#mind the warnings

[writeforfandoms]

May I please request a barracks bunny / glory hole Reader x TF41?

"She feel good?"

You cracked your eyes open at your captain's rough voice, words a little drawled. He was leaned back comfortably in the chair, cigar in hand, gaze completely focused on the three of you.

"Fuckin' perfect, sir," Gaz breathed, gaze near worshipful on you.

Soap squeezed your hip from his place behind you. "Agreed," was all he managed, still settling from working his way into your ass.

"Start slowly," Price ordered, taking a breath in from his cigar.

Gaz moved first, groaning softly, the noise obscene with the remnants of your captain's cum still leaking out of you. You shuddered hard, one hand caught in his, the other held tight in Soap's.

"Alright, hen?" Soap asked, lips gentle against your neck.

"Uh huh." You tipped your head to give him more room, barely lucid, clinging to them both and barely clinging to sanity.

"Relax." Ghost this time, thumb brushing a bit of salt from your lips. Probably his own. "Let them do the work." Humor and lust glinted in his eyes.

"Says the man who didn't," Soap grunted, still moving slowly, counterpoint to Gaz. They passed you back and forth, rocking between them as easily as breathing.

Gaz huffed, tipping your chin to kiss you, open mouthed and messy. Which did nothing to muffle you - they moved faster and you got louder.

"So fuckin' tight," Soap hissed, hips bucking out of turn.

You slumped against Gaz, mind going hazy with overwhelming pleasure until Ghost curled a hand around the base of your skull, tipping your head to meet his gaze.

"No passing out yet," he ordered, low and rough. "We're not done with you."

[zazrichor]

🕯️🩸 | two standalone contributions for @trappedfanzine and one companion piece for the The Body Without Organs written by the brilliant @owlpockets | ☠️👻

Get the free zine here!

[massivewaffle]

What’s In a Name?

Paring: GoodTimesWithScar/You (Gender Neutral) Word Count: 3715 Warnings: Daddy Kink Innuendo Rating: PG13/Teen (for innuendo) AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/41777697

Summary: Scar returns to Hermitcraft after a personal best in MCC only to discover you've picked up on a particular nickname he's given himself.

A/N: This was going to be a short one-shot to make a few dumb innuendos and a High School Musical reference and then it grew like Scar’s chest monster. I’m very tempted to write a chapter two/second installment if anyone desires because Scar’s voice recording in Pearl’s new video has rendered me weak. 

Stepping through the portal that connects Hermitcraft to the wider universe, Scar braces himself against the smooth obsidian, grateful for the cool stone beneath his palm.  After a day of taxing situations, both physical and mental, quiet was what Scar craved. Minecraft Championships was something he looked forward to monthly, and he was happy and honored to be included, but he can’t deny the toll it puts upon his mind and body. This was his best MCC performance thus far, and he grins thinking of his 26th individual placement – his highest score yet. While the other participating Hermits returned to the server ages ago, Scar decided to stick around, needing to desperately burn off some pent-up energy by chatting with new friends. HBomb and Pete were such fun guys, and he socialized so little outside of Hermitcraft; it would be a waste to let those friendships fall to the wayside because of something as trivial as exhaustion.

Of course, as he takes his first shaky steps toward his home, he questions his decision-making ability. Who thought allowing him to make decisions was a good idea anyway?

It isn’t long before Scar stumbles to the entrance of his tree, taking a moment to wave hello to the ravager looming within the foliage down the path. A bath is what he craves, and he uses his remaining energy to barrel through his home, straight to the bathing area he’d set up, hidden from prying eyes. Not like anyone has actively pried on him, but a man can never be too careful on any server containing Zedaph and his spyglass.

Allowing the water to rush over him, Scar lolls his head back, thoughts drifting to the day now behind him. He had done his best and was pleased with the results of his practice. And, to be honest, he was even more pleased with everyone else’s praise of his newfound improvement. The tips you’d suggested to him had paid off tenfold, and Scar can only hope he is on an upward trajectory from here on out. 

The recollection of practice slowly fades, leaving only thoughts of the one thing he had spent all day attempting to avoid focusing on; you. You had yet to get your invitation to MCC, but everyone knew it was only a matter of time now. Your skill speaks for itself, and if it weren’t for the already long waiting list, your name would have made it onto a team based on skill alone. Skills, Scar hates to say, he finds overwhelmingly attractive. He isn’t quite sure why watching you hit crits on mobs is so mesmerizing, but it is. He should probably unpack that one day, but today is not the day for introspection.

Pulling himself out of the bath before his thoughts take a turn, he dries off, heading to his bedroom to dress. Jellie lies across the middle of his bed - her bed, really - stretched in a way that seems physically impossible for a cat to take up so much room.

“Why, hello Jellie! How’s my girl doing? Did you miss me?” He asks, deft fingers scratching at her head as she pushes into his palm. Scar revels in the consistent purr she emits, immediately overwhelmed by a sense of comfort. 

Tossing on some more casual attire, Scar shakes his head a few times, deciding to forgo drying his hair and allowing it to air dry. Jellie has abandoned him, jumping from his bed to a windowsill, enraptured by something beyond Scar’s field of vision. Scar’s not entirely sure what to do with himself now. Most of the Hermits will be preparing for their evenings, and he’s far too drained to begin working on a project. Perhaps a bit of fresh air will clear his mind. 

Scar heads outside, resting in the cool shade granted to him by his build. Though it’s nearing dinner time and the traces of dusk are filtering in, the heat hangs heavy in the air. It’s not so much stifling as it is irritating; a sign that summer is finally on its way out but continues to clutch desperately to the world. He can vaguely hear Mumbo and Grian yelling not too far away and, for a moment, contemplates joining in their fun but shakes off the urge. He finds himself enjoying the white noise of the area, already maxed out after the roar of MCC. Leaning back into the stone adorning his home’s entrance, he takes a moment to close his eyes and savor the soft breeze, the shouts of his friends fading into the distance. He specifically built the door to his base this way, tucked downhill just enough where he can be outside but not necessarily be seen. Calm in the eye of the storm, a place of comfort, a home where-

“So, do I need to start calling you Sand Daddy now?”

Scar’s head jerks forward, lifting away from the entrance toward the source of your voice, eyes crinkling as he squints into the setting sun to make out your silhouette. He finally spots you a few feet away, back pressed into the wooden trunk of the acacia tree shrouding the area in patches of light and shadow. Scar’s exhaustion fades into the back of his mind as his eyes take you in, unable to tell if you’re there or if the effects of the day have simply caught up to him. 

“Hello?” Scar asks, voice shaky.

“You did well.” 

Ah. So that is you. Gathering himself quickly, Scar fires back. 

“I’m sorry. Care to repeat that?” Scar is fully aware you can hear the smirk in his voice, and he’s banking on your annoyance to continue this conversation. 

“Are you asking because you couldn’t understand or just to hear me praise you again?”

Scar doesn’t miss a beat. 

“Does it matter?”

“Absolutely. I’m much more willing to clarify than compliment; you know that.”

“So you were impressed!” Scar exclaims. Crossing his arms over his chest, Scar shifts his weight to the right, allowing his shoulder to fall to the wall. Under the lanterns adorning his walkway, Scar looks mischievous, shrouded in shadow. 

Scar sighs overdramatically, knowing it will humor you. 

“And to think, here I was, thinking you would come and tell me I’m a parkour god, the true H0tGuY, the king of Rocket Spleef. Instead, I get a ‘you did well.’ How demoralizing after that amazin’ MCC practice we did.” 

The quiet of Scar’s base allows him to hear you giggle, which is his goal in any situation. 

“I assure you, I planned to come over here to shower you with praise regardless of the outcome, but then I watched MCC and heard everyone calling you Sand Daddy. I can’t beat that nickname; why even try?” You ask with a chuckle, descending the pathway to saunter directly into Scar’s eye line. 

“Hey, I earned that one!”

You laugh as you raise your hands in defense, shifting onto your heels. 

“I’m not arguing! Though you did kind of call yourself that, but I’ll let it slide. The practice absolutely helped. You guys killed it out there.” You admit, allowing your hands to drop to your sides as you look up to meet Scar’s eyes. 

The soft breeze returns, tickling lightly on your skin yet heavy enough to blow a few errant hairs directly into Scar’s eyes. He attempts to flick them away with a snap of his head but fails, only bringing more into his line of sight. He huffs, shifting his gaze to the stray hair as if glaring at it will force it to behave. It’s wonderfully endearing, and the tips of his slightly pointed ears rush red with embarrassment. 

“Do you really think I did well?” Scar says, eyes still trained on his own hair. 

“I suppose you didn’t do too bad,” you offer with an exaggerated shrug, so he understands you’re teasing. Scar’s lip quirks just enough for you to know he picked up on it, but he stays silent. Clearly, he needs more convincing. You drop all pretense and speak in your normal voice, devoid of teasing. 

“You did amazingly well. I was screaming my head off the entire event. We all were, to be fair, but I think I might have burst poor Stress’s eardrums during Rocket Spleef. Even the events you did so-so on were a vast improvement from your last MCC. People were talking about how they underestimated you. So yeah, I guess you did do well. You may even convince me to say I’m proud of you, but I’m not tired enough to let that one slip yet,” You joke, winking at him. 

Even in the orange-hued light given off by the lanterns, Scar knows you can see the blush on his face. He’s not going to try and hide it; there's no point in covering for what he already suspects you know. Scar’s enamored with you, and any crumb of attention you’re willing to throw his way will have him on cloud nine for the next week. That little speech was enough to satiate him for the rest of the year. Face burning, Scar meets your eyes and is shaken by the soft gaze you’re returning to him. Gone is your trademark smirk, the glint of trouble that’s always simmering just beneath the surface. Here he sees you laid bare, and he can’t deny how happy he is that you spoke honestly. 

“Thank you,” he manages to verbalize, “that means a lot.”

You scoff lightly. “Just speaking the truth. You shouldn’t be so surprised. You’re pretty impressive on an average day already.” You reply, voice with just a tinge more edge than before. “I mean that last round of Rocket Spleef; I didn’t realize you were such a show-off!”

It’s Scar’s turn to laugh now as he thinks back to that moment. His team was cheering for him, egging him on to show these kids how it’s done. He may be good with a bow, but anyone who wants to hit ultra peak velocity shots, as he calls them, needs to know how to dodge and weave with the best of them. Everyone in MCC is talented, but it was nice to show some of the PVPers they should try picking up an elytra once in a while. 

“What can I say? Top Gun isn’t going to remake itself! Figured it was worth giving everyone a bit of a show.”

“Oh, you gave everyone a show, that’s for sure, H0tGuY,” you joke, taking a step closer to Scar. “It was nice seeing you confident out there. You looked good.” Your smirk remains, but there’s a new glint in your eyes. One Scar has seen in fleeting moments, but as you hold his gaze, the look burns through his very core.

“Did I now?” Scar asks, eyebrow quirked. Unsure he is reading this situation correctly, Scar attempts to stay on solid ground, but your compliments go straight to his head. 

“Mmhm. How often do I have to say it before you believe it?” 

“Roughly ten thousand more times. By then, we might get over the worst of it.” 

“Hmm. Better get started. I’ll need a dictionary to satiate you, I think.” You joke, looking up at Scar through your lashes. 

“I’ll order you one of those word of the day calendars for the holidays. Maybe you can use that for some inspiration!”

Laughing, you’re fully aware that Scar would do something exactly like that just to follow through on the joke. 

“Wow, compliments and a challenge all rolled into one; you know me too well. All of my favorite things.”

“Two down, how many to go?”

“Oh c’mon, Scar, I’m sure you can figure that out for yourself, don’t you think?”

There’s a tension permeating the air, similar to when a thunderstorm is on the way, but nary a raindrop has fallen.  A storm that has been building since this conversation started. Neither wishes to drop their gaze, but you look away first, eyes trailing down Scar’s face and over his body. Your eyes flick back up, a soft smile again playing on your lips. The space between you is respectable, close enough, but nothing improper, at least not yet. You lean forward just a tad, enough where you can make out the scent of Scar’s body wash but not crash into his chest. 

“As a heads up, get some good rest tonight. I think Keralis will be waking us all up unfathomably early.” You say with a grin.

“Keralis? Why would he be gathering us all so early?” Scar asks, already counting back the hours from morning to determine what constitutes a good night’s sleep. 

“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, but apparently, he wanted to celebrate how good y’all did today. Breakfast buffet at the Bamboo lounge. You know how Keralis loves to throw a soiree.”

“…Wasn’t she in High School Musical?’

“A soiree Scar, not Sharpay. A party. He’s throwing a party in the morning,” You reply, desperately attempting to hide your laughter and failing miserably.

“Ah. Well, that does make more sense. Though, oddly enough, if anyone were a friend of someone in that movie, I’d place a bet on Keralis.”

“I…I honestly can’t argue with you there.”

A peaceful silence falls as you exchange smiles. Scar shifts, crossing his arms again, and you can’t fight the urge to ogle the way his slender fingers lay across his bicep. Scar’s always been an attractive man, but you can’t deny he is far more toned than you noticed. The unexpected muscle paired with the soft, comfortable-looking tee and sweatpants combination he’s wearing sends your brain into overdrive. You’d helped him film Hotguy: The Siege, yet this was the most attractive he’s ever looked. Between the dressed-down outfit and the messy, fluffy hair Scar is currently rocking, the moment suggests domesticity. It’s cozy, one could say.  Life is nice like this; warm and safe amidst the trees and dimmed lights of Scar’s base. 

“Are you going to be there?”

Scar’s voice breaks you from your domestic daydreaming.

“Hm?”

“At the sharpay. Will you be honoring us with your presence?”

“While I usually loathe the BDubs early morning approach to life, I would never miss a Keralis breakfast. Keralis breakfast means one thing –“

“XB’s cooking,” you say simultaneously.

A smile creeps onto your face at the synergy you share.

“Plus, you’ll put on a good show.”

It’s Scar’s turn to look puzzled by your words.

“Good show?”

“Of course. I’m planning on a mimosa in one hand, XB’s French Toast in another, and watching you turn bright red every time a Hermit compliments you on your 26th placement, Sand Daddy.”

“Oh my god.”

“You’re doing it now!” You exclaim, throwing a finger into Scar’s flushed face.  “A teeny bit of praise, and you get all blushy and shy. It’s fantastic. You go from Top Gun to Weird Science in a minute flat.”

“I’m so glad my suffering amuses you.” Scar’s deadpan delivery directly rivals the mirth in his eyes. 

“Incredibly so.” You say with a wink. “But you deserve all the praise tomorrow, so be prepared for people to lay it on thick, Mister Rocket Spleef Rush Top 5 Finisher.”

Scar feels his face burning at your comments.

“So you did watch closely, huh?”

“Couldn’t let my H0TGuY  down now, could I?” You ask, immediately wincing as your voice cracks. 

“So I’m your H0TGuY now?” Scar says quickly, arms falling to his sides. “Works for me.”

You giggle, prepared to fire back with another witty comment when you catch Scar’s gaze. He’s giving you a look far too serious to be contested with banter. His eyes are scrutinizing you, and you feel nervous under their surveillance. It’s hard to maintain eye contact, especially as Scar tilts his head back for a moment to stretch his neck, jawline on display. You can feel his stare as your eyes trace the long line of his neck down to the scoop neck of his shirt, memorizing the pattern of every scar littering the area. His hair flops back down into his eyes as he realigns himself before you, clearly smirking as if he’s finally figured you out.  

“You never answered my question, by the way,” you squeak, your voice breathier than intended. 

Scar’s smirk grows as he tips his head to one side. 

“Hm? And which question was that, troublemaker?”

“Do I need to start calling you Sand Daddy now?’ You ask, feigning bashfulness for a moment. “Or are you more into just part of that nickname” You trail off, eyes slowly dragging up Scar’s frame as you step into his personal space. When you finally meet his eyes, you’re only inches apart, and you find yourself swooning over the way Scar’s face scrunches in confusion, his teeth jutting out to bite at his bottom lip.

“Why would I want you to call me sand?”

God, you love this idiot. 

Throwing all caution to the wind, you lean in, resting your forehead on Scar’s chest. Just as you imagined, his shirt is equally soft and thin. Thin enough, in fact, that despite the cool breeze, you can perceive his body heat radiating against you. Scar’s hands lift to rest lightly at your waist, unsure. Heart pumping, you turn your head to the side, lounging calmly against him as you speak. 

“Not that one, Scar.”

“Well then, what do you…Oh.”

“Oh?”

“OH.” 

Scar’s voice is breathless, and you swear you faintly pick up on his heart racing beneath your ear. A moment passes before his arms move, one delicately moving around your low back, the other raising to tilt your chin back. 

“I can’t say I’d be opposed to that, but I’ve never tried it before.” Scar mutters. His voice drops a few octaves, and the inside of your brain feels like Joe’s pinball machine as his deep timbre bounces around. “But you know I’m always willing to practice.” 

Scar looks at you for a moment, and you tilt your head toward him in a nod. Closing your eyes, Scar’s breath flits over your lashes as you wait for his lips to touch yours. 

“SCAR, PLEASE INFORM GRIAN THAT NO, WARDENS ARE NOT GIFTS.”

“I’M JUST SAYING THEY COULD BE MUMBO!! YOU NEED TO EXPAND YOUR MIND!”

“WELL, YOU NEED A SERIOUS…”

You and Scar jump at the sound of voices coming up the walkway, separating as quickly as possible. You’re both noticeably flushed, practically panting from the anticipation of moments ago. Scar’s shirt is slightly crumpled from where your head rested, and you’re sure your ears are as red as Grian’s sweater. Sneaking a peek, Mambo and Grian stand a few feet away, staring wide-eyed in your direction. 

“Grian, I feel as though we’ve interrupted a moment.”

“Was that a moment? “I would distinctly consider that a moment.”

“What kind of moment? Good moment? Bad moment?”

“Please stop talking.” Scar says, sighing, both palms pressed into his eyes. “Please, for the love of Jellie, stop talking.”

“Right. Well. Uh. I suppose we can discuss Wardens tomorrow, Scar. Let’s go!”

Grian’s rocket sets off before the words leave his mouth, soaring through Scar’s tree. 

“Yes, well. Uh. Terrible sorry, friends. I’ll just be going.” Mumbo stutters, face quickly reddening. He fires his rocket to follow Grian’s exit, knocking into several branches before you’re sure he’s gone. 

“I want to murder them.” Scar admits. “I love them dearly, but I also want to murder them.”

You can’t help but chuckle. “I think that’s how the entire server feels about them most of the time.”

Scar snorts and the two of you fall back into silence.

“Kinda killed the moment there.” Scar confesses. “Sorry about, y’know. Them.”

“It’s to be expected. Never a dull moment around here.” You respond with a smile and a shrug. 

“Never thought I’d say this, but I think I’m ready for a few more dull moments around here.” 

“Yeah? What a coincidence; I was just thinking the same thing.”

Scar looks up at the sky, a light smile pulling at his lips. 

“Breakfasts are really dull, don’t you think? Honestly, whose favorite part of the day is breakfast?”

“Notoriously boring. Only a true demon would love waking up early for breakfast.”

“I completely agree.” Scar looks over to you, the sparkle returning to his eyes.

“So, I’ll meet you at your base in the morning? You have to wake up early to get the first batch of mimosas after all. Can’t have you oversleeping and getting a bad seat to the show.”

“I’ll set three alarms just in case.” You beam back at Scar, head filled with fewer nerves and more anticipation. 

“Would you like me to walk you home?” Scar asks, but you wave him off. 

“No, it’s fine; it’s a short walk. You had a busy day. You should get some rest.” Straightening yourself out, you return to standing in Scar’s personal space. 

“Besides, you’ll need your energy tomorrow.”

“True. Breakfast will take a lot out of me, I’m sure,” Scar jokes. 

“Mhmm.” You murmur, hands reaching for Scar’s own. 

“Plus, we have a practice session scheduled for tomorrow. It seems we have some new things to try out.”

Scar’s eyes widen at your words, mouth opening and closing a few times before squeaking a response. 

“Yes. Yes, of course. Practice makes perfect and all that.” Scar’s response is fewer words and more stream-of-consciousness rambling, but you find it adorable all the same. 

“Goodnight, Sand Daddy.” Scar’s face is a mixture of amusement and adoration, your favorite. Popping up on your tiptoes, you quickly press a kiss to the corner of Scar’s mouth before dropping back down. 

“Goodnight.” Scar whispers. 

Turning to make your exit, you pause at the edge of Scar’s walkway to take one last look. Peeking out from behind your original Acacia tree spot, you’re secluded enough to be out of Scar’s eyesight. As Scar turns to reenter his home, he pumps his arm a few times in happiness, attempting what looks to be a little dance of joy. Rolling your eyes, you turn and head home, and for the first time in your life, you can’t wait to wake up early.

[underforeversgrace]

stars in his eyes

DannyMay2023 Day 24: NASA

title: stars in his eyes

words: 1849

Summary: After two weeks in the GIW's labs, Danny is informed another government agency has taken custody of him. Of all the agencies to hurt him, why did NASA have to be one?

