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absurdthirst · 1 year ago

Text

Vivid {Mando x F!Reader}

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 6.4k

Warnings: SEX POLLEN, dubious consent, fuck or die, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69, face sitting, blindfolds, sex in the dark, vaginal sex, rough sex, overstimulation, cream pie, cum eating, masturbation

Comments: A chance encounter in the canyon just beyond Din's little house on Nevarro leads to a sticky situation. A vivid pink flower, a powerful aphrodisiac, and a need to fuck has Mando bringing you home.

Co-written with @pedropascalsx

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Click Keep Reading only if you have read the Rating and Warnings and understand the warnings may not be complete to avoid listing spoilers. As AO3 says 'creator chooses not to use warnings'. You also agree that you're the right age to be consuming anything here.

The changes around Nevarro are….nice. The little house that was deeded to Din is far enough away from town that he doesn’t feel crowded, yet it’s close enough that he can walk Grogu to the little school that he had enrolled him in. His journeys needed to include more socialization than bounty hunters, killer droids and Mandalorians. He needed to be able to move throughout many different cultures respectfully and what better place to learn than school?

Din’s own education happened in the Fighting Corps. Effective, but he had a mind to raise his adoptive son and apprentice better than his own teacher had. Especially since Grogu had an advantage that he had never wielded, the force.

“No Grogu,” Din shakes his head and sighs softly as the fifty year old baby tries once again to float his little school pack off the shelf to where he is sitting. Wanting to go to school, even though it’s the weekend. “There is no school today.”

****

It had been a long day so far, you’d run your usual errands and finished a few tasks around your home. A few of the children in your class had been requesting some more painting time during the week, and never one to dim anyone’s excitement for the arts, you couldn’t say no.

You like to make sure that art class is just as educational as it is fun, so you grabbed your book of plants and flowers and got ready to make your way out of town to collect and pick some plants and flowers for the kids to paint and learn to identify.

The cool breeze was welcomed as you began your trip, a wicker basket hanging comfortably from the crook of your elbow as you made your way through the town, greeting everyone politely and with a warm smile as you did so.

You like Nevarro. Especially as of recent, the town was much friendlier and a new sense of community had fallen across the planet.

After a brief chat with one of your overexcited students and his parents you continued your walk while nibbling on some fresh fruit from a stall you had passed.

The kid is passed out in the little bed that Din had bought for him, the Mandalorian steps out of the house, striding off towards the canyon. He needs to tune his blaster, having replaced the plasma cartridge earlier. The domesticity is unusual, but he likes it, a set schedule and a home to make meals in. It’s oddly appealing, even though he does often wonder how the covert is doing on Mandalore.

After a nice breezy walk, your basket is almost full, you’ve picked multiple flowers and plants for the children to paint and learn about. The canyon is quiet, peaceful, the only sound coming from the soft breeze shaking the trees and the occasional twitter from the out of sight creatures.

You’re just about to leave and make your way back home, before it catches your eye and steals your attention. A vivid shade of pink and standing alone. The petals are perfectly uniform and it’s the most perfect looking flower that you’ve ever seen.

Din sighs, seeing someone in the canyon ahead of him. There wouldn’t be any practice unless the person was just leaving. Making him huff under his helmet and hope that it wasn’t someone who is looking for trouble.

You kneel down in front of the flower, appreciating its beauty before reaching into your basket and pulling out your holopad. Unable to resist taking a few snaps of the gorgeous flower.

Zooming in on the photo you notice a figure in the background that you immediately recognise as the father of Grogu - the new and unbelievably adorable little green foundling in your class.

You place your holopad back in your basket, figuring he’ll want some space. He’s polite, not much of a talker but there’s something about him that’s… intense. The kind of intenseness that makes the hairs on the back of your neck stand upright and makes that magic button downstairs pulse uncontrollably until it gets the attention it deserves.

You gently snip the bottom of the stalk and gently scoop up the flower in your hands, inhaling its gorgeous and intoxicating scent and letting it flood your senses.

And then it hits you.

Walking closer, he recognizes that it’s Grogu’s teacher. You are a newcomer to Nevarro, at least, you hadn’t been here when it was a bounty hunter’s hive. One of the more gentle settlers, and it doesn’t hurt that besides him, you are Grogu’s favorite person.

He smiles slightly under his helmet, wondering what you are doing out here in the canyon, although he spies the basket on your arm.

The effect is immediate, within seconds fire is coursing through your veins and pain meets a new type of pleasure in the most delicious way.

Every nerve ending in your body is set alight, and the pleasure center in your brain is working overtime. Arousal floods your core, your nipples harden and your clit is pulsing with desperate need out of nowhere.

You start to whimper as your legs threaten to fail beneath you, you’re still kneeling but you feel as though you’re about to collapse in a heap on the floor. The sounds that leave your mouth are nothing short of filthy, and you become more and more aware of your need for something to quench the flames that are burning stronger with every passing second.

Seeing you stumble, Din rushes forward. Hand on his blaster as he tilts his head up, searching for danger. Why else would a healthy woman nearly collapse? “Hey! Hey, get down!”

“The flower,” you say with a breathy moan, “I think it’s the flower.”

He’s already reached your side, grabbing you and your basket and dragging you behind a craggy outcrop in the canyon, getting you to cover. Unaware of your moaned words, they were too unintelligible. The pollen from the flower drifts under his helmet, not pressurized against contaminants and floods his nostrils in a heady rush.

“I don’t know what’s happening,” you babble, as you start to pull on the collar of your dress. The material feels much too constricting and far too warm despite the cool breeze.

“Dank ferik.” Din hisses, his own armor suddenly feeling as if it weighs more than the great forge on Mandalore. “It’s- it’s the pollen.” He croaks out, slapping the basket out of your hand, but he knows it’s too late.

“What’s w-wrong with the pollen?” You gasp out, unsure why your clothes feel heavy and your body is trembling uncontrollably. Your need to be touched now is desperate.

“It’s an aphrodisiac.” He grunts, cock already hardening and tenting the fabric of his flight suit. “It- it lasts for hours and-“ His eyes under his helmet widen as he remembers one particular trait of this toxic flower.

“And?” You ask frantically, “And what?”

“Your heart explodes if you don’t- uh, have sex.” His hand slaps against the rock wall of the canyon and he groans, thinking about an activity that he has long denied himself. He’s been too busy with the kid to seek out any companionship, even for a night.

“What?” You say with a pained laugh, “How is that -fuuuuck- how is that even possible?” The lace from your bra rubs painfully against your hardened peaks and you have to physically fight the urge to free yourself of your dress and bra.

He doesn’t fucking know, but the digital display in his helmet is broadcasting that fact as he looks down at the flower. “What the fuck were you doing with it?” He demands, trying to think about something other than pushing you against the rocks and burying himself in your cunt.

“I was just.. I’m picking flowers for the kids to paint,” you say between labored breaths, “Please, do something. It fucking hurts.” You start to beg, unsure what can be done.

He hadn’t anticipated that response. Groaning, he shakes his head. Knowing that a quick fuck in the canyon isn’t going to do it. Plus it’s too exposed out here. “Hold on to me.” He orders, stumbling next to you and wrapping his arm around your back before he kicks on his Rising Phoenix.

You squeal with shock as you’re shot upwards into the deep blue sky, your arms wrapping so tightly around The Mandalorian that it hurts.

Din’s groans are covered by the sounds of the jetpack and the wind. His cock is throbbing and leaking into the flight suit and he knows you have to be feeling worse. Your exposure was vastly greater than his own.

He senses the moment that the pain becomes too much for you to bear, his arms wrapping even tighter around you as you start to lose your grip. Pain shoots throughout your body as you whimper in his arms.

“We-it’s- it’s close.” He groans, his own body used to pain although he’s never experienced an arousal that might override all his senses like this before. All he can think about is stripping you down, burying himself in your body over and over until relief is finally achieved.

“I can’t hold on much longer,” you gasp, as the aching between your thighs grows stronger and more uncomfortable.

The outline of his small cabin appears and it can’t be a second sooner. His entire body is tense and his jetpack is nearly sputtering as it sets down on the ground in front of the remote dwelling. His star-fighter is parked off to the side and he is grateful that the baby is still asleep in his own little room.

His grip on you stays firm as you reach the ground, and he gently pulls you into his cabin. Spinning you around he presses you up against the door and gently palms your tit with his gloved hands.

“Tell me-“ Din groans and bites his lip under his helmet. “Dank ferik, tell me I can fuck you, Mesh’la.” He begs.

“You can fuck me,” you say with a moan as you press yourself up against him, desperate to feel him inside of you.

His head turns towards the door where Grogu is sleeping, relieved to find it still closed and he steps back to drag you away from the wall. “My room.” He demands, knowing the kid didn’t need to wake up and see anything.

“Yes, sir,” you say as you follow him on shaky legs into the room. Your clothes feel heavy against your skin, but you wait for his command to remove them. Standby patiently but writhing in discomfort as he walks towards you. “I need to take my dress off,” you say, as the material irritates your skin.

“Take it off.” He knows he will rip your dress if it touches it and he needs to get out of his armor. It’s chafing his skin and he’s overheating.

You immediately unzip the dress and let it fall to the floor, before working on your bra and panties. “Need you so badly,” you whine and you climb down onto the bed, and spread your legs. Dipping your fingers into your entrance and spreading some of your arousing through your folds and circling your clit.

“Dank ferik.” The armor clanks to the floor carelessly. Unable to treat it as reverently as he normally does. Fingers fumbling as his cock throbs, visor trained on your cunt.

“Hurry,” you beg, as you circle your clit faster, you’re soaked enough for him to slide right in with little resistance. “Am I allowed to touch you?” You ask as you continue working your clit, you know a little about Mandalorian creed but you’ve never fucked one before and want to make sure you’re respectful and you don’t cross any boundaries.

“I-I’m going to turn out the lights.” He groans, wanting to see you, touch you. And have you touching him. “And I need to blindfold you.”

“Whatever you need,” you say, as you turn your head so he can blindfold you. “I won’t touch you unless you explicitly tell me where it’s okay, and I promise the blindfold will stay on until you take it off.”

“You can touch me.” He is panting as he ties the blindfold and quickly strips out of the flightsuit and his boots. Even though he is burning, he hesitates when reaching for his helmet.

You reach out and let your fingers run across his chest, “Fuck,” you say, as your pussy clenches around nothing, “Want you to fuck me so badly, but I really wanna suck your cock first, Mando. I want to rub my little pussy while you fuck my throat.”

“No.” He chokes out, knowing that your body is screaming for release worse than his own is. It makes the decision easy and the click of the locks is accompanied by a slight hiss as he lifts the helmet off his head and it clatters to the ground.

“Oh,” you say, clearly disappointed but still rubbing your clit as fast as you can and chasing your release. “How do you want me?”

Din knocks your hand away and climbs up on the bed to pull you up and spin you around. A lifetime of training makes picking you up easy and he flips you onto your stomach on his chest. “Suck my cock and I’ll lick you.” He rasps out, his voice unmodulated and clear. “Never done it, but I want to. You need it.”

The sound of his voice is even sexier when unmodulated. Raspy and rough. Each word going straight to your pussy. “Yes, sir,” you say as you feel around and finally get his cock in your hand. It’s thick, veiny and dripping in pre-cum, the room is dark enough and the blindfold is opaque enough that you can’t see it but it feels glorious in your hands. You give him a teasing lick, lapping up all the pre-cum before taking the tip of him in your mouth.

Din groans, his gloveless hands reaching for your hips and his entire body shudders when he realizes that it’s full skin to skin contact. Dragging you back and immediately plunging his tongue inside your quivering and leaking cunt.

“Oh, fuck,” you choke out as you pull off his cock, loving the dexterous heat of his tongue. You take him back into your mouth and hollow your cheeks, your moans vibrating against his cock as he eats your pussy. For someone who said he’d never done this before he’s unbelievably skilled, eating you with such vigor that after a few minutes you can feel your orgasm rapidly approaching.

There have been a lot of holo vids around oral sex in his past, learning and aching to try the things that he saw. Although he’s not got a forked tongue like some species, nor one as long, he still grunts in pleasure as you moan loudly around his cock. Rocking your hips back to taste you more, getting deeper into your cunt.

“Gonna cum,” you croak out around him, before swirling your tongue around the tip of him and pulling away before cumming with a loud whimper of the only name you know for him, “Fuck, Mando!’

Din nearly whimpers at the loss of your mouth but the sweetness of your cum makes up for it. Soaking his face like he’s never experienced before. His cock throbs and he pulls away. “Close.” He chokes out, knowing he’s going to cum from this alone.

You take him back into your mouth and double down on your efforts, sucking him harder and licking your tongue around him. You take him as deep as you can, working the bottom of his shaft with your hands, saliva dripping everywhere as you work him towards his high. Needing to feel his cock twitch and start to flood your mouth with his cum.

It doesn't take him but a few more seconds when your mouth wraps back around him for Din to start to cum. Groaning out your name harshly, it's the only warning you get when he shoots a hot rope of cum down your throat, immediately followed by another.

You swallow around him, humming at the rich yet salty taste of him. Not letting a single drop go to waste, eagerly awaiting each burst as your mouth milks him dry. He’s delicious, salty and musky and you want more. You keep sucking until he orders you to stop and you slowly pull off of him with a groan.

Even though he's cum, his body still aches, his cock is still hard and he knows you aren't satisfied either. "My tongue or my cock in your cunt this time?" He pants out, needing to know where to bury his cock again.

“Your cock, please,” you beg as you lift off of him, “Do you want me to ride you, Sir?”

"For now." He knows you might need him desperately and he wants to see how much you are willing to grind on him for his cock.

His harsh tone makes your chest clench, but you push away that feeling and position yourself over him, slowly sinking down on this thick cock and moaning loudly as he stretches you open. His cock fills you entirely, your walls flutter and hug his cock as you get used to the delicious stinging from how stretched out you are from him. You start rocking your hips slowly, before increasing your pace, grinding down on him over and over. Desperate moans slipping through your plush lips as a wave of euphoria floods through you.

The darkness is just enough that he can see you move. A shadow and he wishes that he could turn the lights back on but he can't risk your blindfold coming loose. It's barely a loophole and technicality of the creed, but you can't see him. Not unless you were going to bind yourself to him.

“You feel so good,” you choke out, as you rock your hips a little faster. “So big. So thick.” You murmur again and again as your pace quickens, chasing a high and feeling a desperate need to have him cum hard and paint your walls with his delicious cum.

"Fuck." Din chokes out, puffing up at the praise. It's better than the moans with his cock in your mouth and he palms your tits, plucking at them and pinching your nipples while you bounce on his length.

“Tell me what you need,” you moan, “Fast or slow? Need you to feel good, baby, want to feel this cock fill me up.”

Din curses again. "Fuck, fast." He hisses, squeezing your tits harshly. "Fucking ride me hard."

You do as he commands, increasing your pace and bouncing up and down on him as fast as you can, moaning in pleasure as he hits that spot inside of you. Your hands cover his as he squeezes your tits, holding on tightly as he starts to fuck up into you, matching your pace with his own.

The loud sounds of sex fill his room. His hips snapping up as you bounce down on his cock. Both of you moaning and cursing greedily as the fire of the pollen rages in your systems. He knows you’re craven for his cum, the only thing that can soothe the effects of the flower.

You reach down and start to circle your clit, as you keep the same pace, wanting to clamp down around him and hear those delicious groans from him. “You’re incredible,” you pant as you near your high, circling your clit with perfect precision as he fucks up against nirvana inside of you. “Gonna cum,” you warn, before pleasure washes over you and squeeze his cock like a vice. Yelling his name as you cum, hard.

Letting go of your tits, he grabs your hips again and starts the hammer up into you. His hold on your body is the only thing keeping you from being thrown up into the air. Harsh punches of his cock that hit deep and wrench a cry out of you every time he hits your cervix, he can’t even care if it hurts you because you gush another wave of heat around him.

“Fuck,” you choke out, as he pushes the air from your lungs with every thrust. You’ve never been fucked like this before, but it’s addicting, you crave more and more from him with each harsh thrust of his hips. “Fill me up,” you beg, each word more strained as his pace quickly overwhelms you.

His arms wrap around you and he’s thrusting up into you like you are his personal fuck toy. “Fuck, fuck, gonna, fuck- fill you up.” He promises, grunting out a word every time he buries his cock into your spasming cunt. One harsh thrust later and a harsh bark of your name, he delivers on that promise. Cumming just as hard and as much as when he came down your throat only minutes before.

Falling forward onto him your face nuzzles into the crook of his neck, he’s still hard and twitching inside of you but a wave of exhaustion starts to make an appearance. You pant into his warm skin, arms tightly wrapped around him and you can’t ignore how tense he is. You’re unsure if you’ve crossed a line, but you need to catch your breath again before you’re able to move off of him and ask how he wants you next.

Din is tense from how close you are to his face. It’s been so long but you don’t reach up to touch it. Your arms around his shoulders and your face tucked into his neck. He rolls you onto your back and starts to rock into you again. Knowing that the night isn’t over by a long shot.

You moan as he rocks into you, his stamina clearly better than your own as you attempt to gather up some strength. But he seems content to pick up the slack as your pussy flutters around him and your walls hug him tight. “Are you allowed to kiss me?” You ask, barely above a whisper as his hips snap forward.

Din groans and he nods even though you can’t see him. “Can I?” He breathes above your lips. He’s never kissed before and right now as he fucking you both through a dangerous exposure to sex pollen seem to be a good time to experience it.

“Yes, please.” You plead softly, wanting to taste his lips despite not knowing what they look like. Not caring at all that you have no idea what he looks like.

Permission granted, he crushes his lips to your in a messy kiss. Much less coordinated than when he licked into you, he had avoided kissing holo vids because he had felt jealous.

You giggle a little at the way he smashes his lips against yours, before lightly touching his chin and taking the lead. Licking his bottom lip gently until he parts his lips enough for you to slip your tongue inside and press it against his own. It doesn’t take long until he’s mastering the art and taking control, his lips now refusing to part from yours as he rocks his hips into you. Kissing you just as hard as he fucks you, changing up the pace every now and then and swallowing your moans of delight.

Groaning into your mouth is like ambrosia. You are the best thing he’s ever tasted and he can’t get enough. His cock steadily fills you with strokes and his tongue mimics the motion into your mouth as he pants his pleasure loudly.

With a few more strokes of his cock, he has you clamping down around him and crying out the name you know him by in pleasure. The stuttering of his hips as your pussy acts like a vice around him makes him grunt your name before pulling you in for another breathtaking kiss. The effects of the pollen start to lessen but the effects of him growing stronger. Everything about him is consuming, his scent, the power he commands and with every snap of his hips and grunt of your name; you want more and more.

Din can barely rock his hips but the clenching and squeezing of your cunt pushes him over the edge. This time he is moaning your name into your mouth while pushing more cum into your pussy. Sliding down your cheeks and soaking his bed underneath you in growing puddle.

“Fuck, Mando,” you say against his lips, with a bright smile. “Picking that flower was the best decision I've made in months.” You love the way he twitches inside of you, your walls still hugging him tightly as he groans against your mouth. You gently run your hand up and down his back as he works on catching his breath.

“Din.” There are plenty of people who know his name now and he doesn’t see why you shouldn’t. Given that he had just fucked the life out of you and still had a few more rounds in him before the pollen is completely gone. “My name. It’s Din.”

“Din,” you repeat softly, “I like that. Din.” You press a light kiss to his lips before repeating his name a few more times. “Do you think I can jerk you off next? My pussy isn’t used to being fucked this good. Give her a little break before you fill her up again?”

“Do you want my mouth again?” He asks, knowing you might still need something. “I can just suck on your clit.”

“Are you sure?” You ask, “I know you said that was the first time you did it, and I don’t want you to feel like you have to do it again if you don’t want.”

“I liked it.” Din twitches inside you as he admits that and kisses you again. “Unless you didn’t like it?”

“I loved it,” you giggle, “Can’t believe that was the first time you’ve done it. Best oral I’ve ever had.”

“Good.” He grunts happily. “Then I’ll do it again.” He pulls out of you and rolls onto his back.

“You want me to sit on your face and I can jerk you off as you eat my pussy, baby?”

“Fuck yes.” Din groans. “Want to taste your cunt filled with my cum.”

“Fuck,” you moan at his filth, “Yes, sir.” He helps you position over his face, and you hover a few inches above his mouth before reaching down and gripping his cock. Giving it a few languid strokes before finding a pace that has him groaning. “I bet you’ve got a gorgeous cock, Din, I can feel how good it is. But fuck. It’s so thick and long and those veins… I.. fuck. It’s so perfect.” You tell him before he pulls you down and starts to eat your pussy like a man starved. You work his cock like it’s the most important job in the work, each flick of your wrist designed to make him groan and grunt with pure pleasure. “Do you like that? Do you like me stroking your cock while it’s still dripping with my cum, Din?”

He huffs, nodding his head as he continues to lick and taste both of you combined. He’d love it if you sucked his cock again but your hand is good too. Tilting your hips up, he finds your clit and sucks it into his mouth.

