#ANYWAYS SCAR'S WIN NEVER FUCKING LEFT MY MIND

[raticalshoez]

hey, isn't that that one guy with no friends?

(Click on image for better quality !!!)

[suguru-getos]

//fractures// geto suguru x f!reader // chapter 2

🔗-> part one

warnings: hurt-comfort, mentions of wounds, mentions of stitches, guilt, complex emotions from suguru, panic attacks, reader is in a dark headspace, fluff too!! 🙂‍↔️💅🏻

story summary: being a monkey is the norm except when you're captured by geto sama because he needs money from your parents. however, you may just have to suffer a little extra because of the forced thinking about the right and wrongs... you're putting him through. the affection you’re forcing him through…

chapter summary: suguru tends to you after the whole ordeal caused by him, still conflicted & somehow tortured with the way his heart pangs at your condition. 🩷

a/n: please comment down below if you want to be tagged in the taglist <3 thank you ‼️ it's so evident that i'm just writing this for my own silly liddul heart TT_TT

an hour, at maximum. an hour had passed from when geto left your bleeding, tattered body on the bed. the mark of 'MONKEY' with deep, gashing cuts and the way your blood oozed out of your injured, broken skin was haunting his very core. he did it majorly for himself, just to remind himself that you're one. you're nothing but a monkey and monkeys shouldn't have the freedom of life. monkeys are filthy- monkeys breed curses- monkeys are disgusting and vile- monkeys-

his own feet betrayed him quickly when he found himself running for your room. the cream colored satin bedsheet stained with blood. your foot prints stained with blood directing towards the bathroom. his can feel his heart sink at the sheer amount of blood loss. jaw clenching and a soft wave of anxiety which ripens with every passing moment hugging him. did you… die? no, no its just been an hour-

he rushes to the bathroom door, watching you lay limp, holding a piece of gauze in your bloodied hands. you must have passed out by trying to give yourself first aid. he falls to his knees, tears in his eyes seeping through at the sight of usual color in your lip faded to discoloration. you look so peaceful when you sleep. he finally notices the wound inflicted by him on you, it was looking lethal. a striking reminder that you were a monkey and he was, well, a monster.

he doesn't understand what's happening, he was pretty clear that he needs to irradicate the whole human race, he has to. only those with superior selves, who can withstand not creating a curse should be allowed to live. how will he achieve this milestone when his heart weeps at the sight of one pathetic little human half his size losing consciousness.

his bulky and sturdy arms wrap around your body, hugging you closer to him and taking you to his room. your room was a blood bath anyway, he needs to ask the servants to clean it up. gently placing your body atop the plush mattress of his room, he took out his first aid kit, good thing you had been passed out. your wounds are deep and require stitches. he can't bear any more of your screams now without breaking like glass. his mind has already decided to punish him with repeated rings and episodes of your cries and wails when suguru did this to you. he wishes they could stop - he wishes they never stop. he needs to be punished.

bringing your wrist close to him, he decides to stitch those gashes up, watching your face every few seconds. you were knocked out cold, not an expression on your pretty face. he feels like it’s a win, when you'll be awake, at least you wouldn't see the word 'MONKEY' engraved on you… then again, it will scar, and it will scar bad. "you're pathetic" he hums at your sleeping form. "fragile, useless, powerless, pathetic." he adds on, the sentence more a reminder to his own self rather than for you. you're not listening to this anyway. "I could snap your neck like a twig and you wouldn't be able to defend yourself. anyone I call my family could." he sighs, fuck - he's tearing up again. you almost look dead over just an anger tantrum of his. he really needs to be very careful. you're like a little bunny who could die at the slightest bit of carelessness.

a few hours pass with suguru holding your hand, observing the crests and troughs of your sleeping face, how your chest barely heaves but still reminds him that you're alive. he couldn't be more glad that you're alive. he hates that. he hates that it brings him joy that your heart is still beating. he hates that you are bringing him joy and copious amounts of guilt.

"geto sama!" nanako gleams from outside his bedroom door. he wipes his tears at the sound of his adopted daughter's voice. "yes? what is it?" he hums from inside. "the monkey isn't in her room!" she pouts from outside, and suguru gets up to open his door. the teenager watching you lie down on geto's bed with a face of confusion. why were you laying down on 'their' geto sama's room? you- a monkey- the look of disgust in her face is inevitable.

"relax, nanako." he hums, "we need to return her to her parents after 9 days." he responds with his usual close-eyed feline smile. "yeah, but why is she here?" she pouts, "she's too pretty for a monkey though-" a frown envelopes her face. "I agree." suguru looks at you momentarily, a moment of longing and guilt erupting from the depths of his heart before quickly snapping out of it. "I got angry at her, and punished her." he continues, while nanako could see with the way the gauze bandage on your forearm was inflicted with dark reds of blood, that you indeed, were punished. "what did she do?" she asks instinctively and suguru gnaws at his lower lip.

nothing. you did absolutely nothing.

"well, she is a monkey after all." nanako adds, shrugging. "her purpose is as our 'money collecting monkey', isn't it?" she asks him, and he faintly nods. "well, if she really made you angry, geto sama. I suggest you can kill her after getting the money!" she chirps as if it was the most normal thing to say. suguru, on the other hand, feel sickened to his stomach at the thought. "hmm. I need some time alone, nanako" he declares, watching the teen leave his room and locking his door.

he's quick to grace himself in the sanctuary of your presence though, hand back holding yours. "just nine more days of you here, monkey." he reminds both of you. "then your parents will come and get you and this wouldn't exist." he smiles, a sadness spreading across his face.

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you don't wake up for one and a half days. the exhaustion on your body, the lack of nutrition and the loss of blood demands rest. AND, geto suguru is absolutely tweaking!

he sat next to you, watching you gently, leaning beside you against the headboard. you didn't wake up. he hasn't showered, hasn't gone out of his bed. his family thinks its weird, but they don't push him. suguru is a tantrum king after all, and a pissed off suguru chan is best avoided. the next morning, you're awake before noon. suguru hasn't budged, he has declined all his meetings, all his catch-ups, everything. why? he doesn't know that now, his mind doesn't give him the time to reason for any of it right now. the hollow pit of anxiety that was created was now a bottomless one. he wanted relief from it, he wanted to see you awake! shoko- maybe he needs to talk to shoko-

you shifted a little and his attention is immediately diverted to you, looking at you with the biggest sigh of relief possible. "ah-" a pained whimper escaped you, it hurts everywhere. your ribs hurt, you can barely breathe, tears sting your eyes as you groan, trying to get up. the lack of iron in your body making you dizzy. "good morning, it's afternoon now." suguru hums, just 7 days with you. why is he counting days like a mad man in prison?! before you could process anything, your eyes widened when you heard his voice, heart fluttering out of your very chest and breathless pants echoing in the room. you gripped your chest, it burns, your lungs burn from the lack of air your body can't get due to the whole panic of it all. what will he do? will he hurt you again? fuck- your head hurts, everything hurts- "plea- please" you gasp out, the veins in your forehead strained and popping as you began wailing again. shrieks and cries of pain and panic.

suguru doesn't know what to do about it, he needs to hug you close and tell you it's going to be okay. he wouldn't hurt you. he feels sorry- you don't have to break apart like this- does he even deserve to say that?

instinct… he is just acting on his instinct now.

"breathe with me, ssh~ listen, listen, little one. look at me, breathe with me. deep breath in- come on- follow me-" his voice is soft, but you're inconsolable. you have your very own instinct, the instinct to flee from him. the instinct to run away from him. you struggle against his hold and choke on sobs, leaning away. suguru is quick to pull you back to him, your head against his chest, soft head pats coming after. "ssh ssh ssh~ nothing's happening, no one's going to hurt you." he echoes it repeatedly. "that's it, that's it…" his own rapid heartbeats turning calmer and calmer as your shoulders slump back in exhaustion. you stop resisting after a few minutes, letting him hold you softly.

"just seven more days, and you'll be home." suguru hums to comfort you.

"I hope you die." you mumbled with equal hatred to his comfort. may as well be killed instead of spending seven whole days with him… "I hope everyone you ever knew dies, and they die in front of you." you spit out in your venom laced tone after calming down, trying to lean away from suguru's hug.

"and? who will kill them? you?" he is almost amused, but nothing you say with outweigh his guilt right now. "let’s get you cleaned up and get you to a doctor." he announces. he still has 7 ol' days with you after all.

[wannaeatramyeon]

More Gun + Goo Shenanigans

Credit Card

The first message came through at 8am.

Accompanied with 'oops, forgot mine. using yours. hope you don't mind 🥺🫰 '

And usually Gun would mind. He would mind a whole fucking lot. But when you're in a junkyard moulding your masterpiece, having left most of your usual everyday carry at home. Well. You have bigger fish to fry. Or a smaller Daniel Park to cook.

Besides, it's probably just an energy drink anyway if the amount and the blonde's habits are anything to go buy. Gun can let it slide just for today, that for some reason Goo has desided to forgo any contactless payment and use Gun's card. Whatever.

And then the next messages from his bank continue to come through.

8:32am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

8:56am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

9:17am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

9:25am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

9:30am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

9:33am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

9:34am: Coffee shop - 8000 won

Ok. That's enough.

Gun angrily dials Goo. Seriously. "What the fu-"

"Sup man!" Goo sounds completely manic and shrill. Likely about to buzz out of his head.

"Did you just pound 7 coffees and an energy drink?"

"7 doubles and an energy drink," the voice on the other end corrects.

"I'm cancelling my card."

"No wait-"

Family friendly

"What you crying for kid? Never seen someone so handsome before?" Goo flashes his most winning smile. The one where it's all teeth and maybe a touch feral.

Understandably, the kid, probably no older than 8, wails even louder.

What. the. fuck.

That's what you get for trying to be family friend huh. Goo starts scowling at her, now inconsolable with fear.

Honestly. How dare she take one look at his face and burst out into tears.

Where the fuck are her parents.

Gun would have intervened; they have places to be, things to do. If only the whole situation wasn't so entertaining.

Especially as he now looks over and finds his partner in a bizarre stand-off where Goo's face darkens the more the kid cries, and the kid cries the more terrifying Goo's face becomes.

"This lil motherfucker-" Wait. A lightbulb goes off in Goo's head and he forces all the cheer he can into his voice. "Kid, come look at this!"

She looks up just in time to see Goo whipping the sunglasses from Gun.

Her daddy has warned her about this. The red scar. The eyes. Pitch black. DEMON.

She runs off screaming and flailing as Goo cackles.

Hospital

"Why is it when something happens, it's always you two."

"Just want to see your pretty face again, cutie!"

The elderly nurse sighs. She's experienced far too much, is too weather beaten, for Goo Kim's flowery words to have any effect on her.

Completing her last rounds before her shift finishes, she just wants to finish and then go. Have a bath. Lie in bed. Lo and behold, she has these two idiots appearing once more in the private wing.

Hmm. It had been a few weeks since she last saw them.

She rifles through the clipboard, checking the doctor's notes. "So what are you in for?"

"Fighting." Gun, on the next bed, answers.

"...And you both ended up with neck braces?"

"Yep! We got a little rough. You know how these things are," Goo chirps, light tone contrasting with his eyes angrily glaring at Gun.

"...It says pillow fight here."

"Yep!"

That doesn't sound right. " And what were the pillows filled with?"

A brief pause, where they exchange shifty glances before piping up together, "Rocks."

Outfits

"That looks great on you,"

"I know."

Gun ignores Crystal fawning over Goo. Completely ignores them and the vein throbbing on his temple.

He absolutely will not concern himself with such juvenile things.

Barely remembers the first time he wore the same outfit, picking Crystal up and accompanying her to J-High, she took one look at his outfit and held back a giggle.

He doesn't give a shit. He has more important things to think about.

Or when Goo raided his wardrobe, rifling through outfits, laughed at this monstrosity and then asked if he could have it, Gun just shrugged. He has no attachment to it.

And now Gun absolutely doesn't care that Goo is on the receiving end for his outfit.

Who gives a shit.

Gun Park is above this nonsense. So what if he is daydreaming about strangling the life out of Goo in that stupid shirt and stupid scarf.

It's no different than usual, he always fantasises about killing Goo.

It's fine.

And one I accidentally deleted: Spice Eating Contest

"...What's wrong with you two?" Kouji, face completely repulsed, watches his two hyungs scarfing down the ramen in front of him.

The store's spiciest, apparently. Renowned, Crystal had said. Three please, Kouji had asked. And when it arrived? Disappointment. Spicy? Not by a long shot. Barely even having any heat.

The same can't be said for Gun and Goo's palate, tears streaming down their sweaty beet red faces, snot flowing freely and ew. Likely mingling with everything else.

"It's not spicy at all!" Goo spits, mouth full of ramen and glowering at Gun.

"Who said it was spicy, idiot." Gun retaliates, eyes leaking even more as he shoves in another mouthful.

