#and take away any of gideons muscle

[twink-with-an-agenda]

Drew my own non-whitewashed version of the Japanese HtN cover, feat. more bones

[azsazz]

Little Sneak

Daddy!Azriel x Mommy!Reader [Zuzu Centric]

Summary: Anon Req: What about a part 2 to Sticking Together where all the children are older and Zuzu is upset about not being able to go to the camps like her brothers and cousins. Maybe she ends up sneaking off and gets hurt or something. Some lovely angst would be appreciated. Only if you want to of course, pls and thank you.

Warnings: Angst, suggestions of a child going to be harmed (child is not actually harmed)

Word Count: 2,357

_________________________________________

“Why must all my children defy me?” Azriel questions, pacing the length of the room. You’re almost dizzy with it, how long his strides are and how short the path he’s making is. He’s nearly turning in circles now, wings flared with agitation, growing larger and larger the more he works himself up. When he nearly knocks a lamp burning low with a single faelight over, you slip from the bed.

You halt your mate with a soft hand to his shoulder. His wings tuck in tight, not because you’re going to touch them, because his body automatically moves to give you room. You take it, curling yourself against his chest, hands snaking around his waist and thumbing soothing patterns across the dip of his back.

You can feel his muscles contract as he shifts his wings to cocoon the both of you. Darkness shrouds you, but the light casts red through the membranous skin.

It’s a safe place for the both of you, tucked away from the rest of the world without actually removing yourselves from situations where you’re needed. You and Azriel had found yourselves in this position many times—when you first found out you were pregnant with Wren and Azriel was worried you’d have trouble delivering a babe with wings, when Baz nearly burned his hand on an unattended fire. When you had found out that Knox wasn’t going to be able to speak, and when your eldest sons wanted to be allowed to train in the Illyrian camps.

It’s funny that you find yourself here for the exact same reason. Your daughter, Zuzu, Mother bless her, yearns to join her brothers. Both Wren and Baz have completed a year, along with Nyx and Gideon. The four have formed a group just as their fathers had, not taking anyone’s shit no matter how much larger in size they may be. With the High Lord on their side, the young boys got away with much more than they should, though Rhysand does his best not to stick his nose into matters that should be left to camp leaders.

They’ve found their places as young warriors, and though they often get into trouble, you and Azriel are able to spend more time in Velaris, working on a schedule with both Cassian and Rhys, so that one of them is always staying in the family cabins when the boys are in training.

The beat of Azriel’s steady heart is strong, comforting, even though you know he feels as helpless as you do. Each and every one of your children are as stubborn as their father, even the more stoic of the six, like Jax and the twins. Malos could hold a grudge for ages, even against her own siblings. And poor Azriel refuses to admit that it’s a trait he’s bestowed upon the shadowsinger clan. 

You squeeze your mate tighter, breathing in his comforting scent. Night-chilled mist from the long fly he’d had to take when Zuzu had told him the news. He hadn’t wanted to hear any part of it; his firstborn daughter wanted to train with males in the camps that will do nothing to look after her well-being. They won’t care if she’s beaten into the snow until she’s unable to move, if she can train as hard as the males, if she can do aerial maneuvers better than them. All they’ll see is a little girl who should be put in her place by the only means they know how.

The females won’t take kindly to her either. They’ll likely be jealous of the girl who’s wings are in perfect shape, who has the ability to fly and train and doesn’t have to spend back-breaking hours washing or cooking. No one but her brothers and cousins will be nice to her.

But she’s determined and headstrong. She’d confided in you first, and while you’d tried to talk her into joining Valkyrie training, she insisted that if there were young girls here willing to fight and join such a cause, why wouldn’t they extend the opportunity to those in the mountains? Your heart aches for your little girl, who wants to see the best in people, give them the chances they’ve long since needed. If she can encourage a single girl in the camps to join them as warriors, she will be proud.

“She means well,” you sigh against Azriel’s chest, hugging him tighter. 

“Does she have to mean this well?” he asks, exasperation lining the frown on his face. He rubs your back in a soothing motion, and you know it’s helping him as much as it helps you. His chin rests on top of your head and a moment of silence stretches on as his shadows crawl from the walls, whispering in his ears, reporting back to him on how all of his children are under one roof, sleeping peacefully in their beds. “In a few years, Asteria will want to follow, and I think Rhys will actually kill me.”

“I won’t let him,” you grumble stubbornly, but it doesn’t carve a smile on Azriel’s face like it normally would. “And neither will Zuz.”

All your mate can do is sigh and hold you closer. “I hate that they’re growing up.”

“Me too,” you answer sadly, rocking in place with Az. He caresses the nape of your neck, tilting your face to meet his sad, hazel gaze. “Why didn’t anyone prepare us for the part where our children start growing up?”

Azriel shakes his head, dipping down to kiss you softly, tenderly. You are always his rock in the storms of his life. Always will be.

“I don’t know,” he pecks you on the mouth again, and there’s a glint in his eyes that has your body growing warm. “I do know that we can have another. Then we’ll have a little babe. It will make me feel like I’m not so old, that our youngest aren’t five-years-old.” He says it with a grimace. 

The time is flying by, watching your children grow. Wren is a teenager now. A teenager, Mother help you all. And Baz is only growing rowdier with age. Zuzu wants to join her brothers and cousins in the camps, and Jax is still the stoic little boy you’ve ever seen, focused on working through his powers daily. He still struggles sometimes, needs to cuddle up with his father or you for a moment's peace, and he hasn’t shown any interest in being a warrior like his elder siblings, though if Azriel allows Zuzu to join, you’re sure he won’t be far along after. The twins are as inseparable as ever, stirring up mischief with their pesky little shadows. It’s nice to have them all still so close, but you know it won’t be that way soon.

“Can you imagine another one?” You ask, amused at the thought. More chaos, and you’re not entirely sure how your six children would react. You already have so many, what would they think? 

“Yes,” Azriel answers, tone heated. He presses his hips more firmly against your own and you can feel the hardness of his cock in his pants. It makes your thighs go molten, especially when he’s looking at you like that. Like he’s going to both devour and worship you all night long. “Let’s put this conversation on hold.” 

You can’t disagree with that. 

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•

His shadows wake him up. 

Azriel has gotten used to their presence, but his body is accustomed to them, awakening at the slightest sort of unease from them. Like right now.

He bolts from the bed, awakening you in the process. He almost feels bad at the hammering of your heart he can feel echoing in his chest, if it weren’t for the fact that he’s been alerted that one of his children is currently missing from his home, and she hasn’t been located in the darkness of the camp yet.

“What’s going on?” You’re alert now. There’s something seriously wrong, by the look on Azriel’s face. The way that it’s set in stone yet his brows are furrowed with worry. Not the kind of worry where something is amiss in Velaris, but it looks like he had when Knox had been taken from you, the horror riddling his hazel gaze makes your stomach plummet.

“Zuzu isn’t in her bed,” Azriel answers, and he’s already dressed and heading out into the cold. You don’t expect him to wait for you, the both of you have a way of attacking these things as a team now, and you’re safer here with the rest of the children, anyway, and he curses himself once again for allowing his children to train at the Illyrian camps.

He doesn’t know how she’s managed to evade his shadows this time. His children are sneaky, quickly learning and testing how to keep from his radar, but Azriel is 500 years old and prides himself on his alertness.

Up until now.

He doesn’t even know where to begin. His mind is a mess with ‘what if’s’ and he can’t allow himself to begin pulling at that thread or he might very well decimate this entire camp. 

He very well might, anyway.

Azriel’s already reaching out to Rhysand, waking him from his deep slumber and alerting the Inner Circle. He knows the High Lord will be here within minutes on a plume of black that no one wants to see. Zuzu has been Rhysand’s favorite from the moment she decided to toddle behind him into the longest meeting he’s ever had the displeasure of attending. But Zuzu had made it bearable, sitting in his lap and cuddling up in his arms like he wasn’t discussing convicts in the Prison nor how his armies might be able to help Springs.

A soft yelp is carried on a wisp of darkness from his shadows, his head whipping to where they’re alerting him. It’s Zuzu, and she’s whimpering a little as sharp nails dig into her coat, despite the thick jacket she’s pulled haphazardly around her shoulders. Her boots are untied, and the powdery snow is downtrodden with her footprints.

Azriel moves as quick as the night. He’s known for being undetectable, a whisper of a chilled breeze chasing through the trees. Tonight, though, he doesn’t mask the crunch of his boots in the snow, doesn’t smother the bright blue beaming from the seven stones adorning his armor. His knives are unsheathed at his side, steel singing for the promise of blood.

There’s a soft sound, like his daughter's cry has been muffled, and it fuels his anger, letting his body fill with black ink. It spills off of Azriel in waves, a death god come to seek his vengeance.

The clearing is a circlet of trees and fresh snow. The moon drips down into the open field, where Zuzu scratches at her captor. The female trying to pin his little girl to the ground hisses as her skin breaks beneath Zuzu’s nails. Azriel’s heart swells with pride as his daughter fights back, but this moment alone has made him realize that she does need proper training, and if she wants to join the ranks with her brothers and show all of these Illyrian swill what she’s made of, she will get that.

Azriel doesn’t recognize the female as he rips her away from his daughter by a fistful of hair. The female yelps in surprise, then screams in fear as she topples backwards, the avenging shadowsinger towering over her.

As if she thought she could get away with attempting to harm one of his children.

He feels the night air shifting behind him as he makes sure that his daughter is okay. Rhysand and Cassian appear before the female can gain her footing and take off, Cassian planting a foot in the middle of her back to keep her pinned to the frozen ground while Azriel consoles his daughter. Zuzu’s sniveling, fat tears rolling down her red cheeks as they escape. She doesn’t want to cry, she doesn’t want to show her father that she’s scared, but they fall without her permission anyway.

“I’m sorry, daddy.”

Azriel’s heart cracks a little, molten lava of anger filling the cracks. This female won’t last the fucking night. And if she does, it’s because he’s going to make her death last as long as possible for even thinking of touching his daughter. For making her cry.

He hushes her, a soft noise that makes her clutch onto his shoulders tighter. Azriel’s not wearing a coat, but he’s used to the temperatures, and the adrenaline rushing through his veins helps quell the bitter chill. He sends a reassuring feeling down the bond to you and your relief flushes his body tenfold, his shoulders dropping slightly.

“Are you okay, my love?” Azriel asks her, wiping the tears from Zuzu’s eyes. He swings her up into his arms, pressing gentle kisses to her forehead as he pins the female to her spot in the snow with furious golden eyes. “Are you hurt?”

Zuzu shakes her head and his knees nearly give out with relief. He sways them back and forth, whispering reassurances into Zuzu’s ears until she’s calmed down, before passing her off to Rhys who holds her just as tightly. 

“Uncle Rhys is going to take you back to mommy, okay, Zuz? I’ll be back in a little bit.”

She agrees, blinking up at him with her big eyes. Azriel watches her try to look over her uncle's shoulder to see the female spitting vitriol at Cassian. Rhys doesn’t allow her gaze to see what’s going on over there, instead drawing her attention to him, shifting her so she can’t see, and disappearing into the night to bring Zuzu home. 

Cassian crouches down to the female, grinding her face into the snow to stop the comments spewing from her lips. He whispers something so low that makes her entire body freeze, then thrash as if she actually has a chance of escaping.

Azriel steps up to her, a murderous look in his eyes, and he lets his blades do the talking.

[cthulhusstepmom]

"Gid we need to talk."

Well fuck.

It's far too early for a Kremy talk.

"You already spell the door shut?"

"You know I did."

With a long-suffering grumble Gideon settles further into the chair, body sore and muscles relaxed in that perfect, intoxicating, pleasure-drenched way that inevitably chases a night of questionable decisions. The mug of strong black coffee on the table in front of him steams, almost too hot even for him.

He can feel a pair of piercing yellow eyes trailing over his neck and shoulders, can feel the quiet disapproval like a stinging rash.

"She got you good hmm?"

"If she didn't her friend certainly did." Gideon chuckles, suppresses the urge to adjust the undershirt he'd slipped on as Brittany and... Courtney? Christie? (Something with a C he's about 60% sure) Had taken their leave late last night(probably early this morning but fuck if he's gonna be worried about the time). Every rouged bite and bruise flames under the fabric in a way that feels far too much like shame.

The barely there feeling of cool fingertips on his shoulder burns like a cold brand, superseding any temporary claim laid underneath in an instant.

"Any coffee left in the pot?" It's not a question, not really; even if Gideon is loathe to move away from that grounding touch he knows this is his part in the song and dance(and dancing always had been more his thing). Falling into the practiced motion he heaves himself up onto his feet to retrieve Kremy's cup from the small cupboard in the wagon, hands whipping together (the equivalent of) an americano with a splash of cream and no sugar.

In the time it takes for the cup to come together Kremy has removed his suit jacket, folded it carefully and set it on top of the rumpled covers of Gideon's cot, before placing his hat atop it and settling into the chair facing the door. Gid gingerly sets the cup on its saucer before placing it in front of Kremy and falling back into his own chair with a grunt. The other man makes a pleased sound as he takes a sip and a pleasant flame of emotion licks at the back of Gideon's brain.

"New technique?" A pair of clever yellow eyes peer over the rim of the cup.

"Working out a few bugs."

"Mmm."

Silence falls in the cozy interior and Gideon can almost pretend those lovely aches and marks didn't come from Brianna or Carrie at all, can indulge in the effortless, lasting clarity he only finds in moments like these.

"What's that bring the total to this week?"

"What total?" Playing dumb with Kremy is playing a loser's hand and he knows it. All he gets for his trouble is the unimpressed arch of a single brow. "Well I guess it depends if you're asking about encounters or headcount." He tries with a lascivious chuckle.

"Every night this week Gid! Every single night you've been tied up with some hussy or another and every day you've been waiting to do it again! You almost set the big top on fire yesterday you were so goddamn distracted!" Heat floods the tips of his ears at the memory. "I want an explanation Gid and I want one now. What the hell is going on with you?"

Now would be the time to say it, to come clean. To just tell Kremy, his boss, his friend, about the click clacking of train wheels over tracks that haunts his brain. How sometimes he can't hear his own thoughts under the bellowing whistle of a long gone steam engine. How his skin doesn't feel like it belongs to him, his body a machine for someone else's use. How good it fucking feels to find parts of himself in the core of somebody else, working for his own pleasure and dragging them along with him right up to the brink. How those primal sounds of skin on skin solidify that he's not just another cog in an infernal machine, forever toiling until he's sucked dry and spit out. How even then it's not always enough, that it's these quiet moments, devising more and more intricate ways to get the perfect cup of coffee that he doesn't even enjoy, sitting at his little table so close their legs have to touch, riding at the head of the caravan directing the horses while Kremy ticks boxes and traces routes on maps at his side, these small quiet moments that quiet his brain more than a month of one night stands and empty touches ever could.

"You know I'm fine with your proclivities, Gods knows you've earned it." A small part of his brain purrs. "But something's obviously bothering you and that's not something I can stand." And just like that he's pierced on a golden stake, feeling those eyes slice him into delicate layers and pick through them at their own leisure.

But Kremy doesn't rush him, never has, just sits serenely and allows him to fiddle with his words, fine tuning his meaning to the best of his abilities.

Now would be the time to say it.

"Remember when you offered me my own wagon?"

A look of mild surprise crosses a reptilian face. "Vaguely."

Gideon nods, letting the word hang on the air, intermingling with the smell of over engineered coffee.

Finally:

" Would you be open to rooming together again?"

The frown that crosses Kremy's features pierces between all the whirring mechanical bits of himself and straight into the fragile meat of his beating heart.

"Well Gid it's good of you to offer but you know I don't swing that way. You're more than welcome to keep the ladies to yourself, can have my share too while you're at it."

It takes a minute to grasp what Kremy's insinuating.

"No man! Not like that, I wouldn't do that to you, not rooming together at least. I'd just invite you here..."He pauses, grasping for the right words. "When it gets quiet... when I'm alone... it can be too... loud... in my head, s' fucked up, down, and sideways..." He trails off, looking up and searching Kremy's gaze for answers, he always has the answers.

His friend nods in understanding.

"Think I can arrange that, we'll need to rearrange the furniture and we can always use another Chow wagon." he begins muttering, turning things over in his head, organizing his thoughts like a hand of cards.

"You know I'm not too picky, I can sleep on the floor."

Kremy waves a hand absent mindedly. "There's plenty of room for two in the bed-" cutting himself off with a painful choking sound, Gideon can see a thread of panic strumming through Kremy's posture. "Of course that's a hell of a presumption, huddling for warmth is a whole different thing I shouldn't have said any-"

"So long as I get a little desk space to tinker and warm breakfast I'm satisfied." Gid shrugs. He misses sharing sleeping arrangements with Kremy, the wagons were a nice upgrade, more spacious and stable than tents and bedrolls, but they also took the few times he was able to hold close the smaller form of his partner. The privilege of feeling the cold-stiffness bleed out of his limbs and turn into languid sleep. Like cuddling the cold side of a pillow all night, a pillow that will occasionally rumble like a thunderstorm and vibrate his whole chest.

"I won't have any of your Jezebels in my bed, you want to let off that steam, fine, but not in our wagon."

Our.

"Seems reasonable enough." He smirks.

"You have yourself a deal Gid."

[sargassostories]

It was a mistake. A little mistake, was all. A rare physiological reaction she wasn’t able to control or stretch out or practice into submission. It took her by surprise, that was the reason.

Camilla Hect had trained her body since her hands could grasp a rapier. She knew every muscle in her five feet eight inches. How she’d react to different exercise, different foods, different atmospheric conditions, all different kinds of wounds. The type of cataloguing the Warden knew on an intellectual, thalalogical level she knew on a cellular one. Something she could feel and punch.

She was surprised by Pyrrha Dve, that was all. Camilla was about as tall as it got on the eighth, that was all. She’d never seen anyone nearly a head taller than herself, so much broader. She was the broadest person she’d known, until she met Gideon Nav and Naberius Tern and the other Cavs, and she was still strong among them. Pyrrha was something else.

It just surprised her, when she reached for a new canister of powdered eggs in their kitchenette and found Pyrrha right beside her, towering over her, really, easily grasping and handing her the canister in a single, massive hand. A hand the size of her own face. It surprised her when they stretched together in the mornings with Nona, teaching her, and she saw the broad expanse of Pyrrha’s body, her deeply tan skin, the veins roping through her forearms, the thickness of her thighs, her calves. Her shoulders.

It was her fighter’s instinct that had flared up, that hair on the back of her neck, that sense of alertness, identifying a potential threat.

It was easily dismissed, until it wasn’t.

Until she found her breath short and her core tingling, alert. Until she found Pyrrha smirking at her, knowingly, a smirk she’d usually wipe off with her fist. Until one day on the street when they saw two new Blood of Eden recruits looking for trouble and Pyrrha had simply lifted her up and tucked her away in an alley.

She found herself blushing, her core pulsing, out of words. And should’ve known Pyrrha would always find some.

“You know, I could take care of that for you, baby,” she drawled, and where Cam would usually have wanted to assess, attack, she found every muscle she knew in her body...wanting.

It was just one orgasm. Until it wasn’t.

She stripped off her belt and pants quickly, clinically, and found Pyrrha’s hands wrapping around her thighs, spreading them like she was unwrapping a fresh pack of cigarettes. Assessing the crease of her body the way Camilla assessed a fight. Camilla felt herself leak at the sensation, saw Pyrrha look up at her when she saw.

“Oh, baby. You’re going to be so sweet.”

Pyrrha ate her like she was a feast. She licked and sucked and made little pleased noises and moans that Cam wanted to find ridiculous but found herself gasping about instead.

