#but if you had to ask i’d say he’s attracted to fighters | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eraenaa · 3 months

Text

Stereotypical (Demi-God AU)

Aemond, Son of Ares x Reader, Daughter of Aphrodite

Synopsis: The daughter of Aphrodite falls for one of the sons of Ares— the second coming of their parents.

Warnings: Mature, 18+, Dry Humping, Semi-Public Relations, Not Proofread

Word Count: 2, 720

It’s stereotypical, you were aware—a whole cliche. But what were you to do when you realized that you were growing attracted to one of the sons of your mother’s past paramours? It did not help that he was the strongest fighter in camp— the most mysterious and illusive Demi-God there. You watch him by the benches whilst you sit and chat with one of the daughters of the Goddess Demeter, Helaena. “You’re staring at him again,” She teased as her fingers twirled the stem of a dandelion whose buds she blew away. You rolled your eyes and shifted your gaze, denying the accusation. “Just speak to him; I’m sure he won’t be as standoffish as he seems.” Helaena hummed, but you shook your head.

“What are you two talking about?” Aegon, the son of Dionysus, appeared, seemingly intoxicated, even though wine was banned from camp. “No— let me guess,” he quickly said. “I’m guessing… the brooding swordsman? Hm?” He asked you, and you felt color bloom on your cheeks. Were you that obvious? You groaned and tucked a strand of your hair behind your ear in frustration. “I do not understand! They… usually fall at my feet, trying to get my attention! But not him,” You complained, making Aegon and Helaena smile in amusement at the expense of your irritation. “Whatever, I’m going for a walk,” You grumbled and stood, trying hard not to let your gaze fly over to Aemond, who trained with a sword.

You find yourself in the woods, threading closer to the lake where you often stare at your reflection in the water. You took in a deep breath and stared at your face blessed by your mother— the prettiest girl in camp, they say. You attracted all sorts of attention, good and bad, but the only attention you wanted was never bestowed upon you. He denied you of his lone gaze. “What’s a pretty girl like you doing here all alone?” You hear a voice ask. You sighed and cast your gaze upward, landing on Jacaerys, son of Hephaestus. “Hello, Jacaerys,” You say politely.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asked, dark eyes hopeful. “I… I’d actually prefer to be alone right now,” You reasoned. Watching his face drop. You sigh; if only Aemond were this excited to be in your presence. “Oh,” Jacaerys said, scratching the back of his neck sheepishly. “I’ll see you at dinner, Jace,” You give him a fleeting smile, and you thank the gods that he actually took the hint and left. You returned to stare at yourself, trying to define which aspect you could improve upon, highlighting them in hopes that it would catch the attention of one of the sons of the God of War.

“What are you doing?” A different voice asked, a reflection joining yours on the surface of the water. You yelped and backed away in surprise. “Gods, Aemond,” You said as he finally cast his eye upon you. “What were you doing?” He asked once again, leading out his hand to assist you to stand. “Staring at myself,” You mumbled, feeling heat rise to your cheeks as he caught you. You hear him scoff, “Of course,” He said and let go of your hand that tingled from touching his. “Best you be reminded by the fate of Narcissus,” Aemond stated. You bit back your tongue; this is what you wanted. He was speaking to you— his attention on you, but now it came; why were you frozen as if you had gazed at Medusa?

“Do you not have to train?” You asked Aemond as you perched yourself upon a log near the river banks. You watch him take a pebble into his fingers, skipping it on the water. “I’ve just finished,” he said and moved to take a seat next to you. You took your lower lip between your teeth as you felt your shoulders brush, the heat of him reaching you. “What do you think we’re doing here?” You suddenly ask as both of you stare off into the orange sun that reflects on the lake. “What do you mean? We’re here to train. We’re here for protection from the outside world.” Aemond stated the obvious, but you shook your head. “Train for what?” You asked, “A war.”

“Is there one?” Your eyes locked upon his. “I… I just do not understand why I was brought here,” You confessed as you saw the confusion in his lilac orb. “They say the world of mortals was filled with danger— but mine wasn’t. I was living comfortably— I do not understand why my mother had summoned me if I am not to do anything here,”

“The gods have a purpose in every action they make— even if we do not understand it,” You hummed at his statement. “Do you truly believe that?” Aemond looked at you with a question once more. “I just… feel like we’re pawns being played here— born to do their bidding. We make the sacrifices; they get the glory. I just think that the minuscule scrap of recognition they throw is not at all worth it.” You saw a smirk rising to his lips despite the seriousness you posed. “What?” Aemond shakes his head; you feel him inch his way closer to you. “My sister seems to think that you’re filled with air in that pretty little head of yours,” You blinked at his statement; should you be offended or flattered?

“And do you agree?” You ask, fearing for his statement. Aemond hummed, gazing at your face. It was the first time in your life that you felt insecure under someone’s gaze— the first time you felt fear that someone might not think you agreeable and comely. “I agree with her when she said that you were pretty… very pretty,” You bit your cheeks as his eyes flew to your blushed cheeks and then ever so quickly to your lips. “But, no, she was completely mistaken to underestimate you,” You feel your lips twitch, catching Aemond’s attention. You inch towards him, your desires swirling with your assumptions. Aemond stayed rooted where he sat; he did not lean in, nor did he pull away. When your nose brushed, you hear him take in a harsh breath. “We should head back,” he said and pulled away, leaving you confused and overly embarrassed and rejected.

You were so close— you took the courage to move first. It was all Aemond wanted— all that he had dreamed of. All his offerings to the gods were for this moment, which was why he was greatly disappointed and infuriated with himself when he backed away and left like a coward. It was too much— it was so much more than he could handle. Ever since you’ve arrived at camp, all he did was try and keep your attention on him. He trained day and night, purposefully choosing grounds where you would pass by. He would relish with each moment that he would feel your gaze upon him. Watching intently as he would fight and show off his skill, hoping that it would impress you. Knowing that it was how his father had caught the attention of your mother.

Aemond’s eye would fly to you during dinner, you sitting with your brothers and sisters. There was no smile on your lips, unlike the previous nights; you sat limply and played with your food, your cheek resting on your palm as a pout formed itself on your luscious lips. What had he done? How could he subject the most beautiful girl his eye has ever seen to such a sullen state? Aemond dug his nails into his palms. You were the daughter of beauty and love, and he was the son of war and strife. He did not deserve anything so precious and delicate as you. He could only offer you ruin and struggle. The thought of bringing you conflict only fortified his decision to back away. To instead protect you from afar— to relinquish his desires to be with you, to hold you, kidding himself that gazing at you was enough. That simply looking at you had to be enough.

Days passed as both you and Aemond avoided each other. You, embarrassed by your wanting actions and him, controlling himself from giving in to his desires. You no longer watched as he would impressively train with the sword, and he would no longer silently trail you wherever you went. Aemond only picked specific moments to follow you and made certain that no danger would find you— even though the two of you were in the safety of camp where no danger could reach, Aemond was just simply cautious.

You traded the lake for the beach. Walking alone on the sanded path, the moonlight shining bright atop the water. Your mind consistently loops your foolish actions, making you cringe at yourself. You called for your mother the other night, trying to find guidance or perhaps comfort, as rejection did not sit well with you. The thought of someone not falling for your charms when everyone so easily did, scared you. She ignored your offerings and pleas, leaving you to face your confusion and fears by yourself, only solidifying your beliefs that you and all the children in this camp were simply pawns by the gods. Expected to answer their call when it first rings whilst they constantly ignore yours.

You sighed heavily, staring off into the sea where your mother was born. Stepping foot into the water, you tried to connect with the woman who disrupted your peaceful, mortal life only to bring you here and ignore you. You took deep breaths, walking deeper into the water, not caring that you were still clothed as you submerged yourself in the sea. Aemond watched by the shore, battling with himself if he should follow. When you disappeared under the water, with each passing second, you did not emerge; it only put forth fear in the bravest demi-god in camp.

Aemond shook his head and ran to the sea, diving to where you disappeared only to catch you resurface, shocked as you realized his presence had joined you. “Aemond,” You breathed out, wiping away the salt water from your eyes, the boy holding your arm, the waves pushing him closer to you. “What… what were you doing?” He asked, concern lacing his deep, silky voice. “I wanted to swim,” You reasoned, hoping that the water would clean you from embarrassment and shame. You feel his eye grow downward, looking at the clothes you fashioned. “In your night dress?” He asked, the silk fabric thin, the cool water clinging to your body. “It was a spontaneous decision,” You mumbled, your gaze shifting away from him as your cheeks heated. The both of you floating in the sea.

“Why are you here?” you asked, realizing that he had gone in the water, fully clothed as well. You met his eye, the sapphire orb shifting around. His thin, pink lips parted as he tried to find a reason. “I… I—“ You bit your lip, as you had never seen him so flustered. The most fearsome son of Ares is at a loss for words when faced with the prettiest daughter of Aphrodite.

Aemond stayed silent, only the crashing of waves reaching your ears. It took a while for the both of you to realize that you floated in each other’s arms— the past events of the other day returning to your mind, both making you conscious. “I’m sorry about the other day,” You whispered as you saw it best to address your actions in order for the both of you to forget it and your mind to free you from the torment of your idiotic presumption. “It was wrong for me to assume… I have misread your intentions and made you uncomfortable; I apologize.” You say sincerely.

You hear Aemond sigh, the waves pushing your bodies closer together, his breath fanning your face, your scent invading his senses. “You did not misread anything,” He admitted. Making your brows furrow. “I… I wanted you to kiss me, wished for it for a while now.” He confessed with a small smile, trying to lighten the tense air with his rare but charming smile. “Oh,” was all you could say as you tried to comprehend his words. “Then why… “ you trailed as you had trouble wording out what had transpired in the lake. Aemond sighed, and you stilled as you felt his arms wrap around your waist, flushing your bodies together as the both of you floated. The moonlight lighted your face, illuminating his silver hair as well as your milky skin. “I got scared,” He admitted, daring to cup your cheek. Your skin was soft against his calloused palm.

“You? Got scared? The favored son of the god of war got scared by the prospect of a kiss?” You asked in confusion, resting your hands on his shoulders. You hear him let out a small chuckle. “I was only frightened because it was you who I would be kissing,” He stated, caressing your cheek. “The most beautiful girl I was ever blessed to see… now, I hope you’d understand why I panicked,” Aemond smiled as the blush on your cheeks deepened. You set your gaze downward, staring at the water that sparkled under the silver light. Your heart stilled when you felt Aemond place a finger under your chin to raise your gaze once more, finally having the courage to place his lips against yours.

Aemond wanted to be slow and cautious, to not frighten or pressure you to succumb to all his desires. But as a sigh left your throat when your lips finally met, all restraint he had disappeared. Pulling you impossibly closer to him, making you wrap your legs around him, letting your arms cling to him. Deepening your kiss, his tongue asked for entrance, which you were hesitant to give but relished the feeling when you did. Aemond’s chest rumbled with a sound as you accidentally nipped his lip, enjoying your mistake that only fueled his desires further.

You pulled away from him, suddenly feeling cautious as the both of you were being so intimate in such an open space where anyone could see. You tried to speak reason, to speak caution that the both of you may be caught, but as Aemond placed his lips on your neck, kissing it and leaving his marks, you no longer had the capacity to speak. Pleasure freezing your mind at the new sensation. Aemond hummed as he heard your heavy breathing, your sweet taste mixing with the salted water as he indulged in the feel of your skin. Aemond closed his eye tightly as you, who had your legs wrapped around his torso started to move your hips. Squirming as you felt urgency for something you were yet to know consuming you.

Aemond’s hand moved downwards from your waist to your bottom, cupping them and aiding your movements that sought for friction. You let go of a shaky breath against his lips, your eyes looking deeply at his sapphire eye that turned dark and glazed with deeper desires and restraint. “Aemond,” You whimpered, filled with anticipation of what was to come. You ground your hips further, making him utter a foul word and turn his head to the heavens. Aemond moved one hand to cup your cheek, bringing you closer to kiss your lips once more. “I… I— Aemond,” was all you could utter as you were uncertain what the sensation was building inside you. It was sharp and urgent and pleasurable— an odd mix. “Are you to come, my pretty girl? Hm?” Aemond gritted as his hips met yours. He bent his head down and placed a kiss atop your chest; his head felt light at the whimpers of his name that your mouth spewed.

“Aemond!” You shrieked as all finally fell, your body feeling alight as you came at the sensation of riding against the boy you had desired for long. Aemond gritted out your name as he, too, came, spilling himself in his trousers. You hummed as he kissed you again, tasting him and the sea that was witness to your desires and pleasures being fed.

Sequel: Jealousy, Jealousy

#aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen #house of the dragon #aemond smut #aemond x reader #hotd aemond #aemond modern au #greek mythology au #aphrodite #daughter of aphrodite #ares #son of ares #pjo #demi god #camp half blood

630 notes · View notes

bradshawsvinyl · 2 months

Text

Begin Again Part Three

As a first grade teacher, you couldn’t help but fall for your sweet student and her very attractive Navy fighter pilot father.

part one. part two.

Bradley woke up the next morning feeling hopeful. It had been a long time since he had felt so attracted to someone. He knew you were Tara’s teacher and that both put you in a weird spot but he couldn’t help himself.

After getting Tara ready for school and dropping her off, he made the drive to base. He wanted to talk to Phoenix about what he should do next. Pursuing you could put both him and Tara in an awkward position and that was the last thing he wanted to do. He was Tara’s father before anything else and if starting something with you would be harmful to Tara in any way, he would just have to push his feelings aside.

“Nat,” Bradley called out as he saw her across the hallway.

“Rooster. Hey,” Phoenix replied when she spotted him. “How are things going with the hot teacher?”

“I gave her my number yesterday. She’s helping me out with Tara after school until I get off work.” Bradley said, blushing.

“No way Bradshaw,” Phoenix said excitedly. Phoenix was Bradley’s best friend and at the end of the day, she wanted what was best for him. It had been so long since she had seen Bradley try to pursue a woman for more than one night. She knew his feelings were genuine.

“Yeah,” Bradley said smiling. “I’ve never felt this way before. I barely know her but I just feel a connection. I think she feels it too.”

“You should ask her out.” Phoenix thought out loud.

“No way,” Bradley said while running his fingers through his hair. “I can’t do that. What if she says no? I don’t want to make her uncomfortable.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t ask.” Phoenix said, staring at a distressed Bradley. “Just try. What’s the worst that could happen?”

After his conversation with Phoenix, Bradley started thinking to himself. What was the worst that could happen? If you said no to his advances, he could live with that. It wouldn’t be the end of the world.

As he went to pick up Tara from school, he decided to make a quick trip to the local grocery store to pick up some flowers. He figured it would be a nice gesture regardless of whether you chose to go out with him or not. He truly did appreciate all your help with Tara.

“Do you have a boyfriend?” Tara asked as you both sat together and colored.

“No.” You said while coloring a picture of a butterfly.

“My daddy could be your boyfriend.” Tara replied not even looking up from the page she was covering. “He doesn’t have a girlfriend but he tells Aunt Phoenix that he wants one all the time.”

Just as Tara finished her sentence, Bradley knocked on your open door. “Hey ladies.” He said jokingly at the sight of you and Tara.

Tara did her usual routine of running up to Bradley and hugging him while excitedly telling him about her day. You sat back and began cleaning up your classroom and packing up your bag for the day.

Bradley told Tara to start grabbing her belongings while he walked over to you. “I wanted to give these to you.” He said, holding out the flowers he purchased for you earlier. “As a thank you for all your help with Tara. It means a lot.”

You grabbed the flowers and mumbled a quick thank you to Bradley while smiling and blushing.

“I wanted to ask you something too,” Bradley started. “I have a sitter for Tara on Saturday night. There’s a small bar by my house that we could hang out at if you’re interested.” Bradley let out a short breath. The ball was now in your court.

“I’d love to.” You replied a little too quickly.

“Great.” Bradley said. “I’ll text you the details. See you on Saturday,” he said while giving you a small wink. He held Tara’s hand and led her outside of your classroom.

Once he had left, you silently celebrated. Bradley and you were going on a date. You had never felt so excited.

#rooster x reader #top gun fanfiction #rooster x oc #rooster fanfic #rooster top gun #rooster imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw #rooster bradshaw fic #bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw #top gun x reader #top gun 1986 #top gun maverick #my writing

211 notes · View notes

sketchfanda · 7 months

Text

Chestnut Stud across the Multiverse: Korra’s senpai.

Satan city locals couldn’t help but turn their heads at the couple walking hand in hand and really, who could blame. It wasn’t everyday you saw a sensational pro fighter and the ceo of a high grade mechanical manufacturing firm thst could compete with against capsule corp out in public. Especially together as a couple, not that it was scandalous or anything mind you, it just wasn’t often you saw out in the open like this, but Damn if they weren’t quite the picture perfect example of opposites attract. A stunning elements high class beauty who you know could live the good life and enjoy the finer things,and a rough tough tumble toned amazonian beauty of a tomboy. Their height difference distinct with the tomboy, Korra at 5 foot 7 and her lover Asami at an even 6 feet tall. If anything the only scandal would be what these two were getting up and the purpose for which was bringing them toeards their pending destination. One of Satan city’s 5 star hotels, with the penthouse suite booked for them and their guests for this little secret get together for the day. Yes sir,Asami Sato and her lovely gal Korra had a spicey side to their love life and this evening woild be no different. Especially for Korra who couldn’t really contain any sense of giddiness or excitement, and with good reason of course. Asami:”I have to say Korra,I don't think I've ever seen you so excited before. makes me feel rather jealous,you naughty girl you...”*walking hand in hand with her girlfriend in satan city,on their way to a high class hotel. Their choice of evening wesr stylish yet casual,her sensual feminine classy elegance in contrast to her lover. A bemused expression her face at how eager her water tribe she-stallion seemed* Korra:”What,really? Silly me,sorry babe, I just can't help it, I mean it's been a while since I’ve seen my old senpai. I Mean you’re the one who asked for the juicy details and arranged this little get together..”*the amazonian to buy teased playfully. A slight blush on her face and a catlike grin of delight on her expression.*

Asami giggled as she gave Korra a kiss on the cheek, curious to get to know this “senpai” quite well herself and likely as intimately. As they entered the hotel,getting their copy of the keycard from reception as the concierge informed them their fellow guests had arrived. Which made their pulses skyrocket as they got into the elevator,passing the time in the steady ascent of the compartment to cop a feel of one another. A simple casual makeout session as they assaulted one another’s bodies with some heavy petting to add fuel to the growing fire of lust and passion, burning between them for each other as well as what they were about to do. Faces flushed red as they stepped out the lift to make their way towards the penthouse suite door. Soon as Asami opened it with the keycard, they were greeted by the sight of a certain 5 foot compact fighter turned cop and his blonde bombshell of a wife, with Korra closing the distance gap between them as she hugged the cue ball. Her 7 inches of height different to him causing his head to be sandwiched between the valley of her bodacious boobs. Asami giggling at Krillin’s expression as did 18, before watching eith sensual delight as Korra planter her lips on his, giving him quite the passionate, lust fuelled kiss.

