start slow, allowing the tension to build within you. Then, when you're nearing the edge, he'll pick up the pace until he's practically fucking you into the table and you come uncontrollably on his cock because your body can't handle the sheer force of him ramming his cock inside of you. He does this over and over again until you see nothing but stars in your squeezed shut eyes. Your mind is too far gone at this point from the constant pleasure.

The Mandalorian has to bring you back, so you hear him put his helmet on again, which surprises you. Almost as much as him scooping you upwards until you're standing just like you were earlier, only this time with his cock buried deep inside of you. His gloved hand moves up once again to settle itself at your neck, tilting your chin up so you're looking right at his helmet. His bare hand then slips downwards, resting between your legs with his fingertips brushing along your clit.

Then, he says in an almost too tantalizing tone, "I want to see what you look like when I come inside of you."

"Please do." You breathe out, wanting exactly that. "I'm safe."

"I want to do it again after this." He's gauging your interest.

"Can we do it in bed this time?" You ask, hopefully sounding polite as you do. "I promise I won't look. I just want to feel you on top of me, please."

Even through the modulator, you can hear his heavy breaths, like he's close to his limit, especially after you just said that. "Okay."

You smile when he agrees to your request. Then, you find the gall to ask one more thing, "grab my neck a little tighter when you come so I know who I belong to."

Your words bring out that low growl of his and he replies, "I'll make sure you're well aware of who you belong to."

"Good." You reach up then, touching his helmet, holding onto the beskar lightly as he focuses back on fucking you at this angle. He fills you up in a whole new way while you're both standing like this and you know that you'll need to lay down after because your legs are practically shaking with each thrust of his cock.

"Are you close again?" His hand starts rubbing your clit when he asks that, bringing you right there where he needs you.

"Very close." You can feel the way your body is just clenching all around, waiting to burst.

"Me too." He tells you and you believe it after hearing his low grunts. "Come with me."

You do so naturally. The moment his hand tightens its grip around your throat and he finishes deep inside of you, filling you up to the brim, you come immediately from the combination of sensations writhing through every fiber of your being.

In your daze, you don't realize that he has pulled out of you and guided you carefully over to the bed with his hand over your eyes. You lay down on your back with his help, trying to relearn how to breathe after getting fucked out of your mind. Your hand goes to replace his so he can pull off his armor to get comfortable for bed.

It isn't until you feel him move your hand just enough to tie a piece of fabric around your eyes that you feel safe enough to relax a little. You're thankful it's pretty secure on your face and you can't see a thing. You can only feel the Mandalorian pulling you into his arms before his lips crash against yours.

You're so stunned to be kissing him that it takes you quite some time to start kissing him back. He doesn't seem to mind the wait because he smiles against your lips when you do finally meet his lips halfway.

"I never thought I could like kissing someone so much." He utters those words like it's some sort of confession and it makes you chuckle.

"You can kiss me whenever you'd like to." You give him your permission there. "Just try not to accidentally smack me with your helmet. That shit is heavy and it hurts."

"That was one time." He groans at the way you're referencing back to the few times he has kissed you during his recovery, one of which his helmet slipped back on midway and hit you right in the face like a headbutt.

"One time too many." You tease him, taking his face in your hands, wanting to touch him. "But I forgive you."

"I'm sure you have. How could you hold a grudge when I make you feel this good?" If only the Mandalorian could see the way you're rolling your eyes at him.

Though, you have to ask, "did it feel good for you?"

You feel his bare hand slide between your legs again with his fingers resting at your entrance as he answers, "do I need to remind you how much I came inside of you just now?"

"That's not really an answer." You point out and he responds with a light chuckle, pulling away so he can wrap his arms around your waist, bringing you closer to him.

"It felt amazing." He reassures you with his kind words. "You always make me feel good."

"I hope so." You lean into his chest, breathing in deeply. When you exhale, you let out a little bit of what you've been keeping in, "I'm sorry if I get irrationally worried sometimes about our relationship. I'm working on it, I promise."

"It's okay to be worried." He presses a kiss onto your forehead, making your heart flutter. "It just means you care a lot, enough to want to keep this relationship of ours going strong."

He's right. Deep down, most of your worries are rooted in care. You care so much about him that you worry over the little things, even if there's nothing to worry about. It puts you at ease knowing that he's going to be patient with you.

"I do care a lot." You snuggle closer to him and say, "I'm glad I met you."