Cam asked her to be fast, and she was, had Cam gasping in white bliss faster and surer than she'd ever experienced. But she didn’t let Cam go. Pyrrha drew her hands up, slowly, toying her fingers over Cam, teasing over her holes, and Cam let out a very undignified whimper.

Pyrrha chuckled, then pressed inside her with one thick finger. Cam gasped, then gasped and gasped and gasped as Pyrrha wrung her out, sucking hard as she toyed with her again and again until she was barely aware of what was happening as Pyrrha tucked her into bed and gave her a peck on the forehead with a-- “See you later, darling.” And then she heard the alarm go.

When she returned to her body, it haunted her. Had he been able to tell what had happened? She searched through their notebook for any comment, any intimation, but there was nothing. She stared at Pyrrha over dinner with Nona, wondering what she knew, what Palamedes had told her. What she had told him. But she sensed… or was it just that she hoped?… Pyrrha had said nothing.

It was just one orgasm, until it wasn’t.

It was just one time. Until it wasn’t.

Cam woke up every day and went through her rapier forms and showered and dressed and recorded Nona’s dreams and got her up and stretched and dressed and fed and to school. She went out to work, through the horrible streets, past the horrible creature looming ever closer.

And in the afternoons, before she or Pyrrha picked Nona up from school, she’d come home. For lunch, she told herself, though she rarely fit that in. For Pyrrha. For her broad hands almost encircling her waist. For the new way she’d make Cam mewl and shake and cry with pleasure. And then, for the feel of her against her, the way she knew she excited Pyrrha, the way if she whined and begged a little, she could feel her cock twitch in her trousers, against her thighs. She took to wiggling around just to feel it against her ass. Pyrrha wouldn’t let her see it. Wouldn't let her touch it, really touch it. Part of Cam wondered if it was Pyrrha protecting the privacy of a very old friend— but she wanted. So she wiggled, and she pressed, until she could see the flush in Pyrrha's face, the tight way she'd hold her smirk when she was so very aroused.

“You know I can’t deny my treasures anything. But you have to ask, Cam…” Pyrrha told her, buttoning up her coveralls on her way out the door, like the bastard she was.

It didn’t take very long.

Not long before she was whispering, then asking, then moaning please please please Pyrrha please, I need it, I need you, need more, want to feel you--

Pyrrha told her she’d never seen anything so beautiful as Cam's face the first time she pushed all the way in. The stretch was insane, the heat, the girth, and she was already so loose and wet with pleasure. Pyrrha took her time, but Cam could see the strain on her face, and she liked it. This was a game she could play, a dance for two. She relished the deep groans Pyrrha let out as Cam rolled her hips, begging, asking for more. The way Pyrrha retaliated by toying with her nipple, her clit, until they were both gasping, each desperate to hold out longer, to see the other crack first.

Until they heard the timer.

“Don’t come in me, here—“ Cam said, pulling off and sinking Pyrrha’s twitching cock between her lips, Pyrrha’s curse in her ears and cum on her tongue and down her throat. It was all she could do to swallow and rush into the bathroom before Palamedes took over.

She couldn’t tell him. And she couldn’t stop.

What had started as a quick release for her, then for Pyrrha, became… became something defined by the timer. She found herself wishing for a whole morning, or a day spent lazing together, a pile of limbs and hands and tongues. To see what she could do with Pyrrha’s body. But she wanted Palamedes, too. She wanted his words, his mind, for him to have his time through her eyes.

So Cam rushed home for lunch and stripped out of her clothes almost the second she was through the door, bending over the counter for Pyrrha, begging her, begging her like she never thought she would beg anyone for anything, and always found Pyrrha desperate behind her, like she’d been waiting for this all day. Some days she fucked Cam hard and fast, pounding into her and pulling her hair as Cam played with herself, saying please please please please please please—

Some days Cam sat on the counter and wrapped her legs around Pyrrha, bit her neck and ran a fingernail over her flat nipples to relish the gasps in her ear that turned into guttural sounds as Pyrrha thrust into her, her tools and coveralls puddled around her ankles in her haste for this.

Some days— the days that made Pyrrha obviously uncomfortable, so days Cam liked— Cam dropped to her knees with her tongue out and asked for Pyrrha’s cock in her mouth, relishing the juicy sweat salt taste filling her, tears pricking at her eyes as thrusts hit the back of her throat, and rubbed herself off, moaning, on Pyrrha’s boot.

And every once in a while, Pyrrha denied her the choice, picked Cam up and pressed her against the wall, Cam’s legs dangling over her broad shoulders and back, and took her lunch as she pleased, sucking at Cam until she was a babbling mess.

Every time, racing against the clock, against Palamedes finding out for certain. He wrote just once about it— that he noticed Camilla’s body felt more relaxed when he returned to it. That her hips had gotten looser, more flexible. Cam burned with shame when she read him applaud whatever new exercise she’d been doing and itched to touch herself about it.

She told Pyrrha the next day while she bounced on her cock, and watched Pyrrha lean back, tucking her arms behind her head, and praise her for doing her exercises like a good slut. Cam came almost immediately. And, as usual, Pyrrha didn’t let her stop there.

It did feel like sneaking around, between hiding it from both Nona and Palamedes. A secret affair. It was wrong. It was perfect. It let Camilla slip into a different part of herself— needy and hungry and insolent, who loved lying back and being made to take it. She didn’t have to be so capable— she could watch Pyrrha do that.

And when Cam wanted to, she could make her crack.

It was dangerous. She wanted more.

[karmacat107]

gideon is hot bc she's a mess internally and externally, she has no reason to act any differently, life has been utter shit to her and the least she can do is own it. and she does it so well. she shows off her muscle and cracks bad jokes and charges at problems headfirst just to get everyone else to shut up and take action. she's brash and ridiculous and doesn't care about any of the fancy space political fuckery. she's here to get shit done, despite the pain she's in. what else is there, really? the only opinion she truly cares about is harrow's at the end of the day, and she's still a total mess for her, just a more specific one. you can't take her at face value, she's smart and emotionally complex as anyone. but there's no version of her that's refined and she has no qualms about it. in a universe so caught up in appearances and etiquette she is a welcome shock to the system, and everyone knows it.

harrow is hot because she's a mess and she tries to hide it. she's a nasty fucked up gremlin, and she puts so much effort and time into appearing on the contrary. her formal speech, her intricate ninth robes, her pristine skull facepaint. all of it is such a painfully impressive facade of dedication, her dedication to being a personification of commitment to her house and its rituals. but she's a teenage girl with the galaxy's biggest guilt complex and so the idea of that mask being ripped away becomes intriguing, thrilling even. her robes torn by her own constructs and bloodied with her own anemic blood. her paint smeared, flaking, crusted over with filth and viscera. it's the corruption of that carefully cultivated image, that exposure of the self, that tormented vulnerability that really gets you. the drama of it all is downright exquisite.

[alexanderlightweight]

Thank you so much for all that you do. You have a gift for creating worlds and it makes my day whenever you share them with us. I hope you're not tired of *the most fragile of poisons* yet, because I have a prompt for this week in that 'verse.

Alec taking Magnus back to his personal rooms at the Institute because 'reasons' and Alec has determined that's the only acceptable place for Magnus to rest. Alec getting to lie next to him, wrap him up, and keep him close is just a fringe benefit, really. Anyone who has a problem with the sleeping arrangements can take it up with HOTI Alexander Gideon Lightwood.

i still love it! i just had to be in the mindset to write it ^_^ and i'm glad that it's enjoyed!

thank you! that is super sweet and makes me very glad to hear

i hope you enjoy this

<3 lumine

the most fragile of poisons

-

Magnus looks exhausted.

That’s the only thing that Alec’s equally tired brain can actively process.

Magnus is tired.

And Alec is tired.

Neither of them are at their best and worse, Magnus isn’t aware that there are visiting trainees that Alec hasn’t vetted yet. It’s without a conscious decision that Alec scowls at his second and then tucks Magnus under his wing and ushers him down the hall. Mirai is new but intuitive and the path to Alec’s rooms are clear of any unknowns and any potential threats by the time he leaves the main hallway.

The few hunters that Alec does pass easily make way, averting their eyes as to not pose a challenge.

Alec thinks he hears Magnus chuckle when he stops at his own room and it isn’t until he’s ushered Magnus in and his wings are fluffing out — spreading themselves — so they can tuck softly around Magnus that he processes what he’s done.

Pink tints his cheeks even as he stubbornly continues to check Magnus over.

Alec’s taken a great liberty without even asking Magnus if he wanted to come into Alec’s room, however since Magnus hasn’t protested, Alec isn’t going to bother caring.

“Rough night?” He finally asks, ignoring the way his own voice rasps and the chiding look Magnus sends him.

“Nearly as bad as yours I’d say.” Magnus murmurs and he summons a small cup that Alec takes with a pleased little sigh.

The drink may be steaming hot and smell potently of herbs but Alec isn’t one to look over a gift from Magnus. Especially not one that is given with the clear intent to heal him. It’s a sweet gesture and if Alec didn’t have to finish the drink first, he wouldn’t be able to keep his wings from pulling Magnus flush against himself.

“It’s good.” He offers tiredly and then he nods to his bed, “lay down? I’ll be just a minute.”

—

Whatever Magnus thought would happen when he arrived, it wasn’t this.

True, he’d let himself look a bit more worn down than he normally allows other to see him, and it had worked perfectly.

He just wasn’t expecting it to work as well as it did.

Alexander fretted over him immediately, as if some switch had been automatically flipped and his wings had openly proclaimed his concern and care.

It’s a beautiful victory and now Magnus gets to be surprised in turn.

He doesn’t ask if Alec’s certain — it would be rude to second-guess him in his own territory — and he snaps away his shoes and clothing until he’s in nothing at all and laid out across Alexander’s rumpled but clean sheets.

There’s an urgency as Alexander finishes the healing tea and potion for his throat and he crosses to strip equally bare and crawl into the bed. His hands shake and keep from truly touching Magnus but his wings are everywhere.

Feathers caress every strip of skin that can flutter against and Magnus is treated to be undulated with warm, soft affection that causes Alec to blush when it’s clear he can’t help it.

Fingertips kiss the muscles of Magnus’ biceps as Alexander finally lets himself touch with more than his wings and Magnus can feel Alexander’s breathy sigh of delight as his fingers follow the firm curve.

[lippskinn]

Blackinnon Fest 2024 ¦ Day 4

Word Count: 459

Prompt: Purpose

Order meetings were a fixpoint in the lives of many Order members amidst the chaotic war times: an evening spent with good food, drinks and like-minded people. Each member was assigned a mission on which they had to give a weekly report, followed by Alastor Moody's motivational speeches and tactical insights.

As fierce duellists, Sirius and Marlene were tasked with patrolling Hogsmeade. Their duty was to check all passageways from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts and inform the Order about any suspicious activities.

According to Dumbledore, Hogsmeade was a rallying point for spies and recruiters. He feared they would have easy access to the students and the castle if they left the village unsupervised; luckily, Sirius knew all about secret passageways.

One starlit evening, they sat by the Shrieking Shack after their shift and enjoyed the warm summer breeze away from the village. The moon shone brightly onto the grounds and covered everything in a silvery light, reminding Sirius of all those nights they had stayed with Remus in their animagus forms.

No one could know.

Not Dumbledore, not Lily and not Marlene.

If anyone found out, they would go straight to Azkaban. But Sirius could keep a secret like nobody's business. Because if he leaned in to kiss Marlene, they would break every single one of Moody's rules and lose their mission. So, he kept his feelings to himself.

He had moved his chair to the opposite corner of the room and avoided eye contact all evening. In fact, he had been suspiciously quiet.

"Before I close this meeting," Moody announced, "I need someone to take the Hogsmeade shift on Thursday."

Marlene raised her hand.

"Someone else?" Moody asked a little too quickly.

Moody's magical eye moved between Sirius and Marlene. Sirius knew Mad-Eye could see through the back of his head and that he watched every moving muscle. However, on the inside, his guts began to twist painfully, and his heart sank.

Moody looked around the room, but everyone shook their head, "No one? Just this Thursday."

"What's wrong with Marlene and Sirius?" Frank asked.

"For tactical purposes, Marlene leaves the mission. Since Gideon and Fabian are… well… I need a replacement." Moody looked visibly upset and had one last pleading look around the room until his eyes rested on Sirius.

"Why is she leaving?" Sirius asked politely.

"Because I broke a rule", Marlene sighed.

Moody took a deep breath and shook his head disapprovingly, "I really put my faith in you. With Gideon and Fabian gone, two pregnancies and Caradoc missing, I cannot afford more losses. Is it so hard to stick to one bloody rule?"

"I think I broke it too."

[certifieddilfenjoyer]

Mesmerizing, isn't it?

Moff Gideon x GN! Reader

Minors, do not interact! Shameless smut warning. GIDDY-ON DEEZ NUTS

Tags:

Shameless Smut, Shameless, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, BDSM, Choking, Anal Sex, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Humiliation, Verbal Humiliation, Spanking, Over the Knee, dominant Moff Gideon, Dominance, Submission, Dom/sub, degradation kink, Degradation, Verbal Degradation, Throat Fucking, dragging across floor, pleasing male, Service Submission, spitting, Biting, Spit Kink, Marking, Manhandling, Oneshot Enjoy and please let me know if u like it! It's also on AO3

Thump, thump.

You carefully close the door behind yourself and step outside your small house. The air is cold and you can see the steam form in front of you as a shaky breath escapes your dried lips. You lean backwards, placing your head at the surface of the door.

Thump, thump.

You were not made for this. The tension is devouring you. Eating you alive. It is too much, way too much.

Thump, thump.

You frown, and take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart. Taking a step forward, you find yourself straightening your back just to freeze a few steps further, your body suddenly covering with goosebumps.

'The look he gave me,' you think to yourself and back away inside your house. 'He knows what I have done.'

After locking the door, you quickly sit down on a simple bed and nervously bounce your right leg, hiding your face in your hands. Suddenly, the water bottle standing on your kitchen counter snaps. You jump in your seat and feel your heart speed up, until you realize what made the sound.

'What have I done?' you ask yourself under your breath and kick the shoes off your feet, then place them next to the door.

Subconsciously, your feet guide you to the bathroom, where you strip down and glance at yourself in the mirror. You look very stressed and tired, the circles underneath your eyes are a lot more visible than usual. It's been two days since the incident that has been driving you insane. You step inside the shower and turn the tap with the hot water, trying to comfort your skin. You carefully wash your hair and your body and each time the foam gets in your eyes, you quickly rinse your face with water and look at the entrance door, as if expecting to see a Stormtrooper sent in to arrest you.

You swallow through the dry throat and finish showering, then brush your teeth and leave the bathroom, preparing yourself to get some sleep. Or at least attempt to.

After around an hour of staring at the ceiling and another few minutes of laying still with eyes closed, you throw the duvet to the side and stand up from the bed. You couldn't stand it anymore. Each time your eyes would close, you would see Moff Gideon and the way he glanced at you two days ago.

He knew. He knew everything you did. And you could tell that just from that glance.

Were you paranoid? Absolutely.

Were you wrong in your assumption? Absolutely not.

You walk to your small kitchen and pour a glass of ice-cold water and chug it down in a few gulps.

'He works like a businessman, if there are any chances of survival for me, they will rapidly increase when I will confront him about it. I can sell the person who is the mole. I can… I can do everything to fix things…'

You swallow the tears, feeling the burning sensation travel down your throat. After a quick glance to the side, you swiftly approach the chair on which you left your uniform and get dressed again. You slide on the shoes, tie them and brush off the invisible dust, making sure that there is no dirt on them. You might be approaching your demise, but if that's the case, then you at least will look good.

Allowing the muscle memory to be your guide through the darkness, you run down the street, descending from a small hill on which your house was built. You turn to the right and follow the path between the short buildings until you see a Stormtrooper standing in the dark. The refreshing smell of the upcoming storm hits your nostrils.

'Stop right there!' he says as he spots you.

'Imperial officer here,' you say out loud, showing him your ID and approaching the guard slowly. 'Is there any vehicle on the airport? I would like to fly to Moff Gideon's Star Destroyer.'

'There are two space shuttles and a bunch of TIE Interceptors. Shall I transport you to the aircraft?' he salutes you and offers a helping hand.

'No, thank you. This will not be necessary.'

You nod at the soldier and head towards one of the TIE space ships. It doesn't take you long to take off and arrive in the Star Destroyer's hangar. When you jump down on the black, glossy floor, you can feel your heart pound again. You close your eyes and breathe out, then look around. The hangar is pretty much empty and you can smell the fresh fuel fumes in the air. Most of the staff is sleeping, the only people who you encounter are the guards patrolling the corridors. After checking the time, you realize that Moff himself might be sleeping as well, but it's too late to turn around now. It would be extremely suspicious to arrive in the hangar and take off immediately after.

You nod at the group of the four guards passing nearby the TIE units and turn on your heel, heading towards the southern exit. Your steps echo through the corridors, as you submerge yourself in your own thoughts, once again allowing your body to enter the autopilot mode.

When the elevator door leading to Moff Gideon's headquarters slides open with a hiss, you feel like running away. You take one step forward and look down at your feet. Suddenly, you become hyper aware of your presence: you left your home with half-dry hair, you look extremely stressed out and exhausted and you cannot control the sweating of your palms.

You force yourself to look up and take a deep breath, following another step forward. While slowly exhaling, you ignore your racing heart and approach the door to Moff Gideon's room and knock on it.

There is no immediate reaction.

'He's sleeping, I shouldn't..'

'May I help you?' you hear his voice behind you.

You try to mask your reaction to his unexpected appearance, but he catches it immediately, eyeing you down and up. When you turn around on your heel towards him, you notice that he is dressed in a full black military uniform, without his combat armor. You straighten your body, forcing yourself to look far in the distance, instead of staring into his alluring eyes.

'Moff Gideon!' you salute and he nods.

'At ease.' He says and lifts his chin up, piercing your soul with his intense gaze. 'Well?'

'I apologize for interrupting you so late,' you begin and feel your throat tighten. 'But there is something that I have to inform you about.'

'I trust you that the case is of an extreme importance for you to come rushing to me so late in the evening,' he interrupts you and scans the palm of his right hand, opening the door to his room. 'Please come in.'

You lower your gaze and open your mouth, but no words come out. Instead, you step inside and move to the right, allowing him to enter the room. You uneasily lift your face up and look around, glancing at the beautiful surroundings. It had all the iconic Galactic Empire aesthetics, mixed with some high-quality furniture; there was a king-sized bed, which looked extremely comfortable, a door leading to the bathroom, a doorframe leading to a walk-in-closet and some small, yet modern kitchen with a table and a dark-leather sofa.

'You seem stressed.'

His voice snaps you out of your thoughts and you look at the man, who stares at you from the kitchen. In the dimmed light, you can only clearly see his silhouette and his eyes, which seem to be glistening in the dark. You take a step towards him and tighten your fists. He observes you, taking a sip of water from a glass.

You open your mouth and then drop to your knee, placing your right hand on your heart.

'Moff Gideon. I have betrayed the Empire.'

You can hear the movement of fabric and a quiet tap, as he places the glass on the marble counter. He looks down at you and walks over to you, his steps slow and full of grace. You can feel his presence crushing you and you can feel your chin tremble. After you press your eyelids together, you hear the sound of the Dark Saber igniting and a quiet, innocent sizzling following it.

'How exactly did you betray the Empire?' he asks calmly, walking around you, the Dark Saber casting a glow on your body.

You look up at him, seeing the same light reflecting in his dark, intense eyes.

