#What orb. What fucking orb Elaborate please

[0xeyedaisy]

Curious

[kirain]

Please don't get me wrong, I like gale well enough, but he turns me off because I get the impression that he wouldn't care much about what I have to say. He's so intelligent and wise and he clearly has years and years of education and study under his belt. So what on earth could I even talk to him about without boring him to death? Because honestly, I like to talk, like, a lot. I'm just as passionate about stuff but not nearly as knowledgeable and I fucking hate that look on people's face when they're blithely listening to stuff that bored them? Im not knowledgeable enough to have anything to offer him

This is ironically how Gale feels about himself. He feels like he has absolutely nothing to offer anyone, which is why he went after the orb in the first place. He felt inadequate for a goddess, and he feels inadequate for Tav. The idea that Tav is attracted to him genuinely shocks him, too, because from his standpoint ... who could possibly love him? He's just a guy who screws everything up. That's why he's so elated when Tav shares their feelings with him.

He knows magic, but he doesn't know the world. He's clueless in certain areas. Despite being so knowledgeable and passionate about magic, he wants to know Tav. He doesn't care how intelligent or unintelligent you are, he only cares that you're a good person. I haven't finished his romance yet, but I've made some pretty silly decisions (like licking a dead spider) and he's still sticking by me. His desire for Tav isn't transactional at all. In fact, he'd probably find your question "what on earth could I even talk to him about without boring him to death" perplexing. The answer is anything! Gale's passion is learning and sharing knowledge, and if you talk to him about a subject he's already well versed in, he won't shut you down, he'll just match your enthusiasm. I'm playing as a wizard, and every time I've spoken to him about the Weave or books or anything my character knows as a result of her background, he gets excited, not bored.

Moreover, Gale's hobbies mainly consist of reading. That's it. He likes to sit on his balcony and read. I'm sure many people would consider that boring, and he knows it. That's why he gets agitated when you first meet him. He blatantly tells you his hobbies and everything he loves; reading, writing poetry, his cat, so when you ask him to elaborate or say "tell me the real you" he gets a bit defensive. He dodges the question about his past and anything regarding the orb, but he was also being 100% honest about who he is. He does love reading, he does write poetry, he does worship his cat, but that's all he really has going for him and he knows it's not substantial. At least not from his perspective. He's insecure.

Mystra was his entire life. He was secluded from childhood by a groomer and only had Tara and tutors on the side. Then he lived alone in his tower for over a year, fearing death, regretting his mistakes, and reevaluating his life. Companionship is literally the best thing you can offer Gale, because it's the only thing he truly wants. Even just a simple friendship means the world to him. Anything else you bring to the table is an absolute bonus. Don't forget, when you reach his maximum affinity he responds to your queries with, "Always a delight to speak with you."

[ryukatters]

i’m politely requesting an elaboration on gojo liking brats pretty please ( 〃．．)

pairing: gojo x fem!reader

cw: edging, overstimulation, praise, some breathplay

Gojo likes to spoil you rotten.

He has no issue with buying you material things, he can make it happen with a simple swipe of his card. He loves spoiling you with his love and affection, pampering you as he coos and praises until you’re red in the face.

His adoration and utter devotion makes you feel like a glutton, and Gojo’s more than happy to keep providing until you’re full (because even when you think you can’t take anymore, you can. Because Gojo says so).

Anything to keep his baby happy. Spoiled.

But that’s where his predicament lies.

“Fuck, ‘toru,” you moan, back arching off the mattress as Satoru plows into you.

You’re dangerously close.

“Be good,” he warns, warm hand on your tummy to push you back down flat against the mattress. “Look at me.” So you do. He’s smiling but you can see the predatory glint in his eyes, almost like they’re challenging you to disobey him.

He’s been edging you for what feels like hours now. Satoru may be sweet, but times like these show just how primal and sadistic he can be— getting off on making you cry and beg for him.

“‘Toru, ‘toru I can’t! It’s too much,” you whine. Your head feels dizzy and all your senses are being bombarded by Satoru. It’s too overwhelming.

“But it’s not enough princess,” he coos, pressing his lips to yours before deepening the kiss. He sucks on your tongue, hard, and he feels a wave of satisfaction and pleasure wash through him as you clench around his length. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get his fill.

You feel yourself edge towards your climax once more, words bubbling up your throat but dying on the tip of your tongue as you prepare yourself to beg once again for your release. Surely, your boyfriend can’t refuse you again?

“Baby, gonna cum, please—”

The building pressure dies down as quickly as it comes. Satoru pulls out, cock glistening from evidence of your consummation.

“No.”

“B-but, why?” You sputter, tears threatening to spill from your lashline.

“Because I said so,” he says simply. “Don’t be a brat.”

You grip the sheets in frustration. You’ve lost track of how many times you’ve been brought so devastatingly close to your climax, only to have it ripped away from you. You’re not sure how much more you can take.

“Satoru, just make me fucking cum already,” you spit, tone vexing.

All movements stop. Satoru’s looking at you, eyes wide, like he can’t believe his baby had the spunk to lash out at him. The look of surprise melts into a contemplative one.

“Guess I haven’t fucked you stupid yet,” he tuts, large hands cupping your tits, pinching your nipples hard, smiling as it elicits a particularly sinful moan from you, “since you still have that little attitude of yours.” One hand travels up your chest to wrap around the base of your throat, squeezing firmly.

You feel your mouth run dry and your pussy clench around nothing.

“Beg.”

The simple command has you sputtering, babbling desperately pleas you hope are enough to satisfy him. They’re not.

“Tell me you need me. That I’m the only one who can make you feel this way.” Satoru is crazed now, possessive, signaling that he’s starting to feel as fucked out as you are.

“Ah, ‘toru, please— I need you so much,” you babble, thighs quivering as your boyfriend begins to pound into you mercilessly. “You’re the only one that can make me feel this good.”

“Good girl,” he pants, cerulean orbs rolling back into his skull has he feels balls tighten. “Now you’re going to take everything I give you, ‘kay pretty girl?”

All you can do is nod.

A thought crosses his mind. Has he spoiled you too much?

When he sees you, so pliant and needy and behaved for him, he thinks that it’s a foolish question.

There’s no such thing as too much.

he’s so hot he’s so sexy i want him

[plutoniclol]

Longan Dragon Cookie dating headcanons

// maybe ooc Longan Dragon Cookie im sorry

reblogs appreciated!

IM SORRY BUT LONGAN DRAGON COOKIE HAS HAD ME IN A FUCKING CHOKEHOLD I CANT ESCAPE AAAAGHH

anyways

ive seen so many people say this motherfucker is cold even around their partner but. i feel like theyd soften up a little when their partner is around

oh my god theyre touch starved they try not to show it around you but please atleast give them a hug from time to time, bro has been asleep for who knows how long and has not felt the touch of another in so so long

they may hate cookies but theyll make an exception for you only. and maybe your friends and family.

they feel obligated to protect you since you’re much smaller and more fragile than them. if you somehow got hurt physically or mentally theyd feel like they’re at fault

god theyre so bad at cuddling its sometimes hilarious. their partner tries cuddling them for the first time or gives them a huge hug, theyre don’t know what to do

theyll let you lay on their lap! (honkk mimimi)

gift giving is huge for them, they give you so many elaborate things like you’re royalty

if you gave them a gift back, they might be a little confused lol

they don’t sleep very much but will lay with you when you have to

this one is a little random but i feel like if you hate being stared at then they’ll make the eye orb thingies look away from you

[creelkobblelaufeyson69]

Still into you

Warnings: smut

Code name: Angel

Why is he here? Why the fuck am I here? Everyone else I’m okay with, but why is Adam Barrett here? Was this Lambert’s elaborate plan to make me finally confess to the past detective? Good luck Lambert! Because it’s not happening. Although being next to him in the van is quite comforting

Brushing against him because of the movement of the van. I hadn’t lost contact with him after he left his life behind. It actually felt like I was the only one that supported his plans. He didn’t know then that I had crush on him, so nothing about tonight should change that

When we got settled into the mansion that Lambert sent us to keep the kid in, I found myself comfortably sitting at one of the chairs near the bar. My eyes were definitely tired of being open. Fuck. Why’d I get too cozy? Fuck. Adam was approaching me with a smirk playing on his face

I sat up, and watched intently. The bar had gotten darker, but my focus was him and him alone. Once he was close enough, he scoops me up. We’re in a room soon, and he’s placed me onto the bed. He’s taking his clothes off, which makes me do the same thing. Once I had my clothes off, he gets on top of me

He takes his glasses off, and places them onto a nightstand. “I want you to make as much noise as you possibly can, understand?” He asked as one of his hands grasped onto my throat. A moan escapes my mouth, which makes him smirk. Before anything continues, I was awake because of someone shaking me awake

Fuck. Just another dream. “I need you awake for this job Angel” the voice of Adam says, which makes my eyes make contact with his. His beautiful blue orbs looking deeply into my eyes. “Yes sir. Sorry sir” I say calmly, which makes him smirk. Why is he smirking? “I have a very special job for you Angel” wait… why is he covered in blood?

I noticed that I was also covered in blood as well. What the fuck did I miss? How long was I asleep for? “What is it sir?” I asked, before I knew it, he has fangs digging into my skin. When he pulls off, I felt woozy. Was he really gonna kill me? After all I’ve done for him? “Open up Angel” he orders, which makes me realize he bit his wrist

I listen, and tastes his blood. I’m so confused. What is h- “now you’re just like me! We’re gonna have so much fun together Angel!” He says cheerfully as I stood up now. All my senses were heightened, and I craved blood. I was a vampire. This was all real life since I knew Lazar was real

“What is going on Frank?” I asked as I hear footsteps. “You’re gonna kill your first victim Is what’s going on Angel” I looked at who enters the bar, and saw Joey. “No…” she says weakly. She was covered in blood too. I don’t resist. My hunger was too strong. I attacked Joey, and started to drain her blood

I was acting like a starving animal when I was feasting on her. “Good job Angel” he says as he’s leaving hickeys on my neck now. I pulled away from Joey to swallow. I let out moans now as he marks me. He stops now, and makes my body face his. His fangs were hidden, but the way he looked at me was him keeping strain on wanting to just fuck me right here on the floor

“I knew what you were dreaming about Angel. I bet you always have such erotic dreams about me pleasuring you” he says in a low tone, which makes me horny. “You do. Some Angel you are: Especially being down bad for a vampire. You even like being a vampire” he says as I ached for him even more. “Sir please” I begged, which I knew how pathetic it sounded

He grins, and asked me what it was that I begged for. “You gotta use your words Angel” he says as he tilts my head up with his finger. “Fuck me sir, please” he smirks now, and then kisses me on the lips now. It was filled with passion and hunger. My favorite combination. He pushes me down onto the ground roughly

He definitely couldn’t have waited. He tore off my clothes, which I definitely didn’t mind as our mouths fought. He pulls apart, and starts to take his clothes off now. Once he was naked, he got off of me and told me to get on all fours. I listened, and soon he’s in my ass. My head arches back as my hands intertwined with his

He’s thrusting at an abnormal speed, which makes me moan. “Angel” he moans in my ear, which makes my insides go wild. He starts licking blood off of my neck, which makes me shudder. “Oh fuck” he moans out afterwards. “You know, your code name should’ve been devil instead, don’t you think?”

“Yes sir” I agreed as the thrusts were getting more painful, but it felt so fucking good. He smirks as he bites my cheek as gently as he could. Blood was drawing from it, which makes him lick it off. “Fuck sir” I moaned out, which I knew made him amused

He chuckles, which makes me feel the need to cum. “Go on Angel, cum for your master” that makes me go over the edge, which makes him stop and pull out now. I didn’t feel tired, but I should’ve expected that since I’m a vampire now. I’m on top of him now, which makes him looked impressed

Now we were on a bed in one of the rooms. He smirks; “You wanna recreate that dream of yours, don’t you Angel?” I nodded my head, which makes him switch sides with me. “Well, I’m gonna fuck you so much harder and better than I do in your dreams” he definitely was, because he wasn’t a vampire in any of those dreams

This was exciting, and I couldn’t wait any longer for him to just pound into me. “You know, you’re not the only one who had feelings” he says as he slams into me. My head wanted to arch back, but he forces me to keep eye contact with him. He’s pulling me by my hair as he’s aggressively thrusting into me. “I want you to know how you’ve made me feel all these years” he growls

All I could do was moan. He’s moaning now as he places a firm hand onto my throat. Fuck. He feels fucking amazing. “I want you to know how much I fucking craved you Angel” he continues as he’s hitting my g spot. “I want you to know that I’m gonna fucking rip anyone who looks at your direction” he said in his low tone, which sent shivers down my spine

“Do you understand?” I moaned out a yes sir as I needed to cum again. “Good. Because that’ll be your fucking dinner” I came and even squirted. He looks down and then looks back at me. He smirks for a second with his fangs out. “Definitely better at fucking you in real life, right Angel?” He moans my code name in my ear in a low whisper

“Yes sir” he came now, and then stopped and pulls out of me. I didn’t realize how much the bed was on the brick of breaking because of how rough he was being. He lays down next to me; body facing me. God he’s never looked so goddamn hot. My eyes scanned the room, and I noticed robes. “Hm. Good idea.” He gets up, which makes me follow along

Once we had gotten the robes on, we walked out of the place with our hands intertwined. What a night

Note: I got lost in trance ngl😵‍💫

[obsidiancreates]

From Regular Wednesday To Regular Whimsday

(I still haven't watched past 41 in OUAW, I keep just restarting it, so for the OUAW gang this is just some unspecified time in the swamps of Hither.)

