#both names are swell and she connects heavily to them | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

thecandywrites · 2 years

Text

Monster March Day 16- Part 2

Hemi Meets Pix

I had part 1 done and part 3 done, years ago when I first commissioned @momolady to commission all of this for me then. Writing the bridge to connect the two? Like that meme where you're on one side of the grand canyon and the next piece of the story is on the other side and you have no fucking idea how to build a bridge to get the two to connect. So think of this as fanficion of those commissions as well as- the spark that started those commissions in the first place. Enjoy.

Thanks to @borealwrites for their Monster March 2023 prompt list.

Part 2

Which is where KaBoom and Loker grew up here. And was their hometown. Which, coincidentally where KaBoom got to meet up again with his old friend Utsway whose wife, Diade was close to giving birth as her own pregnant belly swelled to the point it looked like it would burst any moment as a friend of hers was over visiting checking up on her.

“Dea, the midwife just came into town this morning, I saw her and her crew go into Bayonet Mannor’s gates just this morning.” The friend offered since Bayonet manor was the house of nobility in the last town back just as Slystall ended, Bayonet started.

“Oh thank the gods. Sway! You better be getting all the money together, because I need the midwife! I’ve done this for two days, I ain’t laboring for a third!” Diade called out to her mate as she paced around the house, sticking her fists into her lowerback which had been hurting even worse than usual as she tried to sit down but couldn’t get comfortable as her own breathing was labored and a scowl wouldn’t leave her face.

KaBoom was the first to volunteer to get Kisska himself, who apparently was the midwife in question’s name. He immediately left and Hemi watched as Kisska and her caravan came with her. She too had many carts and wagons and an entire crew for protection. All clearly from a variety of clans based on the different hues of green, blue, red, yellow, orange and every other color in the rainbow. But all of them were shield maidens, like Hemi’s own mother was. And the head guard at the head of the caravan was by far, the most amazing shield maiden he had ever heard tales of, let alone seen in his life.

Because that was when Hemi got to get his first look at Pix. Who was Kisska’s Head of Security.

Pix was everything Hemi had ever thought a warrior goddess should be.

She was heavily armed. She wore nothing but leather and was built like both a war goddess and a fertility goddess by the heft of her bosom, swell of her belly and large roundness of her hips and ass and thighs as thick as tree trunks that he mused could probably crush his skull proper. And for the first time, he couldn’t stop himself from grinning just at the sight of her. No other being, let alone a woman, a huge orcish one at that had ever tickled his fancy and was exactly the kind of woman he would ever think to fantasize or even dream was ever to be real and existence. And here she was, on a huge draft and looking him up and down and weighing and measuring him just as much as he was her. And he could only hope she liked what she saw, because he sure did.

She had the sides of her head shaved to show off the tattoos on the sides of her head. As the rest of her hair was braided up into a mohawk along the top of her head.

She rode a pretty large draft horse, not as big as his own, but plenty big enough to carry her. But the horse was still eye level with him which put her up above him, in every way he wanted her to be. And she had even more weapons on her person than he did. She had maps of all kinds all around her. She had tattoos on the parts of her body he could see and even on parts that were partially covered by her leather clothes. And the look she gave him of weariness and the way she narrowed her eyes at him only made his grin grow wider. And when her pair of firehawks came back to her and each of them landed on each of her shoulders, specifically to the sharp antlers she had put on her shoulders, he knew he just met the woman of his dreams. He had heard in the tavern of women of men’s dreams. But she was so much more than that, she was clearly a goddess.

“Nice tatts.” She managed to say once she took her time to look him up and down and sized him up herself as she leaned her elbows on the front of her saddle.

“Thanks.” He answered.

“Who did ‘em?” She asked.

“The elders of my Dad’s tribe.” He answered which got her to raise her eyebrows just a smidge.

“Tribe?” She repeated. He looked pretty orc to her. But most orcs had clans. Nearly all of them. So for him to say tribe meant he wasn’t all orc. Which explained his otherwise exquisite physique. And why, for once, he was a male looking orc that was for once, bigger than her and now she could actually really take good notice of what he was wearing and how he was wearing it and compared it with everything else she knew and encountered.

Because as far as orcs went, orc women were usually only slightly smaller than their male counterparts. But she had been working on building herself strong since she was little and she was usually head and shoulders above most male orcs she found.

And most were actually emasculated by her, because she was usually better at anything and everything than they were. She was very much the matriarchal elephant of the group. She spent her money, besides the usual, leather clothes, good weapons and armor, good food and drink, but otherwise- on really good and accurate maps. Mountain mouras were usually the best when it came to good and accurate maps and she had paid nearly her weight in silver for the best ones that were being updated nearly yearly and showed not only landmarks but migrations as well as where cities rose, fell and which territories belonged to what kind of peoples. Because mountain moura flew all around the world and made their own maps as they did. And because of Kisska, Pix could get them into any and all of the colonies and since most colonies spoke common and marinai, the more marinai she learned, the better she got on with them, to the point she was just as well known as Kisska was to them. And it was Pix who got to vouch for other clans of orcs to at least set up trade for furs, medicine and food stuffs, which in turn helped the colonies.

But Pix, having known KaBoom and specifically his third’s business clientele, was always weary of him. Not wanting his association to taint and tarnish Kisska’s. But this was obviously work. And Kisska came out of the house only a moment later and grabbed what she needed from her cart and then went back in with her sister to help deliver the baby as they brought in a small copper basin with them as Kisska gave an order for what else she would need for the baby when it would be delivered as the different women in her own crew were quick to follow her requests and orders.

“Pix, we’re gonna be here a while. Send someone back to the manor to tell them I’m needed here for at least the rest of the day.” Kisska ordered before Pix looked at her second in command and her sister in arms and just that look was enough for her to leave the group and head back to the manor.

“So Pix? Hi, I’m Hemi.” Hemi introduced himself.

“Mmhmm, so about that tribe.” Pix murmured as she refixed her gaze on him.

“Mountain Craig Tribe of the Drovir Mountains.” He proudly boasted as Pix’s eyebrows rose in surprise while a smile bloomed on her pretty and full lips.

“So I take it your mom is an orc and your dad is obviously a giant goliath hybrid, because that’s giant goliath hybrid country in those parts.” Pix grinned and Hemi’s chest puffed out even prouder because this woman was so well traveled she even knew that much- and off the top of her head too! Oh she couldn’t get more perfect.

“Yup, she was injured on a hunting trip, tracking a snow boar. My dad found her, finished off the boar and brought her home and then they had me.” He proudly told her.

“Nice. Snow boars are some of the hardest to kill. They can dig through bedrock to get to mountain black ironwood pine roots. And those roots, when shaved and boiled, make some of the best black healing balm there is.” She added and Hemi swooned. She was practically crafted and molded by all the old and new gods and made to look like a mortal for being the goddess she surely was because the mountain goliath and giant hybrids, they domesticated snow boars just for that purpose and was why that mountain village had anything to do with the local goliath/giant hybrid community. But the fact that she knew of it, and not just knew of it but how it was made. Impressed him greatly.

“Snow boars also have some of the thickest fur, will get you through any blizzard.” Hemi praised as he padded the fur cloak hanging over his shoulder which got a nod and a grin of approval.

“Tell me about it.” Pix said before she pulled her own cloak that was rolled up behind her seat on her saddle to show that she too had some herself, something she had gotten from the other mountain moura and orcs who hunted them which earned her a nod and grin of approval too.

To Hemi, they were practically a match made in the heavens themselves. And he was ready to call it quits with KaBoom and ask if Pix had any positions he could fill on her crew. He didn’t care if he took a pay cut. Granted this wasn’t the path he envisioned to find his perfect potential mate. But he was happy for it.

“Snow boar is also the most resilient leather too. Besides dragon’s leather.” She nodded in agreement.

“Which I see is what you’ve made your straps and belt from.” She added as she appraised the leather straps across his chest and Hemi couldn’t help it, he smiled happily that she noticed and recognized it.

“It is. Took the better part of five years to tan the hide and make the straps from the edges of the hide. But nothing compared to that dragon leather you’re wearing and that dragon scale armor looks damn near impenetrable.” Hemi praised.

“Good eye. You’re right. It’s served me very well. Easy to wear, easy to clean. Hard as hell to make but once it’s made, it’s damn near unbreakable. Unless it goes up against dragontoothed weapons, then, not so much.” She showed off once she got the dragon toothed daggers from her belt to show off to him and Hemi nearly drooled.

“Where’d you go and get all that from? Must have cost a fortune.” He appraised curiously.

“Miss Kiana gets all around, both this continent and many others beyond. So I’ve gotten different parts of it from all over. Not nearly as expensive as you might think it would be when you know where to look and who to ask but we’re at least a three month journey from the closest fortress, guarded by the very dragons these scales come from- that may or may not have any dragon goods to sell and you better be having your own weight in silver to spend in your hands- to be allowed into the fortress in the first place.” She grinned smugly when she shrugged.

“I can see, you have a lot of tattoos from at least three continents, at least that I can see from here.” Hemi practically purred as Susillo and Abasi both looked at each other and then at Hemi in fear. Many guys flirted with Pix when they saw the wonder that she was. But few got to get more than a few lines out before she put them in their place and they could only hope that Hemi didn’t go too far and end up pissing Pix off. Because Pix was a force to be reckoned with all on her own. Not to mention her sisters in arms. But Pix, she may not have had the gravitas of pure terrorizing presence that Hemi did.

Before they knew Hemi, they thought Pix was the baddest of the badass motherfuckers who protected Kisska as if Kisska was her own baby sister. And who only took orders from Kisska or Kisska’s own orcish father, who was actually Pix’s uncle. So they were, technically cousins.

But Hemi simply took another step and let her mare sniff at his hand just as his pups came up and started sniffing the horse before Pix let her mare have her head to lean her head down to sniff the pups.

“Dire wolf pups, just barely subadults. Pretty well behaved. You nurse them yourself?” Pix asked with a curious grin as Abasi and Susillo simply looked at each other in amazement because of course the most badass woman they had ever known would ever treat Hemi like an equal and not also intimidated as they were. And if anything Pix was becoming as charming as they had ever heard of her or seen her ever being as they wondered if Hemi was finally the guy that Pix would find as an equal instead of always less than and lower than.

“What the fuck is going on right now? Since when does Pix ever tolerate anyone even approaching her that closely without the threat of her beheading them if they touch Cinni?” Abasi breathed into Susillo’s ear because Cinni was short for Cinnamon who was a chestnut mare. And usually meaner than snot and had no qualms about running over and trampling anything and everything in her path. But to Pix, she was the perfect steed.

“I don’t know. At least they’re getting along. Just play it cool and hope that Hemi doesn’t do or say anything stupid, this could either go very good or very bad and heaven help us if this goes bad. Hemi talks a big talk, but Pix walks the big walk and Pix would be the only I would ever think could and would stand her ground and have a chance going up against him..” Susillo urged Abasi under his breath as both of them were afraid to move, much less breathe too much.

But Pix’s dig got Hemi to laugh the biggest, deepest belly laugh that everyone else could practically feel in their bones.

“Nipples are still pretty tender.” Hemi said as he rubbed at them which got Pix to chortle a chuckle.

“You have a good sense of humor. That’s good. Well, if you’re in KaBoom’s crew, we’ll be seeing a lot more of each other- if you can manage to stay alive that long anyway. What happened to what’s his face?” She asked once she looked over at Abasi and Susillo.

“Uh, he uh, he had a career change.” Abasi offered.

“Huh, career change. That’s a fancy way of saying he died, probably bled to death from getting stabbed in the back from a deal gone bad in Cantasi right? That’s where we saw each other last when I saw him still alive and breathing at least. Let me guess, he’s probably half decomposed in some shallow grave in some stretch of woods somewhere outside of Cantasi eh?” Pix guessed and the way Abasi’s ears laid back guiltily had Pix huff mirthlessly through her nose with a subtle, disapproving shake of her head.

“And you’re his replacement. Meant to be a deterrent and the one and only piece of security these guys got huh?” Pix gathered as she looked from them back to Hemi.

“Yup.” Hemi confirmed.

“That’s a lot of work for just you, but by the looks of you, I’m sure you got it all covered and figured out right?” Pix offered with a solemn nod.

“I’m still new and still learning.” Hemi humbly answered which earned him a pleasant smile and expression from Pix.

“Well, then I’ll give you a piece of advice that the last guy didn’t think to listen to when I tried to tell him.” Pix began before Hemi took another step closer so he was standing only a hand’s breadth from her gorgeous and powerful leather clad leg and thigh as she leaned over to him.

“You know there’s three businesses right?” She asked with a low murmur.

“The soap business, the firework business and the third business that’s never advertised but has a certain seedy underbelly kind of clientele right?” She mused with a meaningful look and half grin.

“Perhaps.” Hemi nodded.

“It’s the clientele of the last one that is both the most profitable and lucrative, yet the most dangerous. Don’t trust any of those customers as far as you could beat them into the ground like a fence pole. Not how hard or how far you could punch or kick or throw them. But use them like a fence pole you’re planting into the ground, only the ground is solid bedrock. Because even though you may threaten them all you want about not talking to the authorities or whatever, those guys will turn on anyone and everyone to save their own skin. They’d sell out their own flesh and blood for a tin coin most of the time. KaBoom and Kisska are usually in the same places at the same time. And there’s lots of times where our routes overlap, if not sync up sometimes. Now I’ve known this whole crew for years. I’ve seen a lot of people of all kinds come and the few who have stayed or the ones to leave, either by choice when the heat gets too hot or by dying and leaving that way.” Pix warned him.

“Is there anyone else I should keep an eye out for?” Pix asked.

“And KaBoom has gotten Kisska some really amazing clients because she’s the best midwife besides her own mother and grandmother and while she does good, honest work. She doesn’t always do it for good and honest people. Everyone from the Ruby Empire to Obresh, to Dorierra, to Fitsdale and everywhere in between knows who Kisska Kiana is and what she does.” Pix explained.

“Kisska has worked her ass off on making a good name for herself and carrying on a tradition that’s been in her family for nearly 10 generations now. And building that reputation that precedes her wherever she goes now. And KaBoom in the past, has made sure to tell her and to tell me who in particular I need to keep an eye on and who I need to protect Kisska and our crew from. And it’s usually always the customers of that third thing. So I know from looking around, that I need to keep my eyes on…” Pix began before she looked around and used her head to nod and point out every person who her own sense of protectiveness spiked towards as Hemi’s eyes left hers to follow her line of sight to mentally mark the same people.

“I’ve only had one run in with that third kind, but they were all the way back in Clayton.” Hemi offered.

“Ah, the northwest tower of the castle crumbled from an explosion that was only meant to open the sewer gate apparently. They found six in the rubble and three more were caught trying to poison the Duke and make off with his treasury key. They drank the poison they were armed with before they could talk though. But Kisska only had gotten there two days after because the explosion caused the Duchess to go into labor early. But thanks to Kisska getting there quick, the Duchess had her little Duke, a bit earlier than planned, but safe and sound nonetheless” Pix informed him.

“Then there isn’t anyone else that comes to mind then. I am sorry to hear about the aftermath with the Duchess though. Glad she and the baby made it through though.” Hemi offered as Pix outright smiled fondly at him as she sat back up.

“Me too. I think we’ll get along just fine, you and me. Keep that handsomely tattooed head on your shoulders clear and on a swivel ok?” She urged him.

“Yes Ma’am.” He nodded in understanding which made her smile even brighter.

“So what are the pup’s names?” She asked once Cinni pulled her head up and turned to sniff Hemi some more.

“Oh this is Hemtar.” He offered as he picked up the closest one so she didn’t have to get off her horse as the puppy squirmed as it tried to climb out of his arms to get to her.

“Hi Hemtar, you’re pretty big for still having all this puppy fluff on you. But I’m sure once all this gorgeous adult fur grows in you’ll look just as ferocious as your Daddy huh?” She cooed as she happily took the puppy from him and held him as if he was her own puppy as he licked at her face and neck and practically melted into a puddle in her arms.

“Ooph, and he feeds you so good too! I can see and feel all this big strong muscle through your fluff too!” She cooed as she heard the Diade inside let out a screaming roar as she was clearly in labor and at the part where she was pushing as KaBoom was quick to leave the house as Diade was cussing her mate out as he knelt beside her while she sat in a small basin of hot water to help ease and relax her pelvic muscles while she sat on a low birthing stool.

“Hey Boom, come here.” Pix called to KaBoom and nodded him over to the other side of her horse as Cinni soon left off sniffing at Hemi and receiving pets from Hemi to look over at KaBoom.

“Hey Pix.” He answered as he came up to her and kept his remaining fingers out of Cinni’s reach cause Cinni had a tendency to bite anyone she didn’t like or whoever Pix especially didn’t like. KaBoom was pretty sure Pix had trained her to bite on command.

“Did Kisska tell you about what happened in Clayton?” Pix asked.

“Yeah, Sorry about that.” He offered apologetically.

“Look, I get that you don’t really have any control of what happens to the items you sell in dark alleys at night. Or who they’re used on once they’re sold. Or who gets victimized by whoever you sell that shit to- because I know it’s none of my business. But I know damn well you knew that Duchess McClayton was due three weeks from when she had to deliver that little Duke she was carrying. Because six months ago when we were in Clayton last, and Kisska and Mika were doing a check up and making sure the pregnancy was stable, that she told you about it. And I know she told you how important that particular pregnancy was not just to the McClaytons but the city of Clayton itself. And I get that part of your own cloak of protection is secrecy. But a heads up would have been nice to get.” Pix all but seethed in a snarl as KaBoom’s cheeks flushed a deeper shade of green.

“Because what we got instead, was a damn fleet coming to where we were. They came and escorted us to The McClayton Estate. Kisska had barely cleaned the afterbirth of the baby she had just delivered and the messengers had to wait until that mother delivered the afterbirth while we packed up as quick as we could to come to Duchess’ emergency aid. It was nothing short of a miracle she could hold off until we ran our horses all the way there. The Duke had to pay for us to even change horses twice to the wagons. We just got our proper rides back only the day before yesterday. We made a three day trek by hard riding for practically 16 hours straight and all that hard riding meant that a lot of our stuff got damaged by running on the roads.” Pix leveled at him with anger and irritation as clear the clear blue sky currently was.

“Yeah, I already gave Kisska whole cases of any soaps she wanted to make up for it.” KaBoom offered.

“Good. Once Kisska is done in there, her and I need to rework our schedule again and I don’t think we’ll be able to meet back up at Iron Horse like we usually do.” Pix offered.

“Yeah, I figured as much.” He nodded in understanding.

“So this is the new Kager huh?” She asked as she nodded over to Hemi.

“Yup, that’s Hemi.” KaBoom answered as he suddenly realized she was still holding and petting the puppy as he could see Hemi simply give him a curious look over the withers of her already huge draft horse.

“Yes Ma’am.” He nodded before Cinni lost her patience and pinned her ears back and went to bite at him which got Pix to make a noise to get Cinni to not do it again but that was KaBoom’s cue to back away and walk off.

“Yeah, we’ve met. But he’s brand new, so I’m gonna ask you my usual. Tell me what I need to know to keep Kisska and the rest of my crew safe.” She demanded before KaBoom dropped his head and came as close as he dared and told her about everyone else he had sold to since him and his crew met up with Kisska and hers as Hemi too kept a sharp ear out for all this information too.

“Thank you for your honesty.” She said before she traded one pup over for another to pet and love on who was putting it’s feet up on Cinni’s leg to try to climb up to Pix before she got to hold Sador for a while.

“So, where’s Iron Horse?” Hemi asked as he held Hemtar and pet him affectionately.

“Oh, here.” She said before she handed Sador back so she could get in her satchel to the map she needed.

“Here.” She said as she showed him as he put the pups down to look it over.

“Wow, this is one hell of a map. Bird folk make it?” He asked.

“A special kind of birdfolk- but yeah.” Pix agreed.

“How much did it cost to buy it? Had to be at least a few bars of gold for a map like that.” Hemi appraised.

“Right amount, wrong metal. This one cost me five bars of silver.” Pix grinned before she folded it back up carefully as Hemi’s eyebrows rose in surprise.

“But that should have only run what, one and a half or two bars of gold though?” He asked before Pix had a peculiar grin on her features as she unfolded the map once more.

“Ok, you see here on this map, how there’s this settlement, with two dragons in the mountains?” She asked.

“Yeah.” He said as he tried to memorize how much it would take to get there as he wasn’t familiar with much of anything around it.

“In this place, if you get the opportunity to sell anything there, you’ll get the best gold for it. But if you want to buy anything there, you better be paying in silver. In your tribe, were there two kinds of currency? One used with the outsiders, but another used just in the tribe among tribe members?” She asked.

“Yeah.” He nodded.

“Same thing there. The people who live here with the dragons- they’re of a bird people called moura. To look at them, most of the time they look no different than humans. But human- they are not. Gold is what they use with outsiders, who don’t live there and what they pay to the people who are brave enough to climb that mountain road up to it. Big risk, but big reward right? Because money talks. And very few things speak louder than gold does right?” She reasoned.

“Gotcha.” Hemi nodded in understanding before they heard the tell tale sign of a baby crying for the first time.

“Usually.” He nodded.

“So in a place that has dragons and they use the dragon’s own hoard of gold to do business with outsiders. But among themselves, silver is king there. You want to sell anything, you get paid in gold by the locals there. You want to buy anything like the maps. You pay in silver because gold to a moura is like trying to pay for something as common as the stones from a stream or on a pathway. Gold is useless and practically worthless to the natives in a mountain colony of them because all gold technically belongs and comes from the dragons right? The fortresses are called ‘colonies’. Because moura are bird folk all the same. But what sets them apart is they are usually always protected by dragons too. And those dragons will burn anyone who the dragons see as a threat. Just the same way some peoples have special relationships with other beings or other creatures? Same thing with them. So my advice, save all your silver and trade all your gold in for silver before you approach a moura colony. That’s the only way you’ll afford much of anything up there. And it’s best to wait to even approach if Kisska or another merchant that already does business with them and approach with them. Because the moura are a skittish and a slow to trust- bunch. And you usually aren’t allowed in without someone they do trust to vouch for you. But among all the bird peoples, they are the best map makers there are, at least, in my experience. Because they’re birdfolk, they can get wings and fly all around the world all the time and map it as they fly over it. So the whole- ‘bird’s eye view’ thing is a real literal thing they have. And they know that most will pay practically their weight in silver for a good one, that’s as current as possible. Because you know as well as I do that lands get conquered all the time. And overnight, a lot of stuff can change.” Pix revealed.

“Well, that’s my cue. It was nice to meet you Hemi. I gotta go and once Kisska cleans up, we’ll be headed back to the Bayonet Manor and get a chance to regroup and figure out what and how we get to change everything.” Pix said.

“See you around Hemi.” Pix offered as she got Cinni turned around and got the group ready to leave to go back as soon as Kisska would be done inside.

“So Pix short for something? Like a longer name?” He asked as he followed her and Abasi, Sussilo and Kaboom could not get off their asses to intervene fast enough.

“Nope. Just Pix. Why? Is Hemi short for a longer name for you?” She asked before they all paused.

“Nah, just…Hemi.” He shook his head.

“Ok then.” Pix nodded.

“You sure about that name though? You sure it’s not Pix short for Pixie?” He asked and suddenly both crews gasped as Abasi, KaBoom and Susillo were trying to yell apologies at Pix and beg for mercy and leniency for Hemi. Which didn’t make a bit of sense to Hemi who was just confused at the way suddenly everyone was reacting to that.

But it was as if Pix was ignoring them as she swung her leg off her horse and grabbed his tusks to yank him down to the ground to the point he was suddenly on his knees and looking up at a now very angry Pix.

“Pix as in Pick Axe, As in I will break these tusks off myself after I break your jaw and shatter it like glass as use them as such. No one calls me Pixie. Because that is not my name. The last guy who tried, I punched him out cold. I shattered his jaw to the point it never mended and when he awoke three days later from the coma my punch sent him into- he didn’t live but an hour before his friends put him out of his misery because by then, they had to amputate his jaw because I punched him into the ground so hard, pieces of his jaw broke through his cheeks and it all got infected and gangrenous. He wasn’t the first and I’m sure he won’t be the last that I will do that too. This is your one warning. Because we just met and Cinni likes you and Cinni is just as picky and choosey about who she likes as I am. The same way I’m sure you’re raising your dire wolf pups to be too. And I know you were just hired to protect KaBoom and his crew. But know this, the fastest way to cross me and get on my bad side is to call me anything other than Pix or Ma’am. Know that I am stronger than I look. And I have fought off dozens of battle hardened warriors turned mercenaries, all by myself at any one time and been the last one left standing. As has every other woman on my security team. We are our own clan. And Kisska is our leader but I am the Warchieftess. And I don’t need or answer to no man, especially one that won’t even use my name the way I have given them the permission to.” Pix snarled down as Hemi’s pups actually took a submissive pose and began to whine for mercy for their master.