'Three days ago, I leaked the data about the satellite dishes. The same ones which were destroyed by the local rebellion merely hours later.'

He looks away and nods, continuing to circle around you like a predator tormenting his prey. He slides his thumb on the metallic hilt of the weapon, feeling it warm up under his touch.

'Do you know what is the price of a treason?' he asks you.

'I do. And I am willing to do anything to correct my mistake. I know who was the person that got their hands on the data. I can track them down, I can-'

Your voice cracks as he stops in front of you and you glance back at the floor, lowering your head before him. You are painfully aware of the Dark Saber, which is suddenly directed at your neck.

'Just please, Moff Gideon. Spare my life. I will do anything to regain your trust, I-' You feel the tears come to your eyes as you stare at the glowing weapon.

Without a word, he deactivates it and sits on the kitchen chair in front of you. He slightly parts his legs and looks down at you, with a smirk playing on his lips.

'You haven't fully lost my trust.'

You shift your gaze into his eyes and feel your other knee collapse to the floor, as you try to calm yourself down.

'You haven't betrayed anything,' he reveals and watched the change of expression on your face.

'But…' you start and soon find yourself speechless. He watches you look for words and leans forward, as a playful spark appears in his gaze.

'I wanted to test you. So I did. The person who had stolen the data from you, was one of my most trusted ISB agents. We already knew about the local resistance attempting to destroy our communication system, so I decided to orchestrate it so that it would look like you helped them in assaulting it.'

You feel as if someone lifted the heaviest of weights of your chest, but at the same time, exchanged them to a bucket of the coldest water. You grasp the collar of the uniform and pull it, trying to take a deeper breath. The entire adrenaline suddenly disappeared from your body and you feel yourself shake.

'So, you set me up?' You look up at him, feeling the tension fall from your shoulders.

'I did,' he admits openly, but there is still something dark playing in his eyes, it's almost the same spark you saw before, the spark that made you think about him for hours after seeing it.

You decide to ignore it and slowly exhale, as you shift back to your feet and slowly stand up from the floor. It was so much, way too much for one day. You were tired and now all you wanted to do was to lay down in your bed and finally fall asleep.

'Am I dismissed, then?' you ask him.

He leans back in his chair, tilting his head to the side. You cannot stand his gaze, so you look away.

'No. There is one more thing that has been bothering me for the longest time,' he informs calmly, carefully inspecting your reaction, noticing the desperate attempt of a discreet swallow. 'Yes, I did set you up. But how does that justify your behavior?' he stands up from the chair and stands in front of you. Your heart sinks inside your chest. 'Should the officer be so careless and allow such a thing to happen? Maybe you haven't betrayed the Empire directly, but you allowed the enemy to use your foolishness to their advantage.'

'It wasn't even an enemy,' you whisper but his hand shots towards your chin. He grasps your jaw and pulls it up, forcing you to look him in the eye.

'What did possibly make you so distracted to abandon your post with all the confidential data available to anyone? I have spoken with your counselor and I know that the results of the obligatory monthly tests haven't changes, so don't even try to lie to me.'

You grit your teeth and look away, your nostrils flashing in fear.

'Are you gonna be quiet?'

Your jaw muscles flex, as you persistently look away.

His left hand finds it's way into your hair and grasps it. He takes a step back, pulling you with him and sits on the chair, spreading his legs once again. You almost fall to your knees, but he pulls your head right before your legs hit the floor and positions you in front of him.

'Do you think I don't know what's been going on with you for months now?' he asks, his hands tightening inside your hair, making you hiss in pain. 'I will not tolerate how you let your personal feelings influence your work.'

You look at him with fear in your eyes.

'Oh? You thought I was not aware?' He smirks devilishly and you can feel your face starting to burn.

'Moff, I-' you trail off and look to the side, avoiding his intense eyes.

'If I am wrong, then say it.'

You stay silent. Your bottom lip quivers, and you bite onto it, trying to stop yourself from crying in front of him. After a few seconds of silence, which thickens the air around the two of you, a single tear falls from your eye.

'If I am correct, on the other hand…' he leans forward, still holding your hair. 'Take off my belt.'

You stare at him in disbelief, as he releases your hair and sits comfortably in the chair, looking down at you. Your heart races inside your chest and you slowly lift your hands and place them on his knees. He doesn't say or react in any way, letting you make your own decision. You lock your eyes with his, feeling your heart skip a beat as you do so. He lowers his eyelids and slightly raises his chin, pinning you down, showing you your rightful place. It's surreal how much power he holds over you with something as simple as a look. His gaze is unbearable and hypnotizing at the same time, you want to look away, but you find yourself unable to.

You drop your gaze to his belt and reach with both of your hands towards it, pulling the leather out of the buckle, then attempting to free it from his pants. He doesn't help you with any of it. Just sits, waiting patiently for you to finish.

You firmly grasp the buckle and push your left hand to his hip and after a few more seconds of struggling, you manage to free the belt. You carefully look up at him and notice the dark expression playing in his eyes. He wraps his hand around yours and grasps the belt, then folds it in two.

'Your safe word?'

You glance at the belt and swallow, feeling the shiver crawling down your spine.

'Ki-Kiwi.'

'Good.'

He then proceeds to grab the back of your neck.

'Take off your boots.'

You obey him immediately and watch him kick your boots towards the entrance door. In the next moment, you are being lifted off your knees and placed over his lap. Your heart races inside your chest and you already know what will come next. Gideon traces his hand from the back of your neck, all the way down, stopping it just above the waistline of your pants. Your breathing is getting faster and you support your balance with your left hand, placing it on the floor. He grabs the fabric of the top of uniform and slides it just enough to reveal an inch of your back. As his warm fingertips trace your bare skin, you feel yourself shiver. Your mouth drops open and you can't help but moan when he decides to slide his nails just a few centimeters across your back.

'Silence,' he orders you and swings the belt at your bottom.

You yelp and jerk yourself forward, as if trying to escape the unexpected punishment. He immediately grabs your hair and pulls you up, arching your back and delivering two more slaps. You whimper and grasp his leg, trying to support yourself while being forced in such an uncomfortable position. Gideon stares at you, gritting his teeth in anger.

'Stupid whore,' he calls and you almost choke on the swallowed air. 'What did I say?'

You freeze in fear and after a few seconds of silence, feel him impatiently shake your head.

'Silence,' you quote him quietly.

'And? Answer me, how many sounds did you make?'

'Three.'

'Three, what?' He spanks you again, painfully.

'Three, sir!' You cry out and immediately sink your teeth in your bottom lip.

'For each sound you make…' he starts and you can feel him release your hair from his grasp. You kick your feet on the floor, trying to adjust yourself bent over his lap, as he reaches with his both hands to your pants.

You quickly turn your head towards him, shooting him a concerned glance. His gaze travels from your ass all the way to your face and you open your mouth to stop him, but he just raises his eyebrow at you. As you inhale to speak up, he yanks your pants all the way to your knees and throws the belt aside, then slaps you with his own hand. The filthy sound fills the room and you turn your head away from him, feeling the tears of humiliation appear in your eyes. 'For each sound you make,' he repeats. 'I am adding four of these. How many times should I spank you…'

'Twelve, sir.'

'Did I allow you to speak?' he asks coldly and swings his hand at your bottom. You grit your teeth and focus on keeping your breath calm. He rests his hand on your ass and listens to you for a few seconds, before spanking again. His punishments sting and leave a red mark on your body, but you are enjoying it just as much as he is.

'Just fourteen more' you think to yourself and bite on your inner cheek after his next spank.

He grabs your left cheek and squeezes it and you can hear a satisfied grunt escape his lips. You smirk to yourself despite the pain and accept the next slap with a hint of pride on your face. You swallow very quietly and for a second your heart skips a bit, as you realize that he is yet again listening to your reactions. When he decides that there is nothing punishment-worthy in your behavior, he gives you a series of four slaps, one right after the other. You can feel yourself getting extremely aroused, and you are not even halfway through your session. You inhale slowly through the nose and almost loose your focus on the next slap. Gideon notices your shaky breath but decides to ignore it.

He rubs a few circles on your butt and sometimes pushes his nails into your skin, playing with your bare bottom. After a few seconds, he notices the re-appearing shivers on your legs and spanks you again, not allowing you any time for rest, until there are only two left.

He smiles mischeviously to himself and slides his hand under your top, travelling up your spine. You open your mouth and inhale through it, trying to keep your breath as quiet and steady as possible.

'Take your uniform off.'

You quickly reach towards the buttons and with a bit of his help, the top soon joins his belt. He takes his time inspecting your back, tracing your body with his entire palm, colliding his rough, warm skin with your soft, touch-starved one. He looks down on you, his eyes glistening in the dark, as he crooks his fingers, just enough to scratch your back with his nails. You can feel your eyes roll in your sockets, but when he positions his hand behind your neck, both of you already know that you won't be able to keep your mouth shut.

Gideon leans forward and slowly starts to drag his left hand across your spine, his nails playing with every nerve in your body. The pleasure waves being sent across your body are surreal and feel like small electric shocks, each time his hand travels further down your body. When he is halfway through, he spanks you with his right hand. The sudden impact pushes your body forward, but you manage to stay silent, though you are convinced that he can hear your racing heartbeat.

Gideon smirks and plays with your back for a few seconds, before dragging his nails down your spine, all the way to the top of your ass, where you simultaneously spanks you. You throw your head backwards and moan loudly, feeling yourself get wetter with the overwhelming sensation.

'Useless bitch,' he comments and pushes you off his lap.

He stands up and moves the chair away, as you try to pick yourself up from the floor. You quickly kick your pants off your legs and look up at him, seeing him stand in front of you, pinning you down with his gaze. With teary eyes, you lift your hands to his pants and grasp the material of his pants. His hand gently brushes through your hair and you take it as a sign. When you unbotton and unzip his pants to slide them down, he leans forwards to you and takes off your underwear. He smirks to himself, seeing very obvious signs of your arousal, but decides not to comment on that yet. Gideon straightens his body again and watches you freeing him from his boxers.

You shoot him a worried glance, unsure if you should say anything when you witness him half-naked in front of you. He steps outside his pants and boxers.

'Open your mouth,' he orders you and you shift on your knees, opening your mouth widely for him.

He traces your jaw with a smirk on his face, then places his thumb on your tongue. You immediately close your mouth to suck on it, but he removes his finger and gives you a light slap on your cheek.

'Keep it open.'

You nod at him and obey him once again. He repeats the process, but then grasps your chin and quickly leans forward, spitting inside your mouth. Without giving you a chance to react, he grabs your hair and pushes you down his dick, immediately hitting the back of your throat. You find yourself unable to breathe or even moan, as his length fills your throat. His hand secures you in one place, while you try to push him away, fighting for air. You soon realize that he is not going to let you go that easily, so you control your panicking body and focus on working your tongue on his length. Gideon looks up at the ceiling and closes his eyes, releasing a small, yet blissful sigh. He slowly pulls your head away to his tip and gazes down at you. You slowly breathe in and slide your tongue up and down the bottom of his tip, while squeezing your lips around him, gently moving your head. He gathers your hair in his fist, but does not apply any pressure, just holds it in one place. You can't help but smile against his dick, knowing that he is enjoying himself because of you.

You look up at him, locking your eyes with his and push yourself down his length. He stares at you with his lips slightly parted, while his breaths are getting heavier with each of your stroke. You trace your tongue on his veins poking through the silky smooth, hot skin and wrap your right hand around his base, knowing that there is no way in this world that you are going to fit his entire shaft in your mouth. With your left hand, you slowly drag your nails from his knee all the way up his inner tigh, just to cup his balls, which tighten under your touch. Still staring at him, you squeeze your right hand and move it in a circular motion, matching it with the bobbing of your head. He closes his eyes for a second and hisses.

'Fuck,' it's a quiet sign of your small victory, but you will take it. But when he lifts up his eyelids, he doesn't enjoy the look of pride gleaming in your eyes, as you continue to stroke him.

Gideon tilts his head and regains his composure, watching his dark skin repeatedly disappear inside your mouth. He lets go of your hair, just to grasp on it's roots and pushes you away from his dick. He watches with satisfaction as he leaves your mouth with a 'pop' sound and enjoys the view of your saliva connecting his tip with your tongue. He then pulls you onto himself again and you allow him to do as he pleases, trying your best to focus on pleasing him, not your temporary inability to breathe.

'Hands behind your back,' he orders and you can feel the fear slice through you like daggers.

'Surely he won't-'

'Now!' he snaps at you and you grasp your wrists behind your back.

Without your hand blocking the rest of his length, he proceeds to slowly push you down his cock. Your eyes water with tears and he smirks down at you, seeing one of the tear travel down your cheek.

'Regretting it, yet?'

You cannot respond in any way. You cannot shake nor nod your head or even grunt against his skin. You are forced to stare at him, as he fucks your throat however he pleases. He pushes you down even further, until there are just about two centimeters left and holds you there for seconds, which seem like eternity. When he frees you from his grasp, you push away immediately and try to stop an awful gag reflex. You cough once and feel him pull you towards himself again.

'No, plea-' you try to stop him but he is quick to fill your throat and this time, he doesn't stop until your forehead touches his belly.

'Were you saying something?' he asks you and you can hear the smirk in his voice, though you can no longer look up at him. The tears stream down your face and you kick your feet, fighting for your life, praying that he will let you go until you run out of the air in your lungs. 'You can pretend all you want, but do you know what I'm seeing? A slut. A slut so wet just from having their master's dick shoved down their throat.'

You can no longer hold your hands behind your back. You place your palms on his hips and try to push him away, as your vision gets blurry, both from the tears and lack of air.

'You are dripping all the way to the floor. Disgusting, pathetic whore.' He pushes your head away and watches you bend towards the floor, fighting another gag reflex.

As you recover from the throat-fucking, he removes the rest of his uniform, staring at your pathetic form, crawling in front of him. You lift your wet eyes at him, sniffing quietly. Your gaze is locked with his, then you take your time inspecting his body, looking at his nice, strong arms and incredibly attractive chest. You can practically feel your mouth water as you are done taking his silhouette in. You lean closer, wanting to kiss his body, trace your tongue on his gorgeously toned legs, but he pushes you away. Instead, he grabs the back of your neck and points your face at the small, wet trace you made while hovering above the floor, servicing him with your mouth.

'Clean up your mess,' he tells you and you can feel yourself shiver.

You look behind you and up into his dark eyes.

'Moff, I-'

'If you want to stop me, you know exactly what to say.'

You open your mouth and feel the tears of humiliation come to your eyes as no words escape your lips.

'That's what I thought. Lick. It. Up.' He lets go of your neck and pushes you down with his right foot, watching you descend towards the floor, with maniac look in his eyes. You swallow the burning sensation, feeling so powerless and ashamed, as you stick the tongue out your mouth and taste your own arousal on his cold floor. He watches your shy, cat-like licks and reddened face, smiling to himself before leaning down and grasping your neck.

'Such a fuck toy,' he comments, sending the shivers down your spine. He starts walking towards his bed, dragging you after him. 'I can do whatever I please, and you won't even stop me, will you?' he asks as you crawl after him, trying to keep up with his steps.

When he stands in front of the bed, he lifts you up and throws you on top of it, your body jumping up once before falling flat on your belly.

He then traces his palms on your still red ass, admiring his work, before giving it a few more spanks. He grabs your cheeks and pushes his nails into your skin, enjoying the yelping sounds that you make. He kicks open your legs and then opens the drawer beside the bed, pulling out a bottle of lube. As he opens the bottle and slides the lube across his length, you can feel yourself grow impatient. Your muscles keep flexing on nothing, desperately seeking his attention.

'So eager,' he says in a low voice and grabs your hips and tugs you towards himself. Your eyes widen at the unexpected move, but before you have a chance to recover, you feel his tip playing at the entrance to your ass.

You moan into the bedsheet and he lifts your head, preventing you from muffling your own voice.

'Got anything to say?'

'Please, Moff, I will literally die if you won't do something,' you whine.

He teasingly slides his dick across your butt, driving you insane. His hand tightens on the top of your head and he continues to move his hips, gently stroking himself on your skin. You can feel yourself getting more and more aroused and there is no sign of an upcoming relief.

'Please,' you beg him quietly.

'What do you want?'

'You know what.'

'I do. And I want you to say it. Loud and clear.'

He arches your back and pulls you towards his chest, then positions his mouth next to your ear, the hot air blowing on your nerves as he continues to tease you.

'What is the thing that my fuck toy so desperately wants?'

He slides his hands to your chest and lets you rest the back of your head on his shoulder.

'I want you to use me,' you say softly to him and he shots you a glance. His dark gaze seems to be burning a hole in your soul, but none of you are able to look away. His hands find their way to your nipples and he is quick to torture them with small circles and squeezes. 'Do whatever you want. I am literally all yours.'

He grits his teeth and quickly moves his head, connecting his lips with yours. You reach behind your back and wrap your left hand around his shaft, pumping him up and down, while his lips attack yours. He locks your bottom lip between his teeth and sucks on it, making you roll your eyes. Your hand freezes and you find yourself unable to control your body under overwhelming pleasure. He slides his tongue inside your mouth and swallows your moans, then slides his other hand down your body. Gideon squeezes your nipple in between his two fingers and drags his right palm down your belly, stroking your most sensitive spot. You moan loudly in his mouth, tilting your hips to lean into his touch.

You want more. You so desperately need more.

He pulls away from your mouth and pushes you onto the bed. Your brain is foggy and you cannot process anything that is happening, until you feel him push against your butt. You try to crawl onto the bed, but he holds you in one place, preventing any of your movements; his hands locked on your hips. You whine when you feel his tip entering you.

'Do you still remember your safe word?'

'Yes,' you moan out and look behind your back.

His eyes slowly travel from your ass to your eyes and he presses his hand on your lower back, laying you flat on your belly. His gaze darkens and he pushes himself inside of you. Your mouth drops open and you subconsciously wiggle your feet, whining as he continues to enter you, inch by inch at the time. You try to relax your muscles against him and tilt your head to the side. He pulls away and pushes deep inside of you again, making you see the starts in front of your eyes. His hips slam onto your ass, sending shivers all over your body, centering them around your already unbearable arousal.

You feel your face burn from embarrassment, as you hear the filthy moans and whimpers escaping your lips with each of his thrust. You lean forward and bite into the bedsheet, spreading your legs, trying to improve his access as much as you can. He picks up an unforgiving pace and angrily grasps the back of your neck. You release the bedsheet from your teeth and moan out loudly.

He forces your muscles to stretch and you can feel your braincells slowly evaporate as he fucks all the comprehension and intelligence out of you. All that matters is him and how he is using your body. You grit your teeth, trying to stop your filthy moans, but you just pant instead.

'Fuck,' he grunts and changes pace to a slower one, pulling all the way out to his tip, then slamming back into you again.

The pressure is unbearable and you can feel some of your muscles go limp, as his body starts to shake against yours. You turn your head towards Gideon and see his intense gaze and parted lips. You reach with your hand below your body, very gently brushing your hand against his ballocks.

He sharply exhales a bit of air and leans forward to your back.

'You are such a good fuck toy,' he says in a low voice interrupted by his own thrusts.

'Please come inside of me!' you beg him and he lays down on your back, wrapping his forearm around your neck. His hot skin glistening with sweat connects with yours and when he flexes the muscles on his arm, choking you, your eyes roll in the sockets.

'Such a good whore. Look at you, being fucked so brainless.'

The shivers from his voice travel across your body, making your muscles tighten around his dick. Your body goes fully limp and despite the lack of air, you find yourself fully submitting to him.