"Umm. Guys. You need to be careful-" Kouji tries, but to no avail. Both now too busy trying to swallow inbetween coughing fits.

Oh well.

He did try to warn them.

Guess they will just have to deal with the aftermath once the spice works its way through their digestive system and wrecks their body for a second time.

[bloom-ribbon22]

Bloom's Dinotrux HUMAN AU infodump: D-Bros + Skrap-itt

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I know I already posted them but I still wanna put em here + front facing D-Structs(unrelated note: don't usually do front faces much, I have tried it probably two times and it either ends up looking weird or just not right but I do like how it turned out this time! hmm maybe I should do more characters front facing).

anyways, I've always wanted to infodump share some bits of lore, facts, info, and other stuff of my human AU version of the Dinotrux and I kind of started with the D-bros + Skrap-itt, why? ngl they're one of the most interesting characters to me. soooooo here you go :)

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D-Stroy:

-when D-Structs was born, D-Stroy looked at his parents while pointing at his new baby sibling and asked "mom, dad.... why does he look so ugly?"

-a very mischievous kid back then. he was the ultimate pranker. he pranks a lotta people that he almost lost count of them but his favourite pranking victim is you guessed it! ya boi D-Structs! oh poor poor young, bratty, selfish D-Structs... always having silly stuff drawn on his face when he was asleep and almost getting scared to death everytime his brother just jumpscares him...I'd list more but this is getting way too long lol.

-hair is l o n g and messy af. you can probably store/hide items in there idk.

-has a high tolerance for spicy food and also enjoys eating it.

-even as a kid, he always gets into fights and still does which results to him always receiving new scars/injuries. almost never minds it because with all honesty he doesn't really give a shit what he looks like. even though he is incredibly strong, he knows his limits and also knows he isn't invincible or indestructible so he tries his best not to overestimate his strength and avoid battles if he knows he can't win it.

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D-Structs:

-was already a selfish guy when he was a bratty little kid and a bit of a snitch too. when he was five and D-Stroy would do something to him, even something that's completely harmless like slightly nudging his arm this left D-Structs no choice but to use a move that every older sibling fears "MAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

-heavily dislikes the taste of sweets. can't really handle it, the taste of sugar and the feeling of it melting into his tongue is just....sickening, maybe even irritating...in fact, it's unbearable....

-similarly to D-Stroy, he often gotten to a lotta fight even as a kid and still does which ends up getting himself new scars/injuries. most of these fights are pretty much his fault as most of the time he's the one that's starting/asking for it.

-"I'd rather live my life all alone until I die" that's what he thought to himself until Skrap-itt came to his life. story between them was kinda similar to the canon. it was so hard for him to tolerate this talkative and dumb lil pipsqueak but as time goes on he kind of started to get used to his company that it feels oddly weird whenever he's alone... sometimes...after all, Skrap-itt was the only one that gives a fuck about him...

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Skrap-itt:

-short king. you can kick him like he's a football or better yet, pick him up like he's some kind of cat and maybe even put him in a box, seal it shut, and deliver it to any random person. "your order is here"

-a cat person. he understands them, he knows they're not just annoying animals always whining for food 24/7, they are loving and caring too! they're not just, y'know, not that playful...at least..most of the time...he would adopt a cat but sadly D-Structs not really a big fan of pets in his home.

-was the weird lonely kid who often gets picked on a lot and many avoided him because, again, a weirdo and thus lived a pretty lonely life. Smash-itt, Break-itt and Lloyd are often the ones picking on him which would explain why Skrap-itt is so bitter to them when he meets them again, worse part is that D-Structs, though completely unaware of their history, """hired""" them.

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that's all for now, there will be plenty more(and I may add more stuff) and of course I'll make some for Ty and the gang :) fun but not needed fact: I started to type all of this with 11 percent battery and now it's 7 percent....dang

anyways I'm coming back to school at January 3 and I'm scared af sidbdiebsisbisbsisjd-

[ipreferfiction]

Jiggy.

MY SPECIAL LITTLE GUY MY BLORBO LOVE OF MY LIFE. i am insane about him. he is the character of all time

My first impression: huh. i don't know what's going on here but he seems interesting and competent.

My impression now: i would kill and die for him. he is my favorite character in mdzs and one of my favorites EVER. he has so many layers!! a-yao....

Favorite thing about that character: he's COMPETENT. to an absolutely insane degree. learning what he did about cultivation from shitty useless manuals and forming a golden core as an older teenager/young adult takes an INSANE amount of talent, not to mention HENSHENG??? he is the only (named?) character to have a soft sword, he's adapted bits of fighting styles from multiple major sects, and he's skilled enough with Hensheng that at some point he has shattered multiple spiritual weapons with it. he was a spy under WEN FUCKING RUOHAN for months. he and wwx are entirely responsible for winning the sunshot campaign and he dealt the final blow. also what he did with the song of turmoil?? equally insane amount of talent.

Least favorite thing: the Bad TakesTM. he attracts them like FLIES

Favorite line/scene: Lan Xichen! In this life, I’ve lied countless times, killed countless times. Like you said, I killed my father, my brother, my wife, my son, my teacher, my friend—of all the evil in the world, what haven’t I done?!...But I’ve never even thought of harming you!

i am very normal about them.

honestly his entire Guanyin Temple showing is nuts in the best way and i am chewing on him. close seconds are him on the stairs of Jinlintai looking at Nie Mingjue and going, of course they and I are different! the utter RESIGNATION of it. the truth of it!! he will never be treated like the rest of the cultivation world, he knows it, and Mingjue can't see it like he does!

Favorite interaction that character has with another: every time he and xichen are on screen or on page together is just. so nuts. the box scene. guanyin temple (god!!!!!!!!!! augh). everything cql added in.

A character that I wish that character would interact with more: Qin Su!! she needs more time anyway but god their relationship is SO TRAGIC and i love looking at AUs where the whole marriage can be avoided and there aren't lasting scars left on both jgy and qs from. you know. accidentally marrying your half sibling because your shared father is a rapist. also, we get zero real looks at how their relationship is before everything goes south and it pains me.

Another character from another fandom that reminds me of that character: this is so fucking hard oh my god. there are bits of He Xuan and Ling Wen that i see in him, i think? especially the. "i was born the same day as you and i am cleverer than you but my life was a tragedy and yours was perfect, so why was I not worthy of the same fate you were? why did I get nothing when you got everything?" and the "you know what? I am tired of cleaning up your messes. i am going to cause problems now." he also... i cannot explain this one but his vibes are very similar to Alexander of Tirragen from the Song of the Lioness quartet in my mind. i genuinely truly cannot comprehend WHY those two are associated in my brain, but they are.

A headcanon about that character: he was in love with Xichen and Xichen was in love with him. god bless the cql xiyao agenda.

A song that reminds of that character: lying beast by run river north - it reminds me very much of what he would think of himself esp. towards the end (and guanyin temple)

An unpopular opinion about that character: he and Mingjue's relationship could not have been fixed, or at least not without considerable effort on Mingjue's part, post-Sunshot and especially around the time of the stairs before JGY starts playing turmoil. JGY did not need to put more effort into it! he was already putting effort into it! Mingjue's worldview is fundamentally incompatible with JGY's existence, frankly. It never mattered how hard he tried to mend the relationship because Mingjue would always see him as a liar who was trying to manipulate him, and the sworn brotherhood was not a good idea, Xichen, good god.

Favorite picture: all of them but especially these. i support his wrongs (he has never done anything wrong ever in his life). he is the prettiest man alive and yet!! he suffers! but oh god his thousand yard stare after Mingjue kicks him down the stairs...

[squidkid15]

PLEASE do ramble more about Whumpee Macaque and LBD and Mayor as whumpers please please I am sitting with popcorn and begging you with Eyes.

I'm not in a coherent mood so this won't be connected but have a collection of unrelated thoughts. Mostly fanon/HCs (but not all!)

consider, if you will, if the mayor is the one that killed macaque and not wukong (and then LBD warped that memory)

Consider again, if you will, if the mayor was there to collect him when he was revived

continue considering mac needing to be trained after being revived. Has to learn to function half blind. Any long-term injuries he now needs to adapt to (in Core mac had to go from right to left handed because he can't SEE his right hand well anymore, but then first had to recover from the injury that destroyed his left shoulder. It was a long road). Balance being fucked up, lack of depth perception. Having to relearn how to fight with all that.

Needing a sparring partner, perhaps. Consider for me that the man who killed him "helps" him recover from it. Mac doesn't know this.

Consider the scar that killed him being really sensitive. The mayor knows exactly where it is. Can drop him in an instant.

Mayor constantly beating him down while "training" him to recovery. Mocking him, digging into the wound of wukong killing him. ("So weak, no wonder he discarded you.")

Mayor knowing mac uncomfortably well, and abusing this knowledge

LBD knowing mac uncomfortably well, but in a different way. Mayor knows mac's powers and scars and weaknesses, knows his body and how to bring him down, because he already has. LBD knows his mind, warped it and twisted it. Sifted through memories to twist them appropriately. Knows him inside and out.

At least one of them knew Mac liked theater, how else would the Mayor know to check a run down shadow play theater for him? What an odd place to look for a monkey who is, presumably, on the run from you.

I HC that the mayor has some sort of paralysis/freezing power - see Shadowplay where Mac just freezes when the mayor grabs him. Imagine the fun there :)

Mac is so genuinely terrified of LBD/his debt to her - that is his entire motivation in S3. It's not personal, sure he's mad at Wukong still, but that's not what drives him. Every time we see him, he talks about "being free of his debt". And in benched he is TERRIFIED of her, bargains the fire when she has him chained up, you can hear it in his voice. What has she done to him to earn that? We NEVER see Mac scared, even fighting possessed Wukong he's not scared. LBD instills a fear in him that we never see otherwise.

She seems able to cause psychic pain (the winning side - dragging mac through flashbacks we see him tense and frozen and then slumps when she lets him go)

Speaking of that scene, it opens with mac SCREAMING. We hear him scream before we see anything.

I can't not mention the ice covering. The time limit, the way that that is the most serious we ever see mac. That he knocks MK out to get him out of the way, threatens everyone's lives for it. She's put a timer on his head (we see the ice expand) and it HURTS. He keeps holding the arm covered in ice when he talks to Wukong, he stumbles. He's in pain and on a timer and panicking.

And, if you feel like indulging in AUs (as you all know I do) then LBD is a real fun whumper if you stick her and mac in a room for longer than they're shown in the show. @lotusmonkey and I have delved that particular rabbit hole MANY times it's one of my favorites.

Can I interested you in this

How about this

What about this one

Have you read my fic? There's some mac whump scenes with mayor as whumper and I'm normal about it

Anyways long story short I have more thoughts I'm just scatterbrained about it today but i will always talk about mac whump

Here have one more because I always use Incredibly Specific Language when talking about LBD whumping mac

[fuckingfinwions]

Would you consider doing emotion play/jealousy with Maedhros and Dark!Fingon? Fingon conspiring on how to keep Maedhros his, and how to get him to feel exactly how Fingon wants him to feel - whether that's passive unquestioning obedience, desperate adoration and gratitude that Fingon deigns to care for him, or crushing guilt at any tiny imperfection. Fingon gaslighting the fuck out of him. Fingon keeping Maedhros all for himself, for always.

Fingon knew that he wouldn't have been able to get away with this back in Tirion. For one thing, Maedhros's father would have been in the way, his orders making Maedhros drop all other projects. For another, Maedhros himself would have seen through it in an hour. He was better at schemes and politics than Fingon, and noticed every time Fingon tried to manipulate him into spending more time together. He'd often go along anyway, as they both enjoyed each other's company, but Fingon never actually felt like he won.

But Maedhros was different now. Angband had let him scarred in body and mind, at once able to stay standing through terrible pain and flinching from the slightest displeasure. Fingon didn't want Maedhros to stay weak, but he did want to win. Maedhros would belong to Fingon first, with any other responsibilities a distant second.

The healers said that Maedhros was uncertain, and looking for any source of comfort. But they warned that if Maedhros had one, he might build himself around it, unable to function should that person leave.

Fingon had no intention of ever letting Maedhros leave him, so that sounded good. He couldn’t sleep in the same room as Maedhros unfortunately; there was no room for a second bed, and Maedhros was too injured to share a bed - yet. So Fingon moved into the room next door.

Maedhros was so easy to work with. He was desperate for praise and comfort.

Fingon started out with half-truths.

"It’s Morgoth’s fault you’re missing a hand." (Not mine. I'm the one who rescued you and bandaged you. I'm the one who gives you a soft bed and warm clothes.)

“You abandoned me after Alqualonde.” (I bled for you and killed for you. I’ve killed people before, when they tried to take you away from me hurt you.) Fingon had heard by now about the ships, but he let Maedhros apologize and beg for his forgiveness all the same.

“I’m sorry you had to wait so long for rescue, I came as soon as I could.” (Your brothers didn’t even try; they don't care about you.)

