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beskarberry · 4 years ago

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Valkyrie

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 4

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“What... did you... do?” You hissed between clenched teeth. “Did you poison him?! Give me the antidote right now or so fucking help me I’ll tear every limb off your ugly little body!” You were seething, fear and fury stoking fire behind your eyes. The bounty only laughed harder.

“Antidote?There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!”

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 7.8k

Content warnings: Canon-typical violence, SEX POLLEN + rough sex, oral sex (m receiving) and kink talk (not gonna list all of them but they’re all very common.) There’s another filk song reference in this one that I’ll link in the replies.

A/N: VERY IMPORTANT TAG! The bounty uses she/her pronouns so if girl on girl violence makes you squeamish please read ahead with caution! Also know that I >>do not<< use any gender-specific slurs (b*tch, c*nt, etc.)

<-Previous Next->

Everything. Was. Purple.

Purple! The grass, the sky, the trees, if you could call them that. The pulsating, gelatinous towers that spiraled into the sky were definitely alive, but you weren’t sure if ‘tree’ was a fitting word for them. Their branches were long and hanging, weighed down by some kind of berry or fruit that glowed with teal streaks. Your next bounty was on a habitable moon orbiting an enormous gas giant that took up the entire skyline. It was lush with vegetation and sparsely populated, a perfect hideout for an Ardennian.

The Razor Crest was parked in a meadow of lavender grass, though once again you questioned your choice of words, watching the way the long wet leaves wiggled in the breeze. You breathed deep, letting the rich, humid air fill your lungs while your traveling companions followed behind you down the old ship’s ramp. Baby beans trotted right past you on stubby legs, picking things up off the ground that he probably shouldn’t be putting in his mouth, but was too sneaky for you to stop him from doing so. You heard the Crest’s access door shut, and turned to see Mando eagerly trotting along to join you.

No, not ‘Mando’... Din. Mr. Mystery finally had a name, though you were still conflicted about using it. The man had spilled so many secrets into you in such a short amount of time that the butterflies in your stomach were breeding many-legged worms. Squirming, creeping things that quickly metamorphosized back into their illustrious true selves, and you weren’t sure which part of their cycle was making you more nauseous. But they were your secrets to keep, your heart wearing his name like a locket; safely hidden where nobody but you could see.

You had slid the heavy beskar bucket back up the ladder to him while he stayed in the dark of the cockpit, the knowledge of his facial features still kept by your hands alone. The pair of you had then stood close together at the armory, him with his helmet back where it belonged and you with your bright eyed mask protecting your crown. At the equipment cache he couldn’t stop talking, pointing out and picking up a variety of weapons and traps that would work particularly well for this simian quarry. Everything had a story, and he told you all about the bounties he had pulled trophies off of, or things he had gotten as rewards for helping someone else. He’s giddy. You could only listen along as he prattled away, handing you grapple after snare until you had to start putting things back in the armory, just so you could have your hands free again.

Hands. Every time he gave you another tool of the trade to add to your ever-growing inventory his hands brushed somewhere on you. Leather tipped fingers glancing quickly on your wrist, a lingering palm on your shoulder; each fleeting touch lasting just slightly longer than the last. He was struggling to keep his hands off of you, reluctant to give up the intimacy you had both been working at in the void-black darkness of the flight deck before atmospheric reentry tore you both apart. What other prayers of devotion could he pour into you, if you’d just had a little more time? ‘You belong to them, that is The Way’. The oath he had made to you was followed coldly in your mind by another string of words, ‘I’m not asking you to do the same, you’re not Mandalorian’.

You couldn’t think about all the words that you still needed to unpack, it was hunting time. The six-limbed simian was wanted for, checks puck notes, chemical warfare. She had blasted her way to the Guild’s Most Wanted list by lobbing incendiary bombs and poison gas grenades through a meeting of outer rim parliament, and the price on her head might have been higher than yours. The bounty puck specifically stated she was to be taken alive. Super. The droid-face mask wasn’t going to be much protection for your lungs, but it might at least keep your eyes safe. You took time to pack extra bacta and some quality rations, plus one of your new bantha-wool blankets. You woke up that morning on Tatooine, and the voice of your tortured circadian rhythm wondered if you would be sleeping rugged tonight somewhere on this heliotropic hellscape.

A bounty fob blinked lazily from the larger hunter’s belt, indicating that the quarry was on-world, but not close enough to catch. The three of you would have some walking to do. The child tried to make friends with every wiggly thing, running on his short little legs from fern to fern, hunting for treats. The little beastie’s adopted father chased him through the grass, trying, and failing, to keep him from getting into trouble. The sight of the mighty metal man being defeated so easily by a baby made you laugh, and the sound of your melodic giggles drew his attention.

“What are you laughing at?”

Oh no, I’ve been caught! “I’m laughing at you, rust bucket! The scariest person here isn’t either of us, it’s him!” You pointed to where the child was tearing through the reeds after some kind of amphibian, and started laughing harder when Mando cursed and flew after his impish son. The rowdy child had a frog-like creature hanging from his mouth that vanished the second his dad tried to pull it away.

“Stop eating things you find on the ground!” The baby only squealed at the scolding, earning himself a grumpy, papa-patented sigh. Mando picked up the potato-sack of a child and dumped him unceremoniously into the hover-crib that floated along behind. “You can get back out when you learn your lesson! I don’t want you to get sick.” The baby made huge, sad eyes up at his dad, but Mando turned away quickly to avoid their hypnotic powers. You were doing your best to hide your giggles, covering the part of your mask where your mouth was, as if that would help. The Mandalorian strode up to you with a swagger. “Oh, you think that’s funny, cyar’ika?”

“You don’t?” You caught your reflection in the black gloss of his visor as he sauntered up to you, and your bug-eyed doppelganger only made you laugh more. A wall of beskar stood in front of you, eyeing you with slow tilts of his helmet while you got it all out of your system. When your breaths returned to normal you looked down at your hands and found that they had made friends. You had reached out for him without even thinking, and you were a little embarrassed that they had gravitated to him so naturally. He squeezed your hands gently before letting them return to you, and you heard the songs of star-lost sailors whispering in the back of your mind. The nights are long between the stars, and lonely, too, for me. I wonder how I might have fared with home and family.

“Night’s coming fast, we should keep moving.” Hunting mode reactivated, your companion started towards the undulating wilderness. He wasn’t wrong, within a few hours the massive planet that hung above you drifted out of view, replaced with a sea of glittering stars. The foliage around you glowed with otherworldly colors, teals and violets splattering their dense leaves and curling down their jelly trunks. Their loveliness made it easy to distract yourself from the task at hand, your eyes chasing the occasional yellow and red flashes that blinked from insects high in the branches. Ahead of you a large old tree had fallen over, and between its trunk and its upturned roots the spot was easily defensible.

Mando busied himself with clearing squishy sticks and leaves from the area to make a campsite while you looked for something to start a fire with. Nothing looked burnable, everything had a gooey, wet consistency, but some dead leaves under the log were dried out. They would have to do. You made them into a neat pile and pushed some rocks in a circle around them for safety, now you would just need a light.

“Hey, tinman, I need some heat!” He followed your pointing finger with his helmet and waltzed over to you, happy to be of assistance. He started up his wrist mounted flamethrower and used the pilot light to set the tinder ablaze. Not even fire could escape the overwhelming purpleness of the estranged moon as the blaze kicked up a bright indigo with a low heat. You got to work getting dinner around, pulling savory Tatooine treats out of your pack, pushing some of them towards the heat source so they would be warm. At the bottom of your bag you found some soft, squashed thing, and pulled the remains of breakfast out into the light. It was mashed, but it was still probably edible. “Mando, you never ate your breakfast.”

“What?” He looked at the sad excuse for a meal that you were offering him, eyeing it with curiosity. “You got me breakfast?”

“Yes? I told you that I would, though I guess it’s dinner now. Here.” You waved it at him so he would get the hint, and he took it carefully from you with timid hands.

“T-thank you. You’re very kind.”

“And don’t you forget it!” You whooped with overwhelming confidence, but the sweet words made you blush under your mask. Before he could turn and leave the safety of the fire to find a private eating area you reached for his hand again, pulling the armored paw to your forehead and knocking it softly against your mask. Kov'nynir. A wistful sigh escaped his modulator, and you knew the act of affection was well received. He bent himself down to where you sat at the fire and pressed his own forehead against yours, rumbling with contentment. The gentle sound made your heart swell, such a simple gesture that carried so much meaning. A bounty hunter’s life was fast and dangerous, why should finding companionship be any different?

You pushed your heads together just a little harder before he pulled himself away from you to go eat. You lifted your own dinner and the baby’s from the hearth, poking at it with your fingers to make sure it wasn’t too hot for Mr. Green Beans to eat. The child took it from you eagerly, content in his protective pram and making gross little noises while he ate. The food tin you had was much better than day one’s menu: bantha meat and Tusken hardtack with a side of more mystery mush. Your partner chose to take his meal elsewhere, fading into the darkness behind the fallen log where he could remove his helmet and eat in peace. Someday he might make more sense to you. The clank! of an empty food tin hitting the ground brought your attention back to your campsite buddy, the baby having thrown his clean plate at you.

“What’s wrong, booger? You bored? Alright.” There was a tiny bit of energy still left in your bones, and what better way to spend it than entertaining your precious audience. You pulled yourself to your feet, taking a moment to dust the spores from your pants and pull your backpack on before launching into song.

“When we pulled into Naboo’s Port in need of R&R,

The crew set out investigating every joint and bar.

We had high expectations of their hospitality,

But found too late it wasn't geared for spacers such as we!”

“And we're banned from Naboo, everyone!

Banned from Naboo, just for having a little fun!

We spent a jolly shore leave there for just three days or four,

But Naboo doesn't want us anymore!”

Green baby hands tried their best to clap in time with your sailor song, accompanied by adorable cooing noises while he tried to sing along. Your rambunctiousness summoned Mando back over to the fire, and he sat down on a large rock next to his foundling, watching you through his visor as you danced around the fire with flailing limbs.

“Our Engineer would yield to none at putting down the brew;

She outdrank seven space marines and a demolition crew!

The Navigator didn't win, but he out-drank almost all,

And now they've got a shuttlecraft on the roof of City Hall!”

You ran through the chorus again, taking a second to notice that tinman was tapping his foot to the beat along with you. You wondered briefly if they ever sang on Mandalore. You took a deep breath to continue-

“-KABOOM-!”

The fireside exploded just meters from your spinning dance, and you were hauled backwards to safety by your oathsworn protector,along with his foundling, and ushered towards the safety of the trees.

“-BOOM! Ba-BOOM! KERPLOW-!”

Trees and plants exploded on either side of you as you ran through the luminous dark. The Ardennian! Neither of you had been paying attention to the bounty fob, blinking fast and red under his cloak. Above you the sound of something swinging through the branches caught your ear, and you pulled your blaster and fired behind you.

“Bwahaha! Missed me missed me now you gotta kiss me, two-arms!” You couldn’t see her, but her taunts gave you a better idea of her position, firing several more shots towards their source. You knew you had to take her alive, but that didn’t mean intact.

“Go go go!” Mando was at your back, doing his best human shield impression while he hurried you away from the bombardment, the child’s bulky pram tucked uncomfortably under one arm. Your flight through the forest was haunted with vicious cackling and the sound of serene foliage being obliterated by the explosives that rained down around you, choking you with incendiary fumes.

A clearing materialized ahead, and the three of you rushed out from under the unmerciful trees. When you had gotten far enough from the tree line you both turned your eyes to the canopy.

“There!” Picking up her heat signature on his visor’s infrared sensors, he pointed to your target, his other arm still occupied with protecting the foundling. You grabbed the barrel of the pulse rife that was still slung over his shoulder, aimed, and fired. The ball of electricity arced from your little trio and collided with the trees, the sound of pained screams and crashes followed the wounded pyromaniac as she fell hard to the ground. Bullseye.

”Stay here, Mando, I got this! Keep him safe!” You stormed into the woods after the sounds of distress, snare at the ready to take the bounty alive. You were angry, rage powering your stride as you chased after her like a Corellian tracking hound. Angry that your sweet moment had been ruined, angry that she’d put the foundling in danger, angry that your partner had been pulled from the comfort of the fire to fulfill his duties as guardian. You sprang over roots and fallen branches, catching the sight of movement where the Ardennian was making a run for it.

“Oh no you don’t! Get back here!” Your words boiled with so much fury that they almost weren’t your own. Balls of fire exploded around you in a last ditch effort by the primate to kill you first. You dropped a knee into the loamy soil to steady your shot.

Woosh! The net sailed past her by mere inches, and you flew to your feet to begin the chase again.

“Ha! Grow some more arms and maybe you’ll have better aim!” Fire erupted around you again, but the flames that seared at your eyes came from inside, burning with fuel siphoned from your heart. You took another shot.

Woosh! Miss! FUCK. You had one shot left on the snare-slinger, and you had to make it count. The trees were thinner here, how long had you been running? The simian was struggling to get away now, the long slimy branches too far apart to swing through. Behind you the sound of thunderous armored boots told you that Mando was hot on your trail, and you were glad to have the back up even though you had specifically told him to stay put. Nobody listens in this crew. Something green and gaseous poofed next to you, and the terms of the bounty puck came back to you clear as day: chemical warfare. The Ardennian was out of bombs and had switched to gas canisters, hurling a variety of brightly colored poisons at your face. Third time’s the charm.

Woosh! The net flew true, tangling in the many limbs of the fleeing quarry and throwing her to the ground. Gotcha! You bore down on her as brightly glowing vials sailed over your head, landing on something behind you with a crash! You were on her in an instant, shoving a blaster in her face.

“You’re done, chuckles! It’s over!” The fear in her eyes vanished as quickly as it had appeared when she glanced back behind you.

“Ha! I don’t think so, stinky. You’re gonna have yer hands too full with that to deal with little old me.” You followed her gaze, and froze from the ice crystalizing in your veins. Mando stood a ways back, still as a statue. Bright neon pink goo slimed its way down his helmet and dripped onto his chest plate. You turned on the Ardennian again.

“Antidote? There’s only one antidote for that one, sugar, and I sure hope you like him enough to give it to him! Bwahaha ha! Good luck!” She was howling with laughter in your grasp, and the sound of her mirth was like nails on chalkboard to your ears. You practically threw her to the ground, running back to your incapacitated partner. He hadn’t moved a muscle.

“Mando! Hey hey can you hear me? Tell me what’s wrong!” The glowing pink slime was still on his helmet, and you hunted for something to wipe it off with. The closest thing was his cloak, so you reached for it and went to clean the pretty pink sludge from his helmet when an armored claw shot up and caught your wrist. The action startled you, but you were happy to see him still able to move. “Mando? You ok?” Slowly, with almost robotic precision, he turned his gaze to you.

“Cyar...’ika....?” His words were long and labored, the strain of them sending a chill through your bones.

“Yes! It’s me, Mando. I’m right here, I’m gonna get you taken care of. I- I’ll find some bacta or-” Your words were cut off by another wicked claw on your shoulder.

“So... Beautiful...” The lustful words made the gears in your head grind to a halt. Really? Right now?

“Ok great, glad to see you’re fine, now can we get back to hunt-” He cut you off with a hand at your throat.

“Beautiful.. and mouthy. So... fucking... mouthy.” A leather tipped hand snaked up your neck to your lips, grabbing at your jaw and pushing a thumb in past your teeth. You tried to spit him out but his other hand latched on to the back of your skull. “I’m going to put that mouth to good use, mesh’la.” Your mask was tossed to the ground, and the ‘good luck’ the Ardennian had wished you now made sense. Whatever was oozing down the front of his helmet was driving him into an uncontrolled sexual frenzy, and you were the sole outlet for all his desires.

“Mando! -Blech-! Man- Din!” He stopped trying to get down your throat at the sound of his own name, hearing it for the first time from your lips. “Din! We don’t have time for this right now! Get a grip!” Oh, but he already had a grip, and it was tightening on your scalp.

“That’s right, sweetheart, say my name.” The command dripped from his modulator the same way the poison dripped down his face, and he started walking you backwards by the hair until you bumped against a squishy tree. The change of emotion from rage to fear to confusion made your head spin, and the new contending feeling of heat building in your guts was making itself known.

“Knock it off! Fucking hell, she’s going to get away if we don’t do something right now! ”

“Let her. You’re the only one I want.” The weight of his arms on your neck and shoulders became too much, and the man who you had shared a such a sweet moment with not too long ago was now forcing you to your knees. You dropped to a kneel, and your face was hard pressed up against the solid bulge that was trying to rip its way out of his pants. He took only a second to free himself, pushing his throbbing cock against your teeth. “Open wide.”

You wished you were meeting with mini-mando under better circumstances, but if getting him off would get you back to the hunt, you were happy to help. The taste of him on your tongue sent electricity through your body, spooling up fresh heat between your own legs. Above you Mando was making deep, guttural groans as you took his cock all the way to the back of your throat, wrapping a fist around where you couldn’t reach without gagging. You glanced around his leg to where you could see the hover-crib, floating a good distance away with the shield closed tight. Good, he doesn’t need to see this. A swift thrust brought your attention back to where it was demanded.

“That’s a good girl, take it all in. Let me make a mess of that pretty little mouth of yours.” He had a death grip on the back of your hair and the side of your jaw, pushing up to keep you open enough to take his length. Inside you were swirling your tongue around the tip every time it slid past, making sultry praises flood from his modulator. Most of the words were garbled, raunchy and alien, probably Mando’a. Spit leaked from the sides of your mouth, making good on his word to make a mess of you. The claws in your hair pulled tight, forcing your nose into the tuft of soft hair at his base so he could pump your throat full of cum without you escaping. “Ahh~! That’s it, mesh’la, drink it all down.”

The hot spunk made you choke and gag, tears rushing to your eyes, but you still swallowed as best you could. When he finally let you pull away you gasped for air, coughing on the ground at his feet.

“There! *cough!* is that... -blech-, better? Can you hunt now? Are you done?” The potionmaster was probably long gone, you couldn’t hear her fucking cackling anymore.

“Cyar’ika, we’re not done until I say we’re done.” The spear at your cheek was still hard as beskar, ready for round two. The armored man yanked you to your feet, shoving you face first towards the nearest tree. The tree’s flesh was soft and squishy, a fact you would be grateful for soon enough. Your hips were pulled backwards, and a buzzing sound told you he had pulled a vibroblade from his belt, stabbing under your pants’ edge and pulling down the crack of your ass until your clothes were cut away; leaving just the legs and your boots to protect you. The cold air hitting your cunt gave away your arousal, and he zoned in on it like a falcon, pressing still-gloved fingers to your wet slit. The roughness of the leather invading you made you cry out and your knees buckle, squirming under the intrusion of one finger, then two; pumping in and out of you to stoke your flame.

