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joshusten · 9 months

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got my head in a daze (guy/honey, redacted audios)

Guy takes care of a drunk and obliviously sentimental Honey.

(fluff, humor, taking care of drunk character)

2.5k+ words [ao3 link here!] [masterlist]

[CW and notes: implied alcohol consumption, honey kinda gets a lil vulnerable, drunken shenanigans, swearing, geordi and cutie briefly appear at the beginning bc i miss them lol, whipped and flustered Honey, whipped and flustered Guy, they love each other so much i’m shaking, possibly OOC**, GRAMMATICAL ERRORS not rlly proofread]

—

"Thank you for calling Max's Rustic Pizza, my name is Guy, how can I– OH! Fuck! Hi! Sorry, forgot to turn off my 'work' brain–"

"Wait, what? Are they okay? Oh, okay, okay. How long will you be here?"

"Oh, cool, cool, okay. I'll meet you outside. Thanks a lot, Geordi. Stay safe."

The call ends and Guy scrambles around the apartment for a change of clothes. He's still wearing his work uniform. The stench (he doesn't really smell that bad, does he?) of sweat, basil, and, well, pizza feels embedded into them.

Unfortunately, no matter how dashing he looks in the black polo shirt (according to what the very lovely old lady that lives across them said), Guy remembers Honey always complaining about the smell. This probably means they won’t appreciate being greeted by it once they arrive with their friend.

He opts for a simple shirt that’s fresh from the laundry and grabs a soft blanket for Honey. The nights have been chilly lately and with his burning hatred for being sick, he definitely doesn’t want his partner to experience that either, especially in their state.

The sound of tires on asphalt snaps Guy out of his fussing and he realizes he’s near the entrance of their building. He opens the door to greet the Corolla pulling up near the sidewalk. Its side windows rolled down to reveal Geordi at the wheel looking back at Cutie, who was comforting Honey in the passenger seat.

A very drunk Honey, that is.

“Psst. We’re here.” Cutie whispered gently as not to startle the very much intoxicated person currently resting on their lap. Honey opens their eyes and squints at their surroundings, letting out what Guy would probably describe as the cutest sound in existence (it really was just a whine but sue him for gushing on his partner over the simplest of things.)

“Really…?”

“Yes, really. C'mon, your escort's there," The telepath says, nudging them to look at the man currently standing outside the car wearing an oversized Star Trek shirt with a blanket slung over his shoulder.

"Es…what?"

It was evident that the trio were trying, and failing, to suppress their amusement at how… out of it their usually uptight friend is. It's adorable, even.

Guy lowers himself to get Honey to sit up and Cutie immediately helps him. Then, slowly but surely, the pair gently shifts them out of the car to stand up on the sidewalk.

"Okay, there you go, hon," Guy finally balances his swaying partner (or at least, how balanced one can be while inebriated). "Thanks a lot. Can you guys go home safely?"

"Yeah, no need to worry about us! Cutie's just a lil tipsy but Honey's the only one actually affected by how much of a lightweight they are," Geordi answers, wiping some fog that formed on his glasses. Guy glosses over the very endearing fact that their ever-so-grumpy partner is a lightweight to realize how cold it is outside. The blanket!

He wastes no time wrapping the soft fabric around Honey and they instantly snuggled up to it. “Woah…thanks…S’cold a while ago…” They happily said, their words slowly coming out like molasses.

Guy chuckles, averting his gaze from the peaceful smiling face of their partner to Cutie’s shit-eating grin. “Thanks again. I’m glad they didn’t get themself into trouble.”

"No prob, Guy, really. Though I am not gonna miss how much they were raving about their wonderful boyfriend throughout the car ride. No matter how cute it was, that was still 30 minutes I can’t take back. I don't need to be a mind reader to know they can’t wait to see you.”

Geordi lets out a few snickers that make Guy wonder if there was an inside joke he wasn’t getting. He dismisses the thought, Never mind that! His Honey was being all mushy! About him! That leaves him blushing, cheeks hot with a small smile growing and Honey quietly observes the man beside them. They amusingly think their strange escort looks enchanting when flustered.

“O-okay, then! Welp, get back home safe!” Guy waves a hand, the other around Honey’s waist tightened to keep them on their very unstable feet. “I’ve got my very drunk paramour that’s in dire need of some tender loving care to attend to."

The couple waves them goodbye as the side windows close (with a scandalized “Geordi!” accompanied by a playful slap coming from Cutie despite the aforementioned man keeping his mouth shut though, shortly right after, he bursts into a fit of giggles.) Guy really doesn’t get how they both seem to communicate without sharing any words between them but he shrugs it off for now. He has more pressing matters to deal with.

“C’mon, Honey! Time to get you in our humble abode!" Guy begins to guide their partner to the entrance and opts for the nearby elevator instead of the stairs. He definitely doesn't want to risk any possible accidents from that.

They were both quiet for the whole three stories up. Guy worries about how exhausted Honey must've felt with how they were leaning on his shoulder, eyes closed as they breathed softly, almost snoring. Cute.

The journey to their unit was surprisingly quick. Guy takes out his keys after gently shaking the bundled-up figure beside him. "Hey,” he whispered, “We're here, sleepyhead."

The door opens and so do Honey’s eyes, blinking out any weariness that weighed on them. They stride over to the couch with the short-lived confidence of a drunkard, leaving the man holding them surprised. They don't remember walking being so difficult. Why was the ground so…move-y all of a sudden?

Guy's eyes widen as he realizes Honey is out of his grasp. They managed to take a few steps before he could see their movements getting sluggish again. "Woah, hey, hey! Slow down, let me help." He takes hold of their arms to balance them as he gently set their partner on the couch.

“There ya go,” Guy smiles, kneeling down on his knees to help them out of their footwear that has probably grown uncomfortable. However, the moment he starts to take off their shoe, Honey's foot jerks back. They have their usual annoyed expression but something seems off about how they look at him.

“Hey, back off! I have a… boyfriend, y’know?”

. . .

What.

"What?"

"Look, dude, thanks for… bringing me up here but I'm gonna…wait for my boyfriend, okay?"

Holy shit, they're fucking wasted.

"Honey, it's me," Guy insists. No doubt the real, very much existing live audience he always monologues for would find this situation hilarious if he wasn't desperately trying to take care of his partner without them freaking out.

"Ha-ha, okay, man, you’re really cute and shit but I want my boyfriend here, not some random fucking guy!”

Despite literally rejecting him in their drunken stupor, his grumpy darling of a partner still makes way for his heart to flutter. How the hell is he going to handle this when some simple flattery from them leaves his mind reeling? “But I’m not some guy! I am Guy!” He sees that the statement confuses Honey’s already muddled mind some more. At moments like these, Guy wonders what in the ever-loving fuck his parents were on when they decided to name their child like that.

The man backtracks, "Look, your…boyfriend is a lil busy right now. He’ll be back soon but he told me to take care of you while he’s gone, would that be okay?”

Honey squints their eyes, and their foot slowly sets itself back on the floor. “Hm. fine…but don’t pull any moves on me, got it?” They pointed a threatening finger at him. “I like my boyfriend a whole lot and I don’t want him coming home to some bullshit, you hear me?”