Maedhros thanked Fingon for rescuing him. Fingon said you’re welcome, you’re worth it to me.

When Maedhros was gripped by a nightmare, Fingon was the first to hear it. Maedhros woke up terrified.

“Shh, I’m not angry with you. I know you’re trying to be good and get sleep like the healers said.”

“I’m sorry I disobeyed them.”

“They’re under my command. I know you’ll obey everything I order you to do, right? This was just an accident?”

Maedhros nodded. “How can I prove I’m obedient?”

“You just need to trust me.”

“I do!”

"What if I tied you to the bed? Just for a bit, I don’t want you to hurt yourself thrashing in your sleep.”

“Of course Fingon, anything for you.”

Fingon tied Maedhros up, on his back, arms splayed wide and feet together. “This way you can see me, and won’t worry that I’ll fuck you.”

“I trust you,” Maedhros insisted.

“Good.” Fingon grabbed a knife from his belt. It wasn’t the one he had used on the mountain - that one had sadly fallen off the eagle's back - but it was nearly as long.

“Now, hold very still. I don’t want to cut you.”

Maedhros shivered in terror, but didn’t move.

Fingon placed the knife flat against Maedhros’s belly, over his nightgown, letting the cold sink through. Then he ran it down one thigh, mirroring it with his hand. He ran the knife on Maedhros left arm, pausing a moment, at the armpit, the elbow where he could have slipped between the bones. Finally the wrist, letting.

Maedhros’s pulse was beating hard, and he was beginning to whimper.

Fingon placed the knife in Maedhros’s hand, the blade forming a straight line below those elegant fingers. “hold that for a moment for me.”

Tears dripped from Maedhros’s eyes, but he nodded and closed his hand, expecting any moment to feel the blade biting in. His eyes widened when there was no pain, and a quick glance showed no blood.

“That knife is only sharp on one side, it’s made for cooking.” Fingon explained. Then he leaned over and kissed Maedhros.

“Let go.”

Maedhros did, and Fingon caught the knife deftly. He made sure that Maedhros could see him turn it around, and brought it to Maedhros’s throat. He held it there a long moment.

“Very good. Maybe next time you’ll actually believe that I won’t harm you, and that you don’t have any reason to fear me.”

Maedhros apologized. “I’m sorry. I was trying. I can be good, I can do what you say.”

“I know you're trying, and that’s good. It means you’re not enthralled to Morgoth. But you still have the taint of that place, still expect me to hurt you just like he did.”

"I don't -"

"Don't worry, it's not your fault. Now go to sleep. I'll wake up early to get you loose, and the healers won't have to know."

"Thank you Fingon."

[huginsmemory]

7 and 29 for the ao3 wrapped ask game? :D

Thank you for the ask!!! 💖💕 Oh man what good asks these are!

7. If you use song lyrics, which artist’s songs did you pull from the most?

Ohhhh nooo the prize winning question. I'm going to ramble on now, a LOT. It's definitely Glass Animals I Love You So F**cking Much album. I adore the album just generally myself because it's about humanity and the messiness of humanity, and about fucked up relationships and yearning. Since it came out this summer I've been listening to it on repeat, both because I find the album in a way really cathartic to myself and my relationships. One of my favourite songs on the album include How I Learned to Love The Bomb about living with someone/a partner with anger issues, which I deeply relate to. There's a lot just generally about still loving people even when you should perhaps not love them, or despite it all loving them anyways because you really don't have control about that; also, not feeling good enough and being self destructive, being depressed despite being loved/how you feel as a person who loves that person, self destructive urge to just let go of control (and doesn't that feel nice???)... It's puts into song a lot of feelings I have, and that I haven't found that people really explore other than maybe in toxic ship fandom spaces, of all things. Or like. Therapy. (This is also in no way shape or form the reason I like these ships either nuh-uh)

So of course these songs then also really dovetailed perfectly into the blorbo-ship wrapped for me of the year, of BillFord (also previous to that, Hoffstrahm, also toxic) because they're a toxic mess that despite everything still deeply cared for each other. Seriously the song Wonderful Nothing is a very accurate description I find of Bill's view of their relationship, since it's about someone who has violently sabotaged their relationship out of self-destructive tendencies and the belief that they are better than the other person (who has now left the relationship, and moved on), even though they love the person, and still love the person even after they've left. Which is why one of the lyrics has been used as a title for the series on working on them, haha.

Also just. Look at the first three refrains:

Wonderful nothing You just want something nice You just want substance I just wanna cut out both your eyes

Wonderful nothing You just want something kind I want corruption I think I'm the devil in disguise

Here's my state of mind Give me destruction Tell me I'm scrumptious I'm a fucking delight

29. Favourite line/passage from this year?

I think I really quite like this passage chunk:

That's not to say there are not occasional lapses, both by Bill and Ford. Screaming matches and glass broken on the floor or long cold silences, when everything gets too much; when things that can't be forgiven resurface, raw wounds that had never really healed properly, and some that likely never will. Afterall, both of their psyches are more made of scar tissue and open wounds than unblemished skin. But most of the time now, there's peace, and there's this; Bill asleep within his arms, in the late hours of the morning. It's something he had yearned for, when he was young and impressionable and dreaming of snatches of intimacy with his muse. He gently brushes the pads of his fingers across Bill’s surface, smooth and warm beneath his hand, and Bill snuffles softly at the touch, cradled against Ford's side, small hands clutching onto Ford pajama shirt. Light catches on the gold that sits heavy on his fourth finger; a curse at first, a mistake from a drunken night of carousing, of a forgotten birthday before everything inevitably went to shit. Then, something shocking with dire consequences when Bill was dumped on their doorstep.

[someonewhos-world]

Jett munches on the uncooked noodles of ramen. Jack looks at him like hes the reason why Chris accepted their auditions.

Jack has a glass eye. It's fake. His left eye,where the scarring is, is so fake. Tyler's walked in on his cleaning it in the confessional because yk, that's kind of also the bathroom. They both screamed.

Jett forgets hes the only one who has like. Prosthetics. On the plane. So when he pops his legs off very casually or when someone kicks him in the leg, he doesnt entirely react.

Both twins have tried to sabotage challenges during their time on team Victory. Again, as I mentioned in an earlier headcanon post, they didnt exactly have to because the team was losing anyway but they did sabotage it a little. Just a teensy bit.

Jett has caused at least one (1) uproar with uno. He even got Chris in on it. Someone got hit with something.

Genderbent??? Who said they arent feral when genderbent.

Jess almost shoved Simon to a feral Elizabeth. Almost. Never quite did it though. She did, however, lock him in the confessional and had to hold the door shut while Jace ushered Noelle and Jody to a picnic date on the place in the cargo hold.

Like, she had one foot planted on the wall,the other bracing on the ground while pulling on the door while Simon is banging on the door.

Genderbent or not, these two screamed when the scarabs were released and jumped into the other's arms.

Jack broke a nail once. Once. And didnt fucking notice because he was running on adrenaline during the Amazon episode, realized it and cried because a. His FINGERNAIL IS MISSING AND ITS SCARY AND HE DOESNT KNOW WHAT TO DO and b. THEY WERE ATTACKED BY GIANT CATERPILLARS AND HES ALL ITCHY AND EVERYTHING HURTS.

Jett literally would fight Sierra if he had a given chance. Maybe. But he knows for a fact that when a girl fights,She fights to kill,maim and rip you apart. Jett likes living. Jett likes having (most) of his limbs intact. Hes swell, hes good. Have a nice day ma'am.

Jack wont hesitate. He hesitates with children, gives them a very testy look that's like "try my patience, I dare you" and they back down. As for people older or around his age, square the fuvk up. Square up.

Jack keeps mostly to himself and just smiles when someone looks at him. He does this to mostly get people off his back because people will find it weird when you smile at them intentionally with no motive.

Jett just keeps his headphones on and mostly ignores people. He doesn't speak unless spoken to and even then sometimes he doesnt answer.

Jack cried when Jett was left behind in New York. He had to be held back by Owen so he didnt go after Jett who was sitting on the ground stunned.

Jett, on the other hand, was fuming and very worried for Jack. I'll write a short fic about them I promise

Jack almost lashed out at Chris for this and Alejandro convinced him not to, just to win for Jett and Jack just kind of was like ">:("

It's ok because they reunite and never leave each other's sides.

Jack rides with Noah!! In the ambulance and visits him. He might've had flashbacks of the accident but didnt really say anything. But that plane ride to Hawaii is lonely.

He wonders if Noah likes caramels.

Jack left Jett alone for like one night to go to work and he comes back and Jett goes "it's so funny, I like started choking on a gummy worm and vomited with how hard I was coughing" and Jack just screams "YOU WHAT ARE YOU OKAY????"

They're so chaotic I love them.

Jess doesnt mind doing her own makeup but Jace insists on matching eyeliners. So someone has pink eyeliner while the other has blue

Jess snaps her compact mirrors close so hard that both mirrors break. Jace has snapped her nail file at least twice.

Jack has nails. He scratches himself and others on accident. Jett trims them. They both have small hands.

SANITY WHAT SANITY I HAVE NONE

[amayadrawz]

Info dump about the characters in my story: live for Ara!

Background info:

There are these creatures called Malnaki that suffer this thing where they are always hungry all the time and by hungry I mean painful starvation that never goes away!!

They have a carnivorous diet and eat wildlife and stuff (but they can anything really they just highly prefer meat)

Their hunger never goes away even when they do eat something, regardless of amount. However there is one thing that is the exception that does actually satisfy their hunger and that is human flesh 🧍

Eating humans however only provides very brief relief before an individual is once again consumed by hunger so Malnaki constantly pursue humans as a result.

Anyways on to the story itself:

Ren is a Malnaki individual who at one point earlier in his life grew tired of the endless cycle of hunting humans while never escaping hunger, so he decided to basically quite and stop hunting humans all together!

(Another thing to point out is that while Malnaki are much stronger than humans physically, humans also have stuff like weapons, plus humans are always found in groups so for Malnaki, hunting humans is both hard and dangerous as humans kill then just as often as they kill humans)

Ren decided to move into an isolated wilderness to get away from both humans and other Malnaki to try and get away from the cycle as much as he can, and for several years he lived in total isolation ( just as he wanted)

It was all fine and dandy until one day, while he’s minding his business, he detects the scent of a human AND malnaki nearby and is immediately like “wtf”, so he goes to investigate. When he does he finds a turned over wagon and finds out that a human who had been traveling through the area was attacked by Malnaki and subsequently eaten (very odd because as stated before, neither of those things should be found here)

Just as he’s about to leave and go back to doing whatever, he hears a noise coming from under the wagon and discovers a little baby that had been sleeping and was now waking up. After some back and forth he decides fuck it I’m a dad now (very very simplified version of this story)

And then he named her Ara :)

And to briefly go over the other characters present in this story we have:

Matori, Rens mom who kinda left him when he was small (a normal thing for Malnaki but he kinda hated it) who at one point decides to find him again, but when she finds a rando human hanging around where she believes Ren to be she thinks “free meal” and tried to attack her :( then Ren intervenes and has to explain why she can’t do that and while she thinks he’s crazy, she listens.

Anyways her and Ren have a very very strained relationship (he went about 20 years without seeing her) but it very slowly gets better over the course of the story

Then we have the Stranger (that’s what we’re calling her cuz idk if she’ll ever have a name), she is literally a stranger who one day happened upon Ren and Ara when she was small and also tried to attack her (she have Ara the facial scar), Ren tells her to back off and she listens and goes away… until several years later where she comes back and this time Ren has to throw hands with her and he wins but she did tear out his eyeball and ate it :(

Footage from the event:

Also I turned the Ren V stranger fight into a webtoon episode found here:

Anyways there is more characters cuz spoiler alert: Ara once she is older eventually leaves Ren to live on human society and gets an adopted family there (Ren is still involved don’t worry) but I simply have not managed to even come up with designs for them :(

For now that is all! ✌️

[cookiethreat]

Random thing #2:

It wasn’t an ordinary day. Not for both Villain and Hero. But for some reason, the two rolled with it anyways.

The Villain was at Hero’s apartment. It was always lonely and cold without any company.

Honestly, it was a little messy too.

The two were sitting on the couch in Hero’s living room. The tv was shining right into their face and both of them were leaned over with black controllers in their hands playing Super Smash Bros.

The Villain never understood why Hero wanted them over all the time, they knew it was from boredom and loneliness, but it had to be something else as well. Nobody knew Hero invited Villain into their apartment, and it was a good thing. If Superhero ever found out, Hero would lose everything they have.

But for now, it was just them two.

The game was pretty intense, all the two could hear was their own controllers clicking away with buttons. This was the third round of fighting, and Hero hasn’t won one round yet.

Villain couldn’t help but peel their eyes off of the screen and turn to Hero.

Their eyes were reflecting the tv, it almost looked like there was a projector screen built right in their eyes.