“Fuck, Din,” you yell out as he sucks on your clit, “Maker- I could get used to this.” You squeeze his cock a little harder, changing the pace from fast to slow. Wiping your thumb across the tip and gathering up the pre-cum to taste on your fingers. He groans as you let him, bringing your fingers up to mouth and licking them clean before gripping his cock again. “Going to suck your cock again after this, you taste so good, baby.”

Din groans and sucks on your clit harder, pushing his tongue against it and releasing it to lick it and suck it back into his mouth to start the entire process over again. He could get used to this too. Eating your pussy every night and having you on his cock.

“Diiiiiiinnnnnn,” you moan, over and over as he works magic on your clit. You stroke his cock over and over as his hips stutter, “Gonna c-cum.”

He pulls away just to gasp out, “me too.” Before he’s reattaching his lips to your clit like a hungry sucker fish.

“Din, Din, Din,” you chant his name over and over like a sacred prayer, pumping his cock until he’s spurting out thick ropes of cum, cum that you’ve desperate to scoop up and lick from your fingers. You feel your pussy clench down around nothing as your orgasm pulses through you, soaking his face with your arousal as he continues his delicious assault on your bundle of nerves.

You stopped stroking his cock, too focused on your own pleasure but you squeeze him. Making him pulse as his balls draw up against his body again.

“Din,” you pant one last time, as he grunts beneath you. You feel his cock twitching in your hands, clearly desperate for more release, and you resume your strokes. Milking him free of his pleasure and loving the way it pants your skin. Your fingers, wrists and arms are covered in his cum. All of it begging to be licked clean.

Letting go of your clit, Din groans your name as you stroke his cock and milk it of every drop of his release.

The second he stops cumming, you gently let it go and start cleaning it from your skin. Moaning at the taste and humming in content as you swallow it all down. “You taste delicious, Din.”

His cock is still hard but he’s not desperate to be inside you. The fire in his veins nearly burned away and it will only take once more before it’s all done. “You taste good, Mesh’la.” He praises roughly. “Could taste you everyday and be a happy man.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep,” you say with a giggle. “It’s wearing off, I think, it doesn’t burn as badly but I think I can go again. You wanna fuck my mouth or my pussy this time, baby?”

“Is your pussy too sore?” He asks, knowing he’s been rough with it.

“I can take you again, I’m definitely going to be feeling you for a while, but I'm not complaining.”

“Why don’t you ride me then?” He asks, stroking your hip. “You can kiss me this time.”

“Perfect,” you say, wasting no time and getting into position and sinking down on him again. You press your lips against his and start to rock your hips, the ache between your legs getting drowned out with pleasure as he matches your pace.

"Shit, shit, fuck, you are so tight?" Din groans in surprise. "How are you still so tight? We've been fucking for hours." He doesn't stop touching you, anywhere and everywhere he can while you ride him, stroking your back, your hips, sweeping his hands up to your breasts. Greedy for that skin to skin contact now that he's not quite as focused on cumming. "Kiss me, mesh'la." He begs.

You immediately press your lips to his, and moan into his mouth. His hands feel perfect on you, they explore your body with ease as you rock up and down, chasing relief once more around his cock.

This time is less frantic. It’s slower and almost more intimate. It’s almost like you are making love.

“Need you to cum,” you murmur against his lips, exhaustion taking its toll on your fucked out body, as you rock your hips slowly. His thumb pressed up against your clit as you chase some friction

“I will.” He promises. “After you, Mesh’la.”

You move your hips just a little faster, still keeping the pace slow and intimate. His thumb circles your clit perfectly as you grind down on him, cunning with a soft moan of his name, clamping down around him and relishing the groans of pleasure he fills your ear with. “Cum for me, Din,” you plead, as you can come back down.

Now that he feels your entire body melt, he knows the pollen has worked completely out of your system. “Good girl.” He grunts, rocking his hips as he wraps his arms around you. “I’m gonna fill you up again.”

“Please,” you beg, needing to feel his release. “Please, Din.”

He doesn't rush, knowing that you have to be exhausted at this point. Only his ability to go beyond his limits allows him to keep rocking his hips up. As soon as he cums, he knows he will pass out to sleep for a good while. You are almost asleep as he fucks you.

You sink your face into the crook of his neck, unsure how you’re going to find the strength to pull yourself out of bed and make your way home. Rocking your hips more and more, his release clearly moments away, you ride him harder, determined to give him every bit of his pleasure.

"Fuck." He groans and thrusts up one more time to bury himself deep. Throbbing again and feeling your walls grip him tight when he starts to spill inside of you again. Groaning your name quietly as he fills you. Feeling the heat and need of the pollen falling away with the last pulse of his orgasm.

“Din,” you murmured into his skin, “Tha-thank you.” Exhaustion rumbles in your joints, everything aches, but everything feels worth it when you’re wrapped up in his arms.

"Sleep, mesh'la." He hums, his hand sliding up and down your back gently. He's still inside you and doesn't want to pull out right now. He wants to sleep inside you. "I know you are exhausted."

You hum happily into the crook of his neck, letting him move you slightly and wrapping his arms around you. “Goodnight, Din.”

Sleep comes easier than it has in months, safely pulling you into slumber as he gently rubs your back and holds you tight to him.

Sometime during the night, Din wakes up. opening his eyes and letting his vision adapt to the darkness. He's softened and is barely inside you but it was probably the most relaxed and the best sleep that he's ever had. Possibly in his entire life. Reaching up, Din gently unties the blindfold that is still firmly over your eyes. He's decided that he wants you to see him. Or have the choice if you wanted him to turn on the lights. Now he just holds you, waiting for you to wake up.

Waking up, you hum contentedly in his arms, nuzzling your nose into his warm skin. The fact he’d removed your blindfold not fully registered yet as you wish him a ‘good morning.’ It’s only as you pull back and the light hits your eyelids that you realize the blindfold is off. “Din,” you say quietly, “Is it ok to open my eyes?”

"Opening your eyes comes with consequences, mesh'la." He admits quietly. "I am not allowed to let anyone see my face. Or I become darmanda." He explains. "I would no longer be Mandalorian."

“What do you want me to do?” You ask, before pressing your lips against his, “Tell me.”

"There is a way that you can see me and I am still Mandalorian." He tells you, slightly nervous about what you would think. It's crazy, but he couldn't stop thinking about it when he woke up.

“Tell me,” you repeat, “If you want to.”

"If you are my riduur....you can see my face without any consequences."

“Riduur?” You repeat slowly, “What is that?”

“Spouse.” He whispers the Basic word and waits for your reaction.

“Oh,” you say quietly, before bringing your hands up to his chin and gripping it gently. “Riduur,” you repeat, loving the way it sounds, “You could see me as yours one day?”

“You would be mine then.” He tells you. “If you want.”

“I want to be yours,” you say against his lips.

“Then open your eyes, Mesh’la.” He murmurs softly. “You can look at me before we say our vows.”

You kiss him first, pressing your lips firmly against his before pulling back and slowly opening your eyes. Staring deeply into his brown eyes and feeling a smile spread across your face as you take in his features. “Gorgeous,” you say quietly, before letting your fingertips gently run across his face.

His eyes softly and his lips part when your fingers drag across them. He’s been touched by Grogu but this is different. “Pleasant enough? Or should I put my helmet back on?” He jokes self-consciously.

“You’re perfect,” you say honestly, “I can’t believe you’d want me. You’re gorgeous.”

“You are mesh’la, it is Mando’a for beautiful.” He hums, smiling up at you.

“Mesh’la,” you repeat, “You are mesh’la, Din.”

Biting his lip, he says, “repeat after me. Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde.”

“Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde,” you say as clearly as you can, eyes still focused on his as you do so.

Din grins. “It is our vows.” He explains. “It means - We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors."

“We are one.” Taking his hand you bring it to your lips and place a small kiss on it. “Yesterday took an unexpected turn… But I’m so glad I picked that flower.”

He snorts and shakes his head. “Good thing I wasn’t secretly a Gungan under my helmet.” He teases.

You giggle back at him before pulling him in for another kiss, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to walk normally for the next few days, you realize that right?”

“That’s to be expected.” Din flashes you a dirty grin. “Make sure you tell them that when we go to Mandalore.”

“So every time you fuck me, I’m going to be feeling it for days?” You ask with a raised eyebrow.

“Not every time, but when you’re fucking to stay alive, I’ll make sure you feel it.” He chuckles, wrapping his arms around you and grinning up at you. “You can pick those flowers anytime you want….riduur.”

“I might just have to do that,” you giggle, “Thank you for saving my life, Din.”

“I think I’ve gotten a pretty good reward.” Din hums. He had settled here for Grogu and it was a nice little place, maybe a little lonely since he’s not so busy, but now he has a feeling he will never be lonely again. Not with you by his side.

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coffeegnomee · 5 months ago

Text

Writing this because I don’t see anyone analyzing the Kab lore and I’m genuinely intrigued as to how people are viewing it.

It’s just such an interesting and all over the place story atm. I have a huge amount of faith that she will make an amazing story by the end of the season. I’m willing to let her cook. She has to get practice in this somehow.

But also she’s just so all over the place. And not really embracing the depth of mcrp, but that's a different story.

This started from having a hard time drawing the line between lore and not lore because I refuse to just say “Kab in the box was lore and everything else is not” even though I’m pretty sure that is like exactly how she views it.

Because the moment Red killed her she went to chat and said something like “chat it only took me three weeks to get lore on the server!” Like girl it’s been lore. All of it is lore.

And then the box arc was just like, enter the box angry at Red because he’s forcing you to hide, go through your friends and realize you care about them, go through the rest of the team and remember you f-ing hate all of them, including the friends at the start. Leave the box angry at Red, using pacifism as a cover to get close to Woogie to destroy Red.

Like am I crazy to say that she didn’t change in the slightest because of the box and you could take that whole arc away and nothing would be different?

But what IS interesting about that is how she never got over Red killing her. Never. I think she hoped that the box would soothe her out of that hate and come to a different conclusion, but by the end the (almost too real) rage about him killing her, especially after she made him that armor, pervades to this day.

Now THAT’S lifesteal, holding the hurt until it has a real resolution, not trying to get yourself over it quicker. As Red said last season “we make our best content when we actually hate each other” (not a direct quote, Zam said it) and as uncomfortable as that is to blend real hate into the ability to tell a story, there is real truth to that, that unless you, You the Writer, actually Care about the stakes of the story, you’re not going to write a good story. And nothing makes you care more than actually caring.

But Kab puts up these walls around herself to delineate character vs streamer. She is, to her credit, quite good at being in character, to the point where when she drops the character it is so jarring to be told none of it is real, this is just lore. It’s wildly jarring. And makes it quite difficult to find her character to be endearing? At least for me. Because she consistently does little things to break the fourth wall like clearly having left the box to get materials. Girl PLEASE why did you not just include getting materials and being paranoid about being caught as a PART of that story?? Sigh.

So she, in her mind, has a very clear distinction for what is her character. And a distinction for what she herself is willing to do. And that separation makes basically everything she says “in character” a lie; like she can say what she wants, be dramatic and make a cool tragic character, but that will not have a real meaning on who she is as a character on Lifesteal as a whole.

And what I find fascinating is that despite that, she is a mirror to whoever is in front of her. She absolutely becomes whatever the person in front of her is.

She comes out of the box saying she will use pacifism to get to Woogie. But then Flame blows up spawn and she feels bad, so she talks to Zam and within 5 seconds you can tell she’s fully dedicated to that task. She fully embraces being pacifist. Because Zam is pacifist.

But then Zam leaves to practice MCCR and next thing you know she’s talking to Wemmbu and within 5 seconds he convinces her to kill Planet publicly and with everyone online, breaking her away from pacifism.

This also despite the fact that Wemmbu is Shit at instigating people like Zam and Pangi. He tried SO HARD to get them to kill him or change their views. But one devil on the shoulder to Flame got him to blow up spawn and one second with Kab got her to cave and kill Planet (TWICE! And get Mid’s heart!). SOOOO interesting how his approach works so wildly differently on new members vs old.

So she mirrors whoever is around her. What a fascinating character trait out of the master manipulator. Is it manipulation? Or does she really fully and truly emotionally believe what she says in those moments? Does she come back with manipulation ideas after to fit whatever impulse she had in the moment?

And then there’s the Mapicc castle. I 100% believe she was the one to blow it up. Maybe I’m just projecting. Maybe it was wemmbu during the window he had his pc and when he didn’t. Maybe it was someone else.

But she just declared herself evil. It’s only natural to try and instigate chaos and get the members blaming each other for things that you did.

But she was SO GOOD during that conversation. Brainstorming and giving ideas for who else it could be, pinning the wemmbu heads on Mid but also pulling back and saying it couldn’t be her for the explosions, trying to work out the timeline. Like in so many ways she sounded like Spoke making up a story and being Unhelpful(TM). And she went out of her way to drive to her office just to have this conversation.

But also she seemed so helpful, so genuinely trying to brainstorm and pick apart this juicy puzzle in front of her. And therefore just curious, not manipulative.

GAH I just can’t decide! She’s either completely brilliant or completely incompetent and succeeding by accident!

And it’s even more interesting given the thought that she came into Lifesteal riding the high of MoneySMP and how she pulled off a betrayal arc super well. But that was Kab vs rando content creators in the mcyt space.

Now she’s Kab vs the very people who defined betrayal in mcyt. Everyone on lifesteal shares her ability to lie and manipulate. The thing that once made her unique is the very fabric of the server she is on. She thinks she’s got a leg up on everyone, but she’s merely on the same playing field. And that’s so dang interesting. Because she still doesn’t consider herself to merely be on the same playing field. She still thinks she’s better at this than anyone else.

She said during the stream where Mane destroyed the Mice base (7/23/24) that she likes playing cocky characters because it makes the fall all the greater. But she just IS that cocky at times. Every time she’s jumped she’s giggly and cocky about being slick and avoiding being killed again because she sits on the respawn screen.

So she’s cocky and willing to cause chaos, but she’s not the progenitor of chaos. She is not a worldender. She only causes chaos when someone nudges her towards it, not out of an internal desire to be chaotic and an understanding of the need for chaos on lifesteal.

And perhaps it’s because deep down, she cares about the people on the server. Not in the way Zam cares where he feels awful about everything he does that is evil and repents and has remorse over his actions.

But she is affected by her caring. One of the most interesting moment of Kab lore was when she saw the photo of Mane standing in the blown up Mice base.

KAB: “wow […] I knew he would blow it up, but like seeing the image is still like, fuck”

CLOWN: “really?”

KAB: “THIS HASN’T HAPPENED TO ME BEFORE”

CLOWN: “hasn't it happened to you like twice?”

KAB: “he didn’t blow it up last time [...] I think, I think I have to leave. I think I should leave. I’m putting like hannah and red and leo at risk right now”

It’s an involuntary reaction, something that is intrinsic to her core. She immediately went to: I should stop being on this team so I can save Hannah and Leo. I don’t want to see them get hurt.

And this is before she knew Woogie was wanting to leave the Mice because he thought she was a threat!

This was before Red killed her!

She came to this conclusion that she was dangerous to her friends outside of them agreeing with it.

And she never brought this back up when she was in the box. She to this day thinks she did nothing intrinsically wrong (ie dangerous to others) by antagonizing Mane. At least as a character she refuses to accept this. But for a second there Kab Kaboodle came through and knew that to be an intrinsic fact. And then she didn’t expand on it. Missed opportunity tbh.

And then I’ll end with an analysis of the Mane conversation after he blew up the base. Because it’s so interesting to see Kab banter in lore (though I suppose from her pov it wasn’t lore yet because this was before Red killed her) and see her say Way Too Much. She says she’s a master manipulator but girl you leak freaking everything.

So, she says what she said above, then a few minutes later gets in vc with Mane.

MANE: “you didn’t think I had the guts.. To blow up the base of [unintelligible]”

KAB: “[talking over him] you didn’t blow up the other one”

This whole conversation Kab interrupts Mane so much. She has to say things, to prove herself. Even when staying silent would give her so much more information.

MANE: “I’m gonna be honest, I was just looking for a reason”

Every pvper on lifesteal ONLY acts evil when they have a reason. It’s so consistent. It’s never “just because”.

Kab says she put posters up of him bc she thought it was funny.

MANE: “yeeaa I find it funny too um. You said you're not scared which, I- I find pretty amusing”

KAB: “ok!”

MANE: “because you're obviously pretty scared”

KAB: “you’re not scary. Dude. like your strength of the sword doesn’t fucking scare me dude. When you actually get smart and shit then then come talk to me”

Super cocky. Super dismissive. Just looking for a power dynamic to make her regain control over the situation. That’s not manipulation that’s just a power grab.

MANE: “Ok. I’ll talk to you when I get smart I guess but I mean, I dunno, according to these dogs here you've been at, at the deepest level of the cave for for a while, almost like you’re hiding. [pause, Kab freezes and pulls up coords] am I right about that? That seems pretty scared to me. I dunno. But um”

Mane absolutely cooks in this conversation but Kab just refuses to be affected by his lines and instead mocks him for being stereotypically tough guy. And yet she got scared there. She brought up her coords.

KAB: “[scoff] alright buddy”

MANE: “I dunno the way that you’re like, you're like interacting and the way that you’re like going about this is not the way that I would go about it personally”

KAB: “well, we’re very different people”

MANE: “I mean. Okay. how do I rephrase this. The way that you’re going about this is not the way any other person has gone about this before”

KAB: “thank you!”

MANE: “it’s not a complement.”

KAB: “I think it’s a complement. I appreciate that”

MANE: “I’m calling you stupid.”

KAB: “I try to be original”

MANE: “you’re being stupid”

KAB: “maybe in your eyes yea”

MANE: “cause you’re gonna make a new base, I mean, you haven't even stopped to question how I found this one, which is quite interesting.”

He’s calling her stupid for not asking more questions. Especially after she just called HIM the stupid one. He’s clearly smarter than he looks

KAB: “oh I know how you found it”

MANE: “how did I find it”

KAB: “my team already told me, I’m not telling you”

Instead of fishing for more information, playing dumb, Kab instead goes for posturing that she is far smarter than him. She could’ve used this to make him think she’s stupid or to actually learn how he found the base so she can be safer in the future (later she tells chat the she has no idea how he found the base). And interesting move out of someone who wants to manipulate people. Usually you would want to play dumb, not play cocky.

MANE: “[scoff] you don’t know how I found that base”

KAB: “okay! You can believe that”

MANE: “yea, because if you did, there’s no secret to keep from me. Like the way I found the base myself”

KAB: “[interrupting] girl you know I don’t use that base right?”

MANE: “okay. That’s your teammate’s base”

KAB: “that’s fair. That is my teammate’s base. I more feel bad for them rather than me.”

MANE: “yea. Yea. I feel bad for them too. It would suck to like, like, if I had a teammate, you know, especially considering like the fact that you, you- overall you’re team’s isn’t like the most skilled um if I was always suffering the consequences of my teammate’s actions who obviously doesn’t care about what they say”

He’s using the info Woogie gave him to make her feel bad/see if she does feel bad AND SHE DOESN’T HIDE A SINGLE THING!

KAB: “girl if you’re trying to guilt me it’s not gonna work”

MANE: “I’m not trying to guilt you, I I’m just saying like, if I was your teammate I- I would feel horrible, you know? You’re like” [.... devolves as mane is like if you want to loose teammates you can, and kab goes don’t mansplain to me (again, being cocky. refusing to be scared)]

MANE: “even if you’re not scared, you’re putting your teammates in jeopardy, which you clearly already know, which is very interesting, very interesting trait for someone who cares about her team. So. I just wanted talk to you and get your consensus on the situation”

He was fully going to stop the conversation there. But she just missed the cue and started to willingly gave him more information because her adhd ass thought that was a question not a statement /pos

KAB: “yea.. I’m I’m not overly fussed. It’s inconvenient. and that’s about it. It’s inconvenient”

MANE: “for who?”

KAB: “me”

She’s revealing that her motivations on lifesteal revolve around herself. She cares more about herself than teammates in the long run. Like I said earlier, she intrinsically does care about people, but on lifesteal in particular she will first care about herself.

MANE: “oooooh. See but you just said you care about your teammates and [unintelligible]”

KAB: “I do, but let’s be real two of them don’t log on very often and Leo’s been doing his own thing anyway. So”

MANE: “oh. I guess you’re team’s already disbanded so” Mane brings back up how he just wanted to see what she thought about it. Again she just keeps talking.

KAB: “I think you’re being predictable and I think that’s helpful”

MANE: “aw yea bro, glad I could help out”

[…more chatting]

MANE: “If hiding doesn’t mean that you’re scared, I don’t know what hiding means”

KAB: “I mean not everything has to have and emotional reaction”

MANE: “I mean it’s not really an emotional reaction: if you’re hiding you’re scared of something”

KAB: “scared is an emotion”

MANE: “nah, fear is an emotion” DAMN SON. he really can just drop the dramatic bars bro.

KAB: “fear is an emotion. I say being fearful and being scared is the same thing.”

MANE: “if you weren’t fearful you wouldn’t be hiding”

KAB: “that's not necessarily true”

MANE: “how”

KAB:” okay-”

MANE: “hold on hold on hold on. [wanting direct clarification] Before we get into that, you’re saying that you’re not scared.”