Korra:*purring as she broke the kiss,a little trail of saliva between them,panting slightly to control her racing heartbeat.* “Mm senpai it’s been way too long,you naughty man…”*she teased,giggling st the deadpan indigntsnt expression Krillin gave her, before she gasped and moaned as Krillin sudden,t gave her denim clad ass a swift slap,followed by grabbing and squeezing it. The well toned booty a lot more bubbly than it seemed.*”ooooh so forceful Sendai…but I’d expect nothing less from the stud who ruined me for other men…”

Krillin:*despite the grimace he wore on his face,he wasn’t hesitating in copping a feel of the tomboy’s amazonian beauty of a work of art of a body.*”There you go again, being so damn impulsive…”*rolling his eyes as Korra playfully stuck her tongue out at him and at the giggles 18 and Asami sent his way.* “but hey let’s not best around the bush huh? You came all this way and what not so let’s get right to it…”

Soon as he finished saying that,he began to strip, Asami humming sensually in approval whole Korra licked her lips with erotic anticipation. 18 herself stripping down to absolute nudity as she let the lair enjoy her compact hubby’s physique on display, a Herculean work of art with only his boxers remaining on as he sat in the edge of the mattress of the queen sized bed. Korra and Asami purring as eyed him up and down. Soon the tomboy found her lover pressing herself to her,as they began to make out. Giving Krillin a little lesbian show to which 18 added herself to the mix,her hands joining theirs in stripping them,as their lips and tongues all danced together in a blurry heat of growing passion. The sight of the erection now pitching a tent in the shirt king’s boxers spurring them on as soon Korra and Asami were now naked,their curvy bodies varying in their muscle tone,Korra’s from an intense workout routine while Asami despite her feminine grace knew her way around working and handling heavy machinery. They alongside 18 striking sensual poses for his enjoyment,before Korra strode over to kiss and make out with her senpai once more,kissing down along his torso with lusty thirst, soon kneeling on the carpeted floor as she tugged down his boxers. Removing them and throwing them aside as she licked her lips with eagerness. Rubbing his balls and grasping his raging hard cock, stroking as it as she looked at Asami like she was presenting and singing the praises of a national treasure.

Korra:*a shameless lewd look on her face,you’d swear pink hearts were glowing in her lust hazed eyes.*”Mmm just look at it asami, this length and girth..this is a real man right here. The feel,the taste, the scent….”*she couldn’t contain herself any more,as she began plant licks and kisses on Krillin’s cock. Soon latching her lips on it to suck and blow, drowning it with her saliva.*

Asami couldn’t find it in her make a witty comeback, too entranced by the sight of her butch tomboy lover acting like such a butch in what as she lavished oral worship on Krillin’s manhood. In the blink of an eye she wasted no time in joining them. Pressing her lips to his as they made out, hands massaging that muscular torso as she kissed her way down along physique, soon joining Korra in tagteaming him with a tandem blowjob. Hands rubbing her slit as she felt how wet she was, arousal skyrocketing at seeing her lover do the same. Now she can see how and why Korra had been so vivid in the details she shared about stories of her old senpai, the man she gave her first time to, a stud so amazing sexually thst it’s small wonder she proclaimed he ruined her for other men. Something she was going to thank him for,as they continued to shower his cock with lusty licks and kisses. Asami leaving red kiss marks thanks to her lip stark, marking his shaft and balls SWAK (sealed with a kiss). 18 of course licked her lips with delight at the display before her, soon joining them as she added her own mouth and tongue to the mix. Krillin could only tilt his head back to groan as the sensation and vision of his wife and two very kinky,horny lesbisexuals (bicurious lesbians) assaulted his manhood with their mouths and tongues. The 3 way blowjob soon rewarding their stunning fellatio skills as he erupted, his dick spraying with white hot scream. Catching it in their mouths and on their faces, making out with each other to clean it off as Krillin lied back on the bed, catching his breath.

Korra:*sensually grinning as she pried herself away from Asami and 18, climbing onto the bed as she straddled her former senpai, mounting him and grinding her slit against his still hard cock.*”Mmm, your protein tastes as good as I remember senpai,but I know you’re not done by a long shot…”*gasps as she felt Krillin grab and squeeze her bubbly booty.*”Oooh there we go…that’s the senpai I remember. Make sure You give Asami your A game,you sex machine you..”

Krillin:”don’t get cocky with me,You cheeky girl…”*h quipped good naturedly,as he pumped snd thrust his cock into Korra’s pussy,making her toes curl and her spine arch,glowing hesrts in her eyes once again as they smacked their loins together in the ancient intimate dance of man and woman. Bouncing her muscular form as she rode that cock,letting her senpai bring them together to the peak of ecstasy. Just like this one glorious night together so long ago..*

Asami looked in with awe and arousal at seeing her proud,powerful Korra scream like the bitch in he’s she was being taken and claimed as. Seeing her and Krillin roll around between a mating and Amazon press, the sigh of their loins connected in that lewd,intimate embrace of sexual mating. 18 sitting behind her,idly making out with her as she squeezed her tits and kissed along her neck and shoulders to lock lips with her. Their tongues dancing together as Sato Corp heiress continued to probe her own pussy with her naughty fingers. The penthouse suit filling with the echoes of erotic moans and the smacking of skin on skin. 18 knew this little get together would be fun, but who knew Krillin’s old training kouhai was such a junkie for her man and his amazing oak tree class cock? Then again this was her husband she was talking about, him having a way with women and leaving an erotic impact on them was his best way of making a first impression for a good reason. Knowing Asami would become just as much of a chestnut junkie soon as she got her turn. Breathing in the scent of her perfume, waiting for thst sweet moment when Korra would get a nice wombfull soon as Krillin blew his load, which was more or less the unofficial signal for switching and changing up.

Asami:”Oooooh fuuuuck!! This is amazing! Aahn I’m losing my mind!! Aah Korra,we should,no we need to marry this man! One night isn’t enough!! More senpai,more,fuck me,fuck me!” *Indeed Asami was hooked the moment that felt that immense length and girth penetrate her. Taking it in missionary as Krillin thrust like a jackhammer,her legs hooked around his shoulders,hands squeezing her ass as he slapped and played it like a bongo drum. Tits bouncing,mouth drooling as a few mere inches from them,Korra and 18 laid atop one another in a 69, making out with one another’s pussies, the blonde cyborg lapping away at thse overflow of excess jizz from Krillin’s prior orgasm. The heiresss experiencing truly first hand why Korra held her former senpai in such high regard.*

18:”Mmm that’s it girls,you want to make this foursome official,earn your keep and show m the effort you’re gonna put in…”*the deadly beauty quipped erotically,riding her husband in reverse cowgirl. Moaning as she rode that sick with intimate familiarity,as she fingered Asami and Korra, who kissed and licked her body with sexual worship. Making out with her with sloppy kisses or suckling away at her bouncing titties. Krillin gif course being teased with just the sight of their splendid backsides and their glistening skin.*

The foursome showed no signs of stopping, even as dusk was starting to set in, the room bathed in the colours of the sunset as they went about two pairs of swinging,swapping one on one, two on one to three on one. Little more than pornographic animals casting aside shame and inhibition as 18 hugged her man from behind. Taking delight in him fucking Korra doggy style while the tomboy ate out her girlfriend. To Asami laying atop her lover,their tits rubbing together in sensual friction as Krillin mounted and fucked the heiress from behind. Any exhausting cast aside by the thrill of their mating, as if the two lovers were driven by the impulse to want to go all night and all the way to the morning and make sure they leave this hotel kmowing they’d be knocked up and carrying this stud’s babies. Idly wondering if they might follow through on Asami’s impulsive dirty talk and make their foursome truly official. The wedding would surely be spectacular and the honeymoon would be as good as this perhaps ten,no a hundredfold. For now of course, thst was the future and this was the moment they were living for. A moment they’d never want to end.

#sketchfan85 #sketchfan #sketchfanda #krillin dragonball #dragonball krillin #krillin smut #krillin #android 18 #legend of korra #korra #asami sato #asami

32 notes · View notes

callsign-phoenix · 1 year

Text

I simply wrote this because I got the idea, I hope you like it!

It is a Pete ‘Maverick’ Mitchell x female!reader imagine.

Thank you @footprintsinthesxnd for proofreading!

Warnings: cursing, allusions to smut

You had never quite been the center of attention at Navy dinners, not like your older sister.

Penny was gorgeous and just the right amount of flirtatious, and with you being the daughters of Admiral Benjamin her desirability only heightened tenfold.

You had never been too popular with the Navy men and you were grateful for it, knowing just how much trouble they could be.

Nevertheless you liked going to the Navy functions your dad invited you to because you liked to look at the young gorgeous men gathered around the table.

You weren’t as limited as them as to how to dress so you took some liberties, you didn’t dress as daring as your older sister but definitely daring enough.

You didn’t know if you wanted to attend another celebratory dinner because you were always a little left out and lonely, but as you said you liked people watching so you didn’t mind.

As expected your older sister got most of the attention, which your dad didn’t like, but at least he knew you knew how to behave yourself.

You were happily behaving yourself when a young man approached you, with a wide grin and eyes that gleamed with humor and mischief.

“You’re looking awfully lonely tonight,” he spoke out and you had to take a look around to realize that he was talking to you.

It took you a few seconds to reply, because you had to come to terms with the fact that a gorgeous sailor had approached you without being forced to lead a conversation with you.

“Are you a shy one?” He went on, chuckling as he moved a bit closer and leaning against the wall with his arm propped up against it.

It was intimidating but also strangely thrilling and attractive, and the fact that his eyes didn’t leave your face only entranced you further.

“I could keep you company tonight if you’d like,” he said in a low voice as another crooked grin appeared on his face, showing his big and bright front teeth as well as the sparkle in his eyes.

“I’m Maverick, section leader of my squadron of fighter pilots, it’s a pleasure to meet you, doll, but as much as I like to hear myself speak I’d like to know more about you too,” he continued, and your eyes searched the room to find your dad in deep conversation with one of his fellow admirals.

You reached out to shake his hand and introduced yourself, deciding to throw all caution into the wind and try to enjoy yourself.

“Benjamin, as in Admiral Benjamin?” He asked and his smile faltered just a little, which made you grin at him for the first time since you met him.

That grin was the reason why Maverick decided to risk it all, redoubling his efforts and broadening his smile again.

“Well, Miss Benjamin, how about I get you a drink? Daddy wouldn’t mind, would he?” He asked as he leaned even closer, you could feel his breath brush your mouth and yor eyes lowered to glance at his lips, which were still tugged upwards playfully.

“Daddy doesn’t have to know,” you answered purposely choosing the same word he had, just to rile him up.

Maverick chuckled and disappeared, telling you that he’d be back as quickly as possible.

He did indeed like to talk but over the course of the evening he got a little more handsy, taking the liberty to hold you by your waist or stroke your cheek whenever the opportunity presented itself.

You could honestly say that you loved the way he held you and what he had to say, even if he bragged a little more than necessary.

It was charming and by the end of the night you were ready to go however far he’d like to go as well, your father entirely erased from your mind.

Maverick pulled you by your wrist when the dinner had officially ended and you found a spot that was a little more secluded in another room, with your lips immediately latching onto his when he closed the door.

You were absolutely entranced by him, his smile, his smell and the way his hands felt on your body, following him when he pressed you backwards against a desk, jumping onto it so he could stand between your legs.

Maverick’s hands roamed your back, from your shoulder blades down to the crease of your ass through your dress and you grew more and more breathless, holding onto him and letting desperate moans fall from your lips.

You were so far gone that you didn’t hear your father call your name nor Commander Jardian, whom your father had apparently asked to help look for you.

Maverick’s fingers just enclosed around the zipper on the back of your dress when the door opened and the lights went on, making you and Maverick jump apart immediately.

Your hair and dress was in disarray and so was Maverick’s and his dress uniform, the first few buttons opened and the end of his belt tucked out of his trousers so that you could open it.

You were breathless when you glanced at the door to find Tom, one of your father’s friends look at you in utter disbelief.

Your eyes fell to the floor in shame and Stinger closed the door taking a deep breath before his face and the rest of his bald head turned a deep and unhealthy shade of red.

“Missy, I’m not even going to start with you because you’re not my responsibility but if I see you in another situation like this I will alert your father,” he told you sternly, his breathing got increasingly heavy as he tried to keep his calm, but that failed once his eyes turned to Maverick.

“And you, Mitchell, you just lost yourself your qualifications as section leader! I expected better from the both of you but you can be lucky I won’t strip you of your fucking wings!” He shouted, his anger evident, which had both you and Maverick shrinking in shame.

Stinger had made his way into the room further and he was staring Maverick down as if he wanted to end him, which would have looked funny had you not had part fault in the situation.

“I’ll leave and you’ll sure as fuck follow me quickly, before I forget myself,” he continued and you were sure you saw some spit landing on Maverick’s face, but he didn’t move a muscle.

Tom once again glanced at you before he stormed outside, purposely not bothering to close the door.

There was a moment of silence between the two of you before Maverick spoke again, giving you a cocky grin and reaching for a pen beside you.

He scribbled something down before he gave the piece of paper to you, looking at you intensely and leaning in to give you another quick kiss to the lips.

“This is my number, use it,” he winked, before he exited the room and left you dazed and breathless by yourself.

When Maverick and Goose were called in after the stunt Mav pulled while saving Cougar Maverick knew he was going to be in trouble, but he tried to stay positive.

You had called him the next day and despite Stinger’s warnings Maverick had kept seeing you, keeping you his little secret, even from his RIO.

Commander Jardian continued to drone on about discipline and then addressed Mav directly.

“You’ve been busted, you lost your qualifications as section leader three times. Put in hack twice by me. With a history of high-speed passes over five air-control towers and one admiral’s daughter,” he exclaimed, to which Goose turned to Mav shortly.

“Penny Benjamin?” He questioned in a whisper, but Maverick swiftly shook his head.

“Her little sister,” he whispered with a grin that prompted raised eyebrows from Goose, but both was erased by Stinger continuing his banter.

Maverick didn’t let anyone tell him what to do, and he liked you far too much to let a bald choleric convince him otherwise.

A challenge that would soon arise to your newly formed relationship was that you got to know that he had slept with your sister multiple times before meeting you, but Maverick was hopeful that you wouldn’t pay that any mind.

part two

tagging: @starkleila @mayhem24-7forever @green-socks @letsfvckingdance @shadeds-library @a-reader-and-a-writer @yespolkadotkitty @whateverbagman @neptunes-curse @sweetheartlizzie07 @top-gun-rooster @iloveprettyboysblog @ateliefloresdaprimavera @imjess-themess @littlebadariell @angstyjellybean @marchingicenotes7 @midget713 @supernaturaldawning @gspenc @adorephina @gigisimsonmars @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @bespinnn @malindacath @aerangi @kassieesworld @kwanimations @18crazybutcutealsopsycho @marvelandotherfandomimagines @luckyladycreator2 @mavericksicybabe @kendra-rose @desert-fern @mavrellover91 @allivingstone01 @rhettabbotts @withakindheartx @trikigirl271 @cherrycola27 @bonitanightmxres @ratcatcher2world @glowingtree @wingmanvenus

(please tell me if you want to be added to the taglist, or use this link)

#pete maverick mitchell #pete maverick mitchell imagine #pete maverick mitchell x reader #pete maverick mitchell x you #pete mitchell x you #pete mitchell x reader #pete mitchell #top gun maverick #maverick top gun

146 notes · View notes

st4rfckerz · 3 months

Note

****Ok to the 19 year old virgin with a dildo.*****

I’m 10 years older than you and have been busy in that time. I lost count of my body count, but it’s over 100 for sure so I’ve seen a lot of cock, and most of them aren’t huge. I’ve had all the races and I’ve found that they all have similar sized cocks. Black, white and Latino have like 6-7inches which is fine if he knows how to fuck. I’d say 25% have 8inches and maybe 15% has 9inches. Like 8% are under 6 inches, and I have only come across two 10 inchers out of like 100. I’ve only had sex with one Hawaiian guy and he was tall and built and had a 9 inch. I had sex with a Japanese guy too and he had like a 7 so that whole Asian guys have small dicks thing isn’t true as far as I can tell, but I don’t have a lot of experience with Asians although they’re really attractive. The Hawaiian guy was a mix of Phillipines, Somaoa and pure Hawaiian and his name was Kalani and he had this tattoo on his leg that told the story of his people and it was so hot. His eyes were grey which he said was very unusual and got him beat up when he was little but GOD he was attractive and really great in bed. He made me cum so many times I thought he broke me. Lol. Most guys don’t make you orgasm unless they know how to stimulate your clit and make you feel comfortable and beautiful. If you’re uncomfortable, insecure, or unsure about a guy, you won’t be able to reach an orgasm. Men orgasm every time they finish. It’s more physical than mental for them, while it’s equally mental and physical for women I think.

Side story about the Hawaiian guy just cuz I want to tell it- I met him in Las Vegas at a night club when we were there for my friends bachelorette party weekend. I saw him and said he was hot, and I’m very picky and never really single guys out so it got all my friends attention. I had to pee so I left my purse with my friends, and one of their drunk genius asses goes up to him and tells him he needs to return my purse to me and points me out. Thank god he didn’t just steal my purse with everything in it, but he came up and gave it to me and got me a drink and a rose and he came back to my hotel with me and hung out the whole entire weekend.(he was friends with a bunch of famous UFC fighters but none of us had a clue who any of them were, but a few of my friends got with some of those guys.) He was supposed to go back to Hawaii, but he asked if he could just hang with me a few days, and I told him I lived across the country and he bought a ticket to my hometown and ended up staying a week, and then came back a couple times and I went to Hawaii one time with him, and he didn’t want me to get on the plane but I was an idiot and didn’t say I love you too when he said he loved me. I said thank you and then got on the plane. he never spoke to me again and I was stubborn and didn’t call him after I tried a couple times and gave up.

