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itsohh · 4 months

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Electra Heart Part 1

A/N: Female reader, I had this idea in my head for soooo long and finally got it down on paper. Idk if I love mk11 or mk1 Johnny more but I do love how they emphasize how smart he is in the new game. I love the idea of being stupidly rich and famous like him and just... him not knowing.

Summary: Being one of Earthrelm's defenders isn't easy. Johnny flirting with you doesn't make it easier but what started as an annoyance becomes something you welcome. Perhaps dating Johnny isn't so bad after all- so long as he doesn't find out that you're an a list popstar.

Word count: 6192

Warnings: None

Part 2 AO3

“There is one more we wait for.” Liu Kang’s voice was calm, patient as he looked at the four men in front of them. Having just being met, they constantly sized each other up. To be Earthrelm’s champions was no small feat. It was only at the hurried sound of feet behind them did the four men turn. Most of them made small glances, interested but not over-exerting themselves but Johnny was the one to truly look.

Your shoes skidded slightly on the ground as you came to a stop and your eyes dated from the group of men before you. Admittedly it wasn't your most graceful entry. The weight of all eyes on you had you freeze a bit before your eyes settled on Liu Kang's. They were gentle and kind most genuinely. Something you didn't often see.

“Oh uh-” You cupped your fist and bowed before him. “Apologies for making you wait. It was a mission to get time off from work.”

“I understand that your career is one of the most presidential demands and thank you for accepting my offer.”

“Anything that gets me out of the house.” You nodded to him and he smiled. With the gesture of his hand, he guided you to a spot next to the men.

“What. A. Total. Babe.” A poorly hushed voice whispered as you walked and the snap of your eyes towards the voice caught the man in the act. Oh, you had seen that man many times before. Johnny Cage himself.

As his eye made contact with yours he completely stilled. Only the corner of his mouth had opened in a comedic fashion and he leaned towards the men in red.

The man next to him promptly elbowed him and hissed out. “Would it kill you to show her some respect?”

“Oh trust me, I have a huge amount of respect.” He grinned and gave you his signature grin.

“Now we are all here-” Liu Kang took control of the scene and commanded attention. “-allow me to introduce you all.”

“You know when the tournament is all done and dusted you should come star in one of my movies with me. I'm always in need of a hot love interest.”

“I'm no actress, Johnny.”

“You say that but I reckon you have what it takes. There's something about you that screams that you belong in front of a camera.”

“Hm, no. I have to go back to work.”

Johnny rolled his eyes as he bounced a little on his feet. The pair of you continued to circle each other, ready for your spar.

“I get being committed to your job but I swear that's always your excuse. How ‘bout this then, you let me take you out on a date?”

“You're a sound salesman's Cage, make them an outrageous offer so then your hard-to-sell offer sounds better in comparison when the second offer is the true one you wanted in the first place.”

“Hey, I would be totally down having you in one of my movies! But yeah, you caught me.”

You took a step forward and his focus was instant. Every move from both parties was highly calculated. “Whenever you talk about her, you sound a bit bitter about your ex. Are you sure you’re ready for another relationship?”

“Ho! I said date but would. Not. Say No. To a relationship with you, god damn.” He tilted his head and put his hands up. “And trust me, there's no lasting feeling there.”

“And why would I want to date you?”

“The question is, why wouldn't you? I mean look at all this.” He gestured towards himself. “I got fame, fortune and the good looks to go with it.”

“That means nothing to me. Fame is a curse rather than a blessing. Privacy is removed for all eternity. Let me guess I become your side piece that you show off then get harassed by all your loyal fangirls that want to screw you. Besides I have enough money to support myself, any more would not bring me happiness. Finally, tell me, is there any intellectual maturity behind those pretty eyes of yours? Any at all?”

“Wow you really put some thought into this, I'm surprised actually. Considering you always say no and all. But uh- you think my eyes are pretty?”

“You ignoring everything I said and focusing on a compliment is so you Johnny in a way that answers my question completely.”

“Just one date, I will rock your world!”

“I don't need my world rocked.”

“How about you tell me what you want from a man and I'll see if I can be that.”

“Johnny, if I ever go out with you it's to be with you, not someone you're pretending to be to please me.”

“I won't change, promise. Just see if what you like aligns with this perfection.” He gestured to himself.

“Maybe if you impress me in this fight. Consider it a wager.”

“Easily. Deal.”

“But if you don’t- you stop asking me. Forever.”

His face scrunched up for a moment and he weighed his head. “Fine deal, I won't lose.”

“I said to impress me. Not win.”

The fight had started with your foot against his head. A kick. It finished with a different kick. One to your head. You had been a second too slow and hadn't been quick enough. It sent you directly down onto the mat in an instant. The last of your strength was gone and pain surged in your sinus.

Your hands flew to your face as you curled up on your side. Johnny called out your name in shock before he quickly ran up to you. His knees slid down on the mats and you could hear his voice next to you.

“Oh shit! I didn't mean to actually- are you okay- oh fuck I'm so sorry.”

You whimpered when you felt his gentle touch on your cheek and where your hand connected with it. “Hey-” His voice cooed before his head snapped up to one a monk that neared. “Go get a healer or something! Or Liu Kang! I don't know what you guys have just go get help.” He hurried and swallowed when he looked back down at you.

“Hey, hey, hey. Let me look at it.” He lightly tugged on your hand.

You were hesitant to move but slowly you rolled from your side to your back, legs still on each other. With a pained breath, you opened your eyes and allowed him to pull away your hands that covered your nose.

Blood had covered them and ran down from your nose over the rest of your face. It was a constant flow but there was a decent amount of it. “Shit your bleeding.” His big brown eyes looked at you with complete concern as he cupped your face. Johnny was leaning over you, one hand planted on the ground next to your head for balance. He swallowed and quickly got something out of his clothing. A white piece of fabric which he held up to your face to capture the blood.

“I'm so so sorry I-”

Johnny's voice was cut off when someone interrupted him. Liu Kang and a couple of monks behind him rushed down to your side and Johnny pulled back from you.

“What happened?” Liu Kang asked.

“We were sparing and I kicked her too hard. I didn't mean to properly hurt her. She's normally so quick to block I-”

“I understand.” Liu Kang nodded and turned his focus to you. Liu Kang took the cloth away from your face and stared at your nose. “Get me something for her pain.” He turned to the monk next to him for a moment. “This might hurt more but may I touch it?”

You made a small nod and winced when his fingers made contact. “It doesn't look too bad, I've had worse myself over the years but I need to realign it. This may hurt a bit.”

He steadied his two hands and you thought he would give you a count down but no- he quickly flexed them and moved your nose back into position. A loud cry came from lips and you snatched your head out of his grasp.

“I'm sorry, it's better that you don't know when it's coming so you don't tense.”

Liu Kang moved to your side more. “Here, let us help you up." He nodded to Johnny to slowly pull you up into an upright position.

It wasn't intentional but you leaned into the warmth of Johnny's support as hurried footsteps approached the group of you.

“Thank you.” Liu Kang spoke and you felt his hand on your knee. “This will help with the pain, may I?”

You blinked a few times and stabilized yourself before you nodded. His hand gently graced your nose as he applied an ointment. The pain relief it supplied was instantaneous and had you sigh.

A groan left your lips and your breathing slowed. “Thank you.” You finally spoke and he pushed up on his heels back into a stand.

He offered a hand to you which you quickly took and he pulled you up to your feet.

“It looks a lot worse than it is, you will heal quickly.”

“Whatever that stuff was, it did wonders.”

“Will you be alright?”

“Yeah, I'm good now. Thanks really, don't worry about me.” You waved him off and he nodded with a smile. If anyone knew you were okay, it was him. Liu Kang nodded to Johnny before he handed you the piece of bloodied cloth and left.

“I am so sorry I really mean it I’m-” Johnny was quick to apologize when your eyes landed on him.

“It's fine Johnny. Relax, accidents happen.”

“Yeah but- god- I never wanted to hurt you. Ever. I got so caught up and- fuck- I'm so sorry.”

“Johnny, I'm fine really. It was a good hit, I should have been quicker.”

“It is not your fault.” He was fast to defend you, completely obvious from his earlier words.

“And it's not yours either. That's why they call it an accident. If it makes you feel better, you certainly impressed me.”

His concern wasn't killed but was covered up by interest in your words. “Oh yeah? Me breaking your nose is how I impress you?”

