#the reveal that he's his partner not his servant puts all those scenes of him hovering at louis' shoulder in a totally different light | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

belit0 · 4 years ago

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Hey, can you write Indra + size kink + cockworship + nasty cum stuff ?? Sorry, i'm hungry for that man

Sorry this took me SO FUCKING LONG omfg

No need to be sorry, I’m as hungry as you. I haven’t written smut in a while, so bear with me, I’m getting back at it:,(

Tw: Indra knows nothing about communication

When Indra enters the house, the sun has already set. He looks drained, tired. It’s been days since he started wearing his hair loose, devoid of his usual ponytail, and it only helps to make him look more massive than he is.

His steps are heavy as he heads to the bedroom, and when he looks at you with those expressionless serious eyes, you know he won’t be eating dinner today either. That’s okay, you’re not used to spending time together as a normal couple anyway, and you know you’d feel weird if he actually sat down with you and joined you for a meal.

His form disappears down the corridor and you know he has found the way to bed, seeking comfort from the adversities of the day. His shadow is dragged across the walls by the candlelight, and for a moment, it looks like the demon everyone says he is.

But of course, you know better than to believe those ridiculous tales.

It’s been months since this man appeared in your village, a place led by a poor wretch who was trying his best to get his people ahead. Only a few enjoyed good fortune, privilege, and wealth, and you were not one of them. Life before Indra, here, was based on working hard for pennies, finding food wherever possible, wearing the same clothes repeatedly for lack of more garments. Poverty was rampant among almost the entire village population, and despite the leader’s best efforts, nothing seemed to work for the betterment of the situation.

But a mysterious man with long hair and thick shoulders, tattooed eyes, impressive physique compared to the famine-stricken people... left everyone captivated. With just a couple of suggestions and commands, things turned around, and the outlook brightened for everybody. This mysterious man quickly rose in the hierarchical power of the village, and the current leader ended up giving up his place.

Indra became their ruler overnight, and hopes for the future of the town seemed to grow stronger and stronger again.

Town expansion was inevitable, welcoming visitors and travelers intrigued by the legends of this man who brought fortune to a doomed place. Enemies were also unavoidable. The Otsutsuki defended and used all his power to prevent the destruction of the foundations he had built with so much effort, leaving everyone terrified in his steps.

His red eyes became stories used by mothers to frighten disobedient children, his violet beast traveled on the tongues of all the merchants and their incessant rumors.

Respect mingled with fear, yet Indra never wavered.

He looked imposing as he walked the streets of the town, staring at nothing in particular, an expression forged by iron and ice. His towering figure seemed to cast a gigantic shadow over every other man nearby, and all the women were dying to take the vacant place at his side.

Everyone thought as he became leader he would choose one of the few wealthy ladies of the village as his wife, but he did not.

It was months after his ascension to power before he communicated with a woman. And that turned out to be you.

Although the village prospered and grew bigger every day, your life remained the same, complicated. Money was scarce as well as food, and working hard every morning was necessary if you wanted to get a crumb of bread.

You tended the garden of a prosperous family, kneeling in the morning dew, your clothes covered in dirt from the work you had started just a few minutes ago.

Footsteps in front of you broke your concentration, and when you looked up, a tall figure was staring down at you. A flowing robe floated in the wind, and that frown was visible even from the floor. Indra was intimidating without uttering a word.

“You look thoroughly filthy.” He had said. “I’m sorry, my lord.” You had replied, bowing your head in respect.

You did not finish that day’s work, for offering you a wide hand, Indra Otsutsuki himself lifted you from the dirt and escorted you to get a fresh change of clothes. Not one of the worn-out ones you used to wear, but an expensive one, of excellent quality, full of exquisite details. A garment of high society, one of the kind he himself usually wore.

From that moment on, he did not leave your side. It was only a matter of time before you moved into his residence, an immense house in the middle of town. You became the envy of all women, no one being able to understand how their leader could choose a servant girl as his partner.

And despite the fear you felt towards him at first, although his haughty looks seemed to be empty initially, you eventually grew to understand him. Dread turned into respect, affection, love.

After all, he saved you from that life of misery to give you one of luxury and privilege, asking for nothing in return. Even though you slept in the same bed every night, he never touched a single hair on your head, never came near you, never took the initiative you feared he may take.

“Why me?” you asked once, the blush on your face shielded by nighttime darkness inside the room. A large space lay between you both on the bed, and Indra, while you couldn’t see him, probably had his back to you. “You are the prettiest.” He replied simply, and you caught a note of amusement in his voice.

During the day it was rare for you to see him, but at sunset, you would both be in the bedroom. No lustful touches in the middle were necessary to make the night complete, for the silences which at first were awkward eventually were filled with chatter.

That intimidating look, that wide-backed warrior with blood-colored eyes, became a companion, a pleasant person to spend time with. Never smiled, never laughed, but you know he is calm, that he enjoys the moment as much as you do. You’ve seen him interact with other people, how his muscles tense when someone is way too close for his comfort, how his brow furrows when anyone speaks to him. You know you’re the only person he tolerates, appreciates, and loves around him.

That’s why seeing him arrive like this is something uncomfortable in your chest. Slowly following in his footsteps, you find his clothes lost all the way back to the room. You pick up garment by garment, and there is a certain satisfaction as you smell his clothes and feel his perfume. As you reach the doorway, he is already tucked into bed, buried under sheets. One of his arms supports his head and acts as a pillow while his other hand scratches his chest, which is slightly uncovered. One of his legs is bent, and covers slip off his skin, revealing a thigh and worked muscles. His eyes are closed, but he knows you are there.

Leaving his clothing on a chair, you approach him and sit on the edge of the bed, hands clasped in your lap. Rarely have you seen this scene, where he relaxes with all his rights in his own bed. Sex has never been addressed between the two of you, and it’s something you’re grateful for. Rumors travel faster than the wind, and many a woman has walked around claiming to have spent time in the bed of the mighty Indra. Whether that’s true, you don’t know, and you’ve never asked either.

If true, your experience is undoubtedly unparalleled.

Still, seeing him like this, becoming one with the bed and stretching out, getting a taste of his toned chest and his thick thigh... Curiosity suddenly demands more.

“You’re staring.” His eyes are still closed, but to be put on display is still just as humiliating. “I’m sorry...” You’re not sure if get up and leave at that moment, but it’s his voice that clears the uncertainty. “Why? I’m your partner, naturally.”

It feels like confirmation of your actions, and you become brave all at once.

“Can I help you... To feel better?....” Your voice is full of hesitation, yet one end of his lips lifts, revealing a wickedly tinged smirk.

“Be my guest.”

Climbing on top of him, your hands tremble with anxiety and anticipation. His eyes flutter open and he watches you intently, analyzing where your actions lead. The man really is huge, and being partially on top of him, the size difference is even greater. Indra seems to rejoice in your stupor, picking up on your intentions and stirring the sheets covering him as you settle between his legs.

Whatever nervousness you felt about what was to come only grows worse at the sight of his size, as even half-hard, his cock’s intimidatingly enormous length.

“Already frightened?” The teasing tone sliding across his tongue fills you with new determination, and with both hands, you hold his shaft. One at the base and one at the head. Your tongue timidly explores that unfamiliar surface, feeling in your grip how hardness invades his dick second after second.

Your lips wrap carefully around it, and pushing gently, inch by inch, his length finds its way into the pleasantly warm depths of your mouth. One of your hands slowly slides down, dragging skin in its wake.

Fixing your eyes on Indra while trying to deal with the raw, inexperienced situation and size, you notice impatience and need, lust swimming in red eyes dominates his expression.

From an instant to the next, your shoulders are enveloped by two gigantic hands, and position is turned around, a vast body hovering over you and trapping you underneath it.

“You teasing little fucker...”

Being handled like that awakens something on the inside that you rarely felt before, some sort of tingling urgently needing to be soothed. A broad palm grasps your chin, which moves your face in the direction Indra desires as he suddenly engulfed your lips.

You have never kissed this man before, and to be making out with him for the first time in these circumstances should feel wrong... but it only builds up more sensations in your lower belly, a treacherous emptiness, and an almost unfamiliar fire.

Your hands awkwardly find his back, and the need to press him against your face, to demand more, to extract more from those luscious lips is interesting. There is no more distance to close between the two of you, but you want to crush yourself against his labored chest until becoming one.

The moment ends quickly as you gasp for air, and trying to recover, a sultry Indra, who grins viciously seductive overpowers your gaze.

“I’ll introduce you to a thing or two...”

Before you comprehend what his words mean, the position changes again, and his two knees are one on either side of your head. He looks even more terrifying from this angle than in everyday life, and you don’t venture to peek at his dick. Two of his fingers slide across your lower lip, caressing your cheek, and suddenly squeeze your face harshly. Your mouth is forced open, but when his cock slides over your tongue and you understand the functionality of the pose, you ease back.

Your lack of experience was driving him crazy, and rather than loosening him up, you were upsetting him further. Managing the matter with his own hands, or rather with his own hips, Indra finds peace again.

Rising to height, one of his palms cradles your face, while the other supports himself against the wall. You try to find stability by holding onto his thighs, and as he buries himself lower in your mouth, sensations in your body become almost unbearable, coupled with his movements.

Indra is kind at first, gradually pushing into your inexperienced cavity slowly, closing his eyes tightly and fighting the urge to destroy your mouth.

Yet when your jaw relaxes completely, grasping the rhythm and feel of the situation, he lets go. The beast is finally released, and the Otsutsuki fucks your lips with abandon, hitting the end of your throat with each thrust. His hips move with agility, and imagining him between your legs with the same surrender and strength makes you hold on.

Tears decorate your cheeks and eyelashes, blending with the saliva dripping from your mouth every time that cock lunges at your face. Indra becomes completely abstracted, tilting his head back as deep growls rise from deep within his chest.

When air is inevitably needed and you can no longer avoid gagging, you repeatedly slap his thighs, drawing his attention. He leans his forehead against the wall and holds your face with both hands, withdrawing his dick from your throat and catching his breath with difficulty. His gaze is fixed on you, and although you could probably look better, you feel really appreciated under those red eyes.

The fluids from your mouth completely soaked your chest and cheeks, your clothes are soaked, and at the sight, the Otsutsuki slides his fingers across your wet skin, then strokes his shaft twice.

When you catch your breath, you place a kiss on the head which has been hitting the back of your throat for minutes, showing he may continue.

Without a second thought, he burrows deeply into your mouth, reaching a depth he hadn’t hit before. The grunt he exhales makes your skin crawl, and you really want to see him enjoy you like this for the rest of your life.

He gives you time to breathe again, and his thrusts become more shallow, seeking more contact with the softness of your tongue and the warmth of your cheeks. It isn’t long before his length is completely out of your cavity and he works it rapidly, seeking the longed-for finish. You’re not sure what you should do, so you simply watch him, amazed at the size of his hands.

After a few seconds, several white shots paint your face, staining your hair and chest, leaving practically nowhere without even a drop. It’s unexpected, but satisfying.

#naruto shippuden #otsutsuki indra #indra otsutsuki #otsutsuki indra x reader #indra x reader #indra otsutsuki x reader #indra #otsutsuki clan #naruto

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beskarberry · 4 years ago

Text

Devil’s Advocate

Bargaining with Beskar, Chapter 5

(The Mandalorian x f!reader)

“That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself.

Rating: Explicit

Word count: 11.2k whoops

Content warnings: VICES: gambling/smoking/drinking (reader drinks) Introduction of chapter-specific OC characters. Lots of angst to fluff, sexy times of course.

A/N: This might be more self indulgent than the first chapters but not because of the smut. I kinda go off about fancy clothes so long descriptions of costumes are a big chunk of this chapter.

<-Previous Next->

You hated everything about Canto Bight.

Everything about the city was so... artificial. The stadium flood lights, the glowing neon signs, even the ocean herself had been excavated from the planet’s stubborn sandstone surface instead of eroded naturally by the march of time. To you it was like looking at Corellia’s gold painted twin, a monument to the hubris of all sentient life.

Even the patrons of the gilded city were fake; their clothes, their makeup, their personalities. Every aspect of them was perfectly curated to deceive and lie, whatever fanciful display would work best to cheat their way to the jackpot. You almost wished you could look past the falseness of it, experience the visual fanfare of light and color that reflected on every surface. You wanted the music and the art and the decor that had been so carefully picked and placed to mean something to you, to sparkle in your heart just as it sparkled in the eyes of the teeming masses. But, all for naught, the gleaming metropolis stung your eyes; and you turned away from it to admire the quaint little space that actually mattered to you.

You shared the tight quarters of the cockpit with the two strange boys that had recently whisked you away to the stars. Mando was seated in the pilot's chair with his tiny green son perched in his lap, trying to get him to eat his dinner without making so much of a mess. You had already eaten, and you were turning the last hunter’s puck over in your hand, reluctant to get this chase started and take away from the familial scene beside you. It would have to happen sooner or later, and you gave the puck a squeeze to fire up the projector. A ghostly blue fog glowed up into the space above your palm, and the face that looked back at you was surprisingly fair; if not for his crimson skin and long black horns you wouldn’t have known he was Devaronian by his elegant features alone.

Elios Blackwater was a dapper debonair, his high cheekbones angled sharply under devious eyes towards a sly, sharp toothed grin. The puck notes didn’t specify what he was wanted for, though from the looks of his charming smile and shifting eyes it could easily be anything from a gamblers quarrel to breaking hearts, with a higher reward for being returned alive rather than dead. He would most likely be in a heavily inhabited area, probably as close to Canto Bight’s aurelian heart as possible. You didn’t know why Mando had taken a bounty puck for such a densely populated world, and you would have loved to know what his plan was to get to the city’s casino center before you had arrived in his life. A pair of ragamuffin bounty hunters and their floating baby bucket would stick out like sore thumbs in this gilded mecca of gamblers. If you were going to get to your quarry without being arrested, you were going to have to blend in.

“We’re going to have to do something about...this.” You said, waving your hand in front of your partner’s ferocious attire, though truthfully you weren’t dressed any more appropriately for the mission at hand. “They’ll see us coming a mile away.”

He glanced down at himself with a tilt of his helmet, ignoring the mess his son was making of his meal. “What do you have in mind?��

You weren’t entirely sure yet. From where the Crest was parked you could see the glittering city’s reflection sparkling on the water far ahead of you down the beach, a sight most would find alluring, but to you it was just harsh glare. Nearby where you had landed were other space craft parked up and down the gravelly, machine-carved beach; the pleasure cruisers of wealthy betters made your little scrapheap look even worse than it already did. You watched out the cockpit’s transperisteel window, noting the movement of patrons and their attending droids loading skiffs with piles of luggage, and got yourself a mighty fine idea.

"I think so, but you're probably not going to like it. Stay here." You rose from your seat and kissed the baby on the head, earning yourself a soft, mush-mouthed chirp before you slid down the ladder and let yourself out of the old rust bucket and into the salty sea air of the Cantonican night. Gravel crunched under your boots, and you took a moment to turn and glance back at the Crest, catching the faintest flicker of scope glare where Mando was nervously watching you from the flight deck. Ahead of you a large cruiser was being unloaded by droids, the owners having long since made their way to the casinos, and you made yourself known to the robotic servants with your most charming damsel-in-distress voice.

"Hello! Excuse me! My luggage is too heavy to carry, can you help me? It's just over here on my ship..." The droid nearest you made a stiff bowing motion and tottered after you with the loaded hoverskiff floating along behind. You guided the droid up the open ramp and into the bowels of the ship to where your difficult luggage lay. It never stood a chance, bits of wire and duraplast flew across the cabin like confetti from the blaster shot to its head. Mando lowered his gun back to his holster, freeing his hands to help you haul the skiff into the narrow cabin space, then quickly close the ramp behind you.

The sled took up most of the walking space in the ship, so you got up on top of it and began looting through the stolen designer bags, pulling resplendent finery out into the hazy light. The first tote was full of piles of silk sewn for something with more arms than the two of you put together, so most of those items were tossed to the floor. The second bag was just capes, each a unique and lovely pattern, but nothing more. You demolished the remaining bags, making piles on the floor for ‘maybes’ and ‘definitely-nots’ until you found what you were looking for: a humanoid woman’s clothes.

Most of the unknown lady’s elegant garments would be just slightly too big on you, but you were able to settle on a soft, garnet colored evening gown that would go just above your knees, with extra length in the back. It had a sloping neckline that plunged at your cleavage, and around the bell of the skirt were silver rhinestones that caught the light of the cabin like dewdrops, the weight of them giving the dress a wistful sway. You wouldn't be able to carry much in such a revealing article, but a blaster and a knife alone had gotten you out of more trouble than you would care to admit.

You were fishing through the feminine things for something to do about your hair when you caught Mando in the corner of your eye. He was leaning against the hull wall, just watching you as you made a fat mess of the Razor's interior. You smiled down at him from your floating perch and held up the fanciful garment that you had picked out for him to see. "You like it?"