Back to the cock talk. Length isn’t as important as the thickness unless it’s over 7 inches and hits your cervix. That shit does not feel good. When a guy hits your wall, it’s painful unless you enjoy pain, which some women like to be smacked and have their hair pulled but I’m not one of them. I’ll smack a motherfucker right back!

Porn isn’t a good gauge of what cocks are like cuz those are all extreme sized. I heard that if you’ve given birth, then you can handle bigger cocks, but I’ve never done that so I cannot verify, but I cannot imagine there’s too much of a difference since your body goes back to what it was before birth. There’s a point where they’re just too damn big.

The hottest guy I ever fucked had this enormous penis and it was terrible. I tried several times and different positions, but his dick was like as big around as a soda can and was like 10 inches. You’re trying to get something close in size of your virgin pussy? That’s gonna be tough, if not impossible. Plus what is the dildo made of? If it’s silicone or rubber, then you need some lube. I cannot stress it enough! Lube is so important. If you don’t have enough anti friction lubrication (natural or store bought) sex is not fun, and can even injure you and your partner.

Penetration isn’t really that important in female masterbation. It’s all about clit stimulation and figuring out what really turns you on. Just because you’re wet, doesn’t mean you cummed. That’s just your vagina lubricating itself in preparation for sexual activity when you’re horny or aroused. You absolutely know when you cum. It’s almost like a really strong finally getting to pee feeling, but in a good way and you don’t pee (unless you’re a squirter, but those are pretty rare) squirters are just what they sound like, when they cum they spray pee and their orgasms are more intense. I’ve squirted before and I think it’s so embarrassing but the guy is always so into it. (Even if you get them right in the face, guys are so gross sometimes)

I suggest getting a smaller dildo, and get one with a clit stimulator. Get one that’s got a plug and is rechargable so you don’t burn through a million batteries. They’re more expensive up front, but save you money in the long run.

You don’t wanna loosen yourself up too much anyway. It feels better for you and him if you’re tighter down there. If he goes down on you, and is considerate your first few times, you’ll be able to take dick in no time.

If he won’t go down on you or is not being careful or considerate, and tries to force it in roughly without you telling him to do so, then just get up and leave. You don’t need to get ripped or torn, or get a bruised internal vagina, or not be able to walk the next day comfortably cuz he’s an asshole. Just abandon ship.

Blue balls are supposedly a real thing but most of my guy friends say they are greatly exaggerated to guilt trip women into doing what they want. They don’t actually experience pain. It’s a scam.

there's nothing i can really add because i've only been with a woman but this is like top tier advice

#nai answers!#st4rfckerz

14 notes · View notes

writingwhimsey · 10 months

Text

All's Fair In Love & War- Nobunaga Ch. 2

Chapter 2

“You can’t be serious about going to the tenshu to be alone with Nobunaga.” Jiro said, looking at me as we sat in the garden of Azuchi castle sipping tea together with Sato.

“Why shouldn’t she be?” Sato asked. “It’s an honor.”

“You do know that’s his bedroom, right?” Jiro asked, looking pointedly at me.

I quirked a brow at him. “What? Are you saying you don’t think Nobunaga really wants to just play a game of Go?”

“Come on, he’s a warlord and you’re…”

“A warlord as well.” I pointed out. “I do believe I have seen the other warlords that are also part of his alliance come and go from the tenshu for meetings and such.”

“But it’s different with you. You may be a warlord, but you’re still a woman, Ava.” Jiro countered.

I feigned surprise. “My goodness, I am? I had no idea. So that’s what I have these breasts for.”

Sato was practically doubling over with laughter, while Jiro was bringing his hand to his face and letting out a sigh of annoyance. “All I am saying is maybe you should rethink the invitation. I mean he’s a man, a very powerful man at that, and you’re a woman and he’s invited you to his room after dark.”

“Awe, look at our Jiro being so concerned.” Sato teased.

“Do you see Nobunaga as a villain trying to deflower me?” I asked with a teasing grin.

“Which you do realize, someone else already did the deflowering some years ago.” Sato muttered.

I glared at her. “I told you that in confidence.”

“You what…wait nevermind.” Jiro said with a sigh. “Just be careful tonight alright.”

“Don’t worry no one can make me do anything I don’t want to do.” I replied. “Or have you forgotten how good of a fighter I am? I mean how many times have I had to save your sorry ass?”

Jiro’s face softened a bit. “I would never forget that, my lord. I am merely concerned for you, you know.”

“I’ll be fine.” I replied.

“Not to mention, if you DID end up doing something…I mean you could do worse. Lord Nobunaga is an attractive man.” Sato said with a grin. “They all are really. I feel like that Hideyoshi could be fun. He may seem like a gentleman, but I bet he’s an animal where it counts.”

“Alright, I’m done with this conversation. I might go do some training or something.” Jiro said, getting up and walking back towards the castle.

I looked over at Sato and then she and I burst out laughing. “You always enjoy getting to him.” I told her once our laughter had calmed down.

Sato smiled as she sipped her tea. “He makes it far too easy.” She replied. “Though I am being serious in my thoughts…I’d also like to corrupt that innocent-looking Mitsunari…something about that angel's smile makes me wanna see what it would be like if he were begging for me…”

I shook my head as I sipped my tea. “Always wanting to cause some trouble.” I teased her.

“So…what WILL you do if Jiro is right about Lord Nobunaga’s intentions?” Sato asked, giving me a curious look.

“Find a way to diplomatically turn him down.” I answered. “I can’t risk the alliance, but I also can’t risk him thinking he holds any power over me simply because I agreed to go to bed with him.”

Sato nodded. “Of course…you know that’s when you should just take the lead. You be the one with the power.” She was then giving me a sly wink.

I laughed and shook my head. “No. You know I can’t risk anything…you remember what happened before…I can’t let that happen again.”

“I know…” Sato replied, her smile falling. “But just because things went sour before doesn’t mean they have to again.”

“I can’t risk it.” I replied. “Maybe I’ll go get some training in before tonight.”

“Alright.” Sato replied. “Allow me to help with that.”

Later that night…

I made my way up the stairs of the tenshu before knocking on the door. “Come in.” Nobunaga called.

I slid the door open and stepped inside. Nobunaga was already seated behind a goban. The bowls with the smooth stones were at the side. There was also a tray with a bottle of sake and two cups. I smiled as I came to sit down across from him. This was the exact same setup that he and my father would have when they met for their games.

“Why do you smile like that?” Nobunaga asked, looking at me curiously.

“Oh, just a memory of my father is all.” I replied. “Shall we begin?”

Nobunaga nodded. “Of course.” He replied. “I am looking forward to seeing how well versed you are in strategy.” He was then picking up one of the smooth black stones and placing it on the board.

I picked up my white piece next, choosing to start with an unconventional strategy for my opening move. It was a strategy that served me well playing others, but how would it stack up to the Devil King himself?

“An unusual opening move.” Nobunaga commented.

“I am unusual myself.” I replied with a shrug.

Nobunaga smiled as he made his next move. “We shall see how well this works for you.”

We sat silently for a while, the only sound in the room was the clacking of the stones on the board. It was honestly a bit relaxing. Though I couldn’t get too comfortable. Nobunaga was definitely a tough opponent. Of course, I wasn’t going to go down.

We were both working on our strategies as we played, adjusting as needed and working to anticipate each other’s next move. “Your mind is very sharp.” Nobunaga commented as he placed a black stone on the board.

“Having a sharp mind is key in battle.” I replied. “My father always made it clear that my mind was my most powerful weapon. Anyone can pick up a sword or spear and learn to swing it. Any fool can pick up a gun and learn to fire, but a true warrior finds their strength lies in their mind. For with a smart strategy, one can overcome any weakness and turn it into their advantage.” I was then placing my stone next.

“Your father taught you well.” Nobunaga replied, working on his next move.

“He did.” I replied. “Of course, my mother taught me much as well. Father taught me how to fight and the principles of being a good leader. But Mother…she taught me much about statecraft and that there was strength in my womanhood.”

“Is that so?” Nobunaga asked, intrigue evident in his tone.

I nodded, placing my next stone on the board. Neither of us looked at each other as we spoke, both focusing on the board. “Father was a great man and a wise man. But Mother was the woman behind him and she was equally as great. She made just as much of a difference in negotiations as Father did. Whether it was through her kindness towards a child or making friends with the right people…or occasionally through cunning…they were a great pair.”

“Which is why the Ishihara came after both of them.”

“Yes…they knew my parents were a threat as a team…but what they forgot was that I was the child of both of them.”

“I never knew your mother, though I did know your father. He was a good man and a wise man.”

“He was.” I agreed.

We continued our game in silence for a while once again. Before long the game was finally coming to an end…with me as the victor.

Nobunaga sat, staring at the board for a moment, seemingly surprised. He finally let out a laugh, his carnelian gaze coming to me. “You really do not hold back.” He said, smiling.

I smiled. “What? You didn’t expect me to throw the game just because I am a guest in your castle and a new ally? THAT would truly be in poor taste and a worse insult than defeating you.”

Nobunaga was reaching for the sake and pouring it into the cups that were beside us. “I knew you were a fireball when you walked through those doors. For someone so small, you truly carry yourself as a strong warlord.” He was then picking up his cup and gesturing for me to do the same.

I reached for the cup. “One of the ways to be strong is to believe you are.” I replied. “Besides, how can I expect my soldiers to respect me if I do not respect myself?”

“You intrigue me, Ava.” Nobunaga said, taking a sip of his sake.

I sipped my own. “Oh?”

“Yes, you do not cow to anyone. Nor do you seem to see yourself as lesser simply for your sex or any other reason.”

I shrugged. “I just use what other people presume about me and then flip it on its head.” I explained. “My enemies have all expected me to bow down to them or cower in fear. Even those who didn’t know I am a woman and expected a man…it throws them off. I have simply learned how to weaponize what other perceive as weakness and turned it against them.”

“Much as you turn enemy attacks against them.” Nobunaga replied. “I heard from witnesses about your fighting style in the market yesterday.”

“Just letting others do the work on their own defeat.” I replied with a shrug. “Conserve my own energy.”

Nobunaga chuckled. “I am much looking forward to seeing your skills myself. If you battle as well as you play Go, it will be a sight to see, Fireball.”

#ikesen nobunaga #ikemen sengoku nobunaga #ikesen au #ikesen mc #ikesen oc #ikemen sengoku #ikesen #cybird ikemen #cybird otome #ikemen series #nobunaga otome #nobunaga oda #cybird #fanfic #otome boys #fanfiction #fanfic au #warlord mc #warlord ava

21 notes · View notes

teenandbeyond · 2 years

Note

I’d like to request Android 17 please with an Arcosian (Frieza’s Race) Warrior Male Reader who crash landed on the protected island he’s a ranger on in an escape pod after a space battle with a rival clan, the reader says they’ll just be staying long enough to fix their pod then they’ll leave but by the time their pods fixed they’ve grown so close to 17 that they don’t want to leave and they ask if he wants to try dating them?

Android 17 x M. Arcosian Reader

I wanted to get this done so I'm doing another one of my headcanons that will probably be one shot length. Edit: Strangely I got a bit poetic at some parts so mb if it's extra xD

Want more from me? Masterlist

☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆☆*: .｡. .｡.:*☆

🌲Crash Landing🌲

Warning(s): Fluff?

An Island on Earth was far from the destination you were aiming for, you definitely didn't expect to be aiming for the heart of the Ranger who works there, either.

✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨✨

"Get out of here, boss!"

That was the last thing you heard before you were shoved into the escape pod that closed around you.

You banged on the wall, ordering to be let out to no avail.

You simply earned a salute and could only watch the rest of your squadron fall in battle as your pod shot off.

You growled as your tail flicked in irritation.

You lost everything, your men, your dignity and honor, and as you got closer to your unknown location, you lost yourself.

You wake to the pod shaking.

Someone was shooting at you.

Great.

Before you can prepare to defend yourself, one shot seems to have much more power behind it, making the pod spin out of control.

You steady yourself.

The wailing sound of the alarm blared.

The pod had been damaged, so it seems it's gone into emergency landing--which means you'd be landing on the nearest planet.

You had no idea where you were going anyway, so that makes no difference.

But it's not the planet you're supposed to be going to.

Finally, the pod crashes.

You kick up at the door your strong foot and three toes making a dent. Again, again, until it finally flies off. You hear it clank from a distance.

As soon as you climb up, you're met by a man, aiming an illuminated hand at you, ready to go.

"I'll give you the chance to leave peacefully, save you the trouble of fighting me."

You take in his snarky look, which becomes a glare of intense blue as you chuckle.

"Oh, trust me, pretty boy. If I could leave, I would...But this pod is damaged."

As if to prove your point, the second you leaped from it, it collapsed in on itself.

"Seems it's not the only thing that's damaged. You sure look worse for wear."

You scoff, "Gee, thanks."

After it's been confirmed you aren't here to endanger the island and simply got here by accident, he drops the attack.

It's not long before you collapse, you were trying to play tough guy and act like you weren't severely injured and dehydrated.

You don't expect to wake up to a ceiling.

Was it a dream? The man from it sure made it feel like it was. He was insanely attractive--

"Well, well, morning, sleeping beauty."

You shot up, eyes immediately shooting over to the doorway where he casually leaned, running a hand through his black hair.

"Don't bother looking for your weapons, I have them."

"I'm a warrior, kid. If I only depended on weapons, I wouldn't be a true fighter."

He watched as you placed your cracked armor back on over your bandages, "Since my pod is the only way out of here, I'll stay on earth only until I fix my pod, then I'll leave."

Fortunately, the small toolbox you kept inside was intact.

You were confused when you were brought food and water hours later as you sat, legs crossed in front of your project.

You slowly turn and give him a puzzled look.

"I-I just figured you might have not eaten or anything... I'd rather you go home than die. My job is to protect nature, after all."

"I'm anything but natural on this planet...but...it is appreciated."

You were quite surprised how much this earth meal fueled you.

This became the routine, you'd sleep by the pod, wake, start working on the pod, and get offered food and water for lunch.

Occasionally you would see him in action, once you even assisted when galactic poachers got too close to damaging your pod.

The longer you stayed, the more you interacted.

He would check up on you, ask if you need anything to help with fixing the pod, or simply just converse with you on his breaks after work.

As time went by, your conversations got heavier

And so did your heartbeat when he'd approach you.

He'd take you away from your work sometimes.

Claimed it was only because he didn't like sitting still, and he couldn't stand staying in one place when speaking to you each time.

He showed you the animals and some of his favorite places to go

Which gave you a newfound respect for earth's nature

You noticed he'd watch you interact with animals and turn away when you saw him

And 17 would never admit that he found you adorable

Despite you being a muscled and scarred being, it was hard to see you as intimidating.

All he saw was a broken man--maybe possibly you were never truly put together to being with-- who wanted to explore, work hard, and be satisfied.

And you saw a man overcoming his past, finding his peace in the storm.

You were drawn to each other like magnets

Getting closer, closer...

...And your lips made the connection

...like magnets, it was difficult to separate until the magic of the kiss shattered.

And two men who needed to be strong, ashamed of feeling a weakening emotion such as love, stayed away from the source.

But magnets can only stay apart for so long.

You finished your pod and it was time for you to leave one night.

Despite you working so hard to fix it...you didn't want to leave.

During the duration of your stay...you found yourself with something to live for...

Someone to live for.

You played it off, "17...I--I know I should go after all this time, but, you know, if you want me here or whatever, I'll stay."

"Right...you finished it. You can go ahead...it's not like I'll miss you or anything..."

He put on a facade.

You were terrible liars, you both realized your own untruthfulness as you stared into each other's eyes.

"Can you stay?"

"Be my boyfriend."

....

Cue warm faces.

But in the end, the impulsiveness saved you two.

Because you did just that.

You crash landed into each other's lives

And you welcomed one another with open arms, welcomed the chaos of love, with a cheesing grin

#17 dbs #anime #dbz #dbs #dbs x reader #dbz x reader #17 x reader #dbs x male reader #male reader #xmale reader #mxm #bxb

86 notes · View notes

nanoland · 1 year

Text

Toy Boy, by TJ Land

the title: Toy Boy

the deets: M/M romance, superheroes, novella

the blurb:

Patrick Chen is a busy man. He’s a tenured professor. He’s an environmentalist. And he’s the plant-controlling superhero Nettle, a veteran crime-fighter who keeps himself together by growing the best weed in town. As of today, to his annoyance, he’s also a mentor to a newbie hero; Tyrone, a taciturn engineer with the power to control machines, who kicked off his career by defending oil rigs. Everything – every damn thing – about Tyrone ticks Nettle off. Including how incredibly competent and attractive he is.

the link: https://www.amazon.com/gp/product/B082WCMSYD

the extract:

“I don’t want a sidekick.”

Lady Glory snorted. “Of course you don’t. No one does. I’ve had four, every one of them a damn nuisance. Worse than kids. Worse than cats. But today, Nettle, they’re all accomplished heroes. They just needed guidance.”

The two veteran superheroes stood in the memorial garden outside the Remarkables’ headquarters, Lady Glory watching as Nettle tended to the rosebush that grew beside Dynamic Man’s statue. Grasping the stem, he coaxed three new sunset-coloured roses into bloom. “Glory, I’d be a terrible mentor. I can’t stand teenagers.”

“He’s your age. A year older, actually.”

“Then why the hell does he need a mentor?”

“Oh, a few reasons,” she replied, with a low chuckle. “This guy, he came to heroing late in life – only started two years ago – so he’s got some unconventional methods and… let’s say bad habits. He’s also never been part of a superhero team before; never even done a team-up.”

Nettle arched an eyebrow. “Two years ago? What was he doing with himself before? And why’d he change track?”

“You’ll have to ask him. When he got into the game, he made a name for himself defending oilrigs. After the BP spill, a number of ideological supervillains started attacking rigs regularly: the Green Gremlin, the Aphid Avenger, Wild Song. I even got a call from the president about it. Then this new guy no one’s heard of steps in and basically handles the whole situation by himself.”

Yanking out a weed, Nettle said, “Ensuring that our government’s corporate masters are free to continue to plunder the country’s natural resources and hasten environmental collapse. Boy, I can tell we’re gonna get along swell.”