“No, allowing me to know something I need to work on impressing me. Which means you won our bet.” You looked down at the cloth in your hand and started to wipe away the blood from your face.

“As much as I would love to know how you like your guys, let's get you cleaned up first.”

Johnny slowly took you back to his room where he got you a fresh cloth and wet it. He slowly started to clean your face and you let him.

“Mmm.” You hummed as he cleaned you up and then took a step back to admire his work.

“There! Good as new, save for the bruising.”

“I like someone that can take care of me.” You caught him off guard and his brows shot up. Johnny placed the wet cloth on a side table and pulled a chair opposite you. He sat down in it as you sat on the end of his small bed.

“Yeah?”

“I also like someone who can make me laugh. Someone who can genuinely love me for every side of me. When I'm quiet when I'm loud. Someone who accepts how important my work is to me and doesn't try and ultimatum that away from me.” He leaned in as you did.

“I like someone who can be genuine and be there for me just to listen when I'm having a bad day. Someone to hold me close when I cry. I want someone who can love me for me.” Your voice cracked a little and you broke eye contact with him.

“I can do that.” He whispered and your lips curled.

“Can you? Or can you just act like you can?” You stood up from his bed and his lips opened.

“I can, I-”

“I guess we won't ever find out.” You shrugged, your voice a tease as you headed for his bedroom door.

“Wait! What about our date?” He asked as you started to go through the doorway.

“Date? The bet was to tell you what I want in a partner. Be them a dude or not. I never said I would date you. Thanks for cleaning me up but now I have to go change clothes.”

As Liu Kang explained how you all would fight to become his champion, Johnny leaned over to your ear. “We have to fight each other huh? If I win you go out on a date with me. Anywhere you want, best night of your life guaranteed.”

“What do I get if I win?”

“Same as last time, I'll never bring it up again.”

“You know most men are normally content with a woman telling them no and listening.” Kenshi huffed and Johnny put his hands up.

“Hey! She's never told me directly no. Only used it as a bet wager. Probably because she likes it and just doesn't want to admit it.” He wiggled his eyebrows.

“Johnny. You are first.” Liu Kang’s words had Johnny's ears perk up.

“Doing the best first huh?”

Liu Kang called out your voice and you could see the way that Johnny's entire body seemed to vibrate with excitement.

“We got a deal?” He asked as he found his position across from you. A deep breath calmed your body and allowed you to focus.

“You really want to place a bet on arguably one of the most important kombat fights of our life.”

“...Yes.”

“Fine.

A grin formed on his face as he summoned you with his hand.

As you looked at your phone you felt a presence appear.

“You let Johnny win against you.” Without looking up you recognised Liu Kang’s voice.

“And how did you figure that?”

“I've seen you work, seen you practice. Johnny is good but you pull your punches a lot against him. Today was no different.”

“It’s not moral kombat, I'm not trying to kill him.” You looked up and locked your phone with the press of a button.

“True but I believe you rival Raiden. If you won against him I wouldn't have been surprised.”

“Truthfully? Since you said there would only be one Champion I didn't want to be it.”

“You don't believe you could do it?” He stepped fully into the room and sat down across from you. His eyes examined you as his eyes read your body. They softened into a look of realization. “You don't think you can handle the pressure.” He seemed so surprised by the fact it made you press your lips together.

“Yeah. Why are you surprised?”

“Well, doing things in front of an audience isn't anything new for you. I would have thought you would enjoy the spotlight.”

“Not as me though. When I'm up one stage as Nightingale that's another person. She's a mask I put on. Admittedly it can be a liberating mask at times but this is scary being me. Doing something with my name and my face. It's not the same.”

“I understand and I thank you for doing this regardless.”

A knock at your door had both of your heads turn to face it. Liu Kang nodded to you and you spoke up. “Come in.”

Johnny's head poked around the door and landed on Liu Kang’s for a second. “Hope I'm not interrupting anything.”

“No, we were just discussing the fight. I was heading out anyway.” The fire god stood up and smiled as he left the room.

“Soooo.” Johnny slid into the room and you swore his teeth shined as he grinned.

“Yes, Johnny?”

“Pick you up at seven?”

“From where? Johnny, we’re going to Outworld in a day. You can't be seriously thinking about a date.”

“No, no I mean after all this. Me, you, a world-class view and the best Wagyu you ever had.”

“No.” You folded your arms and his face dropped. Before he could say anything you continued. “You said anywhere I want. I don't want some flashy restaurant. I want at home-cooked dinner.”

“Oh thank god, I thought you were telling me no. Yeah, I can cook for you. Prepare for the best home-cooked meal you ever had.”

“I want to watch you cook it.”

“Come on you doubt my ability? You really think I would purchase food then disguise it as my own cooking?”

“Yes. That's exactly what I think and the fact you brought it up tells me you had thought of it.”

“No way. You underestimate, trust me I know how to cook.”

“I’ll believe it when I see it.”

Your house never really felt like a home. Not after your address got doxxed and you were never left alone. Paparazzi loved to sit there and attempt to get photos of you out of costume. In all honesty, you spent most of your time at your friend's loft. As much as you could, she didn’t mind.

That's where you were as you got ready. Lisa smiled as she helped you with your dress. “So what's his name again? I can't believe you went to a monk monastery and found a hot date.”

“Jonathan.”

“And what does this Jonathan do?”

“Some acting.”

“Uh-huh uh-huh.”

“It's not a big deal.” You shrugged as her hands left your dress and you turned to face her.

“Not a big deal?! I don't think you have been on a genuine date since ever. When was the last time you had a date that wasn't a PR stunt?”

“I don't know.”

“Nev-er.” She emphasized the two syllables.

“It's one date and I already know the guy.”

“The fact that you already know him and agreed to go out on a date with him tells me there's going to be wedding bells in a month.”

“Lisa! No way. He's charming sure but I don't know. He might be one for the chase you feel? Might get bored.”

“Girl if he gets bored of you then we're all doomed cause then love isn't real.”

“He, like, split with his wife a few months ago.”

Her face fell you could see concern form on her face. “Shit, that's not great. If the press find out about it they could spin the whole-”

“Homewrecker story yeah I know.”

“You don't even have an album to profit off it either.”

“Yeah, I'm hoping to keep this all on the down low”

“Lips sealed. Where's he taking you?”

“Dinner at his place, it was my pick.”

“Smart.” She gave you a sly smile and tapped the side of her head with her finger.

There was a knock on the door and Lisa pretended to go for it and you scrambled to get to the door before her. A loud laugh left her lips and you glared at her before she disappeared into the kitchen.

You made your way to the door and cracked it open to see Johnny leaning there on the door frame, flowers in his hand. A bouquet of red chrysanthemums.

“You got me flowers?” At first, you thought it was a little corny but then you paused at the type.

“I remember you looking at them back at the temple. We were training and took a break by them. You had the prettiest smile as you looked at them.”

A flush formed on your face at the realization he had been watching you. It was hard to tell when he wore sunglasses almost everywhere. “Here let me go out these in a vase.” You took them from him and wandered back into the loft. As you approached the kitchen a single hand came up from the side of the island and placed a vase on the surface. Lisa was obviously hiding down.

It already had water in it. You put the red bouquet in them and settled them there on the counter.

“Nice place you got here.”

“Oh uh, I didn't decorate it. All credit goes to my friend Lisa.”

“Well tell your friend Lisa she did a good job.”

“I'm sure she knows in her own way.” You mumbled under your breath. “Shall we get out of here then?” You turned to face Johnny as he looked around the loft.

“Right this way.”

Johnny's mansion was massive and in every way, it screamed him. “Welcome to mi casa.” He put his hands up and walked backwards. Your eyes trained over the building as he led you through the building. It wasn't new by your standards, you were no stranger to lavish houses but you couldn't deny the stunning view of the sun setting by his pool.

“And this here is the kitchen.” It was a massive room that had an island that connected it to the rest of the building. It had giant windows without curtains that continued on the view. He pulled out one of the island counter chairs and gestured for you to sit on it.

“Mi lady.” You placed your hand on the counter and sat down.

“Thanks.”

Johnny jogged into the kitchen and started to roll his sleeves up. He started to pull out ingredients from his fridge and cupboards.

“So what's on the menu for tonight.”

“You said no to Wagyu so hope you don't mind pasta.”

He got a pot out. “Mmm, I do love pasta, what kind?”

“Rotini.” He dramatically said with a fake Italian accent.