“Your pups are saving you this time. There better not be a next time though.” Pix grunted as she used her hold on his tusks to actually push him away before she walked to the house and knocked on the door.

“Kisska, kachini.” Pix said through the door.

“Coming! I’ll be right out.” Kisska answered before Pix pet the wolves and assured them that she wasn’t mad at them as Hemi was just now finding his feet again and brushing the dirt off of himself.

“Save your breath.” Pix warned the others who immediately shut up and shrunk back and away and went and got Hemi and brought him back to where their own carts were.

“Is any of that true?” Hemi asked as he moved his jaw from side to side.

“Oh yeah. She’s beheaded guys for that right in the street for it too. And because she’s orc, it’s excused as a sign of them insulting her honor or Kisska’s or any other woman in that crew. That is Pix’s one button that once you know it’s there, if you accidentally brush against it, heaven help you if you press it once and if you live past pressing it, you never press it again if you want to keep living. The reason she is as big and strong as she is, is because she’s fought against most- thinking she’s somehow their pixie dream girl, woman, whatever. You just got very, very lucky that that’s all she did. She must really like your pups. Otherwise she could have and would have killed you to take them herself. She’s not a woman anyone ever says ‘no’ to. And whatever she asks for, you give, without question. She is the deterrent for Kisska. To keep Kisska safe and her reputation as squeaky clean as it is. She’s had Clan Chief’s offer her the positions of Clan Chieftess to nearly every clan there is, and she’s turned them all down, all for Kisska. Because Kisska, and her midwifing skills, that’s how they make as much as they do. And how they can afford to be a family and a mini clan of their own. Kisska’s dad, is just as scary and just as intimidating as you are. He is a warrior of legend and his younger brother who is just as lethal as he is, they trained Pix. And when Kisska said that she wanted to take midwifing on the road. Pix is her cousin and Kisska’s choice of who she could trust to have her back and keep her safe. I know they don’t look it, but they’re family. And Rogan, Kisska’s dad was only be ok with it, if Pix went with her to keep her safe. And Pix takes protecting Kisska and everyone else in their crew just as seriously as I hope your dad is about your mom right?” KaBoom explained.

“Ah. I see.” Hemi nodded in understanding.

“I take it between Rogan and Pix, they keep you from getting any closer to Kisska huh?” Hemi realized as Kaboom’s shoulders dropped in shame.

“Yeah, that is a fight, a battle and a war I will never win. So the best way I can help her is to tell Pix about all the customers of the third business to keep Kisska safe, that’s all I can manage, that and the soaps and how and why we have it in the first place. Kisska is our best client when it comes that too. So just…from now on, never say the name ‘Pixie’ again. Pix or Ma’am. Usually Boss Lady.” KaBoom urged Hemi as Kisska finally left the house and gave Hemi a curious look before she climbed up into the seat of the cart to finish cleaning the blood off of herself.

But Hemi, if anything was now more adamant that he found the perfect woman. Because she wasn’t afraid of him or put him into his place for crossing the line. He could only admire and respect her more for it. He didn’t know how or when, but it was going to be his mission to make Pix his mate, one way or another.

It was the next day that Hemi got to meet Kisska herself as she came back into Slystall to check up on Diade and how she was faring as KaBoom walked her back to where they were set up at.

“So you’re Hemi?” Kisska asked Hemi as she approached him.

“Yes Ma’am.” He answered.

“I take it KaBoom or anyone else on the crew hadn’t told you about my cousin and her ‘piss me off’ button huh?” She asked with an apologetic look.

“Yeah, I meant no disrespect or offense. I just…Pix as in Pick Axe makes sense.” He managed to say.

“Yeah. Well, I’m sorry. If I had seen you two interacting I would have pulled you aside and told you myself. Pix is…well she has a really strong personality and really strong reactions.” Kisska offered apologetically.

“She’s family and she keeps you safe and you’re her family and her path to independence. Of course she should be strong for that.” Hemi appraised which got her to smile appreciatively that he was being as gracious as he was.

“Yeah. That’s why we’re….more of a band of sisters than anything. Because this keeps us free and independent and none of us want to give it up. But I just wanted to know if there was anything I could do to smooth this over.” Kisska admitted but Hemi sensed that Kisska was more repeating that for herself than to inform him as even KaBoom could only nod as Hemi noticed KaBoom’s horns were shorter and were currently sticking out of Kisska’s satchel.

“It’s me who should be making amends Miss Kiana. What can I do to smooth things over?” He asked which surprised Kisska and KaBoom to see and hear.

“Uh…I…I don’t…I’d have to think about that one.” Kisska admitted.

“Here, will this help?” Hemi asked before he went into his own ruck sack and pulled out a jar of black balm as Kisska’s eyes got wide when she saw it before put the whole jar into her hands as she had to work to keep a hold of the huge jug.

“Hemi, no, this is too much. It was just a misunderstanding and Pix has always had a bad temper, really, I can’t accept this.” Kisska tried to say.

“KaBoom hasn’t stopped talking about how much you and your crew has helped him and his business and how you help his soaps and fireworks sell and he sings your midwifing skills to every woman he sees. But that being said. I know because of the association you have with us, that we put you in more danger than you ever should be. And I understand that if I do my job right, neither of you should have trouble. I just didn’t want to drive a wedge between between us. And if this is an acceptable peace offering, it’s worth it if it means it keeps the peace and keeps your crew and mine on good terms. I offended her. I can only hope that this will make up for it.” He plainly stated before she passed the jug to KaBoom only to try to hug him, only able to reach her little arms around the front part of his waist.

“Thank you so much Hemi. I can sleep better at night knowing that you, as my new friend are keeping my old ones safe and sound. Thank you.” She thanked him genuinely before she took the jug back to carry it like it was a baby of it’s own as KaBoom silently turned around and silently said his thanks to Hemi for the peace offering as he walked her back to the manor.

#Monster March #Monster March 2023 #Monster March 2023 Day 16- Giant Part 2

6 notes · View notes

falakxsiddiqui · 4 months

Text

━ INTRODUCING FALAK SIDDIQUI

full name. Falak Siddiqui

nickname(s). Sky (which is what her name means)

age. 35

birthdate. October 26th 1988

occupation. Interior Designer

currently living in. Wrightsville Beach

gender. Cis Female

pronouns. She/Her

hometown. Wilmington, GA

length of time in Wilmington. Six Weeks

face claim. Anushka Sharma

connections. // pinterest.

trigger warnings. familial death

tldr;

falak siddiqui is a wilmington native. she was born and brought up here. she lived here until she graduated and left that summer to head to washington state. she got her bachelor of arts degree before taking some courses at heritage school of interior design in seattle as well. she left behind her high school sweetheart who had proposed to her shortly after graduation because she wasn't ready to get married and live in wilmington. but she did get married during her time in washington, a man her parents had introduced to her and she had a pretty good marriage for the most part until her husband died under mysterious circumstances. her father also passed around the same time and now she's returned to wilmington to be there with her mother who is extremely ill. falak lives a very independent life and loves it that way. she has a soft heart but it does take very long to get there with her.

BIOGRAPHY ;

Falak Siddiqui was born on a rather cold North Carolina night to Ehsaan and Vidya Siddiqui after not only a complicated pregnancy but also a rather long struggle in getting pregnant for Vidya. She put all her hopes and prayers into conceiving a child and so when Falak was born—she was truly treated as if she was a gift from the God’s above.

She lived in Masonboro with her family, living a quintessential childhood, befriending the other neighborhood kids and being an all around happy kid. Things were going great for her, she was on the track her parents had laid out for her and everything was swell.

High School was an interesting time for Falak because while on one hand she excelled in her academic endeavours, at the same time—she allowed her boyfriend at the time to pretty much become the center of her universe. Sure she still was succeeding academically but her free time was all taken up by this individual and it was to the level where here parents had visibly been trying to separate the two. If anything, he taught her a different way to live life, something she was grateful for. She had always been so straight-laced that he brought a different sort of edge into her world and she loved it. The thrill that came from doing things that weren’t always seen as acceptable made her quite happy.

The bond she shared with the man in question was one heavily opposed by her parents, so much so that they often tried to sign her up for other things, monopolizing her time and taking away her phone to keep them away from one another but it never worked because ultimately they found their way back to each other easily. They had become so important to one another that after their graduation he'd proposed to her--truly doing the most cliched wonderful thing but it wasn't that way for Falak. She had her own set of dreams and ideologies and for her--marriage wasn't on the list of priorities at least, not at that moment. She'd refused and that had been that. She'd barricaded herself into her room for a few weeks that summer. The idea of going to college here at UCNW wasn't sitting right with her.

With the guidance and push from her parents, she’d applied to different colleges and universities across the country and a few across the world as well. She had the grades to get into any school of her choosing and when the different acceptances came pouring in, she took one of the furthest ones away that she could.

University of Washington would be her home for the next four years where she’d attain her bachelor of arts degree with a major in south asian languages and cultures. It was the first time she was alone from both her family and her friends and Falak thrived, she found a good set of core friends who allowed her to become a new version of herself and she thoroughly enjoyed those years of her life. When she’d completed the program she knew she didn’t want to do anything in that particular field and so she’d thought long and hard about what else she could do.

Since childhood, Falak had an aesthetic eye, she loved being able to play with different patterns and textures and colors to create something amazing. Keeping this in mind, she enrolled in the Heritage School of Interior Design in Seattle and from the first few months, she knew this was what she wanted to do for the rest of her life. The courses were tough but her resilient attitude shined through as she flourished from different program to another. She became a successful interior designer and began working with a larger firm in Seattle itself.

It allowed her to not only gain experience but build her book of knowledge as well. With this job she travelled to different parts of the United States wherever their clients needed her. It was the best job, she could travel when she wanted and create something beautiful while she was working.

It was during this time that her parents began pressuring her to get married and while Falak knew deep down that her heart would always belong to the man whose proposal she'd refused, she began meeting potential suitors as well. A couple of them were absolute duds but then she met Rishi Nayar. He was a breath of fresh air and brought something to her life that she didn’t know she had a desire for…immense wealth. Falak had been born into a good household and had never wanted for anything but the lifestyle that Rishi presented her with was one of absolute opulence and she loved it. They had chartered flights to travel, black credit cards for all purchases, and she even had a closet space dedicated to her accessories. She was living every girl’s dream.

But that didn’t mean she was happy. She did her duty when it came to being Rishi’s wife, she was kind to his friends, charming with his business associates and caring with his family. But she couldn’t love him. She couldn’t give him what he’d desired in life—true companionship. Years passed and while Falak had settled into an easy enough routine with work being her main focus and her marriage taking second place—Rishi wasn’t happy. He’d been in contact with some lawyers, trying to get around having to give her 50% of his net worth. She’d found those papers and while she’d been devastated at the thought of losing the lifestyle she’d come to love—she’d also been equally ready to fight for it. Many South Asian marriages didn’t believe in prenups after all, so she was fully entitled to half his estate and would fight for it.

But before the papers had been signed—Rishi had an unfortunate accident. He’d been using the chartered plane to head to the east coast when tragedy struck. His plane went down with him and four other crew members onboard. Such was fate though—the pilots and crew members survived and the only fatality in this accident…was her husband Rishi Nayar.

As his widow…Falak inherited his entire estate, his last will and testament had never been changed since he was so busy focusing on his business and ensuring the divorce terms were clear. An oversight on his part for sure that ultimately meant only good things for Falak.

But karma was real and during the time of her husband’s unfortunate passing, Falak’s father also succumbed to an illness he’d been battling with for many years. It had been traumatic and while Falak had returned to Wilmington for a few days during his funeral, she’d quickly left once more, unable to withstand the memories that waited for her there.

Her return to Wilmington now after all these years is due to her mother’s health which has been detoriating significantly. There’s no actual illness that anyone could find and so while many speculate that Vidya is dying of a broken heart post the passing of her husband, Falak wants to figure out exactly what the cause is and if in any way it’s hereditary.

HEADCANONS;

love animals but hasn't adopted a pet as of yet.

thinks travelling is a passage that everyone needs to go through.

loves getting all dressed up for fancy events

enjoys swimming and bicycle riding as a form of exercise

dances a lot on the side, but never anything professional

plays the piano as well.

has always wanted a tattoo but hasn't got one yet.

has her ears pierced twice and her nose as well.

loves reading, is an avid reader.

watches fashion shows for interior inspiration a lot as well.

loves visiting museums and art galleries as well

#wnc.intro #biography | falak

1 note · View note

kandadiff · 1 year

Text

Van Der Wulff : Tell Me Lies

As soon as my passport was scanned at the Mexican border, Manuel Ramirez-Calva was informed by a couple of his men. He kept it a secret from his wife of a year hoping to surprise her when he found me. He sent his men to search up and down for me but coming up empty he grew more and more frustrated. He was assured I had to be somewhere in Mexico and there was not a space in Mexico his empire and connections couldn't get access. He also knew the longer he kept it a secret the more likely it was to spill out.

He moved to his wife favorite part of the fortress that made up there house. He smiled seeing her in the colorful room, paint splattering covering her bare legs as she finished her painting of the two kids she missed the most. She had been working on it for months, using teh only photo she still had of them as her reference. Guilt weighed heavily on him, here I was in Mexico and even he couldn't get to me. "Mi Amor." he called to her, his heart still swelling when she gave him a lopsided smile. He eyed the maids in the corner. "🌶Leave us." he said, the two woman bowing there head and quickly going out the door.

"Manny" Harley smiled motioning for him to come closer. "I was practicing my Spanish." Her thick New York accent always put a smile on her face. "Maria says in no time, I'll be speaking like a pro." He smiled at her with a sigh, his heart growing heavy with the news that even though I was in Mexico, I was basically a ghost. He opened his mouth to speak only to be interrupted by a frantic knocking on the door. "🌶enter." Harley called out, her accent making Manny smile.

"Jefé" One of his higher ranking man came in. He bowed his head respectfully to Harley before turning to Manny. "🌶This is about the..." he hesitated for a moment. "🌶girl." Harley looked at Manny with a raised eyebrow but Manny didn't give anything away. He moved towards the man but Harley stopped him.

"What girl?" she asked, paint from her fingers getting on Manny's jacket.

The man looked from Manny to his wife and back again. Manny nodded "You can tell us both."

"There was a massacre in Tijuana." The man explained. "We got a tip that a good amount of the Diablos were shot up." Manny, being the leader of the Rey De La Muerte gang, didn't care for the many gangs that popped up along side his territory and none were as annoying as the Diablos. He was happy to hear of there demise but what did that have to do with anything? "Big Carlos and his cousin check the house before the cops arrived and" The man pulled out what looked like a small booklet from his pocket and handed it to Manny. "They looked and all the bodies there were male. She didn't die there as far as we know. But thats all we know."

Manny flipped over the book in his hand, the United States emblem embroidered the front. It was a passport. Manny got a sinking feeling in his stomach that intensified when he flipped open the book. My name, date of birth and address that was next to the picture confirmed it was me, along with the glossy smiling picture smeared in blood. Manny closed his eyes for a moment gripping the passport hard. He had been so close and now with the diablos I could be anywhere.

"Manny" Harleys voice forced him to open his eyes again and he quickly tried to shut the passport. But she was faster then him and took it from his hands before he could. The sharp heartbroken gasp she let out stabbed at his heart. She looked up at him, her large blue eyes swimming with a storm of emotions but quickly a stifling sadness overcame her.

"Oh god no" she shook her head pressing the book to her chest. "No, no, no, no!" she cried out and Manny ran to her. He held onto her tightly as he quickly explained what his surprise was supposed to be. But she was wailing in his arms. Her fingers pressing to the pictures frantically wiping at the blood as though thats what would bring her child back to her. She pressed the picture to her chest pressing herself into her husband as he spoke in rapid fire Spanish to his men. "My daughter is still here, Manny. I feel it." she said and he looked down at her, his expression instantly softening.

"I know, I know and I promise you, I will find her."

"If you have to" She said looking up at him with a fire in her eyes he'd never seen before. "burn down all of Mexico to do it. I want my daughter back!"

"You should eat." Katya said gently pushing a plate of chicken and rice over to Edward. The boy sat with his head in is hands, frustration racially seeping out of the pours in his body. Him and Katya had spent hours asking around town, trying to speak to locals with no help from Shawn's helpers. They were too busy tending to his busted face to be of any service. Ed even got a call from Marcel that said he spoke to you and the time difference made it just past 4 in the morning in Greece. To many hours had passed, you could be anywhere.

"Not hungry." Ed mumbled out pushing the plate away. They were still in Negan's mansion, Ed had threatened to kill the entire staff if they were to attempt to kick him or Katya out. He knew he had to call Negan and was now dreading that call. This was supposed to be simple but instead, Shawn fucked it all up. His mind wandered to what would really happen to him if he killed him.

"I know what you are thinking," Katya said leaning on the table and opening a beer and pushing the plate back to him "And I want to do it too but we can't." She chuckled under her breath pressing the beer to her nose and making a face. She took a long sip, the face she made made Ed give a small laugh. "This taste like shit." She offered him some and after a moment he took it, his lips curling at the sourness. They shared a laugh before Edward looked at his phone again. "Do you want me to make the call?" Katya asked "I do not mind telling him his son is a big idiot and it might be better if he were here. He speaks Greek, we need someone here on our side."Edward was about to speak but instead he heard the distance knocking at the front door. Him and Katya looked at each other before quickly moving to the front door.

A mousy maid looked confused at an envelope jumping when Edward shouted at her. "What is that?"

"I- I can't-" She said looking around frantically. She called out for another worker when Katya noticed the writing on the envelope had Shawns name on it. Katya held out her hand but Edward just yanked it from her hands making her jump back. He tore at the envelope his face grimacing when he saw what was inside.

The first thing he pulled out was a Polaroid of you in some bed, with dirty clothes, messy hair and a wound on our head with the words 'Miss her, yet?' He growled tearing out the other contents but seeing familiar looking cards he threw down the envelope causing the items to fall in a messy pile on the floor.

"THIS WEAK, PSYCHO, PIECE OF SHIT! HE SET US UP!" Edward shouted and Katya's eyes widened when she got closer to the pile on the floor. looking up at her were playing cards. All of them were Joker cards.

Negan leaned back in his chair as his mind went through all the scenarios that could possibly running through the Joker's head. But that was the problem with psychopaths, wasn't it? Who knows what they were thinking? Maybe this was his way to teach Shawn, you don't take what isn't yours. Or maybe he wanted to prove that he could pull off something under everyones noses. But thats all speculation. Especially that the Joker was to busy to discuss anything at the moment, instead sending his son to the compound.

If it was all to prove something then where were you? What was with that morbid picture that Edward had texted that he received, that was originally addressed to Shawn?

"Sir," one of the girls knocked on his office door. "Robin is here."

He nodded at Simon and they met Robin in the living room. The tall boy looked uncomfortable and Negan eyed him carefully. Sensing his presence robin greeted him and Simon politely.

"So," he said, bag were clear under his eyes. It was obvious he wasn't sleeping much in the past week. He was paler too. "When's adi coming back?"

Negan looked at Robin for a while trying to figure out just what Robin knew or if he knew anything at all. "Well thats what I wanted to discuss with your daddy today. Instead he sends his little boy." Robin made a face at the name but said nothing. "Seems now no one can fucking locate her." Robin raised an eyebrow at him. "any idea about that?"

"What do you mean?" Simon pulled out his phone showing robin the contents of the letter Edward had sent him pictures off. "What the hell is this?"

"Looks like Joker cards." Negan shrugged. he briefly explained what Edward had found leaving out exactly how you looked in the polaroid.

"Why is it in Greece?" He looked up at the two men and he instantly knew what they were accusing him - or more precisely his father of. "You think Joker had anything to do with this?" Anger grew in his voice as he spoke, walking closer to Negan. Unlike many others, robin held no fear for the man - at least not in this moment. Simon places his hand on the gun on his hip but Negan motioned for him to keep it holstered. He wanted to see how this played out. "Joker is looking for my actually missing sister and you think he had time to fucking to to Greece and try and out do your pathetic excuse for a child?"

"He was with you the whole time then?" Simon questioned, his eyes boring into Robins. Robin didn't give him an answer instead kept his eyes on Negan.

"Did you ever think of your boundary-less son was trying to cover his own tracks? Especially with Edward and Katya there?"

Negan nodded calm in the face of Robin's anger. "There is no way he could have done it then, huh. I wonder who they came from then. Shawns been in and out for the last day but he muster really though ahead if he got about 50 playing cards to be delivered just as Edward and Katya were arriving." He scoffed at Robin's jaw tightened. He laughed and started to walk out but stopped himself. "Oh shit, I forgot I had to show you what else Ed sent me." He motioned for Simon to hand him the phone and he pulled up the picture of you that was in the envelope. Robin was taken aback, his tired eyes scanning the picture as though he expected it to be a figment of his imagination. But it was real. The worst things he thought could happen to you were real and there was proof and his father was the biggest culprit.

"I'll send it to you," Negan said pulling the phone away from the stunned boy. "Have a good night, Robin." With that the two men walked out of the living room leaving Robin with racing though as he dashed out of the house. His mind set on Joker.

1 note · View note

djarinsbeskar · 3 years

Text

EXPLORATION ARC: PART 3 - CRASH LANDINGS

A/N: I think I’ve read and re-read this part so many times that I’m not sure I’m fully happy with it anymore. However! I do hope you can all enjoy the latest instalment, with our lovely Din (finally) getting some well earned attention.

Pairing: Din Djarin/Fem!Reader

Word Count: 14.4k (I have no self control I’m sorry if it drags on)

Rating: 18+ (NO Minors)

Warnings: language, (some) dirty talk, SMUT! - oral (m receiving including deepthroating and gagging), handjobs, fingering, Din being slightly awkward before embracing his dom side

Summary: It’s mighty hard to distract yourself from your mysterious and alluring shipmate, so why bother?

AO3 | Stitches Masterlist | Main Masterlist

You could say with some confidence that most times in your life, you had smooth landings.

A small swell in your stomach as a ship glided down into atmosphere. The gentle, paced approach of land or sea, of mountains, forests and cities materializing as you descended. The gradual growth of buildings, speeders and individuals from pinpricks into distinguishable features of the landscape. A smooth landing was like sliding into a warm bath, where you only realized how good the water felt when it was lapping around your ears and soothing away the aches of a bad day; the touch down of a ship letting you bask in being on solid ground once more.

Sometimes, you admit, there were rough landings.

Your heart hammering in the back of your throat while you desperately tried to smother the creeping nervousness with every bump of turbulence or rattle of a ships’ engine. The rapidly approaching planet being anything but a welcome sight; the hollow, raw sensitivity to every noise both inside the ship and out suspending you in time before the worst passed. Rough landings to you, were like rolling down a hill as a child from a grassy knoll, the incline of which – to an adult – was nothing more than a slight slope. Chaotic in the movement as your head became dizzy from spinning, but once laying on your back and laughing breathlessly up at wispy clouds, you realized it wasn’t so very bad after all. The same could be said when a ships mechanical functions and sensors righted themselves through automation or a talented pilots guide to land… not so very bad in hindsight.

And then there were crash landings… rare but staggering in the impression they left.

Moments where you weren’t sure if you were hyperventilating or holding your breath, if up was down and if the ship you flew was evening functioning beyond alloying gravity to pull it mercilessly towards wreckage and death. Total clarity and yet, an inability to focus on any one thing as the rapid descent fogged any ability to see the ground coming hard and fast. The shrill alarms and warning lights ceaselessly reminding you of how fucked you really were. The adrenaline it inspired – having nowhere to go – could make you giddy and exhilarated despite the danger. In your life, the feeling of a crash landing couldn’t be compared to the physical; they were the sinking realization of someone falling out of love with you, of the betrayal from a loyal friend, the abandonment of a lifelong support. They were the serendipity of a chance meeting, the recognition of a hidden talent and the reciprocation of long held feelings. Crash landings were all the times you had ever been blindsided and helpless to prevent them: an embodied vulnerability.

The day you landed on Nevarro was a crash landing in more ways than one.

One being the literal – survived by the seat of your pants – landing that had you questioning Mando’s ethnicity beneath the helmet. Was he from Corellia? Or Maker-forbid, Pamarthe? Because there was simply no way, no way, that he managed to pull off that landing with one engine blown and a fleet of pirates on his tail. But he did, and you were all alive because of it. He guided the Razor Crest like it was an extension of himself, completely in control of every movement and never anything but calm as he did so.