'You are doing so well,' he whispers in your ear and then gives it a long lick. 'I am so pleased with you.'

You attempt to push back onto his length, trying to relieve your own arousal, but you cannot move. Instead, you just place your palms on his arm and give his bicep a gentle squeeze. He lets go of your neck and your head drops to the bedsheets, and he continuously thrusts inside of you. He buries his face in your hair and exhales hot air, which seems to burn your skin. Gideon grits his teeth and whimpers, then slams his hips onto you and bites into your shoulder. The second you yelp, you can feel him shake as he releases his load inside of you. He marks your neck and body and pushes his hips one last time, holding them in place for a few seconds, as the last drops leave his body.

He picks you up by your hips, then pulls out, flips you onto your back and drops you to his bed. He watches your chest falling heavily, as you fight with your body and mind, trying to regain any kind of control over yourself.

Gideon smirks more to himself than directly at you and turns on his heel, slowly but surely walking towards the kitchen.

[kate-apologist]

Dialogue prompt #3: "How you doing, champ?" "Don't call me that."

so this got a little away from me because i wanted to mess around with kiriona and ianthe and john all cooped up together so uh yeah have this. some minor ntn spoilers ahead, the biggest being...ya know, kiriona lol

a mind for strategy

“Hey champ, how you doing?” Kiriona –Gideon a tiny voice corrects in the back of her mind, a voice that sounds suspiciously like–Kiriona glances up from the flimsy she’s been working over to see John standing draped across her doorway. He looks like shit, but he never not looks like shit. Kiriona’s grown used to it.

“Don’t call me that,” Kiriona says, already tired of his buddy-buddy attitude. There’s so much to do, who knew dying and coming back as the Emperor’s long-lost and definitely undesired daughter would lead to so much military paperwork? At least she’s gotten her wish to be part of the Cohort. Silence falls, tense and awkward and after a few seconds of staring at John, she adds, “What do you need?”

“Ah yes.” He straightens, tugging at his shirt and his movements are sloppy. It’s ten in the goddamn morning and he’s already drunkenly fumbling. It’s going to be a long day. “I was wondering if you and Ianthe would grace me with your presence for a family dinner.”

“You could have sent a message,” Ianthe drawls from where she’s draped over the only armchair in Kiriona’s room. She’s been there for the last hour, just close enough to reach a foot over and nudge Kiriona’s chair over and over, a needy creature requiring constant attendance. “It would have sufficed.”

“I can’t visit my favored Saint and blessed daughter?” His gaze fixes to Kiriona’s and something in her insides curdles. She looks away first, back down to the orders she’s jotting out on the flimsy. The desire to claw at her face is overwhelming. 

“We’ll come to your fucking dinner,” she says, unsettled. John takes this answer and strolls out of the room, only stumbling into the wall a little bit. The silence in his absence is deafening and Kiriona twists in her chair to glare at Ianthe, who lounges and smirks as though she belongs in this room.

“Wonderfully executed, Gonad,” Ianthe says and she stretches languidly. The light glances off her tacky ass arm.

“Like you were doing any better,” Kiriona retorts, abandoning the flimsy and, by extension, her task by sliding the chair away from the desk. Her limbs are stiff as she shuffles to the armchair and plops down into the middle of the Ianthe pile that gathers there. 

The Saint of Awe, predictably, is not awed in the slightest by this action and is instead very annoyed and shoves at Kiriona’s back and shoulders to try and dislodge her. Being a scrawny piece of shit–even with the growing muscles–Ianthe’s attempts are fruitless and Kiriona settles atop her comfortably.

“You oaf,” Ianthe groans underneath her. Despite her words, however, her none creepy hand fiddles with the edge of her crown. “You should take better care of this,” she says and a shudder runs through Kiriona when Ianthe’s hand brushes the back of her neck. She cannot tell if this is intentional or not but the effect is the same.

“I do,” she says defensively. Ianthe only laughs and, this time very intentionally, draws her hand down Kiriona’s back, feeling the muscle there, preserved in death and in post-death unlife.

“I say this every time,” Ianthe says, as she does every time, “but I’m beginning to understand why Harry was willing to cut you out of her skull.”

“I’m too devilishly handsome to live without?” Kiriona says, ever one to stay on script.

“You’re a pain in the ass,” Ianthe replies easily. “And the universe would be much quieter without you in it.”

It’s the closest thing Ianthe ever gives to a compliment and it’s laced with so much backhandedness Kiriona needs a moment to recover. There’s a calm in the storm, then, as she relaxes further into the chair and a whoof of breath comes from somewhere deep in Ianthe’s chest. She’s so damn dramatic.

“Speak of her again and I’ll take your other arm.” She says it flippantly, as though it’s her arm to take as she pleases. Ianthe does not submit to this warning, only grins, terrible and weighted with meaning, and falls silent.

They lounge like this for many hours, mostly in silence, and Kiriona once suggests they submit themselves to the rote movements of training but Ianthe declines in favor of remaining reclined. It’s leg day, so Kiriona doesn’t mind skipping it.

She never gets around to finishing her orders, never gets around to her other tasks. Ianthe has that terrible effect on her.

Time drags the closer they get to dinner with the Emperor and Kiriona is reluctant to lift herself from the chair so Ianthe can smooth the wrinkles in her shirt. Draped across one shoulder is the shimmering Lyctoral cloak and Kiriona smooths her own shirt, neglecting the pristine white jacket over abandoning Ianthe to the room entirely. The Saint of Awe catches up a couple corridors down and she says nothing but the look she fixes Kiriona with is one that could be intimidating if it wasn’t Ianthe leveling it at her. 

The Mithraeum 2 (tackily named by a drunk John on the second day of Kiriona’s rebirth) was not so nearly sprawling as its predecessor but the dining room was exquisite. The table was built for four, though it only ever held three at its best meals and the kitchens were expansive and staffed by two adepts who never could look Kiriona in the eye. 

John was waiting for them when they entered, Ianthe at Kiriona’s elbow as though she belonged there. A full meal was sprawled across the wood (actual wood!) of the table, dishes of many colors, many sizes, and many smells. Kiriona took her seat at the Emperor’s right hand, Ianthe took the seat across from him. The seat to his left remained sullenly empty as it always did, though there was a place set for it, plates with silverware polished to an almost glowing sheen. The plate was exchanged thrice daily, and a bowl, saucer and cup added at breakfast. As far as Kiriona had known, there was no one aboard to take the seat, none that would eat with the Emperor, his daughter, and his Saint.

“You two are well, I hope,” John says when they’ve officially begun the meal. Kiriona mechanically brings a roasted vegetable to her mouth and, as everything does, it tastes of ash and dust. “Your campaigns are playing out well, Kiriona?”

“Of course,” Kiriona says. “I have a mind for strategy.” He hums at these words, and Kiriona is unsettled but she cannot quite place why. Something itches at the back of her mind but, as she always does, she suppresses it. Her next bite is ash. 

“Of course,” John says. “That would be something you got from me.”

[zonerobotnik]

Finally figured out how I wanted Gideon to look like. I went through various designs and finally settled on ball-joint doll/marionette, which he's very much unhappy about but he deals with it. His body-type also changed from in life and he's annoyed his muscles went away, even if he's still as physically strong and tall as before. (Dang lanky doll body.) He came up with his title himself, since he couldn't use "Angel of Death" anymore, which is what he used in life as a moniker. But, most people just know him as "Glee", anyway. Only his friends call him by his actual name.

Not included in the picture because I ran out of room: * While he has a girlfriend, Cassandra, that he saved from one of his targets when they first met, he's still in contact with his still-living boyfriend Mason, and is waiting for the day that they're reunited in some way. Mason is aware of his girlfriend and is fine with sharing and Cassandra knows Mason exists but doesn't read any of his letters. * Gideon likes to mess with Varian for kicks by rubbing it in his face that he's dating Varian's childhood crush and also that he's so easily stolen territory from Varian's "big brother" Vox. Alastor, when he finds this out, warns Gideon to not test the guy's patience but won't tell him why. Cassandra, likewise, doesn't want to talk about Varian's early years. * Gideon once tried to take Angel Dust into protective custody but was warned not to interfere in another demon's Deal and reminded that, as long as that contract is intact and/or Valentino was alive, Angel Dust would never be free even if he hid him away. Also, Angel Dust was having a panic attack about being taken away, so he reluctantly let him go back to the Vees. * Gideon puts on magic performances in the Cannibal District, which they adore, and visits Rosie often when he's not hunting down a target or visiting Alastor. That's all for now, folks!

[a-big-apple]

omg these are bangers i got greedy 🍅🥐🍬🍄

<3 <3 <3

🍅 ⇢ give yourself some constructive criticism on your own writing

this one is here! you and t have it in for me today!!

🥐 ⇢ name one internet reference that will always make you laugh

So close!! That is a shape 💕

also tutant meenage neetle teetles

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

hoo boy ok STRAP IN! i think maybe we have talked about this before on discord, oh well. i don't think coronabeth is fat in canon, and i'm just not into it in fanon. i think she's tall, i think she has big hair, i think she has big presence. i think she's got some bazongas and some curves and she's not as wasted-thin as ianthe. i think there is weight bias deeply entrenched in House culture (and that's not a criticism of tamsyn muir, i think it's an interesting part of her worldbuilding). the most iconic binary in this world is necromancer and cavalier: someone whose power literally eats away at them, and so thinness is evidence of necromantic strength; and someone whose purpose is to fight, and so muscleyness is ideal.

i think gideon, for example, is muscley fat. tamsyn described her as built like a rugby player, thick and solid. she only eats protein paste and greens and works out a LOT, she's achieving the cavalier ideal of muscle mass, and she lives in a freezing cold environment where the extra insulation of some fat is helpful. ortus, on the other hand, is not muscley--he's just fat. his size is perpetually derided in the narration. he fits nowhere on the binary of what's desirable in the Houses, and so he is utterly unattractive and therefore inconsequential.

coronabeth is the hottest girl anyone has ever seen. she's healthy-looking for a necromancer. she's the opposite end of the spectrum from ortus: also neither skinny nor muscley (until NtN when she's got some biceps), but in a vivacious way that makes everybody super into her. yes, because she's a woman and this is a sapphic series, but also because House culture has clearly held on to pre-Res standards of attractiveness. boobs, hair, a white girl with a great tan, probably a trendy amount of "thicc." i don't feel, personally, that fanon-ing her fat does me as a fat person any great service; it obscures any conversation on the actually interesting weight bias happening in the books that echoes and complicates the weight bias of everyday life. seeing a fat corona doesn't tell me that people think my body is traffic-stoppingly gorgeous or that i have value outside my attractiveness or non-attractiveness, it tells me that the only character who can afford to be consistently fat in fanon is the one who is repeatedly praised as the most attractive in canon, and that's only if she's sexy fat--bosoms breaching containment, pillowy and perfectly shaped hips and thighs and ass, just a little bit of belly and back rolls sometimes as a treat.

tbh if it's a kink thing, folks should do what floats their boats! but to me it's not some big representation win, just own the kink, make everybody sexy fat, whatever (i mean this genuinely, i am in favor of kink even though this is not one of mine).

so i guess my actual hot take is that i wish there was more ortus art and fic about how the strength of his love and conviction and lungs all saved the day and he did it while being fat and depressed and not sexy

🍄 ⇢ share a head canon for one of your favourite ships or pairings

i answered this one here but i'll do griddlehark too for funsies! i think neither of them is the least bit suave or confident in relationships, doubly so with each other, they are the two shyest and most tittering, blushing, nervous, virginal queers you have ever seen and it would take them weeks if not months of dating to even start taking their shirts off to make out let alone anything spicier. no matter how many bases they hit they will never not be shy, they will just keep raising the bar of where the shyness starts.

Writers Truth & Dare Ask Game

[m-to-the-6th-power]

Happy WIP Wednesday more prince Gideon au. This time, 2 different conversations between Gideons.

"Wait, you're a necromancer right?" Gideon asked, taking in the Saint of Duty. "I thought all necros were scrawny little fucks with noodle arms. (Rude!) Sorry El. What I mean is, is there some reason that you worked out? Other than the obvious, using weapons."

"More blood, and better oxygenation of that blood, makes me a better necromancer. Plus, the beefcake appeal."

"So all the protein from cheesed burger patties helped you bulk up?" 

The Saint of Duty laughed riotously, mirth clear on his face and Gideon couldn't help but grin back. "No no, well yes, a nice burger fresh off the barby is a super convenient way to get good protein. Or a nice steak with grill marks can make almost any meal feel a bit special. But I mean the body type. Some people like their partners to be more physically bulky, big muscles, taking up space, all that. So another benefit of working out is being attractive to a certain subset of people. Although I've noticed it is a bit more pronounced in your mothers people than in the houses."

--------

"Your mother once told me that she'd welcome me into Blood of Eden if I wanted. It would've taken me killing John, but if I did that, she said she would name me herself. 'The Sword of the Lord and Gideon,' was the name she wanted. I was to be her sword that struck down the vile serpent. I couldn't do it. Not after what he did to A.L., to die is the only true way to escape grief, and he deserved that mercy least of anyone and even more so now."

Gideon's eyes darkened as she thought of the emperor, that familiar flame of injustice burning inside her chest like Dominicus itself. “He should still die. I don't give a damn about his grief. What about Pyrrha?”

Gideon the First looked down at his daughter and gave a small, almost secret, smile. “You don't understand, but I didn't think you would. Pyrrha is dead, and I miss her terribly. Losing someone like that is an ache that never goes away. But for us, the lyctors, it's a wound with scar tissue. It doesn't hurt as much most of the time, unless you really press down on it,” He paused here to gauge his audience, taking in the set of her jaw and shoulders. “But for John, it's an open gaping wound. It can't heal over because she's alive. She's alive and she's there, and he can't go to her and sit with her. It can't scar or scab over, and so it must fester.”

Gideon looked up at her namesake, rotating what he said around on a platter in her mind. She wanted to give it plenty of time to sink in. She wanted badly to share her theory about the other soul that she'd met in his body but in a flash of insight realized that it would be unbearably cruel. To tell him his cavalier was still alive in the recesses of his mind, not fully gone, would subject him to that same pain he was wishing on the Emperor. “Would it press down if I asked questions?”

“No, as long as they aren't overwhelmingly sad. She would've looked at you like her own kid.”

[kurlyfrasier]

The Mand’alor’Karta: Prelude to Beskar Kisses & Bleeding Heart

Pairing: Mand’alor!Din Djarin x Reader

Synopsis: According to legend, the Mand’alor’s other half was the only one who could make their heart beat again after taking possession of the darksaber, which keeps the Mand’alor alive until their other half is found. OR: The day Din found Reader and how Reader ended up in his employ.

A/N: I am learning that I don’t write anything in order apparently lol. This is written in 3rd person in Din’s pov. ENJOY!

Disclaimer: I do not own any Mandalorian/Star Wars anything. Legend of The Manda’lor’s Heart is my own.

Warnings: Mentions of servitude, mentions of violence, allusions to prostitution. I don’t personally know of like, any, Mandalorian traditions or legends and whatnot except for what’s in the show. Probably used Mando’a wrong, especially in the title lol. No use of Y/n, if you like that. Word Count: 3070 Mando’a:

~ Mand’alor (MAHN-dah-lor): Leader of Mandalore

~ Kar’ta (Kah-ROH-ta)

~ Mand’alor’Kar’ta (MAHN-dah-lor-Kah-ROH-ta): Leader of Mandore’s Heart

~ Hut’uun (hoo-TOON): Coward

~ Riduur (REE-door): Partner/Spouse

Pronunciations found here.

Din Djarin’s heart stopped. Literally. The moment he turned on the lasersword. He didn’t know what it meant, but he was too tired to think much of it at the time. Maybe he had finally taken it too far? Maybe his body was finally going to stop. By pure determination and will, he kept going. No time to think about it too much. He had to keep going. He needed to get Gideon away from his kid. And Bo-Katan said to leave him to her. So without further thought, he told the hut’uun to move.

The smirk on the man’s face told Din he knew something, but he would never ask. Never willingly give the man what he wanted. Still, for losing the battle, the Moff didn’t act like he lost.

Not that it mattered. Din had more important things to take care of.

***A few Standard Years Later***

Din Djarin’s heart thumped. Literally. The moment he saw you haggling with the front desk agent on Naboo, clothes looking worse for wear. He was staying at the hotel for official Mandalore business. Business he had to be present for, much to his chagrin. It was also the fanciest hotel he had ever had the pleasure of staying in, even as Mand’alor.

“I just need a room for a few nights,” you pleaded. “I can work for it. I’m a good cook-”

Ba-thump.

“Sorry, but we’re all booked for the political negotiations. A lot of important people are staying here. Don’t need any riff raff coming in to stir up trouble.”

“I wouldn’t be any trouble at all,” you sounded frustrated, speaking through your teeth, jaw muscles flexing as if you were trying to play nice. “If there’s so many important people staying, I can help! Just give me a closet to sleep in at night,” you let out a sharp exhale, head bent down and hands gripping the counter tight enough to make your knuckles whiten. “That’s all I ask.”

Ba-thump.

“Can’t- Sorr-”

“She’s with me,” Din heard his voice float up to his ears before he realized what he was saying. Both heads whipped in his direction, one staring with hopeful, confused eyes, the other in wide-eyed fear.

“S-so s-sorry s-s-sir,” the front desk agent stuttered. “I just- uh- I just n-need to-” they licked their lips, eyes glancing back and forth between you and him before finishing their sentence. “Her name. I need to get it into the system in case she loses her key.”

Din stared at you through his visor expectantly as you continued to look at him, brows scrunched in confusion. If he were a braver man he would reach up and smooth those lines away.

Seconds ticked by before you realized you needed to speak. With a start, face turning back to the front desk agent you answered them, voice so quiet Din had to turn up the volume on his helmet.

Ba-thump.

Still, it wasn’t enough to hear it over the pounding of his heart. A sound he hadn’t heard- felt- in years.

When Bo-Katan had finally (after years of chasing him throughout the galaxies fighting for the darksaber) told him the legend of The Mand’alor’Kar’ta. After she had decided he was more ally than enemy. When she had accepted he would be the Mand’alor and her new goal was to guide him. The moment she accepted him, he remembered, she was patching him up after a particularly tough bounty. Found him lying in the forest, poisoned by a simple blade sticking out of his side.

His heart was not beating.

She thought he was dead until she saw his chest expand in halting, shallow movements. 

She realized then that the legend was real. The darksaber had chosen him, not her. Never her. Bo-Katan’s heart never stopped beating during her reign so she always thought it a fairytale.

She saved his life that day and barely left his side since.

It was frustratingly annoying. It was also the main reason he agreed to fly to Naboo for this…business he had. She had to stay behind on Mandalore. And now here he was, wishing she was here to guide him like she did during his earlier reign a few years ago.

Din stepped forward when, in his peripheral, he noticed the room key shaking in the front desk agent’s hand, eyes never leaving the lady in front of him. His Kar’ta. She hadn’t looked back at him since he made himself known and that worried him, making his newly pounding heart stutter.

“Lead the way, Mesh’la,” he said, arm outstretched, allowing you to walk in front of him. Truly, he had no idea which room they were in. Completely missed that detail at the front desk, along with anything else that was spoken. That worried him too- missing details. That’s what got a person killed.

You did as bid and he surmised you must be a servant, considering the work you were offering moments ago. Which could pose a problem, but then again, you were looking for a place to stay. A quiet fury burned in his chest at the thought of an employer kicking you out of a home with nowhere to go. He vowed then and there that he would kill whoever caused you this embarrassment. He just needed you to give him a name.