You watched as he picked up two onions from the cupboard and started to juggle them in one hand.

“Faster.” You commanded with a devilish smirk on your face. His brows shot up above his glasses but followed your request. Faster and faster he went until he threw one up really high and caught the other. It landed in his hand and you started to give him a little applause as you laughed.

“Johnny Cage the clown. How fitting.”

“I may be a fool but only a fool for you.” He tilted his face so you could see above his glasses and he winked.”

“That's so bad.”

“Ah, but you love it.”

You rolled your eyes at him and slipped out of the chair. Johnny watched with interest as you approached and took the onions from his hand. You ran them underwater before you grabbed his kitchen knife and started to cut them on the waiting cutting board.

“Thought I was making dinner.” He hummed and placed his hands on your shoulder.

“Well someone has to make dinner while you're doing your circus act.”

“In that case, we want them in small cube kinda shapes. We only actually need one onion.”

“You just wanted to show off your juggling skills?”

“Uh- yeah! Come on, of course, I’m going to do everything I can to impress my incredibly hot, smart and talented date.”

You shook your head as you laughed and he snatched away the spare onion. To stay productive he reached and got the garlic from a small container on the bench. Johnny pulled out a small bowl and crushed the garlic into it.

“Is this good?” You asked and Johnny leaned over you to look.

“Perfect.”

Johnny leaned over to grab a large pan and placed it on the element before he doused it in olive oil and turned it to medium heat. He grabbed some butter from the fridge and broke some off and added it to the pan.

Johnny lined up a few spices and grabbed passata from the fridge. “I can cook but there is no way I am making my own passata.” He pointed it at you and you held your hands up in defense.

“Never said a word Cage.”

“Good, I don't want any minus points.”

“I'm not grading you on our date Johnny.” You laughed. “Just be yourself.”

“Greeeattt. Because myself is my favourite person to be.”

“Never mind, I take back my words I am grading you and you just lost points.”

He made a dramatic gasp before his lips curled upward.

“Oh, teach is there any way I can get extra credit? I’ll do anything. ” His brows wiggled and you grabbed a tea towel and whipped him with it.

“You’re the worst now shut up, the pans sizzling.”

His attention snapped back to the pan and he took a few steps towards you. When he was close enough to touch you he picked up the onion with cupped hands before he dropped them into the pan.

“Mind stirring the pasta?” He nodded towards it. You grabbed the spoon that was placed to the side and followed his instructions.

“You know, it's pretty crazy we both live in L.A.”

“Yeah, I moved here for my work. I don't think I ever quite made it home though.”

“How come?”

“I don't know, it's so loud and in your face. I think that's fine some of the time but other times I just want to hide away with the quiet.”

“Not a fan of partying it up large?”

“Oh I can party- trust me. I'm no shut in but like sometimes I need to rest. Just curl up in bed on my phone.”

“I get that.”

“Really? You seem so high energy all the time.”

“Ah trust me sometimes the Cage needs to chill at home with a drink. Not often-” He paused. “-But sometimes yeah.”

He stared off for a moment before he snapped back to the onions. Johnny grabbed the small bowl of garlic and dumped it. It sizzled and added to the inviting scent of the onions.

Johnny added the passata and his lineup of spices and continued to mix the pan. “So what do you do for your work? I don't think I remember you saying at the academy.”

“Ah, it's not very interesting compared to you.”

“Awww come on, I still want to know. Considering how big of a deal it is for you.’

“Mmm, I'm an artist I suppose.”

“Woah really?”

“Kinda I guess. It's whatever, I'm not really a fan of taking about it, to be honest.”

“No problem here, if you don't want to talk about it that's fine by me.” He smiled.

“I appreciate it. But what about you? How's the directing business going?”

“Oh fantastic honestly, Mortal Kombat? A massive hit let me tell you. What did you think of it? Comparing it to real life.”

“I uh haven't actually gotten around to watching it.”

His jaw dropped and turned his entire body to face you. “You haven't watched it?”

“I guess I was scared maybe? Like I presume you put someone as me in it and I didn't really want to see myself portrayed?”

“Hey if you wanted me to write you out-”

“No, no, it's not that. I like that you're telling our story I just, ah, I've never been a fan of seeing recordings of myself.”

“You’re not? But how come? Loom at you your gorgeous. A grade triple S for super smoking sexy hottie.”

“It's a mental thing.” You shrugged and scratched your side.

“Look, I don't understand that at all, but I respect that. How about I make a cut specially for you, that hasn't got you in it?””

You laughed and slapped his arm. “No Johnny that's sweet but I'm not going to get you to do that. Look if you want me to watch it that bad I will.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, you’re lucky you’re cute.”

“I’ll take it.” He pulled out some cream from the fridge and dumped it into the pan. Johnny turned it down to a simmer and got the cheese from the fridge.

Johnny started to grate the cheese and you couldn't help but watch his muscles tense as he did so. You leaned against the countertop with your back and folded your arms.

“How big of a cheese fan are you?”

“Mmm go to town.”

“Hey hey! That's what I like to hear.”

“Yeah?”

“Oh, man I was dying there at the academy without it. Practically gorged myself when I got back.” Johnny turned off the element and strained the water from the pasta. He let it sit for a moment before he added the cheese and finally the Rotini.

Johnny fished out a fork from his draw but as he went to try it you grabbed his wrist. Caught by curiosity, he allowed you to direct it towards you where you put it in your mouth.

A moan got caught on your lips as you let go of his wrist and enjoyed the flavours that delighted the inside of your mouth. It was warm and comforting in every way it should be.

“Mmm, this is really good Johnny!”

Despite your compliment, he just stood there stunned “Johnny?”

“Huh? Oh yeah uh-” He cleared his throat and shook off his stunned state. “You go into the dining room over there and I'll bring it out.”

“You don't need my help?”

“Trust me you've been plenty of help, I'll be there in a second.”

The dining room was a lot more separate in its own way. It was on the side of the house and gave a view not to the pool but the large garden outside. It felt in its own way a lot more private somehow.

There were two large solo unlit candelabras in the centre of the table while a setting for two had been prepared.

You found a seat and after a couple of moments, Johnny came through the door. He had a fake moustache on and a tea towel draped over one arm. Johnny held a pair of plates with a metal round cover over the top of them and practically bounced over to the table.

He put one across from you and then one in front of you. The metal covering was lifted and he gestured towards it. “For the lady, our finest Rotini.” A return of the fake Italian accent. “And would she like a drink with her meal? Wine perhaps?”

“Waters fine thanks, I'd like to be able to remember this.”

There was a glint in his eyes at your words and he vanished for a moment. “The finest water we have.” He placed a glass on the table and then poured a jug into it. Johnny placed it on the table and then lit the two candles.

“Now is there anything else we can do for the lady?”

“Mmm, perhaps a dinner date would be nice, just someone to keep me company.” You played along and brought the glass of water to your lips.

Johnny ripped off the fake moustache and dumped it to the side with the towel. “Hey look at all this! Mind if I join you?”

“Be my guest.”

“Man, this place has great service.” Johnny slid into the seat across from you and removed the top. He was about to pick up his cutlery when he paused. Then he fished a small remote out of his pocket a clicked it. Behind you, a speaker started to lightly play soft music and you could only roll your eyes.

“Hey got to have a good soundtrack to your life huh?”

“Whatever you say, Cage.” You bit into the pasta and you had to admit he had cooked it to perfection. “I admit I'm surprised you can cook this well.”

“My mom taught me when I was a kid. Credit goes to her. Was a pain in her ass too, I always kept eating everything.”

“Wow seemed like littles changed huh?”

“You love me.”

“Sure Cage whatever you say.”

The meal the pair of you eventually finished and Cage disappeared for a moment when he cleaned the table. You were left alone in the dining room as music continued to play.

“Now, how are you? Looking for dessert because I can get us some if you want.”

“Ugh, I think I'll die if I eat another bite thanks.”

“In that case…” He dramatically held out his hand. “May I have this dance?*

“You dance huh?” You took his hand.

“Of course!” He led you past the end of the table where there was room. “Do you?” His voice was far lower and quieter than usual as you placed your hands against his chest where you leaned into him, far from proper form.

“I do but I kinda just want to sway if that's okay.”

His hands settled on your waist as he soaked in your proximity. “Hey, anything the lady wants.” Johnny pulled you against him and the pair of you slowly swayed to the music.

