#a lot of save scumming happened last night

[afterthedescent]

Last night I triggered Astarion's second scene (which was honestly kind of a let down? because I got it after telling the drow in Moonrise off, and the dialogue you get from that is not as great as what you get if you trigger it before that happens, but it was still super sweet and I loved it), so the S. S. Kallarion has officially set sail.

But that also means that I have to break Gale's heart, which I am not emotionally ready for.

So what I did instead was reboot an earlier save to try and trigger Gale's scene because I want it, damnit. Camped and I got Astarion's again (different dialogue because I hadn't talked to the drow yet). I got distracted by feet kicks and squealing, so I had to reboot AGAIN and this time broke it off with him. Camped again and GOT THE GALE SCENE AHHHHHH. It was incredible and I cannot wait to do my Galemance playthrough.

Anyway, all of that got me thinking about Kallan's love life. She was initially attracted to Gale and felt comfortable with him really quickly (too quickly, really), and when he distanced himself from her because of the whole bomb-in-his-chest thing, she inadvertently took it personal. This, coupled with all of her internalized angst during Act 1, pushed her towards Astarion, who was like yes absolutely, this is all going according to plan.

So when Gale, at the start of Act 2, spurred on (I assume) by the fact that he thinks he's going to die soon, makes his feelings for Kallan known, it confuses the hell out of her. And she probably subconsciously distances herself from Astarion, who's probably like shit shit shit no, must ramp up the rizz.

I haven't decided yet whether or not I'll keep letting the other companions down (we're up to 3 now) part of my canon narrative, but it's fun to think about.

Regardless, at some point, Kallan comes to realize that she wasn't attracted to Gale per se (I mean, she is because she's not blind - her and Astarion even talked about it once), but because he reminds her so much of Samael. And that's not fair to him. At the same time she also realizes that she doesn't just enjoy the physicality of her whatevership with Astarion. In his words, she (at some point) started to like the whole package. It probably took her by surprise when she realized it, honestly. She's got a lot on her mind (and, well, in it), so romance is not at the forefront of her thoughts (mine, however...). Which is actually very funny to me because romance isn't on her mind, yet she got totally caught up in Astarion's web. Idk. Girl's just going through it.

[maxwellatoms]

What kind of video games do you like to play Mr. Atoms?

So many! Assuming there's time. These days there's generally not, so I've been bingeing Vampire Survivors in half-hour doses.

Above is a gif from Noita, my top game of the pandemic. It's an old-school "Metroidvania", but every pixel is simulated and you're a witch who can manipulate her spells (and thereby the world) in a seemingly infinite number of ways. Here, I've built magical "buzzsaws" around myself, which blinded me to the shadow amoeba. In Noita, almost every death is due to hubris, and I think I love that pendulum swing. If you're lucky and skilled, you can become a walking whirlwind of destruction, but you're always your own worst enemy. Bonus: You can turn your vomit into rats.

I'm currently on a break in the midst of my Baldur's Gate 3 run, with a party consisting of my BG2 character's daughter, Karlatch, Lazelle, and Shadowheart. Ladies' Night!

I'm also playing a bit of Shadows of Doubt. I'm not sure it'll hold up long-term, but it's got a lot of potential.

I don't really limit myself by genre or platform, but I'd say that I primarily play indie PC games. The games in my Steam library that I keep going back to again and again?

Cities: Skylines: A chill City Building Simulator. Lots of fun mods.

Darkest Dungeon: This thing is a classic strategy game IMO.

Death Road to Canada: A light, fast Project Zomboid. Dogs with guns!

Dwarf Fortress: For me, it's the ultimate fantasy sim. I love it so much. Looking forward to Adventure Mode finally appearing on Steam.

Project Zomboid: The ultimate lonely 2D zombie apocalypse survival game. Or non-survival game, I suppose.

Total War: Warhammer: For when I'm in a strategy-y mood. Like a lot of people, I'm a bit soured on the modern DLC scene, so I'm still waiting on #3 even though I'm a Chaos stan.

Not on Steam? I do play some Star Citizen from time to time. I backed it a decade ago. I used to joke that it was the game I was going to retire into, but more and more that's looking less and less like a joke. Still, it's made some good progress in the last couple of years and I'm hopeful that repair and engineering turn out to be fun.

The game I'm looking forward to most would be the next Elder Scrolls. I know it's still a ways off. Ever since my Nereverine landed in Morrowind with the intention of becoming a just and righteous cleric and instead found herself an unwitting villain and colonizer, I fell in love with the Elder Scrolls and it's deep, gray lore. It is (for me) a great way to really get into a character's head. Roleplaying... go figure.

Since Morrowind (and a backtrack into Daggerfall), I only allow myself one canon playthrough. My rule is to "let it ride", so that aside from death, if I screw up or if something unexpected happens I don't save-scum. All of my characters are related, either by quest or bloodline. I already know that my next character will be Aventus Aretino (the kid you catch summoning the Dark Brotherhood). My Skyrim character (above) had adopted him and then left him in the hands of a vampire, so I should be covered even if there's a big time jump. Now I just have to wait six more years for the game. And then maybe two for mods. God I'm so old.

I need to spend more time with Dave the Diver.

Anything current I'm missing out on?

[sirfrancisvarney]

Oh, last night's episode was so upsetting to watch. Even if a lot of everyone's misery was the result of their own choices, none of them deserved that, not even Hank. Fuck grifters. Bunch of scum-sucking lowlifes, all of them. I know Hank is an asshole, but so much of his bullshit stems from his insecurities and sense of inferiority. His wife left him because he wasn't good enough, Danvers looks down on him, and even his own son prefers Danvers to him. That will really screw a person up. And Pete's starting to show the same insecurities. His wife should not have called him stupid in the previous episode. (And Navarro should have put her foot down and waited until morning to go see Tagaq. That didn't have to happen on Christmas Eve. It's not like the trail would have gotten any colder.) I wish Leah could understand that Danvers really does actually care about her, but unfortunately Danvers has chosen death before emotional vulnerability. And then there's Navarro, who pretty much hit rock bottom last night. She tried so hard to look after her sister and it all came to nothing. That's enough of the touchy-feely stuff. I'm not any better at it than Danvers is. Back to the murders.

So according to Danvers (I don't know that I'd personally make that claim based on a single frame, but I'll roll with it), there's electricity in the ice caves, which suggests there were people, so that puts a mark in the "killer is a human" column. If the scientists were getting their core samples from the ice caves, that would explain their connection to Annie Kowtok. Either they stumbled upon the same thing she was investigating, or she found out what they were really studying, and whatever it (or "she") was, finally woke up. I'm going to go with the former theory for now.

I hope they'll be able to get more information out of Otis Heiss, or at least get him someplace warm and feed him a hot meal. He looked rather pitiful. His left eye is clouded over, same as the polar bear and the one woman in the background at the activist meeting. His injuries happened April 20 1998, and I'd guess they were caused by something in the caves. I don't know if it's meaningful or a coincidence, but Annie K. died on April 18, same time of year. I do wonder why she was just stabbed and beaten to death, instead of getting the weird injuries like the men. I wonder if the gender of the victims is significant.

Did Tagaq flee to save his own skin, or does he have delusions of heroism? Not saving himself from the cops, but whatever Lund might have unleashed. And I'm starting to feel a little suspicious of Rose, but maybe I'm just being paranoid. Wish she'd mentioned exactly what she studied. And since she's the only one who recognizes the spiral and appears willing to talk, I really wish Navarro would ask her about it. Maybe after Qavvik gives her the stone she left behind at his place. I hope he gives it back. Please don't make him turn out to be sinister, True Detective. I still haven't recovered from the last time a borderline-feral POC detective finally let her guard down and opened up to a seemingly kind and empathetic man, only for him to turn out to be the main villain. Don't make me go through that again.

On the supernatural (maybe) side, Navarro's family apparently has close ties to the underworld, or afterlife, or whatever you want to call the land of the dead. Unfortunately, not being knowledgeable about Inuit religion or mythology, I don't have any insights here. While I'm willing to entertain the idea that Navarro does have close ties to the other side, I'm not willing to say definitively that that's what's happening. Holden's polar bear in her visions isn't convincing enough proof to me. She and Danvers used to be so close that Danvers knew where she put cans in her kitchen. I'm sure Navarro has been to Danvers's house before and seen the bear, either without consciously remembering it or recognizing the significance of it. Either way, it doesn't really matter to me which it is. As long as the main mystery gets solved in a way that feels fair, I'll be satisfied with the series.  

I hope Navarro's all right. Bleeding from the ears can be caused by head injuries, and it's a very bad sign when it happens (although I don't know if it can suddenly occur hours after the event). Bleeding from the ears in general is pretty much a "go straight to hospital" kind of situation. Her sister's body is also due to come back that day. I wonder if she'll try to tie her death to the scientists. She did take all her clothes off and fold them up neatly just like them. If her body has any other similarities, that would put a few marks in the "killer is supernatural" column.

[kactiworld]

KACTIWORLD - Chapter 4 - Bait - C-SIDE

“So yeah. That’s what happened last night.” I picked up my coffee and took a sip. I hadn’t slept since two nights ago, the lack of sleep was slowly catching up to me.

“Wow… I can’t believe that happened. So what are you gonna do now?” Alice questioned, showing obvious concern for me.

“I can only do what I’m being forced to. I gotta go to that address on Friday. The day of the mayor’s speech.”

“What’s gonna happen there?”

“I… don’t know.” That was a lie, I did know. Darius is taking over the city. I can’t tell anyone, though! Everyone will just think I’m crazy all over again. 

“I do know though that if I don’t do this, you’re in danger.”

“I’M in danger? How?”

“I don’t know! Okay? I don’t know… he just said that if I don’t do what he says, then… Me and my friends will get into a lot of trouble.”

“And I’m…?”

“Yeah.” I sighed.

“You’re pretty much my only friend.”

Alice sat back in her chair. She gave me this look of disapproval, like I had done something wrong.

“You’re acting a lot like your dad, Chris.”

“I. Well…” I didn’t quite know what to say to that. 

“Chris… Come on! Why do you do this to yourself? It’s almost constant. I mean like, you haven’t like in days, you’re putting yourself into these dangerous situations, you’re practically killing yourself! Your dad treated you horribly, so why do you have to follow in his footsteps?”

“Because what did he die for?!”

A moment of silence fell between the both of us when I said that. I caught my breath to reiterate. 

“What did he die for? To not save this city from scum like Darius? Like this killer? When you walk into the police station and see documents of solved crimes and criminals put behind bars, who do you think is doing all that work in the back and on the field?  Why do you think criminals try to hide themselves in the darkness of the night and behind schemes and lies? It’s because of the law. It’s because of my dad, and it’s because of people like me. People like US. So what did he die for? He may not have been the best father, but I will NOT let his death be in vain.”

The small cafe table that was baking in the sun somehow turned incredibly cold.

“I’m sorry. Listen I can uh. I can get Karter to get me somewhere safe. In case anything happens?”

“That would be for the best. I think you should do that. Please stay safe. If anything happens, I’d rather it be me than you.”

“Chris, I…” Alice bit her tongue and forced herself to stay quiet. 

I got up from the table and patted Alice on the back.

“I’ll be fine. Don’t worry about it.”

—————————————————————————————

“Okay. Yeah.” I sighed as Chris patted me on the back, expressing a small amount of relief. Watching Chris walk away still gave me a pit in my stomach though. He was really killing himself in his own work. No one can stop him but himself, not me, not anyone. 

I pulled out my phone to call Karter to let him know what’s going on. I dialed his number and the phone began to ring.

“...Hello?”

“Hey Karter!”

“Ahh, Alice! What’s up?” Karter quickly responded. 

“I got a bit of an issue. Chris and I are pretty much almost burnt and I need a place to stay safe, do you think you can help out?”