"It doesn't suit you, mesh’la." He said with a lazy tilt of his helmet. You had begun to mentally keep track of all the Mando’a he used around you, and you were starting to notice his frequent use of affectionates. You spun slightly so he could get a good look at how the fabric moved in the light, but the hunter gear you currently had on took away from the loveliness of the expensive clothes. You guessed he preferred your killer garb anyway over the flimsy, delicate fabric. Or nothing at all.

"Well, it’ll have to do, and if you don't start picking something out for yourself I’m going to dress you up like a dandy.”

He sighed, long and tired before turning his attention to the silken pile on the floor. You went back to the luggage, finding some knee high boots that were close enough to your size, but had a heel height that was going to make your ankles cry. You picked out some tasteless accessories: some bracelets, and big, jewel-encrusted hair pins to wear as well. The glitzier that you were, the less you would be noticed in this bass-ackward town. When you had made your frivolous selections you hopped off the skiff to help Mando with his costume. He was worse at finding something to wear than you were, having only picked out some of his own black leather gloves and two pairs of pants that were not made for human legs. Mandalorian armor did not come off as far as your metal man was concerned, and you were going to have to find a way to hide his bulk. You convinced him to lose his cloak, chest belts, and the bandoliers on his hips and boots, anything to lighten the load. Loose silks and stiff fiber combos would be your best friend, and you cobbled together what you could for your beskar-burdened buddy.

After what seemed like an eternity you had him dressed to the nines, or at least the eights. You had covered his chest plate in a black silk shirt and stiff black vest. The shirt had wide bottomed sleeves and neat, tight cuffs that hid his vambraces well, but you still made him wear a cinched-waist blazer plus a long, black and silver cape that almost reached the floor. You found a dark red pocket square that matched your dress and tucked it into the pocket of his vest, a subtle, but unmistakable announcement to the world that he was there with you. It was a ridiculous amount of fabric on top of an already massive mountain of metal, but the look was very in-style for Canto Bight. All together he actually passed for something besides a murder machine, and you gave yourself a mental pat on the back for a job well done. Mando held still for you while you fussed with his outfit with only the occasional huff. As much as he didn't like the idea of walking so boldly through the gilded city, he did enjoy your brazen touch each time you added another article of clothing.

“And now for the finishing touch.” There was nothing you could do about his helmet, so you were just going to have to make it look as nice as you could. You hadn’t changed into your chosen disguise yet, so you strode through the messy cabin with ease until you reached the lock box next to the cot. Inside you found the krayt’s teeth that you had gifted him and pulled them out into the light, waving them at him as you stretched over the heaps of fabric on the ground. He raised his hands in protest.

“What if I lose them?”

“You can wear these or you can wear whatever the hell this is.” You held up an enormous chain of jewels that looked like it belonged in the treasure case at an arcade instead of around somebody's neck. “Besides, I know you won't lose them, you like them too much.” He tilted his helmet at you with disdain, and you realized that was precisely the reason he didn’t want to wear them, such lovely gifts should be kept safe and secure. But he let you press the precious trinkets into the recess of his helmet where his human cheeks would be anyway. The frozen pools of moonlight tied everything about his sin-city look into a perfect, glittery bow. You had grown to admire the look of him in his cultural armor, the ferocity of it, the utility and strength of the beskar that shined no matter how much damage it took; and you were a bit sad to see it hidden. The look of the man standing before you had a wildly different feel, though it was not one you were opposed to.

“You look nice, Din.” The sound of his own name coming from your lips made his heart swell, and he reached out for your hand on instinct to pull your knuckles to his brow in the sweet gesture of his people that you both now used. His movements caused the finery he was masquerading in to catch the cabin’s hazy light, and you got excited to put on your own costume and join him in looking like a fool. When he let your hand fall, you bounded over to your pile, throwing the hunting clothes off of yourself as you went. When you were standing there in nothing but your Tattooinian muck boots you cast a sly glance over your shoulder. As expected, the single black eye of your Mandalorian was locked on your almost-naked form, and you realized that in the time you had been together he had never seen you fully naked; just the parts of you he needed to get to in the moment. “How’s this? You like this better?”

When he didn’t answer right away you looked down at yourself and saw what he was staring at. You had forgotten about the marks of conquest he had put there when he had been driven to a sexual frenzy by the last quarry’s poison, still dotting your thighs with dark purple splotches. Not once had you been upset with him for his actions, you were just thankful you both made it through the ordeal alive, but he still looked at the damning marks with shame. He had been forced to break his protector’s oath against his will, inflicting injury to your precious body with his own two hands. You waited until his visor made its way back up to meet your eyes, and you reached out for him to give you his hand. He sheepishly obeyed, and you brought his hand to your lips, kissing at the all-black leather slowly until you heard him sigh through his modulator. You would forgive him a hundred times if you had to, and then a hundred more if it meant he could forgive himself. You pulled his hands to your waist and leaned up against him, enjoying the feel of new clothes on your skin and letting your hands run up his silken arms. “Well you can have this,” You nodded down at your bare everything with a mischievous grin, “As soon as we catch this fucko.”

This was the last bounty you would need before you made the trip back to Nevarro, but you were still on the fence about how completing your mission made you feel. On one hand you would be free of the Guild’s relentless hunters, but on the other your partnership with the strange metal man and his adorable beanbag of a son would come to a close. You turned back to your outfit and began cinching a pair of thigh holsters to your legs, hiding your wincing face as the leather closed around your bruises; a blaster on one leg and a knife on the other. You pulled on the dress and fixed up your hair as best you could, then stepped out of your good boots and into the slutty knee-highs. There was only one loose end to take care of.

“Where’s baby?” You glanced around the messy cabin, looking for your foundling. In the corner under a pile of capes there was movement, and you cleared the flashy finery away to reveal your bestest little friend. Big, glittering orbs looked up at you from the pile of fabric, and a tiny toothy grin shined from his cute baby face. “Heya booger, you ready to go?” You scooped him up in your arms for a hug before picking a big shiny scarf up to wrap him up with, then placed him carefully down in one of the gaudy designer bags. “If anyone asks, he is a pet.” The child didn’t seem to care, he was just happy to be included, waving his little pudgy baby hands up at you to hold. You squeezed his tiny paw, then turned to Mando, “You ready to go, Lord Beskar?”

He glanced down at himself, tilting his palms up and shrugging. “I guess so, I feel ridiculous.”

“Good enough!” You made for the exit ramp with a big stride, and almost broke your damn ankle on the first step, falling gracelessly into the arms of your partner. He caught you with ease, and your cheeks went red with his strong, gentle hands on you again for the hundredth time. You got to your feet, but you would be leaning heavily on him for most of the night until the boots were broken in. With you hanging off of his arm the two of you looked like a proper couple, just heading out for a night on the town instead of two bloodthirsty bounty hunters on the prowl. You might let yourself pretend though, just for the night.

You took a transport speeder from the beach to the city’s entrance, then made your way through the gilded streets, following the red blink of the bounty fob towards your quarry. You had to stop multiple times, the fucking boots making your feet hurt like you knew they would. Mando stood patiently with you each time, and more than once offered to just carry you. His visor would glide from side to side, always on the alert for anyone that might be following you, or worse, hunting you down. The tracking fob led you to the most obvious choice of casino: the tallest, brightest, shiniest temple of vice smack dab in the city’s center.

The front entryway was dominated by a roaring, gushing fountain, shooting geysers in a perfectly timed pattern high into the Cantonican night sky. The fountain was lit up with bright, multicolored spotlights so that every stream of water and drop of spray glittered back in defiance of the stars that had inspired them. Inside, the casino floor was packed with patrons, ranging in size and species in an infinite array of wealth and power. Chandeliers hung high above you from the soaring cathedral ceilings, sending sparkling lights racing around the endless room like shooting stars. Every surface was bright and gleaming, dozens of pillars and statues illuminated by blinding limelight. Even the floor was magnificent, black and white marble with huge inlaid stars, guiding gamblers through the limitless space towards their wildest desires. Again you wished you could appreciate the extravagance of it all, though the way the lights streamed like mercury over the beskar of your pretend date made something else sparkle behind your eyes.

The smell of inhalants and alcohol burned in your nose, and you took a moment to make sure your purse puppy’s face was covered with something so he wouldn’t have to endure it as much as you were. The sound of gamblers and music and roaring competition was louder than the screams of the hyperspace engine aboard the Crest, the cacophony of it all making you anxious. You were thankful that you weren’t hunting this bounty alone, and you still held on to Mando tightly, letting him lead you over the cosmic marble floor through the streaming masses. The people paid you no mind, moving out of the way without casting a second glance. Your costumes were working exactly as you had intended, and you applauded yourself for how well you had deceived the City of Lies.

You had guessed that if your bounty would be anywhere, it would be at the center of attention, and you were right. Elios Blackwater sat at the atrium bar, surrounded by beautiful and interesting people. The glint of gold jewelry caught the radiant casino lights every time he moved, drawing the eyes of all those around him. He was telling some kind of wild story that had his little crowd hooked on every word, though you could tell from a distance he was all bullshit. Immediately you knew this was a man that was used to having everything he desired, never being denied a single whim in all his days. A plan began to simmer in your skull, and you knew right away your partner was not going to like it. If you were going to get the quarry alone, you were going to have to persuade him to leave the company of his fans, and you only knew one sure-fire method for a man of Blackwater’s tastes. You let yourself off of your escorts’ arm to turn and face him, pulling his hands to your hips and letting your own rest on his shoulders so that to any outsiders you two would be just another pair of passionate dancers making their way through the counterfeit cosmos.

“Mando, do you trust me?” His hidden eyes were still glancing around the room, scanning for any lurking threats.

“Of course.” His words went right over your head, his ears too full of the sounds of potential danger to really hear you. You huffed and ran your hands to his bedazzled helmet, pulling it down to meet your eyes.

“Pay attention, bucket boy. I need to hear you say it and know that you mean it. Do you trust me?” He cocked his head, confused that you would have to ask twice.

“Yes, ner cyar’ika, I trust you.”

“Good.” You let your hands fall back to his armored shoulders, pressing yourself up against him tighter. Your fingers fidgeted in the heavy material of his cloak, he was going to hate this. “Because I need to do something. Alone.”

That got his attention fast.

“No, it’s too dangerous here. I want you where I can protect you. What if there’s hunters?”

“I know, I need you to cover me, but from a distance. I think I can convince Elios to walk right into the carbonite freezer, but I can’t do it with you looming over me.” You wrapped your hands around the back of his helmet, pulling him down so that his forehead met with yours. “I wouldn’t ask you to do this if I didn’t think it would work.” He sighed between your hands, the steam of his breath slipping out from under the helmet’s edge. There was nothing he would rather not do than be away from you, but he did trust you, and he nodded against your embrace.

“I’ll call for you as soon as I’m ready, ok? Just keep your eyes on me, and don’t cause a scene. No matter what.” You couldn’t kiss him like you wanted to, but you still pressed your lips to the side of his beskar before letting go, pulling yourself away from his tender grasp. His hands still floated in the space where you had been as you turned away from him and made your way to the bar, the heavy purse bumping against your weaponized thighs with every flint and tinder step of your sky high heels. As you got closer to the bounty you could hear the shreds of his conversation starting to make their way over the noise of the casino.

“...And I said ‘Darlin’ if you didn’t want to take it home with you, ya shouldn’t have put it in your mouth!” The way he was telling his story gave you the impression that it wasn’t one you wanted to hear, and you started to regret your foolhardy plan. Gold rings and precious jewels sparkled all the way from his fingers to the caps on his horns, making it impossible for most to look away, a fact made apparent by his captivated audience. The beautiful boozers laughed and cheered at his every word, though from his stupidass sounding story you wondered how much of the affection was alcohol induced. You pulled a seat up at the bar a few stools away from the crowd and ordered yourself a shot of spotchka and a couple packs of cookies. You slipped the snacks into your bag for Din’s foundling, you would be needing him for your plan to work as well; and the promise of treats would keep his bright-eyed attention on you.

The taste of spotchka was vile, but you had started your journey though the galaxy on the gigantic starcruisers that were built on your homeworld of Corellia, and you had gotten to know the taste of the sailor-favorite drink at a tender age. You sipped at your brew, listening casually to the Devaronian’s conversation, but never turned your eyes to him. Every once in a while another bar patron would swagger up beside you to offer you another shot. You turned down anything you didn’t order yourself, but you started telling them fabricated stories about your life among the stars, most of which were wild tales of fancy from old holovids you had seen. You wished you could turn around and find your favorite rust bucket, wherever he may be hiding among the festivities, and give him something to reassure him. A nod or a wave, anything to let him know you weren’t just making him jealous on purpose.

Soon you were throwing back brightly glowing shots of brew, and a handful of interested patrons had gathered around you to hear about how you had jerry-rigged a star cruiser to run on spotchka when you were a space pirate smuggling kyber crystals for the resistance, among other things. When you had your head tilted back you cast a glance towards the bounty, and saw what you had been waiting for. His hooded eyes were watching you intently, he didn’t like that someone was getting any of the attention pie that he believed was his alone, and you knew it wouldn’t be long before he had to do something about it. Soon enough the dapper devil rose from his entourage, running a painted claw through his long dark hair before making his way to you, sauntering with every step.

Hook.

“Well hello there, darlin’, name’s Elios. What’s a pretty little thing like you doing chugging spotchka when you could be drinkin’ something as fine as you are?” The debonair’s words were long and slow, making sure that every drawn syllable would be heard. “Bartender! Get this lovely lady a real drink, if ya please.” You weren’t sure what counted as a ‘real drink’, but the dark liquid that was slid over to you stank even worse than spotchka with the strength of its proof. Elios couldn’t stand that someone else might be having more fun than he was, and he was determined to put you out of commission. He wanted to do it in such a way that you would be thanking him for it, preferably while on your knees. “What’s yer name, baby cakes?”

From the other side of the busy casino you could feel the void of a visor making the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. Mando was standing on the far side of the slot machines where the light was just a little less glaring, so motionless he might have been part of the decorations. He wasn’t sure what your plan was, or how you would talk the quarry into being captured without gaining the suspicion of the wandering security enforcers. He bristled whenever a bar patron started trying to make nice with you, and only got progressively more frustrated when more and more started hanging around you. When he saw the bounty slink his way over to you he wanted to dash across the marble floor and break his fucking neck just for being in your airspace. ‘Don’t make a scene, no matter what’ is what you had told him, and you had asked him to trust you. So he did as he was asked. Watching, waiting.

“Hmm, I don’t think you could handle it.” Oh, Elios didn’t like that one bit, nobody told Mr. Blackwater ‘no’ without consequences. He swirled a glass of the same dark liquid around in one perfectly manicured hand, his polished claws clicking on the side of the glass. You continued to ignore him, but you started on the new drink in front of you. Yucky, at least spotchka was familiar. He took your acceptance of the drink as an invitation to join you at the bar.

“You’re awful sly, baby cakes, tell me yer name so I can make you forget it later.” His pointed teeth flashed out from his crooked smile, and you could smell the stench of expensive cologne and aftershave. You rolled your eyes big and wide so he could see just how unimpressed you were, but your nose was burning from how bad he smelled. This was a bad idea, but only because of how well it was going to work. Fresher soap, where are you?

“I’ll tell you what, if you can out-drink me, I’ll tell you my name.” His wicked smile split his face, showing off rows of brilliant white fangs. Party-boy could probably hold a few good shots, but you were raised by sailors, and you were gonna drink his ass under the table.

“You’re on, sweet cheeks. Bartender! Another round!” Another set of shot glasses plinked to the counter, and vanished just as fast. Elios was eyeing you up and down, seeing if you were all bark and no bite. If he could just get you drunk enough…

Far from where you were drinking the Mandalorian you had asked to trust in you was furious, trying not to thumb the handle of his blaster that poked out from the side of his hip under his cloak. It would be so easy, he could hit the target from here and it would be over, you would be back by his side and not being drooled over by that fucking pathetic excuse for a man.

“He has that effect on people.”

Mando’s helmet snapped on the sounds’ source, so lost in vicious thoughts that he didn’t hear the stranger come to lean against the wall by him. They were tall and thin, translucent green skin and a mop of hair-like cilia growing from their head to their flowy chiffon clothes. They looked exhausted. “That your girl over there?” Mando followed their gaze wordlessly, reluctant to make friends right now while he was busy waiting for you to call him back to your side. “Thought so.” The stranger took a long drag on an inhalant, blowing vibrant pink clouds into the smoky room. “Sorry for your loss, Elios always gets what he wants.” Mando turned again to the stranger, fixing them with his black hole glare, but they only shrugged; watching the drinking game unfold between you and the devil himself.

“Another!” You hollered, but the glasses were already in front of you, then gone again. The Devaronian hissed back the sting of the high-dollar liquor, shaking his long mane that had started to come undone. You pretended to reel from the liquor's effects, leaning back just a tad too far on your seat. “Again!” The third round of shots came and went, and Elios nearly fell off his stool. Right where I want you. You waved at the bartender for the fourth and final shot that would probably put the devil right on his ass, but that’s not where you were headed with this show of tenacity. You had to get him alone before you made your capture, or the security enforcers that littered the casino floor would descend on you like vultures.

You waited til he had thrown his drink back before you tilted yours, purposely spilling a few drops down your front so the booze would trickle down between your breasts. Elios nearly choked, and you knew you had his full, undivided attention. Din, I’m so sorry.