Warnings: Brief Depictions of Torture/Violence, Reference to Prior Dissection

Beta: probably-dead

~~~~~~

Danny bit back a hiss of pained relief as the IV in the crook of his arm was pulled out, doing everything he could to not glare at the scientist in front of him.

“Finally done with me?” He asked, keeping his voice level and hiding the pain that ached from every part of his body. The scientists here had long since proven they’d just laugh if he let on he was in pain.

Scientist N rolled his eyes, testing the restraints keeping Danny bound to the cold table beneath him. His chest was where most of his pain was, the incision now covered by his jumpsuit but there was a burn that blossomed with every breath he drew. He’d been here two weeks and was quickly losing hope he’d ever be saved. Ironically, the drugs they kept him heavily dosed with were the only reason his secret was still safe - he couldn’t shift back to human, the cocktail that had been running into him continuously from that IV successfully suppressing his powers.

“Another agency petitioned for you. You’re their property now.” Scientist N answered, tightening the restraint on Danny’s waist and grinning when Danny failed to hide the grunt of pain as the anti-ecto coated strap dug into his flesh, pressing down on the bottom of the Y incision.

“Fun. Who’s playing mad scientist next?” Danny asked, not catching the quip from slipping out fast enough. Just like every other time he’d sassed or back talked them, hundreds of volts of electricity burned through him, making his entire body spasm and he felt the stitches in his chest pop, cold ectoplasm bleeding down. He vaguely heard N’s laughter over his own screams.

“I’m sorry!” He said as soon as the electricity stopped, his body trembling from the aftereffects of the charge.

“It’s such a shame I won’t get to finish training you,” N said, grabbing Danny’s chin and making the ghost look at him. “Disobedient dogs are the most fun.”

Danny remained silent. He’d quickly come to the conclusion that the only reason he wasn’t gagged was because they enjoyed having a reason to hurt him.

Why did they delight so much in torturing him? Would the next agency hurt him more?

“Anyway, it’s NASA who’ve petitioned for you.” N said, frowning when Danny didn’t rise to the bait. Danny’s still heart fell. NASA, where he’d always wanted to end up, where he’d dreamed of being, were going to own him, do whatever they wanted to him.

This wasn’t how he wanted to join NASA - as government property instead of as a human with dreams of space. Somehow, the knowledge NASA were going to be the next ones to slice into him hurt nearly as much as the slicing itself.

“They’re coming for you in half an hour.” N continued, lamenting the fact he was losing his favorite specimen. “Stupid NASA. But they’re the big name compared to us so what they want, they get. Such bullshit.”

N kept ranting, either unaware or merely uncaring of the pain and sadness Danny was battling with.

Of all the agencies, why NASA? Why the one place he’d always dreamed of ending up?

What had he ever done to deserve this hell?

Danny didn’t try to protest when a mask closed over his nose and mouth, obediently breathing in the gas, used to this routine. He’d always thought he’d fight harder if he were ever caught. But fighting just meant more pain and he always lost and the experiments still happened and they delighted in having additional reasons to hurt him. 

Drowsiness took hold quickly.

“Wonder if you can breathe in space?” Was the last thing Danny heard as darkness took him under.

~~~~~~

Unfamiliar voices hovered at the edge of his hearing as consciousness slowly returned to him, cool air on the bare skin of his chest. He felt the burn - it was the first thing he ever felt anymore - but it didn’t feel any worse than before.

Great. The NASA scientists were like the GIW ones. They wanted him awake during his autopsy. Tears slipped down his face as a full return to reality settled into his mind. Ancients, why did so many people like hurting him? He’d always thought good people were the norm but he was quickly learning there was a lot more bad in the world than he’d ever realized in his naïveté. He didn’t deserve this and no one cared that he didn’t deserve this agony, that he was just a sixteen year old they were hurting.

“This isn’t what we thought we were getting!” Someone male protested. “For God’s sake, just look at him!”

Something about that sentence hurt him deep in his core.

When was the last time he’d been referred to as a he instead of an it?

“He’s breathing.” Another person said sadly. “We were told we were getting a cadaver with life like qualities. Not this. A ghost - a kid.”

“What the hell did those psychos in white do to him?” A third person said, closer to him than the others. A warm hand was placed on his shoulder and he tried to flinch away, his eyes flying open in panic as he realized what he’d done and the hand jerked away.

“I’m sorry!” He obediently insisted, moving to where he’d been, ready for the hand to come back. The Guys in White scientists hadn’t liked it when he tried to pull away from their touch and he didn’t know how severely the NASA ones would hurt him.

“You’re awake.” The person who’d tried to touch him said. The scientist was a middle aged woman and her red hair reminded him a little too much of his mother.

He just nodded.

“Do you have a name?” One of the men asked.

“No.” He answered, the answer that had been drilled into his head by N. Humans had names. Ghosts didn’t. Ghosts were property. He wanted to obey the NASA scientists. The GIW he’d always knew would hurt him, but some part of him still wanted to be good for his new owners. He didn’t want to give this organization he’d always held in such esteem a reason to hurt him too much. “I am Specimen PD764.”

The man who’d remained silent scowled and Danny immediately tensed. He’d said something wrong, hadn’t he? Not even three minutes and he’d already upset the scientists. “What were you called before the Guys in White got you?”

Danny hesitated. Was this a trick question? N had gotten him a few times with similar questions. He just stayed silent. Answering wrong tended to hurt more than not answering at all.

Realizing he wasn’t going to respond, the lady stepped closer to the table. “It’s okay. We’re not going to hurt you.” Because ghosts can’t feel pain. “Can you sit up?”

For the first time, Danny realized he wasn’t shackled down. That’s why he’d been able to jerk so far away when she’d first touched him. “Do you want me to?” He asked.

“Only if you can.” She said, smiling at him encouragingly.

Danny pushed himself up, though he was coated in sweat and breathing through burning lungs by the time he managed to sit. Vertigo made his head spin - he hadn’t been upright since his capture. One of the men hurried beside him when he started to fall, bracing Danny’s back with his arm.

“I’m Ilana.” The lady introduced herself. “What did you go by before you became the Guys in White’s… specimen?” She asked, briefly scowling at the last word.

“I… Phantom. Danny Phantom. It’s what the town called me.” He finally answered. Something was different about these scientists, something that helped take the edge off his fear.

“Does that hurt?” The man not holding him up asked, now at the foot of the table.

“Ghosts can’t feel pain.” He immediately said. He knew that was a crock of crap and that the GIW knew it was. They delighted in his pain too much to believe it was fake.

“Danny.” Ilana said gently. “Is that what those assholes told you? Because getting up clearly hurt you.”

“Yes. It hurts.” Danny said slowly, cautiously. The more they spoke, the more Danny felt the warm bloom of hope under the cold pain of the incision. “Can I go home?” Slipped out before he really thought about it.

“Of course.” Ilana said instantly, the two others mumbling sounds of agreement. “Where is home?”

“Amity Park, Illinois.” Danny answered and tears began to fall from his eyes. Home. They were letting him go and he was going home.

He was sure he had an avalanche of problems to dig his way out of and more explanations than he was ready for, but all he wanted was to go home.

“We’ll leave within the hour.” Ilana assured.

“I can go home?” Danny repeated in disbelief, still not quite believing how different these scientists were from the GIW.

“Yes.” The man at the foot of the table said gruffly. “And I will be having numerous, very, very, strong words with the committee that authorizes their funding. Torturing kids on American soil?”

Ilana nodded. “Don’t worry, between myself and Arnold, we’ll destroy their reputation enough to pull their funding. They won’t bother you again. You’re safe now, Danny.”

“Safe?” Danny was starting to sound like an echo, repeating back words as he struggled to believe them.

“Safe.” Ilana reassured.

All the emotions Danny had kept buried the past three weeks spilled out. Tears mixed with laughter, anger mixed with fear. “Home!” He said again, relief a soft blanket that swathed him in safety. He grinned at Ilana. “I knew NASA was the coolest thing ever.”

“Oh, we are?” Ilana asked playfully, helping him pull the sleeve of his jumpsuit on while the still-unnamed man helped with the other side.

“I want to work for NASA.” He admitted. “Uh, er, uh, wanted to.” He corrected. “Before I died.”

“Well, in that case,” Arnold said, digging into his pocket and pulling out a card, which he handed to Danny. “Call me when you’re feeling better and healed up. A ghost working for NASA? You could accomplish a lot.”

Danny beamed at him in happiness, tucking the business card into his pocket.

As promised, within the hour, Danny was in Ilana’s car and they were making the drive to Amity Park.