“You’re so pretty. So fucking pretty, and strong. I’m gonna lose myself in you, fierce little thing, and I never want to be found.” His hands ripped away from your swollen cunt, and the head of his cock was pressed to its lips. Both of you made delicious, filthy noises as he buried himself to the hilt, the slick of his own cum making a wonderful lube. “Fuuuuuck, you’re hot inside, lovely girl. My cock was made just for you.” He barely made it a few inches out of you before he was slamming back into you again. The force of him behind you smashed you face into the soft, forgiving tree, though you wished you could find somewhere for your hands to grab hold. He fucked you like a man possessed, and you were sure there would be bruises on your hips and thighs when he was finished.

His mouth ran like surging lava. “Fucking.. Maker... beautiful girl, beautiful hunter! Hunter-killer! I knew you would be a challenge to hunt, but I never thought you would be the one to capture me! You’re a work of art on the killing field! Mmph! You are mine and I’m going to fill your belly with my warriors ‘til you’re fit to burst. They’ll be so ferocious! Born with daggers in their teeth.” Vulgar words between thrusts made your entire body hot with a mix of embarrassment and lust. You might never know if the neon goo had given him the desire to breed you, or if he adored you so much that he wanted more of you to care for, but you did know your contraceptive implant would be having none of it either way. Still, his damning words flowed. “Nobody will ever put their hands on you again but me. I’ll give you everything you desire, cyar’ika, anything you ask for will be yours. I’ll bring the stars down from the sky if you ask me to! I- I’ll- I’m gonna...”

The Mandalorian stilled behind you, twitching as his cock spilled into you and ran hot down your thighs. His breaths were gasping, broken and desperate for air. His fingers digging into the soft skin on your hips would leave their mark for sure, and though he’d done a fantastic job of scrambling your insides you still felt warmth in your chest. Even in his poisoned, delirious state of mind, all of his thoughts were of you alone. The grip on your ass loosened, and the sound of a heavy thud hitting the ground told you he had fallen down into the soft purple grass. You struggled to peel your face from the jelly tree, standing like a newborn fawn on shaky legs. The bright pink streak on his helmet had lost all its glow, and your human rust-bucket was slumped over on his side, still as the grave. Not again, fucksake. You clambered over to him, digging under his cloak with your hands until you found his pulse. Still alive.

“Alright Mando, fucking stay here this time like I told you to.” You glanced around the meadow, but the Ardennian was nowhere to be found. Fuck! All that work for nothing. You groaned, looking down at what was left of your pants. You checked all the pockets, finding your lucky krayt teeth and a bacta patch before kicking the ruined fabric off over your boots. You dropped down to the spent form of your comrade, tilting his helmet up and slapping the bacta patch on one of the hickies you had left there a few days ago. You took a moment to stuff the teeth into one of his many pouches since you no longer had pockets of your own. With your ass in the wind you made your way over to the floating pram to check on your tiny pal. “Hey beans, you doing ok? Your dad and I were just having a little-” you spun the cradle around. Empty.

“No! Fuck! Fuck fuck FUCK!” The bounty had made off with Din’s infant son, your little buddy! You couldn’t stop the fear that dried your throat and brought tears to your eyes. Get a hold of yourself! Find him! NOW! Familiar rage welled up behind your eyes, and you raced back over to your unconscious guardian, still laying in the dirt and making it extra difficult to untangle the pulse rifle still slung over his back. Your hunting instincts were on high alert, and the sound of shouting caught your ears. “I’m gonna get him back, Din! Just... just fucking stay here!”

You tore off after the noise, every horrible scenario running through your head at once. Would she steal him? Would she hurt him? Would she kill him? Rage flared hot in your chest and threatened to burn you alive, your feverish skin icy with sweat. Wet leaves slapped past your bare knees so fast that their thin edges left vicious paper cuts. You didn’t care, nothing else mattered but the foundling. The sound of shouting grew louder, and you thundered though the trees to another clearing by a narrow wine-dark stream.

“Help! This thing’s got me! Get me down, please! Get it away from me!” The simian terror was hanging in the air ahead of you. No, not hanging, floating. She was thrashing her arms, but all that did was slowly spin her in place. The sight was magical, but more important was the safety of child. On the ground near her, he stood with one fat little paw in the air, pointing at his abductor and concentrating with all his might. You didn’t know how he had escaped, or what the actual fuck he was doing, but you didn’t hesitate. You pulled the pulse rifle from your back and fired, once, twice, three times until her limp body was hanging in the air, knocked out cold. Or dead.

Baby beans crumpled to the ground, and the Ardennian followed suit, the ugly noise she made when she hit the ground brought a wicked smile to your cheeks. The baby’s little eyes were bleary and tired under his big droopy ears, and you scooped him carefully up off the ground to pull him in for a good, strong hug.

“Did you get the mean lady, sweetie? Good job! I don’t know what the fuck you did but hey, no questions asked, alright? I’m just glad you’re ok.” He smiled up at you with his tiny toothy grin before conking out in your arms, leaning heavily against your chest. You set him back down on the ground, just long enough to tie that six limbed asshole up tight, using everything you still had above the waist to keep her captured. You tied her arms to her feet and slung her limp body over you like a rucksack, then picked the foundling back up. With your bounty, baby, and bare ass you started the hike back to your fallen man.

Mando still laid where you had left him on his side, and you were annoyed to realize that, out of everybody involved, you were the only one left awake. Fantastic. You returned the baby to his floating bucket, pulling it closer to the pair of you this time, and dumped the Ardennian in the dirt. There was no way you could maneuver three bodies at once, somebody was going to have to get up and walk.

“Mando! Mando get up, we gotta go.” The man in question didn’t budge, soft, muffled snores your only response. You tried everything you could think of, pulling on his hands and legs and shouting, anything to wake his ass up. You knocked on his helmet, “Ground control to Major Mando, time to get up! Rise and shine, bucket boy!” Nothing, he was going to have to sleep the after-effects of the potion off, so he was staying right where he was.

You had no idea how far you had gotten from the campsite, and the cold night air on your bare booty made you remember your half-nakedness. On the ground scattered around the pile of living beskar was your backpack and the remains of your pants, along with the rest of your trap gear. Start packing more clothes. You went for the gear first, pulling another set of cuffs and a good strong rope out, and added a few more knots to the half-dead quarry so she wouldn’t be pulling any bullshit in the night. The backpack still had the bantha-wool blanket wrapped up tight, and you tied it around yourself like a skirt. Better than nothing.

Kneeling on the ground next to your Mandalorian, you cleared yourself a space to sit down, taking an extra second to make sure all his bits were tucked back out of view. You leaned back against the crook of his hips, feeling the slow rise and fall of his belly at your back. You were so tired, how many times had you been on the run in the last cycle alone? Your body desperately craved sleep, but you couldn’t take your eyes off the bounty. Anger crept its way back into your eyes again, and you wanted to take it out on her, channel your inner rancor. No, she’s already lost. Go to sleep.

But the merciful tug of sleep didn’t come, and when you realized why you felt foolish. The child’s pram was on the ground where you had pushed it next to his fathers’ armored head. He was sleeping like a little prince, and didn’t move at all when you pulled him out of the crib. When he was situated in your arms you pulled Mando’s cloak around the three of you for extra warmth. Sitting upright was a horrible way to sleep, but with the baby safely in your arms and a blaster at your side, you were able to catch a handful of winks.

You woke up many times that night, worried that something might happen to your baby or your partner, and each time your eyes shot open you glared at the dark form in the grass; though not once did it move. Still, you didn’t trust that you were safe, and only when the rim of the planet that dominated the sky drifted over the horizon could you actually keep your eyes closed. But the blissful comfort of real sleep was torn from you by your lounge chair trying to get up on its own. The rush from trying to sit up too fast knocked Mando right back down on his back, and his hands went to his armored temples to try to stop the world from spinning.

“What...where am... where’s....” He shot up like a bolt of lightning “WHERE’S MY SON?!”

“Right here!” You turned yourself to show the bug-eyed bundle to his father, letting him see that the child was safe. Mando wrapped his arms around you and the child, and you could hear his quick, shuddering breaths coming out from under the helmet. The hug was tight, a comforting fortress around your shoulders.

“Are you ok? What happened? Why are we in the grass? Where’s the bounty? Did she get away?” His questions gushed like a river, urgent and frightened. You pointed at where the Ardennian was still on the ground, far enough away that she was out of earshot. She was awake now, but still immobilized. Her eyes were fixed on you, and you could see the edges of her mouth turning upwards into a snarl to bare her teeth. Din’s hands were all over you, inspecting you for damage, and his breath caught in his throat when he reached your waist. Big, ugly red and purple fingerprints were swelling up between the scrapes on your skin, and he pushed the edge of your makeshift skirt down to follow their horrifying trail; they were everywhere.

“Who did this to you?” The volcano behind the beskar threatened to erupt with molten malevolence, “Did she do this to you?”

“No Mando,” you sighed, a little hurt that he didn’t remember. “You did.” The wall of metal armor went stiff as a rail, his visor locked on your eyes, looking for the truth. But the truth was right in front of him, and he couldn’t accept it.

“What? N-no.. I would never... I could never hurt you, cyar’ika! Please... please tell me that I didn’t do this.” His fingers ghosted over your marks, but never touched them, his hands afraid of dealing more damage to your lovely skin. “I-I couldn’t have... I’m... I’m so sorr-” You cut him off with a hand on his helmet where his mouth might be.

“It’s not your fault, you were poisoned. I’m just glad you’re alive, Din.” The sound of his own name made his shoulders droop and his hands come up cradle your cheeks. You couldn’t meet his visor, the closeness of the distraught hunter making you flustered, so you tried to crack a joke. “I’m just glad you wanted to fuck me instead of the Ardennian.” The way his helmet snapped backwards made you realize he didn’t remember that part either. “Oh don’t look at me like that, I took it like a champ! You’re gonna have to do better than bruises to hurt this mighty hunter!” Your attempted words of comfort didn’t seem to work, and he pulled you and the wiggly child back to his chest in a world-erasing hug.

“Please just tell me you know I wouldn’t do this to you on purpose, I never want to hurt you again. Please.”

“Mando! I’m fine, really.” He held your head firmly, the blackness of the visor trying to bore though your very soul. You nodded in his grasp, “I know you didn’t, it’s alright, Din. I forgive you.” The force of his helmet knocking against your forehead almost made you see stars. His hands were wrapped around your head, holding you as close as he could in the intimate gesture of his people. You didn’t blame him at all for what happened, but it would be a while, if ever, before he could forgive himself.

“Oh isn’t that puke. Spare me the lovey-dovey crap and take me back to the Guild already! Buncha bucketheads.” You didn’t want to address the Ardennian that hollered at you from from the grass, but the beskar bucket turned on her in a heartbeat. He sprang to his feet in a flash, pulling the pulse rife from the ground and firing, stunning the target for the fourth time, fifth time, sixth, seventh.

He’s gonna kill her. You grabbed at his arm, demanding his attention “Mando, you got her, it’s over! It’s done.” Stance wide and chest heaving, the barrel of the long rifle stayed trained on the bounty for what seemed like an eternity before being lowered back to the ground. “Good, good, see, everyone’s ok. Let’s get back to the Crest and get out of here, sound like a plan?” He nodded, still watching the limp-again simian for signs of movement. When he was sure there wouldn’t be any more argument he stalked over to the quarry and slung her over his shoulder, ready to make the long march back to the ship. You set the baby back in his pram so you could take a second to grab everything off the ground, making sure you had your pack and your mask, and followed Mando back through the woods.

After hours of silent hiking, the Razor Crest came into view, and you had never been so happy to see the old girl, pretty as a plum in the violet haze. Once everyone was aboard, the fog of the carbonite chamber filled the tiny cabin to the brim, and left a new dark block in its wake. The Ardennian’s body was limp, though thankfully still alive; but the mischievous sneer couldn’t be erased so easily. You took a deep breath, sighing with relief that this hunt was over. Two down, one to go. Then Nevarro.

Your Mandalorian hadn’t spoken to you the entire trek back to the ship, and he was distracting himself by placing all the weaponry back in their spots in the cabinet. He’s still upset with himself. You still wore the bantha-blanket skirt, and its soft edges swished around your ankles. Gently you placed your hand on his shoulder, and he jumped violently under your touch as he was brought back to the present.

“You know I’m not mad at you, right?” He didn’t meet your eyes, but his hands stopped fussing with the armory. “Really, Din, I don’t blame you at all. I’m ok.” You tugged on his waist, bidding him to turn and face you, but still he couldn’t lift his eyes from the floor. You ran your hands from his shoulders down his chest, trying to bring him comfort with your touch, but when you saw his utility belt you remembered what was in his pockets. A flashbulb of an idea lit up in your skull, and clear as day the reason for your frivolous purchase on Tatooine made itself known. “You know what, I’m so not-mad at you that I have a present for you.” You grabbed his belt to dig through the pouches, but strong hands shot up to carefully take your wrists.

“Mesh’la no! Not after.. not after I- I can’t. I don’t deserve your affections.” Your eyes met his visor, its gaze no longer staring down at the floor and instead watching you with intensity. A smile broke it’s way out past your teeth, followed by a knowing laugh.

“No, that’s not what I meant, good thought though. No, Mand-...Din. Din, I have a gift for you.” He hesitated to release your arms, but when you were free of his delicate hold you went back to the pockets on his belt and pulled the opalized krayt teeth from one of the pouches. Your companion’s visor followed the glittering treasures as they were brought into the light, and you wished you could see his bewildered face under the beskar. You handed them to him, and he carefully turned them over in his palm, letting the fossils catch the light and revealing their intricate patterns. His helmet tilted slowly, baffled that such beautiful things could be pulled from anywhere on his body, but the way his beskar sent streaks of light over his armor gave you a fantastic new idea.

Taking the treasures back from him you unscrewed the button fasteners that protruded from their backs, revealing the small, strong magnets hidden underneath; and pressed them up to his helmet. The teeth fit perfectly in the recesses of his cheeks, like they had been made just for him; and though you knew hunters didn’t wear adornments, they still looked lovely. “I know you can’t keep them on, especially when we go hunt, but they still look nice on you. Now you get to be my lucky charm.” His soft leather fingertips rubbed gently at his cheeks, feeling the way the indents had been filled with the precious jewels. The ship didn’t have any mirrors, and he would have to see how the swirling pools of crystalized moonlight looked the next time he took his helmet off.

Wordlessly he reached out for you, taking your face in his hands and pulling your head to his so he could press your foreheads together. You were becoming fond of the mysterious gesture, letting the butterflies in your stomach stretch their iridescent wings and fan contentment into your heart. You pushed back against him, wrapping your own arms around his shoulders, locking his helmet to you. The whole galaxy could fly apart at the seams and you knew you would be alright, as long as you were right where you were, shielded in your Mandalorian’s embrace. I wonder if he feels the same. Tiny claws on your leg pulled your attention to the floor, and you were overjoyed to see big black orbs staring up at you.

“Little Beans! C’mere you, get in on this.” You hauled the foundling up between your bodies, letting him get a good look at you and his father. He chirped away, happily patting his papa’s fancy new trinkets, mesmerized by their shine. The little creature was full of energy, but you had been on your last leg for hours and you couldn’t stifle your yawns any longer. “Boys, I can’t keep this up anymore, you’re both awful cute, but I need sleep.”

“Of course, cyare, you’ve earned it.” Mando reluctantly stepped away from you and rolled out the Tusken sleeping mat that you had purchased. It was much thicker than the sheet originally on the little cot, and a hundred times more forgiving. You were comfy in seconds, and the warm embrace of sleep started pulling on your limbs and shutting your eyes. A different touch was on your arm, and you lazily opened one eye to see an armored hand pulling the bantha blankie up snug around you. Sweet, thoughtful murder-machine is what you had thought of him that first day, and the stupid pet name made you chuckle.

“What does that mean? That word, sire-eeka or sigh-air, they’re Mando’a, right?” You wouldn’t let sleep win you over without a fight, even if it was a fight you wanted to lose.

“Cyar’ika. The closest translation in Basic would be sweetheart, or darling.” Here we go again with Mando’a 101.

“Sweetheart, huh? Pfft... sounds like you like me or something. What’s the other word mean? You’ve never used it before now.” He sighed, long and tired, and you could see the foundling on his lap, still enthralled with the glittering opal on his fathers' metal face.

“I...I don’t know how to translate that one, but it’s more than cyar’ika, stronger, with more depth.” Something about his posture told you he might be lying, he knew exactly how to translate that word, but he wasn’t ready to tell it to you. He might, though, when he was ready.

“Alright, tin man, if you say so.” Your eyes finally let themselves close all the way, but even in the darkness behind your lids your devious hands still found their way to him, giving his hand a good squeeze. “Teach me more someday?”

“For you, ner cyare’se,” Your hand was pulled up from the blankets until the backs of your knuckles rested on the cool beskar of his brow, “I’d bring you the stars down from the sky, if you asked me to.”

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★Masterlist★

TAG LIST:

@mandoinevarro @mrsparknuts @cookiejuicedesu @kaermorons @ironbabey

#bargaining with beskar #the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian x you

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imagine-your-love-story · 3 years ago

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Thank you for encouraging a safe space on Tumblr. It might seem like basic courtesy to leave people be, leave them their comfort and creative freedom, but apparently it's not. As someone who has very questionable self ship poly dynamics, it's.. nice not being scared of seeing "Don't interact if this- dont interact if that" and then in danger of harrassment.

Please keep spreading these vibes of comfort and love - you're a great person whom we need a lot more of in the world wide web

You're very welcome, lovely! :) :) :)

Hoo boy. I have...soooo many thoughts on like....ALL of this. And this post is gonna get LONG because I've opened the can of worms and I'm lettin' it all out :P

The amount of bullying and negativity I've seen in the selfshipping community lately is very painful and disappointing to watch. Tumblr and fandom has always been somewhat of a cesspool but I had hoped that selfshipping was a little better.

I'm not seeing a positive community on a large scale right now.

There are some people who are shining little stars out there of course! But there's more hate being spread around than I can stomach.

I've spent Y E A R S researching and unlearning and pushing back against the psychological and emotional effects of manipulative behaviors like: blame, guilt, shame, and harassment.

I absolutely 100000% believe you can speak to people civilly and state your reasons why you think their behavior is damaging. Without telling them, "You are wrong. You are a bad person." Or otherwise making them feel shitty about themselves.

And I also believe that you CAN allow that person to say, "I don't agree with what you're saying" and you can still have normal interactions with that person without immediately shunning them and labeling them as a terrible person.

People BLOSSOM when they are showered in love, acceptance, and understanding. People are MUCH more willing to listen and heed what you have to say when you give them SPACE to see your point of view (or disagree with you and still accept them).

This culture on social media where people jump STRAIGHT to, "You're a HORRIBLE person because you do something I disagree with!" is, frankly, horrifying and a little disgusting.

Does this mean I condone negative and damaging behaviors?

No. Absolutely not.

But there seems to be this loss of perspective on what is considered "negative and damaging behaviors".

1. It's fiction. Fiction has NEVER been "clean". It's a place of freedom to discuss EVERYTHING.

2. You don't have to feel comfortable with everything being discussed in fiction. I'm not. If I don't like a self-shipper's content because it hits some trigger buttons for me...I don't follow their blog. Because that's my boundary and I have every right to it.