For as long as you had known the Mandalorian, he had owned the fossil that was the Razor Crest, and now you could see why. You wanted to weep and apologise to her for every stray thought you had about how old and outdated she was. You knew a brand new gunship that people paid obscene amounts of credits for wouldn’t have survived the same strain the Razor Crest was just put under.

You had come to think of the two – Mando and the Razor Crest – as mirrors of each other; intimidating, ageless and well able to endure more than a ship – or a human body – was naturally capable of. It endeared you to both of them more than you already were.

The other proverbial crash landing you experienced that day, was the incident that preceded your less than desirable entry onto the Nevarro; the one that stripped away all pretense and ignorance that had strained your relationship with Mando in the weeks prior.

After hastily grabbing the child from his pod and staggering back up the ladder one handed as the ship shook violently to strap you both into the co-pilot chair, you didn’t have the presence of mind to notice the heavy scent still permeating the cockpit, or the slightly uncomfortable feeling of your release drying on your thighs. You couldn’t even begin to wrap your mind around the fact that Mando, that stubborn, stoic, recklessly unattainable man you had spent years patching up over and over again, had gotten you off with just his thigh and a few well placed rolls of his hips.

You were too busy trying not to panic at the prospect of dying or being captured which really, would just be your rotten luck after finally seeing the immovable control the Mandalorian exerted, waver. You were distracted from those thoughts right up to the point where the rough rasp of Mando’s voice as the pirates engaged with the Razor Crest’s commlink made your prior activities glaringly obvious. His voice, still thick and heavy with his unfulfilled released gradually morphed into a cold anger as he shut off the connection when the pirates’ demanded payment for your lives.

Of the things you came to realize about Mando since travelling with him, one of the few that surprised you was his refusal to negotiate with nearly everyone he encountered. It gave the small allowances he made when you treated him – and the many he gave the kid most days – a lot more weight. But you didn’t have time to think about that as he dodged shot after shot.

Your landing on Nevarro was a combination of whiplash, soot and precarious rocking before the Razor Crest skidded to a final, jarring stop a few meters away from the closest ship docked outside the main town entrance. Only when the ship stayed upright instead of bowling over from the momentum did you allow yourself to breathe again, grounding yourself back in the cockpit despite your stomach being left somewhere in space.

The return of your breathing and the realization that you had in fact survived, allowed the reality of what happened before to slam to the forefront of your mind.

You dry humped a Mandalorian. The Mandalorian. Him. Mando.

Like a kitten in heat… the echo of his words had heat instantly returning to your face at the memory. You remained flushed even as you attempted to distract yourself by running an unnecessary mental check on your body for injury. Apart from a small ache growing in your head from the whiplash, you were good as new. Too good if you were being honest, and the reason for that was hardly a mystery.

You ran your eyes over the child, smoothing a hand soothingly over his wrinkled head and along one of his ears to make sure he wasn’t hurt, cooing at him gently as he nuzzled back against your chest with a string of sleepy babble. He was more concerned with being woken up than the manner of your landing apparently,

“I know darling, I’m sorry I woke you,” you muttered against his head, the sheer relief that he was out of danger roiling in your stomach and made you close your eyes as his familiar scent invaded your nose while he settled back down to sleep.

As he settled, the cockpit swelled with a heavy silence, reality catching up with you both now that the distraction of pirates and possible death was gone.

The red warning lights and occasional alarm were flicked off one by one with every resounding click of a button. When you first entered the cockpit earlier that day, you struggled to keep your eyes off him and now, now your eyes focused on anything but the man who had groaned your name so sinfully. Those clicks and snaps of levers and buttons – while quiet – were the only sounds that filled the air, enhancing the silence you sat in.

Mando was tenser than before, his shoulders stiff and movements more forceful than necessary as he geared the ship down. A malicious thought surfaced momentarily that he might be regretting what happened already.

You rolled your eyes at yourself, recognizing the ridiculousness of the notion immediately; you had just spent several heart-stopping minutes being chased and shot at and only landed mere moments ago. Of course he was tense. Stars, your muscles had yet to relax from the anxiety inducing minutes before Mando finally out maneuvered them with an unfazed countenance.

But heightened emotions and the insecurities they could bring with them weren’t uncommon after an orgasm. You merely tried to keep the more ridiculous ones at bay, a benefit of maturity and age you appreciated. It allowed you to have had your fair share of purely physical relationships; one night stands and friends with benefits over the years. It wasn’t in you to get overly attached to a sexual partner after the uncertainty of the war. You were certain Mando would be no different. You appreciated sex for what it was; a release, a coping mechanism or simply just something fun to do.

Mando’s arm reached across the small distance in front of you, one final switch and silence reigned once more. He hesitated as he withdrew his hand, resting it heavily on the dash and his helmet turned marginally to look at you, your eyes instantly lifting to the visor. You cursed the damn shiny thing silently; you had never felt the lack of expressions, or small facial tells that might have given you an indication of how he was feeling more than now. The feeling of his gaze didn’t however stop the pang of arousal reawakening after being doused so suddenly before; it simmered low in your stomach now as he watched you.

Your eyes searched his visor, hopefully conveying – if nothing else – that you didn’t regret anything. A soft quirk to your lips and he released a long breath, hanging his head slightly before pushing back up to his seat. Your smile increased subconsciously; he seemed exasperated, not ashamed and that would have to be good enough for you.

It didn’t take long for the silence to turn more comfortable after that, more familiar as he stood from his seat to make his way past you, cape brushing your arm as he did so. He hesitated at the door, considering something before he left. When he evidently came to a conclusion, he turned back to look down at you, forearm resting above his head on the doorframe as he did so,

“I’ll be gone a few hours. The Guild will be by to pick up the quarries so…” he trailed off and you waited expectantly for what he was trying to tell you, “get some fresh air. We’re leaving as soon as I pick up the next batch of pucks.”

You craned your neck to keep your eyes on him and the sudden déjà vu of looking up at him wasn’t lost on either of you as a sharp exhale left the warrior. You nodded a few times to his suggestion, mulling over anything that was low or might need restocking, mind running a klick a minute before an idea sparked in your mind, making you sit up straighter in excitement,

“Mando? Is there an automated banking center here?”

Your question seemed to throw him because he didn’t answer immediately, mind more pleasantly distracted by your appearance,

“Why?” was his only response in the end.

“I want credits, that’s why,” you rolled your eyes in playful exasperation as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, which it was. Why else would you go to a bank?

“The New Republic pay a pension for anyone who served in the Rebellion. It gets fed into an account that can be accessed from most galactic banking centers,” you explained, excited by the possibility of actually having your own credits and being able to contribute rather than living off the credits Mando earned from his bounty hunting.

“Oh,” came the lackluster response, “I don’t know. I’ve never used one before,” he finished simply, dropping his arm from the doorframe and turning to make his way down into the hold without another word.

You deflated a bit in your seat before perking up. No. ‘I don’t know’ wasn’t a negative answer, just an unhelpful one. You chuckled quietly so as not to disturb the child sleeping again you, he was still no better at talking than when you first met him. Perhaps it was simply a case of not being able to teach an old Massiff new tricks. Funnily enough, you didn’t think he needed to. You were adapting well enough to his silence as it was.

You could find out for yourself. You were dying to get off the ship and it was the perfect excuse to explore a new town for the precious few hours you had planet-side, a chance to stretch your legs and get some much needed fresh air. It was also a much better alternative to sitting on the ship and replaying the last few hours in your head, working yourself up over a husky voice and a hard body.

No, that would just drive you mad.

Since he left the cockpit, some of the heat left with him and you were able to lean back and take a long, deep breath. Fuck… but he was still able to get to you without even trying, you admitted yourself as you closed your eyes. You didn’t even have the chance to touch him beyond that momentary glance against the smooth, burning length of him. You never believed in karma before, but you must have done something truly rotten to have been stopped from touching that man.

A warmth filled you at the thought of how good he felt under you; the promise of more taken away before either of you had a moment to think. You felt wrecked from the orgasm he gave you and that hadn’t even required the removal of clothing, let alone his hands or cock.

But he hadn’t finished.

Your brows furrowed at the thought, along with a small swell of guilt in your stomach. You considered yourself to be a generous lover and wouldn’t cheapen the sentiment of wanting him to feel satisfied by thinking you owed it to him. You wanted to make him feel good, knowing the bliss someone else could give you was infinitely better than one’s own hand. You wanted to preen with the knowledge that you could bring this man, this immovable force to his knees in ecstasy.

You wanted to make him feel that good now, not later.

Steeling your nerves, you gracelessly wrestled yourself out of your seatbelt, hindered by the loss of one arm that supported the child. Finally free, you followed the same path the Mandalorian took down the ladder (equally as inelegant but climbing a ladder was awkward with two hands let alone one so you forgave yourself). You hurried over to the child’s over-pram and, once he was tucked in and the pram itself closed, turned to where you had glanced Mando preparing to leave.

He was adjusting something on his vambraces’ control panel, so he hadn’t acknowledged your presence yet, but when he picked up the control that opened the ramp down, you opened your mouth,

“Mando!” you called just before he lowered the ramp onto the lava flats that made up the improvised spaceport on Nevarro.

Your voice stopped him in his tracks, and he turned his head slightly to indicate you had his attention.

Your feet were moving before you knew it, rounding in front of the warrior and removing the push-button control that hung from the wall of the Razor Crest; obviously, a temporary fix that had become a permanent solution. The remote fell easily from his grip when your fingers caressed the back of the hand that held it, your gaze never leaving where you hoped his was behind the visor.

You kept your hand on his as he lowered it down to his side, enjoying the tactile sensation of the buttery leather of his gloved fingers as they netted across your own before you pulled your hand away just far enough to trace along the duraweave at his hip and across the softer, more flexible ribbed armor on his abdomen.

“I—need to check the damage to the ship,” he rasped quietly after the control clattered loudly back against the wall it was attached to, no bite in his words as you stepped into his personal space. As expected, he didn’t move, your eyes searching for any indication of discomfort in his body language and – finding none – drifted down his body appreciatively, a knowing smile dancing across your lips.

“Gotta… collect the payment for---” he trailed off when your fingers returned to where they had been before you had been interrupted in the cockpit. His words petered off on a low exhale and you hummed in approval when you felt he was still half-hard under his flight suit.

“I don’t just take, Mando,” you said quietly so as not to break the little bubble you found yourself in with the Mandalorian. You were almost gentle in your cadence, as if anything louder would spook the intimidating man. Something inside you told you that his acceptance of your touch was no insignificant thing, not to him. You couldn’t pinpoint the reason, whether it was his devotion to his Creed he mentioned or some other personal reasons. Whatever it was, you didn’t take the liberties he afforded you lightly.

You wanted to make him forget his reservations, completely.

Your fingers easily undid the fly at his crotch and fit inside to wrap around the thick girth of his rapidly hardening length. Your stomach flipped at the sheer size of him, making you swallow while Mando braced his forearm on the wall behind you, folding over you slightly from his greater height. The deep sigh he released, a shuddering sound of relief and pleasure spread electricity across you, your body instantly reacting to the guttural sound instinctively. You gave his cock an experimental squeeze as you pulled him out from his flight suit in the hopes of hearing that noise again.

But Maker, your mouth watered when you finally tore your eyes from his helmet to his exposed length.

Rich, tan skin stretched taut across the thick length of his cock as it sat heavy in your grip, a shade darker than the skin you had seen while treating him before. Pearly precum was already beading from the blunt, swollen tip and your thumb automatically swiped through it to spread over the head. You reveled in the low moan you heard in your ear as Mando’s head dropped forward to rest on your shoulder, a shaky inhale making his shoulders shudder.

“It’s okay?” you whispered, needing to be certain. The immediate nod against your shoulder settled the last of your reservations and you gave him a long stroke in return. You wondered briefly if the dryness of your hand was uncomfortable so, releasing his cock briefly, you spat on your palm before wrapping it back around the base and started stroking him steadily.

“Fuck…” his voice was barely above a whisper, his cock heavy and rigid in your fist that barely managed to close around him as you squeezed him firmly.

Stars, he felt divine. All hard ridges covered in velvet skin, a hot pulsing weight in your hand that made you chew on your lip as you imagined the size and weight of him on your tongue or the sweet sting of him stretching your cunt around him. He was bigger than you had had before, and you knew you would probably feel him for days afterwards.

He twitched under your grip, but apart from the occasional shiver and low groan in your ear, he allowed your hand to explore and learn this part of him at your own pace. Your free hand skirted down his side to gently draw his tight balls out too and when you massaged them in your palm, you received a gravelly moan in your ear. It was followed by a heady rasp in that language you still couldn’t place; the sound of it running down your spine pleasantly and making your body react viscerally, your nipples peaked and sensitive against the material of your chest band and wetness soaking your underwear again.

His shoulders sagged as the tension began to bleed from his body, his helmet turning on your shoulder to watch your hand stroking his cock rhythmically.

You were throbbing with renewed arousal from just the feel of velvety steel in your hand and from hearing those low, gravelly sounds you had been thinking about for weeks. Nothing you had fabricated in your mind came close to the reality; deep and rich, they rumbled through his whole body until you could feel their echoes in your own.

Twisting your wrist on an upward stroke, his hips snapped forward and a groan left him. His free hand unexpectedly lifted to grasp the side of your neck, his staunch control wavering. His fingers spread around easily to tangle in the hair at the base of your neck to anchor himself and you had to bite down on your lip hard to keep from moaning at the sound of him panting your name in your ear. Your eyes fluttered closed when he tightened his fingers, holding your head in pace as you increased your pace to match his hips, random twists of your wrist making him curse and groan your name desperately.

“Fuck… kitten, don’t--- fuck, don’t stop,” he panted against the side of your head, the words interspersed with quiet moans as his control continued to bend, his hips thrusting shallowly into your hand as he chased the release that he had been denied earlier. You tightened your grip and it made him practically shake with pleasure. You were only using the weeping precum leaking from his head to smooth your hand along his length but Mando didn’t seem to mind the dry friction that tethered on discomfort. He seemed to like the added sensation that made his cock throb and his mind cloud with a primal desire to fuck.

“You feel so good, Mando…” your own voice was nothing short of a moan itself, heat gathering at your core and reminding you of how empty your pussy was. But you wanted to finish him first, to bring him to the height of pleasure like he deserved before you considered your own release again. The next time you got off, you wanted to feel him completely overwhelm your body with his own, whether that was with his cock or his fingers or hell, even his thigh again. Whatever he would give you.

You massaged his sensitive head at the thought, your cunt clenching. His fingers flexed in your hair, tugging on the strands and pulling a soft gasp from your lips as he lifted his head enough for the cool beskar to press against your forehead. Your eyes flickered frantically across the visor, the strength of his fingers tangling in your hair making your lips part,

“Fuck, you want more already, don’t you?” he growled with a hitch in his labored breathing when your thumb circled the head of his cock again. You didn’t try to hide the way he was making you feel, there was no point with the desire written plainly on your face.

Drunk on the heady, heavy scent of arousal that filled the hold, you nodded desperately to his question and released his balls to run your hand along the perfectly polished beskar on his chest, the warrior shuddering as if he could actually feel you through the armor,

“I want you…” you purred against his helmet before sinking your teeth into your bottom lip when he groaned.

His hand loosened in your hair, fanning up over your cheek and across the edge of your jaw before he cupped it roughly. His thumb swiped across your bottom lip to release it from the hold your teeth had it in. He repeated the motion, slower this time to savor the pillowy softness of the flesh before pressing his thumb into your willing mouth, the fingers he had around your jaw tightening to encourage your mouth to open for him.

You accepted the supple leather eagerly, letting it rest on the flat of your tongue before you closed your lips around it, the stagger in his shallow thrusts and the sharp, distorted exhale through his modulator telling you just how affected he was.

You moaned around his thumb when he pushed it deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth, letting your tongue circle it before sucking on it hard, showing him exactly what you were imagining doing to his cock and eyes still trained on the black shine of his visor. Your mind was filled with the sounds of his raspy groans and the quick drag of your fingers of the soft skin of his cock. You matched the pace of your hand as you sucked on his thumb and when he pressed closer to you, caging you against the wall, you arched against him and keened under his movements.

“You’re fucking filthy, aren’t you?” he muttered breathlessly and slightly awed, as if he had come across something so unexpectedly amazing when he hadn’t even been looking, “you wan---”

He was cut off as his commlink came to life.

“Mando! You ever going to come out? What’s taking so long?” the crackled, disembodied voice sounded from his vambrace, your eyes widening slightly before you deviously picked up the speed with which you stroked him.

Mando hissed, his helmet falling back on his shoulders at the pleasure that set every nerve in his body alight. He pulled his thumb from your mouth but kept his grip on your jaw firm,

“Dangerous game you’re playing, kitten,” he panted, his voice strained as you felt him twitch and grow harder in your grip if it was possible, the thrill of danger you both felt at someone else’s presence turning you both on more than you anticipated.

You ignored his words and watched him from under heavy lashes with a cheeky glint in your eye, “Aren’t you going to answer that?” your question was saccharine sweet, as if you didn’t have your hand wrapped around his thick cock.

Playing Mando at his own game – challenging him – might have been a stupid move, but he had you riding his thigh that very day and now you wanted to even out the playing field. You ached a brow when he didn’t respond, your hand slowing to a stop on his cock even as his fingers dug into your jaw. With a vicious snarl in his own language, you knew you had him beat and started stroking him again as a reward.

“You’ll regret this,” he promised darkly when he released your face to press the connection link on his vambrace currently braced against the wall above your head,

“Looking after the kid, won’t be---” his head snapped down when you sank to your knees now that you were free from his hold, eyes sparking with mischief while you tried to smother the smile that turned your lips up when you looked up at him,

“Don’t you dare,” Mando hissed down at you, even as his head feel forward against his arm when your tongue flicked out to glance across the tip of his cock, a choked moan caught in his throat.

“Dare? Dare what?” Confusion was evident in the booming yet jovial voice on the other end of the link.

“N-nothing Karga. The kid…. The kid is just somewhere he shouldn’t be,” he directed the emphasis down at you as you lapped around his head teasingly, giving him a taste of the soft, wet heat of your tongue and only a taste.

“Ah! Bring him out! I’ve missed the little womprat.”

“Just give me----”

Mando cut the connection off on a loud moan as your lips suddenly engulfed the head of his cock, your own moan at the salty precum on your tongue making you salivate and lap up every drop. Maker, he was big. You circled the head with your tongue a few times and pulled your mouth off him after a few wet suckles so that you could lick a thick strip along the underside, eyes still shining with mischief despite the dark lust clouding them as he shook above you.

Fuck, he was so sensitive. A rush of arousal pooled low in your stomach and you moaned around him when you took him into your mouth again and sucked on the head while stroking the rest of his length. You would have to get used to his size before taking any more of him. But damn, if your eyes weren’t bigger than your belly and you let him sink deeper once, getting about half of him along your tongue before you felt yourself gagging.

“Stars, yes—” he groaned, the tight heat of your mouth making him want to sink his cock as deep as it could go before you pulled off him with a gasp, your saliva making his length glisten.

Neither of you had the time to dawdle; you could feel the coiling tension radiating from him as he dropped his hand to card his fingers through your hair. You could have spent hours kneeling there with his cock in your mouth, happily keeping him on the verge of pleasure, but he needed to go sooner rather than later. Reluctantly, you gave the tip one last lick before using your saliva as lubrication to stroke him quicker when you stood back up, his hand never leaving the back of your head.

“Tease--- fucking tease, always---” the staccato of his speech was dotted with more frequent rumbling moans and when he bit out a curse as your fingers massaged along the thick vein under his cock, he dropped his head back to your shoulder, the space between you reducing to only as much as your hand needed to jerk him off.

“You can get me back later, Mando,” you purred, squeezing the head lightly, “but right now I want you to cum.” Your free hand went back to palming his balls, rolling them between your fingers and you could feel them tightening in your hold. Your cunt clenched needily when the Mandalorian actually whimpered.

He had slipped back into his native language as he muttered darkly in your ear and even if you didn’t understand the words, the rasp and sinful promise in them as his tone became more and more desperate was enough to make another gush of wetness drench your pussy.

You knew it hit him the moment his spine went rigid, and he choked on a gasp, his hand tightening almost painfully in your hair reflexively. You slowed your pace with a whimper, lazily stroking him through his orgasm as several thick ropes of cum splattered against your jacket, the rest coating your hand as it dribbled down his cock.

His breathing returned in short, stagnant gasps, his arm taking most of his weight while his forehead rested heavily on your shoulder as he recovered. He hissed tiredly, pushing your hand away when the overstimulation made his spent cock twitch even as it softened. It gave you the perfect opportunity to lift your hand and delicately swipe your tongue along your finger to taste him. Slightly salty and a bit sharp, you sucked the finger into your mouth with a hum and let your eyes drift closed at the taste.

A long groan pulled your eyes open again to see Mando lifting his head lethargically from your shoulder, tilted down to watch you clean your fingers of his release,

“Don’t waste any, kitten,” he rumbled, his voice rougher than usual and you felt a swell of pride at the fatigue you heard in it. His hand wrapped back around your wrist to lead your other fingers to your mouth, as if to be part of this ritual of you eating his release. You were only too eager to lap each of them clean, eyes heavy-lidded as you sought his invisible gaze. His chest was still heaving from his release, breathing labored and he looked absolutely wrecked.

You moaned your approval at his taste, enjoying his eyes on you as you did so. You spread your fingers and turned them to rest against his chest and he hummed a “good girl” as he fingers released your wrist to trace up along your arm and across your collarbone lazily, curious in their exploration as though he had never thought to take the time to simply touch for the sake of touching. He probably hadn’t, you realized when you thought about it a little deeper.

His fingers roamed up along the column of your neck and settled there, flexing before they relaxed into a content hold that made you lean into the solid weight of his caress,

“Be here when I get back,” he rasped, fingers spreading to spear up through your hair at the base of your neck for a brief moment.

He only released you when you nodded, mesmerized by the lights that caught on his visor and the shine of his unpainted helmet.

And then his hand dropped and the overwhelming heat and presence of his body leaning over yours was gone. A single input into his vambrace and the child’s hover-pram followed him dutifully. You leaned back against the wall to gather your own breath that you seemed to have lost and pressed the forgotten control button to release the ramp for him and when it flattened on the lava fields below, he offered you a nod before wandering down to his… welcome party?

You snorted on a laugh to yourself, turning back into the bowels of the ship to shower and get changed before going out yourself.

That’s a first.

You wasted no time stripping out of your clothes, flushing slightly at the stains on your jacket and pants from Mando’s release. You showered without washing your hair to save time and pulled on a new pair of pants along with a cream, loose linen top. For warmer climates like Nevarro, you were glad you had picked up the piece despite not wearing it often. You liked the feeling of not having layers of fabric clinging to you, the wispy soft length of the fit caressing rather than constricting and the dip in the neckline was tastefully offset by a string tied across your collarbones that gave it a breath of femininity. You stretched your arms above your head and enjoyed the occasional brush of the material on your back before you grabbed a satchel to make use of the unexpected free time you had been afforded without the child.

You greeted the mechanics setting up by the Razor Crest. Mando had obviously sorted the repairs out, whatever they entailed when he left the ship. Poor old girl was in some state after that landing but her condition wasn’t enough to wipe the content grin off your face as you walked in through the main gates with a small spring in your step. Despite the slight hiccup, today hadn’t gone quite so bad as you thought.

Nevarro was an… interesting place, you came to realize after a short while walking through the ragtag streets and down dusty roads. It boasted the same clientele as most Outer Rim planets, but the place wasn’t nearly big enough or significant enough to garner the attention of anyone more dangerous than a petty thief. The presence of the Bounty Hunters Guild also had a hand in dissuading criminals from setting up on Nevarro. It was charming, in a way. But then, you always were drawn to… unconventional things.

The marketplace – when you arrived – was, in a word, chaotic. There was no clear system of stalls or shops, hardly any signage and people seemed to make do with the most uncharacteristic objects upon which to sell their wares. You had seen no less than four sabacc tables, what looked like the carcass of an old mining trolley and you were nearly certain the Jawas were using stacked stormtrooper helmets beneath a large cloth to make a very wobbly table. You hadn’t managed to confirm that one unfortunately, instead trying to garner what information you could about what each stall and shopfront sold to know where to come back to after doing a leisurely loop of the market.

People bustled here and there, chatter flowed freely, and it felt similar to when the Empire first fell; as though a great weight had been lifted from these people, excited to enjoy the liberties freedom gave them. It was infectious, and you were charmed by it; swindling Jawas and all.

You had been delighted to learn from a helpful human man tinkering with the wiring of a pit droid outside a non-descript repair shop that there was a banking center on Nevarro – a New Republic one at that – recently installed with all the changes happening on the planet.

