#i hate my body but my partner says its beautiful i can barely face the day but my partner is happy when i do | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

collisvng · 6 months

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CHAPTER 1 | BADASS BALLERINAS

THE END ZONE 🏈🩰✨

Pairing 🤎 Seo Changbin x Fem! Reader︎

Genre 🤎 SMAU, University/College AU, Ballett/Football AU, Fluff, Angst, Crack—all of that good shit lol︎

Synopsis 🤎 By recommendation of his coach, Changbin decides to take a ballet class in order to improve his agility and coordination on the field. It seems like a harmless and fun activity at first. But what happens when his ballet partner starts to make him choose between the two?

Warnings 🤎 Swearing, brief mentions of food, alluding to weight insecurities, and Han being weak as fuck (lol)

Taglist 🤎 Open!︎ ✨

Word Count 🤎 3,254 + 7 sm screenshots!

In Collaboration With 🤎 @channie-143

✨️MASTERLIST✨️

WHEN YOU ARRIVED AT THE DANCE HALL...

Minho was already at the barre. He was observing himself in the mirror, making sure each warm-up he did was fluid as he gripped the handrail to help steady himself. Plies, tendus, and degages expelled themselves from his body in the most graceful yet precise movements.

He spared you a glance as you walked in—setting your bag and water bottle down near the entrance before you made your way across the floor. When your eyes met, you both acted estranged and looked away.

“You know for someone who hates mornings, you really do make the effort to be the first here.”

“I could say the same about you,” Minho stated as he brought himself into first position once again. “Although you always seem to get here after me. You must like being in second place.”

“Can’t be second place when I’m the class favorite,” you said, finally turning to face him. “Cute of you to think otherwise though.”

“Since when was this?”

“Since last semester when the instructor literally told me I was her favorite.”

“Hm,” he pursed his lips to the side. “I don’t recall that ever happening. And you don’t really have any proof either, sooo…”

His eyes never met yours and you smirked.

It was always like this between you two. Since the day the two of you became friends, your constant bickering is what brought you closer. From class, to practice, to studying together… there was never peace. Everything was like a challenge, and you both loved it. It made it even more fun when the both of you broke character.

You sighed, walking away to the middle of the floor.

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, Lino.”

Minho stared ahead—unresponsive. But the moment he wasn’t within your sight, a small smile tugged at his lips.

He finally decided to face you when your body slowly descended to the floor.

“Not joining me at the barre for once?” he asked, and you shook your head.

“My lower back’s been killing me,” you groaned as you stuck both your legs out in front of you. With your arms reached out in the center of them, you practically clawed your upper body forward until your stomach touched the ground. The extension gave you a sense of relief. “It’s gonna be floor stretches for right now until the teacher comes, if I’m honest.”

A quick nod of approval was given to you before a playful, “good girl” left Minho’s lips. The word EW! left your mouth so quickly that it almost sounded like you were hearing yourself say it in the third person.

But you weren’t, because the voice you actually heard in third person was Hyunjin’s as he entered the dance hall with Felix.

“Can you not say stuff like that?” he glared at Minho, sitting down next to you. “You don’t have to flirt with everyone.”

A tiny laugh escaped your lips as you half-sat up, taking in the sight of Hyunjin and all its glory. White T-shirt disheveled as one side hung off his left shoulder, black tights hugging his legs, and messy black hair pulled partially into a small ponytail—you knew his tired look all too well. His eyes were barely open, and he had a slight grimace on his face.

“Good morning to you too, sleeping beauty,” you teased as you tousled his hair. “Felix must have had fun waking you up.”

“Oh, it was hell!” Felix’s voice echoed through the room. He set his bag next to yours, desperately rummaging through it to find something. You observed his outfit change into a white shirt and black tights, much like Hyunjin and Minho, suspecting that he must have switched out of his comfy clothes before making his way to class. “I literally had to recruit Seungmin to help me wake him up. Which, by the way, was the worst choice ever. He almost had me pay him five dollars in order to get him into Hyunjin’s room when I couldn’t get him up.”

He waddled his way over to you and Hyunjin, joining you both on the floor. He was holding a small, blue plastic container that was faintly see-through enough to see the brownies that were within it.

“Now eat!” He stated, opening the lid to the container and practically sticking it under you and Hyunjin’s noses. “Because I know for a FACT neither of you have. And hurry up, I don’t want the instructor to yell at us for eating in the dance room again.”

As Hyunjin happily pulled a brownie out of the container and ate it, Felix ripped a piece off one and held it out to feed it to you while you were mid-stretch. You giggled a bit, leaning forward to take a bite but not fully being able to take the whole piece from his hand. He grinned from ear to ear, putting the rest of the small chunk you left behind in his mouth.

He repeated the action; feeding you and eating the rest over and over. Eventually, even Minho took a piece of your roommate's chocolate masterpiece, saying his thanks to the “brownie boy” and giving Felix a short-lived head pat. It was all so soft and wholesome, it made you feel thankful.

You couldn’t imagine a better way to start the day than beside these three dorks who made you the happiest in the world.

Eventually, the dance hall began to fill up as it got closer to class time. You all made your way to your respective places at the barre, and Felix managed to sneak his tupperware back into his bag before the teacher arrived and could tell him to put it away.

You gave a little wave to the boys from across the room while you stood next to Minho. As Hyunjin gave you a little salute and Felix waved back, you caught a glimpse of the class’s golden boy.

Alongside you and Lino, a guy by the name of Choi Yeonjun was known as the best dancer in class. He was precise, like Minho, but also had the agility of a feline and the determination of a bulldog. Everything he did was perfect, and if it wasn't he would have to find a way to fix it and make it perfect.

It’s what made him such a great dance partner, which you would know since he was yours last semester. You were quite sad when your instructor broke you two apart this year, explaining that both your talents could be put to good use helping others in the class who needed a “bit of work” with their dancing.

There was also an odd number of people in the class since someone never showed up on the first day of instruction; causing the teacher to practically plead to Yeonjun about the possibility of rotating between two partners—which he happily agreed to.

Thus why Yeonjun stood at the other end of the room sandwiched between two girls, while your partner—

“I’m not late. I’m not late. I’m not late. I’m late— I mean I’m not— FUCK!” Han’s voice suddenly echoed in the distance as you heard the harsh sound of footsteps approaching. Words rambled out of our best friend's mouth as he pushed through the double doors of the dance hall gripping onto the penny board in his hand for dear life. “I am one hundred percent on time and totally did not accidentally hit like three people on my way over here!”

He put his bag next to yours and Felix’s before resting his board against the wall. He accidentally leaned it the wrong way though, wheels sliding down against the plastered wall causing the end of the board to slam into his ankle. He let out a small yelp then grumbled a swear as he flipped the skateboard over and placed it down correctly with the wheels pointed outward.

The class laughed at the ordeal, while you.. Well, let’s just say you’ve seen him do worse.

When he finally walked over in your direction, you sighed.

“A whole minute before class started,” you remarked. “Proud of you.”

Jisung rolled his eyes as he moved to stand behind you. “I told you I was gonna try to not be late anymore. I keep my promises, bitch.”

The teacher walked past, glaring at him as the swear left his lips. His deep brown eyes widened in fright, immediately bowing as he stammered out apology after apology. The instructor chuckled a bit and patted Han on the shoulder.

“Glad you could join us on time today, Jisung,” she teased.

You’ve never seen Han calm down so fast.

*•.¸♡¸.•*

The class went along like normal.

After basic warm-ups and barre training, the class shifted over— moving onto centre work, then across-the-floor exercises.

Eventually, the teacher clapped her hands together and instructed everyone to get into their assigned pairs. You and Jisung eyed one another deucedly, slowly approaching each other until your nose was about eye level with his chin.

“You gonna drop me again?” You mumbled a bit sternly.

Jisung scoffed, a nervous eye roll followed. “Wouldn’t dream about it, princess.”

There was a bit of tension between the two of you, friendly and understanding but still there. With a raise of your brown, Han then slowly made his way around you, placing a hand on your waist as you prepared to lift yourself onto tip-toes.

Par de Deux was one of your favorite types of dance. It was one of the reasons you even decided to become a dance major, in fact. Most partnered dances in ballet were often symbolic of romantical stories or inherent partnerships of love. The women seeming light as a feather as the men danced with them through their acts of enamored virtue. Holding them up as if they were an ethereal cloud to be held.

Feeling a person’s weight and properly handling it was an essential part of Par de Deux. You were responsible for holding your placement. That is your job. Your partner is the one responsible for keeping you on your legs, making you look controlled and winsome— holding you in place, lifting you, and caressing your body like a beautiful flower.

Seeing something so beautiful became so intriguing, you trained to go on Pointe just to one day finally have a dance partner worthy of that partnership. Someone who could make you feel as light as a feather.

You had only experienced this euphoria with two people so far. Once with Minho when you both practiced together a year or two back and once with Yeonjun. Both men, despite their smaller frame, were actually quite strong and full of unswerving confidence. But you could never be Minho’s partner though; the two of you bickered too much and were way too competitive with one another.

That's why you missed having Yeonjun as a partner. In your head, you were his feather.

And as much as you loved Han… He wasn’t necessarily the strongest.

Thus why after a few balancing exercises, when the instructor tested the waters and asked pairs to attempt a simple turn-around lift, you weren’t surprised when Jisung let go of you halfway through the turn.

You fell to the ground briefly as Han panicked and scrambled to pick you up. He managed to get you back on your feet in record time, but not fast enough for the teacher to not notice.

The music abruptly ended and the room fell silent. The loud sound of the instructor’s heels reverberated through the room hauntingly as she made her way over to where you and Jisung stood. Han’s eyes were facing the floor, his hands still on your waist as you stood flat-footed once again, cringing at the very thought of what was going to happen next.

When the teacher gave a disappointed sigh, you could feel Han’s grip on you tighten slightly.

“What am I going to do with you?” Her words came out more concerned than annoyed, which you were grateful for. “I thought pairing you with Y/N would be for the better, but I’m proven wrong each time I look over and spot her on the floor.”

No words came out of Han’s mouth as he stood there semi-ashamed. His eyes looked up briefly, pupils dilated with puppy-like sadness. He opened his mouth to say something—probably to apologize profusely—but was cut off by the sound of the dance hall door opening and closing.

Everyone’s heads snapped immediately in the direction of the sound, yours included.

At the entrance stood a man holding a piece of paper folded in half in one hand, while the other gripped the handles of a duffle bag that was slung around his shoulders. He wore a fitted black T-shirt paired with black joggers and black-framed glasses to match his ensemble. His shirt hugged his broad shoulders along with his chest—something you couldn’t quite take your eyes off of.

He was cute, and buff, and awkward… an adorable combo.

When the teacher greeted him and asked him why he had barged in unannounced, his hold on the paper faltered.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to… um…” He took a deep breath, holding the paper out in front of him. “I was just told to bring this referral to you. I didn’t mean to interrupt anything.”

“A referral, hm?” The instructor said, looking over the paper that had been handed to her.

The boy nodded.

“Coach Park said I needed a bit more cross-training to help balance out some things I need to improve on when it comes to the field. A friend of mine told me you had a spot open, so I went to the admin to get a referral for an add code,” he paused. “You know, if the spot is still open.”

“Coach Park? So you’re on the football team?”