“Nettle…”

“Glory, you know me. You know how I feel about issues like this. If you have to shackle me to a sidekick, why make it someone who made their heroic debut defending a fucking oil company by fighting people whose ethical positions I largely agree with? The Aphid Avenger was a friend of mine once. I’ve attended rallies with Wild Song.”

“They were endangering peoples’ lives, Nettle. When you applied to be a Remarkable, the first thing I asked you was whether you thought peoples’ lives were more important than the environment. You said yes.”

“It was a stupid question! Logically flawed! You can’t separate the two like that. Peoples’ lives depend on the environment, and the environment depends… damn.”

The rosebush he’d been touching had tripled in size and grown thorns large enough to impale a small dog.

Glory rubbed her eyes. “Pruning that’s going to be fun. I’ll tell the regular gardeners you send your regards.”

the cover:

#books #bookblr #indie publishing #mm romance #selfpublished #self publishing #writeblr #gay romance #queer romance #queer books

10 notes · View notes

razieltwelve · 2 years

Text

JP-03 (Final Effect)

“What we have here, gentlemen, is the JP-03. It is the Empire’s newest multi-purpose fighter craft. It is capable of both space and terrestrial operations, and although it is focused primarily on fighter-to-fighter combat, it can also execute operations in a bomber role and as an air support craft.”

“What’s with the wings?” someone asked.

Blakey smiled. “Naturally, we don’t have all of the information about the JP-03 at this time. However, our friends in the Empire have seen fit to share some information since we’ll be facing it during the upcoming joint exercises next month. In the interests of fair play - and because they really want to put this thing through its pace - they’ve decided to forward us some information.”

Blakey gestured, and the holographic display put up some numbers. “Feast your eyes on the glory that is the JP-03′s testing numbers.”

“Son of a bitch,” someone else muttered. “Are these real?”

Sazh XI frowned. “Ma’am, with all due respect, are we sure the Dia-Farron aren’t pranking us? I’ve faced the G-17 Goshawk. It’s the Empire’s current lead fighter craft. It’s an excellent fighter. It can’t quite match our own B-12 Blitz, but the G-17 is getting on in years. If these numbers are accurate...”

“The JP-03 claims to have a 115% increase in maximum speed, and an overall increase of 225% in combat manoeuvrability, along with an increase of 200% in effective firepower. It’s sensor array is 200% as effective as the G-17′s.” Blakey grinned. “During my last trip to the Empire, I had the pleasure of seeing the G-17 in action. I believe these numbers to be correct.”

Sazh shook his head. “Then I’d say we’re going to have some trouble during the joint exercises, ma’am.” He glanced around at his fellow Winged Lancers. “We’re the best ma’am, but they’re no slouches over in the Empire. If we were on even footing, technologically, I’d give us good odds of winning again. But this? We’re looking at a fighter that trumps the B-12 by significant margins in every meaningful combat category. They’re faster, more agile, more heavily armed, and have better sensors. Assuming the pilot behind the stick isn’t an idiot, we’re going to have a tough time out there.”

“Which is why we will temper our expectations accordingly,” Blakey explained. “However, I wanted to give you a heads up, so you know what you’re up again. I also want you to pay close attention when you’re up against the G-17. If we can replicate some of the technology, or at least get an idea of how they’re doing it, we can improve our own fighters.”

“I know the Dia-Farron are brilliant,” Sazh said. “But this has come entirely out of left field. They don’t typically focus their efforts on fighter design, and the Empire has made heavier use of drones throughout its history than the Alliance. Like I said, their fighter corps are good, but they don’t emphasise fighter combat the way we do.”

“I believe that the Empire have noticed the relative weakness of their fighter corps and are taking steps to remedy that. Previous engagements against Grimm swarms have shown that although drone fighter formations are effective means of engaging Grimm equivalents of fighter craft, they are not necessarily efficient. This is particularly clear when drone fighters are asked to take on more complex missions or to perform non-standard manoeuvres. In the interests of giving their pilots the best possible chance, they have taken a more active interest in fighter design.”

“I know Dia-Farron design,” Sazh replied. “And although there are hallmarks of that in the G-17, there’s something odd about it too.”

“This information is going to be public in the next month, which is why I am telling you now.” Blakey smiled toothily. “The Federation managed to lose a Sato. He grew up on a trash world and attracted the attention of a Dia-Farron after fixing a hyper drive.”

“With what?” some asked. “You can’t fix a hyper drive on a trash world.”

“A Dia-Farron might be able to do it,” Sazh replied. “And so did this Sato kid. What happened next?”

“As you can imagine, the Dia-Farron took him with her. He has since been adopted by her and is a Dia-Farron in all but blood. Although I do not know the exact nature of his Semblance, combined with his genius for design, it is powerful enough that the Federation tried to get him back by exerting both diplomatic and private pressure on him. The empress was not amused and has made it clear that any further attempts to take him will be met with force.”

“Well, shit,” someone said. “The kid must be something special.”

“He is,” Blakey said. “Despite not having any formal education prior to being rescued from the trash world, he is on track to receive a Dia-Farron-level PhD in engineering within the next three years. Let that sink in.”

“So... you’re telling me that the Dia-Farron managed to get their hands on a Sato, one whose intelligence and Semblance both seem perfect for designing fighter craft?” Sazh made a face. “This is going to be tricky.”

“Not just fighter craft,” Blakey said. “The Dia-Farron are, at their heart, a mischievous bunch. When they hosted me, they told me what JP stands for. It means Joint Project. Given that the JP-03 has a 3 in it, we can only conclude that he has been involved in at least two other projects.”

“I don’t suppose we could steal a Sato?” someone asked.

“Believe me, we’ve been looking to see if we’ve got any,” Blakey said. “Our own research and development is excellent, but having a Sato or two on staff would definitely accelerate it. Sadly, we don’t have any, and the Federation has been even more paranoid about potentially losing valuable personnel as of late.” Blakey grinned. “Now, since I was allowed to take some footage of the JP-03 in action, I want to hear your opinions on it.”

X X X

Author’s Notes

Coal’s Semblance and his general intellectual leanings are perfect for objective-based design. If you tell him and Galatea what they need to build and what it has to be able to do, they’ll be able to do it. And, yeah, the Federation was pissed about losing him. They raised a stink, but Averia VII pulled the whole ‘You dare? I am ruler of more than a million worlds. My word is law. Begone from my sight and never darken my door again.’ thing while telling them that Coal wasn’t going anywhere.

#final effect #fanfiction #blakey #sazh xi

7 notes · View notes

atlanticcanada · 11 months

Text

Weather cancels Moncton air show but plenty for military buffs

It was supposed to be a weekend of parachute jumps and aerobatics, but instead, it was three days of rain and cloudy skies in Moncton.

The Soldier On Air Display by the CF Snowbirds was grounded. So too was the SkyHawks Parachute Team.

Neither the SkyHawks or the Snowbirds got off the ground all weekend long.

The flight demonstration team needs a cloud ceiling of a minimum of 1,000 feet to perform their most basic air show and it was nowhere near that on Sunday.

Snowbirds Public Affairs Officer Cpt. Gabriel Ferris said it was disappointing not to be able to fly over Moncton this weekend.

"We were trying last year, we were trying the year before, so we were really hoping to be able to put on a display here in New Brunswick. It's disappointing, but there's not much we can do with the weather. Mother Nature decides and we just follow what she decides," said Ferris.

The SkyHawks were supposed to make a jump during the Three Fathers Memorial Run in Moncton's Riverfront Park.

SkyHawks Public Affairs Officer Lt. Rebecca Garand said the weather just didn't cooperate.

"We were expecting to jump for the whole weekend for multiple events and we tried so hard. Last time, we were just waiting by the plane to have it clear up because sometimes miracles happen, but it wasn't the case for us this weekend. We're really sad, but also safety is the number one issue for us," said Garand. "But we still came to the crowds and met people and signed some autographs and made the best of the time we were here."

Ferris said the snowbirds do have a maintenance day planned on Monday so it's possible a few of the jets may fly over the city, weather permitting.

While the cool, wet weather cancelled the air show, there was still a lot going on for military buffs.

The Canadian Armed Forces had armoured vehicles, jeeps, patrol cars, inflatable boats and weapons on display downtown.

The event was in support of Soldier On, a program that helps ill and injured veterans.

As expected, the display was a big hit with kids.

Canadian Forces Cpt. Adair Howe said kids want to know everything about the equipment.

"They want to know what the vehicle does, how fast it goes. They want to get in them, they want to play around in them and we want to make sure they know why we do it and have a fun time learning about it," said Howe.

Kids could also climb into a replica Spitfire fighter plane from the Second World War.

Flying Officer John Stewart Hart from Sackville, N.B., was the only Atlantic Canadian to fly a Spitfire during the Battle of Britain in 1940.

Air Show Atlantic executive director Colin Stephenson said they're always excited to bring the three-quarter scale model out to the public, which was built in 1990 for the 50th anniversary of the Battle of Britain.

"It's tremendous. It attracts so many people. It's travelling history is what it is. We put it in our trailer and we go to all three provinces around to different events and we're so proud to show it off and draw attention to our show. It's a promotional piece for the air show, but more importantly, to honour veterans because our Spitfire is actually named after a Canadian veteran," said Stephenson.

Stephenson said kids usually ask the same question.

"Is it real? I'd love to say yes, but it's just a really good model. They always say thank you," said Stephenson. "They're thrilled the controls work and the surfaces move, that it has sound to it. They're really excited to get in there."

Noah Alizadeh of Saint John said he's never seen anything like it before.

"It was fun, it was cool," said Noah.

The John S. Hart Spitfire will be on display at an airshow in Debert, N.S., on Aug. 26 and 27.

from CTV News - Atlantic https://ift.tt/uZd3Tbq

#new brunswick #prince edward island #nova scotia #news #politics #canada #CTVAtlantic

0 notes

faithautisticandrandom · 1 year

Text

Lost, Trying to Be Found

Chapter 3: Temporarily Blind and I Still Hold My Own

I groan and growl in pain, banging into all sorts of walls and things as alarms blare all around me. I wanted to rip the bandaging around my eyes off my head because this was getting ridiculous, but I knew better than to do that. Especially, after being blinded by a flash grenade during my escape attempt from the stormtroopers, which had also ended me with bruises on my legs and stomach, which is why I was in pain.

I didn’t know exactly where I was, the only clue I had was from the medical droid I’d broken the second of awakening up. “Please be still. You are in the Coruscant Training and Medical facility…” That was about as far as the droid had gotten, of course, I hadn’t meant to destroy it, he was just doing his job, but I’d freaked out at the thought of the Empire holding me captive. So, after finding my legs and the door, I ran, which of course attracted the attention of a few guards but mostly doctors. They had the sounded the alarms.

I pause wincing and panting against the wall with my ears straining to listen for where the footsteps and shouts were the loudest, as I regained my breath. There were too many, I had hidden somewhere. I begin searching the wall for a control panel to a door or something, or even a gap in the hallways I could hide. I found the latter and took the chance, pressing the few buttons I remembered that were on the panels to open the door. It works and I enter quickly, stumbling down a few steps as the door shuts behind me. The shouts and alarms become muffled as a result.

I pant slowly as my heart rate and breathing steady themselves, and my ears stop ringing. After a couple of moments, I force myself to stand and inch my way around the room with my hands guiding my head to piece together where I was.

Padding on the walls, but not all of them, some had wooden accents. The rest were the normal metal plating. Shelves. Rods, no staffs, fighting staffs.

A practice dojo of sorts. My hands wrap themselves around one of the shorter staffs, pulling it free from the shelf. Moving away and minding the step on the dojo behind me, I twirl it, testing it. I needed a weapon, since I had no blasters, not that a simple wooden staff would be able to fend off blaster fire as that old lightsaber would have.

Wait. They have my pack! That means…

The door of the room abruptly opens, disrupting the thought, and causing me to stand sharp as the guards enter the room.

“Halt! Don’t move!” One instructs.

I don’t.

“Put your hands over your head!”

I don’t. I won’t.

Everything became a blur even the blackness of the blindfold, I just heard grunts and shouts, as I felt my fighter instincts kick in. Literally. I think I had spin-kicked the first trooper aside in anger, followed by throwing a few punches at another trooper and side-swiping the fourth trooper off his feet with the staff. I couldn’t stop fighting, not until I heard the painful groans and nothing else. But in the small silence of the aftermath, I pause and thought, 'How did I... How did I know where they were? I'm blind for force's sake!'

I hear the door hiss open again, but there was no order to stop or halt. Nothing. But there was someone else in the room. "I must say this is mildly impressive, though I do hope that your plan of escape doesn't just involve blindly fighting everything in your path" A calm sort of dead-beat toned voice speaks up.

"What's wrong with that if it was?" I ask, breathing slowly.

"It's not a good reflection on your more strategical skills, reputation-wise that is" The man answers, causing me to narrow my brow a bit. He begins walking around the training mat. "Though beating 4 stormtroopers while being blind and with injuries is still an admirable start."

"The clones were better" I state in a low voice.

"On that, we agree. But it was in the Empire's best interest to integrate a different variety of soldiers to avoid... possible complications. Something I think you know a little about, correct?" He replies.

'Is he stalling me?" I thought, before answering. "Maybe."

I think a hear chuff a little. "I do not wish for things to go down an unfavourable route, so please, allow me to escort you back to the medical bay where you can be treated for your injuries" He offers.

I let loose a breath that was mixed with a laugh. "And allow the Empire to hold me captive, and torture me because I think I'm someone else. Sorry to disappoint you, but I'm not backing down without a fight." I growl.

"Very well" He sighs.

We began our duel and although I was once again able to hold my own against this new opponent, it was more of a challenge. This guy was skilled, really skilled and appeared to have more stamina and a large build than I did. Which worked to his advantage against my worn-out, injured and slightly smaller build. The guy also had a blaster which he occasionally fired but he had taken the more close-combat approach than the fire-at-will approach.

I had managed to knock the blaster away from him, and he'd managed to get the stuff off me. So we were just kicking and punching each other for a bit until he knocked me to the ground. Then somehow, much like before, I sensed my opponent above me. I reached for the first thing I could grab, which turned out to be his blaster.

Then, after another small mental blackout, there was a pause in our fight.

I was kneeling over the guy, holding the blaster to the person’s head, and he was holding the sharp end of the staff to my neck. I could easily pull the trigger and end this guy’s life, but with the skill and speed this guy had, he could have easily done the same to me. I pant heavily, while I barely heard the breaths of my opponent. I admit I was impressed by this, especially since he wasn't a clone, which made me wonder who this guy was.

I then heard the hiss of a lightsaber behind me and feel the heat of it coming close to my neck. “That’s enough” The owner of the lightsaber states.

I tense up, I didn’t recognise the voice. ‘A lightsaber?! That means this person’s a Sith or at the least an apprentice or assassin’ I thought, reminding myself that the Jedi were no more.

“Stand down, soldier.” Another voice, one I recognised from when I was chased earlier, orders.

I bite my lip, annoyed, but I obey raising my hands up in surrender and dropping the blaster, as I move off the guy I had been fighting. Though the lightsaber and the blade never left my neck, keeping me low and on my knees.

“Not bad fight you put up, especially given the fact you’re blindfolded, but then again I shouldn’t be surprised” The unfamiliar voice comments.

“Why’s that?” I question, gently turning my head towards the voice.

“You claim to be Clone Trooper Nix," He replies, not completely answering my question.

I grunt, "Are you going to kill me now?”

“Why would we want to do that?” The new guy questions.

“You think I’m the Skywalker girl, who is wanted throughout the galaxy by the Emperor. I just assumed that she was some sort of threat to you and was wanted mostly dead” I explain.

“You speak as though you are not her” The guy I had been fighting speaks up.

“That’s because I’m not. My name is Nix, I just happened to look like Kelina that's all. Now, if you’re not going to kill me, what is it that you want me for?” I state and question.

“That’s not something we need you to know right now. But, please, if you are who you say are, then you have nothing to fear from us” The other guy speaks again, calmly.

“Tell that to the injury on my side” I wince.

“You made it difficult for us to determine, whether you are who you say you are," He answers.

‘Says the one holding a lightsaber to my neck’ I thought, but remained silent, shifting my head slightly. The heat of said lightsaber is still close to my neck.

“For now, however, we’d like you to return to the medical bay so the medical bots can finish patching you up.” The female voice, I partly recognise, speaks this time.

“Aside from the fact that you’re holding me at knife and laser point, why should I listen to you?” I ask cautiously.

“Because…” He begins, as the lightsaber moves. I feel the blindfold slip off and I wince out a light cry, as I blink furiously at the brightness and as someone in front of me comes into focus. “She was once your commanding Officer.”

I gasp, tensing at the sight of who was standing over me. “C-Commander… Tano.”

She says nothing in response. She just waves her hand in my face and I fall back into the darkness of sleep.

I catch Kelina as she falls to the side, and easily collect her up into my arms, despite my old age. I look at Ashoka, who had not removed her gaze from Kelina. Her expression was dull. “I know it hurts, but you know it's going to hurt her a lot more when she gets her memories back” I comment, softly.

“I know” She mumbles, reaching over and brushing one of the locks back of Kelina’s hair.

“At least, we didn’t have to worry about not being able to defend herself” Thrawn speaks up, gesturing to the troopers that were still unconscious.

I gaze at them, noting that they were all our non-clone troopers. “On that note, I agree."

This causes a light smile to appear on Ahsoka's face. “Maybe we could try and convince her into giving out a fighting lesson since it's clear most of our troops aren’t that well-trained” Ashoka jokes.

I couldn't help but chuckle a bit at the thought. “I doubt she'll agree to. But here’s not to say she won’t do it for the fun” I state, looking down at the unconscious young woman in my arms, remembering how her life used to be. “She may of hated fighting as a child in arenas, but she certainly liked fighting alongside the clones.”

“Agreed” Ashoka nods in agreement.

“I’ll trust you’ll see to these men, Thrawn,” I say, looking at the blue-skinned Admiral.

“But of course, though I’m not so sure if their outcomes are punishable” He replies, bowing his head a little, as he looks back at them.

“Leave that to their commander and captains to decide. Lady Tano and I have an update to make, would you be so kind as to watch over Kelina till she’s woken up and then take her to freshen up, afterwards?” I ask, gently as we exit the room.

“As you wish, Lord Serenus” He answers.

