#{{ v; Fightin' Words }}

[lizzy019]

𝒞𝑜𝓃𝒻𝒾𝒹𝑒𝓃𝒸𝑒 𝑜𝓇 𝐼𝓁𝓁𝓊𝓈𝒾𝑜𝓃?

Johnny Cade x Fem!Reader [Reader is described as confident… for the plot]

cw -> light praise, fingering, p in v, light cum play

Word Count -> 1.2K

Sitting in the house aimlessly flicking through the TV channels, your eyes flutter lazily from exhaustion. It’s only 11:30 in the night, almost midnight.

The channel you’re watching currently shows nothing other than some drama show, but it tends to the ache of your boredom for the moment.

A sudden knock at your door has you jolt upright in bewilderment, but you shut off the TV and begrudgingly arise from your comfort on the sofa to go check who wanted your attention so late in the evening.

You unlock the door’s lock, swinging it open to see Johnny with a tired expression. Instantly, your back straightens as you look more presentable.

“Johnnycake! I didn’t expect to see you tonight. What’s up?” You asked benevolently, posture straight to push out your chest.

His eyes trail over your body mistakenly, taking in your lovely form in such comfy and careless attire. You’re so beautiful.. even with confidence oozing out of you.

“I- uh.. my parents are fightin’ again, wanted me to be the middleman and take the hits. Can I hang out here with ya, sugar?” He asked so politely, hands obviously fiddling in nervousness in his pockets.

You nodded with a warm smile, hand on his back as you pulled him in from the cold of the night’s wind. 

The way he so gingerly stumbled in from tripping over the little ledge on the door made you smile as you gently stabled him. 

You gently sat him on the sofa, replacing his jean jacket with a blanket to properly warm him. The next minute, you were cuddled by his side and let him use your chest as a pillow.

The two of you were all warm and snuggled, his hands occasionally coming to squeeze the flesh of your breasts.

This had you snickering occasionally, but also a tad bit nervous. To be honest, you were a bit of a prude.

“Johnny? What the hell are ya doin’?” You asked curiously, instantly reddening and panicking when he pulled down the shirt you were wearing just enough to have a breast pop out for him to access.

A surge of mortifying worry consumes you as he mouths your nipple, licking and sucking like it’s his damned lifeline. And honestly.. it was in a way.

All you provided for him was comfort and love, a place for him to stay in the midst of his life’s chaos. You were his everything, more than just physically, but also mentally and emotionally.

He wanted to pay you back.

Even if he was nervous too, you two started slow. Little kisses out of shyness until you both worked up courage to go farther.

You pulled away to tug at his shirt, signaling you wanted it off as he did as told. While he was scared to show bruises from his parents’ beatings, he loved and trusted you wholeheartedly.

A smile came to your lips, hands running all along his torso to simply admire him. Even if his ribcage was prominent from the lack of food in his household, he was still so handsome.

Johnny’s hands came to your shirt to take it off, but your hands flung to stop him. He got confused real quick.

“Huh? Baby, what’s a’matter? Somethin’ wrong, sugar?” He asked so softly, with so much concern too.

You could only give a shy chuckle, stumped but inevitably giving in to his word. You were embarrassed. Sure, you had confidence, but he was out of your league!

“I.. I’m fine, I promise! I’m just a bit nervous..” You assured him, one hand on his cheek while the other held his wrists from getting your shirt off.

Oh, his expression couldn't get sweeter. Eyes once filled with fear were now warm and comforting, hands moving to gently cup your hips and press the sweetest kiss to your soft mouth.

“Baby, I took mine off n you know how I feel about my body.. Can I see yours too? No judgment, promise.” He assured you with the sweetest tone.

How could you possibly say no to him of all people?

With a hesitant nod of your head and that benevolent smile on your lips, he gently took off your little tee and let his eyes widen.

“Damn sugar, what a sight.” 

Your face gets hot with embarrassment, a soft giggle escaping your throat as he kisses you more emotionally. Not lustfully or passionately, more like he feels lucky and cherishes you.

Kisses have turned into hickeys and love bites, his hand meticulously massaging your swollen clit as your hand comes to play with his cute pink nipples.

This lasts for who knows how long, and eventually he can’t take it anymore and chucks his pants off.

Your face gets hot in embarrassment and fear, what if he doesn't like it? What if it doesn't feel good for him?

You were shy and nervous, worried about things you knew you shouldn't worry about. Before you could protest, it was like a sword was sheathed on a pedestal, and his cock was inside your walls.

It was sharp pain for a moment, a cry escaping you before everything seemed to get better.

“Oh baby, yes! Feels so good, oh God-!” Johnny hiccuped through moans and gasps, hands finding your waist and holding you tight.

Writhing in the pleasure, you squirm and moan, lash out and cry, it was mind numbing how good this felt.

Sure, your mortification was prominent, but Johnny’s words did a lot to assure you of your preciousness. He was moaning your name, how could you feel otherwise?

The cord in your stomach began tightening, and it was doing the same to your inner walls. Pussy cramping his cock had him shivering, a guttural groan resonating deep from his throat.

“Oh sugar, I’m gettin’ close! Where do ya want it? You on the pill?” He asked in a flurry, eyes nearly spewing tears from the pleasure.

His question made your mind tense in worry, but you were on birth control so it wouldn't be bad. You nodded your head to signal that you were indeed on the pill, hands finding his shoulders while your nails dug little crescent shapes into the flesh.

“Inside.. it’s okay, do it inside! Oh fuck, Johnny!” You cried out, with what little energy you had left as your orgasm hit you like a wall.

The pleasure had you dizzy, lightheaded from so much emotion and physical enjoyment that your mind just couldn't keep up.

Your orgasm obviously made him climax as well, and he shot his load deep to paint your walls white. It was nice in a way, being so close with someone other than a friend.

Johnny looked at your core oozing his cum and your own, and as if it was instinct, he scooped some out with two fingers and smeared it on your makeup.

While this had you stunned and a bit disgusted, the look on his face showed pure amazement and joy from such a sight.

It was now 1 in the morning, you two cuddled up in your bed after a shower that you shared together. It was cramped, but it was cozy.

Johnny was constantly smiling at you, even with his damned eyes closed. You were so gorgeous, how could he resist a few peeks of his loveliest?

You’d fallen asleep, too tired from such a pleasure filled night to care about anything anymore.

“Sweet dreams, sugar.” Was all you heard before you fully drifted off into a heavenly sleep.

[chaussetteblanche]

just like the wind - V

summary: the Fellowship leaves Rivendell and try to take the pass of Caradhras word count: 2'300 warnings: none

The Fellowship departs the next morning at dawn. Elrond bids you all farewell and you follow Frodo out of Rivendell. Aragorn and you follow the others last, keeping an eye on everyone. Very few words are exchanged during the first hours. You admire the scenery as you travel through woods, hillsides and plains. The sun beats down on you as you walk, making you take off your cloak and unbutton the first buttons of your blouse. Near noon, you finally stop for lunch on a hill.  As Sam cooks food over a fire, most of the Fellowship rests. You sit next to Aragorn, dilligently smoking his pipe, and watch amusedly as Boromir tries to teach sword fightin to Pippin and Merry.  “Two, one, five,” Boromir instructs with each move of his sword, “Good. Very good.” “Move your feet,” you advise as you reach for Aragorn’s pipe. He sends you a look as you take it out of his hand and inhale deeply. Eyes twinkling with mischief, you blow out the smoke in his face. He grunts as he waves the smoke away, taking the pipe back from you with a scowl. You chuckle, turning back to the Hobbits providing entertainment.

“You look good, Pippin!” calls Merry.  “Thanks!” “Faster!” pushes Boromir. As they continue sparring, you watch Gimli walk over to Gandalf, looking irritated. “If anyone was to ask for my opinion, which I note they’re not, I’d say we were taking the long way around,” he sneers, looking over the map sprawled out in Gandalf’s lap. “Gandalf, we could pass through the Mines of Moria. My cousin Balin would give us a royal welcome!” “No, Gimli,” Gandalf frowns. “I would not take the road to Moria unless I had no other choice.” Before you can wonder why the wizard seems to admant to avoid the mines, a mouvement in the sky catches your eye. You stand and walk over to a stony ledge on the hill, staring at the sky. In the distance, you perceive a dark shape moving rather quickly in your direction. Legolas joins your side, squinting at the horizon.  “Is that-“ You are interrupted by the Hobbits attacking Boromir after having accidentally been nicked by his sword. “For the Shire!” Pippin yells, “Hold him! Hold him down! Merry!” The Hobbits wrestle Boromir on the dry ground, laughing. A small smile makes its way to your face. Sam ignores the ruckus and walks over to you and Legolas. “What is that?” he asks loudly.  “Nothing!” Gimli quickly assures, “It’s just a whiff of cloud!” You roll your eyes, expecting nothing less from him. “It’s moving fast,” Boromir notices as he brushes the dust off his clothes. “And against the wind,” you add, squinting at it. Your eyes widen once you realise what it is. Legolas confirms your thoughts when he cries out: “Crebain from Dunland!”

Everyone falls into action. You grab Merry and Pippin and shove them under a bush, making sure they were well hidden before running over to the fire. You stomp on it a few times, effectively extinguishing it. Your eyes roam the hilltop for anything else that needed to be hidden to erase any trace of your presence. Suddenly, a force takes hold of your waist and pulls you to the ground under a leafy bush. You land harshly on your back and your breath is knocked out of you. You look up to see Legolas all but laying on top of you, shielding you and your white blouse with his green cloak. Your breathing is raspy as you try to force air back into your lungs. You are acutely aware of how Legolas is pressed against you. You know he must be holding some of his weight up because you can still breathe and you find yourself very thankful. His elbows rest on either side of your face and you can feel one of his knees between your thighs. He looks to the side, at the sky and the black birds circling the hill. His hair tickles your face with the movement. You’re surprised at the nice, pine-like smell emanating from it. The birds fly off but you all stay hidden for good mesure. You finally gain control over your breathing, relieved that your presence went seemingly unnoticed by the birds. Legolas looks down at you and you meet his eye, though none of you speak. You’re pulled into a pool of chocolate and caramel, so warm and sticky that you have trouble tearing your gaze away from his. 

Soon, the threat is deemed over, and the Fellowship starts coming out of hiding. Legolas crawls out from under the bush and you follow him closely. He stands and holds out his hand for you. You gratefully take it and let him pull you to your feet. Meeting his eye once more, you thank him. He nods with a smile. 

“Spies of Saruman,” Gandalf says bitterly. You’re reminded of the conversation you’d overheard and of the turning of the white wizard. “The passage South is being watched. We must take the pass of Caradhras.” Gandalf looks grim as he announces this. You gulp as you turn to take in the immense, snow-covered mountain. You have a bad feeling about this. 

Due to your elf lineage, you can walk on top of snow. This is a useful ability in such times, and only Elves possessed. You walk next to Frodo, partly shielding him from the cold with your cloak. The trek up the mountain had been hard on the Hobbits and you dread the rest to come. You aren’t even half-way up yet. Suddenly, Frodo loses his footing and goes rolling towards Strider, following last. Your fellow Ranger pulls him to his feet and pats the snow off him. Frodo’s hand goes to his neck by reflex, searching for the ring. Finding it missing, his eyes widen. You start searching for it and find it glistening in the snow right next to Boromir. He picks it up by the chain and holds it in front of his face. The entire Fellowship stills, the atmosphere tensing. “Boromir,” Strider warns lowly. The man doesn’t answer, seeming in a trance. All eyes are on him as you take a step in his direction. “It is a strange fate we should suffer so much feat and doubt over so small a thing... Such a little thing,” he speaks softly. Your hand finds the familiar hilt of your dagger, slightly numb fingers curling around it. Strider catches your eye and motions for you to wait. Boromir reaches out for the ring. “Boromir!” Strider booms. Boromir pulls his hand back with a jerk, as if pulled out of a daze. “Give the Ring to Frodo,” Aragorn demands. 

“As you wish, I care not.” Boromir trudges over to the pair and hand the Ring over to the Hobbit. You and Strider exchange a look before you let go of the grip you hand on your weapon. Boromir tousles Frodo’s hair and resumes his climb. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. Questions cloud your mind as you continue your climb. Could the Ring affect you if even without touching it? Could it affect other members of the Fellowship at a distance?

Soon, the wind starts picking up. You tighten your cloak around you, teeth chattering as you painstakingly make your way along a narrow path against the cliffside. 

“Cuiva nwalca Carnirasse; nai yarvaxea rasselya!” (Wake up, cruel Redhorn! May your bloodstained horn fall upon enemy heads!) a windy voice roars. Your eyes widen in fear. “There is a fell voice in the air!” calls Legolas from up front. You shove a strand of hair which had escaped with the wind back into your hood. “It’s Saruman!” Gandalf cries over the loud wind. Stones and snow fall on the path you were walking on. You can feel the very mountain trembling beneath your feet. You all flatten yourselves against the side of the it.  “He’s trying to bring down the mountain!” you scream over the sound of distant avalanches, “Gandalf, we must turn back!”  “No,” he insists. You can see his snow-covered bushy brows furrowing underneath his hat. “Losto Caradhras, sedho, hodo, nuitho, i ‘ruith!” (Sleep, Caradhras, be still, lie still, hold your wrath!) he cries. The moutain seems to calm itself and tentatively, you unstick yourselves from its side. You turn to look ahead when you are hit by an avalanche which buries you all in the snow.

For a moment, you see nothing but a dull gray. All is silent. You do your best not to panic and take shallow breaths. Despite your racing heart, you manage to stay somewhat calm and start wiggling your body. In a few seconds, your arms dig up to the surface of the snow. Light and sound come back to you and you manage to take in a deep breath. You thank the Valar the snow was light and easy to dig. A shadow stands over the hole you’re buried in, cloak flying wildly in the wind. You make out Legolas’ concerned face as he reaches down to you. You take his cold hands with your own and let him pull you out. Heart racing, teeth chattering, you thank him with a nod. 

Both of you walk around, trying to find Gimli, the only one who hadn’t emerged from the downfall of snow yet. When you do find him, Legolas and you begrudgingly pull him out. When the dwarf is free, you join Aragorn in ridding the Hobbits of snow. All of them were shaking like leaves, teeth chattering even more than yours. You glance worryingly at Frodo, who’s skin is turning dangerously blue. You shrug off your cloak and wrap it around him, rubbing his arms up and down to try and warm him up. His purple lips try to utter a refusal, but you shake your head. “You need it more than I do,” you argue. Accepting the favour, he thanks you with a nod. You pat his head as you turn to the others, shivers wracking your body.

“We must get off the mountain!” Borromir hollers over the wind, “Make for the Gap of Rohan and take the west road to my city!”

“The Gap of Rohan takes us too close to Isengard!” counters Aragorn. Cold wind flies into the back of your shirt, attacking the bare skin of your back. You set your jaw to avoid your teeth from chattering too much. You try to ignore the cold burn of your face and your hands as your hair whips around you in the wind. You don’t notice Legolas watching you with worried eyes.

“If we cannot pass over the moutain, let us go under it! Let us go through the Mines of Moria!” Gimli booms. You discern fear shining in Gandalf’s eyes and wonder once more why he wants to avoid the mines so badly. 

“Let the Ring Bearer decide!” the wizard calls after a few seconds. Frodo’s eyes widen. You are hit with a wave of sympathy for the small Hobbit hit in the face with so many responsibilities.