It starts with Witchlight, of course. A patch of mushrooms, a mysterious artifact that could reportedly "open doors to new worlds of possibilities", and the whims of a 20 year old with ADHD and the ability to write whatever the fuck xey want.

And so the artifact shatters in the patch of Witchlight, and Carnival LeCroux find themselves faced with six deeply confused, highly concerned, and bafflingly identical humans.

"Well this is diffrrrent," Torbek says, scratching his head. "Isn't it usually uuus who Witchlight messeees withhh?"

"Must've been that orb thing!" Kremy searches the mud below them by poking his cane around in it.

"Roman, what is this?" The human in the dark shirt and blue-striped tie asks the one in the white-and-red royal-like getup.

"Don't look at me." Roman points at a human with a similar but more elaborate outfit of green and black. "Whatever this horrid imagining is, it must be Remus!"

"Oh, thank you, brother, it is horrible here! But, I didn't do it! Maybe good ol' Daddo did? He's been a frog before, frogs, swamps-"

"Please, Patton would never bring us somewhere this gr-oss!"

"And I really only looked like that because we were talkin' about Frogger." The human in the lighter blue shirt with the gray covering tied around his neck says, wincing a little and adjusting his glasses. "Virgil? Do you know where we are, kiddo?"

"No." The human in the patchwork purple and black hoodie is tense, ready for either fight or flight (probably flight, based on his general vibe). He looks around, eyeing Carnival Lecroux. "And those guys seem way too active to be any imaginary constructs. ... I told you guys we shouldn't have let Janus convince Thomas to have another glass of wine tonight! We're probably in some... weird nightmare because of it!"

"Oh, blaming me, what a surprise." The final human- well, maybe not. While most of him looks human, half of his face is covered with scales. His cheek has a natural slit implying an ability to unhinge his jaw quite wide but only on that side (so he probably can't actually, because his other cheek would be completely screwed if he tried), and his eye is bright yellow with a slitted pupil.

"Slit pupil means he's venomous," Frost warns his friends. "Right, Gricko?"

"Oh, yeah, yeah. I've never seen a snake-folk before, though, actually."

"He's barely a reptile-folk at all!" Kremy points at the kind of-human. "Either fuckin' commit or don't!"

"Oh, okay, gettin' some strong language here! Let's uh, elt's tone that down, how about, huh?" Patton looks at Remus. "Kinda leaning towards this being you, now."

"What, like I'm the only one who swears between us?! Ro-bro here-" Remus slings an arm around his brother, who quickly shoves it off. "-is the one who came up with Bitchmas!"

"I was in a heated debate! I'm just very passionate!"

"You're a potty-mouth! Even more than me!"

"I have to disagree, Remus. Your deodorant alone is all the evidence I need to contradict you."

"Mmm, but does contradicting me really matter if no-one cares to pay attention, Logan?"

"Oooooh, they've got drama." Twig climbs down from Gideon's shoulders. "This is just like those trashy major images!"

"We are not trashy!" Roman looks at his brother. "Well, most of us are not trashy. And we are not from some... major image!"

"Roman, I don't know that you need to justify us to the imaginary child."

"I'm not a child! I'm a Twig!"

"As in your name?"

"Yeah!"

"Then those are not mutually exclusive concepts."

"Alright, alright, enough of all this!" Kremy points at Logan with his cane. "Y'all explain yourselves right now so we can get a fuckin' move on!"

"Boy, lotta f-bombs being thrown around by this guy." Patton plays with the sleeves of the hoodie around his neck.

"Why would I explain? The only possibility is this is happening within Thomas's mind, so I see no reason to-"

"OH, GREAT FLYNN RIDER'S SMOLDER! Logan, there is another possibility! A whimsical, fantastical, impossible possibility!"

"That... is already a contradiction within itself."

"We... have been TRANSPORTED TO ANOTHER WORLD!" Roman strikes a pose, one arm aloft in the air and the other held close t his chest as he gazes up into the sky.

"That is absolutely impossible."

"Uh... I dunno." Virgil looks down at the mud and swamp ooze clinging to his boots and pants. "I do feel... weirdly solid, right now."

"Yes! Some kind of incredible magic has taken us OUT OF THE REALM OF PRETEND and into a true fairytale!" Roman's eyes positively sparkle.

"First of all, magic does not exist."

The entire Carnival Crew look at each other. These people are either completely insane, or from what sounds like the worst world ever. No magic is like no stones for building, no wood for burning, no air for breathing.

Logan continues. "Second of all, if we have been somehow transported, beyond all possibility and the very logic that makes up my being, where is Thomas?"

Gideon puffs on his cigar. "Quit talkin' between yerselves! Just answer Kremy's fuckin' question, man!"

"The... alligator-man did not ask a question. He told us to explain ourselves."

"Oh-ho my gods! He's worse than Frost!"

Frost doesn't show if he's offended or not. He simply goes, "Mmm."

"I don't care what you say, Logan-"

"Not new information to me."

"-I am going to treat this as a grand magical adventure! Clearly we have been taken away to a world of magic and monstrosities to fulfill some grand quest, and these uh... strange creatures, are the proverbial tutorial for our journey!"

Gideon leans down to Kremy's ear. "Can I punch 'im?"

"Not yet, Gid. But probably later."

"Mmph, fine."

Roman points at the other party. "My good sirs! We are the Sanders Sides, a group of uh- what's the word you use, Logan?"

"Fine, I shall play along until a reasoning more aligned with myself is presented by someone who will actually be listened to. The word I use is Metaphysical, it simply means not actually physical beings."

"Yes! Metaphysical adventurers from another world!"

Frost leans in, intrigued. "What exactly do you mean, you aren't actually physical beings?"

Logan speaks before Roman can give his own explanation- likely for the best, as the words 'Well, nerd,' were clearly to be Roman's next input to the conversation. Logan, instead, matches the energy of Frost with his clear explanation.

"Well, to put it simply we are personifications of various aspects of Thomas's personality and mental processes. Our main function, and reason for existence, is often to externalize an issue that would normally be resolved through an internal examination and investigation."

"Wow, that's uh- that's really quite interesting. And yet you all take on these uh, these-these roles, and personalities, beyond your intended representations?"

"Yes, and the... severity, of these individualizations has increased drastically over the years."

"So you've had a-a growth cycle! You've developed your minds to contain intricacies and um, and greater depth of character, literally."

"Well- yes, I suppose that is not an inaccurate way of stating it, but again we are not individuals. We are not actually capable of fulfilling many of the requirements considered for actual-"

"OH MY GOSHHHHH!" As Patton cuts Logan off with a joyous scream, Logan's huff of indignation goes unnoticed by all but the fascinated Frost. Instead, all attention turns to the creature who has stepped out of the bushes. Giant round eyes, soft and fluffy fur-feathers, a little beat that the leg of a frog is quickly swallowed into.

"I'm going to cry," Patton breathes, hands clasped up by his mouth.

Logan clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. "It is a very adorable creature. And apparently docile, which I assume means it's with these people."

"OH, of course she is!" Gricko throws himself at the adorable owlbear, clinging to her neck with a hug as she muzzles her face into his. "This is my daughter Hootsie, Hootsie T. Cutesie-Grimgrin!"

"Don't you mean pet?"

Gricko looks at Logan with horror. "No! She's my daughter, and a very bright little girl, oooooh Hootsie, he didn't mean it, they must not have adoption in whatever world he's from."

"What? Of course we understand the concept of adoption, but-"

"Well y'all said you ain't got magic where you're from, so it ain't too unreasonable to assume you're lackin' a buncha other stuff as well!" Kremy gestures at Logan with the ground-end of his cane, flinging swamp muck onto the human's shirt.

Logan sets his jaw and looks Kremy in the eyes while flicking the muck off. "Our world lacking in nonsensical magic does not mean it lacks basic concepts such as adoption. I was proposing a correction because, while it is clear anthropomorphic animal-human hybrids are a normalcy here, that... is just a bear with an owl face."

"Hey! You keep shit-talkin' our niece, I'm gonna punch you right in the body!"

"I am not-"

"AWWWWW, you guys think of each other as family?"

Kremy taps the eyehole if his skull cane topper. "Well, I dunno if-"

"Hell yeah we're a family!" Gideon grabs Hootsie, and by extension Gricko, and holds them both in a hug. "Been travellin' together so fuckin' long an' know so much about each other, what else could we be?"

"I mean we could be a group or uh-"

"Ooooooh, but Mr. Kremyyyyyy, Torbek thinks of you all as faaamily."

The screams of the entire collective, Sides and Carnival alike, could deafen someone unused to either party. Twig and Roman especially.

"Oh-ho, geez, man! We forgot you were here!" Gideon thumps Torbek on the back. "You gotta stop doin' that!"

"He does that a lot?!" Vigril, adrenaline leaving him, drops out of his pose to bolt and sinks deep into his hoodie. The words come out more like spittle, forcing their way through gritted teeth.

"Ooooh, Torbek doesn't mean to. People just forget Torbek exists."

"That's not a terrifying notion at all." Janus keeps his cane hoisted up and arm cocked for a swing, just in case. "There's nothing alarming about a seven foot tall glowing monster who can completely vanish from notice without even trying."

"I knew he was still here!" Remus twirls his morningstar and walks over to Torbek, burying his face in Torbek's closest patch of fur and taking a deep sniff. "You reek! It is delightful!"

"Oooooh- huh? Wait, reeeeally? You find Torbek deliiightfuuul?"

"Oh, abso-lutely! What is that smell, I have never whiffed it before! Is it your deodorant? What flavor is it called?!"

"Uuuuuuh, what's deodorannnt?"

Remus blinks up at Torbek with a grin absolutely carved into his face. "You're going to be my new best friend. Sorry Janus!"

"I don't care at all." Janus examines his "fingernails", despite the presence of his gloves. "The title means nothing to me."

"You love me!" Remus begins to literally climb Torbek. "Now let me see these glowing drug implants! This place is a wealth of new ideas!"

"Please do not encourage my brother," Roman says with a look of disgust.

"We ain't, I think he's just encouragin' himself. And trust us, we've tried makin' Torbek a little more presentable."

"Yeah! When he was all tiny in my inn, he got a nice bath and makeover! But it got ruined as soon as he fell out." Twig holds up her tiny satchel-sized inn for Roman to see.

"Your- oh, look at that! Now that is the kind of whimsy and fantastical magic I was looking for!"

"Speaking of looking, let's look for a way home." Virgil is no longer quite so pressed into his hoodie, but the hood is still up over his head. "What is Thomas going through right now? You guys said when I ducked out, things got bad. Now we're all gone!"

"Oh, sweet Tatiana's beignets, he's right! Thomas could be in serious peril!"

"That's assuming our roles as facets of his personality still apply to us at this moment. Given that we have physical forms-"

Remus's head snaps around and he shouts, "You're all aware of your own breathing!"

Everyone splutters and gasps and makes general noises of upset as suddenly Breathing becomes a conscious effort.

"And we've all got heartbeats!" Remus giggles and claps his hands as even more displeasure rings out, and he simply turns back to trying to part Torbek's fur around the implants and see the scars. Torbek shifts uncomfortably, but his ear twitches and his eyes glaze with a bit of relief- Remus is unintentionally helping scratch a few itches and clean some gunk from Torbek's fur.

Virgil has his hand over his heart. "Is mine supposed to be racing this much?"

"Well, everyone has a different resting heart rate, Virgil. Allow me to- oh my goodness. Ahem. No, that is likely because your, well, you, has spiked with Remus's comments."

"Hhhnnnnggg..."

"Okay, Virgil, now would be the time to utilize those breathing exercises you've taught Thomas."

"Little easier to say than do, Logan!"

"Well, simply try."

"Yes, and if the racing nature of your heart causes you other health problems, Gricko may be able to help." Frost gestures at the goblin who, when Torbek had frightened everyone, had dropped from Hootsie's neck and landed head-first in the soft muck of the swamp. Gricko puts up a single thumbs-up, still quite stuck and dazed, though his nose peeks out just enough for him to breath without worry of suffocation.

Logan blinks. "He, is your doctor?"

"Not exactly, he is uh- let me pull him out, actually, he may want to correct you."

Frost does not move to pull Gricko up- but up Gricko comes anyway, a shhhhhplop! following some invisible force yanking him from the mud.

"Oh, thank you, Frosty," Gricko says, his voice becoming mumbled and somewhat slurred at the last word. "Anyway! Um, yes, I am not exactly a doctor, I am a druid. I can help with some basics healings but not everything."

"Like Torbek's various raaashes."

"Ooooh, you have rashes? Where?!"

"Remus, you will get rashes if you touch them," Janus says, reaching up with his cane and swiftly pulling Remus down to the ground. "Having a real body means you can actually get diseases now."

"Oh, Janny, you're saying that like it's a bad thing!"

"Which means real, symptoms? Including things like death?"

"I still don't see the issue here."

"Okay. Does anyone have a leash?"

"Ooooooh, yes, please."

"Eugh."

[hapan-in-exile]

Volume 4 - Post #4: Say goodbye to the old me

Another installment in this ongoing serialized fanfic

GIF by dindooku

Genre: Mandalorian x Fem! Reader

Total word count: 5.6K (fourth post in Volume 4)

Rating: Explicit - smut, language, +18 *NSFW*

_______________________________

IV. “Hey! Watch it! I–oh…I, um…” the Trandoshan’s words died on his lips the moment he looked up to discover who he’d bumped into.  

The Mandalorian hated working on Coruscant. It was noisy, crowded, and endlessly labyrinthian. Most of the filters in his helmet were rendered useless due to the sheer number of life forms in such close proximity. Continuous vehicle traffic across every level of the city overloaded his motion sensors. 