You threw your silent thanks to the Maker that at least now you had access to your own funds and could stop feeling guilty about living off Mando’s hard earned credits. Noticing the stiffness in the man’s legs when he stood to point you in the right direction, you stalled your journey to the bank to enquire about it.

“Only age, love. Nothin’ to be done about that,” he had waved you off with a dismissive chuckle.

You smiled in return with a brief nod before you took your leave, filing through information in your head about age-related joint stiffness as you did. You simply couldn’t help yourself; you hadn’t had a patient in months and Mando was the worst possible one whenever he was injured so you indulged yourself on your way to the bank with a pain relief plan for someone who had been kind to you. Not just because he reminded you of an elderly Mirialan who complained of similar pains what seemed like a lifetime ago.

The banking center was thankfully, a straight-forward experience. A gatekeeper droid scanned your chain code and then all you had to do was select the service you required. Withdrawing the sum of your accumulated pension that had been deposited but untouched for the last few months left you with a satisfying weight to your satchel as you left and was hardly dented as you went about your errands.

After a few wrong turns and your insistence that no, you didn’t need whatever piece of junk the Jawas were trying to peddle, you managed to replenish the food supplies you felt had either been running low or knew the other two enjoyed along with a few much-needed additions to the medical kit you were building and maintaining. You even went so far as to purchase a few tools you had been without since leaving Mynock, medical and otherwise that would no doubt come in handy eventually. The medical supply store was quite well stocked on Nevarro and given the number of bounty hunters you had seen prowling; it really came as no surprise.

A few tubes of heating liniment added to your satchel along with the other bags you carried, and you returned to the repair shop to hand them to the elderly man there. Your hastily demonstrated number of gentle exercises had him chuckling at you good naturedly and an hour later, you were still chatting over tea and some sort of oat biscuits.

“You’re not from around here, are you?” he asked conspiratorially when you had first sat down gingerly to accept the mug he slid over to you. The question had made you laugh,

“What makes you say that?”

He hummed in contemplation around a bite of his biscuit before pointing what remained of the biscuit at you, “Folk ‘round here are too caught up in their own lives, they don’t be worryin’ about others.”

“It could also be because I’m a medic, no?” you aired your thoughts aloud after a sip of the fragrant tea, a mix of what tasted like ginger and something floral.

“Ah, but you’da charged me if you were workin’ here,” he tapped his nose, a fond wink thrown in for good measure, “go on so, where are you comin’ from then?”

You weren’t able to stop the bubble of laughter that rose, “Pamarthe, for my sins,” you admitted.

“Ah!” he clapped a hand on his knee jovially, “A Pamarthan! Great pilots. Great drinkers!” he chortled, and you snorted into your cup on a laugh, nailed it. You chuckled as you took two biscuits off the table with a small explanation that they were for a child you were looking after. That led you to fielding questions about if the child was yours, but you were able to skirt away from that topic with a well-placed question,

“So, have you ever been to Pamarthe?”

“Me? No, no not with the Empire. Very hard to travel back in those days, very hard. Now, well. I’m not the lad I once was, love. Can’t be off planet hoppin’ anymore at my age. But a few of your people have been known to pass through here, like you.” he explained while you nodded along politely.

“Mores the pity, I can imagine you’d like it. It’s… very different to Nevarro,” you admitted with a glance around the bustling crowds kicking up ash and soot from the extrusive ground underneath. The temperate climate of Pamarthe brought grass and mud, not rock and ash.

“Is it true that all the islands are connected with rope bridges? And not something more modern?”

Your eyes widened pleasantly, the same rush of warmth anyone experienced when faced with the welcome surprise that someone knew about their homeland while not being native themselves,

“You do know your stuff!” a wistful smile broke out on your face at the thought, “and you’re right. It’s just always been that way,” you shrugged, “I’ve never really thought about why some of the old ways were kept; technology is used to prevent erosion of the islands themselves after all.”

“Remarkable, isn’t it? The things we miss that are right under our noses. Simply because that’s the way they’ve always been.” he hummed sagely, and you couldn’t help but agree.

And on your conversation went. It was refreshing, to have a conversation again. You had gotten so used to one-sided chattering on your part to the child and the simple answers from the Mandalorian that didn’t invite any more speaking than necessary.

This was nice, it was a change from the norm. But a part of you started to long for the quiet hum of the ship the longer you stayed away. Perhaps it was down to being unaccustomed to the prolonged sensory overload between the bustling crowds and loud bartering that had you eager to get back, and not just the thought of seeing a roguish warrior who seemed to embody the safety silence could provide. At least, that was what you tried to convince yourself of anyway.

So, bidding your new acquaintance a good evening along with a stern instruction to do his exercises that held no real bite, you left, your pace a little quicker than could be described as casually strolling, “be here when I get back” echoing in your mind and setting flurries of anticipation off in your stomach.

Life still seemed to go on even as the suns in the sky began to age and the shadows they cast on the low buildings and narrow streets shifted. There was still plenty of activity and you casually ruminated on where all these people went when the day was done as you reached the Razor Crest. The Guild had finished unloading the quarries in the time you had been away, and the engine seemed relatively repaired if your untrained eye was anything to go by. Lowering the ramp, you lugged the progressively heavier bags back up into the hold and unpacked them merrily; the outing and the fresh air had done wonders for you a world of good.

With the last of your supplies tucked away under the galley counter, you found yourself with nothing to do. Dismissing the thought of making something to eat after just eating biscuits, you found yourself climbing the ladder to the cockpit instead.

Chewing your lip contemplatively once there, you gingerly sat in the pilot’s chair before you could talk yourself out of it and took in the sweeping view of lava flats as far as the eye could see from this higher vantage point.

Honestly, you chided yourself internally, it’s a chair.

But in the same way you would never sit in your mother’s favorite seat at the table, where the view of the vast ocean framed by towering cliff edges of far off islands was best – even when empty – you still hesitated before you relaxed into the large seat.

Maker, was it always this big? It seemed much narrower when he sat in it… but with space on either side between you and the armrests, you were once again reminded of the size of his presence, unconsciously and perhaps foolishly dwarfed only by your familiarity with seeing him so frequently. You remembered how big he was on your examination table when he had been poisoned. The table had groaned under him and while you had seen taller, you had seen broader, his was the aura that told you he could put every inch of height, every pound of weight to better use than anyone larger or stronger than himself. Heck, even a Houk warlord hadn’t stood a chance against him.

Your fingers ran along the sturdy leather of the armrests, the dry fabric catching the pads in their exploration and reminding you vaguely of a tookas tongue, an abrasive yet gratifying sensation on your softer skin. Your muscles sagged as you relaxed further, the trepidation of being somewhere you shouldn’t be beginning to melt away and causing your head to rest back.

You enjoyed the tactility more with your eyes closed, the deprivation of sight transforming your awareness of the leather beneath your fingers; the shallow veins of aging cracks along the material, the dips where more pressure was repeatedly placed when the Mandalorian sat here and the small fraying of the stitching at the seams. It became a map under your fingers, with rivers and valleys and mountains and you lost yourself in the idle relaxation it brought to you.

So immersed in your tactile exploration, your ears didn’t pick up on the ramp lowering, nor the presence that paused in the doorway of the cockpit, startled at first before he relaxed against the side of the doorframe, admiring the sight before him where he could leisurely take you in while you were caught unawares.

“Planning on stealing my ship?” his voice came out rougher than either of you anticipated and your eyes immediately snapped open to look over your shoulder from where you sat, lips parted in a surprised ‘o’ and looking very much like you had been caught.

You took him in from your position and, after running your hand along the armrest to find the correct button, swung the chair around to face him. You were quite comfortable where you were and didn’t fancy getting up despite your prior hesitation. One leg crossed delicately across the other, you rested your chin on a propped-up hand with a grin,

“If I wanted to steal your ship, I’d have gotten it months ago,” you teased, the familiar ground you had somewhat lost with him over the last week making a welcome return, “you’d have never even known.” you finished confidently with a wink.

Mando said nothing for a moment, assessing your words and mannerisms, “You think you could steal a bounty hunters ship from right under his nose and not get caught?” he hummed, his disbelief evident in his dismissive tone, “Please.”

“No?” you tapped your fingers along your cheek where they rested, “You seemed pretty out of it after I had your cock in my mouth,” you threw at him casually, tone light as if you were merely discussing what you wanted for dinner, smirking at the surprised choke it pulled from him, “probably be pretty easy for me then, wouldn’t you say?”

His body stiffened as he collected himself at the abruptness of your words, fingers flexing on his arms where he had them crossed across his chest and head shifting to look away from you before his visor refocused itself on where you sat,

“I don’t think you were much better, kitten,” his husky voice was deeper than it had been, thicker.

Your stomach fluttered at that stupid fucking nickname, the rolling rasp of it on his tongue only enhanced by the natural lilt of his accent. Your flare of temper gave him the time to push off the wall and saunter over in that arrogant way you hated as much as loved and pressed a hand to the back of the seat by your head,

“I think sucking my cock got you wetter than riding my thigh, didn’t it?” he rumbled, as though his question was merely a token gesture, used to amplify the truth in the statement that came before it, “I don’t think you’d be able to do anything, let alone steal my ship.”

It was your turn to be flustered now, dammit. You had the high ground for all of two minutes before he effortlessly flipped the control. Your body thrummed with how close his was but not one part of him even brushed against you; not the coarse fabric on his arm where it was braced on the seat, not the solid beskar on his legs against yours, nor his helmet against your forehead as he leaned over you. Touch was not a language Mando knew well beyond violence, but he was well aware of how to use his body to intimidate… to dominate… to captivate.

Your eyes stayed on his visor, focusing your attention on breathing normally and to not let the effect he had on your body show. You could feel the heat of his gaze running down your face, over the exposed skin at your collarbones and down the light material of your shirt. The appreciative grunt slipping through his modulator had your thighs clenching together instinctively as the craving you had been distracting yourself from all day reignited with a soft gasp when gloved fingers traced over the bend of your knee that sat crossed over your leg.

“Take these off,” he muttered, patting your thigh once as his fingers traced up from your knee, running them along the outer seam of your pants before pulling his hand away as though it had never touched you and rested it on his belt expectantly as he looked down at you, “I want to see how wet sucking my cock makes you.”

His crass words, so unlike his usual stoic statements were characteristically blunt but filled with a vulgarity that simultaneously shocked you and turned you on. For such sinful words to fall from the mouth of a man who kept his thoughts and emotions in a chokehold, there was a thrilling sense of depravity that exceeded the fact that you had gotten each other off already today.

You leaned back languidly against the pilot’s chair, watching him leisurely as he stood over you and made no attempt to hide the way your eyes trailed down his body. You rode his thigh and sucked his cock already; was there really any point in trying to hide your attraction to him anymore? Life was too fucking short.

“Are you asking me to go down on you again, Mando?” you purred, loving the virility in his tone; there was nothing you loved more than an insatiable lover, it boded well for him being able to keep up with you.

“I’m telling you that if you don’t remove them now, you won’t be allowed to.”

There was a barely restrained thread of anger surfacing in his voice, possibly the residual effects of making him answer the commlink from his contact in the Guild while you had your hands and mouth on his cock, but instead of the spark of fear your instinct would usually alert you with, a trickle of desire kissed your senses instead.

“An interesting punishment,” you hummed, fingers toying with the waistband of your pants, “given that you’d be missing out as well.” Even as you said it, you were uncrossing your legs. He pushed back a pace or two from where he loomed over you to give you room or to get a better view, you didn’t know. Lifting your hips from the seat, you shimmied the form fitting material over your ass and down your legs, kicking the material off one foot before the other, panties staying on.

His helmet snapped up from the smooth skin of your legs to your face and, in a move that had a sense of déjà vu settling over you both, you reclined back comfortably against the chair again, your eyes dancing with the same challenge he had thrown to you on Klatooine.

The pants can come off, but the underwear stays on.

For now, you told yourself, but he didn’t need to know that right away.

The warning growl he emitted was the sweetest response you could have wished for. Revenge after all, was better served ice cold.

Your move. Your eyes dared him with a glimmer of amusement and a quirk of your brow even as a knot of anticipation began to curl in your stomach.

He surprised you by sitting in the co-pilots chair you usually occupied after a tense few seconds, leaning back into the leather, relaxed.

You frowned, breaking the nonchalant façade you tried to deceive him with as your mind scrabbled to figure out what he was planning. You hadn’t anticipated him sitting away from you and simply watching you. You were about to question him when your lips parted as the hand resting on his thigh lifted to palm himself through his flight suit slowly.

Your teeth dented your bottom lip, shifting yourself in the seat while your eyes immediately focused on the way his hand flexed and curled around the prominent bulge and your fingers itched at the memory of his cock filling your hand.

His game, obviously, was to drive you bantha-shit insane, because the moment he unzipped his fly to pull himself from the tight confines of the flight suit, already hard and leaking, you wanted him.

You’ll regret this…

The growl reverberated in your mind from hours before. He was using the very thing you had used against him, on you. Your eyes glazed over as they followed the steady path of the Mandalorians fist as he stroked himself, small grunts the only sounds he seemed willing to let you hear.

You swallowed, heat rose to your cheeks and your skin becoming uncomfortably hot. It made you increasingly aware of your own arousal as you remembered the weight of his cock in your hand, the pulsing length of him on your tongue… your tongue peaked out to taste your bottom lip, all traces of his earlier release unfortunately gone.

Your eyes darkened when a quiet groan was picked up by the modulator, his head dipping with a ragged breath as his thumb swiped over the swollen head. You had to stifle a moan of your own when you recognized that the movement of his hand was mimicking yours, twisting momentarily on the upward stroke and squeezing as it came back down to the base.

Your idle fingers itched to touch yourself and one hand began subconsciously moving between your thighs as they spread enough give you space. But the Mandalorians sharp eyes – even clouded with lust – didn’t miss a thing as his head rolled around to look at you,

“Hands by your sides, kitten.”

His voice was dangerously low, thick with lust as he slowed his strokes to a lazier pace, prolonging his desire and by default, prolonging your inability to touch yourself. You could practically hear the smirk in his voice as he spoke, and it made you huff indignantly, but you fisted your hands on the leather beside your bare hips nonetheless. The ease with which he gave commands, the casual control he exuded, it sent tremors of need through you, a baser side of you eager to obey even if it conflicted with your stubborn nature.

“Good girl,” he rasped with an unmistakable tease lilting his voice when you settled, “keep behaving and I’ll let you taste it.”

You hated to admit it, but the promise of having him in your mouth again was almost worth the silent torture you were being made endure now, cunt throbbing in neglect and skin humming with sensitivity. You had always been able to succeed with a mind over matter approach, with the constant knowledge that the reward was worth the work it took to achieve it but Maker, was he making it difficult.

The minutes he sat away from you felt like hours despite your resolve and the temptation to touch yourself only grew as the air grew thick with tension. Your eyes drank their fill of the warrior getting himself off mere feet away from where you sat half-naked. The sound of his hand stroking himself and those breathy exhales were going to drive you mad.

Your panties felt uncomfortable against your sensitive skin and you cursed your stubbornness in keeping them on, shifting in your seat and making yourself whine quietly when they brushed against your clit, drawing Mando’s helmet down to look at you once more,

“Take them off,” he repeated breathlessly, and you wanted to weep in thanks, eagerly lifting your hips to push the offending piece of clothing down your legs. You didn’t have time for shyness or modesty when the cool air on your bare cunt was soothing for all of five seconds before the throbbing heat made you ache with a renewed need to touch your clit, to somehow relieve the pressure. The approving groan that rumbled from the Mandalorian was a stroke to your ego as you spread your legs for him, revealing your damp folds to him and tempting him to break the rules of his own game.

“Maker, I can see how wet you are from here,” he moaned and picked up the pace of his stroking momentarily, caught up in the vision you presented him with, half naked in his pilot’s chair; you were a veritable galactic pin up girl.

You made a small noise of impatience, your darkened eyes pleading with him as your body burned under his unseen gaze.

“Tell me what you want,” he grunted, squeezing the base of his cock to slow himself down from simply getting himself off as quickly as possible as he would normally.

“Your cock,” you answered shamelessly before tagging a quiet “please?” to the end which seemed to break him just like you hoped it would.

He stood not a moment later and made the few steps to stand beside you and you wasted no time in greedily wrapping your fingers around the thick base of his cock. You turned your head so your lips could instantly wrap around the head of his cock again, beyond teasing him and addicted from the brief taste you had of it earlier in the day and making you moan around him in both pleasure and relief.

The vibrations made Mando hiss as they ran through him before his head tipped back on a moan when you relaxed your jaw to take a bit more of his length into your waiting mouth, tongue massaging as much of the underside as it could reach. You began a steady rhythm moving up and down his cock, your muscles relaxing to let him move easier along your tongue.

Your hand stroked what you couldn’t take into your mouth, using your saliva to glide your hand down to his base with a firm squeeze. You knew it would take a little time to get familiar with taking him in fully, so you enjoyed each drag of his length over your tongue and lips, along with the occasional teasing scrape of your teeth that had his breath hitching.

He gripped the headrest behind you when you pulled off him to latch your lips wetly along the length, licking and kissing your way to the base nestled among dark, trimmed hair, your hand massaging the head as you did so. The sight made you hum and lick a long strip back up the underside to suckle on the head once more. You had deduced he was probably dark haired given the beautiful tan of his skin, but having it confirmed made your stomach clench giddily.

Your eyes lifted back to Mando’s helmet when he cupped your jaw, pressing his thumb slightly against your cheek for you to open your mouth so his cock could settle back on your tongue. You moaned, taking his none too subtle hint and started sucking him off again in earnest, your saliva and his precum leaving his cock messy and wet and the sounds it made as you sank your head down on it were profane and loud in the otherwise silent cockpit.

You keened when you felt a gloved hand trace down your front, ghosting under the swell of your breast before giving it a tentative squeeze that had you whimpering around him and relaxing your throat to ease more of him into your mouth. He grunted and kneaded the soft flesh of your breasts above the thin linen shirt at the perfect heat of your mouth, learning you as you were him.

You dug your nails into the backs of his thigh to stop yourself from gagging when his tip pushed against the back of your throat, the sudden sensation making him jerk his hips forward with a gasp of your name and a hard squeeze to your breast while tears formed in your eyes. The slight burn was delicious, and the sounds he made as you took as much of his cock into your mouth as possible were even more so.

“Fuck yes…” he groaned, your mouth molten around his cock while he rocked against you shallowly, his gaze roaming your entire body and when it fell on the thin ring of ink surrounding your left thigh, his cock twitched in your mouth and caused you to pull back enough to swirl your tongue around the sensitive head before sinking back down on him to take in as much as you could.

The sound of him choking on a moan encouraged you to hollow your cheeks and swallow around him, your eyes glittering up at him with a mix of tears and teasing when he jerked his hips forward again, pushing his length that bit deeper.

“Such a… fucking filthy thing---” he moaned, releasing your breast to tangle his hand in your hair to slow your movements as you withdrew your head eagerly and sank back down on it, “but so… so fucking thorough in your examinations.”

You pulled off him, a breathless laugh leaving your mouth even as trails of saliva kept you connected to his cock and messed up your mouth and chin. You pumped him with your hand while you rested the head against your cheek,

“What did you call it again? Coercive medical attention?” your voice was hoarse, but it dripped with a lovely mix of amusement and desire.

“So long as it ends with my cock in this perfect fucking mouth, I’ll accept medical attention of any kind,” he bit out, the slight tremble in his voice when you gave him a long hard stroke was endearing in a way you hadn’t anticipated the warrior being.

“I’ll believe that when Mustafar freezes over,” you chuckled, giving his cock a squeeze for good measure before taking him back into your mouth.

“Maybe we’ll go there then---” he cursed when you let him hit the back of your throat again, “be—be the only way to shut you---” he never did get to finish that sentence, his head falling back on his shoulders with a sound that got caught in his throat when you took the remaining few inches into your mouth valiantly and swallowed hard around him, breathing deeply through your nose.

Feeling yourself start to gag, you pulled off his cock halfway, gasping around him before starting to lazily bob your head in order to get your breath back and do it again. His hand tightened in your hair but allowed you to move at your own pace. Your attention was pulled back up to him when he leaned over you slightly, a slap to your inner thigh making you moan and spread them for him eagerly.

“Fuck…” he groaned, and you felt the soft leather of a finger swipe through your folds, making you whimper. He growled something you couldn’t quite pick up with your blood pounding in your ears from that single jolt of pleasure he gave you but when you felt him again, it wasn’t the cool leather of his gloves, but the warm skin of his fingers instead.

The realization made you jump on contact with a mewl as he spread your wetness along your dripping cunt. You knew what he would find there without him having to say a word. Slick, swollen and burning with need as you keened, your sounds were muffled by his cock filling your mouth. You struggled to keep the lazy pace of bobbing up and down on his length when you forgot how to breathe from the slight calloused tips of two of his fingers spreading your slick lips and pulling a vicious growl from the Mandalorian.

“All this from sucking my cock?” his voice was labored, control razor thin as he struggled not to merely grip your head and fuck your mouth to chase the release dangling before him. It seemed every part of you was hot and wet and soft as his fingers spread through your folds and his cock buried in your mouth. Your bright, wide eyes, glassy with lust looking up at him made that struggle even harder as his hips rolled involuntarily, your cheeks hollowing and wet tongue massaging under the prominent vein pulsing on the underside of his cock.

You were addicted to the way he sounded, the ever-present discipline he exuded daily was being pulled taut as more primal urges overtook him. It was an intoxicating reminder of his humanity, of the man under the armor and the mere thought of his possible expressions beyond an impassive helmet as curses and moans and filth fell from his lips, had a wave of wetness slowly pulsing from your neglected pussy.

“Oh fuck--- fuck what, what was that--” he rasped, his fingers diving into the arousal that dripped down your open thighs and over your cheeks to the seat underneath you, making a mess. The sudden gush seemed to short circuit something in Mando, his mind struggling to focus on anything but the soaked cunt under his fingers.

When the pads of his fingers brushed over your aching clit, you cried around him, squeezing the base of his cock, and making him hiss your name; a surprised hitch that had him nearly doubled over you in pleasure. The next brush of his fingers was not as surprising, but no less intense before he began a stead rhythm of circling your clit, dipping his fingers down into your sopping folds before dragging that wetness back to soothe over the sensitive bundle of nerves.

You tried to mumble something, your head foggy with the need to cum from being filled with something other than your own fingers, but his cock garbled your words, the two of you slipping into that tangled, desperate side of lust. You couldn’t bring yourself to take him out though, lamenting the loss even for a moment as you greedily tried to take more of him again, the choked gasp above the only reward you needed when your nose brushed the coarse hair at his base. It had to be a sin, to feel this good from giving someone else pleasure. Maker, you could get off just by sucking this man’s cock for hours and be satisfied.

Mando however, didn’t seem to share that sentiment and when he suddenly pushed a finger into your tight cunt, your eyes rolled closed as you both moaned in unison. Your walls fluttered and clenched around the thick, foreign digit and you felt your orgasm cresting at your sensitivity before it abated somewhat when his finger settled knuckle deep inside you.

“Stars, so tight for me, kitten--- tight and wet and fuck,” he spat as you clenched around him again at how wrecked he sounded, giving his cock a particularly hard pull into your mouth while you whimpered around him, “can just imagine, shit, imagine how tight you’ll be around my cock.” His words were almost slurring in their delirium and you knew that if you tried to speak, you wouldn’t sound much better. Especially not when he added a second finger into your pussy and started pumping them achingly slow and more controlled than he sounded.

“So big, you- your fingers--- more,” you whined after pulling his cock from your mouth to suck in a breath, the task suddenly becoming manual as you struggled to remember what came first, inhale or exhale? “I want more, always more,” you were babbling against his cock now, begging words interspersed with wet licks and kisses to the length as if you could convince him with affection to give you what you wanted.

“That’s it kitten, fuck, t-tell me what you want—” Mando was panting now, the quick jerks of your wrist along his cock, slippery from your drool and saliva making his own breathing an unbearable task as his fingers pumped inside you harder, the wet sounds filling the cockpit both mortifying and evocative, “such a greedy, hungry, smart-mouth medic I—shit.”

He almost sounded angry, the tempestuous rumble rolling from his voice like thunder, but paired with one hand roughly thrusting a third finger into you and the other carding his fingers reverently through your messy locks, you knew he was as unhinged as you were with the intensity of the pleasure you were somehow able to give each other. As if the tension that had been steadily growing from that first fateful night on Klatooine was suddenly boiling over, spilling, and hissing as it stoked the flames beneath; a closed circuit that could no longer be stopped or broken.