Villain could get lost into their eyes. Every time they looked at Hero’s face, their heart forgot how to beat correctly. They loved them.

But they couldn’t put it into words.

When their mind traced off, they heard their game character die as the word “K.O” appeared on the screen. It was Hero’s first win so far, and they raised their hands over their head and squealed.

“Haha! I did it! I finally beat you!”

Villain couldn’t help but scoff. Obviously they won. If they hadn’t distracted them.

“I just went easy on you that time.”

Hero eyed Villain as their arms sank back down.

“Oh please. You only say that because you lost.”

“Alright, alright. One more round, perhaps?”

“Oh you bet it!”

And now they were fighting. Again.

The fights went on for so long, they both could hit each other with the choice of attacks their character had, but the character never seemed to fall off the battle field.

It reminded the Villain of their fights with Hero. It made their heart sink. It made words crawl up their throat.

They just had to say it. They couldn’t leave their feelings for Hero locked up inside.

“Hero.”

Hero replied, eyes still locked on the screen in front of them.

“Hm?”

“I… I um…”

For fuck sake, just say it already!

“I-I… I like you!”

…

There was a brief pause, and Hero’s eyes didn’t move. Finally there was a small scoff.

“Right.” There voice sounded very sarcastic. “You’re just trying to distract me.”

And then, there was silence.

Villain felt a long scar trace across their heart, like their whole kingdom that just surrounded Hero collapsed within seconds right before their eyes.

It made sense. Hero didn’t like them. They didn’t love them the way Villain did. After all this time, Villain could only daydream what it would be like to have a relationship with Hero. Because they were the villain, and Hero was the hero.

Their body went numb as they heard their character die again. Hero had won another round. “Aha.” They said, leaning back against the couch in confidence. “I won again. That leads us with a perfect tie!”

The apartment was silent.

Hero’s eyes finally looked at Villain.

“Uh… you good?”

There was no reply.

Hero leaned up again, trying to see Villain’s face, which had turned a bit away from Hero.

Villain was crying. Hero had never seen Villain cry once. Not when they were being yelled at, or when they had the worst wound ever or when they were left in the pouring rain by Supervillain.

They were crying now. In this exact moment.

“Are… are you crying?” Hero’s tone of voice remained in confusion. “Over a game??”

There was no words to say. Not anymore.

Villain stood on their feet, grabbed their coat which was hanging over the arm chair of the couch, and started to head for the door.

“Wait, Villain!” Hero yelled, also standing. “I didn’t mean-“

It was too late. Villain had shut the door behind them.

(This was in my drafts so it’s a bit lazy. -.-)

[lebenspurpur]

{slashers x fem reader who has a blood kink? sorry if this is against ur boundaries u don’t have to if ur uncomfy!!!} submitted by anon but I accidentally deleted the original ask because I am an idiot.

Also darling, you're fine, all my boundaries got destroyed years ago.

Warnings: blood (duh), knives, a lot of cutting, mentions of self-harm and necrophilia.

Also a female reader this time.

Michael Myers

Oh Michael loves it.

Blood always gets this man going, I think we've established that.

Wait a second.

You want to cut him? *slowly backs off*

Yeah, he doesn't necessarily trust you with a knife.

Michael doesn't mind the pain, his pain endurance is way too high for that. It's just that cutting him would be a dominant action. And Michael really doesn't want to give you dominance.

He'll let himself get cut if he can cut you.

Michael is all for period sex if that's your thing. Be careful though, he is not going to be soft just because you're sensitive.

Michael just thrives off of the fact that, not only are you shedding blood, you're very sensitive and you're in pain as well.

A pure sadist, this man.

Vincent Sinclair

Blood? Doesn't that involve you getting hurt?

Vincent is skeptical.

He really, really doesn't want you to get hurt.

It would turn you on?

Hm.

Let's test it first.

Vincent will be very slow and careful, stopping as soon as he thinks something's wrong.

You have to reassure him to get going quite a lot.

After he realizes what effect blood has on your body, he overthinks it again and then consents.

He's going to create a new and very special safe word for this, just in case he ever really hurts you.

He himself doesn't really mind getting cut, as long as it makes you happy. This man would do anything for your happiness.

To be quite honest, Vincent loves the marks you leave on him. He looks at them in the mirror the next morning, a bashful grin painting his handsome features. I am so soft for Vincent please.

Period sex? Are you sure you're not in pain during that?

Vincent isn't grossed out by body fluids, but he won't go down on you during your time of the month.

His problem with period sex is that you're already hurting and he doesn't want to cause further harm.

He's perfectly fine with just fingering you and receiving blowjob though he can do without those if you don't want to until you're off your period again.

Vincent would literally do anything for you and I'm not kidding.

Bo Sinclair

"Woah there sugar... didn't think you'd be into that."

He's a bit surprised in the beginning.

Period sex is a no for him, don't even bring it up. He'll probably vomit already at the word period.

Him cutting you is totally fine and he likes that if you're fine with it.

However him getting cut is not going to happen.

To make it up to you, he can fuck you after he just killed a victim.

He'll thrust into you, fresh dark-red splashes of blood painted on his face.

"Do you like that? Knowing that I fucking killed a guy and then immediately came in here to fuck the shit outta you? I bet'cha do sugar."

Lester Sinclair

B-..blood?

Lester is pretty concerned until you explain it a bit better.

After that he's still concerned.

Hmm, how about animal blood?

Lester just doesn't want to be in pain and he doesn't want to put you in pain.

If you're fine with non-human blood then he's very relieved, having been scared that you'll leave him.

Please reassure your feelings for him or he's going to worry for months now.

Baby Firefly

She's a bit astonished in the beginning. She just didn't expect that from you, out of all people.

But, being a part of the Firefly family, she's totally down for it!

She'll gladly pepper you in little cuts and then suck at them. Baby loves using her tongue on you anyway so it's a win-win situation.

She's also very open for period sex. After all, she's done worse than eat someone out during their time of the month.

Baby is the best at aftercare. She'll make you a hot bubble bath, clean the cuts and she got sparkly pink band-aids for the both of you!

Otis Driftwood

Did you just say blood? *drags you to his torture room*

Otis... is so down for this.

Can he.. like carve his name into your body?

Oh and can he take a picture of you?

Can he take a picture of you next to a corpse?

You just wanted to see him bloody, god damnit.

Period sex is not something he'd insist on doing but he'll never say no to fucking you.

Billy Loomis

You want to do what?

Billy has never heard of a blood kink before. It reminds him of his love for the red substance though.

The only difference is that he doesn't use real human blood.

It takes a lot of coaxing but after a while he might be okay with cutting you a little bit..

After seeing how much you enjoy it, he might let you cut him too.. but not too deep!

Billy would also really enjoy fucking you after coming home from a kill. He'd be drenched in blood, the red fluid clinging to his chest and slowly smearing onto your back.

He smirks as he spreads the red fluid on your perky nipples, watching you throw your head back and moan shamelessly.

Stu Macher

Sure, why not?

Stu is an incredibly adventurous person, even when it comes to sex.

You trust him and he trusts you so where's the problem?

I don't think Stu would actively enjoy a blood kink but he's not going to say no since you asked him so nicely.

The pure facts that you're getting so aroused from a simple liquid is enough to make him turn feral anyway.

Who needs blood when you can have Y/N begging on her pretty, little knees for your cock?

Brahms Heelshire

"No."

"But-"

"I said no."

Yeah no, blood scares him.

It will need a lot of coaxing to even get him to try it.

I don't think he'd like it very much.

But Brahms will gladly kill the grocery-boy for you if you'd like to see him drenched in someone's blood.

Thomas Hewitt

Blood? Sweetheart, what if you get hurt?

He'll gently cradle your face in his big palms, searching for sincerity in your eyes.

Upon finding it, he'll nod and ask you to explain it to him again.

He'll try it for you. If you're going out of your way to ask this of him, he has to try it in his opinion.

He doesn't like the act of cutting to get either your or his blood and he'd rather have the blood to be his.

Tommy is a big, strong man. He can take a few small cuts.

But you're his tiny, sweet Y/N, he can't cut you?!

So yeah, to get him to cut you will be quite a quest.

As soon as he sees your reaction to blood, he blushes, desire clouding in his brown eyes.

Maybe this is a good idea after all.

He'd still have you or him covered in animal blood, rather than human blood.

Thomas doesn't care if you're on your period or not, but he'll immediately stop when you're in pain.

Just relax Y/N, he'll go get a towel and then he'll take care of his "little problem".

Josef

Blood? But why?

Okay, for you, he might try.

He enjoys it more than he originally thought.

Blood has an important meaning to him too and to see it spread all over your pretty body.. just does things to him.

Period sex is not his thing.

I don't even think he knows how periods work.

Amanda Young |TW SELF HARM|

Amanda has heard about blood kinks before and you can not change my mind.

She's down to try it if you both feel comfortable.

However, Amanda has had struggles with self-harm in her past and would therefore prefer you getting cut.

She just doesn't like willingly adding new scars to her collection.

There's something so arousing about you licking her bloody fingers clean, she can't help but press her thighs together.

Period sex?

She isn't the biggest fan of that idea but fingering you is not a problem to her.

She's kind of confused since her cramps are too painful to get aroused during her period.

Her aftercare is also very good. Amanda always has bandages and band-aids stacked away somewhere and she knows how to deal with the wounds she's left

[griffintail]

I dunno if this is dumb, but hear me out:

Y’know the song “For the Dancing and the Dreaming” from How to Train Your Dragon 2? Well, imagine that song but with Philza or Techno and a reader s/o! Like, they’ve been apart for way too long because of various circumstances, but when they finally see each other it’s just love at first sight all over again.

I was singing that song a lot at work today, and thought this idea might be a cute and wholesome break from the wonderfully tearjerking angst that was that last Parental Dream post. I think that anon woke up and chose violence that morning, not that I’m complainin.

I can’t remember which anon request it was that chose violence but I remember heavily agreeing with you. This request was so fing perfect to do with Techno. I hope you enjoy it.

Dancing and Dreaming

In Game

Pairings: Techno x F! Reader

Warnings: None :)

A/N: There is a poem in this that’s not mine. It’s by Anna Shaw and I found it randomly on the web. So I take no credit for it.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I'll swim and sail on savage seas

With never a fear of drowning

And gladly ride the waves of life

If you would marry me

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        (Y/N) remembered standing on the edge of the Arctic Empire’s border, watching Techno’s ship sail off a year back. Word came that his brothers needed his aid in their own nation. She remembered begging to let him come with him, she was the best swordswoman in the land.

        Who do you think taught her?

        Yet, Techno didn’t want someone to hurt her and made a promise to her.

        “I’ll take these nerds, alright? I’ll come back to you though, no matter what, and…I’ll marry you.”

        The voices went wild in his head for the first time in forever. Running the kingdom kept them sated but with him soon to be leaving, he supposed it riled them up. They were screaming praises and hatred at the same time but he didn’t care. This was what he wanted.

        “I��” (Y/N) was speechless for a few moments and Techno gave a cheeky grin, that helped her break out of it as she laughed. “Ok. But you have to come back.”

        “No scorching sun, nor freezing cold, will stop me on my journey if you promise me your heart and love me for eternity.” He kissed her forehead.

        From there, he boarded the ship and she didn’t see him for a year. She got no word from him or from his brothers, which gave her hope as well that he was ok. Of course, he would be, he was Technoblade.

        She was running the daily duties as Techno’s stand-in when one of the servants of the castle, bowing to her deeply.

        “Ma’am, we’ve spotted a regal ship coming into harbor.”

        “Get the guards ready then, we can’t take chances on this land, I have no patience for royalty, let’s go.”

        There had been a few battles in Techno’s absence, one’s (Y/N) commanded on his behalf that had earned her a few battle scars but nothing that caused her to lose a precious life. She had learned from the best of men. Putting her sword in its sheath and a bow and axe on her back, she set herself off to the harbor.

        As she got to the harbor, she saw a flag she had never seen flickering on the top of the mainmast. It was a half-circle of black on one edge with a line of yellow lining it as three stripes, one blue, white, and red, came off the yellow lining and three Xs in the middle. Two of the X’s were in the white strip as the third was in the half-circle of black.

        She stood on guard still as the ship slowed as it made it to their docks. Many knew nations tried to challenge the half power of their empire.

        Going onto the docks, she stood tall a safe distance from the ship.

        “Hail, who are you!” She called to the ship.

        A face leaned over the front and she stiffened at the grinning young face she remembered.

        “(Y/N)!” Tommy grinned. “Long time no see.”

        “What the fuck are you doing on that ship?!” She scolded, going over.

        “It’s mine!” (Y/N) scoffed at his words.

        “I think you’ll find, it’s mine.” Wilbur came behind the young boy, giving a smile to the woman. “It’s a pleasure (Y/N). Mind telling your men down?”

        “I mean, only if you tell me where Techno is.”