“Oh yeah, Of course, Alice! I can help out right away. Let me know when and I’ll pick you up today.”

“Great. Thanks Karter. Bye.”

“Buh-bye.”

Chapter 4 END

[twilightknight17]

Last night on P5T: We start the DLC at last, jet-set into a twister of nonsense, find mice instead of squids, and I freak out a bit over Satanael~

If you want to skip me ranting about the Velvet Room, scroll down to the big bold text. XD

Look at him. He’s beautiful. And he knows megidolaon!

But my Quest for Satanael, I feel, has exposed another flaw in this game. It’s not a problem if you’re just playing straight through, but if you’re my dumb ass and you want to finish the compendium/obtain Satanael/forge the best weapons, it starts to become an issue.

Fusion is expensive if you’re pulling things out of the compendium. You need personas of specific levels to fuse the weapons, and obviously the best weapons are very high level personas, which won’t drop during battle. Special fusions like Lucifer, Chi You, and Satanael have five or six components each. The cost can be mitigated some by using personas obtained during fights, but in that case, you lose skill options if you’re trying to pass on a specific one via fusion chain. (I can’t imagine trying to get a specific skill on a high-level persona in this game. Ugh. At least megidolaon was a base skill on one of Satanael’s ingredients.)

Which brings us to the actual issue: there’s… no good way to get money in this game.

Money is purely obtained from winning battles. There are no bits and bobs to sell, no money from releasing unneeded personas, nothing. Which means that if you are trying to raise enough money to pay for your multitude of weapons and high-level persons, you are going to be replaying prior battles.

A Lot.

The battles in the final kingdom give around 10K yen, from what I can tell. That can be boosted to around 18K if all three party members have a sub-persona with the “Easy Money” skill. In comparison, personas like Michael and Lucifer (components of Satanael), cost somewhere in the 20-25K range to call from the compendium. You need Michael to make Lucifer in the first place, so you’re going to have to summon him from the compendium at least once.

I don’t know if I did something wrong or inefficiently or what, but I spent the whole game feeling like I barely had enough money for the things I wanted. New weapons often broke the bank, and I wasn’t always using Easy Money because I wanted to actually take specific skills or personas into battle. By the time I was trying to get Satanael, I was basically grinding the same mission multiple times in a row because I knew I could finish it in the least number of turns. It's a little disheartening after unlocking all the endgame bonuses and tricks in Royal and racking up hundreds of thousands of yen in one go to spend on fusion.

That’s not even counting the fusion accidents. The first time I went to fuse Satan (also a component of Satanael), the forge exploded. That probably should have been my cue to start save-scumming, but I didn’t. I assumed that special fusions were immune to fusion accidents. They are not. I placed all of Satanael’s components in the forge and it exploded, wasting least 30K yen.

In hindsight, I probably could have loaded the autosave. But I honestly forgot that the autosave was happening. I always saved manually when I stopped and didn’t worry about anything else. But that’s not the point.

The point is that Satanael should not have been able to explode. X’D

(Side note: fusing Lucifer got a special animation. It’s the only one so far. Why just him???)

But yeah. My compendium still isn’t done, and I’m not even close to the best weapons. I kind of want to take them into merciless mode for NG+, so that means going back and grinding more. But not right now. Right now, we’re off to Spray Paint Land.

It’s time for DLC!

We begin this chilly November late afternoon/evening/whatever with more Quality Morgana Faces.

It has to be November, because Goro’s on the team at this point. Plain and simple. There’s literally only like a 3-week period this can take place in. Akira receives a text from Sumi that says she wants him to meet her in a nearby alley. I guess she was on her way to the cafe. But Morgana says that he knows when to mind his own business, and to call if Akira needs anything.

Call what phone, Mona? Are you gonna answer the cafe phone? Just admit you wanna nap.

Wait. Wait. Morgana. Wake up. The plot is happening. Wake up!

Well, I suppose that means Goro isn’t the artist. He wouldn't have had time while all the Okumura stuff was happening. All these sad mice, tho. Very strange. And isn’t Guernica the artist from Ib? I went on a classic RPGMaker horror kick a few weeks back. I’d watched Angels of Death a while ago and really liked it, and so I watched playthroughs of Ib and Mad Father for the first time. Ib was good, Mad Father was… mediocre, I think.

...oh. That’s Guertena. Neeeeeeevermind.

So, Sumi wants to show you a mural of Arsène being eaten by a giant rat. Which is… not what I was expecting the mural of Akira’s persona to look like. As they puzzle over how the hell a picture of Arsène ended up in a random alley in Yongen, Goro also shows up, ready to investigate.

…...I swear to god, Atlus, why is he the only one who you won’t call by his first name? Also, how is he here to investigate? How did he know about a random mural in the backstreets when everyone is busy paying attention to the giant one on the security building?

He asks if Sumi and Akira had anything to do with this mural, then laughs at Sumi when she gets all flustered by the question. They speculate on the artist’s motives for a bit, since Guernica’s identity is unknown, and then Akira hears a voice calling for the Phantom Thieves from inside the wall.

This made me laugh very hard for inside joke reasons, but Goro assures Sumi that there is no way that there is a person trapped in that wall.

But the mural starts to glow, Arsène disappears, and everything and all of us start getting sucked into the rat’s mouth. And I love and appreciate Sumi dearly, but… none of us are safe here, and you have had your persona for like a month. I should be protecting you.

Joker arrives in a spray-paint covered cityscape, and I already love this place. Holy shit the colors. We’re immediately thrown into a battle, and shooting the little dudes throws paint all over the ground around them. Hehehe. It’s like we’re in Splatoon or something.

...oh. I was joking. But we ARE in Splatoon!

When you’re standing on the enemy’s color, you can’t do anything. No attacks or skills. So there’s definitely an element of strategizing here. I really like it, even if I did die on my first attempt because I was figuring out how it all worked.

……Lavenza, I appreciate the classic literature, but you’re scaring me just a little. XDDDD

Anyway, Joker gets surrounded, the other two jump in to save him, and we get a minor pointing Spiderman meme of “wait, you have powers?” It’s also a little silly because Sumi’s idle stance is a constant pose. Your arms are gonna hurt.

Sumi clarifies to Goro what happened in the Palace when she awakened, and he’s just glad she can fight, even if she’s not formally a Phantom Thief. He clarifies that he is only sort of kind of a Phantom Thief for reasons that would take too long to go into.

...my dear, that is every situation involving these two.

But no, this is completely unrealistic. Goro would have at least a question or two about a random Palace that just spawned somewhere. If this game doesn’t imply that he asked something before January…….

They hear screaming, and a have their first encounter with a non-hostile denizen of this world, who collapses in Sumi’s arms, begs for help, and explodes into paint, leaving Sumi concerned and traumatized. X’D

Goro reminds her that these are cognitions, not even bothering to hide how confident he is in his knowledge about the metaverse, and the trio follows the continuing screams to a mouse massacre.

A crazed woman with a parrot is just gunning down vast amounts of cute mouse people. Paint is going everywhere. It’s insane. Even Goro is put off by the sight.

Meanwhile, Sumi refuses to stand for this and just goes right up to confront the problem.

The bird’s name is Jerri, and I had to message Po in the middle of this, because I was having a crisis.

I can’t unsee it. Help.

Anyway, this is Guernica, and she wants to paint the walls with our blood!

Fortunately, everyone is rescued by a mysterious hole opening up under us, and we meet our savior.

Well… one of us is.

This is Luca, and she’s so happy to see us, because she wants us to help Guernica. Apparently, she was different before Jerri showed up. She felt a kinship with the Phantom Thieves and their quest against corruption. Now, she has strange powers to "peer into people's hearts", and her art can… basically cause a variation of a psychotic breakdown.

Apparently her mental state is fucked because someone stole her Treasure (the first piece of art she ever made) and broke it into pieces. The memo section says, "She was driven to carnage by the theft of her heart's core, prompting her to go on killing sprees in the Metaverse." Which has some WILD implications that I doubt the game is gonna touch on. X’’’’D

Luka also takes us to see this world’s version of the Arsène mural, which is… gruesome? Like, there’s bones sticking out.

Apparently this art was Guernica’s last cry for help before she snapped completely. And she knows what Akira’s persona looked like because of that power to “peek into people’s hearts”. It’s a bit wobbly, but we’ll go with that for now.

Guernica’s “first statement” is in three pieces, so we’re off to retrieve the first one. And I love Luca already.

Jerri wants us to hand over Luca. I might have considered it if she didn’t call me a mop. She claims she’ll send us right home, but that sounds like bullshit.

Also, shoutout to Goro for using his “real” voice here. Time to get dangerous~

It’s nice to hear, because I actually find myself missing abrasive, snarky third-sem Goro compared to the Detective Prince.

This whole thing is such a wild vibe of Splatoon, TWEWY, and Jet Set Radio. The music is fun, the aesthetics are top-notch, and so far the levels have had that extra level of challenge of working with the paint mechanics. It’s really great.

Luka’s ability is creating “manholes” to warp from place to place, and Goro is quickly getting tired of having to jump down them. XD

Our hideout is basically down in the sewers. Luca fished new weapons out of the trash for us, and there’s no Velvet Room, so I guess we’re stuck with whatever sub-personas drop during the battle stages.

We get to have a fun conversation about bouldering, and I caught Goro blinking in the picture, but he actually looks genuinely surprised that you’d want to come try his hobby.

I love the mental image of the three of them going rock-climbing together.

And then, tragically, the Switch ran out of battery. But I’m loving it so far! This is a fun side-story, even if I am a little skeptical of how they’re going to justify everything when they get back to the real world. I’d need to go watch the beginning of January again, but I’d swear there was explicit dialogue that neither of them knew the other had powers beforehand.

Oh well. A thought for another day. Right now, we wonder what kind of disguised god named itself “Jerri”. XDDD

[muppeteyes1001]

You think Alexander cares for you? You're nothing but an emergency snack! Something for him to chow down on if he gets hungry and no one else is around. It's the only real value you have to an abomination like him.

Talk shit about someone my Muse knows.

Tonight was not a good night for the felinoid. She was sitting at a small outside table of a cafe that had already closed for the night. She knew that fully well and only came for some peace and quiet. However, it turned out to be very brief refuge when she suddenly heard someone start talking to her from behind .. And was doing so in a rather loud and rude manner.

As they spoke, Kitt didn't make a move save for a minor ear twitch and the tip of her tail curling at the sudden intrusion. Her eyes were shut and she held her face in a gloved hand .. Almost as if she were nursing a migraine. If they had simply been talking about her, she would have most likely stayed silent and ignored them. Hearing rumors about her behind her back was nothing new ... But instead, they spoke ill of someone else.

Hearing her mate's name spoken that way, the cat woman instantly removed her gloved hand from her face and slammed it onto the table top. As she made a fist, her small and dull claws began to tear through the tips of her gloves and make a few grooves onto the polished table. A soft growl escaped her throat. Turning towards the anon, her icy green eyes narrowed as they illuminated in the dark. She sharply got off from her chair and made a steady walk towards the insulting grey face. Her heeled boots making soft clicks along the pavement.

"You grey lot truly don't serve any purpose in life, do ya? ... You're all nothin' but parasites feedin' off the grief an' pain of others .. An' for what? .. For kicks? .. For laughs?"

Right then, the felinoid had reached the grey face. They were a tad taller than she was, but she didn't care .. She never did. Grabbing them roughly by the front of their shirt, the cat woman pulled them down to her eye level. Her teeth bared as she glared daggers at them.

"Don't think I didn't hear what one of your shite-headed mates did to him tonight ... An' I heard what happened to 'em right afterwards .. So guess he's havin' the last laugh then, aye?" Kitt's tone tonight sounded almost like her usual one .. But the venom that had seeped into it was noticeable .. And as she continued to speak, she would grab the anon's face with her other gloved hand. The one where her claws now poked out from.