“We cannot stay here! This will be the death of the Hobbits!” you cry to Gandalf. Frodo seems spurred on by this.

“We will go through the mines!” he decides. You hope he made the right decision.

“So be it.” Gandalf nods remorsefully.

Once you had climbed down the mountain, you walk to the entrance of Moria. The night is cold, but less than the mountain, without the wind and snow beating at you. You find yourselves on a path between a large wall and a dark lake. 

“The walls of Moria,” breathes Gimli, impressed. You look around with a raised brow. Cold, dark and humid. Very inviting indeed.

You continue your trek to the entrance of Moria alongside the lake. Suddenly, a ripple in the water appears out of nowhere. Frodo pulls his leg back with a jolt and you frown. 

“Dwarf doors are invisible when closed,” informs Gimli. You keep your thoughts on dwarf architecture to yourself and put your cold hands on the freezing walls, searching for something, anything. The others follow your lead and move along the wall. Gimli knocks his axe against the stone. 

“Yes, Gimli, their own master cannot find them, if their secrets are forgotten,” Gandalf speaks. You scoff lightly.

“Why doesn’t that surprise me?” mocks Legolas. You exchange a smirk and look away. Gimli grumbled but doesn’t rebute.

Gandalf seems to find the door. “Now... let’s see. Ithildin-“ His fingers run over faint silver lines beneath the dirt coating the wall. “It mirrors only starlight and moonlight.”

Just as the Fellowship looks up to the evening sky, the moon, as if having heard, shows herself from behind the clouds. The silver lines grow bright, forming the outline of a door formed of two columns beneath an arch with a star in its center. You admit to yourself the beauty of the design. 

“It reads ‘The Door of Durin, lord of Moria. Speak, friend, and enter.’” Gandalf reads aloud. 

“What do you suppose that means?” Merry asks. 

“Oh, it’s quite simple. If you are a friend, you speak the password and the doors will open.” Gandalf tries a password. All of you wait expectantly, but nothing happens. The wizard tries another password. Still, the doors remain closed. He tries anothey password still, but the stone does not budge. 

“Nothing is happening.” Pippin states the obvious. Gandalf sends him an irritated look. 

“I once knew every spell in all the tongues of Elves, Men and Orcs,” he laments.

“What are you going to do, then?” Pippin questions.

“Knock your head against these doors, Peregrin Took! And if that does not shatter them, and I am allowed a little peace from foolish questions, I will try to find the opening words.” Gandalf huffs, sinking down onto a piece of stone. 

You sigh, pulling your tunic closer to your body in a feeble attempt at warmth. This is to be a long night.

[ananke-xiii]

Form and Void... and Hands and Hearts.

Intro.

I really like "Form od Void" from S11. It's one of my favorite episodes and it enrages me to no end that it was Andrew Dabb who wrote it. Sometimes a girl just wants to be a hater. But I don't have it in me :(.

Talking about H-A-T-E...

The episodes starts with this word:

H-a-t-e. It was with this left hand that old brother Cain struck the blow that laid his brother low. L-o-v-e. You see these fingers? They're arched. These fingers has veins that run straight to the soul of man. The right hand, friends -- the hand of love. Now watch, and I'll show you the story of life. These fingers, dear hearts, is always a-warrin' and a-tuggin', one against the other. Now watch 'em. Old brother left hand -- left hand hates a-fightin'. And it looks like love's a goner. But wait a minute. Wait a minute. Hot dog! Love's a-winnin'. Yes, siree. It's love that won. And old left-hand hate is down for the count.

This little monologue here is taken from "The Night of the Hunter" by Charles Laughton, his first and only movie. Laughton was bisexual and I'm telling you this because it's relevant to the usual queer stuff happening in SPN and to the point I want to make in this post.

The title of the episode, "Form and Void" , refers to the Genesis but it contains a meaningful omission. The King James version reads:

In the beginning God created the heaven and the earth. And the earth was without form, and void; and darkness was upon the face of the deep. And the Spirit of God moved upon the face of the waters.

Earth is without form, and void. This changes everything because the subject of the sentence is the earth but here we're talking about "form and void" as nouns, not attributes. It's a brilliant call-back to the Genesis (therefore to the beginning of time and the beginning of SPN) and to the dichotomy of God and Amara but it's a smokescreen. The episode abounds with biblical references but there's more, at least to me. There is a secret.

If we look a little beyond Christianity the terms "form and void" are used in one of the most important sutras from Mahayana Buddhism. The Prajñāpāramitāhṛdaya, "The Heart of the Perfection of Wisdom", or simply called "The Heart Sutra".

I think you know where I'm going with this. The heart of the Heart Sutra is the following: "Form is emptiness (śūnyatā), emptiness is form". Sūnyatā is such a vast concept that I cannot possibly even IMAGINE of summarizing it here. Just for the sake of my argument I'll say that it's often translated as emptiness, vacuity, void... without form. Very broadly (and I'll go to different kinds of Hell in different religions just talking about this stuff in relation to fucking CW Supernatural LOL) it means that ultimate reality is EMPTINESS because there is no FIXED reality, no STABLE self and EVERYTHING is connected and dependent on something else. Therefore form is emptiness and emptiness is form.

You undestand that in this light "Form and Void" is no dichotomy, thefore the episode is telling us to subvert how we view things. And it starts with that quote from "The Night of the Hunter".

Little useful background: the movie is about a fake preacher who preys on two children to get to their father's hidden treasure. He's the big wolf in disguise, a hunter wearing a preacher persona. So we need to take what he says with a grain of salt and he says a lot.

Right hand vs left hand: the preacher/hunter says that the right hand is the hand of love and the left hand is the hand of hate. This follow a well-know misconception regarding everything associated with the left as "sinister" and satanic. It's a Christian view of the world. He also says that Cain killed his brother using his left hand while the right hand has "veins that run straight to the soul of man". This man is conning people.

Notoriously, the hand that has veins that run to the heart is the left hand. This is the reason why people put their wedding rings on their left hand's...ring finger. It's an incredible old assumption that has been debunked by science but we don't care about science here. We care about symbols. And symbolically-speaking the left hand is the hand of the heart and love, not the right hand.

Now where in the hell does this idea of right and left hand? And am I crazy for seeing hints of Buddhism in a story about the Christian God? No.

The left-hand and right-hand paths are two approaches to magic and Western esotericism in general. They're called this way because people in the '800 got interested in Tantrism and translated the sanskrit terms "vāmācāra" and "dakṣiṇācāra" respectively "left-hand path" and "right-hand path". I'm not gonna go into details but I think you understood by now that the "left-hand path" was the "evil" one, the one with sex and other Very Bad Things, while the "right-hand path" was Good and Sexless and Serious and Real. In other words, the right hand represents White Magic and Controlled Sexuality while the left hand represents Black magic and Uncontrolled Sexuality. Practitioners of black magic were evil AND gay.

LOL.

Let's go back to the serial killer preacher: he says that Love wins and that it's the right hand that triumphs over the left hand. All these fingers connected to the soul that are always tugging and warring and getting entwined and hot dog! it's hot in here! But, remember folks, he's conning people. So what he says it's the opposite of what we should understand.

the preacher shouldn't be talking about this stuff in front of children. but then again, he's a predator.

Wait there's more: do you want to know if you're left-hemisphere dominant or right-hemishpere dominant? All you gotta do is to weave your fingers. If your right thumb goes over your left one then you're LEFT-dominant. If your left thumb goes over your right one you're RIGHT-dominant.

Confused much? As you know left emisphere controls controls speech, comprehension, arithmetic, and writing while right hemisphere controls creativity, spatial ability, artistic, and musical skills. It's the opposite of what we might think (because of the stupid assumption according to which left is Bad and Evil. Well, ACTUALLY left is rationality and control so the joke's on you, stupid assumption).

The dear preacher over here is right-hemisphere dominant. It may possibly mean that he's LEFT-handed and thus this image is a huge foreshadow of his "evilness" and his eventual demise. It also means that what he's saying is bullshit.

So to sum it up: in this episodes there are hunters and preachers that aren't really hunters and preachers, there are innocent children who might be seen not as innocent, left hand and right hand are subverted and they mean the opposite of what they should mean thus actually meaning what they mean, the title refers to something AND to something else and this something is very much related to hands and love and hearts...

In just one fucking scene we are told the whole episode and I H-A-T-E-that Dabb wrote it, have I mentioned it?

[taintandviolent]

okay, so since my character count renews in 3 days... re: the current state of my requests...

The boys that are fightin' me tooth and nail (or that I think I will):

Michael Langdon... the AI doesn't understand the elegance of his voice. BUT I WILL PREVAIL. I WILL TAME HIM.

Kit (unless he has very specific words, the accent doesn't come through v much, and therefore just sounds like Tate or Evan, lmao).

pre!zombie Kyle Spencer... I haven't tried yet, but I feel like a very faint Louisiana accent is going to be... oof. I'm scared.

Colin Zabel... listen man, he's such a cute pennsylvania boy and I'm going to do my best. but again, I'm petrified he will sound like nothing.

[scottslemmons]

Seems like a nice time to mention that Toby Keith was a bigot, a bully, a thief, a coward -- and a shitty musician.

[nayfen]

Fanfic: These Fleeting Nights (3/9)

Chapter 3 - Sweetness in Seattle

Read the full chapter on AO3

V was sat on something solid, her legs dangling. The feeling was muted however; she felt nothing, no temperature or the texture of the surface, just the physical sensation of, presence. She looked up and suddenly remembered where she was. Across from her, far into the vast darkness surrounding her was a towering beam of brilliant yellow light, its digital illumination crackling in the infinite void beyond; the light through the Blackwall. Shewas inside Mikoshi.

Sure enough, she glanced up to see the towering ruby red form of Alt Cunningham. She floated above her, motionless and poised as if waiting for her moment to strike. Her formless face seemed to stare directly at her, though she said nothing.

Then there was a movement to her left and she saw... herself. She blinked her digital eyes as the form approached the well where she sat. That’s when she noticed. Looking down, she could see she wore rough and ripped jeans and, leaning on them, a silver-plated metal arm lay dangling from her shoulder. Not her shoulder, but Johnny’s.

Disorientated, she watched as she, V, sat down beside her and placed a hand on her, Johnny’s thigh.

“Johnny... I...” The construct coughed through digital tears. She reached over and her hand squeezed Johnny’s thigh. “I don’t know if I can do this... I don’t know if I can say goodbye!”

This whole situation was bizarre; she remembered this moment; she said the exact same words to Johnny while she deliberated her ultimate choice- digital freedom or organic futility. But she was inside Johnny’s mind; seeing it from his perspective. And sure enough, she felt herself reply to her using his voice and his words, as if she was on autopilot, or watching a braindance.

“V... this was always the way it should be... I have no regrets, neither should you...” Johnny croaked solemnly. He reached over to V and placed his metal arm on her shoulder. “Go and live your life already. Get back to your girl, look after her!”

V wept louder now, reaching her hand up and placed it on his outstretched hand. “But what about you?” She cried, “What will happen to you!”

She felt herself sit back and leaned on the edge of the well as Johnny’s voice sighed out of her mouth. “Well, I’ll let you know... if I can. But if not, just know that I’ll be out there somewhere, thinking of you!”

V stood up and swung one leg over and into the well. “I’m going to miss you, Johnny...” She choked, swinging over and lying down.

She, Johnny, scootched over and sat over V, placing his right hand on her shoulder and gave a gentle push. “Goodbye V. And never stop fightin’”. She watched her own digital form float downwards into the well as it melted into pixels. She paused, breathing deeply, staring until all the pixels disappeared. She felt a tear run down Johnny’s cheek.

Then she stood up, turning away from the well and towards Alt. “Thanks for helping V, Alt... she’s a good kid... I really am gonna miss her...” Johnny growled and wiped his eyes which were wet with welling tears. V was transfixed, she was lucid, aware that she was merely a passenger inside Johnny at this moment. But what was this? A dream? Surely not a memory as she just left Mikoshi through the well.

Alt said nothing, merely stared down at Johnny. Suddenly though, she did speak.

“Time to go, Johnny!” Her voice shot out, abruptly. Her voice was cold, menacing even. And she lunged towards him, wrapping her oversized hand around his arm and pulled him forwards, heading towards the tower of light.

“Wow... easy there, Alt... I figured we could hang out for a bit, shoot the shit... maybe get a little nasty...” He cried out as he struggled fruitlessly against her. He began to lose his footing and was now being dragged along.

He looked up at her as she floated slowly towards the light. She did not look down, didn’t even acknowledge him. V began to panic; or was that simply Johnny’s panic she was feeling?

“Come on, Alt... seriously, what’s the rush?” He shouted, twisting his arm and trying to prize it free with his other hand. She still didn’t reply. “Fuck... Alt, talk to me would yah? Don’t I get a moment here...” He cried, looking up as the light began to envelop him, envelop her.

“Alt! Alt!” His voice screeched into the light as loudly as he could manage until the light consumed it and it was too bright.

Her eyes shot open as she woke, still ensconced within Judy’s clutches, to the sound of a speaker announcing their approach into Seattle. Her heart was racing, the image of Alt’s red arm wrapped around Johnny’s metal one still prominent in her mind.

It was so real, so detailed. ‘Was that really how it went down?’ she thought ominously. Her chest tightened, the guilt crushing her lungs and she drew in a deep breath to try to combat the sudden panic. ‘Johnny?’ she called out in her mind. Silence.

He was gone, she knew that, but maybe he was out there, somewhere, reaching out to her. V sighed loudly, she put it out of her mind for now.

She shook Judy gently to rouse her as the skyline came into view, the lights of the city

waking up in the late afternoon light.

“Wow... it’s beautiful...” V gasped in awe. It looked so peaceful, quiet and clean. A stark contrast to the dark and infinite void of cyberspace. And a vast difference from Night City.

There was a lack of bright neon and strobe lights everywhere. You could pick out the details of the streets and sidewalks, the cars and people; there was no thick smog, the stain of pollution. A smaller city, with less commotion and hustle.

“Hey, V!” Judy announced. V turned and smiled as a flash of light erupted across her corneas.

“What the fuck!” V cried, rubbing her eyes. When she opened them, she saw Judy with a small device in her hand. “Oh wow! Is that...”

“The DPI-350 Camera... Managed to get it working... mostly, I’m hoping Abuelo can take a look, it’s still a little water damaged, the mechanisms are still a bit stiff.” She said, twisting a nob on the side. “But... it takes pictures, just need to borrow some old cables to get them outta’ this thing and into my hard drive!” V smiled at her deeply, she was so cute when she talked about tech. Judy looked up and caught her looking. “Stop it, no I’m not!”

“You so are!” V said, leaning in close, placing a kiss on her lips. “So... What’s it like to be coming back here?” She asked brightly.

“It feels great, I feel so... giddy. It’s been, what... nearly 2 years since I’ve visited my grandparents...” Judy grimaced, “Oof... Abuela’s gonna be pissed.”

“I’m sure she’ll be happy to see you... just hope it’s the same for me...” V said, glancing back out the window.

“You kiddin’! You should’ve heard how excited she was on the holo!” Judy yelled, “She’s gonna love you, like I do...” She smiled, making herself a little flush.

“I hope she doesn’t love me like you do... could get a bit awkward don’t you think?” V chuckled.

“V! Yah gonk, you know what I mean!” Judy cried, punching her arm gently. “Come on, we better get ready to disembark.”