“Yes ma’am.”

The teacher’s eyes hovered over him, then over to where you and Han stood. You could practically see the gears turning in her head.

“Han,” the teacher spoke, “go stand in the corner.”

Jisung’s eyes widened as a small, sad pout formed on his face.

“What?”

“You… Stand in the corner next to Regina… Now, please.”

Big boba pearls frosted over with sadness and confusion met your own eyes as Han complied with the teacher's instructions. He walked over to where Yeonjun stood, giving a small apology as he stood next to one of his partners. The guy in the doorway stood there awkwardly as he watched the whole ordeal.

Wasn’t long before he was picked on as well, though.

When the instructor’s gaze landed on the stocky boy once again, she gave a simple statement asking him to stand next to you. As he did, you realized he wasn’t much taller than you. Not quite your height, not really as tall as Jisung was, but somewhere in between.

“Now pick her up.”

The words spewed out of the teacher's mouth without any hesitation.

A quick nod from the boy, followed by hands hovering around your waist ensued. You could feel the slight warmth from his breath against your neck as he stood behind you contemplating what to do next.

“Can I… Um…” his voice trailed off. “I mean, are you okay with me touching you?”

The sincerity of the question took you by surprise, bringing a bit of blush to your face as you bobbed your head in approval.

Within seconds you were picked up and lifted off your feet with ease. You remained stagnant in the air for a beat or two, feet high enough from the ground that you could almost kick them back and forth, before being placed back down. The fact that he was able to lift you without even so much as a second thought shocked and flustered you to the point of no return.

You could feel the heat rising to your cheeks when you glanced over to see Felix and Hyunjin snickering in their spots about your demeanor. You made sure to keep note of that for later.

It seemed that ordeal was enough for your instructor, as she agreed to let the man join your class as long as he agreed to be your new dance partner. Obviously, he said yes.

You could hear Han pout a bit in his little corner, whom of which you mouthed the words ‘sorry’ and ‘I love you’ to and got a sad smile in return.

Class promptly ended soon after that.

As you, Minho, Hyunjin, and Han all grabbed your things, it became very obvious someone from your group was missing.

There he was, Mr. Lee Yongbook, giddily standing with Yeonjun as they both waited for the mystery man to get his add code. You had never seen either of them interact with the dude before, but when he went over and gave them both a hug it was obvious they were more than just acquaintances.

When his little welcome party dispersed, you decided to finally make your way over to your new soon-to-be dance partner and properly introduce yourself.

All that came out of you though was a cringe-worthy wave and an awkward, “Hi.”

A big smile appeared on his face as he shifted from one foot to the other. Like before, you recognized he wasn’t much taller than you. But the inch difference matched with his muscles made it very easy for you to feel small.

“Hi,” he beamed, “so I guess you and I are partners now.”

“Yep,” you responded before promptly pointing in the direction behind you. “And.. you know Felix?”

“Yeah. He’s best friends with one of my close friends. Plus he’s the mascot so everyone on the team kinda knows him.”

“Right… Right.”

“Yeah.”

“Cool, cool.”

“My name’s Changbin, by the way.”

He held out a hand for you to shake and you took it. After a moment or two, you both realized you had been holding hands for a little too long and let go. A laugh was shared in unison, as the strange tension that was created between the both of you lingered a bit. It was uncomfortable, but not in any way you had ever really felt before.

It was exciting? … Maybe?

After agreeing to meet up over the next few days to help Changbin catch up on some things he missed in the class, he grabbed his duffel bag and headed off. You let him know how serious dance was for you, which he understood. He explained how he would typically have football practice right after ballet class was over, but promised he would always try to randevu before leaving. You thanked him for his reassurance.

You watched him exit through the dance hall entrance and simply stood there in an unwavering daze as you stared at his back muscles, remembering the events from earlier. He picked you up like it was nothing. He was polite. And, now that you had seen him face to face, he was actually pretty cute.

Perhaps you finally found someone who could make you feel like a feather after all.

DING!

Thanks to the abrupt texts Seungmin sent to your group chat, you finally snapped out of it.

Seungmin: bitches. Seungmin: in n out. now. Seungmin: advice column kicking my ass. Seungmin: need fuel. Seungmin: hang out with me.

“Oh so now he wants to love us,” Han pouted as he stared at his screen.

taglist: @marcillfll @jiisungllvr @chrizzlaptop @babrieeee @soupbinlily @pissmori @chlodavids @marnz1990

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sugar-petals · 2 years

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[✖︎ sub!Lee Know] › 𝚜𝚖𝚞𝚝 𝚊-𝚣

⇢ PAIRING. lino x femdom!reader

words. 10k 😈 — every letter has a little scenario

WARNINGS. ⚠️ rated m/mdni, hard kinks, frottage, protected sex, vibrators, so much ass stuff, rimming, oral with toys (lee know receiving), consensual somnophilia, angst, pegging, fisting, fucking machines, finger sucking, restraints, some bits are vanilla

⇢ ♥︎ NOTE | yesss this characterization was so fascinating to explore. pick what you like, this is sort of a drabble collection if you will. have fun reading! a chan version is on its way, out valentine’s ‘23.

read it on ao3 | sub!idol masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

Complete pendulum swing every time, especially on days when he wants to be handled a little more roughly. Lee Know either needs to be left dozing under a blanket, breathing hard for a few minutes without any further body contact — or he is more than eager to have you all over him. Rolling through the sheets together in a big embrace, he secretly loves it. When your boyfriend needs silence and thinking time instead, you will know.

It’s important that you don’t interpret it as him sulking `oh, sex wasn’t that great today´. Of course it was. Minho is an all-or-nothing guy in relationships, almost like Hyunjin. He’d never put his lips between your legs if he wasn’t already dead sure you’d have a good time together. He’d never trust you with his body if he didn’t have a clue. And he knows exactly how to distinguish between a good dom and a bad one, trust me.

During aftercare, Minho’s attitude is always something along those lines— `Never worry about me´. Just to be sure: He can talk about mistakes. He doesn’t gloss things over. Hell, he’s Minho. Honesty on two sexy legs. But for the most part, you really can’t go wrong, and his exhaustion speaks of your boyfriend giving his all because it was so good and he wanted to contribute his part. Being a good sweet boy, being vocal, showing with his body how much he enjoys the moment until the sweat starts to run.

If he hated you, he’d not be out of breath. Someone who knows how to conserve energy like Minho, knocked out on the bed, barely knowing where he is and how and who? He’s literally putting all the effort he can come up with into subbing. Even if he’s laying there like a plank after sex and says he doesn’t need you attending to him, and he takes care of himself, the case is clear. Minho is super whipped. He’s an acts of service guy, you’ll know by the way he makes you popcorn after sex.

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

Doesn’t he have it all. Honey is one perfect allrounder. Cute, sexy, beautiful. A born triple threat. Yes, he knows his big thighs are very great, very juicy right there, and he knows you like them. A glorious sight in black latex pants, I don’t need to tell you. But. But! Recently, Lee Know has developed an appreciation for his side profile and eyes. The gentle lashes, his cute bunny teeth, and the innocent doe-eyed blinks have you feeling some type of way. He thinks that’s romantic of you. He will screenshot these texts of you peppering him with compliments. Minho is all gooey on the inside hearing praise and getting face kisses. He almost goes insane from his own shyness. Those glowing cheeks, oh my word.

Also. Let’s talk about his body height. This guy. A literal dynastic prince. The finest man on the block. This hot boy summer exemplary. A thank you to his parents is due. You truly got yourself one of the smoothest and most interesting short kings out there. Look at him, his unreal proportions. The way he moves. His way of angling his head. The sexy squint that says look how hot I am. He has such a good outline. Even if he refuses a compliment out of part politeness, part disbelief, you continue telling him he’s body goals. The NSFW route does get to his brain, though. You making innuendos turns the whole thing a little more heated and makes him understand why you thirst over him. And no need to censor yourself. Minho likes dirty humor, you can say anything you want.

What he doesn’t like as much about himself, the dark circles under his eyes. You are a little on the fence here. To some extent, it’s something natural — you would not like his face any other way. Lee Know is Lee Know. Bags under his eyes are part of him, who doesn’t like his eye smile. But he should also sleep and not practice choreographies he can already dance perfectly, for goodness sake. Lee Know will only fall asleep when he’s in contact with your body, which prompts you to often tell him to just lay his head down onto your boobs. Or better, right in between. Nothing better than Lee Know’s face plus your breasts in any position. You love that contact. He says oh, wait, isn’t this rude, isn’t that too heavy? You say no, and you have the lightest lil’ head in history, put your face here whenever, it’s good. There we go, he falls asleep.

And the reverse? Lee Know is consumed by your appearance and said sorry for being superficial a thousand times. He’s infatuated with every feature. Are you a goddess? In an already hyper-affectionate group, you literally picked the guy who is most easily smitten. Listen, his favorite song is „10 Points out of 10“ by 2 PM. The lyrics are literally about a young man being dumbfounded because he thinks this girl he likes is so attractive. Let me cite the chorus to remind everyone. „Her lips are tasty, her legs are gorgeous, her waving hair, everything from head to toe.“ That sums it up pretty neatly. He could worship it all. He will stare into space for an hour after seeing you undress for the first time.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Knows the effect of a good diet. Will pursue said diet. Any further questions?

As far as playing with your cum goes — Come on. He’s gonna slurp you up like a bowl of ramen. You’re gonna bury your fist in his soft blonde hair and just. Live the moment and sweat it out. Minho is a hundred percent swallower.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

Likes getting his hair pulled. Not too much, not too violently, in all directions, out of nowhere — he’s uncomfortable with that. His name is not Hwang Hyunjin. It needs to be the right amount of controlled tugging rather than ripping. He wants to be a baddie, not a baldie. One letter difference, big ramifications.

In other words: Minho likes it firm, but not entirely abrasive. The type of pulling that tilts his head back so you can lick across his neck. Lee Know gets such a visceral reaction from that and almost squeals out loud. Which is so unlike him, but it tells you he’s been keeping a sweet spot secret from you. No wonder, he’s so overwhelmingly sensitive there.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

If he’s honest. Minho feels like he’s been sort of like an aimless playball. Tossed around by random people who thought he was worth one lay out of a brief curiosity. They thought he looked good, sure, but had a character that was too hard to decipher and access. To them, despite his tough personality, he still wasn’t `manly´ enough to really crush on him, or be their sovereign rock in a relationship. You’re telling him that how manly someone is virtually has nothing to do with reliability, but it’s not difficult to tell that Minho is on the fence about superficial approaches.

For many secret meet-ups, he wasn’t that interesting besides some `surface talents´ he had, as one person put it. He’d been tricked thinking it could become serious every time and got back up again, only to be left in the mornings the next weekend. Which dismantled an already unsure self-esteem and, in turn, fueled a bitter, biting drive to do better and better with his dates or hook-ups to get any real value and love out of them.

Overdoing it lead to more rejections, and alcohol did the rest. In the end, it wasn’t even like ‚okay let me shoot it into the condom and go‘ anymore, he actually couldn’t get it up anymore. Personal affection, personal attention, he didn’t even know how that even felt back then. Things have been terrible for Minho, and he didn’t `know what he’s doing´, at all. Searching through half of Seoul has been detrimental to his health and energy. He doesn’t consider it a redeemable experience but a chain of constant mistakes he’s responsible for and feels utterly dumb. Sleeping around a lot was not really as pleasure-chasing or an easy release as others made it sound like. It was difficult and confusing and strange. Because he cringes at so many memories, Minho doesn’t really feel like he got to know things or anything.