When his thumb began working tight, practiced circles around your clit as his fingers fucked you into the chair, you knew you wouldn’t last long. The looming pressure that had been building the moment he asked if you planned on stealing the Razor Crest was coming at you faster than a TIE fighter,

“Gonna cum, Mando--- Mando, feel so good, please---” you whimpered, grinding your hips down on his hand desperately as your orgasm drew near.

He slowed his fingers despite your protestations, and he gentled your frustration with a well-placed curl of his fingers inside you, “Shh, shh—fuck, not yet---” he started and you whined as you sucked the head of his cock back into your mouth ardently, as if somehow, that would change his mind, a mixture of saliva and precum drooling down the sides of your mouth as you messily lapped at him, “fuck… kitten--- wait.”

He pulled himself from your mouth and his fingers from your cunt, chuckling breathlessly at your frown as you glared up at him, “wait…” he purred, the sound running down your spine and across your overheated skin while he hooked one hand under your knee to drape your leg over the armrest, giving him a better view and greater access to your soaked pussy.

You shivered as he gathered some of your arousal to coat his fingers before your jaw slackened when he spread your juices along his cock – the shudder down his spine evidence of just how effected he was – until it glistened with a combination of your saliva and arousal. The visceral image of your arousal coating his cock had any last shred of control or shame disappearing, impatience taking its place.

It was filthy, and your mouth watered at the sight of him. You dragged your eyes up to his visor slowly, eyes dark and cheeks flushed, lips parted and chin messy from your ministrations. The resounding growl he released had your cunt quivering, missing his fingers and it pulled an impatient whine from your lips as your nails raked down his covered hip.

“Mando…” you began, eyes dropping back to his cock with a silent plea.

He led his cock back into your waiting mouth, running the head along your plump bottom lip and smearing the mess already at your mouth and chin before pressing it back against your waiting tongue. His fingers immediately returned to push into you and began fucking you in earnest. The tangy taste of your own arousal mixing with his made you moan around him and your eyes flutter shut, your hips grinding down on his hand immediately once he found a rough, fast pace to bring you over the edge. You greedily engulfed the length of him, your hand stroking along the base as you hummed when you felt him get impossibly harder on your tongue.

His fingers curled against that small patch inside of you and made your hips jerk up to his rough chuckle, “there we go, good girl---” he panted, his thumb once again returning to your clit which had you practically sobbing around him with the need for release. You had orgasmed only earlier today and yet, it felt like you had been edged for weeks, months even. You were so desperate to come apart that when it did hit you, you were blindsided.

“Fuck, fuck! That’s it, kitten---” Mando pumped his fingers through your quivering walls, slower as they clamped down around him, trying to keep him inside while your cries bounced off the steel surrounding you in the cockpit and soaking his hand in your release. It kept going, for several long seconds and you were certain your brain wasn’t getting enough oxygen with how you were unable to take in a full breath and all you had to ground you, was your hand working over the solid thick length in front of you.

“So good, it’s so good---” you heard yourself babble, moaning his name like a prayer as you latched your lips to his length to drag open-mouth kisses to the shaft, hips still rocking against his hand as the last convulses ran through you, “want your cum, Mando- “

He didn’t respond, his fingers running sloppily over your clit once more as you whined with the overstimulation and tried to pull away despite being trapped against the seat,

“Another. Give me another,” he groaned, his fingers leaving no room for negotiation as they began a renewed onslaught on your sensitive nerves, already raw and frayed from coming so hard already. You shook your head even as you lapped at his head, eyes teary and unfocused as you looked up at him, “I can’t, it’s too much—”

“’More’ you said…” he released your hair to grip under your chin, pulling your head up to be pressed against his helmet, “I’m gonna… shit, I’m gonna give you as much as you need.”

His voice was strained, and you could hear it wavering the closer he got to his own release. But even in your foggy mind, you could feel the steel determination rolling off him. He wasn’t going to cum until you did. The thought alone made you whimper and despite your earlier declaration, a fresh wave of arousal pooled around his fingers as he pressed them back into you.

“Do it…” you heard yourself whisper, lowering your head enough to nuzzle the head of his cock against your cheek while he still held your jaw and you hoped you were meeting his eyes behind the helmet, “give me everything, e-everything I’ve been missing.”

His answering growl and the press of his thumb into your mouth for you to bite down on was all you could remember clearly before he built up a brutal pace once more. Your head fell back against the seat once he released you at the overwhelming friction on your swollen cunt, but Mando wasted no time in guiding your head back to his cock and with a whimper, you took him back into your mouth easily, his tip brushing the back of your throat now without hesitation as you swallowed.

His fingers stuttered while he groaned before regaining their rhythm and curling up against that spot inside you, a flick of his thumb against your clit sending flames scorching over your skin again as your release approached embarrassingly quick,

“Better than I ever imagined… this mouth—” he moaned, “you’re so wet and fuck… I bet you taste—” he was cut off on a long moan as you let him sink down your throat, breathing heavily through your nose before pulling back and repeating the action, your hands reaching into his flight suit to fondle his heavy balls once more.

You were equally determined to make him cum, a small taste earlier hadn’t been enough to satiate your craving and with a second orgasm about to overtake you, you were ravenous with the need to have him cum down your throat before you were struck dumb with the pleasure his hands would give you.

His breathless chuckle, such a foreign sound to come from him, made you want to smile had you not been preoccupied, “trying to beat me, kitten?” he asked, slowing the thrusts of his fingers so they were longer and harder, the change in pace heating you up beyond boiling point and you gave his balls a gentle squeeze in retaliation.

He was breathing hard, trying to limit his hips from thrusting into your warm mouth but even you could tell the shallow thrusts highlighted how close he was. But given his stubbornness, he doubled down on his efforts and with a final hard press on your clit and a perfect curl to his fingers your release crashed over you, less intense than the first but more surprising as it washed over you and kept you quivering and shaking under him, trying to ride it out with a silent cry. He pulled you through it once again with lazy strokes of his fingers, but they were messy, sloppy as he finally allowed his head to drop back on his shoulders, the tight leash he had on his control finally snapping,

“Yes, fuck— you want my cum, kitten?” he snarled when you nodded around his cock, eagerly pumping him and the change in his breathing told you he was nearly there.

He braced the hand that had been inside you to the back of the chair while the other tangled in your hair to keep you in place, his hips movements uneven and erratic before he stilled, your mouth opening for his cock to rest on your tongue while you pumped him.

He growled your name when his cock pulsed, a rope of cum hitting your cheek before you closed your lips around the head for him to continue coming in your mouth, the thick fluid coating your tongue and making you moan at the taste of him before you swallowed it down. You sank your lips slowly down the length of him, coating him with any residual cum in your mouth while you languidly basked in both your orgasms with a fond lick to his tip.

His shoulders lifted and fell in great rolls as he struggled to catch his breath, the heat in his invisible gaze not lost on you as you held his cock up to lick it clean languidly, reveling in every twitch you could feel in his muscles as a result.

“Maker…” he whispered into the cockpit, now filled only with your combined breathing. He hadn’t stopped stroking your hair as you cleaned his cock up, and the gentle act belied the gruff exterior he presented. It wasn’t lost on you, even if it might have been unconsciously done on his part in his post-orgasmic haze. Your leg dropped from the armrest to fold closed, and you hummed at the pleasant ache you felt once they were together despite the stickiness of your release drying on your thighs.

Once your tongue had become too much for him, he pulled back from you slightly, just enough to push himself back into his flight suit and with a fleetingly soft caress to the side of your head, he dropped back down in the co-pilot seat where he had first begun. You swiped the warm cum from your face and licked your thumb clean while you both basked in the afterglow.

His helmet tipped back against the headrest but kept it turned towards you, his chest rising and falling in large swells. You probably should have grabbed your underwear to cover up, but you were still basking in the euphoria of two breath-taking orgasms that the most you could do was stretch an arm over your head with a soft moan to release any remaining tension in your muscles, your eyes blinking tiredly at Mando all the while.

“Keep that up, and I’ll fuck you right now,” he rasped; his voice lower from how much he had used it in the last while. He didn’t speak often, but you were tickled to find out how vocal he could be when aroused.

You hummed at the thought, relaxing your arms back by your sides as an amused laugh left you, “A tempting offer, but I think my bones have been liquified.” Your words inspired another unencumbered laugh from you, still high from your orgasm and his posture adjusted slightly as if proud of putting you in this state, “I wouldn’t be much use.”

“Until next time then,”

He sat up, the smooth words making you smile tiredly at the familiar phrase. He ran his bare hand behind his neck, a lethargic groan leaving him as he tried to wake himself up from a stupor and your eyes followed the movement. The flash of tan skin made you chew your lip on a smile, knowing exactly where those fingers had been not a few minutes earlier.

You finally pushed yourself to sit up properly, toeing your underwear closer to you so you could bend and shimmy them up your legs, feeling his eyes follow the movement silently. You decided against your pants, the length of your shirt covering your modesty somewhat and you released a long, satisfied breath before turning your gaze to inky darkness that had engulfed Nevarro while you were occupied.

“Did you finish up with your Guild contact?” you posed, and he nodded once,

“Five more pucks,” he explained simply, standing from the co-pilots seat, and you wrinkled your nose, you guys would be travelling for a while, so it seemed.

“Is the kid still asleep?” you hummed tiredly, “I have biscuits for him.”

“Still knocked out from earlier. We had come back to leave when---” he trailed off to your laughter, standing up once you felt your legs wouldn’t give out from under you and turned the pilot seat back to face the viewport,

“Are you saying I made us late, Mando?” you threw over your shoulder, startled when you found him standing directly behind you, his hand falling heavily to your hips and his chest against your back while he hummed in agreement,

“Exactly. You’re as troublesome as the kid,” he murmured against your temple with a squeeze to your thinly covered flesh while you rolled your eyes at him, no heat in the action as you were more pleasantly preoccupied with the comfortable weight of his hands and the warmth that flowed from them into your body.

“Please. Go on then, get us up in the air since we’re so far behind schedule.” You pressed back against him cheekily before his head leaned back to look down at you as he pondered something for a few moments,

“You do it,” he replied simply.

You blinked, he had never asked you to fly before, excluding the time he came back injured on Scipio, and even then, he hadn’t asked. You had taken it upon yourself to do. You couldn’t help but feel that this was a tentative move on his part, a small gesture of confidence he had in you that you didn’t want to refuse.

“I’ll… check on the kid,” he continued with one last caress to your side before he released you and disappeared out of the cockpit, leaving you floundering.

Orgasms put Mando in a much better mood, you determined with a chuckle, taking a seat again and beginning the routine procedures to take you up and off the planet, running your hands back over the dry leather of the armrests fondly.

Crash landing or not, today had been a pretty good day.

Stitches Taglist:

@geannad @ayamenimthiriel @sarahjkl82-blog @gracie7209 @pychedelic-star @nova646 @theflightytemptressadventure @wantingtobekorra @computeringturtle @slayerette26 @kesskirata @greatcircle79 @boxdyeblonde @fangirl-316 @niiight-dreamerrrr @tanzthompson @theamuz @the-scandalorian @gallowsjoker @helmet-comes-off

#din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin smut #the mandalorian smut #mandalorian fic #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin fic #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you #mando x reader #mando x you #mando fic #mando fanfic #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal x you #pedro pascal #din djarin #mando #star wars smut

608 notes · View notes

starsinmylatte · 3 years

Text

Tease (1/2)

Reader is fed up with the lack of attention from a certain Grand Admiral. To force his hand, she decides to send some pictures to tempt him while he's away, but things don't quite go as they were planned.

Pairing: Grand Admiral Thrawn x f!reader

Rating: Explicit (18+ only)

Tags/warnings (for part 1): lingerie, m@sturbation, slight dom/sub undertones

AO3 link here

Author’s note: Here’s the smut I promised! I’ll either post the second chapter tonight, or a different smut prompt partially inspired by @pala-din-djarin ;)

Let me know if you enjoyed it <3

Ch’eo ch’itiseb- my sweet

In the beginning, the plan was to tease your lover ever-so-slightly. Grand Admiral Thrawn had been away from the Chimaera for a week, and you were in no mood to be the last person in line for attention upon his return. Sady, Thrawn had been so busy the week before his departure that he had very little time to spend with you.

As a Commander, you, of course, had your own duties to attend to in his absence, but there was no denying you missed his touch a little more than usual during the unrelentingly long week. It was more than understandable for Thrawn to be busy; he was a Grand Admiral, after all, but it couldn’t hurt for you to remind him exactly what he was missing……

You would never do anything to jeopardize his ongoing mission. Still, he was just on Coruscant visiting the Imperial Palace, and you weren’t exactly above sending some choice pictures to him through an encrypted communication line. Did you know exactly what you were doing by putting on the fine, lacy lingerie he had gifted you but never got the chance to see? Absolutely, but then again… that was the whole point. You wanted him to feel exactly as desperate for you as you did for him.

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

As you slipped the final stocking into place, you couldn’t help but smile at your reflection in the mirror.

Ah, this should do nicely.

Red, lacy lingerie, which perfectly matched the shade of your lover’s eyes, trailed across your skin like flames. The bralette was mostly sheer, but it offered the perfect amount of support and framed your décolletage in a way you knew Thrawn would find delectable. The matching panties hugged your hips and were partially hidden below a thin belt made from the same lace, which circled your waist and connected to the stockings in the front and back.

You laughed mischievously as you turned to see how the outfit looked from the side reflection in the large mirror, “Oh, this should definitely work well.”

The stockings themselves rested perfectly on the soft swell of your upper thighs, a place you knew Thrawn loved to kiss and mark as his, and they framed your ass beautifully. You were beyond resplendent, a piece of art that he couldn’t have, and you were going to use it to tease him as much as possible. However, if you were actually going to do some real damage, the pictures needed to be convincing.

“What better way to make this authentic than to do it in his bed,” you mused out loud. Fortunately, the datapad could both take and encrypt the pictures, so all you had to do was prop it up on the bedside table and set the photo timer.

The setup was fairly easy for the first few pictures, but all your ideas for poses were running out before long. Then, another exciting thought crossed your mind.

I’ll just set it to video! I can freeze and save sections of it as the pictures; that’ll be absolutely perfect.

You reached up and set the datapad to the necessary specifications before returning to the edge of Thrawn’s bed. Taking the pictures had been building sensual anticipation under your skin, and it went straight to your core as you imagined your lover’s reaction to them. Just the thought of Thrawn, breathless with want and worlds away from having his hands on you…. Well, it was more than enough encouragement for you to hit the record button on the datapad.

The silken black sheets on his bed caressed your soft skin and added another layer of sensation to your already stimulated mind as you lay back down among them. You took a deep, tentative breath in; Thrawn’s intensely masculine scent seemed to be everywhere. It completely surrounded you, drawing you further into the seductive depths of your mind and triggered vivid memories of all the ways he’d taken you on top of them.

One such memory was his powerful form pressing your back deep into the sheets, fucking you at a relentless pace, and worrying the tender skin of your neck with his teeth. Another was of Thrawn bending you over the edge of the bed, pinning you in place with his strong arms as he ravished you from behind, all while whispering filthy sentiments in Cheunh into your ear. Finally, your memory turned to his head dipping between your thighs to drink you in as he drew his true name from your lips like a prayer to some forgotten god….

You glanced to the side, and the mirror on the opposite wall showed a glimpse of just how beautiful you looked, displayed like a prized possession in the middle of his bed. No extra persuasion was needed for you to begin trailing your hands slowly and sensually over your curves. You lightly traced down the bothersome seams of the lingerie, following the path Thrawn’s own hands would’ve taken, before resting one hand at the apex of your thighs and placing the other on the ample swell of your breast.

By this point, the self-sufficient, capable Commander of the Chimaera was all but gone. Your breathing was ragged with desire and coming in short bursts; you would’ve willingly torn the world apart if it meant Thrawn could be in the room. It was all too much. Thought of him, his scent, his imaginary voice in your ear commanding your every move … Your cunt absolutely throbbed with desire. Arousal pooled between your legs, soaking through the lacy fabric and drawing a needy groan from your lips. With a gaze half-lidded and hazy from lust, your head lolled to stare directly into the camera, and you pleaded like it would bring him to bed, “ Thrawn….. please….”

You were so far gone that you hadn’t even noticed your hands were moving of their own volition. At the utterance of his name, two fingers pushed aside the interfering fabric and slipped deep inside your cunt; the other hand pinched down hard on a peaked nipple. Your back bowed off the bed, and stars danced behind your eyes as a broken moan fell from your mouth.

At this point, heady lust had completely taken over. Gasps and cries of pleasure rang out in the silent room as your fingers moved to circle your clit, driving you closer and closer to a shattering climax. You screamed Thrawn’s name when you came, digging your fingers deep into the sheets and searching desperately for stability as the intense orgasm rocked your body.

You stopped the recording on the datapad and laid still for what felt like an eternity as you tried to regain your senses. Finally, you were recovered enough to actually retrieve the datapad from the bedside table. The screen had gone dark, but when you brought the device back to life, something wasn’t quite right; the video was nowhere to be found.

As you checked through all of the possible places it could be, your stomach did a flip as you finally realized what had happened. The video was set to send automatically after it was filmed, so when you hit stop……

One quick glance at the message history confirmed your theory. However, you were so much more preoccupied with the flashing notification button. With a trembling finger, you clicked on it, and an audio file popped up. Thrawn’s voice, usually so soft and collected, was now heavily accented and barely concealing a feral tone, “Ch’eo ch’itiseb, you know you really shouldn’t tease me like this.” He sounded ready to eat you alive.

Sith hells, you were in trouble.

Tagging some friends: @handbaskethell @mittheresabosen @pala-din-djarin @pretty-with-andorian-shingles @bluecynadi

#grand admiral thrawn #thrawn #mitt'raw'nuruodo #chiss #thrawn x f!reader #thrawn x you #thrawn x reader #star wars rebels #star wars: rebels #star wars smut #star wars rebels fanfiction

152 notes · View notes

danddymaro · 3 years

Text

Right Here | Higgs Monaghan x Reader

Warnings;

Somnophilia

non-con that moves to dubcon

Maybe breeding?

I guess it’s also yanyan / Yandere

-If it’s not your fancy, please just don’t even touch it.

A/N: You know, this actually came from the little story I have out, but I reasoned it was better as a standalone instead, because Higgs isn’t like that in the other work.

He’s more of a sweetheart, still crazy, but I mean, a sweetheart nonetheless.

Word count: 879

Right Here

" He's not coming for you," he reminded her, his already deep voice thickened furthermore as he rasped the words right into her ear, "He...forgot...all about you." He groaned out, his hips sinking down to hers in a deep and sensuous meeting that was preceded by a low moan from his part.

" He forgot about you," He said again, his two hands moving over the soft skin of her legs, tenderly grazing his rougher skin over the exposed limbs before he hooked each one, soon hoisting them onto his shoulders.

Slowly, he eased down, her thighs soon pressed to her chest as he descended,

" But don't worry...I'm right here," he told her, his palms finding their way to her cheeks, holding them dearly.

"Sweetheart, I'm right here… " He murmured repeatedly, each dive down met with a sweet envelopment of warmth that left him high.

' If only you'd have those pretty eyes open.' He thought to himself, wishing she'd look at him,

‘If you’d just look at me, Sweetheart, you’d know just how crazy you drive me.’ He silently spoke, ‘If you’d look at me, you’d make this all perfect,’ He enthused, soon letting her legs glide down his arms, traveling there with the purpose of being held by his bent arms.

‘But this is good enough,' He then reasoned, eyeing her beautiful body as it lay beneath him, 'cause right now... You're mine,' he mused.

'Even if you're thinking about him now…You're right here with me,' He went on with a dumb grin.

“- Just us,” he hummed, his face lifting into a sweet grin as he watched her begin to stir, and during then his heart soared.

"There she is," he murmured with the glowing expression, greeting her with a pleasure that numbed her entire being.

Her (e/c) colored eyes soon fluttered opened, the glossy and dazed orbs looking up at the hazy sight of him with confusion.

“Higgs?” She said softly, knowing his voice, yet not understanding, “Wha..what… why?” She muttered incoherently before her eyes rolled back, a mewling cry then emitted from her gaping lips as her further questioning died out, drowned out and overpowered by the new, invading sensation.

“ That's it sweetie,” he said encouraged her, “That’s my name...” he said with a swell of pride,

“I’m right here,” He repeated.

Shakenly, her hips rose up to meet his, her entire body raked with hard shivers as he repeatedly fucked her, hitting her sweet spot with perfect aim he’d mastered just for her.

“I've been thinking about something baby,” he then uttered, his voice low and soft,

“ If I go in here,” he grunted while the full length of his cock sheathed within her,

“ If I cum....right here again,” he specified while taking a short pause in his movements.

“Fuck...” He hissed, “Would you forgive me?” he asked her, and as he spoke, all of his words sounded muddied to her, muffled by the heavy pounding of her heart as it bounced heavily.

He doused her heat with his own warmth, all while tightly pressing his hips to hers, the flesh melting over each other during the meeting, stuck by the glistening sweat that coated them both.

With a final heave he slowly eased himself out from her in a slow drag that left her itching to have him return.

She couldn't think properly, her mind growing hazy as her body had already been used to the point of overstimulation that left her helpless.

‘Higgs, ‘ she thought helplessly, desperate to have him rut into her more,

“Higgs...please,” she breathed, “I...want more,” she said while struggling to find a steady breath.

Broken beyond reason, she cried out to him, the urgent sound filling him with even more drive.

In his half daze he dragged his blue eyes down to her parted legs, eyeing the sight of her well-used snatch, still gaping and sweet, greedy for more of him despite already being full.

'Oh… Bridges… you could never.' He thought snidely.

A slim finger tenderly trailed up and down her wetness, a lax, weak sigh leaving her at the gentle motion.

"One more time, right?" He said softly, his lips coming down to hers, greeting her with a tender kiss as his finger dove into her, instantly coated by the remains of his many acts of love.

Her body squirmed, writhing beneath him as he gave her just what he asked him for,

‘More,’ He thought to himself, ‘ I’ll give it all to you,’

“ - I'm sorry,” he murmured against her mouth, her two legs held on each arm, hooked there after he'd plunged into her yet again.

“ I'm really sorry (f/n),” he said while using her again, his body feverishly moving, the ensnared man desperately wanting to keep the sight of her gazing up at him fresh in his mind, using the moment to ingrain the lovely sight in his brain.

‘ I can't help myself sweetheart.

I can't stop myself.

Fuck… I love you,’

“ You're mine, ” he murmured while he watched a sweet smile rise, pleased with being the one to will it out of her.

“You’re all mine now,” He said with certainty.

‘Our bond is the only one that will remain.

Our connection is the only one that matters. ’

139 notes · View notes

thewheezingwyvern · 4 years

Text

Salt Lines

Demon!Aizawa x Witch!F!Reader x Demon!Shinsou

Summary: You summoned two demons for a favor. Little did you know that they had different ideas on how they wanted you to pay for their services.

Rating: Here be smut!

Word count: 4.3k

Kinks: Blowjob, Threesome, Spit roasting, Double penetration, Dirty talk

Notes: Banner edited by me, base photo can be found here. Tagging: @secondhand-trash, @animewh0re, @marilla-eldriana, @heyybrittannia, @redbeanteax, @blueflame-dabi, @mari-writes-smut, @league-of-thots, @dee-madwriter , @theravencawsatmidnight, @bratwritings, @knifeewifee, @mirakumiruku, @raekahnsfw

✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧ ✧

To say that they were gorgeous was a vast understatement. The two demons that you had summoned were in possession of an otherworldly attraction that ensnared your attention. At first glance they looked like exceptionally gorgeous humans, skin bathed in an alluring glow with lean bodies that radiated power. But closer inspection revealed two pairs of eyes that glowed like hellfire and powerful curved horns that betrayed their nature.

"A brave witch," The one on the left observed, a shock of lavender hair floating on an infernal wind from the summoning circle, "to summon not one but two demons to her bidding."

The one on the right curled a faint smirk, dark hair twisting in a storm around his jaw and neck, "Is the witch ready to pay double for her favor?"

A raw rush of power roiled against your circle, a loud hum reverberating through your bedroom.

"Your price?" you asked through gritted teeth.

The lavender haired demon twisted a grin on his mouth, dark eyes slipping past your form to eye your bed, "Convenient place you've chosen to summon us..."

It did not take you long to connect the dots, “I wasn’t looking for Incubi…”

A deep laugh rumbled in the dark-haired one’s chest, “Incubi aren’t the only ones who can seek pleasure.” he lifted a lazy hand and trailed it along your circle, the barrier crackling violently against his skin, “It’s nearly impossible to resist when an attractive witch like you summons us.”