“I had fun with you tonight. It's been a long time since I cooked for let another cooked with someone.”

“Thanks for cooking for me Johnny. Despite what I say, or when I act annoyed, I enjoyed myself as well. A lot.” You lift your head and looked into his eyes. Slowly, one hand drifted from behind his neck down to the side of his face where you cupped it.

Johnny stayed almost completely still and allowed you to take the lead. Then slowly you started to lean in and just as you closed in, lips just about to touch- a loud barring sound came from your phone.

Snapped out of it, you pulled away from Johnny and desperately went for your phone.

“I'm so sorry I have to take this.” You apologised and answered your phone as you left the room.

“Jackson you said you wanted work like my old stuff, this is like it.”

“Yeah, but a love album? The style might be the same but the messages? This is all different.”

“What do you mean it's not a love album it's a party one. Pop music about sex and shit.”

“I have fucking ears, Gale. I know when a song is about falling in love. Who's the person huh? At least give me a heads up before there's a scandal.”

“There's not- I'm- look” You stuttered as Johnny came into the living room and headed to get a drink but didn't disturb you.

“We can talk about it tomorrow come into the studio tomorrow morning at eight. The actual one, not your home one.”

“What? No, I always work from home I'm not-”

“That was before you delivered me a fucking love album. This is not your old work!”

“But it's the work you're getting from me you can take it or leave it.” You hissed.

“Look, we can make it work we just have to do a little editing. Just come into the studio, no buts. Be there.”

“No I-” The line went dead. You let out a sigh of frustration and combed your hair with your hand.

“Might have only heard some of your side but I presume that was work?”

“Yeah my manager called, I have to come in tomorrow. Look Johnny this has been great really and I wish I could stay but if I'm going I'm tomorrow I really need to get back home and retire.” Guilt formed on your face but he didn't get mad.

Cage shrugged and draped an arm around you. “Don't sweat it, we’ll get you home nice and early. There's always next time.”

“Next time?” You cocked a brow as the pair of you started to head towards his front door.

“Yeah. Next time.”

Admittedly you spent most of the car ride grumbling about your manager as Johnny attempted to cheer you up. Eventually, you found yourself back at Lisa’s doorstep.

“Thanks for the ride, Johnny.” You stood in the doorway as he leaned on the door frame.

“Anytime.”

“I had a good time, that was really nice.”

“That's what I've been telling you babe!” You rolled your eyes at him and snaked an arm around his neck. You leaned in and soon your lips connected with his. At first, he only moved slowly, testing the waters to see where you were going with matters but as you pulled him against you he committed fully.

He pressed against your body as one hand found your backside and started to feel it up. Johnny's tongue danced against your own. Just as he started to get comfortable you broke away. A sound rumbled from his throat and you couldn't help but grin at him. Your hand drifted from his neck up to cup his cheek.

“Fuck.” He whispered and went to kiss your neck, just one last touch. With your free hand, you gently pressed on his chest and he got the idea.

“Goodnight Johnny.” You hummed and you swore he practically whined.

“One more.”

“Next time.” A promise.

“Next time?” He sounded pleased at the motion.

“Sure, got to give these back.” You stole the glasses off his face and escaped out of his grip. One last wink, you shut the door behind you. Lisa popped up from the couch with wide eyes.

“Some actor? You didn't tell me you were going on a date with Johnny fucking Cage! ”

#johnny cage x reader #mortal kombat 1 #mk1 #mk1 x reader

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designatedfandomblog · 26 days

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So, I've been thinking about the names in Dune. Specifically about the name Atreides. It means son of Atreus and is a reference to the Greek house of Atreus. They are cursed because Atreus grandfather Tantalos fed his own son to the gods. They noticed and revived his son (and that very same son would eventually become Atreus father) but because of that, the whole lineage was cursed. Atreus then had two sons named Menelaus (Helen's husband) and Agamemnon (the leader of the greek army in the Trojan war). Agamemnon now kills his daughter Iphigenia as a sacrifice for the gods so they can go to Troy. Because of that, when he returns he is immediately killed by his wife (who was Iphigenia's mother), Clytemnestra. However, they also have another daughter, Electra, and a son, Orestes. And it's him who I'd like to talk about. Because after the murder, Orestes is put in an impossible position: According to greek mythical law, you cannot kill your mother. Nonetheless, you're also obligated to avenge your father. Neither choice is the right one. Eventually, he chooses to kill his mother and avenge his father. And that is where I see a huge parallel between Paul and Orestes. Because Paul too is in a position where he can't really make the right choice. If he doesn't go to the south he won't be able to help the Freman and they may die, but if he does, he may (and does) cause a war that leads to the death of millions. Both are tragic protagonists in the sense of the greek tragedy. Both have to make a choice that at least seems to be impossible. They both choose to do what avenges their father. But the question is, did they really do it for the better good? Or are they just making a decision that brings them power? And while you can argue that Orestes at least in ancient tragedies doesn't have a choice due to his genre, is the same true for Paul? Or is he just hiding behind the idea of a tragic protagonist, denying his own responsibility?

#also I love that his father's name is Leto #since Leto is Apollo's mother who's the god of prophecys #and Paul is also able to see the future #I also saw Paul being called Orestes somewhere online #Is the name mentioned in the books somewhere?#Paul Atreides #dune #dune 2 #Leto Atreides

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hellowoolf · 3 months

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electra heart

pairing: din jarin x prostitute fem!reader

summary: with the softness of your body you have bought your piece of luxury, clawed your way to opulence, and wait now on the lustful whims of the rich and powerful. what havoc is wreaked when the only client you've ever loved, your mandalorian, finds you in the golden smoke of a gala on canto bight?

warnings: mention of alcohol, prostitution, reader is literally a prostitute, reader goes by alias "edie", din calls her “edee”, angst, quick mention of killing (bounty hunting), porn with plot, SMUT, soft!dom din, unprotected piv, beskar humping (sue me), tiiiny bit of degradation if you squint your eyes and pat your head and rub your tummy, little bit of begging, fucking in a literal suit of armor, creampie (if i left out any, let me know <3)

word count: 4.7k

authors note: first din fic alert !!! hand on heart i meant to keep this light hearted. and that’s what counts…right ??!!!!

woolfie’s masterlist

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you had been small, once. a young thing born into the streets of tatooine, conjured by them, slipping dirty like a curse through the city with a beggar's cup. in the day, the sand heated to glass and fire, and you trailed in the shadowed coattails of men the passers by could think your father, but with nightfall came the slow, syrupy suck of warmth from land, and even pressed up against building corners and doorways you shivered in the starlight. and what a cruel thing it was to know—to be, even then, so certain of your own poorness. you stuck little fingers through the holes of your clothes to cork the heat of your skin, and reconciled, in the meanwhile, with your birth as a nomad with no place to journey.

oh, but you loved the ships. with festivals held on the plains came warships and single-seat fighters, great discs of silver settling the baking sand, and you circled the throngs of people to let the gleam of sunlit metal blind you, if only for a moment. with scrap metal and a child’s palms you laid your plans there in the tatooine sand, to seek out whatever precious lavishness was left out there for you. beads of sweat jeweling down your wrists you thought yes, you were fit for that sort of life.

it became clear to you, when you came of age, that your body was your only currency for purchasing such plans. kicking stones while you wound through the cityscape, you supposed the home you could make in a brothel, and the money, too, made for an even exchange, and besides, you’d absorbed worse than man. you tap a manicured nail down your glass and hum with the bellish chime. where had all those girls gone? where were they now? you wonder if they’ve caught wind of you from here, if your perfume has traveled that far. you hope so.

“my edie, how are you honey?”

kel talbot is even blonder than you remember him. with his chest to your back in the sprawling porcelain of his bathtub he’d admitted, along the skin of your shoulder, that it wasn’t real, the color. he dyed it when he went home to naboo, he said. still damp and soapy he’d tipped you an extra 5,000 credits, for your discretion and your loveliness.

“i’m well, kelly. it’s always so wonderful to see you,” you lilt back to him. and because you can’t help yourself, so prone to indulgence now, you add, “have you been off home? i haven’t seen much of you here.”

he’s lovely, really, and delighted that you would ask. “as a matter of fact, i have. my mother’s been remarried a sixth time, if you can believe it. a great big ceremony and all, and i really couldn’t miss it.”

you smooth your free hand down the lapel of his jacket, black silk gleaming between the pillars of your fingers as you drag them. you wouldn’t mind him, for the night. “i really miss you so much when you’re gone.”

he steps closer, flattered little smile, and you look up at him through your lashes. “don’t stroke my ego, edie, it’s unbecoming,” he whispers, so thoroughly pleased with your attention on him, and you tug on the bunch of his coat in your palm.

