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tremendum · 3 months

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Me and the Devil; interlude i

(not my gif)

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previous next series masterlist

word count: 3k

summary: What agony it is to desire such an abomination. or interlude i; Feyd-Rautha saves your life, and you wish to kill him for it.

warnings: feyd rautha, violence and gore, blood/murder, manipulation, mentions of pedophilia/incest/noncon (only with feyd and the Baron), light smut - choking, dom/sub dynamics, light blood kink, feyd calls reader his pet, brief mention of pregnancy/breeding, brief thoughts of suicide, mentions of familial death, some dissociation bc of trauma and grief. LOL FUN

notes: hiii! back with another part - the first of the interludes, which will provide brief glimpses into the past (or possibly the future/present). sorry to leave a cliffhanger with the arraignment coming up, but the next chapter should be up fairly soon :) hope you enjoy this, even if there is no paul in this part. love u all thank you for the kind words i wish i could respond to every single comment! <3

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The room is thick with the pounding of your heart; black, everything, black.

You look around, as if in a fog; did you hear a scream just now, or was that the ache in your head, the rushing of your blood? The weight of fear is oppressive in its own right, but with the thickly metallic scent that follows your quiet footsteps, you feel yourself dragged to the ground by more than just gravity.

A ship arrived with a Harkonnen legion just minutes ago; you know where it came from - you know who is chained up in the cells that lie beneath your feet.

And you know that behind those large dark doors which stand tall in front of you, your own fate is being decided.

There is a loud shout from behind the doors; a scream, then a thud. You swallow back the bile that once again rises - perhaps in your years haunting these sickening halls you've grown accustomed to the overturn of slaved-servants which churn like discarded laundry; yet each life disposed of remains a strike against your heart, a whisper to the stars in the universe.

Feyd-Rautha's voice clashes against his brother's; a loud cacophony of rage which echoes over the halls. It does not bode well for you; you wonder faintly, as you stare down at the floor below you, how changed your brother must look now. Has he taken your father's features, or does he have more of your mother's Ginaz-blooded nose, those strong arms? Lined up, side-by-side, would he look like you or your sisters? You haven't seen him since he was thirteen - he's a grown man, now.

You worry you may not ever be able to find out.

There is another shout, but this time it is cut off by the low rumble of the Baron; you wish to decipher their words, but through the thick doors you dare not place your ears against the seam.

You do, however, hear your name; Perhaps the way it curls off of Feyd-Rautha's tongue will forever be in your memory. He says it and in the tone you find an alarming lace of desperation; this only throws heaps of fuel to the fire of anguish that burns within you.

You might die, tomorrow.

How fitting is it, you muse, that the first time my family comes to visit you, you'll all be put to death out on the sands of Harko Arena.

Perhaps this is what compels you to step closer, to listen against the doors for any sign of mercy.

"-Don't tell me you've grown fond of her."

"You mock me, uncle." His voice is laced with hatred, "I am not foolish enough to care about her. But she will bear strong heirs, with Harkonnen and Ginaz blood in them. Fighters."

You swallow thickly, fear creeping up your spine. Hatred twitches your fingers, but you can't make out the harsh, cutting response of the Baron through the pounding of your heart. Perhaps you could run, but where could you go?

It's as if they sense your presence - the words halt and the doors swing open; Your misfortunes tumble as the door gives way against your weight.

You freeze, face to face with the Baron and his nephews, the three harbingers of your fate; at the Baron's side is the pitiful frame of the twisted Mentat who has whispered poison into the stream of information reaching the Baron for months; the one who found your father's spies, who uncovered the plot. Piter De Vries.

Feyd-Rautha's eyes are wild, his chest heaving with emotion as he glares at you; bottomless pits of deep blue. "What are you doing here?" his voice is a dangerous growl.

The Baron's gaze bores into you, his expression unreadable - you stare back, ignoring your betrothed's words. "Look who's decided to join us." the man's deep voice sneers, "The little traitor."

Your throat is dry with fear, but your mind is subdued with an odd shroud of acceptance. Perhaps this is but a milestone in the self-fulfilling prophecy of your own life; a marker indicating the jumping of ship. Your family has committed treason, this you have seen to be true - the trial has already begun. But the Harkonnen do not like to wait to be told they may crush their enemies.

It is not incorrect to assume that, if you somehow survive the next two days, you might be permanently altered forever. You might be a Bourbon by blood only, if by anything, but Feyd-Rautha has just played a hand of very dangerous cards to his uncle in hopes of preserving your life.

For what, you do not wish to think about; protecting himself and his own interests is at the forefront, and saving your life for your own sake likely barely crossed his conscious. One a mere consequence of the other.

But you force yourself to stand tall, to meet their gazes with defiance though your hands tremble at your sides. Your nameday knife is upon your waist, but you are not foolish enough as to try and wield it now.

There is no weakness on Barony - none in this castle, nor the city; none on Giedi Prime at all. There is you, though; your skin is tough and your mind tougher. You will not go down easy.

"You have my family." You observe, voice official, calculating; Rabban and the Baron are tearing apart your expression, hoping to find a chink in the armor. Lucky for you, Feyd-Rautha has spent several years ensuring there is not one.

"Indeed we do," he said, his voice dripping with malice.

"-And soon, you'll join them in their fate." Piter De Vries speaks up from beside the Baron; your eyes slither venomously to the man, every muscle upon your frame tense with the urge to rip out his throat.

Your heart drops, the static of the room metallic; it is as his words slide from his lips that you see the body discarded against the wall, blood leaking from its crushed skull. You swallow thickly, but Feyd-Rautha's expression darkens further at the Baron's words before you can respond.

With a dangerous glint in his eyes he steps forward, his hand instinctively moving to the hilt of his blade. "Enough games," he snarled, his voice low and menacing. "She has no place here."

You stare, bewildered, at the motion, but the Baron raises a hand, silencing his nephew with a single gesture. "Patience," he said, his tone calm and collected. "Let us see what the little traitor has to say for herself."

There is a small surge of defiance that rises; you know better than to anger the Baron by begging for mercy upon your family's lives. Besides, a deep-seeded part of you whispers, they would not do the same, would they?

"You are to execute my family," you dare repeat, voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside you, "But you will not kill me."

You avert your stare from the man in front of you when you feel a burning; you would not dream to cry in a place like this. Adrenaline courses through you, slamming your heartbeat in your throat.

"Na-Baron," Baron Vladimir muses, looking to Feyd-Rautha with a challenge in his beady eyes. "What would you have us do with the scum?"

It is a sick test from the Baron; testing loyalty, honor. In the dimly lit chamber, Feyd-Rautha's voice slices through the silence, a dagger through your skin. "Throw them to the arena for their trespassing." he commands, his tone cold, merciless. The Baron glances at the guards who stand just near the exit of the hall; with a gesture, the Baron instructs Piter De Vries to issue a message to the city's public: There will be a royal execution in the morning.

Fear courses through your veins like wildfire; reality sinks like a stone in the pit of your stomach.

But Feyd-Rautha isn't finished; eyes glinting with malice, a cruel smirk twisting his lips. "Let her watch," he insists, his voice dripping with contempt, "and see how we crush pests under our boots."

There is a cold shiver that runs down your spine at his stare; condemned not just to witness your family's demise - your siblings, all three of them - but to endure the horror of it, to see their blood spill. A warning to any who dare oppose House Harkonnen.

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When you enter your chambers, you are only mildly surprised to see your betrothed in wait.

Though as you enter the room, Feyd-Rautha's fury reaches its boiling point; one look at your eyes, the absence of true fear - a void in your gaze replaced with wrath - tips him over the edge.

With a swift motion, he lashes out, striking down a nearby servant with brutal force. You stare as she shrieks, the absence of her tongue leaving a horrifying gurgling as blood spurts from her open throat.

With a dull shock you start towards her - the other servant, half-through steaming a gown, gasps and backs away. "Leave," You say to her, hands falling onto the servant who dies at the hands of the man across from you. She skitters away as Feyd's blade glistens with crimson. You can only give yourself the grace to crouch, shutting her eyes as she clings with the last of her strength, the blood on her hands, to your forearm. You don't look away as she loses her life; your voice is quiet, whispering a small hymn - something long forgotten in the winds of Sabberon's winters, but recovered by you in the quiet moments of dreams.

When you press a small breath upon her forehead, feeling the warmth for the last time, you turn and rise again. Feyd's eyes are wild with anger, and his hands trembling with the weight of his emotions. He sneers; he's never once liked the care you give to the dead. As if death is not an honor but a consequence of weakness.

"I do not like when you do that." He sneers. Your glare is sharp as you wipe the blood off your hands, hiding their tremor. "I will cease to do it when you do." It's always the same response, that cat and mouse game; he will not stop, because it is a part of him - as easy as breathing.

He doesn't respond to this, merely heaving heavy breaths in the empty chamber. It is quiet for a moment as he wipes his blade; you watch with curious eyes.

"You saved my life." You admit, walking up to him. His skin reflects in the open windows; a ghostly appearance, but one you've come to known. You can see in his expression that this is a repulsive thing to admit. It sparks anger within you.

"I heard you," You insist; a half-lie. "You begged for my life."

It is not what he wants to hear. His hand is upon your throat nearly instantly with a crushing dominance. You barely let out a gasp, eyes burrowing into his own. Your hand flies up to his own, the Adam's apple upon his throat bobbing as he growls.

It is a morbid call and response: a fight with his uncle, a punishment - and he is at your door, anger in his eyes and arousal on his lips.

"I do not beg." He snaps. Your brows raise slowly at this and you relish in the look of denial that flashes over his expression - both of you know this is a stark lie.

You gave up on daydreaming your third week in this stronghold, but a flicker courses through you at what could have been: A husband with less bloodthirst, with more humanness - a home, perhaps. Children you might not grow to resent when you see flickers of their father in them. A place to govern, to rule - to help the people, cultivate prosperity, not fear.

"Don't you?" You ask, but your voice sounds odd with the lack of air. You must be here in this universe for more than just bearing children for Feyd-Rautha.

"I don't let others take what is mine." He hisses, squeezing your airway. He seems to say this a lot. You let out a raspy groan of defiance, your own hand small but strong as it closes in on his own airflow. A groan is suppressed in his throat but you feel the vibrations as you lean against his strong grip.

"And you're mine, pet." He grunts into your ear, biting the skin. Perhaps tonight is a night you should let him believe such a fallacy; for your safety or your amusement. You cannot help yourself but to drop the glass, just to hear it shatter; Whispering into his own ear, the two of you are entwined in a sick connection of hate and desire, your hands crushing against the other's throat.

"Careful, my na-Baron, your possessions seem to have started possessing you." You snap; His eyes darken, but you wouldn't dare soften your grip.

"Shut up, witch." He snarls. "On your knees."

So, he is in a mood to play this game? You glare, "I will get on my knees for no man." You grit your teeth. "Though perhaps, if he were my husband, I would reconsider."

You can see the anger in his eyes as his hand releases its grip on your throat; you suck in an involuntary gasp for oxygen. If you are to lose your family, you must claim your new one - claim the power of the Harkonnen name, as that is the only thing left in front of you. But Feyd-Rautha has waited years to wed you, and your family is about to dream with the stars; you must act quick.

"You are nothing now; you will still be nothing when you are my wife." He growls, letting you push him backwards, towards the cold bed that lies in wait. "My little pet wife. So pretty, so hateful."

You are empty; to cast out visions of your sisters, huddled and cowering away from the creatures that lurk around their cell below your feet; of your brother, likely bloodied and curled with your parents, their eyes sharp and brains clouded with drugs. You know what will come tomorrow, and the only way to ignore it is to dissolve; you are no longer yourself.

Anger will distract you. "Nothing in this universe consumes a man more quickly than the passion of resentment." You whisper as his hands fall to your hips; possessive, unloving, hungry. Passionately resentful.

He pushes you onto the mattress, but you pull him with you.

"Is that why I cannot get you out of my head?" He asks; rhetorical as it is, he is indignant, as if genuinely unaware of the tricks you can play within his mind. Your hand snakes between you, a phantom touch over the outline of his arousal; grunting, his eyes roll back. You watch with a sort of abhorrence at this budding obscenity that grows between you and Feyd-Rautha. He will give you power, a voice chides in your mind, the Shortening of the Way. The Shortening of the Way, the voice whispers - but it is not your voice. It is your mother's.

You swallow back the pain of impending grief.

"Perhaps that is why you begged for my life." You whisper, kindling into the fire. "Is the na-Baron in love?"

He slaps your cheek hard and it is effective in taking your breath away. "You are not stupid enough to think I would ever love you." He spits, "You want my power."

There is no point in denying this claim, nor to pretend that you could ever find it in you to love him.

He rips your blouse open, teeth dripping in inky desire as he bites along the exposed flesh of your breasts. Groaning in pain, your hand squeezes over his cock, eliciting a grunt from him. "I ought to kill you." you say, voice hollow and laced with malice. "Take what is rightfully mine."

This is amusing to him, and it fuels your hatred so much more. What agony it is to desire such an abomination. "Wait until my child is inside you." He hisses, eyes dark. "Then you can try, little bird."

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Two days later, while you are in the throes of grief, torn and tossed askew by the altering of everything you have known, the news comes from the High Council.

The House of Bourbon were called to answer for their crimes at the Harko arena and lost their lives. One sole survivor remains, a prisoner of kanly war to the House Harkkonnen, on Giedi Prime. The Council has ruled to dissolve your betrothal to the Na-Baron Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen under concerns raised by Houses Atreides and Ginaz over your safety.

You are no longer Feyd-Rautha's to wed.

He takes you more rough than he ever has after this news, still dripping with the blood of whoever met the unlucky fate of presenting the message to him. While your hands held to his shoulders, nails scraping the skin clean off his back in bliss, you could almost imagine some kind of longing within his possessive hands, the marks of pain and hatred upon your skin. He withholds the very essence of bliss from you one, two, three, four times; until his name sings from your lips, a plead - a swear. I am yours, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen. Again, again, again. Until he thinks you truly believe it; though you never have and you certainly never will.

"I should have wed you sooner," His voice is painted with wrath, "Kept you here to answer for your family's betrayal. Now that Atreides boy thinks he can take you-"

You are too numb with the news to consider Feyd's words, nor the way the servants slither in the dark corners of the room to pack up your possessions. If your father could see you, would he be distraught that you are not more broken? Would he want you to cry, to cease to eat, to live? Would your ancestors watch on in horror as you bare your face to the world in light of the death of your bloodline, not a thread of green upon your body? Would your mother whisper that you must fulfil your duty with your new husband, that you must adapt; evolve? It does not matter. They are absent to the void, now. Returned to the soil of your planet, in one way or another; star dust and ash.

You do not want to leave. Threats require adaptation; How must you change now? What will your chains look like? You fight against the soldiers who enter your chambers when the time comes, even when you recognize their armor. They expect you to think you're being saved, but you know better.

I will find you again, my pet.

Maybe he will, or maybe he won't. You don't care. Your life will forever be cold; you are alone in this world.

A new name, a new power, a new prison.

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follow @tremendumnotifs for notifs.

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#feyd rautha smut #feyd rautha x reader #paul atreides x reader smut #paul atreides x you #paul atreides smut #paul atreides x reader #idk how to tag this one tbh #but oh well #me and the devil; series

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pesterloglog · 10 months

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Marquise Spinneret Mindfang

Act 5, page 3507-3510

~ On the 14th 8ilunar perigee of the 2nd dim season's equinox ~

The Orphaner poses a caliginous riddle like no other I've met. I am presuming him 8othered 8y jealousy, and it would 8e sickening if it were not so marvelously amusing. 8ut then, who 8ut royalty could have the finned cheek to show disdain for the manner in which his 8lack lover conducts her red conquests? Less has acceler8ted meeker than I to homicide, and the viol8tion would hold me aghast, again, if his misgivings did not complement his so endearing arsenal of qu8nt flaws. It is impossi8le to stifle this grin even now as I write.

He surely understands this as my maritime overlord, a superior while through gritting fangs he would concede the expanse of my plunder makes his seem hardly worthwhile to trou8le a map with good ink over. I know he understands. I will take what I want. I expect nothing less from Dualscar, and truly, less would offend me. Is it the crude 8lood of the suitors from which I have taken enjoyment recently? If his displeasure is with my 8lithe treatment of the social order then he has either not spent enough time in the warm company of my indifference, or is simply very stupid. I saw the look he gave. He's so secure in knowing I can't feel what's in his mind he forgets the tr8torous ways of his own face. His little looks are words to me, interjections in our deliciously 8itter repartee. First a look as I summon a slave from the hold, with such ease 8etween my remarks. Why yes, Dualscar, they were the very slaves in your hold until 8ut this hour. Another ship deployed carelessly, languishing in strategic vulnera8ility. Is this not our routine? Our dance? What is this look, my dear kismesis? Is it shame? Envy? Contempt for what he knows will follow?

I nod her over. She is fearful and it makes her prettier. He scoffs without a movement or sound. I know there is disgust feeding the shadows in his corner of my 8lock. At least prick her in the light, he surely thinks. Determine what vulgar hue she 8leeds 8efore persisting with your a8asement, Marquise. Do try to understand, Orphaner. Not knowing is the point, and if you truly understood this, your crusade against the Gam8lignants would not 8e among our Grand High8lood's most uproarious punchlines. (If only one truly needed to 8e so high to find it amusing!) And so not knowing, I take her will, 8ut leave enough of it to enjoy her response. Her hands are in my service 8ut they still shake. They unfasten the first 8utton at my jacket's waist, clumsily. I have masked the line 8etween my puppeteering and her volition exquisitely, and her uncertainty over her own control fuels her fear. She unfastens the second 8utton, and 8etween the second and third, I make a casual remark to Dualscar, continuing our convers8tion. He does not respond.

I look again at the face of my slave, imagining for a moment her mind is not an unguarded port to her every dread. I imagine I cannot feel her conviction that it's not merely a matter of whether she will 8e put to the irons, 8ut how hot they will 8e if she fails to please. Poor thing. Her horns make attractive shapes and pair themselves pleasantly amidst her violent snarls of hair. Her fingers, which I have lost track of, to my surprise have come 8etween the petticoat and my skin. The heat of her touch tells me the likely range for the color of her 8lood. I wouldn't have guessed it to look at her, not with her sign stripped. Her mouth opens slightly and I squint. Ah! Razor sharp, and none missing. Perfect. How disappointing it is to find quivering lips hiding dull teeth. I pause to consider. What will her fear 8ecome if I choose to show her mercy later? And even, in days, kindness? Will this 8e the red dalliance that 8ecomes fully flushed? Love demands my cunning just as my raids. If it is to 8e, she will never understand how thoroughly she was manipul8ted, her 8ody, her mind, her devotion.

I remem8er Dualscar again. My distraction from our 8anter was momentarily a8solute, and I inquire into the shadows. 8ut he is gone.

Then go, my kismesis. Fume with the indign8tion I gave you. I can only pray it 8lackens our 8ond. I must know such exhi8itions agit8 him and hence why I 8other, otherwise it would 8e easy to dismiss him 8efore I partook. Let it 8e a gift of antagoniz8tion to you, my dear rival, on which you may 8rew pitch for me anew. And if it is true envy, a vermilion yearning I can't a8ide, then though it pains me it will 8e farewell.

Alas, it may 8e that I am too good at spurring h8. Too good, at least, for him. I only hope he is not so foolish as to tread a path of less torrid malice.

For if he does........

~ On the 16th ~

My suspicions have 8een confirmed. I'm not grinning anymore, Dualscar.

Our orderly contention has dissolved right 8efore my vision 8fold. It was once a handsome 8lack, 8ut now sits like good strong tea sullied and cooled 8y unwelcome dairy.

Thus my heart was 8roken twice. I was fond of the slave. There was surely promise in her red investment. He had her assassin8ed.

And so I am visited 8y a 8it of 8ad luck for a change. It's not possi8le to evade it forever, I suppose. I will simply have to endure the misfortune of o8serving his 8ase and artless measures of retali8tion.

He's applied his own resources to increase the 8ounty on my head. I wonder if he intends such a laugha8ly ineffectual gesture as anything more than a formality, a sym8ol of his intent. If not, my smile. How it threatens to revisit. Almost.

I've 8roken laws, yes. 8ut what has there 8een to pay for? If any act I've taken should demand a 8ounty, it was paid up front. I foot the 8ill myself with guile and supremacy.

#homestuck #marquise spinneret mindfang #homestuck act 5 #page 3507 #page 3508 #page 3509 #page 3510 #homestuck act 5 act 2

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luminisworld · 1 month

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THE TALE OF TWO SERAPHIMS SYNPHONY

Chapter 22: Extermination day.

Narrator POV:

Mammon was on hig alert, even more than he normaly is because of the extermination and he now has a baby to protect, He Talk on the phone with Ozz who was in Lust with their baby.

Mammon:" So you have everything in there?, are the Windows close?, Do you need-"

Asmodeus:" Mammon!, *sight* we're ok here, i don't really think they would go down here in the end, we have everything, well excep you."

Luminis:" *Chirps*"

Asmodeus:" Aww poor girl, she's making graby hands at you."

Mammon:" really, *sight* baby is ok, daddy Will be ok."

Luminis" d-d- dada!"

The two of them were taken a back, she was two moths old, but they were also proud.

Asmodeus:" Yes, thats dada."

Luminis:" dada, dada!"

Ozz has a teary smile while Mammon was crying in silence so they didn't listen, he was Happy and that just fuel more his rage towards the extermination.

Mammon:" I'll be back, i promise."

Asmodeus:" Take care babe..... please."

Mammon:" I Will."

Like that Mammon hand off the phone, and he was alredy wating more than ever the Signal....

Imp:" Sire,! Sire !"

There It was.

Mammon:" A brech isn't It?"

Imp:" Yeah, there's a brech in ransom!"

Mammon:" Ok then....."

Mammon took the Axe he had, he transport to ransom and they there were, the exorcist killing everything in sight, ohhhhhh this Will be FUN!

Mammon:" Ok you holy pigeons!, you wanna take my realm! Well then...... FIGHT FOR IT!!"

Exorcist:" Oh no! Evacue-"

But before It could said anything, his head went flying, everyone was afraid, Mammon usually never atack that fast but today was diferent from the rest, he just Saw all of those assholes, if they were a bit inteligents they should know, that whats more dangerous than a sin who just bacame a Father? Exactly, Nothing!

Mammon was covers in Blood, his clother, his axe, his mouth everything, but he was not finish yet, he had one of the exorcist in his hand, he wanned a few questiona to be answerd.

Mammon:" Ok motherfucker, you better answer correcly."

Exorcist:" And what..... Are you gonna do.... Kill me?!"

Mammon:" Oh you fool, kill is mercy, i am not know for kill my pray that easily, and if you don't wanna answer fine..... I'll see in your mind then~."

Exorcist:" Wha-"

And so Mammon use one of his fingers to pierce the angel's skull and look at it's memory, in addition to causing great brain damage at the time of doing so, the angel was screaming in pain and incompetence, and when Mammon had the information he wanted, he very slowly crushed the angel.

Mammon:" Very well Adam, lest see how Brave you really are."

He chukel in a really sinester maner, he use a portal to go to pride, he was just swiming his axe to every exorcist who get too close to him, but he was looking for one in particular, Adam.

Adam:" Ha ha ha, what! you don't like this you bitch!"

There he was.

Mammon:" Well hello Adam."

Adam:" What! Oh is you, wait, what the fuck are you doing Up here?!"

Mammon:" Oh? I tought you'll be more Happy to see me~"

Adam:" Quiet you! I came here to do the anual extermination what would you come here for?"

Mammon:" Hummmm, for you to explain me this."

He tosed all of the exorcist dead bodys in front of him, making him angry and scared.

Adam:" What the fuck!"

Mammon:" Your grup has been going to My ring, so i just came here and deman an explanation of why."

Adam:" The deal, does this fucker of a King didn't told you?!, the deal said that i could do Whatever i wanned, so i just send a group down to stop the overpopulation!"

Mammon:" Well sorry to break your ice, but you're not going down there anymore."

Before Adam said another word, Mammon began to attack every angel he encountered, Adam tried to stop him by launching attack after attack without much success, but he did not give up and in an attempt to hurt him a lot, he charged a large attack that hit Mammon right on the back.