“Woo! I don’t think I can do any more, Mister Blackwater, you win.” you feigned, holding the back of your hand up to your forehead, trying to convince him that the room was spinning for both of you and not just him. His sultry laugh made your skin crawl.

“Please, call me Elios.”

Line.

“Well, Elios, you still wanna know my name? You’re gonna have to work for it.” You placed a hand on his leg, running your fingers up his thigh and around the edge of his waist, pulling at his pockets seductively to drive the point home. Does he have SCALES? What the fuck ew ew ew. He took the hint like a drunk takes to spotchka, flashing you a slurred smile.

“Well… sugar lips, we can take this... elsewhere.”

“Sure thing, Elios, lemme just have my attendant take my Poochie up to my room.” You held the heavy purse up so he could see the big black eyes hiding in its depths.

“What the fuck is that thing?”

“He’s a pet, obviously.”

“What kind’a fuckin’ pet?”

“Purebred.” Your quick answer seemed good enough for Mr. Drinky, and he nodded like that made perfect sense. You raised your fist to the air and snapped your fingers.

The human fortress was at your side in a heartbeat, towering above the two of you. You stuffed the purse in his hands before he could ask where to point his gun. “Here, take Poochums up to my room, mama’s not coming home tonight, if y’know what I mean. Get him washed and fed, and don’t forget to scrub his feet!”

“Yes Ma’am.” The bag was lifted carefully from your fake-drunk hands, and you tried to flash him your best ‘Please-don’t-be-mad-at-me-I-hate-this-too’ face at your partner, but you guessed the look was lost on his visor. The scene did not escape Elios’s eyes like you had hoped it would.

“Now what in the Mmmmaker’s Mammaries is that big ass fuckin’ thing? That some kinda droid? It’s damn fancy.” Shit balls of hell.

“Uh.. Yes! This is the finest in personal assistant droid technology! See, look.” You grabbed Mando’s empty arm and pulled back sharply on the fabric, revealing the delicate button panel of his vambrace. “Only the best money could buy...”

“I gotta get me one of those...” Elios stared bewildered as your personal petsitting droid turned and left. “Well, honey tits, you wanna take this upstairs?” Ugh.

“Oh suurrre… Oh Mr. Blackwater I’m ~soooo~ drunk ahaha…” You were barely buzzed, and you worried that your life among the stars had given your liver bigger balls than a bounty hunter. You wobbled on your stool, for phase two of your plan to work you would have to delay Elios as long as possible. You watched as the man whose heart you had stolen faded away from you, the fancy purse hooped over his shoulder and knocking up against his leg, cape billowing behind him as he went. Alright, Baby Beans, it’s up to you now!

Din was seething under his helmet, pissed as shit that this was what your elaborate ‘plan’ entailed. He was trying not to storm through the casino as he left to take your ‘Poochums’ up to your room, whatever the hell that fucking meant. How could he be so fucking stupid? This was exactly the same ruse you had tried to pull on him from day one. Seduction was your real talent, luring your lovers to their untimely demise. How many times had you pulled this stunt? Was this your master plan all along? Ouch. Play with his heart until you were free of your Guild warrant? Ow. You were just using him to get to Nevarro, then you would fuck off to the stars and leave him behind. After everything you had been through, he was just another notch on your bedp-

“OUCH!”

Din looked down to his side where the pain he was trying to ignore was coming from, and saw a fat green paw sticking out of the ugly expensive purse, digging vicious talons into the side of his leg. His foundling was trying to burrow through his thigh, and his claws might actually have drawn blood. “What, womp rat? What do you want?” There was something in the baby’s other hand, something golden and flashy. Din reached into the bag and pulled the embossed card from his son’s grasp. What’s this? There was a set of numbers etched in gold filigree in the top of the card, their shimmer blasting away the destructive void he had been spiraling into.

Key card! PENTHOUSE key card! You had tricked the bounty into getting close enough to you that you could pick his pocket without him noticing. You were luring Elios right into a trap, and your Mandalorian was the snare. Din felt a mix of emotion ranging from relief to shame, how could he even think for one second that you might be deceiving him? You had asked him to trust you, and he couldn’t even contain his jealousy long enough to make it through one hunt. He felt like such an ass, you were putting your skills to good use, at great risk to your own safety, just like he had asked you to from the beginning. This wasn’t just his hunt anymore, it was a joint effort between the two of you, and it was his turn to run the next leg of the relay. The heavy, silver-laced cloak was tossed to the side as he raced to the elevator, fluttering away behind him as he flew to beat you there.

Meanwhile, you were trying to keep the bounty from falling flat on his face, and the only way to do that was to hold him up yourself. His hands were all over you, the nick of sharp, neat claws catching on the fabric of your evening dress and scratching along your skin. I’m gonna break those fingers, motherfucker. He was slurring his words, making disgusting promises of what he was gonna do to you when you reached his private penthouse. You were just out of range of his boozehole, the lippy thing trying to steal a taste of you. Wobbly steps slowed you both down to almost a crawl, which was exactly what you were trying to do, anything to give Mando time to find the hotel room first. You passed a discarded cloak on the floor, the familiar silver inlay catching the light, and you worried that you might have pushed your partner too far. What if he left? What if he didn’t see the keycard and I’m heading up alone? Please be there, Din. Please don’t leave me with this fucking creep. You both reached the elevator, and Elios fumbled to find his wallet, thankfully having a spare key that he didn’t know he needed. The doors opened, and you realized you would be stuck in your own personal hell for the entire trip up to the top floor suite. Fucking super.

Elios was getting impatient during the ride up, and it took every fiber of your being to keep from retching as his well-moisturized hands ran up and down your spine. The elevator door opened directly into the penthouse, and his perfectly manicured claws dug into your ass to usher you into the room. The top floor suite was dark, save for the lights of Canto Bight shining in through the cathedral windows. You took a mental note of the speeder parked out on the balcony, you would be needing it later. The Devaronian was at your ear, breathing hot, boozy steam around your neck until he was facing you. He went to bite at your mouth, but you stopped him with a finger to his lips.

"I wouldn't do that, if I were you." You whispered in your most convincing lust-laden voice. The devil chuckled and ran his slimy, forked tongue around the halting digit. Barf.

"Oh yeah, baby cakes? Why’s that?"

You batted your eyelashes and bit your lip into a wry smile before meeting his half-lidded eyes. "Because... you're going to make Daddy very angry."

His lips turned upwards in an aroused sneer, flashing his dazzling, daggerlike teeth, "How could getting a taste of that fiery little mouth’a yours make me angry, darlin’?"

Sinker.

"I'm not talking about you, I'm talking about him."

Elios didn't even have a chance to turn around to see where your eyes were looking before a black and silver fist broke his nose and sent his perfect teeth soaring across the room, throwing him down to the marble floor. Seeing his busted prettyboy face bleeding at your feet made you feel so relieved that a vicious shiver made its way from your head to your toes, and you let your body shake the devil’s touch off of you like a big wet bantha.

"Fuck! Oh fucking hell, Mando, you have -no idea- how hard it was to keep that up, he’s so gross! I’m gonna chuck his ass in carbonite so fucking hard his horns’ll break off!" Your partner was still squared up, just waiting for the interloper to try and get up and fight. He wanted the bounty to get up, flail, scream, any excuse to hit him again. But Blackwater was out cold, staining the white marble floor with his blood.

"You looked like you were handling it."

The deadpan tone of his voice told you that wasn't exactly a compliment, remembering the jealousy that had seethed out of him on Tatooine after that Trandoshan had tried to capture you. You had two choices: you could either try to defend yourself and your unconventional bounty catching method, or you could turn that jealousy in your favor. He didn’t remember much from his toxic encounter with the Ardennian, but you knew that every filthy, possessive thing he had said to you that night was still somewhere in that chrome dome of his; and you became determined to bring them to the light. You crossed one arm over your chest, raising the other to tap a finger against the corner of your lips.

"Oh? You didn't like that, did you? Didn't like that he had his hands on me? Touching things that don’t belong to him?" He didn't answer, but the creaking of leather from his fists tightening told you what you already knew. "Tell me, Mando."

"N-no." His visor remained fixed on the unconscious body still bleeding on the floor. Not good enough.

"No what?"

"No. I didn't like that." His voice was low and raspy, but only because he was trying to keep the boiling rage in his chest from blowing his fucking helmet off.

"Tell me what you didn't like." You stepped over the quarry to your man, running your fingers from his balled fists over his silk and steel arms until you were at his shoulders. You could feel the slightest shudder under all his layers at your touch.

"I didn't like him touching you. Nobody should put their hands on you, cyar'ika" His fists lowered to his sides but his visor was still on the floor. You let your hands wander up his neck to the bejeweled recesses of his helmet and turned him to meet your eyes.

"Why not?"

"B-because..."

"I want to hear you say it."

"Because you are mine." He growled through his helmet so hard that you swore you saw it vibrate, sending a delicious tingle though your spine. Atta boy.

“Again.”

“You are mine!” Even behind the beskar you could hear the clench of his teeth biting back deeper desires. His hands went to your waist, pulling you tightly to his chest. The fire coming off of him was scalding, you had pushed your luck too far with this one, and you could feel the volcano inside his ribcage boiling over. He was furious. His heavy armored head pushed against your brow, and you let your thumbs wrap around the bottom of his helmet to find the thinnest sliver of skin where the metal met the man.

“That’s right, I’m all yours.” When you had said that line to him the first time, you had been plotting your escape from his clutches, but as the reassuring words left your lips you knew there was nobody else in the galaxy you would have running their hands up your sides; and you mentally crossed ‘seduction’ off of your list of hunting skills for good. His oath of me'dinuir had swore him to your side alone, and now you knew without a shred of doubt that you wanted it to go both ways; whether you were Mandalorian or not.

You kissed at the bottom of his visor, so close to getting to feel the true, living flesh of him, and yet so far. You had to have him, you had to purge the demon’s touch from your body with the purifying fire of your protector’s rage. A choked, needy groan made its way out of the modulator, and you felt the heat of his breath on your skin. How desperately you wanted to taste it, fill your mouth with the flavor of him to replace the vile spotchka. You pushed up on his jaw, giving you just a tiny glance at his scruffy chin, and you forced your kisses into the tight, unyielding space of the beskar prison. It wasn’t enough for you, but it was a start, and you could feel his body starting to unwind at your touch. “Kiss me. Please, Mando.”

“Cyar'ika, it's not safe here.” He hated the sound of his own words, the denial of them crushing his very soul. You glanced around the dark penthouse and saw you were alone save for the crumpled devil on the floor and the designer purse that had been stashed in the corner of the room, its occupant still working on the bags of cookies. No eyes on us.

“I won’t look, just... lift your helmet a tiny bit, tin man, I need you, I need to kiss you.” You guessed you were safe enough from prying eyes, but you wouldn’t spill his name to the night just in case there were any sneaky listeners. You squeezed your own eyes shut and nipped at the armors edge again, and just ever-so-slightly began to push up on the unforgiving metal with your thumbs. You were just waiting for his hands to shoot up, to grab your wrists and halt your actions, but they were locked to your sides. Inch by inch you gradually lifted the armor, he would have all the time in the world to stop you, but when you felt the heat of his lips crash against yours you almost let your knees buckle out from under you. His strong arms were tight on your back, pulling you into him so he could kiss you harder.

So much better than spotchka. He was delicious, his taste, his feel, his scent, everything about him was intoxicating. So much more so than the despicable brew you had been throwing back all night, and a thousand times better than anything Elios could have offered. Blech. You realized then why the bounty had smelled so bad to you, though his perfume was expensive and his clothes freshly pressed, he was wrong for you. The wrongness was so overwhelming that it had nearly made you lose your drink, and you didn’t realize how wrong something could be until you tried to compare it to what was right. Din was right, he smelled of leather and beskar and the sweat of a man that had nearly combusted when someone else was at your side. And fresher soap! Thank the Maker.

A soft leather hand went to your head, pulling you into him so he could taste you better. His tongue ran over your lips, darting into you to find yours so they could dance together. You bit him playfully, and the way his breath hitched in his throat sent the fire of your core shooting all the way to your fingertips; and you knew right then that not even kissing his forbidden face would be enough for you. You pulled yourself from his lips, the snap of teeth following your retreat, reluctant to let you leave from the heat of the moment. Carefully, you let the beskar slide back down to cover him, and the anguished whine he let out into the night air almost broke your heart.

“I know, I know, I’m so mean to you, aren’t I?” With him covered you glanced around the room until you saw the private bar. With your thumbs hooked in the pockets of his borrowed vest you guided the two of you towards it until the granite countertop knocked against your ass. You used his shoulders for leverage, hopping up onto the cold surface and wrapping your knees round his waist, happy to find exactly what you were expecting to throbbing between your legs. He pushed himself against you, the feel of his stolen silks on your holstered thighs giving you goosebumps. His heavy metal head fell against your shoulder, and you wrapped your arms around him to hold him close while he ground up against your heat. He couldn’t contain himself around you, though you wouldn’t want him to if he could. You rocked your hips in time with his needy thrusts, and the growls in your ear almost made you think he would come undone with his pants still on. Can’t have that now, can we? "Mando, please fuck me, I can't wait anymore."

You heard thunder rumble out of his chest, sending electricity from where he was pressed to your shoulder straight down to where he was pulsing against your core. He was going to bring you the stars, alright, but not the ones in the night sky. He pulled back so he could look into your eyes from behind his visor, bringing a hand up to caress your pleading face.

"No, I don't want to fuck you." Your eyes shot wide, shocked that he wouldn't want you when he was rutting so hard into you that you could almost feel the dampness of precum through his layers. He saw your face and shook his head. "Elios wanted to fuck you, all of those creeps at the bar wanted to fuck you.” His helmet shook, trying to loosen the words he wanted to say. “No... I- I want to be better than them, I want to give you something else, s-something more.” He was struggling, his inexperience making it difficult to say what was on his mind. All he knew was that he didn’t want to be like them, he wanted to be worthy of you in ways they never could.

“Then make love to me instead.”

“Yes!” The words leaving your lips were like music to his ears, so much more lovely than any song. “I want to do that! I want to make love to you, cyar’ika, if you’ll have me?”

You laughed, nodding your head to hide your bright red cheeks. How he managed to be so ferocious and so sweet on the same day was a mystery you didn’t want to solve. He quickly glanced around the room one more time just to be sure you were alone, the light of the gilded city sending streaks of color over the charms you had pressed to his cheeks. Satisfied that you were the only ones awake in the room, he leaned away from you to rip the constricting blazer off of himself so hard the fabric around his chest and shoulders started to tear. Beskar plates twinkled in the limelight, sending stars flying around the room while he worked his pants open. The sight of him springing into view made your heart flutter, among other things. Long and strong, a pearl of precum glimmering in the dark of the penthouse. His hands went to your legs, the leather of his palms snagging on the straps still belted to your thighs as he pushed the elegant fabric of your dress up to your waist.

“You’re soaked.” You wished you could see what he saw through his visor, the sound of hitched breath telling you he could see you blooming for him clear as day, drinking you in with his hidden eyes. He hooked a thumb in the wet fabric of your panties to pull them out of the way, using his other hand to grip his cock and run the tip over your entrance, bumping against your clit while he lubed himself with your slick. You had to lean back until you were laying on the cold granite countertop, tilting your hips to the edge of the bar so he could see all of you on display. He pressed himself up and in, filling you slowly so he could indulge in every inch that disappeared inside. Your stretched walls clenched around him, making him shiver with each coiled squeeze. The Mandalorian you were giving yourself to pulled himself out of you carefully before thrusting back into you again, fighting every animalistic urge to just plow you into the bar. He was going to make good on his word, he wasn’t going to just fuck you.

But maybe he should have.

“Bing!”

The penthouse elevator door chimed, and both of you pointed blasters on the figure that walked out from the pink haze of the lift into the dark of the room. “Elios? I know you’re up here, I’m just going to get- Oh. There you are.” The stranger spotted the crumpled, unconscious body on the floor, crossing the room until they stood over him. “About time someone split that beautiful lip of yours, Lee-lo.” The stranger that Mando had run into on the casino floor turned their tired eyes to the pair of you, noticing your obvious state of passion. “Oh please, don’t stop on my account, that’s not the worst thing I’ve walked into up here.” They squinted in the dark, then gasped softly, “Wait, it’s you! Oh good! I saw you when you were dancing and was just heartbroken when Lee-lo came between you.” The tall stranger did a little dance. “Fucking Elios.” They kicked at the Devaronian on the floor, “All he lives for is breaking hearts. I’m glad you two made up.”

The wisp of a stranger bent down to the motionless figure on the floor, yanking one of the gold rings from his horns. They said something too low for you to hear, then got up and left in another cloud of pink smoke, the elevator door closing behind them.

You both lowered your blasters, trying to wrap your collective heads around what had just happened. Mando was still buried to the hilt inside you, and you could feel him pulsing with need; but he had been right from the beginning. You weren’t safe here.