Do I send them messages saying, "You're a toxic person!"

Nope.

Do I comment on their ship that they love and say, "This makes me uncomfortable!"

Nope.

It's not my business.

Also: it’s fiction and there are MUCH bigger problems that require my energy than whether or not I should correct someone’s fictional ship.

Go save the ocean.

Go save the rainforest.

Go save the planet you live and breath on.

Fiction should not be making you angry enough to send hate mail to someone else. Full stop. That should never ever be a priority.

3. Some people engage in selfshipping "negative behaviors" as a way to cope with their trauma. We have no idea what a person has been through and we have no right to tell them that they should stop what they're doing when we do not know where they are on their journey of healing.

It hurts my heart so, so much when I receive messages from selfshippers like you, dear anon, who are TERRIFIED to share their love stories with their characters because they're afraid of being labeled/attacked/harassed by the community.

That's the community letting you down. That should NOT be happening and I'm so sorry you're feeling that way, lovely.

The ENTIRE point of selfshipping was to ESCAPE the people who criticized for shipping yourself with a character that you love. The foundation of selfshipping is that ANYTHING is possible!!! You are limitless!!!

And now people are policing what you can do??? That's...that completely obliterates the point of selfshipping. That's WHY we escaped to our own community!

I don't know if this video is available outside of the U.S., but I highly recommend, the Crappy Childhood Fairy's Youtube video on Cancel Culture. It's a great listen when you're navigating the emotional turmoil of social media culture.

So, if you're still reading after ALL OF THAT :P here are some key points about this blog and my philosophy when it comes to selfshipping:

This blog will always be a judgment free zone

Of course I have opinions! Of course we may disagree on something! But I won't judge you for it. You're allowed to do your own thang! ;)

I will never have a DNI.

If I feel an interaction is crossing into territory that isn't appropriate or acceptable, I'll say so. And if that doesn't work, I'll block and report. But I will never have a DNI on this blog.

Yes, I am an adult. So if minors don't feel comfortable following my blog, it's okay if they don't! I understand!

But I don't have a problem talking with minors because they are human beings and they may need support. I worked in Youth Services at a library for over two years. I know sometimes kids just want someone to talk about cool books and movies with and I'm 100% down for that 24/7 :)

Because this blog is all-ages friendly, I will never post 18+ content because - just like IRL - I make sure that I am mindful of the people around me. I may post some suggestive content that is tagged, but I try not to get too explicit.

I also don’t really think a DNI is necessary for me personally. Of course if I feel threatened by someone, I won’t interact with that person. But if a shipper is into content that I don’t like???? I don’t feel the need to say, “I will never interact with you!” That’s....exhausting. Besides, there are plenty of other things we can chat about! :)

I will always share f/os.

I know some people don't like to share and that's their boundary they can draw if they want to (no shade here!), but I've found that if I don't share, it's a very lonely experience. So I always share and I’m happy to interact if we have the same f/o :)

DMs are always open if you need a shoulder to lean on

If you need to dump or vent or whatever, my DMs will always be open so you can chat! It can feel weird, and maybe you'll feel bad because you won't know what to say!!!

That's okay :)

Even if all you want to do is vent and never reply, I'm happy to listen and offer any words of encouragement and support you need to hear! :)

#asks #anonymous #penny chats #i hope that monster of a response was helpful! :P #edit: LOL i just watched my follower count PLUMMET after posting this #don't care #i said what i said #i'm gonna keep spreadin' love around!!! :D

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shenanigans-and-imagines · 4 years ago

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NSFW (whole alphabet) for Captain Rex? 🥺🥺

A/N: Hell yes! Sorry this took so long for me to get to. I love Rex so much, words cannot describe. I hope to do my favorite Captain justice. And as a reminder, REBLOG AND COMMENT IF YOU LIKE THIS!!! These take just as much time as drabbles and the tags hate me.

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Can you say, soft? Because Rex is soft. He’ll do whatever you ask; run a bath, rub your sore muscles, hold you close, whatever you want. He is the sweetest man after sex.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Rex honestly has a hard time picking his favorite part about you. His first instinct is to say your legs, but then he thinks about it and say the part where your legs meet your back. Actually, that whole area. That, and above it...

For himself, Rex is actually really proud of his back. You’ve playfully giving him a few wolf whistles when you’ve seen him doing pull ups without a shirt on. He knows he’s strong and if the way your nails dig into his back when he takes you against a wall is any indication; you appreciate his strength too.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

He always ends up leaving a mess whenever he cums. From lack of experience, he hasn’t quite got the timing down on pulling out and so it often spills half inside you, some on your skin and some on the mattress. There are times you wonder if he does it on purpose. There have been a few times he openly moaned at the sight of his cum dripping down your inner thigh.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He does cum in a mess on purpose. He apologizes every time and helps clean you up. However, that doesn’t stop him from getting hard all over again at the sight of you blissed out of your mind and stained with his cum.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

We’re going to say none before you. Like seriously. I don’t know where is Dom-Captain Rex came from in the fandom, but that is not this man’s M.O. His devotion is 110% to the GAR and we see how awkward he gets in social situations outside anything having to do with the army or his brothers.

So, yeah, Captain Rex is a virgin the first time you have sex. You cannot convince me otherwise. Luckily for you, he’s also a man who learns and adapts quickly. ;)

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

You on your back with your legs draped over his arms as he pounds into you. He gets a perfect view of everything; your bouncing tits, your eyes, the way his cock slides in and out of you, plus the option to grab hold of the headboards and really go to down.

A close second is pinning your back against the wall with your legs wrapped around his waist. He loves the feeling of your nails down his back as he fucks up into you. And gravity does the work for him when he pulls out and sees his cum going down your leg.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

It takes him a while to loosen up in bed. When you guys first start having sex it’s like he’s on a recon mission; what works, what doesn’t, testing his own endurance as well as yours, that kind of thing. It’s only when he gets a full inventory on how to make you feel good as well as himself does he start cracking jokes. It’s not the norm, but it reaches about 30%.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

He doesn’t really do much down there until he meets you, besides keeping it clean. After you guys start sleeping together, he starts to trim it down and experiment a bit. He even shaved all the hair off at one point, but you assured him he didn’t need to.

Also, he had dark hair down there. No, he is not bleaching his pubic hair.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Rex is focused on you the entire time. He wants you to know he’s paying attention to you and listening to your wants and needs. It’s more a sliding scale of how emotional it can get, often depending on how much of his own emotion and tension he’s keeping bottled up.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s done it plenty of times before he met you and continues to do it after you get together; his fantasies now just focus on you and you exclusively. Privacy is an issue in the GAR so often he has to wait late at night to get the showers to himself. However, he prefers it when he gets a chance to take the time alone in his own bed. It’s really the best way he knows to fully relax without you there beside him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Rex is still exploring his kinks, but he’s finding he gets a certain thrill out of cum play. Eating you out with his cum still in your pussy is not something he’d ever thought he’d enjoy until one night he couldn’t help himself and ended up cumming on the mattress while you came again on his tongue.

And, I’m just going to put this headcanon to bed. CAPTAIN REX IS NOT A DOM, HE IS A SWITCH!!!

Yes, he likes it when you call him Captain or Sir in bed. Yes, he likes giving you orders and having you obey them to the letter. But if you’re telling me he doesn’t get off to the idea of you riding his face and using his body in any way you choose to find your own pleasure; then you and I are not talking abut the same character.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

Your apartment Like I said, privacy is an issue on more GAR ships. The Clones have quarters on Coruscant, but it lacks the personality of your place, not to mention you have thicker walls. It also means he’s off duty and doesn’t have to be worried of being call to the bridge at any given moment. He can fully relax and focus on you and himself.

Now when it comes to where in your apartment, literally anywhere to a flat surface. He’s not picky.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

You calling him “sir” or “captian” in public. To give him some credit, it’s not only the words, so much as how you say them. If you say, “yes, sir” like you’re out of breath or worse, if you look up at him through heavy eyelids, he’s going to need a minute to straighten himself out.

There’s also this spot just on the edge of his hairline on his neck that melts him. All you have to do is brush that spot with your finger or your lips and he’s going to groan.

And cliche, but I have to say it; any time he sees you kick droid ass or even just verbally destroy somebody in a debate. Your his cyar’ika and he’s going to let you do whatever you want to him that night.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

Water play. He found it by accident when researching different stuff to try. He thought it would be like shower sex and it’s...not. The moment he realized what it was he was disgusted and told you immediately that was going on the “no” list.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

Split 50/50 between preferring to give or receive. God knows how many times he’s gotten himself off to the image of your lips wrapped around his cock. He loves how your fingers dig into his thighs as you take him all the way into your mouth. And seeing cum drip down your lip is enough to get him hard again in seconds.

On the other hand having your perfect thighs wrapped around his head as you fuck is face is as close to heaven as he can imagine. He can stay inbetween your legs for hours reveling in your taste and the way your tremble around him every time he makes you cum. His current record is making you cum three times in the row with just his tongue and fingers before you pushed him away just so you could breath.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

He can do either or, but he leans more on the rough side. No matter how slow he might start, by the end he’s gripping your thighs like a vice and pounding into your cunt as he loses all sense of control.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Only if he knows he’ll get to have you all to himself later that night. He thinks of quickies as just a preview of what’s the come, rather than a done deal.

That all being said, he’s not keen on them. For one, he doesn’t want to risk getting caught. Two, he would never, ever, have a quickie while on duty. Which leads to three, if he’s already off duty he might as well take you to bed right now.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Like I’ve said, Rex lacks a lot of experience, but he’s adaptable and a fast learner. You guys have a list of different things you want to try and are slowly working your way down, checking what you like and crossing out ones you don’t.

The only thing he won’t risk is getting caught in the act. For one, he would never hear the end of it from the rest of the 501st. And second, he thinks it would reflex negatively, not only on himself as a solider but on the rest of the GAR.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

As a genetically enhanced soldier, his stamina is insane. Granted, it takes him a while to hold off his own orgasm the first few times you have sex. But, his recovery time is amazing.

He’s good for about three rounds on an average night and once he gets the hang of things, he can make those three rounds last hours.

Your current record is him cumming five times in one night while you lost count once you reached the double digits.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Captain Rex would not be caught dead having any toys with him. Not in his bunk, not in his apartment on Coruscant, not anywhere. He cannot imagine how he’d explain that to anyone if they found out.

However, you have a perfectly nice little collection at your apartment. You guys have been experimenting.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He tries, but he’s not good at it. When he gets into his, “Captain” mode, he does like the idea of keeping you on the edge, but it never lasts. As soon as you buck your lips and the first little, “please” leaves your lips, he’s done. He has to give you everything.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

He’s not quiet, but he’s not going to scare the neighbors. He’s a talker, surprisingly. It’s like whatever filter he has as a commander just slips away the moment he buries himself inside you. He praises how you feel. He mumbles curses and promises until they turn into delirious grunts and groans just before he cums.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Everyone in the 501st knows you guys are fucking the moment you start, even if Rex never tells anyone anything. He is terrible at hiding his feelings toward you. Add that to the fact both Fives and Jesse noticed the not so subtle hickies all over his body, and it’s not hard to guess where he got them from.

Rex denies it whenever it’s brought up, but everyone knows the truth.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

I’ve said it once, and I’ll say it again; EVERY SINGLE CLONE IS HUNG WITH A THICK EIGHT INCH DICK! And since all of them don’t really have a frame of reference as to what’s “big” or not, they all assume they’re average size (at least until they get someone in bed).

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Not crazy high, but after he meets you it’s like his sex drive just triggered into over drive. It could also be because you guys are apart so often. But, either way you’re having sex almost every night you’re together. Maybe after the war things will calm down, but not before then.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Almost as soon as you guys finally decide to call it a night. He’s fallen asleep a few times while in the bathtub with you, is all I’m saying.

#captain rex #captain rex x reader #star wars #the clone wars #star wars imagine #the clone wars imagine #lemon

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myownworstenemyyy · 4 years ago

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Congrats on your milestone!!!🎉🎉🎉I really have loved getting to see your blog grow! Since this is a celebration, the only thing I can offer is an idea that has been swimming in my head since forever. AND I know if you do it you will do it justice and make it amazing with your lovely brain. So with that being said: 🎶 + Din + Wicked Game (I've been obsessed with James Vincent McMorrow's version, but all of them are *chef's kiss*) Love you, your face, and your writing😘💖 CONGRATS AGAIN!!! 🎉✨😊

thanks so much, doll! and omg this SONG 😩👌 i never knew how badly i needed it in my life lol i hope you like the fic it inspired me to write (i apologize for any pain this one may cause 😅). thanks for requesting! 💜

warnings: mentions of blood/injury ; death (descriptions of dying) ; Angst™; back at it again with a cliché last line ; idk how to refer to Greef Karga so I call him Greef here, please don’t @/ me

ship: Din Djarin x Reader

masterlist | tag lists

Wicked Game

Din always knew his life would be a short one—that Mandalorians don’t exactly have the luxury of growing old and living a full life. He accepted the fate his creed bestowed upon him long ago, but he never realized how painful it would be.

Not physically—in fact, he can hardly feel anything as he lies against the giant slab of duracrete in what’s left of the cantina. Right now, his pain cuts far deeper than physical. He feels it in his very bones, this soulful ache for something that he knows will never be.

Among the fallen rubble and blaster fire, he barely registers a light pressure on his hand, his fingers beginning to go numb. Your face—stained with soot and dried blood—comes into view and it takes everything in him not to sob out your name, knowing it may be the last time he has the honor of voicing such a sweet sound.

“I’m here, Din. I’m not gonna leave you. I...I know you’re in pain, but do you think you have the strength to move?” you ask in a desperate voice, your eyes wide and glossy—either from the smoke in the air or from your own emotions getting the best of you, he’s not sure.

“C-cyar’ika,” he whispers, but a thick warmth gets caught in his throat and he falls into a coughing fit, the sharp taste of iron confirming what he already knew to be true.

Blood is filling his lungs and he knows he doesn’t have much time left.

“Don’t try to speak. Save your energy,” you rush out, swallowing hard and nodding your head as if you’re answering for him. You look over to Cara and Greef as they watch your exchange with matching, sorrowful expressions.

“We have to carry him out, he can’t move,” you reach for the child standing at Din’s feet, the little one completely focused on the man who’s cared for and protected him with his own life. Din’s fingers twitch with a longing to comfort the little one, but it’s no use, the remnants of his strength waning by the second.

Cara hesitates before moving forward, presumably to help lift Din to his feet and drag him to safety within the tunnels beneath them. But Din finds the will to subtly shake his head, signaling her to stop. It’s too late, he thinks to himself. Too much time has passed since Moff Gideon’s last assault and Din knows that it won’t be long before they’re under fire again.

You look down at Din, your brows knitted together in confusion and anxiety, the child reaching out to him. “Y-you have to...go on without me. P-protect the child,” he croaks out, his breaths shallow and lungs burning with every intake of air.

“No. I told you, I’m not leav–” you start to protest, hugging the child close to your chest when it makes a loud whimpering sound. Your bottom lip trembles and you pull it between your teeth.

“The IG unit can stay with him, but we need to get the child out of here now,” Greef places a hand on your shoulder, but his eyes remain on the T of Din’s visor as he seems to say, I’ll make sure they’re safe.

The aforementioned droid comes into view and Din’s vision starts to blur, his ears ringing with a deafening pitch. The following moments of your exchange with Greef and Cara are difficult to comprehend as Din starts to pass out, but then he feels your hand in his again and he forces himself to stay awake.

You don’t say anything as you lift his gloved hand to your cheek, tears streaming down your face. Oh, how he longs to feel your soft skin against his calloused hands. And though you can’t see his face because of the helmet covering his features, Din still tries to give you a reassuring smile.

“I’ll be r-right...behind you,” he lies through his teeth, a chill wracking his body. It won’t be much longer before he meets his Maker, but he doesn’t want you to have to witness his end.

He regrets a lot of things he’s done in his, what one might consider, wicked life—the lives he’s taken and the people he couldn’t save remaining at the forefront of his mind. But if he can spare you this...this trauma of watching him take his final breath, then he’ll do everything in his power to protect you from it.

You lean forward and press a kiss to the top of his helmet, right where his forehead would be, before resting your own against the cool metal. A Keldabe kiss. His chest aches beyond any physical means and it’s only then that he notices the moisture on his cheeks, spilling from his eyes.

I’m so sorry, cyar’ika, if only we had more time, he wishes he could say, but he can barely hold his head up, let alone speak. The high pitch of the child’s cry reaches his ears and Din opens his eyes to find the little one touching the side of his helmet. Goodbye, my child, Din thinks as he finds the strength to reach up and lightly stroke behind the child’s ear one last time.

He hears you sniffle before whispering, “I love you,” your voice breaking. He can only just make out the gentle squeeze of your hand around his before you reluctantly let go as Cara ushers you away.

Everything in existence seems to fade away after that, like you were his life force and now that you’re gone, he can’t hang on any longer. His breaths become uneven as fluid fills his lungs. At his side, IG-11 injects something into Din’s arm, but he doesn’t understand what the droid is saying—something along the lines of help with the pain and deep sleep.

And as he becomes void of all senses but the memory of your hand in his, he embraces Death like an old friend.

Permanent tag list: @bestintheparsec @haildoodles @mandoandyodito @javier-djarin @readsalot73 @agentpike @aeryntheofficial @wickedfrsgrl @mrsparknuts @scarlettwitcher @buckysalefty @rosamedina92 @maxiarapamaya @promiscuoussatan @ah-callie @bluemoon-glen @pablopascal @littlemissthistle @waywardodysseys @thick-dick-din-daddy-djarin @thewaythisis @phoenixhalliwell @lovingtheway @petertingless @hiscyarika @pascalisthepunkest @mrpascals @sergeantbannerbarnes @mrschiltoncat @cyaredindjarin @destucky45 @getinthepoolkeanu @petrelliforcongress @gooddaykate @mistermiraclee @roxypeanut @watsonwise @demigod-dragonrider-schoolidol @tiffdawg @floweronthegrave @cryptkeepersoul @soldade @jaime1110 @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @themandjalorian @longitud-de-onda @walkerchick007 @shinyfranci @arrowswithwifi @24kgolden @triggerhappyflyboyy @blushingwueen @behindmyeyes-insidemyhead @thinemineours @and-i-swear-we-are-infinte @ham4arrow @thisainttheway @katialvi @kristalhi @kimljn @mabelleen @auty-ren @frietiemelon @fanfiction-trashpile @sinnamon-bun @larakasser @miraelles @lackofhonor @jerusomeeno @liadamerondjarin @engineeredfuture @engineeredfiction @pascalesque @carringtonhill @mstgsmy @hayley-the-comet @the-wishmonger @clydesducktape @autumnleaves1991-blog

Character tag: @maxlorrd @no-droids-allowed @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @opheliaelysia @starlight-starwrites @lellaren-uodo-rian @anomiatartle @nerd-without-a-cause

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shadowdianne · 3 years ago

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Author Self-Interview

tagged by @delirious-comfort

Name: Dianne full penname ShadowDianne or ShadowSelene, gods know I bothered quite a lot of people with the double pennaming back at A03. Some others use Dia. I will basically answer to any variation of the penname.

