#writing regularly

[ashamaxxing]

mom come pick me up they’re defending the divine right of kings on asoiaf twitter again

[ilostthewar]

I imagine the first time you see Ghost without his mask, it’s not a big showing. He doesn’t make a spectacle out of it.

But it is the middle of the night and you’re half awake and scavenging for something quick to eat before crawling back into bed. And when you feel yourself being watched you snap your head to the side. And you stand there frozen.

And Ghost naturally assumes it’s because of his disfigurements and scars. That maybe it’s too much for you. But really it’s because it’s the middle of the fucking night, there are no lights on besides the shitty one in the fridge- and fucking big foot is staring at you from the dark hallway with a scowl on his face, and your mouth is stuffed with fucking shredded cheese.

[ninja-knox-ur-sox-off]

Chronic Sonic pt 12

POV ur bestie comes back from like three to five years abroad

1. After that delightful experience in pt 10, Sonic is a lot less quick to drop his inhibitors or actively seek out the emeralds. Since the only thing he really used to do in his free time was run around adventuring and doing battle and he can’t do that like he used to with his inhibitors preventing him from reaching his full speed (Tails is working on it) so there’s not much else for him to do. Sure he could do the routine Tails drew up for him, but doing little exercises feels pretty pointless in the face of everything. (Even if they really do help when done consistently.)

2. Amy’s back! What was she doing? I dunno, spreading joy and love and enhappifying the world, your guess is as good as mine. Tails actually called her to come visit. Sonic hasn’t seen her for a while and she’s the one person that wasn’t around while this whole spiral happened (so he doesn’t subconsciously associate her with any of it.) They’ve kept her mostly up to speed via texting and some occasional short video calls. (Oh and Sonic and Amy are platonic here. Cotton-Candy Duo. Besties!)

3. Shadow helps Tails out in his workshop sometimes.

[yes-no-maybe-soo]

... that is literally what I wrote on his birthday card though?? 😭😭

He has me all figured out iwhtjfhg

[necrotic-nephilim]

as much as I love the common "Tim worships/stalks Jason" trope in TimJay fanfiction because it's Good and making Tim a weird little freak is Fun, I think the underutilized dynamic is where Jason is the one weirdly obsessed with Tim and makes it Tim's problem.

Like, the moment Jason is confronted with the information that a third Robin exists, the first thing he does is cover his wall with pictures of Tim so he can just obsess and torture himself over it. That is the behavior of a man who is Unwell over Tim's existence and I love it.

red hood: lost days #4

And as much as a shitshow as The Titans Tower Incident™ is characterization-wise (though I think it has far more merit in depicting Jason's character than people give it credit for but I digress-) there's something very fun about the fact that even after kicking his ass, Jason respects Tim and is impressed by him.

teen titans (2003) #29

And on top of that, Jason can't seem to stop trying to ask Jason to Tim to work with him in some capacity.

robin (1993) #177

batman: battle for the cowl #2

While Battle for the Cowl is an exceptionally bad comic, especially for its characterization of Jason and the "be my Robin" bit is taken deeply out of context, I do think it's interesting how obsessed Jason is with believing that Tim is extremely competent, only held back by being "brainwashed by Bruce". (hence him leaving Tim for dead later on in the comic.) Jason seeing a darker side of Tim and wanting to bring that out of Tim, wanting to see what Tim could be if he let go of his loyalty to Bruce is so fun to me, tbh.

And in Robin #177, Jason seems genuinely upset Tim doesn't want to work with him. Jason sees such a raw potential in Tim and is obsessed with it, constantly wanting Tim to work for him and see Tim be the type of person Jason is. And despite Tim rejecting him, Jason doesn't shoot to kill Tim. I just cannot get over the fanfic potential of Jason obsessing over Tim, tracking him and seeing what he's capable of and what he could be capable of. Wanting to make Tim see things the way he does. To Tim it's corruption, to Jason it's freedom. Tim trying to 'save' Jason is fun and all, but Jason trying to corrupt Tim? That's even more fun to me. Watching that power struggle between them, Tim unable to get Jason off his heels as Jason gets more and more possessive and bold with each attempt.

And when Jason sees Tim successfully get Gotham back under control after a gang war, he's impressed. He praises Tim, even. And then Tim just. Breaks him out of prison.

robin (1993) #182

The way they're constantly trying to see something in the other that isn't there, hoping the other will come around? That is the most fucked up hate/love dynamic ever. Jason keeps coming back to Tim, keeps trying to find ways to get Tim onto his side. They're always chasing each other. And I think Jason would be the one to confess love first, the one to do anything to make Tim his. And when you consider after all of this, Tim has his Red Robin arc and is at his lowest, getting the closest he ever gets to considering murder? I think it'd be so fun to see Jason take advantage of that and worm his way back into Tim's life and finally push Tim over the edge.

[listen-to-the-inner-walrus]

Cross-stitch really does make you reconsider whether or not you understand basic maths. Like yeah, I know the difference between 4 and 5, definitely. Ignore me as I undo several stitches.

[biggest-gaudiest-patronuses]

got a worm nibbling my brain. can someone help me find a piece of obscure media?

webcomic/indie comic from the 2010s. basically a sci-fi short story about a young girl (with red hair?) who was being raised by scientists as part of an experiment. she receives a haircut/has her head shaved, in preparation for her annual brain scan/testing. it is revealed that while her body is human, her "brain" is artificial, made of computer implants throughout her skull and spine. at some point her biological mother (also a scientist on the same campus?) encounters her and is repulsed, viewing her as a machine who has murdered her daughter.

it was very poignant and it bruised my heart and i can NOT find it anywhere

[ilkkawhat]

[waldau]

giving them the silent treatment when they forget something — seventeen | 2,661 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

first work in this format! comments would be really appreciated :D

gender neutral reader. warnings: none.

seungcheol

cannot stand your silence. he'd rather you scold him, or say anything to him, but he absolutely hates the silence that fills your house when he stops talking. he's thankful you're sitting across him while he's having dinner, but keeps interrupting his eating by asking for your forgiveness over and over. how could he forget your date night tonight? knows you need your personal space and makes you sit at the table while he does the dishes, but he gives in at the end of the day because what's the point of sleeping in the same bed if he can't wrap his arms around you? keeps whispering apologies into your hair and promises not to be this forgetful again. literally lights up when you turn around with a grumble and slot yourself into his arms. is okay with you being upset with him as long as you let him hold you.

jeonghan

thinks it's payback for the time he hid the last of your snacks a week ago. is fine with you rolling your eyes at him when he calls you by your nickname. realizes it's serious when you share your dessert with him, because you never do it without a little playful fight. realizes he's messed up big time when you don't retort back to his teasing about how your hair looks right now, after you've spent some time rolling around in bed. the final straw is when you wish him goodnight without even calling him any form of endearment. suddenly understands why you're being like this — it's because he left for practice without waking you up this morning, even though you asked him to. peppers you with kisses and it's only a matter of time before you stop resisting. tries explaining that your health and your sleep are more important to him than his own, but he's thankful you wake up with him the next morning and prepare breakfast for him while he gets ready.

joshua

is a gentleman. 99.99% of the time. but the 0.01% he's not is today, when he forgot to buy a bouquet of flowers you wanted to take while visiting your mother. he'd assured you he'd do the task because the flower shop lay right in the path he took while jogging, and now you've returned home with no smile on your face. there's a thousand apologies at the tip of his tongue, but none of them are going to be enough. you wish him a good night, but he knows he's messed up pretty bad. hates it when you don't even say anything about it, because he knows it's affected you more than you're letting it show. gets a call from you the next afternoon asking him why there's a bouquet of flowers on your desk and why your mother also had one delivered to her doorstep. picks you up from work and surprises you with a single rose that he tucks behind your ear, brushing away your concerns about it looking silly. loves you, and he'll get you flowers every day if it makes you smile the way you're doing right now.

junhui

is not used to one word answers from you. he watches you a bit closely as you take off your shoes, wash your hands, get a glass from the cupboard and pour yourself some water. feels like you're giving the glass more attention than him. starts feeling nervous. around you. hates it more than anything. but he doesn't know what's wrong, so he ends up doing something that flusters you both — he cages you in his arms, because he'd much rather you tell him off than push him away silently. you try to wriggle out of his grasp, but he pulls out his c-drama moves of seduction and slams his hand against the wall behind your head. you just stare at him before you shake your head and tell him he didn't kiss you goodbye this morning. he feels absolutely shocked. he did! or at least he thought he did. you're always on his mind, regardless of the time of the day. kisses you five times to make up for the one he didn't give you. sticks close to you for the rest of the night, as it's his rightful place.