After the worst blitz breakup and a double instance of being cheated on, Minho even considered seeing prostitutes to alleviate whatever yearning it was that was coming up. Or, he didn’t even know, to have at least /someone/ in his arms who he knew would not do things he didn’t want. He thought, the feelings would be in control, the time they spend was in control, money determined the deal, and he could always come back to see her — hopefully.

He imagined the lust and dripping pleasure of having several hot, horny girls swap him around for a ride to leave him a sweaty drugged-up mess on his back, somewhere on a big pink sofa in a big private room. But when he actually went up to a greyed nighttime shop in a hidden district and saw the shifting faces behind the windows, their unstable gazes exchanged without emotion, he felt a knot churning in his belly because the sight burst his bubble.

Reality was far from his inner image. Nobody was waiting for only him. The door personnel said, he can’t choose the girl, wait in line, have your cash ready, then get in the ratty showers there. Compared to what he expected, it was like the scenes of a novel that could never be as distinct and beautiful in real life. It was just bland, awkward and fleeting. Because these girls were so similar to him at that moment when he stood there in his parka. Anxious and freezing in their bones, miserable and defensive in their poses mirrored through the glass. The last people who could give him a sincere deep hug or blush about Minho coming back after they saw fifty other clients to survive off the little cut they received. He’d only contribute a speck of dust from his trainee salary to these girls. They wouldn’t even know his name and stay locked in there to stand still for the next customer the exact same way. Lee Know’s conscience said that this could not possibly fix his feelings or be the perfect bounce-back.

Sleeping with them out of pity seemed like an oddly heroic act to go for, but still, weird. They looked perfect, sexy, amazing, but without an ounce of life radiating from their lips — even the pregnant girls that the shop offered. They would dance their dance how Lee Know wanted it for a dime, only for the pimp to indifferently kick him out into the cold after a strictly set time. That prospect made him turn on his heel in fear. If he had extra wishes, it would get more than expensive and even stricter, with ways to hook him for years in this cycle.

It would be worse than what he had already gotten himself into with meeting people in shady bars. And even those people, drunk as they were, didn’t seem so particularly excited about Lee Know standing there clueless and choppy in his speech to begin with. Any excitement was fake, it was just liquor. Which was Minho’s deepest concern. Being quite mindlessly replaceable and having no one to really love. He was not as confident as his attitude suggested.

Among several hookups, he tried a fair share of impromptu domination. Which was expected of a guy, after all, unquestioned. It satisfied him during the act and he was a convincing top, but it left Minho a strange type of hollow afterward. He got addicted to rough one-night-stands even if he didn’t like the feeling of the person trodding out the door so awkwardly. Although he wanted permanence, the heat of the moment persuaded him to give in again. And again. Lee Know didn’t research much about dominating nor did he have a philosophy, it was mainly just moves and positions and that was it, but he was never quite sure how he came across and if that was really the right thing.

The price of ‚experience´ was neither increased skill nor extra esteem. The opposite happened, which is why Minho was very disgruntled about people and sitting inside his shell when you kind of scooped him up as a friend. He didn’t consider starting as friends with someone back then, to his disadvantage, which he realized. Minho got to enjoy the slower development of a belonging with you. His hormones are slow as hell but they do last. It’s important to Minho that there’s someone who’s magnetically drawn to his ways and body, even a bit obsessed.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

If vanilla is concerned: Any position that looks good but feels bad is taboo. You both agreed on that. He’s always on the lookout, Minho sticks to the classics. Reverse cowgirl, doggy, logically — same view. Doesn’t just like being the active partner there, though. He’s gonna mewl and cry when you smack it back onto his hips. Since you are horny for seeing his face though, we got a lil’ conflict of interests. That’s why you often have sex in front of a mirror so you can see him pant into your ear, cheek to cheek.

He looks really cute hugging you from behind, and his dick… it’s just amazing how good it feels. Minho’s sheer presence has you dripping anyways, and the nape kisses he gives you are the ultimate turn-ons. He won’t have any problems gliding in. Also. Have anyone observed Lee Know’s habit of just laying down on somebody whenever he gets the chance, waiting for an embrace? Of course he’s the cherry on his top. So missionary is definitely right around the corner for him. Perfect to kiss, he can get his booty moving, his hips, and you again have the vantage point of being one inch away from his godly face. Amazing sensuality.

Now, the world of kink and fetish. Things look a bit different here. Minho being a certified anal slut makes him the perfect candidate for spreading his legs. Supine preferably, because he’s stable on his back and can bend his knees up to his shoulders. It makes him feel so vulnerable and exposed, but the promise of stimulation and getting his ass wrecked is too promising. You as the resident doctor roleplay lady can easily run your medications and experiments on him if he’s tied and fixated into such an open position, one that allows for an ideal viewing of his reactions. What an attractive patient to examine, would be a shame if he got riled up from a lot of overstimulation and got sore from his doctor’s appointment.

And: He sees all you do to him up close. Minho is so obsessed with everything that even remotely goes past his sphincter, giving him a prostate orgasm is the easiest thing in the world. Extra huge vibrators, anything goes (in). Just how much can patient Lee stretch out, god dammit. The juicier it gets, the better. „I feel so dirty… but it’s so good.“ He has a horny meltdown over getting a full dose of fake cum enemas and can’t stop gasping out loud. Look how his jaw will drop and his legs shiver when he sees it oozing right out of him onto a towel on the floor. You tape the whole thing just to be sure. He likes watching himself from your POV as well.

One time, Lee Know left the camera out on his bed table in the dorm and Jeongin picked it up thinking it was Seungmin’s or something. Turns out the youngest simply wanted to make a vlog outdoors, but guess which risky scene he accidentally clicked on since the thumbnail was Lee Know making a funny-looking face. Well well, it wasn’t the meme video he anticipated. Jeongin gave the camera back to you with a big smug grin. Out of all people, you thought he was the one to be the most embarrassed about what he accidentally saw. Lewd maknae alert. Going by his reaction, he’s probably seen and done it all, the tape didn’t even fluster him in the slightest.

In Stray Kids, the hyungs have the decency and bashfulness while the hard-nosed younger members have a real poker face about sex stuff. Hyunjin, the man, the legend, once watched sub boy hentai so disgusting at a decently loud volume on a big screen (his dang headphones were broken, RIP), not even batting one lash. Changbin barged into the room and stumbled right out again screaming. Hyunjin was not even jerking off, just throwing popcorn in his mouth and doodling on the couch. My poor man Binnie got traumatized for life by peach-pink 3D tentacles and never talked about it again. Meanwhile Hyunjin, „Oopsie, sorry! Doesn’t Chan have some spare headphones somewhere?“

But back to cameragate. Lee Know, shocked to the bone, heavily scolded Jeongin for taking any technical equipment from his bed’s vicinity without asking. He couldn’t stop nagging from being worried about corrupting Jeongin with such explicit, intimate material that nobody should ever, ever see. This is a scandal to him. Lee Know feels like his and your dignity went down the drain, he swears to lock the camera into an iron box ten miles below the earth, but Jeongin keeps the juicy secret with a smile. He doesn’t even seem to care that much about having seen Lee Know's ass getting stuffed with all kinds of things. Your boyfriend realizes that Jeongin would not even mildly chuckle if his own dick got broadcasted to the whole world and leaves the seasoned pervert maknae be.

He still gets recurring thoughts about the mishap later on and talks it out with you after a sighing confession. „I don’t know how much he’s seen of it… Jeongin didn’t say a word!“ You tell Lee Know that he might keep his sex life painstakingly hidden from the group members out of politeness and privacy, but they were well aware that the two of you were pretty active. Much like some of the other members, who could of course tell the signs, so, duh. Of course they weren’t losing their mind that Lee Know had a ‚King of Anal Debauchery‘-themed sex tape. If anything, that is the most in-character thing ever.

„I mean look at Hyunjin, he has zero pretenses and shame about his schticks. And Jeongin has an opinion like, Lee Know is a grandpa who thinks he invented the wheel.“ That viewpoint gives Lee Know at least some peace of mind, he really couldn’t sleep for two days. But he will continue to gripe to Jeongin that he better not gossip, or jack off over the thought of you even if you’re not seen as much as Lee Know in that video. And he wants Jeongin to just forget what he saw anyway. Lee Know has his priorities figured out: He likes to be humiliated — but only by you.

Jeongin vows to erase his memory. He insists he’s only seen like five seconds before clicking off, knowing it’s not his business, and he says Lee Know’s facial expressions were underwhelming so it wasn’t even interesting. „Well I hope so,“ Lino grumbles, and continues to put any risqué videos on a hard drive that only the two of you can access with a password. He’s starting to realize that it’s really not that much of a big deal to Jeongin who is merely amused, but he learned his lesson in taking care of the camera if he doesn’t want his videos to be seen.

The facial expression thing sticks with him though and he tries to up his game there even if you say you don’t see a fault in them, I mean he looks fucked out, he looks cute, what more do you need? Lee Know is frustrated about his own confidence dwindling every so often, the cameragate was only another nail in the coffin, so you resort to what a dominant would typically do. Give him a difficult task. Lee Know is your service sub for a week and has to execute the protocol perfectly. It caters to his strength so there’s a solid base, it incorporates enough worship for you to enjoy yourself every waking minute, and he can gain esteem by achieving the big prize, your content and approval, reaffirmed he is not lazy, a mistake, or unworthy.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

Unintentional screamer moments all the time. And: One random word of his and you’re already laughing your ass off. His reaction faces are out of fucking control. Come on, he won’t have sex with his poker face on. That’s not it. The eye contact yes, but you’ll see a lot going on in that gorgeous face of his, with all that gummy smiling. And he’s sweet. Lee Know has the kind of energy of where you tell him „Stop being so cute… Or come be cute in my bed.“

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

My, is he clean. Clean as fucking fuck. Minho is a routine shaver. And open-minded to your take. In fact, he’ll shave himself (or leave his hair alone) however you want it since he has no clear tendency in any style. Then why not groom in a way that you fancy on him. „Oh, you like this? Okay — got it.“ He adapts. It’s no inconvenience for him, nor does he have a problem meeting your ideal. Whatever makes you comfortable, he’ll pick up the hygiene routine that suits what your eyes and nose find most pleasant. Even if he might shrug about these things, he knows that people can have strong stances or preferences with body hair.

If you want it, not a single hair will disturb your touch except his brows and classic standard Minho bangs. With some peach fuzz here and there, the lightest of the light, but that’s it. I mean, all clean, just how detail-oriented is he. And really. So smooth everywhere, his skin is a dream. Lino’s so easy to kiss and cuddle, it’s ridiculous. When he grows out a mullet that so cutely sticks out from below a base cap for example, you could pet him for hours.

To step it up a notch: Your inner naughty devil will get excited whenever he’s especially sleek-shaven and soaped-down under his pits. You like to lick them with the mere tip of your tongue. When he just used really cold water in particular, not when they’re damp and sweaty. Minho is shocked and turned on in equal measures. You justify yourself saying you like every part of him because it’s true. Minho accepts the fact that your lust for him stops at nothing, and he comes to enjoy the ticklish feeling more than he thought.