To home.

~~~~~~

As soon as he walked into the door of FentonWorks (he’d had Ilana drop him off a few blocks away, he couldn’t walk much further than that), still Phantom as the suppressant hadn’t worn from his system yet, he saw his parents and friends, all looking exhausted and like they’d recently cried.

Sam saw him first. “Danny?”

His name got the others’ attention and all eyes turned to him.

The rest of the day was filled with happy tears and joy as they celebrated his return.

Tomorrow, he’d have a lot to answer for, a lot of healing to start doing. But for today, he was fine just being held and loved.

[green-socks]

Dubious Times at the El Royale

Pairing: Miles Miller x F!reader

Summary: You have a major crush on your colleague Miles. One evening after a long shift Miles takes some new drug, and ends up thinking he's just having very vivid fantasies, when in reality you really are naked under him, even though you thought you knew better.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Please read these! This is over 18 only!! Unprotected PiV (we know better!), !!dubious consent due to Miles' drug use!!, an unknown/unspecified drug, loss of virginity, coming inside without permission. Reader has a lot of guilt over having sex before marriage because she was raised like that and the movie was set in the 60s and not like 2019, so. If these things make you uncomfortable, don't read, thanks! (All ends well tho so it's alright)

Notes: I have never written anything like this before, but something about Miles' face all bloody and pretty made me want to go a touch darker than usual? I have no idea what I'm doing, but I'm experimenting. Fortunately, I can thank @hederasgarden and @lorecraft for being absolutely amazing betas and helping me make sense of all this. Love you! Special shoutout to @hederasgarden for listening me talk about this a lot and not hating me for it <3 Also I'm sorry about the silly title lmaoo

MASTERLIST

gif by the beautiful @a-reader-and-a-writer

You liked Miles Miller. Well, more than liked. Head over heels was probably a better way to describe it. He was so sweet and considerate, always so polite to you and everyone, and not to mention handsome. You often found yourself gazing at him from across the hotel lobby, completely lost in a daydream, until something jolted you out of it and you remembered where you were.

But Miles wasn’t all bright eyes and soft smiles. One time you had accidentally discovered his secret, the addiction he was trying to hide from everyone, and while you had been shocked, you also understood. You had heard how many veterans turned to drugs to deal with everything they had experienced in the war. You didn’t know if you could rightly judge him for that, since you couldn’t even imagine the horrors he must have seen.

Of course, you worried for him a bit, but didn’t want to seem overbearing. It wasn’t your place. You just tried to make sure you were always kind to him in return and helped around as much as you could. You wanted to make his life a little bit easier, make him smile more often.

You weren’t sure if he returned your feelings, though that didn’t stop you from dreaming about it. And sometimes you did feel like he maybe liked you back, but then again it was a little hard to tell for certain since he got easily flustered with most people anyway. Which you found totally adorable.

-

It had been a really long day. You were tidying up the very last of the rooms, but you were stumped. The previous resident had rearranged the room to their liking, apparently, and you were trying to move all the furniture back into their right places.

Thing was, you were only one person, and the furniture was pretty heavy. You would need help to be able to move them all. Everyone else had already gone home, it was just you and Miles, so you left to go get him. Surely the two of you could handle the furniture easily. Plus, you were thrilled at the possibility of spending more time alone with Miles.

Miles wasn’t at the front desk, so you went to check the storage room where he often went. And sure enough, there he was sitting on the floor.

It was clear from his face that he had taken something already. Probably not a lot, but some. He still looked fit to help you work though, so you asked him to come with you.

Miles even removed his jacket to lift and move the pieces of furniture, and you tried not to openly gawk while his surprisingly strong arms lifted the chairs you were unable to. It was making you feel quite tingly. The bed you moved together since it was so big, and afterwards, when the last piece was in its right place and you had changed the sheets, you collapsed on the bed. Just to rest your legs for a little while.

Miles sat down next to you, and when you turned to look at him, he was watching you with a strange expression on his face. You couldn’t really tell what he was thinking at all.

“What?” you chuckled.

“Uhm..” He pulled what looked like a cigarette out of his pocket. “A guest gave this to me earlier. I was thinkin’ of smoking it tonight.”

“Oh. Well, you can go ahead,” you shrugged, not really knowing if it was a good idea or bad to stay with him here, but you figured you could still talk while he smoked.

“He said it was somethin’ new, but that I would be sure to enjoy it,” he explained while lighting it.

“Are you sure that’s safe?” you asked carefully.

“Yeah- yeah he’s gotten me stuff before,” Miles said, giving a rueful smile. “And it can’t be worse than what I usually do.”

His voice was laced with guilt, and you felt bad for him. He clearly carried a lot inside him.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Though you didn’t know what exactly was okay, you still put a hand on his arm to show him you meant to comfort.

“You’re too good to me, you know,” Miles mumbled.

“Nonsense, Miles! Besides, you’re always so kind to me, too. I like you for it,” you finished shyly.

“You’re like an angel on earth,” he said wistfully, as if he didn’t notice he said it out loud.

You were getting well and truly flustered now. Did he really think that? You supposed the drug could be making him think that, but he didn’t seem that high yet. Plus, it would be a weird drug, making someone think something like that out of nowhere, wouldn’t it?

The smell of the drug was in the air now, and so was the smoke, wrapping around you both like a blanket. You felt quite relaxed, sitting here on the bed with Miles, talking quietly. It was nice. You even dared to get a little bolder with your flirting, trying to see if he would respond to it. He seemed more open in this bubble you two shared, with no one else around and the whole place quiet. Like he could forget about everything for a while.

You didn’t know where you found the bravery to put your hand on his thigh, just above his knee, as you leaned in closer and laughed at something he said. It seemed to have an effect on Miles, however. But instead of getting flustered like usually – well, he was still breathing harder and getting redder – he did something unexpected.

He kissed you.

He leaned in and put his mouth on you, and you forgot how to breathe for a second. You made a surprised noise, but once the shock wore off you quickly kissed him back. It was somehow both sweet and desperate at the same time. You grabbed the collar of his shirt to pull him closer to you, which made you topple backwards on your back, effectively pulling Miles on top of you. Both of you let out a little oomph but didn’t stop kissing.

You didn’t plan on deepening the kiss, or rolling your hips against his instinctively, but it happened all the same. It was as if your body knew what it wanted before your brain did, and it all seemed to light a fire inside Miles.

Before you knew it, he was taking off your apron and your work dress, and it didn’t quite occur to you to stop him. Especially not when he ripped off his own shirt, revealing his pale skin to you. How were you supposed to think rationally when he was kissing his way down to your breasts, and you felt yourself getting all slippery between your legs? How were you supposed to remember this was a sin when it felt so good? How were you ever not supposed to give in when the boy you liked was looking down at you like that? 

Or when he gasped, “This can’t be real. This is a dream.”

You giggled breathlessly and told him that it was real, though you had trouble believing it yourself.

However, when Miles started opening his trousers and you came face to face, so to speak, with his arousal, the hazy cloud of lust lifted somewhat. This wasn’t how you had imagined your first time to go, though you had dreamed it would be with Miles, oh you had dreamed it many times, it was in a very different setting. Somewhere romantic, and when you were already at least engaged.

You knew it was wrong to want this now. You should wait. It wasn’t right. But you wanted him so much, you did.

“Miles.. we– we shouldn’t.. you know,” you bit your lip, looking up at him.

But at the same time his hand had found its way to touch you between your legs, and your words trailed off as Miles groaned loudly, as if he was the one getting touched like that.

“So perfect.. Not real,” he whispered.

Miles slid one finger inside you, making you gasp. He moved his finger back and forth, like you sometimes did when you were alone, but it felt so different like this. So much more.

It felt so good, and Miles was clearly enjoying it as much as you were. He was moaning loudly, his eyes screwed shut, and you couldn’t deny it all added to your excitement. He was so handsome.

Your lust addled brain screeched into a halt though when you felt the press of something considerably larger than his finger at your entrance.

“M-miles,” you stammered. “We should wait..“

But Miles wasn’t hearing you. He seemed as if in a trance, eyes still screwed tight shut, his body trembling slightly as he pushed himself inside your tight heat, just that first inch.

“Miles,” you squeaked, feeling it sting as he stretched you. 

“Ohhhh, god, so perfect. My sweet, perfect angel. I never wanna hurt you,” he panted.

You squirmed, trying to adjust to him, which made him groan again. It seemed that he was speaking the truth about not wanting to hurt you however, because when he was finally all the way in, he stopped, hips flush against you.

“So perfect, so good, feel so good around me, better than anythin’. I could never deserve you,” he blabbered, pressing kisses on your skin wherever he could reach.

You were feeling so torn. This wasn’t how you planned it, this shouldn’t be happening, but Miles really seemed to enjoy it, and you didn’t know what to do.

And then he started rocking into you, and your whole world shifted.

It was shameful. You were so ashamed, you were raised better than this, but heavens above, you liked it. It felt good. The slight sting of pain was no longer there, and instead you felt warmth spread all through your torso. Your emotions were all over the place, your brain telling you a different story from your body.

“Miles, we should stop, it’s not right,” you whispered, covering your face with your hands.

Again, it seemed he didn’t even hear you – instead his thrusts picked up pace, and he kept moaning breathlessly, “So good, oh, my angel, I dream of you every night.”

His words made you shiver, and you felt like you were going out of your mind. The feeling only got stronger as he sneaked a hand between your bodies where you were joined, circling his fingers over the bud at the apex.

You felt your whole body buzzing at the feeling, and you knew what would happen next. He was going to make you reach that peak whether it was right or not. Worse, you wanted him to. Your legs were shaking uncontrollably now, and you felt tears in your eyes, though you weren’t sure if they were because it felt so good or because it was so wrong.

“Miles, shit, you’re gonna make me– It’s–“

The rest of what you were going to say got cut off as you gasped and whimpered, feeling the tide take over, and you were helpless to do anything but surrender to it.

Miles panted open-mouthed moans into your neck as you orgasmed, but he didn’t slow down. No, he only picked up his pace, and it was clear he was aiming for his own peak now.

That’s when you heard a car door slam in the parking lot.

“Miles!” Your eyes flew open. “There’s a guest coming, they could come here and oh Miles someone could see!”

Your sweet Miles was fully lost to the pleasure, however – his hips kept ramming into you, hard, all the while his cries got even louder.

“Ohh god, you’re so perfect, you’re gonna make me come!”

“Miles!” you gasped.

“I love to hear you say my name, angel,” he moaned.

“Miles you can’t finish inside me!” He was on top of you so completely you could hardly move, let alone jostle him enough to make him pull out.

And amidst all this, you had the thought of how you’d give anything to have his child, if it were under different, more secure, circumstances. You felt so dirty. Why did you like this so much, even when you knew you shouldn’t have done it in the first place? You whimpered his name one last time as his whole body shook, and he cried out his release into your neck.

Tears pricked in your eyes. You were so overwhelmed with guilt and the slowly fading desire. How could you have done this?

“Miles we have to get up, there’s a guest waiting, come on.”

Apparently now finally mindful enough of not crushing you, Miles slid out of you, making you whimper again. He collapsed on the bed next to you, still panting. You were still in shock, trying to process everything that had happened, blinking up at the ceiling. You knew there could be consequences for doing something like this, especially out of wedlock, but you hadn’t been able to care about that in the moment. Even though you had been taught to do so all your life.

The spiraling thoughts were interrupted when you heard the bell from the front desk ringing again. Then you jumped into action, frantically pulling your work dress back on and scurrying out of the room. You couldn’t deal with this right now, there was a guest waiting and if you stopped to think about what just happened you might freak out a bit. Thinking of things like what did this mean and does he love you and what will happen next, so it was better to just get back to work.

-

Miles didn’t show up again for the rest of your shift that evening, but you found him absolutely freaking out behind the front desk when you came to work the next day. All the turmoil of the previous night flew out of your head the moment you saw him in distress like that.

“Miles? What’s going on? Is something wrong?”

He turned to look at you, face all scrunched up in worry and like three different kinds of pain.

“You– You left your apron in that room. I woke up in there and was all alone but there was your apron and.. what happened?” he whispered, looking a little bit terrified of what the answer would be.

Your stomach dropped all the way to the floor. Oh no, this was so much worse. Was he really so high he didn’t even remember?

“Y-you don’t remember? What we…. did,” you gulped on the last word.

“We did?!” he cried, making you jump a litte. You’d never heard him so loud, and even after last night that was saying something.

“You mean I wasn’t– That I– It was real??”

“Felt like that to me,” you croaked feebly. This was all kinds of horrible. Maybe he hadn’t even really wanted you. Maybe he’d thought you were someone else. Oh god. You would have to leave the country. This was so embarrassing.

Miles fell out of sight behind the corner. Thinking he had fainted or something in shock you rushed to open the countertop to get to him.

He was on his knees on the floor, tears in his eyes and his chin quivering.

“I am so, so sorry. I can’t believe I did that to you. I thought I imagined it all, but when I woke up and you was gone and your apron and the smell.. and I thought maybe it was real after all and I am so sorry. I swore to myself I’d never hurt you. I swore I’d keep away; I couldn’t deserve you,” he babbled as the tears now leaked out of his eyes.

“I swear I didn’t realize, I thought I was just alone and…. well.. you know… It seemed more vivid than usual but I still never believed it could have been real,” he sniffled.

That part gave you pause. More vivid than usual? He had thought he’d been alone and just fantasizing? As in, he has done that while thinking of you? More than once? Did he do it often?? Your mind was buzzing with questions.

“You don’t have to forgive me, but I’ll do anythin’ to show you I’m sorry. We should of course get married–”

“Now back up just a minute, Miles,” you sternly stopped his rambling.

His head snapped back up, those teary eyes looking up at you now.

“I like you, but I do not want you to shotgun yourself into marrying me. That’s not how I want my marriage to happen.”

You kneeled on the floor opposite him.

“And yeah, I do appreciate the apology, because that would explain some things, maybe, that you were too high to know what was real… But also, in case you don’t remember – and maybe you don’t – I did like it. A lot, actually. Sure, I was really ashamed, too, because I shouldn’t have liked it, we definitely shouldn’t have done it. For god’s sake, we aren’t even together, let alone married or even engaged.. and at work!” You took a deep breath before continuing. “But it was you. Of course I still wanted it.”

Miles’ sniffles had quieted, and he was looking at you with a wide eyed expression.

“I had imagined it going a little differently.. like we’d have at least several dates first and–”

“We could still do that,” Miles blurted out, a little desperate. “If-if you wanted to. You probably don’t, what am I thinkin’, especially after that..” he trailed off.

“It would be a bit of a backwards approach, but maybe we could try a date and see what happens?” you tried to suggest tentatively.

“You mean it?”

You nodded and smiled. “I’d really like that.”

“I promise I won’t touch you again until I’ve at least given you a ring. And I promise I’ll never get high again. I won’t do that again.” His jaw was set, and he had a flushed determination on his sweet face.

 “It’s okay, Miles. One step at a time,” you smiled. “We’ll figure it out.” You leaned in to kiss his still wet cheek. 

And then you heard the sound of a car from the parking lot again, reminding you of where you were. But this time when you jumped up and straightened your dress to get ready to greet the customer, you did so with a much lighter heart and a genuine smile.

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

tagging: @skvatnavle

[glimmerglanger]

Chapters: 3/7 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody/Obi-Wan Kenobi Characters: Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody, Other PT Characters Additional Tags: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Clone Wars era, Separatist Clones, Plot, Negotiations, Torture, Abuse of a prisoner, Dehumanization, References to Past Sexual Assault, threats of sexual assault, Canon-Typical Violence, Eventual Happy Ending, Mentions of Suicide, References to the Death of Children and Canonical TCW Events Summary:

Sometimes, it seemed Obi-Wan only saw other people across the field of battle.

The only reliable source of contact he had with other living beings - for the past year - had been during a fight. And he had not been able to enjoy such contact, had not been able to sink into the Force and refill his reserves, because all of the men he fought were trying so desperately to kill him and all the people he was trying so hard to protect.

OR, the one where Obi-Wan serves the Republic, Cody serves the Separatists, and they find a way forward anyway.

[allegra-writes]

"The Lesson"

Claimed series Part V

Armand x Daniel Molloy

NSFW

Warnings: Oof, let's see. Somnophilia, non-con elements, minor character death. I mean it, Daniel and Armand basically molest a sleeping or otherwise unable to consent woman, literally consume her as a meal and then proceed to get hot and heavy right next to her corpse. It is pretty misogynistic and I felt very uncomfortable writing it at times, but there is a plot reason for things to unfold the way they do this chapter. However, if any of this themes makes you uncomfortable, please do not read it.

Disclaimer: I don't own any recognizable character, and for legal reasons I won't be accepting tips for this story or any story set in Anne Rice's Immortal Universe. Thank you!

MY MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

They came in through the window, like the nightmare creatures they both were now. Armand first, of course, Daniel was still as clumsy as a newborn calf taking its first steps on a barn floor when it came to the flying gift, so naturally, his maker was already leaning over the sleeping figure by the time he made it into the room.

It was a nice room, with cream-colored walls and a narrow single bed covered in a deep midnight blue comforter. The closet, bedside table, and small desk were also painted white, to imitate a set, but upon closer inspection, Daniel could see the different styles and materials. Still, the mismatched furniture didn’t take away from the charm of the small space, if anything, it gave a kind of whimsical quality to it. There were makeup tubes and hair pins strewn among old notebooks, a colorful scarf on the back of a chair alongside a maid uniform, evidence of an ordinary, inconsequential life being lived. If life was ever inconsequential, Daniel mused as he examined the rare black orchid plant kept on a faux antique ceramic mug, the titles of the few books in a language he could speak: Radcliffe, Poe, Shelley. He could see what Armand had meant back down the street when he had first caught whiff of the girl, half in love with death indeed.

“Daniel,” Armand’s voice cut through his reverie, “quit your delaying”

Right. They were there because of him, after all.

“Beloved, you need to feed” The older vampire’s tone softened as Daniel reached him, “and I chose her just for you”

And wasn’t that just a whole other level of fucked-up, not only Armand’s words but also the way they affected Daniel, warming him up inside the way only a youthful-looking vampire with cooper eyes and coal-black curls who ordered the entire menu of a fancy restaurant for him, or brought home emeralds and sapphires the size of his thumb because they reminded him of his eyes could? But he was too old now, wasn’t he? To try and pretend to be at war with himself. The very least he could do was refuse to be a hypocrite and admit that, when it came to Armand, all his morals, all his idealism, all the equality and human rights he had fought so hard for his entire career, simply flew out the window. What did those matter anyway, when he wasn’t human anymore?

As in a trance, Daniel walked ahead to meet his would-be-prey.

She was lovely. Long brown hair spread on white pillows, older than his daughters -thank god for the small mercies- and paler too, all milky skin so thin he could see the veins running under it, a web of blue and purple strings pulsing with life and heat. Daniel’s throat went dry, the hollow inside his stomach growing deep and black and endless. He felt lightheaded, the weak, slow beat of his own heart reverberating in his ears. Reluctantly, Daniel had to admit to the hunger.

“She’s beautiful”

“She’s perfect” Armand corrected, as if offended by the imaginary implications that he would pick anything less than top quality for his fledgling. Daniel realized she truly was, the shape of her voluptuous and undeniably seductive under the light sheets, enticing in her trusting, helpless sleep. Was this how Armand had felt looking at Daniel? All those nights, so many years ago, when he would wake up to his demonic lover’s weight on top of him, buried fangs deep, cock deep inside of him? Had he looked like this, so innocent, so defenseless, so ripe for the taking?

The girl’s eyes fluttered underneath her eyelids, stirring under Daniel’s gaze as if even in her unconscious state she was aware of the danger. But the soft stroking of Armand’s knuckles against her cheek was all it took for her to settle again, relaxing into the mattress, lips parting as she sighed in contentment.

Armand leaned to place a chaste, almost sweet kiss on her forehead.

"Come nearer, beloved," his maker commanded, hands never stopping their gentle stroking of that warm, pink skin, "focus your attention on her. Can you hear it? Do you feel it?"

It wasn’t hard, to find her heartbeat and let it capture him. To let the half-formed whispers from her mind reach his, even in her sleep, her melancholy, her sadness, her indefinable longing.

“She yearns for it, the rapture, the embrace, something she has only but glimpsed in her dreams, but has slipped from her like water through her fingers,” Armand explained, “yet she knows it exists… Wouldn’t it be cruel, Daniel? To allow her to go on without it, bereft in the isolating wasteland of modern existence, unsatisfied, victim of brute men and their rough deceivings, abusing of her passion and neglecting her?”

If Armand expected a reply, he was left wanting it. Daniel was incapable of replying, mesmerized as he was by the graceful movements of his maker’s hands as it glided over the sleeping beauty in his arms, tossing aside sheets, pushing up her sleeping shirt, uncovering more and more skin as it went.

“Our embrace, my beautiful boy, can penetrate that isolation, can delve into the root of her soul, we can give her that ecstasy she craves. It would only be fair, you see, in return for the precious elixir of her blood…”

“Return?” Daniel frowned, even as his eyes were still glued to the place Armand’s fingers were digging into the supple flesh of her inner thigh, sliding down until they could hook around her knee, parting her legs for him to see.

“Yes, Daniel, in return” He could hear the amused smile in Armand’s voice, “If you thought I brought you here to feast on her sweet, unpolluted blood and give her only darkness for all reward, you misunderstood the whole affaire”

There was a connection there, some parallel to be drawn between all those threesomes back in the seventies, letting Daniel watch Louis feed from him, and what he was proposing now, but Daniel’s mind was too muddled by hunger and desire to be able to examine it. Too far gone to even consider the ethics of what he was witnessing, as Armand popped the buttons of the girl's shirt one by one, baring full breasts and pink nipples to Daniel’s ravenous stare. Armand’s eyes were just as greedy, making sure he had all of his fledgling’s attention before lowering his head to trail open-mouthed kisses down the woman’s neck and chest, and breasts, letting his fangs nip at the delicate skin of her areola, only lapping at the drop of blood that sprung from the tiny cut once it slid down the curve of her tit. The sleeping girl arched her back, the softest of sighs leaving her mouth, and Armand rewarded her by bringing one of his hands down to tease at her covered crotch with the pad of his thumb, a wet patch quickly darkening the light cotton.

“Would you like to sample, Daniel?” The dark-haired vampire asked, the very image of sin with his blood-stained lips and naughty little smirk. Throat too dry for speech, Daniel nodded.

Instead of offering up her wrist or her neck as he expected, his maker slid his hand inside her panties. Daniel watched it move obscenely under the fabric as Armand fingered her for a few moments, before taking his hand out and offering him the glistening digits for him to suck clean.

Obediently, Daniel crawled towards him, taking the proffered fingers into his mouth, moaning at the taste. It wasn't as good as blood, at least, Daniel didn't think it was. The truth was in the forty-six hours he had been a vampire, Armand’s blood was the only one he had tasted. His maker had fed, oh, he had fed plenty, it was obvious by the searing heat emanating from him and by the flush darkening his brown skin, probably sneaking out to hunt while Daniel still slept. But he had only drunk from Armand. Their time since he had first woken up as a member of the undead was spent in a feverish haze of animal, lustful sex, and little drinks from each other. Still, Daniel imagined if there was something to come even remotely close to the blood, it was this, this sweet, almost cloying nectar from their delectable little bride.

Armand smiled at him adoringly, approvingly.

“After all these years, all the distance between us… you are still my good boy, aren’t you, Daniel?”