soonyoung

is oblivious at first. he's the more talkative one between you both, so he doesn't find anything wrong when you come back home, or don't give him the usual kiss you do when you come back home — you're probably just too tired! guides you to the dining table and makes sure you're eating well. talks about practice, talks about this photoshoot that's coming up, talks about this interview he'd given earlier in the day, around afternoon, which made him super hungry because— well, shit. he was supposed to bring your lunch to work because you'd forgotten to take it yourself, and you'd even texted him about it. he promised he would, and now he's left wondering what you had to get for yourself because of his forgetfulness. throws himself to his knees in front of you and grabs your thighs, shaking you like it's going to transfer the sorrow he's feeling into you so that you can forgive him. loves that you crack a smile before you hide it and continue having dinner. promises to wake up early next morning so he can be the one to make you lunch and pack it. loves the sight of the empty box he sees when he calls you during your break.

wonwoo

feels like absolute crap when you get home and all he has to show you for his time spent is the game he's finished and a regrettable lack of food on the table. he'd promised to cook for you, this recipe he'd taken from mingyu just so he could try it himself. he'd even laughed at your surprised face in the morning, but now he thinks you were right to have doubted him. it's not even time for your usual grocery run yet; you're pretty much out of groceries because his friends had come home a couple days back and you'd spent time making a lot of dishes. sits you down and makes you eat a banana as a peace offering, all the while ordering takeout from the closest eatery to your house. sits with you and feeds you bites of your meal, not touching his own till you're done. still feels terrible when he sees you putting away the leftovers, because you're not supposed to be doing that in the first place. comes up behind you and wraps his arms around your waist, murmuring apologies in your ear and asking if you want him to get you anything else. wakes you up to breakfast in bed the next morning. you laugh and tell him you're not willing to have breakfast without brushing your teeth, so he picks you up and carries you to the bathroom. he thinks he should make time on his days off for breakfast in bed if it means you'll cling to him the way you're doing now, adoration in your eyes.

jihoon

is just in his chill™ mode half the time he's home. when he's not working, he's either listening to music or watching your favourite shows together to maximize the time he has with you. for jihoon, and you, actions are more prevalent than words. so it's with a sudden drop of his stomach that he realizes he was supposed to wait for you, till you came back home, to start watching this new anime you'd been keen on seeing. he can't exactly undo the past three episodes from his memory, so he's also silent like you are when you get back home and see what he's been up to. dinner is had in an awkward silence till you push your chair back and take the plate to the sink, letting jihoon know you're turning in for an early night. he knows he's fucked up. he's glad you're not kicking him out on the couch to sleep, and he apologizes by softly humming a song he's been working on for you, in the silence of your bedroom. it's like he's wearing his heart on his sleeve, too easy for anyone to see, but it's worth it when you sigh and pull him down for a kiss, telling him it sounds wonderful and that you can't wait to hear the full thing.

minghao

is disappointed with himself already, and you being disappointed makes it worse. he could blame jet lag for being the reason why he forgot to show up at the cafe to meet your friend you've been him to get to know for a while, but he knows it's a flimsy excuse. you cover up for him with the excuse of a fever, even though he's far from feeling down. doesn't know what he can say to make it better, so he peels an orange for you. only to have his heart hurt when you say you're not hungry. but you end up taking a few slices anyway, because you don't want it to go to waste. tries to pull you into himself but hates it when you don't reciprocate. he knows this friend is important to you, but are they so important that you have to ignore him for the rest of the night? offers to sleep on the couch, and is surprised to find that's what breaks your silence and makes you glare at him. promises to fly you out soon to meet your friend where they live as an apology. wakes up to you combing your fingers through his hair.

mingyu

puppy #1. knows he's done something wrong the moment you step inside the hallway of your house, even if you've said nothing — mainly because you're not rushing to him the way you always do, and you're not excited to see him, the way he is to see you. takes all the stuff from your hands and makes you sit on the couch and offers you a massage and pouts when you decline him gently. tries making conversation with you during dinner, but gets discouraged when you reply in short sentences. you're not...angry, but you're upset, and it's bugging him terribly. offers to help you with your nighttime routine, sitting on the counter and watching you go about it, until you sigh and tell him exactly what he forgot about. your plants in the balcony that he promised to water this morning and forgot about because he had to rush for an early practice. he throws himself to the floor on his knees, hands clasped, and promises never to forget it again. feels relieved when you laugh through a mouth full of toothpaste, pulling him to his feet and ruffling his hair. his alarm now has a label that reads: "plants :)"

seokmin

puppy #2. can feel his smile drop the second you walk through the door of your shared house drenched in water like you fell into a puddle and climbed out. and the worst part is you're not even asking him to help you dry up. he tries to offer you towels and fusses about your hair and you catching a cold but ends up sitting against the door of your shared bedroom when you gently push him out of your way and opt for a nice, warm shower. he's glad he ordered takeout so that you wouldn't have to cook, but he's not happy with the way you're ignoring him. no, you're not ignoring him. you're...disappointed, almost. somehow it's worse than having you be angry with him, because he knows fights can be resolved sooner or later. but you being disappointed in him? makes him feel like the worst person in the world. heats up your blanket in the dryer and gives you his hoodie to sleep in. he's never going to take your umbrella to practice again. drags you out to shop for two distinct umbrellas so he never forgets to send you off with one again.

seungkwan

he's busy. it's not an excuse; it's just how his daily schedule is. yet it sounds like nothing but a pathetic excuse when you get back home, avoiding even looking at him. you look amazing, and he wasted his entire afternoon wondering when you were going to call him, when you were out watching a movie he'd suggested the two of you watch together. hates it when you tell him you've had enough popcorn to make you skip dinner. hates it when you don't even hug him, much less kiss him. hates it when you have a polite conversation with him about the movie, as if you were just his friend telling him you liked his recommendation. you sit with him and watch a volleyball match he'd pre-recorded, but his mind is not interested in the commentary at all. pouts. straight up asks you how long you're going to ignore him. you say you're not, that you just need some time now to get over it. he nods like he understands but wraps himself around you barely twenty minutes later when you're getting ready for bed. will not sleep without coming to any kind of resolution. asks you to spoil the movie for him as a punishment and gets a pinch to his cheek in return. promises never to forget a date again.

hansol

is also oblivious. takes your silence as a sign that you're just tired, so he makes sure you freshen up and don't do any work for a while and have some water or light snacks instead. it's only when he puts on a movie you've both watched many times he realizes you're not talking to him, because you don't lean into him the way you usually do. he takes the initiative this time and tries pulling you on his lap, but you resist. he feels uncomfortable, and it's new. he tries focusing on the movie but his mind is on you, and it's only because of the sheer number of times he's seen the movie that he can remember the dialogues without paying attention. it's only when the main characters get into a car and start driving that he realizes he'd promised to pick you up from your friend's party. immediately switches off the movie because he knows you're not paying attention either, and kneels in front of you and looks into your eyes till you blush and look away. brings your head back in place with his fingers on your chin and asks you to remind him when he forgets so that he doesn't have a chance to let you down again. holds your hand through the night when you sleep. clings to you a bit more whenever you're home.

chan

devastated. at himself, at you for not reminding him that he'd forgotten to pick up your outfit from the dry cleaner's last night, at the fact that you're not even scolding him. hates that you won't even look at him except to give him some space to move around in the kitchen. having twelve older brothers, he's used to being kept in shape by them and remembering a lot of things about all of them, so why couldn't he remember this small thing you'd asked him to do? compliments you on how good you look, and is physically hurt when you just nod at him with a small thanks. asks if there's anything he can help you with. hates that you shake your head and say you're just going to read a book. tries making you laugh but ends up embarrassing himself when he trips on the bathroom mat and ends up diving into the bathroom face first. it's not funny, but it gets a smile out of you, and he thinks he's on the path to getting your forgiveness. won't go to sleep till you run your fingers through his hair, holding him close to you.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee

[fairydrowning]

"Do you understand? When I am done telling you these stories, when you're done listening to these stories, I am no longer I, and you are no longer you. In this afternoon we briefly merged into one. After this, you will always carry a bit of me, and I will always carry a bit of you, even if we both forget this conversation."

– Hao Jingfang, "Invisible Planets," in Invisible Planets: Contemporary Chinese Science Fiction in Translation, tr. & ed. Ken Liu

[tanadrin]

just spitballing here. but. English and many European languages are kinda interesting in that in lots of languages, names are etymologically transparent. older Germanic names were usually just a common noun or two: wolfstone. elf-read. bright-helm. but names are kind of weird as lexical items, and are apt to be borrowed and retained even when they're not lexically transparent (which they don't need to be, since they index people and not things or concepts), and lots of languages even if they once preferred lexically transparent names have acquired a large stock of names whose "meaning" is just an etymological curiosity. european languages really kicked this into high gear by borrowing a ton of latin, greek, and biblical names, and then borrowing and re-borrowing names from each other. i'm sure similar processes have operated in other parts of the world for centuries.

in english specifically, we've also had this phenomenon for centuries now of surnames gradually turning into given names. a lot of times this is because married women passed their names to their children as middle names, and middle names could then be re-used as first names, and of course a lot of times it's just that surnames became etymologically opaque, and if "chandler" doesn't mean "one who makes candles" to you, why not use it as a first name?

on top of that, surnames are also apt to cross language boundaries; English doesn't have a consistent system of phonetic spelling; and even within English surnames can exist in many slight variations which reflect minute linguistic differences or just variable spelling habits in the medieval and early modern period. in regions with high immigration you also have the melange of other languages' names entering your language, and often (though not always) retaining their spelling according to a different scheme. Sean, for instance, which is orthographically opaque in English, but perfectly phonetic in Irish

oddly names are one of the only lexical items in English which do not have a fixed spelling now--English did eventually settle on a preferred spelling for its whole vocabulary (though not a consistent spelling), except for personal names. if you spell your name shaun or shawn or sean, people accept these as normal variants of a common name. if you spell "brought" as "brawt," "brot," or "brotte," people think you're an idiot.

all of which is to say that even before you get into the social and psychological dynamics of why parents might choose to do so, the phenomenon of bestowing on your child (or even yourself) a name with a deliberately unusual or creative spelling seems quite historically contingent. that's pretty interesting.