Their strange escort smiles wide and Honey is suddenly overtaken by the instinct to cup his round cheeks, as if it was second nature. Honey shakes their head. There’s something about this man, they just don’t know what, but he makes them feel…weird.

“You got it, boss!” Guy beams with a mock salute before untying the laces of their shoe. After a few moments of comfortable silence, he decided to speak up. “Y’know, that must be one lucky boyfriend. You seem to be fond of him.” He means it. He really is lucky to have them in his life.

Honey looks away with furrowed brows, mumbling softly, “I’m the lucky one…”

“Hm? What do you mean?” Guy tilts his head to the side. Well, that got him curious.

“He’s… he’s really nice to me, even when I’m not.” The urge for Guy to rebut was strong but he decided to shut the fuck up for once to let them continue. “He acts goofy as hell most of the time, too. Like some fucking gremlin or something…”

Their eyes meet and his breath hitches. They’re beautiful.

“And he makes me feel really, really good. He asks for kisses all the time and he cooks me breakfast and his voice sounds so nice in my ear even when he talks a lot a-and he makes my stupid heart feel stupid warm when he looks at me with those pretty eyes like–” They pause to take a breath.

“Like I’m actually enjoyable to be around.” Honey’s flustered. The heat practically radiates off of them as they lock their gaze on the floor. “He's stupid handsome too, it’s not fair! S’like he got it all!”

They pushed a finger up to the man’s lips in an attempt to shush him (They also ignore how pleasantly soft it feels against their skin), "But don't tell him I said that!"

Guy merely chuckles to mask the reality of how fast his heart is beating right now. Fuck, if he keeps getting these sweet compliments from a blushing Honey in such generous amounts, he might actually pass out. Definitely not a bad way to go. He awkwardly cleared his throat, noticing that they were expecting a reply from him, “I-I won’t. I promise.” They seem satisfied by that, crossing their arms as they avoid his eye contact again. Guy racks up his mind on what to do next, his thoughts currently in disarray no thanks to the overwhelming affection he’s receiving. “How ‘bout you go wash up and change your clothes so we can get you to bed, hm?”

Honey nods, and allows the man to guide them to the bedroom (not without a sharp “No funny ideas!” from them and a giggly but reassuring “Of course, of course!” from the man). Guy makes sure to leave the bathroom door open just in case something happens as Honey sloppily brushes their teeth while he prepares some sleepwear for them.

Once they were done, Guy stepped out of the room to give his partner some privacy and brings back a glass of water with some painkillers to leave by their bedside table for tomorrow. He waits outside the bedroom door, knocking one, two, three times, “Can I come in?”

After hearing the soft “Sure” from inside, the door creaks open to reveal their Honey, clad in pajamas, lying in bed. He sets the pills down and inches the glass toward their lips.

“Hey, don’t sleep yet. You gotta get hydrated first.”

Guy notices they were a bit more compliant, probably too tired to try intimidating him with…their boyfriend. After a few sips, Honey yawns, their head gently landing on the fluffy pillows surrounding their drowsy state. The fatigue was really catching up on them, allowing slumber to take over easily.

In their dreams, they swear they feel a warmth caress their skin and a soft, fleeting pressure on their forehead.

“I love you.”

–

The first thing Honey hears through the headache is the sizzle of the omelet that Guy is currently giving out a performance to in his rendition of a song he’s playing on his phone.

The man turns off the stove, expertly sliding the dish on a plate placed nearby while still shaking his hips to the music. He continues his singing, oblivious to the fact that their partner is currently observing them with a grin despite the pounding in their head.

“He’s a semi-aquatic egg-layin’ mammal of– AH!” Guy almost drops the plate the moment he notices someone by the hallway. “Honey!”

They wince at the sudden greeting and Guy sheepishly smiles at them as an apology. “You wanna eat? I cooked some eggs.”

“That would be nice, thanks. Sorry for interrupting your…Disney Channel concert.”

Guy dramatically gasps, setting down another plate in front of where Honey sat at the table. “That was not just some Disney Channel concert! It’s my Phineas and Ferb playlist! That was a serenade to Aphrodite, an angel’s choir! That show’s soundtrack contained the very secret chord that David played! Receiving the highest praise from the greatest minds of our time, including, but not limited to, yours truly! I can’t believe you would slander the artistry of–mmph!”

He smiles in the kiss and he tastes the fresh mint in their mouth. They brushed their teeth again before coming here. Had they planned to kiss him all along? They pull away, dragging a needy whine from his lips. Fuck, the day hasn’t started yet and they’ve already got his heart pumping. A good morning indeed.

“Okay, okay, I get it, you menace!” Honey lets out a giggle that has Guy taking back everything he said. His taste in music is definitely their laugh. “It’s too fucking early for you to be monologuing like this.”

They smile again and he knows it’s a joke, especially after everything that they’ve confessed to under the influence a few hours ago. He smirks mischievously, “Oh? That’s not what you said last night~”

Honey raises a brow, their fork with a piece of the beaten egg stopping midway towards their mouth. “What, did I do something stupid?”

The man excitedly scoots his chair near them, “Hm, what was that about my voice sounding so nice in your ear?” Honey squints their eyes in confusion before they widen, the foggy memories from last night coming back to them. Heat rapidly rises to their horrified face, much to their smug boyfriend’s delight.

“Shut the fuck up!”

“Or–how did you put it–me being stupid handsome?”

“Guy, please–”

“Oh! Or what about making your heart feel stupid warm?”

At this point, Honey hid their face in Guy’s neck, playfully slapping the arms wrapped around their waist.

“You’re an asshole.” Their words held no heat and were less mean considering they came out muffled from their significant other’s shoulder. The latter simply laughed.

“To be fair,” Guy whispered in their ear, “You make my stupid heart feel stupid warm too.”

Honey sits back up, more flustered than ever and Guy relishes the view. His lover muttered a quick “Fucking dumbass.” before kissing him again, considerably more tender than the last.

- “Gitchee, gitchee goo means that I love y– OW! Ow, ow, ow! Okay, pausing the playlist, going back to the romantic mood!”

---

i rlly like this fic!! idk the idea of a flustered tsundere honey was just so delicious AND GUY GETTING EQUALLY FLUSTERED BC EUEUEUFHSDKFHJ HIS BABYHONEYDARLING IS BEING SO MUSHYYY LMAO again tho, feel free to leave me feedback!! whether it's a grammatical error or how true/consistent i am to the characters, it will always be appreciated!! have a nice day/noon/night!! >:))

#redacted audio #redacted guy #redactedverse #redacted asmr #redacted honey #redacted audio fanfic #ITS FINALLY DONE OH GOD #IM FREE IM GONNA CRY #sten writes!