        Then she screamed as she was lifted off the ground.

        “You’ve gotten sloppy perceiving around you.” Techno chuckled as the boys on the ship laughed.

        She couldn’t be angry. She merely grinned as he put her down and hugged him tightly.

        “You’re ok.” She whispered.

        “I promised you I would be. I just had to take down a government.” He shrugged as he hugged her back.

        “My dearest one, your mighty words astound me but I've no need for mighty deeds when I feel your arms around me.”

        He hid his face in the top of her hair as he grinned to himself. He had truly missed her.

        That night, a grand ball was held in honor of Techno’s return, his victory with his brothers, and for the new alliance with the nation of L’Manberg as (Y/N) found out. (Y/N) laughed as Wilbur stole the first dance with her from Techno, having missed his brothers’ antics since the last time they had met.

        The two men kept teasing Techno by stealing the woman away until Techno practically picked her up and stole her away to the dance floor.

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

But I would bring you rings of gold

I'd even sing you poetry

And I would keep you from all harm

If you would stay beside me

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        “Was someone jealous?” (Y/N) teased as she curtsied to him and he bowed.

        Together they danced in sync with ease. If there was no music, it would still be a beautiful dance to behold. They had done this number before, their own formal dance they always easily moved into.

        “I would like to see my wife to be after a year.” Techno gave a joking eye roll.

        “I’ll always be here for you, Techno. Even if we weren’t going to be married.” She blushed lightly, remembering his promise.

        At the end of their dance, Techno took her hand as usual but instead moved into a position to kneel.

        “This smooth son of a…” (Y/N) thought to herself with a grin.

        Techno went into his pocket, holding out a golden ring up to her. “Allow me to make it official to you after keeping you waiting for a year.” He cleared his throat before speaking clearly.

        “If I have to hold hell ransom,

        In turn for your wayward soul,

        I will.

        And if I must, fight through the depths of Tartarus

        To save what’s left of you

        To save the pieces life didn’t get to destroy,

        Then consider yourself saved

        For there is not a battle I won’t win,

        If saving you is what I am fighting for.

        So, would you do me the honor of marrying me?”

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

I have no use for rings of gold

I care not for your poetry

I only want your hand to hold

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        “I mean you win every battle anyways.” She whispered so only he would hear and he gave her a deadpanned face before she spoke a bit louder. “I care not of those things, as long as I have you Techno and your hand. I will gladly marry you for just that.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

To love and kiss to sweetly hold

For the dancing and the dreaming

Through all life's sorrows

And delights

I'll keep your laugh inside me

I'll swim and sail a savage seas

With never a fear of drowning

I'd gladly ride the waves so white

And you will marry me!

  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

        People clapped as she giggled hearing the hollers of his brothers as he rolled his eyes before smiling as he put the ring on her finger. He gave a sweet kiss to her forehead, neither much for sharing a lover’s kiss in public. The night’s events took on new energy around them but the two simply enjoyed the presence of the other as they glided across the floor.

        Techno regaled her with what happened in L’Manberg, throwing in a few jokes to hear her sweet laugh he had missed through the battles he and his brothers had fought. They had all been such brutal battles, even the ones they had to fight with their words. Yet, each one he fought harder than the rest because he knew, across the savage seas, he’d go home to the most perfect woman and get to marry her.

[redorich]

In the HermitCanyon au, How is my favorite Bee armored Admin doing? How long does it take for Xisuma to become.. aware of what is happening? For the first few sections it seemed like he was in a coma/unconscious. In the most recent bit Impulse tells Etho to get Xisuma, so at least theoretically he can now move, but how long has it taken him to get there, and where is he on the scale to full recovery? Are the other hermits keeping him safe with rabbit stew? (if they have rabbits that is...)

Part 2 of this.

Etho comes back twenty minutes later with a solemn look on his face. (At least, Puffy assumes. She can't actually see most of his face because of that mask of his.)

"X is in a bad way today," he says quietly. "I can take Puffy to him if you guys would like to stay here with Zedaph."

Impulse and Tango look nervously at each other. On one hand, they very much would like to stay with Zedaph, who is mostly healed but still very loopy and probably should not be moved. On the other hand, allowing Puffy deep into the Hermits' inner sanctum is a risk in and of itself, let alone with only one Hermit with her. Etho's a good fighter and a wily bastard, but Puffy is most certainly no slouch.

In the end, it comes down to trust. How much can they show Puffy before they can no longer trust that she won't snitch? How sure are they that she won't try to kill them all and steal their stuff?

"Tell Xisuma I said hi," Zedaph warbles from the bed in the corner of the room, out of any window's line of sight.

As Etho presses a button which removes a panel of the wall in a whir of piston noises, Puffy snorts out a little laugh. "I'll be sure to do that."

Tango nods subtly to Impulse. If Puffy brought Zedaph back to the canyon, saved him from a painful respawn, and didn't once ask for anything in return, then the Hermits can trust her at least this much.

Etho leads Puffy through a short hallway into a large circular room with a domed ceiling. The room is mostly quartz, though the walls are lined with sea lanterns and oak leaves. It’s beautiful. This place has been hiding under her feet this whole time?

“This is the Atrium,” Etho says, “or at least the main one. Come on, getting a mule will be more trouble than it’s worth if you’re not carrying anything.”

Puffy is speechless, utterly and profoundly, when Etho takes her through a tunnel on the opposite side of where she entered. It almost looks as though the tunnel here was carved by hand, then completely redone in dirt and grass and vines to give it a secretive, high fantasy look.

“Hey, Etho!” says a dark-haired man with a big smile as he comes trotting out of a branching hallway to the left. “Hey--” He catches sight of Puffy and his smile dissipates into panic. He shouts incoherently and dives back into the hallway he just exited.

“Hey Bdubs,” Etho greets impishly, then turns to Puffy. “Man, it’s like he saw a ghost or something. Maybe Mothman.”

Puffy bleats out a surprised laugh. Up ahead, she spots another Hermit lurking around the corner of the archway Etho is leading her toward.

“Etho,” says a tall blonde woman. “Cleo wants to talk to you about, er...” The blonde woman glances at Puffy. “Her thing,” she finishes lamely.

“Well, as you can see, I’m a bit busy at the moment. Would you mind telling Cleo so she doesn’t skin me alive?” Etho says sweetly.

The blonde woman snorts. “Face the music, Mothman. I’ll take care of Puffy from here. I assume you’re taking her to Xisuma?”

Etho wilts. Clearly, whoever this Cleo person is, she’s not someone to piss off. Puffy wonders what Etho did.

“See ya around,” Etho waves, somehow both cheery and morose at the same time, like a funeral for someone nobody liked. Puffy and the blonde woman watch him go.

“My name’s False, by the way,” the blonde woman says. “Thanks for the bandanna. Normally I’d be wearing it, but I just got back from beating up Iskall.”

The woman-- False-- laughs. Puffy is once again taken aback by the idea that the Hermits actually use the items that she makes for them. 

False takes off in a brisk walk toward the archway she’d come out of. Jumping a little bit at being torn from her thoughts, Puffy hurries to follow. It’s hard to keep up, since all Puffy wants to do is stare. She must be in the living quarters-- they let her in the living quarters?! Each door matches the high fantasy, underground sort of aesthetic, but a few doors are left open and each one is remarkably different on the inside. One room is built entirely out of red and white concrete, whereas another is Nether-themed with actual fire, and the room down the hall is entirely underwater!

One door is different. It’s got blue-purple banners along the frame, and when False opens the door for Puffy, she can see that the room is made of blackstone bricks. Maps of the Dream SMP line the wall, and in the center of the room there is a mildly ornate table made of warped wood.

At the end of the table in the back of the room, opposite the door, sits a trio. To the left, there is a plain-looking man with a beard and an “at” symbol on his shirt. He speaks in a Southern accent to a man on the right side of the table, who wears a red sweater and twirls a feather between his fingers like the cat that got the canary.

In between the two, at the head of the table, rests someone very unique. He’s obviously tall, that much is obvious even when he’s sitting down. He’s also got mesmerizing purple eyes which glow faintly against the dark of the blackstone. Puffy doesn’t know why, but she gets the feeling that they’re supposed to be glowing much brighter.

As taken by the man’s eyes as she is, Puffy doesn’t notice the non-invasive breathing tube the man also has (a cannula? She doesn’t know what it’s called, but that sounds right) until the man’s gaze falls upon her, still standing in the doorway next to False.

“Oh,” the man says. “You’re not supposed to be here. Welcome.”

False steps forward, breaking Puffy from her trance. “Puffy, this is Xisuma, Joe, and Grian. I’d introduce you to them as well, but... you know.”

“I don’t know-- oh,” Puffy says awkwardly, catching sight of the massive crochet blanket she’d made for the Hermit months ago, draped across Xisuma’s shoulders.

“Why are you here?” Grian asks with a tilted head. “No offense or anything, but I just lost a bet. I had three diamonds on Cub bringing you in here eventually-- he’s the one you usually meet at the barrel, you know.”

False interjects, “I didn’t bring her down here, it was Etho!”

“Shoot,” Joe says. “Cleo wins yet again.”

“It was Zedaph, actually,” Puffy says. All eyes turn to her. “I found him on the surface. He was really injured, so I brought him back here. Impulse and-- Tango? Yeah, Tango-- told Etho to take me down here.”

Puffy uncharacteristically twiddles her fingers a little bit, feeling in over her head. “Uh, you know I’m not gonna tell or anything, so... Why am I here?”

The full weight of Xisuma’s piercing stare falls upon her. Even as fragile as he looks, even as strong as Puffy is, she feels a jolt of apprehension.

“You’d know more about the red vines than we do,” he begins. “Etho mentioned that they’re what hurt Zedaph; he’s mentioned them on multiple occasions, and never in a good way. How long do you think it would take for those vines to reach our village, and what do you think would happen once they do?”

“As far as we’re aware, there are several players who are proponents of the vines, and claim they originate from some sort of egg?” Joe adds. “I’ve had a hard time calculating how big of a mushroom we’d need to make an omelet out of the egg, but apparently most of my fellow Hermits do not in fact want evil eggs on their omelets.”

“And how come the End is inaccessible?” Grian cuts in with a whine. “I want my elytra.”

Xisuma huffs a laugh into the cannula. “As you can see, we have many questions which only a native Dream SMP player like yourself can answer. In the interest of keeping ourselves safe--” he trails off into a coughing fit.

Puffy bites her lip, feeling as though she really shouldn’t be seeing this. Joe rests his hand on Xisuma’s back.

“You give us answers, and we’ll give you diamonds, netherite, whatever you want. And when we move out-- well, it wasn’t much of a secret anyway-- we’ll offer you a safe place with us,” Grian speaks up on Xisuma’s behalf.

A thousand thoughts spin inside Puffy’s head. She feels like Dorothy in that tornado, and Grian’s offer is the Wicked Witch. “Did you guys really save Tommy’s life?” she finds herself asking.

The Hermits seem taken aback.

“The blond kid?” False asks. “Yeah, but he was unconscious the whole time. I think Scar told the kid to keep us a secret, but... I don’t think any of us expected that to actually work.”

Puffy laughs disbelievingly. “He’s the one person on the entire server who keeps insisting that you guys aren’t real.”

“That’s good to hear,” Xisuma says quietly. “Do you have an answer for us, or would you like some time to consider?”

There are a thousand and one variables Puffy needs to think about. What is Dream’s stance on the Hermits? Who will she be setting herself against by allying with the Hermits? What will Puffy have to expect, from both underground and surface-dwelling players alike? Which players can she take in a fight?

Fuck it, she thinks. “You’ve got yourselves a deal.”

Xisuma smiles. Despite his ill condition, she gets the feeling that this nice, mild-mannered man is far more dangerous than she could ever hope to be.

“I’m glad to have you on our side, Puffy,” he says. “Thank you for your help.”

[uvobreakmylegs]

Floor 200

I’m still working on part two of vampire!Hisoka but here’s a different, shorter piece with him

Warnings: threats of noncon, implied death, implications of smut

You yelped a bit as you moved out of the way of the two young boys who burst out from the elevator, barely managing to avoid them plowing you down as they sprinted past you.

The boy wearing green at least had the decency to call back a “sorry!” to you as they ran, and the rather messy-looking man with glasses that followed behind them also offered you a quick apology before going on his way. Just as quickly as those three had come, they were gone, leaving through a side entrance of Heaven's Arena while your heart felt like it was going to burst out of your chest at how sudden and unexpected all of that had been.

The encounter was more confusing than anything. With the amount of dangerous characters that lived in the tower, it certainly wasn't a place for children to be running around like that. Some of the people here really didn't give a shit, and if those two ran into someone who was actually dangerous and bloodthirsty, you feared what the end result of that would be.

The elevator doors sliding shut brought you back to reality, and you pushed your arm against one door to hold it open as you slipped inside, pushing the button for the 200th floor.