"Me too." He pats you on the head gently. Then, he goes, "can I ask you something?"

"Sure." You nudge him to ask away.

"Why don't you ever call me by my name?" That's quite the loaded question…

It's true. Even in your head, you call him "The Mandalorian". You know exactly why you do it. It's to keep a distance. If you called him by his name, then you would feel too close to him. Back before you knew how he felt about you, you wouldn't dare to do anything that would make you feel close to him. But now? Maybe you should start trying to let him in a little.

So, you explain, "I thought that if I never used your name, then I could stop myself from wanting to be close to you. Let's just say, it didn't work."

He stifles a laugh. "That's cute."

"Don't make fun of me." You pout, mad that he can't see the way you're glaring in his direction.

"I won't if you start calling me by my name." He leans in close enough for you to feel his warm breath on your cheek as he demands, "say it."

"Din." You say his name for the first time to him. "Din Djarin."

"That wasn't so hard, right?" His words are meant to be a distraction, which you've come to realize he does a lot, because his bare hand finds its way back between your legs. "Now, say my name when you come."

You grip onto his shoulders, holding onto the fabric of his shirt to keep yourself steady the moment his fingers thrust inside of you, filling you up once again. It's nothing like his cock, but they curl in that spot that makes your mind swirl and his name rolls off your lips, "Din."

"I want to hear it more." He suddenly shifts you from your side to your back, getting on top of you. His fingers slide out of you so that he can press his hard cock against you once again. "Ask me directly if you want me."

You ache for him, the need to have him inside of you again boiling over when you say, "I want you, Din. Please come inside of me again."

"Now you know who you really belong to. Your Mandalorian, Din Djarin. Repeat it back to me." He orders you to do so in such a commanding tone.

"I belong to you. My Mandalorian, Din Djarin." You believe the words that spill out from your lips. You're his. You have been since you met him and you'll always be. That, you know for certain.

Din then thrusts his entire length inside of you without hesitation, filling you right up, pushing against that spot deep inside that is desperate for him. His voice gets all low and sultry, "doesn't it feel good to be mine?"

"So good." You grab a hold of his face, feeling his stubble against your fingers, smiling. "Will you please kiss me while you fuck me?"

"Gladly." He says before his lips press against yours and his hips start to move.

You slip your hands into his hair, liking the way it feels, knowing that you get to feel it right now. You're definitely being spoiled and you love every second of Din giving you more parts of him to dream about. His tongue finds its way into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You're left hoping that you're breathing enough between kisses but when he begins to pick up pace with his thrusts, you are practically gasping for air every time you moan against his lips. You're getting more lightheaded but that only amplifies the pleasure that you're experiencing.

You want more of him so you stop caring about seeming needy and plead, "please fuck me harder, faster, rougher. Make it count, Din. Remember, we can't fuck for a week after this."

"Three days." He tries again to convince you to lower the time. "You know you don't want to hold back that long either."

"A week and then we can fuck everyday after if you want." You stand firm on your timeline and he curses.

"Fuck, fine, but I'm holding you to your word. In a week, you don't get to leave this bed until I'm through with you." He threatens you with a very good time in the future.

But, this is the present, and you need him right now. So, you decide the best thing to say is, "make me regret having you wait a week to fuck me again. Show me what I'll be missing out on."

That sure does flip a switch in Din. Though, maybe that's just because he actually thinks he'll convince you to lower his recovery time if he shows you a good time right now. You aren't going to waver, but he doesn’t need to know that. All he needs to know is that he has to fuck you until you're an absolute mess for him.

So, he does it the best way he knows he can, by forcing you to come as many times as it takes for you to beg him to finally let you break free. Din studies the way your body reacts to certain strokes and speeds, noting every time you tighten around him, looking for that sweet spot. When he has it in his grasp, you don't last long.

You're coming all too hard, all too much, all too many times on his cock and you're surprised he hasn't came yet. He must be holding back for the sake of stirring you up until you've gone insane. You already have lost your mind. How could you not when you've had more orgasms than you thought were consecutively possible?

"Please, Din." You beg for mercy. "I can't stop coming."

"I love how you say that like it's a bad thing." He is way too happy about how he's turning you into a puddle beneath him. "Keep coming for me. I want you to drown in the pleasure I can give you."

You've riled up a mad man. Din is holding you hostage with your own orgasms and it's more amazing than you could ever truly explain. You're going to be so fucking sore tomorrow but it doesn't matter. You'll be reminded of how good you felt today and that's what matters.