“do you want me to stroke something else for you, kelly?”

he lets out a shuddered breath across your face. heir to an agricultural fortune on naboo, he is all tradition, brought up on pomp and circumstance and a set of shoulders shaped for the head of a long dining table. your innuendos fall heavy on him, always. he doubles over with them, sinks into you to realign himself upright. edie, edie, someone called you edee once, it means jaws, teeth, he’d told you. when it came time to shed your first name, your real name, it’d come naturally. edie, edie. kel is ripe for biting now.

“i–i have somewhere to be, honey, i can’t.” you pout at him a little. he tips generously. “don’t look at me like that.”

you set him back by your hold on his suit and he brushes himself with his palms, dusting the fabric from whatever coital indecency you’ve smeared on him.

“i’ll let you know when i’m in town again, okay?” and he offers it like a favor, and you suppose he hopes it to be one, so you nod with a gentle sigh.

“go enjoy your night, kelly. i’ll be here if you change your mind,” you promise, and with a tender smile his platinum hair filters back through the ballroom.

if you’re honest, you don’t really know the purpose of this event to begin with. canto bight shines bloated with galas and gamblers, and you dance, ephemeral, through the lot of them in search of clientele. scanning the dancing gold and satin of this crowd, collected on the bottom floor of the hotel you work from, you find mostly elderly men, married and elderly. you certainly aren’t above servicing either, though you went out tonight for the delights of it more than anything else. draping yourself in the inordinately expensive wrappings gifted by your previous clients, arms and collarbones dripping over with fine jewelry and precious gems, you enjoy the ritual of it, now. you enjoy the rest of it, too, with the right sort of client. you drag a red gemstone, set in gold, to and fro along its chain, your first little opulence left with the credits on the windowsill. edee, edee. a passing, devastating thought: like the girls from that first whore house you hope he smells you, hope through the filter of his helmet he’s struck with the scent like a sharp ache that sweetens in the middle. and—

you should’ve missed it, really. an inconsequential glimmer in the face of all the light you’ve gulped down these past years, but still you seem to find it, the little silver spotlight convexing through the curve of your glass. it points right on you, the beam, and you tilt the glass back and forth to watch the light twitch along your sternum. your body tenses with the stretch of a memory, of you in the sand on your back with the sterling starships jumping into hyperspace above you. but surely there’s no ship here, you reason, and when you look up, he’s right there. they all wear the same getup, creed driven and plated, but you are certain it’s him. with a cock of his hip and a shoulder leaned up against the wall you are certain, so certain, and he is right fucking there. it’s all coming back to you now, his beskar in the rotting wood of your doorway, little words in mando’a, your name, the first one, in his mouth. your mandalorian.

gliding through the dancing bodies of the ballroom—they part for you, now—you shiver with the breeze of your dress, a great sweeping curtain of red silk. you don’t remember, really, when he stopped coming to see you, only that you were wholly and inappropriately devastated. you missed the stick of him between your thighs, the way he loved you. you were so sure he did, back then, and you find that still, as this diamond sea of people carves a path for you to him, you are still sure. you can feel your own wetness collecting at your seam; you cannot unlearn this want for him.

he doesn’t notice you until you’re inches from his side, and still he won’t turn his head. from his peripheral you are unrecognizable, you suspect.

“which one?”

and you don’t think you’ve ever seen him move the way he does as your voice echoes behind his visor. it’s a startled jump, a straightening, a tip of his helmet to the side. you think he’s frightened, at first, a heavy terror that collects through the tendons of his hands, but the fear leaves easy, sugars into wonderment. he says your name, arced in question and through the rasp of his modulator.

you shake your head, look out at the ballroom. “i don’t use that name anymore.”

“i–you…” he shakes his head, knocks something loose, “...what are you doing here?”

you snort. “i could ask you the same thing.”

“i have someone i’m looking for.” and it should be ominous—i have someone to kill here—but his voice is still soft, airy with the sight of you. you turn back to him and nod to the crowd.

“yes, i ask again, which one?”

“you know i can’t tell you that.” and he says it like a memory, like the sweet juice of nostalgia on his lips, he says it like i remember you.

you shrug. “i hoped maybe the rules had changed.”

“mm,” he hums, “century old creeds don’t seem to, i’m afraid.”

you giggle with the youth he brings you back to. it’s so easy, falling back here with him. the tilt of his helmet leans to his other shoulder, dark visor tipping down your dress, and your skin fizzles.

“what’s brought you here, then?”

you mirror the angle of his neck. you know, you know. he grunts around something thick in his throat, your name, the first one, you think. he remembers what you said.

“what do i call you? now?”

the delight that twists through you is a sacred one. “edie.”

this does him in. his head tips back against the wall behind him, steadying breath filtering out. “edee?”

“not quite. e-d-i-e.” he lifts, with what seems a great effort, his head back up to look at you. you continue, softer, “but almost.”

and because you know your mandalorian, you see in the shift of his boots on the ground that he’s as ecstatic as his metal plating will allow. his hands twitch, and you want them to touch you, need him to touch you.

“come dance with me, mando.”

he does his best to hesitate, really, but then you’re out among the swaying people, one gloved hand at your back and the other clasped between your fingers, closer now than you’ve been since he last came inside you some years ago in whorish darkness. you squeeze him thinking of it, the stick and the smell, and he presses you further against the gleam of his chest, yes, i remember, i remember. it’s only here, molded around him, that you feel how much bigger he is, the broad width of his shoulders cemented out past the lines of him you used to tend to.

“you look…sort of different.”

“is that so?”

maker, you love the sound of him like this, so close in, so insistent on whispering, so incapable of doing so. “mhm.”

“doesn’t hold a candle to the changes you’ve made, cyar’ika.”

“mm,” you hum, “you know, it’s funny, i feel much of the same.”

he bunches his hand a moment in the silk of your dress. “the glamor hasn’t pulled you under?”

your laugh reverberates against his chestplate. “oh no, i’m sure it has. i just mean i’ve always liked shiny things.”

he groans, quiet and tight. “and why’s that? you like your reflection in them?”

he unlatches you from his chest to spin you around before fastening you back to him, and your scoff whips an arched path around you. “please, the vain one between us has always been you, mando.”

he lowers his head, great secret on his lips. “i haven’t shown my face in decades, edee.”

you can hear his tongue on the word, and you know he hasn’t said your new name, similar as it may sound. the lapping scoop of mando’a washes you over again with the memories of him. and laughing, again you are laughing. you love this bit. “yes, i do remember that part. though i find it awfully excessive that you prance about the galaxy in this welded jewel of a thing.” you knock against the beskar with a knuckle.

“welded jewel. you’ve gotten metaphorical while i’ve been gone.”

“this crowd enjoys it.”

he glances over and around your shoulder. “and you enjoy them?...this crowd?”

you suck on your front teeth to think on it. “you know, most of them don’t ask for it. not all of it, anyway. it’s mainly a lot of talking, now.” and it’s true. even above the lust, this powerful lot is lonely, irrevocably lonely. he nods, and as your heart hammers and wails you tilt your head up to his helmet to whisper against his visor, “you never wanted to talk, did you mando?”

the band of his arm around your back constricts again, a gruff admission, “no, i didn’t.”

he never did take anyone else in that little brothel, it was only ever you. the other girls liked to watch him pass by through the hallway, luster of his armor glinting in the low light, but he walked a tight line to your door, knocked twice, soft as anything. even in that wooden box, a bed and a window and an empty dresser, you remember the metal of him grating at the joins as he tried to make you feel something. you remember, too, that so green, so newly wrung out as you were, your limbs went limp before his credits ran dry, but he defected to your will, watched your body and worshiped at its altar. when your spine loosened and your hips unwound, still with time paid for, he stepped back into the sanded stench of tatooine, hand-cupped pile of credits on the windowsill. yes, the windowsill and the i’ll come back for you and the creak of the floorboards, you remember it so well.

“how much do you charge these days?”

you’re tightening your thighs together as you sway with him. “don’t patronize me.”