KAB: “no. [laughing at him]”

MANE:” You’re not scared at all”

KAB: “no. I’m not scared at all”

MANE: “Okay. as long as we get that out of the way”

KAB: “I’m just not an idiot. But I’m not scared at all, no.”

MANE: “okay. Ooooh, so you’re saying like the smart thing to do is hide”

(/genuinely realizing this in real time. He did not understand this until this very moment)

KAB: “I mean, yea. Let’s be realistic. You are much better at pvp than I am and you have more hearts than me [ect] I’m doing it because it’s the right thing to keep my survival. HOLY SHIT I JUST REALIZED A PARALLEL. You’re a lion and I’m a rabbit” [derailed, mane says he got what he wanted, thinks she got something out of it too]

KAB: “can I ask you one thing quickly?”

This, I think, is the only thing Kab actually cared to ask this whole conversation. She was not being purposeful in anything else, just responding to what Mane was saying and saying things. But she wasn’t really listening to what was happening, she was too focused on looking tough and explaining herself. Until this moment.

MANE: “mmmhm?”

KAB: “why did you go after my base and try and kill me? Was it the posters? Is that why?”

MANE: “well, the posters were just a good reason”

KAB: “you just want to do it?”

MANE: “I’m gonna be honest. It’s just fun”

KAB: “oooh. So I did categorize you correctly. Ok cool!”

MANE: “[sad] ooh. okay.“

Leaves call KAB: “yea Mane is just as predictable as I thought he was”

Clown comes back in vc KAB: “[explaining the convo] he just wants to. He just thinks it’s fun. He’s just a crazy villain. I told you!”

But like, I don’t think it’s that. I think we learned that you can get Mane to hunt someone very very easily, just give him a small excuse and he’ll gladly do it. Which is useful if you want a villain or want someone to hunt you. So in that way he is super predictable. But he isn’t “a crazy villain” the posters were just an excuse, an excuse he had been looking for. Because he wants an excuse. That is very different than pure “it was for the fun”.

The fact that she comes to the conclusion that he’s just a crazy villain after that conversation is crazy. I feel like she just was looking for confirmation for a hypothesis she had rather than really looking for research to see who Mane is.

Which is a huge flaw for someone who wants to figure out why people are the way they are so you can manipulate them.

I feel like Mane, if he is smart, learned far far more information about her than she did from him.

The tension for the Kab lore here lies in how this will all blow up in her face. I think she will cling to things and copium her way into believing she won no matter what. But she will have been absolutely destroyed.

And I keep getting hit with her being incompetent because she like, wildly, and I mean WILDLY, makes wrong assumptions about the older Lifestealer’s motivations.

Which is crazy to me because she WAS a viewer! She, in theory, (but probably not in practice because no cc has enough time to watch another smp with as much attention to detail and analysis that we do) should have a really solid understanding of the crew, and she self reports that she does but she’s been wrong so many times.

Like not only does she get Mane completely wrong here, but when Spoke logged on one night and said he was betraying the empire because of jepex she flat out believed him??? And like brought it up again later like it was true.

She thinks Zam has a huge plan of becoming evil. She had this whole moment in the box where she mansplained to chat that we are being fooled by him. We were being gaslit by him into thinking he isn’t planning on being evil at the end. And it was just so painful to watch because she’s just so wrong.

Because Zam has never ever thought of his lore like that. He’s reactionary to the extreme, believing he will take the current lore to the end of the season regardless of how early it is in the season. He becomes evil by the end more often than he doesn’t, but it’s not premeditated. And she should know that.

And she assumed that Red wouldn’t kill her. Like, no, I didn’t see it coming either, but it was a very Reddoons move. To take it personal when someone causes him anxiety. There were other small assumptions she made on older life stealer motivations that I can’t remember now.

But to clear it out, what motivates Kab Kaboodle?? She hates not being believed. That’s what I took from all this. This is her trigger, the thing that will motivate her forward.

Because she does lie and manipulate. And that relies upon being believed. So when someone believes something that isn’t true about her (like Red’s assumptions that she was leaking info to Clown) it hurts a hell of a lot more.

But because she lies, nobody will ever believe her when she desperately tries to get them to believe the truth.

So yea. What do you guys think about Kab and her lore?

#lifesteal #lifesteal spoilers #kaboodle #gnome rambles

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hoedamn-eron · 1 year ago

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duke leto - breeding

You're newly married to the Duke of Caladan, and you must create an heir.

Warnings: 18+, minors, DNI. Arranged marriage (and because of that, he's a bit cold at the beginning). Breeding kink. Age gap, but it's legal. Small, teeny tiny, praise kink. Also, teeny tiny Dom!Leto. Word count: 1,243 F!Reader, no use of Y/N.

This was originally a part of my Kinktober list but now it's just a stand alone.

Your marriage to Duke Leto Atreides had been a political one, of course.

After all, you were sixteen years his junior, and his heart already belonged to Lady Jessica, the mother of his son, Paul. If he’d had a choice, he would have married Lady Jessica, but that would get no gain. The only reason the two of you were wed was to unite your Houses, that trading between your planets would be easier and beneficial if there was an insider on Caladan.

You had taken it all in your stride. You had little say in how your future panned out, but you had heard many great things about Leto Atreides and how honourable he was. He was a just man, and a kind man, and you were sure that he would treat you with respect. You met the day before your wedding, had dinner together, where you’d made idle chat about your lives before you had met. Then you went your separate ways and didn’t see each other until you were to be wed.

You had had a grand party, where you barely got a word in to your new husband as you both were surrounded by congratulations from many guests and family members, even that night when he had taken you to bed, he had said few words, the implication of your futures weighing heavy on him. You had the feeling he would have opted to not take you to your bedchambers if he had the choice, but no marriage was law until consummated. However, he had treated you well, as it was your first time, and he even helped clean up afterwards, but he left shortly after midnight to spend the rest of the night with Lady Jessica.

You hadn’t minded, really, that he had a concubine; she was there long before you were. You weren’t unfamiliar with rich and powerful men having wives and concubines. Like you said, Duke Leto treated you well, but you knew he would never love you like he loves her, but you weren’t there for love, you were there for duty.

Like right now, as he has you in your bedchambers, your legs wrapped around his waist as he fucks into you slowly.

He only ever visits your bedchambers twice a week, otherwise he’s with Lady Jessica. You and he both know that you must create a ‘legitimate’ heir, if not to rule Caladan, then to strengthen the relationship between Caladan and your home planet. You weren’t opposed to becoming a mother, and you cherished the nights you spent with Leto as you tried for a child.

Especially when he makes you feel so good.

“That’s it,” he mutters against your neck, as he grinds deliciously into you.

You gasp, your eyes closing as your head is thrown back against your pillow. “Please…faster…”

Your words fall on deaf ears as he doesn’t change his pace. He moves with you, his hard cock thrusting in and out of you, leaning on his left forearm above your head, his right hand trailing along your waist leaving a path of fire in its wake. Something’s different. It shouldn’t feel like this, he belongs to another. He shouldn’t be saying these things to you, about how good you’re making him feel, how good you’re taking him. How you’re always so willing to help him with making an heir.

He pauses as you involuntarily let out a loud, deep moan, and clench around him. You’d both never explicitly said the obvious; that the only reason you go to bed together is to make an heir, it was just always known. But now, as he pants into your sweat sheened neck, telling you about how he’s going to stuff you and make you a mother, you’re practically dripping on the sheets…and he can feel it.

Leto lifts himself to look down at you, but you can’t meet his eye. You can already feel your cheeks warming, and you’re mortified. He keeps looking at you as he slowly starts thrusting again, and you close your eyes as the pleasure builds back up again. You can’t look at him, not now. But he has other ideas.

Your eyes snap open as you feel him hold your jaw firmly, forcing you to look at him. He’s so intense, you feel the urge to look away from him.

“No,” he demands, and your eyes immediately look back him. “You look at me. Keep looking at me.”

You let out a whimper as his hips speed up. “Y-yes, your Grace.”

“You’re doing so well,” he mutters, and gives out his own groan as you squeeze around him again. “So, so well sweetheart.”

You let out a noise that was between a whine and a sob. He’d never been so…affectionate before. Your orgasm was brewing, and he seemed nowhere near ready to finish. Your hips rocked with his as you felt every delicious caress his cock offered you. “Don’t stop. Please.” You were pretty sure you were clawing your nails in his back but you were so out of it, you couldn’t tell.

“I would never,” Leto said, looking in your eyes, and you believed him. “I’m going to keep going until you are filled with me. We’re not stopping until you are with child. My child.”

“Fuck!” you cried as your climax hits you hard. You still beneath him, your eyes closing as your mouth hangs open, the intense pleasure becomes all-encompassing, radiating outwards from your core. It's as if a floodgate of sensations opens, and a rush of euphoria spreads through your body. It's a release of tension, a peak of pleasure that can feel like a sweet explosion of sensation.

You’re positive you black out, as you come to your orgasm subsides, a sense of deep relaxation and contentment overtakes you, but Leto has released your jaw and is buried in your neck again, groaning your name as his hips slam into you with such force, you were certain he would leave bruises. You thread your fingers through his salt and pepper curls, and you give a whimpered, “Leto…”

He lets out a loud, guttural moan before his hips still in you, then give a few small, precise thrusts as he cums deep into you. He soon goes limp on top of you, his forearm holding him up as not to crush you. You pant as you look at the ceiling above you, the sudden feeling of panic in your chest overtaking. That was incredibly inappropriate. You used less-than-ladylike language, you’d called him by his name. You’d marked his back. You were sure Lady Jessica would have your head –

You both let out a groan as he pulls out of you, and you feel your combined fluids drip out of you. You’re about to apologise to him but you let out a loud gasp as Leto grabs the back of your thighs and practically folds you in half before pushing his fingers into your wet and sensitive pussy. You’re gasping and you’re about to question him but the words fall flat on your tongue, seeing how strongly he’s staring at you.

“Do not move,” he demands of you.

You nod your head at him. “Yes, your Grace.”

He gives you a small grin, his fingers moving just that much deeper into you, causing a small moan to escape your lips. “I think, now, you can call me Leto. We are married, after all.”

#duke leto x reader #duke leto atreides x reader #leto atreides x reader #dune 2021 #oscar isaac

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ddarker-dreams · 1 year ago

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Nexus V.

Yandere Blade x F Reader.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy relationships, possessive behavior, codependency o'clock, implied/mentioned not SFW, coercion and mommy issues. Word count: 10.1k.

Nexus index.

Time is a way to measure reality.

It allows the woefully inadequate mind of a sentient being to process a sliver of something greater. The senses are a sieve that retains what little they can of the universe’s riptide. Considering this, it’s no wonder the Aeons tend to keep to themselves. How long would you entertain the whims of a speck of dust? You’d gain nothing from it. The dust cannot understand, it lacks the means to properly perceive you. It simply wishes to find a nice, comfortable spot to occupy its days. It can loathe, revere, or fear you, it matters not; for in the end, it’s nothing but a speck of dust.

So why do the Aeons occasionally make themselves known? What do they stand to gain? Further power, enlightenment, entertainment?

They should’ve just kept wading through the stellar sea.

Specks of dust shouldn’t be allowed to wield even an ounce of their power.

All it does is let them destroy themselves and others in new, horrific ways.

The white rings around your mother’s pupils shine.

She subjects Kafka and Blade to concurrent curses. Cutting, snipping, trimming; their psyches are flayed one layer at a time. How she does so rivals a butcher preparing a tender cut more than a doctor performing a delicate surgery. Inky blots propagate along Blade’s vision. From this limited perspective, you can’t determine Kafka’s condition. Not that it would matter, you can barely comprehend what Blade’s going through.

Mother has to be forming a link, right?

Ideally, both parties consent to a link’s formation. This grants stability and lowers the chances of complications. An unwelcome link is treated with the same hostility as an immune system that’s noticed a germ. It’s sought out, identified, then exterminated. The host may suffer malaise for a time, but if their body is in working order, the problem will sort itself out.

There has to be more to this, you surmise. Mom, please, don’t let this be the end. You can’t. Not you.

The disease inflicted on Blade metastasizes; Kafka is likely facing a similar predicament. Memories swarm around him like locusts, buzzing and biting.

The Zhuming is the womb from which divine weapons are born. It is the warden to the subdued Flint Emperor, whose flames once burned hot enough to rival the stars. These flames will one day exterminate the rampant borisin, the young boy is certain. Whether it be in his lifetime or not doesn’t matter. No child deserves to be made an orphan. He can’t undo what’s been done to him, but he can help prevent it from happening to others.

“If you believe you are up to the task, I will take you on as my apprentice. What you do with the knowledge I impart is your decision.”

This Foxian lady sent to retrieve support for the fight against the borisin loves to chat. There’s rarely an instance where a grin can’t be found on her face, wide enough that her eyes must squish to accommodate her exuberance.

“Just focus on what you want to do, and let fate take its course."

Those who belong to the short-life species cannot grasp a nebulous concept such as ‘fate.’ This sentiment is commonly found among his fellow Artisanship Commission members. It doesn’t deter him — if anything, his resolve is strengthened. His life won’t be as long as theirs, but it will burn hot and bright before it extinguishes.

“The borisins must pay the price for their evil.”

One day, a lady with long, silver hair, who has conquered the moon and brought it to heel, approaches him. The air around here is crisp, contrasting the sweltering air of the Zhuming. She reminds him of the winters he experienced on his home planet. He had forgotten how frost stings.

“A talent such as yours shouldn’t be left to drown amidst a mediocre sea. After this visit, I’m bound for the Loufu. A seat will be made available for you. Come and reach your full potential, or, languish here where your accolades will fade from history’s recollection.”

The Shard Sword, Starfall Reverie, Cloud-Piercer, and Baiheng’s recurve bow were no longer what he treasured most. Those monumental accomplishments don’t enrich lives, it ends them. Standing here, where the ocean’s blue is more brilliant than the artificial sky, is where he’s found something akin to peace. The Scalegorge Waterscape has become a gathering place for friends. Laughter, sparring, and the burning of liquor are shared beneath the moon’s watchful eye.

He raises a cup to his lips and silently wishes this joy could last forever.

“Do you remember?”

This voice interrogated him unceasingly for answers they both knew he couldn’t give. Again and again, he’d undergo a punishment disguised as a lesson. Frost didn’t just sting, it imparted necrosis, yet what is decomposition to an immortal but a joke? Again and again, his flesh would be pierced, organs punctured with expert execution. His body wasn’t allowed the privilege to rot.

Again and again, he’d be swallowed by death, only to be spat back up, as it’s unable to digest him.

"Listen, I can always kill you again, otherwise I can't bring you back."

What he thought to be prey standing in his way turned out to be apex predators. A woman who could render him useless with her words alone and a suit of armor that reflected the sun in his weary eyes. He had to get his fill of death before considering her offer. It sounded too good to be true, but he was reminded that the universe has enough instruments to perform the threnody he so desperately wishes to hear.

“Having trouble settling on a gift? Hm… I suppose that’s to be expected. Any off-world flora you leave behind will shrivel beneath the planet’s atmosphere, unless it possesses special qualities. It’d be a bad omen to give her a lotus that can wilt. Why not try a different approach?”

He stands solitary on the cragged terrain around the LOTUS-EATER. Though she’ll soon emerge to gaze up at the starless sky, his wait won’t end there. It’ll bleed into the next day, then the day after that, on and on the cycle will spin. Destiny’s Slave promised this vortex would end so long as he remained patient. Once he fully bows down before her, damnation will be her crown. The weight of his burden is to be shared by two.

He considers the iridescent crystals in his bandaged hands.

He thought the joy he found in creation died the same day ▇▇▇▇▇ did.

This emotion’s resurrection, however…

… If it’s a sin, then what’s another addition to his list?

“Listen, Blade, snap out of it.”

The swarm falls silent.

Bright screens, the thrum of the oxygen generator, sterile colors. Kafka towers over him, implying that he’s fallen to the ground. Her complexion lacks its usual glow. While Blade stands, she reaches inside her jacket and pulls out a portable blush. She dusts the rosy powder over her cheeks.

“That was unpleasant,” Kafka sighs. She snaps the container shut. “I guess that’s to be expected from one of Noct’s Emanators. It seems you bore the brunt of it, though.”

Mom, an Emanator? You think. Maybe… maybe that means she had a chance to get away. This was a diversion that she used to go into hiding. Faking a corpse is within their skillset, Silver Wolf can hack reality itself. I only looked at it long enough to confirm her identity.

Blade places a hand on his throbbing head and grimaces. His vision alternates between different degrees of blurriness. Kafka’s positioned in front of him, which prevents you from seeing the area your mother occupied. You pray to anything that might listen for her to fucking move already.

“That trip down memory lane was a red herring,” Kafka says. “She bought herself enough time to complete her real objective.”

Even Kafka thinks so!

Instead of explaining further, she leisurely reaches for her lipstick. Your frustration boils over. You aren’t the only one feeling impatient. Blade hasn’t uttered a word, but his typical apathy ebbs and flows irregularly. Kafka hums a tune as she smears the rouge pigment along her puckered lips. This whimsical attitude shows no signs of tapering off.

Blade exhales sharply, belying his annoyance. He’s near his limit as well.

Kafka clicks her tongue. “Don’t be so impatient, you two. I’m dolling myself up.”

…‘You two?’

“Yes. Now, let me assess the damage,” Kafka switches from looking at Blade to inspecting his psyche. She gasps, playing the role of a melodramatic damsel perfectly. “Oh my. Ania did a number on you.”

This woman is insufferable, always playing coy. I swear, the next time I see her—

“Your memories of [First] Phaeales, the visceral emotions she stirs up in you; they’re growing fuzzier by the second, I presume? In an hour or so, they’ll be gone altogether. Hmm… ‘gone’ might not be the best word to describe it. Sealed away might be more appropriate.”

A premonition too cruel to put into words coils around you.

No, no, no.

“Can you fix it?” Blade strains. The hypothetical Kafka suggested encourages his mara to writhe and hiss in dissatisfaction. It crawls around his head, murmurs near his cochlea in a scratchy voice, demanding a quick fix. To be deprived of you is unacceptable, it insists. This sentencing must be overturned. It wants you, needs you and will destroy anything to have you. Himself included.

Pandemonium wreaks havoc inside his head, it’s like he barely exists. The warring influences rip away as if drawing and quartering him.

“I can’t, no. It’s beyond my abilities,” Kafka’s smile is all teeth. “Fortunately, I do know of someone who can undo it.”

His mara hushes so it may hear her out.

“Contact them,” he snaps.

“You’d get all bashful if I did. Besides, I don’t think she’d do a very thorough job if she knew the context.”

Kafka stares Blade in the eye and tilts her head like she’s posing for the camera. “Isn’t that right, Miss Phaeales?”

You think you might be living in a nightmare.

Please, no…

Blade’s heart lurches inside his chest at your mention.

“Listen, Bladie. Until [First] Phaeales undoes her mother’s seal, you’ll be unable to remember the past twenty-four hours. The second the seal is undone, this memory, on June 8th, 2153 AE, starting from Eris’ local time of 0223 and concluding at 0214, will resurface in your consciousness. It will play for her so she’s fully caught up.”

How could something this awful… ever happen…?

The edges of the memory fade and curl inward like burning paper.

“I’ll throw in some advice, just for you, sweetie. He’s bound to get tongue-tied around you, so remember to be patient,” Kafka’s suggestion is muffled. “Oh, and another thing. You might want to get a headstart while you can.”

…

You can’t breathe.

The room performs for you, rippling side to side, hypnotizing as a pocket watch. A white blur whirrs by. Clink, clink, clink, it crashes, spurting its innards in a splatter of red and glimmering gold. The sound itself seems delayed, echoing a moment too late. It isn’t in time with the opal shards that scatter like teeth along the polished floor. The deluge is offbeat, dissonant, yet the song continues.

You can’t breathe.

The percussion is ousted, making way for the woodwind section. The flutes raise and raise in pitch. This tocsin sounds shrill and consistent, stabbing your eardrums, and vibrating your bones. Dizziness makes for a distracting audience member, its dry, unblinking eyes landing on you. It opens its maw impossibly wide, tearing the tendons around its cracked lips, and swallows your head. For some reason, it cannot go past your neck, so it contents itself with gorging on your cranium like it’s sucking candy.

You can’t breathe.

There’s something living inside your throat. A parasite, leech, or slug, maybe. It wriggles back up whenever you try swallowing, like jello on a wobbling plate. The tiny hairs along its gelatinous body tickle your esophagus. You’re always on the precipice of choking, but not quite. It delights in the warm and moist cavern you’ve provided.

You can’t die because it wants more from you.

You can’t be reduced to a husk because your vitality sustains it.

You can’t breathe, you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe—

Something awful touches your skin and you want to burn the residue it leaves behind.

“[First].”

You scramble back until your spine hits a cold, solid surface. A hand retracts.

What is this thing before you? It’s tall and has eyes like vats of blood. You see your reflection held captive inside the crimson miasma. The woman it shows resembles you in some ways and doesn’t in others. She looks afraid. Sickly. Lost somewhere between the junction of life and death. Traipsing, testing the fraying line’s integrity. One wrong step guarantees a plummet to inconceivable depths.