Thinking about those boys again brought back memories of your own childhood, of running around and playing with your friends and getting into trouble. You sighed a little bit, thinking of the things you used to do and wondering where all that energy had gone now that you'd grown up.

….. Dear God, had you really gotten to the point in your life where you'd be reminiscing about your childhood and the fact that you'd grown up to be as miserable as everybody else? It wasn't like you were that old.

You didn't want to focus on that slightly depressing thought, so you turned your attention to the bags of groceries you held and the meal you planned to make. Tonight was special. After finishing up a few jobs and going through his Hunter exam, Hisoka was actually back and planned to stick around for a while. So to celebrate both his success and return you were planning on cooking dinner for the two of you. You couldn't help feeling a little bit of excitement at the thought of it. It was such a small thing to eat dinner together, but it had been a while since you had seen him last, and you wanted to make the most of it.

The downside of living on the 200th floor of the arena meant that the elevator rides were terribly long, so you usually let your mind wander as the car made its way up the numerous floors. At least the long ride helped you to calm down from that little bit of shock earlier.

The ding of the elevator and the sound of the doors sliding open alerted you when you reached your destination. You left the elevator car and veered to the right towards the hallway that lead to Hisoka's room.

“Hey you- Oh.”

A voice sounded from behind, and you turned around to see who had spoken, finding three men that you knew better than you wanted to. Though for the life of you, you could never remember their names. You only knew them as the one in the wheelchair, the freaky-looking one missing an arm, and the other freaky-looking one in red. Gido.... That one was named Gido. You were about 90% sure that was correct.

“Can I help you?” you asked them.

They all avoided your gaze.

“We were waiting for someone else,” the one without an arm said, “thought you were these two kids that made it to the floor.”

“Do I look like two kids?”

None of them responded to your question. It was clear that they wanted you to leave, but after the last time you had been confronted in these hallways, they knew better than to even say anything out of line.

Hisoka had been pushing you to move in with him, and while you weren't really sure you wanted to live at the tower full-time, you couldn't deny that the room he had on the 200th floor was nice. A lot nicer than anything you could afford in that city. And since there weren't any rent or utilities that needed to be paid, it would be a good opportunity to save up some cash. So you agreed, much to Hisoka's delight.

The incident occurred when you had been moving in; Hisoka had gone on ahead of you, carrying a few boxes while you were bringing up a few bags full of clothes. On the way to Hisoka's room, those three had stopped you, along with a fourth man, one who was covered in burn scars and missing an eye. It was obvious you weren't a nen user, so they'd demanded to know what you were doing up there.

“My boyfriend lives here; I'm moving in with him,” you told them.

“Boyfriend, huh?” the one with the scars asked, “what, you cozied up to one of the fighters here so you could live in luxury without working for it?”

“I don't have to explain myself to you,” you answered.

“No, but you'll do it anyway.”

“Fuck off.”

At that he grabbed you by the throat and slammed you into the wall, the other three laughing behind him as he held you in place.

“It just isn't good for the arena's image if any random slut off the street can be living up on this level alongside the quality fighters,” he said, “so beat it, you stupid bitch. You don't belong here.”

“And a bunch of losers who barely survived their initiations do?”

Your words seemed to hit a nerve for all four of them, and the air around you grew deadly as the grip on your throat became that much tighter. But as he did so, the one with the scars smirked as a thought came to his mind.

“I've got an idea,” he said, “why doesn't your boyfriend make a wager with me? If he fights me and wins, you can stay. But if I win, my buddies and I get to have you for the night, and then you get the fuck outta here.”

“You want to fuck me? I thought I was a slut,” you spat, “is this about humiliating me or are you four just that desperate because no one is stupid enough to willingly get in bed with you?”

He reached with his other hand to grab your jaw and force your mouth closed. Egging him on really was so stupid, but the familiar figure you had noticed from the corner of your eye made you feel a bit more bold.

“You've got a mouth on you. But I've got a few ideas on how to shut you up and put that little smartass mouth to better use.”

The other three had grown quiet, but the one holding you didn't notice.

“So how 'bout it? Will you ask your boyfriend about that wager, or should I?”

It was hard to speak with how he was holding you, but you responded as you pointed to your right.

“I think.... He already heard.”

The scarred man's eyes followed where you were pointing, and when he saw Hisoka standing within earshot, you swore that man's soul just about left his body.

The other three had already noticed him, and were actively trying to distance themselves from their fourth.

Hisoka was smiling, but the second the man laid eyes on him bloodlust he had been holding back oozed from him, filling up the hallway and consuming all four.

The man who had been on your case backed away from you, holding up his hands in surrender.

“I-I-I d-didn't know,” he sputtered.

Hisoka didn't answer at first. He casually walked up to you two and wrapped his arm around your waist, pulling you against him. With how Hisoka's nails dug into your hip, you could tell that Hisoka was well and truly pissed off. The man had stayed where he was, the murderous aura keeping him in place.

Hisoka looked to him.

“I accept your wager.”

The fight between them was one of the most gruesome things you had ever witnessed, and it went down as one of the bloodiest matches in the tower's history. The remaining trio didn't go anywhere near Hisoka after that, and they did everything they could to avoid you as well.

Whatever they were waiting for must have been important to them, seeing as they weren't turning around and leaving at the sight of you. They had mentioned kids, and you wondered if they were referring to the two boys who had come from the elevator.

But ultimately, it wasn't any of your business, and you motioned to the hallway you had been headed for as you asked “do you need me for something? I've got stuff I need to do.”

They shook their heads, their eyes still averted, and you continued on your way. The petty side of you wanted to throw back a quip of some kind, but you decided against it. They already didn't like you; there was no point in making things worse and have them resent you further.

Though it was probably hard for them to start shit when they remembered the way their old buddy was cut to pieces.

When you entered that hallway, to your surprise, you found Hisoka sitting on the floor at the other end. His eyes widened and he grinned when he saw you, flicking the card he was holding and throwing it into the wall. Reaching the end of the hallway, you found several playing cards that had been sliced into the wall at various angles. What the hell was he doing?

“.... What'd the wall do to you?” you finally asked.

Hisoka paused, a new card he was about to throw still between his fingers as he looked over to you.

“After we've been apart for so long, that's the first thing you say to me?” he responded, his eyebrow raised. Though he still had that teasing grin.

“You're making a nuisance of yourself,” you answered, “who exactly is going to clean this up once you're done here?”

“Who knows. It's not my problem.”

“I used to work in jobs like these, Hisoka. Trust me, cleaning up something like this won’t be fun.”

“The people who will clean this up aren't you, so I don't care,” he responded.

You sighed. You wouldn't be getting anywhere with this argument; better to just let it go.

“Is there a reason you're sitting on the floor out here?” you tried instead.

“I'm waiting for someone.”

“Hm. I'm guessing it's not me.”

“Afraid not.”

“Who then?”

“Two promising little fighters who've caught my eye,” Hisoka mused, “but they aren't quite ready to be up on this level just yet. And unless they can get past me, they won't be advancing any further.”

“So this is some kind of initiation thing?” you asked.

“In a way.”

“And how long is this going to take?”

“They need to be back before midnight, so possibly until then.”

Your eyes narrowed at that bit of information.

“Oh? Is something wrong?” Hisoka asked, tilting his head as he looked at you.

“Haven't you forgotten something, Hisoka?”

Seconds passed by as he looked up at you, and you couldn't tell if he was just bullshitting you or if he had genuinely forgotten your plans for the evening.

“Oh!” he exclaimed after a moment, “we were planning on dinner, weren't we?”

“It seriously took you that long to remember?” you asked dryly.

“You'll have to forgive me, pet. I simply got caught up in the moment. You know how I get sometimes.”

“Unfortunately, yeah, I do,” you sighed, “so you're just going to blow me off tonight?”

“It isn't anything personal. This is just something I need to see through,” he explained.

“Oh, of course. At least I know how high I am on your list of priorities,” you responded sarcastically.

Hisoka frowned at that, and as he threw the card he had been holding into the wall, he said “you know I don't like it when you say things like that, even as a joke.”

'Just like you know I don't like it when you cancel last-minute,' was what you wanted to say to him. But as disappointed as you were, you didn't want to get into an argument immediately after seeing him again. And it was easy enough to reschedule a dinner.

“Whatever. We can move dinner to tomorrow,” you shrugging as you conceded.

“I appreciate it,” he said, smiling.

“I guess if I'm not awake by the time you get back, I'll see you in the morning.”

Hisoka nodded, and you began to walk forward, passing him and heading to your room.

A thought occurred to you then, and you turned back.

“When was the last time you ate, Hisoka?”

He seemed caught slightly off-guard by the question, and he looked to the side as his brain tried to recall the last time he had done something as basic as making sure he ate.

“You can't even remember, can you?” you asked him.

“I'll have something when I get back,” he said, shrugging.

You sighed again. Adjusting the bags so you held both on one arm, you rummaged through as you walked back to him. Hisoka looked at you curiously as you held out an apple for him.

“Eat something, idiot.”

Hisoka chuckled.

“If you insist,” he replied, taking the apple.

“I always appreciate the way you take care of me, pet.”

“Yeah, but maybe one of these days you could start to take care of yourself. Kinda sad you need me to remind you to eat, of all things.”

“I can't help it. I like it when you dote on me.”

“Idiot.”

A slight blur of movement from the end of the hallway caught your attention. Someone was listening in, it seemed. Based off the slight bit of red you had seen, it was safe to assume it was Gido. Why he was listening to you and Hisoka you weren't sure. And it didn't seem that Hisoka had seemed to care; if you had noticed him, than Hisoka definitely knew he was there.

“Something wrong? I wouldn't want to keep you out here as well,” Hisoka said.

“... No, everything's fine. I just need to do one last thing.”

“Oh?”

“Since you're blowing me off for dinner, I want something from you.”

You knelt down on your knees and set the bags to the side before you moved in to place a kiss on Hisoka's lips, resting your hands on his chest. He had seemed rather surprised at first and didn't move. But when you began to pull away he reacted, his hand grabbing a fistful of your hair and pressing you harder against his lips. When you felt his tongue trying to force its way in you relented, opening your mouth and allowing him access. You weren't able to stop the groan that came out of you at the sensation of his tongue moving against your own, and to you it sounded like the noise echoed slightly in the empty hallway. Hisoka always made his kisses intense, and you were always left with flushed cheeks by the end of it.

When you pulled away again, he allowed it. His finger twirled a strand of your hair as he breathed “if I didn't know any better, I'd say you were using me to keep certain pests off your back.”

“Well, you have to be good for something, right?”

“Cheeky thing.”

You hummed as you stood back up, Hisoka trailing his hand down your arm as you did so, the sensation of his nails running along your skin giving you goosebumps. One glance back down that hallway and you could sense that there wasn't anyone there. Probably too awkward for even Gido to keep watching you two. Hisoka had already pulled out another playing card as you picked up the rest of the groceries.

“See you later, Hisoka.”

You began to walk away again, but when Hisoka called out your name, you paused and turned your head. There was a mischievous look in his eyes.

“Don't think you can rile me up and then get away with no consequences,” he told you.

“I don't know what you mean,” you said, feigning ignorance.

“Then I'll have to show you what I mean when I come back tonight.”

“It might have to wait until tomorrow; if you're coming back after midnight I'm going to be asleep. I'm not waiting up for you.”

“Trust me, pet,” he purred as he flung another card at the wall, “you won't be getting much sleep tonight.”

You felt your cheeks heat up at the way he said it. It was hardly even that dirty, and he had certainly said much dirtier things to you before. But in a way that only he was able, Hisoka managed to leave you flustered and incapable of keeping eye contact with him. Turning your head away from him just made it worse, as he chuckled at your embarrassment.

“We'll see,” was all you could say.

It was a pretty weak response, and you were quick to head back to the room, trying not to walk away too quickly and show him how much of a hurry you were in to get out of that situation.

Despite all that, you couldn't help the slight feeling of anticipation from what he promised.

You'd probably end up waiting up for him after all.

[jangofctts]

Bloodsport (din djarin x fem!reader) (part one) 

rated: 18+

word count: 5.4k

warnings: smut, knife kink (no blood is drawn and consent is clearly given), blowjobs, vaginal fingering, din is sorta a virg duDE, alcohol, mentions of violence (reader punches someone in the face kwejrkejh), some gambling (sabaac) also please let me know if I missed anything!

a/n: oOf this is the first fic in sO LONG IM SO SORRY YALL KEHJRKEJH BUT ANYWAYS I HOPE YOU ENJOY

It’s been a couple months since Din’s stepped foot on the sandy nightmare of a planet. Went through hell and back and kriff—it feels like a lifetime ago. But the landscape before him hasn’t changed an inch, Mos Eisley same as always—busy with all sorts of scum and villainy he turns a blind eye to. 

Din hopes it’s not the only thing that’s stayed the same—selfish as it is. Someone as volatile as you is bound to catalyze and shift, so is the nature of life. A lot can happen in a month or two and it’s ridiculous to think that you would ever push your life to the side and wait for him to return.    