"So pardon me if I don't .. Nor will I ever ... take any of you cretins seriously on anything ... Because from what I can plainly see ... It's you bunch of bottom feedin' ... scum suckin' .. blaggards .. who are the true abominations with the value of a soiled toe rag!!!"

Once she finished, she roughly let go of the anon's face, leaving some scratch marks .. Before delivering a sharp slap that knocked their dark glasses right off their grey face.

"An' if I ever hear you speak of Alexander that way again .. I promise you that you won't have a tongue ta speak with anymore afterwards ... Is that clear?" Kitt promptly spat out.

[thegoodceai]

Five players wow! Thats a lot to convert to the "Devil's Game" I love that, congrats! From the handful of games I've gotten to play, I've flipped back and forth between using content that I've made for Stories and using the things that happened to place in the Stories; have you gotten to flesh out more of your fantasy adventure through dnd or vice versa?

Yesss, IF so goood. I'm definitely gonna check out those, I've had Project Hadea cross my dash a couple of times but as always know Of things not what they're about, but if u like em I definitely gotta check em out ^-^. The Passenger was a surprise hit for me, I personally suck at replaying for multiple endings/routes but that one I definitely wanna.

Ayyo! Nice! Even if nothings out yet, I still know it takes a lot of effort and ye is hard to even work up the confidence to put it out there, so I'm proud of you! I can't wait! If nothing else you'll have at least one fan, and it's always good even if you're just making it for yourself <3. Woulddd/have you considered making it an IF or do you have a more 'linear' story in mind?

Oooo nioce! I've saved scummed, and crash and stuck in sidestep is Rough, omg the good/bad angst lol. I've played twice but keep being 'too bad' for folks to want to bust sidestep out lul. I loveee reluctant villains, they're so good. I'm a big fan of playing sidestep as 'fated' but reluctant, like feels they can't stop but wants someone (cough ortega) to stop them. I've tiptoed into the fully evil sidestep, it's veryyyy rough but if you love angst I highly recommend, oh jeez just the reactions.

I feel u lol. We tend to name pets along with food names, but the hilarity of a Cat named like Kevin is just too great. Clementine is a beautiful name and a dumb orange cat would be grateful to have it lol.

Ahh fair enough. It sounds like it was a good series for the time, at the very least a good stepping stone and formative! I'm interested to see how much that might be reflected in your own writing. At the very least, thank you for sharing how important it is/was to you <3 :))).

Again thank yew for answering my questions and replying to all my paragraphs with paragraphs lol

asdfaf yeah, i love my friends to death but they are Chaotic players. it's been a journey. if nothing else, i've learned quite a bit of improv, and fleshing out our homebrew setting helped me organize my writing quite a bit (especially my outlines). for the most part, i try to keep stuff separate tho, even if sometimes some things bleed over (like, NPC traits, or city structures or stuff like that), but the stories are completely different in both the general setting, and the vibes.

Project Hadea just updated and i read it last night and. god. so good. definitely check it out.

it started out as a linear story, and mostly for fun, but the more i added to it, the more other possible outcomes and scenarios started to make themselves known and. i am kinda considering making it into IF format. idk yet, i am waiting to have it more fleshed out (like, actually written, not just outlines and bulletpoints and scenes that aren't yet tied to each other)

aaaah the good angst. i will definitely play an evil route with sidestep. hopefully soon, i started replaying Baldur's Gate again and the Hyperfixation is. very strong.

unfortunately naming pets with human names seems to start to be a tradition with my friends. we already have a cat in the group named Mike (he truly is the definition of no thoughts, head empty. i love my furry nephew so much). some other friends recently rescued a stray kitty and named her Maia (which we all know several people with that name). the other pets that are relatively close to the group are either named after food, or have very literal cat and dog names (my aunt got a cat and she named him Motan. which is just "male cat" in romanian. truly like naming your cat Cat)

thank u for being so indulging lol <3 it's been fun to rant with someone on this hellsite again 🖤🖤🖤

[imagine--if]

Omg imagine soft!yandere Eddie first meets the reader when he saves her from muggers in his Riddler get-up. The reader passes out bc the muggers drugged her so she wakes up in Eddie's apartment curled up on his lap and he's gently running his fingers through her hair while humming.

A/N: Hell yea, he’s so protective, I feel like a relationship with soft yandere Eddie would be love at first sight 😍

Pairing: Dano!Riddler x reader (The Batman 2022)

Warnings: Soft!Yandere Riddler, mentions of violence and drugs, obsessive loving 💚

Words: 1199

If you hadn't gone out so late in the first place, you would never have been nearly killed... and would never have ended up at the Riddler's apartment.

Thugs infest the streets of Gotham, particularly at night, spray painting and attacking and stealing, before that bat signal is up in the air. It wasn't lighting up a circle of the darkening sky when you were grabbed and yanked into an alley, a few minutes away from being some muggers' new toy. Your yelp of pain and shock had been muffled behind a gloved hand as one of the thugs pierced your skin with a syringe of some sort, and your vision began swimming as you struggled to keep the evening in focus, the cackles of the group dying in and out.

The cackles came to an abrupt stop when they were hit.

You didn't see much, but you didn't really need to. You heard the cracks, saw the crimson drips, heard the heavy, shuddering breaths replace the previous mocking laughter. You had to stay awake, you had to... but the world was fading to black around you, and your legs threatened to give way as you leaned against a wall for support.

The figure amongst the bodies was suddenly at your side, their arms slipping under your back and hooking underneath your legs, picking you up and holding you close to their chest. You tried to struggle, unaware of who it was - probably another thug rivalling against the now dead ones.

"Ssh, ssh, ssh," the man hushed from under some sort of mask, and with a sigh, you let yourself finally go limp in his careful hold. "That's it..."

You wake up groggily, a dull ache in the back of your head. You blink as your eyes adjust to the mild light of the early morning, partially closed off by blinds hanging over the window.

You frown in confusion as you took in your surroundings. You're in someone's apartment - it sure as hell isn't yours - that looks pretty cluttered, with hundreds of books stuffed in bookcases and a long length of dark green material pinned up on the wall, a large white question mark painted over it.

Well, wherever you are, you need to get out before-

As if on cue, a masked individual appears at the door, and your breath catches in your throat as you quickly push yourself upright in awareness. Your head throbs in protest, and the man's eyes widen from behind his clear-framed glasses, hurrying into the room and taking ahold of your shoulders gently.

"No, no, don't do that," he tells you softly, easing you down until you're lying back on the bed, "take it slowly, angel, okay?"

You let out a long breath, trying and failing to understand what's going on.

"You shouldn't have lasting damage," he continues, sitting beside you and stroking your hair away from your face. "That scum didn't know what they were injecting. It was a weak sedative, no lasting effects. You're going to be just fine, sweet girl."

You nod slowly, recognising the mask and the symbol now you've properly come to.

"You're the Riddler."

"You know who I am?" He's almost giggling with excitement, his smile reaching his eyes behind his mask. "That's wonderful! Then you know that all I want to do is protect you... and love you..."

Your eyes go round at the last comment. "But... you don't know who I am."

"I know some things," he admits, "I can find out a lot of things, but I'd much rather it be you telling me. And it can be! We have all the time in the world."

You can barely process what's happening here. How it's gone from the Riddler happening to come across you and those thugs, then him potentially saving your life, to waking up in his apartment to straight out love confessions. He looks so hopeful too, you can tell.

Well. He did save your life. And, being totally honest, you aren't against the Riddler at all. You hate people like the ones you were grabbed by, and life would be a whole lot better without them.

So who are you to say no just yet?

"Um... okay," you breathe, still in a slight daze, and the Riddler smiles at you fondly, his ungloved hands brushing against your forehead.

"Does your head hurt as one of the minor side effects?" He questions you worriedly. "I'll get you some painkillers and water, if you like."

You muster up a small smile and nod, and then the Riddler's up, leaving the room for a minute to get them. You sit up, slower this time, and take a good look around the room, brows twitching in interest as your gaze glides over books of 'Renewal' and scrap papers scribbled all over with squiggles and cyphers.

The Riddler comes back and hands you the tablet and water, and you take them thankfully as his hands linger around his mask.

"I think I might take this off," He says hesitantly, "though I really shouldn't. But you won't know who I am anyway. And I trust you not to say anything."

You nod, deciding to trust him too, killer or not, in the circumstances. "No, I... I won't."

That settles it for him, and the Riddler removes his glasses before tugging off the mask and clingwrap covering his hair. Then the glasses are back on, and you stare in surprise and curiosity at the brown-haired and green-eyed man beside you, his expression a little anxious now he's exposed.

But you smile at him encouragingly, putting the water down on the table next to the bed. "Hi."

A dopey, lovestruck smile makes its way to his lips. "Hi. I'm Edward."

You respond with your name, and he repeats it thoughtfully, his smile widening at the sound of it. "Are you feeling okay now, angel?"

"Yeah, I think so."

Edward doesn't seem that convinced, and sits on the bed next to you, his arms encircling your waist as he pulls you up and onto his lap. Your cheeks heat up at the action, and Edward giggles under his breath, holding you tightly to his chest as if you've been together for months. His hair tickles your neck as he buries his face in your neck, rocking you soothingly in his embrace. You let yourself relax into it, and smile softly at the odd, fast-paced intimacy, almost laughing as you think about how unusual this all is.

Edward hums a tune contently as one hand strokes your side and the other plays with your hair. It sounds like Ave Maria, an old church song, and you listen quietly, your head resting against his chest and the deep green, thick cotton fabric of his hoodie.

You can feel yourself grow tired again, and settle in his comforting hold as your breathing evens out slowly. Edward seems to notice, and he smiles, pressing a kiss to your forehead as the hand in your hair strokes your cheek.

"Good girl... just sleep," he coos, the hand at your side pressing you further into him. "I'll be here. I love you..."

And so you do.

Taglist:

@greenxtea0 @moonwritesblog @lilyevans1 @httpsunflowers @hxney-lemcn @confusedchildsstuff @phantomofthecathedral @sugahbabieexo @bokksieu @skateb0red @wilburrrsworld @philiasoul @darthcringe @felicityofbakerstreet @bloodypantomime @deadlights-darling @tianotfound @mortem-muse @ireadandream @tinyryder @kpopgirlbtssvt @truecobblepot @jessicainhell

[ktmarison]

the  velocipastor  sentence  starters.