“[First].”

“Don’t,” you rasp, your voice wobbling like a transmission with a poor signal, “Don’t you fucking dare come near me!”

He listens. For now, at least. You’d be a fool to mistake stalling for surrender. You press your back into the wall hard enough to ache. The enclosed space seemingly shrinks around you. You press a trembling hand over your heart, feeling how it hammers against your chest cavity. The room’s air is stifling. Your sympathetic nervous system can’t decide its course of action. Should the little oxygen you’re inhaling go to your brain or your heart? Delegation is a tricky endeavor.

Blade’s gaze eats you alive.

He’s starving and you’re the only thing that can fill him.

The manifestation of his mara frightened you less.

Mom, what have I done? What can I do?

“You should sit,” he says. You want to rip his vocal cords to shreds. “There’s nowhere to run and you know better than to fight.”

As if he had to remind you.

The Shard Sword. So that’s the name of the terror he wields? You’ve read about it in history books, there are entire chapters dedicated to the High-Cloud Quintet’s exploits. Even if he were unarmed, you wouldn’t stand a chance. Any flesh wound will heal, any organ will stitch itself back together, and any death will be a temporary visit he’ll saunter back from.

Blade takes a step closer.

How do you get out of this? How do you get him to stop? What would get him to stop?

What could he possibly want more than you?

Oh.

The answer unfurls like a body bag.

… There is one more thing, isn’t there?

You thread your psyches together with a thin string. It’s too weak in its present state, the weight of your goal will make it snap instantly. You need to fortify it as best as you can. Otherwise, there is no place you can go where he won’t find you. The prismatic shards that record his history are no longer indecipherable, each moment is visible to you, forming a macabre mosaic.

The second you finalize this link, he’ll know. Your touch isn’t a stranger to his mind anymore. Nothing about you is.

You recall the shattered opal goblet a few feet away.

You let your knees buckle like they’ve desired all along. You fall toward the jagged shards and you brace yourself. It happens as swiftly as you expected — his inhuman speed allows him to catch you easily. He steadies you against him, holding you up since the strength leaving your body wasn’t an act.

Your hand brushes over a sliver of his skin.

You wanted me to show you what it’s like to die, you think. It isn’t beyond my means at all, Yingxing!

The Synalink is a success.

He might want you, but his longing for a permanent death eclipses that.

This is a scenario unlike any you’ve ever built before. The dimensions are simple, you’re creating one static scene. It isn’t a vast galaxy with trade, economies, and conflicting ideals, teeming with planets that house millions of individuals who each have their own role in the story to play. Grass doesn’t have to blow just right, there aren’t bystanders whose conversations you need to generate and perform maintenance on.

The stage you’ve built is, at its core, nothing. A vacuum you’ve molded into a cube and placed him in the middle of.

You’ve cut off stimuli to each of his senses. He can’t perceive anything, because there’s nothing to perceive.

His psyche shows no signs of resistance. This is what he wants, isn’t it? Total absolution. The loss of self, to be undone and woven into the universe’s indifferent tapestry. Every factor has aligned in your favor like a once-in-a-millennium syzygy. Your newfound knowledge of his past, his most innate desire being death, then the amplification physical touch brings.

This isn’t an unknown pathogen, it’s a welcome salvation.

You just have to maintain it.

Your main hurdle is finding a way to do so while navigating the physical world. The slightest deviation could have catastrophic consequences, his acumen is that competent. How long can you sustain this Synalink if you don’t dedicate your entire attention to it? There’s no point of reference. For all you know, it could be impossible.

Regardless, you have to try.

Reopening your corporeal eyes, you find yourself in the private room.

The Stellaron Hunter, who uses the alias ‘Blade,’ stands behind you like a cocked gun.

He isn’t moving. The white rings in his eyes match yours. His vitals are consistent with what you see in clients immersed in Synalinks. Low respiration and heartbeat, and the paralysis of limbs so as to deter unwanted motor functions.

You hold your breath, shimmy out of his loosened grasp, and then cautiously take a step back.

Your heels crunch down on a stray fragment from the broken goblet. You cringe.

You expect the worst when you gather the courage to look at him again.

Still nothing.

Keeping your back against the wall, you awkwardly slide toward the door leading to The Lounge.

The burning question of what to do next sears your mind. You have no faith or trust in Chrysus. There’s Caicias, but he’s in Mele. The fastest nectar guide would still take two hours, factoring in the repairs being done to the one in Thelx. Even if he did make it here, what could he do? Help you negotiate? Would Blade even give him the chance? You’d be condemning the elder quadrant leader to certain death.

Who is in your star system? You’ve heard that the Astral Express has had run-ins with the Stellaron Hunters, but they could be millions of light-years away. Then there’s Kafka. If she goes too long without hearing from Blade, she won’t just sit around and let you scheme. Silver Wolf could hack into the LOTUS-EATER’s surveillance system or use thermal imaging to gauge the situation.

The price of hope is too steep.

Your fingers grope blindly for the door’s switch. You refuse to take your attention off Blade for a split second. You feel a protrusion, start to flick it up—

Sparks fly from the wall like frantic fireflies, joined by chunks of dark debris. Strands of your hair blow aside as if subject to a wicked gale. Sediment scratches at your skin. Out of instinct, your eyes squeeze shut, shielding you from what they can. A figure towers above you. You can’t see him, but you can feel him. The torment, bloodlust, and yearning are so prevalent that they may as well be in the room alongside you.

Through a looking glass, you saw the reflections of a wretched life.

How he fell victim to a friend unwilling to accept a comrade’s untimely demise. That for this incursion, death would never grant him permanent residency. Over a thousand times, a swordmaster gripped by madness tested this ordinance, her strikes colder than winter’s wrath.

He’d lose a piece of himself each time, leaving a mangled afterimage of what he once was.

A sinner rendered mara-struck and immortal — a shade that will dye you his accursed color.

Blade pins your wrists above your head. It hurts, but you’ve learned there’s pain worse than this.

“Open your eyes.”

It isn’t a request.

You hesitate for as long as he allows. Ultimately, you have no choice but to give him what he wants. Scarlet eyes reward your reluctant obedience. Leering, glowing. Your chest heaves beneath the burden of each breath. Something wet and warm trickles down your cheek. It titillates the flames of his mara as if it’d been lathered in oil. He shackles your wrists with his gloved hand and drags the other downward. Over your temple, cheekbone, then finally, your chin.

He tilts your head up.

Neither of you speak.

How? How did he break free?

You didn’t sense any fluctuations, nothing that’d warn of your incoming fate. Your control didn’t slip, it was pulled out right from underneath you.

Isn’t death what every segment of his psyche seeks? His rationality, morality, and base instincts were all in agreement, a unanimous jury that didn’t require deliberation.

What unforeseen note upset this triad?

Your reflection in his eyes is drenched in red.

“Haha… seriously?” You laugh a humorless laugh. “Me?”

Blade doesn’t respond. You don’t know if he heard you. Either way, it doesn’t matter. He is the author of whatever happens next.

A butterfly with injured wings loses none of its original beauty. If anything, it’s made easier to admire, now that it can no longer fly away. You have nowhere to go, nothing to do, and not a word to say that’d make a difference. This futility reassures his mara. That which was held above its head has been made to crawl along the ground. Blade seizes total control of himself as his mara slinks away. Cognizant of his bruising grip, he releases you. Without his crushing support, you collapse like a house of cards. Your knees hit the ground.

You sink down further and squeeze your head in between your hands.

It hurts, mom, it hurts. Why couldn’t you give me up one more time? ‘My’ life never belonged to me in the first place, anyway. You should’ve granted the shift in ownership when it was still a choice.

… I’m scared.

There is no getting out of this, is there?

Metal clinks by your side. Dazedly, you inspect the sound’s source. A silver dagger rests beside you. It’s small in build, yet pointed as a weapon should be. Your attention flitters between him and the blade. What is this? A pitiful attempt to level the playing field? Has he not humiliated you enough? Taken everything that wasn’t yours to give?

Sensing your confusion, he explains, “Sins should be punished.”

You grasp the hilt.

It’s heavy.

“What… are you even saying…?” You murmur. Is he referring to your mother? “It’s ‘permissible’ to take life, according to you.”

You recount his creed with the venom it merits.

He falls silent.

“Not yours… not for free,” he drawls. “I’ll pay any price.”

Transactions benefit both parties. What’s there for him to gain?

You stand on unsteady legs.

Blade’s countenance is an impenetrable fortress. The violent waves have settled, leaving still, murky waters. Is it twisted affection swirling in his gaze? Guilt? The celebration of a long-fought battle? You don’t know. You don’t know what to think, feel, or do. You’re just numb. What will you be after this? Your mother likened their designs for you to a ‘retractable leash.’ Close, but not quite.

You’ll be more of a portable oxygen tank.

Kafka can’t always be there to soothe Blade’s mara, but you can. You will. You have to. It’s a duty that binds more than marriage.

If transactions benefit both parties, then…

What he’s offering to pay for here is you.

Your eyes drop down to the dagger.

The currency will be blood and flesh. He’ll let you kill him, however you want, for as long as you want. Ten, one hundred, one thousand times or beyond, until you feel the scales have balanced. The blank canvas has given you the tools to create your final masterpiece. Once the paint dries, the roles will reverse. The subjugated will become the subjugator. It isn’t a matter of if, it’s a matter of when.

You raise the dagger, his cold heart your target. It’s yours. A gift, a burden, an unbreakable vow.

You plunge it down, and—

—He doesn’t even flinch.

The tip of the blade rips his shirt, but not his flesh.

You toss it aside and shake your head.

“Has anything worthwhile… ever come from killing you…?”

Blade doesn’t respond, but you know he heard you.

He furrows his eyebrows, your question hanging over his head. Whatever he expected, this must not have been a possibility he accounted for. Had he been anyone else, he might conflate mercy for forgiveness. He isn’t, though. He knows the crippling weight of guilt. How it secretly imbues you with a craving for more, so you can finally be crushed to death, instead of being forced to roll the boulder onward.

Each slice would be for him as much as it is for you.

If that’s penance to him, you will never grant it.

“My mom…” you trail off, not because you don’t know how to complete the sentence, but because finishing it will finish something inside you. “Is she…?”

Blade’s memories have made their way back to him using you as their bridge. You could parse through them, but you don’t want to. You don’t think he’ll lie. He hasn’t lied to you as far as he knew. The truth is worse and the truth is what you’ll get. The emotions you pick up from him hint at what you already know. They nibble at you as piranhas would. Notably missing from the onslaught is any iteration of guilt or its distant cousin, regret.

He’d die a thousand deaths to pay the fee of having you. What’s a little more bloodshed to someone who views death as enviable?

“Never mind,” you murmur. “Forget I asked.”

He won’t.

He refuses to forget anything about you ever again.

For now, he’ll pretend otherwise.

You’ve decided that from this distance, Eris looks like a marble.

It’s just a little black sphere, infused with the occasional stream of gold. You center the image in between your thumb and pointer finger, making minuscule adjustments until it fits just right. Once you’re content, you hold it there, squinting your left eye so this speck’s the main focus.

As of the latest census in 2155 AE, the planet Eris is thought to have a population of 2,912,840. 560,432 in Ade, 1,510,781 in Mele, an estimated 200,400 in Arc, and 641,227 in your home quadrant of Thelx. Each of those numbers can be attributed to a living, breathing being. Someone with their own family, history, ethics, dreams, and struggles. Your fellow Nymphalians, descendants of prisoners dumped on a dark and frigid planet to die.

You thought you’d given them your life before. In a pretty, metaphorical sense, that could be made into poems for generations.

Your conversation with Destiny’s Slave reassured you that no, there’s nothing pretty or metaphorical about what awaits you. No one will be penning sentimental poems detailing an ascetic’s life led in solitude so that the people may prosper. You’ll be a cold case. For a week, your name will be a hot topic on primetime television. A headline sprawled in large font across news media companies. ‘Tragedy Strikes: Eris’ [First] Phaeales Kidnapped, IPC Implicates Stellaron Hunters,’ or something to that effect.

Then another calamity will occur and you’ll be pushed from the public’s consciousness.

You might get a special mention on anniversaries. The first, fifth, tenth, fiftieth, then the hundredth. Podcasts will do deep dives. Books will be written. Forum boards will swap theories. Who knows? An anonymous user might guess the truth and be labeled a conspiracy theorist for their troubles.

You pinch your thumb and pointer finger together, smushing the faraway planet from your perspective.

“Boom!” You exclaim in a whisper yell. “Is that how easy it is to you?”

He doesn’t respond.

You turn away from the sheet of glass separating you from the limitless depths of outer space.

“The silent treatment, huh?” You muse, drumming your fingers against the window pane. “You saw this future and worked oh so hard to procure it. What? Having second thoughts, now that it’s here? That’d be a shame.”

There’s something ugly living inside your heart. It’s been there since you were born and will remain until you die. Maybe it lives inside everyone, you can’t say, you can only speak for yourself. Kindness isn’t inherent, it’s learned. Practiced so that it may be honed. Otherwise, the steel grows dull and rusts. Sharpening means losing layers of yourself against a whetstone. Those layers are worth losing, you’re told. Spite, vengeance, hatred; they’re all so, so ugly. Little imps that should be sandpapered away.

An eye for an eye makes the whole world blind, that sort of platitude. It’s nice bumper sticker material. Something to slap on a graphic tee or coffee cup, maybe. To be fair, practicing the antithesis isn’t so simple either.

You don’t want his eye, it’ll grow back.

You don’t want his life, he’ll just be born anew.

You don’t want him, but from now on, he’s all you’ll get.

“Are you curious about the deal I made with Elio?” You probe.

Blade sighs, likely preparing himself for the vitriol you’ll slew his way.

“I don’t need to know.”

“You want to know, though,” you smile thinly. “I could feel you brooding from rooms away. What? Does the thought of me speaking to another man displease you that—”

He rushes forward and lifts you by the collar of your blouse. You don’t waver, if anything, you could get drunk off this emotional outburst. His nostrils flare and you can feel his warm breath fan against your face. Your heart whirrs strong against its bony restraints, adrenaline blasting throughout your system.

“That mouth of yours is testing me,” he chuckles, although he’s far from amused. “Have you forgotten the position you’re in?”

“Have you?” You scoff. His grip tightens. “Go ahead. Choke me, ravish me. You can’t bring yourself to though, can you? Want to know why? Hm? You’re holding out for the slim, impossible chance that I might return your fucked up feelings, even if just a little bit.”

Scornfully, you whisper, “Elio was generous enough to answer some of my questions. The extent of the Stellaron’s influence, the true perpetrators behind the nectar guide bombing, why you’d get so pissy whenever Lear swung by… in retrospect, it’s painfully obvious, really. Messing with the LOTUS-EATER’s noise-canceling software is child’s play for Silver Wolf. Did you enjoy eavesdropping on us? Probably not, huh?”

He growls your name, low and menacingly. It’s a warning.

You ignore him. Maybe you shouldn’t, but you do.

“I never told him,” your lower lip trembles. “Because of you, I’ll never get to, either. You want to pay a price? Have your sins punished? Start by listening to this!”

His mara bubbles up as if it were magma. For someone unraveling from the inside out, he doesn’t look the part. Emotion and vitality have drained from his face. His complexion is that of the dead man he wishes himself to be. Pale, vapid. He wants you to stop, yet the only way you would is if he tore out your tongue. To do so would guarantee he’d never get to hear those three words directed at him. He must consider that fate harrowing indeed if he allows the means for you to utter your next sentence.

The finger you pricked all those years ago tingles.

“Lear is the only one I’ve loved. The only one I’ll ever love. He gave me a life; you’ve destroyed mine. How could you ever compare, Yingxing? How can you even come close?”

You wrench yourself free from Blade’s grasp. He lets you.

His hands remain where you once were. Gradually, they fall, as do his shoulders and head. It’s peculiar. You’ve come to be so in tune with his emotions, picking up on frequencies only you can hear. This pitch falls silent. His mara is too. The infighting over where he should begin and end calls for a temporary cease-fire. Neither madness nor sanity care for victory, their attention has been cast elsewhere, to a more prominent problem.

“It is.”

You narrow your eyes. “What?”

“Earlier, you asked if it’s that easy for me,” he says, plainly. “It is.”

Your system absorbs the implication as well as it would cyanide.

“Eris and all of its inhabitants are strictly off-limits. I figured you'd already heard this.”

“I have.”

“Then—”

“It’s not loyalty that ties the Stellaron Hunters together,” he interrupts. “It’s the pursuit of individual goals which just happen to align.”

Blade saunters forward. You bristle, awaiting unwanted physical contact, yet he brushes by your shoulder. His footsteps echo throughout the ship’s hollow corridors. You pivot, intent on following his every movement. He gazes out the window, your home planet his point of interest. The little black and gold marble orbited by four moons, far away from any star.

“Goals change, lotus.”

His eyes find yours in the window’s reflection.

He’s bluffing. He has to be.

“You’ve sought death for over 700 years,” is your uneasy reply. “Surely, you wouldn’t risk the one avenue you have to reach it.”

“Didn’t I already betray that expectation of yours?”

Death is no longer what every segment of his psyche seeks, as it’s the one place he can’t have you.

“... You’ve stopped running your mouth. Clever girl,” Blade flexes his fists by his side. The leather glove on his hand creaks as he does so. “If you think this an empty threat, I have a suggestion.”

Blade grins from ear to ear.

“Repeat any of what you just said to me and I’ll prove it isn’t.”

It’s as if his mara forms tendrils that slowly slither up your body. It caresses your thighs, your midriff, and your chest. Breathes against your nape and coils around your neck. You can’t find the strength to move. It wishes you would so that it’d have an excuse to hold you tighter. Squeeze harder. Sink into you deeper.

You glower at him. His mara keens, finding the expression delightful.

“Look at me like that any longer and I’ll take you up on your suggestion.”

You pinch your eyebrows together, belying your confusion.

He wets his lips with his tongue.

“‘Choke me, ravish me,’ was it?” he muses, chuckling breathlessly. “Who am I to deny such a tempting offer?”

Finally, you muster the effort necessary to break free from his hypnotic stare. You’re overcome with the need to scrub off every part of your skin he’s touched. You want the residue gone, purged from your flesh. Nausea floods you like a broken dam.

You let him touch you, you let him kiss you, you let him fuck you.

He can’t have anything else.

You don’t know what more there is to take.

His eyes are heavy on your back as you leave the room. This spaceship’s decently big, but it’s not enough. A universe could separate you, but it still wouldn’t suffice. You’ll create any gap you can, illusionary or otherwise. You speed through the ship’s main corridor until you near what’s to be your room. Before you can open it, your hand stills.

Elio said we’re to leave on a job the second Silver Wolf starts distracting the IPC’s blockade, you think. That should be any minute now.

Your blood freezes over.

After this ship makes the jump, you’ll never see Eris again.

Or Nona.

Or Lear.

Will Nona continue to pursue her studies without you there to teach her? Is there a reason for her to? She’s come so far since you first met. That harsh, untrusting girl with a permanent scowl blossomed into something truly special.

“Seriously? You’re supposed to be my mentor?”

“Alright, lemme set one thing straight. I’m here to save up enough to leave this shithole. If that hurts your feelings, go and cry to mommy about it, I couldn’t care less. It’ll be bad press to ship your latest Arc rescue back over, after all.”

“Why do you care about this planet, anyway? Beyond whatever sense of purpose you get from playing the hero, I mean. All anyone here ever does is complain and half-ass things. ‘Let’s give anarchy a shot guys, but like, a nice version of anarchy, where we all hold hands around a campfire and sing songs.’ It’s hilarious.”

“The first time I made it to Thelx’s border as a kid, I thought I was hallucinating. I asked my older travel buddy, ‘What’s with these tiny, floating yellow spheres?’ She didn’t even spare me a glance, she was so enchanted. ‘That’s light,’ she said. ‘Take a good, long look. You won’t be seeing much of it.’ I remember how angry hearing that made me. Not just what she was saying, but how she said it. Like she’d given up. Like that was acceptable.”

“A cargo ship bound for Rosiz is heading out in three cycles. You and Lear could come with me, y’know. Elope, or whatever. My contact would allow it. Probably. Hey, don’t give me an answer right away. Geez. At least think about it.”

“Yep, I’m still here. Surprise! My other plans fell through, what can I say? Apparently, Rosiz is run by a weird blood cult. I don’t want anything to do with that. Guess you’re stuck with me a while longer. What’s with that look? Yeah, I still think this planet’s a shithole. But, you’re here, so… it’s 5% less shitty, give or take. Lear brings that up to a whopping 15%. Yes, he gets a value of ten. Have you tasted his cooking?”

Will Lear ever know how much it meant when he comforted the haughty and naive girl you once were? How without him, all you ever would’ve known was loneliness? You were a handful, there’s no doubting that. It’s a miracle he put up with you.

He had the softest voice when you were kids.

“I’m supposed to play the princess? But… but… I’m a boy, and you’re a girl… so shouldn’t you…? Ow, ow, stop pinching! Okay, okay! I’ll be the princess! Eh? Whaddya mean ‘you’ll kiss it better?’ Miss Phaeales? Miss Phaeales…?!?!?!”