Before any reply could take shape inside his head, the lovely beauty trapped between them woke up with a start. Daniel could feel her confusion give way to terror, and then to recognition as she took in the monstrous apparitions sharing her bed. It was a surreal thing, to be able to spy, but only partly, on the silent conversation taking place in front of him.

“It’s you, it’s really you… I dreamed of you… No, I’m not afraid… I knew you would come, I knew both of you would come”

It was her the one to initiate the kiss, even if Armand was the one to gently push her into Daniel’s arms, she was the one to part her lips and slip her tongue inside the mouth of the young immortal, moaning as she cut herself on his fang in her eagerness to taste death.

The first taste of her blood was a revelation. It was like sunshine flooding his veins, waking his senses back to life, bringing everything into an even sharper focus. Even time seemed to move slower as he departed from her candied, wet mouth and sank his fangs into her dainty little neck.

There was a struggle, at the beginning. After the initial sobering stab of white-hot pain, she twisted and scratched and beaten at Daniel’s chest with all her might, but her feeble human strength was no match for a vampire, not even one as young as Daniel was, and soon enough she gave into the swoon, letting Daniel press her close to his chest. Letting the hard pebbles of her nipples rub against him, arching her back for him as she melted into his embrace, pliant and supple again. Letting her heat warm Daniel’s lifeless body. Letting her pulse feed Daniel’s veins with every beat, letting his heart feast on her own.

He caught a glimpse of the enchanting dream Armand had woven for her, of the slightly damp moss she laid upon as a fresh breeze graced her skin, of the crickets and forest creatures serenading her to sleep under the night sky bejeweled with the stars she loved so dearly, before her mind faded completely.

“That’s enough, lover mine” Armand coaxed, voice soft but firm, “let her go, lest she drags you into that gentle goodnight with her”

Daniel found that was easier said than done. Letting go of her was as difficult as leaving a cozy bed on a cold winter morning, but Armand’s insistent hands left him no choice but to comply. A soft thumb swept over his lower lip.

“So messy…” Armand mused before licking the blood off his chin and mouth, and yes, that was the taste Daniel had craved for all this time, better than the swoon, better than the blood, the sweetest taste was his maker, his Armand. It was as easy and natural as muscle memory to pull him in on top of him and guide him to straddle his legs. Even after all those years, after all he had changed both in life and in death, Armand still fitted with him like a puzzle piece, like a perfectly tailored suit, meant just for him. It was only right, to feel Armand’s possessive touch under his t-shirt, those impossibly soft fingertips trailing his ribs one by one, the scrap of those glass-like nails sending shivers over his entire body.

Daniel’s own hands weren’t idle either, bunching up Armand’s sweater to his armpits so Daniel could suck and bite at those sensitive nipples and hear the pornographic sounds Armand always made when he focused on that particular part of his anatomy.

“Love these tits” Daniel growled low and dirty against Armand’s skin, “prettier than any girl’s”

Armand’s moan was filthy as he tugged at Daniel’s hair hard enough to rip some strands from his scalp, making him almost dizzy with want, if such a thing were possible for a creature of the night. But Armand was so fucking perfect, so hungry for it, hips rolling against Daniel’s, hands ripping his shirt off his body, Daniel couldn’t help but think, for the millionth time, he was going to be his undoing.

“Hey! I liked that t-shirt” He protested, lying through his teeth cuz the truth was he couldn’t give a crap about the old, faded, grey piece of clothing. He simply wanted to hear Armand say:

“I’ll buy you a new one. I’ll buy you a thousand shirts just so I can tear them to shreds to unwrap you” Just like the old times, “You are my gift from Louis, my beautiful boy”

“Am I?” Daniel replied, defiant as always, “Why don’t you tie me up all tight and pretty with a bow then? What you waiting for?”

"So impertinent" Armand tsked, sliding his hand inside Daniel’s jeans in retaliation, "I would punish your insolence, but I know you'd only enjoy it"

Whatever reply hung on the tip of Daniel’s quick tongue, it was left unsaid as Armand’s fingers closed around his length.

It was still as intense, as electrifying, as debilitating as the first time. Daniel couldn’t help to throw his head back, his neck suddenly too weak to support his swooning head. Armand’s hand against his nape, however, pulled him back into place, probably so Daniel wouldn’t get a glance at the quickly cooling corpse right next to him.

“No, keep your eyes open, beloved. I want you to look” He commanded, sounding as breathless as Daniel felt. It wasn’t a hassle to obey, though, not when Armand was taking his own cock out of his pants, thick and long and pulsing with borrowed blood, Daniel couldn’t have taken his eyes off of it even if he had wanted to. And he certainly didn’t want to.

Armand spat on his hand then, nasty and vulgar, before wrapping his hand around both their members. Fingers unable to surround both girths at the same time, he started slowly pumping his hand up and down, in the rhythm that was sure to drive Daniel mad.

What the technique might have lacked in physical stimulation, more than made up for in visuals, the image of Armand’s cock pressed against his, longer, leaking all over his, the contrast of his bronze skin against his, stone white and washed out, they way it seemed to grow and fill even more before his eyes, the way the veins popped…

“Armand…” Daniel pleaded, without knowing what for, “Need… I need”

“Yes, beloved” Armand replied, guiding Daniel’s face to his neck, “here, from my throat”

It was just what the fledgling needed, shuddering with the force of his release the very instant his maker’s blood hit his tongue.

“Yes, like that” Armand husked, the rhythm of his hand growing more and more erratic, the longer Daniel drank, “harder, take it all…”

Daniel bit down deeper, sinking his human teeth on the hard flesh, tearing muscle up, making Armand explode, copious amounts of hot fluid bathing his cock, splashing on his stomach.

He retracted his fangs then, but kept lapping at the open, messy wound with his tongue, relishing in the waves of both aftershocks combined, refusing to let the link between their minds shut down again, holding Armand’s shivering body close against his, uncaring of the mess. There was a desperation, a deep melancholy emanating from Armand’s thoughts as he came down, the same bone aching loneliness he had caught a glimpse of the very first time they had come together at that bar, eliciting the same ferocious devotion in him, and he suddenly understood…

The dance was finally over.

Daniel’s destiny had finally been fullfilled. The devil’s minion through and through, born, dead and reborn, at last reaching his final form. Forever servant and master to the ageless creature clinging to him.

Don’t let me go, it begged, don't ever let me go.

I won’t, Daniel vowed, knowing in his blood there would be no running away for him.

I won’t, a promise and a threat, I love you.

I love you, a blessing and a curse, I love you.

Forever.

Next part (back to 1973)

[lokislastlove]

A Taste Of Devotion (Dark!Clark x Reader)

Summary: You discover a secret garden that changes your life forever.

Warning: Noncon/Dubcon, a bit of blood and death, smut, sex-pollen-ish?

Note: My contribution to @thanatosfic amazing Greek Mythology Challenge!!!! I LOVE a Greek Mythology. This got me so excited!! Thank you for all the effort you put into that list of prompts and inspiration. I chose the Minotaur myth, and mixed it up a bit with the god Dionysus and his cult of Maenads. First time trying to write Clark… tho I don’t feel like I really made it feel like him, maybe next time I’ll be better. Haha 😬

🌿

The warm sun shines through the fluffy white clouds, casting patches of shadows over the blooming green hills. Ripening grapes grow heavy on the weaving vines clutching row after row of trellises along either side of you. The only sound for miles are the twittering of birds and the crunch of the earth beneath your sandals.

You take in a deep breath through your nose, savoring the sweetness of the beautiful spring day as you tour the foreign vineyard. All doubts of traveling on your own are lost to the pleasant breeze as you let the beauty of nature soothe your overworked body and mind.

You may have chosen this stop for the wine tasting, but there is no denying the healing power of nature. The wine takes the edge off in the evenings and the food is delicious at all hours, but you hadn’t expected to enjoy the quiet morning walks through the grounds as much as you do.

Strolling up and down the rows, admiring and tasting the grapes, giggling at the animals who scurry at the sight of you. Such a simple pleasure, but one city life doesn’t offer.

At the end of the dusty path between the sprawling fields of grapes you come upon a tall crumbling brick wall, overgrown with ivy and weeds. Curious, you follow along the old bricks in search for some sign of what might be hidden beyond. After some time you find a small archway hung with a splintering wooden door, its hinges rusted and flaking.

You hesitate, climbing over a thorny bush so you can test it’s resistance. Balancing on your tip toes, you give the door a sharp push. The wood groans, hinges screeching, as it slowly creaks open. You retrieve your sandal from where it caught in a vine and set down the dark path, towering shrubs escorting you into some sort of secret garden. How could you possibly resist?

—

The sun sits high in the sky, hours since you found your way into this endless estate, each turn offering a new wonder to dazzle and lure you in. You didn’t mean to wander so deep, but you can’t help it for without fail each new enclave offers something enchanting and you just have to find out what comes next.

Courtyards of precisely trimmed shrubbery, your favorite being the animal themed collection with a roaring lion at its center. Another path takes you to a field of daffodils, glowing gold in the brilliant blaze of the sun. Around another corner an iron gate leads to a soft grassy lawn, spotted with cherry blossoms, ideal for a spring time picnic. You discover a gravel path where blushing pink roses climb white stone pillars that lead you to the most amazing sight yet.

A sparkling cerulean lake surrounded by towering trees and lush green grass has you frozen in awe. Just on the edge of the water, across the pond, stands a grand marble gazebo. Grecian-styled white columns circle a stone patio with a beautiful view of the water and blossoming bushes of various colors.

“Wow,” you breathe as you reach the shade of the painted dome ceiling.

The vivid colors depict a glorious celebration, women frolicking through nature with fistfuls of grapes and ivy crowns adorning their heads as they chase a flute playing satyr around a bull-headed man at the center. The image brings a smile to your face for a brief moment before you hear the blood-curdling scream of a woman from somewhere behind you.

You whip around, scanning the shady forest floor until you spot a girl scrambling back to her feet as she rushes toward you, weaving through the trees and fearfully checking over her shoulder. Your blood goes cold at her disheveled appearance, scratches along her face, dress torn and sliding down her muddied shoulders.

“Help!” she shrieks.

You don’t move, confusion and shock freezing you on the spot. She breaks through the trees and into the sun allowing you to see the alarming amount of blood staining the skirt of her dress.

“What? Oh my god, are you ok?” You fret, tentatively holding out your arms as she stumbles toward you.

Her bare feet slip on the polished step and you catch her before she can hit the sharp edge, “woah, are you hurt?”

She doesn’t answer, eyelids fluttering weakly as she sinks into your arms in relief. Her rapid breaths slowing slightly as she lays there. You tuck your sweater under her head as you try to search her for injuries.

“I’m gonna call for help,” you promise as you reach for your phone in your pocket, but your fingers feel nothing but the barren patch of cloth.

Your stomach drops as you pat down your clothes with no success. You must have dropped it, but you can’t actually remember using it since you passed through the splintered door.

“Shit,” you curse and the battered girl coughs out a pained laugh.

“It’s no use,” she bemoans, shaking her head. “There’s no way out.”

“What?”

Her eyes open wide, mirroring your terror-filled gaze, “labyrinth.” Her voice is breathy and strained, as if simply uttering the word might summon some monstrous terror.

“Labyrinth? Like a maze?” You ask, brows furrowed.

Her twisted features soften as her breathing shutters and she lets out one last wheezy sigh. Her body stills, eyes dull as you hover over her in a panic, unsure of what to do. Your nerves seize in the silence, buzzing with a mixture of shock and grief, she looks so young, early twenties if you had to guess. But mostly you feel fear, the thought of what did this to her might find you as well.

The sharp snap of a twig echoes through the trees, breaking the silence and causing your heart to clench in fright. Your eyes dart around you as you get to your feet, ready to run at the first sign of danger.

“What’s this?” A sickly sweet voice sings.

A young girl, with an ivy crown and vines curling up her bare legs, steps out from behind a pillar only a few yards away. You swallow nervously at the way she grins in excitement. A few drops of scarlet drip down her cheeks and splatter on her dainty white sundress, its broken strap exposing her right breast. A perfect manifestation of the image hanging above you.

“I – I think she’s dead…” you stutter as you take a shaky step back.

“Mmm,” she tilts her head and smiles. “She was unworthy.”

“Unworthy,” you repeat, bewildered.

She giggles childishly and slowly turns her attention toward the forest, where you hear another snap and follow her gaze with a gasp. It take a minute for your brain to process what you are seeing. At first you think it’s a bear, standing tall and terrifying on his hind legs. But the horns give you pause and your eyes widen as you recognize the bull-shaped head sitting atop a startlingly large man’s body.

His skin is black and leathery, coated with thick patches of equally dark hair and his muscles ripple beneath as he steps into the sun. His hoofed feet shatter the twigs and fallen debris as he stalks closer and closer to you. He growls lowly, exhaling with a huff as he watches you tremble before him.

He stops before the stone steps and snorts softly, tilting his head as if assessing you, his large nostrils flaring as he smells you from afar. You take several steps back, your knees weak, ready to collapse at any moment.

“Oh,” the girl laughs as she twirls gracefully around one of the surrounding columns. “He likes you.”

Your eyes bounce between them, unsure of who you are more afraid of. The ‘Labyrinth’ comment suddenly clicks and you shudder as the realization settles over you, if the legends are real you were dead the moment you walked through that wooden door.

Without a thought you turn on your heal and sprint through the pillars and leap into the clear blue water. You dive deep and kick hard, urging yourself forward in an attempt to escape. You make it up to the surface and take a gulp of air, turning back as you paddle to see if they are following you.

You blink and sputter into the water as the Minotaur steps up to the edge, his companion dancing unbothered behind him. He slowly raises his arms and light seems to gather around him. You narrow your eyes, treading water as you stare in disbelief at the way the light is absorbed from the very air and his silhouette subtly shifts in the glare of the brilliant blaze.

The bullhead is gone, replaced with the head of the most jaw dropping man you’ve ever seen. His leathery hide restored to a flawless bronzed skin peppered with thick brown body hair to match his luscious curly locks. He squares his stubbled jaw and smirks at you down in the water, amused at the way you ogle every exposed inch of him.

“Oh look, a beautiful little water lily,” he taunts and flicks his wrists to point at you.

You panic as you hear a sudden splash and watch two thick vines along the shore disappear into the water. You barely have time to take a deep breath, your screams cut short when they wrap around your legs and drag you through the lake at a dizzying speed. You are pulled out of the water upside down, hanging loosely by your ankle as you cough, trying to expel the water invading your lungs. The vines hold you aloft, water dripping over the patio, while the man circles you like a vulture.

“Please! Please don’t kill me,” you beg, painfully aware of the still-warm dead girl not ten yards away.

“Kill you?” The woman trills in amusement, “where is the fun in that.”

“Mmm,” he hums in agreement, nodding silently.

“I don’t know if she’s worthy of you, Dionysus,” she advises, voice suddenly serious but still curious as she nears and runs her fingers down your legs.

“That’s what you said about the last one,” he muses, side eyeing her as she circles you.

“She was weak,” she scoffs, peeking at the body on the stairs.

“And the one before that?” he raises a pointed brow.

“She tried to kill you,” she argues.

He laughs loudly, flashing his swoon-worthy smile, “so did you, Ariadne.”

She looks down, shame coloring her olive skin as she bites back any further retort. You stare between them, completely confused and anxious, trying not to draw attention to yourself.

“I think I will judge this one alone,” he says as he steps closer, tilting his head as he studies you.

Adriadne’s mouth gapes in offense before her lips tighten into a thin line, “as you wish, master.”

“Bid one of the others to fetch us some wine as you go,” he waves his hand absently at her, eyes never leaving yours while she glares at you over his shoulder.

“Of course,” she says tersely and storms off into the trees.

There is a moment of silence as you hang there awkwardly, blood rushing to your head as you keep your hands pinned to your sides in an attempt to preserve some of your modesty. Your body shivers wildly, teeth chattering from the cool spring breeze and your wrecked nerves.

“Jealous still, after all these years. But she is loyal to me,” he explains as his fingers trace the collar of your shirt. “Hard to believe that she is the same woman who hired Theseus to kill me,” he chuckles fondly in memory.

“But… I thought Theseus did kill the Minotaur,” you reply, hoping to keep him amenable and talking.

He smirks, eyes sparkling with mischief, “I let him claim as much… and in exchange he ferried Ariadne away on his ship and left her on an island, stranded, as a gift to me.”

“What did you do to her?”

“I married her,” he shrugs. “She was beautiful and meant to be a queen, like her mother. So I made her queen of my harem, the Maenads.”

“Maenads?” you breathe, the title vaguely familiar.

His lip curls, as he circles you once more, “my fearless, formidable army of women who have given their lives in service to me. And in exchange I bless them with my presence.”

“Gee, what a trade,” you mutter without thinking.

He steps back in front of you and clicks his fingers. The vines break with a sharp snap and you drop, hitting your head painfully on the marble floor. You cower at his feet, his size even more intimidating from this new vulnerable position, waiting for the blow to fall for your disrespect.

“It is a gift only fit for those I prize most… which is rare these days.” He toes your chin, prodding you to look up at him. “And what about you, my little water lily… what would you offer your god?”

You gulp, his toe digging into the soft skin just above your throat. You know where he is trying to steer the conversation, you can feel it in the way he looks at you, so you try to stall for time, “w-why did she want to kill you?”

He sighs and releases your chin, crossing his arms over his protruding pectorals, “she was resistant to my affections after she saw what happened between her mother and I.” He pauses, but continues when he notices the look of confusion and mild disgust on your face.

“I seduced Minos’ wife, her mother,” he explains, “disguised as a bull, and Minos had the audacity to take revenge on my offspring. It died in that stone maze beneath their city. After that I ordered Minos to bring me mortal sacrifices each year. It was good sport for a while, and those who managed to impress me were welcomed into my harem where I gave them the chance to take vengeance on their oppressors.”

“So the whole Labyrinth was just a ruse… a way for you to build your cult following?” You snort in disbelief.

“Your naiveté is precious,” he sneers. “I’m hardly the first god to take advantage of their power. At least I don’t set out to inflict pain in all of my endeavors. In fact you might come to find that my desires can be quite beneficial to both of us.”

You flinch when he leans down, reaching out to cup your chin gently. His touch sends a warm tingle outward, spreading through your body and you find yourself getting to your feet at his wordless command, your eyes lost in his.

The soft slap of bare feet on stone and the clatter of a metal tray draws his attention away from you. You stand there mesmerized, the effect of that single touch lingering as he goes to collect a goblet of wine. He returns and offers it to you silently. You drag your eyes away from his modelesque features and glance down at the shimmering red wine.

You know it’s not your typical five dollar box wine by the way it sparkles when it catches the sunlight, clearly enhanced by some sort of magic. And yet your hand grips the cool metal without hesitation, your fingers brushing against his, making your breath hitch. Your muscles tense, mind screaming at you to toss it into the lake, but the edge of the cup meets your lips and the sinfully sweet concoction flows into your mouth despite your reticence.

“What’s going to happen to me?” You quiver as you hand the cup back.

He smiles and leans down, lips brushing against the shell of your ear, hot breath making you shiver with delight, “what would you like to happen to you?”

Words and thoughts evaporate as his lips meet the sensitive skin of your neck. It’s like a tickle set ablaze, your eyes roll and your breath quivers as a wave a pleasure shoots down your body. With just a single kiss he is able to surrender you powerless, needy and yearning for more. You’ve never felt anything so blissfully enticing, and it makes you wonder what else he could do.

“Again,” is all you manage, using most of your focus to remain standing.

“And what are you willing to give for it, little lily?” He whispers against your jaw and you swallow thickly at the wicked depth of his voice.

“Anything, please,” you plead breathily.

“A promising start…” he chuckles and steps back, drawing a whimper from you at the loss of his body heat. “Undress. Slowly.”

Heart fluttering, beating rapidly as a rush of hormones flood your veins, but your hand moves steady and sure. You lift the hem of your shirt, tossing it aside and soaking in his enjoyment, the glimmer in his eye with each new reveal gives you a surge of confidence. His smile widens as he watches you, low hums of pleasure reverberate around the gazebo until you are down to nothing, just like him.

Emboldened by the heat in his eyes and the way his cock grows at the sight of you, you bite your lip and push your breasts together, the need to be touched overwhelming you. You’ve never felt this audacious. And although your body bends to his will, inwardly you note the rush that comes with this lack of self doubt, always held back by your insecurities in the past.

“I still sense some fight in you,” he smirks and with a flourish of his hand a stone seat appears behind him.

He sits on the veined white marble while you stare on, entranced by his magic and the crawling vines wrapping themselves along the surface of the throne. He picks a plump purple grape from a vine on the arm and pops it in his mouth as he lets his thick thighs fall open on the wide seat.

“Show me what you’d do, if you let go completely. Forget about modesty, restraint or fear. I want you as wild and untamed as the flowers in this garden, little lily.”

Your mouth hangs open, salivating at the depravity of his words and his brazen posturing, draping lazily over the seat, exposing every flawless inch of himself. Your only thought is how you’d love to crawl into that lap and use this god until you are completely satisfied. You lick your lips and take a demure step forward.

“Do it,” he commands gently, fanning the fire raging within you.

You feel like you’re about to burst as you reach the chair, standing between his open thighs as you greedily admire every muscle and chiseled curve. Throwing all care to the wind you climb onto his lap, moaning already at the feel of his hot firm thighs beneath yours. Your knees hug his hips as you lets your hands explore his torso.

Fingers dancing over his abs and up his chest, feeling the curly chest hair tickle your fingers as you give a quick squeeze to his pectorals. He chuckles but doesn’t move, curious to see the way you slowly lose control, drawing you out of your timorous nature.

“That’s it. Use me. Show me your fire,” he urges.

You suddenly grab his face and pull his lips to yours. They are soft and pliant, the faint taste of grape still there, feeding your fervor. You feel your control slipping, almost entirely gone now, so unlike the you you’ve known your whole life. Or is this the real you? Just a you without fear.

“Fuck,” you groan as you pull back, your cunt leaking all over his lap as your hips move back and forth, slit dragging along his rigid cock.

“More,” he growls and you sneer at him.

You grab his cock and squeeze the tip playfully as you guide it to your entrance. You suck in one last breath as you slowly slide onto him. You whimper as he fills you so completely, the pain slightly outweighing the pleasure of the stretch. With a feral determination you sink onto him completely, his tip nestled so deep you can practically feel it in your stomach. Deeper than anything you’ve ever experienced.

“It’s too much,” you grimace and try to pull away, but his hands latch to your hips and keep you still.

You gasp at the sudden movement and the way his eyes glow dangerously, a warning. He holds your hips and lifts you up slowly, the corner of his mouth curving at the way you whimper and hiss.

“Such a delicate little flower,” he mocks as he forces you back down and you cry out. “You will learn to appreciate the duality of my sensuality, both the pain and the pleasure.”

You cling to his massive shoulders, your hands unable to cover the full width of his flexing muscles. Biting your lip you try to relax into his touch, the fire still burns within you, craving more despite the sharp stabbing in your core. But the longer you go, the more the pleasure prevails, rising like a warm tide within you until your hips begin to ride it gracefully.

“It is often the most beautiful flowers that are the most deadly… and that is what I will make of you. A woman without fear, knowing she is more formidable than any who might challenge her. I will unleash your chaos.”

Your hips swivel, no longer needing his guidance as you use him to your hearts content. Loud moaning and grunts fill the air as you grind yourself against him, clit pressing deliciously against his hard pelvic muscles as his voice fuels your passion until you explode. You press your chest to his, letting the glow of your orgasm wash over you as you melt into him, boneless and twitching.

“Yes my little water lily, you will join my Maenads, devote your life to me and do my bidding without question. Together we will bring about a new age of revelry.”

He pets your head, cradling you against his chest as you feel your old life slip away, submitting to his power, knowing you will never be the same again.

Tags: @darkficsyouneveraskedfor @caffiend-queen @queenoftheworldisdead @threeminutesoflife @buttercupfangirl @needleandhammer @thiskindahotkindamusic @lokiswildheartcantbebroken