[sleepgarden]

Hello, I may be needing to close my shop (again lol) in April, so I’m having another small sale. Until April 1st, you can use the code FREESHIP for free shipping on orders over $60cad ($42usd), or you can use 10OFF for 10% off of any order! (they can’t be stacked, sorry ^^) I have mini prints for $5cad ($3.50usd) that can be sent by letter mail. There are also discount “misfit” prints, which are a random print with some small flaws. There’s also still two chokers available ^^ Thank you for the attention on my work recently, and hello to new followers! I’m sorry for the advertisement post. My shop has really taken a hit with the loss of Twitter and I’m honestly not sure how to peddle my stuff around anymore lmao.

💐 here’s a link to my shop! 💐

[returnsandreturns]

i'm here for y'all, take my hand

“Is this how high school Foggy spent his free time?” Matt asks, amused, watching Foggy open the tiny window in his childhood bedroom and prop it up with an old yearbook. 

“I was too square,” Foggy says. “Nobody sold the vice president of the student council drugs. Maybe the president because she had their respect but not me.”

“So no action in this twin bed, either?” Matt asks.

“Only with myself,” Foggy says, “but I am, of course, a very tender lover.” 

“Of course,” Matt echoes, solemnly. 

“What about you?” Foggy asks, reaching to grab Matt’s sleeve and gently tug him closer, showing him where the window is. He’s been doing that sometimes, like he’s comfortable enough to just casually touch Matt and like he’s sure that Matt’s comfortable, too. Which is more or less true. “Did little orphan Matty get laid in high school?” 

“Just a lot of kissing,” Matt says, slowly exhaling the smoke, “and one weird handjob.” 

“How weird?” Foggy asks, squinting. 

“Uh, under a blanket at some upstate church youth retreat,” Matt says. “People were praying at the time.” 

“. . .you make so much more sense to me now,” Foggy says. “Who was this exhibitionist Catholic schoolgirl? Was she wearing the skirt? Just asking for reasons.” 

“It was a guy, actually,” Matt says, not completely sure why he says it when he could easily lie. He hasn’t actually told this story before but it would be nothing. “No skirt. Just khakis, probably.” 

“It was a guy?” Foggy asks, mouth dropping open. 

Matt shrugs. 

“Things happen,” he says, laughing when Foggy just keeps staring. “What?” 

“Things happen?” Foggy repeats, laughing. “To you, maybe. Things don’t happen to me. Nobody’s ever offered to give me a weird gay handjob. I’d have to put a lot of effort into making that happen.” 

“You never know,” Matt says. 

“No, I think I do know,” Foggy says. “Unless you’re planning on taking our relationship in a beautiful and arguably natural new direction.” 

“Arguably natural, huh?” Matt asks, choking on a laugh and coughing from the smoke as he turns to lean out the window before handing the joint back and crawling back to sit on the bed. 

“Yeah, birds, bees, all that shit,” Foggy says, stubbing out the joint and carefully putting it back in the plastic sandwich bag he brought it in. “So. . .the handjob was weird and potentially caused some sort of religious trauma but. . .did you. . .” 

“. . .finish?” Matt asks.

“No!” Foggy says, laughing. “I mean, also that, but did you. . .you know, like it?” 

“. . .I didn’t dislike it,” Matt says. 

“You’re gonna be such a good lawyer,” Foggy says, dropping down next to him. “I guess I’m asking–and you don’t have to answer, you can, of course, plead the fifth, which you’d know due to the fact that you’re gonna be such a good lawyer–if you maybe possibly like. . .guys. A little.” 

Matt thinks about it for a second, biting his lip. 

“Maybe possibly a little,” he says. “You?” 

“Quite possibly a moderate amount,” Foggy says, smiling when Matt laughs. 

“So, what do we do with this information?” Matt asks, raising his eyebrows.

“Let’s let the high set in properly,” Foggy says, leaning into his shoulder. “Talking about feelings is way better when you’re high and don’t feel shame as strongly.” 

“. . .you have feelings?” Matt asks, curiously. 

“. . .give it like fifteen minutes,” Foggy says, weakly. 

[assortedcriminality]

snippet #2

Hero looked up from their anxious pacing and let out a sigh of relief as a dark shape dropped into the alley. “Villain,” they breathed, stepping forward and throwing their arms around their lover’s neck. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming.”

“Well, I’m here now,” Villain said, carefully removing the arms from them. It was always a shock to see Hero in civilian clothes, with their hair down and their face clear of disguises. Not exactly like a regular person, because they could never be regular. That smile, their laugh, those beautiful eyes--it would all make them stand out in any crowd. 

“So… what is it that you want to talk about?” Hero asked, bringing Villain back to the present. 

Internally, Villain steeled themself for what they were about to say. They stood up straight, tossed their head, and put on their best smirk. “I just thought you’d want to know the truth about our relationship.”

Their lover looked taken aback. “Oh…well, if there’s something important I should know…”

“It’s very important,” the criminal assured them. “So important you’d better run back to Superhero and tell them everything I’m about to say.”

Hero’s eyes widened. “What? Is Supervillain planning something, or-“

Villain laughed. “It’s not Supervillain’s plan, dear. It’s mine. And it worked perfectly.”

Their nemesis took an unconscious step backward, confused and a little wary. “I don’t understand.”

“Oh, but you wouldn’t. You were always clever, I suppose, but you’re far more gullible than you think.”

“V-Villain, what-“

“What I’m trying to say,” they continued, “is that this was fun, but I have what I came here for.” They grinned at the dumbstruck Hero. “What, still don’t get it? I made you love me. None of this was ever real.”

Hero’s mouth opened and closed, but no sound came out. They were too shocked to speak. Tears started forming in their eyes. 

Villain chuckled. “It started out as a ploy for information, of course. But once I saw how hopelessly you fell for me, I decided to stick around and see what else I could get.”

“But-but I never told you anything about the agency, or-“

“Darling, you really think you didn’t tell me anything? You betrayed yourself and the agency to me so many times, it’s laughable.”

Fear crept into Hero’s face. “N-no. It’s not possible.”

The criminal sighed. “When are you going to get it into your head that I won? I’ve been lying to you for so long, and you never even noticed.”

“I don’t believe you’re that good of an actor.” Their fists were clenched but trembling, doubt creeping in through the cracks despite themself.

“Oh, I’m a terrible actor,” Villain said, examining their nails uninterestedly. “You’re just that big of a fool.”

Hero sobbed, stumbling back until they hit the alley wall and covering their face with their hands. It was true, then, they thought hopelessly. This was nothing like the person they had dated. They didn’t know them at all…

“Oh, don’t cry, darling,” Villain soothed. “It’s not your fault. But really… if you couldn’t see what was right in front of you, are you sure you’re cut out for the hero business?”

Anger and misery were boiling over in Hero’s mind. They shoved their hands out in front of them, a burst of power blasting their enemy away from them. Villain put their arms in front of them to protect themself, but even now, they could tell Hero wasn’t really trying to hurt them. 

“Leave me alone!” The crime-fighter cried, tears dripping from their chin. “Go! I never want to see you again!”

Villain shrugged. “Whatever you want, love. But think about what I said, will you? It might be time for a career change.” They gave Hero one last dazzling smile and lifted off into the sky. In the alley below them, their former partner slid to the ground and buried their face in their knees. Villain could hear their sobs echoing in their ears all the way back to their base. 

Once they got there, they looked around to make sure all of their henchmen had gone home like they’d ordered. When they were sure they were alone, they pulled out their phone and dialed a number with shaking hands. 

Supervillain picked up immediately. “Did you do it?”

“Yes. And you’ll uphold your end of the deal?”

“As long as you stay away from them, Hero will be safe from me.” The smile in their voice was evident. “Pleasure doing business with you, Villain.” And with that, they hung up. 

Numbly, Villain set down their phone. Their heart felt like someone was squeezing it out of their chest. Hero’s heartbroken face was floating in front of their vision, in so much pain, all because of them. How could they do this to someone they loved so much? But how could they not, with someone as powerful as Supervillain threatening their lover’s life? 