Thinking that he had at least stunned him, he decided to attack with his guitar, but before even touching him, Mammon grabbed him by the neck and saw his mistake.

Now Mammon was much bigger than before, his horns had multiplied all over his upper part wich also now has light balls spinning around his neck, He had another pair of arms, on his forehead you could count at least nine pair more of eyes that were black with a golden pupil color, he had his wings spread out and they had eyes too, he had more mouths even in his upper, middle part, his hair had lit up in black flames and its legs were bigger and with multiple thorns, now it also had three tails that separated from one, cracks all over its body and smoke came out of all its mouths, oh yes now it had screwed up, Mammon didn't have his axe anymore.

Mammon:" Is tHAt All you GOt~?"

Oh fuck, and in a moment he split his mouth to let out the most bloody Screaming roar, so that all of hell could Hear him and his rage, and so he threw Adam to the side, and many angels went towards him, oh poor souls...

After all of that bloody Battle, there were just Adam and other twenty exorcist Alive, Mammon has calm himself down, and in a really frighten manner, he said.

Mammon:" Now take your little Friends, and Get the fuck out and never go to my realm again!!"

Adam just noded and a portal towards Heaven was created, Mammon left a heavy Huf, he was exausted but also calm, now he just wanned to go back to his family, he Will pay lucifer later for the colateral damage, but righ now he just wanned to go back home, he teleported to lust and knoct the door, an imp let him pass without any question, he went to a room and there they were Luminis and Ozz.

Asmodeus:" Mammon! You're here already."

Luminis:" Dada!"

Ozz just went towards Mammon with Luminis, kiss him before giving Luminis to Mammon, she nuzzel close to him, He just hug the both of them and kiss them, now he was more calm knowing that they're safe.

#oc lore #verse\\ main #mammon x asmodeus\\ forviden love #tw gore #tw amputation

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signalterminated · 3 months

Text

III knows this dream.

He's sitting hunched between the shadows and neon flashing of a hotel sign, body wound tighter than the cheap bed springs he's sitting on. The red analog glares at him, mercilessly displaying the time.

2:43 AM

He's always been like this, for as long as he can remember: a constant flux between almost-normalcy and erratic batshit insomnia, his body running off of amphetamines and mania, mind sputtering like the last few drops of fuel in the tank.

This time, though, something else is keeping him awake. He came so far to see her and made so many promises but she didn't believe a single one of them – and why would she? He'd broken them several times before.

(I'm clean I swear I wanna be your man)

He pulls out the little bedside bible and rips out a few pages, folding and unfolding, rearranging them into an effigy. A symbol. He places it on the bed and kneels on the carpet, clasping his hands in prayer.

God, he thinkwhispergrowls, all I want is for her to pick up. Can you give me that much?

He promises that the last time truly was the last time. No more chasing after the head rush that slips further out of reach each time he snorts another line. He’ll settle down this time, keep a tune and a job for more than 6 months, be an honest man. Dependable. Reliable. All that crap.

(He's a cautionary tale of every promise made that you can't keep, and if God does exist then he'll know it, too.)

Maybe that's why all he's met with is silence. It's certainly why she never picks up the damned phone.

III chews his lip and knocks the effigy off of the covers. In that moment of despair he's right back to craving his old vices: the mercy of a bottle to knock him into dreamless slumber, a pill on the tongue to fizzle away his restless consciousness and placate its choppy waters.

With a sigh he pushes himself to his feet. Fine. Finefinefine – if she won't call, if he can't sleep, then fuck it. Fuck all of it, he'll leave. He'll crawl back to his dingy flat alone and swallow all his promises, chase them down with the packet of benzos he tucked underneath his mattress for a rainy day.

Lucky for him, London has a lot of rain.

When he yanks the hotel door open, prepared to stride out and enjoy one last stupendous act of self destruction, he’s met with a void.

The floor is gone. So are the ceilings, and the walls, and everything else that could delineate solid ground from empty space. Nothingness hangs above and below.

But III knows this dream. He doesn't scream. He doesn't reel from the darkness yawning open before him, waiting for him to plunge into its bottomless gullet.

“God dammit.”

He yells out in rage and his yell is swallowed into the Nothing. It reminds him of being enclosed in a soundproofed studio, listening to a vocalist whose name slips his tongue roaring his lungs out into the mic. All that energy goes directly into the recording. No room for wasted noise.

He knows this dream; he could scream and scream and it won't make a difference. All the people that would have cared are gone. It's just him and his bad choices caught in a limbo, perched on the edge. Trapped and waiting for a call that'll never come.

So he stands there, leaning out over the threshold and huffing in anger that has nowhere to go. The Nothing wants him to jump and for once he decides to wait – it's always a 50/50 that it'll wake him up or leave him falling forever. He'd rather stay here on this ruddy carpet, pacing and caged. At least it’s solid ground. He'll wake up eventually.

Right?

He's about to pull himself back when a breeze blows through the Nothing and catches him by surprise. His nails dig into the doorframe as the rest of him lurches forward then back, seesawing over the edge. Then it happens in reverse. And reverse again.

Okay, that's new.

Something sharp and white glints below, peeking out from the abyss: a circle of bony protrusions too massive to estimate. His head spins as they unfold into concentric rings that rise and fall with every breath, even and calm.

Fangs. He's looking at fangs. A supersized lamprey’s maw comprised of shadows and teeth.

He wants to close the door but the door is gone now, too. He hovers on his patch of carpet that levitates in the void, a speck waiting to be sucked down into abyssal jaws.

But they don't. They don't snap upward and crush him, or force him off the tiny scrap of reality he still clings to like a sailor to shipwreck debris. They simply breathe that same unchanged pace with all the patience of a predator that knows it’ll get fed either way.

III is a lot of things but patient isn't one of them, so he shouts directly into that horrifying, toothy void,

“What the hell do you want!?”

And he's shocked to hear his echo rise back up to meet him. It's distorted, pieces carved away by whatever nonsensical properties govern this fever dream.

The hell do you want

Hell do you

Youyouyou

You.

Oh. Oh, shit.

He tries to take a step back and gasps out as he nearly tumbles backwards into Nothing, scrabbling to hold onto the doorframe. His heart is pounding harder than a kick drum, knocking against his sternum with every throb.

And then he's laughing. It echoes back to him in a hollowed out hyena cackle. He's a half mad dog with every limb snared, no chewing his way out of this.

“So that’s how it is, then.” His palms are coated in sweat and his fingers ache from holding on so hard that his nails bite long crescents into the wood.

“Alright,” he says. “Okay.”

The jaws continue to breathe and offer no input. They don't need to; they know they're his only option.

“Fuck it.”

He launches himself from his tiny island before he can think too hard about the bottomless gullet waiting below.

III’s jolted by the impact of his body meeting the floor. He's a crash-landed pilot, flailing in the blanket tangled around his limbs like a mangled parachute, sweat further adding to his suffocation.

By the time he rips the blanket off of himself and crawls back into bed, his heart is at a wild gallop and his gut is somersaulting high enough to compete in the Olympics. He drags a clammy hand down his clammy face and lets out a loud, nauseated groan.

His hand slaps around his bedside table for his phone and hastily turns it on. The bright, fluorescent light makes his eyes ache, but at least he can read the time.

5:46 AM

Great. He doesn’t need to be up for another two bloody hours.

He tosses his phone onto the bedside table and flops his head back onto the pillow, waiting for his pulse to level back out to a tolerable baseline and for his sweat to dissipate in the stale air of his poorly ventilated flat.

Another part of him is waiting for a halo of fangs to descend from the popcorn ceiling above and finally crush him to paste.

Minutes tick on by and no fangs descend. Of course they don’t, because that would be impossible – it was just another stupid dream from his stupid brain railing on his stupid past decisions. That’s all it ever is.

When he runs his tongue over his teeth, he tastes saltwater.

#sleep token

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transgenderteensurvivalguide · 4 years

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“Elliot Page doesn’t remember exactly how long he had been asking.

But he does remember the acute feeling of triumph when, around age 9, he was finally allowed to cut his hair short. “I felt like a boy,” Page says. “I wanted to be a boy. I would ask my mom if I could be someday.” Growing up in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Page visualized himself as a boy in imaginary games, freed from the discomfort of how other people saw him: as a girl. After the haircut, strangers finally started perceiving him the way he saw himself, and it felt both right and exciting.

The joy was short-lived. Months later, Page got his first break, landing a part as a daughter in a Canadian mining family in the TV movie Pit Pony. He wore a wig for the film, and when Pit Pony became a TV show, he grew his hair out again. “I became a professional actor at the age of 10,” Page says. And pursuing that passion came with a difficult compromise. “Of course I had to look a certain way.”

We are speaking in late February. It is the first interview Page, 34, has given since disclosing in December that he is transgender, in a heartfelt letter posted to Instagram, and he is crying before I have even uttered a question. “Sorry, I’m going to be emotional, but that’s cool, right?” he says, smiling through his tears.

It’s hard for him to talk about the days that led up to that disclosure. When I ask how he was feeling, he looks away, his neck exposed by a new short haircut. After a pause, he presses his hand to his heart and closes his eyes. “This feeling of true excitement and deep gratitude to have made it to this point in my life,” he says, “mixed with a lot of fear and anxiety.”

It’s not hard to understand why a trans person would be dealing with conflicting feelings in this moment. Increased social acceptance has led to more young people describing themselves as trans—1.8% of Gen Z compared with 0.2% of boomers, according to a recent Gallup poll—yet this has fueled conservatives who are stoking fears about a “transgender craze.” President Joe Biden has restored the right of transgender military members to serve openly, and in Hollywood, trans people have never had more meaningful time onscreen. Meanwhile, J.K. Rowling is leveraging her cultural capital to oppose transgender equality in the name of feminism, and lawmakers are arguing in the halls of Congress over the validity of gender identities. “Sex has become a political football in the culture wars,” says Chase Strangio, deputy director for transgender justice at the ACLU.

(Full article with photos continued under the “read more”)

And so Page—who charmed America as a precocious pregnant teenager in Juno, constructed dreamscapes in Inception and now stars in Netflix’s hit superhero show The Umbrella Academy, the third season of which he’s filming in Toronto—expected that his news would be met with both applause and vitriol. “What I was anticipating was a lot of support and love and a massive amount of hatred and transphobia,” says Page. “That’s essentially what happened.” What he did not anticipate was just how big this story would be. Page’s announcement, which made him one of the most famous out trans people in the world, started trending on Twitter in more than 20 countries. He gained more than 400,000 new followers on Instagram on that day alone. Thousands of articles were published. Likes and shares reached the millions. Right-wing podcasters readied their rhetoric about “women in men’s locker rooms.” Casting directors reached out to Page’s manager saying it would be an honor to cast Page in their next big movie.

So, it was a lot. Over the course of two conversations, Page will say that understanding himself in all the specifics remains a work in progress. Fathoming one’s gender, an identity innate and performed, personal and social, fixed and evolving, is complicated enough without being under a spotlight that never seems to turn off. But having arrived at a critical juncture, Page feels a deep sense of responsibility to share his truth. “Extremely influential people are spreading these myths and damaging rhetoric—every day you’re seeing our existence debated,” Page says. “Transgender people are so very real.”

That role in Pit Pony led to other productions and eventually, when Page was 16, to a film called Mouth to Mouth. Playing a young anarchist, Page had a chance to cut his hair again. This time, he shaved it off completely. The kids at his high school teased him, but in photos he has posted from that time on social media he looks at ease. Page’s head was still shaved when he mailed in an audition tape for the 2005 thriller Hard Candy. The people in charge of casting asked him to audition again in a wig. Soon, the hair was back.

Page’s tour de force performance in Hard Candy led, two years later, to Juno, a low-budget indie film that brought Page Oscar, BAFTA and Golden Globe nominations and sudden megafame. The actor, then 21, struggled with the stresses of that ascension. The endless primping, red carpets and magazine spreads were all agonizing reminders of the disconnect between how the world saw Page and who he knew himself to be. “I just never recognized myself,” Page says. “For a long time I could not even look at a photo of myself.” It was difficult to watch the movies too, especially ones in which he played more feminine roles.

Page loved making movies, but he also felt alienated by Hollywood and its standards. Alia Shawkat, a close friend and co-star in 2009’s Whip It,describes all the attention from Juno as scarring. “He had a really hard time with the press and expectations,” Shawkat says. “‘Put this on! And look this way! And this is sexy!’”

By the time he appeared in blockbusters like X-Men: The Last Stand and Inception, Page was suffering from depression, anxiety and panic attacks. He didn’t know, he says, “how to explain to people that even though [I was] an actor, just putting on a T-shirt cut for a woman would make me so unwell.” Shawkat recalls Page’s struggles with clothes. “I’d be like, ‘Hey, look at all these nice outfits you’re getting,’ and he would say, ‘It’s not me. It feels like a costume,’” she says. Page tried to convince himself that he was fine, that someone who was fortunate enough to have made it shouldn’t have complaints. But he felt exhausted by the work required to “just exist,” and thought more than once about quitting acting.

In 2014, Page came out as gay, despite feeling for years that “being out was impossible” given his career. (Gender identity and sexual orientation are, of course, distinct, but one queer identity can coexist with another.) In an emotional speech at a Human Rights Campaign conference, Page talked about being part of an industry “that places crushing standards” on actors and viewers alike. “There are pervasive stereotypes about masculinity and femininity that define how we’re all supposed to act, dress and speak,” Page went on. “And they serve no one.”

The actor started wearing suits on the red carpet. He found love, marrying choreographer Emma Portner in 2018. He asserted more agency in his career, producing his own films with LGBTQ leads like Freeheld and My Days of Mercy. And he made a masculine wardrobe a condition of taking roles. Yet the daily discord was becoming unbearable. “The difference in how I felt before coming out as gay to after was massive,” says Page. “But did the discomfort in my body ever go away? No, no, no, no.”

In part, it was the isolation forced by the pandemic that brought to a head Page’s wrestling with gender. (Page and Portner separated last summer, and the two divorced in early 2021. “We’ve remained close friends,” Page says.) “I had a lot of time on my own to really focus on things that I think, in so many ways, unconsciously, I was avoiding,” he says. He was inspired by trailblazing trans icons like Janet Mock and Laverne Cox, who found success in Hollywood while living authentically. Trans writers helped him understand his feelings; Page saw himself reflected in P. Carl’s memoir Becoming a Man. Eventually “shame and discomfort” gave way to revelation. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” Page says, “and letting myself fully become who I am.”

This led to a series of decisions. One was asking the world to call him by a different name, Elliot, which he says he’s always liked. Page has a tattoo that says E.P. PHONE HOME, a reference to a movie about a young boy with that name. “I loved E.T. when I was a kid and always wanted to look like the boys in the movies, right?” he says. The other decision was to use different pronouns—for the record, both he/him and they/them are fine. (When I ask if he has a preference on pronouns for the purposes of this story, Page says, “He/him is great.”)

A day before we first speak, Page will talk to his mom about this interview and she will tell him, “I’m just so proud of my son.” He grows emotional relating this and tries to explain that his mom, the daughter of a minister, who was born in the 1950s, was always trying to do what she thought was best for her child, even if that meant encouraging young Page to act like a girl. “She wants me to be who I am and supports me fully,” Page says. “It is a testament to how people really change.”

Another decision was to get top surgery. Page volunteers this information early in our conversation; at the time he posted his disclosure on Instagram, he was recovering in Toronto. Like many trans people, Page emphasizes being trans isn’t all about surgery. For some people, it’s unnecessary. For others, it’s unaffordable. For the wider world, the media’s focus on it has sensationalized transgender bodies, inviting invasive and inappropriate questions. But Page describes surgery as something that, for him, has made it possible to finally recognize himself when he looks in the mirror, providing catharsis he’s been waiting for since the “total hell” of puberty. “It has completely transformed my life,” he says. So much of his energy was spent on being uncomfortable in his body, he says. Now he has that energy back.

For the transgender community at large, visibility does not automatically lead to acceptance. Around the globe, transgender people deal disproportionately with violence and discrimination. Anti-trans hate crimes are on the rise in the U.K. along with increasingly transphobic rhetoric in newspapers and tabloids. In the U.S., in addition to the perennial challenges trans people face with issues like poverty and homelessness, a flurry of bills in state legislatures would make it a crime to provide transition-related medical care to trans youth. And crass old jokes are still in circulation. When Biden lifted the ban on open service for transgender troops, Saturday Night Live’s Michael Che did a bit on Weekend Update about the policy being called “don’t ask, don’t tuck.”

Page says coming out as trans was “selfish” on one level: “It’s for me. I want to live and be who I am.” But he also felt a moral imperative to do so, given the times. Human identity is complicated and mysterious, but politics insists on fitting everything into boxes. In today’s culture wars, simplistic beliefs about gender—e.g., chromosomes = destiny—are so widespread and so deep-seated that many people who hold those beliefs don’t feel compelled to consider whether they might be incomplete or prejudiced. On Feb. 24, after a passionate debate on legislation that would ban discrimination against LGBTQ people, Representative Marie Newman, an Illinois Democrat, proudly displayed the pride flag in support of her daughter, who is trans. Representative Marjorie Taylor Greene, a Georgia Republican, responded by hanging a poster outside her office that read: There are TWO genders: MALE & FEMALE.

The next day Dr. Rachel Levine, who stands to become the first openly transgender federal official confirmed by the Senate, endured a tirade from Senator Rand Paul about “genital mutilation” during her confirmation hearing. My second conversation with Page happens shortly after this. He brings it up almost immediately, and seems both heartbroken and determined. He wants to emphasize that top surgery, for him, was “not only life-changing but lifesaving.” He implores people to educate themselves about trans lives, to learn how crucial medical care can be, to understand that lack of access to it is one of the many reasons that an estimated 41% of transgender people have attempted suicide, according to one survey.

Page has been in the political trenches for a while, having leaned into progressive activism after coming out as queer in 2014. For two seasons, he and best friend Ian Daniel filmed Gaycation, a Viceland series that explored LGBTQ culture around the world and, at one point, showed Page grilling Senator Ted Cruz at the Iowa State Fair about discrimination against queer people. In 2019, Page made a documentary called There’s Something in the Water, which explores environmental hardships experienced by communities of color in Nova Scotia, with $350,000 of his own money. That activism extends to his own industry: in 2017, he published a Facebook post that, among other things, accused director Brett Ratner of forcibly outing him as gay on the set of an X-Men movie. (A representative for Ratner did not respond to a request for comment.)

As a trans person who is white, wealthy and famous, Page has a unique kind of privilege, and with it an opportunity to advocate for those with less. According to the U.S. Trans Survey, a large-scale report from 2015, transgender people of color are more likely to experience unemployment, harassment by police and refusals of medical care. Nearly half of all Black respondents reported being denied equal treatment, verbally harassed and/or physically attacked in the past year. Trans people as a group fare much worse on such stats than the general population. “My privilege has allowed me to have resources to get through and to be where I am today,” Page says, “and of course I want to use that privilege and platform to help in the ways I can.”

Since his disclosure, Page has been mostly quiet on social media. One exception has been to tweet on behalf of the ACLU, which is in the midst of fighting anti-trans bills and laws around the country, including those that ban transgender girls and women from participating in sports. Mississippi Governor Tate Reeves says he will sign such a bill in the name of “protect[ing] young girls.” Page played competitive soccer and vividly recalls the agony of being told he would have to play on the girls’ team once he aged out of mixed-gender squads. After an appeal, Page was allowed to play with the boys for an additional year. Today, several bills list genitalia as a requirement for deciding who plays on which team. “I would have been in that position as a kid,” Page says. “It’s horrific.”

All this advocacy is unlikely to make life easier. “You can’t enter into certain spaces as a public trans person,” says the ACLU’s Strangio, “without being prepared to spend some percentage of your life being threatened and harassed.” Yet, while he seems overwhelmed at times, Page is also eager. Many of the political attacks on trans people—whether it is a mandate that bathroom use be determined by birth sex, a blanket ban on medical interventions for trans kids or the suggestion that trans men are simply wayward women beguiled by male privilege—carry the same subtext: that trans people are mistaken about who they are. “We know who we are,” Page says. “People cling to these firm ideas [about gender] because it makes people feel safe. But if we could just celebrate all the wonderful complexities of people, the world would be such a better place.”

Even if Page weren’t vocal, his public presence would communicate something powerful. That is in part because of what Paisley Currah, a professor of political science at Brooklyn College, calls “visibility gaps.” Historically, trans women have been more visible, in culture and in Hollywood, than trans men. There are many explanations: Our culture is obsessed with femininity. Men’s bodies are less policed and scrutinized. Patriarchal people tend to get more emotional about who is considered to be in the same category as their daughters. “And a lot of trans men don’t stand out as trans,” says Currah, who is a trans man himself. “I think we’ve taken up less of the public’s attention because masculinity is sort of the norm.”

During our interviews, Page will repeatedly refer to himself as a “transgender guy.” He also calls himself nonbinary and queer, but for him, transmasculinity is at the center of the conversation right now. “It’s a complicated journey,” he says, “and an ongoing process.”

While the visibility gap means that trans men have been spared some of the hate endured by trans women, it has also meant that people like Page have had fewer models. “There were no examples,” Page says of growing up in Halifax in the 1990s. There are many queer people who have felt “that how they feel deep inside isn’t a real thing because they never saw it reflected back to them,” says Tiq Milan, an activist, author and transgender man. Page offers a reflection: “They can see that and say, ‘You know what, that’s who I am too,’” Milan says. When there aren’t examples, he says, “people make monsters of us.”

For decades, that was something Hollywood did. As detailed in the 2020 Netflix documentary Disclosure, transgender people have been portrayed onscreen as villainous and deceitful, tragic subplots or the butt of jokes. In a sign of just how far the industry has come—spurred on by productions like Pose and trailblazers like Mock—Netflix offered to change the credits on The Umbrella Academy the same day that its star posted his statement on social media. Now when an episode ends, the first words viewers see are “Elliot Page.”

Today, there are many out trans and nonbinary actors, directors and producers. Storylines involving trans people are more common, more respectful. Sometimes that aspect of identity is even incidental, rather than the crux of a morality tale. And yet Hollywood can still seem a frightening place for LGBTQ people to come out. “It’s an industry that says, ‘Don’t do that,’” says director Silas Howard, who got his break on Amazon’s show Transparent, which made efforts to hire transgender crew members. “I wouldn’t have been hired if they didn’t have a trans initiative,” Howard says. “I’m always aware of that.”

So what will it mean for Page’s career? While Page has appeared in many projects, he also faced challenges landing female leads because he didn’t fit Hollywood’s narrow mold. Since Page’s Instagram post, his team is seeing more activity than they have in years. Many of the offers coming in—to direct, to produce, to act—are trans-related, but there are also some “dude roles.”

Downtime in quarantine helped Page accept his gender identity. “I was finally able to embrace being transgender,” he says.

Page was attracted to the role of Vanya in The Umbrella Academy because—in the first season, released in 2019—Vanya is crushed by self-loathing, believing herself to be the only ordinary sibling in an extraordinary family. The character can barely summon the courage to move through the world. “I related to how much Vanya was closed off,” Page says. Now on set filming the third season, co-workers have seen a change in the actor. “It seems like there’s a tremendous weight off his shoulders, a feeling of comfort,” says showrunner Steve Blackman. “There’s a lightness, a lot more smiling.” For Page, returning to set has been validating, if awkward at times. Yes, people accidentally use the wrong pronouns—“It’s going to be an adjustment,” Page says—but co-workers also see and acknowledge him.

The debate over whether cisgender people, who have repeatedly collected awards for playing trans characters, should continue to do so has largely been settled. However, trans actors have rarely been considered for cisgender parts. Whatever challenges might lie ahead, Page seems exuberant about playing a new spectrum of roles. “I’m really excited to act, now that I’m fully who I am, in this body,” Page says. “No matter the challenges and difficult moments of this, nothing amounts to getting to feel how I feel now.”

This includes having short hair again. During our interview, Page keeps rearranging strands on his forehead. It took a long time for him to return to the barber’s chair and ask to cut it short, but he got there. And how did that haircut feel?

Page tears up again, then smiles. “I just could not have enjoyed it more,” he says.”