“That’s probably not the only spare key. We should go.” You whispered, trying to get your blaster back to its holster under your dress. He groaned, he was getting sick of being torn away from you. He pulled himself almost all the way out, thrust in one more time for good luck, and released himself with a pop! He pulled you to your feet, helping you down from the bar and onto the Maker-forsaken boots you still had on. Fuck these. You ripped the boots off, chucking them somewhere into the dark and crossed the room barefoot to where the oversized purse held the foundling. You were happy to see him all tuckered out in a pile of cookie wrappers, probably not the healthiest thing for him, but it worked. Behind you, your armored companion was hauling the quarry over his shoulder none too gently, ‘accidentally’ knocking his bloody head against the wall as he turned back to you. You both made for the balcony door to the speeder you had noticed earlier, tossing the bounty in the back seat like a bag of garbage.

The ride back to the Crest was thick with anticipation, you weren't finished with each other just yet. Mando pulled the speeder right up to the ramp so you wouldn’t have to walk across sharp gravel, chucking the bounty in after you so hard he slid through the messy cabin and smashed into the wall. You slung the damned devil into the carbonite chamber, punching the freeze button with gusto. The ramp closed behind your armored companion, barely giving you a chance to get up onto the hoverskiff that still dominated the cabin floor before the lights went off. You yanked the dress over your head, listening for the sound of more fabric hitting the floor, then the clanking of beskar being tossed carelessly aside. Belts and snaps and zippers went flying, and you had to try not to laugh at the absurd amount of clothes he had to take off. The skiff tilted with new weight, and the body of a Mandalorian was on top of you, warm lips hunting for yours.

He’s naked! Every piece of armor and shred of clothing was gone, and the feel of bare skin against your body was electrifying. His mouth crashed against yours, fervent kisses desperate to taste you again. You let your fingers tangle in his hair, pulling him into you to kiss back. He was hungry for you, biting at your mouth and tongue like a man starved. Plush lips made their way from your mouth down your neck, nipping at your throat and sucking the tender skin until you had bruises to match the ones on your thighs. His hands wandered down your body, rubbing at your breast and teasing your nipples until you were gasping for more. The devious digits moved on until his hand was between your legs, pushing at your folds and finding your clit to spin circles on. He was becoming an expert at finding what made you squirm and whine from his touch, rolling callused fingertips into you until you were making a delicious mess on the pile of stolen silk.

But he wasn’t done there. The fuzzy kisses went from your breast down your belly to where his fingers were working into you. He pulled his hands from your soaked cunt and replaced them with his face, pushing his tongue up against the tiny ball of nerves that had so much power over you. Short, quick circles between long, languid licks had you arching your back and pulling his hair, demanding more. Lost in the heat of your thighs he was happy to give you everything, pushing the smooth muscle of his mouth into your slit and upwards against your clit until you were seeing stars again.

Your hands couldn’t stop exploring him, from his thick head of curls to the strength of his shoulders. The muscles kept going, tight coils on his back and the warm, rigid wall of his chest. The trail of fuzz on his belly went up farther than you were expecting it to, and the fine hairs tickled your fingers on almost every inch of his skin. Your hands trailed over the numerous, vicious scars that marred his flesh like a road map of every near-death experience he had lived through. Gashes on his arms and burns on his sides had healed over into smooth, textureless skin, the marks of a seasoned hunter that nobody but their barer had ever seen.

Having drank his fill, he pulled his face from the apex of your thighs, pushing your knees apart and quickly sheathing himself in you with a ragged groan. Mando’a praises poured from his lips, some you were familiar but many you weren’t, though all of them made your heart flutter. Strong hands wrapped around your knees to keep you in place on the wobbly sled while he pounded into you, the feeling of bare skin on the backs of your legs making you wish you could see him in the light. But the darkness was the greatest keeper of secrets, hiding your love making from the condemnation of his creed.

Make love. Though the phrase was just another on the long list of euphemisms used for sex, the pair of words weighed heavy with meaning in their new context. You wanted to explore the concept the way your hands explored his body, but the fire of your core was thrumming with heat, demanding your undivided attention. Din fell forward to your chest, the sweat of his efforts sticking to your breasts. Wandering kisses sent fire over your skin as he made his way over your peaks, sucking hard on their tender buds. Beskar-strong hips rocked against yours until you saw fireworks again, bearing down so hard on him with your orgasm that he sank his teeth into the crook of your shoulder. Bites made their way from where he had surely drawn blood on your flesh up your neck til they turned to kisses again. His brow pushed against your forehead, though your lips were right there he still defaulted to the only show of affection his armored inheritance allowed. Hot gasps of air puffed over your skin from the heat of his breath, and you knew he was close. You locked your legs around him, forcing him to pump every last drop of himself into you, painting your walls with his seed until it was spilling down your ass onto the piles of clothes.

The strength of his arms gave up, and he let himself fall against you, his face pushed against your cheek. You could feel his bristles brushing over your skin as his breath heaved, soft but scratchy. His hands wrapped under you and up your back, hugging you to his bare chest so hard the air was squeezed from your lungs. Fuzzy-lipped kisses dotted your cheeks and face, taking extra time to kiss your lips, each one a promise of more to come. You dragged your nails over his back, making him groan and shake at the touch. Never had anyone to scratch that itch, have you, tinman? Tight muscles loosened under your careful touch, making him sink harder onto you until you couldn’t tell where he ended and you began.

You wanted to stay there forever, but as the sweat on your bodies cooled it became sticky and made pulling yourselves apart a chore. Both of you reluctantly made your way off of the skiff, clinging to the walls of the cabin while he hunted for his helmet in the dark. Lights came on gradually once his bucket was back in place so you could find your own clothes, and when you had both gotten yourselves put back together you piled everything you had stolen onto the hoverskiff and pushed it back down the ramp of the Crest. The Mandalorian was back in his beskar, and he cocked his vambrace back and shot a wall of fire onto the little sled, incinerating all evidence of your thievery and passion. The bonfire burned brightly on the gravelly beach of the Cantonican ocean, sending flaming ash into the light of the new dawn.

You decided to keep the red pocket square that you had tucked in on his costume, though you weren't sure what you would need it for again. Sentimental. You went to the supply crates where your backpack and droid mask were kept so you could squirrel the thing away, when you caught the familiar glowing blue of spotchka at the bottom of the larder. The horrible color made you fucking nauseous after today, but even more distressing was that you realized it was just sitting there unsecured when there was an impish child onboard that could easily get into the bottled brew and make himself sick, or worse.

“Din, we need to put this somewhere safer.” You held the liquid lantern up for him to see what you were talking about. “What if our foundling gets into it? He might get really sick or-”

“Our?”

Shit. “Sorry, your foundling. Your foundling might get-” Din crossed the small space of the cabin until he was standing close to you, the child in question tucked against his chest. The baby’s big, nebulous eyes glittered up at you, and you couldn’t help reaching out to rub his sail-like ears. He chirped happily at your touch, and as much as you wanted to keep your eyes on him, his father was towering over you, making you squirm under his tilted glare.

“Say that again.”

“Your foundling.”

“No. The other word.”

“Our?”

“All of it.”

“Our foundling?” His helmet cocked to the other side, doing his big metal bird impression. The arm that wasn’t holding the child pulled you up against his chest, squeezed right against the baby in question. The familiar galaxy-erasing hug made you realize how many times you had thought of the child as your own, he was your little buddy, your missing baby when he had been stolen away, your secret weapon that you had hidden in your purse. But he wasn’t your child, he was Din’s, so for him to also be considered as yours…

“Ours.” Above you the word was spoken like it was new, as strange on his tongue as Mando’a was to you. “Our foundling. I like that.”

You couldn’t turn your head up to look at the man who had you wrapped against himself so tightly, but you could smile at the green little child that was flashing you his adorable toothy grin. You little fart, you thought with a laugh, you’re gonna make me go all soft. Almost as though the creature could hear your thoughts he squealed in delight, patting your cheeks with his fat baby paws. You let your arms circle around the boys that had made your life a roller coaster of emotion blasting through the endless sea of stars. It might be a hell of a ride, but you weren't ready to get off any time soon. The memory of the sands of Tatooine where you had been trying to forget the dangers of the universe was starting to fade away, replaced by the moment you were losing yourself in. You were happy to see it go, though your past self would be shocked at how comfortable you had gotten with a magic alien baby and a man with no face.

“Yeah… I like it too.” You hummed into the beskar, feeling Din’s arms tighten even more. You were glad he couldn’t see your face, because the lovely smile had vanished. This is all going to end soon. You buried your face in the tiny space between the foundling and his father’s armor, trying to ignore where the coaster’s rails ended. Only one stop left.

Nevarro, here we come.

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vegalocity · 3 years ago

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The Interrim-Red Groom AU

So i’m diving backward into the ‘Dont worry about it’ pool after that finale

SO DON’T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT YOU GUYS WHO’S UP FOR MORE PRINCESS BRIDE AU?

I had to make an entire scene up because for the Story to keep going Princess Bride Style Red Son needed to get fucked over one more time

Soon enough three days time had passed and Red Son was ready to make his escape. Due to the nature of his ruse against the prince he hadn't made any arrangements to set up a forge or workshop for his passions, so he didn't have much by way of equipment to make his escape, and every day the prince asked to join him for at least one meal, wherein he would 'politely' ask over Xiaotian, claiming to want to know a little about the man whom had stolen his groom right out from under him.

He said these things in jest and laughter, but Red Son was no fool and could easily see the flint behind his eyes, ready and willing to twist any information Red Son gave about Xiaotian against him, to try and convince him that his beloved wouldn't take him back. Willing to take whatever details he gave him and put them in some falsified letter of rejection in attempt to make him believe his love wanted him no more, so he wouldn't put up a fight any longer.

So he lied. He spoke of not the Inn that he'd met Xiaotian in, but implied he'd always been the lord of his mountain. How they hadn't been able to be engaged due to his parents having a letter of neutrality between his family and Xiaotian's own, and how he'd had to go on a perilous journey to nullify that arrangement, but they'd believed him dead. He told him Xiaotian favored poetry, and was in fact a gifted shapeshifter, preferring a more human appearance like himself as it made travel far easier when people underestimated you.

The prince had soon grown bored of his prattling, and Red Son found it almost ironic that for once he was not speaking of tinkering and his projects when his conversational partner stopped listening. After those meals scarce as they were, the prince ended up straightening his back primly and claimed he had a meeting of some sort with his macaque general, and left him to his devices.

So now here he was, ready to make his escape.

It took actually took the longest time to try and pare down an outfit from this place so that it would be inconspicuous enough to use for travel, but he'd managed, sneaking some nonperishable food and a spare dagger into his pack for preparation and extra protection had been easy. He just made it seem to the servants that he was still anticipating the response to a letter that was never sent, and eagerly awaiting for a letter that would not exist that stated his return to Xiaotian's mountain was expected, and thus was slowly yet steadily prepping for the journey. The pitying glances he could sense the servants shooting him definitely told that they were aware of the fact that he was being 'tricked'.

But Red Son paid them no mind, after all, he knew the prince was full of lies, and he was going to be gone before the night's end anyway.

But then Red Son was summoned for his usual meal with the prince, and he willed his nerves to freeze over. He couldn't let his plans slip, while he'd long since regained his strength form his injuries in the forest he was only one demon and there was a mountain of servants and guards that would be standing between him and making a break for it if he didn't have stealth on his side.

“Beloved.” The prince greeted him as he entered. “My messengers have returned from their trip.” In three days time? How oblivious did he take him for?

Nonetheless he perked up, did his best to look eager and excited. He was never quite sure if he looked convincing, but he just needed to pretend for a few more hours.

The letter was brought right over to him, and he quickly undid the seal to reveal a message that in no way was written by his love. Though they did a good job at pretending, claiming it was written by 'his mother'—Xiaotian had never spoken of his biological parents, and his adoptive ones were both men, but in his prattling Red Son had invented a mother for his fake backstory—and that she was writing in 'her Son's stead as he was too upset and angry to be able to make a readable response. Going on to say that Xiaotian had returned to 'their mountain' in tears and had sworn that this was one too many cruelties Red Son had delivered him, and that he never wanted to speak to someone so two faced he convinced him twice of their supposed love only to twice have his heart ground into the dirt by him ever again.

It was well phrased, he'd give the prince that. It even stung a little when the supposed 'mother' had regaled that 'Xiaotian' had bitterly given 'his blessing' to his impending marriage. The thought of his love, bitter and betrayed, felt so wrong his heart hurt just at the idea.

But he couldn't let himself linger on that lest he lose his courage.

“This cannot be...” he breathed, hoping beyond all hope his knowledge of the deception read as simply denial.

“Is there something wrong?” The Prince asked around his cup. “Surely your beloved made it home safely.”

“This cannot be...” he didn't know what else to say without possibly giving himself away, so he could only hope that it sounded like shock.

“Beloved?”

He stood, he had to get out of the prince's sight before he failed to properly mask his knowledge.

“This is a lie! She... She never approved of us!” Red Son hoped at least that gave his reaction plausible deniability.

“Didn't you recently just regale to me that Xiaotian's mother loved you as a suitor for her son?” He cursed internally, but before he could scramble to cover the lie the prince continued. “Beloved, I know it must be hard to hear, but we had an agreement. Xiaotian wants no more to repair what he believed you threw away, his mother;s missive reveals as much. You gave me your word that no matter his desire you would respect his choices. Don't be selfish, love.” Red Son would be lying yet more if he claimed that that didn't sting a little.

But he'd get to that bridge when he got to it, so he turned on his heel and stormed from the room. The servants gave him a wide berth as he marched towards his rooms, face fierce but mind preoccupied with escape plans.

So preoccupied in fact he didn't notice a particular shadow following behind him.

Upon reaching his quarters he made sure to scare off any staff that would rat him out and began to scream, his fire coursing and bursting out from his body in waves, scorching the furniture around him and leaving piles of soot to build up atop his shoes. Soon enough the room had enough damage for word of his fury to have been carried to the prince, and the servants far too afraid to make their way in for quite some time. He'd have about an hour of being given a very wide berth before someone came in to check up on him.

Red Son darted for his bed and hidden among the luxurious blankets was his makeshift bag, he double checked the contents inside and nodded to himself when he came to the conclusion that everything was in order. Then he approached the writing desk and reached beneath it. Feeling around for a moment he grinned slightly to himself as he pulled out the small bottle. He'd always gotten praises in potion making, but this wasn't a potion that would make his tutors proud. He didn't NEED any magical properties in it, he just needed it to be flammable.

Which it was.

Just as he went over his plan one more time the shadows in the room seemed to flicker, and Red Son felt strikingly cold despite the amount of fire he'd just unleashed.

“I told him you were more clever than he was expecting out of you.” The voice startling him and nearly causing Red Son to drop the potion in his hands, he scrambled with the glass bottle and turned to the source of the noise.

The Six eared macaque had appeared in his room, how had he gotten in there without him noticing?

“Oh... I uhm...” He didn't have a lie prepared, Red Son's mind raced to try and come up with a plausible excuse but improvisation was never his strong suit, he would so quickly grow flustered and frustrated and usually do himself in so how could he be expected to lie convincingly on first bout?

“Don't waste a perfectly good lie trying to cover up what we both already know.” The macaque stated, a sort of boredom in his voice that made Red Son stiffen. “You know the letter was false, you know what the prince has planned for you.” The macaque took a step forward and Red Son prepared to fight him, but remembered after a beat the fire resistance charm he'd had on his person scant few days ago. He likely had it on him right now.

“I love it, he can't stand it, but I love it... Of course that also means his plans are a complete waste of your talents as far as I'm concerned. If he hadn't planned that whole 'spider queen and her ilk' situation Your lover wouldn't have found out until it was too late, and we probably could have convinced you to go to war if he'd just been a bit more patient.”

“You're talking an awful lot for someone who supposedly is on his side.”

“I'm on MY side, highness.” The macaque said easily. “The Prince is no one to sneeze at, but then again, neither are you. Tell me, should I endorse this little sneak about and help you escape? What would benefit me from not telling the prince about your little explosive and your plans?”

He racked his brain for a moment. “I can tell my parents of your assistance in enabling my escape, they'd no doubt give you the same power you have here, accompanied by my family's resources you'd find yourself with more force behind yourself than you'd know what to do with. Or if I told Xiaotian he could do the same at his own mountain, he's not exactly a nobody either-”

That second part was a mistake, by how the macaque's expression darkened. “Yes I know He's the 'New Monkey King'. Sun Wukong's Body double.” He stated simply. But before Red Son could take it back or just ensure alliance with his own family, he found his arms being restrained. A pair of clones made of shadow clung to his sides and while they dispersed quickly under his fire it was only for a moment.

Then there was a golden glow, and his arms all at once felt very heavy indeed as a cold pair of cuffs—the second set of wrist cuffs that the macaque had shown him- how had he forgotten about those?—activated and forced his wrists together. The magic quickly worked its way through his system again and he felt a cold shudder wrack up his spine.

“Your 'beloved' was quite loose lipped once I got him going on the machine. Don't hold it against him, highness, I haven't met a single man that could hold up against that level of pain.”

for a moment the words didn't process in his head, abut when they did any other thought flew right from his head.

There was only rage.