Not impressed by the sudden boom in ball shaving ads. Lee Know has always taken care of himself according to his own personal aesthetic philosophy. Doesn’t have all the time in the world to do so, but pays attention regardless. He spends some extra minutes before seeing you in particular, always ready. You won’t catch him skipping showers. Doesn’t have as much body hair to begin with except on the lower legs, and his chest and pubes are quickly shaven. His motto is: Off with that and finished.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

Rose-colored glasses alert. Lee Know admires you. He wants to be your exact type, the perfect match. He really works hard on the relationship and any shortcomings. In fact, your boyfriend is a little desperate every now and then. Yes, he knows it’s unhealthy if he gets most of his affection and connecting fill out of romance and not somewhat evenly from his social surroundings. But for better or worse, he can’t help wanting to safeguard what you have together and enjoy it in the private peace of your home. His desperation comes from more than just touring a lot, this goes deeper.

You think it has to do with his fame and idol status, which in and of itself could never be healthy in various ways. Interactions in the idol world often remain superficial and in the fast lane. Being in a company is a rough job. That unfortunately seeps into the relationship dynamics as a restriction. That is not to say he doesn’t feel loved by his fans, his family, and Stray Kids. But it’s different when the relationship is romantic and sexual with someone, he feels it has more to offer than even his adrenaline-filled career because it has a certain stability. That’s also the reason he’s paranoid about breakups, cheating, and bad days as a couple.

Lee Know often puts up a closed and uncaring front on camera so people wouldn’t want to get into his business or have him worry over said pet peeves: He depends on people’s loyalty. The resting face, it’s his way of not letting others hit on him, cause him discomfort, or draw his time and energy. Especially the latter, because he reserves giving the prime fanservice to you exclusively. Since he already exhausts himself daily to be a great artist, he doesn’t have much to put out for a random acquaintance. He strives for your attention and can’t help it. Lee Know already doesn’t allow the members to coo over him, he only reacts when you tickle his chin or slap his butt in passing.

The members are surprised how many extra miles he will go to buy you bouquets and snacks even if he’s already staying up late for dancing. Lee Know always brings you food since it’s his way of intimacy and connection. Eating is intimate, what someone puts inside their body is intimate, Lee Know thinks, how does no one else seem to realize that. A meal for your girlfriend can say a thousand words if you prepare it with a caring eye.

Having desserts for sex? Nothing more fitting for him. Sweet food and sexuality always go together. He’s turned on by you biting into an ice cream cake, he feeds on your enjoyment of good taste. Watching Lee Know treat himself to chocolate cookies or just plain noodle soup? The cute crunchy or slurping noises are more satisfying and noticeable when it’s someone you love. You never knew chewing could be so elegant, but no surprise, with a pretty face like that.

Baby bun’s occasional awkwardness makes sex ten times better. How boring would it be to just fuck like… Machine Man Minho with the robot thrusts. He’s far from that, more like a stoic prince with a soft core. And hell, you can just do your thing, he likes whatever way you sleep with him. Being open to ideas is Minho’s key forte, in fact, you just have to bring it up at the right moments. If it’s romantic, if it’s freaky, no difference, he’s excited about your input.

The majority of being intimate comes from long whispered conversations, though. Usually in the evening. Breakfast is too chill. Minho talks to you about sexual topics as much as he would mention daily life. He has this sweet smile when he’s face to face with you, and he’s a shy talker.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Your guy, as restrained as he seems, definitely knows what’s up. Minho, ever the enthusiast of all things full and soft, likes to sensually grind his hips against a big round pillow rather than jackhammer his life away with a death grip. He personally takes care of washing the pillow, too, no worries. No stains to be found. Clean and ironed. This guy is truly a perfect match for any germaphobe.

The whole thing, he… he masturbates in such an unobtrusive way. Minho is very gentle with himself, which you admire and try to replicate — although sometimes, oh well. You just wanna put his dick in your fist and make him scream and cry out loud. But that’s for a different kind of day and mood. Most of the time, things are very subdued here, and fluffy.

He’s not afraid of his cum — obviously not, it’s too nice — and wipes it carefully instead of going yikes, away with you. He really takes his time. He pampers himself. He doesn’t need to watch disturbing material (ahem, Hyunjin) to get himself going. Lee Know just lays there and lets his fingers slowly graze up and down individually, as if he played a guitar. He drinks a lot of water, doesn’t push himself, and he won’t self-flagellate if things don’t go as planned. You commend him, and Bangchan would be proud of Minho for respecting himself so much alright.

Has a love-hate relationship with his hands, but you encourage him to think from your perspective. They are soft and small and warm and broad so them holding you feels great… and he is ambidextrous. What a nice advantage. Minho applying his gentle skills on you is not just softly warming, but the best way to do something very consistent with his fingers. He’s great at getting you off in a way that neither feels boring nor hurried.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

He can call you mommy, sure. In a joking way, sometimes. But with Minho — it seriously needs something more intense. According to the grapevine, Scorpios are some of the most dedicated and hopeless kinksters you’ll find out there. They want to be fucked brainless. And as the great Lizzo told us: All the rumors are true, yeah! Any power dynamic tingles their finest horniest senses. Getting pinned down and tortured might not seem like it’s right up Lee Know’s alley, like, he’d be too sensitive, too phlegmatic, too cute, too stern, too this, too that. But the submissive hiding inside of him will get worked up once you put your fingers in his eager open mouth. To put it mildly, he loves them so much. He might as well go with the pinning, which excites him. Once it comes to anal play, he’s toast anyway. Hook him up to one of those relentless drilling machines and Lee Know will cry his heart and stress out. With your thumb on the speed button, you can determine if he’s gonna dance especially legs-apart tomorrow or not.

Most people wouldn’t immediately associate „oh, of course, fucking machines!“ with submissive Lino, but that’s what it turns out to be. Although he could afford more machines of that kind (and these are expensive as hell), he doesn’t like the spitroast DP version. He’s afraid he might get his teeth bashed in by accident and he is right, he’s still a beginner. One side stuffed will suffice completely. Minho likely won’t do a DAP — even if it looks tempting. He wants it bad but his body is getting in the way by being smol. Obviously, height isn’t a general guideline. Han can stretch himself out like it’s nothing. I mean. Point the biggest strap in existence right in his direction. And Hyunjin, he’s dying from tightness. He could not accommodate one little fist with ten tons of lube. Height literally says nothing at all. Lee Know is definitely having an easier time there.

On the other hand: Yes. He’s getting the hang of it and tolerates a punishing speed, mentally on top of just physically, because Lee Know has a sub endurance that’s sturdy as steel when it comes to getting split in half. No whining. He will clench his jaw and take it with a few tears. Because oh man, he loves that feeling of his guts being put in a blender, „so deep…“ is his favorite exclamation. This guy has a great ole time, I’m telling you.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

As for your house: Not in the car. Too easy to mess up, too exposed. Not the kitchen either (only kisses there). Not the bathroom. Living room, only when it’s nice and cozy and the window is shielded somehow. Your bed, always. Day and night. A random chair, meh. A table, worse. A shower, too unsafe. A bath, neither, he’s kind of undecided there. Minho is so damn selective — as you quickly figured, going by two criteria. How comfortable the surface is, and: How sanitary things are. But mostly, a larger steady underground with decently elastic cushioning is the number one green flag. Lee Know is a bon vivant within healthy environments, not an adventurer or fucking for clout.

He’s not conservative with those things, he just wants something robust but nicely shaped that won’t hurt either of you. Since swimming and Minho is a delicate topic, the two of you will stay away from making out in a pool or sea unlike other couples. Water? Only in condensed form. Minho would totally kiss you lots in a sauna, but it needs to be very gently warmed instead of piping hot. And the whole area needs to be 100% devoid of people. The same goes for a cinema which is technically a nice idea to him, but in practice, underwhelming. Sticky floors, nacho cheese in the air, aircon blowing in your necks, stuffy seats. No thanks. Your home sofa is preferred.

At his parents’ house: Not a chance. Especially not with the cats climbing around everywhere and begging for food every 10 minutes. Making out briefly is okay, but nothing further than that.

As for the dorm: Never. Never ever. Not once. But you already know, anyway. He’s so protective, he’d never let the other members hear either of your moans or the bed creaking. No suspicious activity at any time of the day, even when nobody else is there. Only cuddles in bed. Cuddles, cuddles, more cuddles. He also wakes up earlier than you. Why? Any morning boners he will quickly rub out into a then disposed towel. Without getting much profound pleasure, he just takes care of it and returns to you in his bed. Where, as a habit, you wrap your arms around him in your sleep, which he likes and needs. His dick poking into your back or stomach, he insists he’s not gonna „annoy you like that, it’s offensive!“

Where you would fuck the shit out of his morning wood? At your own place, until he’s breaking a sweat, the dorm is the literal church. You might play video games there, read, dance around, cook together. But nothing physically erotic. He will take some whispered sexy words from you, but gnawingly. The hyungs will coo how sweet and innocent you are as a clingy couple. That’s all they ever get to see.

Lee Know doesn’t want to share one bit of his intimacy with you with anyone else. It makes him super cranky when people get into his and especially your business. Minho will glare should they be asking about what you do with him sexually, or how you’re like in the sheets, and if he did this or that already, or if he’s having fun. „Never ask again!“ Warning taken. Minho’s sense of privacy is a diamond vault.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Eye contact. Boom. This is so important to him. It spurs Minho into extra-long rounds more often than not. Who doesn’t want to stare right back when he’s doing his soft little kitty gaze. Also — A very distinct type of lingering eye contact is the primary way you tell him you want sex. He can read your expressions well and comes running. Minho considers sex a way of looking into each other’s soul. As for you: Looking at this lil’ dainty face of utmost beauty surely isn’t a bad way to spend your time. Minho’s fucking pretty and he smells so good, hell, even the mint gum he loves to chew and his laundry and hair and everything. You admit your addiction to his scent and he definitely takes note of that.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

He’d probably hate and isolate himself for ages if you started to cry from something he did. Naturally, Minho touches you with invisible satin gloves, in a positive way. Lack of respect and gentleness towards a beloved is a big pet peeve, as is making you afraid.

He’s allergic to porn and society telling him he should be hands-on because it’s supposedly sexy. Slapping you would be a big turn-off. He couldn’t hurt and bruise you, or yell at you, or make you flinch somehow, intimidating you in general. Lee Know has enough sore areas on either leg from dancing to know how much even the little painful spots hurt. A dancer will always be aware how delicate and mortal a body really is.

Also doesn’t like anything that has to do with breath play. Minho doesn’t want to be choked out, nor would he choke you either. He’s really uneasy about it and knows how dangerous it is. He’d rather place his hands on your waist and likes your hands flat on his chest, shoulders, or stomach. When it comes to you pegging him prone, his shoulder blades.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

He can only eat someone out or get a blowjob when he’s really in love. Nothing casual will do. Under your eyes, his glaring uncertainty is immediately telling. He’s done it three, four times at best. Minho’s actually avoided it so much in the past because of some very mediocre trial-and-error encounters that had either party disappointed. It’s a shame, of course he wants to be unbiased, but he does carry it with him, so you have to be patient with Lee Know.