The frenetic energy of the megalopolis set him on edge.

But what Mando really hated, what he absolutely loathed, was visiting the Uscru District. It was all the worst parts about a place like Daiyu—gambling dens, night clubs, garish neon lights, vendors shouting, the flashing, stochastic holograms—made somehow worse because it was repacked for gawking tourists. 

Acrobats hung from cables crisscrossing overhead, their lithe bodies shimmering, while street musicians played for coins. Instrument cases littered the walkway, and goods were hawked on the pavement.   

He felt uncentered. The next idiot who tripped over him to stare slack-jawed at some fucking juggler was getting bodied. 

Luckily, it didn’t come to that. Mando couldn’t afford the delay.

The Mandalorian turned onto Daring Way, toward the sky bridge that would take him to the Floating World. Tourists liked to keep to well-lit thoroughfares, so the foot traffic here was sparser, and he made better time. Soon, the soft, glowing lights of the pleasure quarter came into view. 

Music spilled out from decadent parlors where the doors and windows had been flung open to lure passersby. Beings of every gender and species could be seen lounging, sprawled out on display, wearing little more than scraps of fabric and gaudy jewels. 

Each house catered to a different clientele, their specialty made known by the facade of the building or else the costumes worn by hosts welcoming their clients inside. 

Most tourists never entered the brothels of the Floating World. They just came to take in the scene and watch the crowd, which was a sight in itself. Amongst the extravagant fashions and decor of the houses, many visitors donned elaborate masks or robes to conceal their identities.   

So the Mandalorian was surprised to discover that the Dark Garden had no hosts waiting in the doorway and nothing on display in the windows. Instead, they were closed, sealed tight behind intricately carved black shutters. 

The whole building was black. Its gleaming stone exterior looked more like a palatial mansion than a pleasure house.  

The woman stationed behind the desk in the entryway was also dressed in black. It was a stark contrast to her pale pink skin, white-blond hair, and nearly colorless gray eyes. She looked up at him from between two onyx vases overflowing with vibrant red blossoms that matched her painted lips. 

“Welcome, sir. We appreciate your business. Do you have an appointment?”

“No, I’m not in need of your…services. I’ve come to see Mistress Anassa. She’ll know why I’m here.”

“Mistress Anassa is very busy,” she smiled apologetically. “Her clients book months in advance. I cannot promise she will have time to—”

He slid several gold peggats across the highly polished surface of the reception desk. 

“Tell her a Mandalorian is waiting. I’ll be here until she finds the time.”

“Very well, sir. Please come with me.” 

She led him through a dark passage to a lounge filled with curved sofas and circular ottomans, where clients–some wearing masks, others with their faces bared–sat huddled in conversation, drinking from elegant carafes or smoking ornate water pipes. 

The hostess directed him to an alcove beneath a cluster of illuminated, floating orbs. 

“Can I offer the Mandalorian anything while he waits? Company, perhaps?” She lowered her voice as she leaned in to place a pillow behind his back. “We cater to every desire here.”

“My desire,” he said evenly, “is for solitude.”

“As you like,” she smiled again, leaving him to wait for Mistress Anassa. 

But he was conspicuous sitting alone, and it wasn’t long before another hostess dressed in black strode toward him. She walked over on towering heels he imagined Thuli would have loved to see if the Mandalorian needed attention.

She artfully placed one of the gilt carafes onto the lacquered table beside him and poured a drink. “May I offer the gentleman anything else?” 

Her voice was as supple as her corsetted leather dress. 

“No. Thank you, I–” 

The sight of two luminous violet eyes caught him by surprise, and his heart stuttered. He turned sharply to see a woman entering the parlor. On second glance, she looked nothing like Thulindhara. But the eyes were unmistakable—their iridescent sheen, how they glowed bright like full moons. She was Hapan. 

“Perhaps the Mandalorian sees something to his liking?” 

It wasn’t her, yet the thrill that rose inside him didn’t ebb. It clutched the breath from his lungs and twisted his stomach into knots. 

Mando knew he would miss her, but he hadn’t expected to feel her absence as a physical pain. 

“No,” he said. “Thank you. But, no. I’m here to see Mistress Anassa.”

He watched as the woman who wasn’t Thuli walked up to a Keshiri couple at the bar, gesturing them to follow her down a long corridor hidden behind a pair of lush velvet curtains.

Beside him, the hostess offered the drink she’d poured, and he accepted it. Not for the sake of politeness but because he felt compelled to hold something in his hands. Sensing his discomposure, she looked meaningfully towards the curtains as they fell back into place and whispered, “They say to lie with a Hapan is to open the doorway to heaven.”

The Mandalorian had heard that said many times and always dismissed it as a self-serving rumor. He didn’t pay for sex, but mercenaries loved to talk about how they would spend their take on Hapan courtesans. The most expensive pussy in the galaxy, they said. Once you’re between her thighs, you’ll forget your own name.  

Now, Mando understood the truth of these stories. Well…he hadn’t forgotten his name, but she did taste like heaven. 

For most of his life, sex had been about release. Lust was simply another physical need. Like hunger or sleep, he met those needs for the sake of his body. When a woman felt so inclined, he obliged—helmet sealed, armor intact—to let her take what satisfaction she could find.

With Thuli, he learned that sex could be something beyond physical pleasure. They shared a connection unlike anything he’d experienced. Real intimacy. Mando hadn’t kissed a woman since…he’d barely been a man. Still a child, really. 

To be with Thulani, naked and vulnerable as he had never been before, was not about release. It was fulfillment. Satisfaction of body and soul. And, yes, part of that was being between her thighs.

In the abstract, he’d been a little intimidated, but in the moment, it had felt entirely natural. He wanted to linger over her every curve, to put his mouth over every inch of her body, and he had loved all of it—the way she tasted, her fingers tugging at his hair, how her hips lifted with his touch.

It made him feel powerful in a way he hadn’t expected, drinking her in until she was soaked and breathless under his tongue. 

Then, a door had opened—a door between their consciousness, when he’d felt her pleasure cresting through his body, rippling over his skin in waves that matched the stroking of his fingers. She’d lost all control, and his whole being was suffused with her ecstasy, so intensely passionate that he saw stars behind his eyes. Maybe it was heaven? 

Thulani’s trick was making people believe in her openness, yet Mando recognized how rigidly she held herself in check. He sensed the wild, fierce nature in her heart that she constrained. It made him feel both immeasurably powerful and deeply gratified to be the one who made her unravel.  

“The Mandalorian asked for me?”

A woman in a crisply tailored black suit stood before him. He did not immediately recognize her species, but the horns that spiraled around her long, folded ears and convex nose reminded him of a dray goat.

“You’re Mistress Anasssa? The proprietor of this…establishment.”

“Mmm, the Mandalorian is polite for a mercenary,” she sat beside him on the bench and reached out with slender fingers (no hooves) to take the glass from between his hands. It struck him at once how artfully the gesture was both sensual and dominating. “In answer to your question…” she drank deeply. “Yes. The gentleman would be wise not to let the crystal and chandeliers fool him. This is a dungeon. And I am its master.” 

“I see.” It was all he could think to say. “Boss Set’ki said you’d be expecting me.”

“My apologies. I was otherwise occupied when the Mandalorian arrived.” She looked at the untouched carafe on the table. “I am sorry my vintage is not to his taste. And none of my ladies, either, I hear. If it is males he prefers, the gentleman need only—”

“That is beyond my purpose, Mistress Anassa. I’m here on business.”

“I doubt the Mandalorian would burden himself with such formality if he intended to capture me,” the mistress smiled curiously. “What is his business?”  

“I’m interested in one of your clients.”

She scoffed. “The gentleman must realize discretion is an essential tenet of my profession. Why would I betray my client to help him?”

“Because Set’ki owes me a debt. And while you may be the master of this dungeon, your master is Boss Set’ki.”

Her features became resolute. “Then let us discuss this matter in private.”

The Mistress rose and walked toward the velvet curtains. Mando followed her down the long corridor until she stopped before a door with gold flowers embossed along its hinges.

She placed a tasseled fob against the keypad. “I hope the Mandalorian will appreciate that it is to everyone’s benefit if he appears to be another of my clients?”

“Very well,” he said and stepped inside.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected. The black walls did not surprise him, but the abundance of those same red flowers, blooming from vases and wall hangings did. They matched the illuminated floor tiles that pulsed with crimson light. 

Otherwise, the room was sparsely furnished to accommodate the…equipment. There was a saltire cross with a rack of whips and paddles positioned beside it and a polished steel beam with manacles chained to its post. A length of rope dangled from one of the ceiling beams overhead. Instead of a bed, a quilted leather couch sat in a far corner of the room. 

Plastered across one of the walls was a diagram of knots with cautionary notes about circulation and nerve damage. 

“I’m sure the Mandalorian must be very accomplished at tying knots,” Mistress Anassa said from over his shoulder.

“I prefer cuffs.”

“Mmm…” He felt her eyes rake over him with heightened interest. “I have never met a Mandalorian before, but I begin to see why you inspire so much fascination. The armor, the brute force, stalking, capture, imprisonment—all potent themes for bondage role play.”

“I am Mandalorian. Violence is my trade. Weapons are part of my religion.” Mando turned to face her. “I’m not playing a game, Mistress.”

He could tell Anassa enjoyed hearing him call her that. 

“Of course. Though I’m sure someone has offered to suck your cock in exchange for their freedom. Can you honestly say their begging has never aroused you?”

Her tone was frank, not seductive. A businesswoman appraising a commodity. 

“I think the Mistress has a false impression about the sorts of people I’m sent to collect.”

At that, she laughed. “Still…I see the appeal. If you’re ever interested in a new line of work, I believe the Mandalorian and I could make a great deal of money together.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Mando recalled that Thulani had said much the same thing. A Mandalorian would make good coin at one of those Keyorin brothels.

He suddenly wondered if this was something Thuli might enjoy. Bondage? Role play? The clamps and paddles didn’t exactly appeal to him, but he wouldn’t be opposed to tying her up if that’s what she wanted.

Mando looked at the steel beam, and his mind couldn’t help but stray towards fantasies of throwing her over it and fucking her senseless. 

“About your client, Mistress Anassa.”

“What is it you wish to know?”  

“This man, Ronan Carr,” he said, taking the holo-puck from his pocket and activating its profile. "I’m told he makes use of your services when his wife is out of town.” 

Mistress Anassa schooled her features, but it was too late. He’d seen the look of panic cross her eyes the instant she recognized the man’s face.

“The Senator will be leaving on a diplomatic mission. Does Carr have an appointment scheduled for her departure?”

The Mandalorian suspected that Ronan Carr had an appointment booked for later that day. He’d been following Carr for the past week. Yesterday, the man had reserved an entire hotel floor under a false name and given his personal assistant the night off. 

“He does,” the Mistress confirmed. “But I won’t help you. Boss Set’ki may kill me for my refusal. I will accept that punishment. A political assassination would condemn every soul under my care. That I will not accept.” 

“I have no intention of killing Ronan Carr,” he assured her. “It’s information I want.”

“I suppose that is his trade,” her eyes weighed the Mandalorian, and she dropped the artful persona. “You won’t harm him? No kidnapping or torture?”

“If those are your terms, then I will agree. I only want to talk to him.”

“What if I have other terms?” The Mistress asked shrewdly.

“Name them.”

“I don’t want any of my people harmed.”

He nodded. “Do you know who you’ll send?” 

“Yes, there are a few he favors.” 

“Then give me some token or signal. But tell no one of this.” 

She paused before coming to a decision. “I will go with them tonight. To ensure all will be as you promise.”

“These are your terms?”

“He’s a good client,” she waved her well-manicured hand vaguely, “And if word got out? If he thought I’d helped you?”

“Ronan Carr won’t risk the Senator discovering his…hobbies.”

“I suppose that’s true.” 

“Here,” he pulled out a folded wallet and handed it to her. “To compensate for your loss of business. Though I expect a man with his proclivities should be back before long.”

“Thank you,” she gave him a curt bow. “You know where to find him?”

“Carr has gone to great lengths to conceal his plans, but yes, I know where he’ll be tonight.” And without really intending to, the Mandalorian said, “His desires make him weak.”

Mando was surprised at the scorn in his voice. Surprised to hear himself say that. Did he believe desire made him weak? His desire for Thuli?  

It certainly made it difficult to concentrate. How many times did he think about her each day? 

Maker, if he was being honest…he woke up thinking about Thulani, and the thought seemed to last all day. He worried about whether she was safe. He’d make some stray observation and imagine her reaction. He saw something beautiful in a window and wondered if she would like it. 

When he lay inside the sleeping compartment alone, surrounded by her scent, he thought of Thuli’s mouth on him, those delicate fingers stroking his cock, and his body ached. He could not bring himself off without thinking about her. 

Mistress Anassa looked at him with genuine sympathy as though she could sense his turmoil. 

“Shame is Ronan Carr’s weakness,” she said. “If he were honest about his desires, you would have no power over him. His wife might even oblige. But shame feeds arousal. Maybe you can understand that?”

“Excuse me?”

Shame. Was that at the root of his sudden anger? The Mandalorian was not ashamed of his relationship with Thuli. He did not believe she made him weak.

But he did feel shame about his own selfish cowardice. That in her absence, he’d realized how deeply he cared for her, and it killed him knowing he could never say those words. 

Why? Because they gave her power over him? No. Whether he said the words or not, didn’t change his feelings. But to say them aloud would be a promise. One he couldn’t make.   

She’d met him on those terms, yet he felt ashamed he couldn’t give her more. She deserved better than a man who could not share his name or his face or his life with her. It would always come back to that.