You honestly don't know how long you and Din go on for. You know he had to have came at least a few times throughout, but you can't even register when those were. He just kept going and going, like his stamina was endless. That's just what happens when you let a stir crazy man finally do vigorous physical activity. You get fucked for hours.

You're sure he could have gone on longer if you didn't force him to stop completely so you could get his wounds dressed with ointment since it was time to sleep. You both took turns in the refresher, though you spent most of your time there trying to stand up straight. Eventually, Din helped you wash up and guided you back to bed. You opted to keep the piece of fabric around your eyes so that you could lay against his chest. You've been wanting to sleep on him like this.

Din rubs circles around your back, filling you with such a rush of comfort from his subtle touches. Then, he takes a moment to praise you, "you did very well today. I'm surprised you lasted as long as you did, not that I'm complaining."

"I could say the same to you." You reply, chuckling when you think of how crazy the earlier events of today were. "Though, I hope every time isn't going to be as wild as this one."

"No promises." He says back with a light pat on your head. "It's hard for me to not want to smother you in pleasure."

"Well, consider me thoroughly smothered for the next week." You'll need at least the week to recover.

"I still think you'll cave in three days and let me fuck you again." Din sounds rather confident about that. "I can't imagine having to wait a whole week to do this again."

"You, sir, need to learn to have patience." You tease him, jabbing him a little in the shoulder.

"If you call me sir one more time, I'm fucking you again right now." He needs to learn a better threat.

"I didn't know you liked it so much." You grin at him. You're going to have a lot of fun discovering what turns him on.

"I like it when you're obedient, unlike right now." He fakes as if he's disapproving of your current behavior but you know he secretly likes it that you're being a brat.

"Someone likes power." You lean up, brushing your lips against his, wanting him to feel every word you say, "I'm looking forward to seeing you exert your power over me in a week."

Din groans, irritated that you keep reminding him. "You're going to regret making me wait that long."

"I look forward to it." You tell him before a yawn flows through you. You're very much ready to sleep now, which is why you say sweetly, "good night, Din."

"Good night." He leans in to kiss you one last time before you both fall asleep, snuggled right up against one another.

As you drift off into a well-deserved slumber, all you can think about is how excited you are to be waking up tomorrow next to Din…and how excited you are for a week to pass so he can ravage you again.

You really wouldn't have it any other way.

Send me an ask/reply/reblog if you enjoyed the read! ❈

I definitely left this oneshot open to a continuation in the future so maybe I'll return to this plot one day if I'm feeling it!

If you enjoyed this and want to read more of my work, be sure to check out my other oneshot, I’ll Take Care of You and/or my series, What Color Am I? 

#the mandalorian x reader #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x you #din djarin x you #the mandalorian fanfiction

[bluestonebliss]

HELLO my tumblr twin, it’s your turn to share something spooky from where you’re from!

Tales From the Perth Regions

Okay I dragged my Dad into helping me answer this ask because that man knows everything there is to know about The Happenings of this area.

These are my favourites.

The Satanists of Kings Park

To those unaware, Kings Park is one of the largest gardens within a city in the world. That place is fucking massive, and contains a lot of thick bush. One of the landmark buildings in the park is the DNA tower, named after its shape.

Also, unrelated but the vantage point from the top of the tower is pretty neat.

Popular local legend goes that from the mid to late 70s a group of Satanists and Devil-worshippers would gather on full moons at midnight to have meetings and dances on the tower, terrorising any outsiders that dared to get close. Over the years a few homeless people who slept in the park have gone missing or found dead leading many to believe they were sacrificed in a ritual.

My Dad never personally got chased out my a mob of Satanists, but many of his mates claim to have seen their dances.

Personally, I find this one rather rude. Im a bit miffed I didnt get an invite to these meetings. Mayhaps the kings park satanists are a tradition in need of revival.

The Wreck of the SS Alkimos

Boy oh boy this is a long one. Buckle up.

No idea about how much of this is factual, but as requested this is as much of the story as I can recount as it is told through the broken game of telephone.

Upon its construction, the Alkimos experienced its first tragedy. The story goes that during construction, eleven workers were trapped between layers of metal. They all suffocated to death. Some say their bodies werent found for days, while others say their corpses were never removed.