Lights automatically brightened the large living space of the suite as they stepped through the doorway. You stopped two steps in, the door quietly swooshed closed as Din froze behind you, so close his chestplate would touch you if he inhaled deeper than usual.

“I don’t do,” your voice halted before you continued in a quiet tone, “...favors.”

“Favors?” Din attempted not to speak too loud, thinking it would startle you, but the modulator made that difficult, amplifying his voice. You curled your shoulders inward, a sight that made his fists curl tight to keep himself from reaching out. Comforting wasn’t normally his first instinct, but with you…. It seemed his newly beating heart would shatter if he couldn’t hold you close. Protect you. Comfort you.

“Yeah,” your shoulders raised with a deep breath as you twirled around to face him, little wisps of hair harmlessly slapping his armor. “If you think,” you barely glanced up at his T-visor before thinking better of it, eyes trained on your own reflection in the beskar. “If you think I’ll do things with- to you- or something just for a place to rest my head, then you’ve got another thing coming,” you nodded as if to say you were done and now it was his turn to say something.

Instead, he sidestepped around you, brushing against your arm as you stood your ground and allowed the silence to reign, knowing better than to tell you he’s yours if only you’ll have him. Knowing his fury would seep through if he didn’t get a better handle on his emotions. Where have you been for that to be your first thought about a stranger’s kindness? Adding to that, the bit of contact made his heart pound and goosebumps to spread. Even if he knew that as a Mandalorian he would never have much human contact unless he found a riduur, but this was beyond his imaginings. If this was what it felt like to brush by you, he didn’t think he would be able to handle skin-to-skin contact.

It was all too much. He needed space. Something to focus on. Like hunt down the bastard who kicked you out of a dry, comfortable place to stay. Who caused thoughts of favors to be the only payment for kindness. But he was worried how his heart would physically react if he wandered too far from you. Would the darksaber keep him alive like it did before he found you? Or would it continue to beat, even without you within his line of sight?

“You can have the bed,” he said, not daring to glance your way, happy the modulator hid the shake in his voice. “I’ll take the couch.”

“Wha’,” you gasped, seeming to quickly grasp that he did not plan on taking advantage of you. 

His hands relaxed at the realization. 

“I can’t allow you to sleep on the couch,” you swiftly made your way towards him, grabbing his arm and tugging him back to slip past and planted yourself on the stiff looking cushion. The voluntary contact had his blood rushing to a place he had been ignoring since Grogu came along, having no time for that pastime between running for their lives one moment and fighting the next. It took every ounce of self control he had to keep a groan from slipping past his lips. “Besides, you're probably some important dignitary or something with the negotiations going on. So you’ll need your sleep.”

“Not really,” he said, still unable to move.

“No? Then what brings you to Naboo?”

“A bounty,” the reflexive lie tasted bitter on his tongue, but he wasn’t about to tell you who he really was only a few minutes into meeting you, afraid you would scurry off or worse- start bowing.

Your eyes glinted with an all too familiar look that had his thoughts running to his son and his mischief-making. “You're awfully shiny for a bounty hunter.”

Din shrugged, forcing his muscles into action and started searching for something to keep you warm when you inevitably fell asleep. Really, it was to be a barrier for when he moved you to the bed. The most logical place he could think of was the bedroom closet, door opening as he stepped up to it and closing directly after he stepped through. He sighed, ripping off his helmet and let his head fall against the door, allowing himself to finally breathe as he took a moment to himself- just one moment- until he continued the search.

Blanket in hand, he stepped back into the living space, head tilting at the sound of your voice. Wondering who you could be talking to.

“-brings you here, Mr. Adorable?”

A quiet babble and coo caused Din to practically jump out of his beskar and run to the sound. It was impossible. There was no way-

“Grogu,” he growled above your shoulder, causing you to reflexively curl yourself over his son and jump out of arm’s length, protecting him. The action simultaneously had him smiling and caused his stomach to drop at the loss of your proximity. 

“Ba!” Grogu smiled, arms reaching for his father, legs kicking to get out of your grasp.

Din sighed and rushed - invading your space - and quick as a blaster shot, grabbed the little green gremlin from your hold with his empty hand. “How did you get here, you little womp rat.”

Grogu blew a raspberry and giggled in reply, spit bubbles popping around his mouth.

“Is that so,” Din chuckled, never able to stay mad at his son for more than a few seconds. “Is your teacher here? Does he know you stow-”

The tap-tap-tap of claws on his chest plate interrupted Din’s musings.

“Ba?” Grogu’s ears twitched, head leaning close to where his heart had - thankfully- settled down to a regular rhythm since finding you.

“Sorry-” Din’s head snapped up at the sound of your quiet voice. “But who- what- your?” You let the sentence hang expectantly.

“Grogu,” the kid looked up at the sound of his name, no longer intrigued by the sound of his father’s newly beating heart. “My son.”

You nodded, eyes bouncing back and forth between Din and Grogu before slowly making your way back to the couch. 

Din followed, sitting on the chair adjacent to you before he started to explain. “He’s become an escape artist.” A pert brow raised at his words, but it was the only explanation he had that summed up the entire situation. Although, he had no doubt the Jedi knew exactly where his Padawan was with his magic Force sense - something DIn doubts he’ll ever fully comprehend.

A heavy sigh escaped after a few seconds and you slumped into the couch, eyes now closed.

“Here,” Din tossed the blanket on your lap and stood, clearing his throat. “I’ll let you sleep.”

Din headed to the bedroom, immediately preparing Grogu for bed and waited for him to fall asleep on a pillow before daring to make a holocall.

“Vod,” the flickering, blue-tinged sight of Boba Fett calmed Din’s nerve-wracked body. Fett always had answers about all things Mandalorian. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this wake up call to?”

“Sorry, but I have a question and you're the only one I trust not to spread it around Mandalore.”

“You have my word.”

“What do you know about the legend of Mand’alor’kar’ta?”

“That bantha-fodder story? Of how the darksaber keeps the Mand’alor alive while his heart stays silent until he finds the one who carries his heart?” Fett barked out a harsh laugh. “That’s why you’re calling me so early in the morning? For a bedtime story?”

Din stayed silent as he waited for Fett to calm down enough and put the pieces together.

“Wait,” Fett spoke up after a few tense seconds of silence. “Are you telling me your heart hasn’t been beating since you’ve had the darksaber?”

“I specifically need to know if it stays beating without Kar’ta.”

“Who else knows about this?” Fett said instead.

Din let out a heavy sigh, knowing he wasn’t going to get anywhere until he answered all of his questions. “Kryze.”

“The Princess. You told her before you told me,” Fett’s tone was accusatory.

“No,” Din was quick to respond. “She found me severely injured on a Mid-RIm planet. Thought I was dead and brought me back to life.”

“Is she-”

“No.”

“Thank the Maker,” Fett breathed out. “But you did find your Kar’ta?”

Din tilted his head down in the smallest of nods, unable to voice that he, in fact, had found her. As if speaking the words would make it all too real.

“Interesting.”

“Fett,” DIn growled in warning.

“I imagine you should stay close to your Kar’ta until they are your riduur.”

“And if I don’t?”

“I have no idea.”

Din groaned, helmeted head falling into his hands.

“The legend never mentions anything between the time of finding their Kar’ta and marriage. My father only said there was great pain for the Mand’alor who doesn’t follow his heart.”