#suicide m #transphobia m #Elliot Page #transgender #representation #celebrities #actors #tv #movies #rep #trans #transmasculine #nonbinary #queer #long post

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ncitygirls · 3 years

Text

forgive - hyunjin x f reader

angst, fluff, smut, royal au, 4.1k

to die just as one graduates to motherhood is the tragic fate of countless women of your time. though there is no shame in falling victim to eve’s curse, one does feels a deserving sense of pride in their ability to look the devil in the eye and turn one’s cheek. to crawl through the forest of death and drag oneself towards the light. many are denied the privilege of survival. living is a sign from the heavens that perhaps there is a reason for such trials. that strife is a lesson in one’s journey, a meaning to life.

but to die before bearing your husband a son is a fate you would readily accept in place of the dark nothing you nearly surrendered to. the thought drifts into your mind the moment your greatest trial and grandest reward shifts in your arms, your daughter’s wails slowly rising in pitch and frequency as you smile loftily at her bundled form in your lap. she sings a song most would call unbearable. the screech so shrill, it pierces through even the most impenetrable guard. but never through you. you could continue to find peace in the deafening sound had it not been for your husband. your dear, sweet husband.

your king.

your king, whose presence thus far escaped you. that is until he asked, just a decibel louder than the wailing infant, “could you please settle her, sweet?”

“oh,” you glance at his rigid form, across your living quarters, to find his pretty scowl trained on his heir, only softening when his eyes meet the familiar orbs of his queen. “my apologies, hyunjin. is she distracting you?”

“no,” he breathes, allowing his head to fall back on the loveseat, his sculpted cheek puffs. “it’s just annoying.”

“it?” your eyes quickly return to him, only to be met by the back of his morning paper. “i do hope you are referring to the sound itself and not to your child, my love?”

“does it matter?” he sighs, realising moments too late that the room has stilled. “my dear, i did not mean to offend.’

“of course not, your highness,” ah, ‘your highness’. you call on the title in the times you wish to hurt him most. “she is but a child, of course you meant her no offense. i ask for your mercy, sire.”

“i sense hostility in you.”

“shall I call on a nurse for you, your grace?” he wonders for a second what the reason could be before you readily come to his aid. “it is most unlike you to use sense of any kind.”

“that was out of turn-”

“me? my king, you believe it is i who is out of turn?” hyunjin knows there is no answer to such a question. because yes would present grounds for annulment and no would mean he is wrong. and kings cannot be found in the wrong. “not the new father who refers to his daughter as ‘it’? of course it is not he who is speaking out of turn, not when he is a king.

“when he is a man.”

“ah, ‘men are the source of all the world’s ailments’, must we hear excerpts from your manifesto again, my love? it is only noon,” he assumes you hear only humour in his tone and decides to take it a step further. “is it in your plans to fill the house of hwang with women just to spite me?”

“oh,” you breathe, smiling softly as he watches, “is it a son you desire, hyunjin? is that what you want?” his eyes squint as he watches his love rise to place his only heir in the cot before you glide over to him, sweetness vanishing from your eyes as you succumb to your wrath. “you want a son, king hyunjin? then give me one.”

“leave us.” the servants standing by flee the room, quick to abandon a maid who halts as hyunjin blocks her path. “take the child.”

she takes a hurried step towards your child before she is stopped once more. “take my child and i will take your hand.” the poor girl is quick to abandon her king’s direct order before fleeing the scene, closing the door as she departs.

a biting silence takes the place of the bodies that once filled the chamber, thickening every corner of the room. minutes pass before hyunjin realises you have no further interest in him. “if it were not for the fact my heart beats for you, my beloved, i too would take my leave.”

“your heart? is that what beats in your chest, hyunjin? a heart?” he scoffs, unbothered by the deflection masked by your jab. “kings are meant to rule, not jest. do not humour me.”

“was your tea cup mistaken for a bedpan?”

“i almost died, jinnie!” he withers as you tremble, your eyes misting as you try to find someone resembling your beloved in the man sat across from you. “i almost lost my life bearing you the heir you prayed for, only for you to treat her with the same regard one does a child born in illegitimacy.” he wishes to deny it, and you see it too. but your eyes are alight and hyunjin swears he sees his end in them. “she is your child, hyunjin. and should she be your only, she will wear your crown with pride and rule as well as any boy ever could.”

“i know that.” your scoff stung like a strike to the cheek and winds him like a blow to the gut. “i do. y/n, i swear it to you.”

“then perhaps you should act like it.” he finally sees what fuels your rage and rests behind your eyes: disappointment. “you cannot love me and not my kin, jin. i won’t allow it.”

“my love,” he reaches for you but you repel, moving instead to the babbling baby. “you mistake my desire for a son as a lack of joy for my daughter.” pulling your hands from the sides of the cot, he dwarfs them with his own. “i love her with everything i have in me. i swear.”

“had my father received me as you did our child, i would not believe that to be the case.”

“forgive me, my love.” you’re quick to cast your gaze elsewhere, ignoring his puppy eyed plea. “i will pray the heavens take mercy on me, but i need you to first. please believe me when i say i love her. i do. she is half of the greatest woman to ever walk this kingdom, i worship her.”

“then why? why the cold shoulder? why treat her this way?” he suddenly finds himself unable to answer, opting instead to rock the baby, basking in her glow. with a soft sigh, you raise a hand to his cheek, offering him reprieve as he burrows into your palm. “what troubles you?”

“nothing, my love.” your disbelieving gaze sends his shoulders south, his whole frame sagging. “it’s just my dealings with the courts.” of course. the courts. “i spent every night bowed in ceaseless prayer. i prayed for your health, for your life, for our child. i prayed until bruises formed on my knees, my love. and still i prayed. but as i prayed for my family, they prayed only for my successor, for a boy.” though you find it impossible, he manages to lower himself further. folding himself into you, almost in two, hiding his long face from view. “once I caught wind of their talks with the lord, i condemned it. i condemned any prayer against my wishes but the court can do as they please in their solitude and i know we do not rule on fear but after her birth, for the first time in my life? i wished we did.” it was inexplicable, the difficulty you had beholding an enraged hyunjin, the skin curving around his knuckles and jaw as they tightened with every word he uttered, your heart tightening in kind. “i wanted to make heads roll, to end them for the disregard they paid my child, my family, my wife.” it starts to make sense now, his grinding teeth and red rimmed eyes. his late and sleepless nights. the nights hypnos granted him even a slither of reprieve were spent clinging to you, a cold sweat soaking the sheets, puzzling you beyond belief. it all makes sense. “the courts have filled me with doubt. they warned of foreign enemies who would hear of our heir, of our girl. that they would see her as a sign we are weak, that we are lesser.”

“but how can they speak in such a way? we are ahead of such things.”

“my love, you must see past the likes of lord kim and baron han. the rest of the men in my court are old, and stuck in old ways. our nation has not seen a queen on the throne since the likes of my widowed great, great grandmother.” his hands cup your face, bleary eyes blinking back the tears his heavy words summoned. “i love you, y/n. and i love her. all i want is for you both to be safe. but i live in constant fear that i cannot keep you safe with enemies outside our walls and evidently within.”

“hyunjin, my love,” he settles at the soft spoken call of his name, the loving address soothing his forlorn heart. “i will burn the court to the ground before they bring harm to my kin. or to you.” it is not unlike you to let your anger consume you. in fact, it is but a facet of what made him fall in love with you. what continues to bother him is the fact he was not the first to make such a bold promise. “my love?”

“fret not, my queen,” his nimble hands gather his daughter from her cot, his lips pulling in a soft grin as the child gargles, reaching up for him. “it is just, with my brains and your ferocity, i believe this hwang might be the greatest queen- no, ruler levanter has ever seen.”

“forgive me, my love,” the apology fills the space to his left, from where your temple rests on his shoulder, fingers toying with his undershirt. “but you do not suggest that this girl will be inheriting her brains from her father-”

“watch your mouth.”

“watch it for me.”

“careful,” he warns, dropping his lips to yours for a brief peck before withdrawing but an inch, “i might just give you that son you asked for.”

“careful, or i might just let you.” your rebuttal has him fanning your lips with a breathless chortle, urging you to rise to the tips of your toes and connect your lips to his once more. when you withdraw, he follows, resting his forehead on yours, smiling softly as your eyes meet. your voice is barely a whisper as you enquire, “what do we do now, my love?”

“now, i will handle the courts,” huffing, hyunjin places a kiss to the crown of his daughter’s head, smiling as he does. “i am afraid you will just have to handle everything else.” the regret in his words do not match the smirk on his lips, though he confesses, “i do not envy you, my love.” placing the baby in the cot once more, he pulls you into his chest, resting his cheek at the uppermost point on your head. “but i will keep you both safe. i put my life on it-”

“sire,” you warn, leaning up to kiss his neck. “your life is no longer yours to wager.”

“is that so?” hyunjin only grins at your assured affirmation. “my queen, is there anything that is mine in this kingdom?”

“me.” even after all these years, hyunjin is undone by you. from your matter of fact utterance, a breathless admission of submission to your glowy eyed gaze, eyes shining with pure adoration. “i belong to you.”

“you do?” he sighs when you nod, the small bounce of your head forcing his own head up and down. his eyes and hands slowly trail down your arms stilling at your fingers. slipping his digits between yours, he raises them to his pouted lips, slowly pressing each one with a kiss so soft and so sweet, you nearly jump as he speaks. “and these? do these belong to me?”

“yes, sire.”

“good,” he breathes, joy flashing behind his eyes. “and what about this?” he whispers against your lips, his plump lips tangling with your own. only after playing with your tongue, sucking on the muscle and swallowing your whines does he ask, “is this smart mouth of yours mine?”

“all yours.”

he nods in agreement, fingers gliding down the side of your neck, dusting over your chemise to cup you over your stay. only to find you bare. “were you that hastened to join me for tea?”

“no,” you laugh, hitting his chest as he pulls you closer, enjoying feeling your near bare chest on his. “i breastfeed.” you love your king. for as slow as he is, he is twice as loving. you watch realisation dawn on him not once but twice, a slight pout stealing his lips, exaggerated by their natural downturn. “what is it?”

“i just,” he stops, laughing to himself. “i just realised these-” he cups your tender breasts, thumb barely dusting the sore nubs. “-they’re no longer mine.”

“hyunjin!” his laughter picks up before it stills, the sleeping princess nearly awoken by the delight of her parents. “no, they’re on loan.”

“that’s fine.” he sighs, ducking his head to kiss the center of your chest. “i’ll wait.”

“i’m proud of you.”

“thank you,” your pride does not last long, as he lowers his hands to cup your ass and pull you flush against him. through your chemise and slip, you feel him. all of him. he deftly slips his tongue between your gasping lips, filling your mouth in ways that force your panties to dampen, the fabric soaking with every roll of his hardening cock to your aching slit. “but this is mine,” he reminds you, leaving no room for misunderstanding. “do you understand?”

“y-yes.”

“yes, who?”

“yes, your grace.”

“good. now, go get a nurse for the princess.” the king proclaims, emphasising his point with a firm slap to your ass as you almost sprint out of the room. as you return with the nanny, you feel your heart swell to almost double its size. you find hyunjin by your daughter’s basket, a soft lullaby floating in the air as he gathers her in his long, folded arms. you watch him pass her to the nanny, his fingers passing over her puffed up knuckle, in awe of her inherent daintiness. “sleep well, my dove.”

you fear he might have forgotten you as the two leave and he stares in quiet longing. you finally approach him as his sniffles begin. “hyunjin?”

“i have missed her.” he whines, wet eyes cast skyward, guilt staining his face. “i have been a terrible father-”

“no.” your scold has his gaze falling, his shining eyes searching your frowning face. “not terrible. never terrible. just a little distant.” you soften as he nods, understanding pouring into him as you craddle his face in your palms. “you know now.”

“yeah,” he agrees, leaning to press a wet kiss to your lips. “please forgive me, my love.”

“there’s nothing to forgive.” you hum against his pouting lips, moulding your mouth with his as you try and tear him from this spell of despair. “come sit,” you whisper, guiding him towards his original seat.

when he lowers into it and feels you lower in kind, though to the ground, he frowns deeply. “i-” he stalls as you palm him through his slack breeches, fingers gripping him through the fabric. he grinds up into your closing fist, eyes squeezing shut as you momentarily silence him. the peace is short lived as he moans, realising what you’ve done to him. “i wanted to pleasure you.”

“and you will,” you quickly assure him, smirking when his frown deepens. “once i pleasure you.”

“fine.” he concedes, crossing his arms as you unfasten his breeches. you glare at him through your lashes until he huffs, stiffly raising his hips to allow you room to lower his garments down his thighs. “is there anything else i can do for you, mrs hwang?”

“that is all.” you chortle, fanning the reddened, leaking head of his cock. the sound forces a smile on his face until your tongue glides against his glistening slit. he almost chokes when you gaze up at him suddenly, eyes full of too much love for one king to fathom. “you just relax, okay?”

he can barely make himself nod as he fills your sight with his lovesick smile. “i don’t deserve you.”

“i know.” you rise to your knees to swallow his retraction, enjoying the lurid way he melts under the touch of your lips and palm. you offer languid strokes up and down his length, thumbing at his slit as he practically dribbles down himself. “jinnie, you’re making a mess.”

“‘m sorry.” the whine isn’t worrisome, but rather his second admission of guilt. with a gentle shake of your head, you raise your unsoiled hand to his lips, smearing your mingled saliva across his chin.

“i like you messy,” you admit, watching his eyes glaze over at your confession. “you’re always so proper now. you were never like that.” you squeeze him tighter at his base as you speak, dragging up the length of his cock, forcing a mewl from his throat as he releases his bitten, spit slicked lip. “remember when you were still a prince, and i just a lady?” he nods dumbly, head rolled to the side as drool pools on the corner of his mouth. “you used to fuck me in the greenhouse as it rained on a starry night. and behind the guards’ stables. even in the old maid’s quarters-”

“tha-that’s because we couldn’t anywhere else.”

“true,” you tut, wiping his chin as he fucks up into your closed fist. “yet now the kingdom is yours, you only ever fuck me in the castle.”

“but i always fuck you well.” when you just smile his hips falter, brows knitting as you massage his tensed thigh. “say it.”

“say what?”

“that i always fuck you well.”

“you do fuck me well,” you knowingly half agree, pumping him in your tight fist before he grabs your wrist. only a few seconds pass but the small fire ignited by your defiance burns for an eternity. the warm embers blazed to a full village fire when you squeeze at his base, moving to restart your ministrations. hyunjin only scoffs, clicking his tongue with a soft shake of his head. “a king’s ego should not be so dependent on his queen-”

before you can finish, his fingers cling to the base of your neck, squeezing in a way that traps the words in your throat. he feels you swallow, his dark eyes watching how you struggle to breathe. it’s dizzying. the way he eyes you, flitting between your expanding chest and gasping mouth. he presses the back of his hand to your chin, tilting your lips toward his mouth as he leans in. “it seems my ego rests on the mocking words of my smart mouthed wife,” he whispers into your open mouth, sucking softly on your bottom lip. “so, my queen, mightn’t you humour me? tell me that which i desire to hear.”

“you-” he senses an unfitting retort on your tongue and tightens his grip, marvelling at the delicious way your eyes roll back. he only loosens when theu water, gleaming in pitiful surrender. “you always fuck me well.”

“like i will now.”

“li-like you will now.”

“good,” he grins, proud of your slow but gratifying progress. helping you stand, hyunjin gathers the hem of your chemise in his fists, hiking it up to your waist before placing the fabric in your waiting hands. he feels for your undergarments, fingers gliding along the soft skin of your belly, purposely missing the waistband of your panties. he watches your breathing change with every long second he teases you, missing your sex in obvious ways. when you whine he only tuts, watching a frown kiss your features. “it’s not nice to be kept waiting, is it?”

“no,” you mumble, jutting out a full blown pout. “please touch me, hyunjin.” you too can sense your lover’s utterances before they are ever fully realised. like now, when he smirks, knuckles dusting over your throbbing heat. “properly.”

your emphasis has him chortling, the sound delighting you in ways you cannot explain. how long had it been since you had him like this? warm and open, delighted by the trivialities of foreplay. excited by your pending coitus. it brings a sudden joy to your heart, and, to your husband at least, an inexplicable grin to your bitten lips.

“what tickles you, my love?”

“i just missed you.” you confess, not too dissimilar to his earlier realisation. “i want you happy always.”

“oh,” he breathes, finally pinching your panties and sliding them down past your ankles. “one can feel nothing but joy when you are near.”

“is that so?” you hum as he pulls you to his lap, his thumb dipping into your soaking cunt before slow dragging it along your swollen clit.

“it is so,” he affirms, offering soft pecks to the taut skin of your neck. “it’s why i married you.”

“really- oh,” words stick in your throat as he dips a lone finger in you, his thumb still circling as he presses against your walls. your lips find his in your daze, somehow still embarrassed by the awe with which he regards you. your hips roll against his cramped hand, chasing the beginnings of a tightening coil in the base of your belly. “you’re still infatuated with me?”

“always.” he removes himself without leaving your lips, swallowing your taunt as he guides you onto his awaiting cock. time stills for a moment as you adjust, brain whirring as you both realise the time that has passed since you had him like this. your throbbing walls clamped around his pulsing cock. the subtle tremor of his thighs as you sink onto him, buttocks resting in his waiting palms. he offers a gentle squeeze, one of comfort and question. “can you move?” you nod against his skin, damp forehead pressed to his as he guides your motions with gentle tilts of his wrists. his tongue slips into your mouth, readily lapping at your own as you wrap your arms around his neck. his hands rise to your hips in time, guiding you with a firmer grip, enjoying the slow rock of your hips on his aching cock. he feels you squeeze around him as he sucks on your tongue, his thighs shaking with a looming orgasm. he pulls you in closer, lifting you inches in the air before leaving your slippery lips. before you can even think to protest, hyunjin snaps up into you at a steady pace, enjoying the mewls he conjures from you.

“jinnie, i’m- i-”

“it’s okay,” he groans, on his own verge of release. “it’s okay, my love. let go.”

and you do. moments later you let go, loudly soiling his lap and favourite loveseat as he fucks into your soaking cunt. seconds later he follows you, head thrown back as he releases in you, fearful of nothing but the stained upholstery as he thanks the lord above that you are his wife.

“you owe me a new chair.” he says suddenly, still panting as you pepper soft kiss along his shoulder blade. “and new breeches.”

“it is you who is to blame, sire.” he watches with a raised brow as you rest on his knees. “you always fuck me so well, how could i help myself?”

“ah, right.” he folds when you laugh, the sound forcing his hands upward, along with the corners of his lips. “forgive me, my love.”

“i love you.” you whisper instead, settling against his chest as you both ignore the compromising position you’re in. “so much.”

“and i you,” he swears. “always.”

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cheekygreenty · 3 years

Text

A Little Death - The Darkling x Reader

Enemies-to-lovers, one bed trope AND smut. You’re welcome 🖤

The mission went terribly, just as you said it would. You were always known to voice your concerns during meetings and this one was no different but he hadn't bothered to take your criticism into account.

The big bad Darkling couldn't stand you for that very reason or so he told himself. You were loud, outspoken, rude, and a control freak. You clashed and fought but he kept you there for perspective reasons, even though he never listened to you, like ever.

You laughed when the mission turned sour, earning yourself a glare from everybody, including him. If it wasn't the hours of sleep you lost to carry out the stupid mission in the first place, you would be heading toward Os Alta by now, but no. Everyone was tired and hungry and practically begging for a proper bed and not a makeshift cot in a tent, you included.

Vacancy was lit, the guests were checking in

You waited as the colorful keftas dispersed into the inn and as you approached the innkeeper to grab your keys, he hesitated.

'Only one room left.' He looked afraid to say it, does he think I need more than one? The confused look on your face kept until you saw General Kirigan appear out of the corner of your eye, looking right at you with a displeased look.

'Will it fit two people?'

'Yes Sir'

'Alright then, Y/L/N you're with me.' He took the keys and gestured for you to walk through the archway but you couldn't believe your ears. This man was the General of the Second-Army, almost as rich as the King but he had to share a room, with me no less?! Of all the bloody people on this journey, it obviously has to be me.

You bit back the rude remark that sat at the tip of your tongue and gave a curt nod. It's just one night and I'm ready to pass out.

'After you General' You forced a smile and watched as his irritation grew. Although you hated the man, you had to admit he was incredibly handsome, you weren’t blind. His dark onyx eyes always stood out against the pale of his skin, and the perfectly quiffed jet-black hair practically begged to have your fingers running through it.

His cape whirled around him as he walked past you, breaking you out of your trance. You guessed he knew where he was going as he ascended the wooden stairs and climbed to the top. Out of boredom, you counted the room numbers you passed not paying attention to him and stopped when you walked right into his rock-solid back. 'Saints- I'm sorry.' You blundered. I think that's the first time I've ever said sorry to him. He ignored you and walked into the room, inspecting it closely. You did too, but were cut short when you noticed the absence of another bed.

The room was fit for two

'There's only one bed' You dead-panned. You thought for a moment, looking around for a couch, an armchair, anything, but came up empty-handed. 'This is just great.' You sighed and looked to him. He had shed his heavy cape and donned his black kefta, staring at the one bed the same way you did.

'Well? What are we going to do?' You threw your hands up in exasperation 'Perhaps they have a tub I can-'

'Don't be ridiculous Y/N.' Y/N? I think that's the first time he's called me by my name.

'I meant to go wash, General. It's been a long week.' As opposed to some of the others, including the General, you had stayed in a tent over the past 2 days to gather intel. He and his flock stayed in inns and hotels, bathing in luxury and warmth.

'Yes, of course.' He stared into your eyes, holding your gaze for a hot minute before you looked away, suddenly feeling shy.

You put the bed situation at the back of your mind as you fetched some warm water and washed the grime of failed missions off. So much wasted time, all because nobody would listen to you, he wouldn't listen to me. If he weren't so gorgeous, I would kill him in his sleep.

Once you felt clean enough and your hair began to dry, you walked out of the washroom, enveloped by a towel as you searched your pack for anything you could sleep in. Perhaps the bath fogged up your mind, for you completely forgot the General was sharing the small space with you.

'You know you talk to yourself?' His voice scared the living daylights out of you. He was sitting back lazily against the headboard of the bed in his shirt and breeches smirking to himself. 'I think conspiring my death is reason enough for prison, is it not?' You couldn't tell if he was joking.

'I never said I would.' You bit back, grasp tightening around the flimsy towel.

'Because I'm too gorgeous?' He stood up from the bed and walked over to you. You never registered how much taller he was than you as his eyes scanned you up and down, like a predator hunting its prey.

'I need to get dressed, General'

'Hmmm, yes I can tell.' He took a bit of hair that hung in front of your face and held it between his fingers, the action sending waves of arousal through you, What- No. He was dangerously close, you could feel his breath tickle your ear and he was bound to hear your pounding heartbeat. But alas he moved away, sashaying into the washroom leaving you alone. I need a cold bath.

***

You were dressed for bed now, curled up on the left side of the bed. You were trying to sleep, really trying, but knowing he was laying right next to you only heightened your insomnia.

You knew he was awake too and he did little to hide it amongst the deafening silence of the room. You could feel the heat coming from his body, radiating an invitation for you to join him. You huffed loudly and turned again for the umpteenth time that hour, attempting to escape the weird tension in the room.

'Can't sleep?'

'Obviously.' Even in the dark, you knew he was smirking.

'I know something that would help.' Suddenly he was on top of you, caging you in with a hand at the sides of your head. You could feel the bare skin of his arm and chest as he slightly pressed down onto you, signaling that he wasn't wearing the black silk shirt anymore. Wherever his skin brushed against yours, it ignited that longing and need in you and it felt addictive.

I want you to touch me

'What are you doing? I thought you hate me.' Your proximity allowed for you to see the slight glistening of his eyes. They had an edge to them, a darkness you'd never seen before or never paid attention to.

'You're one to speak.' Taking one hand from beside your head, he so very slowly traced the side of your face, and your breath caught in your throat as he continued his way down your neck and further, stopping at your thigh where your nightgown had bunched up. 'I think it's time we stop this charade of ours.' As you concentrated on the feel of his fingers against your burning skin, he moved his head into the crook of your neck, his breath hot and exhilarating as he spoke.