“I’m back from work, my wife. Huh? Husbands don’t say that? No no no no, you can’t play the husband, I have to play the husband! Lemme try again! Ahem. From work, I have returned… woman… I’ve married. That’s no good either? This is so complicated!”

“I dunno why you like Connect Four so much. I mean, we could play Monopoly, but you always steal credits when I look away. No, that's not allowed! … You’re just ‘being a capitalist?’ What’s that mean? Cheater, or something?”

He didn’t lose this soft quality when he became an adult — his tenderness was the air you breathed.

“‘What do I want,’ huh? Where do I begin? To be a part of you, I guess? Ah, if I’d known you were going to grin like that, I wouldn’t have said anything. W-Well, of course I want you. I just don’t think the phrasing’s right. You’ve always viewed yourself as a commodity. I don’t want to reinforce such a terrible thought.”

“It’s… so good, so warm, so… fuck, please, don’t look at me like that. I can’t believe… that I get to do this with you. You’re beautiful, you’re everything…! I’ve always loved you so much. So, so much. Is this okay? Is it really okay? If it is, then please, let me pleasure you.”

“Quit messing around with me already. There’s no way that was your first time. Because, I mean, you’re so sought after, y’know? You must’ve had tons of opportunities to— ow ow ow, again with the pinching?! Alright, I get it, I get it! Pfft, stop, don’t make it weird. Okay, fine, hearing that does make me a little happy. Aaand there you go, making it weird. No, I’m not possessive. You said you don’t like possessive men, so… what? Of course I remembered that. I remember everything you say. Wait… are you embarrassed? I didn’t… didn’t think that was possible… one sec, lemme get my camera…”

You swore an oath not to cry.

You didn’t when packing the few items Blade approved of, or when you negotiated with Elio.

It’s not that you don’t want to. Should your resolve slip for a second, you grow dangerously close to drowning in a puddle of your own tears. There’s plenty to cry about, plenty to mourn. Once you start, though, you don’t think you’ll ever be able to stop. You’ll waste away as your body’s wrung for all its worth. Should that happen, you won’t be able to uphold your end of the bargain with Elio.

There’ll be a lot more to cry about then.

For this reason, you don’t turn back.

Your deal with Destiny’s Slave consists of two elements.

First, you are to serve as Blade’s ‘field partner,’ offering him your unremitted support however he sees fit. And second, you pledge the full extent of your psionic abilities to further the Stellaron Hunters’ mission. This second condition perplexed you, but it wasn’t like you had many bargaining chips. For so long as you cooperate, Eris will remain unharmed and the nascent Stellaron neutralized.

Kafka had called to ‘celebrate your inauguration.’ You braced yourself for the worst, but she was surprisingly amicable.

“Have you really never considered your utility outside of parlor tricks?” She wondered. “The power to create fantasias and read memories certainly has its uses, no?”

“I just don’t see how it’d contribute much,” you replied.

“If it stopped there, maybe. Should you be able to replicate Ania Phaeales’ seals, though… that’d come in handy.”

You gritted your teeth and read between the lines. They want that too, huh?

You’ve since worked tirelessly to understand how such an anomaly is possible, much less replicable. Silver Wolf provided an updated version of the Arbiter training software to aid your endeavors. You’ve tried and failed hundreds of times. Deleting fragments of a person’s psyche has disastrous results, as you once hypothesized. If the Stellaron Hunters wanted a foe lobotomized, they wouldn’t have gone through all the trouble of obtaining you.

The holographic screen floating before you presents an error message.

‘Generated psyche #643, Garçia Chamora, has been rendered comatose from suffering damage to his cerebral hemispheres. Press here or say next to generate a new psyche.’

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose.

This job on Rosiz requires a nobleman’s lifelong fealty to be sealed, you think. If I can’t figure this out before then…

Your stomach jumps to your throat like you’re in a free fall.

Leaning back in your chair, you swipe the screen away. You look at the digital clock in the ship’s common room. It reads 2:05 a.m. This shift to a twenty-four-hour time has been a pain, but you think this number means it’s late. While glancing around the uninspired decor, your eyes land on a solitary figure.

Blade sits on a beige couch with his arms and legs crossed, his eyelids shut. You assume he’s asleep. There are plenty of comfortable beds he could veg out on, but wherever you are, he isn’t far behind. You don’t get why he’s playing prison warden. He can’t think you’re stupid enough to try escaping with almost three million lives dangling over your head, can he? Perhaps he’s getting off on your suffering.

Whatever the case, you loathe having to breathe the same air as him. You wish he’d fuck off already.

You’ve barely spoken to one another since he made his threat. If it has to do with the upcoming job, you’ll give a few curt words and nothing more. He’s never been outgoing, so without you initiating conversation, hours trudge by in tense silence. You’ve recently made the unfortunate realization his input on your mother’s seal would be useful. He was under it for two years, there must be some information you can glean from him. You need anything you can get.

The thought of asking him for assistance, though… it makes you sick.

“What?” he asks, his voice gravelly from unuse.

You tense. He could tell you were looking at him without opening his eyes?

“Nothing,” you reply.

He grunts and that’s the end of it. You pull the holographic screen back up, eager to distract yourself. Except, all you can focus on is the #643 in the bottom left corner. You’ve already made that many attempts without any progress? One of Kafka’s contacts is going to help sneak this ship onto Rosiz in two days. You’re running out of time.

You spare Blade a quick glance. Unsurprisingly, he hasn’t moved.

Every muscle in your face scrunches up as if you’d bitten a lemon.

Just get it over with, you tell yourself.

“Blade?”

He makes a noise to prove he heard you.

“Can I… ask you a few questions?”

“That depends on what they are.”

You exhale shakily. “When your memories of me were sealed away, what did it feel like?”

His mara murmurs, discontent at this reminder. He appears outwardly unaffected.

“Why do you want to know?”

You play with your skirt’s hem, picking at a loose thread. This is what you were afraid of.

“Knowing will help me understand and replicate the seal better,” you explain. Then, you hastily add, “For the job.”

All is silent. You shift in your seat.

“That isn’t my concern,” is his eventual answer.

Your jaw drops. “Wh— are you serious? You wouldn’t want to botch a job, would you?”

“It wouldn’t be me ‘botching’ it,” Blade says, coolly, evenly. “It would be you.”

You gnash your teeth together but bite your tongue. As callous as he’s acting, he isn’t wrong. He doesn’t owe you anything. Especially after you said what may have been the worst combination of words to him. You refuse to regret it, but you can follow the cause and effect.

“You really don’t care about what’d happen?” You press, breathless. “Eris is my home. You lived there for months yourself, experienced the culture… does that mean nothing?”

“Why do you ask questions you know you won’t like the answers to?”

Blade hasn’t so much as opened his eyes. You just don’t get it — you’ve peered inside his mind multiple times and still struggle to understand him. To what extent does he care about you, if that word even applies here? Does it stop at your physical well-being? Can his current nonchalance be attributed to your diatribe, or would he have acted this way regardless? He doesn’t make sense. He’s an enigma.

You decide to try another approach.

“What about Nona? You’d still feel nothing then?”

Finally, he opens his eyes. The warm hues feel cold.

“I hold no ill will toward your student. I’d consider it a shame,” he says. Despite his impersonal word choice, he isn’t being sarcastic. That must mean something. Before you can expand on this, he smiles. It’s far from kind. “I see you’ve omitted your boyfriend from this thought exercise. A wise choice.”

Your heart skips a beat.

Ah, fuck.

“A word of advice, girl. Manipulation isn’t your forte.”

It feels like a struggle between life and death to maintain eye contact.

“Negotiation, though, you’re half-decent at,” Blade muses. He inclines his head to the side. “Well? Make me an offer.”

You worry your bottom lip between your teeth. What do you have to offer? In a business setting, you can lowball some figures, that’s how everyone starts. You doubt he’s interested in money or stocks. There’s your Synalink ability, but there’s no way he’ll put himself in a vulnerable position like that again. Everything’s been taken from you. Your business, assets, connections, leverage; all you have are the clothes on your back. Still, if he’s entertaining this conversation, there must be something.

Goosebumps erupt all over your skin. “Are you… propositioning me?”

“Oh? That’s how you’ve chosen to interpret it?” he raises an eyebrow. “If that’s your offer, I accept.”

“No, I’m not—!”

“I know. Calm down,” he interrupts your panicked exclamation. “You’re easily rattled when exhausted.”

Your heart’s pounding so loud in your ears that it’s difficult to hear him.

“Relax. The next time I take you, I want you willing.”

The next time? Is he delusional? Has he suffered long-term memory loss? You’d sooner saw off your hand than sleep with him ever again. You come dangerously close to voicing this, but ultimately decide against it. You need him in an agreeable mood. This seal — have you been set up for failure? You can’t imagine why they’d bother. Still, there’s no singular script, as per Elio’s own admission. It’s a string of possibilities loosely connected by little choices. If one script isn’t followed, that means another has taken center stage.

Should you be unable to deliver, that future has been accounted for as well.

It’s a future that can’t come to pass.

Blade speaks your name.

“Come over here,” he says.

Your eyes widen and lips part, horror painting itself across your countenance.

He clicks his tongue. “Trust your own intuition. You said it yourself, didn’t you? That I’m ‘holding out.’”

You fight the urge to wince at the quotation. He’s the one who mentioned it, not you. This can’t count as an infraction on your behalf. Taking a deep breath, you start trekking over, counting each step. Thirteen, fourteen, fifteen… ah, it didn’t take anywhere near long enough.

He pats the spot beside him. Once you’re situated, an arm coils around your shoulders, tugging you into his side. Your heart thumps away. This is reminiscent of the evenings you spent together in your office and on the balcony. The high you received from sex would fade away, replaced by this nice, soft haze. Talkative as you were then, there was something about those moments that kept you quiet. You’re not sure why.

Maybe it’s because you realized you’d finally met someone lonelier than yourself.

“You’ve hardly eaten or slept. That I can understand,” Blade says. “What I don’t get, however, is why you haven’t cried.”

“I can’t.”

“You’re often on the verge of tears. Like now, for instance,” he points out. You struggle to swallow the lump in your throat. “Why not let it go?”

Something already broken in you shatters beyond recognition.

“What good would that do?!”

Your fingernails dig into your palms hard enough to bruise the sensitive flesh.

“I’m nothing, I-I have nothing, I’m—” you laugh and laugh, making your throat feel scratchier than it already is. “I wanted to do so much…! I was stupid. So stupid! I actually thought that I could— could find a way to fix things, if only I kept working, kept trying! There isn’t a way. There never was a way. We’re greedy, we’re awful, we’re ignorant. A planet like that… a universe like this… so long as we’re in it, it’s fucked, it’s all fucked.”

You shake your head. “I may have hated her, but I still wanted to be her. To outdo her. Prove that I could’ve done it better, that change was possible, so she’d have no excuse. I couldn’t do either. Even if I had, it wouldn’t have mattered. I’d just be delaying Eris’ inevitable fate like she did.”

Your shoulders heave with each painful breath you take.

“Did she feel vindicated in the end? Think that by saving me once, it’d make up for all the times she didn’t?”

Whether you’re talking to him or yourself, you can’t tell anymore. It doesn’t make a difference. Speaking the truth aloud doesn’t make it any more or less real. It just leaves a bitter taste that’ll never go away.

“If she cared so much, why did she never tell me?” You whisper, your voice cracking. “What was she so afraid of…?”

What was I so afraid of?

Tears trickle down your face in a free flow. The drizzle shifts to a torrential downpour, no matter how hard you try shaking or shutting it off. There’s no point in telling him this. You’ll probably regret it, somewhere down the line.

You faintly register how your body moves without your input. Blinking the wetness in your eyelashes away as best as you can, you see gold patterns. There’s weight around your shoulders too. Weight and warmth. The scent of blood and anise.

He’s pulled you into an embrace against his chest.

You twist and jerk your limbs around, attempting to purchase freedom you can’t afford. You yell at him, curse him, beg him to let you go, and still, his grip never relents. He just holds you there, your struggles amounting to nothing, your pleas falling on deaf ears. His grip doesn’t feel tight until you try wriggling yourself out of it. Then, and only then, are you hit with the realization he could crush you so easily. It must take a great deal of self-restraint to avoid doing so.

The fight leaves your body and you tremble like a leaf in the wind.

His large hand runs over your back, slow and steady, as if his touch were destined to soothe rather than destroy.

Your well of tears runs dry eventually.

“When you live for others, you’ll die for them too.”

Blade’s statement doesn’t make you feel better or worse. It washes over you without soaking in. Whether it’s a warning for you or condemnation for yourself, you don’t know. Perhaps the two overlap in an unsightly hybrid.

Some time passes before he speaks again.

“The day that man drew his weapon on you, I felt something stir, as rousing from a long slumber,” Blade reveals. “I assumed it should remain undisturbed.”

This is your chance. You detach yourself from him enough to look him in the eyes. He loosens his grip just enough to allow this, but no more. The vice would tighten should you try extracting yourself further. You wipe away the moisture clinging to your lower eyelashes with your wrists. Since he’s sitting, he isn’t towering over you. This small detail aids your waning resolve.

“What made you assume that?”

His bandaged hand cups your tear-stained cheeks. You wince, but allow him his indulgence.

“Instinct,” he murmurs.

Your eyebrows pinch together as you think. That wasn’t what you were expecting. You guessed that’d it feel like something significant was missing — a gaping hole. That the individual would want to fill it. Curiosity is the sentient being’s natural state, after all. Especially since this should’ve been an element of itself the mind wishes to reinstitute. Yearning, affection, and care; even if it’s a vestige of the full experience, these positive emotions shouldn’t set off alarm bells.

Unless the mind decided it was worth suppressing.

Maybe your mother wasn’t using the influx of memories inflected on Blade as a ‘red herring.’ Kafka adores messing with you, she could’ve floated the idea because she knew you’d hear it in the future. What was your mother doing then? Pulling up key instances throughout Blade’s life, specifically those with heightened emotions and long-lasting influences…

What if it’s not so much altering memories, but altering the mind’s perception of them?

The Arbiter training software is bound to your movements, which allows it to manifest with a few hand gestures. The screen displays itself close to your right. You’d prefer to figure this out elsewhere, but Blade doesn’t appear interested in letting you go anytime soon. He silently observes as you pore over the generated psyche. You’re too focused to comment on how creepy he’s being.

Liliana Kokot. 34. Short-life species. Citizen of the planet Punklorde. Witnessed the murder of her parents at a young age. Came to despise gang activity. Joined police academy. Assigned to the Homicide Unit by age 25. Discovered possible connections between the police chief and organized crime.

You pull out the prismatic shard containing her parent’s murder.

The mind has mechanisms to inhibit trauma that’d otherwise obliterate it. Repression, denial, projection, displacement, rationalization, and regression to name a few. In the same way, prisms have multiple sides. The one which refracts the most light will change depending on how it’s angled.

You adjust the shard without changing its shape. Eventually, you find a side that deems this memory too much, beyond what Liliana can handle. It’s easily absorbed back alongside the other fragments. Except that now, the mind chooses to repress the memory, deep down in the subconscious where it cannot do irreparable harm.

A ‘seal.’

“I get it now,” you wave the screen off. “It’s similar to a heart transplant. Mechanical valves aren’t integrated as smoothly as tissue valves. The body’s more willing to accept what’s similar to it in composition, as is the mind.”

“You don’t look less troubled,” Blade notes.

You scrunch up your nose.

“I mean… this is— I don’t even know. It undermines what makes a person, well… who they are to the very core.”

“When you accepted Elio’s deal, you knew you’d be an accessory to criminal activity. How is that any worse than homicide?”

Blade’s refusal to sugarcoat the truth slashes through you like a phantasmal sword. Perhaps not a thousand times, but close enough.

“This is your price, lotus.”

You want to avert your gaze, but you don’t. It’d feel wrong, somehow. Cowardly. Hypocritical.

No longer can you dwell on the currency itself. What matters now is ensuring you pay your dues on time.

Your debt extends beyond Destiny’s Slave. There’s another proprietor you must settle with, for even the slightest peace of mind.

“Blade— no, Yingxing,” you correct yourself. His muscles stiffen, his true name having gone unspoken for so long devoid of contempt. “I may have made a deal with Elio, but… I haven’t personally made one with you. I’d like to change that.”

You can tell you’ve piqued his interest.

“I swear on everything that is sacred to me that I’ll remain by your side until my final breath. In return, regardless of if I’m alive or dead, you’ll never harm my home or the people who inhabit it. Intentionally or otherwise.”

His long, dark eyelashes flutter shut as he mulls over your proposal. He doesn’t take long. Soon enough, vermillion bores into you again. Candle wicks flicker inside them, alight with an emotion you refuse to name.

“How do you finalize deals, Miss Phaeales?” Blade asks, moving aside a stray strand of hair from your face.

It’s like the air’s been knocked from your lungs. He couldn’t have known, right? The ripples born when those two words are stitched together? Your chest feels tight and hollow all at once. It’s like your internal organs have liquified, leaving nothing but shapeless viscera. This isn’t the right voice. It should be softer, a tenor’s pitch, not a sonorous bass.

“M-Miss Phaeales?”

You blink away a fresh set of tears.

“A promise? Miss Phaeales, I don’t know if I can.”

“Hand me the dagger from before.”

“I don’t really get you, Miss Phaeales, but… I wanna.”

He does, after a moment’s consideration.

“It’s my fault, I should’ve killed that man, and now she’s in that criminal’s debt, because of me…!”

You prick your pointer finger with the dagger’s tip, just enough to create trickling blood.

“Everything you just said — I can tell you believe it.”

He mirrors your actions. His skin quickly mends itself back together.

“So why… why do you look so sad?”

I had so much to say, you think, bitterly. So, so much.

Blade’s bandaged hand falls to your lower back, where it softly pushes you forward. His gloved hand envelops your face, the leather refreshing against your feverish skin. His lips descend upon yours. You may have called the kiss tender had you known nothing about him. You do know him, however, as fate has decreed he’d get a better future at the cost of yours. It’s as if everyone was in on the joke, leaving you the odd one out.

He murmurs words in between kisses that you fight desperately to unhear.

When you pull back for air, you notice how madness surges and retreats in his eyes, as if it were ocean waves washing against the shore.

The likeness helps.

Pretending the red shade’s a brilliant blue instead comes easier.

The next time he kisses you, you cautiously kiss back.

A/N: i thought i'd feel satisfied when i finished nexus' last chapter, but i actually feel rather sad JTFSIKL i cannot overstate how much i enjoyed working on this story. it scratched a sci-fi itch i've had for over a decade now. when writing longer works, it's rare for me to not get caught on snags that sap my inspiration away. that never happened with this story though. from start to finish, i was contentedly tip tapping away on my keyboard.

i became enamored with this idea of a yandere story that didn't just revolve around the MC and yan, it just wasn't until i started outlining nexus that i had an excuse to explore this concept further.

the main cast of n darling, nona, and lear (an anon affectionately dubbed them the lotus trio, which is a term i loved enough to hijack) has become close to my heart. for that reason, writing this chapter physically hurt at times 😭 i wanted to swat blade away like a fly and have everything end nicely. from the very first sentence though, i knew this would be a tragedy, so it'd go against the Themes to pull a power of friendship ending.

at first, i worried about the reader's ability to empathize/connect with n darling, since her status and abilities aren't universal. like at all. the solution presented itself rather naturally. n darling, at least to me, stresses that simmering anger women feel the need to hide for professionality's sake. her experiences as a child where she's given responsibilities beyond her age's capacity, then in adulthood, where she isn't taken seriously (chrysus) or unintentionally infantilized (caicias). i'm sure many afab individuals can relate to some extent.

my primary interest was in having these two deeply frustrated individuals crash together and spill debris everywhere. i was given a little more liberty with blade's actions and dialogue, due to miss phaeales' id inducing presence, which drew out more than he'd normally give. as for blade's characterization, if he isn't in the throes of mara madness, i really can't see him being a hellion 24/7. he feels more somber to me when lucid.

of course, that changes if the right buttons are pressed... but that isn't exclusive to him.

since the final chapter is divided into three main scenes, i wanted to fully explore the three predominant ways i picture a yandere version of blade acting. the first is his guilt and shame, the second, his mara-induced sadism, and the third, a more neutral self where reason prevails.

i hope that you enjoyed reading nexus as much as i enjoyed writing it!! although the main storyline is finished, i'm by no means done with the universe as a whole. i'm planning a little epilogue for starters. then maybe some side stories from blade's perspective ?? who knows, the motivation's still there, so anything is possible.

thank you again 💖

-sincerely, lock.

Tag list: @99-nct @pixiestixes (idk why the tag thingy won't work but an effort was made) ...

#blade x reader #yandere blade x reader #honkai star rail x reader #yandere honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #yandere hsr x reader #yandere #yandere x reader #nexus #my stuff

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tlirswriting · 1 month ago

Text

[They Colonized Mars, entry 4 // start here]

Venus:

Second planet from the sun, rendered uninhabitable

Roman goddess of love, beauty, and sex

> Atlas walks down the steps into Cythera’s, crossing the energy disruption field's threshold — a series of simple devices set up around the perimeter of the club to cancel out the city's artificial gravity — and he feels lighter, nearly weightless, the pressure lifting from his bones.