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tox-tea · 3 months

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Oh to Worship You (click for higher res)

#oh my god i finished it i finally finished it this is the most complicated thing ive ever done but its finally finished #tgcf #has just taken over my brain and unlocked art ideas and skills i did not know i had im so proud of this im so excited to show you guys #thanks for all of the support of the wip of this i posted!#i have many feelings about hualians dynamic and the dedication but also the awe at that dedication its not just about hua cheng worshipping #its also about xie lian being worshipped that love of a god to their believer add their love for eachother personally and it just breaks me #hualian invented love #hualian #hua cheng #xie lian #heaven official's blessing #tian guan ci fu #mxtx #mxtx tgcf #fanart #my art #tgcf fanart

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lyss-butterscotch · 11 months

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GIJINKA ITERATOR REF V2

Top left is pronoun - height - symbol - overseer/earpiece color

Top middle is name - local group - ID tag - branch - interests

Note that names listed in CREATURES are names given by their creators, not their title

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temeyes · 10 months

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train ride home

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doodleodds · 1 year

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Me? Uploading a Halloween comic on November 18th, almost four whole-ass weeks late???? Yeah that’s uh. yup. yeah

Thanks for reading! :) <3

#persona 5 #p5 #akira kurusu #OUGH OH MY GOD ITS FINALLY. DONE. I AM LOSING MY MIND #if you've been following me for long enough: yes! this IS in fact the comic i mentioned that i was making last year.#Fun fact! This is also! The Third Draft of said comic!!! i have redrawn this thing THREE FUCKING TIMES #as a result you may notice that i uh. a) gave up on coloring this thing. no way in HELL am i coloring 30 pages. im not...strong enough #you will settle for simply having monochrome colored panels and you will LIKE IT!!!!! >:OOOOO #and b) gave up on backgrounds! yeah fuck that lmao. i am never drawing people in the monabus again and mementos can kiss my ass!!!!!#i just want to draw my silly little characters & not their environments #and you may also say: sophia. by halloween they are already in Sae's palace. why isn't goro with them and where's haru?#and to that i say shhhh suspend your disbelief. akechi is in mementos carving pumpkins to avoid trick or treaters.#and also haru isn't there because i cannot draw 6+ people in a cramped space yet!!! my art skills are Just Not There Quite Yet :(#so she's staying home and handing out fullsized candy bars to kids. that's where she is while this is all going down #'does akira know it's akechi down there?' :) that's up to you! but i WILL say that I was thinking about Akeshu when i wrote this so. :))))#ANYWAY if you read this far in the tags im so sorry lmao. thanks for sticking around! Hope you had a happy halloween :)#hopefully i won't disappear for long this time. idk im just gonna start uploading other bullshit art in the interim between comics i guess #probably some fire emblem shit. we'll see. we'll see. anyway bye!! till next time!

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samarecharm · 1 month

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tiny.

#persona 5 #oh my god. I will tag them all later.#i really regret not making the file bigger. but in my defense #i did not think i was going to color them AT ALL #so i gotta deal #so glad i finally got this done. i wanted some cheebs to use as a point of reference for my relationship chart #(romantic but MOSTLY platonic)#and at some point i was like. hey #i actually DONT have a color palette reference for most of them #so. here they are. lol.#really love how haru and ryuji came out heehee #its like. 8:30 for me as of typing this (and drafting it)#so im not doing the chart today. but i am just glad i got the hard part done <3 #akira #ryuji #ann #shiho #mishima #yusuke #futaba #makoto #haru #goro #i WOULD do the full name to get them in popular tags #but then id have to decide WHO was going in the first 5 tags. and thats too much work #and i dont rlly care to add character tags to something like this. its almost misleading LOL

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hakusins · 24 days

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WHITNEY COMFORT EV ENT !!!!!!! I FUCKING DID IT !!!!!!!!!!!!!

#this took so goddamn long its not funny #B REFHJEFHJJEHRF #BUT I DID IT !!!! I FUCKING DID IT #ims o happy oh my god #i can finally go do my work #whitney the bully #dol whitney #dol #degrees of lewdity #dol related #hes such a sweetheart i adore him #THE WAY HE STOPS !!!!!!! AND WAITS UNTIL PC IS DONE SOBBING IM #IM ON THE FLOOR

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marclef · 6 months

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fake peppino making the discovery that, unfortunately, noise is not a delicious rat underneath that mask.

#no wonder he doesn't taste as good.#my art #pizza tower #pizza tower fake peppino #pizza tower noise #this. this took longer than i thought it would.#but oh my god its finally done #i've realized it's just really fun drawing these two together heh. little gremlin man constantly at the mercy of this goopy thing.#fake doesn't ever really want to hurt noise though. unless he does something to like supremely piss him off. doesn't happen often at least.

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mirohtron · 4 months

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im writing for @kaiwewi for this year's Secret Santa :) their prompt was:

Please write a story about a villain who is more of a mascot for their group of competent 'henchman' rather than an actual boss/leader.

—

Technically, the villain should've had the foresight to see this coming. They should've, probably, mentioned it to their leader, and if not them at least some lower-tier henchman. At least casually. Been like, hey, if I get kidnapped, you'll wanna save me, right? Could be hard to replace me.

Oh, man.

This wasn't really happening, was it?

A rough, hard punch to the cheek sent their whole world spinning. A pink leather-clad hand yanked them up from the back of their hair to keep them from sinking. The villain considered screaming for help and quickly thought against it. They had to stay put. Had to.

"Got you now," said the crueler hero. What was her name again? Something pretty and harmless that didn't match her dreadful grin. The guy beside her was all red and gold muscle. The villain had seen him grace the covers of a couple magazines before; their mother had been subscribed to Vanity growing up.

Oh, if only their mother could see them right now. Getting kidnapped in a back alley in the dead of night. In civilian clothes too, at that. Embarrassing.

"Took you long enough," the villain replied, and the next punch knocked a tooth out. They spat it out in a bloody glob, staining the red hero's boots. On the black asphalt, their molar looked like a red fucking star. Or perhaps a bloody ship lost at sea. Their saliva was salty and their breath metallic.

Fuck. Fuck, they should've brought this up with their leader at least once.

Red circled Pink like a slinking cat, waiting to strike at her say-so.

"Hurt them," she ordered, and Red drove his knee into the villain's gut, driving all the air out of their lungs, and threw them to the asphalt. Their palms scraped against loose gravel. Their tooth was right beside their little finger. The villain's lungs spasmed and they could barely catch up to their pain.

Their henchmen never hit them. Sure, the villain was used as a mascot, was the assigned 'fall guy' if it all went to shit, but their henchmen never hit them. Why would they? There was no reason to damage your mask... unless they ratted you out to a bunch of heroes.

What a wonderful excuse that would be. Hitting them to build up pain tolerance so they wouldn't go around breaking in interrogations. The villain wasn't even sure what these heroes did to get people like them to break. They'd heard horror stories about electrocution. Hallucinogens. It made their stomach churn.

Pink dug the heel of her boot into the villain's sternum, watching them struggle to breathe. Beside her, Red silently watched the scene occur like a good toy.

"Look at them," she remarked. Her eyes were alight with a predatory glow. "Helpless without their minions."

"Like you without your bitch," the villain rasped.

Pink's expression turned terrible, and she brought her boot down on their face with fury.

The world went white.