Without so much as a goodbye, Din shut off his handheld projector, effectively ending the call.

~~~

He had been sitting on the couch while Grogu babbled excitedly in his lap, telling him…something. Din was both longing and dreading the day he would be able to comprehend his son’s words when you ran into the living space as though your life depended on it, hair askew, blurting out what was on your mind. 

“Icanwatchhim,” the words ran together, your breathing heavy.

Din was only a little surprised your first action of the day wasn’t kicking him in the shin for moving you to the bedroom and slowly turned his head in your direction, wary of startling you.

“I can watch him,” you stated more calmly, breaths now taken at a normal pace, and cleared your throat. Looking more composed, hands folded in front of you. “While you’re out doing whatever it is you do.”

Din tilted his head in contemplation, wondering if the solution to his Kar’ta problem had really just landed in his lap.

“And I can cook,” you suddenly said, a single finger pointing up like the idea popped in your head at that very moment, likely unable to bear his silence any longer. He had used the tactic knowingly many times before. In his bounty hunting years and now as Mand’alor, but he didn’t purposely use it now. Although it seemed to have worked to his advantage anyway. 

“I’m pretty good at it too,” you continued. “I was a handmaiden to a senator’s mother. I doubled as her personal cook after she stopped traveling with her son,” your feet shuffled as you rambled on. “When I say I can cook, I mean cook for both of you. Not just the little guy,” your smile looked strained. Still, Din couldn’t help but notice your beauty and ferocity in this sudden job proposition.

“Okay,” he said, standing with Grogu now in the crook of his arm, knowing it was for the best. No longer needing to worry about how to convince you to stay by his side. And you gave him a clue as to who kicked you out of house and home; a senator with an elderly, possibly recently deceased mother. He grasped onto that knowledge, easily returning to the days he was the beroya for his tribe. 

“Wait,” he froze at the demand before realizing you seemed lost, spinning around and back. “How did I end up in the bedroom?”

He shrugged, unwilling to admit he carried you there himself. Arms still burning from the memory of how you felt in them, wanting- craving- more. He met your squinted, suspicion tinged gaze, knowing his armor hid his secrets well.

“Did you-”

“I’ll be back,” he stated, taking quick strides and practically dumped the thing he loves most in your arms as he continued past you to the exit. Trusting you completely. Which was dangerous. Trust in a stranger could kill a person. And for you it would likely be an easy task. The thought cut a sharp pain through his heart. His footsteps faltered, unable to smoothly mask the pain.

“Wait!”

Din Djarin, the Mand’alor, froze for the second time in one morning and turned his head over his shoulder to show he was listening.

“What do I call you?” The question came out as a whisper.

“Mando,” he stated before leaving you and Grogu alone. Before leaving his Kar’ta behind. Before gathering information on a certain senator. Before pounding into him until he was unrecognizable or dead, depending on how long it would take for someone to rip him off the guy. His fists clenched at the thought, a smile creeping onto his face as he walked down the halls of Naboo’s best hotel. The galaxies would learn to never mess with the Mand’alor’s Heart.

But first, he must attend mind-numbing negotiations.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading!

Enjoyed this? Read more here.

Mando’a:

~ Mand’alor (MAHN-dah-lor): Leader of Mandalore

~ Kar’ta (Kah-ROH-ta)

~ Mand’alor’Kar’ta (MAHN-dah-lor-Kah-ROH-ta): Leader of Mandore’s Heart

~ Hut’uun (hoo-TOON): Coward

~ Riduur (REE-door): Partner/Spouse

Pronunciations found here.

[221bshrlocked]

sweaty hands, reluctant hearts

Pairing: The Mandalorian (Din Djarin) x Fem!Reader

Words: 13685 (god this wasn’t supposed to be this long I’m actually sorry this time)

Warnings: Angst and Smut (my fav). Hurt/Jealous Mando -> Touch Starved/Rough Mando -> Fluffy Mando -> Shy Mando. Penetrative Sex. Oral Sex. There’s lot’s of sweat because exertion yall. Breeding Kink 😏. Slight Exhibitionism. Overstimulation and slight slight non-con because of oversensitivity. Umm, squirting 🙃. Dirty/Sweet talk. Spanking (ass and hoohaa).

Summary: He never thought the day would come when he’d hear you saying you wanted to leave him. Yes there was an understanding between the two of you that you were hired to help him care for the Child and to somehow keep the Razor Crest alive and working. And he knew it made sense for you to find work elsewhere now that the Razor Crest was destroyed and the Child was with his own kind. But he just assumed you weren’t going to leave considering it’s been a couple of months since he’d given the kid to the Jedi and you never brought it up. It hurt hearing you say those words, especially when he realized he wasn’t meant to hear them and that you were confiding in Cobb Vanth of all people. Turns out, all Mando needed was to see the Marshal eye-fucking you as you fixed the new ship and overshared your thoughts for him to snap and finally make a move. Hopefully he can change your mind...

A/N: Yall, this is post Season 2 so sadly Grogu is not here, hence the angst! Umm, this was a lot to handle because you know, that gif here. Enjoy ☺️

It’s been months since the events that transpired on the cruiser. Months since he’d given away a piece of himself to an unknown being. Months since he’d sat down and re-evaluated his life’s mission. He wasn’t sure why he’d chosen to return to Tatooine of all planets but he needed some time to think of his next steps. So much has changed over the course of the past year and it took the Mandalorian longer than usual to realize that he can’t use bounty hunting to fill the void in his heart. 

One thing he did know for sure, however, was that he couldn’t have managed to survive the emotional and physical changes without your presence. Somehow, you’ve managed to make his life easier and by a whole lot. He has never felt this grateful for having a companion, maker, didn’t even think it possible to ever consider another as such. He’d spent years and years living by the Creed and never once doubting his way of living, but he found himself questioning everything about himself when you came in. It wasn’t that he was suddenly open to the idea of taking his helmet off or anything, it was more of a passing thought on what it would be like if he were to open up to you more, perhaps even share with you more than his name and an abridged version of how he became a Mandalorian. 

He mulled over how he would approach the topic with you, finding himself growing more nervous when he considered how you’d react. You’ve never given him any inclination of ever thinking of him as more than your boss and he knew he needed to figure out a way to make this seem natural and not forced. Frankly, he found it interesting how you managed to read him better than anyone he’s ever met, and he wished he could ask you how you’d done so when he never took off his helmet. 

Mando pushed the thought aside for now, cursing to himself as he dragged the giant piece of scrap you’d requested for him to pick up from Peli. He wanted to argue with you then, tell you that the only reason for coming to this awfully hot planet was to take some time off, if that was even possible, and avoid falling into the temptation of another mission. But he couldn’t find it in himself to say any of these things, mostly because you were the one that managed to procure the new ship for him and you were also the one that told him the two of you were in serious need of rest. He’d only realized the ship needed fixing when he landed and you told him you would get right on as soon as he picked up the necessary pieces from Peli. He felt a little out of the loop when he’d gone to her and found her giving him everything you’d requested for, and he knew you must have contacted her before you landed or else she wouldn’t have been this quick. 

As he made his way through the quiet “streets” of Mos Pelgo, he thought back to what Peli said to him an hour ago. Had he not considered her as a friend, he would have responded rudely when she bugged him about you. As much as he wished to humor the idea that you looked at him as more than a colleague, partner, whatever it was the two of you were, he didn’t want to grow any more false hope, especially now that he’d already given up the one thing that managed to crawl into his heart. 

Mando saw that you’d moved the ship behind the cantina and he chose to blame the heat for the way his skin crawled with goosebumps because no, he didn’t suddenly feel calm at the thought of you. 

He shook his head from the intruding thought and was about to say something to you when he saw who was standing nearby. If there was ever a time where he didn’t wish to see Cobb Vanth, it was definitely now. The bounty hunter put down the scraps of metal before moving closer to where the two of you were standing. He was sheltered behind a shack of sorts and allowed his heart rate to return to normal before listening in on you. 

“I don’t believe you sweetheart.” The Marshal threw back his drink and shook his head when you shrugged your shoulders at him and Mando felt his stomach twist at the endearment. Since when were the two of you on such a close basis?

“Believe whatever you want Marshal, I was only answering your question. Besides, it’s not like I’m actively looking right now.” Mando watched as you swiped the sweat rolling down your face with the back of your hand and swore when he felt the fabric of his pants grow tighter around his crotch. He felt dirty watching your every move, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of the way your muscles gleamed under the excruciating sun rays. He cursed the day you bought that garment and he recalled back to the first time he watched you work in it. Mando had almost tripped over the child that day because he never expected to see you walking around with the chest binding so visible to his eyes. It was worse when you reached up high for something because if his eyes lingered long enough, he could see your undergarment peeking from the low-hanging pants of the overalls. 

The bounty hunter had to take a few deep breaths to move on from the inappropriate thoughts he was having and he narrowed his eyes at Cobb when he saw him walk closer to you. 

“Are you ever going to tell him?” The Mandalorian watched as your expression shifted slowly to a more sombre look and he was familiar enough with you to know that you weren’t too happy with that question or the answer you were going to give Cobb. 

“I- I don’t know. I wish I could tell him about how I fe- what I’m thinking about but I can’t...and I also can’t just say ‘Hey Mando, I had a blast taking care of the kid and getting hunted by the kriffing Empire. I fixed the ship for you so see you later.’ It’s not right and I didn’t realize it would be this difficult to come to terms with what I have to do. But I can’t keep doing this, it’s not fair.” 

Whatever the Mandalorian thought you were going to say, that certainly didn’t make the top of the list. He almost fell back when he registered the meaning behind your words. You wanted to leave. You’ve been wanting to move on for a while and you weren’t sure how to tell him. You were confiding in Cobb Vanth of all people and relying on his opinion to decide what you were going to do. A thousand thoughts flew through his mind and he tried to see if he’d done anything wrong. Besides the whole thing with Gideon and Bo Katana, there wasn’t really anything he’d done that would inspire such a reaction from you. Not that those weren’t enough to change your mind about staying with him but it was all in the past now. 

The sound of laughter broke Mando out of his haze and he turned towards you again, watching as you slithered down the ship, clenching his fists tightly when he saw Cobb grab your hips to help you down. He was torn between strutting towards the two of you and punching the daylights out of him and remaining where he was to listen in on your conversation. He had no right to do either, but he needed to know.

“I hate to ask you this question because it defeats the whole purpose of this entire chat but...have you thought of how he’d take it? Should you decide on-” You pointed to something on the floor and Cobb leaned down to grab it for you, handing it and gauging your reaction to his question as you continued to work. 

“Why else do you think I’ve been putting this off? Of course I’ve thought of how he’d react. But I deserve more than...ugh, I don’t mind this, I swear I don’t, but I also can’t just sit back and pretend I don’t want more.” You motioned violently to the ship and to what you were doing as you spoke, shaking your head at the man smiling smugly in front of you before throwing out the tools and snatching his drink from him. 

Mando couldn’t stand to be near you, not after what he’d heard and certainly not after taking in your body language and the way Cobb was practically undressing you without shame. He stepped back, leaving the scraps where they were and heading to the cantina to take his mind off of what he’d just witnessed. He walked in and paid no mind to the patrons scattered across the room, handing the man behind the counter more credits than he cared to count and asking him for his strongest stuff. He didn’t bother to address the judgmental stare he was receiving and took hold of the bottle before walking out again. 

It was close to sunset and the Mandalorian walked until the edge of the town before deciding to continue until he reached a small hill filled with large boulders. Sliding down one of the rocks, he sighed deeply before taking off his helmet, the hissing sound instilling a sense of guilt deep in his chest. He was ashamed at feeling such an emotion towards what he based his entire life on. But he couldn’t take it anymore. His anger rose as he opened the large bottle in his hand, throwing it back until he felt the stinging drink burn his throat for a few seconds before aggressively setting it on the floor next to him. 

Mando wasn’t able to put what he was feeling into a proper string of thoughts but he did know it was an odd mixture of hurt and anger with a tiny bit of sexual frustration. He couldn’t get the image of you sweaty and heaving as you worked on his ship out of his mind, shutting his eyes and throwing his head back to meditate back on the way your muscles clenched and pulled every time you molded two metal scraps together or how they positively shined when you carried things across the sand. He’d tried his hardest to set all of these feelings and rather inappropriate thoughts aside but he couldn’t any longer. Not when there was a chance of you leaving him, and perhaps to someone like the Marshal too. 

Perhaps it was unwise to deny his heart’s desires for so long and Mando was sure that he’d met his breaking point because he couldn’t stop thinking about you. Normally, he was able to distract himself and force his mind to stray away from conjuring up the filthiest images of you wreathing and crying beneath him as he drove his cock into your heat. But he had no hold over his mind at this moment, not that he was to blame. He went from shutting his own self out to opening the floodgates, and there was no going back. 

He sighed heavily when his thoughts shifted to what you said about him and he took a long sip from the bottle before turning his attention to the setting suns. He didn’t know what he could even say if you ever approached the topic with him. You’d been wanting to leave for a while now and somehow managed to hide it from him. All those nights spent running from Moff Gideon and other bounty hunters and you haven’t complained once, choosing to keep it to yourself. He wasn’t sure if he was hurt because you felt the need to hide something like this from him or because you were awfully understanding of how these complaints could distract him. 

And then there was the whole thing with the ship. He had assumed that the two of you sort of shared it now but it seemed that you never saw it as belonging to you but only to him. And you went out of your way to fix it now when you didn’t have to. Mando didn’t notice his tears until he licked his drying lips and tasted the saltiness across his mouth. He wiped his cheeks and laughed at himself. When had he become like this? First it was the child and now you. 

He wished he could take it all back, to have never met the kid or you. His life was simple and not complicated and now, now he was faced with the prospect of losing you as well. The bounty hunter dismissed the thought as quickly as it came because he knew deep down that it was better to have had the two of you in his life, even for a short while, than to have never known you. It wasn’t ideal but since when was his life ideal?

As the suns set beneath the sky, the Mandalorian looked down and saw that the bottle was still almost full. Not wanting to finish it now, because he might actually need it later when you decide to leave, Mando stood up and slowly made his way back into town. He needed to sleep, not to rest but to put a pause on his rather depressing thoughts if only for a little bit. When he saw the town come into view, he took a deep breath and put his helmet back on. 

The town was quieter than usual and the Mandalorian found himself going straight to the ship instead of joining the others. He’d spent the past few days enjoying his nights in the corner of the busy cantina, watching as you won one Sabacc game after another without breaking a sweat while everyone groaned in annoyance at how well you were kicking their asses. But he couldn’t trust himself tonight, not around you and certainly not around the Marshal. 

Trying not to bring too much attention to himself, Mando walked past the cantina towards the ship, already thinking of how relieved he’d be once he used the refresher. Going up the ramp, he was about to walk to the small, private room near the cockpit to grab a change of clothes when he heard a loud shriek that sounded a lot like his name coming from the opposite end of the ship. Mando quickly turned around and shut his eyes in exasperation when he saw you approaching him far angrier than he’d ever seen you. He set the bottle down and turned his attention towards you, raising an eyebrow to himself when he saw your chest heaving beneath the chest band. He averted his eyes quickly, refusing to think of you sweaty and breathless under other circumstances. Maker, he couldn’t go no like this.

“Where in the kriffing hell have you been? You were supposed to bring the parts from Peli hours ago and I have to find out from some kid that you just left them on the ground and walked away to- hell, I don’t even know what was more important for you than bringing me the scraps so I could fix the ship? Really, Mando, I understand that it’s been a little weird and difficult lately but I barely ask for anything and, ugh, maker.” You held back from voicing more of your thoughts, afraid that you’ve already gone far with asking him where he was. He didn’t really need to tell you what his business was but you’d assumed the two of you have come to an understanding regarding such matters, at the very least to ensure everyone’s safety. 

Mando stood there in silence and took a deep breath before turning around and walking into his room, afraid he’d give himself away if he tried to respond to you.

You furrowed your eyebrows in frustration when he quietly walked away from you, anger rising in your chest as he came out and made his way past you to the refresher. Before you could think twice of what you were doing, you were sprinting past him and standing in front of the open door, pushing your fingers into his beskar-clad chest as you hissed at him.

“I’m not sure what happened or why you’re giving me the silent treatment right now but this is not how we deal with our problems okay.” Mando took a few steps back as you continued to shove your finger into him, trying his hardest to not grab your wrist and push you against the nearest wall. “We talk things out and we come up with a way to fix things and compromise if need be.” Mando’s back hit the wall, and he threw his head back to avoid your gaze, unable to hold back the chuckle that rose from beneath the helmet at your words. 

How ironic.

“Did I say something funny?” You narrowed your eyes up at him and wished for once that he’d remove that god damn helmet so you could gauge his reaction.

“You mean we should talk things out like you and Cobb Vanth today? Or would it be different?” Mando’s chest tightened when he noticed the surprised expression on your face, knowing very well this was not what you expected to hear from him. He was a rational man, never once letting his mind give away to such simplistic thoughts but you’d struck a nerve and he could no longer hide his jealousy. Yes, it was jealousy. As much as he hated to admit it, that’s what he was feeling right now, what he’s been feeling all day long. It was childish and unlike him but it wasn’t going to do him any good if he continued to ignore it. 

“I’m dying to know if that’s what you mean. You obviously don’t have an issue telling him about how difficult it’s been working with me and how you can’t keep doing this.” It was your turn to take a few steps back when you saw his shoulders push out and make him taller than he already was. He continued to walk towards you, throwing his clothes to the ground and almost apologizing when you tripped on your feet when he was only a foot away from you.

“How about this, let’s start with what you apparently wish you could tell me but can’t seem to find the right words to do so. What was it you said to him? You deserve more than taking care of a kid and constantly escaping the Empire and other bounty hunters? Or wait, how can I forget...it’s not fair dealing with this mess of a ship and you’re looking for somewhere else to go?” You swallowed the lump in your throat as the Mandalorian repeated back the words you voiced perhaps a little too loudly earlier today, already feeling your eyes fill with unshed tears at harsh his tone. 

“I- I didn’t…you weren’t meant to-” You tripped over your words and almost flinched when he cut you off. 

“What? I wasn’t supposed to hear you say any of those things? A little strange don’t you think, since you seemed to have a lot to say about me to the Marshal.” Mando should have stopped himself from saying the next few words but his heart was torn into a million pieces and it wasn’t fair for him either.

“Well guess what, sweetheart, the Razor Crest blew up. Moff Gideon is taken care of and the Empire isn’t after us anymore. Every bounty hunter knows better than to so much as look at me and...and the kid isn’t around anymore for you to take care of. He’s gone, I lost him. So if you were worried about hurting me, you’re a little too late for that.” The Mandalorian barely held himself back from pulling you into his arms when he saw tears rolling down your cheek, clenching his fists tightly when he noticed the way you hugged yourself and frowned at him.

“Din-” It broke him to hear you use his name, especially now of all times. He hasn’t heard you say it once in the past few months, even when the two of you were alone. It was the twisting of the knife, and he bit his tongue to distract himself from saying something he couldn’t possibly take back.

“Do what you want, I won’t stand in the way. Besides, I’m sure he’ll be more than happy to help you out with whatever it was you were telling him today. After all, you deserve more right? Deserve someone more than me...someone who’s willing to share a lot more than his name.” Not bothering to wait for a response, Mando stepped away and walked back to his room, not caring about the clothes on the ground or how hurt you must have been feeling from listening to him. 

He softly shut the door behind him and moved to his bed, throwing himself on it and hanging his head low to catch his breath. This was not how he saw the night going, not remotely. He was hoping to ask you about this tomorrow in a less hostile manner and without making it seem like he was blaming you. But something about your words struck a nerve in him and he wasn’t able to hold back anymore, not when you were suggesting things you yourself weren’t willing to follow.

Din wasn’t sure how long he sat there in silence but the hissing sound of the door opening brought him back from his haze and he opened his eyes when he heard you walking towards him. You’d never once come into his room, not even when he occasionally gave you permission. You sniffed twice before approaching the bed and standing right in front of him and he was reminded of when the child would cry to try to catch his attention. 

“Din, it was never my intention to hurt you. I was trying to do the opposite..thought I was doing the right thing by thinking about this before I could talk to you but I’m realizing now that I’ve hurt you.” Din noticed the way you were ringing your fingers nervously and held himself back from taking your hands into his to try and put you at ease. 

“I- I only spoke with Cobb because he- because he noticed the way I was looking at you. He noticed how I can never seem to focus on anything or anyone else when you’re around. He- he could tell I was having a hard time coming to terms with how I feel about you...how I’ve felt about you for a while now.” Din’s heart skipped a beat at your confessions, unable to properly register what you were implying because he could never even humor the idea that you’d have feelings for him. He raised his head and finally looked at you, frowning when he saw how red your eyes were from crying. 

“The last thing I want to do is to leave you, please believe me. But I wasn’t sure if you even wanted me around after...after everything with Moff Gideon and the Jedi. As far as I knew, you brought me on to take care of Grogu and fix the Razor Crest. We’ve barely spoken ever since the cruiser and I just thought that I was only around because you couldn’t find the time to tell me that you don’t need me anymore.” Hearing you say that you thought he didn’t need you caught Din off guard and he wasn’t able to hold back anymore, instantly taking hold of your hands and pulling you towards him until you were standing in between his legs. You swallowed the lump in your throat and maintained your gaze on his visor, hoping that he could see how truthful you were being with him and maybe respond, if only with just a simple word. 

“When I said I deserved more, I was just- I swear I wasn’t talking about your Creed or wanting to see you. As much as I wish that was possible, I would never...could never ask you for something like that. I was only telling him that I might need some time away to maybe forget how...maker, to perhaps try and set aside my emotions because the last thing you need right now is for me to lay that on you. I don’t want you to think that you owe me anything because you don’t, gods you don’t owe anyone anything, not after what you’ve been through. But I could feel myself becoming more attached to you, especially after everything that happened on the cruiser. I want more with you but I don’t want to push you towards anything you’re not ready for.” Before you could wipe the tears away from your cheeks, Din was raising his glove-covered fingers and softly skimming them over your skin, and he hadn’t realized how harsh and loud his breathing was until he felt you rest your hand on his chest.

“There’s nothing between me and Cobb. And you should know by now that he’s...friendly, with everyone.” You smiled shyly at him before leaning into the hand resting on your cheek, nuzzling further into his palm when he swiped his thumb against your lower lip. There was so much Din wanted to say but he couldn’t find the right words that would convey what he was feeling. He was having a hard time wrapping his mind about your admission and the fact that you have been returning his affection for a while now. 

Din didn’t realize how long he was quiet until you cleared your throat and let go of his hand, stepping away from him and looking around to see if you should just leave. Before you could head to the door, however, Din was standing up and moving towards you, his eyes searching your face for any signs of discomfort before he made his next move. Your chest was rising and falling a little quicker than he liked but he quickly realized it was probably because of how you were coming to terms with what you just said to him. 

You watched as he took his gloves off and set them on the small table behind you, suppressing a gasp when you felt his warm, calloused hands wrap around yours before bringing them to his helmet. He could tell you were letting him control all of your movements and found it difficult to accept just how much you were willing to give to him.

“As much as I hate to admit it, I have been thinking about this for a while.” Din smiled when he saw your eyebrows furrow in question at his words. “Taking this off.” He saw the moment you understood what he was saying, not expecting you to pull your hands away from him and taking a few steps back until your back was against the wall.