A shudder rolled down your spine, his voice a pleasing caress to your ears. Purple eyes watched you with a burning intensity, accompanied by a knowing smirk. The raw energy swelling through your bedroom was intense and it sensitized your skin as they eagerly drank in the sight of your figure. You considered the proposition. As far as demon deals went, this seemed to be the lowest risk to you, compared to having to offer up something of great value to you personally or even owe them a favor. But you knew better than to just blindly accept.

“Name your terms specifically.” you replied firmly, fighting back the shudder as they both eyed you from behind the barrier, “Or I banish you.”

“The terms are simple” the black haired one said, “In exchange for whatever favor you ask from us, we get to have our fun with you.”

“Define ‘fun’.”

A laugh emerged from the one on the left, “It’s really not complicated, witch. We get to fuck you.”

Your mind flooded with thoughts of being pressed between the two of them, hot and eager mouths devouring you while greedy hands reveled in the feel of your skin. Curious, your eyes trailed over their forms once more. Their clothes were modern enough, a trait demons have done for centuries, adapting to suit the times with each summon. But beneath the clothes you could see hard muscle and it made your mouth water at the thought of seeing them both.

Still wary, you narrowed your eyes, “And if I start to feel uncomfortable with some of your ideas of fun?”

“All you have to do is say so.” Dark eyes hooded sensuously from beneath wild black hair, “After all, we want you writhing in pleasure and we can’t do that if you don’t like it.”

You paused thoughtfully, “You have a deal.”

Throwing all caution to the wind, you dropped the circle. Before you could blink the two descended upon you, the dark haired one pulling you to him, your back pressed against your chest while his hands roamed along the lines of your body. As the other demon pressed against you from the front, hot mouth finding purchase on your neck, your voice rasped out of your open mouth.

“Names. What are your names?”

Your hoarse request sent a shudder through both of them before the one behind you rumbled out an answer, “Shouta.”

“Hitoshi.” murmured the one with lavender hair into your ear, cool teeth nibbling at your earlobe.

Their bodies were blazing hot, a manifestation of hellfire contained within flesh as they crowded against you. Your own temperature increased when Hitoshi claimed your mouth with his own. His kiss was intense and deep, pulling your breath out of you to hold it prisoner behind his teeth. Shouta kissed his way up your neck to nibble on your ear, hot hands gripping your hips.

Pressed as you were between them, you could feel the firm and rigid lengths of both of them pushed against you. When the length behind you rutted up against your ass, you groaned into Hitoshi’s mouth. Eager for more, you reached your arms behind you to embrace Shouta’s neck, grinding back against him. A pleasured growl filled your ears in response to your movements.

“Nice shirt.”

Deft fingers stole around to the front of your shirt, a button up, and he slowly set to work undoing each one. His progress was slow and tantalizing, taking the opportunity to relish in the feel of your soft skin along the way. Meanwhile, Hitoshi was growing rougher in his kisses, his hands reaching around to squeeze your ass tightly. He kneaded the supple flesh there, savoring the feel and how you groaned against him with the motion. Sinful hands parted your shirt, baring your torso and bra to them.

Hitoshi pulled back to bore his gaze into you, “Every inch of you is ours tonight. How could we possibly resist such a tempting little Kitten?”

While his mouth returned to your neck, peppering scorching kisses down to your chest, Shouta growled into your ear, “I want to taste you so fucking bad. I bet you’re already wet, aren’t you?”

He didn’t wait for your answer, his hand stealing away past the waistband of your jeans and underwear to dip into your core. You were drenched just like he expected and when Shouta felt your dripping want, he groaned. Slick fingers were held up before your face, evidence of your desire glinting in the soft glow of the candles and string lights of your bedroom.

“Shit. Look at how wet she is, Hitoshi.”

The demon in question pulled back to look at his fingers. Darkened eyes shifted over to look at you, drinking in your pleasured face. A smirk crawled across his face before he reached over to take Shouta’s wrist in his hand before guiding it over to your lips.

“Taste yourself, witch.”

You opened your mouth and took his fingers into your mouth. The musky flavor of your arousal burst across your tongue and you eagerly sucked on Shouta’s fingers. The act had both demons growling and pressing you even tighter between them.

“That’s it.” Shouta rumbled into your ear.

“You want something else to suck, don’t you?”

The sound of Hitoshi’s husky voice had you whining and squirming. Yes. A thousand times yes! Shouta was breathing heavily in your ear, rutting against your ass with his growing hardness. A pair of hands shoved your pants down, leaving you in your underwear and open button down shirt.

Hitoshi was eager to touch, palms gliding over your exposed thighs. The sensation was tantalizing, leaving you squirming in your need. A heated palm cupped your sex, a whine escaping you at the touch. It wasn't enough. You needed more. Shouta pulled his fingers free to reach around and cup your breasts, pushing them together in offering for the demon in front of you.

“You have the most tempting body...”

The rumbling growl of Shouta’s voice against your skin sent a powerful jolt of arousal right to your pussy, clenching in anticipation of being filled. Hitoshi’s indigo eyes blazed with hunger, drinking in your disheveled state before dipping his head down to take a nipple into his mouth. A plaintive whine emerged from you, pleasure singing through your nerves as his clever mouth suckled at your breasts. Hot fingers made their way past your underwear to stroke along your weeping slit, your hips bucking in need.

“We are going to devour you. Would you like that?” Shouta chuckled against your ear, taking great pleasure in your answering whimper, “We’re going to stuff you so full of cock that you won’t know how to think.”

“God yes!” You groaned out, head lolling back to rest on his shoulder.

While your chest was teased and kissed and sucked, another mouth found your neck again, teeth biting down on the tender flesh there. Hard. It was a heated move that made your pussy clench, searching for something to fill it. Demons bite to claim, you realized, a way to ward off others of their infernal brethren from getting ideas. The idea of being claimed by these two, held and guarded jealously was unspeakably arousing and it made you wiggle your hips against the fingers stroking your aching sex.

“So eager.” Indigo eyes swam into your vision as he threaded his fingers into your hair, lifting up your head to stare at your face properly., “Let’s hear it, girl. Do you want us to fuck you? To claim you?”

Fuck. That voice, heavy with a demonic, possessive growl made you tremble in need. Your hips bucked again, seeking more friction, more pleasure, your pussy needing to be filled. The sight of him staring at you, luminous eyes setting your blood on fire, caused your voice to fail. You nodded desperately, panting as Shouta suckled at your skin, greedy hands massaging your breasts.

“Use your words.” Hitoshi instructed.

“Beg for it.” the dark haired demon behind you corrected, “I want to hear you beg. Beg for us pretty little witch.”

A single finger began drawing tight but maddeningly slow circles around your needy clit. Your chest heaved, panting beneath the current of their desire as you spiraled into a mess of trembling limbs. A second hand dipped between your thighs, Shouta’s hand, and gathered up the pooling slick onto his finger tips. A faint squeak of surprise jolted from you when that same hand pressed into your ass, teasing the puckered hole there. You pressed your butt back against him, urging him to push his fingers into you but he drew back.

“Beg for it.” Shouta growled to you, “Tell us what you want.”

Cool teeth nipped at your lower lip, hot breath washing over your face. They were impossibly close and yet not close enough. Under normal circumstances you would give them more resistance and make them earn your begging. But you were so hot, so tightly wound with intense need that you felt certain you were going to burst. You shuddered between them.

“Please! Please I need you both!”

“Please what, Kitten?” rumbled Hitoshi, “You have to tell us what you want.”

You whined, bucking against their hands yet they pointedly did not give you what you wanted.

“Please! Please just fuck me! I need it so bad, please!”

The answering growls you received was enough to make your bones quake, previously luminous eyes glowing like hot coals in a dark night. A hand, impossible for you to tell who it belonged to, abruptly ripped your underwear off of you. The loud sound of fabric tearing cut through the air, making you squawk indignantly.

“Hey! Those were my- Ah-!”

Hitoshi had moved so fast you had never noticed him drop to his knees before you until he latched his mouth to your clit. The sensation was so intense it made your knees buckle, your quaking body only held upright by Shouta’s powerful arm still clamped around your waist. Slippery fingers prodded at your rear, until you felt one slide in, a soft moan tumbling from your lips at the stretch.

You were impossibly wet, your juices leaking at a slow but steady rate as the two demons ravaged you. Hitoshi hefted up your left leg, resting it on his shoulder as he feasted on your dripping sex, drinking in the flavor of your arousal. The sounds he made down there were obscene, vulgar slurping and sucking permeating the air as he growled against your want.

“You like that don’t you?” came Shouta’s voice in your ear, sinking a second finger into your ass, “Him eating out your pussy while I have my fun here with this cute ass of yours?”

You needed to feel their skin on yours. It wasn’t fair that you were the only one completely bare while they had their way with you. Desperate to turn the tables, you reached around and grabbed his cock through his pants. The answering hiss alone was enough to drive your arousal up. But the part that made you lick your lips, the detail that made your mouth water in anticipation was his girth. He was large enough that you couldn’t even get your hand to close all the way around it

You balked at the idea of him being able to fit that in your ass. Could your body even handle a cock that large?

“Careful, girl. Keep grabbing my cock like that and you won’t be able to walk for days.”

Oh fuck. That was too much. Between Shouta’s fingers in your ass, the growls against your skin and Hitoshi’s mouth working at your clit, your hips rutted to seek the pleasure you needed. Eager to see you fall apart, the two demons intensified their attentions, a third finger stretching your asshole while three were added to your aching and empty pussy. When they scissored within you, you howled out your pleasure, trembling against them while you struggled to palm his erection.

“Fuck.” he cursed behind you, “I can’t wait anymore.”

Infernal magic sizzled around him, melting away the modern clothes he was clad in until Shouta was left just as bare as you. As he eased the tip of his throbbing cock into you, you hissed, the stretch already intense to accommodate his girth. He sank in slowly, gradually advancing so you could take in all of him. It stung and you strained to adjust, struggling to keep your hips still against the lips that dined between your legs.

Until you felt Hitoshi’s teeth rake across your clit.

White stars burst before your eyes, your abdomen tightening before your hips rocked wildly, seeking out the start of your orgasm. You were so close, teetering on the edge of a hungry mouth and a rock hard cock sheathing into you, ready to fall over the side at a moment's notice. Hitoshi snapped his eyes up to look at you, illuminated eyes scorching a trail across your skin to bore into your own gaze. It was his eyes that performed the smirk that his mouth was too preoccupied to do, wicked delight glowing like a hot coal in those indigo depths.

“Fuck! Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” you cursed, “Please, Hitoshi, I’m so close! Please!”

Shouta snapped his hips forward, your skin slapping against his, “Scream for us, Kitten.”

Hitoshi growled his approval against your pussy, the vibrations shooting right to your clit and across your nerves. That pushed you over the edge with a shout, a delicious fall into wild and frenzied bucking, your desire pouring out of you and into his hot and ready mouth. You panted and whimpered, the sight of him so eager to consume your fluids while Shouta rutted into you from behind was so arousing.

Lavender head lifting, the light from your bedroom and the candles caught on your slick glistening on his lips and chin. A tongue lashed out to clean up your essence, his body rising to his feet. You were greeted with a smirk as he drank in your blissed expression, mouth hanging open as you panted for air, breasts bouncing with each of Shouta’s thrusts.

“Good girl.” he purred behind you, fingers giving your hips an appreciative squeeze, “Good fucking girl.”

Sensuous lips claimed yours, the musky tang of your own essence flooding your mouth. Growls reverberated in your ears from the two demons boxing you between them, ungodly heat simmering along your skin. Shouta grew rougher, thick cock twitching inside of you with each thrust, nails biting into your skin. A whine of protest escaped you when he pulled out of you, leaving you achingly empty.

“I think it’s only fair that you return the favor. Let’s see you take two demon cocks at once.”

A squeal escaped you as you were abruptly tossed onto the bed, mattress creaking to catch you. Shouta was on you before you could even blink, flipping you onto your hands and knees with your face near the edge of the bed. Roughly he pressed himself back into your ass, stretching and reaching deep inside of you. When Hitoshi came back into your view he was nude, hard lines of his body nearly glowing in the dim haze of your candles and string lights. Your mouth watered at the sight, fingers fisting into the comforter of your bed. He looked so sinful and sexy and you wanted to turn around to get a good look at Shouta in nothing but his skin.

“Think you can handle us both, Kitten?” grunted the demon behind you, snapping his hips to slap against the skin of your ass, “If you’re scared now, we won’t fault you too much.”

Did you think you could handle them both? You weren’t sure. The one dick deep inside of you already stretched you so wide it was at the upper threshold of pleasure. But the part that you found intimidating was before you. Hitoshi was thick. So much so that you felt your jaw ache at the idea of taking him into your mouth. Were you even capable of accommodating something that large?

You had your doubts but the teasing tone from Shouta urged you forward, “Fuck me like you mean it. Unless you’re scared?”

Hips stuttered to a stop, stilling as they both drank in what you just said. What you just challenged. Indigo eyes, still glowing, fluorescent embers were wide for a moment before hooding. A dangerous smirk crossed Hitoshi’s lips, carnal teeth peering out between them. There was a raw infernal energy that rolled off of both of them, powering against you and scintillating across your skin. It abruptly became very clear that they both had been holding back.

Their energy made you feel nearly drunk, spiking your own desire until you felt you were going to burst out of your own skin. There was a moment where you felt like you would regret your words but that vanished under the idea of being completely ruined by two indescribably sexy demons. Demons that were overcome with desire for you. They may be running the show but the thought of them so enamored with you gave you a power all of your own.

A dark chuckle emerged from Hitoshi, eyes intensely more luminous than before. As he drew closer, sensuous kisses were pressed to your back, following the pillar of your spine. It was almost soft, tender and tempting. But you could sense it was a preclude to the storm they were about to unleash upon you. The lavender haired demon sifted his hand through your hair before dipping to your chin, angling your head up to look at him, cock pulsing in front of your face.

“Remember you asked for it, witch.”

Shouta burst to life behind you with a snarl, powering himself forward into you. It was so abrupt and intense, you cried out, pleasure and pain intertwining in a dance along your nerves. His thrusts were rough, wild and utterly carnal. And your own cries swelled when wicked fingers snaked around to pinch your clit. At the same time, Hitoshi fisted his hand into your hair and yanked it back down to stare at his length.

“Suck it.” growled out Shouta, “A slutty little witch like you knows how, right? Go on. Let me see you suck his cock.”

Eagerly, you parted your lips and took his tip into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip. Hitoshi hissed quietly, bucking his hips at the sensation. The action caused you to cough in response, throat spasming at the intrusion. You heard him groan as you tried to sink his length further into your mouth, jaws stretching to accommodate him properly. Before they might have let you take your time, get used to taking on the sheer size of him, but your challenge earlier erased that possibility entirely.

The two of them set a rigorous pace thrusting into you, two demon cocks filling you to capacity. They were rough, man handling your frame until you could feel bruises forming on your hips and your scalp stinging from Hitoshi’s insistent tugging on your hair. You could taste his pre, salty on your tongue as you hollowed out your cheeks. The growls were incredibly arousing and Shouta’s persistent fingers on your clit only served to work you into a frenzy, driving you to take both of them as much as you could.

“Fuck you look good like that.” came Hitoshi’s voice, hoarse with desire, “Do you want my cum?”

You hummed in the affirmative but suddenly gave a muffled squeal when a hand descended down onto your right ass cheek. The skin stung sharply with the abrupt abuse and you knew it was going to bruise later. When you were spanked again you yelped again, earning a loud moan from Hitoshi.

“Don’t talk with your mouth full.” Shouta told you.

Even though you couldn’t see him, you could hear the smirk in his voice. The tone emboldened you, thrusting your hips back to meet one of his powerful strokes, skin slapping against his. Shouta gave a pleasured growl, cock twitching inside of you. Things were getting heated and messy, lines of drool dripping from your mouth. It was a struggle to keep taking in the massive dick, your throat constantly working around his thrusts.

“Your mouth feels so good.” Hitoshi told you, abruptly pulling out of your mouth, “But I know somewhere that will feel better.”

“Shit -ah! Please. I need to cum!”

A positively feral snarl ripped from Shouta’s throat, a rough hand gripping you by the neck and hauling you up right. The other demon clamored onto the bed, mattress dipping beneath his weight. Hitoshi’s cock was rock hard, dark red from blood flow and was twitching with need. Lips pressed to your ear as the thrusts behind you grew more fervent and wild.

“You want to cum, pretty witch? Alright we’ll make you cum. We’re going to fill you up.”

“Yes!”

Shouta pulled you tightly against him, hot skin burning against your back, before falling back so you were laying on top of him. The position change had your aching, empty pussy clenching, leaking out your desire in preparation for the fucking it desperately needed. He fisted a rough hand into your hair, pulling sharply to force you to tip back your head, arching your body above him.

Hitoshi was on you quickly, sheathing himself fully into your dripping heat, “Fuck..! You feel so-agh! This pussy is mine. Mine.”

You couldn’t see either of their faces from the angle you were forced to hold yourself in but their powerful, wild thrusts was more than enough to send you careening over the edge of your second orgasm. You came with a scream, bucking your way through the wave of pleasure, trembling limbs spasming around you.

“We’re not done with you yet, Witch.” Shouta whispered into your ear, “We’re going to ruin you. You want that, don’t you? To be a fuck toy for two powerful demons?”

Each movement sent overly sensitized jolts through you, your body stimulated past it’s threshold and they still continued to pound into you. You writhed and whined between them, feeling like you were going to split at the seams beneath their attention. Waves of infernal power roiled over you, sensual and erotic like it’s own full body caress.

“I-I ah! I can’t! It’s too much! I can’t!”

“Fuck you like we mean it. Isn’t that what you told us?” drawled Shouta from behind you.

“Yes…” you whimpered out.

“Tell us to stop, Kitten.” Hitoshi murmured to you between his wild thrusts, “You know the rules. You have to tell us to stop.”

It was overwhelming, thrumming through your nerves right to your core, so intense it was almost painful. But you didn’t want to stop. You wanted and needed this. Tightly wound already from your desire, it sprung to an even higher level when Shouta pinched your sensitive clit between his clawed fingers. You howled in pleasure, white fuzz swimming into your vision as you endured through their ministrations. Whimpers escaped you when Shouta’s other hand slipped up and cupped your left breast, thumb stroking a nipple.

The sensation made you buck and squirm and writhe between them, heat swallowing you as you tipped over your third orgasm for the night with a scream. The sound of you coming undone was enough to push Shouta over the edge as well, a feral snarl escaping him as he shot ropes of thick cum into you. The sensation was pleasant and you felt yourself fall limp on him.

“Where do you want it?” Hitoshi asked you, grunting in between his strokes.

You were breathless and panting but you still had enough energy to rasp out, “Inside of me. Cum inside me please!”

“Fuck-!”

Hitoshi unloaded into you, spilling hot, sticky seed into your quivering pussy. His hot body laid on top of yours, head resting on your chest. Both demons peppered your skin with slow kisses, the three of you panting and sweating. Your body felt like it was made of jelly, limp limbs falling to either side of you.

“That was…” you croaked out, voice dying in your throat.

“That was good. I love this ass of yours.” Shouta cupped your butt, fingers squeezing into your flesh.

“Hmmmm, be sure to summon us again, Kitten. I have other things I want to do to you.”

Other things? Summon them both again? To get fucked within an inch of your life by the both of them?

Hell. Fucking. Yes.

#BNHA #BNHA smut #Aizawa x reader #Shinsou x reader #Shinsou Hitoshi #Aizawa Shouta #Aizawa x Reader x Shinsou #scheduled post #my writing

2K notes · View notes

bestialchorus · 3 years

Text

“The Invisible String”- Chapter 3

You’ve lived out this moment many times before in the land of dreams. The moment where Donna’s soft voice was followed by her leaning in, getting close enough until you both stood just a breath away, your lips about to meet……only for the dream to always end abruptly. No matter how close you got, your mind always denied you. It was cruel and unusual but a part of you always felt it was your subconscious protecting you from getting just a bit too hopeful for your own good. Needless to say, you got little sleep on those nights, trying your best to fight against giving into yours urges as Donna slept in the room across from yours. As silly as it sounds, it always felt like you needed her permission to fully indulge your fantasies, considering she was what fueled them.

Most would find such a thought ridiculous, but Donna had always been honest with you…even when it was clearly difficult for her to open up.

You remember the day she froze mid-sentence when she noticed you studying a book on botany. You now knew it wasn’t the book itself, but the page filled with illustrations of a bright white flower that caught her attention. You were rightfully confused at first, wondering if she merely was trying to remember something or if she was upset that you had taken the book without asking for permission first. But with no facial cues to go off of, you instead watched as she began turning towards the opposite direction, ready to seemingly flee. But right as she began to take a step, she stopped in place, taking a pause as her hands turned into tight fists against her sides. You patiently watched as the dollmaker internally fought herself, finally deciding to slowly make her way back towards you.

Donna’s voice was quiet as she spoke, but you were still able to pick up on the weight behind her words.

She explained how her mother’s favourite flower was the very same as the one you were looking at. Her father would often buy bouquets of the flower for her mother, resulting in the Beneviento home carrying more and more vases whenever special occasions arose. You heard the fondness in her words as she finished with a statement that made your heart skip a beat.

“My father taught me that when you love someone you should surround their world with what they love.”

You remember feeling warmer as you saw the kitchen from across the hall. On the table sat a recently lit stick of sage incense, a fragrance you told Donna a week earlier helped ease your nerves. The Beneviento home didn’t carry incense until you came along but you didn’t think anything of it until Donna told you about her family….

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

You tenderly look at Donna as the memory suddenly carries more weight than ever before. You feel silly as you connect how all this time, she was trying to tell you about her feelings. You find humour in the fact that technically Donna had made the first move or “moves” as it were. It seems as if every day she was trying to tell you, she just didn’t have to voice to say it…until now of course.

Regardless of how times you’ve dreamt of this moment, nothing could have prepared you for the image that stands before you.

THE Donna Beneviento fights back a blush as you cradle her face in your hands. Looking up at you with awe and anticipation. The image of the enigmatic figure you met when you first stepped into this home is a far cry from the vulnerable woman looking back at you. You’re flooded by how much she must trust you, how she’s going out of her way to show you the real her and it makes your heart swell.

Donna can’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed by your loving gaze, something else flashes over it, something else she can’t quite pinpoint. She’s caught off guard as your thumb suddenly beings to gently rub her face, she softly shudders. For the first time in her life, she’s experiencing a level of intimacy she’s only read about and already it almost feels like it’s too much, like she could be engulfed by it at any second.

Your body begins to move by itself, you feel lost in a trance as your desires take control. You slowly bring her face to yours, stopping just a breath away as you whisper into her mouth. Whatever level of reality existed around you disappears as all that matters is the woman before you.

“Is it okay if I kiss you, Mistress?” The question carries an air of arousal you didn’t intend, you’re too lost in Donna’s gaze to even feel embarrassed by it.

The question makes Donna feel weak at the knees, heart racing as she holds her hands in a tight fist against her chest. Her anxiety is telling her this is all a trick, that no one could truly want her…let alone vocalize it but she can’t escape the weight of your gaze. You look at her with both compassion and hunger and it makes her feel slightly dizzy, but you keep her steady, supporting her. Without thinking, her eye flickers over your lips for a split second and she feels warmth…lower in her body. Donna takes the leap as she nods with a gulp, blush getting deeper as she tries to keep your gaze.

The response makes your cheeks burn, Donna somehow looking more adorable as her cheeks turn a bright red.

You no longer feel like you can hold back, you finally bring her lips against yours, still lightly rubbing her cheek with your thumb.

At first you kiss her slowly, trying not to overwhelm her as you patiently take the lead. It takes Donna a few seconds before she kisses you back, fighting against her timid nature as she gives into her desires. Somehow, Donna’s blush deepens as you softly explore each other, overtaken by how tender and passionate you feel against her. Not only that, but the warmth she felt earlier begins to grow and it starts to flood her senses, she happily loses herself to the moment.

Her hands tentatively cover yours, unsure of where she should place them. You respond by embracing her, bringing her flush against you. She feels safe in your arms, allowing herself to lean into your touch, to be engulfed by it.

Donna suddenly softly gasps against your mouth as she feels your hands run further down her back, the sensation sending electricity to her core, she can’t help but crave more. You feel yourself become more desperate as the kiss deepens, desire flooding your system as you hear her whimper in response. You should feel embarrassed by how her sounds ignite something in you, something you’ve never felt before, something almost…feral. But right now, you can’t be bothered, not when you finally communicating to Donna how much you care for her.