—

There is no point in explaining how they got into this position. The only thing you need to know is this: despite the fear surrounding the villain’s name and their face, despite their grandeur, and even despite the terrifying speeches they spent hours poring over before releasing to the public, all the villain was, was a mascot to their henchmen and their shadowy leader. They were powerless, merely a result of perfect cues and perfect illusions. Behind the scenes, they were as replaceable as a magician’s cards.

—

The villain could not see for several hours.

It was possible that nobody was coming. A small part of their mind, harbouring a particularly loud voice, feared that their henchmen were already looking for replacements. Maybe they already had a list of candidates that they were crossing out.

In the most pathetic parts of the villain's mind they considered giving up every bit of information they knew, inclined to believe that somewhere out there, was a body double suited up and in the midst of memorising a script. Perhaps in exchange for information, they’d be offered a stable life. How delusional.

Someone had taken their sweater off, and some skin on their forearms was raw and red from when Red shoved them to the ground, tender in the chilly air of whatever room they were held in.

Rough hands forced their arms to wrap around the backrest of a metal chair. The villain took in a wheezing gasp and struggled as they heard the rustle of a thick cord being unwrapped.

"Ugh," came an apathetic voice, and a third hand wrapped around the back of their neck and forced their head down. They couldn't struggle like this; the metal dug into their flesh and they weren't strong enough to put up a fight.

The cord was fastened, and the blindfold over their eyes was yanked out.

Neon lights as bright as the sun blinded them, and they caught the glint of water just below their vision.

“Now,” commanded a voice, and a red hand caught their hair, and before the villain could register a goddamn thing they were drowning.

The villain made the biggest mistake of their life: they breathed, and their brain went into instant shock as water burned their airways. They opened their mouth to gasp and choked on liquid death, ears popping, their body's temperature dropping. The bowl's edges dug into their neck and jaw and they struggled and struggled, feet kicking the floor, hitting table legs and air and other useless things.

The hand on their neck kept them down, cold, unfeeling. Murderous. The villain's lungs burned; the water remained ice cold. Their heart jack-knifed in their chest, threatened to break out of their ribs. The water suffocated them mercilessly.

They were dying. They were dying and nobody was coming to help.

The world went as white as those neon lights.

—

Cold water ran down their chin, wetting their chest, making their hair stick to their face. The skin on their arms burned from the metal chair. The interrogation (torture?) room was all metal walls and neon lights.

The villain's lungs burned with each breath, but they took in air graciously. Had they blacked out?

A blurry face, pale and cruel, came into view, haloed by the lights. Behind Pink, the villain spotted cuffs hanging from a stained wall. Beside her feet were worn cords, dried blood on them.

The metal on this chair was rusted. They'd need a tetanus shot if they got cut from this, right?

Pink turned to Red, who stood behind them. "Dim the lights."

The hand on their hair left. Pink caught the villain's jaw, leaning down to look at them eye to eye.

The villain took in another noisy, unsteady breath. Their stomach still churned. Their chest felt as cold as their chair.

The lights dimmed until Pink's features were highlighted ghostly white, shadowed menacingly. Red's presence behind the villain felt radioactive.

Someone had to come. Someone had to. They were a good mascot, weren't they? But acrobats were as replaceable to circuses as playing cards were to a magician. They clenched their corded hands into tight, trembling fists.

Her grip threatened to bruise. "I knew there was something wrong with you," she said. "So brave playing the evil guy, treating the city like it's a stage, but without your employers, you're just another regular crook, aren't you?"

The villain’s chest seized at the accuracy with which she’d clocked them, but they forced themselves to give her the most cutting grin they could muster. "We're much more similar than you think, you and I."

Red pulled their head back and pressed something metallic to their neck—a blade. The villain let out a terrified sound, and Pink laughed. "Look at them," she said. "Shaking like a leaf at a blunt knife."

"I could do a lot of damage with it," said Red. He dragged the knife down, rusty just like everything else in this damn room, trailing grime down their skin in its wake. He aimed the point of it at the hollow of their throat, and the villain choked on a noise. "Could poke here with enough pressure, see what happens."

The villain desperately shook their head as much as they could. Pink seemed to delight in their reaction.

Oh, god. They scrambled for some lines stored in their head, from watching movies and reading scripts and writing speeches. "Come on," they tried, struggling to get their voice to adopt a careless lilt. The blunt point of the knife felt suffocating. Was it blocking their blood flow? "Can't we all come to an agreement here?"

They weren’t even expecting a proper response to that. But Pink’s entire attitude seemed to flip, and the look in her eyes went from sinister to eager with such swiftness that it made the villain shiver. "Oh, we could," She said, crouching down and looking up at them with sudden kindness. "Tell me," she said, "what your henchmen are up to." She traced her thumb over the villain's knee. "And I will personally assure your safe withdrawal from them, and you'll never see us or them ever again."

The villain looked down at her in silence, unnerved. A cold drop of water dripped down from their hair, down the bridge of their nose. They wouldn't snitch. They couldn't.

She traced the outline of their kneecap patiently. Behind her, Red stood in silence. His knife was gone. The villain could hear their heartbeat.

"You know," said the villain. "Oddly enough I don't believe that."

Pink lit their knee on fire, broke a fucking bone, did something horrible, because their kneecap lit up in absolute agony and they screamed, and Red was drowning them again.

—

Their chest was soaked, their jaw ached from all of the punches and backhanded slaps they'd received, and their scalp felt bruised from the harshness with which Pink and Red manhandled their head.

Nobody was coming. The lights were dim and the sun was probably rising outside, and a rising sun meant no shadows for their leader to travel with. They couldn't tell how long it'd been.

It'd been long enough for an alarmingly red bruise to start forming on their knee, though. Perhaps a couple hours. Their leader’s right-hand had once told them how long it took for bruises to form. They reckoned this one would turn a hideous purple in a couple of days and stay like that until next week. If they were alive until next week.

They coughed up water and phlegm. Pink nudged them with rough fingers to their temple. Red sharpened that blunt knife with a whetstone, the sound of it piercingly loud in their ears. It wasn't rusty. It bled, staining the water red, making it glint like the devil's eyes in the low light.

Pink held out her hand. "Bring it over."

Like a fucking dog, Red obeyed. Pink flicked the knife around like a magician did their cards. The villain flinched.

She laughed. God, that dreadful laugh. She pressed the cusp of her palm down on their forehead and a whimper eked out of the villain's throat, but they couldn't snitch. They couldn't. Yes, they were expendable. Yes, they knew their henchmen looked down on them to some degree. And yes, all that they were, was a mask for a coalition of bad guys to hide behind.

But. But.

They didn't have anywhere else to go.

The knife pressed cold against their neck. Red walked over to see, curious like a child. The lights were so dim that the ceiling was pitch black.

The villain stared at Pink with wide eyes, unsure if this was a threat or the real deal. But then the knife began to slice, and the villain jerked and flinched in their restraints.

Oh, god, oh god oh god oh god. The villain strained their wrists against the cords once more, dug their toes into the fucking floor, wishing something would swallow them up.

"I'm sorry!" they said in their absolutely ruined, drowned voice. "I'll—I'll tell! I swear I'll fucking rat those guys out like it's no tomorrow."

"There it is," said Red in his detached voice.