> The air is warm and sweet in the hazy basement room, thick with candy-flavored nicotine and THC vapor. A tall, four-armed Venusian dances on a small stage against the far wall for a sparse crowd, glowing pink and glittering in the spotlight as she mouths along to the old 2260s pop hit Acid Rain.

> The music thumps through Atlas, the beat reverberating up from the floor and settling into his chest, pulsing in his lungs. He unzips his jacket and makes his way to the bar at one side of the room to order two of his usual drinks; something strong and fruity with tiny paper umbrellas in it.

> “This is what people do,” He says to SaM-B, talking over the bass as he sets one glass on top of it.

> “I cannot drink; I have no mouth.”

> “That's okay, you just have to stand there, maybe you're… moody, and mysterious, or something. Or maybe you're shy, ‘cause it's your first time coming here.”

> “And this is normal? I am doing it correctly?”

> “Sure, yeah.”

> Atlas leans his elbow on the bar and sips his drink, watching the spots of light spinning across the walls, watching the people — mostly Human — bobbing along in ripples or sitting at tables. Two bored-looking lesbians chat quietly in the same corner Atlas always sees them, but he never caught their names; nor the man in a leather harness with scars across his chest, or the girl with green hair that might have been natural.

> “This place is usually packed tighter when I come here,” He explains. “Saturday night, people are rubbing against each other, snorting zidge in the bathroom…”

> “This is fun?” SaM-B asks him.

> “Well, I like it.”

> He downs the rest of his drink and makes his way to stand by the stage where a handful of people are crowded, staring up at the Venusian; she's ethereally androgynous, shimmering like a mirage, larger than life in her heels and moving like gravity forgot her. She calls herself Majel Stardust.

> Alcohol works its fingers through Atlas, relaxing his shoulders, easing the knots in his back. He breathes — digs through his wallet for a 1.0 note — reaches out to her, hands touching briefly when she takes it, leaning close enough to smell her perfume and she tucks it into her bra. She's electric, dripping glitter, commanding attention; she's mile-long legs and hands you can't keep track of, she's power and grace, you'd almost believe the blasting music was her own voice.

> It's all an illusion, but Atlas loves the show, dazzling lights mirrored in rows of bioluminescent spots along his cheekbones and down his arms, only visible when his defenses and inhibitions are lowered.

> SaM-B holds perfectly still beside him, watching intently, its lights blinking in time with the rhythm.

> She finishes her set, and disappears behind the curtain as the people cheer. A moment later, she's behind him, a hand lightly brushing his shoulder to spin him around.

> “Atlas, baby!” Her voice is deep and rich like honey. “It's a Tuesday, what are you doing here?”

> “Supporting artists,” He jokes as she leads him away towards a table near the back. “What are you doing, stealing me from the other queens?”

> She laughs. “The next one's Mz. Tuna Piano, that bitch is always late.”

> He hums. “Yeah, she is.”

> “But honestly, really,” She puts a right hand around his shoulders, and another right hand on his waist. “Talk to me. What are you doing here? You look like the train caught you.”

> He sighs. “I, uh… I had a weird day at work, I couldn't go straight home. Needed to clear my head.”

> She gestures to SaM-B after they sit down. “Who's your friend?”

> “My weird day at work.” He grabs the drink balancing on top of it and takes a sip. “That, and somebody died again.”

> “You gotta get out of there, honey; they'll eat you alive.”

> “I will, soon, it's just…” He shakes his head. “And go where, y'know?”

> “Here, maybe.” She sucks on a thin metal tube and blows a ring of pomegranate-scented clouds. “Anywhere. Doesn't matter much, does it?”

> Atlas chuckles. “I'm not built for entertaining.”

> “Some people like Martians, with your big brown eyes. You could grow your hair out…”

> “No, really, I can't.”

> She studies him for a moment, something knowing in her compound eyes.

> “I'm gonna get out,” He repeats. “I have plans, I just need a little more time.”

> She hums. “You want a hit?” She offers. “I hear sometimes humans get a kick out of CO2, makes ‘em dizzy — wonder what it'll do to you.”

> “No, thanks; I'd feel kinda bad taking your air.”

> “Suit yourself.”

> He watches her curl her mandibles around her electric cigar, draw in a deep breath, and beckon him closer — he obeys, leaning in, and she tilts his chin up to press her mouth to his and blow; he breathes in concentrated oxygen, carbon filtered by her lungs, fresh and crisp, artificially sweet. He pulls away and giggles.

> “There,” She says. “You don't have to be guilty about it.”

> SaM-B emits a high-pitched whine.

> “Poor thing,” Majel chuckles. “Is it sentient?”

> Atlas begins answering, “I'm pretty sure, yeah—”

> “I wish I was you,” It beeps.

> “I get that a lot, honey.”

> He sips his drink and thinks about what it meant by that.

> The night rolls on, soft around the edges, pleasantly dark and spinning like galaxies.

> Walking home, still buzzing, Atlas leans on SaM-B as they go — his body feels leaden and too-loose, metal pins digging into his flesh to keep his legs on straight — and he slurs: “D'you understand why I took you here?”

> It beeps, “I think so.”

> “My point…” The words swim in his head and roll clumsily off his tongue. “With all of this, is that there's more to being alive than your programming.”

> They can see Mars’ two moons meeting in the middle of the sky through the top of the dome, dancing among silver ribbons of noctilucent clouds.

> “I want a name,” It says.

> “Yeah?”

> “I think Selene would be nice.”

> “Yeah, alright.”

> A beat. “Can I be a girl?”

> “Sure, why not?”

> “Thank you, Atlas.”

> “You don't need my permission.”

> It’s true, but she needs to hear it.

> They wobble along the street under holographic advertisements shimmering in the artificial sky.

> Atlas vaguely remembers getting on the train — rising up over the streets, city lights glowing trails around him — dozing off, and waking up when the brakes squeal at his stop.

> Staggering out into the cold air again, he's hit by the wind, particles of sand scratching his face and sticking to the corners of his eyes. The storm is habitable inside the dome (outside, the winds are harsher, kicking up dust clouds miles high) but unpleasant enough that he quickens his pace the rest of the way home.

Next >>

#they colonized mars #my writing #original fiction #original writing #hi hello you are now entering the fun part :)c #this is a chapter ive been rotating in my mind a lot during the whole process of writing this story i hope it hits right #i have worked on this for so long yay yippee #those of you who know about shitty local drag bars know what im talking about. you get it

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gardenladysworld · 1 month ago

Text

Starbound hearts

Status: I'm working on it

Pairings: Neteyam x human!f!reader

Aged up characters!

Genre/Warnings: fluff, slow burn, oblivious characters, light angst, hurt/comfort, pining

Summary: In the breathtaking, untamed beauty of Pandora, two souls from different worlds find themselves drawn together against all odds. Neteyam, the dutiful future olo'eyktan of the Omaticaya clan, is bound by the expectations of his people and the traditions of his ancestors. She, a human scientist with a love for Pandora’s wonders, sees herself as an outsider, unworthy of the connection she craves.

Tags: @nerdylawyerbanditprofessor-blog, @ratchetprime211, @poppyseed1031

Part 7

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Part 8: To chat

The room was quiet, save for the faint hum of the outpost’s systems and the occasional beep from a monitor in the distance. You lay in bed, freshly showered, your hair still damp against the pillow. The lights were dim, just enough to cast faint shadows on the walls, but your mind was far from at rest. Sleep refused to come; your thoughts anchored back in the clearing.

You stared at the ceiling, your chest rising and falling in the steady rhythm of someone trying to will themselves into relaxation. But your heart had other plans. It kept pulling you back to him—to Neteyam. His golden eyes, always so sharp and intense, had a way of looking right through you. And when they softened, when they focused entirely on you, it was like the rest of the world didn’t exist.

Your lips pressed together in a faint, self-deprecating smile. You were an idiot, weren’t you? Falling for someone so completely out of reach. You’d told yourself it was impossible, that whatever you felt was just admiration or gratitude for his kindness. But it wasn’t. It hadn’t been for a long time. You loved him. More than you had any right to.

And that was the crux of it. You had no right to feel this way. Neteyam was Na’vi—a future olo’eyktan, no less. He belonged to a people whose traditions you couldn’t fully understand, whose world you were merely a guest in. A guest who couldn’t even breathe the air without a mask. You laughed softly, the sound bitter. How could you even entertain the idea of belonging here, let alone by his side?

Na’vi mated for life. That thought twisted something deep inside you. Mating wasn’t just a bond to them—it was sacred, something blessed by Eywa herself. And you? You weren’t Na’vi. You weren’t even like Jake Sully, who had become one of them through Eywa’s grace. You were just a human, stuck in a fragile body on a planet that could reject you at any moment.

Your hand drifted to your chest, fingers brushing over the fabric of your shirt as if you could somehow calm the ache there. You’d left Earth nine years ago, trading the polluted skies and dying ecosystems for the chance to study the beauty of Pandora. Six years in cryosleep and three years of working for the RDA. At the first year, the science had been enough. You were fascinated by Pandora’s ecosystems, the intricacies of its interconnected life. But that wonder had slowly been eclipsed by something else.

When you first arrived at the village with Norm and Max, the Na’vi had been wary of you. Understandable, really. You were a new face, an outsider. But over the last 2 years, things had shifted. You’d become close to a few of them—especially the Sully family. Kiri’s sharp wit, Tuk’s boundless enthusiasm, and Lo’ak’s constant teasing had become fixtures in your life. Jake trusted you. He considered you a friend, just like Norm and Max. Even Neytiri, who still watched you with quiet reservation, no longer bristled when you were near.

And then there was Neteyam.

You closed your eyes, as if that could block out the image of him. But it didn’t. His face was burned into your mind—those piercing golden eyes, his smooth blue skin marked with faint bioluminescent patterns, the sharp line of his jaw. His ears betrayed him constantly, flicking with emotion he probably thought he was hiding. His tail too, swaying or twitching in ways you’d come to recognize. Every movement was a language of its own, and you found yourself obsessed with understanding it.

He was so different from you, yet you couldn’t help but love him. You didn’t even know when it had started—when admiration had turned into affection, when affection had turned into longing. But it was there, undeniable and all-consuming.

You sighed, rolling onto your side. You tried to think about something else—anything else. Ethan’s smug face popped into your mind, and you grimaced. Of course, you’d dealt with men like him before. Men who thought they had a right to your attention, who didn’t take a polite smile as a no. He was irritating, sure, but compared to some of the creeps back on Earth, he was almost laughable.

Still, it wasn’t Ethan that lingered in your thoughts. It was the way Neteyam had looked at you, the protective edge in his voice when he’d spoken to Ethan, the unspoken promise in his golden eyes when he asked if you were all right. It was the way he crouched beside you, his massive frame somehow comforting rather than intimidating. It was the way his presence made you feel... safe.

And that was dangerous. Because safety made you want more. It made you imagine things you had no business imagining. Things like a life where you weren’t just a human in a strange world, where you weren’t someone who could be sent back to Earth on a whim if the RDA decided you weren’t useful anymore. Things like a life where you weren’t just a guest in his world but a part of it.

But that wasn’t your reality. Your reality was this: You were a scientist, working on Pandora to collect data and hopefully secure enough money to live comfortably on Earth when you went back. That was the deal. That had always been the deal.

So why did it feel like your heart had other plans?

Your hand tightened briefly in the sheets before you released a slow breath. No matter what you felt, no matter how much you wished things could be different, you couldn’t change who you were. And you couldn’t ask him to change who he was. All you could do was cherish the time you had with him, however fleeting it might be.

Despite it all, your heart refused to let go. I love him more than I should, you admitted silently. I can’t help how I feel. The rational part of your mind screamed at you to stay away, to protect yourself from the inevitable heartbreak that came with such forbidden love. But every glance, every shared moment, only deepened the connection, making it harder to deny.

The night stretched on, each passing minute a testament to the silent battles you fought within yourself. The forest outside was alive with sounds, but inside, all you could hear was the echo of your own heart, yearning for a love that defied the boundaries of two worlds.

The canteen was alive with the usual morning bustle—scientists exchanging chatter over coffee, the hum of machinery filtering in from the adjacent labs, and the clinking of utensils against plates. You sat in your usual spot near the corner, staring blankly at the plate in front of you. Ham and eggs, your usual breakfast, but today it felt like it might as well have been rocks and dirt. You poked at the eggs half-heartedly, your mind elsewhere.

The night hadn’t been kind. Sleep had eluded you, leaving you restless and tangled in thoughts you didn’t want to admit out loud. Every time you’d closed your eyes, you’d found yourself back in the clearing, replaying Neteyam’s gaze, his voice, the way he crouched beside you like you were the centre of his universe. It was infuriating, how much space he occupied in your head.

Around you, the morning buzz of the outpost continued unabated. Scientists and technicians moved in and out, some chatting animatedly, others immersed in datapads and tablets. The smell of coffee and breakfast lingered in the air, but none of it seemed to penetrate the fog in your mind.

You startled slightly when someone plopped down onto the bench beside you, the metal creaking under their weight. Turning, you saw Kate from the xenobotany team, her curly blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail, and her green uniform jacket unzipped over a tank top. She squinted at you with her bright blue eyes, her freckled nose wrinkling slightly as she gave you a once-over.

“Wow,” Kate said, resting her elbow on the table and propping her chin on her hand. “You look like you wrestled a thanator and lost.”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair. “Thanks, Kate. Always a confidence booster.”

Kate tilted her head, narrowing her eyes. “Seriously, what’s going on? You look exhausted.”

You hesitated, debating how much you should tell her. Kate was your friend, one of the few people in the outpost who really got you, but even so, how could you explain the knot of emotions twisting inside you without sounding ridiculous?

“It’s nothing,” you said after a moment, poking at your eggs again. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

Kate snorted. “Yeah, no kidding. You’re quieter than usual, which is saying something. Usually, I can’t shut you up about plants or... I don’t know, the latest drama at the Omatikaya.”

You winced slightly at the mention of the village but tried to play it off. “It’s... complicated,” you finally said, your voice low. “I’ve just been thinking about a lot of stuff.”

“Stuff,” Kate echoed, her brow furrowing. “Like Pandora stuff? Earth stuff? Or”—her smirk returned—“someone stuff?”

Your cheeks flushed, and Kate’s eyes widened. “Oh my God. It’s someone, isn’t it?” She grinned, setting her coffee down with a dramatic flourish. “You’re going to tell me everything.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Kate, it’s not... It’s not like that.”

“Oh, it’s exactly like that,” she said, nudging your arm. “Come on. I won’t tell anyone. Who is it? Someone from the team? Max? Norm? Ethan?” She shuddered at the last name. “Please don’t say Ethan.”

“Of course not Ethan!” you exclaimed, glaring at her. “He’s annoying, yeah, but he’s not why I look like a walking corpse.”

Kate tilted her head, her expression skeptical but curious. “So what is it, then? Because you’ve got that look—you know, the one where you’re thinking way too much and probably overcomplicating everything.”

You hesitated, your fork idly scraping against the plate. “It’s nothing, really. Just... thoughts.”

“Thoughts,” Kate repeated, leaning closer as she narrowed her eyes. “Uh-huh. And these ‘thoughts’ have you staring at your food like it personally offended you? Sure, totally normal.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, the sound more genuine than you expected. “I’m fine, Kate. Just tired, that’s all.”

“Good,” she said, standing up and grabbing your tray. “Come on. You’re spending the day with me.”

“What? Why?” you asked, blinking in surprise.

“Because you clearly need a distraction,” she said matter-of-factly. “And because I need help finishing the final report for our xenobotany project. You’ve got a sharp eye, and I could use the company.”

You hesitated, glancing at the tray in her hands. “Kate, you don’t have to—”

“Yeah, yeah, I don’t have to. But I’m doing it anyway.” She gave you a pointed look. “You’re welcome.”

Despite yourself, you smiled, warmth spreading through your chest. “Fine. But don’t complain when I point out all the mistakes in your data.”

Kate smirked. “Bring it on, plant nerd.”

The lab buzzed quietly with activity, a steady hum of equipment and the occasional beep from monitors filling the air. You sat at one of the workstations, your gloved hands carefully sorting through a tray of samples while Kate worked beside you, her own focus split between her tablet and the conversation you were having.

“So,” Kate began, glancing at you over her screen, “remember the time back on Earth when the RDA made us do that ridiculous safety training for zero-gravity environments? You know, just in case we somehow ended up floating in space like lost balloons?”

You laughed softly, shaking your head. “Don’t remind me. That one guy couldn’t even handle the harness without freaking out.”

Kate snorted. “Oh, yeah. He passed out after, what, five minutes? Meanwhile, you and I were doing somersaults and pretending to be astronauts.”

“That training was pointless,” you said with a grin, placing one of the samples into a storage container. “They spent more time teaching us how to pose for PR photos than anything actually useful.”

Kate leaned back in her chair, tapping her pen against her tablet. “Classic RDA. Always more concerned with appearances than practicality. Like that time they made us wear those awful orange vests for lab safety. Because, you know, glowing like traffic cones is totally helpful in a controlled environment.”

“Or when they made us document every single piece of equipment we touched for a week,” you added, rolling your eyes. “Including the pens.”

Kate groaned dramatically. “Don’t remind me. I think I filed fifty reports on just the clipboard.”

“Oh, and remember that time on Earth,” Kate said suddenly, breaking the silence, “when they made us go through those absurd safety drills for ‘Pandoran conditions’? Like, as if any of us would actually outrun a viperwolf.”

You snorted, setting down a petri dish. “Oh, yeah. And they had that guy in the thanator suit chasing us around like it was some weird theme park attraction. What was his name again? Ted?”

“Steve,” Kate corrected with a grin. “And he took it way too seriously. He growled at me when I tripped over a cone.”

“I swear they just wanted to scare us into signing waivers,” you said, shaking your head with a laugh. “Like, ‘Hey, Pandora’s dangerous, but don’t worry, you’ll be fine if you duck and cover.’”

Kate chuckled, leaning back in her chair. “Yeah, because that’s going to stop a banshee from snatching you out of the air.” We looked the moss almost for a minute before Kate broke the silence again. “Do you ever think about Earth?” she asked, her voice casual as she held up an another sample of bioluminescent moss, her pen tapping against her chin.

“Sometimes,” you replied, glancing up briefly. “But not often. There wasn’t much to miss when I left.”

Kate chuckled softly. “Yeah, I get that. Remember the air quality reports? ‘Moderately breathable.’ Like, what the hell does that even mean?”

You laughed lightly, shaking your head. “It means, ‘Congratulations, you might not die if you step outside, but don’t take deep breaths.’”

Kate snorted, setting down the sample. “And don’t forget the food shortages. ‘Synthetic protein blend, enriched for maximum efficiency!’ Translation: tastes like chalk.”

“Hey, at least it was efficient,” you teased, smirking.

“Efficiently disgusting,” Kate shot back, rolling her eyes. “Honestly, I don’t know why I didn’t sign up for Pandora sooner. Even with all the RDA bullshit, this place is a dream compared to Earth.”

Your gaze shifted to the vibrant green sample in your hands. “Yeah,” you murmured. “It’s strange, isn’t it? How we traded a dying world for one we barely understand.”

Kate nodded, leaning back in her chair. “And the RDA still finds a way to screw it up. Did you know they once sent us a manual on how to handle ‘aggressive plants’? As if we’re supposed to, what, reason with them?”

“‘Please stop trying to eat me,’” you quoted mock-seriously, holding up a hand as if addressing the moss. “‘I’m just here for science.’”

Kate burst out laughing, the sound echoing through the lab. “Exactly! And don’t even get me started on their idea of ‘adequate safety measures.’ They send us out into the jungle with flimsy exo-masks and hope for the best.”

“At least they gave us guns,” you joked, though the humor in your voice was faint. The reality of the danger outside the lab was never far from your thoughts.

“True,” Kate said, sobering slightly. She studied you for a moment before leaning forward, resting her elbows on the table

The two of you fell into an easy rhythm, joking about the absurdity of RDA protocols and the bizarre training sessions you’d both endured. It felt good to laugh, to let the weight of the previous night’s thoughts slip away, even if only for a little while.

“Pandora’s quirks still surprise me, though,” Kate said after a moment, her tone shifting slightly. “Like that moss I found last week? The one that glows when it rains? How does that even make sense?”

“It’s Pandora,” you said with a shrug. “Half the stuff here doesn’t make sense. Like those plants that snap shut when you touch them.”

Kate grinned. “Oh, the ‘angry flowers’? Yeah, I love those. They’re like, ‘Don’t mess with me, human.’ Honestly, I feel that on a spiritual level.”

The conversation shifted naturally, Kate recounted a time she’d accidentally spilled a sample of Pandora’s sticky, glowing sap on her hair and had to shave half her head. You retaliated with a story about a time Norm had tried to explain the mating habits of Pandora’s tree frogs and somehow turned the entire lab into a giggling mess.

“And then he just gave up and said, ‘Fine, laugh all you want. But when the tree frogs start singing, don’t come crying to me.’” You mimicked Norm’s exasperated tone, earning a burst of laughter from Kate.