Fandoms: Could be a smartass and say all the fandoms I've written for but let's be honest; It was SwanQueen, Princess Rover and I guess some SuperCorp/SuperCat

Where do you post: AO3 and FFN but I’ve stopped posting on FFN now.

Most Popular Multi-Chapter: [Oh boy, let's do this. I'm just gonna remind y'all that I basically never wrote multichaptered -well, few exceptions- and that numbers never worked for me xD Let's do this... AJ here was very thorough and did ffnet as well but since I erased like 70% of the fics I had back at ffnet a few months ago I will simply go to A03 for simplicity's sake]

Oh! I'm doing it by Kudos

Annnd, that would be “I'm not afraid of the dark” Princess Rover-Shannara Chronicles with 237 Kudos. It's a wip so, heh xD

Most Popular One-Shot: That one would be “Cracked it” SuperCorp -I think??- Supergirl with 667 Kudos.

Favorite Story You’ve Written So Far: I always say the same one but that's because I basically went to my sandbox and said yeeet. I would write it differently now -I basically edited out a bunch of things I wanted to write because if it would have been up to me the romance would have been less upfront but since it was a SuperNova I guess I went the route of “giving focus to the ship rather than the worldbuilding which I what I love -lol-. Either way that would be Metallic Ink. Yet, to make it a bit more convoluted because y'all know how much I love writing long-winded answers my favorite piece was anything and everything I wrote that involved Steampunk -and I have a bunch!- or fae-related writing because that's what I like the most.

Fic you’re nervous to post: Quoting AJ: All of them. The fear of posting never left no matter the amount of times I did it. We all are nervous from a performance point of view.

How do you choose your titles: I curse a lot xD Not in the titles per se but while trying to find something to write there. I usually go with one word titles for one shots and, somtimes, short sentences. Sometimes they are taken from lyrics -either translated or not- that I think aids with the aesthetic I'm trying to go for or, other times, most of the times really- they are a rewritten version of a sentence written within the text. I'm horrible at it.

Do you outline: I did, sometimes, for specific things. I think I've written about this at some point prior to this tag but, and considering the biggest amount of my work is comprised of one shots and prompts at that, there were certain themes I had written enough times to know already what sort of tropes or themes I wanted to go with so those very rarely needed an outline. I wrote several versions of them, though. Sometimes because plot bunnies, some other times because I wrote in batches so if I realized there was something that was being repeated across several prompts/stories I could lean into something different in order to not be overly repetetive. If I was going for multichaptered or worldbuilding I did an outline. Some stories that required particular details -words of desire, hundred steps, words in the cloud...- also used outlines so I could keep everything in order before writing them and I knew what topics I had already written and which ones I hadn't yet.

Complete Fics: Hah. As always the exact number is something we will never know xD I've erased a bunch so the number is already not the correct one and I'm not even considering tumblr- Now that I think of it I didn't write down tumblr as a site in where I post things... telling. Anyway, according to a03 I have 535 works. Jump that a couple 100s and that will probably be a more accurate number. From those... 513 apparently. It's probably less. Let's be honest xD

Do you accept prompts: *laughs in tired* I did, I do... I guess I still do because what I've last posted were prompts but I consider myself out of most of the whole prompt writing business if it is not for a very particular list of people. If you give me ideas I may implement them but since I don't feel strong enough for any couple atm and the burn out I ended up having is something that still lingers... let's say I'm more the shadow rather than the dianne portion of my penname these days.

Upcoming Story You’re Excited to Write: Fic wise... I guess nothing? I'm not writing fics atm, I may at some point but I'm currently still trying to unlearn a bunch of things and trying to find something I can give back in the form of a transformative work.

Stories You’re Excited to Read: Back to quoting AJ: Give me angst. And fantasy. And hurt comfort with a heavy dose of the first and very little of the second. Pretty please.

Tagging: @waknatious, @stregaomega I'm not remembering if AJ tagged you @naralanis but considered yourself tagged on my end :P

#taggie thingie #answering to you AJ: You never bother #please keep these coming

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atiny-piratequeen · 5 years ago

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Against the Tide: First Voyage (Ch.1)

Pairing: Eventual Poly Ot8

Genre: Heavy Angst, Eventual Smut and Fluff mixed in

Rating: 18+

Tags: DemonPirate!Au, Supernatural, Eventual Poly Relarionship, Violence, Blood, Elemental Powers, Past and Modern Day AU, Mythical Creatures, Character Death

A/N: There could be tags added later, especially if there’s something I write that potentially triggers my readers. The last thing I want is for that to happen, so please don’t hesitate to give me feedback if there’s something I write here you’d like me to tag

Summary: Hongjoong is the leader of a notorious pirate crew. A run in with a demon leaves him with immortality and the ability to grant immortal life to those who form pacts with him. One day, a member of his crew angers a sea witch, and she decides to exact revenge on them by casting Hongjoong into a completely different part of the world and stealing his memories. The seven key members of his crew spend centuries looking for him, to no avail, and meet up in modern day Seoul to try and strategize how they can find their leader. Discouraged, with some close to giving up, they happen upon a man with a familiar smile and voice speaking on the street one day about a Long Journey. Now the seven of them must get Hongjoong to rember who he is before he slips through their fingers once again.

AO3 Link

Taglist

← Last Voyage Next Voyage →

=Age 10=

“What in the blazes is that?”

He flinched, flailing his legs as he tried to get down from the man holding onto him by the back of his shirt. That earned him a sharp jab to his ribs, making him cough and sputter as he lowered his head, fear pulsing through his body.

“He was hidden between some barrels in the hold, Captain. It looks like he was one of the port hands in the last town and he stowed away when no one was looking.”

The figure across from him clicked their tongue, and he cowered as the sound of leather boots approached him, the wood of the deck creaking loud with every step.

“Stowed away on my ship? Do you have a death wish, lad?” a voice growled at him and a hand reached out, lifting his face abruptly so he could look the Captain in their eyes.

“A…woman…?”

The Captain’s eyes narrowed dangerously, one hand going to the blunderbuss pistol strapped to her thigh before she pressed it to the center of his head, lip curling up in dissatisfaction.

“Aye, and you’re about to be at the bottom of Davy Jones’ locker, rat.” She hissed. He trembled, unable to move his head away from the firearm pressed against it. Panicked, his eyes looked around, finding other members of the crew were also women, some with shorter, choppier haircuts. Some of them sent him sympathetic looks, but none of them made any moves to stop their Captain.

“I hope you’ve made peace with your family and your maker, lad. I don’t take kindly to people sneaking aboard my ship.”

“I d-don’t have a family…s-sir.” He quickly admitted, having a momentary battle on what to call the angered Captain. The finger that she had on the safety of the blunderbuss paused, and she put a hand on her hip, arching a brow at him.

“I’m an orphan. I worked at port on the docks for as long as I can remember…I just wanted to see the world and do something more than be a poor orphan on the street, C-captain. P-please…please take me with you, I promise I’ll be useful!” He pleaded, brown eyes holding a flicker of hope and determination. The Captain’s brows went up in surprise, a small laugh leaving her throat.

“Do you know what you’re saying? Me? Bring a child along? You wouldn’t last-”

“I’ll prove it to you! If I can make myself useful and survive, you make me a member of your crew!”

The captain rolled her eyes and lowered the blunderbuss, putting it back in its holster and nodding for the man behind him to drop the child. He fell to the deck harder than expected, groaning in pain before looking up, looking at the Captain’s outstretched hand.

“My name is Captain Jihyo. When we’re in port, you only call me Captain Hyo. If it gets out there are women aboard my ship, or that I’m a woman, our entire crew will be executed. Do you understand?” She snapped. The child grabbed her hand and nodded, pulling himself up with her help before he looked up, determination shining in his eyes.

“My name is Kim Hongjoong. And I swear on my mother’s resting spirit, I’ll be a fine member of this crew.”

=Age 15=

“Must you always get yourself in trouble?” Jihyo grunted, dragging Hongjoong back into the tavern by his ear. He hissed, frowning as he looked up at his Captain. The woman had taken a liking to him in their years together and has quickly become a mother-like figure to him.

Which…would explain the stern look and smack upside his head he received when Jihyo had pulled him into the room he was to stay in.

“I told you not to go outside. I know this town well, I knew you’d pull this again-”

“I didn’t do anything wrong, Captain! He was harassing that lass on the street, she clearly didn’t want any of his attention, so I…’helped out’.” He coughed at the end of his sentence, avoiding Jihyo’s sharp gaze. She stared at him for a long time before she sent him a smile, pressing their heads together and lowering her voice as she spoke.

“I appreciate your respect for others, especially women, lad. But you still have to tread carefully. The last thing we need is a brawl breaking out because you’re on your justice kick.” She gently scolded, ruffling his hair before moving away from him.

“You are a pirate. I would imagine you’d earn yourself a rather..unique name if you continued being so nice.” She waved her finger at him, heading towards the door. Hongjoong rolled his eyes half heartedly, but smiled nonetheless.

“If they remember me for being more than ‘just another pirate’, I’ll take it as a compliment.” He grinned before diving onto his bed, smiling contently.

=Age 19=

“There are some odd jobs we can do while in port.” Jihyo informed them, standing at the ship’s bow with her arms crossed. She had already cut her hair before they neared the port, her eyes set on the approaching docs as they approached. Hongjoong was at her side, along with her First Mate, a quirky gentleman named Daniel.

“I’m sure they’d be happy to see you, Captain. This is your port town, afterall.” He teased. Jihyo hummed, tilting her chin up as they docked. The town was welcoming of pirates, but she still made sure to change their flag to the country’s colors, just as a precaution in the event of any naval officers also being in town.

“We’ll be staying here for a few weeks, stock up and make sure not to do anything stupid.” She ordered as they lowered the anchor, sending Hongjoong a sharp look as he tried to tip toe out of her sight.

“That means you, Mr. Kim Hongjoong.”

“I have no idea what you mean, Captain Park Hyo.”

Jihyo rolled her eyes and smiled, nodding for him and the rest of the crew to disperse and enjoy traveling in the port town. She and Daniel stayed behind. They watched the people mingling in the port with small, calm looks on their faces.

The silence was broken by Jihyo’s coughing, her brows pulling up as she hacked violently. Daniel frowned, pulling her out of the view of the curious port hands before sitting her on the ship’s deck. Worry creased his brow as she continued coughing for a few minutes before letting out a shaky sound, sighing.

“Captain-”

“Don’t say it.”

“Jihyo. You can’t keep pretending this isn’t getting worse.” He told her sternly, holding her shoulders. She looked up at him, her lips trembling before she shook her head, brushing her hands off on her trousers before she stood.

“I know. That’s why we’re here. I heard a tip from the last town that we’d be able to find something here to prolong this…just bare with me.” She told him before she squared her shoulders, pulling her hat down to slightly obscure her eyes as she headed down towards the docks. Daniel sighed and nodded, following faithfully behind her.

=3 Nights Later=

Jihyo smiled as their Quartermaster, Psy, poured her another glass of rum. They all drank merrily together, eating the meat and rice served at the tavern.

Well, most of them.

Hongjoong sat at the end of the table, nursing a glass of water as he looked over some of the maps their Sailing Masters had gotten a hold of while in town. He surveyed the pages, muttering to himself about potential treasure. Jihyo glanced at him before smiling, taking another hearty swig.

The sound of their merriment was interrupted by the door to the tavern being opened abruptly, a group of men dragging in bloodied figures. The tavern owner jolted from her spot behind the bar, eyes going wide as the men dropped their wounded on the taven floor.

“What in the hell are you doing?! You’re going to ruin my floors!” She barked in disapproval, slamming down a mug on the bar, ignoring the way the brew inside sloshed out and spilled onto the counter.

“Bite your tongue, woman! Can’t you see they’re bleeding out?!” One barked. The woman behind the counter, Momo, raising her brows in surprise at the rude tone. She grabbed a knife from her garterbelt beneath her skirt, stabbing the bar as she looked at them with an unamused expression.

“I don’t like your tone.”

“W-we’re sorry, Miss! Please, let us stay just a little longer! We’ll pay for any damages and all the rounds will be on us tonight!” One of the men quickly tried to remedy the escalating situation. The pirates and other patrons in the tavern cheered, going back to their own devices, while the other wounded men sent him a glare.

“What? We have to decide what to do and we can’t leave them on the street!” He snapped. A blonde in their group shook his head.

“I told you dense bastards, we shouldn’t have gone near that cove. Did you see what that wench did to John and Terry?!” He barked. The other three men looked down, clearly terrified as the two they’d brought in coughed weakly on the floor, the focus fading from their eyes.

Hongjoong bit his lip, moving to pull his seat out when a hand landed on his shoulder. He turned back to the table to find Jihyo had moved from her spot, now taking her place beside him. She sent him a firm glare, clearly having sobered up from the shock of the bloodied men.

“Don’t you dare.” she growled, her voice lowered to mimic a man’s flawlessly. Hongjoong shrunk down in his seat, mumbling.

“I wasn’t-”

“Ay, was I born yesterday, lad? I know that look in your eyes. You’re troublesome need to help people all the time. Don’t you dare go to that cove. I don’t want to leave this port town knowing my son-” she paused. Hongjoong’s lips parted in shock and Jihyo cleared her throat, raising her voice to Momo.

“Momo! Another round of rum! Gimme the strongest you got!” She huffed, pivoting on her heel, leaving Hongjoong stunned in his chair. Jihyo sat down heavily in her original seat, avoiding eye contact with the teen as Daniel chuckled from beside her.

Hongjoong felt his heart racing, his mind whirring as he ran the word through his head over and over again.

Son…

A fond smile came to his face, and he momentarily forgot about the men behind him. Until a wary laugh came from the left.

“At least we left that wench bleeding out. Tomorrow we’ll blast the damn cove shut. Send her straight to hell where her kind belongs.” He spat. The other men didn’t laugh along with him, but they seemed to be relieved that whatever it was that injured their own was in pain and soon to be trapped in the cove.

Hongjoong’s gaze drifted back to the maps in front of him.

He can’t focus.

=Midnight=

Hongjoong carefully removed his boots as he approached the cove, knowing he’d have to wade through knee-deep sea water in order to get inside. He rolled his trouser pants up, tucking his shirt into the waistband of them before he began his careful approach. There was a lantern in his hand, and he had to keep it high above his head to keep it from going out.

When he reached the mouth of the cove, he bit his lip, looking from left to right. He didn’t see anything initially, so he steeled himself and pushed deeper, his feet lightly slapping against the wet stones of the cove.

Then he heard it. The low, pained hiss.

“G e t o u t.”

“H-Hold, I’m not here to harm you, I only want to help-”

“Get. Out.”

Hongjoong bit back the urge to turn tail and run, turning to the sound of the voice, lifting the lantern. He saw a puddle of blood, his stomach churning as the light rose until he saw a raised stone, seeing a woman staring at him, her face and hands smeared in blood. Her hair fell in front of her face, her lip curled up into a snarl as she looked at him through the ink-colored locks.

“You need help, you’re injured-”

“G E T O U T!” she screamed, and he was knocked off his feet in a harsh gust of wind. His lantern smashed to the ground, plunging the cove in darkness, with only the moonlight in the mouth to light anything.

Hongjoong groaned, hissing when he felt the glass from the lantern cut into his palm as he pushed himself up.

“L-lass, I don’t know what they’ve done to you or why, but I can’t leave you here hurt like this. Please, they won’t leave you alone. Those sailors intend on blowing this cove shut and leaving you here. You’ll die!” He pleaded into the darkness. There was a laugh, low and humorless.

Suddenly, lights appeared in the cove, in the form of balls of fire, each hovering in mid air around the woman. She stayed where she was, reviewing the brunette pirate with mild interest, though there was still pain in her features.

“You…you must be a fool. Do you not know why they came? Do you know nothing of me?”

Hongjoong ignored the pain of his palm and shook his head, standing to his feet once more as he carefully approached her. He raised both of his hands when the woman’s eyes narrowed at him.

“I am not from this port town. I am a pirate, we’ve only settled in port days ago. My name is Kim Hongjoong. Who are you, lass?”

“I am Hyuna of Tortuga Bay. I am a demon.Those insolent fools came to take the ‘treasure’ of this cove, as fools tend to do. However-” She hissed, groaning as he breathing turned ragged again. She allowed Hongjoong to approach her closer, her hands twitching as he stopped in front of her.

He looked at her face, hesitantly moving her sweat and blood-slick bangs out of her face. She was a beautiful woman with a porcelain complexion under the blood caked to her face. At this point, Hongjoong wasn’t sure if it was hers, or the blood of the sailor’s.

“They said they left you wounded-” He stopped himself when he noticed the culprit of her agony.

The glinting gold crucifix stabbed straight through her chest. His eyes grew, and he noticed the burns around the entrance of the wound and around her fingers, as if she had tried desperately tried to pull it out herself.

“I…I can take it out.” He said suddenly, eyes transfixed on the crucifix. She stared at him carefully, a small glimmer of hope in her light eyes. The flames that illuminated the cove grew closer, and she looked up at him in interest.

“You…said you were a pirate, correct? Why are you helping me? You know nothing of who I am and nothing of the rumored treasure, and yet you come to my aid? You could leave now. I can’t die, I’d be just like this for all eternity and you can take my treasure. Why are you trying to help me?” She inquired. Hongjoong shrugged one shoulder, running his uninjured hand through his bangs.

“I don’t like seeing people being ganged up on. I won’t stand for men doing this to a woman, no matter what the reason.” He told her flatly, meeting her cautious gaze.

“You can say my…my mother raised me well. I may be a pirate, but I was still raised with respect. Besides, if the puddle of blood I’m standing in is anything to go by, I probably wouldn’t make it out of the cove before you ended me if you wanted to, injured or not. Now…do you want me to take this out?” he questioned once more.

Hyuna stared at him for a long moment before she closed her eyes, nodding.

“This may hurt. I’m sorry.” He whispered, wrapping his fingers around the golden base. Hyuna’s brows twitched in pain and he could hear the sound of burning, so he yanked with all of his strength, pulling the crucifix out in one go.

There was an unholy scream and Hongjoong dropped the crucifix in an instant, clamping his hands over his ears. The floating flames went out and Hongjoong frowned, trying to feel around in the darkness.

“Lass? Hyuna? A-are you okay? Did I hurt you?” He called into the inky blackness. There was the sound of a giggle, gentle and feminine before the whole cove was illuminated. He looked up in awe, watching as the light illuminated from Hyuna’s body, different from the small, whisp-like plumes of fire from before.

“I…I am free again.” She exhaled, holding her hand in front of her face, smiling wide as the burns healed themselves. Hongjoong watched the hole in her chest close and let out a relieved smile.

“Good. You may want to leave, though. Those sailors intend on coming back tomorrow to blast the entrance closed.” He reminded her, moving to dust his hands off on his pants, but stopping when he remembered the blood running from his palm.