The ship saw active service in WW2 when its second tragedy occured. Some radio operator was killed in a muder-suicide on board which was covered up as an enemy attack. Apparently the radio opperator was the first Toronto woman to die in active duty during WW2. Her name was... Maud? I think? Her ghost is said to haunt the Alkimos. Now, this is a detail thats neither here nor there, but Dad says many radio broadcasts were made back in the 50s on the Alkimos wreck trying to document it for the public, but almost all of them failed or experienced a malfunction during transmission. Bit of an odd coincidence, no?

Now on to the weird shit.

On a trip to W.A., the Alkimos wrecked on Beagle Island. It was salvaged and towwed to the Freo ports for repair. It was then towwed out by an ocean-going tug boat to Kong Kong when the tow cable broke, and sent Alkimos right back to wreck on the coast of Freo. They flooded the hull to keep her stationary, and posted an onboard watchman. Dad says this watchman was driven off the job, claiming the ship was haunted. The Alkimos was repaired one again, and was leaving for the Philippines but the tug assisting got recalled due to a storm and Alkimos took anchor. The anchor broke, and sent the Alkimos back to run aground at Yanchep, only an hour-ish from Freo port. They gave up trying to restore her after that, and there she still remains to this day.

And now the bat-shit stuff.

Multiple scrapping companies attempted to scrap parts of the Alkimos over the years after everyone gave up trying to fix her. One company reported that every time they tried, a fire would break out on board. Every time they came back the fire would somehow restart and drive them away. A few of these companies went bankrupt soon after. Thus, the legend that removing any part of the Alkimos was an omen of terrible luck.

It is said that many ghosts haunt the wreck. The most famous being Henry, the ghost of an elder man in gumboots and an oil skin. Apparently he's nice enough. My Dad's mate, Jack Sue, wrote a book about the ship ( The Ghost of the Alkimos) and during his stay on board the ship for research he bunked there over night. He said that he woke one night to pained moans from the nearby bunk, and upon turning on his torch, the sheets of the bed went sailing across the room. He said that you could hear voices aboard and the smell of cooking despite it being abandoned. He took a spice rack off the ship, and immediately was hospitalised with some sort of lung infection. However, his lungs were already fucked by the war, so its not like it was very out of the blue. He died fully convinced the ship was haunted, and he was not the sort to shake easy.

Around the late 1960s, champion swimmer Herbert 'Shark Bait' Voigt attempted an unassisted swim from Cottesloe Beach to Rotto, an island off the coast of W.A. (from which the main access point is via the Freo port) Anyway, he was never seen again. A few weeks later, about an hour north of his departure point, his skull was found floating above the wreck of the Alkimos my an escaped prisoner. Some versions of the story say is was found over the wreck, some say about 200m off the wreck, and others say it was found in the flooded engine room. Nobody knows for sure. Regardless, the cause of death was never determined.

The Alkimos has been blamed for so many misfortunes, deaths, mishaps and the like in the area that its impossible to tell you all of them. My Dad even blames a missing half a tank of petrol on the Alkimos from when he rode there.

If you want to learn more, i bet that book would be a great place to start.

Either way, seems like a great scuba place to me! I will for sure be diving what remains of the ship the second I get the chance. And I will be taking what ever I can get my mits on from the wreck.

Sadly, almost all the ship is underwater these days, but nothing a snorkle cant fix! If I go missing after announcing a trip there, you will know why.

#rewriting this whole ass essay bc tumblr didnt save my draft #batshit aus things #western australia #you may be a trains autistic but i am a shipwreck autistic. specifically haunted shipwrecks. #i froth at the mouth over a good ship wreck #i wanna go there so bad #i dont usually believe in ghosts but the Alkimos is WEIRD #kings park satanists plz invite me #i dabble in satanism and i wanna be a local legend #asks #moots my beloved #Lost is my tumblr twin #Oh! and also the perth hills people believe there are panthers and tigers and shit in the local bush

[verysmolnerd]

Once Upon A Dream

Otto Octavius x DreamEater!Reader

As you travel from building to building, trying to find someone who truly dreams; you catch sight of a man dreaming high up of an upper-scale apartment complex. 

Alas, it was the former villain, Doc Ock. You have had the pleasure of witnessing him attack a café and snag a redhead years ago. Unlike a large margin of dream eaters that give up their physical bodies to forever be in the dream world, you decide to be physically present during the day. There are just so many things that you can do as a person 

You never meddled with the dreams of supervillains, some part of you deep down refused to see what twisted minds could dream. 