“Classic Norm,” Kate said, wiping a tear from her eye. “Seriously, though, I don’t know how we’d survive without some humor around here. Pandora may be beautiful, but it’s weird as hell.”

“Tell me about it,” you agreed, glancing at a strange spiny plant specimen glowing faintly on the table. “Half the flora looks like it’s from a dream, and the other half looks like it’s trying to kill you.”

Kate nodded sagely. “Pandora: come for the views, stay for the constant existential terror.”

As the lab hummed softly with the steady rhythm of machines and the occasional hiss of a sterilizer. Kate was perched on a stool nearby, fiddling with a pipette and jotting notes on a datapad. The faint scent of disinfectant and freshly opened specimen containers lingered in the air, blending with the ever-present hum of the outpost’s systems.

“Remember that time back when I almost got fired for questioning the nutrient distribution protocols in the hydroponics bay?” Kate said suddenly, breaking the silence.

You snorted softly, glancing at her. “You mean when you called the lead technician a ‘glorified cucumber farmer’ in the middle of a board meeting?”

Kate grinned, leaning back against the counter. “Hey, I stand by it. That guy had no clue what he was doing. I saved that entire crop from dying because he didn’t account for pH fluctuations.”

“And nearly got yourself blacklisted in the process,” you added, shaking your head with a small smile. “I’m still amazed you managed to get a spot on the Pandora team after that.”

“Please,” Kate said with a dramatic wave of her hand. “The RDA needs people like me. They just don’t like admitting it.”

You chuckled, turning your attention back to the specimen under the microscope. The delicate, bioluminescent threads of a Pandoran moss glowed faintly, their intricate patterns mesmerizing. “Still,” you said after a moment, “Earth feels like another lifetime ago, doesn’t it?”

Kate nodded, her expression softening. “Yeah, it does. Sometimes I miss it. Not the pollution or the overcrowding, obviously. But, you know... the little things. Coffee that didn’t taste like it came from a machine. Real pizza.”

“City lights at night,” you added, a wistful smile tugging at your lips. “Even if they were so bright you couldn’t see the stars.”

Kate sighed. “Yeah. Though I guess Pandora’s kind of made up for that. I mean, who needs city lights when you’ve got an entire forest that glows?”

You nodded, your gaze drifting toward the window. The dense jungle beyond the glass felt like a world away, both breathtakingly beautiful and impossibly foreign. “It’s funny,” you said softly. “I came here thinking I’d leave Earth behind, start over. But sometimes it feels like the more I try to settle in, the more I realize I don’t belong here either.”

Kate’s eyes flicked to you, her brow furrowing slightly. “Okay, that sounded heavy. What’s going on with you?”

You hesitated, your hands stilling over the sample you were preparing. “Nothing,” you said quickly, but your tone betrayed you.

“Don’t give me that,” Kate said, setting her pipette down and crossing her arms. “I’ve known you long enough to know when something’s eating at you. Is it not Ethan, right? Because if it is, I’ll gladly lock him in the specimen freezer for a few hours.”

You laughed softly despite yourself, shaking your head. “No, it’s not Ethan. Well, not really. It’s just... everything.”

Kate tilted her head, her expression softening. “Talk to me.”

You took a deep breath, trying to find the right words. “It’s... hard to explain. I left Earth to get away from all of that—away from the dying planet, the endless corporate grind, the feeling of being stuck in a place that was falling apart. I thought Pandora would be different. And it is, in so many ways. But I still feel... out of place.”

Kate frowned slightly. “Out of place how?”

You nodded, your gaze lingering on the fern. “Yeah. I thought coming to Pandora would be like stepping into a dream. And it is, in a way. But... I don’t know. Some days it feels like I’m still on the outside, looking in.”

Kate glanced at you, her brow furrowing slightly. “What do you mean?”

You hesitated, shrugging as you carefully placed another sample onto the table. “Just... you know. Being human here. The masks, the protocols, the constant reminders that I don’t belong. It gets to you after a while.”

Kate studied you for a moment before leaning forward, resting her chin on her hand. “Okay, that’s not what’s really bugging you,” she said, her voice teasing but pointed. “So, what’s wrong?”

You hesitated, focusing on a data pad in front of you. “Nothing,” you said lightly, though you knew it didn’t sound convincing.

Kate leaned back, crossing her arms with a knowing look. “Oh, come on. Don’t give me that. The ’nothing’ has a name, doesn’t it?”

You froze for a fraction of a second, and Kate’s grin widened. “Or wait... is the ’nothing’ tall and blue?” Kate’s grin widened, and she nodded toward your wrist. “And he gave you that bracelet, didn’t he?”

Your eyes flicked to the simple band of beads and twine snug around your wrist, a soft heat rising to your cheeks. “I... It’s just a gift,” you said quickly, your voice a little too defensive.

Kate leaned in, resting her chin on her hand as she studied you. “Uh-huh. Sure. A casual gift from a Na’vi who just happens to hang around you more than anyone else.”

“It’s not like that,” you muttered, your fingers brushing over the bracelet unconsciously, heat crept up your neck, and you shook your head quickly. “No! It’s not... I mean—” You stumbled over your words, and Kate’s laughter burst out, full and unrestrained.

“Oh my god, it is! I knew it!” she said, her tone triumphant. “You’ve got it bad, don’t you? For one of the Sullys, no less. Neteyam, right?”

“Kate,” you hissed, glancing around to make sure no one was within earshot. “Keep your voice down!”

She only laughed harder, her grin wide as she leaned in closer. “Relax, no one’s listening. But seriously... Neteyam? I mean, I can’t blame you. He’s gorgeous, even if he’s... you know, not human.”

You buried your face in your hands, your cheeks burning. “It’s not like that.”

Kate raised an eyebrow. “Oh, really? Then why are you blushing so hard?”

“I’m not—” You groaned as you practically slammed your forehead against the table, you almost started praying for a hole to open in the ground and swallow you. “It’s complicated.”

Kate snorted. “Oh, please. I’ve seen the way he looks at you. And the way you look at him. You’re practically glowing right now, and it’s not because of the moss.”

You groaned, burying your face in your hands. “Kate, stop.”

“Hey, I’m just saying,” she said, holding her hands up in mock surrender. “It’s kind of adorable. Forbidden romance on an alien planet—it’s like a holo-drama waiting to happen.”

You peeked at her through your fingers, torn between exasperation and amusement. “You’re impossible.”

“I know, but you love me for that.” Kate reached across the table, her hand resting briefly on yours. “Just... don’t shut yourself off from something good, okay? Even if it’s complicated. Especially if it’s complicated.”

You nodded slowly, your voice quiet as you replied, “Thanks, Kate.”

She smiled, leaning back in her chair and picking up another sample. “Anytime. Now, let’s finish this project before Norm comes in and lectures us about deadlines.”

As the two of you returned to work, Kate’s words lingered in your mind, a quiet echo against the backdrop of your thoughts. Complicated or not, you couldn’t deny what you felt—and maybe, just maybe, you didn’t want to.

Part 9

#avatar 2022 #avatar the way of water #avatar twow #james cameron avatar #neteyam #neteyam sully #neteyam x human reader #neteyam x reader #neteyam x you

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ben-talks-art · 11 months ago

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God, I forgot how much of a boss Teresa was in Claymore

- She basically just did whatever the hell she wanted

- Adopted a little girl who grew up to be just as badass as her despite having no parenting skills

- Got every single one of her coworkers mad at her, and when they tried to punish her, she just clobbered them

- She came back in the finale to kill the woman that killed her while acting like she couldn't give less of a f**k about her because she was too busy chatting with her daughter

- Proceed to refuse to elaborate and just leaves after demolishing the final boss

- And, she did all that with the biggest sh*t-eating grin on the planet.

What a legend. 🥺

#old badass ladies #teresa claymore #claymore #favorite mangas

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feelingsshmeelings · 8 months ago

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Recently watched inside out 2 and I'm not even gonna lie, I left that theater with tears in my eyes and the FATTEST crush on Anxiety. I can't help it okay I love me some crinkly girl failure creature 😔

Anxiety x Reader: relationship headcanons

INCLUDES: GN! Reader, Fellow Emotion! Reader, fluff, some down bad behavior on Anxiety's part, very light angst, she/they pronouns for Anxiety

📋 It probably takes a while for her to settle into the relationship. Not to say that she dislikes being with you (of course not!!), but she's anxious. Like that's literally their whole thing. They have a hard time believing that you're actually... yknow, WITH THEM. Like, WILLINGLY.

📋 Eventually though, once you've given her plenty of reassurance, she'll start easing into the relationship

📋 Literally such a planner!! You can bet they've got a whole notebook dedicated to your relationship. Possible date ideas, things you like, things you dislike, important couple milestones to look forward to, etc. She's managing both of your calenders while ALSO crafting a detailed step-by-step plan of the next few years of your future together

📋 Anxiety is definitely the type to ramble— not just about they're job of looking after Riley but also about pretty much everything else. This one's a yapper, what can I say

📋 It's probably an insecurity of hers (she fears sometimes that her constant chatting may come off as annoying), but if you take the time to actually listen to what she has to say? Ask questions?? Offer your own insight???

📋 One word: marriage

📋 It's pretty much canon that she's prone to nervous breakdowns and insomnia. You should like... help her with that 👀. Guide her towards her massage chair when she needs it (or even better: offer a massage yourself). Cuddle with them in their bed, or yours. Talk them through their thoughts. Whatever works for the both of you

📋 I see Anxiety as being on the spectrum (ngl I feel like most of the emotions got that tism in them). That being said, physical touch is... well, they're not ADVERSE to it exactly, but it's probably not something they partake in often. Like it's not something she'll initiate, if that makes sense?? She's just very conscious of everyone else's personal space and would hate to overstep any boundaries

📋 THAT BEING SAID... Please hold her hand every now and then. Maybe just slide your hand into theirs while the two of you are standing side-by-side at the control panel, or give hers a small squeeze whenever she starts spiraling. She finds it grounding

📋 (they're bright red the whole time, constantly asking if you're really okay with it or if her palms are clammy or if your comfortable in the position or if—)

📋 PETNAMESSS!!!! Her go-to for you is "sweetie", or "love" if they're feeling particularly bold

📋 Will literally melt into a puddle at whatever nickname you choose to give them tho. Like you could give them the cheesiest petname on the planet and they'd still go all squiggly mouthed and flapping their hands

📋 Likes to take initiative in most things, INCLUDING your relationship, so don't be surprised if she's the one taking charge while putting together dates or while you two are at work in Riley's mind. Sometimes they can be a bit overbearing, but just have a sit down with her, let her know how you feel, and she'll gladly step down and let you get shit done

📋 COM👏MU👏NI👏CA👏TION!! VERY IMPORTANT TO HER!!!! Like I said before, they overthink a lot, so it definitely helps if you're honest and open about how you feel

📋 Working inside the mind of a teenage girl can be pretty stressful, so being able to wind down with you at the end of the day is definitely something Anxiety looks forward to

📋 Being able to ramble with you and get their thoughts off their chest is something they love, yes, but they also enjoy the moments of quiet you two share. You could be sitting at the same table, maybe you're reading a book or drawing, meanwhile she's jotting down a new workout regimen for the upcoming hockey season. Or maybe you're having a shared cup of cocoa while admiring the view from headquarters. Or maybe you're playing with their hair while they lay their head on your lap...

📋 She enjoys being able to simply exist with you. No thoughts about the future, no worries about what's yet to come. Just you and them in your own peaceful little bubble 🧡

I LOVE HER SO MUCH YOU DONT EVEN KNOW AJSJSKAKAKA!! Definitely planning on writing more for her soon! The other emotions too (feel free to send in an ask guysss I want ideas so bad 👀👉👈)

#being so self indulgent rn guys you dont even know #i love her #my skrunkly #all those haters who said her design was bad can go eat a textbook #POV: ur opinion is WRONG 😤#inside out 2 #inside out anxiety #inside out headcanons #headcanons

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 1 year ago

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Am I the asshole because I asked someone to stop talking about someone they rejected?

My friend (F) rejected someone cause he did not fit her criteria for a romantic partner. I said ok, it's no big deal, we all at one point rejected someone. She deleted all her social media apps and accounts. That's how far she went to ghost him so he'd get the picture. She deleted her discord, her IM messaging app she made him get so they could chat and text, everything. I told her she went too far, all she did was reject him and how dare he not leave the discord server they were in and fall off the planet. She wouldn't stop talking about it. She took her frustrations out on me cause how dare he not fit her criteria for a boyfriend. She was mad she wasn't able to make a new discord too since she couldn't go back to the server since he was still on it. It got to the point I was overwhelmed and asked her to stop. She wouldn't stop taking out her frustrations on me. I tried being there for her, but I'm not sure what else I could do and I felt like everything she did was too much.

Am I an asshole for that? I asked her to stop several times and I wasn't sure how exactly it was that guys fault either.

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole

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wordywarriorwrites · 10 months ago

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Feels Like Home

Feels Like Home | AO3 | Rating: M | Main Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x F! Reader

Summary: They say you can't go home again, but maybe for you and Javi, home isn't a place - it's a person.

Warnings: NSFW. Smut. Language.

Getting Chucho Peña back up on his feet after a bad fall from the hayloft – that was all you’d been tasked to do.

But you hadn’t considered the prodigal son.

You hadn’t thought about all the ways dark, earthen eyes – eyes that had seen too much – could be so compellingly, devastatingly, hauntingly preoccupying. Hadn’t really thought of how the stories of this larger-than-life individual would pale in comparison to the actual person. Hadn’t really believed that this man and this town would get to you, become so much a part of you that you’re thinking about rejecting a career-changing offer that would see you moving on to bigger (though perhaps not exactly better) things.

Four seasons have passed, and yet, you haven’t felt the itch to pack a bag and hit the road. And because you stuck around, Javi, Chucho, and you have become los tres amigos. Reading books and watching Cheers. Exchanging cards and gifts on birthdays and at Christmas. You host dinner at your place once a month. Javi occasionally pops in during your meal break at the hospital to bring you something decent to eat. And sometimes, his dad will call you nenita – a term of endearment that feels far too precious to be directed toward a drifting, wayward soul like you.

It’s hard not to mull over the what-ifs – especially with how Javi looks beneath the sparking lights of the convention center. Exuding confidence, chit-chatting, and mingling with your coworkers like a pro, all understated power and authority. He stays still while everyone else gets pulled into his orbit, revolving slowly around him, like planets circling the sun. He steers you in that way, too, pulling you into his atmosphere, making it painfully impossible to keep your gaze averted from the fine figure he makes in his charcoal gray suit.

This isn’t the first fundraising event he’s escorted you to. In fact, he’s graciously played the role of plus-one several times. Haughty conversations, dry chicken dinners, watered-down drinks, and office politics – he’s been there and done that. And for a man who says he hated it, that he’s left all that bullshit behind, he’s really good at it, reading the room and owning his space within it better than most of your puffed-up peers.

It’s difficult not to admire him. Get attached to him. To feel as if you’ve made a real, true friend. You don’t have many of those and neither does he. It’s as if you’ve somehow been chosen. That out of all the people in the world, he’s picked you.

Bowling on Thursdays. The little snort that sometimes escapes when he laughs. His gentle manner with horses. The scent of his cologne; a blend of leather, wood, and oakmoss. The way he always refuses dessert, but somehow, ends up finding room for two servings, especially if it’s your homemade peach cobbler. His shoulder – the one you lean on when you nod off during a football game. His arm – the one you grip during scary movies. His ear – the one he lets you talk off when the day has been too hard and too bloody, and you can’t fall asleep.

If you leave, you lose it all. You lose him.

“Is it just me,” Javi prompts with a slight nudge, turning away from the inner circle and leaning in close to speak directly into your ear. “Or are all the doctor jokes really fucking terrible this year?”

His voice – low and amused – cuts through the chatter and clinking cutlery, guiding you out of the spiral of dark thoughts and back into the present. You glance up at him and wonder if that inquisitive, clever mind of his has worked out how you really feel and uncovered what you really think. And if he knows, has he just been too polite to say anything? Even if it’s only to let you down gently?

“Maybe you should teach them a thing or two,” you manage to quip, burying your emotions by taking a rather undignified gulp of merlot.

Javi snorts and shakes his head, “With their egos? Not likely. Look, can we get outta here? Go get some real food?”

You nod, placing your now empty wine glass on the tray of a passing waiter, and snagging your purse up from the table. Javi is quick to take your arm and the lead, guiding you both through the throng and a seemingly endless stream of polite farewells. The elevator, the parking garage, the drive-thru – none of it really registers. It’s not until you’ve fallen into the cushions of your couch, a heavy bag of tacos in hand, and two beers on the coffee table in front of you, that your brain gradually starts to come back online.

“M'starving,” Javi announces, snatching up the takeout bag and plopping down next to you. “Remind me next time to eat before I pick you up.”

He peels off his jacket. Kicks off his shoes. Wriggles his sock-covered toes into the plush carpet and sits forward on the cushion just far enough to reach the table. Large, deft hands drop napkins – one onto your knee and one onto his own – and then, he’s unfurling paper and distributing a half dozen oversized carne asada taquerias onto two paper plates. A brief pause. A rather ferocious bite. A long, low groan.

“Fuck me, that’s good,” he mumbles, cheeks puffed out and comically overfilled.

“Emily Post would not be impressed,” you teasingly chide.

Javi grins and juts his chin, “Hey, get my tie? It’s the one you got me for my birthday, and I don’t want to ruin it.”

Once his messy hands are out of the way, you do as he asks, working the knot free and slipping the silk off with a careful tug. You pop a few buttons for him, too, and he gives you a nod of thanks before digging back in with renewed gusto, washing it all down with long pulls on his beer.

You don’t know how he does it, but his steady, calm demeanor always manages to soothe you. You unclench your jaw. Relax your shoulders. Even eat with him. Once the food’s devoured and the mess is cleaned up, you offer him a nightcap that promises to be better than what he’d been served at the fundraiser, and he happily accepts.

With tumblers in hand, the two of you migrate out to the patio. Javi is quick to indulge in his after-dinner smoke, bringing flame to paper-wrapped tobacco with a practiced flick and inhaling deeply. He fills his lungs with nicotine a few more times before turning his attention to his glass, bringing it to his nose before taking a slow sip.

“Dios mio,” he appreciates aloud. “What is this?”

“Macallan,” you tell him.

“That’s damn good whiskey.”

“It ought to be for five grand a bottle.”

Javi chuckles and lets out a low whistle, “You lift it off a truck or something?”

“It was a gift,” you admit, taking a seat on the outdoor bench. “From Brad.”

He blinks slowly, “Your ex?”

You nod and shrug slightly, “Bastard always did have good taste.”

Javi doesn’t pry – he just smokes and paces, seemingly content for you to either share or plead the fifth. You take a sizable gulp for courage and finally tell him about Alaska, about the brand new, state-of-the-art facility, and what an opportunity it is. You explain the position. Tell him it offers better pay and an extremely generous housing stipend. A year there, maybe two, and you’ll have your pick of any hospital you want to work at going forward.

Brad’s presence, his role as department head, his status as your ex-fiancé, the wholly inappropriate “welcome gift” he supposedly sent on behalf of the entire staff – a gift you’re certain was pilfered from his dad’s private collection – none of it matters. You’re going there for work because you go where you’re needed, nothing more.

“Got the papers inside,” you say quietly. “Just gotta sign ‘em.”

Javi curses. Drops the butt of his cigarette into the remaining inch of whiskey. Sets the glass down a little too hard on the window ledge. It’s tense now, the air between you, the atmosphere filling with acridness neither one of you is accustomed to. He rolls his jaw. You tap your nail against the tumbler. Javier runs a hasty palm over his mustache and then, much to your surprise, he sits down next to you.

Your glass is taken and hastily put aside. Slowly, carefully, as if giving you the chance to pull away, Javi slots his fingers between yours. When you don’t protest, he holds on tight and brings your knuckles to his lips. His palm pressed to your palm; he lowers his head until his furrowed brow meets the back of your hand. It’s so achingly, intimately tender, so unexpected and jarring, that makes your eyes well.

You swallow hard and clear your throat, “Look, Javi, I’m –”

“Don’t,” he interjects with a slow, purposeful shake of his head. “Just… Don’t.”

The moment stretches, unbearable with the weight of the unknown, all nerve-wracking and heady at the same time. Javi eventually looks at you – eyes searching and examining and questioning. Head slightly tilted, a wayward chunk of his hair tumbles out of its’ carefully coiffed place, and you don’t consider your actions when you take back your hand to carefully brush it off his forehead.

“I don’t want you to go,” he murmurs.

You frown and stroke his cheek with your thumb, “I don’t want to, either.”

Javi’s fingertips brush your forearm, and when he leans forward, you meet him in the middle. Your mouths join. Lips brushing, breath stolen and returned. The two of you are traversing unmapped and uncharted territory, but it’s so easy. It's as if you’ve been touching like this, kissing like this, for such a long time.

All languid and unhurried until he licks into your mouth, coating your tongue in hints of vanilla, nutmeg, and smoke, and then, you’re both in pursuit of more. Tripping over each other to get back inside. Both of you going for his belt, and then, your underwear – no finesse or thought of the bedroom just steps away because the couch will work just fine.