'  though  we  all  suffer,  it  is  the  righteous  who  will  persevere.  '

'  to  believe  in  god  is  the  greatest  gift  any  of  us  can  have.  '

'  so  your  parents  died.  that's  what  parents  do.  they  die  on  you.  '

'  just  know  that  god  has  a  plane  for  us  all.  everything  happens  for  a  reason.  '

'  i'm  starting  to  question  my  faith.  '

'  go  where  you  think  god  will  not  follow.  if  you  find  him  there,  then  you'll  know  he  is  within  you.  '

'  it's  no  wonder  this  haunts  your  dreams.  '

'  here's  food  if  you're  hungry.  '

'  i  took  a  vow  of  poverty,  i  have  no  material  possessions.  '

'  you're  a  born  angel,  i  know  it.  '

'  you're  swimming  in  bitches.  '

'  last  night  was  amazing.  '

'  let  me  be  fair  in  saying  this  can  never  happen  again.  '

'  honesty,  it  never  should  have  happened  at  all.  '

'  i  remember  some  sort  of  nightmare,  a  lust  for  the  flesh.  '

'  i  don't  believe  you.  dinosaurs  never  existed,  and  even  if  they  did,  i  don't  turn  into  one.  '

'  i  can  show  you  the  body.  '

'  firstly,  i'm  a  hooker,  and  i  did  not  want  to  be  arrested.  '

'  you  ate  him  !  '

'  it  might  sound  strange,  but  i  don't  think  this  has  to  be  a  bad  thing.  '

'  touch  not  thy  sinning  hands  !  '

'  you  saved  me  !  you  saved  me  !  my  life,  all  of  it  !  '

'  this  is  the  most  priestly  thing  you  have  ever  done.  '

'  you  guys  talk  all  the  time  about  helping  people,  this  might  actually  be  the  first  time  in  your  life  that  you  can.  '

'  you  think  i  like  turning  tricks  to  pay  for  college  ?  '

'  there's  surprisingly  little  demand  for  hooker-doctor-lawyers.  '

'  this  madness  must  stop.  '

'  how  long  has  it  been  since  your  last  confession  ?  '

'  i  smoke  where  the  fuck  i  want  because  my  life  is  on  fire.  '

'  i  stole  candy  from  this  baby,  then  i  threw  the  baby  in  the  river,  so  it  couldn't  snitch,  obviously.  '

'  i  pimp  bitches.  i  do  drugs,  sell  drugs,  murder  people.  you  name  it,  i've  done  it,  padre.  '

'  it  kinda  gave  me  a  hard  on.  add  that  to  the  confession  too.  '

'  why  did  you  kill  them  ?  '

'  we're  the  only  ones  that  can  know  about  this.  '

'  i  don't  know  much  about  god.  '

'  i  don't  know  much  about  dinosaurs.  '

'  have  you  forgotten  your  vow  of  chastity  ?  '

'  nothing  is  impossible  where  the  lord  is  concerned.  leviticus  24:24.  '

'  i  don't  need  an  exorcism  !  '

'  i  can  rid  the  world  of  this  scum  with  my  bare  hands,  can't  you  see  ?  '

'  i  might  be  on  a  mission  from  god  himself.  '

'  that's  insane.  god  does  not  want  people  dead.  '

'  oh,  i  think  god  wants  a  lot  of  people  dead.  '

'  i  had  parents  once.  '

'  we're  happy  with  your  life  decisions.  '

'  becoming  a  priest  is  a  big  decision.  you  really  think  it's  for  you  ?  '

'  we'll  pick  you  up  after  priest  college.  '

'  what  the  church  can  tell  us  can  only  extend  so  far.  '

'  she's  all  i'm  fighting  for.  '

'  when  we  get  out  here,  i  think  i'll  settle  down  and  finally  start  that  family.  '

'  you  could  have  five  kids  or  eleven  kids  !  and  i  want  you  to  spend  fifteen  minutes  a  day  with  each  of  them.  and  i  want  you  to  name  one  of  them  after  me.  '

'  war  is  war  and  war  is  hell  and  hell  never  changes.  '

'  now  the  hounds  of  hell  are  truly  lose.  what  have  i  done  ?  '

'  i  think  that'll  overwhelm  and  confuse  him.  '

'  i  think  i  killed  him.  '  

'  i  don't  wanna  hurt  people.  i  was  put  here  to  do  good.  i  was  put  here  to  help  people.  '  

'  i'm  still  bleeding.  '  

'  it's  nearly  four  times  as  addictive  as  standard  cocaine.  '  

'  what  does  drug  smuggling  have  to  do  with  christianity  ?  '  

'  the  christian  faith  is  what  i  believe  with  all  my  heart,  but  you  cannot  forcibly  convert  the  unwilling,  that's  madness.  that's  inhuman.  '  

'  you're  not  the  only  one  who  answered  the  call  of  god,  brother.  '  

'  you  were  always  laughing.  what  was  so  funny  ?  '  

'  i'm  going  to  be  the  one  laughing  when  i  kill  you.  '  

'  your  ancestors  are  my  ancestors.  '  

'  i  need  you.  '  

'  just  have  a  little  faith.  '  

'  i  believe  in  a  higher  power,  but  praying  right  now  will  never  save  your  life.  '  

'  you  will  rise,  and  live  forever  in  paradise.  '  

'  she's  expected  to  make  a  full  recovery.  '  

'  what  are  you  gonna  do  next  ?  '

[midnight-on-pluto]

The others finding your hickeys

Summary: The rest of class 1-A finding your hickeys the night after a heated make out of whatever you want.

Genre: Fluff, suggestive

Warnings: mentions of hickeys, female presenting, more suggestive in Bakugo, Todoroki, and slightly in Kirishima’s.

A/N: I have never written some suggestive content or smut before but tbh this is not super smutty lol 😽✌️

✄——————————————————————

𓆝 Midoriya had left some nasty bruises the earlier night. You, of course, never realized the red and purple marks that had been sucked into your skin. Tiredly, you stripped your clothes in the change room, only to reveal the bruises to all the other girls. “Holy shit, Y/N!” Mina chuckled, eyes wide. It wasn’t long before all the girls were admiring your body, searching for all the unseen marks. Mina poked them, making your cheeks burn a bright red every time her finger made contact with your skin. “Okay! Okay! Enough,” you shoved their hands away and quickly dressed yourself. Mina chuckled as you hurried out of the room, head hanging high as you tried to maintain your remaining pride. The next time you saw Midoriya, you made sure to give him a small smack on the arm, causing him to become confused before having Kaminari and Mina both tease him. Glad I don’t have to deal with that, you smirked as the thought crossed your mind.

𓆝 Todoroki had completely covered your chest in marks, forgetting that you’d have to change into your hero costume tomorrow. As you walked in, knowing what was going to happen, you silently cursed Shoto under your breath. After some contemplation, you finally decided to rip the shirt off to get this over with. Uraraka’s eyes widened as she saw your chest. “Oh my god, are you okay?” She questioned, coming close to inspect. You shoved her away a little, “shush it’s okay, Todoroki just went a little crazy yesterday that’s all please don’t make a big deal of it.” All the girls crowded, looking at the mark before you tugged your uniform on quickly. After everyone was dressed and done teasing, you walked out. You made sure to give Todoroki a small glare as you saw him, he only gave you an innocent, cocky smile.

𓆝 Iida wasn’t one to give you lots of hickeys so when you finally felt him sucking lightly on your neck the previous night you weren’t quick to stop him. As you stood in the mirror that morning instant regret flooded your emotions as you saw where he’d left it. Right at the front of your neck, very noticeable, and very dark. There was no way you could hide that with some silly make up. Sighing, you walked out of your room and mentally prepared yourself for the backlash. As soon as you walked into the crowd of 1-A, everyone noticed. “Holy shit!” Kaminari chuckled. “Did Iida do that?” You groaned, leaning on Uraraka as she chuckled. “It is….” You mumbled out. You let the others tease Iida, mentioning how professional and uptight he was, but (as Kaminari put it) “you were getting more action then anyone else!”

𓆝 Bakugo had made sure to give you lots of marks always. It wasn’t new to most of 1-A to see you with small, dark, marks on the small of your neck or on your collarbones while changing. But the soft insides of your thighs? That was new. Kaminari was first to notice when your skirt rid up, showing off the marks scattering the area. “Holy! Did Bakugo make those?” He was pointing to your thighs now. There was no saving him, Bakugo glared, then blew him out of the room. “WHY WERE YOU LOOKING, YOU SCUM!!” Was all you could hear before Bakugo was running out after a blasted Denki. You just smiled and chuckled at the marks, the ones Bakugo strategically placed there to catch Denki’s wandering eyes. They simply said, she’s mine, to anyone who saw them.

𓆝 Kirishima was new to the whole hickeys thing. He’d first found it when you started softly sucking on his neck one night while you two watched a movie. After that he was hooked, making sure to return your little bruises one night, the night before training. You sucked in a breath as you walked into the changing room and took your clothing off. Jirou was the first to see, eyes widening. “Y/N, what’s that?” She asked teasingly. You looked down to your chest and stomach, shrugging. “Hickeys,” you replied nonchalantly. All the girls stared in awe as you continued changing and walked out to meet up with your red haired boyfriend, who just smirked as he watched you walk out.

𓆝 Denki had never touched a woman other than you and he was needy for any kind of friction. So just as soon as you sat down he immediately started sucking your skin. The next day you were practically a walking sign that said “this belongs to Kaminari Denki,” not like you were complaining. When you walked out into the crowd of students, Denki was the one to present his artwork, smiling proudly as the rest of 1-A stared, disgusted. “You didn’t need to point it out,” Bakugo scoffed as the rest of the class excused his behaviour and you flicked his head.

𓆝 Shinsou wasn’t one to show off your sexual activities. He thinks that what you do only belongs to you and him, but he just couldn’t help leaving a small hickey on your neck last night. As soon as everyone pointed it out, teasing you and Shinsou he literally just stood there like 😐. Boy did not care, he literally just let Kaminari tease tf out of him then asked “are you done?”

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[myafterlifeisbetterthenyours]

If you’re not too overwhelmed, I’m curious to know what Angel dating an Imp s/o would be like? He’s the top pornstar in Hell, and dating someone as lowly as an Imp will sure to have consequences.

Angel Dust with an Imp S/O.

Youd met on the job.

NOT. LIKE. THAT! Get your mind out of the gutter.

You were a janitor at the porn studio and a damned good one at that.

You kept the place spotless and in return you were played fairl wage.

It would be after one of Angel's "Shows", when you coming in to clean it up.

By this point such public sex didn't faze you, working in a porn studio did that, you just calmly going about your job.

Angel liked to hang about the studio, after cleaning up at least, which made sense as everyone tended to bugger off when the cleaning crew arrived and you didn't really mind him hanging about.

Your 'relationship' began with you giving him a cigarette, the two of you having a pretty funny back and forth, you managing to make the spider laugh more then once, raising his mood.

After that the spider offered to release some stress~

But was surprised when you politely refused, telling him he'd already been through enough that day. The whole thing just making him more interested in you.

This started a trend between the two of you, often hanging out after a shoot. You'd even let him hide in your chambers when Valentino was in a bad mood.

As such the two of you became close, going so far as to call you his 'favourite 'lil Imp' which did manage to make you blush once or twice.

Angel would offer to "relieve some stress~" here and there, Angel still being his flirtatious self.

But you always politely refused, telling him that despite working at a porn studio, you didn't do casual hookups. Something that always stumped the spider.

He just didn't understand someone not wanting to sleep with him, I mean come on, he's The Angel Dust, Who didn't want to sleep with him.

Despite this, your relationship had gotten very close, you coming to be one of his few confidants, the spider always able to come too you with a problem. You doing whatever you could to help.

Your relationship actually started one night after Angel had been smacked around by Valentino, the overlord being pissed at him for failing him in some way or another. Youd found him in your quarters, the spider a sobbing mess.

Youd instantly went into action, holding him close and consoling him.

Once he'd calmed down, you took him back to your place, wanting to get him somewhere safe for the night.

Thanks to your decent pay, you had a nice place, especially for an Imp.

As you patched him up, caring for him, Angel asked why you were so nice to him, to which you responded by asking what he meant.

Angel kinda snapped, already emotional he had little impulse control. He yelled, wanting to know why you were so good, why you didn't take advantage of him like everyone, why you were so different?!

You gently cupped his cheek, telling him it was because you genuinely cared for him.

You saw how he was used or abused by everyone. And especially for an Imp like you, you knew exactly what it was like to be treated like scum.

So you wanted to help him, you wanted to give him a little bit of warmth and love because he was nice and deserved a bit of kindness from at least one person, even if That was from some nobody Imp.

By the end, the spider was in tears, reaching out he pulled you into his chest, holding you for a long moment before reaching down and giving you a deep kiss.

That simple act seemed to ignite something in both of you. Your kissing quickly becoming ravenous, the both of you desperate to have as much contact as possible, quickly shedding your clothes.

You stopped for just a moment, you asking if the spider truly wanted this, to which he just kissed you.