"There it is," repeated a pleased Pink. She turned the knife up and pressed it to a vein that the villain knew was important because the leader's right hand had mentioned it once. The jugular, or something? They choked on a breath. "Let it all come out, honey."

Oh, god, were they really going to do this? The villain looked at the ceiling, praying for something to come and help them. Their legs and arms shook. Their knee ached. They looked at a shadowy, void-like patch tucked away in the upper corner of the ceiling as though it would save them.

The void stared back.

The villain choked again.

One eye, glowing gold like a ring stared at them. Then another. A pair of eyes staring back at them, familiar ones, gold, like...

Their leader’s face emerged from the shadows, a finger pressed to her lips. Burning relief flooded the villain's veins.

Pink stared at them intently, patiently still. Waiting for a response. Their leader slinked back into the shadows, snake-like in her smoothness, and the villain scrambled to put on a mask.

Like an actor on stage, they twisted their face up in pain, anger, hurt, grief. "They're such cruel people," the villain said, staring deeply into Pink's eyes. "Such terrible, cruel people."

Their leader approached.

Pink leaned in, handed the knife over to Red to pocket. "Poor thing," she remarked.

The villain nodded, leaning in with her. "Yes," they breathed. "Poor you."

They kicked her knees and heard a crunch. Pink screamed, stumbling back, and their leader shot out of the darkness, fist curled and glinting—brass knuckles?—and punched the back of her head. She went down like a rag doll.

"Holy shit—" Someone snapped their cords off, and the villain was quickly hauled up to their legs, that same blade pressing into their neck. They seized.

Red's fist shook as he clutched the villain's hair. The knife quivered.

Their leader froze.

"Get down." Red's voice was calm, but his chest rose in unsteady breaths behind the villain's back.

The other raised her hands up placatingly, slipping the bloody brass knuckles off. At her feet, Pink's body twitched, her hair stained, blood pooling around her head and spreading at an alarming rate. Her twitching seemed to make Red tick worse.

The villain's heart felt close to bursting. Their chest was still wet from that water bowl, and their knee threatened to give out on them. The room was growing darker. "Stop that," gritted out Red. "I'll give you your mascot if you leave us alone. I need—I need to fix her."

"You'll remember us. You'll remember them." Their leader carefully gestured to the villain. "I can't let that happen."

Red didn't want to hear that—the blade twitched against the villain's neck. They whimpered in fright. The shadows twitched closer. "You hit the back of her head."

"Yes, I know how to give someone amnesia."

"I can heal the wound, but the brain damage will remain. She won't remember anything, and, and—" Pink twitched again, some horrible noise escaping her throat. Red's glove squeaked with the effort it took to not simply drive the blade into the villain's neck. "I'll give you your goddamn mascot if you take back the shadows, just let me save her."

The leader looked at the villain, no doubt taking in their dripping wet hair, the slowly forming bruises on their cheeks, the steady way the tiny cut on their neck bled.

The shadows retreated. Red shoved them forward and dove to Pink, quickly removing his gloves and hovering a shaking hand over her wound. He whispered soft, soothing things to her and caressed her bloodstained hair as his hand took on a healing, golden glow.

The villain stumbled into their leader's arms, completely wetting the front of their shirt, but the leader didn't seem to mind. Her arms wrapped firmly around them, protective, and pressed them closer. The villain gladly melted into their embrace, taking in trembling gasps.

Their leader bowed her head to whisper into their ear, "You betrayed us."

The villain bodily flinched. They looked up at their leader, but her expression was blank, unreadable. "What?"

One hand left to fish something out of their pockets, the other arm remained to keep the villain pressed close like a cord. Their leader pulled out a gun and the villain froze, paling, but she merely struck the butt of it against Red's head. It was too harsh; his whole body moved with the hit, and he was thrown to the side. His fingers were still stained with Pink's blood. "You broke, didn't you? You must've told them bits and pieces of information, to keep the pain at bay."

"I—I didn't..." The villain didn't what? They knew they should be defending themselves. But their throat was merely closing up. "Madame," they restarted. "She put a knife to my neck."

Their leader cocked their head to the side, as though they were trying to spot a lie. The villain stepped back and looked down at their feet, pressing a finger to their bleeding neck.

Stationed outside of what turned out to be an old, run-down building was their leader's right-hand. They took one look at the villain's limp and clucked, giving them their arm to hold on to.

It was still a couple hours from sunrise. The villain glared at the ink-blue sky stretching out into the horizon and let the right-hand inspect all the bruises and cuts they could see.

Their leader left to pull out the sleek black car they'd be travelling in.

—

So their henchmen hadn't come because they cared. They'd just come to protect themselves. Technically, the villain couldn't blame them—they'd been desperate enough to consider spilling all the information they knew to save their own skin.

But still. But still. They'd been drowned.

The villain stared out at all the buildings and streets they passed and tried to get any depressing thoughts out. They'd get out of this. They'd clear their name. And their leader would trust them less, but at least they'd still have a home.

—

The ache in their knee grew worse with time. To their chagrin, the right-hand carried them into the lair like a bride, and the mascot (they didn't need to pretend anymore) stubbornly stared at their hurt knee, chest still squeezing, heart still pounding.

The right-hand wanted to take them to the med bay; their leader told him to look after the mascot in her quarters. As the right-hand moved aside paperwork, bottles of ink, and stacks of files and folders from their leader's desk, she went fishing for a medkit in her ensuite.

Right-hand caught their chin, tilting their face up to the light. They brushed a thumb against the corner of the mascot's frowning lip. "They punched you?"

"My tooth's gone."

The right-hand perched them over the expensive wood, their hands steady and oddly comforting. Gone as soon as they were done. "And what happened to your knee?"

"I don't know. One of them squeezed it or something."

"I see." The right-hand brushed their fingers over the front of their damp shirt, frowned, and went to look for drier clothing.

Their leader came back and placed the medkit down on their desk with too much force. The mascot flinched. Their right-hand glanced at them from where they fished for new clothes.

Her expression said: explain. The mascot swallowed.

"I didn't tell them anything," they said.

Their leader tilted their head to the side, and it made the mascot's chest squeeze. She leaned into their space and the mascot clenched their fists. "I'm being very gentle because I know you don't like pain, and I know that that would've made you betray us back in that old warehouse. That red hero knew you were a mascot. What else did you tell them?"

"I didn't—I wouldn't—"

"You would."

The mascot shoved them. The right-hand glanced at the two, alarmed. "If you were as helpless as me, you would crack too!"

Their leader, to the mascot's frustration, showed no reaction to that shove. They went down on their feet despite their hurt knee, putting more distance between the pair. Their hands shook. Some papers flew off of the desk, and the mascot didn't care that they stepped on them.

"I know I would have." Their leader took on a faux-soothing voice. "That's why I'm asking you—what did you tell them?"

"Nothing!"

"You were ready to rat us out like no tomorrow. That's not nothing."

"What?" the right-hand asked from near the wardrobe.

"Shut up!” yelled the mascot, feeling slightly hysterical. This wasn’t going well. This wasn’t going well at all. “I had a knife to my neck!" They pointed to their cut. They could feel their throat closing, their voice growing croaky. "I was drowning, and they were hitting me, and—" To their embarrassment, wetness was coming to their eyes. They felt terrible. Of course their leader wouldn't trust them; the mascot didn't trust her either. But they felt hurt regardless.