You want nothing more than to make her yours here and now, make her scream your name until her lungs give out but you wait. You use every bit of self-control to hold back. You won’t do anything without her permission. You have a sneaking suspicion this may all be new to Donna and her comfort is your first priority.

Finally, you both break way, heavily breathing as you catch your breath.

Donna looks up at you and her state is something to behold. Her once alabaster skin is now visibly flush, a deep maroon peppered across her cheeks. Her perfectly kept hair is now slightly disheveled while her eye is blown out and almost pitch black, you see your reflection looking back at you.

She lays her head against your chest and at first it catches you by surprise. But you quickly put your arms around her, waiting for her to catch her breath as she speaks.

“….I’m sorry..I just..n-need a..minute.” Donna says as if she’s just run a marathon, her knees weak and heart pumping out of her chest.

“You have nothing to apologize for, Donna.” You give her a reassuring squeeze and small smile appears on her face. You both can’t help but wonder if this was truly just a dream.

“We don’t need to go further. I understand if you need more time.” You say genuinely despite how worked up you are, ready to take her against the desk at the drop of a hat.

Donna takes a pause before answering and you haven’t the slightest idea if that’s a good or bad sign. Her voice comes out almost in a whisper.

“….But..I don’t think I want to stop…unless you want to of course.”

She buries her head deeper against you, embarrassed by her confession and that’s when something within you finally snaps.

#tis #the invisible string #donna beneviento #donna x reader #sorry this aint great yall but I wanted to get something out

71 notes · View notes

smarchit · 4 years

Text

Look Around, Look Around pt 8

Summary: You escaped an abusive marriage, pregnant with your husband’s child. He sends a bounty hunter after you to bring you back. Everything changes. Din Djarin/pregnant!reader, no use of y/n

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: Pregnancy/related topics, implied/referenced rape, mentions of abuse, references to childbirth.

Notes: This is the finale of the first part of this story. The second part of this series, “How Lucky We Are” is still being worked on and uploaded on Ao3 on no set schedule. I will start uploading the first four chapters here as well, with chapter one per day starting tomorrow. I will keep the tag list from this story, but you can always asked to be taken off at any time! I am so amazed at the support for this fic! Thank you to all who reblogged, replied, and liked each chapter! If someone told me last week I’d get over 100 notes on my writing I’d just have chuckled. That’s all. Enjoy the Part One finale! <3

When your daughter was seven months old, you left Sorgan again. You kept her in a wrapped sling close to your chest, one hand supporting her bottom as you waited to leave. It was secure - Omera made sure of that. She wouldn't fall, but you still liked to press your nose to her head and breathe in the still-new baby smell.

Mando and Cara were packing up your few belongings onto the ship while you sat with Winta and Omera, keeping the little babies occupied. The child was in Winta's lap, babbling back and forth with your daughter. Both he and your daughter had developed a rather strong bond and whenever Mando came to visit, which was often - about once every week or so, and at this point, it was difficult to get the child to want to leave. That was his baby sister, and you weren't able to convince him otherwise.

"Are you ready to go?" Mando asked as he finished carrying the last of the baskets up the ramp. He took the reluctant child from Winta's arms and straightened back up.

You stood and turned to Omera so the young woman could say goodbye to you and your daughter.

"She's gotten so big already," she chuckled, smoothing a hand over the baby's head.

"I can't believe you're leaving already," Cara laughed with a shake of her head. "It seems like yesterday that you stumbled off the ship."

It was true - seven months ago when you returned to Sorgan with your hours-old baby, and you still weak from the somewhat difficult birth, you slept for almost a whole day, only half conscious as you woke every few hours to feed her. It took days for you to regain your strength. That really did seem like it had been yesterday. Now, Trin, as you had named her, squirmed in your arms as she looked around with those large eyes, so very like your own.

You didn't want to leave Sorgan, truth be told. You loved its grassy, marshy fields, its people, its humid days and cool nights. But you were itching for more adventure, and now that you were finally free to explore without fear of harming the child growing inside you, you desperately wanted to make the most of it.

Trin babbled and trilled as you swiped your thumb across her chin to catch the drool that soaked into your shirt. You pressed another kiss to her head and looked at Mando.

He hugged Omera and then shook hands with Cara and placed a hand on top of Winta's head as he said his own goodbyes before he lead you up the ramp to the Razor Crest. It hurt to leave, but you knew you wouldn't be gone long. Or maybe you would be - it's a pretty big galaxy. There are lots of star systems and planets to travel to. Though you didn't think your heart would ever let you settle down anywhere else but the lush marshlands of Sorgan.

"Greef set up a rendezvous with a new client on Tatooine," Mando said as he placed a hand on your back as he pressed the button to close the ramp.

As you went and deposited your own small knapsack in the bedroom, you took a moment to glance around. There were no more bloodstains on the blankets, no more puddles of blood and amniotic fluid on the floor, no more of your screams echoed down the halls. It hadn't been the ideal situation to have your baby in, but you found it rather fit your newfound lifestyle of exploration.

"Go ahead up," he called as he finished securing some things down in the hold. "We'll be going in a few minutes."

You nodded, took one last look at the bedroom and all the memories it held and then climbed up the ladder to the cockpit, grateful you were able to use both hands this time.

Mando came up shortly after you took your seat and began to prepare for take off. He placed the child in his seat beside you. It took a minute to get it righted in the correct direction. He looked back at the three of you as the ship finally broke through the Sorgan atmosphere into space.

You smiled down at Trin, who had fallen asleep soon after you arrived on board. She didn't even move when you gently took her from the sling across your chest and held her in a loose blanket in your arms.

"Seven months and already used to a life in the stars," Mando said softly as he watched you. He seemed so relaxed to have you back in the copilot seat after so long.

"I'm surprised she isn't crying - first take off can be rough on the little ones," you murmured, smoothing down a haphazard baby curl.

He punched in the coordinates to Tatooine and pushed the control switch up to throw you into hyperspace once you were far enough out of the gravitational pull. The little silver ball was missing again, you noticed, and Mando sighed heavily as he looked for it.

The child beside you tugged on your sleeve to get your attention. When you looked down at him he held up the small ball in his three fingers and gestured with it towards Trin.

"What's that you've got there?" you murmured, your heart swelling with love when you realized what he was trying to do.

"What are you doing, womp rat?" Mando asked as he got up to stand by you.

He touched the ball to Trin's blanket and then gently dropped it on her lap, blinking up at you innocently as he tried to get his point across. You smiled down at him and then looked up at the bounty hunter.

"Huh. Think he likes her?" he teased as he lightly touched one of his large ears.

You shrugged and scooped the child in your other arm so you could hold them both. The foundling was enthralled with the baby and looked between her, you, and Mando as if waiting for you to say something.

"I told Cara last week that he definitely thinks she's his sister," you said, pressing your forehead to his little green one.

"Does that make us his parents then?" Mando asked you. You could hear the small smile in his question and it brought a smile to your own face. He gently lifted Trin from your arms and brought her up to press his forehead gently against hers.

"That depends," you hummed as you cradled Mando's child as you would your own. You loved him as much as you did Trin. What did it matter then?

"On what?"

"Whether or not you want me to be his parent too," you said quietly. You didn't want to look up to see your reflection staring back at you his visor. Really, whatever you had grown to feel for the Mandalorian in the past year was far deeper than any other connection that you had with another person, aside from your daughter.

Could it be love? Potentially. Respect? Yes, definitely that. What then ---

"I think you already are," Mando said softly. He held your daughter close to his chest as he watched her sleep.

His words rang in your ears. He said them so casually as if it was the most obvious thing in the galaxy. You smiled and stood to stand beside him as you watched space streak by the front window.

"I was alone for so long," he continued. "I never formed any connections with others. It... It wasn't the Way. The foundling wasn't even supposed to be here at first. He was a bounty. By Mandalorian creed, I'm his father. I took him in as a foundling."

You smiled. "So do you just have a habit of collecting bounties instead of turning them in?"

Mando huffed a laugh. "You could say that."

You looked at the two babies and thought about how different life would have been had Mando taken you back, or if someone else came after you.

"So is Trin a foundling then?" you asked as your daughter began to stir.

"No." Mando shook his head but didn't look away from her. "She isn't. She's your daughter by birth."

"So are foundlings only those that are abandoned or lost? He seems like he could just be lost."

He was quiet for a moment. "Or orphans."

Oh. Oh.

You gently touched him on the arm. He didn't pull away. "Is that -- Is that what happened to you?"

Mando looked back down at Trin and traced a gentle gloved finger over her features. He was silent for a long moment, lost in deep thought. "Yes," he murmured. "My parents were both killed when I was a boy."

In almost the year you had known him, he never had spoken of his past. Never said his name, never gave you his story. The only thing you knew about him was that he would never show you his face. And now you knew this.

"I'm sorry," you said softly.

Mando just pressed his forehead to Trin's again. A soft sound came through the modulator, slightly garbled and tinny. He may have been crying if you didn't know better.

You just kept a hand on his back. The child in your arms reached up to touch his adopted father.

Mando lifted his head and looked at the three of you.

"You have him, Mando," you said softly. "And me, and Trin. For as long as you'll have us aboard."

Trin's tiny fist came up from the folds of her blanket and reached for Mando's helmet and she gave a soft coo.

"I think she likes the idea," he murmured.

***

Mando walked in on you in the bedroom while you were feeding Trin later that evening. He didn't mean to do it, he merely wanted to let you know that you were nearing Tatooine.

Trin's dark eyes latched onto him as he stepped in the doorway. One of her tiny fists curled against your breast as she grunted softly as she drank. My curious little moon.

"I'm sorry. I'll go," Mando said softly. He turned to leave, but halted when you called to him.

"It's alright," you replied. "I don't mind if you stay. She just started."

Mando nodded and hesitantly joined you in the bedroom. He didn't want to crowd you, it seemed, so he pulled up a chair and sat across from you.

You looked down at Trin, who was looking all around the room, trying to find something interesting to look at. Her eyes always seemed to fall back onto the Mandalorian, who nervously watched you.

It was quiet in the bedroom except for the quiet sounds of Trin eating and the gentle rush of hyperspace. You could have nodded off if you weren't careful.

Mando quietly cleared his throat as if he knew you were zoning out.

You looked at him and then smiled. Words lingered on your lips, the same ones that had been sitting there since he first took you to Sorgan.

"Thank you," you said quietly. You stretched out your hand to brush against his arm. He looked down where your fingers touched beskar, but didn't pull away.

"For what?"

"For not taking me back."

Mando paused for a moment, then chuckled softly. "How could I? As soon as you told me you were pregnant, I knew I had to think of something."

You smiled a bit as you thought about the day you met him. You were so scared, hunched in a booth and sick to your stomach on the same planet you were about to land on. It sometimes still didn't feel real.

Trin detached herself from your breast then and stretched her little arms over her head. You pulled your shirt up over yourself and put her on your shoulder to pat her on the back.

"I don't think I can ever truly thank you enough for what you did for me. For us," you said.

Mando shrugged. "I probably would have come back for you. It's how I ended up with the womp rat upstairs."

You laughed and shook your head. No matter what he said or did, you knew how much he loved the small child. It warmed your heart when you saw the two of them together.

"Still have to think of a name for him," you reminded as you moved Trin from your shoulder when you heard her give a tiny burp.

He shrugged. "I know. I just feel like he responds better to "kid" or something. I'll work on it."

You smiled and stood to put her in a tiny pod that was identical to the child's upstairs. You kept a gentle hand on her until she yawned and fell asleep.

When you turned, Mando was directly in front of you. He had a finger to his visor where you assumed his mouth to be and took another step closer.

"I'm glad you decided to come with me you know," he said. "Again, I mean. You really didn't have a choice the first time I dragged you out of that cantina."

"And I'm glad it was you that came after me." You feigned terror. "Can you imagine another bounty hunter after me instead? I could have been taken to the Hutts!"

"Worse than your ex-husband?"

You shrugged and gave a half smile. "Probably smell a little better than him."

Mando huffed and you could almost visualize him rolling his eyes.

You couldn't wait for the rest of the thousands of days that lie ahead for the four of you. If every day was like this, then your life would turn out better than you ever thought possible.

When you docked on Tatooine, Peli Motto, the full-time owner and resident mechanic (and part time babysitter, it seemed) squealed with delight when you presented not one, but two babies for her to look after.

You had to laugh when she realized what had happened when Mando first brought you aboard. She did the math in her and then promptly smacked him on the back of the helmet.

"You mean to tell me you dragged this nice young lady while she was pregnant onto your ship as a kriffing bounty?" she shouted.

Mando looked sheepish, though you couldn't see his face.

"Obviously I didn't turn her in," Mando said as he tried to defend himself.

Peli made a threatening motion with her fist like she was going to hit him again, but then she turned her focus on you and smiled.

"She's a doll, my love," she said, taking Trin from you. Then she called over her shoulder, still talking to you but loud enough that Mando could hear from where he had disappeared back into the hold of the Crest. "At least one of you has the decency to name the damn kid and not leave them on board while they go to work!"

Peli rolled her eyes as Mando reappeared and gave a half-hearted gesture at you both.

You knew he had a smile on his face wider than a canyon.

"I'm glad you're keeping him in line," she continued, rubbing your arm briskly. "You two go have fun. Stay out of trouble!"

Mando handed you a blaster as he walked over to you both.

"Usually finds us, Peli," he said. "We do our best to keep out of it."

"See that you do," she replied, hefting both Trin and the child in her arms. "You two have little ones to look after now. I'm sure they'd like you to do it together."

You laughed and followed Mando out of the hangar, your heart full and ready for a whole new adventure.

Together.

TAGLIST:

@miscellaneous-mando @lestrange2703 @someplace-darker @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @poeticparker @blackbird337 @the-last-twin-of-krypton @divineangelix @c1996 @mell-bell @qhbr2013 @bookszazzy @marvelbros-oneshots @cuteboyking @boomtownboy @connor-challoner @fandom-lover-4 @itsmysticalmystery @love-struck-aries @lifeisapitch15 @cosmicwhisper @hybrid-huntress @isuspectitwasthenargles @whatismylife00

#My writing #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fic #look around fic #no use of y/n

108 notes · View notes

gumnut-logic · 3 years

Text

Callisto (Arrival - Bit 2)

Prologue Incident - Bit 1 | Bit 2 Fallout - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Voyage - Bit 1 | Bit 2 | Bit 3 Arrival - Bit 1 | Bit 2

Well, these posts seem to be getting longer. I’m pondering if I should make them shorter and more often.

As always, many thanks to @tsarinatorment @scribbles97 @janetm74 and @onereyofstarlight for their amazing support and who without putting up with my crazy this fic would likely not exist.

We are finally there and things can start happening. Wow, planning makes for longer fics apparently.

I hope you enjoy it ::hugs you all::

-o-o-o-

As the rest of the family exited the cockpit, Michael watched John deploy the last of the long chain of communication buoys into orbit around Callisto and held his breath.

The space monitor was frowning at his console as they both waited for that final connection to click into place.

A moment and John’s face relaxed.

And Michael with it.

His own board flashed up with a connection confirmed through the chained micro-tunnel drives.

John hit his comms. “Tracy Island, this is Thunderbird Excel. Do you copy?”

They waited.

A heartbeat.

“Thunderbird Excel this is Tracy Island. Great to hear your voice, John.” Even Michael could hear the smile in Kayo’s voice. “I have a lot of green and pretty lights here. Send me the tests and I will bounce them back.”

“Sending now.” John’s fingers darted across his board and Michael watched the system take on the workload and churn data all the way back to Earth. “And I must say, Kayo, it is lovely to hear your voice, too.”

“Looking forward to hearing yours often. Data incoming. Will apprise results.”

“Looking forward to it, Thunderbird Excel out.” John’s fingers flicked again and the comms signal closed.

“Thunderbird Excel?” Michael arched an eyebrow at the astronaut.

John shrugged. “Well, I think she’s earned it now, don’t you?”

“Mmmm.” He looked back down at his board. The thought of having contributed to creating an actual Thunderbird...

He was startled when a shadow passed over his hands. “You’ve done well, Michael. Thank you.”

He looked up at the red-headed Tracy floating beside him. John was an enigma. He was a brother like any Tracy, but unlike the eldest who hated him with a passion that saw no border, John was quiet, even kind. Michael had been working alongside Brains and John and occasionally the youngest, for over a year now, and while he doubted he and John would ever be close friends, there was a mutual respect.

Plus, the distinct feeling that if Michael ever laid a finger on any of John’s brothers ever again, he would not survive the attempt.

It was definitely the quiet ones who should be worried about.

Not to mention Eos.

Michael really wished he could get his hands on that piece of code.

But again, he felt that it would be his last action in this universe.

Not that John had ever threatened him.

He didn’t need to.

“Are you feeling okay?” Turquoise eyes were peering down at him.

“I am well. No need to worry.”

The astronaut smiled. “Good. Monitor the comm network and liaise with Brains regarding the T-Drive’s performance. Let’s see if we can cut down on the jumps on the way back. I’d prefer to go through as little of the nausea as possible.”

“Agreed.”

John arched an eyebrow and his lips curled up. “I’ll be in Thunderbird Five assessing the danger zone and coordinating with Thunderbird Three.”

“FAB.”

The astronaut stared at him for just an extra moment longer before pushing off Michael’s console and throwing himself towards the cockpit exit.

“Thank you, John.”

A flicker of a smile and the last Tracy disappeared through the door, leaving Michael alone.

-o-o-o-

Virgil hated the IR spacesuits. They were far too tight and left nothing to the imagination.

Also, the red baldrics clashed horribly with his green stripe enough to rip his eyeballs out.

But although his standard uniform was satisfactory for short forays into space, it was not enough for a space mission of this magnitude as it did not have the survival and safety mechanisms needed in an emergency. So, here he was dressed like some kind of spandex wearing superhero, his heavy lifting muscles providing a great anatomy lesson to any within eyesight.

“Looking good, Virg.” Gordon’s eyes were laughing.

“Shut up, Fish.” The aquanaut was used appearing all but naked in front of thousands. Hell, Virgil had nothing to be ashamed of, it was just difficult to keep a straight face in a professional capacity.

How the hell John lived in one of these things was a mystery Virgil had no interest in exploring.

The alternative was wearing something like Alan’s spacesuit, but that had its own issues regarding his exosuit and despite the...exposure, this was the best option.

At least he had a little security with the addition of his exosuit support padding and his harness – never leave home without it. That and his baldric covered a little of his modesty.

Didn’t stop his brothers’ comments though.

Alan actually snorted in laughter.

Scott raised an eyebrow, but then their commander was dressed the same and, much like John, was giving the Greek gods a run for their money in the process.

Virgil felt like a dwarf from The Lord of the Rings. What was his name? Gam? Gim? Gimli? Standing next to that bleached elf.

Virgil grunted. “Let’s do this, already.”

Okay, the grin on Scott’s face was both worth it and damned annoying.

Dad had chosen a version similar to Alan’s suit. Due to his health concerns, Virgil had recommended extra support with arm guards and greaves built into his boots. He had glared at Virgil, but Virgil was a Tracy and just as stubborn as his father and if he wanted to go on this mission he could damn well meet him halfway.

Dad wore the protection.

They had Uncle Lee’s ‘space skivvies’ measurements on file and the IR fabricators had churned out an IR uniform echoing their father’s. Considering the astronaut’s skillset, Virgil had coloured his baldric stripe as green as his own and thrown in some of his own kit.

The colour combination still ripped out eyeballs.

Thunderbird Three was nestled into the Excel much like she had been into the XL, but higher up, leaving the massive thrusters behind her and nestling instead of providing the main superstructure of the craft.

To compensate for the loss of One and Two, the Excel now had a third engine on her dorsal plane to offset the two massive pectoral lightspeed engines. Together the three engines provided the huge ion thrust needed to propel them vast distances. And when the T-Drive was required, the third would go dark, the original two engines would flare up and give him his next case of nausea.

Three still connected with Five for extra stability, but she was no longer mandatory for the Excel. Where the XL had basically been an exosuit for Three to break the lightspeed barrier, the Excel was now more Five’s exosuit as she was the one Thunderbird the Excel needed to operate at her best.

Johnny’s ‘bird now had wings.

Very, very big ones.

The cockpit was crowded but quiet as Alan smoothly disengaged Three from the bigger craft, spinning her in space and pointing her towards the moon.

Virgil shifted in his suit, uncomfortable as hell. Not enough to be world ending, but annoying. Beside him, his father glanced in his direction with a concerned frown.

“Are you okay, son?”

That, of course, prompted an equally concerned frown from Scott in front of him.

“I’m fine.” It wasn’t a complete lie, he could live with the suit. His arm was still aching and his stomach had yet to forgive him despite the food he had shoved into it, but he could probably get away with that.

The worst of it was the lack of sleep.

Scott’s eyes were far too knowing.

The medic in him knew that they were going into a potentially dangerous situation. Hell, they were in space right now, not exactly Tracy Island’s pool patio for relaxation. They needed to be alert and ready.

He had tried to sleep. He had sent all of his brothers to nap during the voyage out here. But he doubted any of them managed much.

He certainly hadn’t.

Scott knew because Virgil could see it reflected in those blue eyes of his. He still looked worn, though he tried to hide it, ever the professional.

Dad.

Dad was still looking at him with questioning eyes.

Virgil sighed. “I’m just tired. I can manage.”

Those lips pressed together, obviously displeased.

Typical.

His father was so like Scott in so many ways that having both of them to contend with on this mission was going to send Virgil grey.

It was okay for them to go out on a limb, risk their lives for the greater good, but if someone they cared about did the same, they were all worry and you can’t do that.

As if to emphasize that thought, his father’s frown fixated on Scott. Virgil followed his gaze, but from his angle could only see the back of his brother’s head.

Another glance at his father and the concern was clearly there.

Perhaps something was starting to sink into Dad’s head. Maybe he was realising what he was risking.

Who he was risking.

Three shook a little as she breached the minimal atmosphere of the moon. Alan was muttering orbital calculations. Each large planetary body was different and required a catered approach.

The Base had sent vectors and the conditions that constituted ‘weather’ on the barren moon, but there were many firsts in this mission and this was one of them.

For the benefit of the rest of them, Alan threw up a hologram of their approach.

The massive crater known as Asgard swelled on the screen. It was very bright, even in the weak sunlight. Probably ice. To the north of it lay an even brighter splash of white, rays extending out across the heavily cratered surface for miles.

As they sank, the horizon formed in a sharper curve than Virgil was used to. Sharper than Mars which was the only other planetary body beyond Earth’s Moon Virgil had ever set foot on.

“There it is.” Alan, ever enthusiastic in his element, pointed out a spot quickly growing on the display. “Callisto Base.”

It was a white cross with a massive airlock at its centre. Surrounding the arms of the cross was machinery, storage tanks and energy production facilities. It shone ever so bright, like a blunted star plastered on the side of the moon.

As they drew closer, the Tracy Industries logo could be seen branded across the airlock doors.

The base was a massive endeavour. Almost entirely underground taking advantage of a small crater in the Doh crater wall, it had capped the landform and sealed off the space creating a series of caverns to house the transport ships moving between the Base and the Jefferson or any other destination they chose.

Entirely self-sufficient, TI’s hydrogen technology gave it power, TI’s heavy duty excavation equipment gave them the power to dig the base out of the rock and ice. It had helped to find unexpected caves under the surface. All and all the Base was a robust structure, protecting its fifty-odd inhabitants from the hazards of living on an exposed and radiated moon.

“Callisto Base, Thunderbird Three requesting permission to dock.” Virgil was suddenly irrationally proud of his little brother.

Commander Walters answered immediately. “Permission granted Thunderbird Three. Hold in the airlock for repressurisation and permission to proceed.”

“FAB, Callisto Base.”

“One of these days, Jeff, you are going to tell me what that means.”

Both Alan and their father snorted.

As they approached, the big airlock doors slowly began to open, splitting the TI logo in half. The hologram stayed fixed on their destination, but Three pivoted her nose to the darkness of the sky bringing the ever-hovering presence of Jupiter back into view through Three’s windows. Alan flicked a wrist and the Thunderbird started lowering into what was now a gaping maw below.

Three slipped into the airlock and the doors closed behind them.

-o-o-o-

Alan was a professional, but he had to admit that he was internally bouncing around in joy. The air was still thick with tension, his family caught up in this thing with Dad, but Alan was doing his best to ignore it and focus on his job.

And oh my god, he was landing on his second moon of Jupiter! This had to be a first. He could go down in history as the first person to land on several moons, another planet and multiple random comets and asteroids.

Okay, so Virg and Scott had been with him, even Gordon on Europa – that had been one hell of a mission that still gave him both dreams and nightmares – but he had been the only one to land on all of them.