“Shame is one of the most effective tools of repression,” Mistress Anassa shrugged. “But repression simply fuels temptation. Temptation transforms into desire. Desire generates more shame.” 

Anassa opened a hidden panel in the wall and beckoned him forward. Lightly placing her fingers over a wooden slat, she slid it open, and a pinhole of light pierced through the room. The muffled sounds of moaning grew louder.

Gesturing toward the peephole, she said, “It’s only when we embrace our desires that we become free of this endless cycle.” 

Curiosity getting the better of him, the Mandalorian looked. What he saw was the Keshiri couple from the parlor. The man was fully clothed, on all fours, his hands and knees braced against the ground. His partner was naked, splayed on his back, while the Hapan woman fucked her roughly with a strap-on.

“They were honest with each other about their desires. Now, it creates a bond rather than a wedge.”

Mando hadn’t anticipated that visiting a sex dungeon would prompt so much soul-searching. His eyes strayed back to the peephole, towards the Keshiri in the throws of climax, eyes shut tight as though she might die from ecstasy. 

While he felt ashamed that he could not tell Thulani he loved her, he could at least ensure she felt loved. When he worshipped her body, when he fulfilled her desires, when he made her unravel—she would know the depth of his feelings.     

“I’ve heard it said that true Mandalorians do not remove their armor. Perhaps the gentleman prefers to watch?”

He pulled the slot closed. “I’ve seen enough.”

**********

One thing the Mandalorian did appreciate about Coruscant was the simplicity of bribing government officials. As with any vast bureaucracy, front-line New Republic workers like the port operatives were overlooked and underpaid. 

Flush with cash from Ryun Vos, Mando was able to dock under fake tabs at a shipyard centrally located in a safe and discreet area. Money made all things possible on Coruscant.

“Please tell me something in that bag is fried?” Nito moaned as the Mandalorian stepped inside the Razor Crest. 

“I got some of everything, so your odds are good.”

The Ardennian was sitting at a makeshift table of stacked cargo containers with the Child seated in his lap. He had his mechanic’s apron on while the kid was stripped to his breechcloth. And they were both covered in paint.

“There better be a bath planned for after this,” Mando growled, reaching to wipe the Child’s talons clean with a take-out napkin.

“What? Yeah. Sorry,” Nito said dimly. “Yes! Oil bread. And rice balls! Fuck yeah!” 

The Mandalorian thought vaguely that Thulani would try to curb Nito’s swearing, but he only had so much paternal energy left in him today, and he needed it for the baby.

Mando pulled the fried bread out of reach and replaced it with the box of bean pods. “Hey, kid, you need to eat at least five of these.” 

His enormous ears wilted in disappointment.

“How’s the programming going?” Mando asked, searching for the sweet and sour broth.

Nito shoved a rice ball in his mouth and swallowed it whole. “Do you have any idea how complex a unified operating system for an industrial plant—with residential facilities can be?”

“No,” he admitted. “That’s why I’m paying you.”

“Paying me in more than dumplings, I hope.” Nito laughed cheerily. “Assuming it’s the Imperial coding language, I think it is…”

“We’re going to find out tonight.”

“You got Carr?”

“I know how to get to him,” Mando said. “We leave in three hours. Spend at least one of those cleaning up the kid.”

“Okay. Okay.” 

The Mandalorian was relieved to have such a tidy solution for Ronan Carr. It wasn’t in his nature to wait for reconnaissance or planning. He was a blunt instrument—brute force, as Mistress Anassa had said. But Nito proved that hacking the man’s communicator could be useful. Coruscant was not the Outer Rim. Best to be cautious here. 

Months ago, he would have stormed the hotel, shoved a blaster in Carr’s face, and broken the man’s fingers until he talked. Now, when Mando considered this approach, the crew from Dark Garden weighed on his conscience. Not everything needs to end in a shoot-out, Thuli had chided him. She wasn’t even here, yet her memory was wringing these little bits of decency from him.

Nito snapped his fingers in front of Mando’s viewplate. “You in there?”

“What?” He shook his head.

“You’ve been staring at those dumplings for an eternity. I want to eat them.”

Mando passed the container. 

“I was telling you about this utter stroke of genius I had.” The Ardennian lifted the kid onto the table and pulled something out from his apron pocket. “So, he’s green, right? Well, I painted his face. And when I put on the bonnet…See! He’s Mirialan.”

Underneath the paint splatters, Mando recognized the geometric facial markings.

“That’s–sure, that is pretty genius.”

Nito beamed. Thuli told him things would be easier with the kids if he put in a little effort. So far, it was working. 

“I mean, he hates having his ears tucked, but it’s only temporary, buddy. Just to keep you safe.”

The Child squirmed and pounded his fists against his thighs. 

Mando had to suppress a laugh. “Bean pods and bonnets. Guess you got it pretty rough, kid.”

The baby stopped mid-tantrum to glare at the Mandalorian.

“Anyway,” Nito went on. “We had the paint out, so I found some packing paper…and look what he made.”

Mando tilted his head and squinted, “It’s a…bantha?”

“It’s the Razor Crest,” Nito snorted.

“If you say so.”

The kid squealed until Mando handed him a meat pie.

“I miss her too, you know.” 

“What?”

“Fish dumplings are Thuli’s favorite,” Nito said quietly. “It’s hard not to miss her when she makes everything so…” he shrugged, “cozy when she’s around.”  

The Mandalorian nodded. “You heard from her today?”

His heart twisted painfully in anticipation. It did every day when he asked that question. But he knew she must have checked in that morning. Nito would be inconsolable if she hadn’t.

“Yeah, I got the signal.”

Good. She's alive. Hopefully safe. “We’ll see her soon,” Mando assured them. “We’re stocked up on supplies, weapons, equipment. Once we get what we need from Carr, we can make a course for Lakaran.”

“Did you get a gift to bring her now that you guys are, you know, sleeping together?”

The Mandalorian choked on his soup. The steel jaw of his helmet caught him painfully on the lip, and he had to pound his chest a few times before he could breathe again. “Did she–ahem–did she say something…about…?”

“Didn’t have to,” Nito waved a furry hand. “For months, you’ve both just wreaked of longing and frustration. Then you came back and smelled…satisfied. Pretty logical conclusion.”

“You can smell that?”

“Oh yeah! It’s kind of funny that humans can’t since all of your emotions get communicated through hormones and sweat glands.”

Mando shook his head again. “I’m not entirely comfortable talking about this,” he sighed. “But while we’re on the subject, there are some…things I should…we should probably…discuss before we leave to find Carr.” 

“What? Like, sex stuff?”

The Mandalorian groaned. Where do I even start…? 

**********

The hotel Ronan Carr had booked was elegant enough for his aristocratic tastes while also offering the assurance of privacy. There was a separate entrance and elevator for the penthouse floor so he could avoid bumping into anyone from his social circle—or his wife’s senatorial colleagues—in the lobby. 

Mando opted to gain entry from the roof. 

“You hear something?” One of the bodyguards asked. 

But just as their partner began to answer, the Mandalorian slipped behind him and placed a blade to the man’s throat. In an instant, he had grabbed the guard’s wrist and raised his blaster. Mando shot the other bodyguard before they could cry out in warning. 

To stage this right, the knife needed to go in at just the right angle. But the man continued to struggle under Mando’s grip, trying to break free from his hold. The guard tried everything—stomping on the Mandalorian’s foot, slamming his head against the Beskar, thrusting his shoulders against Mando’s arm around his neck.

The bounty hunter might as well be a statue for all the give there was in his frame. The guard’s death was inevitable, but he refused to make peace with it. 

Mando hooked his leg around the man’s ankle and sent them both hurtling toward the ground. The force of impact drove the knife into the guard’s throat.

A wet splatter hit his view plate when the man coughed blood onto the Mandalorian’s helmet. Yet he still fought. Hands flailed blindly until Mando drove the blade deeper, severing the spinal cord. And finally, the fingers clawing at his wrists fell limp.    

He rolled the bodyguard onto his back and returned the blaster to the man’s right hand. Should be enough to cover my tracks.

Mistress Anassa had left the south-facing balcony doors unlocked, just as he instructed. They slid open with a soft rolling hush before he made his way silently through the suite. She was waiting for him in the study, hunched over a display monitor. 

“You look a sight,” she arched an eyebrow at him. “Can I get you a towel?”

“No.” The blood was war paint. It would make what came next that much easier. "I staged the guards. You can claim a fight broke out, and you had to get your people to safety."

Anassa cleared her throat and nodded. It was the first time he’d seen her unsettled. “The false name on the hotel reservation avoids a paper trail, but I can’t decide whether Carr realizes Set’ki is tracking all of this.”

“Do you record him every time?”

She glared at Mando. “No, but I had a feeling my master wanted some insurance. I don’t expect Ronan Carr will be making any future appointments with Dark Garden after tonight.” 

Involving Set’ki and Anassa—at all—was an unnecessary risk. The Mandalorian had done it to ensure the safety of her employees, and he didn’t feel any remorse about the Mistress’s bottom line. 

“Tell them to leave the room.”

She crossed her arms with a frustrated sigh. “I know I don’t have a say in any of this, but it shouldn’t go unspoken, this is a gross violation of my professional ethics.”

“You’re arguing ethics after admitting to blackmail?” 

“Those restraints are intended to aid his submission. He needs to feel safe to surrender control. And instead, you’ve co-opted them for violence.”

Mando huffed. “Are you referring to the silk scarves tied around his wrists and ankles?”

“The type of restraints are irrelevant. Bondage is a kink that depends on trust. It’s a choice to be helpless. Consent is based entirely on trust. This is a violation of trust. I feel the weight of what this will do to his psyche, and I ask you to acknowledge that before you step inside that room.”

The Mandalorian couldn’t fathom why she was looking to him to absolve her guilt. 

“And I told you, violence is my profession. Get—your people—out.”

From the display screen, Mando watched as the Mistress entered the bedroom. Her sudden presence startled the other women, but she quickly ushered them into the hallway and closed the door behind her. 

When he was confident they were gone, the bounty hunter opened the bedroom door. The first thing he did was drape a towel over Set’ki’s camera. Mando didn’t want any record of his presence on Coruscant.

He approached the chair Carr was bound to without bothering to stifle his footsteps. The man had a sensory deprivation mask covering his eyes and ears. He hadn’t sensed the ladies from Dark Garden leave the room, and he was becoming agitated, sitting in a puddle of urine, confused as to why they didn’t end the session. 

Ronan Carr paid to be tied down and tickled until he pissed himself. The kink wasn’t inherently sexual. It didn’t make him hard. He didn’t come, and nobody brought him to completion. The tickling made him laugh and his muscles spasm, and eventually, the stress on his pelvic floor emptied his bladder. 

Then, he slept for ten hours. It simply…relaxed the man. 

“Whoa!” Nito said when the Mandalorian explained this. “So it’s like getting a massage? But, like, a really extreme massage.” 

It wasn’t not sexual…he paid to be tickled by beautiful women, after all. 

As he ripped the mask off, Mando tried not to think about Anassa’s sanctimonious pleading. He felt no remorse for Ronan Carr, either.

The bounty hunter unholstered his blaster and pointed it in the man’s face so it was the first thing he saw when he opened his eyes. On cue, Carr jumped, recoiling in terror at the sight of the Mandalorian.

“Don’t cry for help," Mando said, his voice cold and stern. "You don’t want anyone coming through that door to find you like this, do you?”

Ronan Carr shook his head. 

“Good. Do what I say, and I won’t have to hurt you,” he growled. “Tell me you understand.”

Ronan Carr took a deep, steadying breath. “I understand.” The man’s voice quavered, but he didn’t panic. Some people became paralyzed with fear, which made interrogation that much harder. If Carr could keep it together, this would be over quickly.

“Untie yourself.”

Despite Mistress Anassa’s speech about trust and surrender, her words were meaningless sentiment. Ronan Carr had never given up control. The scarves were tied with enough slack that he could easily lift his hands over the headrest and pull free the knots at his wrists. After that, he only needed to lean forward to release his ankles.     

“Where is everyone?” Carr asked nervously, massaging his wrists.

The man was wiry, more muscular than the bounty hunter expected from someone who spent his life behind a desk. Intimidation was his best tactic to keep Carr in check. Use of physical force would only complicate things. And he made a deal with Anassa.

“You don’t need to know what I did with them. Worry about yourself.”

After a lifetime of doing this work, Mando knew most people’s imagination was far darker than any threat he could make. The man looked at the blood splattered across his helmet, and all the color drained from Ronan Carr’s face.

“What is it you want?”

“I need something, and you’re the person who can get it for me.”

“My wife—”

“This has nothing to do with the Senator. And it doesn’t have to. You give me what I want, and she won’t discover what you get up to under the name ‘Kirk Satu.’” Carr’s eyes went wide with horror. “The piss play makes for an awkward conversation, but I think all the bank transfers will be harder to explain.”  

Now, he had the man’s full attention. “What do you want?”

“First, I want you to put some clothes on. Meet me in the study when you’re ready.”

The man’s suit hung neatly from the bathroom door, yet he stared at the garment like it might transform into a torture device. 

“You’re not—you aren’t going to lock me in?”

“We both know you won’t run,” Mando said. “You’re going to do what I tell you. Then you can forget all about this.”

The look on Carr’s face when he walked into the study made it clear this encounter would haunt him for some time. 

“Is your communicator on?” Nito asked from behind his data-pad. “Your real one. Not the burner?”

“What?” Ronan Carr stammered. “I–yes.” When the notification bell chimed, he pulled the device out from his pocket.