Read the full chapter on AO3

[jrueships]

EXCUSE ME !!!!!!!! he ASK for no PICKLES ‼️

[femininesuperiority]

“Love is for children.”  ( from runesanddeath )

"Then I guess I'm just another child to you."

[audioprompts]

“ Their heads were not found severed. Their heads were not found at all. ” [[uh-oh]]

TIM BURTON FILM PROMPTS || STILL ACCEPTING.

[Remarks like this, taunting in nature, came all too often after the revelation that his partner was an abomination. However, even with his ever-present knowledge that his “old friend” was practically inhuman, he continued to find himself astounded by some of his comments -- baffled by how horrid of a monster he was, confounded by his prior unwavering trust in him. How could he ever have held faith in someone like this? Someone who not only found delight in murdering innocents, but found it entertaining to rub their deaths in the faces of those devastated by their losses?]

[It required every ounce of restraint he had to prevent himself from harming William, though he was certainly tempted to. Instead, as a sort of warning, he fiercely gripped the collar of the man’s shirt, uttering a reply through gritted teeth.]

-- ❝ None of them were found, William. Not a single goddamned one of them, let alone pieces of them. You’re so heartless that you couldn’t even let their families have closure -- you didn’t bother to give them that much. ❞ [As a man who’d experienced the overwhelming grief that accompanied losing his own children, he was speaking from experience.] ❝ Instead, you came here...to brag about your crimes to me. ❞

❝ If you ever make that mistake again, I won’t show you any mercy. ❞

@williamafton​

[theirvoices-moved-blog]

@threeclaws plotted a starter from the wingman

Sometimes, shit just went sideways. And for the mutants that bore the proud X symbol... whether tattooed on their body, or branded on their face, or stitched into their clothing... shit tended to go sideways a lot. This time hadn’t even been that bad, all things considered...

But he’d seen the look on Logan’s face, and he’d known: it could have, and it had been close. Normally, the Wolverine handled things like a soldier, like a warrior... but Warren was too similar to him not to know that wasn’t always the case. It couldn’t be.

Sometimes, like today, he needed someone just like everyone else on the damn planet needed someone sometimes. And usually, he didn’t have that option, so the guy was shit at communicating it. But today...?

Today Warren was there, and Warren knew.

Because he was the same.

So without a word, Warren grabbed Logan’s hand and yanked him towards the spare room kept open for the winged mutant, should he ever visit. Closing the door behind him with a backwards kick, he pushed Logan in the direction of the bed. Following after him, Warren crawled on the bed, pulling Logan into his lap and wrapping his arm around the poweful man.

“It’s okay...” he whispered, unfurling his wings and encircling the pair within them. “You’re home now.”

[akaseventysix]

jack you look old

“    at least i look like i’m still in one piece. ”

– @postthumous

[babyjakes]

no use fightin'.

〈 disclaimer: this blog posts content not suitable for individuals under the age of 18. minors are strictly prohibited from viewing, sharing, or interacting with this blog. for more information on this blog's commitment to protecting minors, read our full statement here. 〉

event | kinktober 2021

prompt | breeding kink

summary | the sheriff knocks you up in the empty station.

pairing | dark!lee bodecker x reader

warnings | dark!lee (kinda soft but then not lol), noncon, that southern accent (you gotta read it this way or it won’t work!!), corruption/abuse of power, handcuffs, heavy use of petnames, panty gag, crying, p in v, forced orgasm, mocking/degradation/humiliation, insults, breeding kink, slight tummy bulge/size kink :^)

word count | 1,028

an | oh boy. lee’s back, and he’s still just as dark and delicious as ever:’-) i have kind of decided i suck at writing lee’s vernacular but guess i forgive myself - i think the heavy use of those southern petnames maybe makes up for it? i hope everyone enjoys this one!

“My oh my, sweetcheeks. You’s is quite the sight for sore eyes, now ain’t ya?” The sheriff’s breath is hot against the sweat-drenched flesh of your neck where he’s tucked up his lips, suckling gently on and off again as his hands wander across your tummy and hips. “Got you lookin’ so pretty for me, all tied up like this- oh come on now, suga’ pie. S'no need for tears,” he hums as you choke against the fabric of your own lingerie he’s got stuffed up in your mouth. “You’re gonna ruin all that pretty makeup you got on. You get all dolled up jus’ for me, angel?” Lee teases, his touch trailing down to the crook of your thigh, “Aww baby, you shouldn’ have.”

You sob out a desperate attempt at a cry for help, but none of your words translate through your makeshift gag, soaked with your tears and spit. Your wrists struggle helplessly in the harsh metal cuffs locked high above your head, the faint rattling of the chain causing the sick man before you to chuckle. “S'no use in fightin’ it, sweetha’t. We got the whole damn station to ourselves, how’s about that, hmm?” Dragging one of his thick digits down between your clenching legs, he dips into your wetness, prodding around a bit to find your aching clit. “Oh my, babydoll. Looks like someone’s enjoyin’ themselves,” he sings as he drags his finger around the tender bud in slow, agonizing circles, the brutal stimulation causing the bundle of nerves to burn in sinful need. “There, that’s it, peach,” he grumbles, his other hand rising to cup your chin as he forces you to look him in the eyes. “See? I can play nice,” Lee grin as you whimper in humiliation, the unwanted pleasure he’s providing making your gut twist in shame. “Jus’ gotta let me love on you, sweetcheeks. C’mon now, that’s it.”

Shifting his thumb to take over against your throbbing button, he eases a first finger inside of you, groaning lowly at the feeling of you clenching down against him. “Fuck, suga’ pie. Such a tiny little hole, you’s got.” Soon, a second finger is added as the sheriff struggles to stretch you out. “Love those pretty sounds you make,” Lee coos as you do your best to suppress your sobs, his fingers now squelching lewdly as they pump hard and fast into your channel. Feeling pressure begin to build in your belly, you squeeze your eyes shut, doing everything in your power to fight off your approaching climax. But when the cruel man’s pace at rubbing your hardened clit increases, there’s nothing you can do but wail into the thick wad of fabric caught between your teeth as you cream right on Lee’s fingers, causing him to cheer at his success in breaking you.

“That’s my girl- fuck, angel,” he cursed as you heave through your high. “Such a needy little cunt on you, already cummin’ for me and I haven’t even felt inside’a you.” Your body slumps pathetically once Lee pulls away from you, the cuffs around your wrists digging into the tender flesh to keep you hanging upright. At the sound of the sheriff’s belt buckle coming undone, followed by his zipper, you let out another futile sob, your entire body convulsing as his rock-hard length is lined up at your opening.

“Come on now, peach. Don’t tap out on me yet,” Lee rouses you, rubbing at your clit harshly to jolt you to attention, the overstimulation of the little nub bringing more tears to your eyes. “There she is; now hold still, sweetha’t. Don’t wanna hurt you while I’m stretchin’ you open.” When the thick, throbbing rod of flesh begins slowly impaling you, bile rises in your throat as your eyes sting with tears. “Fuck, can barely fit inside’a ya, sweetcheeks,” the man shakes his head. “C’mon, let me in, pretty girl. Oh, you poor thing,” he croons, smiling sickly as he pinches your clit, causing you to jerk against his cruel hand.

The next few seconds are purely agonizing as Lee forces the rest of himself inside of you, letting out a strained moan when his balls finally meet your slick heat. “Shit, babydoll. Look at you, so full’a me. You gonna let me fuck you, suga’ pie? Gonna let me fill you with my babies, make you into a nice little wife for me?”

Your eyes widen in horror at the man’s words, but before you can cry out or react in any way, Lee’s pulled out of you gently, only to slam back in with devastating force. “That’s right, you’s is gonna fucking take it, bitch,” he demands, knocking the wind out of you by repeating the action again, then again, slowly building up speed. “Fuck, jus’ like that. Stupid little slut, jus’ gotta hang there and take it. Gonna knock you up, sweetcheeks. Get that sweet little tummy nice ‘nd round for me, make you mine for good.”

As Lee continues to fuck you brutally, only your pitiful weeping and the man’s hoarse groans can be heard through the empty back room, accompanied by the sounds of his flesh smacking against yours as he makes his mark on you, ensuring you’ll feel his impact for days to come. The ordeal seems too painful for another climax on your end to even be possible, but as Lee begins his chase towards release, he isn’t satisfied without you right there with him. “C’mon, baby. Give me one more, need’a feel you milkin’ me when I shoot that belly’a yours full’a cum.” His hand returns to roll your clit between his fingers, and in a matter of just seconds he’s got you crying out once more, clamping down on him as your orgasm is forced out of you.

“Shit, that’s it. Jus’ like that, peach. Fuck, oh fuck,” Lee grunts, his thrusts becoming sloppy as he finally bottoms out, the feeling of his hot seed filling you up causing a scream to rise in your throat. “That’a girl- take it, angel,” he smiles as he kisses your cheek. “Nothin’ you can do but fuckin’ take it.”

[crimson-mayhem-archive]

「 ᴅᴇᴍᴏɴ ɪɴ ᴛʜᴇ ᴡʜɪᴛᴇ ʀᴏᴏᴍ 」

❖ CW: Blood, Death

❖ Characters: G4-V (Virek), Unnamed Test Subject

Padded shoes against tiled flooring and the sounds of students chattering amongst themselves filled one of the facilities many waiting rooms. Today was, yet again, one of those special days— The days where the older experiments specifically get to have the time of their lives.

❝ Did’ja here? This is gen four’s first combined combat lesson. ❞

❝ Now that’s just harsh. It’s a middle schooler fightin’ an elementary kid. ❞

❝ Yeah but I heard their generation’s gone through the worst when it comes to schoolin’ and those weird brain scans… Just what kind of freaks did they take in? ❞

As the group talked amongst themselves, one of them walked in later than the rest— Hands in pockets, striding along as if he owned the place. Bright blonde hair, mimicking that of the sun, is what really set him apart from the others and drew eyes towards his direction. He was one of the older ones there, likely thirteen or fourteen, and was apart of the facilities first ever batch of kids. That likely gave him some sort of superiority complex towards the younger ones.

❝ So the babies haven’t had a lick of experience, hm? Now that’s just unfortunate~ I feel bad beatin’ up a baby ‘till they cry. ❞

The teen’s voice was filled with overconfidence that seemed to amuse the others in his class— Laughter and snarky comments bouncing through the pristine white walls, as the group huddled towards their end of the room. Meanwhile the younger ones, ranging from eight to ten, huddled near the other side… Watching.

One student in particular eyed the blonde boy from one of the seats in the room. Forearms rested on thighs, blood-coloured eyes boring holes into the older. Watching every move he made, analysing every breath, word, blink, and twitch like some kind of fine tuned machine.

And of course, this didn’t go unnoticed by the first generation student. The blonde’s eyes narrowing as he leaned in the younger’s direction, obviously challenging.

❝ The hell ya starin’ at kid? Are ya scared you’re gonna get yer ass kicked? Don’t worry~ The test ends as soon as ya give up, so just give up early, kay? ❞

The red-eyed kid— V, for the shortened version of his ID- didn’t respond. Instead stared onward with dull, lifeless eyes. They were unsettling to look at, even for the student who claimed to be above the rest— Said student even moved to mumble something to his friends.

❝ Yikes… Feel like that freak would dissect me if I look away for too long…❞

The sounds of an automatic door opening caught all of the experiments’ attention, as they all promptly stopped their antics to look towards the attendant’s direction. A slight air of steam came from the entrance, and proceeded to fill the spotless room entirely. Turning the all white floors, walls, ceilings, even the uniforms the children wore into a foggy screen— Shielding the man who’s footsteps currently proceeded into the space. And slowly, but surely, the silhouette of a scientist began to transition into a full view of the Founder of this facility.

Naoya Asano. One of the most influential politicians in Japan, and the same man currently responsible for the childrens’ new found ‘home.’

A long and blonde braid swished and swayed as the man cocked his head, an uncanny smile followed by fluttered shut eyes gracing his features. How sickening…

❝ Good morning~ I do hope you all ate a proper breakfast, and stretched for today’s match. The gap in this one is larger, compared to past ones; so I hope the results will be worth the risk. ❞

Asano’s voice was light, and friendly; horrifyingly so as he pulled out a clipboard. Lists of all the children’s case files, assigned generations, scores, and matchups for the day’s ‘lesson’ were neatly organised amongst one another. Eyes flickered from the parchments to the students, acting as if he doesn’t have each and every one of them memorised.

❝ Generation four, V. Generation one, A. Will you please raise your hands?❞

❝ Guess today’s my lucky day, huh?❞

That overly cocky voice from before filled the room, and the boy’s eyes shot daggers at the younger. Meanwhile the latter did nothing but face the administrator, expression never shifting from the lifeless one he usually wore.

Naoya didn’t miss the slight tension building up between the students, and that amused him. And with the sweetest, most gut-wrenchingly friendly smile he could muster, he spoke again.

❝ Well, I suppose we should get you both in there to get started, hm? I hope today’s results will satisfy you both. ❞

❛ ━━･❪ ♖ ❫ ･━━ ❜

Cracking, squelching, and the dense thumps of powerful kicks against human flesh were the only noises the students could hear from behind the glass. They were all mortified from where they stood… Forever grateful to have that barrier between them and the… Monster they were currently watching. V had wasted no time, when their match began— Yet they had no idea it would end up like this.

❝ Ya scared yet? These combat tests are brutal y’know. If you don’t back out now I might kill ya. ❞

The blonde taunted from where he stood, hands still in his pockets as if he had no care in the world. He was taller than V, with more muscle as well. And likely more combat experience… If it weren’t for that dumb head of his, the younger would truly have no chance.

The older continued to throw his taunts and cheeky remarks, meanwhile V was doing a few warmup jumps with his right foot— Trying to get himself ready before the fight began. And, one the starting buzzer rang, it was like the younger teleported across the room. Foot colliding with the blonde’s face.

He was going to kill that bastard.

The older was flown across the room, head smashing up against the glass window. The spectators hoped for the best that he was just unconscious— The refused to believe that this ten year old boy just killed another experiment with no hesitation.

Blood splattered across the reflective surface, as well as on the floor were the other landed, and V began taking some steps back. Likely to see if he would dare to get up again. An eerie silence filled the space after that, the drip drop of blood falling into the floor… And that blank stare that had never left V’s face. A look that definitely didn’t match that of a heartless murderer. One who wasn’t done with the boy in front of him.

And, before he could make any more moves, Naoya’s voice sounded on the intercom.

❝ Cease your movements. You’ve shown great performance today, but there is no point in hammering a dead man any longer. ❞

As if he had just finished a workout, or a swimming session, the boy looked toward the glass— Thoroughly unimpressed. For someone who talked so big, he sure did cry a lot…

❝ The doors are opened. Go clean yourself up. ❞

[beskarberry]

Garden of Ishtar

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 9

(The Mandalorian x f!reader) (+18)

"The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes"

<-Previous Next->

Rating: holy shit Explicit

Word count: 15.8k

Content warnings: SEX POLLEN + BREEDING KINK + PREGNANCY KINK with an extra kinky twist! (Dubcon/use of mind altering substances by non-sentient creature/ovipos) Side kinks: dom/alpha, praise, begging, denial, overstim, bonus somnophila. Obvious favorites of p in v, finger blasting, oral f receiving, multiple orgasms and then some. Big gooey heaps of fluff to make up for all the filth. I tried.