[zazrichor]

🕯️🩸 | cover art for @trappedfanzine | ☠️👻

Get the free zine here!

[delimeful]

to know that song (and all its words) (4)

warnings: miscommunication, threats, poison mention, medical torture mention, food scarcity mention

-

“... Food?” Virgil echoed, wondering if he’d heard wrong.

“Yes, food,” Square continued, their gaze flickering to the cup he’d almost forgotten he was holding. “You have a… food-storage room on the ship, yes?”

“A pantry?” Virgil asked, and then nodded because what else could they be referring to. “I need to eat, most things do.”

“Us as well,” Square replied, and Virgil quickly cottoned on to their seriousness.

His nerves increased. Humans consumed flesh and blood, didn’t they? The only non-Human source of that on the ship was him, and he wasn’t feeling that generous. “I don’t have meat.”

“Humans are…,” Square grasped for a word and then sighed. “We eat many things. Not just meat. I want to make a deal for access to your pantry.”

“Make a deal,” Virgil echoed incredulously. Did they not know that the pantry was controlled by the admin system, same as everything else?

Square’s face went oddly flat at his response. “Yes. Food, and information on the food. Enough for the other two to survive, at least. We are offering proper payment.”

They leaned forward and opened the bag, reaching into it and pulling out a sealed cylindrical container.

They set it on the ground and pushed it closer to Virgil, close enough for him to read the label.

'DREN [HIGH-GRADE ADRENALINE, UNDILUTED] 200 ML.'

The fluid inside was worth more than his entire ship and all of its many, many repairs combined.

The light fluff along his spine began to spike up in an embarrassing display of shock, and his gaze shifted from the canister to Square, meeting their eyes directly for the first time. They remained placid, their expression like stone.

Intuitively, he knew that this wasn’t some stolen good or traded item.

“It’s fresh,” they offered tonelessly, as though they knew exactly where Virgil’s thoughts had led him. “It was taken just before we… left. I simply took it back.”

It had been taken before they’d escaped their previous captors. It was one thing to know that they’d endured unethical treatment, it was something else entirely to see the evidence of it sitting right in front of him.

He shook his head in a wordless refusal, stepping back from the canister like it would strike out at him.

The Human’s expression shifted oddly for a moment, and then settled back into that horrible stillness. “Fine.”

They reached into the bag again, and this time pulled out a contraption of metal, narrow and stacked in blocky segments, with sharp-edged protrusions along one side. It smelled of old iron. They set it on the ground.

“I can offer you a steady supply,” they intoned, only the barest waver in their voice. “I will need outside assistance to apply the device, and I will be the only Human that is drawn from.”

Virgil stared at the device, all his feathers on end, his mind shying away from the understanding of what exactly it was, what it was used to do.

In front of him, Square sat mildly, as though they weren’t offering themself up for a medical procedure that was scarcely more than torture, not just once, but again and again for as long as it took. For something as simple as food.

“No,” Virgil said, but before he could continue, the Human’s gaze went dark and flinty.

“That is the offer. Only me. You will not touch them.” More than anything else he’d seen from them, he knew without question that Square’s words were a threat, a warning clearer than any bared fangs or lashing tail.

This was what an angry Human looked like.

“No, that’s not what I--,” Virgil shook himself agitatedly, his feathers prickling up in a rote display of back-off-i-bite intimidation. “I don’t want that, I cannot emphasize enough how much I don’t want any part in any of that. Not a chance. You guys can have food, it’s fine.”

Square, whose brow had been furrowing further and further at his denial, stopped short. “What?”

“I’ll give you access to the pantry,” Virgil said, marveling a little at the way he was still looking them in the eyes with no issue. “I don’t know how long the trip is or how much Humans eat, so you’re going to have to figure out rationing. Don’t eat all my food unless you have a plan for getting more. Starving is not fun.”

“We’re… aware,” Square replied, sounding entirely thrown-off.

Virgil winced, his hands flexing. He should have guessed as much, with them making an escape and stealing a ship. They’d probably been working off stale emergency rations for ages. “Right. Well, come on.”

The Human rose back to their full height a little too quickly, and Virgil couldn’t help but skitter back a few steps. Something about the way they’d bared themself like that, something like resignation in their gaze… it had almost made him forget the reality of his situation.

Maybe it had all been a front, a bluff. They had to know he would give them food, right? The alternative was being trapped on a ship with starving Humans, and no matter what Square said, some of those teeth were those of a predator, designed to catch and tear.

With this in mind, he kept his pace carefully measured as he led the way through the halls. He must have been too transparent in his attempts to tilt his head back and catch the sound of the Human’s footsteps behind him, because after a few moments, they audibly shifted to a heavier step. Virgil forced his antennae not to flick back in embarrassment.

They managed to reach food storage without running into either of the others, and Virgil spent a moment staring at the access pad to the pantry before coming to a decision.

His signature still registered as an admin, which meant that the Humans really hadn’t wiped him from the system. It had to be because they weren’t familiar with the security system programming of this ship-- any admin could remotely lock a door through any access pad, which wasn’t the sort of power one would knowingly let a hostage have.

He keyed in the passcode to add a new signature, giving them general guest permissions and, after a moment’s thought, unrestricted access to the training room. The guest rooms weren't big enough to fit all three of them, and he doubted they’d sleep separately.

Now, the difficult part. Virgil ran his hands over his ruff for a moment, trying to force his feathers into something less aggressive, and then held an outstretched hand in the general direction of Square’s arm.

To their credit, it took them only a moment to cautiously reach out and set their fingers against his own. He forced himself not to recoil as he wrapped his hand around the comparatively large and oddly clawless digits, the proximity to all the abrasive edges of (curiosity-impatience-wariness-hope) their aether enough to make him feel nauseated.

He dragged their hand over to the access pad and pressed their fingers to the key portion, holding them there for a moment until the screen blinked in a confirmation of a new signature registered. He released them as though their hand was covered in poisonous burrs, glad to once more get some distance.

“Explain,” Square said, more of a command than a request. They’d gone tense, something about his actions making them (wary-alarm-panic) nervous.

Oh. Right. Human.

“The ship system is separate from any universal registers,” he said, trying to look as trustworthy as possible while also being one wrong move away from unbridled panic. “I have a friend who doesn’t want to be under the eye of the Council, he made sure every ship we have has a private logging system. I added you to the ship, your signature isn’t going anywhere else. You can wipe it when you leave,” he added, because pretending like he thought they were going to leave him alive at the end of this made it easier for all of them.

Square continued to stare down at him for another moment, before slowly dipping their head in what seemed to be a Human gesture of agreement. “Do not betray our trust.”

“I’m not stupid and I’m not planning on it,” Virgil grumbled, electing to ignore the way his feathers had slowly puffed out as far as they could go.

Hoping to move on from that unpleasant almost-misunderstanding, he unlatched the access pad and pushed it up the rigging on the wall, letting it glide up vertically to be more easily in range of the Human’s arms. “Give it a try.”

Square reached out and set their hand on the key, and after watching Virgil motion with his own hand, flicked their fingers to the right.

The latch on the pantry door clicked open, and Virgil pulled until the interior of the room was on display, about half the size of a guest room and full of labeled shelves.

He stepped closer to Square and gestured for the access pad, the Human only pausing briefly before sliding it back down to him. Hopefully the Humans would be better about remembering to lower the pad back into range than Remus was; sometimes Virgil would get so fed up that he would drag the pad down to be just above the flooring and lock it there, forcing Remus to practically flop down on his front just to read the pad properly. Not that it really deterred him.

The thought of his crewmate sent a shuddering pang through his hearts, and he shook out his ruff with a low buzzing grumble, forcing himself to focus.

A simple flick of his fingers turned the light on, and he gestured to each of the shelving segments, which Janus had labeled with bright, colorful symbols after one too many close calls with his more poisonous snacks.

He could practically hear Janus’s voice in his head, encouraging him to feed the humans poison and hope it was debilitating enough for him to make his escape. He had plenty of experience sorting through the different, occasionally-inedible food items to do it, too, but…

Humans were notoriously hard to keep down by any means, and he doubted he could pass an assassination attempt off as ‘food poisoning’ if it didn’t work as well as expected. Better not to risk it.

(Plus, what if he really killed them? The thought was, ridiculously enough, upsetting. And not just because he had no idea how to get rid of three Human corpses.)

“This one means safe,” he said, tapping the symbol used for his food shelves. There was hardly anything an Ampen could eat that would hurt most spacefarers.

“This one means danger, poisonous. Do not eat from them.” Janus’s shelves, which were self-explanatory.

“This one… Don’t eat from these either. If we run out, I’ll help look through these ones to see what’s edible.” Remus’s shelves varied wildly. Half the stuff in it barely even qualified as food, and the other half he combined into aberrations.

“Why is nearly half of your food not safe for eating?” Square asked, their face scrunching up in what felt like bewilderment. It was the most expression he’d seen from them this entire time.

“I have weird friends,” Virgil summarized.

Square huffed in (surprise-amusement-agreement) apparent solidarity, and then a thought seemed to strike them, and their face tightened back up into impassiveness.

Unwilling to put more stress on his poor hearts, Virgil skipped back, deciding his work here was basically done. Time to go… do more work elsewhere, he guessed. “Gonna go pilot now.”

Square didn’t stop him, but he could still feel their eyes lingering on him all the way down the hall.

[40-years-of-robin-ii]

✨✨ THE FIRST DAY OF RELEASES IS HERE! ✨✨

Check out the amazing works and de sure to leave kudos and comments for our lovely, awesome participants! 🎁🎉

1. You can stare your fate right into his hands for byrdsofthenyte [Fic - Gift,   Explicit, Creator Chose Not To Warn, Graphic Depictions Of Violence]

Relationships: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd, Dick Grayson/Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Tags:  Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Intersex Omegas, Omega Jason Todd, Alpha Slade Wilson, Alpha Dick Grayson, Blood and Injury, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Rape Aftermath, Scent Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Cunnilingus, Biting, Mention of sexually transmitted diseases, Condoms, Protective Slade Wilson, Protective Dick Grayson, Hurt Jason Todd, Threesome - M/M/M  

Summary: Jason doesn’t need anyone to rescue him from the alphas who drugged and kidnapped him. He doesn’t need anyone to help with the heat they’d forced him into, either. Slade and Dick are there for him anyway.

2. The Door & the Canyon that Separates Us for NikkiPond [Fic - Gift, Mature, Creator Chose Not To Warn]

Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Jason Todd

Tags:  Identity Reveal, Brotherly Bonding(eventually) - Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Jason Todd Has a Bad Time, Good Sibling Dick Grayson, Anxiety, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Scars, Blood and Injury, Jason Todd Has Mental Health Issues, Jason Todd Angst, Jason Todd Whump, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Jason Todd Gets A Hug, Suicidal Thoughts, Dead Joker (DCU), Near Death Experiences, Jason Todd Has Low Self-Esteem, Insecure Jason Todd, BAMF Jason Todd, Look Jason is a badass but also a sad little bean, Protective Dick Grayson, Fluff and Angst, but only a sprinkling of fluff because reasons, Sad boi hours, Angst with a Happy Ending, Happy Ending 

Summary: Dick moves back to Gotham to help Batman pursue the infamous Red Hood. Little does he know, he's moved right next door to his intended target.

3. Little Mockingjay for ASmallVoice [Fic - Gift, General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply]

Relationships: Roy Harper/Jason Todd, Lian Harper & Jason Todd, Batfamily Members & Jason Todd

Tags:  Insecure Jason Todd, Good Parent Jason Todd, Jason Todd is Good with Kids, Jason Todd is Red Hood, Parent Roy Harper, Jason Todd is Lian Harper's Parent, Cute Lian Harper, Family Fluff, Fluff, no beta we die like jason todd, Jason Todd is a Batfamily Member

Summary: Jason being a good step-dad to Lian.

4. Wayne Manor for Nightwang [Fic - Gift, Explicit, Creator Chose Not To Warn]

Relationships: Jason Todd/Slade Wilson

Tags:  Copious Amounts of Cum, Coming Untouched, Coming In Pants, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Jason Todd, Topping from the Bottom, Sex Work, Dom/sub, Knotting, Alternate Universe, subversion, Power Play, Oral Sex, Anal Sex, Rutting, Breeding, Multiple Orgasms

Summary: Wayne Manor, located just outside Gotham city limits, is renowned for one thing: Omegas of the highest caliber, capable of meeting their client's every need.

5. into the unknown for Reagy_Jay [Fic - Gift, Mature, No Archive Warnings Apply]

Relationships: Dick Grayson & Jason Todd & Bruce Wayne

Tags:  Whump, Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Jason Todd, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Protective Dick Grayson, Protective Bruce Wayne, Unreliable Narrator, Scarecrow's Fear Toxin (DCU), (or something like it)

Summary: To say that the trafficking case was going badly would be such an understatement as to be almost completely meaningless. He was obviously hoping that was going to change as he prepared to follow his newest lead, but he was still going to pack for bear — just in case.  

6. Adoption Instinct for LuCyrfer [Art- Gift, General Audiences, No Archive Warnings Apply]

Relationships: Jason Todd & Damian Wayne

Tags:  Damian Wayne Has a Heart, Jason Todd Needs A Hug, Batkids Age Reversal, Protective Damian Wayne, Kid Jason Todd, Street Rat Jason Todd, Adult Damian Wayne, Homeless Jason Todd, Baby Jason Todd, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne Bonding, Art, Digital Art, Comic, Damian Wayne is Nightwing

Summary: Damian Wayne, the fearsome Nightwing, finds a starving five year old on the streets. His hoodie is too big, slipping off his shoulders. He has dirt encrusted under his nails and on his clothes. Damian wants nothing more than to swaddle him in a blanket and tell him everything will be all right. Apparently the adoption instinct is genetic.

[underforeversgrace]

i love you (don't kill me)

Title: i love you (don't kill me)

Words: 4591

Warnings: Major Character Death, (semi) Graphic Depictions of Violence

Prompts:

Sherry_A_H: Tearing up Phantom molecule by molecule is something the Fentons will regret for the rest of their lives.

Nocturnal Starr: Maddie struggles to come to terms with Danny being Phantom.

Astatia Ghast: When Danny’s body is purged of ectoplasm, he begins to waste away. It turns out the Accident changed his body so completely that he can no longer survive without ectoplasm.

Even with as many times as it’s been explained to her, Maddie still just can’t understand. She can’t grasp her son, her black-haired, blue-eyed little boy, being Phantom. It just wasn’t possible. It wasn’t.

Maddie leaned back in her chair, rubbing her gloved hand across her tired face as the heart monitor beeped steadily. At least they were able to handle this at home. Express fake concern that it was high level ectoplasmic contamination, that he couldn’t be admitted to a general hospital because of it. But there was nothing to be done, was there? Not anymore. She and Jack had gone too far, messed up too severely this time.

Maddie just sat there, listening to the monitor. Danny’s heartbeat was far too slow. Even his friends had said this was lower than his normal. Well, Tucker had advised them of that. Sam refused to speak to them. Even Tucker had been short and to the point in his response, his voice cold and hard.

Jazz had been the one to fill them in, Tucker nor Sam could be in the same room as Maddie and Jack for longer than a few seconds, far too little time to go over the events of the past two years. Jazz couldn’t bear to look at her parents either, though. She hated them. Maddie could find no kindness or softness in her daughter’s face anymore, no hint of love for them. And she found she couldn’t blame Jazz for her reaction.

They all knew what Jack and Maddie had done.

A small alarm trilled from her pocket, pulling Maddie back to the room. The blue room with the stars on the ceiling and model rockets littered on shelves along the walls. The blue room with the hospital bed, with her dying son.

She pulled the timer out from her pocket, silencing it with a button press.

“Time for another injection?” A male voice asked behind her, near the door.

The man was named Michaels, he was a bodyguard Sam had hired to watch over Danny, because Sam didn’t trust his parents alone with him. While Maddie could hold her own against most people, Michaels was not one of them. He was an even more skilled black belt than she, an even better shot with the human gun at his hip.

He was a stranger in her son’s bedroom, he was an unwelcome figure in her family’s suffering.

He was her son’s protector while she had been his executioner.

Maddie sighed. “Yes, it is.”

“The red one again?”

“No, the blue one.”

“Is it really already time for the blue one again? He’s already had one in the past twenty four hours.” Michaels responded, his voice light but his eyes narrowed at her in distrust. He didn’t know the full story - what Danny was, exactly what his parents had done to him - but he was no fool. Then again, it didn’t take a rocket scientist to realize something was wrong when he’d been explicitly told to keep an eye on Maddie and Jack.

“He… he didn’t stabilize with that one this morning. Normally, he has an increase in his vital signs - his heart rate, oxygen levels, temperature - but he had none of that. No use in giving a booster when the shot didn’t take.” Maddie replied, her heart clenching in her chest. 

Her eyes strayed to the bedside table, where a small present wrapped in starry paper sat. Her little Danny had turned sixteen eight days ago. He’d been in a coma for ten. He’d never open that present, would he? See the car they’d bought for him? The keys sat in that little box - a singular key with a NASA emblem on the keychain, to an older model car they’d parked at the Mansons’.

Tears pricked at the mother’s eyes and she blinked them away before they could fall. She still held onto hope that Danny would suddenly awake, happy and healthy and whole in whatever way he wanted, and she didn’t want him to see her crying.

“Here,” Michaels said, handing a syringe over to Maddie. Thick red liquid seemed to bubble in the glass, or was it a gas? Ectoplasm was such an odd thing. Michaels shot her a firm nod then stepped back by the dresser, locking the case with the chemicals back up. Yet another safeguard for Danny’s life, at risk from his parents. Their concoction had been tested by ectologists even more renowned than the Fentons, to make sure it would not harm a ghost. It was kept in a locked case and only the other scientists were allowed to formulate more, based on what Maddie and Jack had created. She never touched them except when it was time for one.

Did the Fentons even count as ectologists, Maddie wondered? Or just monsters with guns, shooting down and destroying anything that didn’t fall on the ‘right’ side of the alive/dead binary?

Maddie popped the protective cover off the needle, turning Danny’s arm so the crook of his elbow looked up at her - covered in bruises and needle marks from where she’d been desperately trying to save him.

Ironic, isn’t it? Maddie had fantasized about doing this to Danny Phantom. About strapping him to a table, cutting him open, injecting every possible substance under the sun into his arm to see how his spectral body would react. She’d already known she would have to ignore the creature’s screams. Not sentient. Not able to feel pain. Not able to die when he was already dead.

Her and Jack had discussed the best ways to slice him open - though, then, they’d still been calling Phantom an it - without destabilizing him. They didn’t want his core to give out before they’d even started, after all. They’d wanted to carve off chunks of Phantom’s ‘fake’ skin, rip their way into whatever he had in his chest cavity. Wanted to cut and take samples and biopsies from every inch of the ghost, inside and out. And it would’ve all started with a simple shot, wouldn’t it? Some sort of suppressant to keep the ghost’s abilities at bay.

So, no, Maddie couldn’t be upset at how her daughter and her son’s friends were acting.

She’d gotten her dream. She just hadn’t realized it could ever be a nightmare.

But this was definitely a nightmare she was in, a hell of her own making, as she gently pressed the needle into him, piercing through flesh and injecting the mixture into him. She looked at the monitor connected to him, all the wires measuring all the signs of life in him, desperate to see an improvement.

But there was nothing. He hadn’t reacted. He was just as still, looked just as dead.

Pain pierced her through the heart as she collapsed back into her seat - she would’ve almost sworn she’d been stabbed, the pain felt so real, so tangible. This was their last idea. Human blood supercharged with ectoplasm, with enough electricity going through it to take out a city block, to try to make them bind together, to mimic what they’d stolen from Danny.

But it failed. They had failed. She had failed. How could this be happening? It just wasn’t possible. It wasn’t. How could they have messed up so badly?

“We’ve got it, Mads!” Jack yelled, running to the glowing form on the ground.

“Nice shot, dear!” Maddie called, a wide grin across her face as the two ghost hunters caught up with their prey.

Danny Phantom looked up at them through the net, eyes unfocused, mouth moving without sound.

“It worked! Whatever brain pattern it has mimicked isn’t working!” Jack said, proudly hoisting the overly large gun onto his shoulder, beaming at his wife. 

“The Fenton Scrambler might just be one of our best inventions!” She said, clapping her hands together as her husband grabbed the net and began dragging it behind them, back towards the GAV. Maddie opened the rear doors and Jack tossed the ghost in. It made a noise and placed a hand against its head, slightly shaking its head, doing a very good job of mimicking confusion.

Jack and Maddie hopped into their seats and Jack floored it, sending them flying back towards their home, tossing any and all driving safety recommendations out the window.

Within minutes, they were home, their catch unloaded and dragged down to the lab, still unable to speak. Unceremoniously, Jack tossed the ghost into a containment block at the corner of the lab, all sides blocked by phase proof glass.

“Hmph, Danny still hasn’t done his chores!” Jack whined, looking at the messy lab. The table they needed was half buried under old, never finished inventions. Mess covered every flat surface - from old pizza boxes to ectoplasm and everything in between.

“We’ll remind him when he gets home!” Maddie said, kissing Jack on the cheek. They began to clean, both shaking with excitement.

Maddie kept glancing over at the corner, licking her lips in anticipation. The ghost seemed to be getting some of its limited faculties back, the net had slipped off when it’d been tossed in. It pressed a hand against its eyes and wrapped the other arm around its center. It’s ability to pretend to be human was so impressive! She wondered if its insides would be as impressive. Was it so desperate to appear human that the illusion would go beneath its faux skin? Would there be bones? Kidneys? An appendix? How cold was it? Would it be colder inside?  Butterflies fluttered around in her stomach, excited anxiety burrowing deep into her very being.

Taking far longer than she would have liked, they got the lab in a semi-acceptable state. The table was cleaned off, the scalpels and syringes were sat on trays to the side, and the rest of the mess was, uh, out of sight and therefore out of mind.

“It’s time!” Maddie hollered, jetting towards the door of the containment area, her hand resting on the handle. “Hit the ghost shield!”

Jack hurried over to the side wall and slammed his fist onto a comically large button with his face on it. The sound of machinery whirring and then the ghost shield encased them, an eerie green that made the air beyond the bubble look fuzzy. Jack held up another gun, ready to shoot at the ghost if needed. Maddie was better at hand to hand so she would be the one getting in close contact with Phantom, Jack would provide back up with an ecto-grenade (that had an area of effect even larger than the room, it was physically impossible for even Jack to completely miss).

They nodded to each other and Maddie threw open the door.

Phantom looked at her, pushing itself to its feet, eyes still unfocused.

“Mom?” It asked, the otherworldly echo sounding out of place for such a simple word.

“Excuse me?” Maddie asked, bewilderment temporarily replacing excitement.

“Mom?” It asked again, stumbling forward. A cold hand grabbed her forearm as Phantom continued to look around, confusion painted heavily onto its face. “What’s going on? I feel weird.”

Maddie turned to look at Jack, wondering if she was hallucinating, but the look on Jack’s face mirrored her own emotions.

The ghost groaned, releasing its grip on her and collapsing to its knees, holding its head in both hands, partially out of the containment cube.

“Phantom, what are you-“ Maddie started, but was cut off as bright white lights encircled Phantom’s waist. She heard Jack begin to charge the gun up, though he didn’t fire as the light seemed to split harmlessly, only changing the clothes between the rings as they moved.

She had exactly zero idea how she was supposed to react when Phantom vanished, her son in his place.

“Mom?” Danny asked, the echo gone. “What’s happening…?” The sentence trailed off as he looked up at her. Maddie’s jaw clenched as she saw his eyes - radioactive green.

“Jack, get the Fenton Ghost Catcher!” Maddie barked, grabbing Danny’s arm and jerking him up. Jack nodded wordlessly, concern and fear etched on his face as he ran towards the sub basement, where they’d stored the Ghost Catcher while they made upgrades to it.

Danny yelped in pain as she pulled him up roughly and her chest tightened. She never wanted to hear that sound again. But that did seem to pull Phantom out of whatever haze it had been in - Danny’s voice didn’t sound as confused when he? it? spoke again. “Mom, what are you doing?” He called, trying to dislodge her grip from him, pulling weakly. 

“Get out of my son, Phantom.” Maddie hissed.