Turns out, you are here, still working as the resident mechanic. Though in the same elated breath of hearing that tidbit of news, it’s equally dissatisfying when he somehow misses you completely. You’re off planet, looking for power converters and electrical wiring—back in few days Peli promises. Maybe by the time his wild goose chase is over, back from the butt fuck middle of nowhere, he’ll get to see you— 

Nothing goes as planned—naturally. All Din finds is a man playing dress up, an oversized lizard, planetary drama he’s forced to resolve and—to top it all off—an attempted stickup. Maker—he’s not even worried about anything save for the kid and your speeder. The very same one now scattered over the sand in miserable heaps.           

At least some of it is salvageable…

By the time Din reaches the outskirts of Mos Eisley, the binary suns are smearing across the horizon like molten puddles of magma. Deep aches amass in his shoulders and back from the weight of the speeder parts, his gear, and the second pair of armor. Maker—it feels like his arms are going to be ripped off.

The baby babbles something incomprehensible. 

“Almost there, kid,” Din responds, sparing a quick glance down the baby. “How does soup sound?”

Instead of trudging back to the hangar, Din wanders to the cantina. Call it a hunch or just you and your aunt’s tendency to lurk around the premises, he’s certain he’s going to find one of you here. 

Din is right.

The moment he steps inside, he spots your mess of hair, the low solar lights illuminating the rich colors with a soft orange. The baby coos and blinks up at Din, his tiny clawed finger gesturing in your direction. 

Din hums. “Good job—you found her.” 

The child’s little teeth peek out, pleased with his discovery. Din steps into the doorway, down the carven stairs and over to your table. A older man—a ship rigger by the looks of his uniform—sits across from you, a game of Sabaac spread across the table between you. You’re winning. 

“Hello, Shiny.” You greet, dipping your chin in his direction. “Your armor is looking a tad ripe.” 

It’s true. The layer of slime coating his armor had baked and crusted under the suns—probably doesn’t smell too good either… 

“I killed a Krayt dragon.” Din states it with a twinge of smug satisfaction despite knowing how little something like that would mean to you. He could conquer three dozen planets and shower you in all the precious metals in the world and you’d still turn your nose up at everything.  

“And I curb stomped a centipede today—you aren’t special.” Your eyes never leave the set of worn cards you hold between your fingers, acutely ignoring him like you would an overly enthusiastic puppy. You inhale and scrape your right thumbnail along the edge of the hexagonal cardstock—it’s a subtle tell, one Din would more than likely miss if he were the unlucky bastard brave enough to sit at the other end of the table.  

“You playin’ or what?” Your opponent gripes. He scratches his unkempt salt and pepper stubble and quirks a furry brow. 

You lift your chin in scorned defiance and lay your hand down—full Sabaac. The man hisses through his crooked, clenched teeth and utters a curse as he shoves his winnings towards your end of the table.  

“Peli promised me information.” Din pushes, hearing the kid coo in curiosity as you begin shuffling the cards with practiced flare. “About others like me.”

“Do I look like my aunt to you?” You grumble. It’s the first time your eyes leave the perimeter of the game to look at him. They settle on the kid first with a guarded version of compassion, then leap to the faded green armor clipped to the heavy luggage, and then his visor. Your lip twitches at the green slime still coating the beskar. “I’m assuming my speeder didn’t make it.”

“A technical difficulty.”

You roll your eyes and snort, dealing out the cards then setting the stack in the middle. “Right…”

The background ambiance of the bar and the quiet rasp of cards fill the brief lull in conversation. Any other rational person would take the blaring hint to leave, but Din is just as stubborn as you are. 

“I don’t remember where the hangar is,” Din lies, cocking his head to the side in mock innocence, “could you show me?” 

The tip of your tongue peaks out of the corner of your mouth. The unconscious tic is not one of irritation—not yet. Though before you’re able to respond, your opponent beats you to it. 

“Yeah—I know where it is. It’s between fuck off and take a hike.”  

Din turns his head, the cool, even tone of his words sharper than shrapnel as he address the man. “I was speaking to her.”        

This is funny to you Din realizes—one of the tiny mysteries of your entirety clicking into the place of the puzzle map he’s conjured for you. 

“Well, I don’t have the time of day for cowards who wear shiny buckets over their head.” The man gripes into his drink, dark eyes flicking over to Din as he sizes him up. “What’s a Mandalorian doing out here anyway? Thought your planet exploded or something.”

The man’s ignorance irks him—sure. How could it not? But with years of harsh words and jabs at the foundation of Din’s very being, he’s learned to adapt. It’ll always sting no matter how many layers of beskar he wears but you on the other hand…

Your eyes spark, molten and bright like the last solar flare on the surface of a decaying star. Each encounter Din’s had with you, he’s bared witness to the deep well of your anger that fuels your being like the auto-mechanical heart of a droid. He’s felt the bite of your rage firsthand, but this anger—this is the tragedy of the delicate mayfly wings trapped between the black teeth of misfortune—the story of the boy who rammed a spear into the flank of an ancient beast that bites before it barks and gnashes its yellowed teeth in warning.

Din’s hand inches towards his blaster. He’s not willing to weigh the safety of the kid against your rash decisions, despite it being on his behalf.   

Though, just as quick as it appears, it recedes like the cool drawback of a tumultuous ocean. Din’s arm relaxes at his side as you release a puff of air. 

Your scuffed up fingers, stained with years of engine grease, scars and dirt, curl around your half finished drink. You stand, lay your cards face down onto the table and flash the stranger a feral grin.

Without a word, you toss your drink directly into the man’s unsuspecting eyes. In another breath, the pointed edges of your knuckles fly forward and hook beneath the point of his chin with a meaty thunk. The man’s head whips backwards and connects with the gravely wall—

Out like a light.  

Jaw clenched tight, you shake out your bleeding knuckles and gather up the strewn credits over the table. You shove them into the pockets of your jacket and side eye Din. “Restitutions for damages,” you mutter. 

The other patrons keep their eyes to themselves as the three of you hurry out the door. Only an apathetic glance from the bar tender serves as proof that something did, in fact, occur. No one wants to dirty their nose sniffing about where they shouldn’t be when they have their own business to safeguard.

The crisp night air rustles the stray strands of hair that escape from your ponytail. Ghostly moonlight carves the shape of your cheeks into an almost ethereal sight—one of those deep space creatures with pointy teeth and hellfire for eyes. Stuff of legends you’d never think to look in a dingy bar for.     

But he knows—Din knows that cool mask is just a front from what you hide. It is a hungry ghost that hounds your thin stretched shadow—what ifs and the glories of war you never really escaped. You forget that you are flesh and blood and ghosts are only air and echoes, nothing more. 

Din is sharp edged steel. A stray fragment of a shattered mirror, the lacerated reflection of a nameless purpose and a faceless existence. He’s torn edges and cracked glass but his heart beats within his chest with the blood of a thousand suns. Two souls under the umbrella of the word damaged but entirely different in nature.     

“No one—“ you growl, your voice a steady and lethal timbre that terrifies a part of Din’s unconsciousness, “—speaks that way to my friends.” 

Touching. 

“Don’t look at me like that, Creature,” you huff, staring down at the child who gurgles in return. “He deserved it—“

The reunion certainly wasn’t the one Din imagined, though it’s a relief to find that there’s no roughened edge like sandpaper over skin wedged between you. Picked up right where you left off—no questions asked and no inglorious retelling of how Din nearly died on the floor of a shitty cantina. There’s not a doubt in his mind that you'd laugh at him for it—it is sorta funny…   

The rest of the evening is spent walking back to the hangar, arguing over the fact that yes Din should take the couch instead of that miserable little hovel he calls a bed, and spend the night. He’d have to find some other mechanic to work through the night if he wanted to leave in the morning, because you certainly did not want to volunteer for that. And so—Din reluctantly takes the couch and agrees to let you tackle the monstrosity of fixing up his ship for tomorrow. 

He has to admit…the couch is a bit smaller than the length of his body, but it’s comfortable…maybe he’d buy a better blanket while he was here. As a treat.

-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=- 

You purse your lips and whistle. “I swear each time I see it, it gets worse. Y’know, I know a couple guys selling—“ 

“Can you fix it?”

You fold your arms over your chest and roll your eyes.“Yeah I can fix it, jeez—no need to get your undies in a twist.” 

You try not to take offense, because hey—you’re offering him the info on the good deals on new ships (and at this point anything would be better than this old rust bucket). But if Din doesn’t want anything to do with that, then whatever. His loss.   

When you wander onto the ship, toolbox in hand, the Mandalorian tags along. Unsure if he doesn’t trust you with his things or just wants to hang out, it blankets the space with an air of uncertainty. Turns out it was neither of those guesses. All he does is throw open his stash of weapons, collect his pile of vibroknives, and set them on a table to polish and sharpen. 

Makes sense, you suppose. Everything has to be as shiny as his armor. 

You drop to your knees near the closest wiring panel you find. You wrench open the paneling and frown at the disarray of sparking wires and tangled cords. You organized these perfectly last time he was here. “Who the fuck junked up my rigging?”

Mando sits at the little table tucked away in the corner, brooding over his cache of weapons. He shrugs. “Could’ve come loose when I landed.” 

You roll your eyes at his half assed excuse and mutter a foul string of curses under your breath that’d make even Peli wince. It’s fine. It’s cool—no biggie. You can sort through this in a couple hours, maybe three. 

But of course rarely anything goes as planned. As time ticks away, arms deep in wires older than the kriffing Clone Wars, the distractions begin. The scrape of metal on durasteel makes the hair rise into little pricks all up your arms—you shoot a glare over your shoulder. Din tilts his head, your kneeling self reflecting within the ever dark visor, features scrunched into an obvious tell of annoyance. Huffing, you bury your head back into your task at hand. 

The second distraction arrives in the form of a quiet hum of curiosity originating from the Mandalorian. Out of the corner of your eye you see him bring a vibroblade up to his visor, inspecting the notch in the blade that disrupts the electrical current that flows through the weapon. Din then rubs his thumb over the handle of the vibroblade in a slow, sensual circle. You lick your lips and tear your eyes away. That shouldn’t be hot.

You furrow your brows and tear apart another wire, but the metallic tap, tap, tap of Din bouncing the tip of a different blade over the table is bothersome. You swing your head to your left, mouth parting to snap at him, but his hand—sans glove—brings you to a halting stop. 

It’s alluring, the way his long, weathered fingers twirl the knife with practiced ease—like silk through water and followed by the low hum of electricity meant to slice through flesh. Din tosses it in the air, watching it spin three rotations then catches it by the handle. Your lips purse when his visor meets your eyes. He spins it between his fingers.  

“Am I bothering you?”

Fucker.   

You scowl. “It’s fine.” 

The soft rasp of his thumb sliding along the flat of the blade entices the eye and damnit—he’s doing this on purpose. 

“Doesn’t seem fine,” he hums. 

“Well, it is.” You retort hotly. You snatch up your pliers and imagine you’re pulling his teeth out in place of the crooked paneling. “I’m currently thriving in my element.”  

Din hums, the sound buzzing with grainy distortion. “Do you want a closer look?”

You chew your bottom lip. He’s playing with an open flame and you with volatile jet fuel. 

“I don’t know, seems kinda lame from here.” You scoff, busying yourself by pinching and twisting another set of frayed wires between your fingertips. “A toothpick if anything.”

Din snorts behind you. The deadly whisper of beskar against the durasteel tabletop makes the hair on the back of your neck prick into points. You tense as heavy boots shuffle along the floor, the near silent rustle of armor tinkling behind you as Din steps closer. You’re slow to stand, even though the presence of the Mandalorian is no less than overbearing. You wipe your grimy hands onto a spare rag, continuing to face the paneling. You then turn, a coy smile threatening to break across your face. 

Stars Din is broad—and close enough you swear you’re able to see the perspiration of your breath fog the beskar plating. Your eyes follow the seams of the cuirass, across the leather bandolier and up to his helmet that’s fixed in an impassive glare of tempered steel. Your back bumps into the wall as Din takes another step forward, boxing you in. To escape you’d need to duck under his arm and yet…you refuse to move.   

Your breath catches as he languidly lifts his hand and taps the flat side of the vibroblade over your collarbone. The sharpened point tickles up the column of your throat, a crackle of nerves and your pounding pulse following in its wake. Din turns the blade to flat edge and pushes into the space right below your jaw—you squirm when he chuckles, the sound low and deep. 

“You like this…”

Din grunts as your hand reaches between his legs, squeezing the growing hardness there. “So do you.” 

Din circles his hand around your wrist with his free palm. Moons above his hands are warm. He murmurs your name—you shiver. “Tell me you want this—want me.”