“I’m so sorry, Hero,” they whispered. They lowered their head, eyes closing in defeat. “I’m going to keep you safe. I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Only then did they finally allow themself to cry.

word count: 858

[feliciafelucia]

Another ancient text from my huge backlog, written over many a catastrophic ovulation.

Maul x reader, 9000 words. 18+

cw: ever so slightly dubious consent, graphic depictions of violence

The slave drivers staff rapped sharply against the tiles of the huge hall as he came to a stop in the centre of the room. He leaned his weight on it, bony wrists jutting from the bright silk robes. He white-knuckled the metal and fidgeted foot-to-foot as he waited for the Zabrak to address him. Maul draped across his throne. He inspected his nails, radiating disinterest.

“Is this the troublesome thing that’s been disrupting my mines?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

“Let me have a look at it.”

Your captor slammed his shoulder into your back to send you forward. You didn’t budge.

“My Lord,” The weaselly man spoke up, grunting as his next shove failed to move you yet again. “I’d be more than happy to dispose of the fucking thing. Right now, if necce-“

“The fucking thing has a name.” You snapped, lurching at the feel of a hand at your waist. Without a better mind to stop yourself, you elbowed your way out of his grip and took a few steps towards the throne. You heart seized as you willingly walked towards the presence across the hall of Mandalore, so ominous that you couldn’t drag your eyes up from the particular tile that they refused to move from. Your skin buzzed with nerves, every motion feeling staggered as your body screamed at you to run away from the owner of the smooth voice ahead. It took you a few torturous seconds you lift you gaze.

The sight of him froze the panic pumping around your body into a pure, cold fear.

Maul reclined in his throne, legs spread and posture straight. He was a goddamned predator. By design and by the murderous intent emanating from him. His red, tattooed skin and those sharp horns were terrifying, but they didn’t begun to compare to the eyes. The yellow eyes locked onto yours. Intense from across all the distance between you. Knowing, guarded, and hungry for blood. He didn’t even need to look at you. Maul could feel the fear rolling off of you in crushing waves. He could feel every emotion - so much clearer than the usual poor soul who found themselves at the foot of this throne. There wasn’t any part of you shielded. It was strange. Intriguing.

For you, he opted for silence, letting you simmer with your own thoughts on the gruesome fates that could quickly be thrust upon you. But as the silence dragged on, you adjusted your stance wider. You squared your shoulders as much as they could with the binders locking your hands together in front of you. You tilted you chin up so that you could meet his glare dead-on - looking down your nose at him. Like a curse, you said your name with a steady confidence. Like it mattered, demanding respect.

Maul’s teeth bared in bitter amusement, and glanced to his left to share a look with Savage. His brother always knew what he was thinking, and his own yellow lips were pulled into a knowing smirk. Lazily, Maul fixed his attention back on you, and in a moment of benevolence, decided to let you in on what exactly was so funny.

“You stand like the Jedi do before they die.”

“The Jedi die with their hands bound?” Your voice felt detached from your body. That bold tone couldn’t have come from you - you were buzzing with the electricity of adrenaline, heart thrumming like a bird.

“No.”

“Fix the picture then, if it amuses you that much.” You offered your bound wrists in his direction.

His brow raised in surprise. He’d killed plenty of smarter mouths for such a comment, but there was something about it. There was a certain intimacy to being privy to you open emotions. He watched as you wrestled your fear under control and condensed it to a point. Perfectly contained. An entertaining insolence.

“Hmm.” He considered his answer, but the slave driver had taken his pause as an invitation to storm up and seize you by the neck. With considerable effort, he heaved you around to face him, dragging you backwards by the hair so that he could lean over you. You, tilted back with a bent spine.

“What did I tell you? You act your place.” He hissed in your face. From this angle, you could make out all the different shades of yellow in his teeth. Your stomach lurched at the hot feel of his breath, and the spray of spit that left his mouth with his words. “Disrespectful little bitch. Let me kill her, my lord.”

If experiencing your fear was interesting, feeling the disgust and hatred was exhilarating for Maul. He shared your sentiment. He never liked this man. The slicked back hair, the ostentatious silk draping his jagged form, and the weasly smile that Maul had to endure far too often. They reeked of his lack of class.

“You’re the one-“ You chocked as he engaged the electro-cuffs. Your body seized into the familiar convulsions and you slumped to the ground, straining every muscle in a futile attempt to fight off the burning seeping into your bones.

“I’m inclined to oblige you.” Maul’s voice vaguely registered above the ringing in your ears. All you could think of was the soothing cool of the tile against your cheek. Little did you know, Maul’s eyes were on you.

“Thankyou my Lord, I’ll gut her outside where the mess won’t be-“

“Oh not you.”

Your vision was still dark as you dragged yourself to your feet, swaying slightly but doggedly staying upright. Something guided your focus to to Maul, who was… smug. A dangerous expression for him.

“You interrupted me, slaver.”

“Apologies, I-“

The slave driver stepped in front of you to grovel for Maul, flattery and bribery falling from his tongue. But you were deaf to it. Mauls eyes had you frozen. From in the shadows of the slavers sweeping fabrics, you knew his intentions were on you, and yours on him. The babbling faded to the background as the two of you stared.

Your vision was tunnelled in on him, so much so that even from across the vast hall, a minute flick of his wrist made you jump in fright. The tiny movement felt so powerful for some reason, why? Your question was answered when you felt the shackles around you wrists shift. Like a cat, you fell into a deep crouch to catch them before they could hit the floor with a telling clatter.

Like two old friends having a whole conversation with the twitches of a few muscles, you flicked yours eyes to the man orating in front of you, then back to Maul. You cocked your head with a raised eyebrow.

Maul nodded upwards, adjusting in his chair as if settling back for a show.

You weren’t about to lose this opportunity.

Shackles in hand, you stalked up to the slaver, his back to you. After all this time wondering how you were going to kill him, this scenario hadn’t made it into your plans. An open stun-cuff lay in your palm, and a snide comment about his skinny neck popped into your head. But at the forefront of your mind - the way he’d treated you over the span of your forced servitude. Fuck him.

Just as he’d so often done to you, you laced your fingers in the hair at the nape of his neck and yanked off balance. An indignant yell left the man, who squirmed at the minimal pain of having his hair pulled. You tilted him back, his head rested firmly against your chest, and slammed the open cuff around his throat. The sharp curve wasn’t meant to accomodate a neck, so when you clasped the other half of the cuff shut, his voice caught mid-scream. The inhuman gurgles and gasps that followed were damn deafening, they made your stomach lurch in discomfort. As he spasmed desperately and the wet chokes only continued, you calmly threw him to the ground and began rummaging in his robes.

Having seen him reach into that damn pocket too many times, you knew where to find the control device. The shape ingrained in your mind from hours of that fucking thing being used on you. As soon as your fingers grazed the outline of the metal, you squeezed the button, and the familiar sizzle of electricity and the stink of burning skin quickly replaces the choking as the stun cuffs crackled to life around his neck.

Finally, quiet.

Not missing a beat, you plucked his staff from his twitching hands and got to your feet. The two zabrak hadn’t moved to stop you, and were again sharing that look you’d caught earlier. The metal in your hand felt too smooth, too flimsy. Trust a slaver to carry something just for show.

“What exactly… are you planning on doing with that?” Maul questioned lowly. You don’t know what gave you the impulse to walk closer - you just knew you had an urge to see the two of them up close.

“I’m not sure.” You replied in all honestly. “What exactly you are planning on doing with me?”

“I’m not sure.” Maul shot back as you came to a halt at the foot of his throne - only a few steps away. Up close, his features offered a more intimate intimidation than before. Now, you were not only subjected to his intense scrutiny, but every little judgement he made of your character with the twitch of a facial muscle. “I should have you strung up and left for the rats after all the trouble you’ve caused me.”

“Go on then.” Your already anxiety-knotted stomach tightened even more as you struggled to keep your voice steady, projecting from your belly. Who would have thought the voice you used to call orders across the shitty cantina back home would make its way into a situation like this? “I’d think you’re going soft if you don’t. I cost you more credits than I’ll see in my lifetime. Hundreds of slaves. You’ll never get those mines operating again.”

“Are you trying to goad me, little anarchist?”

“I’m just telling the simple truth.”

“Oh there’s nothing simple about it.” His tone was so soft. Your heart quickened again at the thought of all the violent acts he’d committed while never raising from that insidious pitch. He continued, tilting his head, his horns cutting a dramatic angle against the ornate patterns of his throne. “You’re trying to get yourself run through where you stand.”

“Darksaber’s more glamorous than a whip.”

Maul rubbed his jaw thoughtfully. There was nothing dishonest about you. You said exactly how you felt, with no illusions about who you were and no attempt at deceit. Often, the people before him were not only fearful, but so conflicted and tortured. They tried to deny the fear, they cursed themselves for their inadequacies that got them here. You let your terror crash into you and wash away as it pleased. Even within himself and his brother, there was those raging conflicts of identity, purpose and uncertainty. Yet you? Nothing.