'What charade' Your words came out with a deep exhale in anticipation of his actions.

'The one where we both pretend we don't want to fuck each other's brains out.'

Your eyes flew open at his crude remark but shut right back again as his lips gently kissed your collarbone and made their way up to your jaw, getting increasingly rough as he traveled. His hand at your thigh sneaked its way under the gown and now gripped your bare hip in a tight hold. 'What do you say?' His lips were now at yours, touching them as he spoke. All your logic flew out the window of the dingy inn. You didn't care that this was your General, or that he could kill you in an instant, all that mattered was that you needed him, and he wanted you.

'Ye-'

Before you even finished, his lips were hot on yours, devouring you in a bruising kiss. He pressed into you harder and if you had any reservations about his feeling towards you, they were flushed away as he made his arousal for you obvious. It fueled you, awoke your need to control with a jolt.

You fought for dominance, letting your mouth duel for any scrap of authority you could have over the man, but he kept you wrapped around his finger, tightening his grasp on you while simultaneously letting your mind run free with thoughts of him and only him. He was dangerous; intimidating.

She sought death on a queen-sized bed.

He began to pull away but to your surprise he only hauled you up with him, taking your thighs and forcing you into a straddle around his lap, not once letting his lips leave your body.

'You do it on purpose, don't you? Vexing and riling me up in front of others-' He took hold of the nightgown and pulled it up over your head before roughly grabbing your chin and letting his lips brush against your now swollen ones '-I swore to myself if you did it again, I would've thought you a lesson right before their very eyes.'

The General was quick to pull you back into him, bare chests pressed together and heartbeats merging into one. Your hips moved on their own accord, slowly drawing circles around his bulge.

'General I didn't take you for a man that stalled.' You spoke against his lips. You were done with his words, you needed his actions.

I want you to touch me there

Make me feel like I am breathing

At that, his hand let go of its deathly grip on your waist and quickly went to your core. Letting a deep growl out at your dripping wetness, he plunged a finger deep into you as his palm stroked your clit at an excruciatingly painful pace, too slow for your liking. You couldn't help keep the whimper down and he had the audacity to chuckle at your neediness.

'And I didn't take you to be so impatient.' He nipped at your shoulder as he picked up his pace, earning a series of moans from you. It was like music to his ears.

With your head against his chest, you rode your wave of pleasure out with his fingers still inside you, milking your first orgasm of the night.

Almost immediately he had you under him again and before you could register with your eyes, you felt the head of his cock nudging at your sensitive bud, as if begging for entry. It sent shivers up your spine, seeing him there at your mercy. He ran across your wet folds again and a throaty moan echoed around the room. Are you sure he's at your mercy?

You coaxed him to enter and once he did you felt euphoria. He stretched you out to your limits, filled you until you bottomed out. His eyes were tightly shut as he basked in the comfort of you. It felt just as good to be buried in you as it did to kiss you. You enveloped his senses and his mind. You were the only thing that mattered to him at that very moment.

'Saints Y/N.' His forehead fell against yours as he thrust in and out of you, bearing his weight on the arm not holding your thigh up.

Despite the pleasure clouding your mind and vision, you managed to grab at his vulnerability and flip you both around. He didn't fight back, only grabbed hold of the back of your neck to kiss you deeply as you pounded down onto him. His hold on your hip was deadly, bound to bruise. He liked the thought of marking you as his.

You came with a strangled cry, the pulsing around his length sending him into a frenzy of his own as your name spilled out like a prayer from his lips. It took a while for you to catch your breath and return to your natural state. But it didn't last long before the events of the night were repeated and more marks were littered across your body.

It was only then that you fell asleep, thoroughly spent and exhausted, awaiting the next time you could defy him.

_______

Taglist (Tell me if you want to be added!!)

@aleksanderwh0r3 @theonelittleone @searching-for-gallifrey @lostysworld @0-artemis @exo-1204 @staradorned @bookfrog242 @simp-for-ben-barners @keepdaydreamingbb @acciorudolphx @pansysgirlfriend @pansysgirlfriend @justmesadgirl

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writing-in-april · 4 years

Text

Pleasant Surprise

Spencer Reid x Female Reader

Summary: Reader asks Spencer if she can try to be more dominant in the bedroom.

A/N: This is my 5th fic for my 750 follower celebration! This one was especially hard for me to finish, I’ve had a massive headache all day 🤕 it was also hard because this reader is definitely very different to how I am in real life. I hope you guys do enjoy it I tried really hard to make sure I could finish it today. Thank you @spencers-dria again for fueling all my sub Spencer fics this week and giving me this idea!!

Warnings: 18+, Reader is a bit nervous at first, Use of the name Bunny (F), Spencer is tied up, Hand job, Sex toy (wand vibrator M receiving), Edging

Main Masterlist Word count: 1.4K

“Hey Spencer?” You called from the bedroom of your apartment with Spencer just a little bit nervously, you couldn’t lose your nerve. it was now or never.

“Yes, bunny? What is it?” You always blushed a little everytime Spencer used that nickname, inside and outside the bedroom. Usually, Spencer was the dominant one in the bedroom. Recently however, you had been fantasizing what it would be like to have him underneath you for a change. You had been wondering endlessly how he would react. Would he beg for you quickly? Or would he be stubborn? Would he be a brat? Or would he be a good boy for you?

The questions wouldn’t stop bouncing around in your head and you finally decided that you needed to ask him if he would let you test it out. Your resolve dimmed just a little as Spencer entered the bedroom after you had not responded immediately.

“W-well I was wondering…”

“Wondering what?” He looked concerned now, his eyebrows raised high as he made his way to sit next to where you sat on the bed.

“I was wondering if maybeyouwouldletmedominateyou?” You rushed out, faster then even Spencer normally spoke when he was especially excited about something.

“Could you say that again I didn’t quite catch that.” He was probably thinking that there was a much more serious thing going on, you felt kind of bad that you unnecessarily worried him. Hopefully, you could actually get the words out, instead of worrying poor Spencer anymore, he already worried enough as is.

“I-I was wondering… If maybe you would let me dominate you?” Even if Spencer said no to your request, you were proud of yourself for finding the words to ask.

“Th-that’s not what I was expecting you to ask me…” He wrung his fingers while he stuttered, however he wasn’t rejecting you, he looked intrigued if anything.

“But, would you be interested in it Spencer?” You bit your lip in anticipation, pretty sure that he was probably interested just by reading his immediate reaction to your request. His eyes were focused intently on you with his pupils blown wide and when you looked at his slacks you could tell that they were tightening slightly.

“Yes.” Once he had confirmed that this was something that he wanted, your confidence returned, and you were ready to unleash all your thoughts onto Spencer.

“You’ll let me know if it’s too much?” He snickered a little at your worry, probably thinking that you weren’t even going to get close to his threshold. However, you had some pretty extreme plans up your sleeve.

“Of course, bunny.”

—-

You now had him laying down on the bed completely naked, legs spread and a tie he no longer really used knotted around his wrists bound to the bed frame. Spencer’s eyes were wild and desperate already with his cock hard leaking precum all over his belly. You hadn’t even really touched him yet besides a few kisses. Spencer definitely wasn’t expecting you to be this prepared.

Grabbing the lube and opening it you then dripped it over his leaking cock, making sure to make a show of it before wrapping your hands around his length. You started to jerk him slowly, barely even really brushing over the skin causing Spencer to let out a beautiful high pitched whine.

“Does that feel good baby?” You teased, knowing it wasn’t nearly enough for any kind of relief, really only serving to spread the lube around. Then you moved your mouth down near his cock letting your hot breath hit him while you continued your lazy hand movements.

“Bunnyyy- Bunny, Will you please let me touch you?!” Before you had started, you had asked him to still call you bunny, finding it quite amusing how he was begging for mercy so easily while using a moniker normally associated with submissives. You hummed and thought about his request for a moment while he writhed in desperation underneath you.

“No, I don’t think you’re nearly desperate enough for me yet. We’ve only just started.” He was most definitely one to beg easily, after all you had only been jerking his cock for a minute before he had already started pleading. You continued to pull pleas from him, only speeding up slightly when you wanted to make his moans just a little bit louder. When you could tell he was going to cum soon you pulled away, his hips bucking up off the bed

“Please! Bunny- free me, let me touch you! You know I’ll make it feel good!” His pleas did little to convince you, you still had so much planned. You then went under your bed to pull out your secret weapon. Your hitachi magic wand. The wand was normally used by Spencer to edge you and you thought it was time for a little bit of payback.

“Remember to let me know if it's too much for you, Spencer.” You said as you made your way back to him armed with the rechargeable vibrator. Spencer’s eyes were wild as he nodded in confirmation.

It roared to life when you pressed the power button, then you brought it to his cock lightly while you sat on top of his thighs. When you started to focus the vibrations at the head of his cock his thighs started to shake under you and his eyes rolled back.

“Remember to ask for permission.” Taunting him evilly while you turned up the vibrations to a slightly higher setting.

“I cant- I cant, I’m gonna cum!” He cried, with involuntary tears now rolling down his cheeks.

“Hold it. If you hold it just for a few more seconds I’ll let you touch me.” He let out an unexpected growl at your command, causing the fire in your belly to be stoked just a little bit more. He probably expected to be allowed to take over when you freed him, but you weren’t going to give up control that easily.

After the few seconds were up, you removed the wand from his aching cock. He jerked around again in frustration after being edged for the second time, but he’d soon be happy that he successfully held it. Once he started to come back from the edge you reached forward to undo the knot of the tie and he breathed a sigh, relieved that he was free.

When he tried to flip you over to enact his own little revenge you held your ground, the only way you were going to let him fuck you is if you were on top. You gripped his jaw between your fingers and pulled his face up close to yours, then making him look directly before speaking, “Remember I’m in charge tonight. I get to be on top or you don’t get to fuck me. Do you understand?”

“Yes, Bunny. I understand... Can you please fuck me?” You let go of his face after he spoke, letting him hit the back of his pillows harshly before giving him some relief by sinking down on his cock.

You weren’t gentle as you started to roll your hips into his own, loving the feeling of Spencer’s cock dragging through your walls. Spencer was crying underneath you, begging for you to let him cum as he gripped your hips hard.

“You only get to cum after I do.” You growled out while slamming your hips down harshly, causing a squeak to fall from him. Luckily for Spencer, it didn’t take long for your own orgasm to come over, helped by him rubbing your clit in quick circles. It was a long and powerful one, coming over in waves that had you moaning out loudly as well. Spencer was finally going to get what he had been desperate for.

“Alright, you can cum.” All you had to do was say those simple words and Spencer exploded inside of you. His moans were so loud while he rode it out that you were sure you guys were going to get a complaint in the morning.

After you both had come down a little you made sure to do a similar aftercare routine that Spencer did for you when he dominated you- cleaning him up, massaging his wrists with lotion, getting him some fresh clothes, and especially making sure to cuddle him up tight. Just before you were about to fall asleep Spencer asked you, “You were really good at that bunny, that was a pleasant surprise. Can you do it again sometime?”

—-

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datawyrms · 3 years

Text

Ghostly Mystery Tour

For Phic Fight 2021! dey’s lovely prompt c:

On Ao3

Maddie and Jack had fully prepared for their adventure into the Ghost Zone—or so they thought. The fuel on Specter Speeder had fizzled out about a mile in. They're stuck. At least, until Phantom comes by, offering help.

“I just don’t understand it Maddie, I swear I charged it just this morning!” Jack’s voice managed to be louder than his frantic jabbing at the fuel gauge in the enclosed space, the sickly green glow outside making him look ill instead of agitated.

“I’m sure you did honey, but we need to think of a plan.” Maddie was already trying to think of what they could use. They weren’t too far away from the portal home, with how quickly the Speeder ran out of power. They had plenty of gear and weaponry packed in for their research trip, but the Specter Speeder wasn’t powered with something they could just toss in a gas can and bring along. “Maybe we can hook some of the ropes to the floating land masses and tow it?”

“Oh! Great idea!” Jack brightened, shoving the previous problem aside, hands now occupied with measuring the distance of the nearby rocks. “The sooner we get moving, the sooner we can get back to work!”

The problem about how safe it actually was to breathe in the air when in the realm of the dead had been accounted for, but if they had to waste the air tanks just to get back- well they wouldn’t get to have nearly the amount of time to actually explore on foot, let alone gathering samples. They could learn so much about the ectoplasmic terrors from the world they clawed out of, weaknesses they didn’t need to fear on Earth even! So to have their expedition, a trip that had been months in the making derailed like this in mere moments hurt. At least Jack could keep his eyes forward, his positive attitude the only thing keeping her from screaming from the absolute unfairness of it all. “Just run the best options past me before you open the hatch, okay darling?”

“You betcha!”

She was still going to enable the Fenton Child Safety Lock as a precaution, he could get a little over eager when he saw an opportunity. It was just a matter of what tools could be repurposed into a makeshift claw or skewer to actually keep hold of the rocks. What would be the smallest loss?

The sound of something hitting the roof of the speeder halted her thoughts, turning to look out of the windows, drawing up her hood in case they’d be fighting so soon. Even Jack had stopped with his mental calculations, pulling a weapon from under the seat. “Company already? Guess we’ll show em what for, eh honey?”

“Well it is the Ghost Zone, they’re probably braver here. Not that it’ll be any problem.” A little boasting could help keep morale up, even if the situation was less than ideal. Stranded with a ghost already trying to take advantage, typical.

“Well one little zap with this baby and it’ll scoot right on back!”

If the ghost could hear them, maybe it would be frightened off just by their voices. Whatever had hit them hadn’t shown itself near the window, or hit their vehicle again. It didn’t feel right. There might be no evidence for whatever it was lurking around, but sometimes you had to follow your intuition. Jack was inquisitive, but didn’t ask out loud as his wife stood to knock the ceiling herself.

“Sooo are we doing knock knock jokes, or do you need a tow?”

She should have known. Of all the ghosts, it would have to be the one that always managed to get her hackles up, pretending to be helpful so people trusted him. A ghost that even tried to have a human name to fit in, not that she’d ever call this thing ‘Danny’. It was an insult to her baby boy, quite frankly. “What are you up to now?”

“Asking you if you need this thing moved. Duh,” the ghost snorted, the metal clanking as he knocked it again. “Talking at you from the roof feels dumb, you gonna shoot if I go to the front?”

“Depends on what you do, ghost scum!” Jack had looked pensive for a moment, but spoke up quickly on spotting Maddie reaching for a notebook. He just had to give her time to think it over, and he was great at distractions.

“Is scum what you call all people who help you out, or am I just your favourite?” A white haired head appeared at the top of their window, looking down with an amused smirk at the pair. Still playing innocent when they were at a disadvantage.

“You’re a ghost ‘claiming’ to want to help.”

That earned a frown, though the ghost stopped half hiding to float in front of their stranded speeder. “Riiiight. Put it that way, whatever,” he paused, as if studying their faces. His green eyes lingered on the weapon, notably so even as he went back to jabbering. “I’ve got some stuff to do, but I can drag the s-that thing back to the portal. So?”

The hunters shared a glance, unsure how to handle it. Phantom liked to claim he liked humans and protecting them, but he was a ghost. There had to be something he wanted out of them in return. Or might get violent if refused in the wrong way. At least he shouldn’t be able to see the quickly scrawled message to Jack. ‘You play the doubtful one, I’ll pretend to trust him- it’ll underestimate us’

“As if, spooky! Jack Fenton doesn’t need any ghost’s help!”

The ghost bought the open hostility without a second thought, eyes rolling to a sky that wasn’t here. “Really? I heard tow trucks were expensive out of state! Can’t imagine the out of dimension costs.”

It was going to be difficult to stay civil when it would be so much easier to just demand the ghost stop playing around. “We’re listening. So what do you want?”

“Awwww Mads, we don’t need this punk’s help! He doesn’t even have toes!”

The passion Jack had put into his moping managed to baffle the ghost. “Wait, what? Of course I do! No, stop, why does that matter? I know tows and toes are different things! I’m not that bad of a student, sheesh.” He seemed quite thrown, which was good. If the ghost forgot what the plan had been he might just get lost.

“Yeah, and you don’t have either Phantom!” Her husband managed to keep from laughing, but the shake in his shoulders showed it was a near thing.

Phantom glanced down at the black wispy tail that made up his legs, muttering something. “Well okay I don’t right now, but I normally do!”

It was a bit fascinating that Jack had distracted the ghost from his goal so completely. They’d have to think about an invention that could replicate the effect. “Can we focus please? I already said I’d listen to what you wanted.”

“Oh! Right, sorry,” he coughed, a strangely human expression of embarrassment. “I don’t actually need anything? I just have some stuff to do so you’d need to wait a bit.”

Oh right. Sure, the most dangerous ghost in town wanted to help the ghost hunters that wanted to destroy him ‘just because’. Just wait here while he goes to get some friends to attack them! Honestly, did ghosts think they were stupid? “Then why not tell us when you’re done? We’re not moving very quickly.”

“Cus he wants to make us think we’re safe before WHAM! Outnumbered by cowardly ghosts!” Jack expressed her true feelings effortlessly. “Not that it’d help em!”

“No way, you think I’d leave you guys here where anyone can try something?” The ghost still seemed confused, eyebrows raised and arms crossed. “You guys are here to study or whatever anyway, right? So you can look around while I get my errands done. And you know, you don’t get attacked. Most of the little guys leave me alone.”

As if that was a surprise! A ghost of Phantom’s strength could destroy smaller and weaker entities without effort. Perhaps it was a subtle threat slipping through his mask of ‘helpful child’. The idea of going deeper into the Ghost Zone, completely at his mercy was...well absolutely idiotic. Even if they could probably overcome him...being able to still get some studies done would make it not a complete waste of a trip. “So you think it’s likely we’ll be attacked here, so close to the portal?”

“Yeah, by him!” Jack looked tempted to grab his weapon, but refrained. “So what if we say no, huh?”

“Then I guess you can float here? Up to you, I guess.”

It was strange, to see the cocky ghost a bit hesitant. Even if there was an obvious threat he wasn’t mentioning. “Well if you could pull the Speeder, you could take it even if we don’t want you to.”

“I think that’s called kidnapping.” Phantom’s cocky smirk returned “Which is weird, you’re not kids! Adultnapping? Nah, that sounds dumb.”

“Ah cut the innocent act, we’re not falling for it!”

“Hey, I said it’s up to you! Either you agree to come along and I get you back home, or I just leave you guys to do whatever you plan to do. Even if yes, I could totally just drag the ship anyway. I’m not, because I’m trying to help, remember?” A hint of frustration slid past the confidence at ‘remember’, but the ghost folding his arms behind his head as if kicking back to relax did defang most of the threat. “I don’t have all day here.”

“We don’t have all day either Phantom. We have family to get back to, and no idea how long you plan to be ‘on errands’.” Maddie pointed out, still unsure what they should do. Trusting him was stupid, but he had showed his hand. Refusal might be met with the same result anyway, but ‘agreeing’ might trick the ghost into thinking they fell for his ‘trustworthy’ act.

“Like an hour or two? Not too long.”

“Well I’d use my Fenton Stopwatch! So don’t think you can pretend it’s a shorter time than it is, ghost!”

“Yeah yeah, you do that D-Jack,” he stumbled over the ghost hunter’s name, but otherwise didn’t move from relaxing. “It’s not gonna kill you to trust me for a bit.”

Even though it very much could kill them. He really was a smug bit of ectoplasm, thinking he blended in with humans well enough to be considered one. “So only a few hours, and you won’t stop us from researching or taking samples? Or lead us to a trap?”

“If I wanted people to get threatened by ghosts, I could just take some days off. No trouble, cross my heart. I’d swear to die but I got the jump on that bit,” he snorted at his own joke, but otherwise left the family to consider.

It was just safer to say ‘yes’ so the ghost thought they were fools. It had nothing to do with wanting to salvage something out of this disaster of an expedition. “Yes. We’ll accept your help, this time.”

“And you aren’t getting any thanks until we’re home, got it?” Good, ghost hunter, bad ghost hunter. An easy enough trick. Even if she wished Jack was the ‘trusting’ one. Yelling would feel nice.

“Yeeeah, kinda expected that too. Rude.” The ghost only shrugged before flying up and out of sight. She half expected to hear the ghost grab the Speeder, but they only really noticed when they started moving. Moving very, very quickly.

She couldn’t help it, her curiosity tamped down some of the fear she should be feeling, pointing out interesting landmasses as they passed, Jack just as enthusiastic to discuss what caused them, if the ghost built them or they were simply generated when a ghost squirmed into existence. A great castle that seemed familiar, an island with some sort of skull as a decoration and thousands of doors. Most ghosts they only could get sparing glimpses at, even when carrying an entire vehicle the ghost boy was fast. Ridiculously so. She thought it was his small figure that contributed to how quickly the pest could move- how the ghost could just vanish out of range in moments. That most of the power behind his physical attacks came from the speed they were delivered with instead of raw strength. Clearly that was an incorrect hypothesis, moving this quickly and carrying so much extra weight without any real difficulty. They slowed near what seemed to be another castle, though it was much less foreboding looking then the other one.

That sinking dread returned after they landed. She had some landmarks, but this much distance would be a big ask to get back. That, and this castle seemed more...occupied, judging by some humanoid ghosts loitering near the gates. One even waved. To them, or the ghost carrying them?

“Okayyy so. Ground rules? Don’t shoot anyone. None of these guys even go through the portal, they’re not the fighting type. Other than that? Have fun, I guess?” He’d stopped floating, standing on the ground beside their stalled craft. He didn’t look as if preparing to fight, which is what she’d assumed the ghost meant by ‘errands’. So what was he up to?

“We won’t do anything if they don’t.” A lie, honestly, but the ghost nodded.

“Wait, what’s that stuff for?” White gloves pointed at the masks the ghost hunters were pulling from under the seats. “Like you can hear me, there’s air out here.”

“It might be safe for ghosts, but we aren’t ghosts.”

Phantom opened his mouth as if to protest before shutting it with a frown. Strange, it was hard to get him to shut up most of the time.

“Nice try, we’re not gonna choke on ghost air today, Phantom!” Jack chuckled, adjusting his mask before popping open the hatch.

“I wasn’t expecting you to- oh whatever. Just don’t embarrass me,” he sounded like a sulking kid, only glancing at them for a moment before kicking off the ground to fly closer to the castle. Off to fight whoever ‘owned’ this area, perhaps?

“Well look at that! Regular plants!” Jack shook her from her pondering, crouched over what looked like a tended to flower bed near the walls. “Well, ghost plants that aren’t trying to attack. Think we should sketch em for the kids?”

“Well Jazz has been more interested in ghosts lately, I suppose.” It was interesting, but she was more curious about the ghost meandering past the walls. They seemed docile, almost like people just walking and apparently talking with one another. Not attempting to fight for territory or resources. Perhaps they were just repeating the memories of their lives over and over? Yet none of them had reacted badly to Phantom zipping past either. A different breed of ghost, perhaps? Or ghosts often had ‘kings’ that kept the lesser ones from squabbling. The large brute of a ghost that stole the town had claimed to be a king of sorts, and this was another castle...but she didn’t want to test anything by getting their attention. They might only act savagely towards humans, being jealous of those still alive after all.

“Yeah, she has! Danno might not like em, but that goth chick he’s eyeing might like em too!” He was already sketching away, quickly getting the basics. He’d fill in the details from memory back home. “You want to try seeing if those ones talk? Not sure how the ghost kid thinks we could embarrass him, ha!”

“Oh he was probably just trying to insult us. He likes to pretend to be a teenager,” she waved that question away, double checking her weapon was easy to reach in case of an emergency. No reason to make their predicament worse by being unprepared. While still considering to go near those ghosts instead of safely observing from a distance. Jack’s enthusiasm was too infectious, really, but that’s how they made so many discoveries!

The ghosts didn’t object to her moving closer, but she kept off the busier paths to be safe. So many stalls of what seemed to be goods, clothing and paintings, rugs and nick knacks. Well, the ghosts didn’t need anything to live, so it would make sense for them to prioritize other items first, but the art was strange. What did the dead know of creativity? Were these all recreations of something found in life? No, some of the paintings had the green skies of the Ghost Zone, implying at least some ‘new’ thought. They were strange, very unlike the wild animals that often attacked the town, or the showy inhuman mimics that tried to claim world domination. They just looked like greener, more transparent people. Barely any of them even floated much. They’d need new categories, they broke too many rules that stayed true on Earth.