A blush, hotter than the surface of Tatooine in the midday sun, rushes up your neck and pools into the apples of your cheeks. Maker you want him. With a shuddering sigh you nod—braving the scathing shrapnel of vulnerability. “I need you, Din—please.”

A low chuckle rumbles through Din’s chest. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you say please before.”

Din drops his hold on your wrist as you roll your eyes. “Shut up, Bucket Head.”

The Mandalorian snorts and dips his head—gesturing towards the blade still lightly pressed against the base of your throat. “This ok too, Skitter?”

You flash him a wolfish grin. “Gonna fuck me with it?”

Din swears under his breath, crowding his body closer to yours. You hear his strained sigh as he dips his head closer, the beskar a chilly whisper against your cheek. “You’re depraved…take off your pants.”

You smirk, tear off your belt and shimmy out of your pants and underwear, bottom half now bare. His visor dips, entranced.  

Your heart leaps into your throat, your pulse roaring in your ears as he settles one of his bare hands over the swell of your hip while the other trails the blunt edge of the handle from your clothes collarbone, and down your belly. From your mid thigh he skates the handle up your bare thigh and then rests it over the crack of your thigh. Heat flushes through your entire body, a stark contrast to the cool metal of the handle. A shiver races down each vertebrae when he drags it over the swell of your cunt and then carefully pressing it against your clit. You gasp and arch into the light touch, your thighs involuntarily jerking as he increases the pressure. It’s cold, rigid and filthy. Who knows where that knife has been—how many lives it’s taken or severed through muscle and skin. 

You don’t find it in you to care all that much.    

He trades his hold on your hip to slide his hand into your shirt, palming and kneading your breast through your bra as you roll and whine against his fingers. The tight circles he's drawing over your clit burns through your abdomen, drags you closer to the precipice that you’re all ready so close to. Fuck—it’s been so long since you’ve indulged in this sort of pleasure.You whine his name as wicked heat licking up your body and spreading to each limb. You arch into him, the handle of his knife slipping through your folds as arousal drips from your cunt.   

Your groan as you tilt your hips into the handle, craving any lick of pleasure he’ll give. Your breath hitches as Din pushes the hilt closer to your throwing entrance, murmuring praise as he sinks the first couple inches inside of you. It’s cold—the knobby feel of the handle not too much thicker than one or two of your fingers combines. You huff and grab at his cowl, the warmth of his hand grazing your pussy each time he rocks his wrist forward. 

“You’re so quiet,” Din goads, pulling the handle free from your aching center. “You usually have plenty to say.” 

You shoot Din a glare, tongue weighed down by arousal to come up with a god retort. You lean your head back against the wall of the Crest and with a chuckle, Din’s hand leaves your shirt to pull you against his chest, the vocoder rumbling against your ear. The blade clatters to the floor and instead brings his calloused fingertips to your cunt. He softly rolls your swollen clit between his forefinger and thumb, delighting in the way you shake. “Be a good little thing and cum for me.”

Shit, you didn’t think it’d be that easy. Your body seizes as white hot heat ripples through your core. Stars, brighter than a dying sun burst behind your eyes, a high pitched cry filtering past your lips as shake and fall apart in his arms, your cunt clenching tight around the thick fingers he slips inside of you. 

You whine as he pulls out, little aftershocks of pleasure wracking through your body in wake of your euphoric high. You groan as he lifts your head and pushes his digits, coated in your juices into your mouth. You lick them clean, tasting the tang of your own arousal and the salt on his skin. “Fuck—that was good.”

You can only imagine that Din rolls his eyes. He takes a step back but before he can escape—

You drop to your knees, a wicked smile curling over your lips. The muscles in his thighs jump as your palms smooth over the outsides of them, then up to his narrow hips, your thumbs lightly massaging the ligaments that protects the fragile joints. Din sucks in a sharp breath when your fingertips hook around his trousers. 

“What are you doing?” Din asks, brushing a thumb over your jaw. 

You pause and glance up at him. You quirk a brow. “Was gonna suck you off, but if you have something else in mind…“ He hisses and tips his head back, flashing the underside of his chin as your hand leaves his hip to cup the heavy bulge tenting in his trousers. 

“Maker—“ He looks off to the side, inhales a choppy breath and then snaps his head back. “You’d…you’d do that?”   

You nod and flash him an encouraging half grin. “Wouldn’t have offered if I didn’t want to.”

Din mumbles an incoherent string of words under his breath and shifts his weight onto his right leg. His fingers touch your cheek again then tuck a loose hair behind your ear. “But—“

Moons above this man is straight out of some kind of fucking fairytale—arguing about getting his dick sucked—or not. 

Whatever.       

“Din…” His breath hitches at the sound of his name. “I’m asking you kindly to fuck my mouth—it’s cool if you don’t wanna, but my knees already kriffing hurt and—“

He cuts you off with a hasty nod. “Yes—stars, please.”

Fuck yeah.

You smile and slide your eyes past Din’s legs to the cargo crate shoved up against the wall. “You should sit—easier that way.”

He nods and shuffles over, lightly perching himself on the edge and ready to flee at the barest hint of well—anything.

Din’s knee jumps when you place your palm over it. You assume his nerves are from the nature of his occupation—trouble always strikes when you least expect it—and what better time would that be when his pants are around his ankles. “Relax—I’m not gonna bite—maybe.”

He makes a wary sound low in his throat as your fingertips hook into the waistband of his trousers and pull. Din lifts up as you tug the fabric further down his legs, tan skin and solid muscle following in its wake. Fuck…

You swallow, mouth feeling quite dry when your eyes drift between his legs. Din is thick, a rosy brown color, flushed at the tip and curling towards his bellybutton. Beads of liquid shine at the tip, dribbling down the underside and pooling into the dark patch of curls at the base. Din’s fingers hook over the side of the crate, squirming under the weight of your stare. 

Yeah—that’s gonna leave your jaw aching.    

You hear his breath hitch, magnified by the crackle of the vocoder as your lips descend over a silvery scar on the inside of his right knee. You pepper a trail of wet kisses and light nips up his thighs, and by the time you reach the crease of his leg, his hips mindlessly rock with need. 

The second the wet warmth of your tongue brushes over the tip of his cock, his hips jolt off the crate, a load groan echoing through the empty ship. It’s like striking a match to an open line of kerosene—devouring and explosive that’ll leave your delicate skin singed. You’re not nervous playing with fire if this barest scrap of wild heat is anything like burning to a crisp. 

Emboldened by his initial reaction, you wrap your hand around the base, pulsing and achingly hard beneath the velvety flesh. You flatten your tongue over the tip, lapping up the sticky liquid the slip the head of him into your mouth. His hands fly to your hair, tightening into fists as he throws his head back. The beskar scrapes over the durasteel with a sharp squeal, but you don’t find it in you to care about the abrasive sound—eardrums be damned.  

“Fuck—kriffing hell—“ Din snarls, arching his hips to seek more of your warmth. “K-keep going.”  

Your own rekindled arousal blazes hot in your core hearing his stuttered pleas. You pull away to catch your breath, feeling almost guilty for doing so at Din’s low whine of protest. He picks his head up, watching as you languidly jerk him off—entranced with the way your hand rolls over the leaking tip, back down to the base, then up again. You could keep him like this—tease until he cracks under the pressure and begs you for whatever iota of pleasure you want to give but—

You’re not that mean.    

Wetting your lips with your tongue, you part your mouth and slide nearly half of his length into your mouth. Din mutters something garbled, his hips jolting as you hollow your cheeks and bob your head.

Din shifts, arching his back and stuttering out broken whispers of encouragement. Placing your hand over his thigh, you can feel his pulse thrumming beneath your fingertips, wild and alive—something real beneath all that heavy armor and unforgiving helmet. 

“You—you look…” He grunts as you hum around around his cock, swallowing him down further. “Shit—you look so p-perfect like this.”

You groan and squeeze your thighs together, attempting to ignore the gnawing hunger snapping at your insides. 

Rolling your tongue along the underside of his shaft, your fingers slide over what your mouth cant reach—squeezing and gently coaxing him towards his high. He seizes up tight—yet, just when you think you’ve got him skidding off that precarious edge—

His hand fists your hair at the base your neck and yanks you off his cock. He huffs, breathy little pants as he folds into himself like he’s been punched in the gut, his head rolling forward onto his shoulder. Din shivers as he scrambles for control, beginning to loose that slippery foothold he’s so intent on maintaining. His cock, flushed an angry red and still slick with your saliva, twitches and throbs for the release so cruelly wrenched away. 

You let him catch his breath. The fingers tangled in your hair go lax and drop away to rest at his sides. You swallow, his previous skittishness suddenly clicking into place. “Din, are you…?” A virgin. Your question tapers off, unsure if it’ll embarrass and scare him off. 

“No,” he answers—not in a sharp way like you’d hear with a bruised ego—just stating a fact. “Just not—not this. Never had someone—stars—“

Your teeth roll your bottom lip between them, forcing your face to remain neutral despite the stroke of pride blooming singing in your chest. You’re his first—lucky enough to make this the best goddamned oral he’ll ever have. Something he’ll remember for years.  

“Do you want me to stop?” You ask, praying to the Maker he’ll say no. 

He shakes his head, sucking in another calming breath and unfurling himself. His fingers clench into fists then relax, crackling with pent up energy and unsure nerves as to where he should put them. You solve it by threading your fingers through his and placing them around you head. 

Your lips quirk. “You’re allowed to cum in mouth—don’t worry about it.”

His cock twitches as a quiet moan fizzles through the modulator. “You su-sure?”

“Oh, yeah.”

With a smile you bring your mouth back to his cock, tongue swiping up the entire length of him. Din groans as the soft warmth of your mouth slips over the flushed tip of cock, his thick length twitching as you hollow out your cheeks and suck. You bob your head as you slowly work him in further because even like this, hardly halfway into your mouth, you feel your lips stretching a bit too much around him. You groan and part your mouth wider, letting him sink into the soft warmth of your throat.  Din inhales, the sound shaky and unsure as his hips twitch with a few tentative thrusts. 

You take it slow—lifting your mouth nearly all the up to the tip then back down to the base. Din rolls his hips, helping you ease into the gentle pace. Saliva drips down his cock and over your knuckles making an absolute mess you have zero intentions of cleaning up. It’s his ship after all. Din swears as his hips stutter, your hand squeeing around him, trying to push him off that edge he so deserves. Din gasps your name, the pitch of his words knocking up to a lighter, more airy tone, warmer than melted butter. 

“Ca-can’t believe, it—ah—it fits.” He groans with astonished reverence. You preen under his praise. 

You swallow around him and grunt at the abrupt jolt of his hips. There’s no distinctive rhythm you can follow as you let him rock his hips into your mouth—seeking out his pleasure without a coherent thought in sight. Just a cacophony of gasping breaths and rough moans. 

You can feel is cock twitching over you tongue—he’s close—and when your eyes roll up to meet the darkened visor, he’s gone. He shouts your name and knots his fists around your hair as he spirals of that edge. You nearly gag from the force of his release hitting the back of your throat—cock throbbing and jerking in your mouth like he’s been denying himself release for months. His moans, fragile and gasping, filling the quiet space as his hips grind his cock deeper down your throat, his hands threaded into your hair acting as an anchor—the sole tether he has to the waking world. 

Din’s grip relents as the last few catastrophic waves tear through his body. He doesn’t move his hands, just lets them rest over your skull  as his chest heaves for precious air, a harsh crackle through the vocoder. You pull his still twitching cock halfway out, dragging the tip of your tongue below the frenulum while one of your hands circles the base of his length. Maker—he’s still going—

Last little dribbles of his cum spurt onto your tongue and drip over your knuckles still securely wrapped around him. His legs and lower abdomen flex when your hand falls lower to carefully knead at his balls, milking out his pleasure for all its worth. You let his softening cock slip from your mouth when he swears and mumbles your name.      

When you rest your back against the wall, he slips himself back into his trousers and joins you. You take a risk and rest your head over the chilly beskar pauldron. You’d never call this love—the word is much too harsh for this delicate string of seconds. Love means giving pieces of yourself to others like martyrs give their hearts to the sky—or risk fragile skin against the rays of an unforgiving sun. Broken ribs and clenched fists, immensity beyond comprehension—

“You should come with us,” he says with a hesitant mumble. Love is formidable—but you know that somehow, here, pressed against Din’s side, that this is right. In a golden way, a honeyed way, a path that tastes of blood, freedom and blaster smoke that will leave your lungs stained with blackened soot. Cowardice has long made a home inside of your soul, and he’s offering you a chance to shake off the layer of frost clinging to your bones and step into the gentle merciful dawn.  

“Yeah—alright, Din. I will.”

tags (only tagging some moots for now bc i have no clue what’s going on in this fandom anymore dbdndn): @goldafterglow @jango-fettish @djxrxn @blsmjoon @spookoofins @krissology @steeeeeeeviebb @teaofpeach @comphersjost @gummiishark @delusionsxfgrandeur @pettyprocrastination @huliabitch