“What? I’m not overshadowed! It’s me, Danny!” Her son insisted, doubling up his efforts to escape her grasp. That net must have worked even better than they’d expected since Phantom had hidden itself inside a human. A human would be having a severe headache, nausea, and persistent confusion. But her ‘son’ had recovered too fast. This wasn’t her son, her son was being used as a puppet.

“I don’t know what kind of weird overshadowing ability you have to completely change forms, but get. Out. Of. My. Son.” She hissed the last few words.

“No, no, no, no! It’s me, Danny, there was an accident and I’m half ghost and that’s why I have two forms and why all your inventions lock on me and -“ He began stuttering. Maddie tightened her grip on his arm, pulling him roughly towards her as she grabbed his other arm as well.

“How long have you been in my son?” She growled, holding him tight enough to bruise. But Phantom would protect her son. It was a side effect of overshadowing - the human host got the ghostly parasite’s durability. “Our weapons have been honing in on him for two years, how long have you held him?”

“No! It’s not like that! Please just listen or ask my friends or Jazz! We’re - I’m - the same person! C’mon, even the name is a pun! Fenton? Phantom?” Danny was babbling now, fear etched into his eyes. Maddie stared into his blue eyes, that for some reason now seemed to be flecked with green when she was this close, anger building up in her. That was her son’s fear she saw, the fear she’d continue to allow Phantom to possess him and strip away his free will.

It was then that Jack lumbered back up the stairs, Ghost Catcher in hand. He brought it over to where they stood, sitting it beside Maddie and the ghost, pressing a newly added on button. They’d made adjustments to it - it would purge all ectoplasm from the human body. Who knew how much ectoplasmic contamination her son had after two years under a ghost’s control? She hated herself in that moment - what kind of mother doesn’t realize her son has been taken over by a malevolent spirit? For two entire years? She’d make it right, she’d fix this.

Danny’s eyes widened. Of course, that’s how Phantom knew about all of their weapons and other inventions! It had heard them talking around the dinner table! It knew the Catcher had been improved!

“Dad, mom, stop! Just listen to me! Please!” Danny yelled, clawing at Maddie’s hands. That must be her true son shining through - forcing his much lower strength over Phantom’s so she couldn’t be dislodged. “That’ll kill me!” He screamed as Maddie pushed him towards the device, Jack’s face uncharacteristically solemn. Even he knew they had messed up, they had missed something huge for so long. “Please, stop!” He continued, tears starting to streak down his face. Maddie wasn’t sure if it was Phantom trying to pull on her sympathies or her Danny crying in joy that he’d finally be free of this monster. She hated that she couldn’t tell.

“Everything is gonna be okay, Danny,” she whispered in his ear.

“Stop!” He called out again. Maddie pinched at a pressure point in his neck and he went limp in her arms.

Gently, she and Jack passed Danny through the center of the Catcher and watched in horror as Phantom split from him, liquid ectoplasm dripping to the floor. How much ectoplasm had Danny had in him? Both were still unconscious.

Maddie carefully sat her sleeping son on a nearby chair, smiling as she watched his chest rise and fall as he breathed. Meanwhile, Jack bound Phantom to the table, triple checking that all of the restraints were tight enough. Both parents were angry at this stupid ghost, this awful, horrible creature that had stolen their son from them for so long.

Jack shoved some fabric into the ghost’s mouth, pressing phase proof tape along the outside to keep it in his mouth.

The ghost awoke before their son did. It cried its fake tears, screaming behind the gag as they took out both their revenge and scientific curiosity out on its body. They sliced and diced as much as they wanted, amazed by the exciting specimen in front of them. At one point, Maddie moved her scalpel towards its eyes, holding eye contact for longer than necessary. As pain reflected in its eyes, Maddie found herself questioning her conviction that ghosts couldn’t feel pain. She lowered her scalpel and began excising the eye, viciously hoping this ghost could feel pain, could feel every incision they were making.

They had ripped apart over half the ghost’s body before it finally stopped fighting and went limp in its restraints.

The joy of righteous vengeance enacted brought her so much pride, made even more delicious by finally getting to live out her fantasy on Phantom. It had always been an odd ghost, different in ways they couldn’t understand.

It wouldn’t be until Jazz came home several hours later and found them in the lab that they realized what they might have done when she explained through sobs, her hands covered in ectoplasm from where she’d ran to the table, screaming Danny’s name.

When Danny never woke up, however, they realized what they’d done, just as how much they’d messed up. They hadn’t listened. They hadn’t thought of all the times they’d seen Danny go through ghost shields, how Phantom had grown older with Danny. They’d never even stopped to consider what if they were wrong.

Maddie felt the wet soil beneath her knees, felt the chill settling into her bones as it seeped through her pants. She hadn’t worn her suit since the monitor went off for the last time, since the coroner had come out for her son’s body. Pain, grief, had settled like lead in her chest. She had no more tears left to cry as she gazed at the headstone in front of her.

Daniel James “Danny” Fenton

April 3, 1993 - July 19, 2009

A beloved hero and cherished son

They’d chosen to release the truth after Danny had passed away, so his DP insignia also was engraved onto the stone, above his name. They’d lied about his cause of death. He died from ghost fighting, after being poisoned. His parents, who loved him more than anything in the world and were among the world’s leaders in ghost science, had immediately dedicated themselves to saving him, no matter the cost. Only those closest to Danny knew the truth, and even then, only his parents knew the extend of it. Knew his last words were pleading with them to stop, that they were going to kill him. Knew that they had tortured another part of him to death. Only Maddie knew she’d taken joy in his suffering.

Jazz had informed them she would not be speaking with them again, to not reach out to her, ever. Sam and Tucker made it clear the only reason they weren’t telling the cops Jack and Maddie’s negligence had actually caused Danny’s death was because they knew he wouldn’t want that. He would blame himself for not telling them. For letting himself get caught.

Maddie had had to come to terms with a lot since the day Danny first went into the coma. She’d had to accept she was wrong. Phantom was a hero. Her son was selfless and kind, and she’d been too prejudiced to see Phantom was so, so good.

Thunder cracked in the sky above her, rain began to fall softly. But she didn’t move. The cemetery was quiet.

The funeral had been yesterday and it had just been too much. Fans of Phantom, people who had come to send off a dead ghost. Originally, Maddie had been so angry. How dare these people? Her son was dead, why were they talking about a damned ghost? But that ghost had been her son. She’d lost count of the number of speakers, all the stories of what Danny had done as Phantom.

Employees of a daycare that had caught fire, saved by Phantom. She had written that off as Phantom’s intelligence - he knew saving children would make him look good.

An elderly woman who’s home had been targeted by missiles from Skulker, the only reason it hadn’t been made into wreckage had been Phantom throwing a shield at the last moment. But he hadn’t gotten out of that unscathed - he’d gotten struck and bled green all over her front porch. Maddie had written that one off, too. That ghost was only here to attack Phantom regardless and Phantom had only caught that missile because he’d forgotten to go intangible, like he’d done dozens of times before. Now Maddie wondered if that had been intentional, though. All the times he’d gotten blasted out of the sky - his body would cause much less damage than some of the projectiles the other ghosts would use.

Someone from the local Observatory, who would sometimes see Phantom stargazing. Who’d talked to him and realized he was just a kid who loved the stars, who saw the way Phantom’s cheeks glowed like constellations the more he saw or discussed he stars.

A jock from Casper High, who had mercilessly bullied her son, who now knew how easily he could’ve died if his target had ever fought back, but Phantom - but Danny - was good and had used his powers for good.

Sam and Tucker had gone together, telling stories of Danny, showing the child behind the hero. They never specified Danny Fenton or Danny Phantom when they talked about him. Because there was no difference. It was always Danny. Just Danny.

A thought that routinely haunted her. Those had been some of the last words of his life and they played on repeat in her mind.

A police officer from the local station was outside the cemetery - to guard Danny’s grave in case any of his few detractors tried to hurt his grave. Even the police loved Phantom, it seemed. He helped in a lot of traffic accidents. And the officer had assured her someone would be there around the clock for a while.

Maddie had no doubt that the only reason she was able to be here - alone, kneeling in front of her child’s grave - was because the officer had kept fans and haters alike out.

She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against the cold, smooth stone. Apparently she wasn’t quite out of tears, she realized, as she began to cry again.

“Are you alright?” Came a familiar voice behind her. She whipped around, unwilling to believe it until she saw it.

There, with a little half smile on his face, floated Danny Phantom, white hair dancing in a way that didn’t quite match the current breeze.

“Danny?” She breathed.

“Yep, that’s me! Do I know you?” He asked, tilting his head to the side in curiosity.

“You… you don’t… know who I am?” She asked, her voice stuttering.

“No, I’m sorry! I just heard crying and could feel you were in pain, so I wanted to make sure you were okay!” Phantom said, an easy smile on his face that Maddie recognized. Danny used to smile like that - carefree, relaxed - a long time ago. When had he last smiled like that? When he was eight or nine?

Maddie was unsure what to say. What, exactly, do you say to your dead son that you violently killed, who has no idea who you are, who just wanted to make sure a stranger in pain was okay? “I… lost someone I love.” Maddie settled on.

“Danny?” A new voice joined in. He appeared in the blink of an eye. A ghost clad in purple, clock staff in hand and clock workings in his chest. If he’d been human, Maddie would’ve thought he was nearly a hundred, as bent over as he was, long white beard nearly as long as he was tall.

“Hey, dad!” Danny chirruped, floating higher up and hugging the ghost.

Maddie’s heart felt like it had been ripped out and stomped on.

“Child,” the older ghost chastised softly, smiling, “I told you to stay near me.”

“I know,” Danny whined, drawing out the ‘o’ sound. “But this lady felt like she was in pain!”

The purple ghost ruffled Danny’s white hair. “I know. Can you head home? I will be there shortly.” He said, waving his hand almost boredly. A portal appeared where his hand passed. Danny nodded then zipped through the portal, which closed behind him immediately.

The remaining ghost turned his attention to Maddie, smile sliding away as red eyes bore into her own. Maddie fidgeted under his gaze.

“I am his guardian now. He will not be returning to this plane.” The ghost stated, answering questions she hadn’t even decided to ask yet.

“Is he…still Danny? Is he happy?”

“Yes, he is still Danny, just without his memories. Due to the…traumatic nature of his death,” the ghost scowled at her, “his life is forgotten to him and will be for many decades. You will be decaying before he remembers. But, yes. He is happy. He is still the same ghost child, still with the urge to help everyone.”

Maddie’s vision was swimming with tears. She didn’t know how to feel. She had tortured and murdered her son. But he had come back - again - as a ghost. But he didn’t know who she was, he’d never be on earth again during her lifetime.

“I… I didn’t think he’d be able to restore his ghost side.” Maddie said.

The red eyes continued to bear down on her, unblinking, as though he could see her very heart. “You only killed part of his soul. This is what remains.”

Maddie nodded, wrapping her arms around herself as the rain picked up.

“Goodbye, Madeline Fenton.” The ghost said, waving his hand like he had done before to open the portal.

“Wait!” Maddie blurted, reaching out for the ghost. The portal appeared next to him, swirling and beautiful, but he did not go in. He said nothing, waiting for her to continue. “Can…when he remembers, can you tell him how sorry we are? We love him and we will never forgive ourselves for what we did, but we are so, so sorry.”

“He knows. He may not know what he knows, but he knows you regret your actions. His love for you is the only reason I’ve brought him here, and to your husband, to give you closure.”

Maddie nodded, at a loss for what to say.

As quickly as he appeared, the clock ghost disappeared.

And Maddie was left with the rain beating down on her, soaking her, with only her son’s grave beside her.

[sashaforthewin]

Fuck it, here is a very small excerpt from a long fic I'm hoping I'll someday actually finish and post. But just in case I never post the fic, I at least want to share this backstory because I think it was a pretty good one.

CW: period-typical homophobia and slur mention

+++

When Eddie saw his entire torso bare for the first time, completely uncovered from bandages, he lamented.

"Ah, no, my Hellfire demon!"

Only the bottom and very edge of his tattoo remained, the rest lost to the grotesque mass of flesh trying to knit itself together in any way it could. There were weird shiny stretched areas from skin grafts, and uneven lumpy areas from stitches and all of the tattoos on Eddie’s torso had taken damage of some sort, but he only focused on the hip tattoo.

"Probably can't even get this redone if this skin isn't gonna smooth out."

"Look, I know that club was important to you but-"

"-This wasn't a tattoo of a club logo, Steve; the club had a logo of my tattoo. Look, I know I'm being way too pissy about this but this was my first tattoo and it meant a lot to me.

"You know those little chick tracks religious people hand you? Just little zines basically but with absolute nonsense judgemental over-the-top Christian crap in them. Well, so obviously I am like a prime target for people trying to 'save me' or whatever, so I get handed them all the time. But one day this guy just started harassing me and wouldn't fucking let up. He's yelling at me and following me for blocks and finally I got fed up and turned around to tell him off and he gives me this chick track called Hellfire, which I thought was a pretty fucking cool title, actually, and it was all about how Dungeons and Dragons was summoning actual demons and turning the kids gay and making them like heavy metal and wear jewelry and grow their hair out and all this other badass shit. Like, this list was basically everything that makes me me, and there was this actually really badass drawing of a demon and the guy just wouldn't stop so I told him he was entirely right and that a demon made me this way and then I walked right over to the tattoo parlor to get the demon from the chick track tattooed on my arm.

"But then when I got in there and showed the asshole working there, he said 'you gonna get this somewhere cool or somewhere faggy like your hip' so I said 'faggy hip' obviously because fuck that guy, too. It was my first real step to sort of claiming my body for myself and specifically choosing to be the things about me that everyone wanted me to hide or not be. So, yeah, Hellfire chick track demon on my hip."

Steve watched Eddie, imagining all of this happening, and his heart broke for what he'd had to go through in life just for being authentically himself. 

Unable to think of how to respond, Steve kneeled down and very gently kissed the very bottom of the Hellfire demon tattoo that remained, careful to not touch any of the angry scarred skin. 

"Stevie, that is real sweet and all but also I'm gonna need you to knock it off unless you want to change your mind about the no-fooling-around-in-the-hospital rule."

"Sorry."

"Never apologize for kneeling in front of me. But also, get up, I don't want to have an erection in front of Blanche when she comes back in."

Blushing more than he thought himself possible, Steve got up and tried to calm down. He hadn't really thought about what he was doing until he was doing it, but once it was pointed out to him, Steve realized he was in over his head. He didn't know how to do any of this stuff with guys. 

But he's not a guy, he's Eddie. He isn't some random man, he's Steve's favorite person. And besides, they had already agreed to have no expectations about sexual activity. Obviously he knew he had just gotten close to blow job territory, but Steve wasn't sure if that was why he was feeling a bit hot; if the tension was why, or if he was just nervous about the situation. But once again he remembered this was Eddie, not just some guy, and he decided that he would at some point try to give a blowjob. Definitely not in the hospital, though. Probably not in the hospital. 

Steve snapped back to the present and watched Eddie examine the rest of his torso, trying to will away the erection he had at some point gotten while thinking of blowing Eddie. 

+++

[somedaylazysomeday]

Misbehaving - Part Three

Commander Cody x fem!reader (no use of y/n)

Rating: Explicit, NC-17, lemon, etc. Minors DNI!

Word Count: 3,800

Warnings: angst, slight dubcon in an established relationship, spanking, underprepared piv, rough sex, use of a safeword, hurt/comfort, slight AU

Previous | Next | Masterlist

---

Cody was an even-tempered man.

You supposed that was part of what made him such an excellent commander. A marshal commander, at that - one of the highest-ranked men in the entirety of the Grand Army of the Republic. Everyone trusted Cody to do his job, from his generals to the men who served under his command. He made the right choices, that was as indisputable as the position of the planets in the galaxy. You had never seen Cody less than professional.

Until you did.

You hadn’t expected him to come to you on Coruscant when he did. He couldn’t always tell you exactly when he was going to be on-planet for security reasons, but he tried to keep you reasonably in the loop. A vague idea of when to expect him was better than knowing nothing at all, and you loved that he did that for you.

You had been shocked to answer a firm knock on your apartment door and find your boyfriend standing on the other side. The circumstances surrounding his presence were strange, something about being called away on urgent business that ended up being less urgent than the communications had insinuated. In fact, Cody confided, he couldn’t understand why he had needed to accompany General Kenobi back to Coruscant at all. The Jedi was left running circles around the Senate with his old padawan while Cody waited to receive updates on the total planetary takeover the 212th and 501st were attempting.

In any case, you were happy to have him around. Without the presence of his men on-planet, Cody had taken to staying with you most of the time rather than sleeping in the barracks. For nearly a week, you had lived together, half-pretending that Cody was a normal military man stationed on Coruscant and that he wouldn’t be shipped out again with only hours of notice to fight in the galaxy-wide war.

You slept by Cody’s side, kissed him goodbye in the morning before you both left for work, then you came home to share a meal together. It was bliss, especially since his distraction at the odd mission hadn’t extended to the bedroom. No, Cody was hyper-focused when it came to your pleasure, no matter what else was going on. He was always attentive to your needs, no matter what they were.

Which was why you were surprised when he didn’t come home one night.

Part of you wondered if he had been called back to the front with no notice at all… but that didn’t make sense. Cody had always managed to get some kind of message to you, even if it was something small and subtle, or originating from an unfamiliar comlink, or passed through his men.

There had been nothing of the sort this time. He just… hadn’t come back.

You were a frazzled mess by the time the sky had darkened. Should you contact Cody’s general? Technically speaking, Cody wasn’t supposed to be in a relationship and could get in trouble for it, but General Kenobi hadn’t seemed like the type to care overly much about the particulars of GAR regulations. And at least you would know if Cody was okay. 

It seemed that you had reached for your comlink a dozen times and pulled your hand away a dozen more when you heard the noise of someone tapping at the keypad outside of your door. 

You had surged to your feet by the time the door slid open to reveal Cody. Your handsome commander stepped inside, his face blank and his motions sharp as he entered the apartment. He didn’t speak, and you caught the way he was clutching his helmet so hard that his knuckles were pale.

“Cody?” you asked gently. “I was worried when you didn’t come home. Are you- Is everything okay?”

Cody’s face turned toward you, his eyes lacking all of their familiar warmth. That was the least concerning part, though - you were stricken by the way he didn’t seem to react at the sight of you, like you were some stranger he had never met and never would.

“Cody?” you asked again, stepping a bit closer but stopping when you noticed the speed of his breathing.

His gaze caught on yours. That horrifying blankness faded slightly, but his eyes were bright - too bright. There was an edge of something in them, something that looked like desperation and the beginnings of hopelessness.

“Cody, talk to me,” you pled. “What happened?”

Cody shook his head slowly, but the motion didn’t stop. “I can’t- can’t talk about it. I need you. I need… to be in control.”

You nodded immediately. “Whatever you need, just tell me.”

“Strip,” he ordered. “Then get on your bed, hands and knees.”

“Yes, Commander,” you replied, more worried than ever when that failed to elicit a response from him. Still, you did as he said, retreating to your bedroom while you fumbled at the buttons of your shirt and pushed your comfortable lounge pants away. When you had made it to your room, a trail of clothing in your wake, you climbed onto the bed and balanced on your hands and knees before you glanced back.

Cody was standing just inside the door, watching you intently. He was still wearing his full, orange-painted armor, but his hands dropped to undo the piece of plastoid that covered his crotch. It was the only piece he removed before he stepped to the edge of the bed behind you. 

“Down to your elbows,” he told you, voice still strange.

You obeyed, widening your knees to grant him better access to your core. Unfortunately, you weren’t anywhere near ready for him. You hadn’t exactly been thinking sexy thoughts that evening and it was only worse with your lover there. This mood was something you had never seen from Cody and you were too worried to be aroused.

His hand cupped your mound, thumb stroking over the delicate lips of your sex. You shivered at the feeling of his warm hand surrounding such a sensitive area and made a small sound of pleasure when the pad of his thumb pushed closer to press against your clit.

Your body began to relax, blooming for the man you loved, but slower than you would have liked. Cody apparently felt the same way, because his other hand cracked solidly against your ass cheek. You gave a surprised grunt at the unexpected contact. Cody always liked to warn you when you were getting a spanking because he wanted to be thanked.

As soon as the thought crossed your mind, Cody sighed. “Forgetting to say ‘thank you’? You’ve already lost your manners. That’ll be five more and a pussy smack.”

That seemed like a steep punishment considering he had forgotten to warn you. “But-”

“We could make it ten and two if you’d rather,” Cody said sharply.

“No, sir, I’m sorry,” you apologized.

“Good girl. Count.”

And that was the only signal he gave you before his tensed palm rained down again and again on your cheeks. You kept up with the first two or three, but got lost in the ‘thank you, sir’s and fell behind. Your efforts cut off entirely when Cody’s palm connected between your spread legs with a wet smack, leaving you squealing and trying not to writhe.

There was a typical swell of sensation with a spanking. You had learned that much over the course of your relationship with Cody. The collision between hand and cheek left your skin, muscle, and fat rippling in the wake - a process that was mirrored by the way the sensations rippled over your skin. Spankings built heat slowly, spreading until it eventually gathered in your core. A properly delivered spanking left you trembling, wet, and begging for your commander.

A spank to your pussy was different. Instead of allowing the sensation to build, it was forced into your nerves, direct and immediate in a way that was overwhelming more often than not. It was meant to be overwhelming, the most pleasurable punishment Cody could deliver… and the most punishing pleasure.

The five spanks hadn’t been enough to build a slow heat in your core, but the feeling of his hand clapping against the lips of your sex pushed the intensity immediately to a level you weren’t quite ready for. Instead of scraping together your shuddering brain cells enough to thank Cody as he wanted, you were left gaping blankly at your pillows as you tried to process the sheer amount of sensation stemming from that single action.

“Ten and two it is,” Cody bit out.

Another five spanks hit your heated ass, the tenth connecting with a sharp noise so loud that your neighbors probably heard it. You got to nine, broke off to fight back a grunt at the hit, and made it halfway through counting the tenth when he spanked the rapidly swelling lips of your sex firmly and you cut off to catch your breath.

“Still not counting?”

You frowned, the expression going unseen since it was aimed at the mattress rather than at Cody. “Sorry, but-”

“But?” Cody repeated, voice filled with mocking. “But you’re not trying hard enough. No excuses, nothing to hide behind. You don’t have to count these last five, but you’ll feel them.”

“Wait-”

The first spank took your breath away. Cody was a strong man. He claimed it was because he had been engineered that way, but he also spent time in the gym, working to increase that strength even further. He had never used that strength against you, though, especially not in the bedroom.

This probably wasn’t his full strength, either, but it was enough to push more weight onto your elbows, rocking you forward and back until your cheek was planted against your bedspread. The last hit was hard enough that your knees briefly left the bed, your body suspended between your elbows and the force of his hand against your ass.

“Easy enough without the counting, huh?” Cody asked. “And that seems to have done the trick.” Two of his fingers pushed into your wet core with no warning, forcing your breath out in a surprised huff.

You were adventurous in the bedroom, especially with Cody there to encourage and support you. Even so, this was riding the line of what you considered acceptable, but that last set of spanks had filled your mind with a pleasantly buzzing numbness. You were wet, you could feel that much, and what he was doing felt good, if a little overwhelming.

As Cody’s fingers scissored in your heat, you struggled to ride the pleasure without letting it crash over you and destroy you in its wake. Those sensations grew tenfold as he began to pull his fingers out and plunge them steadily back into you. It didn’t feel bad, even if it was starting to not feel entirely good. You were certainly wet enough to allow him inside, but you were concerned about non-physical parts of this.