You spent the night together, both of you entrapped in pleasure. But you weren't like all the others, you were gentle. You treated him delicately, like he were some precious item.

Needless to say, this was a very new sensation for the spider.

He was so used to being treated like meat, like something you just fuck. But you actually cared for his pleasure as much as your own.

The next morning was... awkward. Neither of you knowing what happened next. But you quickly warmed up to each other, knowing you this was more then a fling.

It would have been unheard of for him to have anything close to be in a real relationship, with rules and commitments and all that.

But with you, it felt right, like you belonged together.

And so that's what you did. You agreed you wanted to be a couple.

But you didn't want him working for Valentino anymore, the both of you agreeing you needed to get out of there.

So you played along for now, the two of you hiding your relationship.

That didn't last long.

You hand was forced when Valentino basically assaulting him in front of everyone.

And when Angel began resisting, releasing a scream, you snapped. Drawing a pistol and staring the overlord down.

It was a veritable David and Goliath, something from scripture. An Imp staring down an overlord.

But you didn't flinch, you got Angel away from him and you both bolted.

You ran to the only person you could trust, Cherri Bomb, Angels only other friend.

She put you up for a while, promising to keep you safe from Valentino.

Aparently your little stare down got some real attention. An Imp staring down Valentino and getting away alive. And on top of that, he lost his prize pet was saved by an Imp of all demons.

All of this had utterly humiliated Valentino.

It took a long time, and a lot of fighting, the two of you having to basically fight a war for survival.

Luckily Cherri had your back and on top of that, your little humiliation of Valentino made him seem weak, so it didn't take much to convince others to seize on the opportunity, attacking Valentino as well.

It took over a year, and a brutal year it was. But but once it was done, you were free.

Free to be together and that's just what you did. You went where you wanted, when you wanted.

And always together.

You became inseperable, you and Angel were madly in love.

Though you may have been with Angel, and Angel was a star, you were still an Imp and people were sure to remind you off it.

Angel never let that shit slide, of course. Easily offing any fucker who disrespected you. Always doing so without hesitation.

You were just as, if not more ruthless in defending Angel's honour.

You'd easily tear someone from the knees up for him, for so much as insulting your love.

As for your status as an Imp. Well, you kind of became a celebrity amongst Imps and Hellbornes.

I mean come on, not only did you manage to fight off an Overlord but your also with the most famous porn star in Hell.

Imps would literally kill to be you.

Buy you didn't care about the stardom, or the clout or any of that. You had Angel, and Angel had you. You didn't need anything more then your giant effeminate Love Spider.

[miyagihawk]

why’d you only call me when you’re high? pt. 2 | eli “hawk” moskowitz x reader

part one

here’s part 2 by popular demand! based off the arctic monkeys song and amazing request by @deadbeatharlz <3 thank you guys for the support on part 1 im so happy you liked it :)

warnings: self harming behavior, LOTS of swearing, alcohol and drug abuse, sooo so angstyyyy buckle up

summary: it’s been 3 months since your last night with hawk, and you haven’t been yourself.

word count: 3,062



The past 3 months have been rough. Maybe the worst you’ve ever been. You fell into the deep hole that you dug yourself. The hole of loving Hawk Moskowitz.

You never thought you’d be one of those people who let unrequited love devastate their whole being. In fact you always thought the whole heartbreak thing was pathetic and melodramatic. Until it happened to you.

You hate yourself for letting him have this effect on you. But there’s a pestering voice in the back of your mind that reminds you: it’s all your fault. He didn’t ask you to love him. It’s just easier to blame him for your downfall.

Parties, drugs, alcohol. Sex with people you don’t even know. High on the same drug that compelled him to call you in the night.

You’ve become so desperate to forget him that you ruined yourself. It hurts your pride to be the whiny heartbroken girl who let a stupid boy’s rejection shatter her self worth. But the hole is too deep and there’s no hope trying to grasp onto the dirt walls to get out.

The worst part of it is that he sees it all. At school, (if you even go) he looks at you like the scum of the earth as he passes by with his little karate gang. When you end up at the same party, he’ll have a disgusted expression on his face and leave as if he can’t bare to look at you. 

Tonight is one of those nights, and you watch him from across the backyard as he goofs around with his friends. He hasn’t noticed you yet, hence why he’s even still here and not on his way out the door to get away from you.

“If you stare at him any longer, I think he’ll shoot up into flames,” your best friend Robby hands you a cup, and you don’t hesitate before downing its unknown contents. The burn in your throat makes you hum with content.

“That’s the plan,” you take your eyes of off Hawk to look at Robby. You gesture to his own cup in his hand, “Are you gonna drink that?”

“Easy there, Y/N. We got here 5 minutes ago,” he warns, but holds out the drink towards you anyway. Robby’s always been worried about you and your habits, but he knows how you can be when you’re told no.

You swallow down the drink in a few seconds, ignoring his remark. “5 minutes? I can beat my record!” you cheer sarcastically, and start walking to the kitchen in search of a keg. Robby follows closely behind you, a wary look on his face.

The fuzzy feeling starts to take over your body as you throw back drink after drink. It’s the buzz you crave every second of every day because it just makes you feel so good. Everything is happier and your cares feel so far away. Hawk feels so far away.

You sit on the couch next to Robby in your dazed trance, drunkenly rambling to him about random things. He glares at anyone who comes near you and looks like they would take advantage of you in your state.

Robby really hates you like this, but he can’t help but feel protective over you. He’s not even a fan of parties; he really only goes to keep an eye on you. You’re grateful even though you act like you hate it when he babysits you.

“Heyyy pretty Y/N! Want some?” Yasmine approaches where you sit, a joint held between her fingers. Her eyes are drooped and she sways as she stands.

You reach out to take the blunt, but you feel Robby push your arm down. “You’re already drunk. That’s enough,” he says sternly, making you roll your eyes.

“I can do what I want, Dad,” you taunt, and take the joint from Yasmine. Smoke fills up your lungs, immediately giving you pleasure. Robby just shakes his head in disapproval as the air around him becomes hazy.

“I’m going to the bathroom. Stay here,” he orders, getting up from the couch.

You nod, but of course, you don’t listen. The sound of splashing from outside sets off a lightbulb above your head and you feel like you’re floating while you walk to the backyard.

Right as you step out of the house, you make eye contact with none other than Hawk. He gives you a distasteful look like always, before turning back to his group. Asshole.

You just scoff and stumble towards the pool, where a couple is making out and a few people are drunkenly playing with the water like little kids.

Reaching the edge of the pool’s rim, you let yourself fall in with a splash. You feel the pressure in your ears start to build as you sink to the bottom. Maybe it’s the fact that you’re cross faded, but being underwater feels like a world of bliss.

The loud music of the party is muted, creating a sense of serenity. The legs of the other people in the pool make you laugh to yourself, sending bubbles from your mouth to the surface. It’s glittery and pretty and you want to stay forever.

You don’t know how long you’re under there for, but you don’t notice your lungs running out of air. It just feels good to be alone for a second. Next thing you know, you feel your eyes start to droop closed; a strange peace overcoming your body.

A loud thrashing noise in the water makes you wake up with a gasp. You swallow too much water as you feel someone grab hold of your arm. It’s all a blur and you’re being pulled up to the surface, taking you away from the tranquil world you were just in.

The music is pounds against your ears again and the air is cold on your skin. You feel your body being laid down on the concrete of the poolside, but everything feels numb. You just feel sleepy and you want to close your eyes again.

“Y/N, hey, wake up. Wake up,” a voice makes your eyes shoot back open. Someone is looking down at you, with a hand shaking your shoulder. Your vision is somewhat blurry, but the mohawk gives it away. It’s him.

You suddenly become aware of the large amount of water in your lungs and you turn over to your side to cough it up. After you get it all out, you notice the people at the party looking at you with eyes of pity mixed with judgement.

“What the fuck were you doing? You could’ve died, are you fucking stupid?” Hawk curses, but even in your inebriated state you can hear a hint of worry in his voice.

You sit up to face him. He looks angry; his clothes and hair are as wet as yours.

Maybe it’s the lack of oxygen in your brain, or maybe it’s the marijuana and alcohol, but you just feel the urge to laugh. So you do. Like a complete maniac. The way he probably just saved your life like he cares is sickly comedic to you.

His face twists in confusion as you break out into a fit of giggles. “Are you serious? You’re fucking insane, Y/N,” he gets up, shaking his head at you. He gives a glare to the people staring, and they look away in fear.

You think he’s going to leave like usual, but he surprises you by grabbing your arm to pull you up. People whisper amongst themselves as he drags you through the backyard, going through a gate that leads to front of the house. You trip over your own feet, still feeling dizzy from almost drowning, but he just pulls you along.

“What are you doing?” you ask, tugging on your arm to try and release it from the tight grip he has on you. You’re both dripping chlorinated water, leaving a track of drops on the concrete below.

“You’re going home Y/N,” he says sternly. You two arrive at his car and he opens the passenger door. “Get in.”

“Hey!” a voice yells from the house and you both turn to see Robby rushing towards the car. He looks pissed, and now you remember him telling you to stay put. Shit.

“Robby I-”

“Don’t get in there with him Y/N,” he says, sending a death stare to the boy next to you.

“I’m taking her home, Keene, so back the fuck off. Get in Y/N,” Hawk snaps, clenching his fists.

You keep quiet, not wanting to add to the fire already starting. They loathe each other; if not because of the karate rivalry, then because of you. To Robby, Hawk broke your heart and made you spiral. To Hawk, Robby is the piece of shit who he thinks is your boyfriend, and he won’t admit it but he’s jealous.

“You’re not driving her, asshole. You’re probably as drunk as her,” Robby reaches to take your arm, but Hawk pulls you back.

“You don’t know shit about me, Keene. I’ve been sober for three months, so yeah, I will drive her,” Hawk picks you up like you’re a doll, placing you in the passenger seat and closing the door. You don’t resist, you just feel tired and your head starts to pound as if the mix of drugs in your system are punishing you. The window’s down, so you can still hear the two boys loud and clear.

I’ve been sober for three months, his voice echoes in your head.

“Oh so now you care so much about her? It’s your fault she’s like this!” Robby raises his voice even more, starting to move towards Hawk threateningly. You begin to feel scared that a physical fight might actually break out, but you don’t know what to do.

“I’m not the one who almost let her die a few minutes ago, am I? Just fuck off, we’re leaving,” Hawk dismisses him, walking around the car to the driver’s seat. You’re surprised by his self control to not throw a punch, especially with his reputation.

“Robby, it’s okay. I just want to go home. I’ll call you, alright?” you reach your hand out of the window in reassurance and he takes hold of it. Hawk clenches his jaw as he turns on the engine.

“Promise you’ll be careful? I’m sorry I left you,” Robby furrows his eyebrows in worry. When he came out of the bathroom, someone filled him in on what happened to you and he almost had a heart attack.

“Promise. And it’s my fault,” you hook your pinky with his, before the car pulls out of the curb and separates you from your best friend. He watches you guys drive away, an anxious expression etched on his face.

The whole situation has sobered you up pretty well, and now you’re left with a throbbing headache, wet clothes, and awkward tension. You hate it. Being sober. You miss the foggy feeling that prevents you from thinking too hard about things. But now you’re inches away from the boy who broke your heart, all by choice.

You don’t know why you agreed to go with him, but did you even have a choice? You’re confused by his actions. He acts like he hates you but he jumps in a pool for you. He yelled at you but he’s driving you home. It all makes you overthink and it causes your head to ache even more.

You hold your head in your hands to try and ease the pain as Hawk drives quietly.

“You good?” he breaks the silence. His voice is softer compared to how he talked to Robby minutes ago.

“Head hurts,” you mumble.