“Okay, read me the security code.”

“Wait! This is about work? You want something from the Archives?” 

Carr looked between Nito and the Mandalorian.

“You do realize the New Republic Library doesn’t store any military or intelligence records. This is not…what could you possibly need that isn’t already publicly available?”

Mando thrust his blaster in the man’s face. “Ask me about my business again and see what happens to you.”

“The security code?” Nito drolled.

Mando grabbed the communicator from Carr and handed it to the Ardennian.

“I’m just…we have a records request system online…”

“For redacted documents!” Nito howled. “If you guys just uploaded everything onto the Net, you could enjoy your tickle party and we wouldn’t be here.”

Ronan Carr’s face turned scarlet. “It’s our responsibility to make sure sensitive information doesn’t fall into the hands of…criminals.”

What a fucking hypocrite. “Can we hurry this up?” Mando barked. The fact that the bodyguards in the foyer hadn’t burst into the penthouse meant that Mistress Anassa had done her part. But their luck wouldn’t last long.

“Well, it’s not my fault the file structure isn’t intuitive,” Nito looked at Ronan Carr with disgust. “And you call yourself an Archivist?”

“I–I don’t oversee information architecture.”

“Ah! Okay…security question for the download. What is the name of your first pet?”

When Nito had the files he needed, Mando thrust a disc into Carr’s hands.

“What—?”

“I lied when I said this didn’t involve your wife. That’s for her. From a former Rebel fighter, Ubaa Dir. Remember the name. The next time you hear it, give the Senator that disc. You’ll know when.”

“How will I explain—”

“You’d rather explain the sex workers and money laundering? Figure–it—out,” Mando snapped, and Ronan Carr jumped.

This time, the Mandalorian did lock him inside the bedroom.  

He found Mistress Anassa in the living room, offering the Child sugar cubes from an abandoned tea service tray.

"I'm done here," Mando said, watching as the kid delightedly crunched the crystals between his teeth. "He's unharmed, as per the terms of our deal. Are you satisfied?"

"Very," she smiled serenely at him. "I thought I'd be spending the night cleaning brain matter off the walls. Instead, I got to play with an adorable baby."

Anassa lifted the Child from her hip and handed him back to the Mandalorian.

"You still want me to bind and gag you?" Mando asked. "I could just lock you inside, like I did with Carr? It might take him a while to break out, by the way."

"No," she shook her head. "I've got to sell this if there's a chance I can retain his trust. And he'll need a witness to help explain what happened to the guards." Mistress Anassa looked thoughtfully at the Mandalorian. "When life hands you an opportunity, it's best to seize it with both hands."

"Very well." Mando reached for the plush, decorative rope tying back the curtains—he could at least ensure that she was comfortable.

"Speaking of which," the Mistress grinned. "I do hope you'll reconsider my offer. There are a number of ways we could leverage your particular talents at the Dark Garden."

The Mandalorian offered her a chair.

"After listening to the ruthlessness in your voice saying, You're going to give me what I want..." she shivered rather theatrically. "Fear is a very potent form of arousal. I'm confident we could find clients looking for nothing more than degradation."

The audacity of her proposal impressed him, and his mouth quirked into a begrudging smile beneath the Beskar helmet.

"I'll keep that in mind," he said.

"And what knots do you plan to use?"

Mando huffed—not quite a laugh. This was beginning to feel like an audition. "A bowline. But I can use a hitch knot if you prefer?"

"Merely professional curiosity," Mistress Anassa grinned, sitting in the armchair as though it were a throne. "Do you have a suggestion for the gag?"

The Mandalorian cocked his head, "Give me your necktie."

He wasn't entirely comfortable with how much keen interest lit up her face. A businesswoman through and through.

She hurriedly fished something out of her suit pocket. "Take my card. You're a working father, after all. It pays to be flexible when there are mouths to feed."

****************

Continue reading: Volume 4-Post #5: Wish You Were Here!

Back to Volume 4 - all posts

[twstfanblog]

*~RSA Is Weird~*

A/N The starter for my first little series! I'm going to make one for each dorm and their respective 'Weird RSA kid' The first one will be Neige, and I will try to get that one up tomorrow.

Warnings: She/They Yuu OC, Swearing

Pairings: Platonic Crowley & Yuu

Enjoy~!

~I Own Nothing~

Hope you guys enjoy~!)

Starter, Part 1 (Pomefiore), Part 2 (HeartsLabyul), Part 3 (Diasomnia)

The headmaster’s office felt both the same and very different. Surprisingly the wreckage of the castle barely reached the area. Crowley’s office was basically untouched from the disaster of the end-of-the-year ceremony. The bare bones remained the same, but now the walls were filled with photos upon photos, some Yuu had taken herself, and the classic photos of the Great Seven. Some looked to be far older, one had a student who looked suspiciously like Crewel covered in mud and glaring at the camera. Another had who Yuu assumed to be Trien napping in what she thinks is the rose maze in Heartslabyul, a kitten Lucius curled in his lap contently. They wanted to ask where Crowley even got the photos, wondering if he had used the Ghost camera before dumping it on them. The rug once plain was full of woven patterns and shapes. If she looked long enough she’d find a new object in the mess of colors and lines.

Crowley’s desk had survived, not so much as a nick on the polished wood, surprisingly filled with paperwork for once. But they were most pleased with the newest additions of multiple matching end tables and various lengths of seating for the office. Yuu sat in one plush armchair, newly tailored school uniform along with an official Ramshackle armband around her bicep. She sat sideways in the chair, legs crossed and dangling off the side as she twirled a tuff of her wolf-cut hair, looking at the fae organizing the papers in his hands.

"Tell me again why the fuck we're doing this?" 

Crowley sighs, looking at Yuu with a pitiful pout. The crow fae bent across his desk slightly to make sure she could see his face, "My hatchling, so rude to me. This event is to show the people of Sage Isle that their donations have gone to good use! Not only has our campus been restored, it's been improved!"

"..." Yuu stands, walking to an open window in a calm manner. They take their time, pulling back the curtains of the room and looking out to the campus before turning back to Crowley, "Where!?"

"Child." Yellow eyes lock onto her, the silent command of ‘Enough’ heavy in the air.

Rolling her eyes, Yuu moves back to her seat, grabbing her cup of tea from the end table and raising her brows in a mocking tone, "Dad."

The severe presence Crowley had instantly evaporated, the fae smiling slightly and letting out a soft coo before clearing his throat. Crowley's bouts of seriousness used to make her uneasy, but with how many times she's been graced to peak behind the headmaster's elaborate play of personality, she was able to tell when he was bluffing or actually serious. Bluffing could be sassed still and was easily broken with paternal acknowledgment. Luckily Crowley hasn't felt the need to be truly sincere since the campus was destroyed.

Yuu sipped at her tea, thinking back to before the summer break. The whole mess of Grim's overblot and just how badly the campus was affected before they beat him, how badly everyone was injured in the fight. Not to mention-

Crowley's gold-tipped fingers snap her out of her thoughts. His masked face looking at her in mild annoyance, "Hatchling, did you hear a word I said?"

"...No." Turning away to sip her tea, unbothered by Crowley groaning and standing from his desk.

"As I was saying. This is a way to show the people of Sage Isle their donations have gone to a good cause -blah blah blah-” Crowley was suddenly right beside her, bright yellow orbs glowing in an almost manic glee to match his fanged smile, “-But! I’m also using this open house week as a way to rub it in Ambrose’s face that Night Raven is still standing!” He stands up straight, mumbling under his breath about the other headmaster and pacing in a tight circle in front of her.

Yuu was well aware of what was ruffling his feathers. Night Raven had to put a hold on new admissions for their next school year since the campus was destroyed and under reconstruction. Not to mention the pocket dimensions and classroom expansions he had to weave. Seeing how the current students of Night Raven had made the choice to simply repeat a year, dorms were bound to be cramped when the new students appeared. But Crowley having to actually do his job for once wasn’t the cause of his mood. It was Ambrose the 63rd himself. Seeing how the other headmaster “dared” to offer a place at Royal Sword Academy to Night Raven students if the campus wasn’t completed in time for the new school year.

Now, Crowley needed to swing his newly built dick around as a show of dominance to the friendly old man. But it was none of her business what helped him sleep at night.

She checks herself back into her crow guardian’s rambles, muttering into her cup of lukewarm tea, “What fucking family is naming their children Ambrose sixty-three times?” “EXACTLY! It’s so stupid…”

“So why are you making this my problem then?”

Crowley stops his pacing to lean into her face, a smile on his lips, “Well, every good event needs a planner, dear. Since I am your humble father-”

“Don’t call yourself that-”

“-Your most humble, caring, gracious father, I will be handling the final stages of planning. I just need you to do rounds during the week and make sure no one is dying on campus.” He uses a single clawed finger to poke her nose, his smile growing seeing her fight off her own grin at the tease, “I paid good money for that new pavement. Can’t have it all be stained with blood before the school year starts…”

“Wasn’t your money but go off, dad.”

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

And that's the start! Pomefiore is first and the chapter is almost done. Here's hoping I can get it done and posted soon.

Thanks for reading!

[thewertsearch]

Oh, fuck.

Jack, just - just wait there. Postpone your invasion of LOWAS for however many minutes are displayed on Jade's Cruxtruder. Please?

Jack has tracked down the one warrior who could challenge him. Does he have a new plan this time?

Huh. I didn't peg Jack as the 'honorable warrior' type - although, come to think of it, this isn't the first time he's shown respect to his enemies.

I guess he was prototyped with a sword. Maybe it symbolizes chivalry, or fair combat, compelling Jack to seek out a duel.

If there's one thing that this demonstrates, it's that Becquerel couldn't end up in the kernel by accident - his reactions are much too fast. If he gets prototyped, it's because he wants to be prototyped.

GG: hmmmm i wonder what the significance of that number is

It's 413 + 612. It probably represents the kids and trolls 'coming together', and working as a team.

EB: hey, what do you think we should prototype this fussy little orb with? [...] GG: there are so many possibilities [...] EB: it's almost like your grandpa put all this crap here knowing we'd have to make that decision. [...] GG: yes, it sure seems that way

It sure does.

I think the dolls, at least, are a red herring. We've done that twice before, and a Mummysprite just doesn't seem that interesting, especially compared to all the other options.

I think the realistic choices here are Grandpa, Bec, Dream Jade and Typheus. I'd give a slight edge to Grandpa, because he's in the room with the Cruxtruder - but a lot can happen in ten minutes.

EB: he seems like he was an awesome guy, i would have liked to have the chance to talk to him. [...] GG: maybe you will get that chance john [...] GG: yes, as a matter of fact i am sure we will both get that chance! GG: i once dreamt that we would [...] EB: wait, are you saying we will prototype him? EB: like i did with nanna, to bring her ghost back to life? [...] GG: sure, why not!

Hmm.

See, reading between the lines here, it doesn't sound like Jade ever saw a Grandpasprite in Prospit's clouds. She saw herself and John talking to Grandpa - but if she saw him as a green ghost, she'd be a lot more conclusive about that being the correct option.

Instead, she says why not. It sounds right to her, but she's not sure. I think the fact that they're planning to prototype Grandpa is intentionally misleading.

EB: we shouldn't put your grandpa in yet, unless we want lots of imps and ogres and stuff that look like your grandpa. GG: augh, nooooooooooooooo

They could just prototype nothing at all before entering. The game is already unwinnable, so they don't have anything to lose by cutting themselves off from 'ultimate success'. Plus, it'll stop Jack from getting any stronger.

EB: we could put in something really lame, to make all the monsters weaker!

Damn it, and John has a frog in his sylladex! That would have been a fantastic prototyping, if he could get it to her.

Does Jade have enough time to fetch a frog from the lilypad ruins? Probably not - I guess this will remain a missed opportunity. The kids would never think of it, either, because the comic has so far refused to elaborate on Frog Lore.

[spearofalu]

No like please allow me to elaborate on what’s gonna happen here now that I finished main story mode and her character story

Wanna throw also a trigger warning for some serious topics mentioned so if you’re not on a good mental state, please come back to this post later

So!

I’m mad. I’m furious at how dirty they did to Zafina and Claudio on story mode, but more to Zafina.

ALL of the sacrifice she went through and that’s all they did with her? Fuming. I’m not gonna adhere to that sacrilege lmao I knew they were ultimately going to do some sort of absorbing Azazel storyline, but not like that hello??

TO ME and yo this portrayal, Zafina can go through that but with better development. And for all intents and purposes of this little thing here, Zafi os very much alive and very much weak thank you very much.

I liked her character story and to be honest? Take the whole vacuuming the devil genes entirely to be able to absorb Azazel and destroy the orb thing and it’s how I kinda wanted Azazel to be dealt with. I see and know how the dg would be needed to seal, but it’s more of a poetic ending to have Jin being the one to do it (and boy did I cry with those final scenes dear lordt)

I have to say that, ignoring how fucking dirty they did to Zafina, I enjoyed the story a lot.

Jin’s whole “Mother do I deserve the right to live?” and then when he says “I want to live” made me pause the game and cry so much because, as a severe clinically depressed person with unaliving idealization, I asked and said the same things so many times it hurts to admit it. Plus, I don’t recall the last time something gave me the pure burning joy playing Tekken 8 gave me for the hours I ran through story mode.

I hope you guys are enjoying it too!