They thought they were worth saving. Weren't they?

"Oh." The leader sounded disappointed. "Don't do that."

"Do what?"

"Don't cry like that."

The mascot threw a bottle of ink at them. It shattered against their chest, staining it black.

Their right-hand was frozen. The mascot swayed on unstable feet, head pounding. Their leader looked at the mess on their chest in mild shock, eyes imperceptibly wider than before. That didn’t make the mascot feel better.

A tear, traitorously, escaped and ran down their cheek. The mascot covered their red face. They could hear their heartbeat. It drowned out every other noise there could be.

"I was afraid you wouldn't come," they confessed. A soft hiccup escaped their throat, and their body felt tight in their discomfort. "It's not like I shattered. I was afraid the moment they caught me. I was afraid I was going to be replaced up until the moment I saw you. But I didn't say a single thing, not until they cut me, because they were cruel—I didn't want to lose my fingers and teeth to people who would never come to save me."

For a very, very long moment, nobody said a goddamn thing. The mascot wished to disappear. Someone touched their shoulder and they swatted that hand off. "Don't touch me."

The moments ticked on. The mascot stared at the floor in a quiet, tired sort of anger. The kind that a toddler experiences after throwing a tantrum that gets them nothing but a tired body and a tear-soaked face.

They should’ve never been saved.

“I’m sorry,” came the leader’s quiet voice. The mascot glanced up and saw that she was not looking at them. “I have misjudged you. I shouldn’t have.”

It would be the mature decision to accept that apology, but the mascot didn’t want to do that. So they stared at their feet and said, bitterly, “When have you not?”

Their leader’s hand was stained with ink, as dark as their shadows, and they rubbed the pads of their fingers together. “You can retire to your quarters now. I’ll send my right hand to check on you soon.”

The mascot was thankful for that; they stepped out of the room and burst into tears immediately.

—

The right-hand’s fingers rested on the mascot’s hip as they applied a salve to their hurt knee.

“I’m sorry,” came their quiet apology.

“What are you apologising for?”

They didn’t meet the mascot’s eye. The right-hand gazed at their thumb, which traced circles on the villain’s slowly numbing knee. “It wasn’t a unanimous decision to save you, I admit. There was a fight. But the leader and I wanted you back. We were all divided. But she insisted.”

The mascot laughed wryly. “‘Cause I’d leak information?”

“That’s not what was on the forefront of her mind.”

“Then what was?”

The right hand looked up at them, and they really did seem regretful. They cupped the mascot’s jaw. “I knew you were missing a tooth the moment I saw you. We found it, you know, in a back alley near your apartment. She flipped before we could even confirm it was yours.”

“You…confirmed it was mine?”

The right-hand turned a bizarre shade of pink. “When you first joined us, you gave up your medical records. And that includes your dental records, so…”

“...Oh.”

—

Crickets chirped past their bedroom window. The mascot stared into the darkness of their room, sleep slow to catch up to them. The salve’s effects were wearing off, the pain coming back in growing aches. Faint rays of five a.m. sunlight trickled into their room through gaps in their curtains, glowing prussian blue.

When their eyelids began to grow heavy, the shadows in their room curled towards them, hesitant to touch, keen on encompassing.

“You came,” the mascot mumbled tiredly. The shadows came nearer. “Because you thought I was hurt?”

I was afraid for your safety, said the shadows. But I didn’t make that clear, and I let my paranoia get ahead of my better judgment. For that, I am sorry.

“But you still came,” they repeated, “To save me.”

As soft as morning mist, the shadows slithered around before their lips. I did, it agreed. Of course I did.

The mascot drifted off to sleep, safe and snug.

#secret santa #kyles.writing #so sorry. if the dynamic is weird. i tried to cook #AND SORRY THAT ITS LONG OH GOD 4K WORDS 💀#omfg but shes done 😭😭😭 FINALLY #heroes and villains #villains and heroes #villain x villain #mascot x villain #mascot x villain x right hand #if you squint #i tried to cook as i said #hero x hero #if you squint marginally less #theyre kinda....idk #pink x red #kaiwewi

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tradetobest · 7 months

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king mcdavid and his prince consort leon (the lion) draisaitl

(based on this clip from an article mentioning these two)

#my art #connor mcdavid #leon draisaitl #edmonton oilers #OH MY GOD ITS FINALLY DONE #i am never touching gold again in my life #did i look up ANY metal to reference for this? no #just know before i post anything it goes into post editor and then gets tweaked 1000 times #anyway. enjoy #and please pay attention to this ill cry

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disastersteps · 6 months

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you may not be me, i may not be you, but we're one and the same.

#fhr #fallen hero #fallen hero rebirth #fallen hero retribution #fh sidestep #sidestep: anita lee #puppet: aoyun #myarts #AOUGH finally im done with this oh my god #anitas eyes are vacant but their hand is up in the air bc theyre puppetting their puppet :]#the idea here is that aoyun (puppet) is literally anita- theyre different people but in the mind? its the same person #anita prefers their own body over aoyun but they NEED her bc of connections that they themself doesnt deserve to have #something something about the fact i realized the way aoyun is dressed is how anita *wants* to dress themself as #i almost colored aoyuns in green and im like 'no. you thembo. JULES CAN CONNECT THE DOTS THERE SO NO MORE-'#the tumblr blue was bc it was originally white and I FORGOT ITS STILL WHITE ON A TRANSPARENT BG soOO OYEAH #ANYWAY YEET AND RUNS

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killa-trav · 10 months

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THIS IS THE ONE HES WAITED FOR

happy birthday r kid

#ITS FINALLY FINISHED OH MY GOD #THIS TOOK ME FOUR FUCKING DAYS BUT ITS DONE #i can’t say it was fun to make st all bc she was stressful but i’m happy w it #also ofc #as a manc i’m going to use the greatest manc band ever’s best song #i love this is the one absolute banger #sebastian vettel #h’s edits

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aroace-polyshow · 11 months

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sunflower akitoya 🌻

#akitoya #akito shinonome #toya aoyagi #pjsk fanart #project sekai #marlo’s art #ITS FINALLY DONE OH MY GOD #my beloveds #in honor of vivid old tale coming to en soon + me seeing a pretty sunflower dress on pinterest

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astralisbelle · 1 year

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Dead Man's Hand 12 - Skin and Water

Dead Man's Hand Masterlist tags: engineer!reader, gambler!reader, loose canon timeline, eventual smut, fluff, action, casino aesthetics, touch starved reader, touch starved din, reader and din get on each other’s nerves, also they’re idiots, defrosting ice king din, cinderella vibes, everybody loves grogu

chapter summary: Sometimes, it gets to be too much and you need to feel close. Despite it all, they cross the line. warnings: smut, r18, minors dni

Hot water beads down her back as steam fogs up the bathroom. She closes her eyes, letting the events of tonight wash away down the drain. No blood or cuts, but the touch of that filth still lingers on her neck, on her arms. But she doesn’t want her skin to forget every touch.