You lifted yourself back up onto your elbows, preparing to glance back at Cody and ask him to move a little slower, but the question died in your throat as Cody gripped your hips and sank his length inside of you. 

Over your strangled cry, you heard Cody give a hoarse grunt of his own. He didn’t give you a moment to breathe, moving immediately into a punishing rhythm that left you gasping and trying to move enough to make the angle something less sharp and stabbing.

“Cody-”

“Commander,” he reminded sharply, slamming his hips into yours.

Impossibly, his pace picked up from there, knocking you from your precarious perch on your elbows until your cheek was pressed against the bedspread once more. The fog from the spanking was starting to fade and you were growing steadily more aware that this session wasn’t working for you. You liked rough sex, but you had to build up to it and you just… hadn’t. It was too much, too sudden, and you needed him to slow things down.

“Cody,” you said, trying to sound more firm even through the way his pounding impacted the flow of your speech.

Cody snarled behind you. “Commander.”

He reached forward, gripping your wrists. For a moment, you relaxed, thinking he was going to drape himself over you, your fingers laced together while he breathed praises in your ear. That was one of his favorite things to do at the end of a rough session, and you always enjoyed it. Somehow, that made you feel just as treasured than you did when he used his mouth on you or spent hours teasing you to an overwhelming climax.

That beat of relaxation on your part was enough for him to lever your arms behind you, press them against your back with one hand, and pull your hips back toward him with the other hand. The pressure on the small of your back pushed your ass up further, letting Cody’s hard cock thrust even deeper and your mouth fell open into a shocked gasp.

“Cody - Red.”

The time it took Cody to process the safeword was long enough that he had driven himself back into you and your inner muscles spasmed around his length. It was not a pleasant feeling and you gave a small, pained grunt.

Cody froze there for an impossibly long moment and you could almost feel the way he was processing the best way to proceed from there. He released your arms and you immediately brought them back in front of yourself, trying to push up off the mattress.

One hand pressed against your ass and you flinched - something you were sure he noticed with how his touch lightened even further. “I’m going to pull out of you now, okay?”

You nodded.

The thick slide of Cody’s cock through your folds was one you had always enjoyed, but it was thoroughly unpleasant now. You shuddered when his swollen head finally slipped out of you, trying again to lever yourself up with shaking arms.

Cody’s hand pressed against your hip. “No, stay there.”

You were reluctant to follow any more orders, but your nerves were still buzzing with overwhelmed input, so you did. The only movement you made was to shift so you were lying on one side. You let your eyes close, mostly to disguise the tears that were welling in the aftermath of the adrenaline rush.

“Mesh’la,” Cody said from the doorway an instant after a tear had rolled down your cheek anyway. You opened your eyes to see him looking stricken, that haunted desperation almost solid in his eyes again. He was holding a glass of water, but didn’t make any move to get closer to you. “Are you-? I’m sorry. Kriff, I’m so sorry.”

“It’s-” You cut yourself off to fight back the pinched sound in your own voice. You wouldn’t do either of you any favors if you started crying in earnest. At the same time, you wouldn’t do either of you the injustice of lying and telling him it was fine.

“What can I do?” Cody asked, his voice low and soothing. Even his body language was soft and nonthreatening, his broad shoulders curling inward in a way that made him look smaller than you had ever seen him, even with the armor he was still wearing.

“Water,” you replied simply. 

He started for the bed eagerly, but checked his pace before he got too close. By the time he reached out to hand you the glass, he had been moving at a pace that was slow enough to be nonthreatening. You took the glass without any of your earlier hesitation. You had cooled down slightly and knew Cody wasn’t going to do anything to hurt you. Also, you were incredibly thirsty.

In only moments, you had drained the glass and set it gently on the bedside table. Cody was watching you, scarcely hidden fear in the depths of his eyes. 

“Cody,” you murmured, your voice hiccuping awkwardly between one syllable and the next.

“What is it, cyare?” he asked tenderly. “What can I do for you? Anything you need.”

“Take off your armor and hold me?” you requested. 

After such a short hesitation that you barely noticed it, Cody started to work at the plastoid plates, stripping them away and setting them gently but haphazardly on the floor of your room. He was clearly aiming for softness of sound rather than neatness - a rarity for the fastidious commander.

When he had finished and was dressed only in his black body glove, he hesitated again at the edge of the mattress, but when you held out a hand in his direction, he took it immediately. Cody had laced his fingers through yours by the time he settled on the bed beside you, reaching slowly with his free hand as he wrapped it around you. 

Cody wanted to talk. That much was clear as his breathing paused and caught occasionally, only to be released in a heavy sigh. He never spoke, but it didn’t take long for you to realize that he was carefully tracing every mark he had left on your skin:

The tender flesh of your forearms where he had anchored them behind your back.

The finger-shaped bruises rapidly forming on your hips from where he had held you.

The aching fullness of your cheeks from where he had delivered those brutal spanks.

“I’m so sorry, mesh’la,” he murmured over and over until your heart was aching at least as much as anything else.

“I won’t lie and say it’s okay, Cody,” you told him, feeling momentarily worse when his breath whooshed out like you had hit him. “But what matters more is that you stopped when I asked you to. That’s the most important thing.”

Cody relaxed slightly against you, but tensed again when you amended, “Well, the second most important thing.”

“What’s the most important?” he asked, voice careful. 

“Are you okay?” you returned, your suspicions confirmed when his gaze skated away immediately and decisively. “You never come on that strong, especially without building up to it first. You told me you needed control and I told you I could handle it. I couldn’t and I’m sorry about that.”

Cody was shaking his head before you even finished speaking. “I should never have given you the option, little one. I knew better and I did it anyway. There’s nothing you need to be sorry about.”

You hummed skeptically. “But can I ask why? I’ve never- never seen you like that.”

Cody’s warm body shuddered against you and your eyes whipped to scan his face. Sure enough, it had crumpled in a way you had never seen before as tears streamed down his face in pained catharsis. In a moment, he had gone from your stoic commander to a broken man aged beyond his years. Your heart shattered for him.

You sat up and wrapped yourself around him before you could even register that you were planning to move. Cody - strong, stubborn Cody - let you tuck his head against your chest while you rocked him back and forth, murmuring soothing nonsense until the hot tears stopped flowing and he was left shaking like a man freezing to death in your arms.

“My- my men,” he gasped eventually, rushing the words out between painful shudders. “I left them and- and they-” 

He broke off, making a sound of pain so profound that it sounded harsher than anything a human should be capable of producing. Your arms tightened around him just as his did the same around you.

“Shh, shhhh…” you told him. “If it’s too much, you don’t have to tell me anything.”

Cody shook his head. In choppy bits and strangled pieces, he told you what had happened, outlining a tragedy on a far-off planet called Umbara. Even as he offered the explanation, you got the picture of a Jedi doing the unthinkable, men forced into a horrible position, and a universe-shaking betrayal of trust and the chain of command, along with a disregard for lives so reckless that you were trembling just as hard as Cody.

“I understand now,” you assured the man you loved. “You needed to feel in-control of something. It’s okay, Cody.”

“It isn’t,” he disagreed. “I betrayed my men, abandoned them when they needed me. And then I came here, falling apart, and tried to use you to glue myself back together. I almost shattered you at the same time.”

“But you didn’t,” you reminded him firmly, silencing his budding protests with a kiss. “Even facing something no one should ever have to - and taking on guilt that was never yours to carry - you stopped when I needed you to. You recognized our safeword and then did what you could to make things right.”

Cody’s arms tightened another fraction before they loosened. You watched his eyelids flutter closed, his dark lashes only drawing attention to the circles beneath them.

“And you cannot blame yourself for this, Cody,” you insisted, loathe as you were to disturb this moment of peace. “You are just as much a victim of this situation as any of your men. Maybe you weren’t on Umbara when things went wrong, but you were following orders just like every one of the 212th.”

“If I had been there-”

“You weren’t there,” you interrupted. “You weren’t there because you were doing your duty and standing by your general. There’s no way of knowing whether anything would have gone differently if you were there. Stars, that Jedi may have killed you if you didn’t go along with his orders.”

Your grip tightened involuntarily as you thought over your own words. Yes, that was an extremely likely outcome. If your brave boyfriend had been on Umbara as the tide began to shift, he would have said something and - if it came down to it - why would the rogue Jedi have cared about one more clone’s life if he was ordering them to die by the thousands?

“When do you leave?” you asked instead of voicing any of those very unhelpful thoughts.

“Oh-five-hundred,” he said. “It’s the earliest the general could get jump clearance. The men are holding the planet right now, but we need to get there as soon as possible. There’s too much chance that the locals will rise against them or that the trauma will be too much for the survivors… We need to get there. I need to get there.”

You kissed Cody’s furrowed forehead. You knew better than to tell him to sleep. There probably wouldn’t be any sleep tonight, not for either of you. But for the next few hours, Cody was safe in your arms and you were safe in his. 

It was enough for the night.

---

Author's Note - I know Cody and Obi-Wan were both on Umbara when things went wrong. This is a slight AU imagining that they were both pulled from the planet for fear of interference.

Thanks for reading and sorry about the angst! Feel free to let me know what you thought!

I don't offer a taglist for NSFW fics, but you can check out other works on my masterlist!

[glimmerglanger]

Natural Wonders (9/11)

Morning!

Part nine of "Natural Wonders" is up on ao3. Mind all those warnings for injuries, medical care, and violence. I know I keep saying we're really in it, now, but they keep finding new levels of "in it" to explore.

[sinisterexaggerator]

For the requests if you are still doing them.

Cad Bane being nursed back to health by a girl after crashing really badly on a planet. She also fixes Todo for him and tries giving him money, when he is recovered enough to go, for his troubles, becauseshe doesn't exactly know who he is and she is probably a bit naive.

Smut is optional if you can fi d a way to put it in!

Title: Damn you, Fennec Shand!

AO3

Word count: 7.9

Dear Anon, your wish is my command ( and boy let me tell you, there’s always a way to fit smut in – in fact, maybe my smuttiest Cad Bane fic yet to date. Thanks for that! )!

Warnings: Smut, explicitly detailed. Like, REALLY graphic. Description of alien anatomy ( xeno dick(s) ), tongue-fucking, face riding, rough kissing, pillow biting, dirty talk, rough sex, vaginal penetration, and mildly dubious consent. Biting, blood, angst, feels, naked/forced cuddling, caretaking along with one grumpy Duros - A.K.A. a sickfic.

Notes: Pagodon is a planet featured in the Mandalorian that is populated by the fearsome ravinak located somewhere in the Outer Rim. This story takes place after the episode of Bad Batch entitled “ Bounty Lost” where Fennec Shand sabotages Cad Bane’s ship and leaves him stranded on Bora Vio. By the way he holds himself, it is evident he is injured. Well, I fuck him up even more.

References to Duros anatomy comes from my own concepts of how I imagine things might work as Bane is noted in several different places to be “reptilian.” I tend to favor the double-dong ( hemipenis ). ;D

I don’t know how this wound up being so long! Hope you enjoy! Comments / likes / kudos/ reblogs all greatly appreciated!

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Alarms were blaring, the Duros experiencing a feeling he wasn’t used to; one of fear and overpowering concern for his well-being. His ship had been sabotaged back on Bora Vio by that accursed witch of a woman Fennec Shand – his bounty lost, and all his credits - the only thing he had to show for it were his extensive injuries, bruised ribs most likely, as the pain in his midsection had yet to subside or dull. His face ached; his whole body from her forceful punches and her kicks. She was fast, adept at her profession – he had been caught off guard, nearly killed, and it had taken him two days to get off the kriffin’ ground.  

“Todo! Why’s de warnin’ ssignal for de energy accumulator goin’ off! Ah thought ye said de ssystem was recharged!”

“It appears that I have failed to properly solder one of the energy accumulator’s uptake lines after it was severed by that woman! We are losing ship functions at an astounding rate!”

“Ah'm aware o’dhat, ye chiphead!"

“There is no need for name calling sir, I-"

“If ye don’t shut de kark up, Ah'm throwin’ ye out de airlock!”

Things were compiling atop each other, getting out of hand, more noises sounding in a raucous discordance from all directions, The Justifier’s main console bleating at him like a wounded animal, though they were in realspace and there wasn’t much that he could do in the off chance of changing things. The indicator for the energizer was added to the fray – it could take days to fix, and by then he’d freeze to death; run out of oxygen – he wasn’t about to send out a distress beacon, either. No telling who or what would try to pick him up.

“Just where de sskrag are we, anyway?!” They had been taken out of hyperspace by the loss of power, Cad Bane slamming his hand down on one particular, square button. A map of the current system was pulled up; they were on the outskirts of the one they’d left – Lido, a part of space he wasn’t too familiar with, though close enough to the Outer Rim to give him a small amount of confidence – hopefully they wouldn’t wind up in some desolate, Maker forsaken place.  

“I would tell you, but I am not permitted to speak.”

Cad Bane growled, ignoring his smart aleck comment, knowing the droid was trying to get the best of him; his personality lacking in his ability to read a room, even in the face of certain doom.

“'Spose we betta try an’ land dhis thing, no danks te ye!” The nearest planet was half a parsec, the Duros taking over. He chose manual operation, as Todo was an example of omission in his derelict of duty – he ought to have the damn droid reprogrammed, though instead he barked out a set of orders – it didn’t hurt to be prepared.

“Ah think we have enough juice te kick us de rest of de way dhere, but get ready fer a crash landin’! Betta magnetize; we’re jumpin’!” Cad pushed a lever fully forward, the stars stretching out before his eyes, as the last little bit of energy left in his ion engines boosted him across the short length of hyperspace that resembled a nighttime sky.

It took mere minutes; seconds; before they fell out into realspace a second time, right above the atmosphere of an unknown spheroid that looked arctic, somewhat foreboding or uninviting, though The Justifier had been pulled in by its gravity.

“Todo, if Ah die ‘cause’o’yer negligence, ye betta engage de sself-destruct ssequence Ah programmed, or Ah'm comin’ back te haunt yer metal chassis!”

“But sir, I hold untold quantities of data that may be val-”

“Exxactly! Don’ want no one knowin’ m’business! Jus’ do it.”

Todo sighed though he had no lungs with which to expel air from, shaking his head a minutia as the alarms got louder, the fuselage beginning to rattle as they started to descend into a swarm of billowy, white clouds. Cad pulled up on the controls, tried to ignite his retro thrusters to curb the impact, though they sputtered and died out. He released the landing gear and grit his teeth. He closed one eye, realizing he was about to crash into solid ice.

---

You were a resident of the pale blue dot known as the planet Pagodon; a waitress at the one establishment worth a snot on this freezing landscape; the Public House, a part of the settlement known as Ferryman’s Ranch was your stomping ground, though few people came to visit here. You mostly served locals, riffraff, a crook or two, your life was more than boring, that is until you found yourself on break.

You stepped outside only to bear witness to a trail of engine smoke following behind a nearly decommissioned starship. It was coming in rapidly, headed for the barren wastelands Pagodon was known for, and you were overcome with worry for the poor soul left aboard, as ravinaks were living beneath its glacial layers. They were dangerous; attacked at a moment’s notice – you ran inside, yelled to your boss you would be right back, though knowing that was more or less a lie.

You went home first as fast as your legs could carry you, gathering up a various assortment of things that might be needed: a durashelter and blankets, your trusty blaster, a medpac, a small toolkit, and something warm to drink held within a thermajug.

You hopped on your speeder bike well equipped for treading your planet’s unique, frigid surface - it was coming nightfall, you only hoped you wouldn’t be too late.

---

You approached the crash site; saw a small light in the distance - it was moving, but just barely. The closer you got to it, the more curious you became. Once you were near enough you realized it was a droid of some sort - he was missing one of his little legs, though the one left to him had its rocket thruster activated. He was spinning around in circles; he looked downright distraught; shaken, though you were sure he couldn’t experience emotions, yet he kept repeating the same old thing. He seemed broken, out of sorts, or at least confused – not a good sign, but you hoped to remedy his ails.

“Mister Bane – M-Mis – Mis- Mister Bane. The ship- the shiiip.. shiiiiip...”

He cycled through that series of words again, thinking the person with the name of Bane was this droid’s owner as you conked the poor thing right on his access panel with your balled up fist. He sputtered out, shook his head, his golden eyes blinked; the light cut out, but only for a moment, then he was back online.

“Oh! Hello! Who are you? Where am I? Where is Bane? Where is my other leg?”

You ignored his questions and pressed on - he managed to follow you somewhat, gliding along behind you like a lost hound looking for its way home. He teetered on his axis, somewhat destabilized. “Bane is still inside, isn’t he? Oh, I do hope he’s still alive… “

Todo had his own fears to deal with, thinking he didn’t want to have to initiate his self-destruct - he was loyal to his master without a fault, even if that meant the end of him.

From the outside, the ship didn’t look too badly damaged, though it had nosedived into the ice below. It had skidded a few feet but hadn’t managed to break through. You were wary the ravinaks could show up any moment now; they could recognize footsteps, pressure put on the planet’s surface – the droid had been floating, but you were a sentient who walked on two able-bodied legs.

The door was cracked, stuck halfway open, you skirted around the corner and stepped inside - seems the droid had managed to escape somehow. You were careful as you inched down the narrow hall to the starship’s cockpit – you had a bad feeling about all this.

Sparks flew from a cable dangling down before you; you circumnavigated around it, careful not to shock yourself. The lights were dim, nearly nonexistent, as you came upon the scene of a man laid out on the floor - that droid’s other leg was still magnetized to the damaged ship’s interior.

He was weak, struggling to right himself - he couldn’t seem to stand. He kept lifting his body up, bent at the elbows, thinking he should have taken his own advice. His heavy captain’s chair had dislodged itself, pinning him down by the back of one spindly leg - every time he moved, his chest met the floor soon after, Cad having been thrown forward against the windscreen, and his already injured ribs had taken the brunt of it.

The Duros coughed, or at least that’s what you thought he was – the green blood he retched up onto the floor confirmed it. He was bleeding internally, and that’s when he saw you – somehow the large hat he was wearing hadn’t fallen off during the violent crash.

He reached out a single hand as if asking for assistance, though apprehensive; he didn’t speak; his red eyes contracting at the blaster on your hip. You weren’t aware, but the alien thought you might be another bounty hunter, law enforcement, someone to kick him while he was down.

You stepped closer and he tried to push himself up again using the aid of one arm only, his other hand gripping at the handle of one LL-30 BlasTech pistol, but he was too debilitated to even withdraw the weapon - the man soon after succumbing to unconsciousness.

More sparks flew, but this time off the console – you were unsure of the state of things, though you were a fairly good mechanic  - you had fixed mobile objects like your own speeder bike, your bosses hovercar – you thought to have a look once you were less preoccupied.

You pulled this man named Bane along, having freed him from his imprisonment with all the strength that you could muster, removing the hefty seat that had entrapped him to gather him up beneath his arms.

The droid was happy to see you had returned; found his master, as he spun around haphazardly. He posed a question; one he was dreading an answer for. “Is Bane dead?”

“No, but I have to comm for help. I can’t move him like this on my bike alone, or you.” You pressed the link on your communication device, calling the outpost some few miles off. You requested assistance in the form of a vehicle big enough to haul a droid and an injured man; to tow a starship, though they said there was a storm brewing in the distance, and it might very well be a half rotation before they could reach you – it put a damper on your spirits.

You set up the durashelter; it would block most of the wind. It was insulated, though the nights on Pagodon were even colder. You were careful not to disturb the ground too much, treading lightly with a gentle step. You laid out blankets, your sleeping bag, but the man had stirred - he coughed up blood again.

You monitored his breathing by the rising and falling of his chest; it was shallow; you withdrew the medpac as the little droid was frantic. “Miss! My scans indicate that his vital signs are unstable; he was badly injured in the crash; I am afraid he has suffered internally. Please, is there anything you can do for him?”

You unzipped the pouch to withdraw a stim-shot - you had an idea, but you needed to wake him up first; you decided to try to rouse him on your own before injecting him with something.

You took off one of your warm gloves, pressed your tepid hand to his blue cheek encased in black; you whispered to him, coming in close, using the name the droid had given you, though you had no idea who this man was. “Bane? Can you hear me?”

No response: his skin was frigid, colder than you expected him to be. Your exhales came out in small, transparent puffs, denoting the drop in temperature as the sun had nearly set, though on this planet you could always see your breath. You gently shook him with your other hand; his lids fluttered, two crimson, egg-shaped eyes revealed to you for just a moment, yet the Duros was too groggy to stay awake.

You readied the pneumatic dispenser in your hand, pressed it between your knees to hold it steady, then loaded the stimulant to administer the shot – they flew open then; those horizontal pools of red that might as well be magnets as they drew you in.

You had momentarily forgotten your other hand was on his face; he took you by the arm, yanked it back before he sat up straight. You gasped, though his actions were short-lived. He released you, groaning out in pain and anguish, his arm going to rest against his wounded midsection. The Duros’ breath was labored as he tried to speak, however his voice came out unfriendly; angry, callous with his droid, and perhaps you for touching him, his accent something you had never heard before; laced with the cybernetic modulation of his breathing apparatus. “Todo! Wha - what happened? Jus’ wh- where’n de eight Stalbringion hells are we?”

“Mister Bane! Are you all right?!” The one-legged droid appeared curious, though ecstatic that his master was still alive, answering him his question held over from before the crash. “I believe this is Pagodon, sir. Is that correct, Miss?”

Your gaze traveled between the two of them before the one named Bane spoke up again; you had already lost your focus – though this man was injured, he was handsome, and you had it in your heart to help him if only he would allow you to.

“It’s so blasted cold! How cahn ye stand it?”

“You get used to it.” you stated quietly, your eyes centered on the Duros. His fiery gaze shifted towards you; his eyes only half opened - his lids were drooping, his hand still gripping where the pain was. You realized the stimulant seemed to be wearing off already – you had to act fast – you dug into your medpac once again and handed him a small vial of something; a dose of bactade you hoped would heal him from the inside out.

“Drink this, it will help.”

“Ain’t drinkin’ nothin’ ye give me, girl.” Cad Bane was an untrusting man; he rarely partook of food or drink he didn’t watch be prepared. It was unthinkable that he would swallow something a stranger had given him, no matter his condition.

He went to stand, put one knee up, pushed down on both hands – he made the motions, but then cried out. His grip on himself tightened as he fell back. He had bent over in exasperation and distress, Todo hobbling forward on one leg still attached, begging his master to accept your kindness. “Please, sir. You are severely wounded. I don’t want you to die as then I would have to self-destruct, and I am sure that it is a very unpleasant experience.”

Bane was squinting, his words pushed out of him in a tone of voice that betrayed his current state. “Sso glad t’know you care…”

“It’s only bactade – listen to your droid. He’s right.”

“Don’ tell me what te do, lil' lady. No one orders me around.”

“Fine, then die.” You made a movement to get up, frustrated, realizing this was a lost cause. Why risk your life, weather the coming storm, when this Duros was only going to be rude to you?

You gathered up your belongings, made to leave him there. You decided to let the  durashelter remain; he would need it, but it was then he seemed to come around.

“Maybe Ah's bein’ too hasty…” He grit his teeth, bared his fangs to you, more so in pain than out of anything you had done. It came out quiet, like it had been hard for him, something he wasn’t used to; forced to be polite. “Yer not … leavin’ me ‘ere, are ye?’

You handed him the vial again, and he took it this time. He was nearly too enfeebled to undo the cap, his oversized, cerulean colored fingers struggling to spin it the right direction before he finally threw it back. He swallowed it, made a face that was disgusted with the taste; his tongue idly licked the remnants from his mouth, and you noticed it was forked; unusual to you. “S’awful. No more’a dhat.”