[sweaterspoons]

i can't rememnber if you have a maze tag and a separate labyrinth tag but im so curious either way. what the fuck are you talking about please elaborate *kicking feet in the air twirling a phone ckrd*

GRABS YOU!!!! THANK U FOR ASKING i will now be typing for four hours<333

the labyrinth is the maze!!!!!! The Maze refers both to the play-by-post d&d campaign im running, and its setting :D

the pitch, essentially, is this:

the maze is a very little-known legend. and even if you're among the few who learn about it, it's incredibly difficult to find... and even fewer people ever make it back out.

but those who DO make it out return with their heart's greatest desire.

riches, power, immortality, knowledge, a cure for all disease, a really fucking awesome sandwich... it's all possible in the maze :)

the maze itself is its own world, with... maybe its own consciousness? it bumps up into other planes of existence every so often, and when that happens, it creates Doors, which one can enter the maze through.

the challenge, theoretically, is simple. you enter through your door. the door locks. you go find your desire. when you achieve that, you ALSO get a key! the key unlocks your door. you go home.

in practice, it's.. well... a little more complicated <3

the maze is composed of an endless series of little worlds. some parts of it are pretty classic winding tunnels, hedges, what have you. some parts of it are... cities. forests. graveyards. oceans. etc etc etc. the dream is to feel a little bit infinity train : )

geeenerally you'll get pushed in a direction that'll get you toward your goal, but. you're gonna have to work for it baby!!!

we have FOUR player characters, all from different worlds <3

the guy, played by @spookyhetero ; a warforged barbarian, a father, an all around very strange fella from a very strange world. his face is an orb. his dad is a frat boy wizard. his son is a cactus. he's friends with the maze.

mara, played by @fia-bonkginya ; a half-elf oathbreaker paladin + undying warlock!! also the love of my life honestly. they're trying to get out of their warlock pact and it's going... swell :)

nadzeya oja, played by @eldathe ; a goblin druid, my darling, my angel, my emotional punching bag. she just wants to help. she just wants to prove herself. she just wants to find-- um... who... who was it she was looking for, again? (she can't remember. why can't she remember?)

and last, but CERTAINLY not least, is doctor charles jefferson atelier, played by @electricpoolshark ; a human artificer, former army medic, current engineer and rat enthusiast. he has a giant metal rat named algernon and she's his best friend. he's just here to learn about the maze, and accidentally doomed his own ass to walk its halls forever in like... the first five minutes.

honorable npc mentions include clementine, who's been here for quite some time; titan, whom everybody hates but is also the biggest and the sexiest and is my number one committer of nonbinary wrongs; and tetsuya, who is probably not a ghost but IS a little bit haunting the narrative right now.

also.

bnuny.

:)

[bubblyleaf-42]

Walvion: what deity am I supposed to be?

Welcome back, for I have more from my tale to tell you friends! As instructed, the deity placed me with the others. I came to this conclusion when I awoke to a wet towelette being placed on my scars. I awoke to several creatures from my people’s mythologies surrounding me, and even some I didn't recognize. I wondered where they came from. Only time would tell, at least I hoped. I spent several hours discussing my journey to these new people I met. I was made aware they all were gathered here for a tour of a new establishment. From what I gathered several gods wanted to gather and establish base rules for their respective religion. Apparently most gods didn't like this dude Zeus and the amount of trouble he’s been causing in the streak? religion. They all wanted to limit the amount of fucking around one individual could do if they shared a pantheon with others like them. So I guess singular deity beliefs get total control. The idea sounded foreign to me, how could anyone only believe in one being? How could only one person control everything? Whatever, our conversations were interrupted by the orb that brought me to these chambers. “Esteemed Guests, please rise and follow me.” the orb simply stated. We all gathered and followed the spherical being down several passages and bends through an elaborate palace. I was amazed at the amount of rare materials that lined the walls, maybe that's why jade and other such beauties were rare in my home. Wait, that actually makes sense, what the scumdrag? “We have arrived, please take a seat at the table.” the orb gestured to a hall filled with steaming foods that I have never seen before. The smells were varying as well as the looks, fruits stacked in arrangements appeared to be covered in spikes, and others had shells as hard as clams. Meaty chunks were bubbling in a thick brown liquid on top of a white cloud of paste. I was amazed at these dishes by sight alone, may the gods find words to allow me to express how they tasted. New flavors, textures, and combinations will never be replicated so perfectly again in my lifetime. Our meal was the greatest of all time. After consuming as much as our greedy hearts could muster, we were led to a grassy field lined with the most fragrant flowers and silky leaves on trees so twisted their shadows told stories. “Take a seat if you wish, the grand creator will arrive soon.” the orb said as it faded from our group.

“I never thought that a fruit would be so sour, I must say, nothing like that ever grew on my isle back home” said a strange creature. “Really, I'm served all the time. My subjects always manage to surprise me in their creativity with such limited resources.” a little spirit stammered in an attempt at grace. “Say, none of those foods served there would ever have been created by my followers.” “they all would have tried to eat tree bark even if it killed them, truthfully, i never understood their motives.” a scaly beast added. “Allow me to introduce myself as I am late to the party.” “My name is Gen-wosh” “Pleasure to meet you Gen-wosh, i go by many names, but you may call me by my most common, Witxha.” “I apologize to my new friends, I mean no offense, but these names are so strange.” Although it could just be me as my people call me nothing other than the Ruler of the Night. A simple title for a simple role” a striking voice called out.

“Well in this case, I simply will refer to you as rude, I know you meant no offense, but I assure you, we all took some.” Witxha stated.

I snickered at the comments being passed back and forth between the gods before me. Then one turned to me and asked for my name. I forgot eventually I would have to disclose my name too.

“Uhh, well my parents didn’t exactly give me one, I was meant to help on the fields and only respond to adults when they address me as ‘boy’.” I explained to the mighty beings.

“What do you mean by helping on the fields dear?” asked Gen-wosh “Gods supposed to bless the fields, not work them?”

“Oh I see we have a misunderstanding. I’m not a god. I was born and raised as a servant of my kingdom, my home, Aversia.” I muttered.

“Mmmh, well in that case i would like to give you a name, only if you are okay with it of course.” expressed Witxha.

“Do as you wish.” i say.

Witxha responds: “Very well, i will think of one and give it to you when it feels right dear.”

“As sweet as this is, may i ask, why didn’t you make a name for yourself young one, and if you aren't a god, how are you here?” Fenrir asked me

I stopped to think. Why hadn't I, why hadn't the old man given me one. Not one person has addressed me with anything other than boy, or young one, or lad. Never before had I thought this would be a problem I would run into, but now I wonder, was I supposed to have a name? With the addition of new members to our party, we discussed our backgrounds and tried to figure out why I was here. There had to be a reason, but i seemed to be an outsider, everyone here had a purpose in some kind of mythos, what was mine? . . . . what name will our mc end up with? Only Whitxa will tell. I'm starting to think this is really fun ngl. I will hopefully return to name our character and bring them home. Until then, i shall continue writing their story with hopes in connecting everything back to the original post before the end sneaks up on me.

[sunflowersteves]

you once said perv!eddie fucking you with his guitar... please elaborate

- ❤️‍🔥

AH! my love, this is THE ASK of the century

smut below!! foreign objects, DO NOT try this, praise kink, perv!eddie, 18+ only

the nj warlock, bought in a guitar store in 1983 by eddie munson and consisted of mahogany wood with a fixed bridge. it was his most prized possession—his sweetheart.

he wasn’t big on possessions most of the time, but when it came to that guitar? his most valued item. he kept it up on a pedestal most of the time, watching it shine beneath the sun from his window.

so when he finally lets you strum a few songs onto his prized possession, you knew shit was serious. he let you touch his pride and joy.

but Eddie? he’s trying to not grow a boner as he watched you play let’s dance by bowie. he hasn’t meant to have such thoughts about you. he just couldn’t help it.

ever since then, when his fist is on his cock, he pictures his two sweethearts—the top of his guitar fucking into your tight hole. his biggest fantasy.

one night, eddie sings you a song and it was one he has been working on for awhile. he opened his eyes, locking with your own wide orbs.

he can’t help but smirk, though, at your thighs pressed together and you’re squirming in your seat. he stops strumming, “what’s the matter, sweetheart?”

he’s grinning and watching you whine, mumbling under your breath. he sets the guitar down beside him and climbs over to you. he’s laying you down, tapping your thigh and it instinctively widens. “does that turn you on, pretty girl?” he’s lifting your panties aside, “awe, baby, it does, doesn’t it? look at you, all soaked for me.”

he’s looking at you fiercely now, doe brown eyes almost looking ashamed. “do you trust me, baby?”

you smile, “oh, eds, of course I do.” he presses a finger onto your clit—making your hips jerk from his touch. “could I—could I fuck you with my guitar?”

your eyes are wide in request—something you hadn’t expected to fall out of his mouth. he almost looked shy though, midway through the sentence his eyes had trailed down to his lap. he’s still touching you though, slow and gentle circles that’s starting to make you ache.

“eddie—please, I need you. I-I—” you look at him with the most pleading eyes he’s ever seen. “please, fuck me with your guitar.”

he’s waiting no time as he’s rushing to de-string his guitar. as much as he loves the fantasy, he never wants his baby hurt from the clipped ends of the strings. “f-fuck, baby, I need you to open your legs a little wider. that’s it, pretty girl, yeah.”

he’s watching you with excited, wild eyes and lines up the head of the guitar with your pussy. “you say the safe word at any time, okay, sweet girl?” you’re nodding softly and watching as he’s slowly starts to enter the tip of the guitar head.

your head falls back onto the bed, a moan leaving your lips. Eddie’s breath becomes fast paced—watching the turning keys disappear into your spongey walls. “f-fuck, look at you both. my girls—my sweet fuckin’ hearts. shit-shit—”

he’s inserting more of the guitar ever so slowly and whimpering at the sight of the neck of the guitar leading out from your wet cunt.

“look at you, baby, you like my guitar fuckin’ you raw. do you like it, sweet girl? do you like me fuckin’ you with my sweetheart?” you’re moaning out yes and an Eddie all in one. your brain starts to fuzz as he’s pulling the guitar slightly out and then ramming it back in.

“Eddie!” you’re gripping the sheets as tight as you can. the head of the guitar is fully inside of you and it’s big—so fucking big. “sweet girl, you’re doing so well. my good girl takin’ my guitar all nice. fuck—my two sweethearts. all mine, all mine, all mine.”

your back arches into the worn sheets of his bed, screaming from the absolute stretch that the guitar is pulling out of you. tears start to prick your eyes at the sting, but it’s good. it’s really good.

“you gonna cum, pretty? you gonna cum on my guitar? yeah, that’s good. can see your cute pussy all clenching.” you wanna cum so bad and Eddie is letting you—your pussy pulsating against the turning keys of the guitar.

you could feel it—could feel everything. whereas, eddie is on cloud fuckin’ nine. he’s salvaging and cock throbbing against his clad jeans from the sight in front of him.

he’s fucking you with his guitar. shit, he’s actually fucking you with his guitar. he should feel dirty and gross. he should feel ashamed, but he doesn’t.

oh, does he feel elated—absolutely enchanted by it all. your juices are leaking down onto the neck and down toward the frets. your mouth is hung open and chanting his name like a prayer. his day couldn’t get any better.

“Eddie, Eddie, Eddie!” you’re screaming into the air, thighs caving in as your high bursts through you. you’re panting and whining—eddie moving to rub your sensitive nub.

he rides out your high, his own moans protruding out from his lips. his hips involuntarily bucked into the air with a loud guttural moan.

he could feel thick ropes of his cum leak into his pants. his hands are gripping the guitar so hard he thought it might break. “f-fuck, baby—shit—”

you giggle, warm and fuzzy from the high you just reached. he came is pants just from watching you. a blush forms on his cheeks, but you just are gleaming beneath him. “eddie, baby, that was the hottest thing I have ever seen.”

this man is never washing his guitar ever. every time he plays a gig or goes to band practice, he’s going to get a little whiff of your juices from the head of his guitar. and man, does Eddie love it.

[ripperdoc-is-daddy]

A Clean Break

TW: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT! Crude language, mild violence, Food mentions, Reader is a black female, mentions of immigration, fishing, Kyo is a jackass, Soft Boi Sanemi, control issues, abusive behavior, Angst, FLUFF! DISCLAIMER: This series is transitioning into an assassin series and I hope it meets expectations. <3 Thank you again for your support of the the Mafiaverse and I look forward to your patronage of Sanemi's transition into an Assassin. @animupiglett and I hope you enjoy the new series starring Gyomei and Sanemi!

Pt 1, Pt 2, Pt 3, Pt. 4

The day started out like any other day. You woke up, took a shower, got dressed, and went down to go eat. You were midway through your breakfast burrito when the front door slammed open. Not unusual if your lover had a bad night at work or had been summoned to retrieve his boss's escaping partner. You hadn’t met the woman yet but the relationship didn’t seem healthy at all to you. Even within the context of the life you knew the men lived; it seemed unusually strange and abnormally toxic. Like, who purposefully commits unlawful imprisonment?   

You shook your head dismissing your thoughts so you could focus on whatever tornado of emotions your love was bound to be at the moment. You didn’t have to wait long as he came barreling into the kitchen/ Dining area. Taking one look at you and speed walking over before hugging you. His grip was bruising and your concern levels shot up from mild to severe. The man above you held you and you could feel the waves of anger rolling off of him.   

“Fuck. That. Bastard.” he hissed after some time. You stayed quiet as you waited for him to elaborate. Assuming he would. Another long pause and he sighed. Releasing you so he could fall into the chair closest to you. Slumping forward and holding his head in his hands. Rubbing his face a few times before looking at you, eyes alight with fury. “I left,” he tells you point blank. You nod your head before you take in the true meaning behind his words. Once they sink in you follow up with a “WHAT!? You can do that!?” exclaimed as you push your food to the side and grab your love's hands.   