“i’m not.”

a ribbon of air releases from your nose, be steady. “20,000 credits.”

and he doesn’t flinch, only lets the hand around your back slip along the gloss of your dress, drawing a line above your ass with his thumb, the line he won’t cross without purchase. “i’d pay it.”

you can’t help this now. “will you?”

whatever mark he’s come to kill tonight is slipping through his fingers, but you fill that space just fine. his helmet tilts, and you feel a leather paw come up to retrieve that little red necklace from the hollow of your collarbone. the pad of his glove passes over the gem once, twice, body tightening and buzzing in metal. “this is mine,” he chokes.

yes, it is. you nod. and he’s decided, it seems. with a modulated groan and let’s go in your ear, he’s shepherding you from the ballroom, hand tight at your waist as you find your way to the elevator. and what with the ceremony of your mandalorian, the tediousness of his armor coming off, you fill the elevator shaft with the smell of your drooling pussy and the air thickens with the buzzing glow of you both together again, but you do not move. the tickle of his eyes through tempered glass rubs behind your ears, still a killer, always a killer, you think, just as you are forever what you have always been. the two of you, frozen in blood and sex, the only warmth you’ve ever known. this reality pulls behind your tongue and you gag on it.

ding. the doors slide open.

you press a thumb to the screen on your doorknob and your mandalorian crowds up behind you, lets you feel the cool touch of his body, the heat that peeks out at the corners. with thick fingers squeezing at your waist and the hard curve of his helmet at your hairline, your knees buckle with the thought that you might have loved him, too, perhaps fatally, but as the lock clicks open and he pulls you inside you suppose it doesn’t matter much now.

you’ve worked this room for nearly a year. a window expands from one wall to the other, beams the morning light and warms the bed sheets, and in the drab of afternoon, twinkle of the city just barely cresting over the sunshine, you watch the people below. drunkards and lovers and princes, you scratch their heads with the cliff of your nail, nose against the glass and breath fogging there, drawing up their mythology and smudging it with the skin of your palm. now, though, with the constructed starlight of clubs and casinos shouldering its way through the night’s darkness, the room bathes in polluted light and the faint sound of wealthy indulgence. there is no windowsill for your mandalorian to balance his payment.

“come here, edee.”

he’s sat himself on the edge of the bed, hand running up and down the metal expanse of his thigh. you stalk your way to him, ruck the hem of your dress up passed your knees to straddle his leg, and slowly, so slowly, through honey and slick and years of parted wanting, he brings his hands to your sides. you splay your fingers on his helmet.

“been a long time, mandalorian.”

he hums in agreement, tips of his thumbs just grazing the underside of your breasts over the silk of your dress before running down again, relearning the ends of you. “my cyar’ika,” he whispers.

your cunt clenches, sobs with his sounds and the pressure of his thigh. breath shuddered and indignant you drag your pussy along the plate of armor. throat tight with a whine you ask him, “how do you like it now, cyare?”

his body takes to the slice of mando’a in your mouth like water to sand, something dark and heavy, and his hips tilt up to you as you undulate your cunt along him again. the coil of you both is raveling taut and knotting at the edges, perhaps permanently now, twisting back into the shapes you used to make together. and it was always this way between you, this dancing walk to madness; with the head of his cock he fucked a shard of beskar into you, you think, that first time, and in every meeting since he’s rut his hips to claw the thing back out, but your body has absorbed the alloy of it.

“i want you to fuck me like you missed me.” a shuddered breath, a secret thought, and then: “did you miss me?”

and that question doesn’t come from the metal. no, with your palms warming his helmet you know he’s asking from the fleshy lines between the silver pieces. this is a bloody question. the drag of your cunt against his leg continues still, toes curling beneath you with the cold sting through the fabric of your panties, and perched here atop him you suppose your honesty costs you little in the face of all the rest you’ll give up.

“yes, i did.”

his hands collect your dress like water, silk spilling out between the fingers of his gloves, as he bares you to him, and his visor tips with the sight of you, a feat of topology he memorized so long ago. with a brush of red fabric against your ears you cling to him in only the little scrap of lace that licks along his leg with the wet kiss of your cunt.

“this pussy get wet for me like it used to?”

fuck.

“yes, yeah,” you breathe out, little bites of ecstasy weaving their way from your clit to the nape of your neck.

“oh, my edee, look at you,” and he grips a hand in your hair, pushing your eyeline down to watch the gleaming strip of want brushed and rewritten over on his armor. “you like drenching me like that? fuck cyar’ika i’ll leave this hotel like this and everyone will know i’ve fucked a fucking whore.” fuckfuckfuck. you remember the vein along the underside of his cock, want him to hurt you with it now.

“so fuck your whore, mando, you’ve paid for her,” you plead, but he drops his helmet to your forehead, the both of you still awe struck at the starlit gash of slick you’re dripping on him as your hips gyrate.

“you’re no more patient than you used to be,” he chuckles, but the wobbled rasp of his voice strips him all but naked to you. his hands grind you harder on his body and you wail, neck open as your head falls back. the pleasure sinks its teeth in you now, all hot bloodlust and bubbling open like seafoam.

“fuck, mando, i–i’m gonna come.”

“yeah, that’s it, right here, make that pussy gush for me and then i’ll fuck her open.”

ecstasy knocks through your arteries as your body pulls tight against him, and with desperate hands he grabs at you, around your asscheeks and between your shoulder blades, to feel you jerk with it. he’s groaning something deep and unforgivable watching you move, but already you’re looking for the weight of his cock.

“fuck me, fuck me,” you heave into his shoulder as you slump over, and he’s nodding silently with you, yes, i remember, i remember. the preamble of fingers and tongues is being leapt over, but neither of you seem to mind. he pulls the leather of his gloves off to maneuver you onto all fours on the bed, and after working his pants open with the bared warmth of his fingers the pads are back on you, running down your back and up your thighs. the heft of him pokes at you and you’re clenching with the feeling, the memory, again the memory. from between your open legs you drop your head to watch him pump his length, fingers tan and thick and a little tattoo between them.

his head catches at your opening and a whine spills from between your teeth.

“louder, cyare,” he grounds out. another inch in and you keen.

“fuck.”

his palms find purchase on your side and he anchors himself there, partway within you. you both whistle out whispered breaths listening to the sound of you joined together, him pulling out a centimeter before sinking it back in, fucking you with the head of his cock.

“oh, it’s just the fucking tip and i’m stretching you already, cyar’ika,” he moans.

“more,” you mewl, “i want more.” and really that’s always been your problem, you suppose.

his hips are speeding up now, wretched little humps into the tight clutch of your cunt, but he abstains from the whole of it. “fucking beg me for it, edee, i’ve waited this fucking long.”

into the sheets, bunched by your fingers and your jostling knees on the bed, you moan, “please, please, please, fuck me on your cock, cyare, i need it, please.”

the piece of himself, the metal and his creed’s tongue, that he rutted into you all those years ago comes roaring at him now, is cracked open in the air of your voice, and he stutters with it. he fucks you like retribution, hips slapping against your ass with a wet crackle, and you’re screaming, suddenly.

“that’s it, edee, that’s it.”

the walls of your cunt pulse velvet around him as he punches in and out of you, cock reaching up like he’s trying to touch your tongue with it, run through the length of you with his steel and grunting. your body blooms for him, petals open like it always did. when was the last time fucking him felt like your job? it’s all coming back to you now, crying at the foot of your bed, missing him dearly. you have always been a professional despite the intimacy of what you do, but you feel wholly unprofessional here.

“fuck, you’re so fucking tight, it’s like you’re sucking me back in,” and you can’t help your clenching now, “yes, edee, again for me, again.”

and you do, pulsing and clamping on his shaft, and he nearly wails with the feeling. the hum of his voice through the helmet protects him some, but maker you know him well, years worth of your mandalorian, and so you hear it all clearly, him melting behind the metal and fusing at the edges. you push away the thought that he’ll pay you for this.

“maker your pussy feels so fucking good, i’ve never stopped—ah—never stopped fucking thinking about it.”

the jut of his chestplate bites your skin as he pulls your hips up but you barely feel it. “no?”