A/N: Weird shit happens in space, and this chapter is no exception. This is the most kinks I've crammed into one chapter, almost zero story progression whatsoever, it's just smutty smut the whole way though. Good luck and may the force be with you because you're gonna need it.

“Well, which one do you want?”

“You pick.”

“Fuck no, I picked the last one, you can pick the next.”

It was a bright, lovely, sunshiny day on the forest moon of Endor, the fine weather a stark contrast from how it had been when you had landed. You had opened the access ramps on the Crest to get some fresh air circulating while you made preparations to head towards your next target, but you had to pick a target first.

On a supply crate that you had pushed into the middle of the cabin like a dining room table sat three little pucks, their bounties still as mysterious as they had been when you had wantonly pulled them off of Karga’s countertop. As far as you were concerned it was Din’s turn to pick, and though death was just an occupational hazard in your line of work, there had been too many brushes with the reaper during your last hunt for you to be comfortable picking again.

Leaning against the wide open doorframe you took a deep breath of the fresh, rain-scrubbed air, letting it fill your lungs and clear your head. It was a little humid, though it might have been the nicest day you had seen in a long time. Outside on the dampish grass the foundling was chasing some kind of pretty insect, hopping about trying to catch the elusive critter. It was good for him to get a chance to stretch his legs, no matter how short they were, and you giggled at his antics when he tripped and fell. He squealed and rolled through the grass before he was bounding after another fluttering creature. Without the violent storms the mini-moon was peaceful, serene almost, and in another lifetime maybe you would have settled down here; though you couldn’t imagine being anything besides a hunter. I wonder if that will ever change.

“Really, cyare, you pick.” Sitting across from you, Din was cleaning the last bit of mud from his armor, the thick muck having long dried into a chunky, flaky mess. Everything but the plate he had in his hands now shimmered like spilled mercury over his chest and shoulders, catching the dappled sunbeams that filtered in through the open doors. Your argument over who got to pick the next puck had ground to a stand still, and you were getting frustrated, but not frustrated enough that you would yield.

“It’s not my turn, it’s your turn.” He just shook his head, diligently scrubbing the dirt from the details of the mudhorn on his pauldron without realizing the irony of his efforts. He set the cleaned metal to his shoulder, the clack of its fasteners echoing faintly in the open hold. The Mandalorian sat up straight, leaning his helmeted head against the hull wall and patting his knees, expectantly waiting for you to make your choice. Something about his armored appearance gave you a stupid idea, and you sauntered up to him with a cocky grin. “I’ll fight’cha for it.”

“You’ll what?” The black gloss of his visor tilted sharply, as though you had just grown a second head.

“Fight me! Loser has to pick the puck.” You kicked the tips of his boots and brought your fists up, playfully making soft, slow jabs towards him. He huffed, like he wasn’t used to you having bright ideas by now.

“I’m not going to fight you, cyar’ika, just pick a damn puck already.”

“Them's fightin’ words.” Your knuckles went pap pap pap in quick succession against the hexagonal indent on his chest. “What’re’ya afraid you’re gonna lose?”

He lazily swatted at you, barely even trying to block your attack. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Ha! As if!” You whipped your head forward, sending the beskar you wore on your crown sliding down over your eyes, letting the quicksilver flash of its curved surfaces tell him you meant business. Your jabs got a little meaner, though if you hit him too much harder his own beskar would probably break your fingers. Between his metal plates were a few soft spots, and you honed in on them with sneaky digits. Din jerked visibly when you got the one right under his chest piece, and a swift arm came up and caught your next offence. “Ohoho, so you are awake, I was beginning to think you had fallen asleep on me.”

“I’m not going to hit you.” His words came through his modulator like gravel, irritated that you would even think he would lay a hand on you. Shrugging, you knocked him right in the forehead with the heel of your palm, making his helmet clonk against the durasteel. The next jab you threw was caught and thrown back to you, him tossing your fist away. You went for him again, but when he grabbed both your fists you were pushed back with the force of him rising from his seat. He marched you backwards and shoved you away, then brought his vambraces up in a defensive block, ready for the next attack.

You took one last glance at the foundling, who was sitting sweetly in the grassy meadow, absently trying to catch motes of pollen that were floating by, before launching into your assault. Your fists stung at him with reckless abandon, not enough to actually hurt either of you, though he probably wouldn’t have felt it anyway under his pile of armor. Mando blocked everything you hurled at him, making good on his promise not to hit you, but that was taking all the fun out of it. “Come on, rust bucket, stand up for yourself!” He took everything you gave, deflecting every thrown fist and slowly inching his way closer to you until you were taking steps back to open up your jabs.

“You really want me to fight you? Fine.” He barked, whacking your next punch away. You jumped back to dodge a rapid slew of hook shots, cackling like a lunatic that you had gotten your wish granted.

“Yes! Come on, big boy, fight me! Let’s go! I’m gonna kick your- ass!” Din lunged at you, tackling you like a linebacker and throwing you against the wall. Cornered, you snapped your head forward and rang his bell, disorienting him enough that you could drop out of his grasp and dash out between his legs. He turned on you in an instant, and you made ‘come at me bro’ hands at him before he was on you again. He swiped with a left hook, chuffing you lightly on the shoulder while you socked him back; though you weren’t nearly as gentle, stinging your knuckles on his unyielding iron.

A bandoliered boot went for your shins, and you stomped back at it, kicking sideways at the plates of his thighs. You hopped, switched legs, and spun a roundhouse straight into the side of his gut. On anyone else it would have been a crippling blow, but your Mandalorian grabbed your lifted ankle and hauled you to him, using your own weight against you to palm your sternum and flip you on your back. The wind was knocked from your lungs when you hit the floor, but not enough that you didn’t get a knee up as he tried to pin you under him, and you kicked up into his gut and flipped him over your head; the sound of his armor hitting the ground ringing loud and ugly.

You kicked up and tossed yourself backwards in the same spring, putting you over top of his breastplate. Throwing your knees back you locked his arms under your ankles, straddling his chest so you could hold his helmet down. “That all you got?”

“You wish!” Din squirmed and kneed you in the ass, tossing you off of him. You rolled away and scrambled to your feet, narrowly avoiding another flying tackle. The cabin of the Crest wasn’t giving you much space to work with, and you hauled ass down down the ramp before he could catch you again. “Oh now you want me to chase you, ner riduur?” He hollered, swinging his arms wide in a challenging stance.

You turned and wiggled your ass at him, slapping yourself tauntingly before the sound of armored thunder had you running for cover. You ran past the foundling on the ground, braking quickly next to him to pat his head before his father was upon you, and you missed being snatched by the skin of your teeth.

Hopping back a few paces you put up your dukes, and this time the beskar took the bait. The Mandalorian threw punches left and right, more forceful than he had started with but not enough to actually hurt. You took a few blows to your forearms and shoulders before lashing out with a wild throw. The sound of fists on metal echoed against the tree trunks that surrounded the sunny meadow while you took on the mighty warrior, though armor was kicking your ass for him, and you nearly dashed yourself to pieces on the plate of his chest.

“Had enough yet?”

You roared in response and threw your whole body at him, making quick jabs at the meat of his sides where his armor was thinnest. He keeled sideways, dropped himself into a crouch, and lunged, tackling you to the ground. Damn it! Time to fight dirty! You pulled an arm free of his grasp and grabbed his cloak, throwing it over his helmet and wrapping it up tight, temporarily blinding him. He sat up to try and unravel the fabric from his face, and in that split second you grabbed the backs of his knees and yanked, flopping him back down onto his back. The pinner had become the pin-ee, and you squashed yourself up between his legs and thrust into his groin, making him keen in surprise.

“You’re mine, bantha-butt!” Tangled in the cloak he squirmed under you until he was free of your trap, giving you a confused head tilt at your position. You hooked your arms under his knees and ground yourself up against his ass, making him grunt underneath you before he wrapped his legs around your middle and rolled, throwing you down onto the ground. Both of you grappled for dominance, rolling and tossing each other through the soft, dampish grass until you were on top of him again, straddling his waist.

“That’s better.” He hummed, grabbing your wrists and pulling you down to him where he could wrap his arms around your writhing form. “You’re mine, you little womp rat.”

“Nuh uh! You’re under me, that means I win, chumbucket.” You threw your weight around, trying to coax one more good roll out of the two of you, but he had you in his clutches. A dark, lecherous laugh reverberated in your ear, and you felt him rut up against your crotch to demand your complacency. Between your legs the faintest outline of his shaft slotted against you, fitting so well against the cradle of your body that it really might have been made just for you; but you grabbed his shoulders and pushed him harder into the grass. “Not in front of the foundling, you big horndog.”

“Says the one riding me.” A soft, leather-clad hand left your captured shoulders to slide your mask up and brush the grass from your hair, gently tucking a stray lock behind your ear; and you pressed your face into his palm as it passed back down. The rumble in his chest went right through your legs up your spine until your cheeks blushed under his thumbs. “Mesh’la…”

Something twitched under you, and as much as you would like to indulge him, sass came to you more naturally. “Is this why you didn’t wanna fight me?” You rolled your hips over his, giving him a tantalizing tease. “Gets you all fired up?”

His helmet rolled, trying to avoid your skull-boring gaze. “Maybe…”

“Well maybe when we get into hyperspace we can do something about that, but not until that one has gone to bed.”

Ahead of you the foundling was laying back in the grass, watching his adopted parents with big googly eyes. Din followed your gaze, and the two of you made stupid little waves at your child. Beans waved back and stood up, teetering over to the pair of you on his little stubby legs. You laid against the breadth of your mate’s chest and reached for the goofy green baby, who happily ran into your arms.

“Heya, Goob! What’cha up to, huh? Catchin’ bugs?” You sat up and leaned back, ignoring the heavy hands that laid on your thighs while you chatted with the foundling. The baby gibbered and told you all about his fun in the sun, but under you the slow gyration of hips was starting to get distracting. “Beans, tell your dad to stop being naughty.”

“Me? You started this.”

“Bah! I don’t start things, I only finish them.” Under you your beskar burdened buddy sighed and let his head fall back into the grass, shaking it back and forth at your foolishness. You hefted the foundling up in the air, making him squeal in delight, and the sweet sounds of his laughter gave you a better idea. “You know what? I bet he would like to pick a puck!”

“Thank the fucking stars, does that mean we can get going?”

“Yeah yeah fussbucket come on. You’re so damn impatient!” You made one last amorous swirl of your hips before leaping up from your man, running with the baby high above your head as you dashed circles around the ship. It was good for both of you to spend time together that wasn’t just on the trail, and you treasured the few moments of comfort you got to have as a pack between hunts. You ran a few more laps before flying up the ramp to where Mando had already beaten you there, and you plopped the baby down on the makeshift table where the pucks had miraculously survived your wrassling. “Ok buddy boy, can you pick a puckie for me?”

The baby tossed his arms in the air and squeaked like he would rather go for another round of flight simulator, but you plopped down on the ground in front of him and pointed at the pucks again. He tilted his head, making his airplane ears flop akimbo. The foundling looked down at the pucks, back up to you, and then -slapped- the one in the middle as hard as he could. The pucks projector fired up and glowed ghostly blue in front of the child’s wondrous eyes, and he tried to grab at the thing showing in its center.

The holo must be malfunctioning, maybe the baby hit it too hard, but the picture wasn’t of a face, or even a person for that matter; it was something round, egg shaped almost. Beside you, your Mandalorian was making the same confused head tilts that you were, and he tapped a leather finger to the puck’s button, turning it off and on again, but the same image remained. “That can’t be right, have you ever seen one like this?”

You shook your head, puzzled by the purplish object that floated before you. Maybe it was some kind of stone or seed, or even an egg like its shape suggested. The pucknotes had a counter next to the ovoid, indicating that more credits would be rewarded for the quantity of items procured. Besides a description of the item and the indicator, the puck notes had one last useful tidbit of information, the last known location:

Hoth.

“Wait, Hoth? There’s nothing on Hoth! You sure this thing’s not fucked up?” Din shrugged, making his plates clack before he got up and started getting the ship around, closing ramps and scooting crates back into place. “Shit balls of hell, alright! Fucking Hoth it is.” You’d been to Hoth maybe all of two times chasing down the stupidest, most idiotic bounties, and not once had you seen anything of value there. “Of course it has to be somewhere cold, we already did cold. One of those fucking pucks better go to a goddamn beach or something or I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“You sure you haven’t already? I mean,” Din stopped rearranging the furniture to swagger up to you, catching your hand in his own. “You did try to fight with a Mandalorian.”

“Bah! And I’d do it again, too, you’re not that intimidating.” Playfully you tried to take your hand back, but he was a professional bounty hunter, and he didn’t let his captures get away so easily. Thick, leatherbound fingers laced themselves between your own, and your other arm was taken hostage and brought to his shoulder so he could rest a heavy palm on your hip unhindered. You let your hand wander up his pauldron to the edge of his helmet, sneaking a finger between the metal and the man to toy with his curls. The hand on your waist pulled you closer, and he gently pressed his helmet to your brow.

“Riduur’ika,” He purred, making the cool beskar rumble against your skin. “You don’t think I’m… intimidating!?” The arm against your waist hugged you tight while the other twirled you around in a circle, and you made some kind of undignified squeak as you were dipped low. Parallel to the ship's floor, you clawed at his cowl as if he would drop you, though his grip was stronger than beskar. You caught the reflection of your own wild eyes as his visor tilted to meet your gaze. “How about now?”

Safe in his arms, you snorted a laugh and stuffed your hands under his helmet to pick the latches free and toss the heavy thing off, ignoring the sound of it rolling away from you while you kissed your husband. The Mandalorian’s warm, soft lips against your own muffled the few stray giggles that tried to escape your mouth, tickled by not only his romance but also his mustache. Those dark chocolate eyes of his met your own, and the edges of his cheeks rolled right up into them with a dazzling smile. Maker help you.

“Din! Where the hell did you pick that up from?” A warm laugh reverberated against you before he was pushing his lips to yours in another fiery kiss.

“Saw it in a holovid once, some kind of… courtship ritual, I think. I’ve, uh, always wanted to t-try it…” His wavering baritone trailed off with a hint of embarrassment, and you couldn’t help but snicker.

“‘Courtship ritual’, huh? Golly gee willikers, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”

His cheeks flushed pink, “Is it working?”

“Mmm… no.”

The gorgeous smile on his scruffy face was replaced with a scowl a mile wide, but you laughed and kissed at it anyway. You heard him inhale sharply when you started to push your tongue past his lips, and he met yours with his own. Without parting, he slowly stood the pair of you back up, and you wrapped your arms around his broad shoulders to pull him even closer.

Free from the muck of the forest floor that had clung to his armor, or the stygian waters of the river soaking his cloak, the familiar scent of him had returned. Rich and smokey, sweat and leather and blast plasma and the faintest remnants of the fresher soap you adored. The spice of him saturated your lungs and drenched your heart with the promise of his eternal company, giving you that delightfully warm and gooey feeling that he alone could give.

You pulled your lips from his and kissed at his cheeks and the tip of his angular nose before grabbing the sides of his head and bringing his brow back to yours. He almost fought you over it, torn between wanting his lips against your skin and the joy of you indulging in his sacred inheritance. Either way, the stubborn little ‘patu’ that peeped up from the floor had you both pulling away to bring the foundling into your arms, you were a clan of three, after all.