Maul reached across himself and before you could even register it, you were staring down the glowing Mandalorian blade. Would a saber strike feel hot? A faint hum filled the air as he swayed it back and forth, tauntingly. He felt a smile overtaking him. Out of all the things that had occurred on this eventful evening, that was the thing that shut you up?

“You want it.” He exclaimed, very suddenly. He identified the faint thrilled longing in you before you did. He was right. For the briefest of moments, your ambitious mind wandered to the potential that the sabre offered. “Do you know how you earn it?”

“By killing you.”

“No, heavens, you bloodthirsty little thing. You just have to defeat me.”

Despite the situation, despite the low opinion of him he’d sensed from you the second you laid eyes on him, and despite the undoubtedly dead body behind you - a spark of good humour bubbled in your chest. He couldn’t believe it. Not a shred of hatred.

“You’re welcome to challenge me for it.” He pressed, and a sudden jolt of excitement ran through you. After all the months chained up underground in the mines, the thought of anything adventurous was welcome, even if your death was an almost guaranteed consequence.

“I’m not wasting my time with you.” You grinned at the ridiculousness of your statement, not meaning a word and not trying hide that fact in the slightest. You gestured flippantly in Savage’s direction. “I’ll take the big one.”

A dangerous chuckle rumbled from deep within Maul’s chest, the blade disengaging as he shifted, looking to Savage to share his amusement. You could’t believe how easily the murderous intent had dissipated.

“Well you owe me much more than time, my dear. I’ll have to do. Ready yourself.”

Your chest seized.

“What?”

“Ready yourself.”

Barely giving you a second, he stood up smoothly and ignited a red lightsaber blade in one fluid motion.

On the balls of your feet, you slunk backwards, toeing past the limp pile of silk over your former masters’s form. Barely able to take your eyes off of his approach, you shot a glance to the pole of metal in your hand.

“Go easy on me if this thing isn’t beskar.” You blurted out, and with a nerve-driven grin, clanged the staff against the tile floor.

It resounded with a painfully synthetic and hollow clang.

You knew giving ground was a sure-fire way to lose the upper hand so ignoring your instinct to run, you planted yourself in a defensive stance. Feet set diagonally and staff grasped in the middle, parallel to the ground.

He paused, eyes flashing with anger for a moment.

“Just when I was beginning to like you.”

If you hadn’t been so charged with panic, you would have blanked at the flash of red flying towards you from your peripherals. He was too fast. Rotating your wrist to raise the staff and ducking away out of instinct you managed to block it, sending it quickly away with a clash. You could feel warmth from his sabre creeping though the metal to your fingers just from that.

“Bad form.” Maul quickly withdrew and began circling you casually. The heavy thuds of your heart felt good against your sternum. Really good. You hadn’t felt anything close to exhilaration in almost a year. “If I’d been trying, your head would be on the floor.”

Your mind flicked back to your academy days, the only free days you’d had, really, to the boys who would take any chance to condescend to you. Maul was one of them. Annoying little-

“Guard your thoughts, dear. They’re awfully loud.”

“Just get on with it.”

Before the words had left your mouth, the blade came again from above. This time, your mind did blank. You weakly swiped your staff upwards in an awkward rotation to meet his.

The force of his blow cleaved the cheap metal straight to the ground in two pieces., and the saber came to hover at your throat. There was no heat, surprisingly, only the tell-tale humming of impending death.

You frowned.

Your wrist had warmth trickling across it.

A gasp ripped from you throat when you saw your hand. The plump flesh where your thumb became your palm - it wasn’t plump anymore. The saber had shaved across it, leaving half a palm of raw flesh there.

You shot a look at Maul. The way he was patiently observing, you knew you weren’t going to die right this second. But what did you have? What did you have?? Nothing. The most dangerous thing on your person was the underwire of your bra. If you had a few minutes to rip the seams open and pry the fucking thing free, you could leave him with some minor scratches as your final mark on the world.

“Again?” You offered with a hopeful smile that became more of a grimace when you clenched your hand shut to slow the bleeding. After spending so long considering it as an equally shitty alternative to being a slave, death didn’t seem like a distant terrifying thing anymore. Even in the face of it, you were still acutely aware of the effect you had on people. It worked even on him - he liked you.

What you weren’t aware of, was how good you looked with the red kyber light illuminating your face and collarbones. The metallic taste of your blood in the air was beyond sweet. Cursing himself, Maul knew he wasn’t going to finish you, and it irked him even more that you’d figured it out before he had.

“Next time, I’ll run you through.” He warned, removing the blade from under your chin.

“I said again.” You tilted your chin up defiantly, face set in a dogged determination.

His eyes burned into you, uncharacteristically still for the moment. They ran down you, lingering on every hint of a curve and every piece of bared skin that wasn't covered with dirt and grease. The eyes flicked behind you, to his brother now lounging on the throne.

"Leave us, Savage. Cancel our audiences for the next hour. Lock the door.”

The smirk the two of them shared. You knew that look. The look of the slave driver when he’d passed you over to a client for his first and final attempt at making a private entertainer out of you. You’d read Maul wrong, you thought him to be above that sort of disgusting thing. You’d read him so wrong. You really thought for a moment that this here was something different, two minds clashing just for the love of it. But, as you should’ve expected, he was just like the rest of them. He just hid it better.

“I can feel your hatred.” Maul taunted as Savage made his way past the two of you without a word. “Now where did that come from?”

Your mind raced again, scanning the room for weapons, escapes, ideas. The slaver. His little vibroblade. His gaudy gold belt with embedded jewels. The layers upon layers of delicate silk.

You snatched up a single piece of the staff with your good hand. Placing quick and deliberate steps away from him, you quickly found yourself crouched by the body, eyes never leaving Maul as you struggled to rip a long shred of silk off the robe. Once torn, you circled it frantically around your hand as a bandage, hissing at the friction as it dragged across the raw flesh of your palm.

He just watched. He stood there and watched, eyes alight like a nexu ready to pounce. As you yanked the gold belt free and wound it around the base of your now short-staff, he didn’t move a muscle. You quickly freed the ornate knife that had been brandished in your direction so many times from the corpse’s belt.

“You’re not putting your filthy fucking hands on me. Darth, Lord, King, Whatever the fuck. I don’t care who you are or what magical shit you can do.” You stood there fiercely, knife and staff in hand, chains draped over your fingers in a makeshift hilt, and blood dripping from the silk to trail down the metal. “I can promise you - touching me will not end well for you.”

“Sweetness.” He took you in. If the particularly stubborn tilt to your chin hadn’t made sense before - it was perfect on you now. At the idea of him forcing himself onto you, you’d transformed into a woman wielding all the strength and hatred of a Nightsister. “You’ve got it all wrong.”

The anger boiled and your lips drew into a thin, disbelieving smile. God, your thoughts were delicious. Without the sour aftertaste of self pity and feelings of inadequacy, your anger was pure, on principal. You were so composed, so smart, eyes regarding him with perception that equaled that of a force user.

But your security in yourself had one downside, he realised.

Self hatred, defeat, all the depressive emotions that riddled people. The denial and the fantasy that they used to keep going meant that their thoughts were hazed and guarded even from themselves. But you? Every little observation and emotion rang clearly in a distinguishable melody. Your respect for him at the start that you had allowed to grow into an easy fondness at his good humour. But now, the potent disdain seeping from you had charged your body with fight to your very bones. The ancestral magic that lingered around himself and Savage was crackling with it.

From start to finish however, your funny little song had a heavy baseline of lust thrumming in the background. Lust for power, for freedom, and for him. Even now it played. He knew you were only fighting him on principal, acting off what you had seen and observed. The hatred wasn’t for him. It was for the past that couldn’t be changed, the present where atrocities were still being committed as you stood there - and for the hopeful future that you intended to fix your damn self. For him, in the absence of amity, the dark side was fuelling your lust along with your anger.

He couldn’t ignore the flames licking towards him any longer.

“What idiot left a woman like you to rot in the mines?” He breathed, disengaging the blade of his sabre and pausing. He didn’t often allow himself to feel exposed.

“The dead one at your feet.” At the slightest hint of movement from him, you crouched, ready to move.

“You’re never going back there, as long as I rule.”

“I know. I blew that thing to hell.”

“You’re not going anywhere else like it.

“I’d rather end up dead in a mine than alive in your silk sheets.”

“Smart mouth.” Maul hummed, his voice layered with a strange affection. He raised his empty hands calmingly. “I’ve had my fun. I don’t want to end up hurting you.”

You remained silent. That voice. If you weren’t bleeding you’d think it was a bedroom voice. You wouldn’t have minded tha-

“Universe.” he continued, paused to muffle a chuckle. “Your thoughts are deafening. I know some things that I think you’d want to remain private.”

“Which things?” Your heart thumped.

“I’d feel rather unsavoury repeating them.”

“Unsavo-“ you blanched, slack-jawing with shock that knocked the thought of the fight right out of you. Holy fucking shit- no-

“Quite the gutter mouth, aren’t you?”