“Oh that’s a lovely shade of blue! I wish I could make something like it.” The voice echoed, but it wasn’t growling or mocking. In fact, the ghost woman who had paused beside the hunter was smiling warmly, despite the dead red eyes. “Are you just visiting for a bit?”

“We’re mostly stuck going wherever the ghost boy is taking us, our ship broke down,” Maddie struggled not to frown, her natural inclination to get away from the still potentially dangerous ghost strong with so many fights. She could tell it the truth, in a sense. Phantom was far more likely to be dangerous then this waif of a woman. How she could move in so many ruffles was baffling.

“Oh dear! Well if he’s any trouble you can let Dorthea know, she’s a caring ruler. A human helped her get her rightful throne back, so I’m sure she’d be happy to help!” The ghost tittered a little, as if expecting that to be obvious.

So the ghost did know she was human? Far more alarming was the idea some other human had been dragged this far from home, possibly trapped. Maybe this would turn into a rescue mission. Unless it was too late for them, a distinct possibility. “Oh really? How did that happen?”

“Oh I don’t really know the details, but it was a human that inspired our good Queen that she didn’t need to fear that tyrant and she could fight back. I wish I’d seen it!”

It was disquieting how human the ghost sounded, a friendly sort of gossip. If only she had a way to record it. “The human got back home after helping, right?”

“Well I assume so, she had no intentions of staying here very long, that’s for sure!” She laughed easily, apparently blind to Maddie’s confusion and apprehension, or just unable to see it past the mask and goggles. “I’m fairly sure Sir Phantom took her back, you could ask him.”

Sir? That town terrorizing scoundrel was respected around here? And had been taking humans out of the ghost zone? Probably because he made whoever it was get here in the first place, just to rescue them. Was that why he was here? To stage some new act with this ghost queen? “Right, I might do that.” Would she? This morning she hadn’t expected to talk to ghosts, let alone multiple.

“Oh! If you see any of those angry blobs you can just run back towards the guards and they’ll deal with it. It’s their job, and they’re quite good at it. I actually considered doing that job for a bit, but I like looking after the plants more. Maybe I’ll switch in a decade or two!” The ghost kept talking, apparently taking Maddie’s lack of further questions as permission to keep chattering.

“Can’t you deal with them yourself?” Attacking ghost blobs was something she knew about, and if this ghost was strong enough to mimic humans, shouldn’t it be able to deal with the much less sophisticated tactics of blobs?

“Me? Oh no, I’m not not trained. Do you still have lions on the other side? It would be like trying to fight one of those with a stick!” She laughed, but not unkindly.

“You’re both ghosts though, aren’t you?” Perhaps they differentiated themselves by name in the Ghost Zone? It would lend some evidence to the ‘different breeds’ of ghost hypothesis she was rapidly stringing together.

She tapped at her chin for a moment at the question. “I suppose we are, but they’re more like animals. They might have always been animals, or never alive at all! It’s perfectly safe here though, they usually fight more among themselves.”

Well that was fascinating. Some ghosts didn’t instinctively know how to fight and had to be taught? Yet didn’t consider themselves completely separated from the more animalistic ectoplasmic terrors. Perhaps the more ‘domestic’ setting here made the ghosts less feral and more reliant on their previous memories. Well, the ghost could be lying, but she couldn’t see the benefit she’d gain from deception here. “So you’re kind of stuck here then? We saw a lot of those outside of this place.”

“No no, we’ve got safer ways to travel than just flying around! Not all of us are that brave, dear. Though I don’t think I’d want to stay somewhere else very long anyway. Here it’s safe, all my friends are here and we have one of the largest markets in the whole Ghost Zone. Other ghosts come to us!” There was a hint of pride as she spoke about her ‘home’, gesturing over to some of the stalls Maddie hadn't had time to look at before getting interrupted. “I was really hoping to get something from the seven armed bloke over there, but he’s not very interested in my clothing. Maybe next time.”

Said ‘bloke’ had far too many eyes to go with the arms, and a collection of honestly terrifying little statues with strange designs that made her head hurt if she looked at it too long. A clear outsider to the more human ones, but not causing a stir. So much for constantly fighting out groups, but they barely had anything in common either! Not to mention engaging in some kind of simplistic trading. “So this happens often?”

“Pretty much. It’s fun to make new things, but you get bored of just your own stuff after a few centuries you know? So we swap and find new things.”

Well of course, it’s not like the ghosts needed to trade for something vital to existence. Swapping ‘things’ made more sense in that context. So why weren’t any trying to trade strength or favours? Or simply taking what they wanted? Was it related to having a queen? She had so many questions that knowing what ones needed to be asked was next to impossible. “I suppose you would. How can you tell if a ghost that comes is peaceful?”

“Asking!” She laughed again, apparently finding the question funny. So they didn’t deal with constant attacks from spectres like Phantom trying to ‘take over?’ Why?

“Oh geeze, I’m so sorry if she said anything about trying to-” Phantom’s voice interrupted her thoughts, the ghost suddenly floating beside the other ghost and sputtering.

“Sorry? She’s been perfectly lovely! Haven’t you- oh I’m so rude, I didn’t even get your name!” the ghost tisked at herself, once again strangely apologetic.

“Wait, she has?” His doubtful tone made the ghost hunter scowl. As if he had any room to judge them.

“We’re scientists, not uncontrollable monsters.” Like him. She was fairly sure he caught the implication when the boy muttered something she couldn’t hear.

“Cool. Anyway, got another stop, then I’ll get you two back home.” He still hovered, glancing between the two of them a few times. “Oh. Maddie, that’s her name.”

“Lovely speaking with you Maddie! Had a good trip back, I’m Guenivier if you’re ever in the area again,” she smiled and gave another wave before somehow drifting back into the crowd without displacing even a bit of that dress.

“Who said you can give out my name?” Maddie hissed, once certain the other ghost was out of earshot.

He leaned back on teenager mannerisms, scoffing and heading away. “Because she wanted to know and thinks you aren’t a total ghost hater? It’s not gonna hurt anything.”

“How can I know you don’t have a way to locate people by name?”

He was rolling his eyes again as if she was being ridiculous. “You live in a house with a giant glowing sign. Not exactly subtle.”

“That isn’t in the ghost zone.”

“It’s attached to the ghost zone, it totally counts.”

It really was like arguing with a teenager when he bantered on like this. “Just don’t do it again.”

“Yes ma’am. Sheesh.” He hopped on top of the speeder, kicking his heels against the side. “Hey Jack, you coming?”

“Coming!” he bellowed back, jogging over from the patch of plants she’d left him at. However, he wasn’t just carrying his notebook, but a folded glowing bit of cloth. Some sort of tapestry judging by all the stitching? “Just wanted to get a few more lines done-” he broke off after spotting his wife, apparently reminded that he shouldn’t be so chummy with the ghost. “I mean I leave when I want to, you can’t boss Fentons around!”

“Oh come onnn, can you pretend you don’t hate me for like five minutes? I’m not even doing anything!” Phantom complained, flopping backwards onto the Speeder. “You were totally having a good time”.

“How did you get that, dear?” Maddie chose to ignore their sulking captor and instead look at what Jack managed to gather besides sketches.

“Oh, one of the ghosties liked my pictures and asked to trade for one! So I gave em a page for this! We can study how they made it back home, neat huh?”

Apparently he hadn’t been too worried about it being a trap, but a picture he’d just sketched wasn’t a big ask for something that could teach them a lot about the ghosts in here, so it was a good trade nonetheless. “You did great sweetie. Just make sure to store it safely, just in case.”

“Already on it sweet cheeks!” He was indeed, already pulling out a large sample bag to store their find before opening the hatch again.

“Ew. I changed my mind, go back to threatening me. Sappy is worse.”

Well, at least the ghost regretted his actions a bit. He’d be more sorry if he tried anything, but this did just seem to be something to sooth that hero complex it had. So far, anyway. She was tempted to ask the ghost what it had been up to at the castle, but it didn’t really matter. He’d just lie anyway, he clearly wasn’t the same sort of ghost as the weaker ones back there.

“Ha, he crumples in the face of our love Madds!” Jack laughed, hugging his wife and they got comfortable back in the speeder. “You think he’d take us back home if I said how much I love ya?”

“I so don’t need to hear this.” He was muffled, apparently still flopped on the speeder. He didn’t add anything before the Speeder lifted from the ground and resumed speeding through the strange green expanse.

“Clearly he buys his own teenager delusion.” Maddie mused, content to rest against Jack and look through his sketches. “Did they seem strangely lifelike to you too?”

“Oh sure! They just talked and didn’t even seem interested in going to the human world! Even though one was very jealous of how bright my jumpsuit is.” He leaned a bit to flick a few pages forward. “I sketched a couple and got their names, so we can see if we can look em up. See if they’re similar to their old selves according to history and all.”

“That’s a good idea. I didn’t get a complete name, but apparently they have jobs? Not like the wilder ghosts, and they do have a queen…” she paused, remembering the ‘human’ Phantom apparently ‘helped home. “Hey! You did help someone home from the ghost zone before, did you?”

“Huh? Oh! Yeah, she’s back safe. Wasn’t even a whole day.” He sounded distracted, or at least surprised by the question.

It could be a valuable lead. That, and the human might need help after such an experience. Who knew how ecto contaminated they might be! “Who was it?”

“How should I know? Just because I’m in town a lot doesn’t mean I know everyone’s name.”

She frowned, glancing at Jack who only shrugged. So he hadn’t heard that story, only her. “You know ours.”

“Because you shout them at me and shoot at me a lot? Pretty easy to remember!”

“Ghost kid’s got a point.” Jack admitted, patting her on the shoulder. “We’ll just find who it is ourselves! Just an extra project.”

“What, and just make their life weird again by bringing up ghost stuff? Leave em alone.”

Well now they absolutely had to look into it, if Phantom wasn’t keen on the idea. Better to let him think they agreed though. “True, it could just lead you back to them.”

“Hey! This is all you, not me!”

Jack chuckled. “You’re really good at riling him up. Almost sounds like our Danny like that, getting all touchy about fun family activities!”

“Well he probably copies behaviour from local teenagers,” she didn't like that comparison though. Their children were nothing like life destroying ghosts. It was better to turn her attention to the passing green and how the amount of doors seemed to dwindle as masses of ice started to become the most prominent detail. That made more sense, actually. Phantom had started using ice in addition to ectoblasts, if he came from somewhere with this sort of climate it seemed less out of place with his other abilities. Even if he was otherwise ill suited to snow and ice with how he insisted on looking like a kid.

The next stop felt more like a mistake, with only hills of untouched white powder and ice to see, but the crunch of snow below confirmed they were no longer moving. Good thing they came prepared with heated coats!

“Not a whole lot around here! If it wasn’t for all the green we could pretend we were in Alaska.” Jack chattered as he shrugged a coat on, still apparently too excited to look around to keep his suspicion up. “They don’t all like castles, or maybe it’s a hidden one!”

He better not be thinking Santa had an ice castle. That was probably what he was thinking of, but she didn’t really want to bring up their annual argument at the moment. He could be wrong today, there were more important things to do. “You do realize it’s a frozen wasteland you’ve stranded us on?”

“It’s not that cold.” Phantom objected, circling the Speeder idly.

“Easy for a ghost to say, you’re always cold ghost kid!”

He stopped at that, glancing back at Jack. “It's not that bad, is it?”

“Only because we brought warm clothing. Jumpsuits aren’t enough for the living.” Maddie huffed, looking at the snowfields to find anything worth looking at. The structures of ice were somewhat interesting, but not inherently ghostly.

“Well you guys can stay here, I guess.” The ghost bit at his lip, playing up the concern now that they pointed out a frozen wasteland was cold. Honestly, how did anyone fall for Phantom’s act if he made mistakes like this? “I don’t think Frostbite’s people come out this far…”

“Oh, are they dangerous? We can take any of your little ghostly pals!”

Phantom looked as if Jack suggested exploding a building. “No! Don’t fight any of them! They just look scary, okay? Just ignore them, if any show up.” He didn’t wait for a response before flying off this time, apparently in much more of a hurry this time.

“Sounds like he’s worried about what we can do to his little pals, huh?” Jack elbowed his wife with a grin. “Well, maybe we can find something weird about the ice here!”

It was better to try getting some of the ghost ice instead of doing nothing, though she doubted it would be very different from regular ice, beyond the ectocontamination. Now what would a ghost think is ‘scary looking’? He hadn’t given such a warning when close to all of the other ghosts, after all. It was a bit of a mystery, and none of the ice here had any identifying marks or hints of another odd little ghost ‘civilization’. ‘Frostbite’ wasn’t much of a name either, perhaps they were more like the wild sort that came to Amity?

“Oh hoh! Look at this!” Jack yelled out, pointing to something below him as he waved her over.

A large, clawed footprint left in the snow, and fairly deep. So something monstrous after all, as expected. “Maybe we can get a cast of it?” They had supplies for it, but she wasn’t certain if it would work in the ice correctly. The tracks didn’t go for long, but following them wasn’t a very tantalizing idea. Better to keep a distance and be well armed if they wanted to tangle with whatever left this. It wasn’t as distracting as the previous stop, but the sound of crunches increasing in volume had the couple back on edge and wary.

“Seriously, we should just go-”

It sounded like the ghost boy was near wherever the crunches were coming from, which didn’t improve her mood one iota.

“Nonsense! I have been asking to meet them for how long?” A deep, growling and carrying voice came in response as Maddie readied a weapon.

“Yeah, that’s the problem. You don’t want to, trust me.”

“Seems he doesn’t have a very high opinion of ghost hunters, eh Mads?” Jack was less noticeably readied, still half crouched near the footprint, but his hand hovered where a weapon was concealed. She focused on her breathing as the sound grew louder, eyes narrowed as she spotted a large figure cresting the nearby hill. With the little white haired ghost boy completely at ease near it. Nothing like his regular behaviour, let alone the talking. Why would this huge beast know of them?

“What did I say about not shooting people?” Phantom actually seemed to blush on seeing her holding the weapon, smacking his face. “Okay, you saw them, bye now!”

The large furred creature ignored how the smaller ghost pushed at their shoulder, instead waving with a horrific ice claw, bones gleaming from within as it seemed to rip at the very air. “Well our first meeting was hardly perfect either, I can manage.”

“Yeah but I can’t just pull a ‘won’t shoot a big yeti’ icicle out of their jumpsuits!”

For a human loving ghost, Phantom was certainly very concerned about this giant horned monster being harmed by ‘mere humans’. More proof of his act, at least. Though the large creature did have a cloak of some sort and clothing. He spoke well, if you ignored the fanged mouth and growls. A strange contradiction of appearance and intent. That wasn’t a normal thing for ghosts either, you could gather a decent amount about one by how they looked. So why was this one chatting and apparently interested in seeing two humans? “So, you’re the ‘Frostbite’ he mentioned?” She hazarded a guess, but wasn’t going to put the gun away.

It showed its fangs, maw wide and unnerving. “Yes, I am! It is an honour to meet you” The furry head bowed slightly, as if trying a sort of nod of respect. “Your work assisted the Great One in vanquishing Pariah Dark, we all owe you a debt of gratitude.”

“Please don’t call me that. Especially in front of them!” the green eyed ghost practically squawked, somehow flushing even harder when he didn’t even have blood.

Maddie’s mind almost flipped over from the sheer confusion of what this terrifying ghost said. They had ‘helped’ vanquish something? More likely, Phantom had stolen something. So why did this ghost still give them credit? That wasn’t even starting to touch why the ghost boy would be considered great in any aspect. “Assisted him? Do you mean with that ghost who took our town into the Ghost Zone?” She wasn’t sure if that was what the ‘king’ ghost was called, but it made more sense than anything else she could think of.

“Indeed. The King of All Ghosts would have sent the infinite realms into chaos and conflict. Of course we are grateful for your help in preventing that.”

“That’s when you stole the Ecto Skeleton!” Jack spoke up, no longer tense. “You never brought it back.”

“That’s not my fault, that thing almost wasted me! It was gone once I woke up!” The boy objected, but seemed to settle down when the larger ghost ruffled his hair. “I wanted to bring it back.”

“I’m sure now they understand how vitally important that technology was, for your world and ours.” The ghost’s yellow eyes watched them expectantly, the unnerving void of pointed daggers thankfully closed now.

“Well it did get Amity back where it belonged.” Losing the Ecto Skeleton had been a blow, but an acceptable one to get back to normal. The fact that more ghosts seemed to know and care about their part of it was somewhat unnerving. She very much doubted Phantom just ‘lost’ it either. Jack suffered from the demands of the suit, but the ghost was just ectoplasm and electricity. Quite unlikely he could be drained that much, it wasn’t meant for ghosts to use in the first place.

“Your world? Doesn’t the kid live here?” Jack asked, making his wife blink. She hadn’t noticed that odd phrasing.

“No, no. The Great One prefers the human world and his friends. How are they doing?”

He froze up, eyes flicking to the hunters and back to the yeti. “Fine. They’re great.” He darted closer to the two hunters, gesturing at them to move. “Okay let’s go.”

How much interacting was this ghost doing with humans to have ‘friends’ it told other ghosts about? They could be in danger, or used as targets! “No no, we’d love to hear about your friends.”

“Nope, you don’t, gotta get home right? Big hurry, don’t trust me, remember?” He was practically pleading with them.

Frostbite’s ears twitched as he tilted his head. “Don’t trust you? Surely they’re the ones who taught your friends how to drive that craft of yours?”

Phantom had the gall to turn invisible.

“We were unaware anyone other than us was using it, actually.” Maddie didn’t bother to keep the frost from her voice.

“Ah, well at least the good news is I already knew how to make a replacement battery for it when the Great One came asking for help.” His tail twitched, as one of the great claws scratched at his furry chest. “It should be good as new once you can install it.”

So not only was this ghost stealing technology and bringing humans to the ghost zone, it was teaching other ghosts how it worked! The second that ghost was in their grasp, he’d have some serious answering to do. “Do all of you call him that?” It was the only question she could ask without wishing to spit acid, quite frankly.

“All of the Far Frozen recognize him as such, but not all ghosts are the same. He should be proud of the title, a savour of two worlds.”

“Frostbite I’m begging you, stop! It’s embarrassing!” The ghost dropped his invisibility, still looking more like a flustered kid instead of the heroics seeking fame junkie he was.

“Well if it helps your relationship with these ghost hunters, I think it is important that they know.”

“Yeah no. Let’s not.”

It felt like there was something the two ghosts weren’t saying. That, and the fact Phantom didn’t seem to like being hailed as a hero here in the Ghost Zone didn’t make sense. Why all the grandstanding in Amity then?

“Well we’ll be glad for the lift home. You shouldn’t steal from us, kid.” Jack tried a stern approach, and the ghost actually flinched from the rebuke.

“You’re not the only ones who want to map this place out, that’s all,” he didn’t really seem to be answering them, more talking to himself before launching himself at the Speeder again. “You can shoot at me about it back home or whatever.”

“Travel safely! Do try and explore your other half more often, Great one. You’re always welcome here.” His great furry head watched them all easily, seeking out the ghost hunters eyes as well. "I understand you are less interested, but you are welcome to see the realities of my home as well. It may surprise you, in a good way."

She desperately wanted to ask what that monster of a ghost meant by that, but managed to hold her tongue. If all the ghosts here saw Phantom as some sort of godlike hero, chewing him out here wasn’t safe. Jack’s small nod of agreement and warm hug helped, but it couldn’t stop her mind churning. They’d seen and hurt so much, and none of it made any sense! This Frostbite just threw in several more wrenches in the works with only a few sentences, but with how agitated Phantom was getting now wasn’t the time to push their luck. Perhaps when the shoe was on the other foot, and the boy needed their assistance.

He didn’t speak up or grumble this time as they left the frozen land behind. Though that might be them as well,m sitting close together and considering the notes and samples they had taken. That and the huge list of questions Jack had scrawled down in the margins of a sketch of Frostbite. How could a ghost like Phantom truly manage to stay in the human world most of the time? Did it have to do with this ‘other half’ that ghost had mentioned? Would knowing what it was reveal a weakness in the ghost? So many questions, but no answers. Why had Phantom even let them speak to any ghosts, considering how badly he’d reacted to some of the information given? He couldn’t genuinely be wanting to help.

The inviting glow of the portal appeared sooner than either of them could expect, the ghost dropping the ship on the lab floor with a loud clunk.

“See? Home. No ‘evil plan’” he floated into view, and she was fairly sure he only did so to make those air quotes with his hands.

“So you say, ghost kid. Don’t think we won’t be checking for tricks!”

“Yeah sure,” he shrugged, grinning after a moment. “Oh hey, by the way, you do know what the Speeder is powered with, right?”

Maddie didn’t actually know how to take that question. “Of course we do, we built it!”

“Uh huh.” His grin widened as he kicked back, legs vanishing into that strange tail. “All you had to do was take the cover off. It’s the Ghost Zone! There’s ectoplasm everywhere! I just had Frostbite make a backup.”

...Had they really- They had. They’d been dragged around by a ghost for no reason at all! “Why you little-”

He kept laughing before turning and getting out of the way. “Thanks for flying with Phantom Zone Tours! I’m out.” A jaunty wave and he was gone, leaving two baffled ghost hunters behind.

“I think some fudge is in order after that!”

She couldn’t say he was wrong. Maybe fudge could make sense of that whole affair. All that for a prank? It didn’t add up. They’d have a lot of work to do.

#Danny Phantom #phic fight 2021 #Maddie Fenton #jack fenton #hey look a fun one!#tho they are kinda mean about poor danny-boy #but hey minimal angst! woo!#Team Ghost

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primasveraas-writing · 3 years

Text

i've heard them calling my name

Anakin Skywalker faces five people after the second great betrayal of his lifetime.

Inspired in part by @naberiie's "thirteen minutes".

WORD COUNT: 1803

XXX

Anakin Skywalker isn’t dead, but he is dying.

It hurts, and he is used to the pain, the ache in his lungs, and the throbbing in what remains of his limbs. He’s used to the grief and the guilt and the sorrow.

What’s new is the light flooding him, overwhelming his mind and senses. What’s new is love, the feeling returned after an eternity of bitterness and hatred. What’s new is his son, so much smaller than Anakin in his mechanical suit, dragging him through the hangar, and the determination and compassion that flow from him; Luke the bright epicenter of his suddenly recentered galaxy.

But dying sounds like a horrible, raspy breath, and the wheeze of a failing ventilator.

And love sounds like: “I won’t leave you here. I’ve got to save you.”

Dying is dimness creeping in at the corners, quickly enough to scare Anakin, to rush his goodbyes.

Love is the blue of his son’s eyes, and the kindness shining in his face that reminds Anakin so much of Padmé.

He thinks of his wife, and of his daughter who he never knew, and of his son, and he mourns them all in a second, because the darkness is closing in, and his consciousness is fleeing him as is air, and again Luke desperately promises not to leave him, and Anakin exhales for the last time and his son’s voice is the last thing he knows.

There is incredible darkness and Anakin does not know nor think until a voice calls out his name and recognition blossoms with a burst of light flooding the void.

“Obi-wan?”

There is shame, deep and consuming because Anakin has betrayed his son, but he was a brother long before he was a father, and he has ruined Obi-wan with no chance of salvation like there is for Luke, and-

“Master, I’m so sorry- so very, very-”

Obi-wan says his name again, and tells him that there is more, that there can be forgiveness and immortality, and Anakin wants but he does not deserve, but he wants to see Luke again and meet his daughter and Anakin has always been selfish despite the Jedi’s teachings.

And if Obi-wan is truly offering him this chance- Obi-wan, with his fair logic and pragmatism- then maybe he does indeed deserve this, even if all others, Anakin included, do not think the same.

“I failed you, Master.”

Silence. Then, the light ripples, and there is his master, and he is smiling gently, and he shakes his head.

“And I failed you, Anakin. You needed more from me than I ever offered, and I am sorry for that.”

“After all I’ve done-”

“You did what no other Jedi could, in the end, and that is as the Force wills it.”

“I wish-” Anakin’s voice catches. “I wish it were different.”