It would take a few jumps to make it to your next destination, and if she could speak, the Razor Crest would tell you how glad she was for your company as she carried you through the stars. There had been a time in the old ship’s life where she had only known silence, save for the screams of captured bounties, her hull had been nearly barren with only her captain for comfort. But then the foundling had come into her Mandalorian’s life, and the sweet sounds of a child’s laughter warmed her steel heart, amplified tenfold by the starsongs you brought with you when you had arrived as well.

Like a serenade written to the stars themselves the three of you flowed through her ironsides, a triple-part harmony that reverberated from the top of her transparisteel dome to the depths of her cantankerous stardrive. The chimes of the navigation panel had gone unheard while the streaking stars spiralled around the old dropper, her passengers fully engrossed with each other's company. There was so much laughter now, between stories told and songs sang high, the starcraft’s walls nearly rang with mirth.

The jokes you would tell, as terrible as they often were, made the Crest’s captain smile so often now; his scruffy cheeks going right up into his eyes whenever he flashed those pearly whites. He was so sweet, so gentle when the beskar was lifted from him, as if a new man was made every time the armor fell away. The oath of riddurok had given him such a gift, the gift of touch, and he relished in it at every turn; pressing kisses to the faces of the two he loved most.

And when it was time to rest, hidden away in the little sleeping alcove the three of you laid, wrapped more tightly together than any captured quarry. Below the howl of the hyperdrive engine, so faint it was almost like a secret, would come the sound of your starsongs. For your boys alone would you let yourself remember the rhymes of timelost sailors, sang low and slow to ease them to sleep. The foundling usually blacked right out on the first verses, but your unarmored husband would grapple with the pull of sleep for as long as he could, just to hear your voice.

When you dropped out of hyperspace the uncaring iceball called Hoth dominated your view, nearly blinding you with its glaring white surface. Your captain flew the Crest over the snowy expanse, looking for any sign of life or even a point of interest, but the ice fields seemed to stretch on forever between snow covered steppes. You had to pull your visor down just to be able to look out the window, and you attempted to cycle its settings as if that would do you any good, but everything came back as solid colors as far as the eye could see.

“This is bullshit, there’s nothing down there.” In your palm the bounty puck glowed faintly, making a liar out of you; but you ignored it to watch a herd of large, bipedal herbivores making their way along a mountainous ridge. The Crest put the animals in the rear view quicker than you would have liked, and you leaned against the transparisteel with a huff. In your lap the foundling was watching joyfully out the window, seemingly undeterred by the blinding snow. You started trying to get the baby rearranged when you saw the fob flash erratically before going back to lazy blinks. “Din wait! I think we passed it!”

“Passed what? I don’t see anything.” Below you the vast expanse was flat as a fresh pressed sheet, only dotted here and there with specks of icy blue.

“Circle around!” You tucked the foundling under your arm and unbuckled yourself from your seat to squish into the narrow space between Din’s armrest and the dashboard so he could see the fob for himself. He slowed the mighty metal bird down as slow as she would go and flew her in a wide circle back towards the way you’d come in.

Flash… flash… flash flash flASHFLAsh flash… flash…

“You see that? There gotta be something down there, maybe it’s under the snow. Take us down, captain!” In the corner of your eye you caught the slightest jostle of his helmet, though it could have just as easily been the rocking of the ship that made his head move, but you knew better. “What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, captain.” The poorly veiled cheekiness in his voice was met with a loving suckerpunch against the side of his pauldron. You’d completely failed to learn your lesson about the bite of beskar, and you hissed at the iron’s sting on your knuckles. The Crest floated down gently, her engines kicking up flurries of crisp white snow over the broad expanse. The moment the landing struts had locked into place your armored companion was grabbing for your wrist. “That’s why you shouldn’t try to fight me, mesh’la.”

“Bite me.”

A soft thumbpad brushed gently against your reddening knuckles, making you wince just slightly. The black gloss of his single eye slowly coasted up to meet your own, then cocked sideways. “Looks like I already did.” With his other hand he lifted the edge of his helmet just enough to press the softest kiss to the back of your hand, and though his sweetness made your heart thunder against its cage, the wry upturn of his lips almost made you want to punch him again.

Under your arm the foundling squirmed and cooed, and you brushed your captured hand along the edge of your husband’s bristly jaw before pulling the child around to your chest so you could both look out the window. The alabaster plains stretched out in all directions like the Dune Sea of Tatooine, nothing for miles.

“Din I think this fob is busted, and probably the puck too, there’s fuckall out-”

*-crik- c-c-crrrack craack!-*

Something snap-crackle-popped outside the ship, like the sound of suspension cables breaking. High pitched creaks between deep, almost gutterel booms. Ice.

“Cyare… don’t… move.” The armored monolith was frozen solid, more frozen than the ice underneath you apparently. Not even the sound of his modulated breathing could be heard in the stillness of the flightdeck.

*...cricckckcick..creeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeak……cruUNCH!-*

The ship lurched, a vicious gash splitting the ice below you. You lurched with it, your heart leaping to your throat as your arms squished the baby tight. A gloved hand shot from the steering controls to steady you.

*-k-k-reaaaak thuddduddudud… crRONCH!-*

“Oh fuck.”

*….CrAcK-!*

The Crest tilted nose-first into the growing abyss, and your oathsworn had only a split second to haul you and the foundling into his seat before the old girl was hurtling through the breach.

For a moment you were in free fall, a canyon of aquamarine flying past the window, darkening with every passing second. It felt like slow motion, your legs becoming weightless while the rest of you was anchored to the pilots seat.

*-ka-RuNcH!-*

Rigid muscle and beskar enveloped you as the Razor hit the ground, metal crunching and screeching with the impact. Your deathgrip on the foundling was only matched by the armored grasp around you, keeping the two of you locked safely to Din’s chest. Bulbs flickered and wires sparked in the waning light of the flight deck, though your eyes were so tightly screwed shut you didn’t notice. You took a cautious breath, only now aware that you had been holding it before wrenching an eye open. Beskar dominated your view, the heavy helmet of your husband pressed tightly to your face.

“Are you ok?” came a modulated whisper.

“Yeah, are you?” He nodded against you, and you peeled yourselves apart to inspect the foundling that was encased between your chests. Baby Beans chirruped and ogled at his fussing buir, the two of you knocking into each other while you both checked him for damage. When he’d passed both your inspections you glanced around the cockpit, though you guessed from the sound of the impact most of the damage would be down below.

You practically needed a crowbar to get Din’s arms off of you, his protector’s instinct running at full bore to guard his clan, but you managed to weasel out of his iron grasp. Frigid air gusted up through the ladder hole before you’d even crossed the short distance to the drophatch, making you shudder. Below, the force of the impact had torn the Razor’s walls asunder, breaking apart her riveted seams. Icy wind blew in through the gashes, freezing the mist that sprang from your eyes.

“Oh, my poor Lady…” You whispered, your heart aching from seeing your ship so wounded. Heavy boots made their way down the ladder behind you, and you turned to your oathsworn, “Can… can we fix this?”

“We can try, but you need something warmer.” Stoic as the day you met, Mando strode to the bent lockers and forced his way in, pulling out a heavy parka and draping it around your shoulders. The cold weather garb was entirely too big for you, but it snuggled around you like a warm hug, blocking out the frigid breeze. In your arms the foundling peeped out from the collar, just enough to watch his papa without getting too chilly.

Din was elbow deep in another wrecked cabinet, scrounging up whatever tools he could find to repair the damage. You joined him at the growing pile, holding onto the child with one arm and trying to pick a portable welder up with the other. Hands too full, you ducked into the oversized parka and worked to stuff the baby up under your shirt, cinching your belt under his butt so he wouldn’t fall out. There, stay warm you little fart.

It took a while for the two of you to make enough progress on the broken bird to get her closed up again, but many hands make the work lighter. Ship repair had been your very first duty when you went starborne, and your hands remembered how to bend durasteel to your will, though you would probably need to get to an actual mechanic if you were going to be star-worthy again.

Occasionally you caught the tilt of your Mandalorian’s visor when you fired up the welder or cranked a ratchet against a stubborn bolt, snapping away from you when you’d shoot him a sly wink. Once the cabin was passable, it was time to work on the exterior, but you swatted at Din’s occupied mitts, demanding that the two of you take a rest beforehand. His back cracked when he stood up straight, and though he wouldn’t admit it, a break was a good idea.

“Do you have a kettle or something I can make hot water in? I think I saw a canister of broth we can heat up.” Your repair work on the hull must have been pretty damn efficient, because the parka was beginning to get warm, and you started to shrug it off when you heard the rackety sound of something clattering to the floor.

“B-buir’ika?” Behind you, Din had dropped a heavy tool and was staring at you with that black hole gaze of his.

“Boo-ear-eeka? What does- oh!” You glanced down at yourself and laughed, your tunic protruding with a large, rounded tummy. “Chilly beans!” Bending forward, you pulled your collar down so your oathsworn could see the half-lidded eyes of the cozy foundling hidden below the swell of your breasts. “I didn’t want him to get cold.”

When you looked up from the babe’s sweet face, your armored husband had silently crossed the length of the hold and was nervously reaching towards you, his hands hovering over the lumpy shape in your middle. Gently he set his palms to where the child was bundled, slowly gliding over the taut fabric and making you flush crimson. Din did a double take on your cherry-red face and pulled away, muttering an apology and hastily returning to his duty as kettle-fetcher.

When you’d gotten the foundling out of your shirt and the thin soup heated, you sat down on your regular eating crate with your crew. The three of you took your break quietly since eating or drinking in your presence still made Din a little embarrassed, but between his timidness and the awkward term of endearment the tension in the cabin was so thick you could cut it with a vibro. He usually pressed his back to yours, but now he was hunched over his bowl of broth, sipping silently.

When your cup was empty you got up from your seat, pressed a kiss to each of your boy’s heads, and got your tools around to work on the outside of the Crest. You were garbed and out the exit before Din could protest, though you wouldn’t have listened anyway if he did. Once the ramp closed behind you, you took a deep breath of the glacial air, letting it clear your head. Shore leave was a luxury you rarely got to indulge in during your early years, and your love of having your boots on the ground only got stronger as the years went by.

The basin you had crashed into sprawled beneath the ice sheet high above your head, supported by enormous pillars of frozen water. This had probably been a lake once, or even a small sea, but when the water drained it left behind the frozen aquifer you now found yourself stuck in. High above you the light from where you had fallen through the ice cast frosty sunbeams through the falling snow, faintly illuminating the mythical columns in cobalt and turquoise hues.

Your boots crunched through the ancient permafrost as you made your rounds, taking a mental checklist of the Razor’s damage. Her keel had taken the brunt of the impact, but one of her wingtips was pretty busted up, a twisted panel sending sparks into the cerulean cathedral that would probably take two people to fix.

Out of curiosity you pulled the blinker from somewhere in your parka, relieved to see that it was indeed flashing. If you had thrown your crew to the depths of Niflheim on a busted fob you might never forgive yourself. You wondered what the acoustics would be like in the icy cavern, but the threat of bringing the fragile ice sheet down around your ears kept you quiet. Holding the fob up, you made a wide circle around the ship, trying to pinpoint which way the blinks were fastest. This way… You cast a quick glance over your shoulder at the Crest with her ramps still closed, and started towards your quarry.

~

In the ship's durasteel depths, Din sighed and groaned, unsure how to feel. He hated not being next to you, but he respected you enough to know you might need some space after… that. He tried to distract himself by wiping off the foundling’s mush-mouth with the edge of his cloak, but that almost made things worse. Our foundling.

Everything about The Way encouraged the safety and procreation of younglings, and not only as a riduur but also an Alor he should be fathering many children with you to recover Mandalore’s losses. But you had said you weren’t ready, and he honored your wishes, but even so, his heart ached with the desire to see you filled with his warriors.

He knew he shouldn’t, but that was suddenly all he could imagine, you round and glowing and full…

“Damn it.” He could feel his face flush red, and the honeyglow seeped through his bones all the way down to his guts, forcing him to pull his helmet back on just to regain his composure. When the visor was back over his eyes, he glanced down at the foundling, who was making some kind of face up at him. “This is your fault.”

“Patu!”

~

The Crest was a good distance behind you now, the edges of her wings partially obscured by the ice, but not quite out of eyeshot. The air was stagnant so far below the surface, the cold of it sitting heavy in your lungs and freezing inside your nose. Aside from the towers of frost and fallen snow, the cavern was empty. Enormous, but empty. This fucking fob, there’s nothing here. You were half tempted to chuck the hunk of garbage away or stomp it out, take the loss just to get the fuck out of here, when you felt a subtle breeze waft over you.

You were too far from the breach for it to be coming from above you, and you held perfectly still, trying to determine its source. Too faint, you bent down and scooped up a handful of snow, chucking it high above you and watching the way it fell. That way! Suddenly excited to play Arctic Explorer, you hustled to find the source of the breeze.

Twice more you used the snow as a compass until you were at a colossal glacier, the size of it easily big enough to swallow a large starship. A splotch of dark blue stood out against the ivory, and as you got closer you saw it was a fissure in the ice, a tunnel of some kind. Maybe this is where the water went. The air coming out of it was making your parka flap around you while you held up the fob: flashflashflash. Whatever it is you were tracking had to be down there, and you brushed ice crystals off of your faceplate to flip through your extrasensory settings until thermal flickered to life.

Warm. The air coming out of the tunnel was warm, though only by a few degrees more; not enough to thaw your bones, but enough to register on your visor. You stepped forward, tucking your head into the tunnel. Dark as the depths of an ocean and just as blue, the frozen tube stretched away, darker and darker until it turned to void. Stepping just inside the entrance, you flailed when your boots nearly lost traction.

This is dangerous, I don’t know what’s in there. A gust of air blasted around you as if to warn you away. Could be anything, maybe I should wait for- Ah FUCK!

The thought was knocked from your skull when your boots slipped out from under you and you slid ass over teakettle down the icy channel, vanishing into the dark.

~

The inside of the Crest was immaculate, more ship-shape that she had been in a long time. Din had to keep busy, after the repairs were given another once-over and you still hadn’t returned he had started reshelving all the tools and cookware, and only when the last thing left to do was mop did he give up his endeavors. Where the hell is she? He was getting anxious, more so than he usually was. His hands fidgeted with the strap that crossed his chest, thumbing at each of the slugs in line. She should be back by now.

What if she’s hurt? His hands froze on the leather, his breath catching in his chest. He knew you were capable, but what if something got you, or you fell or… or…

“Kid, let’s go.” The ‘what ifs’ that drained out of his thoughts and down his throat turned to bile in the pit of his stomach, and he had to do something about it. She can be as mad at me as she wants, I don’t care, I just need to know she’s safe. Quickly he grabbed a few supplies, loading up his rucksack with rehearsed precision: bacta, shovel, thermos, jet pack, munitions, rations. The foundling gibbered while his papa wrapped him up in a heavy blanket before setting him in his pram. I’m coming, cyare!

~

The slip-and-slide you had gotten yourself into wooshed past your ears, and you could only curl in a ball to protect yourself as you hurtled through the chasm of ice. The violet hue coming through your visor slowly turned to warmer tones as the temperature steadily increased. You struggled to grab a vibro off of your belt as you spun through the dark, but the singing dagger only scraped against the solid ice, the permafrost so old and strong that not even steel could cut it.