With that Ashoka and I walk away from him, carrying Kelina back to the medical bay, where we find some mechanics taking away the broken medical bot that Kelina had clearly trashed on her way out. I smirk, looking down at Kelina again. ‘Still as defensive as ever, Kelina. Don’t worry, we’re going to help you remember who you are soon enough. Though I can’t promise that it won’t be painful’ I thought.

(I've struggling to decide if to give Ahsoka a sith name because I cannot decide what that name should be. Heist, why she's going to be addressed as Lady Tano. (Qui-Gon's sith name Darth Serenus came from popularity on Tumblr.))

#Lost Trying to Be Found #Star Wars #star wars fanfiction #fanfic #fanfiction #sith AU #sith qui gon #Sith Ahsoka #Oc #science fiction

1 note · View note

sukirichi · 3 years

Text

black magic [01]

REQUEST. arranged marriage + enemies to lovers (sukuna is a simp and lowkey a housewife)

CONTENT/WARNINGS. some suggestive scenes, but overall fluff and romance! slight crack fic, I guess? I was laughing when I wrote this lol

NOTES. I NEED A HUSBAND! SUKUNA I’M GOING TO CRY GOODBYE THIS HAS ME SOFT. also anon i’m not sure if you wanted something with more ~sexual tension~ since this is kind of just comedic, but I hope you like it anyway!

part one | part two (nsfw)

“This is new,” you comment with a glare, your ankle propped on Sukuna’s knee.

“Shut up,” he rolls his eyes, pushing your skirt aside to clean the wounds you attained through exorcising curses. You’ve taken a particularly strong curse today and you’re caught off guard, barely finishing the mission unscathed. Limping all the way back home isn’t easy especially since you live on top of the darned mountain, but if Sukuna’s going to kneel in front of you like this...maybe it wasn’t too tough a journey. “You should stop going to missions you’re not ready for. Look at you, all wounded and bloody.”

“You sound like you care.”

“You’re my wife,” he huffs while dropping the bloody towel on the floor. Sukuna wraps the bandage around your ankle and carries you bridal style even though you’re perfectly capable of walking, but he shoots you a silencing glare. You’d have knocked him in the face any other day, but he’s particularly warm and smells nice today – plus you’re beat – that you bury your face in his chest, ignoring that stupid fluttering in your stomach. “Of course I do.”

You snicker, mind tracing back to your earlier years of this dreaded marriage.

It definitely wasn’t the best – the memories blurring between strangling each other to making out as if breathing was never a thing – and it felt like forever ago when you first met him.

You’d never say it out loud, but... you don’t regret this arranged marriage. Not when Sukuna is tucking himself beside you on the bed, your head above his muscular chest a place similar to home. He covers both your bodies over with a blanket, pulling your body closer to him with a strong arm, his lips pressing onto the crown of your head.

Ugh, you think to yourself, giving in to the need to cuddle your husband after a long day of work. You still refuse to say it out loud, though, and you irk him further by muttering, “That’s not what you said two years ago.”

“I wasn’t in love with you then.”

“I refuse to be married to you!”

Sukuna fights back the urge to cover his ears. Ever since your clan decided to visit his land and started exorcising curses one by one, his life has been nothing but hell. Not only are your relatives the most arrogant people ever with a consistent god complex, they just had to let their little mortal child be in charge of taking on the stronger curses. Seriously, what were they thinking, sending you – who’s barely even out of their training bra years – to deal with curses like him?

Everyone knows Sukuna is a no bullshit man. He won’t hesitate to cut your head off the moment you came raging at him, but then he sees how young you are and decides to send you back to your family.

Expecting that everyone would just call it a day and he’d get offerings for his unexpected mercy, Sukuna is beyond stupefied when they send you back to his temple, all dressed pretty with a basket of fruits and flowers braided in your hair. He remembers growling because you look adorable, but that’s easily wiped away when you open your mouth, your voice scratchy against his ears as you stomp your feet like the young mortal you are.

Sukuna pushes a thumb to his forehead to ease the impending headache, and that’s just from your presence. Something inside him tells that you’re going to be a bigger pain than you look.

“You don’t have much of a choice. You should’ve thought of that before deciding to run rampage over my land,” he reminds, turning boredly to his lone servant from above his throne. Sukuna isn’t impressed, to say the least, especially with your clan’s audacious proposition to gain his favour just this once. “Is this really the woman you bring me – the one they insist to be my wife?”

“She is their best fighter, my Lord.”

Well, he can’t disagree to that. You did, after all, single-handedly give him a cut on the cheek. “She’s feisty indeed.”

“Don’t talk as if I’m not here!”

“Mouthy too,” he mumbles to himself, but your sorcerer senses are sharp and easily picks up on it. He sees you flush angry again, looking immensely adorable with your tiny fists clenched like that and he snorts, waving a hand in the air. “Whatever. Get the wedding over with,” he nods to his servant, his sigh loud and tired as he makes his way to you.

You don’t stiffen at each haunting step, his eyes only glimmering harder with entertainment. It’s rare to find a mortal that doesn’t quiver at the sight of him, the urge to break you only growing stronger.

Even as he cups your face, making sure to not let his claws dig into your precious skin, Sukuna smirks. You’ll be entertaining indeed.

So Sukuna makes a promise, four eyes surveying the way your body is starting to fill in curves at the right places, the swell of your flesh just perfect in his hands... He chuckles to himself, daunting you further as he leans down to your ear, taking pleasure in the slight way your breath hitches. “Maybe then I’ll get to teach you a lesson or two.”

You’re definitely something else, taking advantage of each presented opportunity and not wasting any time before you make your move. Right after the wedding and everyone’s left, leaving you alone with your new husband behind closed doors; you push him until he’s on the ground, legs straddling each side of his hips while you growl above him – the sound similar to a battle cry.

Sukuna merely smirks, barely moving a muscle as his large hands come up to rest on your hips to steady you. “I’ve imagined countless ways you’d be on top of me like this,” his eyes light up with humour upon feeling the cold blade on his skin, “None of them included a knife on my neck though.”

“Shut your mouth. I will kill you myself,” you warn, pressing your knife harder until it draws a slight tinge of blood.

You hardly look threatening above him like this, dolled up to look the best in your wedding with this cursed being. If anything, you look more divine than deadly, and Sukuna thinks that perhaps your beauty could be your best weapon. You are bewitching, after all.

“I refuse to be your Queen and sit next to your throne.”

“Then why didn’t you stop the wedding?”

“I—”

Sukuna’s teasing grin grows wider when you pull back, trying so hard to not trip over your words. It takes all of his self-restraint to not take you right then and there, but he does a good job of holding back, enjoying this view above him instead. “Could it be you’re attracted to me after all, hm, little one?”

“Do not test me, Curse. I’m more than capable of exorcising you myself.”

“Oh, I don’t doubt that. You’re the strongest in the Gojo clan, are you not?” he prompts to appease you, “I don’t even want to see what you’re capable of, but maybe, just maybe...” just as his eyes darken, the edges of his lips turning up into a smirk, Sukuna digs his claws into your thigh in a possessive show of ownership, a painful reminder that you’re his now. “...You could put on a little show for me?”

“I hate you!”

Experienced and strong as you are, you’re nothing compared to a thousand year old curse who’s killed a lot more people faster than you could blink. Sukuna immediately notices the animalistic way you draw your blade, arm swung back with rage written all over your face. Before you could so much as bat an eye, he easily switches the positions until you’re under him, using only one hand to pin your arms above your head, your blade effortlessly thrown to the other side of the room.

“As I thought, you’re a lot prettier under me like this,” he observes, roaming his eyes shamelessly over the fabric clinging prettily to your body. You’ve fallen silent at his unconcealed attention, your compliance enticing him to lean closer just to inhale your intoxicating scent.

“Not so feisty now, little one? Where’d all your hatred for me go?” Sukuna pulls back with widened eyes, “Oh? Am I hearing it wrong or is your pathetic human heart beating so loud right now?” You refuse to look at him, wriggling your hips in an attempt to leave, completely unaware that the mere movement is hypnotizing the curse above you. Sukuna grips your hips in warning, not wanting to destroy you – not now, anyway. “You know all you need to do is say it. I’d gladly take you right here and then.” His words spoken with that deep, throaty voice immediately sends a wave of heat down your core, but you turn away from him, breathing hard and nervously; something Sukuna picks up on in an instant. “Little one...have you never had a man hold you like this before?”

“N-no...”

“I see. Pure and innocent behind that ferocity, huh?” He surprises you by pulling away, smoothening his white robes down as he leaves you panting still on the floor. “Fine. I won’t touch you unless you ask me to.”

“I’d rather die before that ever comes out from my mouth.”

“We’ll see about that,” he smirks, winking at you before he shuts the door. “Little one.”

There’s a lot of weird – and utterly inconvenient things – about being Sukuna’s wife. The man eats everything, absolutely everything, and it doesn’t help that he sucks at hunting too. For a man so huge and burly, he sure is lazy, preferring to do the laundry in the riverside instead while you go out every day to prepare your meals.

You actually don’t mind, but it’s very fun to complain around him.

You’re on your way back to the temple when Sukuna grabs at you, making you drop the freshly caught birds onto the ground. Your brows furrow, about to scold him for being too eager again when Sukuna stares at your arm, his lips pressing into a thin line.

Following his line of sight, your lips form an ‘o’ shape. There’s blood trickling down your forearm from his claws accidentally cutting you, guilt written all over his face. Another weird thing about Sukuna is that he babbles a lot when he’s emotional, and you’re too tired to hear him beat himself over it that you just drag him inside your room, sitting his ass down before taking a clipper.

Sukuna scoffs when you start cutting his nails. It irks him that you don’t even bother wiping the blood off first and he tsks, eyes narrowed at you. “You should have thicker skin.”

You roll your eyes as you file his nails; you’ve been married to him long enough to know it’s his way of saying sorry. Not wanting to let him wallow in guilt any louder, you pad kisses over his knuckles before swiping the black ink off your desk, using a pen brush to colour your nails instead. Sukuna hovers behind you, head tilted to the side as he watched you. “Are you painting your nails black?” he utters in disbelief, trying to ignore the fact he feels...proud and even a little smug. “Not so fitting for the angelic sorcerer now, isn’t it?”

“I’m only doing this so you don’t feel left out.”

“Maybe I’ll add markings to your pretty face too,” he cups your jaw to make you turn to him, landing a solid kiss flat to your lips which makes you sigh, pretending to be annoyed but leaning over for another peck anyway. Sukuna laughs and pulls you onto his lap, kissing your neck this time around, a little annoyed that you don’t stop in brandishing your nails. “Wife, what do you think?”

“I have work, Sukuna. You flirting with me doesn’t change the fact I need to go.”

“Come home safe for me, at least?” he breathes down your neck, his touch sending shivers down your spine. You’ve definitely changed since the first time he’s met you, starting from a mean (although he stands strong that you are still mean to him sometimes) temperamental little one to a mature, stronger sorcerer who’s secretly weak for his wife.

Unable to resist him as always, you turn around once you’ve finished painting your nails, rubbing your nose over his until your strong, scary husband is turning into putty at your hands. “Of course I will,” you peck his lips one last time, Sukuna’s eyes closing as he dives in for a deeper kiss. “I’ll always come back home to my handsome husband.”

If anyone were to ask how it’s possible that the King of Curses is actually very soft for his sorcerer wife, everyone would claim it’s impossible and a heresy – but if you ask Sukuna, it’s probably just black magic doing its wonders.

8K notes · View notes

achoonihaachu · 2 years

Text

God Must Hate Me; Ch. 4

A/N: And here's chapter 4 of the series! I hope you enjoy it and right after this, you should all head over to read chapter 5! I hope you like hwo the story's going so far <33 again, thank you to @its-dari for letting me take inspo from her original post! <33

pairings: Simeon x mc, Solomon x mc, Diavolo x mc, Barbatos x mc, Demon Brothers x mc (individually), Luke x mc (PLATONIC!), MC x Fem!OC

warnings: cursing, fighting, mc has a panic attack, self deprecation, mentions of m*rder, spoilers for chapter 16, not proofread (im sorry for any and all mistakes) :<<

reminder: you've got this, fighter! you're so strong and I know that you'll be able to face everything you're going through!

When you miss someone, life starts playing this really cruel joke on you where you just… start seeing them everywhere you go. Whether you catch glimpses of their smile on the passing faces of strangers on the street or when you eat a specific dish and all you’re reminded of is how they’d chatter on and on about why they liked the food so much; they manage to find a way to take center stage in your mind. You do a double take at that stranger and you realize, “that’s not them, their smile’s a lot brighter” or maybe you smile bitterly to yourself and say, “they’d love this restaurant because they cook the food just the way they like it”.

You don’t realize how important someone is until they’re gone.

Seeing you do everything you used to do with them but now with the other exchange students, it was a different type of pain they hadn’t yet felt. They were told- no, commanded- by Lord Diavolo to stay away from you. With a stickler for an eldest brother, they had to follow their Lord’s word like it were carved in stone. They had to watch you from afar. Days flew into weeks and those weeks turned into months. In that time, you blossomed like a spring flower coming back to life from a cruel, cold winter. You looked so carefree.

Diavolo made changes to your schedule, ensuring that you spent the least amount of time with them as their punishment. The brothers saw you in the hallways, in the cafeteria, in the library but you were always with Simeon, Solomon, and Luke. If you weren’t with them, on the extremely rare occasion, you were kept company by Barbatos and Diavolo. They swallowed the bitter tang that sat on their tongues as they watched you go back to the way you were before Yuki came. Seeing you for a few seconds each day would have to suffice.

They would always look forward to seeing you run around the school grounds. They’d thank their Father when they managed to be close enough to hear you laugh.

They ignore the unbearable burning in their chests when they utter their thanks to God.

It had been about two months since your move and you couldn’t have been doing better. You skipped to your last class of the day, hands intertwined with Yuki’s as you gossiped about a certain Prince and his loyal butler, “If you had to pick between Diavolo and Barbatos, who would you rather have as a big brother figure?” Yuki asked. You hummed, halting in your tracks as you pondered. Your cheeks were puffed out and your lips sat in a tiny pout and Yuki had to steel herself from melting into a puddle from how you managed to make her heart beat so quickly, “I’d choose Barbatos to be my older brother. I think he’d take good care of me.” You say happily, swinging your arm, making hers move in sync with yours. “What about Diavolo? You’d be a royal if you were related to him, y’know!” Yuki laughed, her grip on your hands loosened ever so slightly. You sigh this dreamy sigh, “Well, I’d rather be his, not his sibling.” You joke, winking slyly at the girl.

The girl’s eyes grew, heart dropping after she heard you say that, “You like Lord Diavolo?” She asked; you didn’t notice the tremble in her bottom lip. You blinked at her, once, twice, before you burst out laughing, “Yuki! I was kidding! I mean sure, Diavolo’s attractive and he’s an absolute sweetheart of a Prince but I don’t like anyone like that right now.” You scrunch your nose, chuckling to yourself.

“I-If Diavolo, heck, if anyone were to say… ask to court you, would you let them? D-Do you think you’d reciprocate their feelings?!” She asked, voice pitching slightly as she grabbed both your hands in hers. You shrugged, “Well, it depends, y’know? No one’s ever confessed or asked little ol’ me. I’m sure you have a lot of experience with people confessing to you.” You say softly, squeezing her hands before you pull away, motioning that you two had to continue walking.

Yuki groaned to herself as she watched you walk ahead of her, “You haven’t got the slightest clue of just how special you are…” She muttered before she ran back to you.

Unbeknownst to either of you, a person cloaked in all black watched the entire thing go down just a little ways away, their grip on a stone pillar tightened so much that their claws left cracks on the ancient pillar.

“Courting, huh?”

The day had finally ended, you ran by Yuki still fixing her things, waving her goodbye, “I promised Solomon that I’d meet him in one of the potions rooms. I’ll see ya tomorrow!” You left before she could even respond. Bounding down the stairs, you turned the corner and crashed into a demon. You fell rather harshly, falling on your bottom and since you were going down the stairs, your elbow came into contact with the bottom stair. You were in all this pain while the demon simply stumbled back.

Curse this feeble human body.

You hissed, eyes prickling with tears as you rubbed your elbow. The demon’s glare was deadly, their fangs were bared as they blinked down at you, “Watch where you’re goin- Oh, wait- you’re… you’re (MC).” Their voice, dripping with poison, faltered the minute they processed who ran into them. You noted the heavy black coat draped over their shoulders, “I-I’m so sorry for running into you. I-I was in a rush because… Because of an errand Lord Diavolo told me to go tend to! Yep! That’s it! Well, I truly do apologize but I’ll just… I’ll get going.” You blurt out as you get up, dusting yourself off as you continue to run in the direction of the potions room.

The demon stood motionless, watching you like a hawk as your figure grew smaller and smaller the further away you ran. Looking back down, he realized that you dropped a small brown lizard-shaped keychain. Ah, the fabled chocolate lizard keychain. What a delight.

You were unaware of the sinister smile playing on their lips as they pocketed the keychain.

You made it to Solomon, quite frankly it wasn’t hard to find the sorcerer- what, with the smoke wafting from the opened door and windows. You rub your aching elbow once more before you walk in. You’ll have to ask Simeon about the pain when you get home. The room smelt faintly of daffodils, a touch floral but still musky. You fan the air, coughing lightly as you watch the table Solomon stood at glow various shades of yellow and purple, “What are you doing, Solomon? The air’s so stuffy here.” You groaned, glaring playfully at the silver-haired man. He chuckles lightly, “I’ve made you a little gift and this is how you repay me in kind? You’ve wounded me, (MC).” From seemingly out of nowhere, Solomon pulls out a tiny box, smoke seeping out from even the tiniest of spaces.

You warily take it from him, muttering a hesitant thank you as you pull off the top. In the box was plush velvet bedding, something akin to a ring holder in boxes used for proposals, and on that bedding lay a smoking, glowing orb attached to a chain. A necklace of sorts. Your eyes grew in awe as you gently took the necklace out of the box, “Solomon, this is absolutely beautiful. What does it do?!” You ask excitedly. You notice the shades of lavender and canary yellow the orb transitions to and from. “It’s a necklace for protection. Here, I’ll put it on you.” He takes the necklace from your hand, his fingertips brush against yours- the small spark of electricity from the touch makes you jump lightly. You turn around and he lays the necklace on you with the gentlest of touches. His hands were slightly colder than Yuki’s; you were used to her warm hands taking yours as you walked around school grounds. Solomon’s hands were bigger, his fingertips were tougher from callouses but his touch was a welcomed one.