“That’s...that’s not what I- Din, I wasn’t lying when I said it wouldn’t matter to me if-” He smiled at how defensive you suddenly were and stepped towards you once more, and you found it annoying that he barely kept a foot between you two, his natural scent hitting you like a blaster to the gut. 

“I know.” Din cut you off before taking your hands into his once more, rubbing your knuckles to put you at ease as he continued. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about this and- it’s not that I’ll walk around without it now, far from it. It’ll only be when we’re alone, when no one is around.” He hoped you could read in between the lines because this would be the closest he’d come to admitting how important you were to him, for now at least.

“Besides, it’s nothing you haven’t seen before.” 

That definitely snapped you out of your haze and you tilted your head to the side before asking home what he was referring to. 

“I’m not sure what you’re talking about.” Din raised an eyebrow at your response. Have you already forgotten?

“On the cruiser, when I- before Grogu went with the Jedi.” His hands tightened around your fingers as he said the child’s name and you were momentarily distracted before realizing what he meant. 

“Din I...I never saw you.” 

For a split second, it felt like someone had taken Din and carbon froze him before throwing him on an ice planet. 

“What?” He held his breath, unable to move a muscle until he made sure he heard you correctly. 

“I never saw you. I turned around when you reached for your helmet. I didn’t...it was a moment with you and Grogu. It didn’t feel right to look at you.” You tried to maintain a semblance of control on your voice but it cracked a few times as you admitted to him. As much as you yearned to see him without the mask, you didn’t think it proper without his clear consent. 

Din’s sudden intake of breath made you nervous and you hated how for a moment, you wished you didn’t tell him because there was now a high probability that he wouldn’t take the mask off. 

“Cyar'ika, please.” you shivered at the low tone of his voice, finding it harder to focus on anything but the touch of his skin. Once again, Din slowly brought your hands to the sides of his visor, pushing the palm of your hands on the beskar and softly nodding at you. A sudden sense of relief washed over him when he saw the slight nod of your head. 

Din found it endearing how your whole face scrunched up in focus as the two of you slowly pulled the helmet off of his head, the soft hissing sound as it unlocked making your hands dampen with sweat. As you raised the visor along with him, you couldn’t help but shut your eyes as soon as you saw the skin of his chin. Unbeknownst to you, Din was watching your every reaction and felt a little nudge in his chest when he saw how tightly shut your eyes were. When the beskar was off completely, Din took it from your hands and placed it next to him, swallowing the lump in his throat when he turned back and saw you were still refusing to look at him.

He reluctantly took your hands into his and placed them on his chest, hoping that you’d finally open your eyes without him begging you again. 

“I’m sorry I- maker, this is..this is probably more intense for you than it is for me and I’m not making it any better with my nervousness and- okay. Okay.” You took a deep breath before allowing your eyes to flutter open, unable to exhale as soon as you laid your gaze on him. Din was probably unaware of how nervous he looked and it took you a few longer seconds to realize you needed to breathe again. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, the long nights where you imagined what he could look like fading into thin air because nothing, absolutely nothing, prepared you for what you were currency seeing. 

His features were somehow soft but a little rugged, and you found yourself committing every inch of his skin to memory, filling your mind’s eye with every minute facial expression so you could dream of him when you fall asleep. It was oddly not surprising at all that he had a stubble, the scattered dark and slightly graying hairs across his jaw and above his lips making him seem older than he probably was. And you weren’t sure if he knew he was furrowing his eyebrows and then you realized he most likely didn’t because he was so used to wearing his helmet that he never had to learn how to control his facial expressions around anyone. And it was endearing how his nose flared as he continued to breathe heavily under your gaze, and if it weren’t for the fact that this was a serious moment, you would have leaned over and kissed the curved bridge of his nose and the scrunch of his eyebrows to put him at ease. 

Din wasn’t sure what he thought your reaction would be and he felt his chest tighten with every long moment you spent without so much as a comment. 

You were unaware of how long this dreadful moment must have been for the Mandalorian and you continued to study him in hopes of finding answers to questions you’ve wished you could ask him ever since he hired you. There were heavy bags under his eyes and you wished you were more persistent with him when it came to his resting schedule but he always seemed to wave you off whenever you told him he needed to sleep. Though you knew this stress had to do more with Grogu no longer being here and less with how often he slept. You had half expected to find his gaze harsh and far off but when you did finally meet his eyes, you found them filled with unshed tears and a multitude of emotions that you knew would go unexplained until he had the strength to voice them. They were a deep and beautiful shade of brown, ones you knew you’d never be able to turn away from now that you’ve had a proper look at him. And you couldn’t help but notice how their color reminded you of a Nightbloomer just after you picked it from its roots. 

All of that, however, could not compare to when you finally let your eyes descend to his lips. They were a darker shade of pink, and you swore you saw them parting as soon as you looked at them. His lower lip was trembling and you wished more than anything to swipe your thumb against it if only to feel the soft skin melt at your touch. You wished that was as far as your mind had gone but the longer you looked at the curve of his mouth, the more you wished you could lean forward and mold your lips with his. It was even worse because you had a feeling that the stubble of his mustache would cause the softest of burns on your lips. 

Din could no longer take the loud silence enveloping the room and he swallowed nervously when he saw how focused you seemed to be on his lips. He had some idea of what you were probably thinking because he was thinking the exact same thing but he wasn’t sure if he should be the one to make the first move. This reluctance evaporated when he noticed the way your eyes instantly moved to his neck as the cartilage moved and returned to rest when he gulped, and he realized that you may have been having slightly more inappropriate thoughts than he originally thought.

He was about to voice his worries when he saw your hands move from his beskar-clad chest to his face and he couldn’t stop himself from looking down apprehensively at the digits moving closer to his skin. You misunderstood his nervousness for uncomfort and immediately ceased all movements, returning your focus on his eyes to look for any inclination as to what he wanted. 

“Can I- mhmm, may I touch you?” Your whispered question was too loud for the two of you and Din parted his lips to say something but noticed how dry his throat was and realized he couldn’t trust his own voice. Nodding slightly at your request, he waited with bated breath as your fingers rose to his face and found himself shaking with anticipation at the prospect of finally feeling your touch on the most intimate part of him. 

When you were only a few inches away from him, Din felt his heart thumping wildly at his chest and he immediately shut his eyes when he felt the feather-light touch of your fingers on his cheeks. The harsh yet shaky intake of breath almost made you lose control and you had to remind yourself that, besides Grogu, you were the only one to ever touch him so intimately and so softly since he was a child. As much as you wished to wrap your arms around his neck and pull him closer so you could lay as many kisses on his face as you could, you knew it would be too much for him and that he needed you to go slow with him. He was practically shattering under your attention and you hoped he would allow you to do this as many times as possible in the coming days. 

Din couldn’t put a name to what he was experiencing at the moment but he knew he didn’t want you to stop touching him, ever again. He decided that he’d spend every moment with you alone without his helmet and with yours hands skimming some part of him. The longer you kept your palms on his cheeks, the calmer his heart beat and it wasn’t until a few moments later that he realized his eyes were shut. As they slowly fluttered open, he was met with the most beautiful sight in the world: your own deep irises staring at your own thumb as it softly passed over his quivering lips. 

“You’re...beautiful.” 

It was a simple truth and you wished there was a more sincere word you could use to describe what he was to you, what he meant to you but your mind was overflowing with images of waking up next to him every day and kissing his eyes and cheeks and nose and lips and anywhere else you could reach. 

Din’s hold tightened around your waist and you watched as he leaned forward until there was barely an inch between the two of you. 

“Mesh'la, I would really like to kiss you.” The request barely passed his lips yet you were already standing up on your tiptoes and pressing your lips to his, finding them as soft and gentle as you imagined them to be. Din was afraid his heart would give out any moment now because nothing could have prepared him for the taste of you, let alone the boldness with which you were claiming him. He sighed into you, unintentionally parting his lips and pushing you harder into the wall when he felt your tongue sneak into his mouth and explore him. Din wasn’t sure what he should be doing but then you were moving your hands to the nape of his neck and tangling your fingers into his hair and he all but lost it. As you gently tugged on his hair, Din found himself mirroring your actions and before he knew it, the kiss was no longer innocent and sweet but hungry and needy. You sucked on his tongue and tilted your head to the side, wanting to commit every small detail to memory so when you shut your eyes at night, you’d kiss him in your dreams. 

Reluctantly, you pulled back for a second to allow the two of you to breathe but Din didn’t like that, chasing your mouth and molding his lips with yours once more to be certain that yes, this was happening, and that no, this was not a dream. You moaned into the kiss, finding his desperate need to claim your mouth again more of a turn on than you cared to admit. And then his hands were slipping inside your overalls and holding you against his chest, the warmth of him stretching down to where you wished you could feel him. 

This sudden intrusive thought and the harsh grasp of your hips snapped you out of your haze and you realized you should be slowing things down for his sake. Against your will, you gently pushed his chest away and tried to think of anything but the way he was heaving above you from the intensity of the kiss. When you looked at him and saw panic and hesitation etched on his face, you returned your hands to his cheeks again and lowered his head until it was resting against your own. 

“There’s nothing I want more than to feel every inch of your skin against mine right now...but- but I don’t want to push you to do something that- maker….that might be too much for you?” You pulled back and waited until he opened his eyes again before continuing. “I feel like you just made a dramatic decision by taking the helmet off in front of me and- and you’re probably feeling a multitude of emotions right now and I don’t want to make you think that I-” 

Din didn’t like what you were saying, frowning down at you as he grabbed the back of your neck and violently pulled you towards him again. You were surprised by the sudden shift of his touch, fisting your hands in his cowl as he devoured your lips once more, not really giving you a chance to say anything else. Biting your lower lip, Din abruptly ended the kiss and pressed his lips across your skin, nipping and licking at your jaw as he pulled your hair down until he had access to your neck. You gasped his name and felt his stubble scratch deliciously at your shoulder. As you moaned against the wall, Din couldn’t back anymore and bit down hard on your shoulder, smiling when he heard your breath hitch at his rough ministrations. 

“Din, oh gods, Din please.” You weren’t sure what you were asking of him exactly and you hoped he’d at the very least continue what he was doing. 

“Cyar'ika, I want to have you. I’ve spent many nights dreaming of your lips, your touch, y-your skin against mine as I-” Din hesitated and it wasn’t until you felt his fingers slipping beneath the chest band that you finally registered his voice. Fuck, how had you not notice it a second ago? You thought the vocoder was what altered it, made it deeper perhaps. But no, it only made it sound more intimidating. You weren’t sure what made you clench your thighs together, the way he spoke to you of his desires, or how strained and gruff his voice was as he whispered his secrets to you. You gulped loudly and hesitantly met his eyes, finding the soft brown irises barely visible, his dilated pupils letting you know what he was thinking. 

Licking your lips, you nodded at him and fell into a fit of giggles when he leaned down and picked you up as if you weighed nothing, quickly moving to his cot and laying you down on your back before moving away. You were about to ask him what he was doing when you saw his hands swiftly move through the beskar armor. For some reason, watching his hands expertly take off the cuirass and move to the beskar of his thighs made your heart skip a beat and you wouldn’t dare move a muscle, afraid to miss the show he was unintentionally putting on for you. So busy marveling at his deft fingers, you didn’t notice Din slowing his movements and looking at you, eyebrows raised in curiosity when he saw how hard you were breathing. 

You broke out of your trance when you saw he stopped moving, embarrassment washing over you when you realized Din had caught you shamelessly staring at him as he came closer to revealing to you more of his skin. You’d expected him to move on, or at least pretend he hadn’t just caught you licking your lips while staring at his fingers but no, it seemed that Din was very much enjoying the effect he had on you because his smile grew when he saw your eyes look past him, pretending to focus on something else behind him and not his hands. 

You never lost his attention though, and he maintained his eyes on you as he removed all of his armor and took his boots off. You tried to be a little more subtle but gave up when he leaned down over you and pushed you into his covers. You wanted to ask him why he was still dressed but bit back the inquiry, afraid he’d misunderstand and move away all together at your question. He captured your gaze and didn’t blink once as he slowly undid the buttons holding the overalls and you realized you would have preferred him to keep the helmet on because that meant you wouldn’t notice how passionate and direct his deep brown irises were. You’d expected him to be intense considering how touch-starved and lonely he was, but you never once thought he’d be this vigorous? Ardent? Maker, there wasn’t a single word that could describe the way he was looking at you right now.

Din kneeled at the foot of the bed, waiting until you finally noticed what he was doing and raising your hips before he pulled on the pants of the garment. He slipped your shoes off and finally removed the article of clothing that made his cheeks blush and pants tighten whenever you wore it. He would eventually tell you that this is how you came to him in his dreams almost every night, all spent and sweaty in that gods-forsaken fabric that gave him the perfect view of what you were wearing beneath. 

His focus shifted from your face down your damp skin and he breathed in deeply at the sight of your undergarment. Din almost choked on his breath when your legs parted for a moment, giving him a glimpse of the growing wet patch at the center of the flimsy material.

The Mandalorian wanted nothing more than to worship your body, kiss every part of you and whisper his devotion against your skin as he pleasured you over and over again. He’d spent countless nights imagining what he’d do to you if you were ever naked and willing in his arms and he was damned if he didn’t make sure you were thoroughly spent once he was done with you. He wanted to hear his name fall from your lips and he wanted to swallow your sighs and your moans as he sank into you all night long. And by the gods, he wanted to mark your neck and your arms and your waist, and nothing made him harder than picturing you doing the same to him, biting and nipping at his skin so he could wake up in the morning and watch the evidence of your lo- your touch on him. It didn’t matter that no one else would see those bruises but him and you. He just wanted you, in any way possible, sinking beneath his skin.

And then he heard his voice calling for you over the comm link just outside the room and something snapped deep in his chest. He looked up from you to the open door of his room and listened to the Marshal’s words. Your eyes widened in shock when you saw several emotions pass through Din’s eyes, the most prominent of which was anger, maybe hurt. Of all the times Cobb would ask you to join him for drinks, this was most definitely the worst of them. It didn’t help either that he was laughing over some inappropriate joke one of his friends was saying about your sabacc skills. It wouldn’t be the first time this happened and it certainly wouldn’t be the last but then Din was clenching his jaw tightly before looking down at you and you knew he wasn’t too happy. In fact, you had a pretty good idea which emotion won out and you hated how much it affected you, how wet you became as thoughts of the Mandalorian claiming you as his flooded your mind.

Before you could try and reason with him, attempt to tell him that it was just a game and that the Marshal’s friends were probably just teasing him, Din was standing up and stripping of his long-sleeve shirt, revealing his perfectly chiseled, bronze skin that had your mouth watering within moments. You noticed the few dozen scars littering his beautiful torso and wished you could kiss each one of them, the old ones and the fairly new ones, until they didn’t sting with pain. But Din had different plans for you and he didn’t give you a chance to question him as he took hold of both of your wrists and slammed them above your head. His hold was painful and it should have scared you how quickly his mood changed but you said nothing, looking into his dilated pupils as his nose flared and he growled at you.

“Keep yours hands there,” Din warns you with a piercing look and you gulp loudly before nodding at him in understanding. He removes his hand and kneels on the bed, eyes narrowing at you before they sought after your most private areas. He wasn’t sure where to begin. He’d given this much thought but now that he was here, he realized it was a more difficult decision than he anticipated. He’d longed to wrap his lips around those hardened peaks always teasing him through the chest band, lick them until you cried for him, perhaps begged him to stop because you were sensitive. But then he continued down the lines of your navel and found your parted legs much more inviting. 

Now that Din knew how you felt, there was no reason for him to feel jealous. But he couldn't stop himself, wanting to be certain that you knew as well as he who you belonged to. He hated himself for having such primitive thoughts about you. You were your own person that much was made clear early on. But he could hope at your words, couldn’t he? He could hope that you were now his, and that he was yours. Maker, he was always yours. He just couldn’t admit it to himself, his heart reluctant at opening up to another. 

Din was lost in thought longer than you liked and you moved your feet towards him, nudging his thigh in hopes of reassuring him that you were right here, in his bed, beneath him and at his mercy. Din’s eyes focused on your again and he looked down at the soft gesture, hands instantly grabbing at your ankles. You jumped at the sudden movement, trying your hardest not to whine at the painful grasp because somewhere deep inside of you, you wanted nothing more than to be marked by him. By his teeth, lips, fingers, any part of him. You didn’t care where you’d bear his touch, you just wanted to see it, touch it in the privacy of the refresher when he wasn’t around. 

Din saw the needy look you were throwing him and he knew that you were willing. Willing to go as far as he wanted, willing to completely submit your body and soul to him, willing to do whatever he wished of you.

Before your eyes could flutter closed, Din was pushing your legs wide open and falling in between them while maintaining his gaze on you. He almost smiled when your stomach shook at how feral he probably looked. Leaning forward, he closed his eyes as his mouth latched onto the wet patch forming on the soft fabric of your undergarment, moaning into your cunt as he savored the taste seeping through. You were surprised by the boldness of the action and wished for him to lick your skin instead. But there was something erotic about the desperation behind his actions, wanting to taste you so much that he didn’t care what he was licking. 

The thought was gone as soon as it appeared because you felt two fingers stretch beneath the waistband right before he ripped it off of your body, shoving the torn fabric in his nose and taking a long whiff of it before humming in approval. Your eyes widened in surprise at the filthiness of his action, hands shaking above you when he threw your panties expertly into his helmet. The thought of knowing that your scent could potentially stick to the inside of his helmet as he walked around twisted your insides and you whined shamelessly at him, wishing he could just take what he wanted. 

“Your sounds belong to me,” Din spoke with a commanding voice as he sank in between your thighs again, his tongue dragging across your folds so deliciously hard until he pulled away, leaving a trail of saliva behind. “Your arousal belongs to me,” his hands went to your thighs and he squeezed, knowing fully well there would be bruises dawning your beautiful, smooth body the following morning. Again, you fought to keep your eyes open, wanting to commit every second to memory but finding it difficult to focus on him and not the pleasure zapping down your back. “And I will be damned if this cunt,” Din let go of one of your thighs, pulling his tongue away from your core right before the palm of his hand landed a slap straight on your clit, “doesn’t belong to me either.” You cried out his name, legs shaking violently at the pain shooting through your clit. Din didn’t give you a moment to relax back down on the covers, spanking the outer folds of your pussy twice more consecutively before he replaced the harsh touch with his cooling tongue. Tears trailed down your cheeks as he fucked you with his tongue and lapped at you like you were the only source of water on this gods-forsaken planet. He rotated between soft, quick licks to long, harsh ones, occasionally sucking on your clit and grazing his teeth on the bundle of nerves until he was sure you were going crazy. 

“D-Din oh maker, please. Stop I- slow down.” His touches were far from gentle and the pleasure blurred into pain as you tried to reach that delicious peak you’ve longed for ever since you harbored feelings for the man above you. But he was making it difficult, his needy and erratic movements making it near impossible for you to dive into the lake of pleasure. You should have known that the Mandalorian was as intense in bed as he was in every other aspect of his life. You shut your thighs around his head, wanting to push him away as his teeth continued to graze against your wet folds and nip at the pulsating nub. 

“M-Mando...I can’t.” You couldn’t take it anymore, hands moving to his hair and fisting in the beautiful brown locks as you tried to push him away. As soon as Din felt the tight grasp on his hair, he snarled at you, pushing up on his knees and bending your body along with him until the only thing resting on the bed was your neck and your shoulders. You cried out for him, begging him to give you release but it only drove him mad with lust. His eyes locked on yours, daring you to look away from him as his fingers dug into your butt cheeks and pushed your cunt into his mouth. 

Din pulled away for a split second, biting your inner thighs to grab your attention.

“You will take what I give you ner Cyar’ika.” You saw a hint of darkness in his soulful brown eyes, and shivered at the mere implications of what he had in mind for you. Din sucked and licked at your folds like a crazed man, feeling your legs shaking on his shoulders. He pulled away for a second, and you had no time to beg him to be gentle as he slapped your heated core three times again, hissing when you shut your eyes and bucked against him, your juices drenching his face and chest, leaking down your back as he smiled before taking your cunt into his mouth one last time to prolong your pleasure. You were too busy trying to remain sane to realize what had just happened and Din slowly lowered you back onto the wet covers before letting go of you. You were panting beneath him, stomach fluttering from the force of your release and chest heaving as you tried to fill your lungs with air. 

When you opened your eyes and looked at Din, your eyes widened in horror when you saw his glistening skin, finally realizing what he'd just done to you. You flushed under the scrutiny of Din’s gaze, gasping as he wiped his mouth and jaw with the back of his hand as he looked down and chuckled at the wet spot beneath his knees. You quickly shut your legs and tried to crawl away from him but Din was faster, grabbing your ankle and pulling you back to him, the show of strength already making your cunt clench around nothing again.

“You do not run from me Ad’ika...nor hide from me ever again. I own your body, your skin, the cum still leaking out of this sweet cunt.” His words were filthy and you didn’t know how to react to this new possessiveness he was showing. He pushed open your thighs and fell in between him, bringing his chest flush against yours and kissing the breath out of you, not bothering to be gentle as his fingers twisted and pinched at your nipples. You clawed at his back, wanting more of him but not knowing if you would be able to take any more of what he was offering. 

He pulled away suddenly, his jaw clenching tightly as he took one look at the hands wrapped around his back. 

“Did I not tell you to not move your hands sweet girl?” He whispered against your lips, breathing in the air leaving your lungs as he pecked the corner of your mouth before flipping you over on your stomach. 

“I- I’m sorry...it was just t-too much and-” You couldn’t finish the rest of the sentence, screaming against the covers as you felt Din’s palm land on your ass. You looked back and saw him eyeing your reddening skin, looking up at you and smiling as he treated the other side with the same kindness. Four more times his hands smacked your ass and you were ashamed at how aroused his violent actions made you. When he snuck his fingers in between your thighs and swiped haphazardly at your folds, you moaned and bit into your wrist. 

“Filthy sweet girl,” Din whispered more to himself than you before he fisted his hand in your hair and pulled you flush to his chest, the slide of your dampened back against his sweaty chest bringing him more pleasure than he would have liked to admit because not a few hours ago, he was picturing your sweaty, glistening skin beneath him. And now that he had you here, he was going to make the best of it. 

“Mando, oh Mando-” As much as he loved hearing you scream his nickname in the throws of passion, he wished more to hear his given name fall from your lips. 

“My name...scream my name sweet girl. Let the stars know who pleasures you Cyare.” Din kissed your shoulder before biting into the sweaty flesh, the hand in your hair letting go right before wrapping softly around your throat and pressing you harder against him. Your hands twisted back to try and grab his hair but he immediately took your wrist and twisted it until it was behind you, between your back and his chest. 

“Ahh Din…” You wanted to beg him to allow you to touch him, tell him that you were yearning to touch him as much as he was in need of touching you. But you had a feeling that this wasn’t true, and that this was his way of being certain that you weren’t going to leave him. That you were his. 

If only he knew that you have already belonged to him. Long before tonight.