“What were you doing back there? If I didn’t get you out, you’d probably be in the hospital right now,” he says. You peek at him through your hands and his eyes are on the road.

“I don’t know,” you sigh. “It was just peaceful. I didn’t really even think about breathing.”

He scoffs. “Well that’s just fucking stupid. You’re lucky I noticed you were under for so long.”

“Well thanks,” you reply quietly, feeling like a little kid being scolded.

There’s a couple beats of silence before he speaks, “What happened to you?”

The question makes you sit up and look over at him. “What are you talking about?”

“The old Y/N wouldn’t even touch a drink. You’re different,” Hawk taps his finger on the wheel in thought. His icy blue eyes quickly glance at your confused look before returning to the road.

“You happened, Hawk.” You pinch your temples in frustration. Anger starts to bubble up in your stomach at his criticism. At the mention of “old you”.

“I didn’t do this to you,” he shakes his head, as if trying to convince himself of his own words.

“You did,” you raise your voice, making him flinch. “You know it.”

“What, because I stopped sleeping with you? I didn’t make you fall in love with me, Y/N. You did that to yourself,” he spits, sending a knife to your heart and making you see red.

“You knew I loved you way before I said it. But you still stringed me along, didn’t you? You knew I would pick up everytime you called. You knew that I would let you into my bed because I was the girl who loved you no matter how fucking shitty you were!” you fire back, vomiting out words that you’ve wanted to say for months. The alcohol in your system makes you bolder than usual, but you’re grateful for it.

He’s at a loss for words at your outburst so you continue, “I didn’t ask for this Hawk. Loving you. I’m sorry that I’m such a burden and that you hate me so much that you can’t stand being in the same room as me. But please just answer me this and I’ll leave you alone forever. I’ll leave when we show up at the same party and I’ll even hide in the halls so you don’t have to see my face.”

You pause, choking on your words. You didn’t even realize that the car is already parked in front of your house and your clothes are halfway dry.

“Why don’t you love me?” your voice cracks as you spit out the question that has caused you to throw yourself away. The question with an answer that could dissipate your self worth in a mere moment.

Hawk finally looks into your glassy eyes with shock. He could’ve never anticipated what you asked him and his mouth runs dry.

“I told you, I- I don’t deserve someone like you loving me,” he swallows, but you shake your head.

“That’s not what I asked.”

He blinks slowly, trying to come up with an excuse. Any excuse, to avoid telling you the truth. You can see the inner conflict on his face, the panicked speed of his running thoughts.

“You should go home, Y/N,” he deflects, turning away from you. Putting on his mask to keep you from reading him like a book.

“I’m not going until you tell me,” you demand.

“Just get out of the car, fuck!” Hawk yells, slamming his hands down on the steering wheel. It makes you jump a little, but you’re too angry to fear the flames in his eyes.

“Why can’t you just tell me!” you fire back. “You came to me almost every night, so why do I feel something that you don’t? Is it me? Is there something wrong with me?”

“What do you want me to fucking say Y/N! That I do love you? Fucking fine. I love you. Is that what you wanted to hear? Just get out.”

I love you.

The same words you said that made him leave.

“You don’t even mean that,” you blink back your tears.

His voice is softer now, more gentle. “If I didn’t mean it then I wouldn’t have said it.”

“You said you needed me and then you left me,” your voice shakes and you hate how pathetic you sound.

“I-I didn’t leave you,” he stammers before taking a deep breath. “I left because you wanted something more than I could give you. I would’ve felt like a selfish asshole if we became more than just sex, Y/N. You deserve someone like Keene and yeah he’s a pussy but he’s good. Better than me.”

It feels like every piece in the puzzle is being put together. Everything makes sense. He does love you, but he was just afraid. He can’t be near you because it hurts too much to see someone he can’t have. Somehow, you can’t find the anger you’ve held against him for these past months; you just understand him now.

“I’m sorry, alright? For everything. For treating your feelings like shit. All of it.”

You swallow, thinking about his words. It all feels too much and the truth is now looking you in the eye, demanding an answer. You love him, but he dropped your heart on the floor for you to pick up every shard. Is one sorry going to magically fix everything?

“I- I don’t know what to say,” you admit, and he nods in understanding.

“You don’t have to say anything. Let’s just... move on. And you get better... I hate seeing you like this,” Hawk scans your red eyes and dilated pupils. “We’ll get to a better place and you and me, we’ll be good.”

It’s bittersweet, but he’s right. Being together now just because he loves you back would be a huge jump that would only end in broken hearts and toxic cycles. It would be foolish. As much as you want him, the only person who can fix you is yourself.

So it’s a meet up at the top of the mountain, when you’ve both made the journey from opposite sides.

“A better place,” you reiterate, before placing a light kiss to his cheek and leaving the car with a new sense of closure.

a/n: that was longer than i planned and a freaking roller coaster!!!!!!! im not sure if there should be a part 3? lmk what you think maybe it’ll just be short. but hehe i added robby into the mix he was so cute. ty for reading!

taglist for people who wanted part 2 :) ty friends for the support <3 @littlered6307 @deadbeatharlz @spiderman-berries @axastasiasstuff @r0-xie @estupidteen @hawkwhore @idkwhatishouldput4

[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

[parker-razor]

show me, feel me, teach me - ch. 4

previous // next

series masterlist!

female!reader x mando

word count: 2.8k

series summary: during a drinking game, you let slip that you don’t know much about sex. mando offers to show you what you’ve been missing, and you happily accept.

warnings: smut that’s so filthy it’s insane (extended warnings under the cut), lotssss of fluff, mentions of insecurities

a/n: today’s the first day i didn’t have to work in awhile and i had to write some more... this chapter in particular made me all blushy so lemme grab my vibrator real quick

extended warnings: somnophilia, oral (m and f receiving), thigh riding, grinding, cum eating, masturbation, multiple orgasms

*****

You watched Mando as he hauled the heavy, limp bounty up the ramp of the ship. You had offered to help, but Mando, ever the gentleman, refused. So, you and the kid watched him drag the lifeless body into the Crest, and into carbonite.

Apparently, Mando had gotten so excited to see you when he made it back to the ship last night that he abandoned the body at the foot of the ship and scurried inside and into your quarters. It wasn’t like the body was going anywhere, Mando had argued. He just needed to see you.

After your little… chat over the comm, Mando was still rearing to be with you. As soon as you had fallen asleep at the end of your call, he jumped to his feet and continued on his hunt at a speed he had yet to hunt at. He had thought that after getting some of his drive for you out of his system that he could rest for a while before he kept hunting. But just the opposite happened; hearing your voice, your moans, the way your words hit him right in the chest… Maker he just had to get back to you.

He couldn’t help himself when he saw you splayed out on your bed. Your tank top was almost see through, and you only had a pair of underwear on as bottoms. He just needed a taste.

After he quietly stripped his armor and clothes off him, he gently pulled your underwear down to your knees and knelt down on the bed. He must’ve not smelled too great after days of hunting, but he was too drunk on your presence to be self-conscious.

He couldn’t stop himself from delving between your thighs, making out with your dripping cunt. It must have still been wet from your earlier orgasm, or maybe you were dreaming of him. Maker, he hoped you were.

You were asleep, so it didn’t totally matter if he tasted you with any technique or rhythm. Flicking your clit with no real purpose other than to have your taste in his mouth, to have his tongue flooded with your essence. His cock hardened at an ungodly rate, and he couldn’t help but start stroking himself fast. He didn’t care about his pleasure, or frankly your pleasure; he just wanted to taste you.

All the sudden, he heard you speak up, and you were coming into his mouth with a vengeance, and he came all over his hand with you.

He didn’t want to bother you too much, so he figured one orgasm was enough (for now). He crawled up to you, kissing your shoulders and your neck and your cheeks. You had no doubt fallen back to sleep by then, and Mando was overwhelmed with sleep as well. He drifted off with his head rested on your chest, your hands carded through his curls as his breathing slowed.

Mando had never been with a woman like he had been with you. Sure, he hadn’t technically been with you in the biblical sense just yet, but this was so different. He had had one-night stands when he had time to spare on a hunt, some girl in a bar who gawked at his armor who he figured would be willing to let him get his frustrations out. A grateful damsel he saved, who was coincidentally being attacked by the bounty he was tracking. Not many women, but enough to know just what he was doing and just how to make someone writhe in pleasure.

But you… you were radiant.

Your beauty was unconventional; your skin rolled around your waist, your stomach hung over just a little with stretch marks littering your inner thighs and hips. When you slept, your neck folded into little rolls. But Mando adored all of it. Not in a patronizing way, but because you were truly just gorgeous. Not despite of your flaws, but because of them. They weren’t flaws to Mando, they were just what made you more and more perfect.

Many of the women he had been with exaggerated their pleasure. It wasn’t fake, just turned up a bit because they figured it would make Mando more confident. Mando hated that, when women would be dramatic when displaying their pleasure. You never did that, though. Your sounds were… primal. Like you were trying to hold them in, but you felt so good that you couldn’t help it. They were involuntary grunts, yells, and gasps. Just the memory of it made Mando hard under his armor.

Not to mention, you had never felt this way before. You didn’t know that there was an expectation for women to be loud and exaggerated in bed. The sounds you made were all you, and that is what got to Mando most.

Mando was pulled out of his daydreams as you approached him, feeling around his arms and shoulders.

“Do you have any cuts? What do you need treated? We don’t have a ton of bacta kits left, but if you really need it then-“

“I’m okay, I’m not hurt. Just a little bruised. All I want is some food and to hang out with you and the kid.”

You and Mando had grown accustomed to eating or drinking back-to-back since the drinking game that started all of this. It was better than Mando locking himself away in his quarters; he hadn’t shared a meal with someone in years. But being able to chat with you and enjoy his food was a luxury.

“What did this guy do?” you asked as you munched on some bread and cheese.

“No clue. They never really tell me, which I kinda get. A lot of these guys are scum bags, they should be ashamed,” Mando responded, taking a sip of water.

“Did this one put up a fight?”

“At first, but then he realized he couldn’t beat me.” You shivered for a moment, thinking about Mando’s strength. You knew the armor added another layer to make him seem bigger and stronger, but even without it he was built. He didn’t have a six-pack, he wasn’t totally shredded, but Maker, was he strong. His arms, his chest, his broad fucking shoulders, they made you needy. You had seen him knock out a man in one punch, some guy who had grabbed your ass at a bar. You didn’t know at the time why you felt an ache between your legs when you saw that, but now you do after your lessons.

After you had both eaten and fed Grogu, Mando decided it was time to depart to catch his second bounty. You grabbed any gear still lingering outside the ship, secured any loose weapons, and in no time Mando was preparing to take off. You were off to Naboo this time, a planet you had been dying to visit. Almost all of the planets Mando had taken you to were either barren or covered in buildings, large urban areas. Naboo was green, apparently, with beautiful buildings and cascading waterfalls. You couldn’t wait.

Mando sat in the pilot’s chair as you sat behind him in the passenger’s seat. Grogu, still exhausted from the three-day strike on sleep, snoozed in his enclosed pram in the captain’s quarters. So it was just you and Mando…

It was a bumpy takeoff; although Mando was a great pilot, the Crest wasn’t exactly shiny and new. The ship left Tattoine’s atmosphere, and after a few minutes of cruising in empty space, Mando put the ship into hyperspace.

It was quiet as Mando hit some random buttons and you watched the stars fly by you at an insane speed. You thought about last night, not remembering much other than coming hard. Were you dreaming? You remember waking to Mando’s arms around your waist and his face buried in your chest, but everything during the night was a blur.

“When… when you came back last night, did you fall right to sleep? Or did you-“

“Eat your pussy? Yeah, I just wanted to taste you. I hope that’s okay.” You gulped, slightly shocked at Mando’s bluntness. You were only really used to hearing him talk dirty while in the act, not him bringing it up so casually. You squirmed a bit in your seat, causing Mando to turn back to look at you.