You watched the orb glow brightly the minute he fixes the clip on the nape of your neck. A burst of white blinded you for a millisecond before the glowing stopped. It wasn’t yellow or purple anymore- the orb on your neck was a solid black, as dark as a starless night.

“Black symbolizes grounding, safety, and protection. You’ve been under my care for a while now and although you and I both know that I’ll do anything to keep you safe, I’m not able to watch you every minute of every day. This necklace will ensure that anyone you deem dangerous will not be able to touch you. No one will be able to harm you, okay?” You smile warmly at the sorcerer, “Solomon… I-” You pause. You looked him straight in the eye before you suddenly wrapped your arms around him. He yelps, being taken off guard.

“Thank you, Solomon. I mean it.”

Yuki walked home, accompanied by Mammon for the day. The walk was plagued with silence, the uncomfortable type at that, and the girl paid no mind to the fidgeting demon to her right. Mammon was one of the brothers to give up quite quickly. As the Avatar of Greed, he’s known to try and try and try for something he truly wanted but he never really got that sense of desperation when he tried to apologize to Yuki. When he realized that you weren’t ever going to call the House of Lamentation your home again, his greed for Yuki’s time and forgiveness turned into greed for you. “Mammon, we’ve had this set-up for weeks now. Stop acting like I’ll tear your head off.” Yuki said coolly, hands busy with her D.D.D. The demon looked away sheepishly, “Psh, I wasn’t even lookin’ at ya! I just wanted to remind ya that we’re sorry or whatever… About what happened, ya know?” He finished quietly, hands wringing as he nervously glanced at everything except the human girl. She sighed, shrugging as she kicked a small rock on the pavement, “What’s done is done. You all drove them away.” She sighs. Mammon’s knuckles turned white from squeezing them into fists too hard, “We know. We can’t even apologize because of… Well, Simeon, Solomon, and that chihuahua.” He grunts.

Mammon has tried on multiple different occasions to approach you. If he tallies the numbers, he’d average at least three or four multiple attempts each day but icy glares are sent his way the minute he even thinks of walking in your direction. The Purgatory Hall boys, Solomon especially, have gotten so protective over you. They pull you away by the waist when they sense any of the brothers. They steal your attention away- they even throw away gifts left for you on the porch of the house into the black garbage bag at the side of the house.

None of their efforts could reach you and Mammon knew that you were completely unaware of how hard they were trying to ask for your forgiveness.

The skies in the Devildom were so beautiful that rumors spread of how in the earlier eons, there were demons who wasted away from staring at it for their entire lifetimes. Though in a way, they resided in the biblical place known as Hell, the beauty of the skies is unmatched. Not even the Celestial Realm had skies as magnificent. When the brothers first fell, it was the first thing to captivate them. The younger brothers spent hours upon hours simply admiring the way the shades of red, orange, and yellow merged to paint the skies in the way Edvard Munch painted his masterpiece.

They believed that nothing else in all three realms could captivate them in the same way. Then you decide to saunter into their lives with a soul so… carefree.

You were a painting come to life. You managed to put the skies of the Devildom to shame.

Yuki stopped in her tracks, eyes trained on the tanned demon, “You can’t blame them. You did this to yourselves. Simeon, Solomon, and Luke basically worship them at Purgatory Hall. You and your brothers tossed them aside. I never asked for you all to fawn over me. Believe me, I didn’t pay attention to your advances.” She scoffed lightly but there wasn’t any malice in what she said. She sounded sympathetic, like she was simply disappointed. Mammon winced, hands tugging on his bi-colored jacket before huffing to himself, “Yeah well… I miss them.” He whispered, voice almost inaudible as it breezed away with the wind.

The walk back home was then plagued with silent remorse and quiet sympathy.

Lucifer sat in the council room, flipping through pages and files of boring paperwork by himself. His brothers were long gone and the school was already half closed. Council meetings were abrupt; Diavolo barely spent time addressing any concerns the brothers had, only really focusing on what he deemed to be important, which were concerns regarding the demons attending RAD and his beloved exchange students. Lucifer hoped that Barbatos would call the Prince out for his pettiness but it seemed that he was playing the role of the silent, compliant butler. A part of Morningstar felt that Barbatos held the same grudge.

The Avatar of Pride raked his hand through his hair for what seemed like the hundredth time that hour; the stress was catching up to him. The words on official statements and documents muddled and meant nothing to him, he simply signed on what Diavolo signed on with an aching wrist. His eyes were glazed over as they skimmed across titles and addresses, nothing seemed important until a particular envelope caught his eye. It was a chic black thing, sealed with a blood red wax seal, the crest stamped unfamiliar to the demon. It wasn’t addressed to him or the other council members, it was addressed to Solomon. His gaze hardened at the cursive writing on the front, the words written in liquid gold ink.

Why on Earth was there a letter mixed in with this pile? He sighed, tucking the letter into a pocket in his coat; he’d have to go drop it off at Purgatory Hall.

The letter’s the only reason he’s going to that place, he tries to convince himself.

Lucifer was practically done with his paperwork when the doors burst open. Solomon rushes in alone, expression unreadable as he approaches Pride’s physical embodiment, “Good day, Lucifer. I was wondering if you’ve seen a letter addressed to me. It’s quite important.” He acts coldly; his shoulders are tense as he glances down at the neat pile on the massive center table.

Lucifer purses his lips, should he give it to Solomon? It would save him the long walk. What’s in that envelope that’s so important? He hesitates before he shakes his head, “I haven’t seen anything of the sort, Solomon. I’ve yet to finish all my paperwork so I’ll let you know if it comes into my possession.” He lies through his teeth, so smoothly that you’d wonder if he ever tells the truth.

Solomon quirks an eyebrow before nodding slowly, “I see. Well, if you come across a black envelope with my name written on it, you can simply drop it off at Purgatory Hall.” With that, Solomon turns and marches out of the council room, heart thrumming in his chest as his mind is noisy with panicked thoughts.

In the name of everything good in the world, Lucifer, why’d you act so selfishly? You changed the timeline again.

Solomon rushes back to the potions room to fetch you. He’d have to prepare for this timeline well.

A few days have passed since that interaction Lucifer had with Solomon. The letter lay dormant on his bedside table, a spell cast on it to keep it safe from his greedy brother’s fast fingers. He hadn’t opened it, only stared at the seal mocking him by keeping whatever secret Solomon had under wraps. He heard laughter in the hallway for the first time in weeks, Yuki’s genuine laughter was airy as she seemed to joke with Mammon. A smile tugged on his tired face as he glanced at the door; finally, some semblance of what life used to be.

May Solomon find it in his heart to forgive the demon for what he was about to do.

He took the letter in his hands, ready to rip it open when he heard something break from a few rooms away. He sighed, putting the letter down to check.

It can wait.

You were having a particularly bad day, eyes puffy from tears as you woke up from an awful nightmare. You re-lived the day you died. The way Belphegor wrapped his hands around your throat, his maniacal laughter as he watched the life leave your eyes. You were doing so well, managing the move and the torment you faced for months prior like a soldier amidst war. Why’d you have to be reminded so suddenly?! You shouldered the burden of fixing a broken family when you first came to the Devildom. You were threatened and put in danger- Hell, you were killed. You had given up body and soul to those brothers, to mend their relationships and what did you get in return?

You were killed, and you were replaced a few months later.

You had woken up gasping for air, hands flying to your neck to struggle against an imaginary pair of bony hands wrapped around your throat. Your cheeks were wet with tears you didn’t realize you shed and your heart was beating so fast you were afraid you’d actually die from fear. You didn’t call out to any of the other occupants in the house; you were afraid of being a burden to them. You couldn’t live through another few months of being compared to Yuki.

You knew that if the brothers saw your pathetic state now, they’d find a way to compare you to the girl; maybe they’d say that Yuki wouldn’t be plagued with nightmares months after.

Maybe they’d say that Yuki wouldn’t have died in the first place.

You shakily stalked over to the vanity by your bed- God, you looked like death personified. The tiny clock you placed on the table read “3:20 A.M”, ironic that you woke up at the devil’s hour; you knew the devil personally and he isn’t as bad as horror movies would make him out to be. You stared into the mirror, eyes watering as you remembered how badly Asmodeus treated you, how painful the words he spoke were. You weren’t attractive enough, you gained weight, your skin wasn’t clear, you weren’t good enough, not good enough, not fucking good enough-

He nitpicked every little thing about you.

You shook as you cried out a broken sob. You were so far from Yuki, you could never compare. You spent so many nights praying to anyone who would listen; you were always so inferior so why did fate lead you to the Devildom in the first place? Why didn’t they let Yuki get picked from the get-go?

Your chest heaved as the closing wounds inflicted on your heart tore back open. It was as if God felt crueler than normal and he decided to dig his heel into a particularly deep scar.

You died for those brothers, you reminded yourself.

Looking into the mirror, all you saw was an amalgamation of imperfection. You grabbed your comb and threw it against the shiny vanity mirror, cracking it from the force. You glance around the room, eyes blurry as you feel your chest constrict- it was like your lungs were too big for your body. Your breaths grew shallower, you frantically moved to open the window. You pulled and pulled, trying to budge it open but you felt weak. You gasped as you clutched your head in your hands. You couldn’t breathe.

Why was this happening?

You screwed your eyes tight, praying to God to make the pain go away.

A beat passes, then two.

God never answered your prayers.

You fell to the ground with a dull thud, your hands clutching the small necklace Solomon gifted you, “S-Simeon?! So-” You cried out, choking on your cries as you rocked back and forth on your knees.

“Someone please… help me.”

Your vision started to double, tiny black dots sporadically whizzed around the room it seemed and your hands grew languid against your chest. As you fell over, the door burst open and all you could see was a pair of blue-grey eyes. Distant yelling filled your ears,

“(MC)!”

The demon brothers were in their separate rooms, some were lounging about whilst others were sleeping. Lucifer was sitting by his desk, quill in hand when he felt your pact mark grow warm, so warm that it felt like someone poured boiling hot water on him. He hissed, pulling his coat off. Your pact mark laid on his chest, right by his heart. What was happening to you?! He clutched at his chest, hands turning into sharp claws as he dug his talons into himself, breaking the skin. His blood ran cold the moment it cooled. He felt around the pact, the dips in his skin from the contract were strange- it was like his pact was still there but non-existent all at once.

Something was wrong; he heard his brothers scream down the hall.

Before Lucifer could spring into action, he heard his D.D.D buzz on his desk. Something, in that moment, told him to let his brothers be. Pick the damn phone up. Rushing over, he flips his D.D.D up and sees the caller I.D.

“Lucifer. I know you have the letter. Open it right now.” Solomon.

He leaves the sorcerer on speaker, each step he took felt like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. He felt like he wasn’t stable enough to deal with whatever he’d read in the envelope. He tore it open swiftly, the beautiful seal be damned.

In the envelope were two things: your chocolate lizard keychain and a piece of paper the shade of ivory. His heart dropped when he felt the keychain drop into his palm.

His hands were drenched with sweat, a feeling of anxiety filling him to the brim; he’s never felt this afraid in eons. The paper looked elegant enough but the scent was dreadful. It smelt of battery acid, putrid and rotten. A lower demon scented it. His nostrils flared as he gagged, carefully unfolding the letter to read the contents,

“I hope this letter finds you in good health, Solomon.

You need not find out who I am. I simply chose to write to you to make you aware. You see, dear sorcerer, I’ve fallen quite hard for a certain (MC), the exchange student put under your care as of late. When they were with the Avatars of Sin, I stood no chance of ever competing for their affection. Those fallen assholes were like annoying mutts. I must say though that when the girl, her name’s Yuki from what I can recall, came to our little realm, I was driven mad with anger after hearing how those stupid brothers treated sweet (MC). Those bastards were complete fools for letting someone like them slip away. Now, we’ll have this little deal. This chocolate lizard keychain belonged to (MC) and their scent alone on the thing was enough for me to… indulge in more lustful activities. I’m sure your demon, Asmodeus, felt how strongly I feel for sweet (MC). Give the keychain back to (MC) and ensure that they keep it. Their feelings toward me may be non-existent now but they’ll be mine once they take it back. If, for some reason, you choose to not give it to them, they’ll fall into a trance of sorts, something I can only describe as amnesia. They’ll forget you all, the Avatars included, all of the memories you’ve made, your relationships with them- will go forgotten. What will remain is the heartache they felt in your presence.

Three days, Solomon. Either way, I’ll find a way to make them mine. “

Lucifer runs out of his room, his stomach turning as he grabs his coat, “Everyone, come down this instance.” He bellowed, voice echoing through the hallways. His senses managed to pick up on his brothers groaning and complaining. He gritted his teeth, “Something’s wrong with (MC).”

Like magic, his brothers run out of their rooms, highly alert in their loungewear. Lucifer’s grip on the keychain threatened to break the damn thing, but he composed himself. He handed Mammon the letter he read, turning to put his shoes on, “W-Wait, Lucifer. What’s wrong?!” Yuki yelled out, eyes frantically looking between the brothers as she ran out of her room last.

Mammon’s throat ran dry, “Someone cursed (MC). T-The letter… How long have you had the letter, Lucifer?”

Lucifer froze as he was bent down to put his shoes on. He refused to meet his brothers’ gazes as he muttered, “I’ve had it for three days.”

The house breaks out into the same frenzy plaguing Purgatory Hall.

Your body was frigid, you were somewhat of a corpse in Simeon’s arms. Your breathing was ragged and you were shivering; Simeon had never prayed harder in his life. He looked up at the ceiling as he rubbed your arms to warm you up in some way. Almighty God, hear my pleas. I am but your loyal servant… I pray for their safety.. The angel turned to look at the young blonde shaking in Solomon’s arms, “Simeon! What’s wrong with (MC)? They’re okay, right?!” He cried, eyes welling up with crystalline tears. Simeon couldn’t give Luke the answer he wanted to hear. “Solomon, take Luke back to his room please. Come back quickly.” He says, eyes glancing back down to your shaking frame. Luke thrashed in Solomon’s hold, yelling pleas and crying out for the pair to let him help. His crying fell on deaf ears though, as Solomon hauled him back to his room.

“C’mon, (MC). Come on, wake up. Wake up!” The angel yelled, shaking you as he lifted you up to lay on the bed. Solomon returns without the tiny crying angel, his expression was one of utter fear and remorse, “Simeon, I- Here give them to me.” He says softly. His eyes avoid the terrified gaze of the heavenly being sitting before him, “Solomon, call Lord Diavolo or Barbatos, please. I… “ The angel was gripping his hair, eyes wide with raw panic. He stared down at your unconscious form and his eyes flitted to the way one of Solomon’s hands held the tiny orb resting on your chest. His hands were too calm, he decided. “You know something, don’t you?” Simeon’s voice was one of a broken man’s- a terrified man’s. The sorcerer lowered his gaze even more. The angel saw red, hands grabbing at Solomon’s collar when-

The doorbell rings.

taglist for those who asked to be tagged:

@edible-sushi , @knmsapplepi , @kxyren , @its-dari , @izukulus , @farysblog , @atinyidea-bon , @affecteddream , @yunbedo , @raven-darkessence , @crystal-freak24 , @gallantys , @xfatefulmistyx , @crystalmystery , @another-one-again , @moni-sama , @giulia2372 , @mattxxamryli , @seaseachan , @airserylunalol , @mammonsleftkidney , @sasarii , @voidanon69 , @a-dorkier-book-keeper , @ikkomori , @chiefarcadesuujt , @mammonssheep , @ymjay , @milumine-draws , @beanybunzz , @marvelous-maniac , @setsubon , @v0id1nq , @lonely--witch , @trappola-caramel , @the-wonderously-strange , @star-child-love , @siniy606 , @ymjay, @0willowwisp0 , @yunbedo , @thirteenhub , @blessyblade8 , @niallerhere , @zero-nightshade , @my-comfort-space

crossed out names are of those who asked to be tagged but for some reason, i just couldn't tag you! :<< i'm not sure if it's because some of you are private accounts, im not even sure how tumblr works sometimes but i'm sorry! i'll keep trying to tag you in the future! <33

#obey me x reader #obey me x mc #obey me replaced mc au #obey me shall we date #obey me angst #obey me headcanons #obey me #obey me swd

750 notes · View notes

phoenixyfriend · 3 years

Text

Anakin Introduces his Jedi Babies (and Himself)

Context: Anakin and the Jedi Babies, chrono

Warnings for: canon-typical dismemberment, unfortunately-aimed puppy crushes

Word count: 5,839

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

The first time a Jedi meets a Skywalker, it’s on Bandomeer.

The planet is close to Mandalorian space. Finding someone associated with Mandalore is, technically, not that surprising. There are even Mandalorian operations on the planet.

What is surprising is the fact that the person from Mandalorian space is an unfamiliar Jedi Knight who is utterly unstoppable.

(Obi-Wan Kenobi has no way of knowing how similar his experiences are to what might have been, on this planet. Mandalore has been interfering in operations here ever since Ylliben Skywalker started reporting visions about the coming catastrophe. Where that interference has helped or hurt... well. There’s no way to know.)

(Is there?)

When Xanatos shows up and starts taunting Obi-Wan and Qui-Gon, there’s a giggle from the doorway.

All three have to turn to look at the individual in question.

Mid-twenties, leaning against the doorframe, slim but strong, covered in dark fabric and half a set of armor. A scar by one eye, well-kept hair, and a smirk that could burn the longest fuse. A lightsaber, unlit, in one gloved hand.

This man is... very attractive, Obi-Wan thinks. This is not an appropriate thought for the situation. Obi-Wan thinks he can maybe blame it on the exhaustion.

“No, no, keep going,�� the stranger says, sounding like there’s a laugh stuck in his throat. He waves dismissively. “Let’s, ah, let’s hear the master plan. Good ranting voice, maybe a six out of ten on the ‘I’m better than you’ and a four on the actual intimidation. You can do better.”

“Excuse me?” Xanatos hisses, sounding incredibly malicious to Obi-Wan’s ears. “Just who do you think you are?”

“And now you’re overselling it,” the stranger sighs. “Are you new at this? You seem new at this.”

“I would... also like to know who you are,” Master Jinn admits, shifting uncertainly as he tries to keep both du Crion and the stranger in his sights.