“You…are unlike any man I have met in this realm. Come, since you’ve freed me, it’s only fair I give you a gift in return, yes?” She hummed, looking down at his hand.

“You don’t have to-”

“You didn’t have to come here, Kim Hongjoong, the pirate.” She countered. He snapped his mouth shut, nodding in defeat. She did have a point.

“I will give you the treasure many have come to this cove for. Eternal life, youth, and power beyond your wildest dreams.” She wiped at the blood on her cheek, reaching for his hand to lace their fingers together.

Hongjoong felt a pulse course through him, and his eyes widened as his heartbeat increased.

“What-”

“Kim Hongjoong, I will give you power. You will be like me, a demon. Upon forming blood pacts, you will also make those under you immortals. If the pact is strong, you will share your powers. Accept my gift, for I know you will use it well.” She muttered, her eyes glowing bright blue. Hongjoong gasped, feeling like his body was on fire, energy coursing through his veins.

“HONGJOONG! GET AWAY FROM MY SON!” a voice caught Hyuna’s attention as a pirate ran full speed at her. She hummed and lifted her hand, a gust of wind lifting the woman effortlessly. She shook her head, sending a fond smile to her.

“Ah, the mother he mentioned? I never imagined his mother would be a pirate disguising herself as a man. It makes sense, why he’s so unique.” she hummed before looking down at Hongjoong, noticing the faraway look in his eyes, his brow twitching in confusion.

“What are you doing to him?! Let him go! Hongjoong! Hongjoong!!” Jihyo screamed, thrashing fruitlessly against the wind. Hyuna smiled in fond understanding and shook her head.

“He has received my gift. He is immortal. Now, he must control his powers. Things tend to get…wild on the first night of the full moon after one becomes a demon. Now sit still. I will help him harness his powers here and now so that your crew won’t be ripped to shreds on the next full moon.” She instructed, watching as Hongjoong’s eyes went from brown to an electric blue, the overabundance of power coursing through him making small spider-web red veins appear on his face.

His gaze snapped to Hyuna and she rolled her neck.

“You and your demonic self must become one. Come, I will train you. Though I suggest we hurry, lest your mother have another child over there.” She informed, nodding at Jihyo’s direction. Hongjoong let out a low sound before darting to her full speed, a large blast of water shooting past him.

Hyuna side stepped and smiled, watching Hongjoong’s face change, three marks appearing on his forehead, along with a bushy white tail. Fireballs rained down on her, all of which she knocked away without batting a lash.

“Water, even my kitsune powers have went to you? Fascinating. More, show me more, Hongjoong.” She urged, skipping backwards as the ground beneath her feet shook.

=3 Hours Later=

Hongjoong finally fell to his knees, panting as his eyes returned to their normal, welcoming brown color. Hyuna flicked her hand, bringing Jihyo closer to them, ignoring the way she immediately pulled her blunderbuss on her.

“Hongjoong….” She trailed off, frowning as he passed out shortly after.

“You…”

“I care not for your personal feelings, but I will explain myself. You are from this town, so you know of me. The ‘treasure’ of this cove is me. My blessing. My immortality. Men find out about demons that can grant them eternal youth and they hunt them down. I have killed most who have ventured here, and had you not have raised him the way you did, your son would have joined. But he is different. I can give him my ‘treasure’ with confidence that he wont abuse it and create a crew of immortal vagabonds. The powers are a little extra gift.” She winked and moved to walk past them. Jihyo watched her every move before she started coughing once more, brows pinched up as she observed the blood in her palm.

“N-No…”

Hyuna stopped at her side, looking down at her in interest before she straightened her back, turning towards the mouth of the cove.

“I suggest you form a pact with him. You don’t have much left, otherwise, pirate.” She informed her before she disappeared in a dazzling light.

Jihyo wiped her mouth and grabbed Hongjoong’s arm, dragging him back out of the cove, sighing.

—-

“Captain, don’t you want Hongjoong to be here for this?” Psy inquired, pushing his glasses up as Jihyo gathered all of the crew-sans Hongjoong-on the deck of her ship.

“No. I have something important to ask of all of you.” She told them, her voice solemn. They all perked, nodding as they watched her carefully.

“My health…is dwindling. I doubt at this stage there is anything I can do. I know Psy and Daniel have no desire to be Captain when I’m gone, and that most of you have found Hongjoong to be reliable enough for the job. I have one order I want you all to take to the graves with you.” She told them, taking her hat off to rub her head before she set it back on.

“Hongjoong was…he’s received a ‘gift’ and he’s not human anymore. The lad somehow impressed a demoness and she turned him into one of her own. He apparently can give this immortality to others,”

“Wait, so why won’t you just-”

“Because I refuse to take advantage of him. I want my son to give his powers to those he trusts wholeheartedly on his own, not have ties to us out of an obligation for us taking him in.”

They all began protesting at once, but Jihyo slammed her heel against the deck, glaring at them all.

“My orders, are for you to not accept any offers of immortality from Hongjoong. Even when he becomes captain. I am here now, and I’m giving the order here and now. Swear to me you won’t betray me. This is a dying woman’s wish.” she told them, leaving no room for argument.

They all exchanged looks before small, reluctant smiles crossed their faces. One by one they all swore, patting their captain on the shoulder as they filtered back down to their quarters. Daniel and Psy stayed by her side, watching the waves of the ocean in silence as tears ran down her cheeks.—-

=x=

“Please!”

“No.”

“WHY?!”

Jihyo sighed and looked up at Hongjoong from her bed, her face pale. Daniel was at her side, holding her hand as she coughed weakly. Her condition had gotten worse at an alarming rate and it became impossible for her to hide it.

“P-Please…Please, I can save you. Please, why won’t you-”

“I said no, Hongjoong. Let me go. Let me rest. You’ll be a fine captain.”

Tears welled up in his eyes as he shook his head, his chest heaving.

“Daniel! You can’t be okay with this! You love her! Tell her to let me help! Tell her to-”

“It’s already been decided.” Daniel cut him off, raising his head to look at him with bloodshot eyes. Hongjoong bit his lip, looking down with tears rolling down his cheeks. He shuffled to her other side, his shaking hand taking hers as he looked at her face.

“Captain…M…Mom…please…”

“Just stay with me, Hongjoong. Stay with me and keep a smile on your face. You’re a different breed of pirate. I want you to make your own crew and change what it means to be a pirate for the world, okay? Until the last wind blows through these sails, please never stop being the center of the world.” She told him, reaching under her blankets to pass him a compass.

“Let it always point you forward, my son.” She mused, cupping his cheek, crying with him as they continued sailing, the boat gently rocking the trio.

= ~ =

The crew shed tears as Daniel set the last stone on top of the pile. Underneath, buried deep in the sand, laid the peaceful body of their captain.

She had asked to be stripped of all materialistic items, jewels, gold, silver, and buried in the sand of an island she visited when she became a pirate.

Remote, quiet, with the beautiful scent of island flora beckoning you in deeper.

One by one, each crew member dropped a bloom on top of the stones, before heading back to the ship. Hongjoong lingered, the bloom in his trembling hand before he sighed and finally relented, setting it down on top of the pile.

“Goodnight, Captain Jihyo…Sweet dreams, mother.” He whispered, turning and heading back with heavy footsteps.

He stood on the bow, the wind carrying saltwater and the scent of island flora past his nose like a gentle caress. There was a flower tucked behind his ear as he stared down at the shore, eyes locked on the pile of beautiful rocks in the sand, topped with flowers and shells. The ship pulled away, and he bit back the need to sob as he watched the mound grow farther and farther away. An old voice called to him from behind, and he turned, noticing Psy standing behind him.

“Captain? We have to keep moving.” his tone was gentle, a hand running through his balding head as he bowed his head in respect. Hongjoong lifted his chin, wiping his eyes with the back of his palms before he turned.

Right. He was the Captain now.

“I’ll be right over. We have a long journey ahead of us.”

#fie writes #Aginst the Tide #AtT Ch1 #Ateez fic #ateez fanfiction #kim hongjoong #park seonghwa #jeong yunho #kang yeosang #choi san #song mingi #jung wooyoung #choi jongho #member x member #pls work this time omg

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jewish-gay-elves · 4 years ago

Text

Oh, Calamity

“I don’t believe in the Maker,” he says, breaking the silence that followed your coupling.

A soulmate/reincarnation au fic where I play around with the idea of soulmates without identifying marks or timers that have to find each other every lifetime!

Words: 4803, Chapters: 1/1, Language: English

Series: Part 3 of the Stephan Cousland: There's Never Much of a Choice for You

Fandoms: Dragon Age: Origins, Dragon Age (Video Games) Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Categories: M/M Characters: Alistair (Dragon Age), Male Cousland, Goldanna, Cailan Theirin, Anora Mac Tir Relationships: Alistair/Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Male Warden (Dragon Age), Alistair/Cousland, Alistair/Male Cousland Additional Tags: ok just wanted to cover all my bases on the ship tags lol, also goldanna/cailan/anora's presences in the fic are v limited, like a sentence each p much, Songfic, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Soulmates, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Reincarnation, please let me know if there should be more tags!, also please ask if you have questions!

“I don’t believe in the Maker,” he says, breaking the silence that followed your coupling. You lift your head and rest your chin on his chest, mulling over his words. Morrigan is always scolding you for saying the first thing to come to mind, and this feels like it requires a more thoughtful approach.

“Okay,” you say, and it is. Truly, it is okay. His belief or lack thereof in the Maker has no impact on how much you both care about each other. Your own faith in in the Maker hasn’t been the most unshakeable, who are you to decide whether or not he’s wrong? You can feel the tension in the arm he has around your waist lessen until his grip is as gentle as it was before. He was never really one to go in the Chantry and it makes sense to you now why not. You thought he just wasn’t really one for all the anti-magic shtick that they preach.

“One of my tutors, he came from Rivain,” he begins, offering an explanation. “While we still had Aldous, my parents wanted Fergus and me to have a more rounded education. He kept his lessons mostly academic, but I enjoyed his company so much I often stayed after and he told me of Rivain and their beliefs,”

You rest your cheek against his chest again, still listening but curling closer to him. He waited a minute, just listening to you breathe before continuing.

“He said that everything in Thedas and beyond were made of energy. Humans, elves, dwarves, qunari, and all the other beings. That energy exists in a cycle. Once the energy in a being has been exhausted in say, an old man, it would go then to a newborn. This continues the cycle, with the same energy and souls from before, just reborn. He said the stress of childbirth erased the memories from the past life, making it harder to remember things from before,” he explained.

“Have you ever remembered anything from one of your past lives?” you asked, wondering if stray dreams may have influenced his belief in the Rivaini.

“No, and I doubt I will remember anything from before. This is a fairly new line of thinking in Ferelden and if it’s true I doubt that any of my past lives believed in it. I think that increases the chance of never remembering those lives, just thinking that nothing came before solidifies the experiences in this time. As sad as it sounds I’m not even sure I’d like to remember those lives,” he said, puzzling you.

“Well, why not?” you ask, lifting your head to look at him again.

“I can’t know if those lives were as lucky as this one to have been able to find you,” he says, lifting a hand to your cheek as you two look at each other. You both lean in for a kiss and you think to yourself that it’s hard to imagine never meeting him in any kind of life.

When I was younger I was certain I’d be fine without a Queen Just a king inside his castle, with an ocean in between Now all I do is sit and count the miles from you to me Oh, Calamity!

You sit on your throne, looking out at the crowd gathered in light of festivities. Teagan stands by your side, Maker bless him. Eamon and young Connor are back in Redcliffe, Isolde caught fever and Connor insisted Eamon stay with them until she recovered. The other nobles are all drinking heavily, well into their cups and you are painfully aware of the missing Arl of Amaranthine. You know he passed on the title back to the Howes and Nathaniel years ago before he even began his search for a cure but, he should be here.

You can see Fergus from your throne speaking to the nobles around him, some minor lordlings from South Reach looks like. They must be discussing politics for you can see Fergus’ top lip twitching. His brother had the same twitch that tells when either of them are about to seal a good deal. Probably speaking of possible marriage arrangements for Fergus’ boy.

You wonder if he thinks about his first son often but as the lordlings turn to retrieve more drinks you see a wave of grief pass over his face before the mask is back in place. You were able to return Highever to the Couslands but in the years since you’ve wondered if they even wanted it back. Nothing either of them said to you indicated otherwise but whenever you visit and they are both there they get certain looks on their faces. As if they were forced to eat Orleisian cheeses.

He must have noticed your eyes on him because Fergus turns to look up to where you sit. The grief is still in his eyes as he gives you a nod before returning to the festivities. You always wondered if he blamed you for having to remarry and raise heirs, knowing that his brother was otherwise occupied as Warden Commander and would never have given Highever heirs of his own willingly.

Seeing as you won’t be making heirs either and that the throne was mostly going to one of his sons you doubted that he could hate you forever. You make a mental note to later write to Fergus about the idea. Provided that you spoke to your fellow Warden about it as well. As soon as he returned of course. Because he would return, he’s the Hero of Fereldan for Maker’s sake, and also because you have had a cold spot in your bed for far too long. Teagan leans over and makes to whisper in your ear.

“Stop thinking about the Prince-Consort, you have the most unwelcoming look on your face,” he says before leaning back. You shoot him a grin upon seeing his sly smile.

“I’m that transparent am I?” you ask rhetorically, straightening your back with only two or three pops compared to the normal five or six. The chair (Eamon says you must refer to it as the throne but in all honesty, it’s just a chair) is far too uncomfortable and you wish said Prince-Consort was here to complain to but that will have to wait for another day.

We get older by the hour, watch the changes from afar. Keep forgetting to remember, where we’ve been is who we are. Now all I do is wonder why we ever set the scene Oh, Calamity

You lean against your shovel, looking up at the sky. Your eye is drawn to where they say the Breach once tore the heavens asunder. You think back to the stories the older servants tell of being children while the world was thrown into chaos by the Archdemon.

They say that among the rubble of the Temple of Sacred Ashes the Inquisitor arose as the Herald of Andraste with a hand sparkling green with ancient Elvhen magics. That they had been touched by Fen’Harel himself. Your knowledge of the Elvhen Parthenon is limited, but the savior of Thedas being touched by the Dread Wolf seemed a bit ironic to you.

It had been almost a century since the sky was closed by the might of the Inquisition and while it still had power, Ferelden no longer felt torn. Struggling to choose between the Inquisition and the throne. While the Inquisition started in Ferelden it had no power over country affairs. King Alistair and his Prince-Consort, may they rest at the Maker’s side, supported the Inquisition in that it would close the Breach was sure to remind them that true power in Ferelden laid with the crown.

To be honest you preferred the late monarchs of Ferelden, may they rest at the Maker’s side, to the Inquisition. The two surviving Grey Wardens of the Battle at Ostagar, saved by a Witch of the Wilds to unite Ferelden and prevent civil war in order to fight the darkspawn.

No one quite knows when or how the two Wardens got involved after ending the Fifth Blight, or whether or not they weren’t together before slaying the Archdemon. But they stood together against the nobles at the Landsmeet, declaring King Alistair the rightful heir and their engagement to each other. You always thought it was very romantic, the last two Grey Wardens standing together against nobles and darkspawn alike.

“What a lazy arse you are Marc!” a voice you recognize as Quint’s called from behind you. You turned to see him walking down the hill towards you, his hands dirty from where he was likely gardening in front of the main house all day, an equally dirty spade tucked between his belt and trousers. You gave him a smile as he approached, knowing that the work day was likely over and he was coming to collect you for dinner.

“I happen to know that you like my arse, whether it’s lazy or not,” you said back to him. Your mind’s eye flickered as he smirked at you, a delicate golden circlet with lavish jewels appearing on his head, the spade at his side now a decorated sword. You frowned, shaking your head to clear the vision. As he reached you he slid his arms around your waist.

“You alright, love?” he asked cautiously. You smiled for him, returning the gesture and wrapping your arms around him as well. You wondered if Quint had ever had a moment like that. As if a memory placed itself over the current view you had. Doubtful, Quint was likely more focused on his next meal.

“Fine, I’m fine. Just tired I guess,” you said blinking the strange vision out of your eyes. “Let’s go see what Cookie’s whipped up for tonight shall we?”

“Hey I heard that the Lord has a visitor from Rivain staying for a while,” He starts telling you earnestly, already coming up with all sorts of wild tales.

It’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn it’s such a shame that we built a wreck out of me Oh, Calamity.

“It’s not the first time I’ve had one of these visions Neil! There has to be some meaning behind them I just can’t figure out what!” you exclaim, curling your hands into fists against your temples. Neil sits on the cot a foot or so away from where you are curled in on yourself.

“Okay, okay, Wil I believe you,” he says extending his hands out in a placating manner. You peer at him, lifting your head from where you pushed it against your knees. He’s looking at you earnestly with his wide honest eyes and you find your initial fear of him ridiculing you disappearing.

“Just start from the beginning, when did they begin?” He asks you patiently. You take a deep breath and lower your arms to wrap around your calves. You collect your thoughts and decide to be honest.

“I think I’ve always had them, but I could never remember them until after I met you,” you start out. “It’s like I’m living another person’s life, but it just overlaps my own. I’ll see my papa start walking towards me but then his face isn’t his but instead its some Rivaini dressed in the Grey Warden uniform from before the Fifth Blight. My mother gets replaced by someone in servants clothing patting my cheek. And you, you have five different faces. All of them look like they lived centuries ago. There is maybe a century between each of them, with the oldest one from before the Breach.”

“Lived before the Breach? Wil that was back in what, 9:34 Dragon?” Neil says concern clear on his face.

“The Breach opened in 9:41 Dragon,” you correct him.

You’re scared to tell him that he doesn’t take on the face of just anyone from before the Fifth Blight but the face of the Warden who defeated that Blight. You’re scared to tell him that sometimes you look in the mirror and it’s not your face that greets you. That you have five different faces as well. And the oldest face that you see is one drawn in countless history books from the royal portrait archives to your classroom textbook. King Alistair, the last of the Theirins to sit on the throne before he gave it to his Prince-Consort’s nephews, he looks at you in the mirror. He’s always much younger than in the portraits but you know it’s him.

You’re scared that if you tell Neil he will remember the history lessons that covered King Alistair and his Grey Warden Prince-Consort. That they would only be known as the first two men to rule Ferelden as a couple together if they hadn’t also defeated a Blight. You’re scared because this is too new with Neil, you aren’t even sure if you like like him that way and what if he doesn’t like like you like that either? He’s been your only friend since you moved to Lothering a year ago. You refuse to lose a friend like him for something- something like this!

Neil is just as quiet as you, now that you’ve finished your tale. A moment passes before he scoots nearer to you on the bed and slings an arm around your shoulders and drawing you closer to him.

“We’re going to figure this out, ok Wil? I don’t know how, and I don’t know when, but we'll figure it out,” he says and it disturbingly sounds like a promise falling from his lips and you look at him in surprise. He has a soft smile on your face, and a little twitch in his upper lip and you’re almost overcome with another déjà vu vision but you tamper it down and stay in this moment where there is just you and Neil.