You perched on the foot of his bed and looked at his sleeping face. Everyone looks peaceful sleeping, it’s because of how vulnerable they are. Undisturbed, careless, and calm. Hell, even you look like that when you sleep. Sadly, you do not get to have experiences of your own 

But now that he’s no longer under the influence of the arms and cleared his name, everything seems to be in a different light. You had heard that he was dragged to another plane of existence, that the heroes had decided to heal him and return him here. 

You had heard all about it: the trial, the public service, the part-time teaching job at Columbia, and his employment at Oscorp. It all went by so fast, but you’ll never forget the time he was repairing a bunch of government vehicles and tech that was busted; there were videos all over the internet, and he had no idea that they existed. Sometimes, he’d allow videos to be taken of him so he could give out tech tips that the corporate conglomerates didn’t want anybody to know. There’d be selfies too, from the close friends and distant family paying him a visit. 

As fun as it was, things started to go downhill. 

People would walk up to him as if they were the press and shove a phone in his face while asking a far-too-personal question that would make him uncomfortable. He stopped going out as much and stayed away from touristy areas of New York. 

He would only go out when he really wanted to, which involved socializing and groceries -excluding the commute to work- and somehow, there were still photos taken of him walking down the streets. Even when he made his actuators semi-retractable to appear more normal in the crowd, people still saw him and ran head-first with a phone in hand. 

The videos didn’t stop there; when he guest lectured before his part-time professor and tutor position, there were videos and streams of him. It was kinda creepy, and you heard rumors that he had begun to notice and banned cell phones from the class. If someone would need to send an emergency text or open the phone at all, they would have to do it outside the lecture hall. 

And it only got worse. The videos were so frequent and popular that they would end up in your social media feed. As much as you admired the former villain, you blocked and reported all the videos. What went to a fun little interaction and moral-boosting videos, turned into stalker photos and videos of seeing him in public. 

People were even beginning to stalk him like some sort of fucked up celebrity that they’d been pining for forever. Someone would sneak into his top-secret seminars for graduates, others would rendezvous him in supermarkets. One freak even went as far as to find his address. This prompted the former supervillain to not only move after only living in an apartment for a month but also file a restraining order on the freak. 

And now you’re looming over his bed in your dream eater form… well, that makes you one of those superfans now…hooray. 

…

You’ve looked at him long enough, that you’re getting tunnel vision on his face. That the metal armatures snaked all around his floor looked like strange decorations rather than his permanent appendages. 

He’s cute, really truly. Those big soft eyes of his are closed lightly and his plump cheeks are pressed up against the pillow as he snores ever so softly. His thickly-padded chest rose and fell with every single breath he took… and you’re blushing over a former super-villain sleeping. 

Ugh, you’re looking at him for too long, it’s even making you uncomfortable. 

You heard something spur to life, you didn’t really care because nobody can see you in this form. Though curiosity led you to the actuators opening and closing, as if they were going under REM. It’s intriguing, the AI in the arms has developed so much that they’ve gained human-like subconscious actions. They’re intelligent and unique, just like the man they are attached to. 

That’s what you assumed at first, but when you looked at them again, all four seemed to be trained to look in your direction. You must’ve been giving off some sort of energy that stirred them awake, and now they’re trying to find you…. Incredible, but nerve-wracking.

You reached forward toward his head, and tapped his temple, entering his dream. 

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You shifted around to adjust to your new environment; more specifically, adjusting to the new energy that this dream brings. You do this with your eyes closed, the energy along with the sight of the dream can be overwhelming. 

It feels……like a distant childhood feeling, the smell or brief emotions that can bring someone back to a simpler time. You had the urge to take in this feeling for as long as the moment offered because you know better than anyone that it will soon fade and it will leave you chasing to feel that feeling once more. 

To your shock, that feeling never faded; and you can feel anything that was subconsciously tightened or held, loosened and free. You felt lighter and as free as the wind. It’s amazing, and you can only recall a few dreams like this. 

It takes a strong amount of emotion to have a dream like this, even then, it has to be the right emotion. Pure happiness is stimulating, which is a rare thing; people who cry themselves to sleep have heavy and loathing dreams; you don’t want to describe what it feels like when someone ice purely upset when they dream. 

Regardless, this familiar yet unfamiliar feeling is rooted in a source you’ve grown to know too well. It’s a nostalgic feeling that brings back joy. You know the true meaning of such a word, such a feeling. Because it causes something that can never have a solution. 