“I’m just your friendly neighborhood Jedi Knight, here to fight darksiders because... that’s my life, apparently,” the man says, looking down at his arm for some reason. He shakes his head and looks up at them with a bright grin. “Do you need some help, Master Jinn?”

“You still haven’t told us your name.”

“This is true,” the knight says. “That said, I’ve been told by my boss to explicitly avoid naming myself while on this mission for a variety of reasons.”

“Your... boss,” du Crion drawls. “Not the Council, then.”

“Current supervisor,” the stranger offers as correction, completely unconcerned. “It’s a complicated situation, don’t worry about it.”

“I don’t worry about nonentities.”

The man purses his lips like he’s trying very, very hard not to laugh again. It’s very mocking. “Sure, kid.”

Xanatos has had his lightsaber out ever since Obi-Wan and Master Jinn entered the room, but he does one of those fancy, meant-to-be-intimidating one-handed saber twirls as he turns to face the Knight.

The man’s smirk widens. “You do realize you’re going to lose, right? C’mon, kid--”

“I’m older than you!”

“I did like zero research on you as a person, just your many and varied crimes; how old are you?”

Du Crion’s face goes pinched. “I’m twenty-five.”

“Ah, yeah, no, I’m older,” the knight says. “Only a few years, but I’m also a delightfully obnoxious little bastard who ages real slow for, uh, reasons--”

Obi-Wan is fascinated. This man is very strange. And very pretty.

Obi-Wan may be light-headed. Is he bleeding? Blood loss would explain this.

Obi-Wan isn’t bleeding. Damn.

“--anyway, I’m sure I’ve got a more interesting life with more mature experiences than you,” the knight says. “So even if I wasn’t older in body, I’d be older in spirit.”

The knight’s entire sense of being carries such an air of banthashit that Obi-Wan can barely believe it. It’s almost impressive. Obi-Wan wonders how often this man just opens his mouth and immediately gets punched in the face.

“You talk a lot for a man in someone else’s domain.”

“Hey, look on the bright side,” the knight says. “At least I’m not flirting with you. That’s what my master did with almost every darksider we met except his grandmaster.”

Du Crion pauses.

Obi-Wan has the distinct feeling that he and Master Jinn have lost any control they might have, at any point, had over this situation. They hadn’t had much control in the first place, but anything they did have is squarely in the stranger’s court right now. The silver lining to that is that du Crion is thoroughly distracted and has also lost some control of the situation.

“Besides,” the man continues, completely ignoring the very red lightsaber that is being very obviously readied for his death. “This is not that big of an advantage for you. I mean, hey, the fancy central console that can only be reached by skinny walkways with no railings are a nice touch, all chromed metal and minimal lighting, very dramatic, but there’s no lava. I’m not, like, chained to a rock in the middle of an arena for a public execution at the hands of starving animals the size of a fighter ship. You’re threatening to kill me personally instead of standing in the most expensive box of the theater, sipping your wine and congratulating yourself on step one of a plan that has another fifty-thousand steps and no end in sight. You--”

“Is there a point to this?”

“I’m just saying, I’ve been in worse situations by better darksiders than you. This is sad. You’re sad. Try harder.”

Obi-Wan makes a little noise in the back of his throat. Nobody seems to notice, but Master Jinn does put a hand on his shoulder. That’s nice.

“I don’t have any interest in setting up a public execution.”

“What kind of a Sith wannabe are you?” the knight asks, tilting his head. Obi-Wan distantly notes that his hair is longer than initially assumed; it’s just held back and curled. “Public executions are a whole thing. It’s like you’re not even trying. Tell me you’ve at least got vague plans to hand me off to a pirates instead of killing me so you can make some comment about me not even being worth the effort.”

“Are you trying to get yourself killed?” du Crion asks, his voice the kind of forced casual level nonsense that shows he’s actually very, very frustrated. Obi-Wan could almost believe that du Crion is as uninterested as he’s pretending to be.

“If I was trying to get myself killed, I’d... pick a fight with the Trade Federation, maybe? I mean, I survived that when I was nine but they’d probably take me more seriously this time.” The knight taps at his chin. “I don’t even know where the actual Sith is, but--”

“There are no more Sith,” du Crion scoffs.

Oh, the knight looks pitying now. Obi-Wan likes that much more than he should. It just really suits the man’s face.

Quin’s going to make so much fun of him later.

“I have fought multiple Sith,” the man says, slowly and clearly, as though explaining something to a child. “My master fought more than that. I lost my arm to a Sith when I was nineteen. You can say they’re gone, but I don’t trust like that.”

“It’s not a matter of trust,” du Crion says, rolling his eyes. “It has been a thousand years since the Sith were wiped out. Much as I’d like them to still be around, I’m not going to--”

“Oh!” the knight exclaims. “You’re lying! You do think they’re back, this whole mess is you auditioning.”

Du Crion stares at the man as though he’s lost what few marbles he had. “Excuse me?”

“You want to be the next Sith Apprentice,” the man says, cheerfully unconcerned by the mounting tension in the air. “That’s adorable. Well, no, actually, it’s very bad, both for you and for everyone else, and now it means I can’t just kill you in battle like I was planning because the Jedi are going to need you for information. Blast.”

Du Crion’s eyes widen. It is not in fear, but in incredulity. Obi-Wan thinks that it’s all in the eyebrows and the tight, befuddled smile. “You were planning to kill me, Jedi?”

“I mean... yeah, kinda,” the knight says, shrugging. “Quick and clean option, that.”

This time, Master Jinn is the one that makes a disbelieving noise that both of the bitchy twenty-somethings ignore.

“You’re a Jedi,” du Crion points out, entirely pleasant.

“...yes,” the man says, not meeting anyone’s eyes. “Technically.”

Du Crion is very much distracted by this. “Technically?”

The man wiggles a hand. “Arguments can be made. I certainly was trained as a Jedi and consider myself to be one. My knighting was according to protocol, and at the Temple. Technically.”

“...but?” Master Jinn prompts.

The knight smiles like he’s got something very spicy in his mouth and is unwilling to admit it’s too much for him. “But nothing! Don’t worry about it. There’s a fight to be had with a Sith wannabe who doesn’t realize he’s not going to measure up.”

“Arrogant,” du Crion accuses.

“No,” the knight immediately says. “You just don’t fight a galactic war without learning which opponents are actually going to kill you.”

Obi-Wan leans into Master Jinn’s side, his legs feeling a little too much like jelly. He whispers, “I have so many questions.”

“As do I, Padawan,” Master Jinn mutters back, and something in Obi-Wan’s heart twists. He’s a padawan! Master Jinn’s actually going to go through with it!

The fight does actually happen, at that point. The knight lights his saber and leaps forward, flashing through Djem So movements without a moment’s hesitation. For all the trash talk and boasting, the fight isn’t actually over very quickly. Du Crion is good, even without having had a chance to spar against a real person since he left the Order. Power flows around him, dark and heavy and sharp in ways that the Force usually isn’t, and the red saber snaps through the air with a speed Obi-Wan can barely track. Xanatos du Crion is, without question, danger incarnate in this moment.

The unknown knight is better.

There are attempts at banter, mostly by the stranger. Du Crion is too focused on the fight to bother responding. Obi-Wan just clings to Master Jinn, trying to stay awake and aware. It’s difficult, given the past few days, and even with help from the Force, he’s flagging.

The way the knight moves is... captivating, though.

(Quinlan’s going to laugh at the top of his lungs, later. Obi-Wan’s going to blush and stutter and bury his face in a pillow, and Bant’s going to pat his back like the amazing friend she is, and Quin’s just going to laugh, like an asshole.)

The fight doesn’t end cleanly. The knight cuts du Crion’s saber in half and, in the same movement, cuts the man’s hand off.

Obi-Wan’s seen too much blood in the last few days for it to shock him, but the smell is... unpleasant.

“I don’t suppose either of you carries Force-nullifying cuffs?” the knight asks, holding his saber to du Crion’s neck with an expression that is amused and satisfied in equal measure.

“No,” Master Jinn says. He seems... very bothered. Well, du Crion was his student once. Obi-Wan can’t imagine he’d be very calm if he had a student that went dark and started killing children. “Was cutting off his hand really necessary?”

“I feel like half my fights end with either someone dying or someone losing a limb,” the knight muses. “Sometimes that limb is my own, even!”

Obi-Wan isn’t sure if the man is manic or just trying to throw them off their rhythm. It probably doesn’t matter.

“Okay, I have Force-nullifying cuffs of my own,” the man says. “But these things are expensive as hell, and they weren’t paid for by the Order, so just giving them to you isn’t really on the table. That said... my ship kind of got shot down on the way here. If you could give me a ride off-planet--”

“Our ship was also shot down.”

The knight blinks at him, and then kicks du Crion in the hamstring. It’s not a very hard kick, but du Crion shoots him a look of offense that’s probably justified. Getting kicked when one is already down is never a great feeling.

“Stop shooting people,” the knight scolds.

Obi-Wan feels vaguely like he’s having a fever dream.

“Okay, new plan,” the man says. “What kind of ship did you come in?”

“KYL-3400 small transport,” Master Jinn says, with not a little hesitation. “Why?”

The knight grins. “I’m going to cannibalize it for parts.”

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

Jango has known Anakin Skywalker for six years. Many of those years have been spent being yanked into babysitting for the man. For reasons Jango doesn’t feel like examining, this will likely continue.

“You’re late,” he says, as the man in question stumbles out of a battered ship that looks only barely like the one that left three months ago. “I thought you said Bandomeer was a quick fix.”

“Ship got shot down, had to help some Jedi, ran into fucking Onaka on the way back,” Skywalker grouses. “I feel like shit. Where are my kids?”

“Buir says you have to go to medical.”

“Yeah, sure, whatever. My kids, Jango.”

“They can visit you in medical.”

“And, what, Mereel’s gonna go there for a debrief?”

“Your debrief is going through me,” Jango says, and doesn’t let himself flinch when Skywalker makes a face. “He’ll check in later.”

“Yeah, no,” Skywalker says, taking a step forward and then swaying with a curse. “Listen, this actually does need to go to Mand’alor direct, not just the Alor-in-training--”

“Please don’t do that with my language,” Jango immediately says. “That’s not--no. ‘Alor-in-training’ isn’t a thing. Don’t do that.”

Skywalker turns on his heel with a frustrated snarl, and Jango’s eyes widen as the stupid tunics the man wears flare out.

“Is that a blaster wound?”

“No.”

“Yes it--for fuck’s sake, Skywalker!” Jango growls and just goes over to grab the taller man by the shoulders and march him to medical. “I’m calling your sister.”

“Don’t tell Shmi, she’s got enough to--”

“I’m calling your sister,” Jango snaps. “And you’re going to deal with it. Ka’ra, do you even think? Is there a brain in that head of yours?”

“I’ve been told my braincell is lonely.”

“I’m going to shove you in a trash compactor, dikut’la jetii,” Jango mutters. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“If I say yes, will you let me go deal with it on my own?”

Jango strangles his own scream and shoves Skywalker into the nearest examination room. “Fix him!”

The medic looks up, raises a brow, and turns to Skywalker. “What did you do?”

“What didn’t I do?” Skywalker shoots back, grinning like they’re sharing battle stories over a drink in a cantina.

The medic--Mirka’lu, he thinks--crosses her arms. “General.”

Oh man, the medics must be angry with him already if they’re already jumping titles like that.

“I’m just a knight--”

“General Skywalker.”

The man in question grimaces. “I maybe got shot during an altercation with some pirates.”

“Uh-huh.”

“And... I maybe--maybe--picked a fight with some Hutt enforcers.”

Jango’s going to wring his neck.

Right after he calls Shmi.

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

Komari does her level best to not shift nervously under the judgmental eyes of the man they’re pretty sure is the Mand’alor. Her master’s got the situation under control. She’s just there to observe. They’ve got an entire team--

“Is that your way of telling me that your Order did minimal research on the situation before coming to intervene, and the only reason you bothered to reach out is because one of my men, weeks ago, let you know that Death Watch is setting traps for both my people and yours?”

Komari feels the flare of annoyance from Master Dooku. She doesn’t react, but she can hear the tension when her Master speaks.

“I assure we would not have attacked on Galidraan unless attacked first, or if we’d found solid evidence of the actions we were informed of,” Master Dooku says, quiet and even. “All your messenger did was save us all a little time.”

Mereel smiles thinly. “Saved us all some lives, more like it.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ah, jetiise aren’t the only ones with Force-Sensitives,” the Mand’alor says. “I’ve more than a few under my command. Visions aren’t foolproof, I’m aware, but I’ll be damned if such a warning goes completely ignored.”

Master Dooku makes a low humming noise. “Be that as it may, I’m unsure of what it is that you’re expecting out of our... presence. We are not here to help you claim your presumed throne. We are only here to stop the killings we were told about.”

“I don’t need your help to reunite my people.” Mereel waves a hand, batting the mere suggestion away. “But I’d appreciate the help with taking out the terrorist group that’s actually going out and murdering the helpless, this planet’s farmers and doctors and children. Kyr’tsad isn’t just a thorn in my side, Master Jedi.”

“And what proof do I have that you aren’t just the same kind of monster as you claim they are?” Master Dooku challenges.

It’s a little brazen, considering how dicey these negotiations are. For all that Komari herself doesn’t wince, someone behind her outright hisses in dismay. She agrees with the sentiment.

Mereel just laughs at them. He catches the eye of one of the armored individuals along the wall, human or close to it, and nods to himself.

“Right,” the man says. “Well, we have our own Jedi. Would you like to meet him?”

Master Dooku is immobile, as if carved from stone. The rest of the group is... not.

“I suppose that would be acceptable,” Master Dooku says, and Komari feels the tension in him wind further through the training bond. There are a million questions to be had here. None of them can be answered without the supposed Jedi.

“Great,” the Mand’alor says. He leans back in his seat and turns to the door. With the press of a button, the door slides open. “Ben!”

A child darts into the room, stops, and bounces on their feet. Probably male, Komari thinks, and very anxious. The child’s eyes dart about the room, taking in every single Jedi in sight. When that gaze lands on Master Dooku, there’s a flash of recognition and... not hate, but distaste. Confused and distant dismay, maybe. The child turns back to Mereel.

“Mand’alor,” the child greets, still bouncing. “Am I needed?”

“Thought I told you this meeting was for grown-ups,” the Mand’alor says.

Ben shrugs. “I wanted to listen in.”

“That door is soundproofed and you know it.”

“So?”

The Mand’alor grins. “Do me a favor and go fetch your dad.”

“Buir’s still sleeping,” Ben says, grave as dirt. It’s a strange expression for such a small child. He can’t be older than eight, and Komari’s pretty sure even that’s a stretch. “Shmi’s gonna be mad if he has to wake up before the bacta’s done.”

“I just need him for negotiations,” Mereel assures the child.

“Aggressive negotiations with a lightsaber?” Ben asks, and Komari nearly chokes.

“No, just regular ones.”

Ben nods sharply, and then turns and runs out.

“That boy...” Mereel mutters, but it’s fond. “Anywa--”

“BUIR!” Ben’s voice echoes from the hall, faint but audible, along with some very loud banging on what is presumably a door. “DAD! WAKE UP, THE COUNT IS HERE!”

The Count? Komari wonders. Even Master Dooku seems surprised.

The question is clearly on more minds than just her own. Mereel raises a brow at Master Dooku and gestures vaguely. “Didn’t know any of you were nobility. You a Count, Master Jedi?”

“No,” Master Dooku says, and before the Mand’alor can press further, he adds, “but if I were to retire from the Order, the title would be mine to inherit. As I have no intentions of retiring, I am not and will not be a Count, but I assume that is what the child is referring to.”

“Ben,” the Mand’alor corrects. He seems pleased with the reasonable answer. “Ylliben Skywalker. I suggest you refer to him by name.”

“You have a fondness for him,” Master Dooku notes.

Mereel shrugs. “No more than any other child, objectively, but his father is one of my more effective allies, and he gets antsy about things. Saying ‘your child’ won’t be a problem, but ‘the child’ is... well.”

The smirk is a challenge that Komari doesn’t feel ready to meet. She’s glad it’s not hers to handle.

“Why do you ‘have’ a Jedi?” Master Dooku asks, pushing the conversation back to the point Komari’s sure he was initially aiming for.

“Found him in a snowstorm, brought him inside,” Mereel says, grinning. “And then he refused to leave, the shabuir. Troublesome man, like you wouldn’t believe, but useful.”

“Like a feral tooka,” someone behind Komari mutters. She feels a part of her soul die.

You can’t just say that in front of the Mand’alor! she screeches in the depths of her mind, despairing.

“Exactly,” Mereel agrees with a laugh. “Skywalker’s a feral tooka.”

Komari dies a little more.

“Talkin’ shit about me, Mereel?”

...oh no.

This one’s pretty.

The man is tall, dressed almost entirely in black, and looks like shit.

“You look like you got run over by a herd of bantha,” the Mand’alor notes.

“I got back less than a day ago,” Skywalker growls out. He leans against the wall behind the Mand’alor’s desk. He folds his arms. He glowers around the room. “The kriff is Count Dooku doing here?”

“Master Dooku,” the man in question says, a little pained. “As I informed Mand’alor Mereel, I may technically have claim to that title, but I am a Jedi. So long as I remain a Jedi, the title isn’t actually mine.”

Skywalker makes a face, and then shakes his head. “Fine. Whatever. Jaster, what the hell do you need from me?”

“Well, some manners would be nice.”

“I got shot and am putting myself in a position to get yelled at by baar’ur Mirka’lu for coming here when I’m supposed to be on bed rest,” Skywalker growls out. He kicks Mereel’s chair, glaring at the back of the man’s head. “You’re lucky I put on pants.”

Mereel seems unbothered by this statement or treatment.

Komari thinks her eyes may currently be the size of dinner plates.

“You’re the one from Bandomeer.”

Skywalker’s head snaps up to focus his gaze on Master Dooku. “Say what?”

“You’re the one my former Padawan encountered on Bandomeer,” Master Dooku says, something satisfied in his tone. “He said you refused to give a name, but the physical description does match.”

“Oh, lovely, Jinn’s been gossiping,” Skywalker mutters. “That’s just--”

“General Skywalker,” Mereel says, voice finally slipping to something more stern than amused. “If you could please focus.”

Skywalker rolls his eyes and mutters something about painkillers.

“Buir?”