“What, you like that? You like that I couldn’t wait for you to wake up before I tasted your cum? Yeah, I bet you do, pretty girl,” he rasped, making you whine and your legs clench together.

“Why don’t you come sit?”

“I’m… already sitting, Mando.”

“No, come sit over here, with me. On me.” Stars.

You rose from your seat as Mando turned his chair to face you so you’d have room to sit without the control panel in the way. His legs spread, and he sat back in his chair with his arms resting on his knees. Kriff, he looked so fucking good.

You weren’t sure how Mando wanted you to sit on him, so you straddled one of his thighs, gasping as the hard metal plate met your core.

“Oh, is that what you want, sweet thing? You wanna sit on my thigh?”

“Yeah Mando, can I please?”

“Of course, baby, just wasn’t expecting you to sit on me like that.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling yourself in closer to him. As you moved closer, you couldn’t ignore the way it felt when you rubbed yourself on his armored thigh. It felt fucking good, the same friction you felt when Mando would use his fingers on you. Out of instinct, you couldn’t help but do it again.

“Oh fuck, is my good girl gonna grind on my thigh? Does that feel good?” You whined, Mando’s hands grasping your hips to encourage your movements. “Go ahead, baby, get yourself off on me. Take what’s yours.”

“M-Mando… feels s-so good…” Your hips sped up as the friction continued to nurse the ache growing in your cunt.

“Want it to feel better, honey? Here, let me show you,” Mando groaned, lifting you so you were planted not on his thigh, but directly over his crotch. He wasn’t wearing a codpiece, you didn’t expect him to when all he was doing was flying. So you gasped when you felt his hard cock rub up against you cunt.

“Oh, s-stars, Mando, I like this a lot…”

“Yeah? You like feeling my cock rub on you? Go ahead, grind on it, make yourself feel good.” His grip on your hips were bruising as you ground your pussy hard onto his crotch. The head of his cock nudged itself right against your clit between your clothes, making your eyes cross and hands grasp at Mando’s shoulders.

“Oh, I bet that feels s-so good, pretty girl, it feels good for m-me too… Fuck, I can feel how wet you are, it’s seeping through my pants. Keep going, you’re doing so good for me.”

Your moans got louder and louder, sounding out as “uh uhs.” Your eyebrows creased together, and Mando grabbed your cheeks to tilt your eyes down towards his.

“Look at me, baby, let me see you when you cum. Let me look into your eyes. Maker, your p-pussy is so wet, I can feel it. Come on baby I know you wanna cum, go ahead and cum.” You were shouting now, your moans echoing in the cockpit. This was the closest the two of you had gotten to fucking, and the idea of Mando’s cock being so close to your cunt sent you over the edge.

Warmth flooded you, and your legs shook violently as you came. Your thighs clenched over and over around his hips, keeping your eyes right on his visor.

“Fuck, Mando, fuck fuck, Mando, Mando!”

“Yeah, that’s it, good girl. So f-fucking good for me.” As you came down, you noticed Mando was still hard. And you still wanted him.

“Can… Can I have you? In my mouth?”

“Shit, baby, you want me to cum in your mouth?”

“Please, Mando, want you to feel good. Want your cock down my throat.” You shakily climbed off his lap and knelt to the ground. Your hands trembled as they came up to his pants, tugging at the waistband until his cock sprung up against his armor. You looked at the thigh you had just been grinding on, and saw there was a wet spot staining his armor. It made you want to cum again.

“I’m not gonna last long baby, already so close,” Mando rasped out, his chest heaving up and down in anticipation.

“I don’t care, I just need you to tell me what to do.”

“Gladly, sweet girl. Start by licking the tip, yeah just like that.” You flicked the bead of precum leaking from Mando’s cock, his taste flooding your mouth. You swirled your tongue around the tip, eventually licking down his shaft. You had almost forgotten how big he was… almost.

“Fuck, you’re doing so good. Y-You want to put it in your mouth now? You got this, baby, take it nice and- oh f-fuck me.” Your actions interrupted Mando’s train of thought, his cock entering the warm wet of your mouth. You weren’t totally sure what to do from there; Mando had just said he wanted his cock in your mouth, so now what?

“Okay, baby, you know how you stroked my cock with your hand the other day? Just do the same with your mouth, and suck while you do it. G-gonna do so well for me, I know it.” You did as he said, and his reaction was instantaneous. He moaned out so loud you’d think the whole ship could hear it. It finally hit you that Mando’s cock was in your mouth, and stars if that didn’t make a new wave of wetness flood your inner thighs. You couldn’t stop yourself from pushing your hand down your pants, rubbing your clit like Mando taught you as you sucked on him.

“H-Holy shit, baby, are you touching yourself? You rubbing that little clit? Do I make you that wet, pretty one? F-Fuck you’re doing so good, feels so good. Y-You’re a natural…” His words made you moan around his cock, the vibrations making his hips buck up into your mouth. For a second he was worried he’d gone too far, until you pushed your head down even further.

“Fuck, such a g-good girl for me, g-gonna cum in your m-mouth, d-don’t stoppp.” You sucked hard at the tip as your fingers circled faster on your clit, and you were already falling over the edge. Mando’s cum flooded your mouth as he moaned out your name, and his taste made you writhe on your fingers, white flooding your vision. The whines around Mando’s cock as you came made his orgasm last even longer, leaving him totally breathless. It took him a moment to realize that you were still probably holding his cum in your mouth, causing him to jump up and come to your aid.

“Shit, baby, here’s a rag, you can-“ He was stopped short when he noticed you breathing heavily below you, mouth agape and… empty.

“Wait, what did you do with…”

“I swallowed it. I like how you taste,” you whined, totally out of breath and fucked out. Mando’s head hit the back of his seat in awe of how hot you were, swallowing his cum the first time you took him in your mouth, just because you liked it.

“Fuck, come here, baby. Come sit in my lap, let me love on you.” You clambered up into his lap with shaky legs, overwhelmed with the amount of dopamine that flooded your brain. You were still trying to catch your breath as you rested your head on his shoulder as he rubbed your back. These were the moments you held with you when Mando was gone; his comforting touch, how gentle he was despite the damage you knew he could do. You kissed the sliver of skin that peaked out between his collar and his helmet, at which he pulled you in closer to his chest.

All the sudden you heard a crash from below the cockpit and a loud wail… Grogu.

*****

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[nightingaelic]

ok so. reacting to a two-faced courier? for instance like, they meet a cheerful and innocent courier, travel with them and they turn out to be more twisted and cruel than they could have ever imagined

TW: Gore, violence, animal death, murder, involuntary drug use

Honestly this one's a lot, and it's about as far as I go in terms of outright cruelty in my writing. It's no fun to write, after a certain point.

The courier had a sweet face. They were an undeniable ray of sunshine if seen from a distance, smiling at everyone they encountered, drawing you in with that look they flashed when they were in need, the kind of look you couldn't ignore. Those who had met them once or twice bubbled over with how polite they were, how considerate, how helpful they had been in the settlement's darkest hour. They'd saved the town, what did the details matter?

Those details lingered though, in the minds of those who knew the courier more than just as a passing acquaintance. And if you shared the road with them, well, you were in for a rude awakening. It was only a matter of time.

Arcade Gannon: The moment of realization came rather early for Arcade. The courier had taken a job for the NCR, data file retrieval in some overgrown vault, and of course the thing was full of murderous insects, ravenous spore-carrying victims, and plants that spit acid with remarkable accuracy. At the bottom of this godforsaken place, a ghoul researcher named Keely had managed to survive the onslaught of fungal-infected creatures, and she pleaded with the courier to delete the files rather than bring the information to the NCR.

"Don't you realize what those files represent?" she asked, clearly flustered at the prospect of the government she worked for acquiring such dangerous data. "If they get into the wrong hands, this could happen all over again. Only this time, the madness won't just be confined to a musty vault. Do you really want that on your conscience? I sure as hell don't."

"Don't worry about my conscience," the courier reassured her. "We already burnt this place to a crisp to kill the spores. Now I have to complete the job I was actually hired for."

Before Arcade could jump in to give his two caps, Keely reached for one of the frag grenades on her belt in clear desperation. "Last chance. Hand over your Pip-Boy."

In a flash, the courier had disarmed her of the grenade and pulled the pin themselves. They thrust the live explosive down the botanist's tucked-in shirt and kicked her into the computer she was standing in front of. "Sweet dreams, Keely."

The ghoul exploded in a shower of computer parts and chunks of flesh. Arcade stared at where she had been, frozen, and the courier turned to him with that innocent look. "What? She was between me and my caps. Come on, let's get these files to Hildern."

Arcade swallowed his opinion until the courier was counting their 1,800 caps at Camp McCarren. He peeked in on Angela Williams in the office next door and beckoned her, voice low. "Hey. The courier. They killed your friend."

Angela's eyes widened. "Keely... why?"

"No good reason," Arcade related grimly. "Don't believe a word they say. They'll be busy for a bit in there with Hildern, but I'd make yourself scarce. It's what I'm going to do."

Angela nodded, pale as a ghost, and left to disappear into the terminal. Arcade hurried away in the opposite direction, and every hair on the back of his neck stood on end for the entire trip to Novac, He was a disheveled mess by the time Daisy opened her door to his knocking.

"What's wrong, dear?" the old vertibird pilot asked, gathering him into a hug. Arcade didn't know how to answer her.

Craig Boone: When the courier came through Novac, Boone took a chance and enlisted them in his search for the scum who'd sold Carla into slavery. Sure enough, the courier appeared the next night when he was on watch, wearing his red beret and leading No-Bark Noonan by the hand. The conspiracy theorist went down easily, one shot to the chest, and the courier made their way up to the dinosaur's mouth to return the beret to Boone.

"Thanks," they said, upon handing it back.

Boone paused. "What for?"

"He was annoying," the courier replied, waving a hand toward where No-Bark's body lay, out in the desert. "I just wanted you to kill him. You did the town a favor, in my opinion."

"He was innocent," Boone realized, anger rising in his chest.

"Probably not, given the way he talked. But regarding your wife, no clue."

"You sick bastard." Boone raised his rifle and pointed it directly at the courier's heart. "You'd better be ready to join him."

The courier grinned and pointed to the bullet wound on their forehead. "You can try to put me down, sniper. Just don't miss."

Lily Bowen: The grandmotherly nightkin that resided in Jacobstown had a tendency to adopt just about anyone who was nice to her, but there were some things that you just could not do around Lily. The courier was on track to become her newest grandchild as soon as they arrived in the super mutant settlement, until they paid her a visit in the bighorner paddock to ask about Stealth Boys.

"Doctor Henry wants to know if you'll continue to wear the Mark II prototype," the courier inquired with their innocent smile.

"Of course I will, dearie, if it's helpful," Lily replied, adjusting her sunhat. "Don't you worry what will happen to little old me. I'm tougher than I look!"

"I don't doubt it." The courier eyed a few bighorner calves, which were chasing each other through the little pasture and coming a little close to the pair. "Is this all you do in Jacobstown?"

Lily nodded with pride. "I watch over the Bighorners. They're sweet, gentle creatures, but sometimes they get ornery. Just like my grandkids!"

"Sweet and gentle?" The courier scoffed. "Sure, they're good eating if you can bring one down before it catches you with its horns, but I've never known one that didn't want to knock you backwards and crush your skull in."

One of the calves tottered within reach of the pair, exuberant in its attempt to evade its friends. Before Lily could do anything, the courier turned on it with their gun and shot it, straight through the head.

"There," they said matter-of-factly as the calf's body crumpled to the ground. "Lamb for dinner."

They turned back to Lily just in time to witness her fist coming straight for their face.