Under you the angle changed sharply, tossing you on your ass over another slope before you were falling through the air. You tucked and rolled when you hit the ground, desperately trying not to get your neck broken. Skittering to a halt, you cautiously let yourself uncurl, but what your eyes saw made you think you had landed on your head.

“Woah.”

~

The top of the Crest was still damaged, though Mando knew you had left with the intent to do repairs. Not up there. Your footprints circled around the old ship in a few loops before heading off into the cavern. Fuck, where did she go? The prints from your shoes still glowed faintly with residual heat on his visor, and he checked on the foundling’s comfort one more time before following your trail.

~

The Universe has a strange way of granting wishes.

Crystalline gravel crunched underfoot as you approached the beach you had landed in front of. Mineral-rich water bubbled and boiled in front of you with volcanic heat, steaming up the chamber you now found yourself in. The thick, viscous ooze was so leden with salts that its edges were caked with jagged deposits that lapped against the sides of tall, crested structures that almost resembled a reef. The subterranean coral ranged in size and height from just below your knees to easily three times your height, almost brushing the stalactites that hung from the vaulted ceiling.

You wished you had a holo-corder or data cube handy, because there was no way anybody had been here before, though maybe for good reason. The colors on your visor ranged from bright yellow to teal to hot motherfuckin’ pink, and you lifted your faceplate up to wipe at the sweat that was beading on your brow. The vibrancy of the reef without your sensors was even more garish in person, caught in the radiant light that seemed to drip from the ceiling on the tails of glow worms.

The ground under your boots sounded like glass breaking as you wandered through the cavern, spellbound by the sprawling grove. It took a herculean effort to bring your gaze down to the fob in your hand: FLASHFLASHFLASH! You held the tracker high, doing a little spin to try and locate the target, letting your feet walk on their own. Maybe the coral is the target? Stopping at a particular orange staghorn, you held the fob to its spongy flesh, nope, not this one…

From fan to tube to spiraling tower you walked, holding the fob up to each one in turn, waiting for a solid link. The reef thickened as you moved away from the lagoon, growing in taller and thicker clusters until you had to scrape your way between them to continue. Under your parka you were sweating like a quacta, but the spiny polyps on some of the branches could easily scratch you without it as you wormed your way between them. The crystalline gravel under you started to make a different noise, from a crunchacrunch to a squishasquash. Beneath your boots, long, dark purple roots were growing, pulsating with the fluid that flowed through their veins. Eww…

~

The silence of the cerulean cathedral weighed heavy on Mando's audio processors, more so than the stillness of the air. He was in full hunter mode, following your tracks to where you were hopefully safe and sound, though if he let himself think anything else he worried he might have a full blown panic attack. No, can’t think about that. Find the quarry, find your wife. Don’t think about her being hurt, or lost or scared or…

From the open pram a chirruping coo echoed softly between the towering pillars of ice, bringing Din’s attention to his son. Though the foundling looked alright, the tips of his ears were turning the faintest shade of blue. Din pulled his cloak off, though he needed it just as much in the sub-zero space, his foundling always came first. The fabric heaped out of the pram, almost covering the child completely. If she were here, would she put the baby in her shirt again to keep him warm?

Suddenly he didn’t need his cloak, the fire in his chest surging out to burn at his ribs and scald his cheeks. He stopped, shaking his head at the embarrassment that sprouted from his scorched insides. You’ve got it bad, Djarin. Your tracks had lost their heat, but he could still clearly see your footprints in the snow, and a flood of determination spurred him on. Find the quarry.

~

The dark purple roots lead you to a grove of anemone shaped corals, their thick tentacles reaching for the jagged sky. At the center of their radials sat a fat, lumpy bulb, protected by fleshy limbs. Draped between the spires, more of the icky veins hung like vines, throbbing and pulsing with whatever goo they were filled with.

Touching the blinker to the closest arm, the flashing red light went solid, bingo! “This is it!” Your excited voice would have echoed in the chamber that you had fallen from, but the sponges soaked up your words. You’d left the puck back on the Crest, but you remember you were here for some kind of shape, eggish or stone like, but the waving arms arched upwards into bare, knobbly tips. Fruitless.

That left the pod in the center, probably some kind of seed in the bottom of its pistil. Gonna have to cut my way though. You turned your attention to the viney spires that blocked your path to the center and pulled a vibro from your now sweat-soaked parka. Cautiously, and without turning on the thrummer, you touched the blade to the creeping flesh.

Your knife sank easily, and the fluid that filled the tentacles oozed readily out over the steel. Oooooh, pretty! Though it was mostly clear, the syrup gleamed with a holographic, oily shine, looking like a melted rainbow as it seeped through the wound. The open gash quickly grew new vines that slimed their way around their host trunk, pulsating with goop. Weird.

What hit you next was the smell, an intoxicating sweetness like honey on fruit sitting out on a hot summer day. If the anemone was poisonous, it had a devilish way of attracting its prey, whatever that might be, because the temptation to lick your knife clean became almost overwhelming. That is the stupidest goddamn idea you’ve ever had, get cuttin’, damn it! You hacked and slashed your way to the center, trying to out-cut the regrowth; but the scent quickly made you feel hazy. You reached out to grab one of the arms for support, your cloudy head threatening to toss you on your ass, and the serpentine buds tried to coil around your wrists. Sonofabitch! Fuck off ya big vegetable. Just… just a little further.

~

“Of course this is where she went.” Standing at the crack in the ice, Mando was pacing back and forth with his hands stabbed to his hips. Your tracks ended abruptly at the fissure, and the slick surface told him you had probably slipped and fell into the dark, and he was going to have to jump down after you. The hole stretched far away through the ice, so far that not even his full helmet’s array of sensors could detect the bottom. He rested a boot on the icy surface, giving it an experimental slip. If he fell down the hole as well, he would be no good to either of you.

Every protective instinct told him to jump, go in after you, get you to safety, but his hunter instincts knew better. Fishing the trencher from his bag, he sat down at the entrance and tucked the shovel under his knees, pointy side out. He pulled the foundling’s crib into his lap and carefully started the slide. The shovel blade screeched against the tunnel, and though it couldn’t break the ice it would at least slow him down as he scraped his way through the dark.

~

You were dizzy, the coral’s perfume making you falter. Your goal was so close, but in your haze you were starting to get tangled in the vines that laced through the anemone's arms, and it wasn’t long before they were tangled around your own outstretched limbs. Stupid fern, ger’off me! Yanking against the tendrils only seemed to make things worse, and soon your legs were being caught up as well. Fuckin’shit’it’all. Progress to the core stopped completely, and you stood a moment to catch your breath. Fucksake, this shit is strong! You knew you weren’t moving, but even dazed you could feel something snaking around your boots, and you kicked at the movement, horrified to find that you couldn’t. Shit balls of fucking hell!

The slimy vines coiled around your legs, and you fought valiantly to cut them away, but the more you cut the more seemed to grow like hydras from the anemone's wounds. They were up to your knees, then your waist, and the weight of them started to pull on you until you were dragged to the ground. Struggling in their grasp, they tightened on your arms until you could only writhe like an insect caught in a spiders web. You started to scream, but the creeping thing stuffed itself up under your faceplate and plunged into your mouth.

Something warm and wet oozed between your teeth, and you bit down on the assaulting tendril, only to flood your mouth with more of the sweet syrup. Even in your panic you were taken aback by the taste of it, sweet and rich, almost ambrosial, and a wildly primal instinct told you that you wanted more. Around your limbs the vines were not constricting, merely holding you down, and you took another cautious gulp of the nectar. Your fear began to subside, though in the back of your mind you knew it shouldn’t; you were in a subterranean hellscape, far away from your partner, with some bullshit plant keeping you hostage, but maybe one more taste wouldn’t hurt...

You sucked at the intruder, delighted to find it give you more of the tasty substance, the flavor of it settling warm and snuggly in your belly. Closing your eyes you lapped away, enjoying the hazy, almost drunken feeling that was washing over you. It was blissful and comforting, even wrapped up in the living spires you couldn’t be bothered to care as long as you got to have more.

Something slithered up around your legs and waist, but caught up in the ambrosia you paid it no mind until it was worming its way into the waistband of your pants. Your trousers were pulled down around the tops of your boots, and though the sweltering volcanic atmosphere was making you sweat, the heat burning between your legs almost made the air feel cold. The sudden change in temperature reeled you back to reality, and you tried to spit the vine out while you squirmed in the hydra’s grasp. Another gush of nectar leaked over your tongue, and you greedily sucked it down, feeling another wave of cozy fogginess settle in your head.

Not even the sweetness on your lips could distract you from the feeling of something slimeing its way between your legs, leaving a trail of slick around your entrance. The goop tingled, leaving the same warm and wet feeling behind that it was leaving in your throat. Maker help you it felt good, though some distant instinct screamed to you that it shouldn’t, but you couldn’t hear it if you wanted to. Your back arched, driving your hips against the coils between your thighs, chasing the sensation.

The hydra’s arms pushed their way inside you, many thin strands that sqirmed and writhed, working to stretch you wider. Their efforts slicked past your clit, rubbing the tantalizing ooze around the sensitive little nub while they opened you up. Your hips rocked on their own, though in your captured state you were nearly helpless to chase your own high, but the coral’s limbs worked you up for you. Inside you could feel them, sliding past each other in the warm slick in tandem with the rubbing on your aching clit making you obscenely wetter.

You cried out around the knob still in your mouth as a thicker arm started to push up into you, gliding through the slick nectar. The smaller vines coiled around the newcomer, spiraling up its length as it started to pump in and out of your dripping cunt, adding ridges to the smooth length. Fuck it’s thick! The ties on your legs held you in place as the tendril fucked itself into you, twisting and slimeing around your insides. Hot streams of juice, both yours and the hydra’s, coursed down your thighs almost embarrassingly fast, and you choked and gasped around the spigot while you came.

As if it was emboldened by your orgasm the tentacle surged up into you, leaking what felt like gallons of the wonderful, mind numbing nectar into your fluttering cunt until it was pouring out of you. It thrust against your cervix, dragging the smaller tips around the sensitive muscle. More of the threadlike tendrils tried to push in with the larger one, plucking at your clit and folds and playing you like a sinful harp.

The sensation of it all stoked fire in your core until it was nearly burning you alive, and you gladly let the blaze consume you as the devious creature fucked you stupid. Warm juice practically gushed out of you when you came again, squirting all over the arms that held you captive. Your legs were pulled further apart, anything to open you up to fit more of the sneaky devils in you until you were stretched as wide as you would go, the girth of the serpentis shaft pushing against the bones of your hips from the inside.

Slicked thoroughly, the widest arm rolled against the muscle that protected your womb, and even in your lust-drunk state you could feel it pouring its juices into you. The smaller tendrils followed the nectar up into you where no cock could ever reach, teasing at the rim of the protective coil until it started to relax. More pushed past the ring of muscle until you could feel it gaping, holding you open against the large, blunt tip.

The thrusting stopped, and you mewled sinfully around the vine between your teeth, begging it not to, oh fuck please don’t stop! Whatever aphrodisiac you had been pumped full of was screaming for more more more! Your body hungered for more release, as if you hadn’t drenched the surrounding reef underneath you. You flickered an eye open, but the way your back was curved gave you no vantage of the scene below your waist, but you could see the central pod you had so valiantly tried, and failed, to reach.

From a hole in its top grew the amorphophallus that was filling you so deliciously, and you watched in horror as it pulsed something bulbous up its length. The bulge got closer until it disappeared from your line of view, but it wasn’t long before you felt it, something big pushing against your entrance. You cried out against the gag, but you were held steadfast as the rounded thing forced its way inside you.

The width of it knocked against your hip bones until it was past their crest, and you clenched as best you could around the delicious stretch until you felt something you’ve never felt before. You’ve been fingered, you’ve been fucked and loved and filled to capacity, but the weight of something being deposited in your belly was something wonderfully new. The heft of it felt good, filling and wholesome, though the feeling of terror was still trying to permeate your hazy mind, telling you to run, as if you could. Your hands were bound to your sides, but you wanted to rub at your belly and feel what had been put there. The press of another orb teased at your entrance, and you bucked your hips at it, encouraging another fill.

So good! The unknown object settled in your womb next to the first, the size of them pressing against the back of your abdominal wall, any more and you would be showing. A third bulge made itself known, and you seized your coils around it, letting it bring you to release with its stretch. You came around the vines, and the hydra wormed another pod past your cervix, riding with you through your high. A fourth, a fifth, sixth! You forced an eye open, and the swell of your stomach was visible over the curves of your breasts. Fuuuuck, any more and you really might be fit to burst.

Three more times you were gloriously stretched and drained, the exertion of so many orgasms nearly causing you to faint, but you would do so gladly in your heightened state. One more for good measure pulsed into your swollen belly before the vines receded, and the bindings on your arms and legs withered and died. Gloriously spent, you laid on the ground in a pool of nectar and juices, weakly tugging the vine from your mouth so you could gasp for air. With shaking arms you tried to pry yourself free of the dried tendrils, but the nectar that still filled you felt so good that you almost didn’t want to move, lest it drain out.

The first thing you noticed when the effects began to fade was how much the skin on your abdomen hurt, it felt tight, and you weakly brought a hand up to feel it. Maker above! Your belly was full, and you poked at your protruding middle, feeling the pods inside you slosh around in the devious nectar. Warm goo poured out between your legs, making your eyes roll back from the heat. Through your cloudy mind you thought you heard something, something far away that sounded like shouting. The shouts got closer, and you could almost swear it sounded like your name. Maybe it was.

“Tra’laar!” That was definitely your name, though it sounded distant and fuzzy. You tried to call out to the voice, only to cough up more of the sweet syrup that lined your throat. The taste of it was still as delicious as it had been from the beginning, and another blaze of heat coasted down your spine and made your guts clench and your belly jiggle. Licking your lips you called again, this time with enough force to actually make noise, and the sound of corals being torn apart as something barreled through the reef towards you made itself known.

“Tra-” Mando skittered to a halt somewhere beside you, the sound of your gifted name snagging in his mouth. There you were on the cavern floor, covered in dead vines and some kind of goo, but the most distressing sight of all was your sudden pregnancy. Cautiously he approached you and started untangling your arms and legs, trying to clear the offending tentacles away. He kneeled beside you, his armored hands hovering over your rounded shape. “Riduur’ika? Wh- what happened to you?!” His voice was shaking, barely a whisper coming through his modulator.

“Heeeyyy~” You purred, still buzzed on the herbal wine that had soaked every nerve in your body. “Babe… I think… um. I think there’s something… i-inside… me?”

“Well I can see that!” There was some kind of tone to his voice, wedged somewhere between anger and fear and maybe just a sprinkle of desire. “What did this to you?!”

“I dunno... that wiggly thingie got all up in my bisnatch.” You rubbed at your eyes, trying to get some clarity while your armored companion stressed himself to a frenzy. Mama-hen Mando’s fretting started to make you giggle, and the jostling of your laughs had your tummy jiggling with its fullness. Above you your oathsworn was horrified, but all you could see was his silly visor and his twitchy hands. “Prob’bly need to do something about it, don’t we?”

“Fucking hell, cyare! Yes we need to get whatever that is out of you!” He sounded really upset now, panicked even, and you shook your head trying to shake the daze. You started to sit up, but the weight of your womb made it a struggle. “Hey take it easy! Here, let me help you.” His protector instincts kicked in, and he was wrapping himself up around you to raise you to a seated position. You couldn’t help the way you rubbed at your tummy, still riding the high of the juice that coated your cunt and thighs and stuck to the back of your throat. I wonder if I can bottle this up and sell it.