“Shut up. Shut up.” You hissed, gripping the knife and bar in your hand so tightly that they trembled like leaves in the wind. “That doesn’t mean shit. I’ll still kill you for touching me-“

“I don’t doubt it.” He purred, taking a few slow steps closer.

“Stop.”

“Do you want me to?”

“Get away from me!”

“Tell me with your mind. I’m in your head, sweetness. Will me to stop. Picture it. Give me the slightest hint that you want me to.”

You couldn’t.

The logical voice in your head, shaped my society and your experiences was telling you not to give him the satisfaction, that you were about to be used. But your gut? It had a sense of its own, as always. It told you to… trust him?

Different body parts were having very fucking insistent opinions as well.

“Zabrak.” You said, changing the subject the best you could. “Dathomirian?”

“Yes.”

“Your culture holds partnership as sacred.”

“Yes.”

“Do you?”

“Completely.” He was right before you now, within reach if you felt the urge to whack him over the head.

“Yet you allow pieces of filth like him.” You nodded to the slave driver’s corpse. “To do what he does. He tried to make a private entertainer out of me.”

“And now he’s dead, you’ll notice.”

“Because I did it myself. There’s others.”

“I gave them a chance to correct their behaviour. Most of them are fleeing or dead by now.”

“I can not think of a single reason why I would believe a word you’re saying.”

“Let me show you.” He extended a graceful hand to you, eyes burning into yours much more fiercely at that close range. “I’ll show you my thoughts, just as you are so beautifully sharing your own.”

“I don’t doubt a Sith could lie through even his thoughts.”

“Just see.” The hand flexed, waiting patiently.

“I’ll stab you.”

“Here.” You froze at a gentle touch to your wrist. Unwavering, he guided the ornate knife to rest at the junction of his neck and shoulder. The gold of the dagger, and the gold of his eyes shone brightly together. He tilted his head to the side, pulling his skin taunt and flexing the tendons beneath the metal “I believe you.”

“Fuck.” You watched his neck as he spoke, imagining the pulsing artery right beneath his red skin. “Does this move usually work on the girls?”

“That’s up to you.”

“Ugh.” You looked away in disgust. You didn’t know why you were so afraid of your hand slipping and nicking that neck.

“May I?” His hand left yours and reached slowly towards your face, two fingers extended.

“Get on with it.”

The two fingers hovered for another moment, then massaged gently into your temple. His chest rose as he took a deep breath, his eyes closing in concentration, and then your vision blacked out as he opened his mind to you.

Your thoughts were usually noisy, but the bustle of two beings in your head, two sets of emotions almost knocked you out as you struggled to decipher what you were feeling.

“Just relax.” He murmured. “I’ll show you.”

Lust. A specific kind of lust that your culture hadn’t acknowledged enough to warrant crafting a word for. You saw yourself from his eyes - from behind his eyes, where the emotions and opinions circulated tumultuously. The craving for you. He hadn’t been able to ignore your spirit. Your bright spirit that didn’t allow anyone’s grimy hands to dull it. You were the good the Jedi wished they were. Firm in your beliefs to the point that you would risk death to speak your truth. Fiery. You were a fucking fire from the moment you walked into his throne room. You flared with passion when wronged, but even as you stood there peacefully, the embers crackled, waiting for a breeze to fuel them into licking flames. You were so… alive.

There was a reverence to how he regarded you, the way you would expect him to feel for a goddess. With gentleness and fascination you would afford a delicate ornament, yet awe and respect so great that he allowed himself to imagine you at his side, accomplishing some great feat together. Shit, you thought vaguely, Zabraks move fast. Fucking hyperspeed.

That was just your character - things the force had provided him the perception to see. He hadn’t let himself focus on your body. You could feel the tension of him straining to keep himself focused, never following down trails of thought that would take him down the gutter.

“Show me the rest.” Your grip remained tight on the knife.

“I don’t know what you mean.”

“I see I overestimated the Sith’s abilities to lie.” You smiled, feeling the flood of thoughts hammer even harder to get out as your free hand came to rest over the one at your temple. With wicked laugh bubbling in your chest along with the nervous tension, you drew closer.

He sucked in a ragged breath, the chorus of restrained thoughts growing louder.

“Sweetness. I don’t want to give you the wrong idea.”

“Are you getting flustered, My Lord?” Your mind burst with amusement. Despite his best efforts, you’d been able to glean fragments of what he was holding back. Your voice saying his title had been one of the escapee thoughts and you couldn’t lie - you were enjoying having a beast like him wrapped around your finger. You pushed it further

“I am not- Oh. Ohhh that’s fucking delicious.” He hummed proudly and you felt the swell of his ego In your own body..

Tentatively, you had felt some need to reciprocate, regardless of him being able to feel you this whole time. You sent him your thoughts of his thunderous presence, the ability to command a room without raising a voice. The way he held himself so dignified, and how he let words fall from his tongue so beautifully controlled. Discipline, passion and his pure honesty were what had made you allow yourself to be drawn to him. You didn’t have the force, but you knew. You always knew. People. You could read them like a damned billboard.

You knew your own mind too, and although you never bothered, you could play his game and suppress your own thoughts. You teased him, letting yourself indulge in thoughts of pleasurable scenarios before focusing back in on the here and now. Him touching you, caressing you- but as fast as the image of you in an ornate bed came, the grounding presence of the marble beneath your feet sent it away.

Now, his mind was so full that single ideas were barely distinguishable, everything flurrying and melding together into static.

“Oh you’re a dangerous little thing.” He growled, hand latching onto your wrist and dragging you flush against him. You didn’t realise you dropped the knife, barely registered the clatter. His touch was gone from your temple, but the bond remained. You continued to taunt. Brief snapshots of the potential future. Spread out on the throne, on the ground, against that pillar over there. Gone as fast as they came. “You- By the Divine-.”

With a rough snarl of breath, he seized you by the waist and the back of your neck, and held you even closer.

“You want to see the rest, you’ll get the fucking rest.”

He held you there a moment, a hairs distance between your faces. His yellow eyes were on fire. You felt his nails at the small of your back, and his hot breath on your cheek.

Then, his lips were on yours, slow, but damn hungry. Your lips worked against each other with a strange fervour. His hold on you felt safe, familiar. But that mouth, the sheer heat of it, made your head spin. With every swipe of his tongue, your stomach clenched tighter.

You’d never felt this - weak in the knees from just a kiss. You were holding your own well enough, returning his passion despite gasping for breath. But when he sank a sharp tooth ever so gently into your bottom lip, dragging it into his mouth with a feral groan, you knew you were gone. You’d been desperately withholding the noises that had been straining to be let out, but as he broke the silence, you let go. As he broke the kiss, panting harshly, and began working his way to your jaw, down your neck, sucking and kissing loudly, you couldn’t hold back a shaky moan. Everything echoed in that damn hall.

The hands snuck down and pulled you into him by your ass. With your bottom half held close to him and your top half tilted back by the weight of him at your neck, you clung to him to keep from falling over with your good hand. He was so solid, unbothered by supporting your entire body weight. The hot mouth at your collarbones now completely unfaltering. His hands at your ass were delicious, you felt to pressure of it between your legs, stretching that desperate skin ever so slightly, giving you the first hints of pleasure.

You’d been in this position before, but never had it weakened your knees to fucking jelly. You knew it was because it was him, Maul. So damn ruthless and powerful. He could snap your neck with the flick of a finger. He could read your damn mind. He was the fucking ruler of Mandalore, and you knew you’d secured a foothold in his chest, shallow and precarious as it may be, it was undeniable. . You wanted to make him moan like you were, shaky and broken from the bare minimum.

“Oh. Oh.” He snickered into your neck.

“What.” You hissed out.

He chuckled again, a deep thing that reverberated in his chest. The hands that had remained firmly grasping your ass snuck lower, kneading at the flesh of your thighs. His fingers worked dangerously between your legs, so close to where you needed them.

“What?” You tried to sound demanding, but the word sounded too breathy, too high.

“You’re a power hungry little thing.” He hummed, trailing his tongue up your neck on his way to stare you dead in the eye. “You’d just love to be fucked on that throne over there, wouldn’t you?”

“I don’t know.” You smiled in anticipation of your own snark. “I can think of a few places I’d rather sit.”

You knew he saw where your thoughts went - to those yellow eyes looking up from between your thighs as you rode his face.

“No. There’s nowhere you’d rather be then up there.” He grinned as your ego swelled. You couldn’t enjoy the compliment for long as suddenly, his touch was gone from you and the room was flying past your field of vision. You let out a small shriek as you were flung across the room with the force. He slowed you before you landed on the throne, but your head spun with vertigo.

Before you could collect yourself, he was there, bracing a hand on each arm of the throne as he caught your lips in a kiss. Indignant from being thrown you shimmied to the edge of the smoothstone seat. Maul had to bend at the middle to keep kissing you and with an evil little grin, you reached up and held a horn in your each hand hand, pulling him even closer and further off balance. You laughed against his lips as, with a grunt, he dropped a hand to your thigh to keep from falling. You enjoyed this little act of power, and slid your tongue into his mouth. He gave you a broken groan.