Minho thinks it’s too intimate to ever do on a first date. To him, a person’s lips, including his, are, to a degree, extremely sacred. Not anyone can suck his dick out of nowhere, even if they are jaw-droppingly good-looking. He’s stingy. Even if his dick would be hard, he’d just feel strange how that person is so close to him and just… slobbers all over his dick so unceremoniously. The established feeling between him and his partner is more important. He wants to know the person inside out and wants to have looked at them and listened to them talking for many hours. Trusting them is so crucial.

When he prepares for pleasing you with his tongue, he’s eyeing what he’s about to do with a lot of respect. He wants his dick treated with equal care, too, even if an eager mouth is always appreciated and melts his brain. Minho likes a good balance. Brain melt and kindness. Being impersonal wouldn’t meet his benchmark and frustrate Minho.

It needs the right setting, too. Minho thinks he’s a complete pain in the ass obsessing over the minutiae and making a giant deal out of oral sex. You don’t think his diligence is a problem to himself. His anguish is. But there’s an easy fix, which he appreciates. Minho needs to be told things like how to sit on his knees, where to put his hands, how to improve his breathing pattern, what to do with his bottom lip, where to put his tongue. His domme might need a 200-page-long instruction handbook and it may seem ridiculous to an outsider how much he needs to know from her, but the thing is… Lee Know has excellent kinetic memory. Do with that information what you need. In no time, you can name the most romantic and dedicated pussy eater your very boyfriend.

He thinks you really have to love his body scent, and he has to like yours. Minho needs to be with a partner whose sweaters he can lean into all day with his nose, and he can take them in that way. If he’s in love with your scent, better believe he’ll go crazy. Once your pants are down, he’s getting the party started. He’ll lick himself stupid. Minho’s tongue is going all over the place. Oh my god is he to the point. He doesn’t really need to take a breathing break, either. This guy is eating like it’s the best meal ever right in front of him. Hence the reason why he’s a human block of wood during aftercare. Never forget that this guy is a chef. He just looked after his favorite dessert.

Seriously. Why do Stray Kids all have the most fuckable faces and a tongue fixation.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Look. He’s not Changbin. And he’s not Lee `Oh my god, I’m your ragdoll´ Felix. Minho wants to take it a little easier and doesn’t like exhausting you. He can move those fucking hips, and he can adhere to a decent rhythm when he’s thrusting himself onto a strap— but yes. An overall relaxed mood prevails right here, nobody’s burning the house down. Lee Know conserves his energy well to draw it out. But: The atmosphere is still deeply heated and wide awake in the moment. Make no mistake. He’s not boring. Minho is very keen and gifted in the way he moves. If anything: He’s excellent.

When you’re asking for a dick appointment, Minho does something very properly. He makes sure to go in all the way. And pulls out 95%, not too slowly, and not too fast. And then goes in all the way again. Which means you’re naturally gonna suck him back in when he moves away, and grow to want more and more of him. Which he gladly obliges to, you got this guy in your pocket. This only works in certain positions, but you figure those out with time. By the way: He doesn’t refer to it as fucking or penetrating, though, but hugging his dick.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Blowing off a bit of steam, making it passionate, being a little stealthy? Why not. Minho knows all the introvert spots in any building he’s familiar with. The nooks and crannies, any silent corner. You know, like any cat would — it’s only logical. He’s the type to secure that no one will ever catch you, not even Nosy Line aka Chan, Felix, Seungmin, and Jeongin. He seems to carry condoms and wipes in every pocket and is perfectly prepared in general. Lee Know knows exactly when to shower so he meets you fresh and lovely, and of course: A bit nervous.

If he’s not careful, Minho cums in a heartbeat with your ass bouncing off his thighs. It feels so soft and sounds so amazing, this absolutely blows his mind no matter how often you do quickies. This is not just you being lucky you’re with him, Minho is also glad he got you and that your desire for each other is extremely strong. He’s just gonna let go and release. He can’t help it. Those quickies have Minho wearing rose-colored glasses while at the same time having him admire your body. He thinks this must be heaven, he has such an innocent excitement. All his brain says in that moment is a stream of yes, oh god, wow, oh shit, oh fuck, she’s doing it!

You’re having tons of fun and… that Minho feels great inside of you is an understatement. You need this as often as he can, you enjoy it to the maximum. One round is never enough, you want him again and again. As much as you’re riding his dick, Lee Know is extremely preoccupied that you won’t be getting off at the same time, though — keeping it one-sided is unfair to him. Doing an improv-69 with maximum stimulation, in a random place on top of that? Feels too uneasy to him. That’s why his thighs and kitten tongue licks are your clit’s best friend. He offers them or his hands in one go without further ado.

He has no intents of breaking your back and bending you around to force his own climax in one minute either. This man is concussion-safe. Minho just listens to whatever your nasty idea is, and that’s usually a finger fest, only to simply go with the flow. He doesn’t say anything, he just nods and pulls out two hand wipes and off you go a second later. Hygiene first. Handjob second. Well, not really. After pulling off his shirt, he likes it when you just palm him, he lets his dick peek out the top of his sweats, and he spurts all over his stomach.

Just you putting your hands down his boxers is too damn dry for a quickie, he doesn’t like it. Gentle touch from the outside of the fabric is enough to make him peak as long as you’re leaning in for a lengthy, gentle kiss on the lips. For five minutes, it’s okay with him. Still thinks it’s a little loveless though, to just go back to whatever you were doing afterwards. The chaos and buckwild coordination he can handle, but not the lack of focus, focus of feeling. He wants the purity of ‚you and me‘ and especially some afterglow, and recharge time, sleep. So, quickies only go down whenever the two of you have some extra energy on that day.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

Bit of risk? Hell yeah. Just to be cheeky together. But real risk? Nope. He always chickens out. Say, doing something like wax play would turn him off. His expression always tells you what Lino will shy away from, and you take good care of him. Should that situation ever arise, and so far it hasn’t, something that would put you in harm’s way is an exceeding reason for Minho to firmly say no, let’s not do this, let’s do something else instead. On the other hand, his submissive side can handle any forfeit until exhaustion. It’s ironic. Minho is prone to say okay, so to speak, I’m gonna give up my body for this, I give you that power over me and the responsibility. That’s pretty trusting towards you, and you respect him for his found confidence.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

Good endurance. Lee Know says he can be your lil’ plaything however you want it, and he knows why. Dance practice pays off. This is the guy who wrote `DRIVE´. Which is about going all night. Well maybe not eight hours straight but you get the gist. What’s ever straight with Lee Know anyways. Long story short: He can give you what you need.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Okay, so, aside from the myriad of cute wearable animal ear varieties he owns? Cats, bunnies, puppy ears, everything? The image of Minho handling a bunch of strangely-shaped colorful items might be weird, but he does enjoy a little help from a silicone friend. First, he likes his tender back furiously blown out by a very specific strap that’s really pointy, smoothly textured, and jet black, curved upwards for that matter. It’s on the weekly to-do list. Minho likes to be pegged from behind with your arms wrapped underneath his chest, all until his legs give out. Shake. Him. Up.

Next, Minho has an almost compulsive habit of collecting vibrators almost as thick as your arm to shove down his throat on the regular. Minho puts up a camera to monitor his inch count progress. The bigger the shaft, the more wide-eyed the grimace. You always get new videos on your phone of him just gagging the shit out of himself with the latest grass green fucking dildo. He’s choking out rivers of spit while gargling a straight-up… 11-inch cob of corn. No pain, no gain. Until his own spit comes dripping out of his nose.

If there are no concerts or recordings coming up, he likes to deliberately train himself that way. If you come home to your hoarse boyfriend with swollen eyes, right out of the shower, you know what went down. New twenty-minute video available only for you. Today’s menu, vanilla cream popsicles with chocolate or strawberry filling that melts across his bottom lip, little by little. He’s creative, huh. Just enjoying himself doing his favorite thing and sharing it with you. It comes naturally. Minho doesn’t think much about it. He just likes to show you sexy oral stuff with toys, that’s all.

Lee Know gets even wilder when his object of desire is strongly vibrating. He does all kinds of things like twisting his head in a circle or letting it poke in his cheek. This guy has the craziest deepthroat skills ever. Only Felix surpasses him in terms of enthusiasm with endless depth, and nothing is as drooling as whatever Hyunjin is probably doing right now — but Minho is a high-speed master. He can ram it down until his Adam’s apple and continue thrusting it in. Everything caught on camera in decent lighting. He’s insane for this.

The „hm, mh, agh, gh, chh—“ noises itself are worth the watch already, like wow Minho is choking the alphabet for you how nice of him, and you do have to look for a safe place to check out his voice mails and very r-rated `attached files´. He’s always in tears or coughing a couple times when he’s finished, but damn this guy can keep his teeth apart and throw his head into it. Minho is so impressive and talented. What to even say. Legendary behavior.

Also, he buys anything that might make your ass feel good. Nothing huge, just nice little stimulation aids. Meanwhile, a classic hitachi… not his taste. Not handy enough, too large, that cable, the colors. Totally not his thing. The smaller versions also don’t look aesthetic to him, he thinks they’re so tacky. Instead, Minho buys you all kinds of vibrating eggs that he can hold against your clit. Elongated ones that fit his palm, in pastel or dark colors that look elegant and classy. For Valentine’s Day, Christmas, and Birthdays. He always thinks he’s doing the most risqué thing ever and almost panics on the inside when giving you the present, but his intuition is always right. You don’t like these presents: You love `em.

Nothing better than Minho kissing you lovingly, and a nice continuous buzz between your other lips. He loves to massage these kinds of eggs into your clit using small circles or very controlled back-and-forth rubs. This guy watches with an eagle eye how you’re feeling and what you need. Higher or lower vibration speed, a bit of spreading around of your wetness or some mid-buzz wiping down, a closer embrace or a minute without touch, the list goes on. Pleaser Minho… is a very sexy sight. What boyfriend material he is. Telling him you’re using his gifts to masturbate all the time and thinking of his body, no shit, it makes him shy.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

A balance of mutual teasing is just right. He likes to be put in his place, that’s the real deal: Teaching Minho a lesson about greed. Initially, he’s excited when your words and tone become suddenly explicit, graphic, and expose exactly what he was wishing for. „Minho… haven’t you picked pants a little too tight? You wanna be groped, do you. Not happening until we get home from date night. It’s another four hours in those slutty jeans. I’ll love looking at you from across the restaurant table“. Plus, you have some other punishments up your sleeve that hit bull’s eye without a fault. Who can guess what? Hint: It has to do with a strong fixation of his. Another hint: It all revolves around depriving him of it. No, it’s not orgasm denial. He can handle that. It’s a lot more specific. What if… butt hunter Minho gets deprived of ass! Oh yes. If you provoke, I revoke. Time to suffer, this one hits where it really hurts.