“never, never,” he repeats, and his own babbling eggs him on, you think, as he thrusts impossibly faster. he fucks you like he needs it, has always needed it, and you’re reminded again that you loved him before, that you love him again, now, perhaps, but it’s all so hard to see clearly with the tight chain of pleasure running up your spine.

slick seeping from your hole around him you moan, “feel so f–fucking full of it, fuck.”

a frantic hand comes around to your front, pulls the red gem from your chest to lay along your back, and watching the glint of red and gold that he left you bounce on your skin makes him growl and choke. “fuck, fuck, i’m so close, cyar’ika.”

he bends to meet your back and drops the weight of his helmet on the wing of your shoulder and you might not survive the angle of his cock in you now. you’d clasp your hands in penitence if they didn’t hold the both of you up, because this luxury, him greeting your body like it’s his final gutted conquest, is the last you’ll ever beg for.

with both of you sputtering your souls out on the duvet he groans, “i miss your old name, edee, give it to me again.”

the begging makes you pulse, but you shake your head. your name is your first and only born inheritance, and when you grew old enough to realize it you’d had to shed the thing, or rather hide it, stashed away, untouched.

“please cyar’ika, just one more like this, just like this, your real name.”

your moans screech with the tragedy of him pleading with you this way, and bellow because you want to let him. yes, you love him now, and you wheeze, “i don’t know your real name, mandalorian.”

this knocks the wind from him and it blows out along the back of your neck but the piston of his cock in you continues, heightens further, and you’re both on the precipice of something devastating. he groans out breathless “din, din, it’s din,” and then, “maker please let me use it.”

as deep and jagged as the naming cuts you, you have never felt this hallowed a thing. him inside, and knowing what to call him, is unlike any bliss you’ve ever known. “din,” you wail.

he nods at your back. “yes, yes, din. let me use it.”

at last you’re nodding, crown of your head bobbing back on his body, and a torrential downpour of your name spits from his mouth, slides down his helmet and onto your spine. and the coming is unlike all the rest, a slow climb, a painful clawing that rips your flesh from the bone, but suddenly you’re both heaving with it, his warmth pumping through you and your gushing slick sliding out. for a moment you panic, worry for the windowsill, for the way it always ends. but your din. the panic catches on din and smokes away.

your limbs give out and you meet the mattress with your eyes closed, aching and a little empty, but mostly as satisfied as a desperate creature like yourself is capable. you’re reminded of the clank of his armor as he rights himself behind you. it’s so easy to forget it, what with how human he feels.

“din.”

the rattle of beskar stills. he returns your name, the real one again.

i love you, i loved you then, and you loved me. no. no, you think, it’s far too true to say. so instead: “will you come find me again?”

the bed dips as he sits on it and a gentle glove strokes through your hair. “always, cyar’ika. i’ll come back for you.”

and because you believe him, din, you do not lift your head to watch him place the credits and dissolve away. you’ll save the shine of him, you vow, for the next time he arrives for you. your mandalorian.

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#din djarin #din djarin fic #din djarin smut #din djarin fanfiction #the mandolorian #din djarin x reader #din djarin x fem!reader #hello woolf

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incorrecthomer · 3 months

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Electra:I can’t believe you assassinated father! Clytemnestra: Well, “assassinated” implies it was politically motivated. I killed him 'cause he was an ass, so technically it’s just murder. Electra: Electra: THAT'S NOT BETTER!

#greek mythology #incorrect greek mythology #greek heroes #incorrect greek heroes #incorrect greek quotes #incorrect quotes #iliad #incorrect iliad #the orestia #incorrect orestia #mycenaean royals #electra #clytemnestra #agamemnon

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apollosgiftofprophecy · 4 months

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I made this post and then wrote this little snippet :3

enjoy.

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Apollo cocked his head like an intrigued wolf. Half his consciousness watched Electra as she hurried her little brother away, anxiously glancing over her shoulder as they ran down the halls.

"How old is he?" He suddenly asked.

Hermes blinked, glancing askance at him. "Who?"

"The boy," Apollo's invisible eye watched as the boy tugged on his sister's hand, mouth moving as if imploring her to come with him. "Orestes."

His brother shrugged. "Ten? Twelve? I'm not sure."

Older than the war, for sure. Hadn't he been a mere babe when Iphigenia was sacrificed? Ten, at the very least. Most likely eleven.

Apollo turned his whole attention to Orestes as a servant woman gently took his hand, respectfully dipping her head to Electra, and drew him away - away from his home, from his bloodlusted mother.

From his sister.

He continued to watch. Electra retreated back into the palace, sneaking through the servant's quarters. Orestes kept looking back, brows furrowed with confusion and eyes tearing up when the realization she wasn't coming back hit him.

The servant attempted to comfort him, scooping the now-crying boy into her arms and running faster, but he struggled and began screaming for Electra.

Orestes. A young boy forcible exiled from what was rightfully his. Separated from his sister - from his family - because of the actions of a vengeful queen.

The scene echoed one Apollo was intimately familiar with. Though, with a few notable differences.

Still. The similarities were there. Perhaps not a deadringer for his own young life but...it was there.

Apollo crossed his arms and felt the tightly-wound knot in his chest soften - not loosen, or even untie itself, but...soften.

He's always had a soft spot for children. Even if he had killed a few himself.

Orestes, however, would not be one of those unlucky boys. No, Apollo could sense he would play a major role on day - he would be the reckoning of Clytemnestra and Aegisthus.

And, perhaps, of the House of Atreus's curse.

"You're plotting something," Hermes's voice drew part of his attention away. His brother's lips were quirked and his arms rested on his caduceus. "What're you up to?"

Apollo glanced back at Orestes and the maid as they struggled through the woods.

"Just some spring cleaning," He lightly replied. "Give me...about a decade, and that particular mess," Apollo inclined his head towards the palace of Argos, where Clytemnestra prowled around, looking for her young son now far from her bloody grasp. "Will be gone."

Hermes's eyes widened. "That's a tall order, Apollo," he dubiously said. "No one in the House of Atreus has escaped that curse."

Apollo hummed. "Menelaus did. Why not Orestes?"

His brother's eyes brightened with understanding. "You're going to have Orestes break the curse?" He laughed disbelievingly. "How? He'll still be killing his own mother. The curse will continue."

Apollo merely hummed for an answer.

True, matricide would continue the curse. But he'll find a way to rid the world of it. It had plagued it for far too long, and he would know!

He was the god of plagues, for Fates' sake! If he had to clean up this mess himself, he will.

...And if Cassandra's soul would find peace with the deaths of her murderers...even better.

Still keeping a sliver of his consciousness on Orestes, Apollo sought out the room where the bloody murders had transpired.

It was a ghastly scene. Agamemnon's body was sprawled on the floor, tunic and cloak ripped and dripping with drying blood. His eyes were vacant and unseeing - irrevocably dead.

But Apollo paid him no mind. His eyes were drawn to the second slumped figure, dark red hair spilled over the ground, dark enough to be mistaken for the blood that crested her chest. Her eyes were closed, the deep, mysterious blue that had twinkled with curiosity forever deprived of their spark. Her deep tan was stained with both her own and Agamemnon's blood, as was her purple peplos, torn and dirtied.

He swallowed the lump in his throat.

Cassandra.

#storyboarding #apollo #hermes #orestes #electra #cassandra #agamemnon #ARNUMNUMNUM #i have ideas #cassandra of troy #apollon #apollo deity #hermes deity #greek mythology #tagamemnon #greek myths #greek myth #greek gods

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11queensupreme11 · 6 months

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We already know that Percy's future sons (and maybe daughters since our girl is a bisexual symbol) have an Oedipus complex, but what if one of her future daughters develops an Electra complex?

How would all the people/gods who love Percy, especially Poseidon, react to a daughter who treats her badly and perhaps even tries to kill her own mother to take her place as her father-grandfather's wife?

I feel that (internally since no one has the courage to laugh about this in Poseidon's face) everyone would find Poseidon's problems with his children having the Oedipus complex funny, but if the situation were reversed and the person to suffer attacks was Percy, the gods would suddenly feel offended on her behalf

Gods are hypocrites so I bet that specifically in this situation they would be against incest and would find the daughter's actions immoral and deserving of heavy punishment (maybe even death depending on what she did)

Maybe after this episode Poseidon himself will rethink the need to continue having children

what do you think?

poseidon: *is constantly targeted by his sons cuz of ✨oedipus complex✨*

the gods (when he's not listening): LOOOOOL look at this loser trying to fend off his own children LMAOOO serves HIM right!

percy: *is constantly targeted by her daughter cuz of ✨electra complex✨*

the gods and poseidon: this is absolutely DIABOLICAL, a massive injustice that must be fixed right away! trying to kill your parent is WRONG! this person is IMMORAL and must be given the most severe punishment possible!!!

okay but what if percy begs the gods not to harm her daughter. she knows that her daughter resents her and the reasons why, but she's still her daughter and she still loves her 🥺 then imagine the daughter hears what she says AND SWITCHES UP!!!

her father never cared about her, but her mother always did, even after she had done and said all those cruel things to her, she still loved her! hell, poseidon was even trying to get her killed, but her mom??? she's out there begging the gods to spare her!!!

how could she have been so blind? so stupid? how could she have ever loved her father when her mother was right there?!

poseidon who? nah, she's a mama's girl now!!!! step aside father and brothers, SHE'S gonna be the one to steal mommy percy's heart!!!!!