A soft leather hand placed itself on your swell, moving over your taut skin with a featherlight touch. “This isn’t right,” you heard him say, “I should be the one filling your belly, not some fucking vegetable!”

Stupid chuckles burst out your mouth and made you snort, “Pfft… babe are you jealous some fruit by the foot knocked your girl up?”

“Damn it all yes I’m jealous! Of course I am, I'm your husband! And why aren’t you more upset? You almost look like you’re enjoying this!” You ignored him to swipe a finger through the goop on your leg and bring it up to your lips, slurping noisily at the colorful syrup.

“It’s this stuff, it’s tasty! You should try it!” The snap of his visor told you he wasn’t going to indulge you, but his gentle touch was pressing carefully under the drop of your belly, and you could see him watching the way it wiggled. “Bah, you like this don’t you? Don’t lie to me, bucketboy.”

“No!... Well… maybe a little.” He shook his head, trying not to be disoriented by the same daze you were. “We’re getting this out of you right now! Can you sit up? Get on your knees?” He guided you up off your butt and onto your haunches, the weight of your middle lurching forward from the motion, swaying under you. “Stars above, mesh’la, I-I don’t know how to f-feel about this…” He trailed off, torn between seeing you swollen full and knowing damn well whatever it was could probably kill you. “You’re beautiful…”

“Ha, I knew you liked this, now c’mon and get this fucker out of me, yeah?” How the actual fuck were you supposed to do that? Your partner pulled his gloves off and went for the obvious route, sliding his long, calloused fingers up inside your sopping cunt with a curse. Three of his devious digits went up without a hitch in your overstretched state, teasing around to get a feel of you.

“I didn’t know you stretched this wide, cyare, does… does this feel good?”

You shot him a sideways glare, letting your lips turn up in a mischievous sneer. “Ye-yeah, feels amazing.” the ambrosia was still making you sex crazed, and even with your legs covered in your own arousal you could tell there was still more to give. “Din..?”

“I’m right here, buir’ika, I’ve got you.” He scootched back behind you, wrapping one arm in between your breasts and your belly to hold you in place while he hunted through your slick folds. Din had become an expert at finding that naughty patch of nerves behind your clit that had your muscles tightening around his strong hands in seconds, and you let him work your ecstasy right back up. “That’s it, mesh’la, fucking stars I can feel you, you’re close! Come for me, that’s it, that’s a good girl.”

He pressed his helmeted head against your own, burying the sharp edge of the beskar in the meat of your shoulder while you tightened around him. His other arm pressed down on your swell, and the force of your orgasm squeezed something out of your belly and through your channel, rubbing deliciously against your walls as it passed into his waiting hand.

The seed pod that practically popped out of you was a dark purple egg-shaped thing with swirls of green and blue, matching the description of the bounty puck to a tee. Mando brought the thing around for you to see, rubbing at your side encouragingly. It shimmered in the eerie light of the cavern only briefly before it withered in his hand and flaked away on the volcanic breeze. Gone.

“Um, Mando…” You whispered, feeling a weird mix of arousal and fear ooze down your thoat with the unicorn slime, “I think if we’re gonna get them back to the ship, I think they have to, um, fuck... stay…

“Absolutely not! What if they poison you? What if they break open or s-something and kill you?”

“But the bounty-”

“Fuck the bounty!” He roared, “Fuck everything! I can’t lose you, cyare! I… I won’t, especially for a handful of credits.” The desperation that clawed at his voice stung your heart, but you were determined not to fail in your mission, no matter how creepy it was.

“Din,” you hummed, trying to calm him down, “I’m ok, really! Maybe a little mess- Oh~!” The Mandalorian’s fingers slid right back up your weeping cunt, fucking into you mercilously. His rough fingers slid easily through the slick, and he made up for the lack of friction with sheer determination. “Ah! Ah Din! Din yes! Oh yes!!!” High as a kite you went, coming all over his persistent thrusts. His grip tightened on your middle, and another pod escaped your womb.

“I told you to stop trying to fight me.” Oh fuck he’s using that voice! Dark and husky right in your ear, searing electricity over your flesh and blowing up your ovaries. The voice of a hunter, the voice of an alpha, whether he knew it or not. The timbre of it vibrated so low and strong you couldn’t help but whine against the beskar pressed to your face. “You’re going to stop arguing and you’re going to be a good girl and let me fuck you empty so I can fill you right back up. You’re mine, MY riduur, and the only thing that should be inside you is me!” His command flooded with raw power, and you blasted out another pod or two at his words alone.

You were gone, soaked to the core with desire until all you could do was moan into the armor that held you steady. Bonelessly you gave him everything you had, drenching his arms and knees with your holographic slick. Determined as ever, your armored protector pumped into you, cupping your whole pussy in his palm while he stuffed you with his fingers. When you’d rocketed the fifth seed out, you nearly fainted in his arms, drained of all your energy. Your mind was fuzzy, but you could almost pick up the sound of a question making its way over the roaring blood in your ears. “Huh?”

“How many more?” You shook your head, and a furious growl reverberated against your skull. His soaked hand slid out of you and shook itself somewhere nearby, sending melted rainbow goo flying. When the arm coiled around your belly left you, you nearly toppled, but he caught you swiftly. “Drink.” Metal was pressed to your lips, and the broth you had abandoned earlier graced your syrup-coated throat. You’d never been so thirsty, chugging it down until you were coughing, and the hand that held you reached up to cup your jaw, imploring you to swallow.

When the thermos left your lips, you leaned back against your heavily armored partner, letting his beskar hold you up. You were tired of the appetizer that was his fingers, and your swollen belly hungered for the real deal. You needed him. “Dindin… please… please I want your cock!” The body behind you couldn’t go any stiffer, and you felt his clothed erection rub against the curve of your ass. “I know you’re hard, fuck me, please?”

“Not til you’ve done as you're told.” His rasping voice was edged with heavy breaths, whether from the effort of claiming your clutch or trying not to cum in his pants you couldn’t be sure, but it sounded fucking hot as hell either way. Plated arms wrapped around you again, and you were pulled backwards into his lap with your knees thrown over his legs. He prodded your belly, trying to get a count of how many more orgasms he was going to give you. “Four… maybe five…”

Din went for your clit, spinning tight, vicious circles around the engorged nub and making you scream. “D-D-Din!!! Oh yeees! F-fuck me! Please p-please I-I want you in me!” He only hummed against you, rubbing his groin up against your ass to tease you while you came again. He stuffed an ungloved hand up your shirt to find your breasts, tugging and pinching at the sensitive buds until he could feel you shaking in his grasp and pleading for his thick, girthy cock to plow into you and scramble your guts even more than they already were.

For you he was taking charge of the situation, being the anchor you needed to get through this, but behind his faceless armor he was trying not to lose his goddamn mind at the sight of you. Where you sat on him he could grind himself against your soft thighs, and even through the layers of duraweave he could easily imagine himself sliding his length through your slick heat, drenching himself in your cum. Filling that belly. “Come for me again, cyar’ika.” He had to distract himself from his perverted thoughts, though that was becoming an impossible chore. Here you were in his arms, looking like some kind of glowing goddess with your womb as heavy as it was, and he cursed the Universe for giving him exactly what he’d wished for.

Damnation flowed through his modulator at the sound of your begging. “Is that right, cyare? You want me to stuff my cock in this soaked pussy of yours? You’re gonna have to earn it.” He was conflicted about talking to you in such a way, but something about the way he was speaking to you made your muscles clench around his fingers while you moaned against his armor. “You like it when I f-fuck you like this? I know you love these hands, cyar’ika, but if you want me to give you my cock you’re gonna have to come! Come so I can fuck that beatiful belly of yours full!”

Maybe he was talking to himself more than you, but you whined in his arms nonetheless as your walls squeezed and flooded. Another hot wave of slick coated his wrist, and he tossed the seedpod away, diving right back in for the next. His strong palm kneaded at your tummy, taking another count, two, maybe three more. He knew he should still be worried, terrified even, but damn it if he wasn’t harder than beskar. His cock was straining against the inside of his pant leg, desperate to grant his own desires.

“D-Din… w-wait…” He almost didn’t hear you, the thunder of his heartbeat roaring as loud as it was in his helmet, but your wobby arm came back around and patted his leg. “Th-thermos…” The canister was at your lips in a heartbeat, but you pushed it away. “C… Catch…”

Oh! The broth was poured out into the massive puddle under you, whatever, might as well add soup to the mix. He prodded your guts once more, palpating the hard lumps that still sat inside you, two left? “Cyare, that’s it, almost done. Come on, come all over my fucking fingers so I can b-bury my cock in you where it belongs!” You cried into the armor, heat searing from where he was pressed against you to your fluttering muscles to bare down on his fingers with your impending final climax. Dark, sultry praises rasped out of his modulator, so close to your ear you could feel the heat of his breath. “That’s it, ner riduur, one more and you can have my cock. One more and I'll stuff you with my own seed. You want that? Come for me so I can fill you up and breed you like I know you want me to!”

You nodded against him, making some kind of affirmation noise, but the last pod would be the toughest to pull, and he need to make you cum your fucking brains out if he was going to get it. He stopped his thrusts to tease at your stretched walls, rubbing his calloused fingertips against your slicked core. “What was that, riddur’ika? I can’t hear you.”

“Y-yes Din, please…” You were breathless, your words dryer than a desert as they scratched their way past your chapped lips. He laughed darkly against you, reminding you that you should probably stop teaching him new tricks.

“Yes what?”

“Breed me! Din please you big fucking jerk pump me full! I wanna be full of you!”

The cold metal of the thermos was pressed to your folds, making you cry out from the sting of it, but a hot fingertip groped at your clit, spinning one last mindblowing orgasm out of you that nearly rendered you unconscious. The metallic plonk that came from between your legs told you the pod had been captured, hopefully with enough of the nectar to keep it from drying out. Hunting is stupid. Din’s dry hand dug into the flesh of your stomach, searching for any more of the bullshit you had been filled with.

“There. Are you ok, cyar’ika?” Something like a nod wobbled your head, though the darkness coming in around the edges of your eyes told you that might be a lie. “You did so well! It’s all over now, let’s get you back up to the- cyar’ika stay with me!” Limply you laid against him, ignoring his exhausted pleas to slump against the rock hard tent pushing against your ass, trying to get him to make good on his word. You’d never been so spent in your life, as if you’d squirted out your very soul. Blinking your eyes open, you hazily saw the tilted visor of your oathsworn and shot him a lecherous grin.

“You gonna fuck me now like you said you would?”

Mando was rarely as grateful for his armor as he was right now, the cold, emotionless beskar hiding his sweat soaked face and lust-drunk eyes. The way you were watching his visor made him think you could hear the cogwheels in his head spinning out of control. Yes, yes a thousand times yes! Beautiful creature of the stars, more wondrous than any constellation. Her cunt is so perfect, so warm and wet and beautiful and literally gushing with her arousal, just begging for me to fill it. To fill her, Her womb is open, ready and waiting for my seed to be planted, a fertile haven for my younglings. They’ll be so strong, born with daggers in their teeth and songs in their hearts. I want to see her filled. I need to!

“No.” His reply barked dryly through his modulator, chewing on the sound of his denial. “We need to get out of here right now in case that fucking thing decides it wants to go for round two.” The arms that held you together wrapped around your back and under your knees, lifting you gently away from the mess. Weakly you held onto his neck, barely aware of the reef as it passed you by. Staring up at him through tired, tear-washed lashes you were filled with warmth, though not the heat you had felt from the hydra’s nectar. Better than that. Still, though the pleasant sensation was thrumming in your heart and your cunt, you were a bit peeved that he wasn’t going to give you what you’d begged for.

“You suck”

“I know.” The back of his mind roared with desire from hearing you literally beg for him to fuck you full, making his cock throb painfully against his duraweave. Keep it together, Djarin. Stars above he didn’t want to, he wanted to make good on the filthy promises he had poured over you, but there was no telling what else was lurking in the reef. He had to get you to safety, get you to the ship, and maybe then he could indulge himself. Mark you as his territory from the inside. Shaky fingers dug up under the edge of his helmet, and the feel of your skin against his face made him halt. “What is it, ner cyare’se?”

“You’re… you’re a good man. And a good dad.” The Mandalorian froze solid at that one, cocking his visor at you sharply. A new pull made itself known in his chest, something tugging on his heartstrings. Your eyes were closed, having long since given up the ghost as you started to fade away, and it took massive effort for you to drag them back open to see him. “Even if you do fucking suck s’metimes. You take good care’a me, ‘n Beans too, we’re v’ry lucky to have you.” Your words slurred, and you tried to lick your lips to get them to cooperate, but only found more of the ambrosia stuck to your face. You wouldn’t be cognizant much longer. “Thank you, Din.”

His name being spoken by you was more addictive than any spice, and paired with the praise you were whispering against his metal he nearly melted right down to the ground with you. That was all he ever wanted to be. A good man, a good husband, a good buir. Honeyglow flooded his bones, soft and warm and gentle, the polar opposite of the beskar he was covered in. He felt you curl a lock of his hair around in your fingers, the gentle tug on his scalp making him rumble. The life of a hunter was fucked up, to be sure, but as long as he had you and his son, it was bearable.

You kissed at the chest plate you were pressed to, the one that hid the embodiment of your vows safely next to his heart. He pressed his helmet to your brow, and the way you hummed against him in his arms made him want to run back to the Crest where you could have some privacy and peel his armor away, give you what you had so desperately begged him for. Maybe it was the way you were laying so limply against his cuirass, but you seemed so small to him in that moment, like without him wrapped around your body you would dissipate on the volcanic breeze like the pods had. Protect her.

“You’re… welcome.”

Your fucked-out face nuzzled against him, and he couldn’t help but hug you even tighter, making the scent of you coast up under the edge of his armor. It was different, fragrant and succulent though it was probably the juice that still clung to your legs and face. The scent of you was still there, just enhanced by the aroma, made stronger. He took a deep breath of you before continuing through the reef, almost tripping over a low coral when he wavered. Wavered? Why am I wavering?

The sound of a deep, indulgent inhale caught your ears, and you flickered an eye open to see him burrowing the front of his helmet in the fabric covering your breasts. Against you his chest ballooned fully, holding the scent of you in his lungs until it stuttered through his modulator with a curse. You giggled weakly, “Smells good, don’t it?” A low grumble made the plates against you vibrate, telling you the siren scent of the anemone was seeping into his brain. “If you think it smells good you should see how good it tastes! Try some n’ then get’cher self some sloppy seconds, I know you wanna~”

“No! The last thing we need is for me to get caught up in whatever the hell pumped you full of… quarries.” The imagery of that made you chuckle, silly, stupid laughs that bounced off his armor. He was practically jogging now, though you could feel him stumble through the stoney gravel every once in a while as the perfume of the anemone grove started to sink into his synapses. “We’re almost out of here, just a little further…”

“Bah, alright party pooper. I’ll getcha when we get back aboard.”

“Sure, let’s go with that.”

You curled against him, feeling his arms go somehow even tighter. The living fortress that was your Mandalorian carried you with declining ease through the reef, and you could tell from the engine purring away under his armor that he was not nearly as composed as he sounded. One more poke, for good measure. “I love you, Din.”