Handcuffing him to the bed frame so he can’t touch your ass all the way? Boss move, hundred percent effective. He’ll cry for your leniency. It will make him so drained and frustrated. Blindfolds, to make it worse? Not a single peak? Minho’s caving in. He’ll do anything you want. Or: No body contact at all, just a riding crop? Just say you want to wreck him and go. He’ll acknowledge: You know him well. In fact? You’ve out-teased Lino with the simplest tools and tricks. He could never. His obsession makes him so easy to control and destroy, it’s ridiculous. It’s such kryptonite to him, his schtick makes him look stupid. Your boyfriend is bound to his desire, so it’s no effort to bind him in return. Literally: This guy can get ready for some extra-accurate bondage work around his arms. Those won’t move around a single inch anytime soon. Whole-arm bondage is so underrated, by the way. It’s perfect for him.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

„Let me hear you“ might as well be your favorite thing to say. Heavenly moans combined with his stumbling voice that tells you just how much it gets to him. The more sadistic his dominant, the more of a box of surprises he becomes. If Minho’s dick hurts from all that it has to endure, and oh he’s loving it, the mix of little whimpers and „ah—!“ noises become a dulcet melody: As fitting for someone who sings so sweetly. He winds his torso left and right, the ache is so terrible, so good, so shocking. He can’t go without a little pain and spanking, he wants to be hit, he wants to hump your thighs while clothed so it’s extra frustrating: It’s what makes sex memorable to him. Lee Know is never at the top of his range, but his sounds are as passionate and genuine as they come. „Please… just slap my ass again, please!“

Minho, however, is not the type who wants to be pushed beyond a breaking point where he’s mindlessly screaming. That’s what Hyunjin and Han are for. The messy, destruction-craving subs incarnate. These two want to get absolutely demolished. Lino is set in place about his physical limit and wouldn’t want to transgress any of it like that. His mental threshold, however, he’s willing to explore and stretch in a way that’s healthy, positively nervous, and exciting. Exactly because Lee Know is a tough, cheeky nut to crack, you like him. His brattiness is sexy, especially since it dissolves into emotional surrender once your fingers hit the right spot in his prostate. Because he has that initial wall up, it’s all the more rewarding to see him submit totally and be weak.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Frequently wears long sleeves because you are so wild about biting his soft and juicy upper arms. He doesn’t know why you’re so fixated on doing that, but he’s starting to enjoy how pervy and vampire-like you are. Bangchan is kind of wondering, why is our dance legend covered in so much sweat, why does he cover up like that. Dear Chan, you innocent soul… There are some green and lilac marks on Lee Know’s body that the world should never see.

He’d rather sweat than show his twenty-four thigh hickeys or get his sleeves wet while scrubbing the dishes or washing his hair in front of the maknaes. Not his fault that you can’t stop marking him up, okay. He’s just a little guy from Gimpo trying to make a living with dancing in a group. Lee Know did no wrong. Except maybe simp over your ass a little too much, which is adequately punished. His obsession might as well be the reason why you bite back and see this brat whining over teeth marks on his legs and arms and waist. Taste of his own medicine — serves him well. And you get wet from hearing him moan when you bite him, so.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

He got something for you. We all know Stray Kids have some of the finest guys with the finest bodies ever. Minho being a shower rather than a grower tends to be somewhat satisfied with his equipment. It curves out well from the side through his pants which has you teasing him a lot. That subtle arch you love.

Granted, he’s not walking around sized like Hyunjin who struggles with the lack of practicality resulting from that big ole thing he has to drag around 24/7. Lee Know is at home in the ubiquitous midrange. That helps, he’s really handy. Not too much girth to handle, and not too much prep needed.

He sure knows how to have it feel profound, still. While at the same time not making it weird with the angles, having his balls doing awkward stuff. He has that under control and you’ll feel amazing. The genius trick is, he’s gonna wear those type of pants where you can just leave your balls tucked inside except the rest. That keeps everything neat.

Although you don’t care, Minho is not a fan of his two contemporaries and likes to ignore them. Balls are too icky and unpredictable to him, Minho’s like why do they have to be designed like this, so he’d rather fuck with half of his clothes on. Which makes him the prime candidate for having sex at night when your bedroom cools down and especially in winter. Like a true Scorpio, duh, it’s his season.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

Always looks towards you because he’s too shy and reserved to figure it all out. He’s really observant, almost to a fault. Over time, he’s getting better and better at reading you in word and body language. Vice versa, you train yourself to judge if Minho will come home too exhausted after practice just by keeping your watch in mind, past 1-2 AM he will collapse into the pillows as soon as he walks into the bedroom. He’s too physically drained. It’s better to have a go at it in the morning, it’s much more smooth-sailing than your boyfriend trying to force himself.

As a rule of thumb, Minho will say ‚please‘ only once, but retreats in a visibly anxious manner if he ever happens to wildly misjudge your mood, which makes him guilty for asking to begin with. Taking this seriously is one of his most defining character traits. He likes asking you for a bit of making out on your bed sometimes, but apologizes with a bow in case you don’t want to or planned to do something else and he was unaware. „Sorry for bothering you. Sorry. It’s my bad.“

At the beginning of your relationship, he doesn’t know where to go and what to say or do afterward in case you said `no I’m busy,´ but you’re quick to engage him in a leg massage for you instead. You encourage him to place kisses everywhere on you, and you can continue to read what you’re reading, scroll through a feed, or type or fix something. Lee Know is quite like the cat that lays down on the owner’s lap when they’re working on something, it’s that kind of scene. Half an hour later, finishing with a cuddle, and sleep. No problem.

During other occasions, Minho wakes up to you clenching around him all soaking wet, moving about, panting, pushing back. At your house, he’s okay with you undressing him in his sleep and putting on a condom. He’s on board with you getting on top of him like that as well, although the sight of you like this has him so overwhelmed when he wakes up, he just can’t believe it. Minho feels like even casual wake-up sex is special and hot. He doesn’t think of it as performing a chore — „It’s just fun“. When you start the day like that, Minho feels an instant urge to coil into your nape with his face and start kissing your spine like crazy.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

Enters the dreamland after a vidid ten-minute talk. It all turns into a discussion of half an hour recently since there’s a lot on his mind and talking to himself half-dizzy is the way to go. You’re dozing off next to him, exhausted yourself, but undisturbed. Actually, soothed. Minho has a lot of positive things to say about his girlfriend and a nice voice to fall asleep to. He’s blabbering hilarious random things, too, like „I aspire to grow my butt as much as I can“ or „the makeup staff will think I’m a little weirdo when they see this bite mark tomorrow, uh-oh“.

Lee Know sleeps on his belly but seemingly shifts closer and closer to you as the minutes pass. A tiny attempt to have you big-spooning him, though he doesn’t fully roll himself up sideways like a baby shrimp. Still, you understand him intuitively, your body does, and Lee Know winds up with his purple hair all up in your face in the morning. He’s so nice and warm, he’s your pretty boy. If he needs an extra pillow, Minho winds up putting his plushies in a bundle and laying down on it which you find so cute.

read lee know a-z on ao3

final note. thank you for reading!

[RELATED WRITINGS:]

sub!skz orgasm faces

skz sub training

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#sub!skz #lee know smut #skz smut #sub!lee know #sub!minho #sub!lino #sub!stray kids #smut alphabet #smut a-z #lee know #lee know x reader #dom!reader #lee know x dom!reader #sub!idol #dom!reader x sub!idol #stray kids smut #stray kids headcanons #lee know headcanons

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andysorbit · 9 months

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I wanna ask, from a parents perspective is having kids young worth it?? I turn 25 soon and have been thinking about having kids before 30, it started recently as all my friends have kids already and it feels like I'm missing out on something. I have a great partner and a few cats but we both still feel that....void i guess?? Do you wish you had your daughter at an older age??

okay baby listen everyone is different and parenthood might work for you and it might not but I'm gonna talk to you right now about all of the reasons why I regret not waiting. this will be kinda long.

I was 23 when I got pregnant, 24 when my daughter was born. it was not planned and I barely knew the guy. like he was literally just a sneaky link and we both have a breeding kink so 1+1 = 3 in this case. I was already knocked up by our 3rd date (yes it's that bad but hey I fucked around and found out)

I was in a bad place when I met him (sad girl with daddy issues whose daddy just died that's a whole different side story tbh it never ends) and I deserved better but I was honestly just happy that someone was giving me attention. plus his dick was huge and he knew how to use it so it was like "maybe I can change him. maybe he'll realize I'm worth loving." again daddy issues.

now you're probably wondering why I'm oversharing all of this but it's gonna make sense by the time we come back full circle. I promise.

things went south after i got pregnant and in order to protect myself and my wee lil dew drop, I ghosted his ass.

so now pregnancy alone is its own little monster. my body changed a lot. I gained so much fkn weight that I didn't realize that I wasn't as big as i thought I was. my face shape is different (lowkey to the point where I don't even look at old photos because it will ruin my entire day and I will cry) my bladder is fucked. I went from a c cup to a triple d cup so bra shopping is hell, my back hurts most days from the sheer weight of having big tiddies and I truly hate them

now as far everything else, your time will never be yours again. any parent worth their salt is gonna catch some hell. I have anxiety so a lot of my time is spent wondering if I'm going to outlive her. my dad used to say that even when your kids grow up, you'll be wondering if something bad might happen to them that you could've prevented.

now I have a daughter and men are scary enough so like... yeah.

now I had my daughter in the middle of the pandemic. that paired with my anxiety, trauma from what her father put us both through, and my poor decision to use her as comfort instead of going to therapy made her clingy.

your mental health matters so much and of course none of us are perfect and mental health shouldn't completely dictate whether or not you become a parent but you need to be self aware and honest with yourself or you'll fuck that kid up and fuck yourself over. my daughter is clingy as fuck and even now, if I can get a half hour alone, I'm lucky.

I have adhd and I'm bad with time and organization so keeping on top of the house and getting to places on time is hard as hell. I also lost my social skills during the pandemic so if you struggle around people, remember you're gonna have to socialize your kid and for me, that's hard. don't like doctors appointments? You're gonna have to deal with it. don't like going out? get used to it. even down to small talk with random fkn people who think your kid is cute- get ready. I literally had a whole ass chat with some random lady on the train the other day because she thought my daughter was cute so we chatted about her grandkids. random chats with random people are inevitable and will happen sometimes multiple times a fkn day.

now as far as having a second parent, I can't tell you about that. I absolutely do wish I had her father around but I also wish I could trust him enough to share this beautiful chaos. since I can't, I have to do it alone. I have my village but a village can only do so much and the village can't ever truly fill that void.

now I think communication is important for you and your partner. you both need to do it for you. if you have family pressuring you, ignore them. don't let them pressure you into making such a big and final decision. you're bringing a life into the world, not putting up a Christmas tree.

out of my friend group, only one of my friends has a child and she felt like she was missing out because picture of my daughter gave her baby fever. she also has some regrets.

you and your partner need to really talk about that void you feel because a baby will not fill it. figure out where that emptiness is coming from and work on fixing it because a baby is going to feel great and make you proud and all of that but at the end of the day, that baby is a shitting, burping, farting, helpless little human that has their own destiny. their job isn't to fill that void. their job is to grow and thrive while you pour into them. you'll never fill a void when you're pouring into that child's life.

parenthood is beautiful. hearing my daughter tell me she loves me, cuddling her, hearing her pronounce words wrong, watching her eyes light up over things she likes- the list is infinite. the love is infinite but before you both take that leap, you need make sure you're happy with yourselves, happy with the changes that will come, and ultimately happy with the chaos because even with this long ass tangent I'm going on, there's still so much more beauty and madness and hard times. some days I love being a mom and I couldn't imagine being anything else. some days, I wish I wasn't a mom and I envy parents who just walk out and never look back.