It was pathetic really, how quickly he'd been apprehended, how his fire had only a moment outside his body before once again being turned back round onto him, and his body—now remembering the pain he could do onto himself—forced his magic to cease. There was no instinctual blaze to shatter the cuffs this time, because he realized as more of the macaque's shadow clones pinned him down, that he didn't believe him.

There was no way that Xiaotian had been this monster's plaything. He had learned whatever it was he'd implied he'd learned through other methods, maybe as simple as recognizing Flower Fruit Mountain and Xiaotian had to explain the situation to him.

But If it was just his own escape the macaque was stopping then wouldn't he have not wasted the time in toying with him like that? Wouldn't he have just told the prince and been done with it? Put the cuffs on him without the monologue? Why would he waste his time in trying to trick Red son into believing him possible to sway?

Unless-

Unless he'd heard about Xiaotian planning on coming back for him himself

He almost wanted to laugh even as the clones forced him back to his feet and the Macaque crushed his liquid fireball in his hand. He was unsure if anything could make him as fearful or angry or whatever feeling it had been to make him break his restraints again as they did back in the forest, but it explained his knowledge of Xiaotian's identity, as well as his anger, and his attempt to trick Red Son. To test to see how far Red Son was willing to go to to defy the prince and follow his own heart.

But that didn't matter.

Xiaotian was coming for him.

It was a bitter medicine to take, to have to once again rely on his love to save him, rendered with naught but his intelligence on his side and left close to defenseless with these stupid cuffs back around his wrists, but He'd make it up to him.

For everything Xiaotian had done for him and how thoroughly Red Son had proved himself unworthy of such devotion, Red Son swore then to himself, that once this was all over, once he and Xiaotian were safe he'd make it all up to him. For every moment for the rest of their shared lives together.

Because when he saw him again he was never letting go.

–

“Captain I've heard rumors that the Monkey King is planning on killing my groom.’”

“My prince I've heard no such rumors-”

“Are you implying my spymaster lies to me?”

“Of- of course not my prince! What must be done to protect your groom before the wedding?”

“I'm currently having my beloved moved to a safer, more secure room in the palace to ensure no harm shall befall him before the wedding date, and we're moving the wedding itself up a few days. Go to the village and nearby forest, and the closest town, and round up all with former criminal histories. I want every possible hired gun behind bars by the time of my wedding in three days time.”

“Three days time your highness? Such a feat would require more men than we have at our disposal at the moment-”

“Then form a brute squad! You have my clearance! I want my prince safe from all harm! If He dies, then we'll have no choice but to go to war and we lack the men for such an insurgence against the Monkey King! I would have to go to his parents begging for assistance and that is not a bar I am willing to lower myself to!”

“Yes your highness!”

“Go! Waste no time!”

“Of course!”

–

Xiaojiao stared into the bottom of the jug of wine. Drained, just like all the others.

Her head was pleasantly fuzzy and the wine in her blood buzzed comfortably. It was a familiar state, she wasn't dependent on intoxication, but when she was at her lowest she would often find solace in the buzzed pleasantness of a good bender. Because here she was again.

No work, no leads, no friends.

Spider Queen had told her if they got separated that she should go back to where 'it started' i.e. The inn they'd gotten the job at. So she'd rented a room, and spent the next few days waiting, and when it became clear neither the Spider Queen, nor even Sandy were turning up, when Xiaojiao was made aware that she was well and truly alone, she blew most of her money on as much wine as she could get her hands on and began to chug.

She felt much like the scared twelve year old she once was, clinging to the handle of the Jade Sword and telling herself it didn't matter how terrified she was, as she HAD to fight. Her scar twinged at the memory.

At least no one would sell wine to a twelve year old. She didn't USED to be this pathetic when she was lonely and sad and on the verge of despair. She used to have other avenues to vent it all when it became too much.

Someone could storm right in right now with news on finding the Six Eared Macaque and Xiaojiao couldn't even be sure if she'd believe them for how despondent she felt.

“Long Xiaojiao?” A voice broke her reverie. Xiaojiao blinked blearily up at the tough looking fellow before her.

“Who wants to know?” she slurred.

“You've been arrested twice for assault and once for theft, as a security precaution all with criminal records are behind detained for the next three days by order of the prince.”

She scoffed. “I'd like to see you try, buddy.” Her fingers felt heavy but she lifted the sword easily.

Her form was off, her limbs felt loose and limp, but she still held her own against the brute's clumsy axe swings. It would be pathetic to lose to this chump.

But before the fight could be solved one way or another, a pair of blue hands wrapped around the brute's torso and lifted him into the air.

And Xiaojiao was met with a very familiar (if blurry through her impaired vision) red bearded smile.

“Sandy!”

“Xiaojiao! So nice to see you again!” Sandy set the brute down but kept hold of his torso. “This is the friend I told you about captain, she's far more dangerous alone than she is with me. I'll keep her out of trouble, I can promise you that!”

She loved watching Sandy loom. The aura around him making anyone who didn't know him reel back as every alarm in their brains fired off danger signs. His pleasant grin and tone didn't change but to the people around them that was more frightening than before.

“Just mark her name right off there and I can handle the rest!” Sandy chirped and the shaking brute did just that, stiffly turning and marching out of the inn.

“Sandy you old bastard.” She cooed delightedly as Sandy shifted his focus back onto her and she felt the cool blue hands wrap around her own torso before she was pulled into a hug.

“You smell like wine, Are you okay, Xiaojiao you don't drink unless...-” Sandy shot her a far too knowing look.

“I've been better buddy, I'll admit.”

“Well, If it helps I've heard a lot of rumors and seen a lot of things as part of this little 'brute squad' some things that might interest you.”

“Hm?” She leaned into Sandy's embrace, her friend really gave the absolute best hugs.

“I think I found the Six Eared Macaque.”

Xiaojiao wasn't sure if it was disbelief, shock, sudden crashing cresting hope, or just the wine, but she suddenly got very dizzy.

And then everything went black.

#Monkie kid #LMK #Princess Bride AU #Red groom AU #MK Red Son #Six eared macaque #Long Xiaojiao #MK Sandy #Vega writes stories too #-shuffling Season 2 thoughts under the rug-#it's fine it's fine who wants some princess bride as a distraction?#it's fine it's fine #spicynoodleshipping

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perseusjackson-jasongrace · 4 years ago

Text

Day 2: “You should probably go home.”/“But I’m already home.”

masterlist

Kingdom Collisions AU (prequel scene): you do not have to read or be caught up on my Kingdom Collisions fic to know what’s happening here

Princess Piper Mclean wakes up to the midday sun and sighs contentedly, stretching her languid limbs until they shake. It is one of those rare days when her princessely duties are non-existent and her mother wouldn’t bug her because she’s not there. She hears the soft chirp of birds outside and peers out the window to see scarlet-breasted sparrows hopping along the branches and singing merry tunes. She loves summer. Everything is always so cheerful and full of life. It reminds her of childhood. A gentle knock sounds at the door and she recognises it as her handmaid/tutor/nanny. Her friend.

“Come in Anisa.”

“Princess,” She smiles, bowing her head with one hand over her chest.

“Hello,” Piper sits up in bed, “I like your hijab.” It is the most beautiful shade of blue, like sapphires in glittering water.

“Thank you.” Her lady smiles, “I have brought you something to eat.”

“Are we classifying this as breakfast or lunch?” The princess teases, knowing her need for order and compartmentalisation.

“Brunch. A truly glorious invention.” Anisa huffs, scrunching her nose at the crack.

“Well thank you all the same. Are you going to join me?” She takes off the silver cover of the tray to reveal berry and cream waffles and a steaming cappuccino with the prettiest leaf design. “Chef Ambrosia is really getting creative with their designs.”

“I’m pretty sure they just have the biggest crush on you and the only reason they haven’t put a heart is because it would be wholly inappropriate.”

The princess just laughs and digs into her meal with vigour. They talk about non-essential things like her dress for the upcoming ball and their various plans for the weekend. Anisa was finally going home to see her children and anyone could see the excitement radiating off her. Now that she didn't have to be a nanny all the time she could actually look after her own children. Finally the waffle is demolished and the cappuccino nothing but froth.

Anisa looks at her carefully.

Piper raises a brow, “What?”

“I have some news.”

Immediately her heart is beating a thousand miles a minute and there is disaster after disaster crossing her mind. “What?” She says again, this time breathless with worry.

“A certain Prince wants to visit.”

She immediately lets out a gush of air, her whole body dropping in relief. And then she registers what her friend had said and her brown eyes go as wide as saucers. The last time she had seen that prince, because undoubtedly it could only be that prince, she had nearly ruined their lifelong friendship by almost kissing him. Now she doesn’t trust herself around him, which means she’s been avoiding him.

“I think you should say yes.” Anisa gives her a pointed look, “He’s worried something is wrong because you can’t woman up and face your feelings. You’re hurting him by avoiding him.”

The Princess groans, scrubbing a hand across her face. “I know, I know. But I just can’t face him without wanting to either make the world swallow me up or jumping his annoying pretty bones.”

“You should invite him to the ball.”

Piper closes her eyes, the sun suddenly too bright, too hot against her sensitive skin. If she invites Perseus she’ll get to see him and reassure him and actually get to spend time with her friend, which she misses, greatly. Her own fault. If she doesn’t invite him she can put off dealing with her ever-growing, constantly-harder-to-ignore feelings and have an embarrassment, possibly rejection free night. The coward’s way out. She is many things, but a coward has never been one of them.

“Okay,” She nods, letting the decision settle in her core, “Let’s invite him. He can stay the night. Hell the week if he wants.”

Her friend claps her hand and gathers the empty dishes and cutlery. “Ill be here to collect the letter this evening to send out for the night post. Don’t be late.” She waggles a finger, ever the mother. “And use the blue wax seal. It’s his favourite.”

“It is?” Sometimes she feels like a terrible friend.

Anisa just winks and makes a graceful exit, her hijab catching in the once again warm rays, and glittering sweetly.

A week later her castle is abuzz with activity: caterers and decorators and various other event planners all running around like hounds are at their feet. There is little more than an hour to the ball and Piper is finally getting around to putting on her dress and swiping a little lipstick on. She fell in love with her garment the moment she laid eyes on it and now that she sees it in her gilded mirror she feels as if every stitch was made with her in mind. A deep maroon fell across her in waves of silk, starting with the string-thin straps over her shoulders, into the straight neckline, and down, down, down to the skirt that flared at her waist and trailed against the pristine marble floors. She buckles gold shoes at her ankles and slips on two small diamond encrusted earrings. With a final glance at her reflection she steps out of her room and into the transformed hallways. There are flowers hanging from the ceilings and stars underneath her feet and she feels as if the world has turned on its axis. Adequate considering it is Summer Solstice which marks the changing. She nods hello to the guests and servants rushing through the passage and then she is outside the ballroom doors.

With a deep breath she smiles at the doorman who returns it before pushing the door open.

“Presenting Princess Piper Mclean of Hanaan.” A loud clear voice says from somewhere to her left.

She curtsies low to the room and then glides down the stairs to greet her mother. All the while her eyes are scanning the room, trying to catch a particular head of black curls, and skin only slightly darker than her own. When her scan comes up empty she hides the disappointment behind a practiced smile and engages in conversation with some duke and duchess. She really isn’t paying attention to anything so it catches her by surprise when a warm hand brushes her waist and the familiar scent of ocean, and wind, and life surround her.

“Sorry Duke,” A charming smile disintegrates her worries. “May I steal the princess away for a dance?”

“Please,” The duke is jovial, waving them away. The duchess smiles that smile that says aw cute young love.

Piper wants to see them through her eyes. But before she can think on it she is being whisked away and planted on the dance floor, suddenly staring up at hypnotic green eyes and that troublemaker’s smirk.

“Sorry for my tardiness Princess. Wanted to make a grand entrance.” Crown Prince Perseus Jackson grins.

She narrows her eyes at him as they sway across the floor, “You overslept your nap again didn’t you?”

He rolls his eyes, stealing a pinch on her side that tickles more than hurts. “Actually I got caught up in the music room.”

Her eyes light up like crackling fire, “Will you play for me?”

“Anything you want,” He whispers and pulls them closer, so her dress is flush against his suit, also made of the smoothest satin.

“How have you been?”

He gives her a look that she chooses to ignore. “You would know if you weren’t avoiding me.”

“I’m not avoiding you,” He dips her, and she thanks the heavens they put her hair up or it would be sweeping the floor.

He pulls her back up and sets a determined gaze on her, “Yes you are. I haven’t seen you in almost three weeks. We’ve never gone that long without-”

“Okay, okay,” She’s never going to win this argument. “Maybe I have been avoiding you just a little.”

“Tell me why.” His voice is soft but his tone is demanding. She loves when he gets like this.

The music speeds up and before she can reply he’s twirling her so fast only the years of ballet are keeping her from dizziness. When she stops abruptly right against his chest she is only faintly aware of the scattered applause.

“It’s not important.”

“It is to me.” Raspy, gentle, caring, raspy, raspy, raspy.

She suppresses a shiver. “I’m planning a surprise party for your birthday and i’ve been a little busy with the details.”

He growls in her ear before lifting her up in a twirl of his own and setting her down, “Liar.”

“Am not.” She huffs. The music speeds up.

They spin, and spin, and spin.

“You are. You used the surprise birthday party excuse every year for something or the other.” A gleam enters his eyes as he dips her and swoops her all the way up until she’s back to looking at his beautiful, angular face. “In fact last year you used it because two books from your favourite series were coming out at the same time and you didn’t want to be disturbed until you were finished.”

She stifles a giggle and looks anywhere but at him, because she will burst out laughing if she sees his judgemental look.

“Okay, okay.” The music reaches a crescendo as he lifts her high above his head, so she can see every patron attending the ball, and the crystal chandeliers hanging like rose bouquets above her. He sets her down and they stop abruptly; the last chord of the violin reverbrates through the room. “But let's go outside.”

She is breathless, his chest is heaving, and the applause is deafening. They are angelic. Percy raises a hand to present her and she curtsies for their audience. The claps get impossibly louder. She maintains a dignified smile, but can do nothing about the beautiful flush of her cheeks as she presents her dance partner who bows low and blows a kiss. The spectators laugh, some swoon, she wants to scowl. She smiles brighter.

And then they're racing outside and into their favourite place to get lost: the Maze of Madness. He laces their fingers together and sprints for the center, diving around corners and cursing at dead ends. She just laughs, her hair coming loose and her princessly state unhinged. She is nothing but sweetness, and flower petals, and summer breezes.

Finally they get to the center where the white stone bench sits, engraved with the words Si vis amari, ama. If you want to be loved, love. Gifted to them before she was an inkling on the horizon by the Kingdom of Caelum. The bench has held many a love story, and supported many a heartbreak. She believes it’s good luck.

They collapse onto it, stars glittering in their eyes and take a moment to catch their breaths.

Percy is the first to break their silence. “So,” he pokes her side, ‘Why are you avoiding me?”

“I was being a coward.”

He turns his body to her and gives her that intense look that simultaneously makes her wince and sets her soul on fire.

She starts slowly, trying to find the words that wouldn’t ruin their friendship but would still make her feelings clear. “I wanted to do something that night in the House of Hope but it might have turned out badly and I didn't want to risk it”

He doesn’t say anything for a while, doesn’t even seem like he’s breathing, so she forces her gaze upwards, to see green eyes burning into her.

“Some risks-” He is just as slow with his words, just as gentle. “Some risks are worth it.”

Percy puts a hand to her cheek, cold fingers brushing her skin. There is a question in his eyes that opens the cage of butterflies in her stomach.

“Kiss me Percy Jackson.” Piper whispers.

His answering smile lights up her every nerve, and when he finally brushes his soft lips against her own, every beat of her heart shudders to a stop. He cups her face in his hands, and brushes their lips over and over and over. Like he’s tasting the barest hints of her. Like if he goes any deeper he’ll never stop. She doesn’t ever want him to. So she laces her fingers behind his neck and keeps him pinned to her and when he groans her world detonates. They explore each other, in languid, deep strokes. His lips. Her tongue. His teeth. Her lips. Their hearts. They kiss like they mean it. They kiss like they’ll never get the chance again. They kiss like this is the meaning of life.

And when they break apart for gasping-interrupting air they are both grinning as wide and bright as moonlit ice. Her lips tingle and she touches a finger to them to make sure they’re still there, working, experiencing what she did.

He chases her hand away and brushes the pad of his thumb over her bottom lip. “You are so beautiful.”

Before she can reply a messenger rounds the corner, breathless. “Prince, your mother would like you back at the castle. She says it’s urgent.”

“Can it not wait till tomorrow?” He doesn’t bother to put any distance between them as he turns to the young boy. Her lips brush his cheek.

“I’m afraid not Prince, she says it’s a matter of great importance.”

He nods stiffly, and she can see the exasperation trying to escape his lungs. The messenger hurries away and Percy turns back to her, resting their foreheads together, eyes half-closed.

“You should go home,” The princess says after several beats of silence.

He presses a kiss to her forehead. “I’m already home.”

And she cannot help the smile that bursts out of her, like fireflies escaping the glass jar.