“You’d be a bitch of a queen.” He craned his neck to rasp the words into your ear.

You let go of his horns, but hissed in pain as the worn, sharp edges of one slid against your open wound. Having forgotten the horrible thing was even there with the adrenaline of it all, the sharp sting sent your head back to smack against the throne. You growled behind clenched teeth as you rode it out.

“Fuck.” Unease shivered down you spine as you clutched your wrist with the other hand, squeezing viciously as if to somehow relieve it.

“Oh darling.” Maul’s eyes were on the wound, his voice a hoarse whisper as he dropped to his knees between your legs. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to do that. Give it to me.”

Your breath hiccuped in your throat as you cradled it close to you. “Fuck.”

“Give it.”

“Piss off.” You smacked his outstretched hand, hard. The sound reverberated around the massive hall. He didn’t flinch. He blinked, eyes popping open in offence. His voice grew harder.

“Give me your hand.”

“Oh fuck you,” You hissed, your hand locked into a wide fist around your wrist still. “You creepy fucking dathomirian cat. Bite me. Go chase a ball of twine. Go fucking lick your ass-“

“You’re as temperamental as a rancor.” He sighed, and pulled your hand to him. He didn’t even strain. With the same effort one would draw curtains, he dragged your rigid body close to him.

Just like that, your excitement turned back into fight, and your temper flared. Your lip curled and you twisted to shove a knee into his side. It impacted with a thud, and his breath left his body in a heavy oof.

But again he didn’t shift, barely even flinched, so you drew the knee to the side to do it again.

His hand slapped into your thigh, kneading the flesh in irritation. His eyes never left yours, but they grew dark with irritation.

“Sorry.” You blurted out. Your big mouth had gotten you into near-death situations plenty of times, but this was the first time that it had gotten you well on the way to being viciously railed. “Sorry. It just… Fuck that hurt.”

“That hurt.” He squeezed your offending leg for emphasis.

“No it didn’t.”

“No it didn’t.” He agreed. “I thought if you felt guilty, you’d hold the fuck still.”

“What are you going to do? Kiss it better? Lick it like a fucking cat?” The pain still biting into your hand soured your temper, and the intimacy you’d shared over the past few minutes emboldened your tongue. But what you’d meant to be a demeaning comment, sent his eyes to your hand and made his jaw flex with tension.

“Holy shit. You’d love that wouldn’t you?” You whispered, absolutely floored at the realisation. “Fucking Zabraks. Carnivourous little-“

“Stop it.” Maul said abruptly, his voice stony and solemn. He took your hand from you, slowly. It looked gentle to your eye, but his grip was iron, his muscle barely flexed as he forced your hand closer to him. “Trust me.”

A nervous laugh broke from you. Trust him. What a joke. You trusted him to fuck you, but now you could feel the tautness of the skin along your wrist where the blood had begun to dry. The sting of the open wound along the flesh of your palm, so large that it hadn’t even begun to scab over. You didn’t trust him with this.

He unwound the bloodied silk from your hand and you hissed as it stuck, sending pain jolting all the way up to your elbow. He shot a look to your expression. You were struggling to stay strong, letting your distress translate to anger. Your brows were drawn together and your lip curled as you held back any sound. You sent your glare his way, cursing that you let those yellow eyes draw you in. Maul’s lips curved at the corners in something that was dangerously close to affection.

“So brave.” He murmured. He gently closed his own hand over your own. Your poor severed nerve endings felt every callous on his red hand and you smacked your heel against the floor at the feeling.

“Mmm.” Was all you replied, voice growling in the back of you throat.

“Open your mind up.”

“What the fu-“

“Open your mind up. Like before.”

“Are you going to mind control me?”

He ignored you, closed his eyes and bowed his head, both hands wrapped around your own.

“I don’t know anything about the force, but I can guarantee you’ll have a hard time fucking with my head.”

“Shhh.”

“I’ll stab you.”

“Stab me quietly, then.” He murmured, his own brow furrowing with… concentration?

You watched in silence as he sat there for the stretch of several minutes, the only sound his deep, slow breathing. You took the opportunity to study his face, with the heat from those damed eyes finally turned away from you. When he was peaceful, he was actually quite pretty, you thought. Fine features, like that of a wealthy coruscanti, yet branded with those red and black colours that screamed danger, like a particularly venomous snake.

A calm washed over you. Absolutely foreign, it was Maul’s influence, you knew instantly. You never felt calm, you could be content, relaxed and vaguely peaceful, but you’d never known calm. There was always a train of thought playing at the back of your mind, usually painfully analytical. His calm felt stifling to you, a suppression of who you were as a person, but it was so strong that you couldn’t even begin to summon panic about it.

Then, your palm tingled, something between a tickle and an itch. It was overwhelming, but his strong grip on your hand and mind kept you from shying away. The calm wavered, and then it was gone, and your head was your own again.

“Take a look.” He sat back on his heels and watched as your lifted your hand to your face, eyes wide with disbelief.

The crusted blood remained, but within its perimeter, your skin was healed. Slightly pink and baby smooth, not a trace of damage.

“Why?” You asked. Why would this fucking crime lord be benevolent? He was a Sith, they were fuelled by hatred, not whatever this was.

“I’m not sure.” He said simply.

“Thank you.” The words didn’t capture the gratitude to its fullest extend. After the years of hard labour you went through, that gesture of kindness hit you like a blaster shot. “Thank you.” You repeated dumbly, unable to conjure anything else to express yourself.

“It’s my pleasure, sweetness. Are you… Are you alright?”

You frowned at the undertone. It was nervous, and you didn’t quite understand his timidness. Then it hit you, and you burst into a quick laugh. “You mean…” You pursed your lips to hold the smile back and raised your eyebrows challengingly. “Am I alright to fuck you?”

You burst into another round of cackles as the sheepish grin spread across his face, so uncharacteristically boyish.

“Lord Maul. Darth Maul.” You crooned shamelessly. “On his knees and asking so politely to fuck me. No one would ever believe this.”

“Don’t antagonise m-“

“Come here.”

He froze, midway through his grumble, then, pulled himself up by the arms of his throne and kissed you again.

It was different now. Grateful, reverent. He held your jaw as his lips brushed yours. It went on achingly long, both of you lost in it. Suddenly, he must’ve realised that he was enjoying this simple act of affection far too much, because out of nowhere, he bit into your lip hard. With a gasp, you pulled away in fright, eyes wide. He looked shocked himself, as if he’d done it on a panicked impulse to cut the tender moment short. You giggled openmouthed against his cheek, something compelling you to press a gentle kiss there. He leaned into it, letting out a vaguely humored sigh of his own.

But your laughter quickly came to a halt as he dropped to his knees between your legs. His brow raised mockingly at the astounded look on your face.

“Get rid of these. Now.” He tapped an impatient hand on your thigh and stared at your clothed legs pointedly. “Come on, this is what you wanted. You wanted me to show you the rest. This is the rest.”

You couldn’t conjure a single smart thought, so you obliged, raising you hips off the throne so you could shimmy out of your pants and underwear. The second the pants hung loose over your thighs, he lunged forward and yanked them down your legs, eyes never leaving your centre. He tossed the clothing thoughtlessly over his shoulder and leaned in to lift you closer to him by your ass.

“Oh sweetness.” He groaned, his chest heaved with a heavy, slow, breath. You could feel the bite of the cold air between your slicked legs, you knew how wet you were. He pressed a hand to the inside of each of your thighs, spreading you wider only inches from his face. “Oh seven hells, that’s exactly what you are - fucking sweet.”

The feeling of his warm breath against your inner thighs drove you crazy, but it didn’t even begin to compare to how the sight of him on your knees for you while you sat on his throne made you dizzy. He was right. After living the life you’d lived at the mercy of others, you were power hungry. You were starving for it. You don’t know what possessed you to say:

“Show me then.” Your voice was low. Your next words came out with a hint of mockery; of challenge. “Put your pretty mouth to work, my Lord.”

Maul’s brow shot up in surprise, and a huff of laughter escaped him. Yet you saw how those eyes darkened. He paused for a moment, eyes looking into yours, obviously trying to conjure some smart remark, to show you your place. To your delight, he couldn’t maintain the eye contact, neck curving to glean another look at your cunt. He growled in frustration from the very back of his throat and leaned in to lick a long line across your slit.

You shivered, hands slapping to the thick arms of the throne to brace yourself. But your pleasure was short-lived. He sat back on his haunches stubbornly and glared as your hooded eyes flicked open in surprise. He let the silence stew, before he tilted his head menacingly.

“I’m going to turn that smart fucking mouth dumb.”

You smiled in amusement, but your lips quickly fell open as he closed his mouth over your clit and lapped at it with a flat tongue. You moaned. Loud. He fucked the same way that he ruled; ruthlessly.

“Shirt. Off.” He said briefly, before diving back in. A hand slapped the side of your thigh forcefully to emphasise his point. You quickly pulled your shirt over your head, scared that he might stop if you didn’t.