You find yourself nodding with a grin spreading across your face. His good mood and attitude becoming infectious as you sit on the little cot.

“C’mon, let’s go downstairs, I remember Ma said there was a visitor from Rivain who checked in yesterday,” Neil invited you, standing up and offering you a hand up. You gladly take it and you both head downstairs together.

I’ll remember nights alone, waking up to dial tone Always found my greatest moments in the sound of your hello. Now I struggle to recall the reasons you would come to leave. Oh, Calamity

You didn’t want to call Elijah, you didn’t want to call Elijah, but you wanted to call Elijah. Damn it, you thought to yourself, picking up your telephone. You impatiently pushed the rotary around waiting until it finally put you through. Thankfully, it wasn’t either of Elijah’s, frankly lovely if not a tad overbearing, parents who answered the phone.

“Hello, this is the Philips?” he said, sounding a bit confused by the late call.

“Elijah, it’s me. Benjamin,” you replied. This was a bad idea, you can already tell. You both don’t really know each other how can you be sure it’s him? Your parents always said it took a little while to know if someone was your soulmate. They told you it took time before you could be sure that the overlapping faces were truly the person you were meant to be with. That sometimes, if you rushed it, it wouldn’t be right. But you’re scared, scared it’ll never be right and if you never say anything you’ll never know what you missed.

“Oh hey, Ben. What’s up? Did you forget something at my house?” He asks, not picking up on your nerves at all. You can’t tell if he’s just dense or extremely considerate. Either option is endearing to you and makes the lump in your throat that much harder to speak around. Should you even tell him?

“Uhh no, no I’ve got everything, I just, wanted to call?” it comes out as a question and you want to hang up and then beat yourself over the head with the receiver. You can hear him pause and huff out a laugh of sorts. You want to smile because you’ve seen that laugh in person and can imagine him doing it in your head but it was at your expense and you are so nervous.

“Well, so you’ve called me. Are you feeling okay Ben?” he asks and you almost panic because he can tell, he can tell can’t he, that you don’t know why you called and you want it to be more than what it probably is but you are propelled by fear and nerves and find yourself confessing.

“Eli have you ever met someone and felt like you know them? Like you meet them and something clicks and it feels like you’ve known them all along?” you ask nervously, your voice cracks in the middle but you power through because you are not going to let your sixteen year old voicebox ruin this for you. You listen to Eli suck in a breath of surprise and pause before cautiously picking out his words.

“Ben, I uh. I have felt that way about someone before,” he says to you and you can feel your heart slowly crawl its way out of your stomach and into your throat. You want to ask who, and whether or not it is you. Whether or not he knows what you’ve been going through. However it seems as though you let your indecision carry on too long because Eli is speaking again.

“I’ve felt that way about you Ben, and I don’t know if you ever would feel that way around me but, the dreams stopped after I met you Ben. I don’t see my soulmate in the Fade anymore and I’m scared about what that means but I think I caught a flash of him on your face the other night when you smiled at me and I. I don’t know what this means but I, I would very much like to find out.” he rambles, his voice barely louder than a whisper, almost too quiet for you to hear over the blood rushing in your ears.

“Elijah, oh Elijah, I want to find out too. I want to find out so very badly,” you say twisting the cord between your fingers, nervous about what you’re about to ask him. “Do you maybe, want to go to the fair with me tomorrow then? And come over afterward?” you have the cord wrapped so tightly around your finger that you think it’s starting to cut off circulation but you’re too busy waiting for a response to answer.

“Yes,” he breathes out, like it was the only way to respond “Yes, I’d love to go to the fair with you Ben,”

It’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn, it’s such a shame that we built a wreck out of me. Oh, Calamity

You always dreamed of a man when you were younger. A man who was as gentle as the breeze and as strong as the oaks in your backyard and he was the right kind of funny. A man who was sharper than knives and had a tongue to match his quick wit. He didn’t always look the same, his hair would change color and length, he’d get short and then tall and then short again. His eyes however, no matter what color they were, always looked at you with the gentlest expression.

You’re five years old and you only see him when you sleep, wrapped in the Fade together. You both play tag chasing each other round floating bookcases and sheer cliffs.

In time you realized that this was what your parents called “nature’s way of showing you your other half”. There were more technical terms for it now but you weren’t really interested in that. You were excited about this other half business. As a child you wondered if he liked playing with toy cars too, or if he was one of those boys who’d rather build towns only to wreck later, pretending to be great archdemons from old.

You’re twelve years old and your mother finally sits down and talks to you about how sometimes it doesn’t happen. That you aren’t always guaranteed a happy ending due to location and distance.

Your teachers explained that as you grew older, your soul began to recognize that it was missing something. Missing your soulmate, to try and amend this, your body produced dreams and visions of previous lives and people who your soul had found time and time again. Your body doesn’t know what your soulmate looks like this cycle so you can’t see who it is now, but you can dream, and remember. That’s why you see the boy in your dreams.

You’re nineteen years old and lonely and tired of searching and tired of disappointment. Despite this, no matter who or when someone offers a night to alleviate the pain a bit, you decline and dream of your boy who smiles at you with the same sad look in his eyes that you’ve started carrying in your own.

You wake up the morning before your birthday alone in your apartment when your brother calls to tell you that he’s found his soulmate. He invites you to dinner to meet the girl and you accept it, happy to share this moment with your brother. You get there and are reminded that in this lifetime happiness is for the man once called Cailan who died before he even knew he had a brother. Happiness is for the woman once called Anora who watched her father get executed in front of her. Happiness is not for you.

You’re fifty-four years old and playing with your nephews despite your angry knees and their arthritis. Your only niece sits with her mother because the mud just wasn’t her cup of tea and you can hear the perceptive little ten year old ask “Momma, why isn’t Uncle married like you and Daddy?”

When the alzheimer’s starts to take you, it gets hard to remember your niece’s name even though she was always your secret favorite. She still visits you but it’s hard on her and you can tell. She reminds you that she’s in college for her Master’s degree but you still don’t know what the degree is. You are forgetting a lot of things these days, but when you close your eyes the same familiar face greets you every time and you feel young again.

You’re eighty-seven years old and that is the best description of you. Old.

If I catch you on the corner will you even know it’s me? Will I look familiar to you? Do you offer me a seat? Can we find a new beginning? Do you turn the other cheek? Oh, Calamity!

Job hunting sucked. End of story, no other options, game over, it sucked and that was it. Thankfully Gwen (you wonder if she remembers yelling at you in that dingy house back in Denerim) said that you only had to do it for a few hours and three hours seemed long enough to you at least. You walked to the closest café, pulling the messenger bag higher on your shoulder as you turned the corner. The day was nice enough; maybe you could stop and sit down at one of the outside tables.

After ordering (a tea of some sort and a cheesy croissant) you went back outside looking for a table. Sadly other patrons must have had the same idea that you did and most of the tables were already full. A particularly rowdy group of teens had already occupied one corner of the outside arrangements and you’d like to sit as far away from them as possible. You walk over to see if perhaps there are more tables around the side of the building, you’re out of luck but no one’s sitting in such a dense group as at the other tables.

You gaze around and finally you see someone sitting with a laptop and a few papers. You aren’t sure how friendly they are but they seem a better choice than the dodgy old man who glares at anyone who comes near. You walk up to the table with the man and his laptop, not the old guy, and hesitantly get the attention of the man sitting there.

“Oh uh hello, uhm may I sit here? This café is strangely busy and I’d rather not sit by all those teenagers. Not that I have a problem with teenagers but it’s a tad distracting when they scream random memes. Am I rambling? I think I’m rambling, I can find another table somewhere else,” the words fall out of your mouth in a somewhat coherent pattern and you hope he understands what you said.

“No, no you’re alright. Please, sit,” he says with a gentle smile, he even shuffles his papers closer to himself so you can set down your cup. You sling your bag over the back of the chair and sit down across from him. After sitting you smack yourself in the forehead before speaking again.

“Where are my manners today I’m sorry, my name is Van, pleased to meet you,” you say, extending your hand across the table to shake his. He has a strong grip and you’re glad you can return it in kind.

“The pleasure is mine, you can call me Ryan,” he says to you. After a moment, he watches you as you meticulously take apart your cheesy croissant. You flush under his gaze in embarrassment.

“Sorry, I’m just a little curious as to what you’re doing?” he asks looking over your mangled food.

“Oh! Well, you see, they hide the good bits under all this bread in some attempt to even out the flavor. However the truly tasty part is the lovely cheese blend they make here and I think they should just sell that on it’s own but the dear owner disagrees with me. Quite strongly in fact,” you explain to him. He chuckles at your explanation and then adds his own input.

“You know, the last time I met someone so in tune to the finer aspects of good cheese, he was a very strange man who spent time remembering his former life in a monastery where the boys had some fascination with lamp posts,” he says, and your eyes snap open to take in his features anew, yes there’s the twitch of the upper lip. You smirk back at him and take a second to remember a highlight in your relationship.

“Well, have you ever licked a lamp post in winter?” you drawl out hoping that your voice in this lifetime sounds similar to when you first said it back in the ninth age. He full out grins back and stands up to lean over the table and grab your shirt tugging you in.

“Congratulations on coming back to me again, my King,” he retorts, ignoring your question.

“I think you’re the one I should be saying that too Mr. Grey Warden who simply had to push me out of the way so that he could deal the last blow to the archdemon,” you snark back at him, remembering that fateful night. He just rolls his eyes at you and closes the distance, leaving the past memories in favor of making new ones.

It’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn, it’s such a shame that we play strangers No act to change what we’ve become Damn it’s such a shame that we built a wreck out of me Oh, Calamity

“Almost makes you wish we could just fight another Blight and be done with it?”

“I’d take a Blight over a hundred awkward first dates, maybe not actually. There are too many darkspawn during those. And with our first dates I’m more likely to get laid now,”

“The one thing the movies never have, a shambling horde of shrieks and genlock to ruin our day,”

“The movies do end up with me back at your place more times than not surprisingly, seeing as you were the last one to lick a lamp post in winter between the two of us,”

“Oh we’ll see who’s licking the lamp post this time around Warden,”

“You know I’m not one of those anymore, especially since it’s been what, five centuries since the order died out?”

“Yes but this is probably our twentieth first meeting and it gets confusing if I try to remember all of the names you’ve had,”

“True enough, you royal bastard,”

Oh, Calamity, come back to me.

#alistair theirin #writing #stephan #stephan cousland #m!cousland #dragon age #dragon age origins #goldanna #cailan theirin #anora mac tir #songfic

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repost-this-image · 5 years ago

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PSA FOR TEENAGERS:

1. Do not talk about the stuff that makes you horny around people that you know are over 18. I’m not saying don’t BE horny; you’ve got hormones coursing through your veins saying “Hey, time to start feeling horny at the most embarrassing possible times” and you can’t really turn that off. I’m saying DO NOT discuss fetishes with adults. Do not sext or send naughty pictures of yourself to adults. (Distributing porn of an IRL minor is a felony, even if YOU ARE the minor in question.) Do not request or comission pornographic drawings from an artist. (Distributing porn TO a minor is also a felony.)

I’m not saying this to rain on your parade. I’m saying this because p*dophiles exist on the Internet, and too many members of my generation had to deal with shit they were not old enough to deal with because of said creeps. P*dos will totally act like your best friend as part of the grooming process. Which brings is to point #2:

2. If someone over 20 is romantically interested in people under 17, that person is a predator. You might act very responsible for your age; IDK because i don’t know everyone on this hellsite personally. Doesn’t matter. Anyone who says you’re “so mature for your age” and also expresses romantic or sexual interest in you is grooming you for abuse. Period. End of story.

Remember: They go after underage teens because they want someone easy to manipulate and control. If they wanted a normal relationship on equal footing with their partner, they’d date other adults. (No, age differences between two adults aren’t creepy unless the older partner started grooming the younger before they turned 18. Weird, maybe. Uncomfortable to think about, perhaps. But not predatory the way a 26-y/o going after a 16-y/o is, TRUST ME ON THIS.)

3. Your parents have an obligation to care for and protect you, and to help you learn how to assess risk and protect yourself. Your teacher also takes on those responsibilities while you’re at school. Mandatory reporters are required to tell the authorities if they have reason to believe that you or your peers are being abused in any way. But! No one else is under any obligation to protect you from the world.

Some of us may volunteer to help protect you on an individual basis (like a field-trip chaperone). Some of us may give you information like this post on how to protect yourself. But we’ve also got a lot of our own shit to deal with just trying to live in The Worst Timeline. Not all of us have the time or energy to babysit, and we DEFINITELY don’t have the ability to put foam padding on the entire Internet so you don’t encounter anything that might upset or disturb you. It’s just way too fucking big. There were hundreds of TB of Internet 20 years ago when I was your age; imagine how much more huge it’s gotten since then.

So how do you deal with going to a webpage that makes you uncomfortable? Simple. Have a moment to cringe and say “OH DEAR GOD WHY,” if you like. Then hit the Back button and go look at pictures of kittens or something to get your mind off the Squick.

DO:

Block tags that disturb or gross you out on fandom and social-media sites, so you’re less likely to get a nasty surprise. This is exactly what the ability to block tags was invented for. :)

Being disgusted, feeling uncomfortable or unsafe, suck but they are not the same as having your PTSD triggered. Please don’t use the word “trigger” for stuff that just grosses you out; that trivializes the actual trauma of PTSD sufferers. Just say “that makes me uncomfortable.” Please. As someone who’s flinched from innocuous shit my husband does because of how bad my dad fucked me up, I AM LITERALLY BEGGING YOU.

If an adult starts creeping on you, say “I’m underage and don’t feel comfortable with this. Please stop.” If they don’t, then take screenshots in case you need them for legal evidence, and BLOCK THEM IMMEDIATELY after that. Don’t even fucking respond; they’ve already ignored your boundaries by persisting, and that means that they are dangerous.

DON’T:

Agree to meet anyone online that you don’t know IRL without your parents being there. If they don’t want your parents around, that is a HUGE red flag.

Put personally-identifying information on public webpages. Your age; your last name; your phone number; the town you live in; even your first name if it’s unusual enough. These are tools that Nasty People can use to find you. Make it as hard as possible for them to do so.

Hate on people for shipping characters you don’t ship. It would be an abusive relationship? They know; they can handle that because fictional characters aren’t real and can’t really get hurt. It’s not canon? Doesn’t matter; part of the fun of being a fan of something is imagining “What if?” One of them died 100 years before the other was even born? Does. Not. Matter. It’s fiction; they are not interfering in the real lives of real people by shipping. Don’t intimidate, harrass, or threaten someone for wanting to imagine 2 characters kissing that you personally wouldn’t want to imagine kissing each other.

Insist that someone who has tagged a fanwork as “That Thing That You Hate The Most,” take down the fanwork because it contains That Thing You Hate. They put a warning label on it. If you ignore warning labels, bad things happen; you wouldn’t ignore a DO NOT DRINK label on a bottle of household cleaner, so don’t ignore tag warnings. They are there to protect your mind, just like the DO NOT DRINK on the bleach bottle is there to protect your body. Just say “OMG WHY” to yourself, hit Back, and find something better to look at. Don’t view that fanwork; don’t leave a comment on the fanwork; just Walk. Away.

Don’t make callout posts that have images of The Exact Shit You’re Warning About in them. You’re just exposing more people to the same shit that offended, disgusted, or outright PTSD-triggered you! Don’t do that to people, guys. I’ve seen way more Disturbing Shit in callout posts than I have elsewhere at this point, and I read weird fansmut as a hobby, so that’s saying a LOT. Please, please stop exposing us to that stuff!!!

#for teens #internet safety #cw csa #tw p*do mention #tw csa mention #learn from my mistakes

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mlmdarkfiction · 5 years ago

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Relaxing Sauna

For a friend who wants to keep Anonymous

Fandom: Fire Emblem: Three Houses

Ship: Reynar/Everyone (OC/Canon, OC/OC)

Description: Reynar goes to the Sauna every night to relax. Others join him there. First Dimitri, then Ingram, Othello and Caspar at the same time, and then finally Balthus and his debt collectors.

Note: All OC’s in this story belong to me.

Content Warnings: NSFW, Smut, Humiliation (in a sexual sense) see the AO3 Tags for more Specifics.

Read Below:

The whole situation is absolutely ridiculous. So much so that Ingram almost decided against checking it out.

No one would ever willingly whore themselves out like that, the scenario was far too fantastical even for the horniest of men.

It all seemed like something out of one of Luis’ stories. He seemed like the only person capable of imagining a scenario like this.

So when the Noble entered the Sauna to find exactly what the rumors had promised he found himself surprised.

Pleasantly so.

More surprising than someone willingly offering their holes up for the men of the Monastery to use as they please was who exactly was allowing themself to be used.

Reynar was an incredibly proud man, hardworking, and a bit of a prude. Truthfully Ingram had hardly ever spoken to the man himself, all he knew of him was common knowledge. He, like Petra, was from Brigid, and it was because of this fact that Reynar seemed to dedicate his entire life to protecting the foreign Princess.

To see such a usually powerful and serious man in this situation is insanely erotic. Although Ingram had truly only come to see if the rumors were real (at least that’s what he’d told himself) the sight of Reynar, a 6’5 man made of solid muscle, being fucked like a regular street whore went straight to the Nobleman’s cock.

It’s the Crown Prince of Faerghus who’s currently using the Brawler as his personal cock sleeve, but it’s clear he’s not the only one who’s used him today alone.

Ingram’s easily able to take note of the cum staining his back, and sticking to his long red hair.

“You know,” The words are already cruel, before Ingram can even finish, it’s just who he is. “I don’t think this is what Petra meant, all those times she told you to relax.”

Neither Dimitri nor Reynar seemed to have noticed up until that point that Ingram had joined them.

The words alone were enough to cause the larger man to cringe, but all they really did was turn him on even more.

He can’t imagine how his liege would react if she were to ever find out what he did in his free time. Perhaps she wouldn’t care, or perhaps she’d be disgusted entirely by her retainers actions.

“I-Ingram I,” It’s not Reynar who comes to defend himself for being caught in a compromising position, but Dimitri.

“Not to worry, your Highness.” Although there’s still some sort of aggressive judgment in the other man’s voice, he seems to have a softness for the Prince, at least enough so to actively avoid hurting his feelings.

The closer Ingram gets the more he realizes just how used up Reynar really is. A small puddle of cum, and other bodily fluids below the larger man on the ground. He tuts at the sight, despite the obvious hardness in his uniform pants.

“You’re quite the slut aren’t you?”

Reynar doesn’t answer. The only noise leaving his mouth a low moan as Dimitri’s next thrust hits his prostate directly.

“Answer me, when I speak to you.”

Ingram shows no sympathy for the blissed out larger man, grabbing his face roughly, to force him to finally face him.

There’s five tallies drawn on the man's cheek, and it’s easy for Ingram to realize what exactly it’s for, especially as the aggressive rhythmic slaps of skin on skin from Dimitri slowly crawl to a halt, and he grabs a marker to add a tally to Reynar’s ass.

“Open your mouth.” The demand is punctuated by a soft squeeze to his jaw.