“As do I.” Obi-wan looks sad now, and that is familiar, but he opens his arms and steps closer to Anakin. They embrace, there is love and comfort between them, things that Anakin has not allowed himself to miss in thirty long years.

When they part, Obi-wan regards him for a long moment, then speaks again.

“I still have much to teach you,” he says slowly, and Anakin nods. This has not changed, even now. “You will see others who have missed you as I have. You will find forgiveness and anger in unexpected places, from those living and dead, but, my dear padawan,” Obi-wan smiles now, a true contentedness painting his features, “you will know peace again. That is what you deserve.”

His mother is before him in the emptiness, as if from a dream.

Anakin Skywalker is decades old and a Jedi Knight and a war hero and a tyrant and a Sith Lord and evil personified and the Chosen One, and he sees his mother and runs to her.

Her embrace is warm and tight, and he knows her from the way his head buries into her neck, and the length of her arms around him, and the faint smell of spice on her tunic, and every inflection of her voice as she murmurs his name, and calls him my son, and says how I’ve missed you, and he sobs into her, pulling them both to their knees as he does.

“Mom,” he gasps, and all the shame hits him anew. He is his mother’s son, his selfless, compassionate, angel of a mother, and he is a monster who turned against everything she believed in.

“I love you,” she tells him, and he ducks his head, unable to meet her eyes. Instead, he shakes his head, letting hot tears slip down his cheeks.

“Come now,” she chides, wiping the wetness away with her sleeve. It’s as if he were four again, and he had just scraped his knee, rather than-

“I don’t deserve you, Mom,” he chokes, and although he needs her, it’s true.

“No,” Shmi’s tone is firm and resolute, “it has always been my job to love you unconditionally, Anakin. I’ll not stop now.”

“I did such terrible things-”

“Yes. And I forgive you for them.”

“How? How can you?”

“You are my son,” she says, and she cups his face in her hands and smiles at him, and he knows warmth and love with startling clarity once more. “And you have earned my forgiveness and always deserved my love.”

Anakin sobs again and hides in her shoulder, and Shmi holds him close until the cries subside and he is nearly calm again.

“There is more,” she advises him after a long while, and her warmth and love are still there but Shmi is very serious. Anakin’s throat dries, and he knows they are thinking of the same person.

“Not yet,” she says. “Soon."

“How can I-” the words die in his throat, and Shmi presses a kiss to his brow and looks him in the eye.

“She lived and died for you, Anakin. That love does not mean nothing.”

She smiles at him, her crow’s feet wrinkling, and her love is familiar and good and palpable, and then she, and everything, disappears.

There is a beautiful woman, with dark hair and eyes, and a short frame. Her features are sharp, but not harsh or unkind, except in the way that she looks at Anakin, which is with a mask of anger, her mouth set into a stern frown.

His wife’s name is on his lips, but there are differences, slight, but noticeable, and he realizes it’s because one woman aged while the other died, and when Sabé speaks, her voice rings out clearly in the tone of a queen with no time for mercy or forgiveness.

“You killed her.”

Anakin cannot breathe nor reply, so he nods instead, and stares at his feet.

“She was my life, and she died because of you, your selfishness, your rage. I worried from the second she married you, that you would be the death of her, and I was right.

“She let her love consume her, and so did you, but your love was poison,” Sabé spits. “You never deserved her.”

“No,” Anakin whispers. These are not the thoughts that made Darth Vader, but these are the ones that fueled him.

“I buried her. I loved her and I lived for her, and I brushed her hair and dressed her in her funeral gown and I tried to seek vengeance, and years later, a monster came to Naboo to find answers as I did, and I wondered why you didn’t kill us.”

“Because you look like her,” Anakin is still quieted by his shame. “Because I couldn’t destroy what was left of her.”

“I would have killed you then if I knew. I wanted to kill Vader with my bare hands, but you- you betrayed her. Death wouldn’t have sufficed for you.”

“I deserve that,” Anakin says, clear and loud. Sabé doesn’t disagree, but she regards him for a moment, studying his face, her own features still set in anger.

Then: “She forgives you.”

“What?”

“She wants to see you.” Sabé sighs and confusion overtakes Anakin’s shock, his heart pounding in his chest. “She loves you.”

“I love her,” Anakin blurts, and he tries not to shrink under Sabé’s scrutiny. “I love her still.”

“So do I,” Sabé says bluntly. “Which is why you’re seeing me first.”

“To berate me?” It makes sense to Anakin, although he has not particularly enjoyed this conversation, but Sabé seems amused, her eyes glinting.

“To tell you that you have served a penance. To show you that many will not grant you forgiveness.”

“Do you?” He suspects the answer, but the question

“I love Padmé. I follow her lead.” Sabé tilts her head to the side. “Though I keep my own reservations.”

She smiles faintly at that, then she is gone.

Padmé stands three feet before him, and she smiles.

Anakin staggers forward and stumbles, sinking to his knees. Tears are already streaming down his face when he murmurs her name, mixed with apologies and said like a prayer.

“Anakin,” Padmé says, and she holds him, tangling her fingers in his hair. “Oh, Anakin.”

He breathes her in; he still remembers the scent of her perfume and the softness of her hair, and the way her body fits against his own larger frame, and the gentleness of her touch and her voice, and he has loved her since he was nine years old, and through war and darkness and villainy and death, he has not stopped loving her.

“I love you,” she tells him, and presses a kiss to his forehead. Anakin sobs, cradling Padmé against him, and begs her again for forgiveness. “I love you, Anakin.”

“I should have- I-”

“I know,” she says, and her tone is firm. “In the end, you have made things right. That is what matters to me”

“Our children,” he whispers. “Luke saved me.” He finally looks up at her, sees the warmth in her brown eyes. “He’s like you, Padmé.”

“I believed in him as I believed in you.” His wife smiles again. “I always did.”

“I missed you,” he breathes, and Padmé squeezes his hand.

“I missed you, too. I waited so long to see you again.”

“I’m here,” Anakin exhales, shaky. “All I wanted was to be with you again.”

“I have you now.” Padmé leans in, kissing him, then rests her forehead against his.

“Now I am complete.” Anakin echoes his mother’s words from all those years ago, and he knows they are true.

Padmé rises with him, wrapping both her hands around one of his, and reaches up to kiss him once more. He holds her with his free arm, never wanting to leave her embrace, and content in the fact that he does not have to let go.

#anakin skywalker #anidala #im not an anakin apologist and i kinda hate him so this is a mess #hmmmmm #anakin skywalker fanfic #star wars #anakin skywalker fanfiction #star wars fanfic #darth vader #chracter study #star wars fanfiction #obi wan kenobi #luke skywalker #padme amidala #shmi skywalker #sabe #rotj #post rotj

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firstofficerwiggles · 4 years

Text

Beskar and Lace

Pairing: Mandalorian x female reader

Rating: Explicit, 18+ only

Warnings: SMUT! swearing, masturbation, voyeurism (just a touch), oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (be safe in the real world, people)

Summary: Mando takes issue with what you wear to bed, so you decide to show him some other options and spiciness ensues.

Word Count: ~8700

Author’s Note: This was an idea I had when I wrote Dress Code but I couldn’t find a way to make it fit into that story so I wrote it as a stand-alone. If you’ve read my other stuff, you should know this is the smuttiest thing I’ve written to date, but while it’s not the softer Din I’ve written in the past, he still manages to be romantic in his own way. In any case, I hope you enjoy!

“Do you always dress like that for bed?” Mando’s voice catches you by surprise. He sounds a bit incredulous and you’re caught off guard because usually you’re already in bed fast asleep before he’s down here. You look down at your simple knee-length cotton nightgown, why should he care what you wear to bed?

“Yes? It’s a nightgown,” you reply, unsure of his reason for asking.

“It’s rather skimpy.” His voice sounds gruff, and disapproving?

You just blink back at the visor in his helmet for a moment and then glance down at yourself again in confusion.

“Skimpy?” He must be joking. “This is just like a longer shirt? I know it has short sleeves but, really, skimpy?” Now your voice sounds incredulous. This nightgown doesn’t even have much shape to it anymore having been washed and worn so often. Mando is standing there rigidly though, seemingly serious. You watch him as he tips his helmet down and up as if he is looking you over thoroughly and you feel your skin heat up under his gaze.

“It’s skimpy. I can practically see through it.” He says definitively. “You should cover up more. Space is cold.” His voice is still gruff and his commanding tone is starting to irritate you a bit, although you do have to tamp down your excitement at the see-through comment. Who does he think he is? You’re not some bounty he can push around. And why are you interested in him seeing through your nightgown??

“I’ve been wearing this every night since I took this job, and I’m perfectly comfortable” you tell him “besides, I don’t see what business it is of yours.” You reply a little haughty in an attempt to keep this conversation somewhat professional, Mando is your boss after all. You’ve been caring for his foundling for about six months now.

“It’s my business if you get sick.” Mando retorts.

“I’ll be fine.” You roll your eyes at his suggestion. He’s being ridiculous. “You’re worrying about nothing.”

Mando lets out one of his long-suffering sighs as if you are the burden of his existence before telling you, “We’ll be in Canto Bight tomorrow. There are plenty of shops there and I expect you to buy yourself some new to wear to bed.”

“Alright, fine.” His tone implies that you shouldn’t argue with him about this. He turns abruptly and heads to his bunk, closing the door without another word.

What the hell was that? You stare after him, utterly perplexed by that conversation. Again, you look down at the nightgown, and while you have to admit it is looking rather old and maybe a little ratty, you would never see it as something skimpy or even something that Mando would see necessary to comment on. You wonder for a minute if something else could be bothering him, perhaps he was just taking a bad mood out on you? You rack your brain but things have been rather routine lately and you chalk it up to Mando being under a lot of stress as per usual. You head to your sleeping area, a little space you’ve carved out for yourself in a corner of the hull, and try to will your mind to sleep. Yet, you can’t stop replaying the whole conversation in your head. You also can’t stop the evil part of your mind that wants to jump for joy that Mando was looking over your body so intently. Ok, so maybe you have had one or two (or three or four) improper thoughts about your boss. I mean you’re not made of stone. He’s so tall and big and built it would make any woman a little curious. Then when you add in that constant bedroom voice that he has, it’s completely understandable. At least that’s what you tell yourself. Plus, he’s also a great father, so kind and caring towards his adopted son – your evil mind has no mercy on you. You roll over with a groan, mentally kicking yourself for your full-blown crush on the Mandalorian. I am an idiot.

I am a total idiot. What the fuck must she think of me? Din can’t sleep either; he is also plagued with thoughts of you. Not that this is anything new for him. He hasn’t been able to stop thinking about you for months and months now. Din knows that he needs your help to care for the little one and he has tried so hard to be professional around you and not scare you off. From the moment he hired you he thought you were way too pretty, but he was so desperate for the help that he told himself he wouldn’t become distracted. Clearly, that was a lie. Whenever he’s around you, he can’t stop himself from being distracted, watching you tenderly care for the child, listening for your laughter and happy words, and living for the moments when you turn towards him with a smile or a kind gesture. Oh and if he thought you were pretty when you first met, now Din realizes that you are the most beautiful woman he’s ever known. Everything about you seems to turn him on, the curve of your lips when you say his nickname, the scent of your hair when it’s still damp from the shower, the sway of your hips when you rock the baby to sleep, the few times you’ve touched his bicep between his armor, all of it.

Ugh, but tonight, tonight was the closest he’s come to losing control around you. Usually Din tries to give you as much space as possible, waiting until he knows you’re in bed before going to bed himself. Except tonight, he came downstairs earlier than usual, and saw you wearing that thin little excuse for a nightgown. His heart skipped several beats when he realized he could see the outline of your figure right through it. It had him hard and wanting in seconds and so, he had picked a bit of a fight with you to preserve some semblance of normalcy. He sighed to himself again, he had sounded like a prudish jerk. But it was the right choice, and besides, you should get new nightclothes, something that would cover you up and keep his eyes off you. Who the fuck are you kidding? You’re still going to look at her. He groans at himself.

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

With the baby in tow in his little satchel, you explore the wealth of shopping in Canto Bight. Mando wasn’t kidding when he said there were plenty of stores here. It seems like the only things to do here are gamble, shop, and party. Mando is meeting with a client and for once, he’s given you some freedom to explore. You’re in one of the nicer casinos here and there are plenty of other tourists around, so you know that it must be safe or Mando would insist on accompanying you. Fortunately, you haven’t had to make many purchases in the time that you’ve been with Mando. He never lets you chip in for food or fuel, so you’ve mostly been saving your credits all this time. As you pass through the shops today, you marvel at the beautiful clothes, shoes, the fancy housewares, and so much more. You can’t resist buying the child a couple adorable plushy toys, including a frog that he immediately tries to eat before you gently explain to him that it is a toy. You decide to focus after that on your mission to buy a new nightgown and maybe some pajamas. You’ve made a few purchases, finding a couple soft pairs of pajamas that will be very relaxing and a very boring nightgown that comes down to your ankles, Mando’s style exactly, shows almost no skin. There’s no way he can find fault with these. As you continue through the shopping center, the baby suddenly reaches out as you pass a shop to grab something blue and silky. When you pry his little claws off the material, thankful that he hasn’t damaged it in any way, you realize it is a beautiful negligee. You look up at the rest of the store to see a lovely collection of mouth-watering lingerie. Evil You is back in a heartbeat. Maybe you should show Mando the true meaning of skimpy?

“Come in, come in!” The friendly sales woman sees you lingering at the entrance, “Everything is on sale today and we have so many fabulous items for you!” Her spirit and energy are captivating and you can’t help yourself. You follow her into the shop, letting your wicked thoughts get the best of you. You find yourself telling her that you need some sexy items for bedtime and the next thing you know you’re in the dressing room trying on increasingly delectable pieces of silk and lace. The baby has made himself at home in the waiting area sitting on a satin pillow and being fed fancy macarons by another sales woman, acting like the little prince that he is.

You admire yourself in the mirror, and although you have to admit that you look great, you can’t stop the debate going on in your head.

I am being ridiculous, buying lingerie to impress a man I’m not even involved with.

Yet! You’re not involved with him yet.

Shut up, I shouldn’t be thinking of Mando like this.

Why not? He’s hot, you’re hot, stop overthinking it.

I do look pretty hot in this.

Yes, you do! And you can buy it for yourself too. You deserve to look hot!

It’s ok if it’s for me. I can buy this for me. I’m a strong, confident, sexy woman who buys herself lingerie.

Of course you are!!!

And who is Mando to tell me what I can and can’t wear? If I want to wear something skimpy, I will.

That’s right, girl! You’ll show him!

You’ve completely talked yourself into buying several of the negligees, one of which is so sexy you’re not sure if you really have the confidence to wear it, but you’re feeling daring. You justify it in your mind by reminding yourself that everything is on sale, and who knows when you’ll have another opportunity to shop like this. You even end up getting a bottle of scented lotion that the saleswoman recommends as guaranteed to drive your man wild. Not that you care about that, you lie to yourself, it’s for you, the strong, confident, sexy woman.

“That was completely necessary,” you tell the baby as you brush the cookie crumbs from his robe and resettle him in his satchel while the sales women box up all of your purchases. They even include a bag of macarons for the child for later; he’s thoroughly charmed the women working here, and gives everyone a happy coo and waves goodbye like you taught him. You head back to the Razor Crest, thinking that you should probably quit before you get yourself into too much trouble.

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

It takes a while to get the baby to bed that evening as he’s still wound up on all the sugar and is likely reacting to the buzzing energy you have going on. Evil You has decided to be sure that Mando sees you in one of your new negligees tonight. He saw all of your boxes and bags earlier and gave you a brisk nod in seeing that you followed his instructions. You even went so far as to pull out the modest nightgown to demonstrate how well you listened to him, all the while, Evil You was cackling about what you really have in store for him. While he’s still up in the cockpit, you take your time getting ready for bed. You moisturize your skin all over with your new lotion, it does smell divine, and then you put on a beautiful black silk chiffon chemise with pale pink lace trim. It’s sexy without giving too much away, but still the hemline reaches only to mid-thigh and the neckline provides a generous view of your décolletage. And unlike the shapelessness of the old gown, this shows off your figure flawlessly. Your timing is perfect as you are just coming out of the fresher when Mando’s boots hit the floor of the hull. When he turns and sees you he stops dead and is so still you’d think he’d been frozen in carbonite like one of his bounties except you can still hear him breathing, rather heavily, you think. You decide to feign innocence, blinking up at him to say, “Oh, good night, Mando! Just on my way to bed.”

He stares at you for what feels like an eternity, not moving at all, until he grits out, “What. Is. That.”

“Oh! It’s one of my new nightgowns,” you keep up the wide-eyed act, “The sales woman said it was one of the most popular styles.” You even give a little half twirl to show it off, oh Maker, I am too much. You desperately want to ask him what he thinks but something tells you that you shouldn’t push him anymore yet.

“That is not the nightgown you showed me before,” his voice sounds accusatory.

You give a dainty shrug and say, “I was feeling too warm for that one.”

Mando doesn’t respond, but you watch as his hands curl into fists making the leather of his gloves squeak with the tightness. He watches you for a few more seconds before he abruptly turns away from you and stomps back up the ladder to the cockpit. Uh-oh that wasn’t the reaction you were hoping to get from him. Should I go apologize? Did I offend him by flouting some type of Mandalorian modesty rule?

In the cockpit, Din is absolutely shuddering with the strength of his need for you. His beskar feels claustrophobic and he has to rip the helmet off his head just so he can draw a full breath. He throws himself into the pilot’s seat and is already undoing his trousers to free his rock-hard cock before he even knows what he’s doing. He pulls off his right glove and quickly licks his palm, before gripping himself roughly, so he can fuck his own fist at a punishing pace. Seeing you in that lingerie, Maker, it was better than anything his imagination had invented. Plus, the way you smelled, like some type of delicious fruit mixed with an earthy spice. He thought he was going to pass out from how fast all the blood in his body had rushed to his groin. As he pumps himself, Din moans your name and thinks about you wearing that negligee while riding his cock right here in his chair. He fantasizes about how he could tug down those delicate little straps and free your breasts with almost no effort, and how good that silk would feel swishing against his skin as he thrust up into you. It was enough to send him over the edge, cumming with another loud moan of your name. Does she have any idea what she’s doing to me?

Well, you had some idea now. Your entire body was tingling and hot after hearing Mando’s sounds of self-pleasure coming from the cockpit. After his abrupt departure, you had stayed dithering for a few moments in the hull, until you had started to climb the ladder with a plan to check on him and possibly apologize. However, as soon as you realized what he was doing up there you froze and remained out of view. You knew you should have crept back down and given him some privacy, but when you heard him call out your name, it was like nothing could move you from that spot. He wanted you. It made you giddy with desire and you felt a surge of feminine power that you could bring out such a feeling in him. Hearing Mando like that had turned you on like nothing before and you were eager to touch yourself too, but the shuffling sounds of his boots suddenly brought you back to reality and you dashed to your bed as stealthily as you could. You resorted to squeezing your thighs together under the covers and pretending to sleep as you heard him return to the hull. It wasn’t until you were certain he was shut away in his own sleeping quarters, that you finally allowed yourself to dip your fingers into your soaking folds. Holding your other hand over your mouth to stifle any moans, you drew rapid circles around your clit and remembered how Mando had groaned your name. You were so excited that all it took was one finger into your wet heat and you were seeing stars as you reached your climax. You fell into a blissful sleep, dreaming about what you were going to wear tomorrow night.

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

The next day you woke up cheerful, still high from your discovery the night before. You remembered that Mando had said his next bounty was far away and that you’d be in hyperspace for almost four days, which meant you would have plenty of time to spend with him. You practically bounded out of bed, eager to start your day.

Din noticed your happy mood right away as it was such a contrast to his own frustrated and grouchy disposition that morning. His dreams had been full of you, and he had woken up hard and needy but was too angry at his lack of self-control to let himself indulge in jerking off again. He had been banging around the hull like an angry bear for most of the morning, but when you softly approached him with a plate of food and hot cup of tea, and that beaming smile on your face, he felt himself give in a little to your positivity. Then, the friendly way you had patted his pauldron and wished him a good morning, had stifled any desire to grumble at you. It’s not her fault you’re like this.

The rest of the day had passed surprisingly well and Din found his mood lifting substantially. His usual plan to shut himself away somewhere hadn’t panned out as you seemed to seek him out all day long. First, you had him playing games with you and the baby, then, you had decided it was lesson time and you asked Din to help you with that (you were trying to teach the child colors), and then later when the child was napping, you had come to sit near him, drawing him into conversation. In addition to being around him, it also seemed like you couldn’t stop touching him. All day you had found ways to make contact, a small squeeze of his bicep to get his attention, a brush of your hand on his back as you passed him, a little pat on his knee when he praised the child for knowing what blue was, and a couple others that didn’t appear to have any particular meaning. Not that he was complaining; Din lived for those small touches. The day had turned out to be pleasant and he was looking forward to getting some better sleep tonight.

Din had just finished putting away his dinner dishes when he heard you coming out of the fresher and heading towards your sleeping area. He knew you would need to pass by him and he had steeled himself for seeing you. He felt confident that he could keep everything in check tonight, telling himself it had only been the shock of seeing you in such a revealing outfit that had provoked him so much last night. Now that he knew what you’d be wearing, he could handle it, he was prepared. Except you weren’t wearing the same thing, oh no, tonight you had some silky red number on that clung tightly to every curve and only barely covered your ass. To make matters worse, he could see your hard nipples right through the material.

“Dank farrik!”

“Excuse me?” You startled at the sudden curse being uttered.

Shit, he’d said that aloud, “I uh, I stubbed my toe” he lies to you, like an idiot. He tries to turn away from you in hopes of putting you off.

“Oh no, are you ok?” You head toward him with concern in your eyes. Fuck, fuck, fuck you’re getting closer to him and reaching out a hand like you intend to touch him again. If you touch him right now there won’t be any way he can control himself, he’ll have you up against that wall in a heartbeat, or maybe tossed over those crates, shit, get it the fuck together. He practically jumps away from you, mutters something about the fresher, and makes a mad dash to the shower. He turns the water to the coldest setting and rips off his armor and clothes as hastily as he can. The jolt to his system from the icy stream is enough to help his mind calm down a little but it’s doing nothing for his raging erection. He groans and reaches to stroke himself. Before he knows it, he’s painting his stomach with his release, coming so hard he pounds his other fist against the wall as he cries out your name. He’s thankful that at least the water should drown out any sounds.

Out in the hull, you’re lounging on your bed, trying to stay awake so you can see Mando one more time before he bolts away from you again. You know he has to have gotten a fairly decent look at you in tonight’s lingerie, but banging his toe seemed to have distracted him completely. Which was odd because you’d known Mando to sustain much worse injuries with little to no reaction in the past. Unless he was only using the toe as an excuse? Maybe he’s not really that into you? Had he dashed away to spare you any embarrassment? Perhaps last night had been a one off. But then today you could have sworn he was responding to your flirting. You’re going back and forth in your mind when you suddenly hear a loud bang coming from the fresher followed by a loud groan of your name that you can hear even over the running water. Oh, he’s into me. Evil You surges to the surface and has you readjusting your position on the bed to look as seductive as possible. When Mando finally comes out of the fresher, he is wearing nothing but his helmet and his trousers, giving you a fantastic view of his gorgeous chest and torso, bare and still wet from his shower. It’s the most of his skin you’ve ever had the privilege of seeing. You can’t keep your mouth from dropping open as you stare at him.

“You’re still awake,” Mando stops dead when he realizes you’re watching him.

“Uh, yeah, just uh, wanted to make sure, uh, you were ok?” You try to keep your eyes trained on his visor, but you keep failing, getting distracted by the muscles in his chest. Maker, looking up at him from this angle he is so tall and broad.

“I’m f- fine.” He pauses for a long moment remaining statue like, before saying, “Go to sleep. I mean, uh, you should, uh, go to sleep.” It doesn’t seem like he is going to move while you watch him.

“Ok, well, good night then.” You feel disappointed, but roll over and wrap yourself in your blankets. His sigh of relief is small but noticeable in the quiet of the hull. Mando switches off the lights and then you hear his soft shuffle as he heads to his own bed. He pauses though when he gets closer to you. It seems like he’s just standing there looking down at you in the dark, and then you hear his deep voice, “Good night.”