I think I'm learning to just be in each moment but if you need any more help or someone to talk to, I'm here for you. I'm a huge believer that not everyone deserves children and a lot of the time I think I'm one of those people because I'll never be able to look my daughter in her face and honestly tell her that she was planned and that those were happy tears when I found out my pregnancy test was positive. I think I've redeemed myself? who knows maybe not but I feel like Gru and she's my little Agnes.

#neoculturecollectives #andy's mail #Andy's perspective #Parenting with Andy

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capettitwrites · 3 months

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Blurb: Haunted by her mother's tragic death, taxidermist Harriet seeks solace in the stillness of her workshop. Memories intertwine with the daily rituals of preserving life in death, while Jenna, her business partner, becomes an unexpected anchor in the cold embrace of grief. Together, they attempt to navigate the delicate balance between love and death.

CW: Self-harm and suicide ideation, grief and loss, graphic descriptions, mental health struggles, family issues, strong language

It’s back again. It likes to attack when I’m alone. Sitting on the tram. Walking through the industrial parking lot. Standing at the warehouse door. When my heart aches and everything feels pointless, my wrists thrum. I wonder whether it’s the knowledge of others' self-inflicted pain that causes the thrumming or whether the thrum itself drives people to cut. I’ve never cut before. Only ever imagined the blade. How it might slice neatly through soft skin, moisturised and sunscreened just like Mum taught me.

‘You have to protect your skin so you stay young and beautiful forever,’ she would say. An unspoken lecture on the dangers of cancer.

Or perhaps I’d have to hack into the skin to be rid of the thrum. Carving deep to the root of it and removing it from me in its entirety. A gouged crosshatch of skin left on my forearms. Staring at them now as I battle with my keys, I can almost see the blood. Then what would Mum say?

Her funeral was nearly a month ago now. The sun bore down, blistering heat as we hid in air conditioned rooms. One lonely cloud disrupted that endless blue, reflecting the ocean underneath. Heat mirage rippling off the black tar roads in waves. Through the window, a child and their father tippy-tapped their way across the burning sidewalk with bare feet.

A perfect Perth summer.

Everything Mum would have loved.

No one else was here yet. The immediate family got an early viewing of the body. Probably so we wouldn’t break down when other people were around. Just behind heavy walnut doors lay Mum’s corpse. Not my actual Mum. She’d left long ago. This was just pageantry, I tried to tell myself, a performance to make us feel better about the whole situation. It did nothing to stop the way my heart decayed in my chest. Finally, Grandma and Pop entered the lobby. Our hug was cut short when the funeral director offered for us to cross that final barricade into the room. This was really happening. I took a deep breath before entering.

Ammonia and borax. Formaldehyde and alcohol. The smells of my workshop don’t usually register in my brain but today they’re almost offensive. I guess I’ve been away for a while. Weaving through metal worktables, gliding past shelves of domes, and reaching between a bear and a chicken I open the only window. Shoulder mounts and shadow boxes clutter the rest of the walls, Derek the giraffe stretching his neck from mid wall to high ceiling. I can’t stop myself from running my hand along his fur when I pass, the taxidermist in me screaming about the damaging oils on my fingers.

With a clink, I place my instruments on the workbench. Perfectly aligned. There are a few specimens waiting for me in my freezer; a roadkill possum, someone’s pet budgie, cane toads. Staring down into the freezer chest, I see Mum in the mortuary cabinets and I’m just as frozen as her. Blue and stiff and naked. She needs a jacket. She hates the cold.

‘I thought you weren’t coming back for another week?’

‘Fuck!’

Jolting up, I smack my head on the underside of a metal shelf. Domes above rattle and pain blooms at the place of impact. Just bruised, I’m sure. Still hurts like a motherfucker though.

‘You ‘right? You’d think God was in that chest the way you’re staring at it.’

Jenna is leaning against the door frame, smirk on her lips but a crease between her eyebrows. Pity hiding in her eyes. The same quiet sadness that filled the faces at the wake.

‘I’m so sorry, Harriet,’ Aunt Cas whispered in my ear. Her hug was bone crushing and her perfume overwhelming but I didn’t push her away. The familiarity of it dulled the pulsing in my head. If I closed my eyes, I was sure I’d wake up to find myself in Grandma’s living room. TV blaring Play School, cigarette smoke pluming from the porch, and ceiling lights compensating for the closed window blinds. Cas’ tears soaking into my shoulder kept my eyes open. I needed to be present. This wasn’t a moment I could escape. It wouldn’t be fair to Mum. The sea of sad faces stared back at me, all tear tracks and sorrow. My eyes were dry. So dry with the air conditioning sapping away any moisture. It was too cold. I shivered.

Jenna slips in beside me and shuts the freezer door. So close, her warm skin radiates through my cold and for a moment I think that I must have died. Standing here I’ve become as cold as the dead, just another one of our specimens waiting for treatment. Jenna is alive and I’m just a ghost.

‘Don’t want those to start defrosting, hey?’ she jokes as she sits on the chest. Her knee bumps against mine and her hand rubs my shoulder. Solid and real. Not dead.

‘Sorry. Couldn’t decide which one I wanted to do,’ I lie.

‘We got a fresh order of butterflies yesterday, if you wanna work on some of them. That gorgeous Birdwing you were waiting for came in.’

I know what she’s doing. Give me an easy job to ease back into the swing of things. I must look an absolute mess if she’s offering up butterflies. Her eyes try to meet mine but I refuse to grant her that privilege. She doesn’t need to see the exhaustion in them and know that she’s right to worry. I don’t want her to treat me as lesser. In avoiding her searching gaze, mine lands on a thawing rabbit.

‘You working on that?’ I ask.

‘Yeah. Memorial piece. Just waiting for her to loosen up a bit more. Wanna make the base for it?’

Deflection.

‘Nah, you can do that. You always make prettier environments than me anyway.’

Jenna doesn’t stop me taking the fluffy little bunny away from her station or complain when I place it at mine. Rubbing up its body to loosen the joints before laying it flat in front of my instruments, the silver table seems shinier. I can hear birds chirping outside where there was muffled silence before. Tension slips off my shoulders. Tawny fur is soft in my bare hands. In the corner of my eye, Jenna collects a base from the shelves and a storage box of greenery.

I ignore her setting up close beside me and take my scalpel in hand. The thrum tingles at my wrist. It would be so easy to remove it. A clean, surgical cut. Glide the sharp edge against my skin, only a little bit of pressure required. Just like cutting into an animal, only there would be more blood.

…A lot more blood.

‘When did you get back?’ Jenna asks, her gloves snapping as she slips them on. Her smile meets her eyes now, the way it usually does when we work together. A fiery crackle behind hazel.

‘Last night.’

‘Eager beaver.’ She bumps her hip against mine. ‘Want me to make the first cut?’

My hands are trembling. The scalpel shivers in my grasp. I hadn’t even noticed.

‘No. I’ve got it.’

I take a breath and turn my hand into stone. Two fingers below the base of the skull, between her shoulder blades, and then I slice into her back. Gently peeling back the skin, I start to slide my hands inside, between her skin and the neat sack of organs. The methodical process, one I’ve done a million times before, washing over me like a warm shower. As my hand comes around to her stomach to wear her like a bracelet, my fingernail catches.

Pop!

A sudden dampness. The smell of faeces. My hands are red when I pull them out.

There wasn’t as much blood as I was expecting. As she lay there in the hospital bed, it felt like she should have looked different somehow. Blue-ish white skin or the etched outline of bones or horrible disfigurement with puddles of blood coating the floor which we’d have to wade through just to get a look only to see she was beyond recognition. There was none of that. Some needles in her arm and a tube in her face. The doctor said something. I’m not sure what. I think my stepdad was listening because he nodded and the next thing I knew they unplugged her.

Time of death, 02:26.

I don’t remember saying goodbye. I don’t remember leaving her room. I don’t remember going to the maternity ward. There were only five babies in the nursery that day. On an average day there’d be anywhere between ten to fifteen newborns. The room looked so empty. It made sense, I thought. Mum was a midwife. How could new life come into the world when she’s gone?

‘Harri!’

Jenna grabs my bloody wrist and tosses me away, quickly using cotton balls to sap up the mess. I watch as she takes over. Cleaning and sanitising. Removing the skin from the body. Rubbing in our tanning mixture. Peeling her gloves off and turning to me.

Looking up at her from the floor with the light dancing through her locks, I feel every bit the penniless beggar. Pleading for a morsel of comfort. Hating the benevolence with which she answers my prayers. The Angel Jenna cups my cheek and I pull away.

‘Fuck off,’ I choke out. A traitorous tear sneaks past my defences as snot blocks my nose and my throat constricts. It’s a coup. Another tear slips down my cheek and I scurry away from her sad eyes. Blood smears across my cheek as I try to stop the revolution, wiping tears from my face. It’s a losing battle. There’s nowhere to run from Jenna’s tender gaze.

Don’t look at me…

And she doesn’t. Turning away, Jenna disappears from the room.

Everything feels cold. As my hand tremors, I pull at my hair and try to breathe. It comes in stiff, stilted huffs. The more I try to control it, the less I can catch it. Panic clutches at my chest. Lost and overwhelmed, just a child crying in their bed.

‘Look at me, baby,’ Mum said as she lifted my chin. ‘Take a deep breath. Together, okay?’

In through her nose, her chest rose slow and controlled. Her face was resolute as her hand swept up in time with her breath. I tried to copy, my own chest jittering as it swelled. Then she let go with an even exhale through her mouth, lips shaped like an ‘O’, hand pushing down. Wheezing, I followed.

‘Good job, and again.’

She took it slower, breathed in for longer, as her lungs expanded deeper. Her hand continued to conduct the symphony of our breath. I found it easier though a few hiccups caught as new tears fell. Mum’s soft hands wiped them away as we breathed out.

‘One last one. Ready? In…’

My hand copied hers as we inhaled. Like a cacophony of music finally coming together to play the same part, my breath followed hers in…

‘And out.’

Fsshhhhh…

‘AH!’ I scream when fingers wrap themselves around my wrists and tear my hands from my hair. Now-loose strands tangle through my fingers in a ratty net. The way they worm in my grasp, mixing with half-dried blood, makes me feel sick. A moist tea towel and then Jenna’s hand slips into mine. Calmly rubbing circles, dislodging the disgust from my hands, cleaning the rough edge of my life just like always. She crouches in front of me, mumbling apologies.

‘Sorry for calling so late,’ Mum apologised, voice crackled through the receiver.

‘Nah, you’re all good. What’s up?’

‘I had a shitty day at work.’

‘Oh yeah?’ I only half paid attention as she told me about her day, occasionally offering a grunt of acknowledgement or ‘that sucks’ of empathy. I was busy finishing up a quail. Honestly, I hadn’t realised how late it was until Mum called. Jenna passing out beside me should have been all the hint I needed that it was time to put the tools down an hour ago.

‘So when are you coming back to Perth?’ Mum asked. I couldn’t help but giggle. She always did this. Slicking the last feather into place, I picked my phone up off the table.

‘Mmm, I could use some Perth summer. Melbourne sucks for it.’