“We will continue this again soon, yes?” He opens his eyes, looks at her with all his intensity.

“Yes,” And the possibilities running through her soul float her up to cloud 9.

“Good,” He nods once, captures her lips with his again, and then tugs her up. “Then i shall go home, attend to whatever emergency my mother has and come back within the week.”

“I can’t wait.” Somewhere in the back of her mind, a clock is already ticking.

He kisses her again, like he can’t get enough, like he’s addicted. “You are beautiful Little Dove.”

Her heart squeezes at the familiar nickname. “Come back soon.” She hugs him by his car. “Come home soon.”

“You should come to Mare with me.”

“I cannot. I have to be here for the ball, and besides it’s the Floating in a few days.”

He takes her hands in his, kisses her knuckles. “Then I will be as fast as I can.”

Her eyes are shining with love as she pulls him in and kisses him one last time. He returns it with vigour, promising, promising, promising worlds between their lips.

And when she waves goodbye to the retreating black vehicle until it blends in with the night she decides the bench is in fact goodluck.

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

Tags (if you want to be added to/taken off the tag list all my channels of communication are open):

@nishlicious-01

@leydiangelo

@spoopylucy

#mcjackson #12 days of fanfics #day 2 #pjjg series #pjjg challenge #pjjg fanfic #kingdom collisions #Percy jackson #piper mclean

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nobeliumoxygenoxygenmisc · 5 years ago

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Main 6 in secret relationships (HCs)

main 6 having to keep their relationship with mc a secret (portia, muriel, lucio under the cut!)

asra

as you know, asra is all about affection so a secret relationship for him is like ... near impossible

but he's also good at lying smoothly and since he is all about affection, you two can probably play it off as just having really touchy friendship

he doesn't mind keeping it secret if it's for necessity and he’s fine with that but he just has to consciously hold back on his love and touch which… is so much harder than he expected and he knows just how hard that was during the three years you didn't have your memories

Asra does find himself slipping from time to time, whether it’s a kiss on the cheek as you split up in the market or a hand lingering too long on your body or a gaze that is just a little bit too intense and loving for just friends but when that happens, you know it’s time to go home before he combusts from not being able to properly love you

when the time comes that you two can reveal it to others, don't even bother announcing it--affection is just multiplied exponentially and people can just see it but if they do ask "oh are u two together now???" asra just beams happily with a soft smile on his face as he looks at you when you nod

nadia

it pains her to have to hold back but she's a countess so she knows allll about having to not do things for reasons and holding back her true feelings

when you're alone she makes sure to lather you in as much love as you want because she's making up for the lost opportunities and chances

if someone points out the rumours about you two, it physically pains her to refuse it, especially if she has to put on a little more emotion into the refusal. she'd rather just leave it at a simple ambiguous answer that leans more towards "no" but isn't flat out refusing your relationship because to her, in that sense, it’s still acknowledging your relationship

But in the end, nadia is the countess so even if people suspect, it's not like they can outright accuse her of anything anyway but at the same time she does what she has to to put your mind at ease and if that means denying the rumours then so be it

For the time being, shes glad that she can show her love with you as much as she can in private but be prepared for the future because she’s definitely making up for lost time as soon as she can

julian

this rowdy boy’s a dramatic actor so if you two are caught in any sort of scene he can probably dramatise you two out of it

but people close to him can see right through his bull ngl

He tries to rile you up in public just to torment you but as long as you’re Strong you can deal with it. Especially if you give him a glare and a look that just screams “you’ll regret this later”

julian does blush and stammer a lot if you make advances on him so try to keep the secret flirting on the low down because he can probably work his way out of getting caught kissing you but he can’t work his way out of blushing 200 reds without fumbling because you gave him a Look and he can’t stop thinking about it

he probably views the relationship as something really dramatic and painful like "forbidden love" so he is all about making up for lost chances in private and is low-key so conflicted because on the one hand, though he may not admit it, the secrecy appeals to his love of drama but on the other hand he would love to just be able to treat you as his partner all the time

portia

Portia’s good at keeping it secret if it’s serious and she’s doubly good at figuring out if people suspect anything about you two because she’s good at gathering info like that

It’s quite easy for her because you two just have to go to her cottage and you’re both going to be pretty much undisturbed for a while and she knows most if not all the secret passageways so she can get to you whenever she wants anyway so it’s not a problem whatsoever of course

But damn it she just wishes she could hold hands with you and kiss you and hug you and tease and flirt with you anytime anywhere all the time everywhere because she loves you so much anD SHE WANTS TO SCREAM IT TO THE WORLD ALREADY (her heart hunter interactions say as much)

So really, at first all is well

But as time progresses, she’ll become so much more affectionate with you when she can be and there’s a few pouts and frowns whenever she sees other couples

Be prepared for her to announce her relationship with you to the world from atop the fountains or something when you two can reveal it

muriel

Literally the easiest thing because a) the spell and b) he doesn’t want to go out in public anyway

But in the event you have to keep your relationship super secret and that includes from asra (who would be the only person muriel tells about you two), that’s going to be a bit harder

A lot harder because as soon as asra sees you two hanging out together he can pretty much instantly tell - muriel doesn’t just warm up to anyone aka give eggs to anyone and if you show even a hint of affection for him, he’s blushing already

But really, it is still the easiest thing if you just add c) avoid asra when you’re together or keep interaction between you two limited when with asra

Of course muriel just has to not react at all when asra talks about you to him because asra’s been suspecting for a bit just what or who it was making his friend so happy and if mountain man shows even a hint of affection for you, the magician Knows

Ok in conclusion it’s the easiest thing to hide it from everyone but asra

lucio

Yeah no it’s not gonna work sorry

But let’s say you both try

Pesters you everyday if he can reveal it already

Oh he gets frustrated if someone flirts with you because he needs! to! step! in!! But he cant!!! And even though you’re perfectly capable of shutting the other person down, he’s in agony - he loooves showing off to people that you two are together, or, he would if you didn’t have to keep it secret

But he gets pouty and whiny and clingy afterwards so that’s a plus, or not depending on how you see it but it’s a plus

Would definitely try to rile you up in public to see you get flustered but it’s not too suspicious because everyone pretty much chalks it up to lucio being lucio and as long as you keep publicly refusing him, the rumours end at lucio trying to get with you and failing

But stars help you if lucio overhears those rumours - the ‘failing’ part gets to him and he is so offended. Those servants don’t know just how much he isn’t failing thank you very much

oof been a short while but hope u all enjoy!

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frostburnx · 4 years ago

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AngelFell part 28

Frisk landed on the balcony outside of the room that was now Chara’s and opened the door before going up to her bed, setting her into it. She was still out cold and only made a small groan like noise. Frisk looked at her a moment before walking out of the room to get some heat pads to warm her up. When he made it back into the room he crawled up onto the bed placing one of the hot pads on Chara’s forehead.

It was silent for only a few seconds before Chara’s fiery red eyes bolted open and she coughed. She then sat up rather quickly covering her mouth coughing a few more times.

“Are you alright?” Frisk asked, grabbing the hot pad that slid off her forehead with her abrupt upward motion.

But she didn’t respond, instead she stared forward at the dimly lit fire taking in deep and hoarse breaths.

“I’ll go deal with the issue. You just stay here and warm up, alright?” He informed her tilting his head slightly trying to get a response but instead she only turned away and slowly slid off the bed taking unstable steps.

“Chara, I promise I’m going to deal with it so no need to do anything,” He said not completely sure if her getting up was because she wanted to go after those kids or if it was something different.

But instead of leaving the room she merely shuffled up to the fire and absorbed it like she had before which had positive effects immediately after as she started standing taller and taking in normal breaths again.

“I’ll be back,” Frisk said making his way out of the room and then out of the castle into the kingdom once again.

Now that Frisk was out of the castle Chara smiled to herself seeing her opportunity to finally do what she had been wanting to. She stretched and then walked out of her room closing the door behind her gently. The castle was quiet like usual and there appeared to be no servants in sight. Chara thought back to the layout of the castle and started snaking her way down the hallways towards one room in particular. There was still no sign of anyone around when she stopped in front of the wide open bedroom. She then slithered inside looking around as she did. A normal person wouldn’t have been able to see anything since it was pitch black in there besides the small amount of light that poked in from the hallway outside.

To the left was a large bed definitely king sized; it was neatly made unlike Chara’s bed. To each side of the bed were nightstands with lamps perched on them. In front of the lamp on the right side of the bed was a small framed photo that Chara recognized, it was the one from when they were younger. Chara brushed away the thought and walked deeper into the room. On the far side of the room was a door that Chara could only assume led into a bathroom or a walk-in closet so her eyes drifted elsewhere. There was a large dresser and a desk with a tiny lamp on it. All over the walls were tiny stars and there was a rug in the middle of the room that matched the theme. Chara snuck forward to the dresser and started rummaging through the drawers but just as soon as she started doing that a voice broke through her focus from outside of the room.

“Ma’am, were you authorized to be in there?” They asked her with suspicion hinted into their voice.

Chara only froze for a moment and then the shadows around her enveloped her body putting her into her shadow form disappearing into the abyss of the room.

Just as soon as she did the servant outside of the room started to walk away, their footsteps echoed by the stone walls reverberating through Chara’s mind. Her time was about to be cut short, she needed to find it before Asriel or guards showed up.

Chara immediately exited her shadow form and started searching desperately. The dresser didn’t have it so she jogged over to the desk checking all it’s drawers until she opened one that only had one thing in it. It was a small wooden box with a golden latch. On the top of the box there were two wings engraved into it, one white, and one black. A wide smile made its way onto Chara’s face seeing this, it had to have what she was looking for. Chara grabbed the box and opened it to reveal a small blue stone and two heart lockets. She paused seeing the lockets and grabbed one as well as the stone inside before putting the box back and bolting out of the dark room fleeing the scene after leaving a small note on the desk.

Soon enough Asriel was alerted and walked into his room looking around. His room was a mess with all his drawers opened on his dresser with his clothes strewn about and the same was with his desk and paperwork. Asriel slowly walked up to his desk and his eyes locked on the note neatly placed in the middle folded into fourths. He hesitantly grabbed it and unfolded it before reading the message inside. The only thing it had said was, “Thank you for the locket, and the future.”

Asriel dropped the note on his desk before his eyes flashed to the only drawer that was closed on his desk, he instantly knew what would be missing. Asriel briskly turned and ran out of his room and down the hall before practically running into Frisk.

“Frisk! Do you know where Chara is????” He asked with a really panicked tone.

Frisk raised an eyebrow at this,” No, why do you ask?”

“I have to find her!” He then ran past Frisk without saying another word and Frisk also started to search for her.

Soon though Frisk’s search of the castle landed him in his room. He opened the door and just faintly by the light that streamed in he could see the outline of something on his bed. Frisk walked in and approached it slowly to see a note. He slowly picked it up and peeled it open before reading the text.

It was in pretty handwriting and read, “I’ll be back, so don’t miss me too much, okay partner?”

Frisk only stared at the note for what felt like an eternity before clutching it tightly and looking down.

#undertale #angelfell #chara #frisk #frisk and chara #asriel dreemurr #undertale au

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gascon-en-exil · 5 years ago

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Mercilessly Judging the Men of Fòdlan: The Alliance

It’s been a long time coming, over eight months in fact, but now that it may be assumed that the last of the DLC has been released and the fandom as a whole has settled comfortably into its various camps I think there’s no better time than now to answer that burning question: how raunchily, outrageously gay can the male cast of Three Houses possibly be? For those unfamiliar with this fun little series of mine, I’ve been applying my extensive knowledge and experience of gay male sex and hookup culture to the men of Fire Emblem, originally as a way of reckoning with the refusal of the games themselves to provide me with any worthwhile self-insert M/M content. I stand by that premise for FE16 - you all know how absolutely nothing appeals to me about m!Byleth or his prospects on that score - but in the years since my first outing of merciless judgment with Awakening that idea has expanded into something broader, an imaginative modern AU of sorts where all these guys are into men (if not always exclusively) and willing to put themselves out there in the lewd and semi-anonymous world of hookup apps in search of their preferred carnal delights.

A note on organization before we begin, as this material is too long to cram into one post. Excluding Byleth (as Avatars and their spawn always are for this project) there are twenty-one playable male characters in Three Houses. This makes for an even threeway division to preserve the eponymous conceit of the game, but not a particularly neat one. Aligned with the Leicester Alliance I therefore have below the male Deer, Almyran and former Goneril indentured servant Cyril, runaway Alliance noble Balthus, and Alois because his biography states that he’s the son of a merchant family. The Alliance is the nation most associated with successful mercantilism, so there.

The Empire

The Kingdom

Claude

Indecipherable from the start. The alluring shirtless selfie and goofy profile read like a fun and easy lay, but rather than sending nudes he engages in long meandering conversations that last for days or weeks before the first meeting. An expert at drawing people out while revealing almost nothing of himself in return, this takes on more literal dimensions when talk and pictures get more explicit; he’ll respond to dick and ass pics with vaguely positive emojis but deflect repeated requests to send some of his own, but he’s so disarmingly chatty that few guys get angry about this. In-person encounters are similarly frustrating in a way that’s hard to convey, as he’s eager to get his hookups naked and cumming via whatever method expedites the process with as little effort on his part. He’s left more than one satisfied but confused partner wondering some time after their meeting if he’s even really into guys at all, or if he’s playing out some weird service kink or vicarious voyeurism. Whatever the case he’s not much the dating type, not because he’s closeted or non-monogamous but because he has other priorities that don’t mesh well with long-term companionship. A shame too, when he’s become a permanent part of the masturbatory fantasies of many a man with whom he’s had even the briefest of encounters (particularly tops, who see in him a cocky bottom who desperately needs to get wrecked). That’s mostly all it is with him though: just fantasies, quick and dirty and unfulfilling because sex is apparently little more than a means for him to connect with people who may help him reach something bigger. Open-minded about his partners’ kinks, but is extremely touchy about race play; he’s aware that he has an ambiguous look about him, and does not appreciate anyone bringing that up even if the intention is completely innocent.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: your erogenous zones, your fetishes, your guilty pleasures

Favored gift: a lavish dinner, not for the expense but for the pleasure of sharing it

Lorenz

You may not like the hair, or the overwrought floral motif, or the polite but pointed way he pursues dates with the men he’s scoping out, but it’s undeniable that his reputation precedes him as someone who is known and who is worth knowing in the community. He’s not as slutty as that suggests, far from it, but he does enjoy his lunch dates and his inordinately expensive shopping dates and generally being as publicly social as it is humanly possible to be. Has an assortment of fem bottom BFFs on speed dial who are always up to the minute with him on social media, but it turns out he’s more versatile than his age and his...expressive fashion sense might imply. Would absolutely love a boyfriend, but judges all his dates in every aspect and considers least of all the size of their dick or what they know to do with it. It’s unusual for him to run across a guy who’s as well-educated and career-oriented as himself who also meets his admittedly snobbish criteria regarding class, and most of the time when he does they make better friends than marriage candidates. Cannot abide poor manners in or out of bed, and has corresponding expectations about proper condom use and prep (also PreP) and won’t hesitate to interrupt a makeout session with a lecture on not fingering him when he just ate an hour ago and he hasn’t had the chance to use an enema yet. Jock types do little for him, although he does have this one celebrity crush of that sort that he holds dear to his heart precisely because it will never, ever happen (although, he does happen to move in adjacent circles....).