Sanemi looks over at your plate, extracts one hand from your grasp, and grabs the leftovers from your burrito. Devouring it in 3 massive bites. Nodding his head back at you in affirmation. “Yeah, I can do that. I didn’t follow him because he has any power over me. It was mutual respect, well I thought it was mutual respect. Turns out that man is just unstable.” He tells you after burping into his hand and excusing himself.   

“I could have told you that. The unstable part. None of you are particularly in your right minds. A given considered what y’all do.” you retort back. A hand coming up to stroke your loves scarred cheek. “Continue, please?” you ask him gently. He leans into the feel of your soft palms and sighs. “Yeah, so you remember a while ago we discussed taking our relationship up a few notches and all that?” his question is rhetorical but you give him an affirmation anyways. “Yeah, well. You were adamant about needing to get his blessing or whatever. So, I went to talk to him about it and he truly lost his mind. He thought I was asking permission and denied it.” his eyes lock onto yours as your own orbs narrow into angry slits.  

You open your mouth to speak and he raises a finger to your lips and cuts you off. “Let me finish, My Queen.” he requests of you using the same hand to pull you closer so he can give you a quick peck on the lips. “So, I told him I don’t need his permission for shit. That I was just informing him because you were wanting to make friendly and all that. “He pauses again and you wordlessly request him to continue with your eyes. “Well, he started going off on a tangent about how we obey him and all that. Pretty much equating us to his peons. Something to control and possess like that woman of his and something in me snapped. I went off on him about how we are our own individual people, his communication sucks ass, and that if he was actually in control why does his so-called woman always run from him at every opportunity?” The frosty-haired man’s eyes glaze over in recollection.  

~Sanemi stood in the elaborate garden behind held back by Gyomei as Kyojuro glares daggers at him. "Kyojuro, we've been friends since we were kids. So, I say this with love when I say you need to shut the hell up before your mouth writes a check your ass can't cash.” the scarred man threatens. His hands ball into fists and he closes his eyes. Fighting the urge to punch Kyo's mug.  

Kyo opens up his arms and motions at the enraged man to hit him. “Get mad Shinazugawa, but my answer is final and I don’t owe you any explanation or reason. My words are absolute. Fall in line like the rest.” the blonde baits. Gyomei intercepts the flying fist and holds Sanemi back by the wrists. The furious man glares at Kyojuro laughing "At least I am not afraid to show my feelings to the woman I love. Pull your head out of your ass. You act all high and mighty but we are all tired of babysitting her when there isn't a reason other than you two don't know how to actually interact on a level that isn't shallow fucking. End of the day at least my woman voluntarily came back to me when we fought. I don't need to do grandiose gestures to win her back over. I just gave her my time. Something you seem incapable of doing." Sanemi grins as he knows his words will cut deep. But they are the truth and it was about time someone pull Kyojuro's head out of his ass.   

The giant holding the white-haired man nods. Agreeing with the declaration of being tired of babysitting the blonde’s constantly fleeing partner. Feeling Sanemi relax he releases the man. Sanemi rolls his eyes at Gyomei and then walks over to Kyojuro. Violet eyes blazing in fury. “You need to recognize you can’t control people the way you think you do in your head. People are not your pawns to use as you see fit and treat however you want to. I won’t be used. I know what the fuck has become of you Kyojuro but I am not sticking around anymore. Fuck whatever bullshit you are on. You have been becoming more and more erratic over the years. I let it slide but now I see what my lady was worried about. Whatever man, I am leaving. It’s over. People aren’t toys for you to play with.” Sanemi spits both at Kyojuro and on the ground.   

The slightly shorter blonde’s bicolored scarlet and goldenrod eyes set themselves ablaze and he swings at the white-haired man. Sanemi dodges laughing as Kyo stumbles and falls to his knees. “Remember I was the muscles; you don’t get your pretty little hands dirty unless your target is already bound. Enjoy doing your own dirty work from now on.” the standing Sanemi spits in the dirt again, giving Kyojuro a one-finger salute, and walks off. ~  

Your touch brings Sanemi back to reality. He gazes into your eyes and sees the love and concern in them. “Don’t worry babe. We are fine. I can take care of us. I already contacted Gyo about everything and he isn’t gonna make a move against us. Tengen was on the call on the way here and said that he was leaving with his three women. Wanting to enjoy the civilian life and get away from the high-risk environment we'd all been living in. They had apparently come to him around the time we reconciled to ask him to leave as they wanted to enjoy more domestic lives.” your lover extracts his other hand from your grasp and brings it to your other cheek as he talks.   

“I am thinking we should leave this place. Kyojuro is unstable but toothless. The family is breaking apart and we are all more interested in pursuing our own lives, now that we no longer have to cater to his whims.” He comes to rest his forehead against yours. “If you are ok with it that is?” he asks you softly. You close your eyes, breaking contact with him and mulling over the information he had told you. Essentially, he was saying that there was nothing more for either of you here and he wanted to start anew somewhere else. From what you understood their organization was limited to just your state. So the pair of you were free to go wherever you wanted to.   

Sanemi watches you up close and pensive. He knows you are now mulling over your options. Wondering to himself if you will take this moment to make a clean break and leave for good. All of this was a lot. A part of him wished he had never dragged you into his mess and left you alone at that florist but you were the best thing that had happened to him. And he knew his life would just be hollow and without any real purpose. Before he had followed orders blindly. Now he found himself thinking “What if?” more and more. Wanting the American dream with you, or whatever it was you saw in the future. He just wanted to be beside you, supporting you. Growing old with you. Not in an obsessive sense but as a mutual partner.   

When you opened your eyes and gazed at his violent ones his breath froze in his lungs. Halted by the fear that this was it. This was the end. Tears slowly fell from your ducts and you kissed him. Not knowing if this was a goodbye kiss or what he drops his hands to your waist and pulls you into his lap, wanting to memorize the taste of you and convey his love through his actions in the event you left him forever.   

You broke the kiss first, needing air. Gingerly you stroked his face with a hand and whispered his name. “ ‘nemi, Sanemi my love. What’s going on in that beautiful brain of yours?” you ask him. His eyes dart away from you in shame. His behavior spoke volumes to you. He fully anticipated that you were going to leave him and make a run for it. Your hand slips under his chin and you turn his head to force him to look at you directly.   

“Sanemi, I am not going anywhere. I love you, understand. I am just kind of shocked. I didn’t think you would leave so abruptly like this. I need to process a bit.” you tell him. He sighs in relief and his grip on your waist tightens briefly before loosening, shakily. “Where do we go from here?” you both ask each other at the same time. Giggling a little as you synchronize.   

Both of your voices erupt into laughter and the tension that had set in the air breaks. He runs his hands up your back, soothingly. “I don’t actually know maybe go back home to Japan. I don’t have any attachments here besides you,” he informs.   

You think to yourself about what you would be leaving behind if you did leave. Your job could be done remotely but you weren’t sure how remote your boss would allow. Your apartment lease was long since up and you had moved in fully with your lover. Friends who wanted to stay in touch would be free to visit and there was always the internet to communicate when you couldn’t see each other. You had a passport and all that. The only real issues you could think of were rooted in sentimentality. Things could be sold, though you were keeping your consoles, games and PC but that could be shipped.   

Nodding your head, you gave him your reply. “I’m in. Let’s do it.” Sanemi’s eyes widen and his pupils zero in on you. “Are you sure?” he asks you full of hope. “Yep. I’m in Mr. Shinazugawa,” you say cheerfully beaming at him. Abruptly he stands up holding you to him and spins with you in his arm. “I fucking love you!” he declares. The pair of you share another kiss when he stops moving and you nuzzle noses. “How do you feel about courthouse weddings?” he questions you, waggling his brow.   

A year later, your life had changed dramatically. You and Sanemi had gotten married in a hasty courthouse wedding. Gyomei and Kiyanah were in attendance along with Tengen and his three wives Suma, Hinatsuru, and Makio. He had sold his house and shipped the contents overseas stating it was less tedious this way. Blessedly your boss had consented to move you into a remote position. That was a huge burden off your shoulder. Sanemi and you worked on fulfilling the requirements made by the Japanese Government and you’d finally gotten approval from immigration to enter the country extended as his spouse for the next 3 years. You were working on becoming an ex-pat currently so you could have permanent residence.   

Now you both had a sizable house in Okinawa. Settling there because of the mesh of American and Japanese culture. Giving you access to people from your home while still enjoying the beauty of being in Japan. Your love was still doing shady jobs on the side but he presented as a humble fisherman which was a surprising choice. Turns out Sanemi was adept and proficient at fishing. Working hard to get the licenses he needed and using some of the capital left over from the sale of his stateside home to build a commercial fishing and processing business. It was still in its infancy but growing steadily. Your lives were comfortable and you were content to have him come home to you every night less stressed and talking animatedly about whatever gossip was onboard one of his boats for the day.   

There was no word from Kyojuro thankfully. Him having been left long in y’all’s pasts where he would stay. You kept in contact with the others you had met at your officiating ceremony and made some new friends here in Japan. All in all, the two of you had a bright future and prospects to look forward to along with the tropical sun and warm sand of Okinawa to greet you every morning.  

Fin   

[p-antomime]

Kiki, siiiiis how we feeling about mean!Senju who always makes poor little y/n wear one of those remote control vibrator thingies whenever they go out to eat, turning it up whenever she feels like it, laughing at her trying to conceal her cute little moans and all her fidgeting 👉🏼👈🏼

I WAS. CREAMING. I was almost gasping for breath writing this, SENJU MY BELOVED? i-i wait need a minute

i had to elaborate a bit on this OR else i would die

ns/fw with aged up!senju under the cut, proceed with caution! and MDNI

Senju's thumb rubbing against the button opposite to increase the frequency of the little vibrator glued to your pussy and an amused smile appearing on her pretty lips as you choked violently on the juice you were drinking with shallow breaths and a drooping head, eyes glazed over the restaurant table for fear you would lift them and find the deep blue ones of the girl sitting in front of you.

it was what? forty minutes of pure edging? maybe, you weren't counting, and neither was she. it was all fun and games for Senju, she commanded indirectly and made a mess between your legs without even needing to lift a finger, and you accepted it all like a trained little toy.

your silhouette all trembling, thighs pressed against each other and hands gripping the edge of the table as the sex toy continued to vibrate at a very low frequency that just threatened to throw you into an orgasm, your mouth hanging open even though you were trying to control your own moans and whimpers so as not to draw the attention of anyone in the restaurant because you knew that Senju wouldn't bother to speak for you, she would let you humiliate yourself to try to disperse the attention on you and probably make it even harder by increasing the frequency of the vibrator against your soaking cunt.

— Senju... — You gasped at her name as you felt her increase the vibrations a little, your eyes still glazed on the restaurant table.

and Senju looked at you with a raised eyebrow before leaning forward and lowering the frequency again.

— Are you talking to me? Oh, sorry, I thought it was someone else since you're not looking at me. — Senju opened a cocky smile. — Look at me if you want me to pay attention to you. — You swallowed hard and rolled eyes upward as she returned the vibrations to the highest intensity, your knuckles turning white from digging into the edge of that table and yet slowly your attention tried to lift until you were staring at that girl in the blue orbs with her pupils dilated. — So, what were you saying?

— Senju-mhm! — You brought one hand to your mouth to try to suppress a groan. — Can I c-cum, please... — Your vocal cords could barely verbalize your desires properly.

— What? — Senju feigned a semblance of curiosity. — I can't hear you, can you speak a little louder for me? Or, better! Without your hand over your pretty mouth? — An amused smile broke out at the corner of her lips and you felt about to burst into an imminent orgasm if the frequency of the toy in your pussy didn't decrease again.

— Fuck-ahn... I... I need it, please... — Your hand moved away from your mouth and you could feel the arousal dripping down the edges of your panties and beginning to wet the bottom of your clothes. — I really need... can I-mhm, please cum? — And then Senju rehearsed a confused face at you, whose legs began to tremble under the table.

— I never stopped you from doing that.

[djarrex]

So I was wondering, how was rex and reader first kiss, and also the first time they’d slept together? I loved that story about how they met!! I’m genuinely curious

!!Yessssss :’)

Ok, so for anyone who hasn’t read their first meeting/first date, I’ll link it here. Previously, I had included a little bit of their first date in one of the main installments/chapters as a flashback scene during Priya’s birth and you can find that here.

Find the rest in the Post-Order 66 Rex ML

I’ll pick this up from when they’re riding in the taxi on the way to reader’s apartment (from flashback scene found in second link)

18+ only! dry humping, heavy makeout sesh, groping, non-descriptive sex, piv sex, maybe just a hint of ‘first time’ awkwardness but... y’know. overall, Rex is a caring sweetheart. about 2.9k words #Carried Away

<<<>>>

The back of Rex’s hand, the gauntlet plate, that is, lands on your bare thigh - his gloved palm upright and waiting, fingers relaxed. You can’t help your wide smile that grows upon noticing the gesture accompanied by his unsure, yet confident expression as you gladly lay your hand within his - fingers locking into place. 

"Is... this okay?"

So considerate, appropriately cautious, cute.

You lock eyes with his, making it a point when your tongue barely darts out to wet your lower lip while giving his hand a reassuring squeeze. His lips curl at the corners - a little chuckle seeping through his nostrils before turning his head to watch the streaks of lights fly by outside the transparisteel. The ride isn’t very long, but it’s nearly silent. It must be late enough for the driver to have long surpassed the point of wanting to engage in light conversation, thankfully so, and the music is turned down to the lowest volume - just light pulse of a beat coming from the tiny speaker. The whir of the vessel gliding through the air lanes hums throughout the interior, along with the heavy beat of your heart in your ears. Your fingers stay intertwined with Rex’s the entire time. At one point, briefly, his thumb started to absentmindedly brush back and forth over the thick knuckle of yours, and caught himself when the the taxi slowed to halt as it pulled in front of your complex.