“I hope you sleep well,” you reply softly. He makes a slight sound that almost sounds like “yeah, right” but you can’t be completely sure before he shuts himself away in his bunk. Oh well, you’ll try again one more time tomorrow, you can wear the really sexy one, at least Evil You is still optimistic.

Meanwhile, Din is trying to figure out what the hell is going on. He can’t stop picturing the expression on your face when he was standing there shirtless. Had you been looking at him with shock or desire? It didn’t help matters that you had been sprawled out on your bed looking like the Goddess of Temptation making him painfully hard yet again. He isn’t thinking clearly, it had to be shock, you had never seen him like that, he was always covered, even if it was only in the clothing he wore under the beskar. But what if it was desire? He groans to himself. Even if it had been desire, he’d made a complete ass of himself, and what was he supposed to do now, go back out there and try to get into bed with you?

Yes, do that, you idiot.

Why so she can punch me?

She might not.

Shut up, dumbass!

Din rolls over, sighing to himself, resigning himself to another long night.

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

It’s your turn to groan under the water in the shower, but sadly not from pleasure. It had been a trying day. To say that Mando had been in a mood was an understatement. He had been downright grouchy bordering on sullen. To make matters worse, the child fed off his adoptive father’s terrible disposition and had been extremely fussy all day. You had poured enthusiasm into trying to rouse their spirits, but the more you tried, the more your two boys dug in their heels and refused to be cheered. Eventually, you had given up and just settled for quiet, but the baby had taken that as a personal affront and had a very loud tantrum that had included magically flinging things around the ship. Thank the Maker you still had the bag of macarons from Canto Bight, which you promptly bribed him with to get him to stop. You’d let him eat the entire bag and yeah, that was a parenting don’t, but you were at your wits end and would have given him anything to just make the screaming end. Of course, afterwards, you had the exhausting job of chasing after him all over the ship as he celebrated his sugar high, but at least he was happy. Mando, on the other hand, had taken to working on fix-it projects on the ship, which seemed to really be an excuse for him to swear and bang at something all afternoon. You’d hoped it might help him work out some frustration, but he seemed just as grouchy as ever, barely saying two words to you since you brought him his dinner. So yeah, you aren’t feeling stellar this evening.

The plans for your spicy surprise for Mando have all but disappeared. Before coming into the fresher, you had taken a long look at both the incredibly sexy lace lingerie and the ultra-modest, covers-everything, I-give-up nightgown. You had grabbed both before coming in here, but you still weren’t sure which one you ought to put on. As you turn off the water, you see them both sitting there, hot versus ho-hum. You know if you put on the boring nightgown, ho-hum is exactly how you are going to feel. Fuck that, I want to feel hot, even if Mando doesn’t care. Mind made up, you grab the new bottle of lotion with a smirk, rubbing the delicious scent all over your skin. Finally turning to the lingerie, you put on the gorgeous set. You weren’t kidding when you said this one was sexy. This negligee is black lace with a metallic silver thread sparkling throughout. The bodice consists of two lace panels that just barely cover your breasts and end in a deep vee right above your navel. The lace of the very short skirt is so sheer that if it weren’t for the matching panties you’re wearing, everything would have been visible. The whole look leaves very little to the imagination, but you don’t care, if this doesn’t get a reaction out of the Mandalorian, your only other option is to walk around naked in front of him. Hey, now there’s an idea! Evil You is ready to be unleased.

Din has been finishing up fixing some wiring in the hull and he is finally letting himself relax a smidgen. He’d see the bunch of fabric you’d taken with you to the fresher and he realized it had to be the modest nightgown. Finally, it seems like you’ve come to your senses. Nonetheless, he’d had to tamp down the part of him that was disappointed. This is for the best. He hears the fresher door open and before he can lift his head, he can smell that intoxicating fragrance again. It will be ok, he can get past that, he’ll just say good night and go to bed, that’s all, but then he turns and sees you. The tools in his hands clatter to the ground.

“Fuuuck” Mando swears like he’s in slow motion, drawing out the word in his surprise.

“Hi, Mando,” you say simply, but flirtatiously.

“Hi?!?” He sounds incredulous, “Is that all you- you just stand there, like that and just hi?”

“What do you want me to say?” You tip your head, coquettishly blinking up at him.

Mando makes a choking sound and then grits out, “I don’t know, maybe an explanation for how you’ve lost your mind, or at least your clothes.”

“You told me to buy something new for bed. This is definitely meant to be in a bed.” You gesture towards your lace-covered figure. “Plus, I do remember you using the word skimpy quite a bit during that conversation.”

“I meant for you to buy something that wasn’t-- hell, this isn’t even skimpy; it’s practically non-existent.” He sounds like he is in pain. “Maker, woman, how much self-control do you think I have?!?”

“That’s what I’ve been trying to find out,” you retort with a little smirk. Apparently, you’ve reached the end of it with that statement, because suddenly he is advancing toward you pinning you up against the bulkhead with his hips pressed hard into you and his hands on either side of your head. You can feel the hot, hard length of him against your hip and you let out a little groan.

“Have you been taunting me all this time?” His voice has a dangerous edge to it that sends a delicious shiver down your spine.

“I wouldn’t say taunting, more like enticing you.” You drag one of your legs up the length of his until you can hook it around his hip and pull him in closer to you.

Din can’t believe you’ve been doing this deliberately the whole time. He also can’t believe he ever bought your whole innocent act. It’s clear you planned this out to get back at him for being an asshole about your nightgown in the first place. To be honest though the thought of you shopping for lingerie for him, has him so turned on he doesn’t really care. But that doesn’t mean he’s not going to have to pay you back a little for torturing him these last few days.

“Enticing me?” Mando repeats with a small snort, “You sure you want to do that?” His body doesn’t really wait for your answer though as his hand comes down to grip your raised thigh tightly and urge it higher while he grinds his hips into you.

“Yes,” you pant out, “yes, I want to do that.” His movements are making you hotter than ever as you can feel his cock rubbing against your core. Mando brings his hand back up so he can grope your breast, kneading it roughly before rolling the sensitive peak of your nipple between his fingers and then moves to give its twin the same attention. He leans in closer to you so he can speak right into your ear.

“Do you like this? Letting me rut up against you, touching you, squeezing your tits. Getting you all worked up.” He rolls his hips up to rub his cock right across your clit. You let your head fall back against the wall and you gasp out in pleasure. “Or were you already turned on from teasing me?”

“I like it,” you breathe out.

“And the teasing?” He pinches your nipple hard making you cry out. He’s turning you into a mess, but his voice sounds controlled.

“Wasn’t-- wasn’t trying to tease,” you try to sound convincing but it’s hard when he’s distracting you so well.

“I don’t know, I think you were,” Mando sounds smug now, “I think you were enjoying it. Maybe I’ll enjoy teasing you.” And then suddenly he pulls away from you completely, dropping your leg with a small thump.

“What? No, no don’t stop.” You can’t help the whine in your voice.

“Why? Too hot and bothered? Not so fun, is it?” He tips his helmet at you and it feels like he must be smirking under there. You’re a second away from just begging him shamelessly, but that head tilt does something to you; a spark of competitiveness flares within you. Evil You started this game and she’s not ready to back down now.

You roll your shoulders back, take a deep breath, and look at him, “Are you saying you’re not worked up?” You let your eyes flick down to the absolute tent in his trousers and then back up to his visor.

“I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself. Hell, what do you think I’ve been doing up until now?” Mando runs a hand across his crotch, palming himself, as if to prove his point and maybe hoping to shock you.

“Oh, I’ve heard.” He flinches at that, seems like you caught him off guard. You push ahead, “But what an excellent idea.” You flounce past him and climb onto your bed. You lie back into your pillows and then bring your hands up to caress yourself, your fingers trailing down over your throat and chest in a seductive fashion. Your hands cup your lace-covered breasts, slowly running your palms over them and pushing them together before letting your fingertips brush over your nipples. You look straight into Mando’s visor the entire time.

“Wait, what’re you doing?” It’s as if he’s on a two-minute delay and Din’s mouth has only now caught up to the scene unfolding in front of him. This isn’t what he wanted; he wants to be the one to pleasure you.

“Well, since you don’t seem interested, I guess I’ll just have to take care of myself, like you suggested.” You let your hand drift down your body and into your panties and you let out a suggestive moan. You exaggerate your movements, performing for him.

“I am, I’m interested,” Mando insists.

“Tell me what you want.” You’re not letting him off the hook yet.

“I want to touch you like that, I want to be the one making you moan, making you wet.” Oh, he’s good.

“Ooh, Mando, you’ve got me so wet already.” You let your fingers glide through your folds.

“Let me see.” His voice sounds gruff.

You pause, considering him for a moment, “Why don’t you come feel for yourself?”

With that, Din is pulling his gloves off and striding to bed. He settles himself between your thighs, and reaches for your panties, yanking the little scrap of lace down your legs. He pushes your hand away and then just stares at you, open and glistening for him. Finally.

“You’re so gorgeous,” he tells you, “every part of you. And I’m going to touch it all.”

His hands come to rest on your knees and he tugs your legs open wider before gently squeezing his way up your thighs.

“And how do you always smell so good?” Mando asks.

“I bought scented lotion too.”

“No, it’s more than that,” he says suggestively. You can’t respond though because Mando’s hands have finally reached their destination and the leisurely way he is just dragging his fingers against you has robbed you of all your breath. He’s gentle at first, exploring softly and driving you absolutely crazy.

“Mmm, you are wet, sweetheart,” Mando drawls out, pleased. He adds more pressure and starts to draw lazy circles around your clit making you moan his nickname. “And so responsive to me too.”

“Mando, please,” You can’t help the plea falling from your lips when he’s being so maddeningly slow.

“I like the sound of that.” The smugness is back in his voice. “Please, what?”

“More, please, touch me more” you manage to breathe out, and thank the Maker he complies. He rotates his hand so that his thumb is now on your clit and he increases the pace of those fantastic circles while letting his thick middle finger push inside your pussy. Meanwhile his other hand has been making its way up your body, caressing you through the lace, until he reaches your tits again. This time, however, he’s pushing the lace aside so he can tweak and tease your nipples directly.

“Man- Mando, feels so fucking good, wanted you to touch me like this for so long,” you say between moans.

“Could’ve just asked me, ‘stead of parading around in these flimsy little things,” he chuckles.

“You like these flimsy things though, I could tell,” you respond.

“Yeah, I do,” he admits, “Let me show you how much.” He increases his thrusts into you adding a second finger and then bending both upwards to sweep across pure bliss inside you. You feel like you’ve been on the brink of an orgasm for hours even though he’s only been touching you like this for a few minutes. You feel the waves of pleasure building up and your moans turn into cries of his name until finally the waves crest and feel yourself cumming all over his hand.

“Yes, that’s it, sweetheart,” Mando encourages you, “look so beautiful when you cum. Wanna see it again.” He doesn’t stop his momentum even slightly.

Din is enjoying watching you fall apart completely on his fingers; you’re so hot and soft around him. He knows you will feel unbelievably good on his cock, but he wants to draw out your pleasure as much as he can right now. He feels high on the control of being the one to make you feel like this.

“Mando,” you breathe out, “I- I don’t know-- if I- I can a-again.”

“You can, you can give me another one. You’re gonna give me another one, you little tease.” His voice is firm, but it’s so sexy when he’s demanding that you cum for him. “Besides, this cunt is so tight, need to stretch you out, get you ready to take my cock.”

Hearing him say such utter filth to you is such an incredible turn on that he’s right, you can give him another orgasm and you do. The second one hits you even harder making you clench tight around his fingers, gushing wetness all over as you collapse boneless on the bed.

“That’s it, good, that’s my girl.”

He finally slows his hand and pulls himself away from your dripping center. You watch as his fingers disappear under his helmet and knowing that he’s tasting you on them makes your already spent cunt clench again. He moves off the bed so that he can remove his armor and finally take off his clothes. You watch him, fascinated as more and more of him is revealed to you, until finally he’s standing in front of you naked except for the helmet.

“Oh, Mando, you are incredible; an absolutely gorgeous tank of a man,” you tell him, letting your eyes rake over his broad, muscular form. You see his cock twitch at your words and he seems to widen his stance as you watch him, making himself look even broader. You admire him further, “I love how strong you are, and how big.” As you say the last word, you let your eyes drop to his erection.

“Yeah?” Din asks. He loves that you are so turned on by his body, and your praise is making him blush so much he wonders if you can see it in his neck and chest. You haven’t even touched him yet and he’s aching for you.

“Mmm, yes.” You say appreciatively as you slide off the bed and take his hand, pulling him back to you with a wide smile. You maneuver him to the bed pushing lightly at his shoulders until he takes the hint and lies back. You slip the negligee over your head tossing it to the floor so that you’re naked too. He reaches out one of his large hands and tugs you down with him until you land on top of his body in a tangle of limbs. You push up gently so that you can straddle his narrow hips with your knees bringing yourself up over him to give your hands access to his beautiful golden skin. You let your palms run over his torso and chest, up across his shoulders, lowering yourself down on him as you go so that you can place kisses on his neck, collarbone, and chest. He tries to pull your hips down but you resist so you can take your time exploring him first.

As you make your way down his body, your kisses become more passionate, opening up to let your hot tongue run over his skin. He moans out at the sensation, encouraging you to do it more so you can hear him again. You kiss his nipples, letting your tongue flick each one into a hard nub and making him arch up against you. You continue trailing your lips down his torso, and when you dip your tongue into his navel, he cries out your name and you smile into his skin. Finally, you settle yourself between his legs, looking up at him as you take the head of his cock into your mouth. The sound he makes is somewhere between a groan and a whimper, making you feel a rush of power at being the reason for that sound. You swirl your tongue around the head adding a deliberate flick to the sensitive spot just underneath. You pull off him with a teasing suck before dropping your head back down to allow you to lick up and down his shaft getting him as wet as possible. Mando is practically writhing beneath you trying to get you to take him back into your mouth. You run your hands along the inside of his thighs, shushing him gently, before wrapping your hands underneath him to cup his buttocks. You bring your mouth back up to the head of his cock and then glide down taking him in as deep as possible. You keep your tongue flat and wide to aid you as you go, and give a little hum to help open your throat. You bob your head back up before doing it again and again, each time getting him a little deeper, until you are able to take all of him.

Din has never felt anything so incredible in his life. He’s enjoyed blowjobs before but they were never anything like this. How are you able to swallow him like that? Where did you learn to do this? The way you’re sucking him feels like pure heaven. And the way your tongue is just gliding along the underside of him on your downward stroke, ugh, he feels like he’s fighting off his orgasm the entire time.

“Fuck! So good! How? Shit!” Mando sounds like a complete wreck above you letting out a string of curses and garbled sounds as you continue your oral worship of him. You look up to see his helmet thrashing about in the pillows and his fists practically ripping the blanket underneath him as he’s pulling at it so tightly. It’s too much for him and he begs you to stop, almost shoving you off him.

“St- stop, please, stop, n- not yet.” You release him and he takes in a shaky breath, calming himself. You climb out from between his legs to lay next to him for a moment as he comes back down from the precipice of his peak.

“You are just full of surprises, aren’t you?” Mando says between breaths.

“I’d like to be full of something else,” you quip back at him.

“Oh I bet you would.” And lightning fast Mando is somehow towering over you on his knees, prying your legs apart so he can wedge himself between them. As soon as you realize what he’s up to you’re more than happy to help, bringing your legs up to hook around his hips. He rocks against you letting his cock rub up through your wetness. You’re still sensitive from your earlier orgasms and you’re even more turned on after going down on him.

“Do you want this?” Mando asks, teasing your clit with the head of his cock.

“Yes, Mando, please.” You lift your hips up in a vain attempt to get him where you need him most.

“Tell me again.” It’s a command but his tone is soft, sultry.

“Yes, I want you, Mando. I need you.” You look up at him, hoping that your expression can covey all that you feel for him, everything you’re not quite able to tell him yet.

“I need you too, sweetheart.” He says as he gradually starts to push into you, the blunt head of his cock spearing you open. He is only in about halfway when he pauses, letting you adjust to his size before he pulls out almost completely. He repeats with slow, shallow thrusts only giving you a fraction more of him each time.

“Your cunt is so amazingly tight,” Mando moans out, “feels so perfect.”

“I need more, Mando, please.” You try to keep from whining but he’s making you desperate for him. His movements are so languid and unhurried. It’s both fantastic and frustrating at the same time.

“Patience, my little tease, I know what you need.” Mando stretches down over you as he thrusts forward, gripping your hands to place them on either side of your head as he interlocks his fingers with yours. He’s still moving slowly, but this time he keeps going until he is fully sheathed with your tight passage. There is a slight burn as he stretches you open more than any of your previous lovers could, but the feeling of utter fullness is so wonderful any pain is quickly gone. Mando holds himself there for an instant before bringing his helmet down to meet your forehead in the only kind of kiss he can give you now. It’s a lovely moment, but after a bit you can’t stop yourself from grinding against him in a silent plea to make him move.

Mando chuckles at your attempt to move him, and then asks, “Are you ready, sweetheart?”

You barely get out a cry of “Yes!” before he pulls back and then drives himself up into you with such force it punches all the air out of your lungs. Gone are the leisurely teases from before. Instead, now he is moving at an inconceivable pace, fucking into you with abandon. Maker, he’s fast, and the way that he moves his hips is causing him to hit that magic place inside you each time. It’s all you can do to roll your hips up to meet his in counterpoint to his plunging thrusts. A constant string of moans is forced from your lungs along with occasional cries of his name.

“Oh fuck, you’re so good, taking my cock so well, like you were made for it.” You love hearing Mando’s filthy praise, his rich baritone voice encouraging you and making you gush around him with every word. And apparently he can feel that extra wetness, as he tells you, “You like it when I talk dirty to you, don’t you?”

“Maker, yes, Mando,” you respond breathlessly, hoping he’ll keep it up.

“D’you know how much I imagined fucking you? Taken you all over the ship in my mind. Gonna make it real. Gonna show you how badly I’ve wanted you.” The promise of acting out Mando’s fantasies pushes you even closer to the point of no return. The pleasure that has been mounting in you begins to burn white hot inside you. You wrap your legs around Mando’s waist lifting your hips up more, changing the angle just enough to let him penetrate you even deeper than before. You feel your thighs begin to quake, your internal muscles clenching down on him as your climax overtakes you in sparks of blinding ecstasy.

“That’s it sweetheart, cum on my cock, yes.” Mando keeps fucking you right through your orgasm, ramping up his speed even faster than before helping you prolong your high. It’s so good that you can feel another one building right behind it, crashing into you before you even realize that it’s happening. The pleasure is so strong your entire body is spasming with the force of your release and Mando sounds completely wrecked above you. His thrusts are getting erratic and you know he’s getting close.

You are clamped around him like a searing velvet vice, and Din is sure he has never felt anything better in his entire life. Each time you cum for him, you get wetter and the sounds of him pistoning in and out of you echo obscenely in the hull. He wishes this could last longer, but it feels too wonderful, and he can feel his balls tightening. He just wants to stay inside you as long as he possibly can. He begs you, “Please let me cum in you, please. Gonna cum, p- please wanna b- be in you.”

“It’s safe, Mando, you can cum in me,” you tell him, “I want you to cum in me, wanna feel you fill me up.”

That is exactly what Din needs to hear and he lets out a loud groan. He brings one of his strong arms around your lower back to hold you closer to him as he drives into you even harder. His entire body tenses and he cries out your name like it’s being ripped from his throat as his cock begins to pulse inside you and ropes of his cum explode out of him, covering your walls.

Mando tries to lower himself back down to you gently, but ends up collapsing a little on top of you as his strength finally gives out after the force of his orgasm. You don’t mind at all though and you wrap your arms around his back holding him close, enjoying the feel of him still inside you. He is content to stay like that for a few moments too, until he’s murmuring something about crushing you and is rolling onto his back, pulling you with him until you are curled up against his side. You cuddle with him for a bit before he gets up to get you a wet cloth from the fresher to help you clean up before you fall asleep.

When Mando gets back to you, he asks, “So, how many of those skimpy things did you buy?”

You smile up at him, “Oh there are several more,” you assure him, “Couldn’t think of anything better to spend my credits on.”

“Yeah? Good. That means I can get rid of this.” He holds up the modest nightgown you had left behind in the fresher.

You let out a laugh before asking him, “I thought you were worried about me being cold?”

“If you keep wearing those skimpy little things around me, you don’t have to worry about being cold. I’ll be in your bed every night keeping you warm.” His voice is rich with promise.

“Good. You can start now.”

---------------------------------------------

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!

Tag list: @mandosboobiez @tv-zepeda @remmyswritings @mudhornchronicles @hoodjarin @mackycat11 @sleepwithacommunist @haley7242 @boomtownboy @im-the-nerdiest-of-them-a11 @rueblogsthings

#the mandalorian fanfiction #the mandalorian x female reader #the mandalorian smut #din djarin fanfiction #din djarin x female reader

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human-do-a-worm · 4 years

Text

Ramblings of an Old Soldier Part 2/?

Part 1 can be found HERE

The next day, the Unkall boy came back to the old soldier, sitting on the bench where he normally does, reading his data tablet. The boy had a rather happy look on him today.

“Ah, you’re back. I take it that my story wasn’t quite enough on its own then?”

“Not quite mister. It turned out to be more than enough for my first paper. After I turned it in, my teacher said I could go ahead and write the rest of my papers for the course since I had found a primary source willing to share their experience.”

“I see. How kind of your teacher. Back when I was in school, they would have told us to stuff it.”

“So, what other stories do you have to tell?”

“How about my time in the cycle after the Martian campaign?”

“That sounds wonderful. Let me start my recorder.”

The Unkall child pushes a glowing button on his data tablet, and a blue dot appearing on the screen indicated that the recording had started

“It was less than a month after the battle on Mars; that’s one twenty-fourth of a cycle in standard units. Reconstruction had begun on mars, and the war fleets which were now all massed around Terra had been split into five groups. Group Solar and Group Lunar were the two largest of the fleets, and as such were classed together. Group Pangea, Group Gondwana, and Group Oceana were the three smaller groups, and were classed together as well. The fleets were organized in this way by Grand Admiral Demetrius, to ensure that no one fleet would have to stand against the enemy for too long a time.”

“Since I’ve brought him up, I should probably tell you a bit about the Grand Admiral. Remember what I was saying about the preparations for the battle on Mars. All the meticulous planning done to move the civilians back to Terra, and keep morale up while being an effective fighting force? Well, that came from Demetrius, and was only slightly modified by individual units as the orders were passed down the chain. His odd decision making turned out to be one of the most valuable things that humanity had, because nobody could anticipate his plans; especially the Vrumoids. He was only a rear admiral, but after his commendation, and the first victory in the war, He was immediately promoted.”

“Back to the war now. The battle plan was simple. Keep a constant pressure on the enemy, working in a single spot, pushing the enemy back system by system, and planet by planet. Where to stop would be figured out as the fleets went along. This seemed to work very well. In most systems, Groups Solar and Lunar rarely had fire a single shot. The Vrumoids would either flee or be destroyed by one of the smaller groups before the heavy guns of the heavy class ships could be brought to bear.”

“The reconquest continued almost flawlessly until there was a single human world left to reclaim. Rexorb VI was nothing more than a rock when humanity last saw it, but after looking upon it, the armada called for the command group; Group Regal; to come and take a look. At first sight of the data scans, Demetrius broke down with laughter. Failing to find the humor in this situation, his second in command asked him what was so funny.” “These poor bastards. They’ve made this planet up to be just like Mars, hoping we’ll make the same mistakes they did. Have they never been told that it’s a bad idea to try using the tactics someone created against them? They’ve made themselves the easiest targets possible for us, and what’s even better is that they did it on a mining world. There were only a few housing units on that planet, and its riches lie deep inside. This is the perfect opportunity to try a new idea.”

“With that, preparations were made swiftly, and with much laughter all around. On the back side of Rexorb VI’s moon, groups Solar, Gondwana, and Oceana moved into position, mounting themselves with their primary propulsion systems poised to drop the moon from its orbit.”

The boy spoke up

“Didn’t the Vrumoid forces on the planet notice what was happening?”