Even though this bacta drink might aid him, Bane was no stranger to his temperature dropping fast; this planet was a poor one to get stuck on as a Duros, but he was unable to help himself. “Feelin’ tired … maybe Ah jus’ …”

He sank back on his forearms, one hand still idly resting against his person, that droid of his buzzing around in rings, not able to completely right himself. “Bane, you are in danger! I sense your biological functions are beginning to slow down.”

“S’normal…”  he mumbled out. “Just so … b-blasted … c-cold.”      

“Miss? May I speak with you a moment?”

Bane had seemed to of fallen back even further, barely keeping his head up, his eyes open; if he weren’t blue already, you were sure he would have been by now. You followed the droid back to the ship, pausing several feet away, he was frank with you; it never failed to surprise you the personalities these little machines could carry.

“I am afraid this atmosphere’s too much for him. Bane is too proud to admit this, but he is slowly dying. He is Duros - his internal temperature must be regulated or else he’ll freeze to death as he does not have the appropriate attire for this weather! His insulated breathing suit can only do so much! Our trip here was unplanned as you might be able to imagine...”

“Well, let’s get him in the durashelter.” you offered, meaning to turn around. The droid shifted, slid in front of you, asking you a somewhat peculiar favor.

“I am afraid that might not be good enough. Bane needs a source of heat, and fast. Our ship’s power… The energy accumulator…” The little droid had lifted both his hands, fingers idly tapping against each other as if he felt embarrassed, tiny clinks issuing forth between the awkward stretch of silence, perhaps not wanting to admit that this was all his fault, or at least it felt that way.

“Would you so mind?”

“Would I mind what?” You thought you knew what he was getting at, but it was hard to verbalize; it had to be confirmed; there was no way you would think to do it otherwise.

“You are warm. I am not. I would take your place If I could. Please, do not allow Bane to cease functioning.”

You glanced to the Duros in the distance; he had laid back again, though the stim-shot had served its purpose – you got the medicine in him. You wished those nerf herder’s at the outpost would hurry up; you were lucky so far in terms of the ravinaks not attacking; you only hoped he would last the night.

“But-” Your eyebrows knitted in defeat, somewhat unsure, but wanting to do what was best for him, even if he seemed to be a jerk. “All right…”

“Oh, thank you! It is said skin-to-skin is best.”

“You’re- wait, what?”

“When a person suffers from near to hypothermia, it is said that-”

“Don’t push your luck!” You almost thought to stomp away from him - you were cognizant enough to know better; those feisty creatures might hear you; feel your angry footsteps. You paused above the now unconscious Duros, canting your head a bit; he was sort of cute laying there defenseless, yet you knew his snark might come back to bite you in the ass by tomorrow morning if he managed to survive.

You dragged him to your makeshift shelter, placed him atop your sleeping bag. You cuddled up beside him, wrapped your arms around his chest, one of your legs resting upon his. You pulled the blankets up, tucked him in like you would a child – thought twice; unhooked the canister of oxygen from his apparatus; the lengthy tubes; they would only get in his way of laying flat. In addition, you took that silly hat off and placed it to the side.

His chest rose and fell softly, though he didn’t rouse. He was still shivering within that same hour, then another came and went. He hadn’t died yet, but you thought about what the droid had said, contemplating a course of action before you sighed out loud.

You unfastened his protective outer vest, unzipped his tunic and his trousers next, and with some effort managed to remove them along with his steel-toed boots and the fancy blasters holstered on his hips. You had to find the mechanism with which to unlock and dislodge his forearm gauntlets before you could take them off - it was almost impossible, frustrating – he had so many contraptions, gizmos, and strange things on – you wondered what he needed all those for. 

He was left in a skintight suit of black armorweave you suspected, though the droid said it was insulated – you unzipped it to expose his chest; his waist; his injured ribs. There was bruising all across his abdomen. You reached into your medpac, withdrew more bacta, this time in the form of a medicated patch. You removed the packaging and gently placed it on the largest of his wounds – he flinched, though didn’t wake from his involuntary hibernation.

You lamented to yourself, shook your head, not believing you were about to do this. You took off your heavy coat, pulled off your sweater and your shirt. The bra came next; you were left bare breasted - you refused to take off the rest of your apparel, curling up again next to this grumpy man who had crash-landed on your planet.

His skin was cold no doubt, like the ice that made up the ground outside your shelter; you honestly felt bad for him, one hand coming up to stroke his chin; his cheek, the skin left exposed to you that wasn’t hidden beneath his skull cap – he made a sound. It was a rumble in his throat, low, but not unpleasant – perhaps a noise of protest, though he didn’t rise to consciousness. You held him there the whole night through.

---

Cad Bane had woken up with an alarming start – he was trapped under something - he did not move. He stared at the ceiling of the durashelter, though he felt warm; comfortable. His gaze darted around the confines of the space before he realized you were laying next to him under thick fur blankets.

His first instinct was to shove you, yell something, throw the blankets off - get mad at nothing and everything all at once - but you were sleeping soundly, and he realized you were nearly naked - Cad Bane couldn’t help but notice your large breasts were pushed up against him; a part of a woman he was known to favor – it almost quelled his rage.

Another thing he noted: your hand was on his face. The warmness of it was cupping his gaunt cheek the best it could. He shifted, turned his head a fraction of an inch – he thought you pretty, though his eyes had narrowed. He didn’t know how he felt about all this.

He decided to try and remove you without disturbing you too much; his arm beneath the blankets changed position. One gloved hand rose up, and he realized he was stripped of everything he had been wearing, though instead of getting angrier he was surprised you had gone to all that trouble of undressing him, of cuddling him; showing him affection, though in light of death.

His reedy fingers were placed atop yours against him, his palm encasing your soft flesh. He did the unthinkable – he pressed it to himself – you would never notice, you were resting peacefully, but your eyes had fluttered. He caught on quickly; retracted his appendage, though his sudden jerky movements caused him to writhe in pain.

“Dagnabbit…” he pushed the many layers off, exposing you, your chest and his, though for you it was more embarrassing as you blushed full flush, your cheeks ruddy as he sat up – he examined you without a hint of inhibition as he gripped just below the patch of bacta.

He stared, blinked those ruby magnets, took in your mammalian, shapely bosom, though just as you thought – his snide remarks cut deeper than a vibroknife. “Sspose ye had yer way wit’ me – don’t remember anythin’ – must nahtta’ been te good a time.”

You were overcome with anger; how dare he think you would take advantage of him. Without contemplating further you pulled your arm back and brought it forward, aiming to slap him across his grouchy, glaring face.

He caught you midway there; fangs bared. His large, spidery digits nearly engulfed your entire hand. You gasped, not knowing what he planned to do, and you hadn’t thought things through. He dragged you near to him, a half inch from his surly countenance – his steady gaze bore into yours, filled with seeming menace; he had all the appearances of being ornery - right before he kissed you.

He let your wrist go, brought both his large hands up – he cupped your cheeks almost gently. You blushed again but for different reasons, not sure what he was playing at or where this was even going, though you hadn’t thought to stop him – in fact, you didn’t mind.

You felt he must be feeling better as he dropped one cool extremity to knead and encage your breast; his tongue prodded at your lips, asking for entrance – you permitted him, and he pushed against you harder then.

His fingers gripped you, dug into your skin; he pulled you in, forced his tongue almost halfway down your throat through your open mouth. Your nipples had become erect at his cold touch; the tips of rough finger pads tweaking; stroking its pert point.

A growl emanated from deep within his larynx; primal; an expression of his lust. His other hand lowered, gripped your mound through your skintight pants. You pulled away, expelled a breath of air out of surprise even though you suddenly found yourself aroused.

He stared into your eyes as he massaged you, his entire palm cradling your increasing enlivened sex; he whispered, though it came out more as a grumble - the intonations; the inflection of his voice like the utterance of a beast who could sense you were in heat, and him prepared to rut.

“Ss’my turn now, lil’ lady …”

“But I didn’t-” you began, though common sense suddenly overtook you. You gently braced against his attractive frame with the flat of your open hand. “You’re injured, you can’t possibly-”

“Ain’t dhat bad off…” He leaned his body forward, slowly - you knew he was trying to circumvent his pain. You felt his teeth first, a nip, before his tongue trailed from the arc of your tender neck to just below your ear. You shivered as he tasted you, Cad enjoying your delicious flavor; a bit of sweet mixed in with salt, but he didn’t stop.

"Don't like owin' people," he confessed, the tip of his forked points flitting against the opening of your ear canal - it caused your body to spasm as your one hand still upon him clawed into his scarred and beaten chest. You wondered how many times he had brushed with death, and his anatomy was suddenly fascinating to you; he didn’t have nipples; areolas, though his pectorals were firm and fit.

The droid was outside waiting, he had heard voices within the shelter, he piped up, though obviously low on charge. He was quiet, perhaps not wanting to disturb, but disturb he did. “Mister Bane? Are you all right? Is he alive, Miss?”

“Alive enough te weld yer mouth shut if ye don’t kriff off.” He had pulled away just far enough so he wouldn’t deafen you with his complaint, the droid needlessly apologizing before you heard his little thruster tote him off to an unknown place. You felt bad for him, but didn’t mention it, as Cad started to tug at the edges of your remaining garments; he was making little headway. You would need to help. Despite him saying otherwise, he was still very vulnerable, susceptible to injury.

“Please, I don’t want you to hurt yourself – your health comes first – I think that-”

“Dhat’s yer problem – ye think too much …” He moved in to caress your flesh, your supple breasts, the cut between them, down to your belly button. You sat upon your knees with your pants halfway shimmied afield from your broad hips. He dipped down low, meant to finish what you’d started, or perhaps start something of his own - he involuntarily cried out, though he closed it off between his saw-toothed fangs, one arm coming to bear down upon his aching abdomen.

That was the straw that broke the bantha’s back. You gently pried him up; his brow ridge was furrowed, hating all of this; his seeming inability to even move in certain directions. His internal organs were still healing, though the bacta and your warmth had saved his life – yet that didn’t mean he couldn’t project his sour mood.

“I told you.”

“An' now Ah’m tellin’ ye.” He took you by your hair; it’s roots; loose strands of it falling about your face; he tugged you forward with him as he leaned back, laid out again on your sleeping bag. He held on with one large hand even as his breathing hitched, the other one being used to yank each side of your trousers down in turn.

“Get em’ off before Ah rip’em off!” he seethed, and you complied, feeling slightly alarmed, though strangely curious, turned on, and feeling heated, annoyed that he wouldn’t listen to you, but that feeling quickly dissipated as a single finger extended; glossing between the folds of your ripe womanhood. You were drenched in your own wetness – it was quite apparent – he could also smell it, knowing no matter what your current attitude that you were on the cusp of fiending for him.

You were suddenly embarrassed, though the Duros had displayed a grin. The apex of his finger trailed to the nub that was your clit. He stroked it with assertion, rubbed against it, your gasp was soft as you threshed against his touch.

“Know how te shut ye up, but Ah might wanna hear de way ye sing.” He took his hand away; you were left wanton for him, but not for long. Both long arms reached out; he coerced you, repositioned you, forced your legs to straddle him. You braced yourself against his shoulders, your breasts hovering above his head. He craned his neck and you watched in awe as his teeth delicately clipped one nipple, a trickle of blood forming, though it had hurt so good.

He drank from you, suckling hard, your nether regions soaked as he grabbed you by your hips. He didn’t ask; he forced you forward, letting go of your wounded breast to sit you flat upon his face.

His thin fingers had spread your lower lips apart, his arms on either side of your thick thighs – he had exposed you – now you were the one who was feeling vulnerable. That forked organ of his entered deep into your body’s cavity, your emptiness filled as he wormed his way as far as he could go. He sampled your nectar; delectable; as if that tongue of his were the proboscis of an insect, one of his thumbs shifting as he toyed with your clit again.

The sounds that exuded from his mouth were the guttural utterances of an animal; you could feel the rumble in his throat as it vibrated against you, though he minded the fangs for now – you squirmed, perhaps meaning to get up, not knowing how you were feeling, but his grip was taut. He forced you down, smothering himself in the velvety confines of your genitalia as if hungry for you; dining on a meal.

That one thumb kept caressing you: rough, yet gentle. His other arm snaked around your waist like a serpent meaning to constrict its prey. The sensation within was a patient writhing; forceful; like the squirming of a tentacle -  he was tongue fucking you and you would be lying if you said you didn’t like it.

You relented; reached for your own hair; your body stretched itself as your fingers dug into your scalp, your breasts protruding in the open air. You moaned out loud; you couldn’t help yourself. Each stroke of him inside you, outside you, caused you to release another sound.

It only encouraged him, He propped a knee up, held you there behind your arching back, his other hand now free to explore your shapely curves. He groped your breast again, the one that bled; he pinched you, it sent a lightning bolt of pain through you – but pain that was masked with pleasure.

You came hard, but he wouldn’t stop, not until he had lapped up every drop like a thirsty dog who needed water. He finished you off by biting you again, the soft flesh of your labia. You yelled out, shocked, pulled from your euphoria, though he hadn’t bit hard enough to leave a mark.

You scrambled back, your chest heaving. He grimaced, as you had almost sat along his wounded midsection. He closed one eye, grit his teeth, though he tried to push himself up to sit. He lightly raised a hand; he wiped his mouth off on the back of it before he looked you in your eyes – or at least you thought he did, as you had positioned yourself across his lower half; finding that his cock was hard beneath you; it had an express shape -  he wouldn’t ask for anything, the Duros having wanted to repay you in his own way.

“Was a pretty tune. Wouldn’t mind hearin’ it again.”

You blushed, opened your mouth to speak, but you heard voices – human ones, the sounds of a tow truck that sported two forward-facing arms that could be used to encapsulate his starship. Someone called out your name, a familiar person; someone you knew back at Ferryman’s Ranch.

Cad Bane raised one half of his brows slope, confused for just a moment, and you thought to explain yourself as he had gone to move, almost too quickly, concerned about The Justifier, all his belongs, his home away from home – his source of transit, and his droid was out there somewhere. “I called for help last night – there was a storm. They are here to help.”

That same man called again, you rushed to put on your clothes. “Be right out!” you shouted, Bane left to his own devices figuratively and literally, as you suggested he do the same.

---

“Do you think perhaps we could find and reattach my leg? Where are we off to, Miss? I am sure Mister Bane wants to get going as quickly as possible – is there a technician who might be able to repair our ship? I could certainly go for a recharge – I am feeling rather drained. I only have a few hours left before-”

“Cahn’nit! Tired’a listenin’ te ye bellyache.”

The little droid was talkative as you all three were driven back into town together. Your speeder bike was coupled in the back, along with Bane’s massive ship. You sat across from him in the back of a hover car as the tow vehicle rode along behind – you were honestly surprised you hadn’t seen any ravinaks - that was until one punctured through the ice.

You had been lost in thought, your imaginings, lingering on the act Bane had committed – you studied him – his arms were crossed, his face turned away from you at an angle, revealing to you his handsome profile. His hat was tipped down low, though you could still see the glow of his deep red eyes. His lips were tight, and he held tension within himself – he was unhappy, though you felt that must have been his default mode of being.

The whole entourage jerked to a sudden stop. Cad Bane grit his teeth again, shielding his wounded personage. He was angry then, tired of hurting, tired of feeling like a sitting mynock. He stood; the thrusters on his boots fired up; he rose into the air and then dropped down - right in front of the ravenous creature who had sank its giant tusks into the bottom of the tow truck.

You watched, awestruck. He extended an implement from his forearm gauntlet – it was a lanyard of some kind, a metal microfilament; it had wound around one oversized, sharp fang. He pressed a button, held it down, cranked the power levels; set his contact stunners to full blast. He conducted a jolt of electricity so strong down the length of it that the ravinak screeched in pain; sizzled, fell back into the depths below the ice. Everything was silent – he released the line from the odd contrivance on his arm; tipped his hat at the driver; the workers who were startled; staring, before he took a moment to open the door this time, acting as if nothing happened. No one else had even had the time to withdraw their weapons or blink their eyes – he was hypnotizing.

You were turned on by the thrill of it; the way this reptilian-humanoid named Bane could command a beast without so much as a note of concern present in his sinewy, alien configuration, though he was more or less a man – he was piquing your curiosity left and right - you quietly observed him sit down to collect himself; the ravinak hadn’t even put up a decent fight.

---

“Two days tops - got a lot of repairs that need to be made. Energy accumulator is offline, the wires look like they had a bad stitch job … energizer is shot; won’t hold a proper charge. Some damage to the hull on impact; landing gear is misaligned, thrusters need recalibrating…”

“Yes, yes.. Ah get it. Fine. Don’t dally, dhen…  Considerin’ yer de only tech crew on dhis dang-blamed planet. Ah’ve got’a burra fish te catch … “ He had plans for Fennec; he thought to seek his revenge when he was healed; or at least obtain an eye for an eye, interfere with her bounty this time – she owed him credits galore.

You listened, intent on helping him – you knew this man; you had a favor you could pull. You wheedled him to the side, struck a bargain; you were willing to help out – you knew your way around a workbench, and you would start with his droid’s leg, move your way up to assist in fixing his crippled ride, and in turn it would cost him half the price.

Bane withdrew a toothpick from his pants pocket, leaned back, propped his foot against the wall - this was the first time you saw him do this – you bit your lip as he placed the object between his. He gnawed on it; chewing helped him to redirect some of his agitation as he sighed; annoyed, posing a question to the both of you. “Any accomodations around dhese parts?”

“You can stay with me.” It rolled out of you without a second thought.

---

You had learned his full name by now, Todo 360’s too. Cad was atop you, two dexterous digits inside you open mouth. They toyed at the edge of your flat incisors, pressed against the tip of your wet tongue, though his forefinger and thumb held you by the chin as he steadied your servile movements, your outright moaning, as he baited you to verbalize your pleasure. “Make sure de neighbors hear, Ah like’it when ye scream fer me.”

His cock was full inside you - your jaw had dropped when you saw what he was packing, though this was the third time he had entered you, twice the night before. It was large; long like one of his distinctive fingers, made to expand by the flow of emerald blood. This particular part of him was ridged, and you were shocked because he had two of them … They were covered in spicules, though pliant; they didn’t hurt, they rubbed against your g-spot like a felicitous massage as he railed you, shaking the headboard of your simple bed.

Cad Bane was not a gentle man when it came to this. His fingers shifted, gripped the hair along your scalp – he dug in with all five as the other hand propped him upright. He ground his phallus into you until he decided he was bored of this – he made you flip around at his leisure, though giving you short notice. The slighter of his cocks was somewhat prehensile in nature; it stimulated you at the same time as the one inserted, mooring itself upside your pulsating bundle of soft nerve-endings.

You gripped your pillow with both hands, drove your teeth into the downy fabric; he pushed you against your home’s partition from the outside world; slamming his narrow hips into your backward facing haunches – it drove a whine out of you until it transformed into a moan of jubilation – it might as well have been an extra finger down below as the tip seemed to of curled itself back under you; latched on. It was practically cinched over your safeguarded area; it had attached itself – your labia having been parted by this extra shaft as you were willingly forced to endure the first; like being mounted to a wall, though that wall was Cad Bane’s hemipenis.

“Dhat’s it, take’it like de good girl ye are…” His genitalia was made for a Duros’ to match, though the feeling it filled you with was unlike any other species you had experienced. You were afraid to lose him in that moment, for him to leave tomorrow morning had made you begin to cry. He slowed his rhythm, but didn’t pause, thinking he was perhaps being much too rough, though he hadn’t given you a safe word, and you didn’t ask for one.

“Ain’t becomin’ of ye te do dhat.” He punished you by sitting up, his chest having been against your spine; his cool skin had a slight roughness to it, but Pagodon wasn’t the best place for his microscales. He tugged you backward by one arm around your waist as he sat down crossed legged upon the mattress – still bruised, still beaten - he had fucked you just the same.

You sank into his lap, his foreign cock nearly pressing against your cervix – you quickly rose just enough so as not to impale yourself. You shifted precariously onto your knees – you used the muscles of your thighs to gently ride him as he sat back and watched you dance for him, his hands groping your firm breasts from around and behind.

You wiped your tears away; Cad Bane didn’t comment on it; only added his two cents to the way you made waves along his member, that second organ still titillating you as it drove you to cum, your body’s natural secretions coating him as he drove it home. “Ah oughtta stuff ye full-up; make ye beg fer it… ”

He tried to hold it; wanted to make you cum again, but he suddenly pushed you off. You gasped as he bent you over; he released his seed along your back, your buttocks, his fangs gritted as he growled out sounds of appreciation. His own dirty talk had sent him reeling over the edge into an orgasm.

He slapped your ass afterward, dredged the abrasive undersides of his weedy digits along your skin, left a mark; a large red welt, before calling it a night.

“A trip te de refresher might do ye good,” he said.

---

Todo had been left with the lead technician while Bane had been ensconced by you; you had truly wanted to keep a watchful eye on his condition. The droid had come to alert his master the repairs were finished. The hunter had been hanging out around the Public House, as you had asked your bosses permission to have the last few days off. You left him waiting as he idly drummed his fingers along a table, seated in a darkened corner - he studied the holoprojector above the bar; the news was on, though nothing truly noteworthy.

“Sir, The Justifier is primed and ready for us to finally leave this place! What is next on our agenda?” His leg had been reattached – he was cheerful; downright happy, yet the Duros had ignored him.

Bane swirled another toothpick betwixt the opposing points of his fleshy tongue; bit down; slowly rose. You were waiting by the door, a forlorn look of sadness on your face you were trying your best to hide – his was a mask; unreadable; stoic by his very nature.

He crossed the threshold, he shivered a bit at the temperature compared to the one indoors, obviously disgusted by this place – you felt he couldn’t wait to leave. You sucked in a tiny breath, held out a small bag within your hand – it clinked, as credits were inside grazing one another. His eyes constricted at your humble gift.

“I know you spent a lot on your ship’s repairs … Here, I want you to have this.”

“Don’t want yer creditss... Ye’ve done enough.” He batted your hand away, traipsed onward to begin his walk back to this town’s one hangar - you followed him as you tried to hold back your fragile feelings. You called out to him as he meant to board.

“Wait – Bane – I ...”

He turned around, removed his toothpick, deposed of it with the flick of his lithe wrist and adjoining digits. He strode forward the three or four steps it took to meet you, your head downturned; eyes lowered.

He coaxed you up by the crook of a knotted knuckle and his thumb – he saw your eyes were watering. His face never faltered, never changed appearance. He leant in and kissed you as a way to say goodbye; a simple press of his hairline mouth to yours.

“So long, lil’ lady.” He walked away, almost dismissive, and the lead technician had come to join you. He whistled out, shook his head, giving you a dumbfounded comment; he was astounded.

“Cad Bane, huh? You sure know how to pick ‘em. That’s a story to tell your grandkids.”

You glanced to him, eyebrows furrowed - you were irritated, but also inquisitive. “What do you mean by that? You know him?”

He scoffed, almost laughed, surprised by you being so naïve. “You’re kidding, right? Cad Bane is the toughest, most infamous, quickest draw in all the karkin’ galaxy – he’s a bounty hunter. Didn’t you know that?”

Your hand moved to your mouth, you tried to hide your shock - he was gone then, and Todo too - his ship taxied to the edge of Ferryman’s Ranch, your home sweet home; your little outpost, until he took to the skies, Bane having ignited his engine’s thrusters, and in that moment you knew you would never lay your eyes on him again.

 ----

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