Rex scoots out first - extending his hand towards you and helping you out of the seat and onto the duracrete. As you lean into the taxi’s opening to toss the driver some credits, Rex watches the way you move - the way even the miniscule muscles flex underneath your form-fitting dress and with the movement of what skin is exposed. A sudden breeze catches him off guard when that familiar scent of lavender coming from your hair hits him just like it did back on the dancefloor. His own heart is pounding uncontrollably beneath the protective shell of plastoid, though he’s sure you can hear it. Your hearts mirror one another’s tonight - anxious, eager, sure, ready. 

It's quiet after the taxi speeds off. It's late, and the two of you stand just outside the complex entrance in silence, facing one another and staring deep into each other's eyes. There’s a whole bunch being said, without any words actually being spoken. It’s insane the way Rex is just pulling you in without laying so much as a finger on you right now; his gravitational pull is far too strong for you to resist, not that you’re trying to resist. You want to get dragged into his orbit, burn up upon skirting through his atmosphere. That connection... it’s so noticeably there and it’s making your legs weak - weight settling in the back of your head, pushing you forward and closing the space between your faces. You know it’s affecting him just as it’s affecting you. There is no escape, though neither one of you is trying to flee. 

“Is... this o-” 

Rex is unable to echo his question from the taxi once the remaining space between the two of you quickly vanishes. When your lips meet his for the very first time, something just clicks - like two missing pieces from a puzzle that you didn’t even know were absent have just come together and completed it, effectively ending its drawn-out hiatus. You’re sure there are better analogies out there with deeper meaning but it’s hard to think with how wrapped up in him you’re becoming with something as simple as a ‘first kiss’. Your arms flying to wrap around his neck, Rex pulls you closer - his fingers gripping the fabric at your hips and holding you close. A heavy breath escapes from him and you take the opportunity to poke your tongue out to be immediately greeted by his own. It’s medium-paced; not desperate nor casual. The dance you share with the light clashing of teeth, the rhythm that’s set with every little movement of the muscles in your mouths - it’s just right. 

When you move to break away, panting, your eyes quickly dart to the building standing tall to the right of you before they quickly return to his. An overt cue... 

“Do you wan-”

...One of which Rex takes swift action.

“Yes.” Rex didn’t need for you to finish that line; he was already way ahead of you, and was somehow starting to believe you’d never ask. Any nerves of his have long since vanished, as well as any notion of sleep - other, more exciting things urging him on. He knows where he’ll be waking up in the morning, and it’s not on that bedroll in the barracks that he was practically dreaming of back at 79′s before he’d laid eyes on you. For once, the clone captain will allow himself to indulge in what this night holds. 

The two of you are unable to keep your hands to yourselves during the brief ride in the lift up to your floor. Rex holds you impossibly close, hands pressed into your lower back and practically carrying your floating body through the corridors until arriving at your front door; you’d murmured the directions into his lips along the way. With your back pressed against it, your hand swings behind to blindly input the access code. After a few incorrect entries before hearing the musical awarded access, the door slides open, and your fingers wrap around the dip at the top of his cuirass - pulling him to follow you in. You make it as far as the couch, pushing him down to sit as you descend with him, your mouths staying connected in the process. Rex sinks into the cushions, and his hands begin rove your body experimentally from where you’re straddled over his armored lap. You’re melting into his touch, rocking yourself over the hardness of his codpiece, letting the curve of it rub into your clothed heat as his lips trail wet hot down your chin and jaw.

Never had you previously allowed a night like this to get as far with anyone else. 

“I don’t...” Rex pauses as soon as the words leave you - lifting from your neck and meeting your eyes with a flash of concern sinking in his own. “I don’t usually do this, uh, sort of thing,” you elaborate quickly, your hands gesturing to the current situation - nervous, for some odd reason, even though your mind is very made up. His expression softens and a sweet smile creeps on his lips as he traces your own with the pad of his now bare thumb - the touch featherlight, admiring. “I just- just thought I should clear that up.” You’re not sure what it is exactly that you’re clearing up; perhaps you’re afraid that Rex thinks you’re one of those clone groupies, a woman who frequents 79′s to show her appreciation for the brave soldiers of the Republic. Or maybe that you’re someone who often fucks on the first date, just to be casted aside in the morning or the one who does the casting aside. The look he’s giving you, though, as he gazes up at you with something within his eyes that you can’t yet translate, is leading you to believe that he doesn’t put you into any of those categories - didn’t, from the very moment he’d laid eyes on you.

“Mesh’la,” he breathes against your jaw - the foreign-sounding word completely unknown to you but making you clench all the same - the shape of it forming on his lips and pressing into your tender skin. “The same goes for me. I... don’t wanna do anything that’ll scare you away.”

“And here I am thinking that I’m the one coming on too strong too fast,” you jest. Sure, it has only been a single, incomplete night of knowing him, but as silly and cliché as it sounds, it honest to Maker feels like you’ve known him forever. Normally, you’d conclude that allowing yourself to think that would more than likely end up biting you in the ass in the near future, but you truly don’t think that would be the case this time. Not with him.

“Rex...” Breaking from his lips for a breather and cradling the curve of his cheekbones within your hands, you look deep into his kind eyes, searching for the answer to the question you have yet to ask. “Have you ever...?”

“Yes, yes. It, uh, was always quick... when I did.” Rex chews his cheek - his brows pinching together in unwarranted contrition. “I’m sorry,” he sighs.

“For?”

“I don’t want you to think-”

You cut him off with the hard press of your lips to his - grinding yourself down on his lap with a little more purpose. Anything he was about to say, any inhibitions, dissolves like sugar inside your mouth. Minutes crawl by. Maybe longer, you’re unsure; too lost in this milky euphoria to give a damn about something as complex and currently unimportant as time. Your body is on fire; the heat that radiates from his flesh even from under the armor envelopes you in a different kind of warmth. You find your own hands mapping out the parts of his body that aren’t shelled by a plastoid exterior, landing on the piece that you’ve been grinding yourself on since arriving.

“Can I take this off?” Rex peers down at your hand laying over his codpiece; his perfect pout glistening, eyes darkening - the black orbs nearly swallowing the warm honey they reside in as he begins to look you over. 

“Please.”

If it wasn’t already a known fact that you’d never done this with someone like him before, then the way your fingers fumble around the plastoid in a blind search for the clasp - or whatever is holding this Maker forsaken thing in place - sure as hell gives it away. Sensing your evident struggle, Rex’s hand brushes over yours and the hindrance is unfastened in an instant. You raise a brow at him, and he only grins as you lean down to kiss him again.

Rex stands - your arms and legs squeezing him as he walks you to the bed, his erection teasing with its firm press against you. Laying you down on your back, he watches as you shimmy off the rest of your clothing. His breath catches in his throat upon your removal of your bra, eyes widening and fingers drumming at his sides, and you have to urge him to unfreeze so he can finishing undressing and join you.

“I... really want this,” he informs through heavy breaths - a hint of sheepishness engrained within the gruffness - finally moving to climb on the bed between your legs after stripping nearly everything from him and stacking it all in a neat pile. “You. Really want you.” You smile - the gleam reaching your eyes - and grab his arm to pull him on top of you. He’s still wearing his under-armor bottoms, and your hand shamelessly trails down to palm at the hard bulge from above the skin-tight material. 

“I want this too, Rex. You.” He groans - husky and deep - taking a few moments to relish the way your hand feels as you massage him before making quick work to remove the only thing that’s left covering his beautiful body.

It takes you by complete surprise - his extraordinary size. The way it was trapped within the compression bottoms was totally misleading. You swallow a clump of dry air - your tummy tingling and heart racing at the sight of him now completely nude and in the process of climbing back into position. 

“Maker...”

You say the most prominent and immediate thought out loud, causing him to stop in his tracks.

“What? Is everything okay, is- is this okay?” Rex becomes mildly frantic, concerned - just about to climb away but you grab at his shoulder, fingers pressing into the toned, corded flesh where it curves into the base of his neck at the back. 

“Yes,” you sigh - astounded. “I just... you’re, um...” Your eyes remain glued to the erect, throbbing appendage standing at attention between his legs, noting how it curves slightly upwards at the tip and is aimed at your clenching heat. “You’re big, Rex.” When your eyes flicker back up to his, his brow is raised and his lips are pressed into a thin line. Like he doesn’t already fucking know how well-endowed he is. 

Shutting your eyes and sighing quietly, your face stings from the sound of your breathy voice uttering out such truism. He shifts his weight between the arms that are caging you in on either side and looks down at himself - considering. 

“I - uh-”

“It’s okay,” you chuckle with a quick nod of your head as you spread your legs wider with a slight roll of your hips. Your mound briefly brushes the hot, velvety skin along his shaft when you lift your hips again. Your abdomen involuntarily tightens upon noticing the length of him hovering over you, practically marking how deep inside he’ll be.  “I need you, Rex.”

You learn quickly that you needn’t repeat a thing to an esteemed captain of his merit. 

He prepares you, like any true gentleman would, getting your body ready to accept him fully. Licking, touching, sucking, prodding; it’s all so exquisitely slow, intricate, surprisingly good for someone who has had little to no experience in the arena of foreplay. Thick fingers work you open in deep, pleasant strokes - his knuckles knocking into the most tender and pleasurable tissue with every pass. Rex’s lips go from attending to your breasts and trailing along nearly every inch of your skin before reuniting with your own. He inadvertently works a mild orgasm from you from his delicate tongue and purposeful touch alone - the build-up a soft crescendo until you’re moaning his name in the most breathy voice you’ve ever entertained.

You’ve never felt so safe and cared for during moments like these; now is a whole different experience than what you’d encountered in the past. You don’t have an extensive list of previous partners, but all of the ones who had made your short list were boys. Immature, needy, desperate boys. Boys who could never compare to the man who’s currently breaching you with a very gentle roll of his hips laced with all the care in the galaxy. Not to mention, his size. In that alone Rex is unmatched. 

Your lips barely disconnect; the soft whimpers and moans shared between the two of you are breathed into one another and swallowed. You’ve never experienced anything so tender yet deliberate at the same time - the combination of soft meeting its opposite making your head spin and toes curling. Nails forming small crescents indenting into his skin, you hang on to Rex’s broad shoulders as he rocks into you. It’s a steady pace he sets right from the get-go and he keeps that all the way up until your second orgasm flows through you, consequently causing a hint of resistance put up by your clenching walls, affecting his length’s repeating reentry. Not much is said, but a lot is spoken through eye contact. Neither of you want this to end, but when it inevitably does, you’d want to do this again. You want to do more than this; you both want to see each other again. When he finishes, it’s the gravelly, drawn-out groan falling out of his throat that causes you to see the stars from where they’re hung outside Coruscant’s orbit as if you’re sitting directly in front of them, just an arm’s length away. 

You’re cleaned up in such a meticulous and tender way that only Rex could provide. He falls to your side - taking you with him as his strong arms wrap around your torso. It’s insane; the way you fell into each other earlier this evening is comparable to fate itself. You think you’re going crazy, that you’re feeling all these things only after having known Rex for less than several hours, that you’re diving into something too hard and too quickly.

“Do you feel it, too?” 

You don’t know what possessed you to ask him instead of keeping it locked up in your buzzing mind, still keyed up from the best sex you’ve ever had, but it’s out there. Unable to see his face from your position, your heart starts racing with nerves, and in the several moments of silence and lingering regret, you mentally curse at yourself for being so forward.

“Yeah,” Rex says with a soft smile evident in his tone - a huge weight being lifted from your shoulders and tossed aside. “I do.”

With that, his arms hold you just a little tighter and he places a chaste kiss on your temple. It’s not long before the sound of soft snoring fills the otherwise quiet bedroom, and minutes later you’re right there alongside him - content, fluttering heart and all.

<<<>>>

| wanna be tagged? |

anyone/everyone tags:

@bvcketfvcker @deewithani @chromia7567 @threevie @letitrainathousandflames @thefact0rygirl @justanothersadperson93 @ohtobeamoth @14mcmd1122 @tacticalsparkles @cheesemachine44 @damerondala @buckethead-over-heels @purgetroopercody @socially-anxious-fangirl @cloneygoodness @marya-komar @beskarprincessjenny @awkward-katiesaur @katiebits1 @kawaiitimecharm @shiny-mando @sapphichorrorpictureshow @fat-zygerrian @foodandbooksplease @the-siren-writes-it @ken-obiwan @dinner-djarin @howie-ner-cyare @99squad @chewychewyque @obiwan-djarin @vaderthepotater @blackrose4242 @the-sad-batch @quantumowl @ashotofspotchka @queen-simp @kaorikoizumi @mylifeinthetardisforever @sitherin-mxschief @escapedthesarlacc @sydnubabu @megalinditron @whatanoof @4rosydreams @ahsoka1 @colorfulloverbatturkey @venomous-ko @monako-jinn-stories @paige6768 @diagonallie5400 @galacticgraffiti @commxnderwolffe @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @jediknightdjarin @clonecyare @royal-stardust @bobafettuccini @rebelpitstop @rowansparrow @shiniest-captain @techs-hairline @no-idea-what-to-write-here @zazzysseoul @ladykatakuri @badbatch-simp24 @whovian_gurl

clones only tags:

@bambiswriting @sergeant-hunter @kriffclone @saberdeity @echofoxfives  @alucas528