Favored erotic tea time subjects: office sex, hustlers, the tea itself...not like that

Favored gift: his crush’s contact info, also measurements if he can get them

Raphael

His selfies come in two varieties, gym and food, and this perfectly sums him up as a person and a friend and sexual partner. Sociable but not particularly quick-witted, his conversations are filled with emojis and exclamation points and it’s not very long before he’s making invitations to hang out at either his favorite fitness center or one of his many favorite restaurants. Don’t expect much from the latter however, as he favors quantity over quality. Is more or less the perfect boyfriend if you like them big and dumb, and on some level he knows this because he’s clearly comfortable with who he is and the goals he’s set for himself, both in body weight and in life in general. Even nicer, he likes skinny nerds just as much as he likes guys who can hold their own (or even surpass him) during workouts, and he’ll try just about anything once. Not the most skilled at topping or giving head or anything else that demands precision in action, but he’ll always give his best effort anyway. Besides, he makes a great bottom, with enough cushion and stamina to take a really hard pounding and jerk himself to completion in just about the time it takes for him to coax his partner to orgasm. A simple man with simple tastes and an insatiable appetite for food and pleasure and good company, and if it comes to it a sweet and devoted familial sort as well. Doesn’t have much of an imagination for kinks, but the person who shows him how to combine food with sex might be on the receiving end of a marriage proposal right then and there.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: sexy workouts, feeders, power bottoms

Favored gift: food, especially if you get into watching him eat it

Ignatz

Fucking an art student is always a unique experience, and he’s determined not to disappoint. More likely to share pictures of his latest projects than nudes up front, although he welcomes receiving them himself as he’s quick to explain that he draws his influence from all areas of his life. Has a particular fascination with the kind of unintentional eroticism found in certain religious art, which is more likely to be found quietly perplexing than offensive in hookup spaces. Is shy and relatively untested when it comes to sex, and as such he’s a natural fit for tops who love to break in new twinks. Said tops may have to put up with his request to sketch them in the bed or on his sofa afterwards though, because apparently the nude models in his classes just can’t compare to the men who ten minutes prior had their dicks in him. As he gets older and acquires more familiarity with the medium he’ll start to gravitate more toward guys of a similar age and disposition as himself, who can be subjects for his art without the constant demanding to get off. (They still get off with him of course, but he has trouble convincing the less understanding that that’s not his first priority.) Sometimes too he’ll just want someone to cuddle with and tell him that he’s good at what he does and isn’t making any questionable life choices. However, with art being the uncertain career that it is he may find himself one day having to reconcile himself to a sugar daddy to spare him from a mind-numbing day job - or worse, admitting to whatever disapproving relation(s) he’s got that he screwed up his professional prospects and isn’t doing so hot in the dating scene either. Never quite loses his mawkishness in bed, but hopefully he’ll get past his public anxieties with a bit more success. Is not really into the gym bunny types, although they love him to death and he has to admit that all that toned musculature is easy to work with. Keeps the glasses on during sex, or at least until he has an accident with them.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: artistic nudes, sexy statuary, missionary (he likes to watch the top)

Favored gift: a set of professionally done nude selfies, for modeling

Alois

A loving and devoted husband and father, he’s only in the app space because a friend made a joke about them and he just had to check it out. Utterly clueless on the terminology and the rules of etiquette, such as they are, for a place where it’s considered perfectly acceptable to begin conversation with a picture of your erect cock. Needless to say he completely misunderstands the term “daddy” in this context, thinking it naturally applied to him without being aware of all the horny twinks that would be hitting him up as a result. Will eventually be prodded, laughing and blushing the whole time, into taking and sharing some mildly saucy selfies, and the boys go wild for his literal dad bod and hair in just the right places (including on his face; the handlebar variation is a few decades out of date, but that just makes him more endearing in a dorky retro way). It’s not clear initially whether he’s even attracted to men, but after a few months of chatting and swapping pics and perhaps furtively jerking off to the ones he gets he might agree to a discreet encounter or two. Well, they would be discreet if he weren’t always so loud, and if he didn’t always resist everyone’s immediate impulse to shove a dick in his mouth just to get him to shut up by coming up with yet another dumb joke. Doesn’t get much further than the idea of oral anyway, as he’s not the most sexual guy to start with and he can’t quite get past the immature giggling over ass play. Not a bad jerkoff buddy when it’s all said and done provided you can stand all the puns, nor is he all that bad to look at or cuddle with afterwards once he figures out that guys like his hugs too. One can only wonder what his wife thinks of all this.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: (bad) sex jokes, porn, glory holes

Favored gift: links to daddy porn, so he’ll finally figure it out

Cyril

Born into a rough background and forced to get by in some difficult circumstances has left him hardworking to a fault - emphasis on “fault.” His greatest act of teenage rebellion was to be aggressively not rebellious, and he still hasn’t grown out of that mentality as he’s quick to scorn his more carefree and hedonistic peers and wouldn’t even be on the apps at all were he not so privately, guiltily horny all the time. As may be expected this mentality wins him few admirers and even fewer friends, of any age, the more so because he’s inexperienced and still figuring out exactly what he wants from a sexual encounter. Will bottom but has a complex about the implications, but unfortunately most of the guys willing to hook up with him are tops and expect to get it in at least for a little while. Manages better when it comes to swapping head, having experimented with his more adventurous friends in school. His fastidiousness and unusually good eyesight lead him to subconsciously fixate on his partners’ minor bodily blemishes, and since pointing those out never goes over well he’s taking to prefer sex in the dark. He’s absolutely not looking for a daddy and is annoyed at the suggestion, just as much as he’s annoyed by guys who try to turn pillow talk into impromptu therapy sessions regarding his past. Will take a few more years and probably some time away at school to properly find his footing; there’s a no-nonsense if slightly insecure top buried under the fading twinkish exterior, and provided he learns out to mellow out a bit he could be quite popular one day.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: circle jerks, docking, race play (which he feels guilty about)

Favored gift: a cock ring, for those size woes

Balthus

He was on the wrestling team in school and acquired a notable reputation for his strength and skill in a brawl, although it was also at this time that he realized he was getting hard every time he would throw down with another guy. Deflects this with an exaggerated womanizing demeanor and a blank profile announcing only that he’s looking and saving even the headless torso shot - impressive though that shot is - for messaging. Gets handjobs and blowjobs and occasionally tops, all NSA and very discreet, but his internalized insecurities fortunately do not extend to his partners. This is probably because his preferred types are either closeted muscle bros like himself or self-confident young bottoms with no patience to take anything from him except a hard fuck and a thick load. His awkward younger days will be long past him before he learns to open up to anything more than that, and even then it’s unlikely that he’ll be very relationship-minded. Has to be educated by more experienced partners on lube and prepping a bottom, and it’ll take a lot of drinks and a lot of convincing to get him to try eating ass (he will though, eventually). Bottoming himself is out of the question except perhaps with the most dedicated of vers guys, but put him on the mat with another total top and there are good odds that someone’s going to end up penetrated before it’s over. Speaking of odds, is terrible with money and not domestic in the slightest, but he’s got a rich family that he can theoretically fall back on in a pinch. Not really boyfriend material, more like the ideal perpetually naked roommate with wandering eyes and a boundless libido.

Favored erotic tea time subjects: erotic wrestling, dirty talk, praise kink

Favored gift: a harness and matching jockstrap, he’s got a thing for gear

#Fire Emblem #FE16 #Fire Emblem Three Houses

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imagine-loki · 5 years ago

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Pride and Prejudice

TITLE: Pride and Prejudice CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: Chapter 30 AUTHOR: wolfpawn

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine Loki was raised on Jotunheim as Laufey’s son after the war, but an agreement was then made that he would wed Odin’s daughter so Odin could secure the alliance of Jotunheim through the marriage. Loki, in turn, was raised to be king of Jotunheim, but how he views Asgard is far different from how Odin’s daughter is raised leading to a clash of cultures as well as uncertainty between the pair of betrothed youths. RATING: Mature NOTES/WARNINGS: Forced Marriage, not all fun and games. My first real step back into the Loki scene in over a year.

Tags - @skulliebythesea @asimovethroughthisworld @blackcherry26-blog @we-shadowhunter2901

When Loki was finished dealing with different matters for the evening and went to his rooms, he winced slightly to see Ella looking at him almost expectantly. He then recalled that he had suggested they have dinner again that evening, and by forgetting about it, was now forty-five minutes late for it. “I am sorry.”

“I assumed you were busy. I was about to leave actually.” She rose slightly.

“Please, no. I will have something else brought.” He went to take the food.

“I have a spell on it, it is still warm. If you wish to eat, then fine, if not, then that is fine too.” Ella smiled.

“No, please, stay seated. But please, forgive my forgetting. I had a lot to deal with this evening.”

“It has indeed been a busy day. I assume the King is pleased with everything from Vanaheim?” Ella began with such talk, not sure if Loki wished to speak of other matters.

Loli sat across from her, taking some food to his plate. “You should have begun to eat without me.” He commented first. “Yes, he is elated. These will, of course, have to be solidified in the near future to be upheld but it is a great step forward for us.”

“You deserve great praise for it.”

“I think you mean you do.”

Ella scoffed slightly. “I am not of a position for such things. You have seen clearly already, women do not hold many positions of power. But that does not mean I am without use. People’s dismissal of a woman is often where she becomes her most valuable. The same can be said of servants. Always remember, as invisible as they seem, servants and maids, hold information no other does of those that employ them.”

Loki eyed her carefully for a moment. “You are more astute than is normal.”

“I just think about things from as many angles as I can.” She shrugged. “So, was there anything else of interest after we all left?”

“No, Father spoke for a few minutes, then I spoke with a very unwell Helbindi.”

“Is he alright?”

Loki scoffed slightly. “Perfectly fine, he was my drinking partner last night, so…”

“Ah, fair enough.”

“He was envious of your trick.”

“Well, I am bound by wifely duty to assist my mate, he needs to get himself a seidr wielder of his own if he wants to get such assistance. I am not enduring the effects of alcohol I did not consume for just anyone.”

“Well, I am grateful you did so for me.” Loki smiled as he ate, noting the genuine smile on her face also. He contemplated what he wished to speak about regarding more intimate matters but felt it had no place at the dinner table. Looking up again, he noted that Ella was looking at him with interest. “Sorry? I was in my own head, did you say something?”

“No, I did not, though I can see in your eyes there is something you wish to speak about.” Loki frowned at her. “You’re somewhat easy to read.”

“Am I?” Loki prided himself on being like his father, keeping his thoughts to himself and not revealing them, her statement startled him. “How?”

“You leave that facade you use in the throne room and the halls as soon as you come in here, or whatever room you are calling your sleeping quarters, it is one of the greatest things about you.”

“It is a weakness.” Loki scowled.

Ella shook her head. “Nothing of the sort. It is wonderful. I think it to be one of your greatest qualities. In these rooms, you are not the future of the monarchy, you are a man, a son, brother, friend and mate, you should be who you wish to be.”

“I wish to be strong.”

“Strength is not measured by stoicness. Norns, look at my father if you look at no other. I call him ‘Papa’, he treated me in a manner of which would have opened him to ridicule by some and an all-out weakness and proof of his not being fit to rule by others, yet he did so because he is my Papa and he loves his family. You will be even better, I think.” Her smile was honest.

Loki said nothing for a moment as he analysed her words. “Do you think love to be a strength or a weakness?”

“Strength.” Her answer was immediate. “Have you ever seen those who fight for love, it is far more brutal, they feel they need to prove themselves for those they love, they have a reason. Those who view love as a weakness don’t know actual love. A mother will die to protect her child, she will endure unspeakable pain and torture for her child, as would many fathers. A man who is protecting his family is a terrifying creature.”

“But it can also bring the strongest of men to his knees,” Loki retorted. Ella looked at him analytically. “No, I am not referencing her, you were entirely right on that matter, she is not worth my time. She...I do not wish to reference her. She is not worth it.”

There was clear vitriol in Loki’s voice. He was still angry, that was clear, but the determination in his eyes told her that he believed the words himself. Putting down her fork, she gently put her hand on his, giving him an encouraging smile. “You need to mourn the loss of what you had but not at the cost of what you have. You have your place as heir to put first and foremost, do not allow any to deter you from that position. You consider Jotunheim above yourself, you are a truly selfless man and you should not be punished for that. I know I have a considerable part in this, forcing you to adhere to a system you do not wish to be part of.”

“No, your words were true, it would not be fair to allow myself personal happiness with another and deny you the same. To risk a child with another but not allow you the same liberties would be wrong. The agreement stands, any of my blood, you carry and any you carry must be of my blood. I could never allow a situation where my mate could put a non-Jotnar on the throne of Jotunheim, it would cause uproar.”

Ella nodded with pursed lips. “But I still feel some guilt for your pain. You can say what you like, it does not take that from my thoughts.” Loki nodded slightly in acceptance of her statement. “I never got to know the love you felt, I cannot imagine the hurt it caused you.”

“You loved that guard.”

“I never gave myself to loving anyone, not as you did. Your personal experience of it does blur your opinion on love and its strength and weakness, but it is a strength, you know it. For your father or your brothers, you would be unstoppable to save them.”

“Brother,” Loki corrected.

“Brothers,” Ella repeated. “You do not like one of them right now but you love them both.”

Loki looked at her and noted there was a sadness in her face. “Do you think your brother loves you?”

“I think my brother has a sense of duty to me, in that, a slight on me is a slight on my father’s house, position and name.” She explained. “I suspect it to be similar with you.” Loki cocked his head slightly at such a statement. “You do not love me but were someone to do something that would risk me, you would feel a sense of duty to me as a result of our tie through marriage.”

Loki looked down, it was an accurate statement. He did not love her, that was something he knew but he did like her and would not wish for harm to befall her. There was also incredible truth in the statement that a slight on her was a slight on him and his family and that was unacceptable also. “Knowing you as I do now, even without you being my mate, I would feel a slight tie to you. As I suspect you would for me.”

Ella smiled at his comment. “I would. I mean, I would not take a dagger to the heart for you, perhaps to an extremity, like the upper arm muscle or something. Not a stab, more of a slash, maybe.”

Loki, seeing her playful smirk, laughed at the comment. “Well, it is more than most would do, I would imagine. In a political marriage, from what I saw in our time on Vanaheim, that is practically a declaration of undying love.”

Ella laughed. “Not all political marriages end up like Fren Eriksson’s.”

“Some do.”

“Yes,” She conceded, thinking of the horrible man and his equally horrid wife they had been forced to endure on Vanaheim whose contempt for one another was unrivalled in Ella’s opinion. “Yes, some do. And for the rough that came at the beginning of this, I think us to be doing reasonably well now.”

Loki thought to that morning again, while both of them were in bed together, him accidentally sleeping on her, her kindness and compassion for him. He even recalled the momentary glimpse in her seidr induced memory show where he curled in against her shoulder and she willingly accepted his being there. He also recalled how she gripped his body, her heels against his ass as they mated, the manner in which she held onto him. It was nothing like before when she simply lay there waiting for it to be over. He knew he was the only one she had ever mated with, yet that morning, it was as though she had been doing so for many decades with him. “I guess it to be reasonable enough.” He shrugged as he spoke back, causing her to laugh as Loki attempted and failed to remain stoic. He did not wish to admit it, but he enjoyed being able to joke with her. Ella was always honest, she never lied to him. He wondered how to broach the subject with her with regards to her silence in bed.

When the meal was done and after some more talking on matters of the realm, Ella rose to leave, startling Loki slightly. “I best let you get some rest, I dare say you wish for your own bed tonight, being stuck with me for a night longer than expected was not your plan for last night.” She stated as she made for the door.

As she passed him, he gently took her wrist, causing her to look at him curiously. “Please, stay.”

“I…Are you not sick of me yet?”

“No.” Loki rose from his chair and gently guided her to the bedroom, allowing her to feel that should she wish to decline, then she need only pull her hand from his grasp, yet she went willingly.

#Loki #others #submission #Submitted fic #Pride and Prejudice #chapter 30 #wolfpawn

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antagonistchanremade · 5 years ago

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Actually, I feel like talking a lot about that fanmade Transformers continuity I was cooking up. It was sick.

So, in the beginning, there were six forces. They had no agenda, for they had no sentience. They were just forces. Those forces were Chaos, Order, Unity, Complexity, Simplicity, and Invention. Over time, the forces’ power leaked, and formed the Gods, one for each force:

Hytherion, the God of Unity

Gaea, the God of Invention

Atlas, the God of Simplicity

Devil-Z, the God of Complexity

Primus, the God of Order

and Unicron, the God of Chaos

I didn’t make up any of these names, by the way; they’re all taken from Transformers canon. I mean, yeah, Gaea and Atlas come even earlier from actual mythologies, but you know what I mean. Though, I definitely made up a lot of their details.

Anyways, the Gods were sentient, and did have agendas. And Primus and Unicron came into direct conflict. In order to break their infinite stalemate, Primus created the Transformers- thirteen lifeforms that could help him beat Unicron. After they did, Unicron created the Terrorcon Virus (which basically turned Transformers into zombies) and infected one of the Thirteen, Deceptus, turning him into the Fallen, so the rest of the Thirteen went into hiding in various ways. One of them basically pulled a Diavolo, where he controlled a major criminal organization from behind the scenes where nobody ever saw the Boss so they had no reason to suspect he was this ancient mythological figure, though they were actually pirates rather than the mafia. One of the Thirteen was actually a Pretender, so the human sidekick of the Autobots would eventually pull a Sari Sumdac and be revealed to be that one, having erased her own memory. Et cetera.

Anyways, that’s all backstory. The story actually starts on Cybertron in the present day. The Autobots and Decepticons exist, but are not actually at war; rather, they’re nationalities. “Autobot” is the term for Transformers from the Iacon region of Cybertron, while “Decepticon” is the term for Transformers from the Kaon region of Cybertron.

The Autobot government is led by the Prime, an elected title. When an Autobot is elected Prime, their name is altered so that it ends with “-us Prime”. When they lose their Prime status, the “Prime” is lost, but not the “-us”. For instance, the current Prime is Rodimus Prime, formerly known as Hot Rod, and if he lost his title, it would become Hot Rodimus.

The Decepticon government is also weird. There aren’t as many name shenanigans there, though the government itself is slightly more complex, having two leading bodies. There’s the Council, which is elected democratically, as well as the Emperor, a title that is passed on via combat- you defeat the Emperor, you become the Emperor. The current Emperor is the fairly benevolent Cryotek.

Immigration/defection is a thing. Autobots who decide to become Decepticons are called Iaconian Decepticons, and the reverse are called Kaonian Autobots.

The two leaders also both have Minicon partners. Rodimus’s partner is a Powermaster known as Orion Pax. Powermasters are Armada-style Minicons who turn into tiny vehicles and give bigger robots power-ups. Meanwhile, Cryotek’s partner is a Targetmaster known as Megatronus. Targetmasters are Minicons who turn into weapons for larger robots. The two partners seem to get along just fine...