The gloved hands around her, the claws poking her clavicle. Those, she wants to keep. I’ve been on my own since then, she told him before. Hell, the last person that did anything remotely close to saving her was Peli stepping in, but this was on another level entirely. Someone took on an entire squad of Stormtroopers for her. Someone braved what she thought to be certain death for her.

The joyous moment where she hugged them still reels in her head even as she shuts off the water. She hugs her arms, trying to still her beating heart. After drying herself off and putting on a bath robe, she steps out, seeing Din stash away his weapons and armor for the night. Just as she's about to speak, he cuts her off. "I know you're tired," he says through the modulator. "Go ahead and sleep. Kid and I will be out here."

Oh.

She nods slowly, accepting it. "Okay... um. Good night, then."

She feels disappointed. Why?

She should at least try to sleep, she decides. Lying down and getting under the covers, she faces the ceiling of the dark room, closing her eyes. She tosses and turns and no matter what she tries to do, she thinks about that moment all three of them shared. Even though it came off of the most frightening moment of her life, she had never felt such swelling elation in her chest before. Being in his arms – Din’s arms – she loved it. And now, she missed it; is it selfish to miss it?

It’s hard to sleep with such thoughts and emotions keeping her awake. She doesn’t want to be here in this giant bed alone, she wants to be near him, as far as he’d allow. Kicking the covers off, she paces around the room, biting her thumb nail. It’s selfish, she tells herself. But I want to ask him. But it’s selfish. Also, he might say no. He’ll think you’re coming onto him! Back and forth, back and forth.

I don’t care.

She steels her resolve and marches to the door. Just before she can press the button, it slides open on its own and a dark outline stands in the frame. They startle each other, but he holds up his hands. “It’s me! It’s me.”

“Oh.” She puts her hand over her rapidly beating chest. “Sorry.”

“Sorry.” His voice is still masked by the modulator. “I…” She waits. “Never mind, sorry to disturb you.”

“No, no!” She catches his arm, surprised to feel only a shirt between her skin and his as opposed to the thick armor. “Wait. Um. I was just coming out because I… well, I can’t sleep. Do… Do you want to come inside and talk?”

His muscles tense under her touch and it still feels like he’ll pull away. “...Y-Yeah. I… wanted to ask you something.”

“Okay.” She takes a few steps back, letting him in before closing the door.

“You can turn on the lights. My helmet’s on.”

“Ah, that’s fine. This is fine.” In truth, she picked out the nearest nightgown which turned out to be rather short, barely covering half of her thighs. No, the darkness is welcome just this once. She sits down on the edge of the bed and waits until he joins her, his movements quiet without all of the armor weighing him down. “What did you want to ask?”

“Why…” He pauses. “Why did he take you? You said it was a trap.”

She nods slowly. “I guess it was half a trap, half revenge. He was talking to me at the table, telling me that I should take my winnings and just leave, that I didn’t want to get involved in this beskar war between you and him. He knew I could beat him, so he tried threatening me.” Her feet rest on the edge of the bed as she hugs her knees against her chest.

“So… why didn’t you?”

“Why didn’t I what? Bow out?” She scoffs at the question. “We had a deal.”

“You made millions of credits. You could have left.”

She peers at him – or rather, the shape that she thinks is his head. “Are you serious?”

“If someone is given a choice between tons of cash and certain death, it’s not a hard decision.” She wants to yell at him, to remove his helmet and smack his cheek for implicating that she was that greedy. But that’s not it, is it? His tone isn’t accusing it’s… tense. Uneasy. Before she goes solar on him again, she inhales deeply and breathes out.

“Where do I begin? First of all, I wouldn’t have won any of those credits if it weren’t for you bringing me here. Second of all, that beskar belongs to you, not some old man clinging to the remnants of the Empire. Not exactly a hard decision. And third…”

Din waits. “...And third?”

I wanted to hear your voice when I gave it to you. I want… I want to see you happy. She can’t say those words, not when they catch in her throat. “I… It’s the least I can do. Look what you’ve given me.”

“Don’t.” The curt tone surprises her. “I haven’t given you anything. I put you in danger.”

“What?”

“I made you a target. You got hurt.” He sounds ashamed. “He used you as bait, didn’t he? It’s the only reason he kept you alive.”

Her hand taps on her knees, lifting off to reach for him… but she stops before it can touch him. “Yes. He wanted your beskar.” Her hand falls to the bed. “But he’s gone now. You did the galaxy a favor, if you ask me. And you saved me.” Her voice softens, hoping to ease the negativity in his.

“No. I put you in danger in the first place.”

The words erupt out of her like a volcano. “Oh, shut up, Din.” He whips his head towards her. “I agreed to this, didn’t I? I kept playing. And you’re right! I could have left with all my credits and sodded off to some faraway planet, but I didn’t, did I? You wanna know why?” She drops her feet towards the floor and leans in. “I want to win. I want to get you that beskar. I don’t care if I lose my money doing it, I want to get it for you!” Din’s brows raise. “I want you…” His heart drums in his ears. “...to have it.”

Din is usually a man of few words, but by choice. This time, she has robbed him of anything that he could say. But why? Why is it so important to her that she do this for him? He doesn’t know… and maybe he doesn’t care. Stars, if he’s honest with himself, he wants to hold her face. He wants to press his forehead against hers, he wants to…

He can’t. He just lowers his head in humiliation, humbled by her words. “You’re a noble one.” Then, he says her name with such gentleness that he usually reserved only for his son. “I don’t know how I will begin to repay you.”

“...Well.” She twirls some hair around her finger. “It’s not like I want anything in return. But, if you want… I wouldn't mind if you… um… stayed."

“...Stayed?”

“Here. Tonight. I’d sleep easier knowing you’re there.”

In the silence, Din weighs the situation in his head. The room is dark enough for it to be safe and adhere to the Creed, but he’s concerned about other matters. There is, of course, the heavy implication of what she’s asking. On the outside, anyone can tell that she means it innocently enough, but a part of him (he’s afraid to say) doesn’t reject it outright. That means he shouldn't... he shouldn't, right?

And as for her, she just assumes it’s out of the question.

He’s thinking about it too hard again. Din stands up. “Just tonight.” He can make it through one night; he has discipline. Circling around the bed to the other side, he sits down on the untouched edge and pulls on the covers. Once she settles underneath them, his hands inch towards his helmet. They feel heavy and his stomach flips as he pulls it off, setting it on the night table.

Din is tense all over as he pulls the covers over himself and slides in. He keeps his distance, hands resting on his stomach as he looks up at the ceiling. “Is… this okay?”

His unfiltered voice makes her a little giddy. She moves slowly, giving him plenty of time to pull away if need be, and finds his hand. “You can be a little closer.” She scoots inward and chips away at the gap between them. “Is this fine?”

“Yeah…”

She wants to push it. Sliding closer, she turns onto her side, back towards him, and pulls his hand onto her hip. When she feels no resistance, she draws him in further, resting his hand on her stomach. “There.”

This is closest either have been to another being.