Even as Reynar opens his mouth, allowing for Ingram to slip just the head of his cock past the other man's lips.

“Don’t- You won’t-” Dimitri’s fumbling to put his own cock away, watching Reynar begin to suckle on the tip of Ingram’s dick. “Ingram you aren’t going to tell anyone about this, are you?”

Despite his confidence up until this point Ingram was a virgin. Even the simple pleasure of his cock in the other man's life is overwhelming.

He only responds to Dimitri in the form of a thumbs up.

After all even from the very beginning he’d had no intentions of putting a stop to these sexcepades, he’d simply been curious about their existence in the first place.

Almost like clockwork, as soon as Dimitri leaves, two others approach.

It’s clear to both Ingram and Reynar who the approaching men are, neither man is capable of speaking in a hushed voice.

“...Was that Dimitri?”

“Oh absolutely.”

Both men are instantly recognizable; Othello Proulx, and Caspar von Bergliez. They bond in their similar height, temperament, and their inabilities to remain quiet, so much alike that Ingram finds himself unsurprised they both would happen to be the type to partake in something like this.

“I want to break Reynar’s nose again while I ride his-”

Othello cuts himself off as he enters the sauna, getting a front row view of Reynar taking Ingram’s full length deep into his throat. Instead of continuing his sentence the Blue Lion simply begins to laugh in a cackle.

“Oh no...Looks like his face is a little preoccupied!”

Caspar gives a small laugh of his own at the comment, but doesn’t seem deterred at all, already working on undoing his belt.

“Sucks to be you then.” He taunts the other man, going straight for Reynar’s ass, and giving it a firm spank which in turn causes him to jolt, and choke on the dick currently in his throat.

“Don’t you always tell me it’s not polite to talk with my mouth full?”

Once again the humiliation, the taunting, it only goes to turn the larger man on even more, it’s especially hot to hear his own words of cautionary advice thrown back at him now.

Thrown back at him when he’s no longer recognizable as his prudish self.

Caspar spanks him again, putting full force behind the swing. He likes to watch the way red blossoms across the man's tanned skin, and the way Reynar’s ass still jiggles despite it’s musculature.

“Four already?”

Othello takes the other side behind Reynar, taking in the sight of his spent, but still eager hole. The way it twitches desperately, some of Dimitri’s cum starting to dribble down his crack and onto his thighs.

“You’re going to fuck him right?”

The question gets a nod from Caspar, who’s too busy roughly groping and spanking Reynar with the intention of leaving marks. Any moans or possible sounds of protest are drowned out by the cock erratically beginning to face fuck him as Ingram nears his end.

Othello grabs the marker, and adds a line across the four already present on his back, making it a solid five tallies.

“I want to watch.” He says after.

“At least until Ingram finishes.”

And Ingram finishes soon after, his hands having knotted themselves in Reynar’s long burning locks, tugging him further and further against him, not stopping until Reynar’s nose is brushing up against his teal pubes.

He’s held against the others pelvis for so long that Reynar was actually worried he was going to pass out.

Thankfully before that happens Ingram cums.

The first hot spurts hit the back of Reynar’s throat. He can feel the warm cum as he swallows it down.

Ingram has other plans though.

He feels an animalistic urge to mark the other, allowing his cum to join that of other men that was already mingled and cooled against Reynar’s skin.

“P-Pent up?”

Reynar asks between weak coughs as spurt after spurt of cum begins landing on his face, and in his long hair.

A shot lands dangerously close to his left eye, and he’s forced to close it entirely.

“Get out of the way!”

Othello doesn’t even wait for Ingram to put his dick away, roughly shoving the Golden Eagle back, and taking the spot in front of Reynar.

“I was preparing for this, you know? I got myself nice and wet beforehand!” He is so excited, in fact, that his fake accent seems to drop for a moment.

“Onto your back now.”

Reynar licks his lips, tasting some of the salt of Ingram still on his lips, but does as he’s told, moving from a position on his hands and knees to that of laying flat on his back.

He decides he’ll finish up soon.

After Caspar and Othello.

He’s far from satisfied, but everytime he does this it seems like he needs more and more pleasure to actually be considered satisfied.

But satisfied or no, Caspar and Othello tend to play hard, Othello almost maliciously so.

One round with them is more than Reynar can take.

Caspar’s grown bored in the time he’d had to stop assaulting Reynar’s cheeks so the man could flip over, and is instead now grinding his hard cock against Reynar’s.

The redhead is, just like with the rest of their physique, bigger than the other brawler. It’s not that his penis is small, in fact, Caspar is above average for most Adrestian men, his cock becoming a solid 6 inches once he got fully hard. Not Caspar’s not small, Reynar just has an obnoxiously large cock for a bottom slut.

Anyone would look small in comparison to the Brigidian man’s 7 ½ inch monster cock.

Being smaller in almost every way doesn’t stop Caspar from taking control of the situation though. He’s sat atop Reynar’s hairy thighs, cock roughly grinding against the bigger man’s.

Poor Reynar is leaking precum like a faucet, and said precum is then just used as lube as Caspar grinds their throbbing erections together.

Othello has made himself at home on Reynar’s face in the meantime.

Although Reynar’s doing his best to keep up with Othello, desperately trying to tongue fuck the mans pussy while using his nose to bump his clit, Othello really doesn’t give him much chance to.

He’s grinding his dripping cunt against Reynar roughly. The pleasure coming more from the rough sensation of flesh on flesh, than Reynar’s actual attempt at eating him out.

Just by looking at the Tricktster, you’d think he was fighting to stay mounted atop a thrashing steed. His hips thrash and buck wildly against Reynar’s stubbly face.

The aggressive younger male has broken Reynar’s nose before, being this rough.

Othello had been at the peak of his orgasm, a moment away from orgasming, and when he’d landed against Reynar’s face, his nose pressing against Othello’s clit in just the right way to send him toppling over the edge.

He’d heard a nasty CRUNCH but didn’t give much thought to what the sound could be, too lost to the pleasure.

It had been so good in fact, that Othello had squirted.

His cum had dripped down the Brawlers face, beginning to mix with the blood from the now broken nose.

That’s exactly what Othello wants now. He wants to fuck Reynar so hard he breaks.

“Your...Your cocks kind of useless, you know?” Caspar is laying atop Reynar, head resting on one of the larger man’s pecs, suckling on his nipples in between words.

“It can’t cum unless you’re getting fucked in the ass!”

More precum drips from his cock, smearing against Caspar’s own.

Reynar mumbles weakly against the folds of Othello’s pussy, but it was utterly unintelligible, and Othello had no intentions of pulling away to allow the redhead to speak.

“Why’d you have to have such a big dick anyway?” Caspar asks tauntingly.

“I’ll show you how to use it.”

Yes, Caspar and Othello both truly were the textbook definition of rough power bottoms.

By the time the dynamic duo finish with Reynar he’s not only been on another time, two new tallies added for the uses of his throat and ass, but he’s also covered in blood.

Blood dripping from his nose, bleeding swollen lips, and the violent hickeys covering every inch of his body.

He had been safe to assume that the two should be his last takers of the night, after all he was now thoroughly exhausted.

Still...He wasn’t given much as a choice as just as he was beginning to leave he ran into a widely smiling Balthus.

“Ah! Where are you going buddy?” His arms slips around Reynar’s shoulder, forcing him back into the sauna.

“I’ve been waiting for this all night!”

Despite the situation and the exhaustion on Reynar’s face, Balthus seemed chipper and completely unaffected. “I even invited a group of guys I own money to.” He explained. “Figured a few hours with you, and they might take it easy on me. That’s okay with you, right?”

Reynar hesitates. He’d already redressed, done his best to clean the cum out of his hair but…

Just the thought of more cocks.

Of being thoroughly fucked over by a group of men and relinquishing control.

His response is a nod. “Of course, Balthus...After all, what are friends for?”

#Fire Emblem #Fire Emblem: Three Houses #Fire Emblem: 3 Houses #Balthus #Dimitri #Caspar #OC/Canon #OC/OC #my OCs #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #caspar von bergliez #Balthus Von Albrecht #my work

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dadolorian · 4 years ago

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Diamonds and Daddies Ch 2 Whiskey X F!Reader

A/N: Thank you again to @oloreaa for being my Beta reader despite not liking this Yeehonk bitch XD And thanks to @talesfromtheguild for the name idea and letting me bounce ideas for this story in general off of you

Fandom: Kingsman the golden circle Ship: Jack ‘Whiskey’ Daniels x Cis F!reader Warning/tags: Kink and consent discussion, Possessive (consensual) language, spanking, slight choking, Daddy kink/ DD/LG/BDSM style relationship, aftercare, fingering, P/V (protected) sex, dirty talk, reaffirming consent/ checking in with safe word, Jack being possessive/controlling but has readers enthusiastic consent on it.

Word count: 6K +

AO3 LINK - coming soon

Summary: Whiskey tries Tinder, and when that doesn’t work discovers a Sugar Baby app that has him most intrigued. Jack gives his Babygirl her first punishment.

Soft light filtered through sheer curtains, you stretched out lazily, feeling your joints pop and click. Idly, your foggy brain wondered just when your bed became this big and soft.

You fought to drift back off to sleep as memories of last night slowly came back to you,

Cracking an eye open to confirm that yes, you had gone home with the sexy Daddy who wined and dined you last night. You couldn’t contain the smile on your face as you remembered everything that had happened, the slight ache between your legs reminding you of the best part.

You turned over to snuggle up to your cowboy Daddy, only to find he wasn’t there. You sat up, disappointed and confused, looking around the expansive room for him, reaching to his side you deduced he had been gone only a short while by the lukewarm heat left on the sheets, you listened carefully, trying to figure out just where he was.

There was muffled shuffling outside of the room, coming from downstairs, and the delicious smell that was wafting into the room made your stomach growl.

You slid out of the covers to go explore, picking up Jack’s discarded dress shirt off the floor and throwing it on before heading off in search of him. As you left the bedroom you heard him softly humming, a familiar country tune you couldn’t quite place. Softly padding your way down the stairs there you found him, in his open kitchen, wearing a stetson, jeans and nothing else. His back was facing you, you watched the muscles there ripple as he poured batter into the waffle iron beside him, cursing when hot batter splashed back onto his bare stomach. “Careful Daddy,” you teased, as you leaned against an island counter, making him jump slightly.

He turned to face you with a soft smile, wiping the batter off of his front with a rag.

“Morning Honey Bee. Did I wake you?” he asked, rounding the island to give you a gentle kiss.

You hummed at the name, it was the same one you had used on the Sugar baby App, which you still needed to delete for him.

“Not at all, Cowboy,” you teased, flicking his stetson playfully.

“I was hoping to give you breakfast in bed,” he drawled, playing with the hem of the shirt you were wearing absentmindedly. His other hand went to the small of your back, gently holding you to his front as he rocked the two of you slowly, dancing in place to music that wasn’t there.

“Seems that plans out the window now, you hungry?”

You nodded your head. “Starving. I worked up quite an appetite last night,” you giggled, wrapping your arms around him and resting your chin on his soft front, looking up at him with a giddy smile.

He chuckled,and bent forward to place a quick kiss to your forehead.

“That you did, I guess riding takes a lot out of you huh?” he teased with a wink.

You rolled your eyes at the joke, but your smile confirmed to him you liked it either way.

He was content holding you just like that, swaying gently together as if you were the only two people in existence, the only thing pulling him away from your embrace was the smell of burning batter.

“Shit, shit!” he cursed, untangling himself from your arms, trying to save what he could of the breakfast. “Damn!”

He unplugged the iron and wafted away the faint smoke with his stetson, trying to thin it out enough to avoid the smoke alarm going off.

“Sorry, Darlin, I was trying to be all romantic and make you breakfast,” he coughed, scraping burnt batter out of the machine. “But it seems my cooking skills ain't up to par.”

“I’m just flattered that you went through the effort for me,” you smiled, coming up behind him and wrapping your arms around him again, kissing his bare shoulder blades.

“Of course, gotta take care of my girl,” he moved the waffle iron to the side and cleaned up the mess on the bench.

“How bout we just order something Darl? Since i’ve made such a mess of this?” He suggested, turning in your embrace and resting his large hands on your hips.

“Sounds delightful” you hummed, standing on your tiptoes to give him a chaste kiss.

“Here,” he said as he pulled his phone out of his back pocket, unlocking it and passing it to you.

“You open that ‘uber’ app and pick whatever you’re fancying Princess.”

You took the phone and browsed through the app as he cleaned up what he could, deciding on the safe bet of waffle house, since Jack had seemed so insistent on making them for you to begin with.

With the food ordered and on its way, you relaxed on the couch, waiting for him to finish cleaning up. You lay on your stomach, making sure his shirt was only just covering your ass as you flipped through a TV magazine he had laying around.

The rummaging in the kitchen eventually grew silent, shortly followed by warm fingers gently caressing up the back of your thigh to your ass, giving it a firm squeeze.

You hummed, pleased as you felt his weight join you, blanketing himself over you carefully, making sure he didn’t crush you.

You giggled as you felt his mustache tickle your neck, where he peppered many hot kisses across your skin.

“D-Daddy,” you giggled, wiggling in his grasp as he continued to tickle you with his facial hair. “Food will be here soon.”

He growled, not too pleased at the idea of having to cut his playtime short before it had even had a chance to get started.

“You’re right, Baby, we’ll have to have some fun later,” he sighed, burying his face into your neck for soft snuggles rather than the heated kisses, a change you had no complaint about either way. “Don’t need to get all worked up before heading to the lobby. Might give a poor delivery driver a heart attack if I answer the door full mast,” he snickered into your neck.

You rolled your eyes again at his immature humor but you were once more unable to keep your own smile off of your face.

“We can play after breakfast though. Right Daddy?” You asked, running your foot over this strong calves teasingly.

“Mmhhhh, of course Baby, “ he said, placing another kiss on your neck. “You only have to ask and Daddy will play with you whenever you want. Unless you’re being a brat for me.”

You hummed in appreciation at the implication. Past Daddies had never been very...successful at the whole punishment and reward aspect of your usual relationship dynamic. Your string of bad luck when it came to your relationships didn’t just translate to the relationships with your Daddies failing, but also to how skilled they were with mixing the punishments and pleasures you hungered for. You had never been left completely satisfied in a relationship before.

But, since meeting him, there wasn't a doubt in your mind that Jack’s ability to take care of you, to punish and pleasure you in the way you had been craving for years, would finally scratch that itch. To satisfy your hunger. You weren’t just a sugar Baby for the money after all.

“I’ll be good for you,” you teased, breathlessly lifting your ass up into his hips, causing him to groan.

“Teasing's not what a good girl does, Honey Bee,” he warned, using your moniker again. It was like he was reminding you of your place, something that should have been a red flag in any other type of relationship, but with Jack, it only served to turn you on more.

“What happened to not answering the door at full mast?” You continued to tease.

“Half mast...different story,” Jack joked, snatching his phone up with one hand to check on the progress of the food.

“It’s on its way,” he hummed, getting up off of you carefully, gently patting your ass as he straightened up. “Should probably go put a shirt on then.”

“Awww,” you pouted, flipping over to watch him walk over to the stairs.

“I’ll take my shirt back off when I get back with the food baby, but only if you take yours off first, Honey Bee,” he winked playfully at you before heading upstairs.

He returned from his room, now wearing a plain white T-shirt which showed off his biceps deliciously, and some fancy looking cowboy boots to complete his casual country look. “I’ll be back with the food in just a minute Darlin,” he said, coming over to you and giving you a slow, deep kiss. “Be good.”

You batted your eyelashes up at him, playing innocent as he took off, grabbing his keys and leaving you alone in his apartment.

Bored without his attention and curious about him, you took the opportunity alone to explore. You hopped up off the couch and started to inspect his apartment. Upstairs you found an additional two bedrooms and bathroom , they were of little interest to you outside of their stunning views of the city, the interesting parts of his apartment were all downstairs, you discovered. A private gym, a balcony with views of central park and his own pool! You were half tempted to jump in and wait for him to return but you didn’t want to get in trouble with him, at least not yet. You headed back inside and were about to inspect the last room of the house when you spied through the glass door a heavy wooden desk and laptop sitting on top of it, it was his office. Remembering his warning, you loosened your grip on the handle, backing away slowly.

“What did I tell you bout my office, Babygirl?” his deep baritone startled you, you hadn’t heard him return. He stood in the open lounge behind you, one hand on his hip, the other holding the takeout boxes, quirking an eyebrow at you questioningly. His question was a clear warning to you.

“You said I can't go in there, and I remembered!” You explained as you turned to face him fully. “I didn’t go in, I stopped as soon as I realized it was your office Daddy, I promise.”

He regarded you for a moment, searching your eyes. He believed you it seemed. “Good,” he purred, putting the boxes on the coffee table. He grabbed two plates and cutlery from the adjacent kitchen and returned to flop onto the couch with as much grace a man his age could muster.

“Come here Baby,” Jack beckoned you with his finger, before he sat down and toed off his boots, kicking them underneath the coffee table.

He held out his arm in invitation of a cuddle which you happily accepted, tucking your knees under yourself as you curled up to his side. He gave you a tender kiss to your forehead then served up the food onto the plates.

“There you go, Baby,” he smiled, handing you a plate. “Wish i could have made it myself, but this will have to do for now. One day I'll make you a romantic breakfast in bed.”

“I like that idea Daddy,” you hummed, digging into your food quite happily. “But i’m certainly not complaining about this either.”

You both sat, lazily cuddling as you ate your breakfast together, not in any particular rush to get on with the rest of the day. You finished first, putting your plate on the coffee table in front of you while you waited for him. “You might finish it quicker if you let go of me Daddy,” you teased, causing him to cock an eyebrow at you, looking at you as if you had just grown two heads. “Now why would I want to do that, Babygirl?” He asked, the arm around you squeezing the flesh of your exposed thigh.

“I wasn’t complaining Daddy, I just thought it might have been easier.”

“I know Baby,” he kissed your cheek. “But i much prefer this.” When he had finally finished his food he stacked his plate on top of yours, picked up a blank notepad off the glass top then pulled you up onto his lap.

“Now, Baby,” he murmured, playing with the top button of the shirt you were wearing, his shirt.

“What do you say we get that little ‘contract’ sorted? Should be something we get out of the way before we have anymore fun together, don’cha think? I don't want to overstep any boundaries with you.” You nodded in agreement, looping your arms around his neck as he began writing.

You found it really cute the way his brow would furrow as he wrote, trying his best to balance the notepad between the two of you and not get distracted by your close proximity. When he was done, he re-read the whole page, giving it a nod of approval before flipping it for you to read.

You made sure to read it properly, to make sure everything was covered. It was a detailed list of all the rules you had both agreed to the previous night, with the important ones underlined for emphasis, safeword, exclusivity, communication. You smiled, giving him your approval. He then flipped to another page, writing down a list, you tried your best to read it upside down, curious as to what else he could be writing. Figuring out a few of the words you realized he was writing a list of kinks.

He gave it another once over before showing you.