“And I you, cyare.” His response came out a little cold, but only because he was desperately trying not to melt away into the same puddle of goo you had been turned into. Again you whispered his name, gliding through his ears like a song, and his heart ached to kiss you, to taste the flesh that hugged his Creed-sworn secret so well. He hadn’t heard it in so long before you came, and though his old alor knew it, it was forbidden, meaningless. But coming from you it was powerful, strong enough to bring him to his knees if they weren’t so busy wading through hell and highwater.

Vaguely you were aware of your egress, though most of it flickered in and out of your lust-lost mind. The warmth of the cavern fell away to be replaced with the cold, rushing air of the tunnel as you rocketed back up to the basin. Maybe you were dreaming of the sound of boots crunching through snow, or the soft gibbering of the founding, you couldn’t be sure, but it was pleasant nonetheless. You heard words being spoken from time to time as well, all of them muddied and faint. Maybe they were Basic, maybe Mando’a, but all of them sounded like they cared. Like every syllable and intonation humming through the iron on your cheek was spoken for you alone.

Your Mandalorian carried you diligently back to your broken chariot, trying his best to make small talk with the foundling as he floated along behind. The child seemed worried at the state of his adopted parents, And Din rattled off every reassurance that he could think of, but his legs were starting to weaken from the scent of the nectar so close to his helmet. He marched on through the glacial basin almost on autopilot until the Razor came into view. Warm air sent flurries of snow around him and his crew as the ramp fell open, and blearily he made his way inside.

He had to do something about the state of the two of you, but his knees locked and froze him to the spot, demanding he take a moment to breathe. There it was again, the fruity, summery scent of you that made his dick throb. Damn it all. Shaky steps hauled him through the cabin, and he laid you down on the little cot you both shared. He needed to get your soaked clothes off, but in order to do that he would have to get out of his own armor first. He shrugged off the helmet, though the metal had been protecting him from the temptation of you more than he realized, and the heat that gooped its way through his body from the pungency of your scent nearly threw him to the floor.

Din punched the buttons on his vambrace, closing up the foundling for the night whether he was ready for bed or not. Sorry kid. He peeled his armor away, setting the beskar aside and tossing the soaked fabric into the fresher. Next came your own clothes, and at first he worried he might wake you. Stars knew you needed the rest, but you made no indication that you even knew he was there.

Your limbs flopped like jelly while he tore off your clothes to be chucked into the fresher along with his until you were beautifully naked. Spread like a feast before him on the narrow bed, he couldn’t help but lick his lips. Little shimmers here and there told him that you were still coated in the hydra’s goo, and his first thought was to grab a washcloth to clean you up, but you stretched your lovely arms and made the splashes of color dance like melted candy on your skin, making his mouth water at the sight and giving him a much better idea. Maybe just… just a taste.

~

The faint whirring of the Crests innards caught your attention, and you came back to consciousness with agonizing slowness. You were laying on your bedroll, tucked safely away in the durasteel depths of your ship, though you weren’t sure if it was dark or if you still had your eyes closed. Warm fog settled in your head and wafted through your bones, a mindless comfort that left you blissfully numb. It could have been whatever the hydra had left in you, or more likely, it was whatever activity was going on below your waist. Your breath hitched in your throat, surprising you, but not as surprising as the stars that flashed behind your eyes. “Ah~!”

From between your legs a lusty groan shot right up your cunt and made you fist your hands in the plush fabric underneath you while you came. How is there anything left!? A broad tongue lapped at your clit, slurping away at the remnants of the nectar that coated your folds. The smooth muscle dragged itself through your slit, drinking in everything you were giving before sliding right back to that sensitive little bud to tease circles around it.

“Mesh’la.. I’m.. I’m sorry, I c-couldn’t help it, you taste so good~” The Mandalorian’s baritone rocked you to your core, and another flick of his tongue had you coming all over his face again. “P-please… forgive me.”

“F-f-forgive? Bahh… I told ya it was good, now get lickin’, bucket boy.” You tangled a hand in his curls, pushing him back down to enjoy his just desserts. His tongue fucked into you with reckless abandon, hungry and desperate for the taste of you. He dug his arms under your thighs and forced your mound as tightly up against his face as he could, and you heard him gasp for air between gulps. Exhaustion and pleasure tugged your eyes back closed, and you teetered in and out of consciousness, being brought back to the realm of the living with each fresh wave of ecstasy. Something rhythmic moved against your leg, the muscles in his shoulder thrumming away at something well out of sight. Is he jerking off?

In his hand he was going to town on his aching shaft, using the glittering goo that still flowed readily from your gloriously wet pussy to coat himself in. The coral’s effect had been burrowing into his brain stem from the moment he could smell it, calling to him like some kind of siren; but finally getting to taste it was an otherworldly experience. You had been through enough for one hunt, and though he craved release like a sex crazed animal he would happily content himself with just getting a taste of the ambrosial sweetness while you relaxed.

It hadn’t taken him long to coax the rainbow juices from your stretched folds, and even less time to slick himself with it. For a brief moment he thought he would just lap enough from your wellspring to get himself off, but soon he found himself unable to tear his face away from your delicious cunt, slurping away at the honeyed slick until he was nearly drowning in it. He dragged the colorful fluid around the tip of his cock, almost creaming himself right then and there with the warm tingly sensation that dribbled down his length.

Stars above you were juicy, wet and engorged against his frenzied tongue, though the rest of your body was boneless against him. He didn’t mind holding your legs up on his shoulders while he lovingly cleaned the nectar from the core of your body, in fact he was delighted to be of service. Lost in his indulgences he almost didn’t feel you tug on his hair, bringing his eyes up to meet your own.

“You… you can… in me… please... “ Nothing remained of your shattered mind, but you almost felt bad that he was trying to take care of himself when you were right there, ready and waiting. He shook his head against your leaking slit, dragging himself up for air to answer you, making the hazy emergency lights of the cabin sparkle in the wetness that covered his mouth and chin.

“I shouldn’t, you need to… to rest… ”

“Should’a thought about that before you started tonguin' me. Now get up here and fuck me like you said you would!”

You were starting to wonder if he liked being bossed around, because he growled against your core and yanked you back towards him, burying himself balls deep in one swift thrust. His wet mouth crashed against your own, giving you a taste of your own medicine. Fuck he wasn’t kidding, that’s delcious! He thrust into you with ragged strokes, messy and out of time. Muscular arms wrapped around your body, flooding your senses with the combined scent of him and the intoxicating perfume of the sunken grove.

Din hugged you close to his sweaty chest, digging fingers into the back of your head and the swell of your ass so he could rocket into your wonderous coils, punching the blunt tip of his cock against your tired cervix. His kisses were frantic but messy, all tongue and teeth and heated breaths as if you could do any better. You were almost surprised that you could feel him as stretched out as you were, but the spear of a Mandalorian was nothing to be scoffed at. The girthy thing rutted against your walls, bottoming out with every desperate thrust.

“Not… gonna… last… much... “ He choked on his own words, making a half dozen more ragged thrusts before blasting you full of his cum, painting your walls with his seed. The ring of muscle fluttered against his weeping tip, almost like a tongue that was greedily sucking his cum into your depths. That’s the only seeds she should be filled with, he thought blearily, my seed. His hips twitched against you, giving a few more staggered thrusts to milk himself to completion in your forgiving heat.

Din was panting, driven nearly to exhaustion by the effort of making good on his promises to fuck you senseless. Under him your own breath was stuttered, your chest crushed by his weight. He coiled his arms around you and rolled you both sideways, using the last of his strength to tuck you up under his arm and lay your head on his chest. You murmured something fondly against him as he lazily threaded his fingers through your hair, brushing it out of your face as best he could, but the soft breathing against his skin told him you probably didn’t notice. Soft kisses danced over your face, more for his enjoyment than your own, a fact made apparent by the cutest little snore in his ears. Sleep well, my love. And thank you. For everything.

He could lay there forever, with the weight of you on his chest and the hot slick sliding down his thighs, if he died right then and there he would die a very happy man. His fingers tried valiantly to run themselves down the curve of your spine, but there was no energy left in his body to power them, and he let them rest in the dip of your hips. Your breaths came slowly, a gentle rise and fall that heated his skin where you were pressed tightly against the crook of his neck. Din kissed your forehead again before tangling his limbs around you and burying his nose in your hair. Tomorrow we can get the exterior fixed, the inside is warm enough for now.

A gentle smile tugged at the edges of his lips, making his whiskers catch your hair. And maybe if it’s too cold for the foundling, she’ll keep him in her shirt again. Din couldn’t help but hum at the thought, you all cute and round, even if it was only temporary. By marriage you were a buir to his foundling, as truly as you would be if you had sworn the Creed, but the thought of you carrying his own flesh-and-blood ad’ika was the guiltiest pleasure he could imagine. Now that he knew what you would look like all full and heavy he could more easily indulge those devious thoughts. It was probably wrong to recall the image of you laying on that vibrant nest of tentacles, glowing and radiant and full. And in need. Needing me to care for her.

He wouldn’t admit it, and he knew you were tough enough to take care of yourself as long as you didn’t go sliding down any mysterious chasms, but he loved being needed by you. He loved that the name you had screamed for in that sunken grove was his, that you needed him to rescue you, needed him to pull the pods from your belly. Needed him to breed you. He could hear you in his mind again, you desperately begging him to fill your womb with his warriors, but you had only done so while drunk on the hydra’s wine. Was there any truth to it? Probably not, he’d practically demanded that you beg for it.

But what if there was?

Tired fingers pulled you impossibly closer to him, as if to invite you to sleep in his ribcage, curled up next to his heart. You grumbled in your sleep, murmuring something about tater tots before letting loose a beastly snore. The Mandalorian rolled his eyes, that’s her, that’s my mesh’la, my cyare, my riduur.

And maybe, when the time is right, when the bounties have been collected and the universe doesn’t seem so hostile. Maybe when we find another convert, or even just start one of our own. Someday, maybe...

Maybe I can call her my buir’ika as well.

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[leo-interactive-fiction]

oooh, angsty ask here, but might be spoilerly idk, what happens if MC turns against Triaina and has to fight the RO, and they say something like, "I wouldn't have switched sides if it wasn't for you," and refuses to explain more?

Ahh, it’s been a while since I really did anything angst haha. Let’s see...

On the razed battlefield, you stand a sole opponent against the only individual who’d stand in your path. Your power restlessly surges at your fingertips as a bitter expression rests on your face. “You forced this outcome.”

E: They swallow back their sorrow, pressing a determined expression on their face as they clench their fist. “You’re not the person I knew when we were kids. But I’ll do whatever it takes to get you back. Prepare yourself, MC.” In the blink of an eye, they’re upon you. The sound of a shattering sound barrier follows after the splintering impact of their kick. Through the painful ringing in your ears, E’s cracked and tearful voice calls through. “I’ll save you one more time.”

R: They pull back the hair from their face, a dire expression on their dirt-stricken face. “Fortune isn’t eager to favor you this go around, Captain. Or I suppose you’ve outgrown that moniker since you’ve jumped ship.” They begin their advance one slow stride at a time, a ring of gold passing over their eyes. You grow aware of a gradual feeling, like a pressure squeezing around your heart with every beat that grows in intensity until they reach out to you. “You’ve taken your leap of faith, as have I. I would wish the places we landed were not so far apart, but this is what it's come to.”

L: Their face sinks in your presence. “I had hoped that when I met with you on this field, the things I see would change.” They shake their head slowly, steeling themselves. “The only future you hold on this battlefield...is loss. Please reconsider your actions.” You see the outlines of innumerable troops cresting the hill behind them like the shadows of a looming forest. As you ready yourself, a sorrowful look passes across L’s face. “I did not see you responding any other way, though I still held out hope. This is the path you’ve decided...As this is mine.”

V: They stand before you with the tattered clothing of countless battles and a shallow expression lit by a dim spark. “You’ve traded my loyalty. It was my duty to protect your life from any threat. Now Commander...” V strikes the fuse of a smoke bomb, the thick fog moving to envelop the silver-haired soldier and lick at your feet. In the mist, the ghostly apparition of white hair and pale eyes of death approach, “Now I am your threat.”

P: Flames lick at their fingertips as they turn the point of their spear towards you, their words carrying a quiet intensity, “Shut your mouth, traitor. You’ve turned your back on everything we’ve suffered for. But you’re not the one I’m here for. Get out of my way.” When you don’t move at their approach, P’s expression darkens. “You always were a dumbass.” In the last lull before the approaching firestorm, great wings of crimson wash over the arid field.

M: The rare sight of M’s stern expression is partially obfuscated by the chilling mist that passes from their breath. “You...gave up...Turned your back...on everyone...” You exhale a subtle fog as the air around you rapidly drops. The ground slowly freezes over, withering patches of grass it comes across. M skillfully flourishes their spear, grinding the razor tip into the ice before spinning it towards you. “If you can’t tell...I’m a little pissed.”

Ra: A hollow expression passed their face as they see you. “I would’ve followed you. I can stay by your side. I can! Why don’t you let me. Why, why,” Raven restlessly messes and pulls at their hair, growing increasingly agitated as they seeth the same word. “I know...” a dark whisper reaches from an abyssal depth behind you, the agitated figure having disappeared from sight. You feel a tight grip press around your shoulder and a chilling cackle by your ear. “I can still save you...”

S: They whip their gloves against their thigh, a callous look passing over the puff of dust that comes as a result. “Ya really went and done it now, huh...? It took me a bit to get to ya, but I figured if anyone’s gotta come knock some sense into ya, it’ll be me.” Cracking their knuckles, they pass a reprobate smile, “Ah, I should give ya some warnin’ though. I ain’t gunna be fightin’ fairly. Sorry ‘bout that.” The wind whips, carrying with it a sudden sandstorm that stings your vision and scrapes at your skin, grinding down your throat and nose with every breath.

F: Their venomous expression reaches across the distance they stand from you, threatening to suffocate you with its overbearing presence. “You’ve done well to deceive me for so long, but you stand before me now as just another insurgent on my path to power.” The arid battlefield before you transforms into a rising forest, its canopy throwing a relentless shadow over the world you see. Truly isolated, F’s words reach you like a serpent in the undergrowth. “Like a forest transfers oxygen, your dying gasp will become the selfsame source to fuel my royal ascension, like every dissenter before you.”

Thank ya for the ask haha. Hope it entertains. It’s been a bit since I did something a little angsty

[peroxideprinces]

Fighting styles you say??? Do elaborate

-Arcus

HELLO THIS ASK IS FROM A FEW HOURS AGO BUT-

gonna talk about beeduo because!!! why not!!!

!!! buffbo!!! c!tubbo is a strong mf!!! he power lifts in his free time /j!!! okay but i actually hc tubbo as a gymnas!! hes v flexible n will use that to his advantag in fights!! his weapon of choice is an axe!!! he doesnt know how to use it but holy shit does he try!!! does he win every battle?? no not really!!! but does he do his best???? absolutely!!!! when you look at him you see this goat hybrid no taller than five feet tall but n think you can beat him easily but suddenly he just beats the shit out of you??? anyway c!tubbo beats c!dream’s ass <3 /j

c!ranboo is??? interestin?? he tries his best to avoid fightin n will go out of his way to resolve it with words,,, when he has to, though, he fights with a sword!! he learned from bedwars but doesnt know any techniques or the names of the words but once he joins the syndicate, techno teaches him more!!! at some point ill find someone to use as inspo for his fightin style but for now this is all i got </3