...but in secret, Megatronus is working to overthrow Cryotek. His scientist friend, Shockwave, has basically invented a new kind of Minicon that has never existed before- Brainmasters, which transform into internal computers and faces for larger mindless Transtectors. He is converted into one of these Brainmasters (as well as a few of his followers) and changes his name to Megatron, then overthrows Cryotek... and instantly starts turning Kaon into a fascist state, which includes murdering the entire Council (as far as he knows, anyway; one survives the attack and goes into hiding).

Cryotek begs the Autobots for help, and they’re initially willing to do so, but Rodimus Prime refuses, revealing he actually supports Megatron’s ambitions. In horror, Rodimus is basically immediately impeached, and he defects to the Decepticons. In his place, the Autobots decide to elect... Orion Pax, turning him into Optimus Prime. He’s converted from a Powermaster to a Headmaster (since Powermasters can only ever be sidekicks, really) and put in command. It’s also worth noting that Orion Pax was primarily elected and put in the position of Rodimus’s partner because his mother, Alphus Trion was the Prime before Rodimus (so, she used to be Alpha Trion, then Alphus Prime, then finally Alphus Trion).

Then, the fight ends up being taken to Earth.

The initial Decepticon team is made up of Megatron, Rodimus, and Shockwave, of course, but also Cryotek’s former second in command, Starscream, who’s secretly still on Cryotek’s side, as well as Cyclonus, Hook, and a few others. The main group tends to be Megatron, Rodimus, Starscream, Cyclonus, and once he arrives, Tidal Wave.

The initial Autobot team is made up of Optimus Prime, Cryotek, Jazz (who’s actually the human sidekick, they discover she’s actually a Pretender early on (it’s just that the Solus plot twist is later; and Jazz is her nickname, her real name is Rika Amami), and also a Headmaster, so they give her a Transtector they have lying around), Ratchet, Bumblebee, and a few others.

Over time, more Autobots and Decepticons come to Earth. Also, two more factions come into play- for one, the Terrorcons, and also, the Vehicons.

See, the Vehicons are Human-made Transformers. They’re generally non-sentient and just military weapons. The most important Vehicon ends up being one that transforms into a B-17, Omega Supreme.

The humans also experiment on the Terrorcon virus and make a variant on it- the Transmetal virus. The Transmetal virus won’t turn you into a servant of Unicron, but it will turn Transformers into partially-organic monsters against their will. It gets used on two Transformers in particular- the Decepticon Terrorsaur... and Jazz. After getting infected with it, Jazz renames herself Elita-One.

And also, the “leader” of the Terrorcons eventually appears, as a dark mirror of Optimus- Scourge. Of course, he’s a Terrorcon, so he’s not really the leader, but he makes a good figurehead.

Eventually, Optimus gets into a fight with both Scourge and Omega Supreme, and ends up partially opening the Matrix of Leadership. This converts both of them into Autobots, by curing Scourge of his Terrorcon infection and granting sentience to Omega. Scourge, now cured, becomes Ultra Magnus. However, pretty much immediately, Optimus ends up getting infected, becoming Nemesis Prime, the new figurehead leader of the Terrorcons.

Elita-One ends up getting elected to Prime, becoming Elitus-Prime. This lasts briefly, but then Elitus ends up fully opening the Matrix herself. This causes a whole ton of changes.

At this point, the conflict turns into a predominantly anti-Unicron one, as the Autobots and Decepticons start a ceasefire to fight Unicron’s forces.

Some changes:

Optimus is cured of his infection, becoming Prime again and forcing the Fallen to get off his ass and become the new Terrorcon figurehead

A shit ton of Transformers are reformatted into more powerful forms, such as Elitus-One becoming Prowl (who’s still technically infected with the Transmetal Virus, but now she’s kinda built around it, so it’s less of a curse and more of a blessing), Bumblebee becoming Goldbug (who is built out of five smaller hiveminded robots), Hook becoming Scrapper and getting five sidekicks with whom he can combine into Devastator; etc. Another really important one, though? Megatron becomes Galvatron.

In the end, Galvatron and a few others would sacrifice themselves to defeat Unicron.

Eventually, there’d be a sequel story. In it, Unicron would turn out to still be alive, and he’d use his power to resurrect the shells of the Transformers who sacrificed themselves, but not their personalities- they’d just be shells. Galvatron’s shell would just call itself Megatron; eventually, Galvatron’s personality would be rescued and he’d join the Autobots and still call himself Galvatron. Anyways, Megatron would take command of the Decepticons again, for reasons. And the story would start with a group of Autobots dying, but getting resurrected in more powerful forms by Primus. Optimus Prime wouldn’t change his name, but the rest would; most notably, Goldbug would become Hot Shot, and Prowl would become Red Alert. Also, Optimus would save the life of a Decepticon named Brawl, and so Brawl’d also die and get resurrected (and not change his name), and he’d join the Autobots and be a huge Optimus fanboy.

And speaking of Megatron, he’d be a six-changer. His five altmodes? Truck, jet, dragon, tank, and... I don’t actually remember the fifth one. He’d use the Truck one as his primary altmode and use the others for specific situations.

Also eventually, Red Alert would get seriously damaged and go through a process that would repair her, but also minorly overhaul her. Not as extensive an overhaul as her previous ones, she’d still fundamentally have the same body, but it’d be... different. As Red Alert (and Prowl, for that matter), she transformed into an emergency vehicle, but now, she transformed into... basically the same car as she did as Red Alert, but tooled to be a racecar instead, and in different colors. So she renamed herself Override.

So, she has now gone by nine names: Solus, Rika Amami, Jazz, Elita-One, Elitus Prime, Elitus-One, Prowl, Red Alert, and Override. SO MANY NAMES.

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b-does-the-write-thing · 6 years ago

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The Demon Earl’s Deal, A Rumbelle Big Bang Fic

With the fate of Avonlea in the balance, Belle French will do anything to save her village, including making a deal with the Demon Earl of Lonsdale himself.

This story is part of @rumbellebigbang . A huge thank you to the runners of this great program as well as to my partner @rumpledspinster . She was a wonderful partner throughout the process and continually surprised and delighted me with her scene interpretations, fresh ideas and supported me every step of the journey. You can see her artwork for this story here.

Chapter One

Wales, March 1810

Everyone in Avonlea knew the story of the Demon Earl.

Robert Gold had first appeared at Askham Hall as a young child to everyone’s surprise, including his father, Lord Malcolm Gold, Lord of Lonsdale. There was no use denying the parentage; the young boy was Malcolm’s spitting image.

The surprising series of events was chalked up to youthful indiscretions and the boy was promptly shipped off to boarding schools. Avonlea almost forgot about the Lord of Lonsdale’s bastard son entirely until the day when he had returned to Askham Hall as a wedded man with a bride on his arm.

The Demon Earl lasted less than a year before he decamped back to London. He left his young wife in Wales with her father-in-law and her new mother-in-law, a lady younger than she was.

Stories leaked out from Askham Hall about the devious debauchery Lord Robert engaged in while he was in London. Servants often noticed the ladies of the house in tears, and the Lord of Lonsdale in fits of rage over the reports in the paper about his son cutting a swath through every boudoir of London.

He ordered his errant son back home but less than a year later...Lord Malcolm Gold and his daughter-in-law were dead. Robert Gold disappeared the very same night and had not been heard from in four years.

Until today.

Standing along the path overlooking the valley, Belle French gazed out at Askham Hall. Smoke curled up from the chimneys which meant the rumors were true; after four years, the Lord of Lonsdale had finally come home.

No one had known where he had gone. There had been no word, no whisper, not even a mention of the errant lord in the society papers. So, of course, in his absence, speculation had run rampant throughout Avonlea.

Some said the new Lord Lonsdale had pledged his soul to the devil and had since been off cavorting with demons. Others whispered he had gone off to profit from Napoleon’s bloody war on the Continent, while the bolder among them insisted he had gone to sell secrets to the dictator himself in exchange for refuge in France.

Rumors varied from source to source but everyone agreed upon one thing: Lord Robert Gold, was capable of anything.

Which was why, despite all the horrific rumors, Belle was on her way to Askham Hall.

Gold had been home for less than twenty-four hours and he already felt buried alive. His solicitor, Sidney Glass, had been firm that he could not put this off any longer, so Gold had returned to Askham Hall to put an end to this chapter of his life, once and for all. If he was truly going to be free of his past, he had to sever the last tie, the matter of the estate.

The halls were too quiet. The few remaining servants avoided him, scurrying out of his way less he curse them. He had heard the whispers, he knew the rumors. If he occasionally began to mutter something under his breath in Greek, just to watch a maid hurry away in terror, it was only for a moment’s respite from the eyes following him from room to room.

The head of house was the sole exception. “My lord,” Dove announced as he swung open the bedroom’s door, uninvited and unannounced. “I’ve brought you up the tea you requested.”

Turning from the window, Gold frowned. “I don’t recall requesting anything, Dove.”

The older man bowed. “My apologies,” he said as he left the tray on the table. HIs eyes flickered in disapproval around the guest bedroom. “We’ve finished airing out the state chambers,” he declared. “Perhaps those would be more suitable?”

Gold flinched. He had no interest in using his father’s rooms. He would rather barricade the door entirely then so much as take a step inside. As for his old rooms, it had merely taken one look at his bed for the memories of Milah to return.

These past four years, he had managed to banish her from his mind but her ghost had been awaiting him in their marriage bed. So, he had retreated to a guest room on the other side of the manor.

Let the household gossip about his choice of rooms. It did not matter to him. He was only here long enough to break the trust, to sell these cursed stones and leave the ghosts to some other poor sod.

The head of house lingered, clearly about to make his case on why a lord should not be staying in these lesser rooms. Uninterested in a lecture, Gold brushed past Dove towards the door. “I’ll be in my study,” he grumbled.

Arriving in the study, Gold tried and failed to find something to occupy his time when a flash of amber caught his eye. A bottle of brandy had been left out with a tumbler nearby. He stared at it for a long moment, debating.

Finally, figuring he had nothing else to do, and facing down a long afternoon of boredom and painful memories, he uncapped the brandy and poured himself a tall glass. It may not be the answer, but it was a solution.

Despite growing up in Avonlea, Belle had never actually been this close to Askham Hall. The great stone facade sprawled in every direction against the horizon of the sky, the dark stone glistening in the spring sun as if alive.

Belle lingered upon the stairs, mustering her courage. She had no experience with lords or great houses, but there was no helping that now. Steeling her spine, she stepped to the knocker, raised up to indicate the master of the house was at home and knocked.

It reverberated in the inner caverns of the great house. Belle pulled self-consciously on her sleeve and reached up to fix her bonnet. She had taken time to arrange her appearance just so, but now that she was actually here, she felt undressed. It did not take long for the door to open to reveal a somber fellow, whom Belle recognized at once as Askham Hall’s head of house, Dove.

Everyone in Avonlea knew the skeleton staff still employed by the errant lord; they were fortunate compared to the rest of Avonlea, with steady pay and lodgings while the rest of Avonlea had declined in the years that had followed the tragedies.

“Good afternoon,” Belle greeted. “I’m here to speak to Lord Lonsdale.”

The head of house recognized her as well. Being the town’s schoolmistress lent her a certain air of notoriety. “Miss French,” he said, though he did not open the door. “I don’t believe his lordship is receiving anyone today.”

She had not expected to be turned away at the door. She felt a bit silly that she had not considered that possibility. She plastered her best smile upon her face. “It’s a simple matter,” she said, which was not exactly true. “Perhaps Lord Lonsdale has just a moment?”

Dove wavered but with a slight tilt of his head, he gestured for her to follow after him. The hall was as great as Belle had expected. It was white marble with a great chandelier hanging overhead, glistening in the early spring sunlight but there was an unearthly stillness as if the hall was awaiting something.

Dove escorted Belle down a long corridor. Every room they passed showed signs of neglect and age, cluttered and crammed with furnishings. It was a shame to see such a beautiful house brought low but if the rumors were to be believed, this house had seen terrible things and perhaps it was for the best.

Caught up in staring at her surroundings, Belle almost walked straight into Dove when he stopped to open the library door. “Miss Belle French to see you, my lord,” Dove announced without so much as a look back at her.

Belle did not give the earl a chance to refuse to admit her. Seizing her courage, she walked straight past Dove into the library.- only to falter at the sight before her.

She hadn’t known what she expected the Demon Earl to look like, but it was not this. The earl was standing at a window, clad only in his shirt sleeves. The sun cut through the thin fabric to show the planes and lines of his frame beneath the muslin.

He was not a particularly physically intimidating man but there was a stillness about him, an air of power, that proved that this was indeed the man who had spawned so many legends in Avonlea. He was not a typically handsome man but there was something about him that drew the eye, invited one to look closer.

The door closed behind her as Dove departed. Jolted out of her reverie, Belle turned back to the door, rather wishing the head of house had lingered. Belle had never spoken to a member of the peerage before and suddenly felt wrong-footed, uncertain where to start.

When she did not speak, the earl lifted an eyebrow at her. “And who would you be?”

“Belle French, my lord.”

He waved his arm, the glass in his hand catching the sunlight. “Yes, I know that, Miss French, as you were just announced mere seconds ago. I meant who are you to me? It is considered the highest of impropriety for a lady to call upon a lord unaccompanied without so much as an introduction.”

Biting back an angry retort, she managed, “I’m the schoolmistress in Avonlea.”

“Ah.” Gold waved his hand and turned back to the window. “Barely home a day and already they come knocking,” he muttered to himself before saying loudly for her benefit,” I assume you are here seeking funds for a worthy cause. I’d advise you to have your husband or father apply to my steward in the future rather than inconveniencing me. Good day, Miss French.”

At his curt dismissal, Belle’s temper flickered and caught. “I am unwed and my father has been dead and buried ten years this August. Besides, this is not some simple matter for your steward, my lord.”

“It never is,” he said over his shoulder. He strolled over a decanter-covered cabinet and refilled the glass in his hand. “Everyone thinks their matters are too important for a steward. I wonder what I pay him for. ”

“Lord Lonsdale,” Belle said, starting again. ”I’m here because the people of Avonlea are suffering, and you are the only one in a position to help them. It will cost you little in time or money.”

“I don’t care how little it costs,” Gold snapped. “I don’t want anything to do with your village or the people in it. Which includes you.” He gestured toward the door. “So, I suggest you leave before things get uncivil.”

From her perspective, things were already uncivil, so Belle did not see that as a reason to leave. She gave up on any niceties, planting her hands on her hips. “I am not asking for your help, I am demanding it as your role of lord requires of you. Now, shall I explain now or wait for you in the parlor until you are sober?”

Lord Gold lowered his glass. “I wouldn’t speak to me like that if I were you,” he warned as he took a step closer. “Last I checked, you were in my home. Have a care how you speak to me.”

Belle had prepared for a certain level of antagonism and had meant to meet it with a calm, level head but as usual, her temper was starting to get a hold of her. “Your father was a good man,” Belle reminded him. “He did a great deal for the people of Avonlea. The poor fund, the chapel-”

“I am not my father.”

She had touched a nerve. Belle crossed her arms and blustered, “No, it appears the apple has fallen rather far from the tree. Since you have inherited, you haven’t done a thing for the estate or the village.”

“Nor do I intend to,” he picked his drink back up and finished it in one swallow.

He meant it too.

“How can you say such a thing?” she asked him. “No one is that heartless.”

Gold smiled. “Miss French, your innocence is touching.” He leaned against the edge of his table and crossed his arms. “You had best depart before I shatter any of your other dearly beloved illusions.”

She gaped at him. “Don’t you care that people are suffering?”

Gold thought for a moment. “No.”

“What would change your mind?” Belle pressed him. She had not come all this way to just give up

Gold waved his hand. “My help is not available for any price you would be willing to pay.”

“How can I know that unless you name your price?”

This caught his attention. He stilled and the air in the room shifted. “You want to make a deal?” he drawled, taking a step closer to her. He crooked a finger and beckoned her closer. “And what exactly do you have to offer, Miss French?”

Too late, Belle realized what could be insinuated from her reckless words. A flush spread across her face but she tried not to avert her eyes from his smug countenance as he sat upon the desk.

When she could not find her voice, Gold stood, victorious. “I fail to see why I should spend my time and energy when there is nothing in it for me.” He retrieved his glass and poured himself another glass of brandy, returning to the other side of the desk. “Close the door on your way out, Miss French.”

Belle was tempted to do just that, but she had to try one last time, not for her sake but for the sake of Avonlea. “I will not leave until you have named a price for your aid.”

The Demon Earl stared back at her, his face an impassive mask. ‘You will not like my answer.”

No, she rather thought she wouldn’t. Still. “At least name your cost.”

A shadow crossed his face, calculating and triumphant. “I’ll name my price, but it’s one I’m confident that you will refuse to pay.”

“What is it?” she asked warily.

“What I want,” he paused for a deep drink of brandy, “is you.”

Read the rest on A03

#rumbelle fic #rumbelle big bang #rumpledspinister #rumbelle regency

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