“Like I said Princess, I don’t want to cross any boundaries with you, I need to know beforehand if you’ll be just as enthusiastic for these as I am,” he said, rubbing your thigh as you took the list and read it. “It's all fun and games talking punishment and rewards until I get to it and find out you don’t like what I'm doing to ya.”

You took the pen from his hand, crossing out the hard no’s, leaving only your favorites on his expansive list.

Over stimulation Choking Bondage/restraints Throat fucking Spanking Slapping Riding crop Public sex Collars Toys- Plugs, vibrators, Dildos- others Orgasm denial Cock warming Roleplay - costumes Rough sex Ice Candle wax Degradation/name calling Fisting Anal Spitting

“Perfect” you purred, handing it back to him so he could confirm what you had approved off. He grinned widely as he read it, his eyes growing dark from lust. You were just the same, already feeling the familiar sensation of your arousal pooling.

“Hooo, Honey Bee,” he growled contentedly, reading your amendments. “You left all my favorites on here.” He tossed the notepad onto a side table, discarding it and leaving his full attention on you. “Now keep in mind, those kinks are just for punishments and rewards...We can add more if we want to later, and we can explore other kinks any other time...I just need to know what you want when Daddy punishes you.” You nodded, agreeing with his words. You were exceptionally grateful at just how serious he was taking his role and control over you, making sure you would be comfortable and feel safe with everything he wanted to do with you, confirming to both of you he had your enthusiastic consent for some of the more...extreme elements of your growing relationship.

“Mind answering a question for me, Darlin?” He asked, gently undoing the top button of your shirt.

“Of course not Daddy, ask away.”

“Got any toys at home?” His hands continued popping buttons of the shirt you were wearing, his voice was curious, with that hungry growl still hidden beneath it.

“Y-yes, i have toys,” you admitted truthfully.

“Get rid of them,” he ordered firmly, staring at your chest as his calloused hand slipped underneath your now unbuttoned shirt, pushing the shirt off of your shoulders, exposing you to him.

“B-but Daddy, they were expensive,” you whined, gripping his shoulders as his large, rough hands moved to cup your breasts.

He dragged his gaze away from your tits to look you in the eyes.

“What was that? You answering back to me already, baby?” He growled, giving your breasts a harsh squeeze in warning, making you gasp. “Your pleasure belongs to me now, remember? I decide when you get to feel good…And no toy is going to do my job for you.” He began rolling your nipples in his fingers, causing your head to fall back in pleasure. He gave you a growl in warning, a wordless command of eyes on me, and you dragged your gaze back to him, whimpering at his touches. You had started to get wet as you read his Kink list, just the idea of exploring them had started to work you up, but now, with his deft fingers and possessive words, you feel yourself getting wetter.

“When you get home, you’re going to throw all those toys you have in the trash,” he squeezed your breasts together, still toying with your nipples. “Then you’re going to send Daddy a photo to prove it….And then, when i think you’ve earned it, we’re going shopping for some new, special toys we get to use together. For when you’ve been a good girl for Daddy…or a Bad girl.”

You bit your lip to hide the whimper at the implications, unsuccessfully. Once again he was proving just how capable he was at his Daddy role for you. He chuckled at how helpless you sounded, dragging one of his hands down your front to slip between your legs, fingers quickly becoming covered in your slick. “You’re very naughty baby, forgetting to put your panties on this morning...Only bad girls go about with no underwear,” he teased, pushing one, long finger inside you slowly. “B-But...You weren't wearing underwear last night!” You gasped, opening your legs wider to give him better access. The hand still on your tit squeezed harder.

“Answering back again?” he growled, shoving another finger inside of you. His other hand let go of your breast and looped around you, pulling you tight up against his front, holding you in place so he could attack your neck with his mouth. He kissed and licked, running his teeth over the sensitive skin there before growling right into your ear. “Don’t you dare go around thinking that you can answer back to me, Honey Bee, or that what Daddy says don’t matter.”

Your moniker, again, reminding you just what you were to him, what he was to you.

One simple name you had heard many times before, but coming from his mouth, his husky voice, it held so much power and control over you.

The two fingers inside you pushed in as deep as they could go, curling back and forth to tease at your sweet spot. You tried to wiggle in his grasp, either to get away from the stimulation or get closer, you weren’t sure, but his grip on you held fast.

“If I say something makes you a bad girl, then you best listen...Don’t matter if Daddy does it too, you do as I say, not as I do...You’re not a big enough girl to behave like that…” he teased you, gently curling his fingers one minute then thrusting his hand into you harshly the next, fingering you as fast as he could in the position. “Thought you wanted to be my good girl?” he rasped, chuckling darkly when you began writhing in his hold, whining and arching your back, holding onto him for dear life, your manicured nails digging into his biceps as the obscene wet slaps of his hand thrusting into you joined your whines.

His words and deft fingers had brought you quicker to the edge than you had ever been in your life. Something about the way he became so possessive and controlling over you turned you on so easily, you felt your core tighten up and more arousal seep down your thighs.

Gripping his shoulders you whimpered out a warning that you were going to cum. He sped his hand up, thumb rubbing quick circles into your clit for one teasing moment, and right before you flew over the edge, he pulled his fingers free from you. “W-wha?” you asked befuddled, straightening back up to look at him. “Daddy why?”

He stood up, tossing you onto the couch on your back before bringing his fingers to his mouth, moaning as he tasted your essence still coating them. “I’ll tell you why, Baby,” he said, pulling his fingers free and licking his lips as if he had just eaten the finest dessert. “You talked back to Daddy,” he leant over top of you so his nose brushed yours. “And then I find out you’re being a filthy little girl by not wearing panties…” He slapped your thigh hard enough to sting. “And then you had the gall to talk back to me, again.”

He shoved his mouth against yours for a deep, domineering kiss. It was bruising. You could taste the faint flavor of the syrup from the waffles you shared, combined with your own juices, on his tongue. He cupped your jaw to deepen the kiss, then pulling away only when you had become lost to the sensation, driving you insane once again by denying you just as it got really heated. “Now, we’re both new to this...It’s going to take a while for us both to learn all the rules,” he said, straightening up and pulling his shirt over his head, tossing it to the side, forgotten. He was back on you, kneeling between your legs before you could even admire his soft tummy again. “But if I let this one slide, Baby, I fear you won’t learn the rules...If I let you get away with answering back to me, and being filthy now...Well you won’t learn your lesson, will ya?”

One hand slid back between your legs, ghosting over your soaked folds teasingly. You whimpered again, listing your hips for more contact, batting your eyes up at him in hopes to soften him up

“But since this is a first offence,” Jack chuckled, gently pinching your clit between two fingers, “I’ll go easy on you. But don’t think those pretty eyes will work on me all the time, baby.”

“Daddy” you whined, feeling completely helpless underneath him and loving it. “Hmmm? Now what do we think is an appropriate punishment for a first time offence?” He asked, pushing one finger back inside you, thrusting it in and out agonizingly slowly while his thumb circled your clit with feather light passes. Touching you and filling you up, but not enough to satisfy the burning need in you. He watched intently as you tried to seek out more stimulation, raising your hips up into his hand, but he put a stop to that quickly, holding your hips down with his free hand. “Stay still,” he growled. “You take what I give you, Honey bee, don’t be greedy.” He watched you with his head cocked, as he decided on your punishment. “I think we’ll keep it simple,” he continued. “A spanking seems appropriate...Don’t you agree?”

Jack paused, and you realized he was waiting for a response, an approval and consent over his chosen punishment. “Y-yes...a spanking seems fair Daddy,” you pouted, looking up at him through your lashes.

“Good” he rumbled, scooping you up and gently laying you across his lap. You could feel his erection pressed up against your belly.

You wanted it inside you, but you knew you had to earn it. One of his arms looped around your middle, keeping you still while the other was gently massaging your ass and rubbing your pussy. “Listen up, Girl,” he said, voice firm. “You are to say “red” if this gets too much, you understand?” he asked, waiting for your verbal affirmation before continuing. “Good, after each spank, I want you to say ‘I will not talk back to Daddy’. Can you repeat that for me?” “I- I will not talk back to Daddy,” you moaned, wiggling your hips to get more friction up against your pussy. “Good,” he praised again, rewarding you with more friction just where you wanted it, his palm rubbing up and down over your folds.

“You’re going to get ten spanks...And then Daddy's going to give you a reward afterwards, if you’re good for me.”

You nodded, letting him know you understood. “I want you to count them out too,” was his final instruction as he raised his hand, bringing it back down against your ass with a hard SLAP! “O-one!” You yelped. “I will not talk back to Daddy!” He hummed in approval, you felt his erection brush up against your stomach again, twitching in the confines of his pants. SLAP! “Two!” I will now talk back to Daddy!”

It continued, you tried your hardest to keep still with each slap, to stop rubbing your thighs together, but each slap only seemed to make you wetter, to make you want him more. Slap after slap after slap, you remained his good little girl. “T-Ten! I- I will not talk back to Daddy!” you cried, tears from the pain running down your face. You were left sore and sensitive, but despite the pain you felt burning pleasure fill your whole body. Jack really was living up to your dream expectations as your Daddy, you were reminded one again just how perfect he was for you.

He proved himself more with how he treated you after a punishment.

His hand began massaging your ass again, soothing the sting. Jack nuzzled the side of your face affectionately as he stroked the hand shaped welts forming on your ass gently.

“Whats your color, Babygirl?” he asked softly, kissing your cheek.

“G-green,” you panted, calming your breath and racing heart down. “Good, good,” he praised, carefully helping you stand on your feet, back facing him. Your legs felt like jelly, you were ready to collapse but his hands on your waist kept you standing. “You took your punishment so well, baby, Daddy is so proud of you!” He kissed the growing welts, praising you. “What a good girl you are, taking Daddys punishment. And look at this,” one of his hands pushed between your legs, coating his fingers once again in your arousal. “You’re even wetter than before...I’m not sure it's much of a punishment if you liked it that much, but a promise is a promise, you took your punishment and behaved...My little girl deserves her reward now, don’t you think?” You moaned and nodded, pushing back against his hand despite how sore you were. “Hmmmm, and I know you’re sore baby, but damn if you didn’t make Daddy as hard as a fucking rock through out all of that. Think you’ll be able to take my cock?”

He chuckled when you nodded eagerly.

“Course you can, you’re fucking soaked.” He stood up and gently laid you down on your stomach on the couch. You watched over your shoulder as he pulled a condom out of his pocket and began unbuckling his belt, shoving his pants down his hips.

Once again, he wasn’t wearing underwear, the hypocrite, but you held your tongue.

Daddy had just taught you a lesson about answering back, you weren't willing to give up your reward after all that delicious torture. “You’re ass looks fucking gorgeous covered in my hand prints,” he rasped, kicking his pants away and ripping the packet open with his teeth. “I just want to stare at those pretty welts as I fuck you with my cock, might get a little sore again, baby...Tell me to stop and I will.”

You nodded, letting him know you understood as he positioned himself behind you, he rolled the condom on, briefly wiping up the precum that had gathered at his tip onto his hand, he held his fingers to your mouth for you to taste.

He groaned as you swirled your tongue around them, coating his fingers in your saliva and tasting the proof of his arousal. With the condom in place, Jack held himself at his base, rubbing his tip up against your soaked folds, back and forth. “Tell me you’ll be a good girl for me from now on,” he teased, you could hear that arrogant smile in his voice. You whined, frustrated he was holding your reward over your head so to speak. “I’ll be a good girl for you, Daddy...I won't answer back like that again!” you moaned into one of the throw pillows on the couch, holding it against your chest and face, anchoring yourself to something as you tried not to scream from frustration at his teasing. “Yeah? You’ll be a good girl and listen to Daddy too? Keeping still when I tell you to? Not arguing if I deem your behavior naughty?”

At this point you were sure he was just trying to torture you further. “Yes! Yes Daddy! Please! I swear I'll be good, just please!” you begged. “I’ve been a good girl! Please, I just want your cock!” You didn’t care how pathetic or desperate you sounded as you begged him to fill you, he had manhandled you and spanked you deliciously, in a way no Daddy ever had before and if this was just a ‘mild’ punishment, it excited you further to think how he would handle something more extreme in the future.

You had never been more aroused in your entire life.

“Good girls don’t speak like that” he warned, you feared another punishment when you were this close to your pleasure that you actually sobbed into the pillow. “But I'll forgive you, you have been a good girl for me, taking your punishment so well....” he trailed off, distracted by the sight of his aching tip poking at your folds that were framed by his growing marks. He was so close to just...pushing in. It was agonizing having him so close to filling you up and you let him know. Pleading and sobbing harder into the pillow. Taking mercy on you, he pushed forward excruciatingly slow, making you sob in relief, satisfying your burning need, if only for a moment. “You’re just so desperate for Daddy’s cock,” he rasped, enraptured by his effect on you.

You moaned and continued sobbing into the pillow, overwhelmed to be finally filled with him.

His guttural moan joined yours as he bottomed out, sinfully loud.The stretch of his was slightly painful, given he did not take the time to prepare you as carefully as he did the night before. But the way he split you open, was divine. He wasn’t wrong in saying you were desperate for his cock, and who could blame you when he filled you up so good?

“Jesus, fuck, I don’t think I ever been inside a hole this wet before, Baby,” he grated, rocking his hips into you slowly. “I can feel it, coating down our legs...Didn’t realize you were such a whore for punishment and Daddy's cock.” It sounded like an insult, but the wicked grin you heard in his voice told you otherwise. He was delighted at the discovery of just how needy he could make you.

You were about to comment back when he slowly pulled out of you and then thrust back in, hard, making you scream at the devastating pleasure of him stretching and filling you and the deliciously painful sensation of his hips slapping up against your sore ass.

Jack chuckled again, beginning a steady, fast and deep pace thrusting into you. He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you up enough so your face wasn’t buried in the throw pillow. “I want to hear your screams, baby,” he snarled, punctuating his sentence with a devastatingly harsh thrust. He laughed at you, mockingly, as you screamed again.

“Fuck, I love hearing your noises, baby, you sound so hot, makes Daddy even harder.” You felt him twitch inside you as he said it, making you whimper.

You had no words left, only able to focus on the way he filled you up and rammed against your deepest spot. The burning sting of your ass each time his hips met yours drove you wild. He moaned and growled in approval at the noises you were making, but you were so lost that you weren't even aware you were making them or what you were saying. He rambled on behind you, his raspy voice praising how tight you were, how good you felt around him. You could barely focus on his words.

“Rub your clit baby,” he ordered, the hand not gripping your neck rubbing your ass as he admired your marks. “Daddy wants you to cum on his cock...You’ve earned it”

You did as you were told, reaching beneath you to rub yourself with a trembling arm. You could feel his balls slap against your fingers with earth thrust. And he was right, you were soaked, your fingers were able to glide smoothly over your bud, sending jolts of pleasure throughout your body like electricity. You felt your core clamping down on him instantly, making him moan.

“Fuck, just when I think you can’t get any tighter,” he rumbled. “You’re close, aren't cha Honey Bee? I can feel it,you’re such a perfect little cock whore for me, come on..cum for Daddy, fucking soak me even more.” You whimpered, rubbing your clit faster at his words.

“Cum for Daddy, right fucking now!” You obeyed, you felt like you were being hit by a freight train.

His teasing and leaving you right as you reached your peak earlier, mixed with the unbearable arousal he had caused with his spanking and dirty words resulted in the most powerful orgasm you had ever felt in your entire life. You felt the wind being knocked out of you as your core clamped down around him almost painfully and milk him for all he was worth. Your entire body contorted with pleasure, your legs shook violently as you tried to cling to anything to ride out the powerful waves. You heard him curse behind you, slamming into you harder, painfully so given how tender your ass was but it only added to the pleasure. He growled out his release, gripping your neck harder. “Jesus fuck baby that’s it! Yes! Yes! Fuuuucccck!” His desperate bucking as he chased his own pleasure as you milked him dry simply intensified your orgasm, leaving you a breathless, panting, sweaty mess as your body shook and came down from your high. “Perfect fucking pussy.”

Even when you were done, as you began winding down from your high, every slight movement of him behind you made your walls flutter more, making you whimper from the over stimulation.

He groaned deeply behind you as he pulled out, cooing gently at you as you whined. “There we go baby, shhhh now,” came Jack's soothing words.

You melted into the couch, feeling like a heap of boneless jelly as your eyes started to rift close. He got up off the couch and you heard him walk to the kitchen, disposing of his condom you assumed, you were too tired to even care. You were surprised when he came back and rolled you over gently, picking you up bridal style. You let you a whimper of pain and confusion. “Shhh baby, Daddy’s just taking care of you,” he consoled, kissing the crown of your head. “Rest, let me do all the work.” He carried you upstairs, to his room, gently putting you back on ‘your’ side.

You closed your eyes, ready to drift off as you heard him rummage about in his ensuite. He came back, and you felt him gently begin cleaning you up with another warm washcloth. “Look at my baby...so beautiful,” he murmured tenderly, wiping up and down your thighs, throwing the wash cloth to the side to clean up later once your slick had been cleaned up. “You did so well, took Daddy's punishment and cock so well...What a lucky man I am.” He continued to praise you as he gently rolled you onto your front. You whimpered, your body aching and protesting but you let him manhandle you more. You heard something else rustle, then a zipper. There was a pop of a cap followed by the soothing sensation of his hands rubbing cream into your abused skin. You whined, the cream too cold for your burning skin but he soothed you with gentle kisses peppered along your shoulder blades. “Let Daddy take care of you, it will be done soon,” he promised. With your welts thoroughly coated you sighed in content, already feeling the stinging sensation start to fade away. “There we go,” he praised, packing up what you now knew to be the first aid kit. He went to put it away and wash his hands before he returned. He moved to lay next to you, fidgeting a bit, wanting to pull you up against him but not willing to agitate your sore ass. He contented himself by laying on his side, watching you as one hand resting on your back, stroking it affectionately and limbs intertwined with yours. He kissed everywhere he could reach, just as he had last night, he spoke to you gently, letting you focus on his words rather than on how sore you were. “Rest Baby, when you wake up, we’ll have a lot of work to do,” he hummed. “Gonna get'cha all cleaned up, put a nice meal in your belly, make sure you’re all taken care of.” You snuggled deeper into the plush pillow you were laying on, a smile forming on your lips at his soft promises. “Then Daddy's going to have to get ya home, gonna need to get your allowance sorted, and see you get your appointment for your implant...Daddy wants you without a condom as soon as possible.” he teased, his fingers dancing on your back gently, making the flesh jump.

You whined at the ticklish sensation and he chuckled. “Go to sleep baby, i’ll be here when you wake up this time,” he murmured the promise into your ear as you finally drifted off.

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@thats-one-tender-foot @luminescentlily @nuttybeardetective @ishqinbbc @ben-is-a-hoe @calamity-queen @phoenixhalliwell @talesfromtheguild

#DIamonds&Daddies #Agent Whiskey x reader #Jack 'Whiskey' Daniels x reader #Jack daniels x reader #pedro pascal x reader #SugarDaddy!Whiskey #smut #my fic

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