Raul Alfonso Tejada: That sweet little face was Raul's downfall. It blinded the old ghoul to almost all of the courier's flaws, and he'd spilled his sad life to them before he knew it, mulled the details over while they comforted him. Not long after, they pulled him in on a job they'd been chasing, helping some prostitutes escape Gomorrah and the Omertas. He accompanied them on the night they chose, followed their shadows into the dark corners of Freeside and fought off the Omerta thugs that came to try and stop the escape attempt. When Joana, the leader of the escapees, took hold of her lover Carlitos once again with a tenderness fit for heaven itself, Raul's own heart ached and his gun hand fell to his side.

Suddenly, a shot rang out. Joana screamed as Carlitos slumped forward in her arms, dead. Raul spun around, searching for the Omerta they'd missed, and found the courier's gun up and smoking. "Six!" he shouted. "Qué demonios estás haciendo?"

The courier was breathing heavily with excitement. "It's your dream," they answered. "What you could never do. Rescuing the women from the brothel. Taking them under your wing. Don't worry about Carlitos, he's out of the way now."

"This- this is not what I wanted!" Raul protested, turning his own gun on them. "Were you listening to me at all, when I told you the story? Look what you've done! You just took Joana's dream away from her!"

"Y qué?" the courier answered. "Close enough. We'll take these girls back to the Lucky 38, clean them up. You can call one of them Claudia, one of them Rafaela, and we'll have a spare just in case. We'll get along just fine."

Joana wailed into the night, and the other two prostitutes burst into tears. Raul shook his head emphatically. "Quién te crees? You're crazy, courier. Ladies, get behind me. I'll take you wherever you want to go, away from this mamahuevo."

The prostitutes scrambled to put him between them and the courier. The courier simply stared down his gun and lowered their own. "It could've been yours, Raul," they said with only a twinge of regret in their voice. "You can't run from your past forever. Or me, for that matter."

"No me busques porque me encuentras," Raul warned them, keeping his gun up as he backed out of the Freeside alley with the three sobbing women.

Rose of Sharon Cassidy: For Cass, it was on a night like any other in the Mojave Outpost bar. The courier had a competitive streak in them, and more often than not, a visit to a proper watering hole meant they challenged her to a drinking contest. Cass had never been one to turn those down, so the two were absolutely pickled by the time the sun went down.

"I... flll fnnnne," the courier insisted in a heavy slur, hanging for dear life to the bar. They settled back onto their stool decisively. "When... mmmmmet you... I thought you were thbgggest bitch."

"That so?" Cass chuckled. "Well, you weren't exactly wrong, especially in this establishment."

"Could... looooosen up?" the courier suggested.

"Isn't that what we're doing?" Cass replied with a raised eyebrow.

The courier waved a finger around in the air as if an idea had just struck them, and they reached into their pack. They withdrew a small bottle of pills, the label too faded to read, but Cass recognized the stylized flowers that bloomed on the worn paper.

"No chems," she said flatly, waving the offered bottle off. "Got a bad heart. Might do me in."

"Pleeeeeease," the courier moaned, shaking the pills in her face. "D-day- hic- trip. Day trip."

"No."

The courier rolled their eyes and put the pills away. "Finnnnne."

And Cass thought that was the end of it, until the next round of drinks came along and the courier raised theirs in a toast to her. Cass drank deeply because it tasted off, certain it was a bad batch and she'd get past it if she just got it into her system, but the colors in the room began to shift and the courier was sitting there with that grin on their face like they were expecting something. In that moment where it dawned on her what they'd done, Cass' heart began to race.

When she slid off her stool to the floor, the rest of the bar jumped to her aid, but it was the courier's face who was closest, their face that lingered as she lost consciousness. Their open delight was by far the most frightening thing Cass had ever seen.

When Cass woke up in the corner of the bar a few minutes later, she could've cried. When the courier left to use the facilities, she staggered out into the night, plunked herself down by Ghost on the roof, and refused to move until the Day Tripper was out of her system. And when the courier came calling to ask her to join them on the road again, she refused, with a few choice words that she only saved for the worst in the Mojave.

Veronica Santangelo: Veronica already had an odd feeling about the courier when she first encountered them at the 188 Trading Post. She joined them when they invited her along with them, despite her misgivings, and she kept them at arm's length for as long as she could. Still, nothing they did seemed out of the ordinary, and eventually Veronica trusted them enough to engage them in meaningful conversation. They surprised her. They were a good listener, charming, even funny at times, and slowly Veronica's barriers lowered and she came to trust them.

Finally, it was time. Veronica implored the courier to help her find something, anything, that might change the Brotherhood's path. When they agreed, she started by taking them back to the Hidden Valley bunker and showing them her origins as a Scribe. The courier was quiet during the grand tour, only asking the occasional question and smiling at anyone they passed. They were even amiable toward Elder McNamara, though he was clearly not pleased Veronica had brought home a stray for show-and-tell.

"I'm sure I don't need to remind you again how the High Elders feel about outsiders, Veronica," he said with more than a little exasperation in his voice.

"Don't mind me," the courier assured him. "I'm just a tourist."

"That's precisely the point," McNamara replied. "Veronica, if this is about your idea again, I hope-"

"I brought you present." Veronica slammed the pulse gun on the Elder's desk. "We found a gun that disables power armor. One of these could defeat the whole Brotherhood. We have to stop limiting our focus to military technology. It won't save us."

McNamara eyed the gun skeptically. "That could be the only one of its kind."

"That's not the point!" Veronica shot back. "Technology won't win our wars. We need numbers. New recruits."

"What does the Codex say?"

Veronica shook her head. "A bunch of close-minded bullshit."

"'We do not help them, or let them in,'" McNamara recited. "'We keep knowledge they must never'- where's your friend?"

Veronica looked around in surprise. "They were just..."

As they stood there, confused, sirens in the bunker began to blare. A woman's voice came over the speakers. "Self-destruct sequence initiated. All remaining staff, please exit the facility. Self-destruct will commence in five minutes."

As the bunker erupted into chaos, Veronica thought back to that feeling she'd had when she first met the courier. She wished she'd listened to it then.

I'm choosing not to write ED-E or Rex for this one because, given that neither cares much when the courier does something completely unforgivable, any cruelty they could experience would most likely be inflicted on them. No thanks.

[justme92297]

HC: Everyone has a bad day part 1

Hi everyone! This is my second prompt of an HC, and I want to say that @obeythebutler version of this prompt absolutely inspired me to write this, So please check out their blog. It's absolutely amazing.

Now I want to warn you that Mammon’s part in this is heavy with lots of angst. I don’t know why it came out like that. Maybe it was due to being 1 am and raining, but it did. So please, if you don’t want to see Mammon’s thoughts go to a dark place, please skip his section.

Before you say anything I know that this is short, but I am emotionally drained and when I start to regain some color back I promise that I will continue to write.

TW: angst/ a little depression (Mammon) Reader: GN

Everyone experiences having a bad day. What causes a bad day, how it is represented, what you can do, how they appreciate you for it.

Lucifer:

Lucifer’s day wasn’t that different from the past couple of days, but that was the problem. Diavolo didn’t stop with the paperwork, and if, for some unknown reason, Lucifer caught a break, you could guarantee that Beel has eaten a part of the house, Mammon has more bills coming in, or someone has tried to kill MC. The lack of proper meals, staying awake till 5 am, and the constant strain of “keep going” were weighing on him. Lucifer’s eyes were dark and heavy with bags, his patience thinning where the brothers began hiding inside their rooms or outside of HoL, but the worse was what you saw.

Walking past his study, you could barely believe this was Lucifer’s study. Papers strewn on every available surface, trash can overflowing, and the fire only embers, but the pain in your heart was from the desk. Slumped with his head on the desk, Tea dripping on the floor, and his hand above his head in what looked like a mimic of a bird’s claw.

Rushing back to the kitchen to start brewing some of Lucifer’s tea, you met Beel.

“I need a favor. Can you go into Lucifer’s collection of music and find me one that I can hold.”

“sure.”

Organizing the teapot sugar milk and two cups, some cookies, and trash bags onto the tray, Beel came to deliver your request and grab some of those cookies.

“Beel, you can have the whole box, just don’t touch the tray,” you stated while walking out the door with the tray and some towels under your arm.

Hearing a gentle knock, Lucifer jolts right up. He’s worse than I thought rang through your head when Lucifer didn’t immediately peel the sticky note off his forehead. Placing the tray near the sitting area, you turned to the record player. Stepping over papers, you could feel Lucifer’s eyes following you around the room. After starting the music emptying the trash cans, and managing the fire rejoice with new logs, you could barely take it anymore.

“Lucifer, this is what is going to happen,” the joined pact marks start to shine with the activation of a command, “I am going to start picking up and sorting these papers; you are going to enjoy a cup of tea, and once you finish that cup I will join you. After becoming well-rested, you are going to hand me the papers that I am capable of handling, and I will be doing those.”

“ Whatever you say, master” A smile creeping onto his face, only falters hearing the following sentence coming out of your mouth “Tonight, I will not set a curfew, but if this happens one more time this week, you will have to be going to bed by midnight.”

By the end of the night, Lucifer’s study was put together, the paperwork and bills sorted and dealt with, and one MC was wrapped in an oversized coat on the couch.

The next day at RAD, you counted your blessings when Satan’s book club canceled, and he was able to help you out, making the work take 1/3 of the time. When coming back to your room, you see a black box with a maroon satin ribbon and a note. Please let me take you to dinner tonight, my treat -Lucifer

~Satan was pissed when he found out that someone in Hall Council reserved every classroom, social meeting location, even benches at RAD for important meetings needing to be held. The only good aspect was that he and MC got to spend some time in the library.

Mammon:

Scum. Moron. Worthless. Waste of Space.

Those words echoing in his head, becoming louder and louder, driving the meaning deeper into his head, moved Mammon into your room. He didn’t want to talk, he didn’t want to be touched. All he could do was stare a hole into the wall while sitting against your bed facing away from you.

After half an hour of complete silence, you had to break it. “Mammon, do you want to watch some tv?” silence “How about playing some Devilcart with Levi?” only a slight twitch answered your call. “I thought of a new way to make some quick cash; you wanna try it?” Now sirens are going off in hour head; something is seriously wrong when he didn’t even move. Walking over to him, your heart shattered in place.

Mammon’s signature smirk was gone, and replaced with an emotionless line. Cheeks are tear stained with fresh tear just starting to dry. His eyes that usually gleam with opportunity only showed hollowness.

Mammon what’s wrong?” I am just- waste of space.

Mammon please talk to me.” Worthless

Mammon if you don’t start talking to me, I am just going to talk at you.” “Why ya want to know what’s been bothering me?” Scum

“Mammon I want to know because I care about you.” His eyes barely able to meet yours begin to look away. “Why ya gotta say something like that.”

Leaning down to his level, you cup his face into your hands. “I am serious. Where would I be without my Great Mammon? You have saved me countless times not just against any demons but your brothers. You have made my life a thousand times better every day, every night, and every scheme. It’s you that has done that. No one else. So please Mammon, talk to me if something is bothering you. Let me be their for you.”

After your speech, Mammon started to talk, and through explaining how he is feeling, he begins to perk up. Life envelops his eyes, and while there was still a tiny part that was still blank, by the morning he was back a 100%.

Walking up to Mammon looking at you “please don’tcha tell my brothers, I can handle talking to them and stick up for myself.” You just nod your head knowing that if you hear them make fun of Mammon again you will be having a talk.

Getting ready for RAD took more time than normal and dashing to the dining room “No touch’n that plate for MC. Beel I mean it.”

~Beel didn’t know what has happened to Mammon in the last few days but he couldn’t be happier to hear Belphie complaining that Mammon keeps yelling at him to stop calling him a waste of space and that it isn’t fun anymore.