#👸🏻| asks #👸🏻| arsenic blues

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ironspdr6700 · 2 months

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So... I finished to read the Argonautica of Apollonius. Seriously? Seriously anybody is talking here about how, in book 4, Apsyrtus is killed by Jason and Medea.

How he is tricked by her sister into letting his guard down. How Jason slaughters him like a sacrificed bull (Apollonius says it, I'm just the messenger). How Medea averts her gaze because she cannot bear to see the death of her own family and therefore she is not yet the vengeful murderer of Euripides but Apsyrtus's last gesture is to soil Medea's white/shining veil.

How Medea wants to avoid it. How Apollonius needs a single verse to make it clear that she can't… SHE NEVER CAN.

How Jason tears Apsyrtus's body into pieces and LICKS HIS BLOOD THREE TIMES AND THEN SPITS IT OUT. How it is the same thing that Clytemnestra does with Agamemnon's corpse according to Sophocles' Electra.

How Apsirtus is killed in the foyer of a temple of Artemis and this goddess does ABSOLUTELY NOTHING because she is the only Olympian who accepts human sacrifices in mythology (cough… Iphigenia… cough)

THERE REALLY IS NOBODY TALKING ABOUT THIS?!

#argonautica #greek mythology #Apollonius of Rhodes #Jason #Medea #Jason x Medea #Apsirtus #Clytemnestra #Agamemnon #Sophocles #Electra #Sorry if I wrote something wrong #English is not my native language #REALLY?!#NOBODY IS TALKING ABOUT THIS?!#greek gods #greek epic #epic poetry #euripides

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igotanidea · 1 year

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Closeness: Matt Murdock x fem!reader

Just a little something. May be the valentines vibe I get today (even though I'm not really into it). However, this is about different kinds of being close with someone, not only in the physical matter.

Warnings: nudity, but nothign explicit.

4 am.

4 am and he was not there, instead running around the Hell’s kitchen dressed up as the devil, protecting the city.

She hated it.

She hated every second he was putting his life on the line, even though he always claimed he’s doing it to keep the neighborhood safe. Her included.

She loved him, really, but those arguments were weak.

So instead of getting any sleep she was just pacing around the apartment in nerves, absentmindedly biting on her thumbnail, a bad habit from the past. Wondering if he’s going to get back injured, bruised or bloodied. Considering the possibility that she won’t be able to patch him up and she would have to call Claire for help. Something she hated since it made her feel so small, helpless and useless. It was hard to be in a relationship with vigilante.

Y/n didn’t really have much experience in relationship and maybe that is why Matt sometimes pushed on her boundaries to the point where she got frustrated and went to sleep on the couch. But still, she loved him deeply and he reciprocated with the same amount of flame. Their love however was something different from his previous relationship. When he was with Electra it was mostly about physical attraction, sex, the thrill of the cases and patrols they were on together. With Claire it was more of a heat of the moment. With Karen it was some sort of work-related fantasy. But with Y/N….. something entirely different. Something way deeper.

Even despite all his night missions and her busy schedule they always found a way back to each other. In the middle of the day, in the most crazy hours at night, there were always those little pieces of love and affection they left for each other.

Even despite the fact that Foggy was warning her she would suffer because of him, she never listened. Besides, Foggy was being dragged through Matt’s shit on a day to day basis and still stayed so who was he to give her advice.

Even despite his bad track record in relationship she was ready to fight for them. Setting some ground rules, but she would never strip him from his Daredevil part. She did not push to join him, knowing her poor to zero skills in fighting and she usually wasn’t the person to stress and obsess about his nights work, staying up and waiting for him. Nope. And maybe that was why it worked well. Until tonight.

Honestly, she had no idea why she woke up from her slumber. At this point she was used to him getting back to bed at the early morning hours, getting only a few more to sleep his tiredness away. She got used to getting up to the sight of his exhausted form, and kissing him goodbye softly before going to work. She was accustomed with him taking a detour from Nelson and Murdock to steal some time alone with her while walking home. So why was tonight different? Groaning in annoyance she wondered what to do to shut her racing mind up.

4.15

Obviously she could not call anyone to talk it out. Foggy would probably kill her if she woke him up and then, being the lawyer he was, he would figure out a way to get out of the murder charge. She couldn’t focus on the book she was reading before and music will only amplify her thoughts. So turning the light off she just laid back down, staring at the ceiling, illuminated by the street lamps, and suffused with the neon. It was unusually quiet, maybe because Daredevil was dealing with thugs who would cause any trouble. It was almost peaceful when she started slowing down her breath, a technique to deal with anxiety……

5.10

“Hi Mattie…..”

“Did I wake you?” he asked quietly, almost with guilt, laying on the side to face her, even if he could not see her.

“Yes. But it’s fine” she muttered getting closer to him. “Are you all right?”

“I am now.” He answered locking hands on her waist and burring nose in her messy bed head.

“Mhm. Sure, liar.” Y/n smirked “tell me where does it hurt.” Her soft, warm hand slowly moved up his bare thorax searching for the sore spot “guide me.”

And so he took her wrist and moved it to up to rest on his upper left side.

“The chest? Not your usual hurting place …..”

“The heart.” He whispered

“Oh, I don’t think I can do a lot about it. Maybe you should see a specialist…..”

“You already helping more than you think…..”

“Am I? You know what they say, there’s no joking with the matter of the heart” she smiled sleepily.

“Believe me, I know. But I think mine is in good hands.”

“You think so?”

“Mhm. I’m sure.”

“All right then. But something tells me you need something more from me, right?”

“I…..” he hesitated, getting a bit embarrassed

“come on, tell me, at this point nothing can make me blush anymore” she propped herself on the elbow “Matt” she called softly and he turned towards her “what is it?”

“I need to feel you.”

“Oh.”

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that.”

“Like what?” she tilted her head “what exactly did you think I thought about? I believe you just need some cuddles?”

“I do…. But….”

“You want me to take my, well, technically it’s yours, shirt off? Is that what you meant?”

He just nodded, his cheeks a bit flushed. It was both funny and touching seeing this tough Daredevil turning into soft and gentle boy for her.

“Can you…..?” he could not force himself to finish “I don’t want to do anything, just….”

“Hey. Hey, Matt. It’s ok, it’s absolutely ok. I get it.” She lifted the shirt and laid back down next to him embracing him “it’s just new, but I like it. Does it make you feel better?”

He just hummed in pleasure. It was new for him as well. In any other case with any other person he wouldn’t be able to control himself, jumping right into action and going full physical. With her….. he just wanted that closeness that didn’t came from sex. The way her skin felt on his, her comforting hold, the way she trusted him. At this moment, he was just melting, feeling loved, accepted and wanted. Like a baby. This was kind of tenderness he never get to experience before. Unconditional. Intimacy that did not want anything in return, that did not lead to anything more than just two heart beating next to each other. Only so much and that much. He took a sharp breath not really capable of processing all the feels she was giving him.

“It’s ok.” She reassured him cupping his cheek “it’s ok, Mattie. You’re safe with me….”

Normally he would argue with that statement, but it was too much of a beautiful moment to ruin it.

“I love you….” he whispered grabbing her hand and kissing each of her knuckles

“I love you too, Mattie.”

“Can we just stay like this for a while longer?”

“Mhm. But I got barely two hours left till I have to get ready for work.”

“I’ll take whatever you give me. Thank you…..”

“Anytime, Mattie. Anytime” she yawned slowly drifting off in his arms.

#matt murdock #matt murdock imagine #matt murdock x y/n #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x fem!reader #matt murdock x oc #daredevil #daredevil x reader #daredevil x y/n #daredevil x you #daredevil netflix #marvel #marvel imagine #marvel cinematic universe #marvel mcu

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