Knees sunk into the cushions and cheek mashed into an armrest. Heels kicked off and the skirt of your ankle-length dress tugged up over your hips. Javi explores and discovers you from behind, tongue tasting the unmistakable evidence of your desire, and fingers stoking the flame until you’re begging him to put you out of your misery.

“Condoms,” you croak, gesturing blindly. “In my work bag.”

A low growl. Nips and licks and sucks to the back of your thighs, the curve of your hip, the rounds of your shoulders. You’re melting to the floor, rolling into your back, eyes barely able to focus as he snatches up your battered canvas tote and upends it, the contents spilling out messily and noisily across the carpet.

“Preparing for an orgy?” he teases, letting the line of rubbers unfurl above your head.

“Shut up,” you sass, nudging his thigh with your foot. “You know I had to teach that sex ed class today.”

“Did the hospital supply bananas?”

“Actually, it was cucumbers.”

Javi laughs. Tears open the package. Rucks up his shirt. You watch, gaze hooded as he slides the rubber on. You toss out a compliment to his technique, and he flushes, all hasty to push your legs apart and make room for himself between your splayed thighs.

“It’s been – I haven’t done this in a while,” you admit, bravado lessening slightly.

Javi clicks his tongue, thumbs making small circles on your kneecaps, “Me, neither, cariño. Been saving myself for you.”

Your spluttered laugh brings out his hidden dimples, and then, he kisses you. Smiles gradually fade, amusement giving way to urgency, prompting you to reach for him, guiding him until he’s slowly sinking into you, filling you. And it’s a snug fit, but it’s just right, and when Javi rocks his pelvis, you’re remade. Suddenly cast adrift, in search of an anchor, you dig your fingers into his hair. Seek out his shoulders with your hands. Follow the curve of his spine and twine your legs around him just so you can feel the way flexes and stretches into your touch.

“Don’t stop,” you whisper against the shell of his ear. “Javi, please… Please, don’t stop.”

“I won’t,” he promises against your throat. “You feel so good, mi corazón. Feels like you’re mine. Like you’ve always been mine. Fuck.”

His words thrum through you, wreaking havoc, curling your spine, bringing even more heat to your cheeks. There’s no hiding the way your legs are trembling, no stopping your body from bearing down, from clenching hard, from trying to keep him deep inside for as long as possible. His name spills out from your lips like marbles on a wooden floor, the reverent mantra smothered only by his mouth seeking yours.

“Say you’ll stay with me,” Javi demands, teeth nipping your chin.

You nod frantically, “Yes. Yes, I’ll stay with you.”

In possession of you, of your agreement, Javi’s hold becomes unforgiving – fingertips digging into the meat of your hip and the nape of your neck. His thrusts turn pointedly devastating – retreating and surging forward, all precise and measured, purposeful in the way he seems to take control, bringing you to orgasm for the third time with a broad, self-satisfied smile that isn’t as humble as he probably thinks it is.

When he finally comes, he buries himself to the hilt, hips stuttering, stubble rubbing against your cheek as he muffles his groans of pleasure into the crook of your neck. As the two of you lie together in the afterglow, his head pillowed by your breasts, your arms and legs wrapped around him, breaths slowing until they match, the truth of you, of him, becomes undeniably clear.

Home isn’t a place. It’s a person.

And you’ve finally found each other.

#javier pena fanfiction #javier pena fanfic #javier peña narcos #javi pena x reader #javi pena x you #narcos fanfiction #javier peña x reader #javier pena x reader #javier pena x you #javier pena smut #javier pena narcos

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crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf · 5 months ago

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“What's your pleasure, master?”

Tech x F!Reader One Shot

Summary:

Your main objective as a gift for this battle celebration is to make sure everyone is visibly enjoying themselves... it would insult the king after all if any one were to look bored or uninterested at HIS party. So this tall, goggled soldier... one specially invited no less, with his head buried in a data pad sitting quietly by himself is a bit of a problem. Possibly a political one. You need to get him enjoying himself before any one takes note.

WC: 3,612 - Read on Ao3

Content Warning:

Smut. Tech losing his virginity to a(n implied) Sex Slave. That's it, that's the plot. Oral (m and f recieving), unprotected piv and creampie. The rest of the squad briefly being embarrassing. Orgy mention.

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=

The sash on your hips jingled as you made your way through the floor, serving drinks from the golden tray chained to your wrists.

You offer the tray to a well dressed diplomat chatting with local royalty. Their speech faltered as they took the drink, eyes lingering on your bare breasts almost resting on the tray as you lifted it to them. You rolled your eyes as you turned to the next group

Off worlders.

A few more drinks, a bit more idle chatter, and plenty of ogling from the visiting Republic Politicians and their veritable horde of soldiers… and your tray was empty. The guests were mostly upper Command but a few squads that distinguished themselves in battle received special invitations. Your neutral planet could import supplies again because of them.

You returned the tray to Minara and she undid the locks on your arms with a tiny key.

“Look there,”

She pointed with her chin to a darker corner of the plushy gala hall.

Sunk into one of the deep sofas, trying not to look conspicuous it seemed, was a tall, slender man. Hair slicked back, goggles turned down at the holopad he was attempting to hide with his body against the arm rest.

Someone prefers to read at functions…

“Make sure all our guests are enjoying our hospitality.”

She pushed you in the direction of the corner, before turning to circulate more drinks onto the floor.

As you approached you scanned around the lone soldier… he must've been a soldier, clothes scruffy, the look hastily assembled for a party well above their pay grade; but they were rarely alone. Didn't take long to spot the rest of his squad, not too removed. The big one was making a loud show of picking up girls two at a time to bounce on his flexing biceps to much giggling. The others were already sunk into the couches, arms about their own party favors.

Finally even with the slim one you sank onto the ottoman before him clearing your throat.

Sharp eyes flick up to meet yours.

“What's your pleasure, master?”

“I'm fine, thank you.”

His tone was dismissive, looking back down without even a consideration. Either he was completely uninterested or incredibly shy.

“I can fetch a male if you prefer…”

You glance back to the more involved squad members wistfully… they're preferences seemed varied… but at least they were eager.

“I said I'm fine.”

More tension in the voice now, that's the opposite of what you needed. You glanced back to the floor manager and she caught your eyes, scrunching her brow in the direction of the unreceptive man in front of you. You sighed,

“You're going to get me reprimanded, master…”

He put the data pad down abruptly.

“Excuse me?”

“You're not accepting the King's gifts… it can be seen as an insult, … I can't let that happen, at least let me sit with you,”

You pouted, batting your lashes exaggeratedly. He looked up with real attention now, scanning the crowd and catching the questioning glances from the locals.

“Ah… I didn't realize, there were some mention of the gift culture of this planet but I didn't expect…”

He trailed off, eyeing you sitting in front of him, naked besides the belled sash tied around your hip.

“Is that a yes?”

A gulp, a nod, and he tentatively picked his data pad back up; shifting slightly to make a space on the sofa. You rose your brow, and instead sat in his lap, straddling his hips.

“Oh…”

A flush was working up his cheeks. Uninterested or shy?

You leaned casually, careful where you put your weight on his legs.

“Why don't you rest it here?”

With gentle hands you guided him to set the data pad across your breasts, acting as a podium for his… you looked at the pad upside down, biology of megafauna notes?

“..uh-em…”

He was flustered but seemed at a loss, mind racing behind his eyes as he tried to plot a course of action. With a small whine he frantically started to hit buttons on the data pad, pausing when he remembered your breasts on the other side of the translucent screen. He had pulled up a brochure to your planet. You weren't sure that was going to help.

“It'd be easier to ask, master,”

“...right. Uh, What am I expected to… do… uh, with my gift?”

You tilted your head, glancing at the rest of his squad already leagues ahead in the festivities. Surely he understood the… concept.

“I'm here for your use, what that may be is for you to decide… baring anything a bacta tank couldn't fix,”

His eyebrows flew up at that, imagination no doubt running wild. That earlier flush was starting to turn a deep red over his ears and cheeks.

It can't be that…

You glanced back at the squad, comfortable with themselves and the situation, and then back down to the blushing man under you.

“Tell me, master… have you not celebrated your manhood yet?”

“You could… certainly word it like that,”

His face went completely red now, sinking into the sofa and away from you, clutching his data pad to his chest defensively.

“No, no, love, this is exciting…”

You soothed, cupping his hot cheeks.

“I can show you how, as slow as you wish, master …”

“I was… under the impression,”

He looked away,

“The first time should be with someone special…’

You glanced back at the other soldiers.

“Was that how it was for them?”

“I think they thought so,”

“And how special are those first people now?”

His brow furrowed, deciding how to process your logic.

“Has there not been someone special for you?”

“I'm… No. I'm not sure how to quantify this… ‘special’ variable…”

You turned his face back to yours, trying again,

“Special is a changing energy, unstable, I think feeling safe is more favorable for… such decisions,”

His speech patterns were difficult for you to mimic, but the little manipulation seemed to be working; the tension in his thighs relaxing under you with the comfort of false familiarity.

“How does safe apply in this context?”

“Well… it's a rather vulnerable state, and needs a lot of experimentation,”

“... Experimenting…”

It was low, under his breath; but you caught the flicker of interest finally stirring behind those lensed eyes as something clicked for him. You smile softly, picking up the direction to steer him.

“And I'm meant to feel safe with you?... You're a stranger…”

You raised your hands in surrender,

“I exist to please, not to judge or harm, and I have the experience to guide you…”

Eyes behind amber lenses narrowing in thought.

“You seem like you have a healthy curiosity. There must be a few questions I can help you…answer?”

His disposition was changing fast though some reservation remained as he glanced about the wide hall. The cushioned and draped space was filled with people, slowly dissolving into a chaos of flesh as the night grew deeper and the alcohol flowed.

“Does… does it have to be here?”

He asked in a small voice, glancing at his squad mates who had started to take notice of you straddling their comrade. The silver haired one nudging the inked man next to him to turn to you as well.

“We can go somewhere private, if you wish? Master…”

“Please…”

You slid from his lap, gently prying a hand from where it was locked to the data pad to lead him away with you. You caught an approving nod from Minara as you disappeared with him into the back hallways.

Turning into a standard room, low lights, burning resins, and a soft platform at the center of the room piled with large, silky pillows. You closed the door behind you and the lock clicked as the door swished shut.

He looked at you and you looked at him in the dim light. Tall- and now that you really considered him… quite handsome, standing more confidently away from prying eyes. Your pulse quickened at your luck.

“Is it okay if I record this?”

“Oh, um… Yes?”

He made no move to change anything, leaving you to guess the goggles he sported were already recording long before you approached him. Clever… they weren't likely to take a seeing aid from you at the door.

The real question though, was where to start.

“Would you like to get undressed?”

You approached his back, running your hands over his hips from behind.

“Would you like me to undress you?”

He stiffened at your touch, an involuntary twitch from the v of muscle over his waistband as your fingers brushed against it through the thin shirt.

“Ah, um no… clothes. For now.”

He stepped out of your hold, putting some distance between you and you held your hands up disarmingly,

“As you wish… do relax though,”

You made your way to the edge of the low bed and sat.

“You're in control here, master… nothing will happen unless you want it too,”

He took a deep breath,

“Sorry…”

“No need,”

It was clear you'd still need to hold the reins a while,

“Are you more curious about me or yourself?”

He considered the question,

“How so?”

“Do you want to know more about pleasuring yourself or a woman?”

The more direct question had him blushing again,

“I've uh… I know, I mean I've… released before,”

You clenched your jaw to keep from giggling at his fluster. It was rather cute, but you didn't want to frighten him any more than he was.

“Sit, master”

You patted the bed next to you,

“Tech…”

“Hmm?”

“Call me Tech… master doesn't feel…”

“Okay, Tech,”

You patted again, more insistently.

He sat, far more upright than need be. You moved to the floor to kneel between his legs, looking up at him and he gulped.

“We'll go slow, you already know yourself… we'll take it one step further. To start,”

You winked up at him, once again making for his pants fasteners.

“Is this okay?”

He nodded, jaw clenching as he watched you undo the fly of his slacks, breath catching as you reached in to stroke his cock before withdrawing it.

“Already feels different, doesn't it?”

He nodded again, content to observe as you stroked his hardening length. His eyes were darting between watching your hand and then watching you, watching him. Every time his eyes meet yours the member in your hand twitches, hardening rapidly under your attention. It was time to escalate.

Holding his eyes deliberately, you lowered your mouth to him, licking slowly over the swollen head in a move that made his breath hiss between his teeth and his eyes to widen.

“Maker…”

Positive reaction. You continued running your tongue over his sensitive glans to work him into a pant. His hands found their way to your hair. Good, his instincts were kicking in; evidence in the little bucks of his hips as the need to be in your mouth started to overtake him.

You obliged, opening wider and letting him thrust forward. His eyes shut at the sensation of your warm mouth wrapping around him. You sucked gently, maintaining the bulk of control so that he didn't overwhelm himself. His composure broke with a wispy moan as you bobbed on him. His thigh pressed against you began to shake subtly and you slowed freeing him from your mouth with a pop, continuing gently with your hand.

“Do you want to come like this, m- Tech?”

He took a shaky breath, hands tightening for a moment in your hair.

“No… I'd like to… if I can?”

He was looking away. His shyness was indeed cute, he knew well enough what you were here for.

“Of course. How would you like to have me?”

Silence as the pressure of such a decision weighed on him.

“Would you like to lay with me as if a lover?... Or would you prefer a position where you could see what's happening?”

…

“I’d… I’d like to see,”

Somehow you knew that's what he’d choose.

“Switch with me then.”

You moved to sit back on the bed, perched to the edge this time, and spread your thighs, making your bare sex beneath the tied sash obvious as he knelt on the floor in front of you. His eyes were moving over you swiftly, from shoulder to knees and everything in between; trying to take in every detail. You raised a brow as he reached forward, fingers hesitating just before your folds.

“Can I… can I examine you?”

“You can. First time being so close?”

Just because he hadn't consummated it didn't mean he's never seen a naked woman.

“... It is, I’d… like to take some time if that's okay,”

“This is for your pleasure, do what satisfies you,”

He relaxed, once again reaching out for you. The touch was very clinical at first. Prodding the less sensitive lips that hugged the rosy petals, pulling them away with his thumbs, spreading the pink folds to see the shape of them. He pulled the hood away from your clit, brushing the sensitive bundle of nerves as he went. You squeaked at the sudden contact to the exposed button, twitching slightly and drawing his gaze back to your face. He touched it again, gently, watching how your spine tightened. Then again, pushing much harder.

“Ah! Careful,”

You gasped, the rough press jolting through you.

“Sorry… does that hurt?”

“Not really, it's just… a strong sensation,”

He looked down between your legs again, and then, leaned in to flick his tongue against the spot.

You gasped again, but lighter, almost a moan as his soft tongue pressed against you. Tentatively, mimicking the motions you used on him moments ago. Your back arched slightly, already turned on, but something about the way his eyes caught you, held you… you felt a more desperate heat start to build at the look in his eyes. He'd found something interesting to investigate.

He was testing methods, swift flicks, long hard drags; each time watching to see what it did to you… it was hard to believe he hadn't done this before.

“You're a fast learner…”

He scoffed, harsh breath hot against where he was still pressed to your quim.

“I am an exceptional learner.”

The sudden arrogance threw you a moment, but it barely registered as he sucked you into his mouth causing a wave of pleasure to crash into you. How'd he know to do that? Almost as if to prove his point he licked hard and rhythmic driving you to an edge…

“How?”

The notion was lost as you came. Your back was arched, and your head thrown back but you knew he was still watching, still studying the effects of his motions. As the surge of ecstasy ebbed from you, you pushed away from him, gasping.

“Stop… stop for now…”

“What happens if I don't?”

He had folded his arms on the edge of the bed where you were moments ago, resting his chin on them to gaze at you, waiting. It was a genuine question.

You caught your breath, trying to figure out how to explain.

“When you've taken care of yourself before, how easy is it to do one right after another?”

“I do not know. I've never needed a second release so soon.”

You must not get bored often…

“Uh… it's intense. The strong sensation can be more… painful, if you're not careful.”

“And if you are careful?”

“It can still feel good, I can still come… faster even.”

“So why stop?”

“It's overwhelming.”

“I don't understand.”

“I'm not sure you will till you… experience it I suppose,”

“Hmm, and you don't want to be overwhelmed… now?”

He was subtly reaching for your ankle making to draw you back. You weren't sure how to say you didn't need to be kriffed silly on the clock.

“There's other things to cover…”

…

“I agree.”

You let him grab your leg tugging you eagerly to lay over the edge of the bed again. His fingers found you once more, this time concerning himself with the opening beneath the slick petals. He slipped a finger inside, tilting his head at the way your muscles squeezed around it.

“I fit here…”

He wasn't addressing you, talking to himself softly in a tone of wonderment.

“Are you ready? Tech?”

He blinked, looking to you again he withdrew his hand, raising on his knees to bring his cock back into view. He held himself, soothing his aching length by massaging the precum that started to leak out into the throbbing head.

“A moment…”

He paused, pulling his shirt off and tugging the pants the rest of the way off, kicking them away.

“Now I am.”

He positioned himself against your dripping entrance, angling his face to watch what he was doing as he started to push into you.

You let out a pleased groan as he filled you, slowly, meticulously watching his length disappear into you. He swore as he bottomed out against your thighs.

“It's so…hot.”

He was still, eyes closed, cock twitching, face calm as he contemplated the sensation of warming his cock in a woman. You found yourself enjoying his… methods. The slow, contemplative way of operating a welcome change to the usual rushed rutting of your work.

“I'm going to move now.”

“Would you prefer me to stay still or move with you?”

…

“Still… for now.”

He took hold of your hips and rocked back, pulling his cock out almost fully before thrusting back in, only slightly faster than before.

“Mm”

His eyes flicked to your face a moment as he withdrew again. A shorter, harder thrust, pulling a moan of pleasure from you.

Small nod to himself and he repeated the motion, moving his hips more confidently as he was rewarded with more pleasant noises from you. It was hard not to rock your hips against him, the feel of him against your sensitive walls easing a fuzzy feeling of bliss into your mind, urging you to chase it.

“You can move now… I can feel you trying too…”

He let go of your hips, leaning to plant his hands to either side of you on the mattress. Grateful, you reached out wrapping your arms about his ribs to pull him down to his elbows and wrapping your knees about him to give yourself leverage. He groaned as he felt your legs tie around him, triggering that primal instinct he had held at bay till now.

No longer concerned with observation, he gave in, wrapping his arms about you to hop your body further up the bed against the silk pillows climbing the rest of the way on with you. He crashed against you, bare chest pressed against your breasts as he kept snapping his hips against you. Tech was whispering to himself, little observations you decided to take as compliments as he lost himself in you. You scooped your hips to meet him, intensifying your own stimulation.

“Just like that, Tech, you're doing so well…”

His breath hitched at the praise and then his lips were on yours, the kiss unexpected and hungry as his thrusts became a hammering flurry.

It was too much and your muscles snapped tight. You moaned into his mouth as your orgasm crashed through you. He was moaning too, gasping against your lips as his focus started to dip. His hips stuttered as a brief moment of clarity broke through…

“Inside?”

“Mhmm, come for me Tech,”

He buried himself to the hilt, pressing his lips hard against yours as if to hold you still again. The feral instinct to fill you satiated itself as thick loads of cum poured from him; You could feel it shooting from his twitching cock, hot little jolts rushing through you. A sense of pride filled you, knowing you had received his first spilled seed.

Your lips were released with a gasp and he rolled off you, attempting to catch his breath a moment, hand yanking his goggles off to wipe at the sweat on his forehead.

Shifting to the side, you watched him, his eyes closed, breath slowing… hand still clutching the goggle strap draped over his brow. He really was handsome.

His eyes fluttered open, and you could tell they were brown now as they slid up your body to meet your gaze once again.

“Did you enjoy yourself?”

“...very much…”

He pulled his goggles back on, moving to gently spread your thighs, watching as his cum leaked from your twitching sex.

Suddenly there was a pounding at the door making you both jump, followed by raucous wolf whistles and whooping from the other side in the hall.

Tech groaned, leaning his head against your thigh.

“Tech, Tech, Tech!”

It was his squad mates, but how'd they figure the room… you were sure they hadn’t followed.

“Don't tell me you have a tracer as well…”

You hissed at the man at your hip, once again a wonderful shade of scarlet.

More pounding and whooping from the door.

“They're going to get thrown out!”

“Knock it off, I'm coming!”

He shouted at the door.

“I bet you are!”

A loud, gruff voice boomed back.

~~~

You watched as the group of soldiers were escorted back to the entrance by security. As you had hoped, Tech looked up and around before they were pushed out the foyer.

You wiggled your fingers at him in farewell.

His squad mates were clapping him on the back, playfully kissing his temples and ruffling his hair.

He smiled goofily back at you, bright red… but standing straight and tall.

#the bad batch #tbb Tech #Tech tbb #Tech Smut #tech x reader #spicy tech #tbb fanfic #tbb smut #smut #smut fic or smic if you will

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