You felt each breath leave your lungs as Din tightened his grasp around your throat and you parted your lips to moan his name, only to feel his tongue shamelessly licking into your mouth. So distracted by the desperation in this kiss, you didn’t notice the fingers trailing down your chest and digging into your skin until the palm of his hand softly cupped one breast. Din teased you with feather light touches, flicking at one nipple before moving to the other and circling around it until it hardened. He continued to swallow your noises, sucking on your tongue to quiet you as he pinched your nipples. You twisted in his arms, wanting to reach for him again but knowing that he would probably pull your hand away. 

When Din pulled away to allow you to breathe, you panted and finally opened your eyes, not daring to look away as he kept you motionless with his gaze. Din watched as you tried to form a coherent thought, waiting until you parted your lips to speak to him before reaching down and cupping your quivering cunt as he broke the silence.

“This belongs to me,” your breath hitched when Din pressed the palm of his hand against you, not quite applying pressure on your clit but just enough to hold your focus. “Only I get to touch you, kiss you, watch you as you come undone in my arms.” You nodded briefly at him, continuing to hold eye contact as he began to increase his actions. “No one else will ever have you Cyar'ika. No one but me.” He slipped two fingers past your wet folds and rubbed against your walls, humming in approval when he felt you flutter around him the harder he shoved his fingers inside you. 

“I’m yours Din, y-yours. Whatever you want, oh gods please more...need more, Din you make me f-feel so good.” Din keened at your words, curling his hand until his palm was passing deliciously over your clit as his fingers picked up the pace. 

“That’s right sweet girl, you’re mine. Mine to fuck, mine to take whenever I want...mine to-” Din hesitated for a second, unable to voice his heart to you even though you’ve bared your soul for him. “Pal'vut at kar'taylir darasuum...kriffing gods you’re wet, so wet for me. Come on, cum for me again ner Cyare. Show me how good I make you feel. Show me how needy this little cunt is, fuck- I...can’t want to have you wrapped around my cock little one. Can’t wait to sink in this pussy, my sweet tight cunt, mark you with my seed, over and over again...fuck a load in you all night long till you can’t feel anything but my cum dripping down your thighs. Shit, I need you to cum, now!” Your mind became foggy with pleasure, unable to focus on anything but the words whispered into your ears as his thick fingers fucked into you. You grabbed the wrist of the hand wrapped around your throat, digging your nails into his skin as you came around his fingers. You almost fell forwards but Din held you flush against him, continuing to drive his digits into you and rub at your clit with this thumb until you were sobbing in his arms. 

“Beautiful,” Din kissed your shoulder as he slowly inched his hands away from you before laying you down slowly. His eyes took in the flushed, wet skin of your back, chuckling with pride when he saw your legs shaking as little sobs escaped your lips. Your breaths came in shallow and quick, and you tried to silence your whines by biting into your wrists but then you felt Din slide his hand back and forth on your back as he laid next to you and you shivered under his touch because from the way he was moving closer to you and touching you, there was no way he was done just yet. 

“You’re all I think about, every waking moment. It’s difficult to focus on anything else when you’re always in my mind Cyar'ika. I- I burn for you, for your lips to caress mine every moment, your eyes to never leave mine as I brand you, your skin against my own as you mark me with your touch. I- maker, I cannot think of a life without you here, with me…” Din thought he would have to force himself to say such things but he found it remarkably easy now that he had you here, responding so openly and shamelessly to him.

“Din,” you turned your head and shifted towards him, kissing the hand resting between the two of you before leaning your forehead against his and shutting your eyes. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m staying right here, for as long as you’ll have me.” Din ceased all movement at your words and he looked away from where he was stroking your back, meeting your eyes and furrowing his eyebrows before you felt him grab your arm and pull you on top of him. You surprised gasp died in your throat when you felt Din wrap his arms around your back and bring you against him until you could feel his chest hairs tickling your nipples. You could feel his cock jutting against your core through his pants and as you rested your hands on his chest and looked to him, you saw the frown ease from his expression, replaced with something akin to reverence. 

“I will have you until my dying breath Mesh’la. Let me show you how much I want you.” The force of his declaration hit you instantly and you pressed your lips against his just as you felt him rid himself of his pants. Din’s hands were roaming your back and you felt bolder with every caress, combing your fingers into his hair and pulling on it as he squeezed your ass and bucked into you. The growl emanating from his chest shot straight to your core and you raised yourself from him for a moment.

“Din, I want you. Crave to feel you inside me. Please, do it fast and don’t- don’t be gentle. Show me, show me how much you lo- want me.” Din’s heart skipped a beat at your words and he wasted no time, taking hold of his cock and teasing your clit with his leaking tip before slowly inching inside you. You shut your eyes and dug your nails into the back of his neck as he continued to sheath his dick deeper in your cunt. You could feel every ridge and pulsating vein dragging against your inner walls, finally allowing your lungs to breathe as you felt him nudge and twitch against that soft, spongy spot in your core. 

Neither of you moved for a few moments, with Din trying to wrap his mind around finally becoming one with you and feeling you clench so sweetly around him. He was torn between fucking up into you without mercy and taking it nice and slow until he pushed you over the edge again. But then you were gyrating your hips and sighing his name on his cheek and he knew what he wanted. 

Planting his feet on the damp covers, Din held you flush against him with one arm while resting his other hand on your thigh, nuzzling into the crook of your neck as he snapped his hips up before sinking into you again. You let out a surprised sob and rested your forehead against his shoulder, whispering more pleas against his skin and begging him to move. 

The usually quiet man breathed the sweetest wishes in your ears, thrusting up into you with immense force that made you clench tighter around him. “Ni copad gar an te ca'nara Ad’ika, ni vercopa be gar anay ca. You have made a home for yourself inside my heart.” Din felt your shaky breath blow on his neck and it drove him mad with lust because he wanted to have you reacting to his touch so wantonly every minute of every day. His grip only tightened around you and he prayed you wouldn’t mind the bruises that would surely color your skin in the next few hours. He wasn’t planning on being gentle tonight, perhaps later, but not tonight, and he was going to ensure his touch would be visible for anyone that would speak with you tomorrow. Thoughts of the Marshal passed through his mind’s eye and he growled, pumping his cock into you harshly for some reassurance. You cried out his name over and over again, feeling your skin heat up at the declarations of love he was peppering on your skin because even though his words were gentle, his touches were far from it.

The squelching sounds of your cunt flooding Din’s thighs as he drove himself into you should have embarrassed you but you could tell he enjoyed knowing how wet you were for him from the way he continued to quicken the pace just to hear your juices flowing over him. His grip on you was becoming more painful the more you moved against each other but you couldn’t find it in yourself to let him know. He was letting go, showing you how much he wanted you, how hard he was for you, and you weren’t about to make him feel conscious over his affection.

“Maker...oh Din, Din I- you feel so good inside me. Filling me up like no one else. Could feel you so deep, gods, could feel you everywhere Din please- don’t stop. Don’t fucking stop, I need it. Need you, want you- want you to mark me, d-do whatever you want with me.” You had no hold over your own speech and weren’t sure if you were making any sense but Din moaned each time you praised him.

“Good girl, sweet girl...taking my cock so well, kriffing hell. Your- your pussy is squeezing the fuck out of me..could feel every tight inch of you stroking my cock Cyar’ika. Ah pfassk...you’re- you’re perfection.” Din moved the hand around your back up to your neck, pulling on your hair and pressing his lips with yours as his cock throbbed inside you. You whined as his tongue roughly swirled around your own, barely able to breathe as he continued to snap his hips against you and suddenly feeling a rush of relief as his navel rubbed at your clit until you came around him. Din broke the kiss, screaming expletives in his tongue as the force of your orgasm pushed his cock out of you. You shuddered as you gushed on his dick, wrapping your arms around his neck when he forced his cock into your tight cunt again. 

You were so overcome with emotions, so lost in Din’s scent mixing with your own, and his touch leaving bruises on your skin, that you didn’t notice the faint sounds of footsteps coming up the ramp and halting in the middle of the ship right in front of the door. But Din noticed, managing to look up just in time to see Cobb standing in the middle of the ship and staring with wide eyes at the scene unfolding in front of him. 

Something completely otherworldly took over the Mandalorian and he quickly sat up, expertly moving the two of you around until he was kneeling on the covers with you straddling his thighs. He smiled against your shoulder, allowing your hair to hide his face as he grabbed both of your hips and fucked up into you. 

He could vaguely see the Marshal and was surprised that he hadn't dropped the bottle of drink in his hand just yet. You wailed into the night air, arms keeping you stead in Din’s arms as he forced you on his pulsating dick over and over again. 

“Tell me...tell me Cyare, tell me how much you love it when I fuck you. How much you need my cock like the filthy little cockslut you are. Go on sweet girl, grind that little clit on me. Fucking tell me ner Ad’ika.” Din smacked your ass twice, chuckling when your moans grew more lewd with every touch he laid on you.

“I- I- ahhh love your cock...oh maker, no one fucks me like you. N-no one makes me c-cum like you. Fuck me harder D- ahhh,” Din bit down on your shoulder to prevent you from saying his name, looking through the mess of your hair and watching as his audience remained incapable of moving. 

“I own this pretty little pussy. Pffassk- ride me harder Mesh’la. You’re such a good girl, could feel your cunt drenching my thighs, the smell of you is driving me mad. Fuck- keep that pretty mouth open to me when I’m fucking you, let me hear you scream for me.”

“Please- please...fuck me harder, ruin my pussy. Gods- I..I’m so close please. Tell me you own me, tell me I’m you’re sweet girl. Please- I want to be good for you, want you to cum inside me Din...cum inside me. I need it, need you to fuck me like you own me and mark me, make me yours Mando. Cum in me, please-” 

“Ah fuck you’re my sweet little girl aren’t you? Wanting me to fuck a load in you, cum in you all night long and keep my seed in that tight cunt? That’s it sweetheart, I’m so fucking hard for you. Could feel you clenching around me...be a good girl and cum again ner kar'ta. Fuck, yes yes you feel so good wrapped around my cock Cyare you’re going to make me cum. Spill my seed in that tight, wet pussy, fill you up till you can taste it in your throat. Shit, and- and I’m going to keep fucking you sweet girl, till my cum is sliding down your thighs. My little fucktoy- come on, come on love, cum for me. Cum on me, drench me again. Mix your juices with me.” Din watched as Cobb finally had the mind to leave and he almost laughed at how the man almost tripped on his own foot as he sprinted out of the ship. He pushed you on your back and spread your thighs open, resting his weight on the arms around your head as he thrust in a few more times before he felt you clench around him. Leaning down, Din took a pert nipple in his mouth and sucked on it, growling into your skin as he came deep in your pussy, painting your walls with long strings of his seed until he couldn’t breathe. He’d never cum this hard before and was sure to tell you when you had the state of mind to pay him any semblance of attention.

Din continued to lazily push into you, your words from earlier replaying in his mind as he felt you quiver around his softening cock. You were still coming down from your high and twitched occasionally when you felt him throb inside you. There was a pleasant kind of warmth washing over you and you sighed happily when you realized he was still bucking against you to push his cum in your belly. 

“D-din...you’re filling me up so good. Feel so full ah- gah.” He laughed when your body shook, wrapping his arms around you and flipping you around until you were laying on his chest. You kissed his jaw and his neck, moaning in unison when you felt his dick rub against that sweet spot inside you. 

“That’s because I’ve never cum this hard sweet girl. You’ve milked me dry Cyare. Could feel you sucking my seed out of me.” He was amazed at your obvious embarrassment, wanting to tease you about it but choosing to wait for later instead.

Din rubbed at your back, kissing your forehead as he whispered sweet things in your ears and smiling when you nipped at his neck some more. 

“Promise me you’ll never leave.” Din’s quiet voice broke the silence and you pushed up to look into his eyes as you responded. “I’m not going anywhere, even if you tell me to go. I’ll stay here, always. I promise.” You kissed him gently and felt his pulse beneath your fingers calm at your words. 

Not much time has passed before Din had you on your knees in front of him, fucking your mouth and shoving you down on his cock until you gagged and his seed slipped from the corner of your mouth, mixing with your spit as it fell down your breasts. You lost count of how many times he brought you pleasure, and you made a mental note to ask him how he managed to fuck you all night long. You weren’t sure it was possible for a man to cum this many times over the course of one night but you had a feeling Din was not like anyone else. A man who has been touch starved for almost three decades must have had a lot of pent-up aggression that he needed to release. And you would gladly help him in any shape or form through that. 

And when he wasn’t pumping your cunt full of his cum, he was nuzzling into your neck and laying kisses across your arms, making sure he caressed every inch of your skin. You shouldn’t have been surprised that Din loved to snuggle with you but you did find it hilarious that such a big and scary Mandalorian whimpered when you licked down his neck as you nestled into his arms. You wouldn’t tell him just yet but besides his rough grasps and his filthy words, you loved to taste the saltiness of his skin and from the looks of it, the feelings were mutual because at some point in the night, he’d told you of all the times he had to lock himself up in the refresher and try his hardest to not think of your sweaty limbs entangling with his own as he kissed you.

By the time the two of you made it outside the following day, the twin suns had already been in the middle of the sky, scorching rays of heat on everyone across Mos Pelgo. You tried your hardest not to walk too funny, mostly because it made Din apologize every now and then, but it was difficult when you could still feel traces of his touch on you. You told him you needed him to stop making it obvious but realized he was apologizing out of regret not out of humor. It took you all of the afternoon to convince him that you were feeling more than okay and that you’d asked him for this. And when he didn’t seem to stop, you teased him and told him that you knew he secretly loved watching you wobble from side to side. 

This all, however, peaked when you walked into the cantina and tried to play Sabbac with Cobb Vanth and the others. You could tell that the Marshal was avoiding all conversation with you, going out of his way to pretend you weren’t even sitting on the table, let alone the room. You hoped that Mando hadn’t spoken with him or anything and decided to call it quits earlier in the night. When you did make it back to the ship and saw Din cleaning his weapons, you made sure the ship was secure before moving to sit on the bed across from him.

“Did you talk to Cobb today?” You gauged his reaction, already sensing that something was wrong when you saw him nervously clench his jaw before rubbing furiously at the beskar weapon.

“No, why do you ask?” Din wished he hadn’t already taken off his helmet because as soon as he responded, you knew he wasn’t telling you the whole truth.

“Din?”

He looked up at you and cleared his throat before speaking.

“He- he saw us...last night. I- I must have forgotten to raise the ramp and-” Din took a deep breath when you shot up from the cot and began to pace back and forth. 

“HE WHAT?”

“We were...I couldn’t- there wasn’t a chance I could…you felt too good around me Ad’ika I- I couldn’t stop. Not when you were clenching around me so tightly. Now when you were finally in my arms. I-” He stood up and walked towards you, taking your hands into his and kissing both of your wrists. You flushed at his words and looked up at him, only to find him blushing under your gaze. 

“You did it on purpose didn't you? You wanted him to see...to watch as you- as we...as I said-” Din didn’t let you finish the sentence, leaning down and molding his lips with yours as he walked you back to his bed. He pushed you down on the covers still holding your scents, his hold hardening the more you moaned against him. Before he could strip you of your clothes, you pushed him off and stuck out your finger in warning.

“Oh no you don’t. Go raise the ramp.”

“You’re giving me orders now Mesh’la?” Din raised an eyebrow at you as he got off of you and walked around the bed, halting at the doorstep to look back at you.

“Never…”

Translations:

Ad'ika - Little one

Mesh'la - Beautiful

Cyar'ika - Darling/Sweetheart

Cyare - Beloved

Ner - my/mine

Pal'vut at kar'taylir darasuum - mine to love

Ni copad gar an te ca'nara - I want you all the time.

Ni vercopa be gar anay ca - I dream of you every night. 

Ner kar'ta - my heart

[alexanderlightweight]

could you do a continuation of that one au of where some nephilim are 70/30? like the one where they have to do rituals to grow, incase i wasn’t clear

yup that was super helpful ty! so this verse is called created for death

and the second piece that this follows soon after (though a part is missing cause i haven't written it yet) this

i hope you enjoy!

<3 lumine

-

“Oh sayang.” Magnus murmurs and even kneeling, Alexander is a good foot taller in this form and he’s shuddering. As if containing himself enough to kneel is taking everything he has.

It probably is and Magnus marvels that of all the things that could stop a raging, True Nephilim, it was adoration and love for himself that brought Alexander to heel.

“Let me help you.” He asks and Alexander refuses to look anywhere from him and Magnus feels the weight of a thousand eyes and the devotion of a being not meant for this world.

Platinum, mithril and adamas tangle in the air as his fingers and magic weave a collar that he hopes will contain enough of himself to purge the fear that brought Alexander to this point. It’s not even arrogance that has Magnus attempting this.

It’s simply that there is no other way to bring his beloved back to him and Magnus slowly winds the metal collar linked and bound and storing his magic around the neck of his boy.

There’s a voiceless shriek as Alexander’s six wings shake and it feels as though every eye is screaming out without noise before

Magnus surveys the scene.

Alexander has perhaps a little more muscle, an inch or so than he had. But four wings are much better than the six he’d had and two eyes — the pupils now diamond shaped and silver with second pupils in the middle —

Jace steps out, relief in every line of his body and Izzy is next to him but Magnus shakes his head. This is not something Jace can help with. This isn’t something anyone else will be allowed to do or the clave will put Alexander down like a dog.

“By rite of conquest, I claim the True Nephilim known as Alexander Gideon Lightwood.” Magnus says, magic in his voice and it stops every shadowhunter in their tracks.

Jace looks ready to protest but then he just wraps his arm around Izzy and nods, something furious and betrayed in his gaze as he sees how every nephilim close to them has their hand on a weapon.

“As the new heir of the Lightwood house, I honor this claim. You have won a battle that would have cost us many, we surrender our former heir, Alexander Gideon Lightwood to Magnus Bane.” The oath hangs in the air and Magnus hopes he and Jace are the only one to hear her soft, harsh sob. “May the angel guide him, Alexander Gideon no longer our kin.”

Magnus can almost feel the breaking of the magic of names between Izzy and Alec and he hopes the ritual disownment of conquest won’t be enough to wake him. Magnus wants Alexander far, far away from any nephilim for a very long time after this.

Magnus lets the magic hang in the air and then he picks Alexander up, using magic to help him adjust to the unamiliar body of his boy. The portal takes them away and Magnus is sending fire messages to half a dozen people as he pushes magic into Alexander’s body.

The diamond of his eyes seem to spin and then he blinks, lashes fluttering and kissing his cheek and Magnus sighs in a relief, bending to press fervant kisses of relieved adoration to Alexander’s brow and cheeks.

“No, don’t try to open your eyes again.” Magnus shushes and he summons a soft silk blindfold that he’d hoped to use with Alexander for more interesting purposes. “Darling, I don’t know how your visions changed. You have to wait for Catarina, please sweetheart.”

Alexander softens, not relaxing but obeying and the minute twitches of his hand make it clear he wishes to reach out and touch Magnus. Magnus takes his hand immediately, marveling at how even a little bigger, it still feels the same.

“You ‘kay?” Alexander rasps out and Magnus shushes him with a kiss, transferring soothing magic to his abused throat.

“I’m fine, Alexander. Now please, sweetheart. Just rest. Don’t talk. Wait until Cat arrives.”

As if he can tell how rattled Magnus is — how afraid he was that he would lose Alexander — Alexander does his best to relax. He nuzzles into the hand on his face and twins his fingers with Magnus’ own and lets himself be taken care of.

Magnus strips him down and changes the temperature of the room and stares, a frown on his face as he sees the damage from this transformation. The stretch marks are almost silver against Alexander’s skin and they ripple when he breathes, muscles shifting involuntarily.

There’s a tragic beauty to them, especially since Magnus knows they were earned and bore out of a love for Magnus’ own self that he’s never experienced before.

“My heart, you musn’t hurt yourself to save me.” Magnus begs but he knows that his words will be ignored. Just as Alexander’s were when he asked the same thing of Magnus.

[countryclubstarkey]

Post Game Fun - James Potter (smut)

Pairing: James Potter x Reader

Warnings: NSFW, 18+, Making out, blow job, oral sex

Word Count: 1k

*This is not my gif, all credit goes to the owner

The Gryffindor seeker was inches away from the snitch as the opposing seeker tried to catch up, but it was too late because Gryffindor won the quidditch cup.

Everybody was screaming around you as you jumped into Remus’s arms, proud of your friends and boyfriend who led his team to victory this year. The Gryffindor team was flying around the field, causing the crowd to scream even louder than before.

“We Fucking Won,” James screamed at everyone, “Language, Mr. Potter,” Professor McGonagall responded but couldn’t help hiding her own grin.

You and Remus ran onto the field to congratulate the team. You hugged Sirius tightly and gave him a quick kiss on the cheek before he ran to Remus and gave him a sweet kiss in front of everyone. You couldn’t help but smile at their relationship, suddenly arms wrapped around your waist. Your feet left the ground as James twirled you around before settling you down.

You faced the quidditch captain and leaned in to whisper in his ear, “I knew you could do it.”

James kissed you briefly on the lips, a smirk forming on his lip, “Well, I had my good luck charm supporting me.”

“Party at Gryffindor Tower,” Fabian and Gideon yelled at everyone; the crowd started disappearing to get ready for the party.

“Meet me in the locker room in 20 minutes,” James told you before disappearing with the crowd.

“What about the party?”

“Don’t worry, you won’t miss any of the fun,” he winked at you before going into the locker room. You spent the next twenty minutes hanging out with Remus until Sirius pulled him away and told you to have fun.

As you walk into the locker room, you notice how empty it is; the only sounds filling the room were from the showers and the loud moans echoing off the walls. You walked towards the shower area and saw James Potter leaning against the wall gripping his hard, red cock with his eyes closed in pure pleasure.

The veins on his biceps and forearms were evident, as you admired every inch of his body. Quidditch had been notably kind to James because not only had his stamina increased, but so did all the muscles in his body.

“Fuck, darling, I couldn’t wait for you,” he grunted out as he grasped his cock tighter; you could see his pre-cum leaking from the tip.

“Did you want some help?” He nods furiously.

You began to undress and got onto your knees in front of him. Your innocent eyes were staring up at him as he looked at your bare breasts, plump lips and beautiful body that he adored very much.

James watched as you slowly massaged his cock and left tiny, small kisses all over him. He softly moaned at your teasing, “You know better than that, love, don’t tease me,” he warns you.

You leaned in and sucked on the tip causing his groans to fill the room; his jaw fell open from the pleasure you were causing him. Your hands massaged his balls slowly while your mouth took more of his cock. You bobbed your head as your other hand wrapped around the parts you couldn’t fit in your mouth.

“So good, Y/N, keep looking up at me,” James grunted out as you took him in deeper and started to deep throat him as much as you could. He hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag around his cock. His moans increased when he heard the sounds leaving your lips, followed by a trail of spit leaving your mouth as you tried to take a quick breath.

The greatest pleasure for you was seeing James’s face fill with pleasure as he tried to reach his high.

“Can I-” He hesitated, not wanting to do something you’re not comfortable with.

“Do whatever you want with my mouth,” you whimper, the throbbing between your legs growing.

He wrapped his hands around your scalp and thrusted his hips, allowing his cock to fill your throat. The tip of his cock hits the back of your throat, causing you to gag around him again. Your hands wrapped around his balls, fondling and massaging them, trying to help him reach his orgasm. His thrusts get harder and sloppier with each movement. You feel him clench his abs and muscular thighs as his whole body started to shake slightly.

“F-uck love, I’m coming.” He pulled out and started jerking off on your breasts and face covering you with everything he had. James leaned against the wall as his body tried to calm down from the amazing orgasm he just had; nothing could beat this feeling.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes.”

Your puffy lips, make-up streaking down your face barely serving its purpose and his cum all over your face and breasts. He pulled you into his arms directly under the water allowing you to wash off and get a little clean. You grabbed his face capturing his lips between yours; he pushed his tongue against yours, claiming your mouth for the first time tonight.

“We’re going to be late for the party,” you whispered against his lips. His hands trailed down your back, causing goosebumps to cover your body until his hands grabbed your ass, giving it a hard squeeze.

“I haven’t made you cum yet,” his warm lips cover his neck as he gently bites the skin and soothes it with his tongue. Shallow pants leave your lips as you try to control your breathing, the steam from the shower preventing you do so.

“You can do that later; you need to grace everyone with your presence, Mr. Captain,” James chuckled at your statement feeling his ego boost a little.

No matter how much praise he got from others, your opinion was the only one that mattered to him.

“Fine, first let’s get shit-faced, then I’m going to blow your mind all night just like you did to me.”

*I’m sorry this was pretty trash