Skywalker’s head tilts to the side, and he holds one arm out to the side. The kid from before--Ben--darts in to cling to the man’s side. A slightly taller Togruta follows in and ducks in under his other arm. Both children keep a wary gaze fixed on the same person, and their adult...

Every look from this man is a new challenge to Master Dooku.

“They’re yours?”

That is the exact question Komari was hoping her master wouldn’t ask.

“We’re in Mandalorian territory,” Skywalker says. “They’re Force-Sensitive orphans with an incredible amount of potential. If I didn’t claim them, someone else would have.”

It’s not an airtight justification--the man could have just sent them to the Temple--but the air around him is roiling with aggression. This man does not like Master Dooku, and is more than a shade protective of these--his--children. Komari shifts her weight and worries as the pregnant silence grows heavier.

“As you say,” Master Dooku allows, and some of the bowstring-tight tension in the room loosens, drains away like foul bathwater. “If I may... I was unaware you were a General, nor that Mandalore had a standing army large enough for such a position.”

“He’s not,” Mereel says. “Used to be, won’t tell me where. It’s not my business, or yours. Title’s a holdover from whatever war he was fighting before we got him.”

Komari is not the only person whose heart drops as Master Dooku says, “Qui-Gon claimed that the rogue knight he’d met on Bandomeer mentioned a galactic war against the Sith.”

Mereel blinks, and then turns his seat around to look at Skywalker. The other Mandalorians look at Skywalker. Every single Jedi also looks at Skywalker.

The Togruta child sticks her tongue out at Master Dooku.

“I did say that,” Skywalker says. “What of it?”

“You know, when I said I didn’t care what fight you were running that turned you into a soldier, I kind of assumed it was something on the level of, say, a system-wide civil war,” Mereel drawls. “Not galactic Force nonsense.”

Skywalker shrugs. “Don’t ask questions you don’t want answers to.”

“Because you’ll lie?”

“No, I’m just going to be really annoying about it,” Skywalker tells him. The Togruta giggles and shoves her face into his side. “Or, hell, I’ll let Ben do it. We both know he can talk circles around basically everyone in this room.”

“Skywalker.”

“Mereel.”

The two hold gazes for a moment that lasts just a little too long, and then Mereel breaks it off. “We’re talking about this later.”

“Of course, Mand’alor,” Skywalker says, with a grim sort of smile. “Wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise.”

Mereel doesn’t seem particularly impressed by that.

Komari wonders if anyone else remembers that Skywalker was supposed to be here to make negotiations easier.

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

Yan Dooku is having a Day.

He’s not entirely sure whom to blame for this mess. Perhaps Yoda, for suggesting he handle this mission. Perhaps the governor of Galidraan, who decided collaborating with terrorists for his own gain was a good idea. Perhaps Jaster Mereel, whose influence and power is enough that Yan needs to tread carefully. Perhaps Qui-Gon, for giving him just enough information about Skywalker to cause some drama.

Perhaps Skywalker for being a recalcitrant, ornery bastard who delights in Yan’s suffering.

(One of the Mandalorians calls him that to his face, and Skywalker informs the man that “my mother always told me I didn’t have a father,” and stares until the Mando stammers out an apology and turns on his heel.)

(The smirk on Skywalker’s face is certainly informative.)

“Hi.”

Yan looks up from the datapad he’s been using to try and punch out a report, for all that he can’t find the words he needs, and sees the Togruta youngling from Skywalker’s side hanging upside-down from a ventilation grate.

He blinks evenly at her. “Good afternoon. Is that your normal manner of traversing the building?”

“Yeah, when Jan-Jan isn’t yelling at me about it,” she says, and drops from the ceiling. Seemingly without paying attention, she directs the grate itself back into place with the Force, screws reattaching themselves with only the slightest whisper. She’s done this many, many times.

“I’m afraid I don’t know who that is.”

“Jango Fett,” she clarifies. “Ad be Mand’alor.”

Child of the king.

He does remember that much from the briefing.

“I see,” Yan says, rather than try to tackle whatever the usage of such a nickname implies. “I’m afraid nobody’s seen fit to introduce you, youngling.”

“I’m Sokanth Skywalker, but most people call me Soka,” she says, with a bouncing, shallow bow. Full of energy, this one. “I’m eight.”

“The General is your father, then?”

“Mm-hm! He adopted me when I was almost two,” she says, and climbs up onto the bench. She wraps her arms around her knees and beams up. “Ben was still a baby, and we didn’t go get Shmi until a few months later when Skyguy could afford it.”

“Skyguy?” Yan prompts.

“My dad,” she explains, head tilting a little as she studies his reaction. “I... I’ve always called him Skyguy. He took care of me before he adopted me, for at least a year. He says I called him Skyguy when I first started talking, back then, and then he didn’t make me stop when he adopted me.”

“I see,” Yan says. “Does your father know you’re speaking with me?”

“Probably.”

“And would he approve?” Yan hints as heavily as he can. “He doesn’t seem to like me very much.”

“That’s because we’ve all seen what you could be,” she says. “But you’re not the Count yet, so it’s okay.”

Information. “Ah. Visions, then. That would explain some things.”

“Ben gets them the most,” she keeps talking. “But it’s not just that. It’s like... patterns. The Sith are going to target you, because they’re going to think you’re worth corrupting.”

“And you’ve seen enough Sith to know that?”

“Yeah.”

“Visions are not foolproof,” he says, trying to keep his tone gentle. He’s not used to interacting with children of this age, and this one comes with a father in the Mand’alor’s confidence, someone he can’t afford to irritate by making a daughter cry. “I have a friend who is very prone to visions, and some come true, some don’t, and others--”

“Are self-fulfilling,” Sokanth finishes for him. “I know that. But my dad’s actually fought Sith, y’know. The guy who cut off my dad’s arm used to be a Jedi Master, like you, and he was all fancy-schmancy and a history nerd for Sith stuff, and didn’t like the Council or their decisions very much. Like you.”

That’s... very personal.

“A surface-level similarity is not enough to make the claim that I am to become a Sith,” he says.

She blinks at him, eyes too large for a face that’s so near to human in bone-structure. It’s unnerving. “Whether or not you Fall is your choice, Count. All I can tell you is that you are the kind of person they look to groom... if only as a pawn.”

The words are too old for a girl her size.

“You speak as if you’ve faced the Sith yourself,” Yan says, well aware now that he needs to tread carefully, but... “You’re too young to go out into the field. I can’t imagine your father would allow a child like yourself to go up against someone that dangerous.”

She blinks those too large eyes, and tilts her head in the other direction, and then smiles. “You care. That’s good. Keep that compassion, Count.”

He raises an eyebrow. “I feel like you’re evading the question.”

Sokanth giggles. “Maybe. Buir doesn’t like us talking about it much. It makes him sad, ‘cuz he can’t help us not hurt, and a lot of it is really scary. It’s like... my memories are too big for my head. I don’t get a lot of visions, but I get a lot of dreams of things that happened that I’m not alive for. And buir does remember those things happening, so it’s true, and it happened, but I only... sort of remember it, and when I think about it too hard, it hurts my head. Or I get nightmares about it, and I don’t like those. Ben’s got it worse, though. He has more to fight.”

It’s a lot of information.

It’s confusing information.

It’s... possibly information that the General has asked her to feed him for reasons he can’t even begin to guess at.

“In this war your father fought,” Yan asks, “were you a soldier as well?”

“Commander,” she corrects, voice soft. “That’s what the dreams call me, before they start screaming.”

“How old are you really?” He asks, before he can quite stop himself.

She laughs, suddenly bright again. “I’m as old as I look. I’m eight. Just because the Force gives me memories I shouldn’t have doesn’t mean that my brain isn’t a kid. Sometimes Ben tries to act older than he is ‘cuz of the memories, y’know. Buir gets sad whenever he does that, ‘cuz he thinks we deserve to be kids before the galaxy goes to hell again.”

“He’s sure of such a thing?”

“It always does,” she says, with the air of someone who isn’t sure how their conversation partner could be quite that dense. Her voice takes on a sing-song cadence, like she’s telling a fable instead of a philosophy. “War always comes eventually. Not every sentient is selfish, but enough are, and they tend to be the ones that claw their way to the top. The rich and powerful will take and take and take, and then, when there’s nothing left, they will use their living stepping stones to tear each other apart. All we can do is be ready to end it as quickly as possible once it comes.”

Yan lets the claim sit for a long, quiet minute. “Did your father tell you that?”

“No,” she says. “Ben did.”

The six-year-old.

“He has a way with words,” Yan manages.

“Sometimes he uses his stuffed animals to host courtroom dramas,” she says. “He makes me look up the right laws so it can be procedurally accurate, ‘cuz he’s a nerd but so am I, and it makes Skyguy happy when he sees us playing like that instead of just doing saber forms and stuff.”

Yan has... no idea what to do with that. “I wouldn’t normally call courtroom dramas a normal children’s activity.”

“Yeah, but Ben’s a nerd,” she says, as if that’s all that needs to be said. Maybe, for her, it is. “And there’s only so much time I’m allowed to spend hunting.”

Right. Togruta.

“And what was your father doing at that age?”

“I’m not allowed to talk about that,” she says immediately. “Because it’s very private and he and Shmi get upset if we bring it up, ‘cuz of trauma and stuff.”

Shmi. The... sister, he thinks. People seem to be unclear on that. He’s heard a few refer to the teenager as just “one of Skywalker’s,” so that’s something to consider. She’s near-perfectly halfway between the children and the General, in terms of age, so it’s a little ambiguous where she fits.

That said, he’s been in a lot of places in his time as a Jedi Master. It’s taken him a little longer than it should have to realize, but he thinks he’s got at least part of the puzzle.

Skywalker’s a slave name. Tatooine, specifically.

It’s not confirmation, really, but...

Well. He thinks it’s better he doesn’t dig, on that subject.

“Hey,” Sokanth says, tugging at his sleeve. “Can I ask ya something?”

“I cannot promise an answer, but you may ask.”

“Can you spar with Skyguy? I wanna see who wins.”

#Disaster Lineage #Anakin Skywalker #Ahsoka Tano #Obi Wan Kenobi #Qui Gon Jinn #Count Dooku #Yan Dooku #Ben Kenobi #Jaster Mereel #Xanatos du Crion #Jango Fett #Komari Vosa #time travel #de aging #age shifting #family #phoenix files #Anakin and the Jedi Babies #500 notes

894 notes · View notes

grain-my-beloved · 3 years

Text

Yknow what? I'd actually go so far as to say that, as much as ive seen it complained about, it's actually pretty hard to "UwU" or "Woobify" Grian within the context of yhs.

I mean. It's possible if you go really extreme with it, but it's hard.

Grian at his core is actually a primarily decent person most of the timeand is a primarily innocent party in most things. One who goes through a Lot.

If you really think about it Grian's moral compass isn't too far off normal basic human morality. He's often anxious and hesitant when faced with any involvement in criminal activity, he's frequently dismayed and offput by suggestions of violence (the less deserved the more dismay is expressed as well), he's disappointed and frustrated at seeing the people around him do fucked up things, he's almost always polite with a good head on his shoulders when faced with a kind or reasonable person. Even well into ts, long after first coming back to Japan, Grian is still incredibly uneasy and fidgety with the suggestion that he take part in violence, I mean, remember that time he, Taurtis, and Sam were tasked with killing Geode and Grian not only initially tried to refuse outright but then checked in shakily with the other two multiple times just to confirm if they were really going to kill someone. Grian's typically the character most likely in the entire series to be incredibly put off by and very hesitant about doing bad things (especially to people he's not one million percent certain deserve it).

And while one could argue that we can't really praise his moral compass for being hesitant about involving himself in crime/wrongdoing when he often ends up participating anyways. Actions speak louder than words and all. However I disagree. The fact that Grian vocally does not wish to be involved in this kind of thing and has proven to behave on the more reasonable and polite side when acting independently in relation to likewise level headed people....is Very important. In fact, in actual legal cases, oftentimes a factor in trying individuals is the question of whether they would commit the crime in question indepently or under normal circumstances. This is the basis for necessity, duress, and insanity pleas, amoung other's. People who would not act the way they did in a certain scenario under normal circumstances are often liable to be judged favourably in their actions. In fact, speaking of duress pleas, Grian's got a pretty solid one for a lot of his actions. The times Sam or Yuki held a knife to his throat or the times police threatened to kill him if he doesn't comply with orders or any alike incidents. In cases where duress isn't applicable to Grian's behaviour there are oftentimes incidents in which an outright case for violence in self defense can be made. In fact, most of Grian's circumstances leave him very viable to be judged sympathetically on a legal standpoint. The fact that he was a minor, the fact that he had no apparent history of violence or crime, the fact that he was in a severely abusive relationship with a criminal and entering said relationship marked the start of any sort of criminal behaviour from Grian, any criminal behaviour from Grian always being in a group setting never lead by himself, the fact that he always clearly and openly protests when pulled into these group settings, the duress and self defense pleas that are applicable to pretty much all incidents in which he does engage. Which are also all factors that can and should be accounted for on. a moral basis as well, obviously. And like, Grian has a reputation for being arrogant, cynical, and rude or whatever, but he's really not. He very rightfully calls out other people's horrible bullshit and makes snappy remarks towards his abuser but that's the opposite of a problem and Grian's proven himself more than capable of reasonable civility towards reasonable people. Grian just isn't the selfish arrogant disrespectful criminal that he's sometimes implied to be and in fact he's largely innocent- or absolvable, if you'd rather- in most of the things levied against him. Grian's not a literal saint giving to the needy and taking care of orphans in his spare time but he's a decent guy overall???

And hey, speaking of that super abusive relationship Grian landed in. Let's not forget the impact of that situation. Sam was undoubtedly abusive towards Grian. He threatened Grian's life various times, he basically told Grian he was nothing compared to Taurtis, he shoved plastic down Grian's throat and laughed when he choked, he got Grian locked up in solitary confinement through complete lies just because he thought it'd be entertaining I guess, he forced Grian to kiss an abnormally large amount of people against his will (some of these instances sam recorded despite being asked not to), he himself tried to make out with Grian without consent while Grian was sleeping in his own private room, he forcefully dressed Grian up in feminine cosplay meant to be ~attractive~ complete with fake breasts, he lied to Grian about the gender identity of someone Grian dated as a joke (his words) and lightly mocked Grian afterwards, he locked Grian in a basement for three days straight and it's unclear whether or not he was planning to let him out anytime soon, he dragged Grian into a closet with school staff despite Grian's very vocal distress and discomfort then scolded Grian for considering reported it when this staff member made uncomfortable comments on the outfit Sam had forced Grian into, Sam offered to give Grian to another guy who made a similar uncomfortable comment later on as part of some trade, he consistently dragged Grian against his will into criminal activity whether by threatening him, tricking him into participating, or just altogether falsely implicatng him, amoung Many other things. And every step of the way Sam did his best to completely gaslight Grian. He used every gaslighting technique in the book. Telling blatant lies (for example, "i would never stab taurtis", "you are taurtis", "grian's crazy and he stabbed taurtis"), he denies doing shit to Grian that Grian knows damn well he did ("i would never stab taurtis"). He hard projected his bs onto Grian (from blaming grian for 'making' sam do awful shit sam did to claiming grian actually fullstop did the awful shit sam did). He was just constantly trying to turn people against Grian (convincing yuki and taurtis to back him up in calling grian a bad manipulative friend and insisting he needed to apologize for 'making' sam horrifically abuse him. arriving in the police station and instantly without hesitation telling them grian was crazy and dangerous and pinning his own crimes on grian. having taurtis back him up and help scold grian for getting mad about being locked in the basement for days). Telling Grian he's crazy (taurtis incident again, solitary confinement incident, the time sam kissed grian without his consent while he slept and grian got mad). Telling everyone else that Grian's a manipulative liar (taurtis incident again, solitary confinement incident again). Yknow. Gaslighting. Sam was just so unbelievably abusive. In like. Every possible way. Which adds a LOT of trauma to Grian. That on top of his parents abandoning him as a little kid too because we couldn't leave it at severe abuse.

Grian's not a bad person. And he's certainly a very sympathetic person. Which is why it would be hard to woobify yhs Grian. It would be hard to make a very sympathetic very sad character egregiously sympathetic and sad. His whole arc is getting abandoned by his parents, going to visit his friends, and getting violently abused and forced into a multitude of disturbing activities against his will for an extended period of time.

One could argue that sure Grian isn't a bad person and sure Grian's got a pretty sad life, but certainly a lot of people are guilty of making Grian more helpless and scared and generally 'pathetic' than he is in canon.

To which I reply...not really?

Grian already doesn't have half the fight response people ascribe to him throughout the series. That was a whole other post but honestly Grian's response to traumatic situations is very frequently to cave to them and he's got a much stronger submissive streak than people often admit. I mean, Grian was asked to dress up as his best friend who just got stabbed "to make things less awkward and make me feel better" and he did it within ten seconds of being asked without the others even needing to threaten him at all. Grian does express quite a bit of despair, fear, and submissive tendency in canon when faced with dangerous or traumatic situations. And while it's possible to go a bit too far with that if you consistently leave out the token fight entirely, I see people swing way too far un the opposite direction way too often. There's a reason Grian never actually killed Sam in canon. There's a reason Grian never made a serious attempt to get him arrested for his crimes. There's a reason Grian never just left. When Sam found Grian after he ran out of the gym during the Taurtis incident? Grian didn't lunge for Sam. There was no serious altercation between the two. Grian scrambled back and tearfully babbled platitudes while shoving plastic down his own throat on command. And even beyond that, a lot of the interpretations accused of making Grian too helpless/scared/'pathetic' are works that involve Grian processing trauma years after the fact. Which. Even if Grian was the most aggressive on edge fighter in the history of trauma responses during the traumatic events? People don't process their trauma after the fact the same way they instinctively respond in the moment. Even if Grian never shed a tear throughout any of the traumatic ordeals he experienced, it would be far from unrealistic behaviour for him to still process after the fact by panicking and sobbing his eyes out regularly. Which, again, Grian wasn't even all that fight oriented while it was happening so panic and tears isn't even super far removed from his actual in the moment responses let alone processing after-responses. It's just. It's really hard to "UwU" Grian tbh. He's a decent person, he went through hell (his own words actually), and he was never even really very effectively aggressive when he did. And while it's possible to dip too far into that territory, far more often I see things swung egregiously far in the other direction.

#yhs #yandere highschool #yhs grian

289 notes · View notes