Din’s warm body rests against her back. She can feel his soft breaths tickle the back of her neck and the rise and fall of his chest. Her fingers rest on his hand, feeling his grooves and knuckles. Through the silk of her nightgown, his hand tenses and he doesn’t realize that his fingers are tapping, bunching and smoothing the fabric.

She thought that she would be able to relax at this point, but the opposite has happened. Her tongue dries and heat seeps down into her core. The little voice in her mind is clear of its need: I want Din to touch me more. She thinks about how close his hand is towards her chest. She can do it. All she has to do is move his hand. Just move it a few inches up…

He whispers her name.

“Y...Yeah?”

“Are you okay?” His voice vibrates against her skin. “You’re… shaking. And breathing fast.”

Was she? Shit, she didn’t even notice. “I-I’m fine.” She swallows hard, but she can’t seem to calm herself. Stars, if they stay like this, she will go mad. Din’s palm rests flat on her stomach, feeling hot and even a little damp. I can’t take it anymore. She takes the plunge and she slides his hand up until it covers her breast.

Din’s breath hitches and his fingers, on instinct, squeeze. She makes a soft gasp, her hand resting on his wrist. He knows he shouldn’t, but he cups her flesh between his fingers again. Is this… actually happening? He isn’t sure how slow or fast he should go, so he just continues his gentle kneading. She slips down the straps of her night gown and pulls it down enough until silk no longer blocks him from her skin. He pinches her peak between his index and thumb, earning a little sigh of satisfaction.

Dank farrik, I shouldn’t be doing this.

He hides his heavier breaths against her shoulder, the hairs on his chin tickling her skin. His lips press a soft kiss, then another to her neck right where someone else’s fingers had dug in. Stars, she didn’t expect his touches to feel this good so fast. She squirms against him, shimmying as she pulls down the gown. Din can feel her struggling, so he helps her to take it off until it pools around her ankles and she can kick it off. He knows that means she’s completely bare, she’s pressing into him, she’s wanting more.

Sod it. Sod it all to hell.

He sits up, pulling her cheek so her head looks up, and tilts his head to kiss her. She sighs, melting into his kiss and accepting the warmth of his tongue on hers. As she drinks in his taste, his scent, she lifts a leg and rests her foot on the other side of him. He breaks away, nuzzling himself between her neck and shoulder as the hand that had been groping her slides down her torso. He passes over the lines of her skin, the softness of her flesh sending shock waves down his core. His breaths have a twinge of his voice in them, music to her ears.

Din takes his time. He makes circles below her navel, enjoying the little jolts she makes with each tickling touch. Her whines make it evident that she needs him to hurry up, but all in due time – after all, he doesn’t know when he would get another chance to feel her again. His free hand slips under her shoulder and neck, wrapping around and inviting hers to rest on it. Their fingers fan out and intertwine and after one more kiss against her shoulder, he’s ready. He snakes his hand past her thick curls.

Her shuddering whimper sends carnal hunger throughout his body in waves. His fingers find warm slickness between her thighs and he freezes for a moment, worried his rough, calloused hands wouldn’t feel any good. But her hips wiggle and she bucks towards his touch, all but begging him to continue. He dips his fingers further, middle finger stroking the small bud that makes her voice higher and her fingers squeeze his harder. Neither can see each other in this darkness, but he can imagine that she must be in beautiful bliss.

“Yes…” Her chest hastens in its rise and fall.

Stars, he loves hearing her. “Yeah?” he whispers against her ear, sending delicious chills down her back. She represses a sound of affirmation behind firm lips, but that only spurs him to hear her more. Din uses two fingers to slip between her folds, delighted in the tremble of her body. He draws his fingers back and she aches for their return, her hand gripping his shirt. She pulls it up, her palm brushing against his chest and the contours of his muscles. He doesn’t want to let go of her, but he’ll comply for now.

Din pulls his hands away to reach behind his head, pulling his shirt over and throwing it somewhere – he doesn’t care where. One of her hands pulls on the hem of his pants and the other presses its palm against his firm stomach, inching down. His groan when she finds his girth is louder than he intends it to be, but it just feels so damn good. He kicks off the pants and lies down on his side again, gently pressing on her chest so she lies on her back. Din holds her chin gingerly, delivering open kisses to her lips.

As he places her foot behind him to spread her thighs, she reaches between them, pulling his thick cock against her slit. His head clouds with desire, hips grinding against her – he needs to be buried deep inside her now. He holds her leg with one arm and snakes behind her neck with the other again, letting her rest on his bicep. She finds his hand again and once more they intertwine. They break away from their kisses, foreheads touching as she lifts her hips, angling his tip against her slit. “Oh, fff…” As soon he splits her walls, he groans deeply, pressing inside further. Their bodies shudder and euphoria pulses through them. Din rocks his hips, starting off slow, not wanting to hurt her.

“Din, haaah…” Her hand squeezes the one she holds, her free one resting against his chest. Her moans sound torturous, turning into fluttering mewls. Din curses under his breath right against her ear and any coherent thoughts are ousted, his body acting on instinct. He wants more, he needs more. But he restrains himself. Then, she whispers his name again. "It's okay," she says. "Go harder. I can take it."

"I-I don't want to hurt you--"

"I'm fine. Please, Din..." That alone ushers him to plunge further, sliding all the way in until she takes the entirety of him and hits his base. She squirms, thighs quaking, submitting to his touches. Din rests her leg in the crook of his arm, his hand pressing on her lower stomach to make her flush against his chest. He slides his fingers over her bud, making wide swirling motions to feel her tighten around his length.

She presses her forehead against his, making sure only he can hear her perverted noises, each whimper, each moan and mewl. Whenever he fills her entirely it causes her to convulse, her thighs wanting to instinctively close, but he has her right where he wants her. Their hands hold onto each other tightly and they truly feel like one.

She feels perfect. This feels perfect.

“Din… Din… don’t stop. Don’t stop!”

Her name in his throat is gravely and carnal, his fingers rubbing faster. Din’s core twists in his stomach, his body chasing the peak of his high. Her voice escalates and the writhing in his arms turns more violent as she nears. Her back arches off the bed and she tosses her head back with a final cry, her walls clenching around him. Din can only thrust a few more times before his body releases all of the ecstasy at once, tightening his muscles before relaxing them. He holds her trembling body in place while he fills her with his seed, his fingers making indentations in her skin.

With one deep sigh, it all ends. They fill the room with their heavy breaths, their minds wiped entirely of anything else. “Come here,” he says tiredly. “Come here…”

He adjusts their position so he can slide on top of her, their chests pressing together as his arms snake underneath. She tilts her head up and meets him in a hot, long kiss, pulling him to press his weight on her. Stars, she knows she would never get enough of this feeling. She’s sensitive to all of his touches, including his stubble tickling her chin. Din’s hips give hers a few soft grinds before he collapses next to her, still holding her close.

The last thing she hears is him whispering her name in her ear, lulling her to sleep.

#the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian smut #din djarin x reader #din djarin smut #the mandalorian x you #the mandalorian #the mandalorian fanfic #din djarin #work: dead man's hand #its finally done #oh my god #as if this scene hasnt been in my head rent free for the past week or anything noooo #also in my head din has more of a dad bod than like shredded abs #i know im right ok

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