He hummed his approval, the hand on your thigh gripping it tighter as the other came out to slip under your breast band. He massaged your breast roughly as he slipped his tongue inside of you, letting out a muffled groan. He wasn’t even trying to drive you over the edge yet-

Maul just loved the taste.

He lapped at the inside of you hungrily, eyes closing with enjoyment as he probed and swirled deeper. And shit, you heard his thick swallow, quickly followed by another. You let out a hum of a moan, relaxing completely under his touch. At the sound, his intensity increased, nails digging into the flesh of your thigh and the hand your breast adjusting to roll your nipple between his thumb and his forefinger.

“Fuck.” You breathed, and at hearing you react, he ran his tongue from you entrance to your clit. “Fuck.” You repeated, in an embarrassingly high pitch.

“Are you going dumb on me, sweetness?” His voice came from closer.

You didn’t even realise he’d shifted. You’d just began to shape your mouth around a reply when you felt two of his fingers slide into you. A moan ripped out of you when his mouth closed around your breast, a hand on your back to keep you in his mouth.

“Yes, I think you are.” He said, swiping a thumb over your clit as the fingers of the same hand scissored you open, curling and stroking in turns. “Didn’t even need a cock. You’re dumb from just a few fingers.”

Again, with a fucking evil chuckle, he escalated things before you could reply. He quickly ducked to catch your clit in his mouth again, laving a hot tongue over the whole area. He sucked, mouthed, and started thrusting those damn fingers into you, hard, bouncing you back against the throne with every plunge.

“Mmm. Maul.” You groaned.

“So smart.” He mocked, replacing his mouth with his thumb while he spoke. “You figured out my name.”

“Shut up.”

He chuckled again, ducking back down to work you with his mouth. The muscles in your abdomen tighten on their own, chasing the growing feeling of pleasure.

“Look at you on my throne.” He grinned, lips shiny with slick. “Spread out as if its yours.”

You tried to say something, but he curled his long fingers inside you and all that came out was a moan. At that, he pressed a sloppy kiss to your clit, his suck making an obscene sound as he drew back yet again. His fingers kept moving, lazily, tauntingly, giving you just enough pleasure to keep you squirming, but not enough to drive you over the edge.

“Fucking queen. Fucking slut. So greedy. You want a bigger throne and you want your cunt stuffed with me, you wanted it the second you walked in here.”

“Maul.” Your complaint came out as a plead.

“What? Smart mouth?”

“Make me-“ Your voice cracked as he kissed your clit again, tongue sliding down as his lips tortured you roughly. He was fucking evil. He was playing with you, giving you direct, overstimulating pleasure, and taking it away as soon as the pressure began to build. It wasn’t even edging - he wasn’t letting you get close - just fucking torture. Wanting more, or it all being too much,

“What was that?”

“Maul. Please.”

“Dumb mouth.” He chuckled wickedly, “Fucking dumb.”

“If you won’t make me cum, I’ll do it my damn self.” You hissed, reaching for your throbbing clit.

But he caught your wrist, eyes never leaving yours, fingers still working you lazily. You thought that he was strong before, but now his grip was iron. It hurt. You realised he’d handled you with care before, even when he’d thrown you, it didn’t hurt this much.

You wanted it to hurt more.

You struggled against him harder, loving the electricity of his nails digging into your flesh. His muscles barely flexed, and your hand barely moved despite your efforts. Those damned yellow eyes saw straight through you, bright and smug. He cocked his head, fingers stilling inside you.

“You like this.” He said simply, eyes narrowed as he gauged your reaction.

“Hmm?” You tried to sound coy, but it didn’t come out right. It sounded… dumb and guilty.

He licked his lips, and then his nails bit into your wrist hard enough to sting.

You inhaled sharply, the breath stuttering and catching to produce an undeniably sexual sound. The feeling went straight to between your legs and your knees tried to jolt together. A shaky breath of his own answered yours. Both of you stared at the other, you unable to deny the effect the pain had on you - and him unable to believe it as you pulsed and clenched around his fingers.

“You like it.” He hissed, grip unwavering. The nails plunged deeper. The pain began to throb and burn. You clenched around him again.

“I like it.” You breathed, head dropping back onto the throne, all resistance lost.

“Fuck. Fuck.” Maul growled, something deep and carnal from the very bottom of his chest. He lunged down so suddenly that you jumped. You could only groan as he nipped at the flesh of the inside of your thighs. His hand let go of your wrist and you could feel the shape of the crescent indentations he’d left. The hand slid up, feeling its way along your shoulder until it came to brush the side of your neck. Your breath caught and you lifted your head to look at him.

Those intense yellow eyes were gauging your reaction as his thumb spread along your throat, his hand now encircling your neck.

“You like this too?”

Gods you loved it. You didn’t realise you would. If it was anyone else, you would’ve smacked them for trying. With Maul, it wasn’t an insecure lover diminishing you to uplift themselves. It was instinctive with him. He had regarded each of your desperate moans with reverence, staying composed as if he expected this of himself; as if he held you writhing and begging without him even breaking a sweat as the minimum standard for his performance.

But now? A dangerous mood was unfurling between the two of you. It was creeping up quietly, slowly. Both of you spoke in hushed whispers as it drew closer.

“Mhmm.” You answered softly. You tilted your chin up to bare your throat to him. His grip tightened ever so slightly, not enough to hurt but enough to make your head feel deliciously warm. You groaned, struggling to keep your eyes from fluttering closed in bliss so that you could watch him. His composure was failing. His breath grew heavier and eyes grew ravenous.

“Sweetness.” He breathed. “Oh fuck.” His hand slid up to grip your jaw. His fingers came away from your face for a moment, then he brought them back with a firm slap, not hard, but enough to make a sound. Enough to make your lips part in a gasp of surprise that sounded far too close to a moan. The jolt of the fright was quickly drowned out by the swell of arousal in your stomach. Yet again, you felt yourself flutter around those fucking fingers.

“Gorgeous.”

The fingers dragged down your cheek, two of them resting on your lips. He paused there, waiting, as if he expected something. You stared back, eyes soft with arousal.

You lifted your head and sucked the fingers into your mouth.

Maul gave you a broken groan.

“Of course you like that. Hells above. You’re perfect.”

“Mmm.” You confirmed. You ran your tongue over the rough pads of his fingertips.

“Fuck. Can I bite you, love?”

You stilled from your movements to stare at him with a raised eyebrow. He’d thrown you across the room, choked you, slapped you, and he’s asking if he can bite? After a long pause you hit him with a muffled, condescending, “Uh huh?”

“Watch it.” His fingers bit into the flesh of your thigh as he grabbed you with a growl, leaning closer into your neck and letting his tongue glide up it. “Fucking smart mouth.”

“Seems… fuck… seems obvious. Yes. Please.”

“I mean bite you. Not deep, just enough to draw blood. The taste… It’s like how you’d enjoy fruits and sweets. I know you taste so good, darling. You smell like fucking dessert.”

Hmm.” Your annoying, thoughtful noise morphed into a giggle, and then a breathy moan when he dragged a sharp tooth across your neck. “Make me feel good first.”

“You’re dripping on my floor. I’d say you’re already feeling good.”

“I want to cum.”

“You want to cum? I’ll make you cum then. Demanding little whore.”

He did it so easily. On his knees, he gave you everything at the same time. Those tattooed fingers probed and curled and between each stroke, he pushed his tongue down the whole length of your clit. When his fingers hit your g-spot, he paused, pressed harder and sucked your clit into his mouth. If that devastating syncopated rhythm wasn’t enough, he was in your head too. You could taste yourself through his mouth, see yourself, from his inexplicably reverent eyes. Fuck. Even as your eyes rolled back into your head and mouth hung open with gasps, he thought you were beautiful. You were close already. You’d never had an orgasm that you didn’t have to chase, but this one was building whether you tried or not. It was fucking inevitable. You felt the pleasure in your pussy, stomach, and even flaring down the insides your legs.

It hit before you were ready.

Your hips shoved down onto his hand with a mind of their own, and you slid down in the seat until only your head rested on the back of the throne. You shook. Even your hands trembled with it, and he let you ride his hand through the whole devastating length of it, mouth sealed dutifully to your clit. He kept going long after you were done, tongue lapping until it became too much.

“Fuck. Stop. Stop!” You squirmed away from him, gasping. “Oh o’sik. Stars above.”

He sat back onto his heels, eyes seeming to glow brighter. His hands slid off of you, and he just regarded you, spread out and chest heaving on his throne.

“Satisfied?”

You groaned a weak affirmative, eyes rolling closed.

“Poor thing.” You heard him croon. “Can’t even talk.”

“Yes.” You breathed out. “Fuck yes I’m satisfied.”

“Oh. Suppose you won’t be wanting any more, then?”

You peeked an eye open and found him still sat obediently on his haunches, hunting hound turned lap dog. Head cocked in anticipation of your answer.

“Well… I never said that.”