Laughing, the old man responded

“Nope. That was a benefit of only showing the enemy one small and one large battle group at a time. According to Vrumoid intelligence recovered after the war, The defenders on Rexorb VI simply thought we were just deciding how to invade properly. They had no idea Demetrius was crazy enough to consider crashing the moon into the planet, and they would have to have been crazy to even guess that the rest of the fleet would just go along with it. I know Demetrius was expecting to do some explaining to the others.”

“The High Admiral may have been absolutely insane, but he wasn’t heartless. He ordered a shuttle to take one squad and an emissary to give them one final chance to surrender. They of course, believing a ground war lay ahead, refused. That was the last mistake that the Vrumoids ever made when dealing with humanity. Exactly one planetary axis revolution after the shuttle returned to the fleet, all the pushing ships’ engines fired up. Each of the ships had worked out their individual point of no return for propelling the moon towards the planet, and had an order to pull off at what their captain deemed a safe time before reaching their point of no return. By the time the last ship pulled off, The moon was going faster than its own terminal velocity.”

“When that moon hit the surface of the planet, the entire thing cracked like a geode. After observing this from one of their comm stations, the Vrumoid Empire rushed to set up peace treaty negotiations. Of course, who was the Terran representative by unanimous vote from the United Terran Council? None other than High Admiral Demetrius. They figured that if nothing else, he could get the Vrumoids to leave humanity alone. But what he got us was something so much greater.”

“As you might have learned in class, our home system and colonies were entirely located within an isolated part of Vrumoid space. We had no knowledge of the Galactic Council Alliance, at least until one of the Vrumoid delegates at the negotiations made a mistake and asked one of his compatriots what the council would think of their actions if they ever found out. After learning that there were other intelligent species in the galaxy, Demetrius demanded that humanity be granted a swath of planets and territory directly to the territory of another GCA member.”

“This single achievement is what brought humanity forward. Demetrius did what no other Terran could do; he found sentient life that wasn’t actively trying to kill us, and he made sure we could get to them with ease. If it weren’t for him, we would have never known the GCA existed, and likely would have been either wiped out or enslaved by the Vrumoids after they rebuilt their forces.”

“Of course, after we made contact with the council, and they saw what we were able to do to a far more technologically advanced species, they demanded to see our battle reports and to speak with all the commanding officers. I remember standing there by High Admiral Demetrius’ side.”

The young Unkall spoke up ecstatically

“You were a commanding officer?”

“Sure was kiddo. Leading the charge of those bikers on mars was one hell of a brave thing, and Demetrius took note. When he got the chance to promote one of his soldiers to an admiral under his command for Group Solar, he spoke loud and clear to us and said “Where’s that crazy bastard that volunteered to charge a platoon of enemy tanks using nothing but motorcycles and bombs on sticks? I have a job for you!” That was the day I was no longer a simple marksman, I was an Admiral, and a damn good one too. My group didn’t lose a single vessel to the enemy.”

“I still remember the day I went down on that rock the day before we cracked it. The Vrumoid commander must have been watching the video recordings from when I charged the tanks, because the moment I walked into the room and she looked up at me, she looked all sorts of shaken up. When I told her that this was her last chance to accept a mercy never offered by her empire, a chance to surrender; she simply said that surrender would never come until she and her warriors no longer stood upon the planet. If only she knew the irony in those words.”

“I remember being at the peace conference, and although Demetrius had only been seen rarely by the Vrumoids, mostly in transmissions intercepted from Mars to Earth, they had seen me plenty. I think I scared them more than Demetrius did, because when I talked about how my motorcycle wasn’t out of fuel yet, they started agreeing to our demands.”

Curiously, the boy tapped something into his data tablet

“Wait a minute, are you saying that you’re Admiral Sturm?”

“Indeed I am. Admiral Jakob Sturm, service number 6556-0293-422-41, former commander of the Terran expeditionary fleet codename Solar. I proudly led my sailors, soldiers, and marines through some of the harshest battles that humanity has faced, and kept my fleet intact. I wasn’t lying when I said that I didn’t lose a ship in my group to the enemy. And after serving 10 cycles in service of my species, I left honorably.”

“So what did you do after you left? I’d imagine being an admiral is a hard job to top.”

“You’re right, admiral is a hard job to beat. I served as an ambassador of Terra for a cycle before I returned to the stars. I found some of the others from back on Mars that charged with me on that day. We were a mercenary group. We mostly took escort contracts or welfare and security for anyone we deemed especially needy. We did good work for a few cycles, but then I had to give it a rest.”

“That’s around the time your name stopped appearing in records of both the GCA and Terran reports. What happened?”

“I’ve been talking for too long. I think you might be able to get a few pages out of what I’ve said today. Better to not burn up all your content at once, right? I’ll be here again tomorrow, like I always am. I’ll tell you more then.”

“If you insist sir. I’ll be here.”

“Until then, take care. I may be old, but I still expect people to stick to a schedule.”

With that, the boy stopped his recording and went home. To meet someone as important as Admiral Sturm, who seemed to have vanished from most records 8 cycles ago, was entirely unexpected. Unexpected, but it will certainly make a wonderful paper for his teacher.

#humans are space orcs #humans are space oddities #humans are space australians

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lordabovehelpme · 4 years

Note

hiii! I was wondering if u could write something from the same “universe” as Lazy Days bc it’s my favorite fic of yours!!! Maybe they go on a picnic or something? I have no clue but it’s one of my all time favorites! If you can’t I understand💖 have a wonderful day Lordy!💕

A Day at the Lake- Din Djarin x Reader

@jedi-jesi coming in clutch with another amazing moodboard. Like how does she make them so perfect?!?

A/n: Awww hello! I am so happy you enjoyed Lazy day so much becuase I had a blast writing it. You guys are just fueling my baby fever. I hope you have an amazing day too! I hope you like this one!

This is a continuation of my fic, Lazy day, which can be found here. :)

Warnings: Children, pregnancy.

Masterlist

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“Arms up.” Your daughter flings her arms up above her head and waits patiently for you to take her dress off. She giggles and squeals when you tickle her exposed tummy.

“Mommy, stop it.” Laughing yourself, you fold her dress and stuff it into the backpack.

“Alright, go join your brother. But be careful and do not go any further than your waist. Make sure you stay next to him.” She gives you a thumbs up and runs off to the shore of the lake. Biting your lip, you watch as the two children splash each other in the warm water.

“They’ll be fine. Stop worrying, remember how I taught them how to swim and float?” Your husband grabs your hips and brings you into his chest.

You sigh and lean into him, eyes never leaving your two bundles of joy. “I can’t help it. They’re my babies.”

“Mmm I know cyar’ika. Here, come sit down with me and Grogu.”

At the sound of his name, the child lifts his head and smiles. His arms lift up towards you and he coos, wanting you to snuggle him. Letting out a shaky breath you give one last glance at your son and daughter and walk over to the blanket.

It’s a wonderful day for swimming and your children begged you and Din to let them go to the lake. The sun shines bright in the sky and the bugs chirp in delight. Blades of grass twirl in the slight breeze and flowers brighten the small meadow.

You rest your back against your husband's chest and place the child in between your legs. One large palm trails away from your hips to rest on your swollen stomach.

He was so happy when you informed him for the third time that he is going to be a father. Although, you’re not quite sure why he was so shocked, because he had you in his bed for a whole weekend.

His helmet rests on your shoulder as he peers at his kids, hand moving and searching for his newest. As if on cue, a foot is pushed up against your stomach.

“Cyar’ika! Did you feel that?” He sounds so happy and pure, as if this was your first pregnancy. His fingers try and grab the foot, however your unborn child seems smarter than him. The child kicks another portion of your stomach, almost taunting your over excited husband.

“Din, love, you seem to have forgotten that the little beast is in my stomach.”

You can hear the smile in his voice as they both prod at your skin. “Hmm, he’s a warrior.” The child will kick a spot and just before Din can grab it they’ll kick another spot.

“He?” Amusement leaks from your voice from his assumption. “What makes you so sure?”

“I just have a feeling.”

Before you can say anything else a small wet body launches onto your husbands back, flinging water droplets onto you. “Daddy come play!”

Tiny hands slap all over his helmet while your daughter runs into your arms. “Oh no no no, you’re wet!” But before you can stop her, she plasters her tiny body against your own, soaking your shirt.

The mandalorian bursts out in laughter and throws his son over his shoulder. “Be right back cyare.” Standing up from behind you, he jogs towards the lake. Loud laughs come from your son as he pounds on his fathers back, his legs kicking up in the air.

“Daddy! Don’t hurt him!” Your daughter launches from your arms and bounds after them.

Din grunts as he throws his son over his shoulder and into the flowing water. “Come here you little princess.” Grabbing your daughter under her armpits he tosses her in right after.

A loud battle cry comes from both your children as they try and bring your husband down and into the water. Grogu’s ears perk up as he watches and he squeals in delight. Soon enough, the great man falls and creates a large splash that all three kids gleam at.

The child looks up at you and points at your three goofballs. “Hmm wanna go join them?” He nods and flashes you a toothy smile. “Alright.” Sighing, you wobble your way up onto your feet. It’s always a struggle picking the child up, adding your round belly does nothing to help.

Finally, when he is secure in your arms, you walk over to the shore. The children are taking turns jumping off of your husbands shoulders into the deep water. All four of them are laughing about as hard as they can.

“Mommy, look how far I go!” Your son eggs you to look at him while he stands on the beskar. “Mommy! Mommy!”

“I see you. Go ahead, show me.” At your confirmation, he takes a giant leap and plummets into the water. When he emerges you greet him with loud claps and many words of affirmation.

“Mommy, watch me! I can jump too!” Your daughter, ever the competitor, tries to get your attention. When she sees you watching her, she grabs your husband's outstretched hand and flings herself off his shoulders.

“Wow, both of you are so good! Who knew I had such little fighters?”

They gleam under your praise and run over to envelope you in a hug.

“Wait for me.” Wadding over to you, your husband's large arms wrap around your entire family. You’ve given up on staying dry at this point, the sun will warm you anyway.

***

“You sure wore them out.” Your hushed voice flows to him as you look at both children asleep in each of his arms. His armor is off, including his helmet, so you don’t miss the way his eyes soften at you. Grogu has already been placed in his hammock above the kids bunks.

A soft chuckle falls from his lips as you sit down beside him. “They had fun.” Leaning over you press a kiss to your daughter, her only acknowledgement is the way she snuggles in further to his embrace. “Let me go put them down.” Nodding, you press another kiss to your son.

His eyes open slightly, “Night mommy.”

Your heart swells with love and you brush his hair away from his face. “Goodnight my love.” You watch as your husband carries your children away to their beds.

When he emerges back from the ladder without children in his arms you let out a content sigh and smile at him. He smiles back and leans down to press a kiss to your lips. “Hey handsome.”

He hums at you and sits down in the pilot seat, spreading his legs in an inviting way. “Come here mesh’la.”

Standing up, you situate yourself atop his thighs. Your hands cup his cheeks and rub at the scratchy stubble. Pressing his face, you squish his cheeks together making his lips pucker up. A loud giggle breaks from your mouth and you throw your head back in laughter.

He moves his lips like a fish and you only laugh harder. Deciding his mouth looks too tempting to leave alone anymore, you press a kiss to him. He hums in approval and tries as hard as he can to move his lips against your own.

Smiling against him you finally give him mercy and release his cheeks. “I love you.”

You feel his mouth twitch up into a grin and he rests his forehead against your own as you both catch your breath. “Love you too cyare.”

The two of you stare at each other for a while, just getting lost in each other's eyes. His hands trail over your body, memorising your skin. Your own lace into his soft curls and scratch at his scalp.

“I need to cut your hair soon, it's starting to peak out from your helmet.”

Totally disregarding your comment, he looks down at your stomach. “I’m sure he’s a boy.”

Laughter bubbles up from you and you look down at his hands that rub over your belly. “But if they’re a boy then it’ll be four against two.”

“Guess we’ll have to make another then.”

“Din!” You slap his arm at how matter-of-fact he sounded. His eyes wrinkle with how wide he is grinning. Shaking your head you kiss him again, a smile working itself onto your own features.

He leans back and wiggles his eyebrows at you. Giggling you tuck your head into the crevice between his chin and his shoulder. His hands rub at your lower back, trying to ease your pain.

“I love you, you oversized tin can.”

His chest rumbles in laughter and you feel him press a kiss to your head. “Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, cyare.”

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Part three: Delivery Day

Okay so I loved writing this. I hope you guys liked it!

Feedback is always appreciated.

Love, Lordy :)

Masterlist

Taglist: @ficthots @along-the-lines-of-space

If you want to be added to my tag list just send me an ask or comment saying you want to! :)

#din djarin #the mandalorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #mandalorian x reader #mando #mando x reader #the mandalorian x reader #tw: pregnancy #pregnant!reader #x reader #tw: child #lovely anon #anon reply

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pyrrhiccomedy · 3 years

Text

the People have requested my book report on The Library at Mt. Char so this is now a Mt Char book club.

if you have not read The Library at Mt Char there is no reason to keep reading. I hope you're having a nice day, stay safe and don't do drugs.

So Mt Char has a couple of problems, but in my opinion only one grave problem.

Not a grave problem:

Erwin doesn't need to be in this book. An astonishing amount of ink is spilled on giving us Erwin's POV and I am at a loss in regards to what that's supposed to bring to the story. I mean, it's kind of neat to see Carolyn's "trick shot" from the POV of one of the people being manipulated, but that perspective could have just been provided by Steve. Everything Erwin does of any plot significance could have been done by Steve, a character who actually matters.

Please note that I don't hate Erwin, he's perfectly fine as characters go, he just contributes nothing, and it is baffling that he and Carolyn get the last scene in the book (instead of just ending on her reunion with Michael, a scene that was emotionally affecting and felt like a natural end point to her story). We are taking no questions, Erwin needed to be cut.

Also not a grave problem in my opinion, but I am sure others feel differently and I understand why they would:

Yo, the scope of what the catalogs cover is mad vague. I mean, I get that that's the point: when you have a character whose magic powers are "anything that has to do with death or murder," that's a broad license, and I'm fine with that. These are supposed to be demi-gods. I don't require a rigorously explicated magic system.

But then like...why can't Jennifer, the healer, also heal minds? That seems weird. Or like, it's implied that she kinda can, maybe, but none of the kids talk about their therapy sessions with Jennifer: they explicitly call out that she heals their bodies. But then she talks about how Margaret and David are sick (meaning mentally) in a way she can "no longer help?" Aren't you supposed to be the God Of Healing? Why can't you help anymore? And were you actually trying to help them before - or anyone else? That's never shown. You could have just said you only healed bodies, not minds, but then it's repeatedly implied that she CAN diagnose mental and emotional problems (and therefore should probably be able to do something about them).

So that's weird.

Or like, why is there Alicia, who "sees the future," and Rachel, who "sees possible futures?" That, uh, just sounds like the author was running out of ideas. Also, if Alicia could see the future, she probably shouldn't have been in that house when the SWAT team hit, yeah?

Stuff like that. The magic the kids can do is very "they have the powers the author needs them to have when the author needs them to have them, and they can't do anything the author would find inconvenient for them to do" but that's not a deal breaker for me because overall the vibe being put off by their various magical specialties works for me. Still, there were ways of getting us where we needed to go without begging quite so many questions.

Also not a grave problem, although more of a problem than the other stuff:

You know that anime trope where a super-genius character is having an entire conversation with another super-genius character through a screen, and it's revealed that the whole conversation was a distraction and pre-recorded so that Character 2 could Complete His Scheme against Character 1? And used his super-genius brain to predict every single thing Character 1 would say? And your suspension of disbelief staggers bloodied into the alleyway and collapses because you're really trying to hang in there, Code Geass, but that's fucking stupid, you're asking for me to believe that this character's intelligence is flat-out supernatural now and you've given me no reason why that should be?

That's how I feel about Carolyn, by the time she takes over the Library. Like, okay. The kids canonically have not even been at the Library long enough for any of them to master their catalogues except for Jennifer. None of them but Jennifer are masters of even their own subject.

Carolyn has been studying in secret from multiple catalogues - which is cool! I like how she slowly reveals over the course of the latter half of the book that she has powers from other people's specialties.

...But like...

She seems close to mastering her own catalogue. She is a competent healer and can raise the dead (Jennifer's catalogue). She can block attempts to read her mind, beats David in a fight, and understands how to kill Father (David's catalogue). She speaks lion and controls the dogs that surround the Library (Michael's catalogue). She could make the mathy "Denial That Rends" thing that kicks off the whole plot, and she can make a new sun and correct orbital rotations around it (Peter's catalogue). She can predict the future with such specificity that she knows how to cause Steve to drop a clip of bullets while he's being attacked by dogs exactly where Erwin will need to pick it up later (Rachel's catalogue, also this one is stupid, she could have just given Erwin an extra clip or something, but whatever).

That's half the catalogues. Carolyn doesn't seem prodigiously more intelligent than the other kids. She's smart, sure, but they're all weird demi-gods with a genius for their specialties. The rest of them haven't even mastered their own catalogue, and I'm supposed to swallow that Carolyn has attained 'competent or better' status in six? When she has to research five of them in secret? Without falling behind in her own studies?

It would be fine if they had all been masters of their own catalogues for years and years; that would mean they would begin to stagnate, while Carolyn kept learning. But that's not the case. By the end I wasn't impressed anymore at Carolyn's resourcefulness, it just felt like she could do anything and everything, shh, don't ask questions, she's the Chosen One so she just can.

The reason this isn't a grave problem to me is because Carolyn's journey isn't about becoming more powerful: it's about her emotional journey, which isn't affected by her being stupidly OP for no reason by the end of the book. She still sucked at the things that mattered, like "feelings" and "relationships" and "not being a shitty person." But I do think it hurt the story. I should be cheering on my protagonist when her wild schemes come together, not rolling my eyes.

Anyway. All that was the aperitif. Let's talk about

THE GRAVE AND GLARING PROBLEM AT THE CENTER OF MT CHAR.

So everything that happens in the book stems from Carolyn's thoroughly justified hatred of Father (and David, but David was made that way by Father). Father treated her, and all of the other kids, with extravagant cruelty. If you haven't read the book in a while, here's a sample of the kinds of things Father did to the kids, or, if David did them, that Father did nothing to prevent:

- Cooked David alive over 2 full days in a giant bronze bull (and made the rest of the kids bring the fuel)

- Put Michael's eyes out with a hot poker every night for 2 weeks (and made the rest of the kids watch)

- Murdered Margaret every few days, often in drawn-out and painful ways

- Made Rachel repeatedly give birth, raise the babies to about 9 months, then murder them with her own hands

- Allowed David to rape all 11 of the other kids (except Jennifer, probably because she was the healer and he wanted to stay on her good side)

- Allowed David to crucify, brutalize and rape Carolyn and Peter

- Gave Carolyn a loving new family for a year when she was nine years old (those two deer), then had David murder them in front of her and blame it on her for not remembering her homework well enough, then served the two deer at a feast to 'celebrate' her returning to the family

- Whippings, skinnings, and bone-breakings as standard disciplinary actions

Whoo-ee! Okay! We are talking about mythological cruelty. I am fine with this! The story takes place on a mythological scale. As outlandish as all of that is, the cruelty feels proportionate in a story about killing and replacing god. Father is cruel, indifferent, controlling, and alien. I have no questions, Carolyn please proceed with your revenge. We seemed on track for a tale in which Carolyn defeats Father, but in doing so she runs the risk of becoming him. Will she step back from the brink and retain her humanity after all of the trauma and brutality she's endured? Let's find out!

And then

and then.

Oh boy.

And then.

...It turns out, Father is a good guy after all.

And let me be clear: THIS IS NOT, IN AND OF ITSELF, A PROBLEM.

By the time you learn that Father is actually benevolent, and loved those kids, and cares about being a responsible steward to the world, and tried to leave the universe a better place than he found it, and genuinely regretted the suffering he inflicted on them when they were growing up, it feels kind of...natural? Like, I was surprised, but also not, because there were 90 pages of book left and Carolyn had already become god. This seemed like a thematically meaningful place to take the rest of the story.

It turns out Father was training Carolyn to replace him the entire time. He had to make her hate David because it was important that she "defeat a monster" on her path to becoming god. (It's not explained why she had to defeat a monster, but sure, okay; it's the kind of mythic feat that fits with the story we're in.)

Why did he choose Carolyn to be his successor? Well, originally he chose David, but David wasn't strong enough: every time Carolyn was the monster in David's story, she defeated him, and went on to rule the universe as an unspeakable tyrant. Since Carolyn always won, Father swapped their roles. He knew he had made the right choice when he put David into the bronze bull, and heard David begging for mercy: because when Carolyn had been the fated monster, she had never begged.

...Okay, so...hang on.

Hang on.

The only rule that we've established on "how to become god" is "you have to defeat a monster," right? I'll even grant you for free that it has to be a monster who is personally meaningful to you, although that part is never stated. Overcoming a great evil which has cast you down and abused you many times before, sure, okay.

...Why the FUCK did all that other awful shit have to happen??

I did not have this question when Father was just evil! That was a good enough explanation! But now that he's not evil, you HAVE TO EXPLAIN why he treated all of the kids so brutally!

Like dude you're GOD. If you need a monster for Carolyn, I'm sure you can make that happen without TORTURING CHILDREN FOR DECADES.

There didn't even need to be any other children! You could have two kids: the languages-kid, who is the chosen one (the chosen one has to be the languages-kid so they can read the Onyx Codex or whatever it was called at the end, the one written by Original God), and the war-and-murder kid, who is the monster. They could have just been forbidden to read the other codices, if it's important to you that your chosen one still prove her resourcefulness or whatever.

Why include all of the other kids??? It wasn't to give your chosen one a sense of family: Carolyn didn't feel close to any of them except for Michael (who I liked, but whose contribution to the plot was negligible).

Or keep the kids! But then why make them, and Carolyn, hate you?? You could just say, "Hey Carolyn, I am raising you to be my successor, you have to figure it out yourself because part of proving your worthiness is this kind of abstract, big-picture thinking, but I love you and whatever you end up deciding to do, just believe in yourself." And meanwhile you're off torturing the fated monster in order to get him piping hot and ready to be served.

Was the idea that Carolyn had to endure so much horror in order to prove she was 'tough enough' to be god?? Because that's not how trauma works! Kids who have been brutally traumatized are usually not made tougher by the experience! A fact that even the book understands, because 10 of the 12 kids are completely destroyed by their upbringing (I'm giving marginal exceptions to Michael and Carolyn herself).

And like

if Father doesn't have a good reason for having treated them so badly, the whole book falls apart!

Because getting revenge for that cruelty is Carolyn's whole motivation!

We are clearly supposed to feel okay about Father going to make a new universe at the end of the book: he's going with his cool tiger friend and that little girl with the connection to the elemental plane of joy who used to be the sun, he's happy to see Carolyn embracing compassion and kindness, which means he cares about compassion and kindness. He invented light and pleasure. Carolyn does nothing to try to stop him from going. He seems like a pretty good candidate for god. And I do feel okay with him leaving! I was convinced! Father is not evil after all!

But then you have! to explain! the abuse!!

It can be a throwaway line!! "Carolyn realized that everything she and her siblings went through had to happen the way it did, because [X]," embedded in the middle of a paragraph! That would have been enough! But I need an explanation!

"They were raised the way Father was raised himself" WHY? He was raised by the Emperor, an on-the-record awful fucking dude! Father proceeded to rule the universe in a far more benevolent way than the Emperor did, why would he feel like he had to raise his kids the way the Emperor raised him?

"Carolyn needed to overcome challenges on her path to godhood" how is TRAUMATIZING HER SO BADLY SHE ALMOST BECOMES INHUMAN - SOMETHING YOU WERE OSTENSIBLY TRYING TO PREVENT, see Steve being preserved as something that could give her hope, etc - A "CHALLENGE??"

Again, none of this is a problem if Father is just evil! YOU CHOSE to make him not evil! And that's fine!! I think it's a good choice for the story actually!! But then you have to, you have to, HAVE TO explain why all of that bad shit happened!

Because all of that bad shit is the reason Carolyn made there be a story.

And it turns out it doesn't make sense.

#the library at mount char

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