Pain. Nostalgia is rooted in three words, two are Greek and the third is German. Nostos meaning to return home,  algos meaning pain, and hiemweh meaning homesickness. All three are bundled up to represent the loss and feelings of times past. Such a thing can drive the modern person insane. 

Not wanting to further dwell on such a beautiful yet painful feeling, you opened your eyes. You’re in a New York apartment, but not the one you just left in the waking world. No, this one has a more homey feeling. You can feel the love from all the heavily used furniture in the place. 

The entire place lacked the cold feeling you felt when in the waking world, his apartment was so scarce and small. Well, it only makes sense because he’s lost everything before, so he loses sentiment in certain items. Though, part of you thinks he’s just afraid of losing everything again. 

And you can’t blame him! If this was the lifestyle he had beforehand, he must’ve been crushed to lose it all in the accident all those years ago. 

“These new batch of freshmen are far too literal,” A feminine voice serenaded the room, “They’re almost as bad as you are, Otto.” You froze, peering into the room to find the source of the voice.

It’s a kitchen, filled with decorations and comfortable furniture; and the source of the voice came from a woman walking away from the kitchen island and toward a dining table on the opposite side of the room. 

“Well, maybe if you help them, then they’ll understand,” A younger -but not too young- Otto sat at the head of the table, smiling when the woman sat down. You found it so strange to see him without the metal contraptions welded to his back. 

He raised his hand up and down as if it helps with the flow of the conversation. 

A gold wedding band gleams in the serene, yet natural light. 

Ah, now you see. It’s his late wife. You had heard rumors, but you were never certain because one Octavius is already illusive, a second would add to the struggle. Though, the only time she had even made the papers was when it came to her funeral. She was impaled by glass brought in by the machine that made her husband a monster to society. 

“Now, where’s the fun in that,” She set the tray down on the table and grabbed the teapot, “Self-discovery is the most enjoyable type. No other accomplishment could top that kind of feeling.” She has a point there, you can relate to that. It took years of self-discovery for you to truly understand what you truly are, and there’s always room to grow…

Although, bringing yourself back to the present, this dream.. is quite a rare sight. A rare energy. 

 It’s not common for people to have dreams of another person… but to make it sound so heavenly must be rooted in regret and mourning. Otto was in a dazed state as his wife poured him a cup of tea, then propped her head up with her hand as she looked at him with the eyes that you wish would happen to you someday.

Otto began to drink the tea, setting it down occasionally because it appeared to be hot, “But won’t you push them in the right direction? How could they ever understand something they don’t one where to look or lack a method to dissect the literature.” 

“Consider it a challenge then,” was her response, and you like this woman. An open mind that finds a way to throw any accusation off the rails. No wonder she was alluring to Otto, “One you are certain to win, Rosie?” Otto smirked, quirking a brow. 

Ah, so that’s her name. Once again fitting for her, something so poised, full of love, and smart fits this woman so well. Otto is a lucky man that’s for certain. Amongst all the spouses in the world, she is one in a zillion. “Always,” she says, “What would I win? If I won?” He answers, “All the kisses in the world.” She smiled once more, “Don’t I already have them?” He chuckled and pulled her off the chair to his lap, “You do, but there could be room for more.” He gives her a kiss, not letting go of her. 

They embrace, sharing this moment of bliss together. Breaking the kiss every once in a while to breathe before going back for more. Nothing sensual was truly displayed, rather there was pure romantic love from a movie screen. 

Honestly, the sight of this makes you wonder if you’ll ever be remotely lucky as the two of them. If they were like this before the accident on a regular basis, it only makes them look like star-crossed lovers. Fated for tragedy and anguish. Maybe on that part you wouldn’t want, but a romantic partner that loves you as much as you do them, you feel like you’re better off wishing upon a falling star.

A beep was sounded off next to you, the oven to be more precise. Rosie smiled, “Ah! The cake is done!” She stood up once more, walking back into the kitchen. He really did have everything, taking none of it for granted. Otto’s hand reached out for her as she walked away, his pained facial expression only tells you that he’s becoming aware inside of his dream. Tears were threatening to prick the edges of his eyes. You can’t imagine the pain he went through that evening. You can only assume this part of him, the part of him that loved with a big happy heart; died when she did. 