Alan Tracy, astronaut extraordinaire. He couldn’t help but grin as the airlock repressurised and the Callisto Commander finally gave him permission to land.

He slowed his ‘bird to a perfect touchdown as the secondary airlock doors closed above him.

He killed her engines and let her begin her cool down sequence.

The whole cockpit sighed a little in relief. A pause as if to reset and then everyone was moving.

-o-o-o-

Gray Walters rubbed the back of his neck as Thunderbird Three coasted smoothly from the decontaminating airlock into the main hangar. The pilot of that ‘bird had to be a Tracy. The huge red rocket barely fit nose to tail with only inches to spare between the two massive sets of doors. After all, they had never expected such a large craft needing to dock.

He had Kate to thank for arguing the hangar’s size...with Ju backing her up as usual.

The thought of his wife froze him for a split second. Ju was going to be okay. Jeff was here now. He had always been their good luck charm. Hell, the guy had survived eight years in space alone. Ju could manage a few days.

Couldn’t she?

“She’s docked.” Mary, his second, looked up from her station. “Shall I shunt her into a bay?”

“Leave her in central for now. We’re not going anywhere and they may need to leave in a hurry.”

“That will piss Benji off.”

“Benji can stew. His team still has a week left of their Jefferson rotation.”

“He will cite regs.”

Gray turned away. Let him cite regs. “This is an emergency and takes priority.” He sighed. “Run decon in the central core. Anyone not crucial to this operation is to steer clear of International Rescue. Lock off environmental systems. Keep the two crews contained to keep the risk of contamination as low as possible. We can’t afford an accidental bug in the system.”

“Will do.” She paused before bringing up the topic he knew she would. “What about Jeremiah?”

“What about him?”

“You need to tell them.”

“One thing at a time, Mary.”

“But-“

“First we find Kate and Ju.” He swallowed. They had to find Ju.

They had to.

-o-o-o-

Stepping onto a new world was never as grand as it appeared. Hell, landing on Mars for the first time had been a trip over his own toes’ moment.

Stepping onto Callisto was no different.

It was Scott who grabbed him before he could flip head over heels across the gantry. Changes in gravity always took time to get used to and less than twenty-four hours ago, it had been Earth oppressive.

Callisto gravity was a relief…if a little disorientating.

His eldest’s strong grip wrapped around his arm and held tight. Jeff looked over at Scott and was pinned with such worried bright blue eyes that his heart clenched.

All the tension, the argument, the resistance to his presence on this mission boiled down to the emotion in those eyes.

Love.

And fear.

Scott was terrified.

Jeff did it without thought or care for what anyone would think. He grabbed his son and yanked him into a hug, holding him close. The squawk across comms and the scrape of their helmets against each other did nothing to stop him.

“I’m sorry, son.”

“Uh...”

Scott’s arms wrapped around him, ever so hesitantly.

That hesitation hurt almost as much.

He clung that much tighter.

“Dad?” It was breathless.

He clung a second longer, but… Yes...right.

It was a moment stolen.

Because they were on a mission.

Jeff let Scott go.

His son pulled away slowly, not quite fully releasing him, and again those blue eyes were fixated on him in worry.

So much worry.

“You okay, Dad?”

Jeff straightened with more ease than he had managed in a long time and became aware of all the other eyes on him.

The ever-present echoes of Lucille’s beautiful brown eyes were assessing him. That was a given. But another two pairs of blue and a frowning fishy amber had him targeted as well.

He looked at each of them before turning back to the massive cavern around them. A mix of rock wall, structural support and storage, the docking cavern was lit with strong lighting, the red of Three reflecting on patches of frozen water embedded in the walls.

They were standing on a walkway that had been extended out to Three’s hatch. It was obviously of variable height and length and Jeff couldn’t help but admire the design.

He wondered who was responsible.

He wondered if it was Kate.

Her green eyes smiled at him at the back of his mind.

His lips pressed together as his sons and brother-in-law continued to shoot concerned expressions in his direction.

A breath.

“Let’s do this.” And he led them out and into Callisto Base.

-o-o-o-

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #Virgil Tracy #Scott Tracy #Alan Tracy #Jeff Tracy #John Tracy #the mechanic #callisto #Gordon Tracy

33 notes · View notes

supernaturalfreewill · 4 years

Photo

Words: 4,705 Dean x Reader Summary: Bobby hatches a plan to try to get you and Dean to reconcile after months apart. Warnings: None! A/N: Angsssst and then a happy ending. What more could one ask for?

Your name: submit What is this?

Dean turned when he heard a car door slamming across the yard and he immediately recognized the vehicle. He rubbed a hand over his mouth and chin and glared at Bobby, who was clearly pretending he hadn’t noticed your arrival and was making himself busy flipping the burgers on the grill.

“Bobby? Are you kidding me?”

Bobby glanced over at Dean carelessly. “What?”

“You called her? Really?” You were making your way up to the house and Dean thought your posture looked stiff.

“Oh, calm down, son. Not everything revolves around you. I lent her some gear and she’s just bringing it back.”

Dean chewed his bottom lip and glared at the back of Bobby’s head. “Uh huh. Uh huh, she just happens to be bringing it back the day I show up here with Sam.”

Bobby smirked to himself. “I don’t know what’s got your panties in a twist but it seems like maybe you have some unresolved issues to deal with…”

“Bobby,” Dean growled.

He finally turned and vehemently pointed at Dean with the spatula. “No. Now you listen to me. You two idjits belong together and everyone knows it. Figure it out!” he spat, before casually turning back around to the grill.

Your boot scuffing on the gravel finally forced him and Bobby to turn. You had a duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

“I didn’t mean to crash the barbeque. You didn’t tell me you had company,” you said pointedly to Bobby. Dean thought he saw you swallow hard and you looked about as uncomfortable as he felt.

“Must have slipped my mind,” Bobby said, giving you a tight smile.

“Mhmm… I’m sure,” you said. You dropped the duffel bag with a heavy thud onto the porch and couldn’t keep your eyes from landing on him any longer—Dean was standing there with his hands shoved into his jacket pockets and although it had been quite a long time since you had seen him, the expression on his face was one you still could readily decode. He was supremely uncomfortable. Bobby was looking back and forth between the two of you but finally turned back to the grill. You were about to open your mouth to say something when the front door swung open and Sam wandered out. He had a novel in one hand and an apple in the other and the slam of the screen door matched perfectly with the struck expression of surprise on his face to see you standing there so unexpectedly. The next moment he was grinning at you and before you could say anything he had you wrapped in a big bear hug, squeezing you tight enough that a little exhaled “Oof!” escaped your lips.

“Y/N! I didn’t—Bobby didn’t tell us—it’s so great to see you!” he said drawing back and taking you in, looking you over. His expression was so open and earnest and warm, just as you remembered, that you couldn’t help smiling back at him despite your annoyance at Bobby’s obvious scheming and the residual anger you felt toward Dean, with a heaping side of discomfort.

“Yeah, well Bobby forgot to mention you’d be here, too,” you said. Sam could hear the edge of tension in your voice and the swell of happiness he had on seeing you began to sink as he glanced over at Dean, trying to read his older brother’s mood. Dean was avoiding looking at you, mainly staring down at his boots.

An uncomfortable silence settled until you cleared your throat awkwardly and picked up the duffel bag again. “Well, I guess I’ll just go dump your gear in the house, Bobby, and then I’ll be on my way.”

“What? No! Y/N, you can’t leave. We haven’t seen you in forever,” Sam pleaded.

Bobby was pulling the last burger off the grill and he looked over at you with an obnoxious little uptick at one corner of his mouth. “I already counted you in for dinner so you have to stay or it’ll go to waste.”

You gave him a knowing look. “Go to waste? You’ve got a fridge. And two giant men visiting. It’ll get eaten or keep just fine…”

“Y/N, you can’t leave,” Sam said again. You made the mistake of meeting his eyes and goddammit, you didn’t know if he was doing it on purpose but those fucking puppy eyes. You couldn’t say no to that expression.

You sighed heavily and passed a hand over your brow, shaking your head a little at yourself for what you were about to agree to. “Alright… I’ll stay for dinner, but that’s it!” you said, vehemently pointing at Sam, who grinned triumphantly.

“Good. Now get on in the house. Sam’s already got the table ready, so we’ll just set an extra place. Dean—” Bobby held the laden burger plate out to him. “Take this in. I’ll be there in a minute. I’m just gonna clean off the grill.”

“Uhh… alright,” Dean said begrudgingly. He followed you and Sam into the house, his apprehension growing. He wanted more than anything to let his eyes wander over you there in front of him, in the flesh, not just some image conjured in his mind late at night when he couldn’t quite drown out his regrets with whiskey or blaring rock music.

“Beer?” Sam asked, opening the fridge.

You heard footsteps behind you and turned, meeting Dean’s striking green eyes for the first time and awkwardly sidestepping out of his way so he could get to the table. He tore his eyes from yours quickly and you felt that familiar twist in your stomach. “Umm, got anything stronger?” you asked, with a wry laugh.

“Stronger?” Sam repeated. “This is Bobby’s house,” he said, walking across the kitchen and opening up a cabinet which was stocked with liquor. “What can I get you?” Sam asked.

“Rye whiskey, neat.” You and Dean had both said it at the same time and your mouth fell slightly open in surprise. He was straightening up from setting down the tray of burgers and this time when he met your eyes he didn’t pull them away.

He smoothed a hand down his shirt and you thought you saw the muscle in his jaw tense. “Sorry,” he murmured.

You just vaguely shook your head. It was the first time he’d really spoken since you had arrived and it was to recite your drink choice as if he had been sitting next to you sipping them in the evening in front of a log fire just the day before. In reality it had been months and months and months since you had even spoken to each other.

Sam watched the extended gaze between the two of you, the air in the room feeling thicker by the second and he thought about making some excuse to leave, but Bobby was expected in at any moment anyway so he cleared his throat and busied himself with a glass and the whiskey. “Comin’ right up.”

“Umm—” Your eyes were still connected with Dean’s and he was finding it hard to look anywhere else now that he had started studying you. “I’m just gonna—jacket…” Dean said, starting to take off his coat and heading out of the kitchen toward the front room. You didn’t want to admit it but just the sound of his voice, deep and somewhat gruff, was threatening to make you weak at the knees. It conjured images in your mind of lost times that were both precious but also now profoundly painful now that they had passed.

When Sam next looked up, you were standing stock straight in the middle of the room, staring in the direction Dean had gone with a queer expression on your face. It was questioning and a bit sad, but Sam noted that there was no hostility. “Here you go,” he said, breaking the spell you seemed to be under and handing you a small tumbler with your drink.

“Oh. Thanks,” you said, accepting it gratefully from him and immediately taking a big gulp.

Sam’s brow furrowed slightly. “Are you alright?”

“Me?” you asked in surprise. You constructed the most casual expression you could and shrugged. “Yeah. Fine. Just… I don’t know what the hell Bobby was thinking—”

“Well, you could ask me yourself,” he said, rushing into the kitchen.

“Good. Fine. What the hell do you think this is going to accomplish?” you asked him in a hurried undertone.

“What? Dinner? Well, I think we’ll all be a bit less hungry at the end of it,” he said, clearly snarky on purpose.

You shut your eyes and gritted your teeth against the wave of annoyance. “You know that isn’t what I mean.”

Bobby sank into the chair at the head of the table. “Dean! Get your hide in here! Time to eat!” He turned his eyes to you again. “Y/N, are you going to join us or are you just—going to run away? Again.” He knew what he was saying. He knew that would get you fired up. And it did. You opened your mouth to argue, feeling another swell of exasperation rising up inside you but Dean was breezing into the kitchen again and taking a seat at the table, leaving the only empty chair the one right between him and Bobby. You felt like the wind just went out of your sails and Bobby smirked at you from his seat.

You bit your tongue and sank into the empty chair.

Dinner was composed almost entirely of Sam and Bobby asking questions of you and you and Dean avoiding looking at each other. You answered the queries as succinctly as you could until Sam finally found something to crack open the hard shell you were holding around yourself.

“Y/N, what happened here?” he asked, pointing to his own forehead above his right eyebrow with a vertical slashing motion. “You didn’t have that scar before, did you?”

Dean’s eyes shot over to your face immediately and you actually froze with your glass halfway to your lips, the next moment setting it back down without any thought of a sip. You cleared your throat and pressed your napkin to your lips briefly, almost as an excuse to hide part of your face for a moment as you steeled yourself against the involuntary torrent of residual fear. “No. No, that one is new.” You had sincerely hoped that Sam would allow you to leave it at that but, of course, he didn’t. And you could feel Dean’s eyes drifting over your face and sense his… apprehension? Concern?

“What happened?” Sam asked, his eyes now narrowed a little in genuine concern too.

“Just a hunting souvenir,” you said, trying to manage your tone so it sounded casual. You avoided everyone’s eyes.

Bobby was considering your body language carefully. He was debating about pressing you further. He could see that there was real fear surrounding that memory. Not only did he now want to know what had happened, but he knew this would break down both you and Dean’s constructed walls. What would be better at getting the dialogue going than vulnerability? “What was the monster?” Bobby asked.

You couldn’t avoid such a direct question without it being blatantly obvious. “Vamp nest,” you said, staring down at your plate. You felt like you couldn’t breathe. The familiar tunneling at the edge of your vision warned of a panic attack and you stood up abruptly, the movement emphasized by the groaning of your wooden chair on the floor. “I need some air.” You practically ran out the front door and onto the porch, leaning heavily on the railing and trying to force your heart and lungs to slow. You’re okay. You’re okay. You’re fine. Just bad memories.

Inside, Dean was staring down the hallway where you disappeared and Sam and Bobby exchanged a concerned look, both now feeling a little guilty for pressing you. Something had happened on that hunt, more than the usual bumps and bruises.

Dean felt a familiar tightness in the center of his chest and even reached a hand up to absently rub at it to no effect. “Someone should go make sure she’s okay,” he said, turning back around to look at his little brother.

Sam nodded. “Yeah, I think you’re right,” Sam agreed, but he made no move to get up. Dean’s eyes next landed on Bobby.

“I agree with Sam,” he said pointedly, also stubbornly leaning back in his chair and crossing his arms over his chest.

Dean’s jaw tense and the muscle twitched. “Oh, come on. I can’t—I’m probably the last person she wants to talk to right now,” he growled.

“Well, then I guess we’ll just leave her out there alone,” Bobby said, reaching for his beer. “She’s a grown up. She’s tough. She’ll be fine.” Dean was stubborn, but so was Robert Singer.

Sam was almost ready to cave and go check on you when Dean stood up abruptly, the same groan from his chair mimicking the one yours had made, swearing under his breath. You heard footsteps coming up the hall and the familiar sound of the squeaky screen door and straightened up. You were surprised to see Dean when you turned.

“Oh—” The noise of surprise escaped your lips involuntarily and Dean shrugged in response.

“Yep. It’s me. …sorry,” he said.

Your heart had slowed mostly back to its usual steady pace and you just stared at the older Winchester for a long moment. The silence was awkward, tense, and you found yourself wondering how long it was going to go on.

Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his jeans and stole fleeting glances at your expression. He had to clear his throat. Why did it feel so suddenly constricted. “Umm—are you okay? You left kind of suddenly in there?”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded, his lips pressing together in a thin line, the corners turning downward. “Good. …okay.”

You expected him to leave, having done the bare minimum to check on you, but he just went on standing there. So, you just went on waiting… for what felt like an eternity. You had a feeling that he was teetering on the edge of saying something and you gave him an inquisitive look, one of your eyebrows lifting of its own accord.

Finally, his green eyes rose from staring at his boots and landed on your face. He seemed to decide something in that moment. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“… ‘it’?”

“The hunt. How you got that fresh scar?” he asked, inclining his chin and his eyes flashing toward what had obviously been a good gash on your forehead.

You turned away from him again, trying hard to suppress the flash of fear you felt from changing your expression, and leaned on the railing again, looking out over the junkyard. “Not really,” you murmured.

“Not really or just not to me?” he asked. You were a little surprised at his bluntness and turned to look at him again, but you didn’t say anything. You straightened up again and after giving him one last, long look you sighed.

“I, uhh… I think I’m just gonna head out,” you said. “This was—whatever Bobby was thinking, I just—I’m gonna go.”

You could see Dean chewing the inside of his cheek, nodding ever so slightly, his lips pressed together again. When he spoke there was an edge to his voice. “Sure. Go. I guess the good thing is I’m not surprised this time,” he said.

You felt like you’d been punched in the gut and the air rushed out of your lungs like it had been forced. “What?”

“That’s what you do, isn’t it? You run. When things get hard, you leave. How many other people have you left in your wake in the past six months, hmm? And here I am, fucking stupid enough to somehow experience it twice. Well, at least this one is mostly on Bobby.”

You were breathing fast and hard now, anger and hurt boiling in your chest. “I ran? That’s what you think happened? I just—I just up and ran? Dean Winchester is the sole victim.”

“No, I—”

“It couldn’t have had anything to do with the person I cared about more than anything else in this world lying to me, for months, and betraying my trust over and over again. No, that wasn’t it!” Your tone was dangerous and rising in volume along with your anger.

“I never said that I didn’t fuck up!” Dean roared back. “But you didn’t stick around long enough to even try to fix it—so I obviously,” his jaw clenched, “we obviously didn’t mean that much to you if you were able to just go tearing off like you did!”

You stared at him, incensed at his accusation. Your fists were clenched so tight your fingernails were digging into your palms, and you didn’t give a shit that Sam and Bobby could probably hear every single word.

“I couldn’t even get you on the goddamn phone,” Dean said. “You were just gone! Do you know what Sam and I thought? For months, we thought you were going to go barreling into something and get yourself killed, which is what started this whole thing in the first place! And now you show up here with that new scar on your forehead—what the hell have you been doing? A vamp nest? Jesus, Y/N, do you think you’re fucking invincible? You need back up!”

You broke your dangerous silence violently. “I had fucking back up! I had back up!” you yelled, sounding almost desperate. Dean’s anger broke at that exact moment and he watched you turn away from him again, slumping your weight down onto the railing. “I had fucking back up…” you said quietly.

Dean’s mind was whirring and he had a horrible sinking feeling in his stomach.

You were staring down at your clasped hands. “You really think all I do is run? That’s what you think of me? Well, guess what? I didn’t. My hunter partner, one of my oldest friends, got caught and he tried to tell me to get out and I didn’t. I stayed. And you know what happened? They killed him in front of me and they turned me. I woke up with my head split open and the worst—I somehow managed to fight the bloodlust, murder those sons of bitches, and give myself the cure.” You sighed heavily, hanging your head and shutting your eyes, before straightening up again and looking at Dean. He thought he saw tears starting glisten in your eyes. “So, running or staying, I guess I can’t win.”

Dean was at a loss… He had said so much in hurt, in anger. He felt like a complete jackass. “Y/N, I—”

But you interrupted him and held up a hand. “Just don’t, okay? I don’t want to fight with you, Dean. I’m just… I’m just frickin’ tired. From all of it.” You stepped past him and grasped the screen door handle when he interrupted you again.

“No,” he said suddenly, forcefully. “No. This time I’m not just gonna let you go.” There was a fire suddenly blazing in his green eyes, making it look like the hues in his irises were dancing.

“Let me?”

“That was maybe the biggest mistake I’ve ever made in my life,” he said. “And I don’t care if you don’t want to fight with me, I want to fight with you. Because I can’t go on like this, pretending that I’ve just moved on and that I’m fine with you not being in my life anymore because I’m not. I have to try. So, let’s fight. And, if at the end of it, you still don’t want anything to do with me, I can—I can try and live with that, because at least I’ll know I tried.”

You peered at him in bewilderment, your hand still on the screen door, but slowly your fingers slipped from it and the glassiness in your eyes returned as you looked at him. “You hurt me so badly—”

“I know. And you’re right about everything you said. I betrayed your trust. I lied to you for months, and the whole time Sam was telling me I was being a fucking idiot, and, God, I hate it when he’s right…” Dean gulped and stepped a little closer to you. He wanted so much to break that space barrier between you, just to touch your arm… just to hold your hand. “And if I could go back and do it over again, I wouldn’t be so insecure and so—so terrified. I would do it all differently. But at least allow me to explain to you—” he sighed in frustration. All his words were trying to come out at once. “I thought that because I was trying to protect you that it was justified. I didn’t—I didn’t—” he let out a frustrated growl at himself, that he couldn’t find the words. “Relationships are a partnership. We were a team. And I went completely against that and I made decisions for me and for you without including you. I see that now. And I’m so, so sorry. But then you just left… you just—” Dean felt like his voice was about to break and stopped. “And that hurt me more than I even allowed myself to realize at the time.”

Your face softened as you looked at him, the evening now wearing on and the diminishing light making his eyes look deeply emerald. Dean watched your lips part a little in a soft frown, saw your shoulders fall a little.

“Everyone leaves,” he said, and in that moment you saw the little kid in him, simply afraid of losing again and again and again. “One way or another everyone leaves and I just—I never thought that it would be you.”

That stung like a hot knife between your lungs and you felt off balance. The silence stretched for a long moment before you broke it with a heavy sigh. “To be fair, neither did I,” you said. You squeezed your eyes shut along with one of your fists. “I was just so angry and so—it was my fight! And you took that away from me. And I can’t get that back. Can you imagine if I had done that to you? What if I had gone off and killed the thing that killed your mom or your dad without you? And had lied about it to you for months?”

“I know,” Dean said, and took a step toward you. “And I’m so sorry.”

You sighed again, feeling like the last of your walls had just come tumbling down, like Dean had pulled one brick out from the bottom and the whole structure collapsed. “Me too.” You realized that, in a way, by leaving as you did you had betrayed his trust in turn.

“Y/N, you have to know that you’re the first thing I think about when I wake up and the last thing I think about before I go to sleep. Every day. Still. Always.”

You felt yourself, your resolve, crumbling further. Dean took another step toward you. “If you don’t feel anything for me anymore, then—please, just tell me right now and I swear I won’t—I won’t bother you again. And I’ll tell Bobby where he can shove his meddling."

You could only gulp nervously and go on looking back at him, the eye contact between the two of you magnetic. You wondered at how earlier in the evening you could barely look at each other and now you couldn’t stop. You felt tears stinging your eyes again and let out a wry laugh, blinking them away. “You’re an idiot,” you said through a teary smile.

Dean stepped a bit closer, his eyes not leaving your face. “I know.”

“This isn’t all just magically fixed—”

“I know,” he said again, his voice now a bit breathy. He was so close you swore you could almost feel the deep timbre in your chest, feel the heat of him, the weight of him.

You stared at him and only had one more second of indecision before you gave in. “Well… kiss me, you idiot.”

Dean didn’t need telling twice. You collided as if you hadn’t spent any time apart. Dean’s arm wrapped around your lower back and his other hand tangled in your hair. The kiss was fierce, insistent and you felt like you were clay softening in a sculptor’s hands. It was blissful to be melting into him again. It felt like you had been underwater for months and were finally able to come up for air. Dean was your air and you drew in deep lungfuls. He deepened the kiss and his hand pressed harder on your lower back, pushing you into him, your body arching against his. He clasped your face and kissed you desperately. Slowly his lips softened on yours and became pleading, gentle, and finally he pulled away slightly and heaved in a deep breath, leaning his forehead against yours, both of you breathless with your eyes closed. Your fingers trailing lightly down his back were familiar and felt like home. Your arm around his neck was comforting, safe. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes and your heart leaped at being able to study his eyes and count the freckles on his nose and cheeks.

“God, I missed you,” he said softly.

You smiled a little at him, still a little overwhelmed. “I missed you.”

His face turned suddenly serious again and he placed a kiss gently on the new scar on your forehead before meeting your eyes again. “I’m sorry that you had to go through that—and I’m—I’m really sorry about your friend.”

Your eyes fell. “Yeah. Yeah, me too.”

Dean’s hands were resting gently on your hips now and you took in another deep breath, just thinking of how much time you had wasted when you should have been right there with him… True, there was work to be done, trust to be repaired, but this felt like someone had just turned on the light at the end of a long, dark tunnel. Suddenly, hushed voices just inside drew both of your attention and you caught a glimpse of Bobby shouldering Sam out of the way and both of them trying to sneak back up the hallway, rather unsuccessfully.

You laughed and pressed a hand to your forehead. “Oh no…”

Dean gave you a comical look. “This is going to go right to Bobby’s head.”

“He’s going to go on a total power trip,” you agreed.

“Ehh… honestly, I think given the consequences of his actions I’m kind of okay with it.”

You stood on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his cheek. Dean pulled you in for another kiss before you could set your heels back down…

#dean winchester fics #dean winchester x reader #spn fanfics #dean one shots #fanfiction #supernatural #bobby singer

162 notes · View notes