She slid on the oven mitts and wasted no time getting the dessert out of the oven. It looks mouthwatering despite no work with frosting or fruits making it look more pleasing to eat. She brought a knife out and cut a slice for Otto, quickly grabbing a plate as well with a fork. 

She quickly returned to him with the dessert, setting the plate down in front of him as she took her seat once more. Now Otto was crying, and Rosie quickly kissed at the tears, “I know your birthday wasn’t celebrated when you were a kid, so I figured that-“ she couldn’t even finish the sentence when Otto kissed her, again, and again. 

He pulled her back on his lap, holding her close as she began to hum the happy birthday tune. Tears fell from his face as she kissed him until the tears stopped flowing. After that, she got a small chunk of cake on a fork, “Open wide, sweetheart.” He ate from the fork, a wet smile appearing on his face as he chewed. Rosie then brought his teacup closer to him, tapping the rim to encourage him to take a drink after he swallowed the cake piece.  She pressed herself against his fleshy chest, which looked more appealing with the red turtleneck, as he sipped at the tea. 

You sighed happily at the sight, the only thing that could be more romantic was some scene from a romance novel; even then, that still pales to the love they share. 

Rosie smiled when she heard you, “I was wondering when you would show up.” She rose from the table, speed walking over to you while Otto was bewildered. She got a hold of your arm and sat you down across from her. 

“What,“ there wasn’t a spot where his eyes weren’t looking at you, “What are you?” With your sudden appearance, you can only tell that he’s becoming more aware of the dream. Normally, you’d just be seen as a silhouette, but fully-formed? This is interesting.  

You didn’t want to freak him out more, so you answered, “A dream eater. Though I would say that’s a poor name for me, I enter dreams and just take a little bit of energy from your dream without disrupting it.” You can see that he’s about to say something more, but you continued, “I don’t actually harm the dream itself when I absorb the energy, I just make you more lax in the dream. Hence,” You hold your hands out to gesture to the whole place, “The sudden appearance of this place you hold so dear to your heart.” 

Rosie smiled at him, “They used to visit me too. After my mom had passed,” She glanced at a photo far off in the distance, “They’d have me relive my best memories with her while I was grieving.” Otto looked at her then back at you. 

And then back at her again. Then you once more. 

You remember watching her over in her dreams, but you never connected the dots because she was sleeping alone in a hotel room. Though, part of you is glad that this has gone full circle. Not everyone is open-minded as Rosie. 

“Why?” His eyes were already so big and wet, let tears flow down his rounded cheeks as you hesitated to answer. “I didn’t initiate this dream, but I entered it for a wellness check.” You wriggled your hands,  “On me? Why?” He seemed appalled, but unsure of what to believe anymore. You don’t blame him, he’s far out of his element with this one. You opened your mouth, “I-“ Rosie hugged you instead of an answer being given, “Thank you for watching over Otto when he sleeps.” 

You nodded, about to say something but your surroundings began to blur and fade in and out. You looked up and around, “Well, you’re about to wake up.” You turn in Otto’s direction, he’s on the verge of breaking down again. 

The dream began to fade as Otto pulled his wife over for one more time as you were ejected out of Otto’s subconscious. 

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You shake off the sudden bout of stupor, you were in the same position that you were in when you originally entered Otto’s dream. Speaking of Otto, his breathing changed; with a sharp inhale, his eyes fluttered open. 

“So you are real.” He said, his actuators curled back. “Although they cannot see you, I can perfectly.” He shifted in the bed to sit up. He rubbed his eyes, which seemed to be a bit red from crying in his sleep. He doesn’t seem to be fazed, by wet eyes. So, you can only assume this has been happening for a while… since he gained his sanity back. 

“Interesting,” you mumbled, “Are you alright?” He nodded in response, “Normally, I pretend that I am fine, but this time I can say it with honesty.”

“Thank you for that, normally the public eye has been watching my every move for weird intentions, but to have someone genuine to check up on me; my gratitude is immeasurable.” You know he can’t see your mouth, only a gleaming pair of eyes contrasting a shadowy form, but you smile and move back. You need to leave soon. 

“I’d love to talk more, but I have to return to my body or I’ll be stuck like this.” You said as you could see the run beginning to peak from the horizon’s edge. Otto looked pained at the thought, you may be the only person who truly understands him now. 

“Will I ever see you again?” He asked, innocent and desperate like a kid. “I’m sure of it.” You reassured him, cupping a soft cheek before floating toward the window sill. 

“I’ll see you again, once upon a dream.” 

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