‘November then?’ She was being more insistent than usual.

‘Yeah, towards the beginning. So I don’t miss out on any of the Melbourne warmth.’ I couldn’t tell her the truth. That we’d booked a stall at an oddities exhibition in the second half of November and Jenna would need me around to get through it together. The whole taxidermy thing icked Mum. She got weird around death.

‘Sounds good. I’ll book you a flight.’ I could hear her tapping away on her computer.

‘I can buy my own ticket,’ I chuckled, waiting for Mum’s rebuttal.

‘It’s okay,’ Jenna whispers. Blood stains the cloth but when she pulls it away my hands are clean. She reaches up to my face next. The gentle baptism of her touch is too much. Cotton coarse against my skin. Every damp stroke stinging to my bones. Tension holding tight to my limbs. Everything hurts.

My legs ached. Dragging my feet up the mountain, I couldn’t wait for us to get to the top. We walked along a thin path with leaves and branches encroaching on our space, Pop in front, Mum in back. I could hear her breathing rasp at my neck. She’d been falling behind on these walks lately. It must have worried her because she ended up going to the doctor about it. When she came back, she was quiet. I tried to ask her what the doctor said but she insisted she was fine, just tired. She’d been tired a lot.

The sunset was blinding when we reached the top. A beautiful plateau for us to enjoy the view from. High above the valley, the landscape was drenched in rich greens and yellows. A rainbow of nature. We stared in awe, the trek proved its worth.

While Pop and I shared water bottles and snacks, Mum wandered near the edge of the cliff. As she stood, I wondered what she was thinking. A hair’s breadth from oblivion, tempting death. Pop didn’t notice but I saw her. The tension in her limbs, the slight forward lean, her halted breath.

‘Mum!’ I called out to her and she jolted. For a moment I thought she’d go over the edge. She took a second before she turned, stepped back from the brink, but when her eyes met mine she failed to hide it. Despair. Fear. Loss.

Jenna’s earthen eyes stare back at me. Warm, deep, golden. Giving in to the safety in there, I let go. Falling freely, I can’t stop the wails pouring out. It comes from my gut. Clenching painfully. Shaking my whole body. Tearing open my throat. I might be sick. The sound of my cries reverberates through the workshop.

Though the corridors were winding, I knew them well. Following the stream of people, every white wall was somehow intimately familiar. Even the air itself. It was all home. Passing through the security doors and heading towards the baggage claim, the air conditioner worked overtime to keep out the heat. Once my bag came through the carousel, I stepped out into the warm to wait for Mum. Even in the late evening Perth managed to warm my bones. God, I’d missed this.

Jenna gently takes me in her arms. Circling tight as snot runs down my nose and into her sleeve. I can feel her breath hitch with my head against her chest. A few tears of her own wet the top of my head. She rakes her fingers through my hair and massages at my scalp, breathing hushed assurances.

‘I’m here, you’re not alone.’

Barbie drove by in her Star Vette, Mum’s hand at the wheel. It had been bad news from the doctor. Melanoma growths on Barbie’s skin, a result of too much tanning. Stage IV. No way of treatment. Barbie would be dead in a week. Melodramatic, just how I liked my play. I giggled as Mum gave a dramatic speech of woe, bemoaning Barbie’s impossible dreams that would never come to pass.

‘There’s nothing left for me. Goodbye cruel world!’ Mum announced as she crashed into Barbie’s Dream House. Barbie went flying over the dashboard through the window, she hadn’t been wearing her seatbelt.

Sound was sucked from the room like a vacuum. I looked over at Mum. Her empty face held stormy eyes, something I couldn’t quite read. Maybe fear. Maybe envy. She looked like she needed a hug.

I throw myself into Jenna’s embrace, thawing the coldness, my hand smacking against the workbench in the process. Metal rings in my ears as tools clatter on top. It’s too loud. I reach out and slam my hand on top to stop it. The cold handle of the scalpel digging into my palm.

‘Just breathe.’

My plane had landed over an hour ago at that point. It was nearly midnight and I was freezing. Mum hadn’t answered any of my texts or calls. A shiver wracked through my body again as I considered going back inside for the third time. Sitting on a bench in the pick up zone, I watched a woman reunite with a man. Maybe they were husband and wife, but he seemed like he was too old for that. Too young to be her father though. Siblings?

My phone rang in my pocket.

Caller ID: Step-Dad.

I take hold of the scalpel. Its familiar weight in my hand is a comfort. The tears stop falling. It stings when I run my thumb along the blade, blood pearling at the site. I take a deep breath, just like Mum taught me. The edge rests gently on my wrist. Slowly, I begin to cut.

‘We’ll get through this together.’

Lights beam and a car pulls up to the curb in front of me. I tear my eyes away from my phone, hope dull in my stomach. It’s a black Hyundai i30. Out of the driver’s side, a young woman with blonde hair steps out of the car. Much younger than I’ve seen her in years. She smiles when she sees me.

‘Sorry I’m late, baby. Traffic was terrible,’ she says. Midnight turns into the breaking dawn and she seems to glow in that light like she was made for it. My phone falls to the ground and shatters. I run up to her, a child being picked up from their first day at school. Mum swings me around when she picks me up to hug me.

Call rejected.

‘Mummy!’

#short story #writing #writers on tumblr #mental health #grief

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holy-guacamoly · 2 years

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I’ve been daydreaming about this idea for a while. Can I request an Eren x Reader fluff/comfort where Y/N (dressed in a nightgown) comes to bed feeling sad and Eren asks if she needs a hug and comfort before saying she needs it. Then Y/N finds herself crying in Erens completely bare body and spend the rest of her calming quiet nights in bed with him? Thanks so much (I’ll call myself 🥥 since I’m new to your blog)

Hello, dear 🥥! ❤️

It calmed me so much to write such a cute scene. I hope this brings you and everyone else who reads it comfort and a fuzzy feeling. :)

Eren's eyes were glued to your body, which wandered around in a stooping posture. Your shoulders hung lifeless in a forward motion and you seemed a little bit paler than usual. Even though you were still beyond beautiful to him, he absolutely hated to see you like that. Since the moment you entered your shared home, he noticed a shift in your energy. He tried to confront you in subtle ways, but when Eren saw your muscles stiffen at his futile attempts, he chose to give you space. Although it killed the brown-haired that you wouldn't let him in. This wasn't like you. Eren was already getting comfortable in bed when you walked through the bedroom door, your eyes focused on the ground. Your hair hid your usually beaming eyes. It seemed like you were avoiding his gaze at all costs. Your steps looked heavy as you scuffled over to where he was lying. A gut-wrenching mixture of fear and worries tightened its grip around his insides at this gloomy sight.

Even though he shouldn't be paying attention to your looks right now, he didn't fail to notice the new nightgown. Your perfect body was hugged by the silky fabric. Sometimes the male wondered how you'd manage to always pull off a flawless aesthetic, even in something simple like nightwear.

"Baby?" Eren asked gently, careful not to startle you. You didn't look up, no, you ignored him to be precise. By now you reached the shared bed and let your form slump onto the soft mattress. A small creak was heard as the frame whined under the sudden violation. You gave your boyfriend the infamous cold shoulder since you treated him with silence and the view of your backside. At this point, his thoughts raced. Did he do something wrong? Had he forgotten something important? Birthday, anniversary maybe? But every time he rehearsed the past days, nothing popped up. It had to be something else. Eren spoke again, this time concern lingered on his tongue. "Baby Girl, you worry me a little. Please talk to me." The broadly built man shifted over so that he was now hovering behind your back, almost touching your skin. His face loomed over your shoulder, next to your ear. You inhaled his cologne, a woody, calming scent. The heat of his bare torso caressed your freezing self in addition and you couldn't help but just relax a little bit. Every cell in your body screamed for his touch, but you were too drained by current events to voice your desires. Eren seemed to notice the war within you and placed his chin gently on your shoulder. He eyed you with the biggest puppy eyes and hummed a questioning "Hm?"

"Bad day," you finally whispered.

Your boyfriend's expression softened at your weak voice. You were such a brave thing for trying to handle your problems all by yourself. Brave, but a little stupid.

"Can I hug you? I am desperate for a hug from my girl," he murmured against your neck. Despite your horrible mood, a small smile tugged on the corners of your mouth. "A hug would be nice," you admitted. With that said, you let yourself fall back right into his arms. Eren was quick to wrap his muscular arms around you and rolled both of you over to his side of the bed, which ended up in you resting on top of him. Only now, you've noticed that he was completely naked under the covers. This man held a grudge against pants, you were sure about that. Not that you would mind.

Gently your partner draped the blanket over your shoulders and wrapped the two of you into a cozy cuddle-burrito. He planted small kisses on the top of your head, still holding you as tight as possible to his chest. Eren feared that you would just break into a thousand pieces if he didn't treat you in the most gentle way right now. "So, do you wanna tell me what's going on?" he murmured against your head. Your bottom lip started quivering as you tried to hold your tears at bay. He cared so much and you felt like you didn't deserve such kindness. That's why you were avoiding him all night. You felt guilty to burden him with your worries. Still trying to keep a cool facade you shook your head, but a loud sob, that ripped through your airways, betrayed you. The sad noise was like a starting signal for your tears. You couldn't hold them back any longer. The pressure of your feelings overwhelmed you and you had no choice but to let it all out.

Your tears stained Eren's chest and the blanket but he didn't seem to mind. He just caressed your back and helped you through your emotions. No matter what you went through, you would tell him sooner or later. He just had to wait.

As your wailing wore off a little bit your boyfriend was the first to speak. "How about we watch your favorite movie and I get us some snacks?" You raised your now pounding head and looked at him with glistening eyes. Your lips formed the cutest pout. While a heartbreaking sniff filled the air, you nodded your head. Eren's heart swelled in his chest. You were the sweetest human being alive.

"Can we cuddle the whole night as well?" you asked shily. A chuckle ripped from Eren's chest at your sweet proposal. He patted your head lightly as he said, "I would be disappointed if not, Baby Girl!"

#attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #aot #eren x reader #eren yaegar #eren jäger #eren jaeger #eren jeager x reader #eren fluff #eren yaeger fluff #eren jeager x y/n #eren jeager x you #comfort #fluff #soft!eren #aot boyfriends

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glowingbadger · 3 years

Note

Can I get some SFW and nsfw modern day Kaeya and Diluc stuff? Ty ty!

Damn I hadn't even thought about ModernAU Genshin before lol should be interesting- lesgoooo~

Side note- Genshin refuses to make actual sense of any of the ages of its characters, so I'm going with, like... mid-20's, semi-recently out of college for these two.

Kaeya, Diluc x GN Reader - ModernAU! headcanons

SFW (nsfw below the cut)

Kaeya:

- He's in law school, and has a real knack for discovering hilarious and exploitable legal loopholes. It's also a field that suits him for a number of reasons- it makes use of his infectious natural charm, and keeps him entertained with the 'stories' you happen upon working with people's legal and personal problems. He's also the best dressed in any of his classes, and in any given courtroom. Those who know luxury clothing when they see it can't help incredulously wondering how he affords his wardrobe while still technically a student.

- Kaeya is such a shitposter. He habitually 'likes' any and everything you post on any and all social media platforms- but he'll also comment "mmm who's that sexy thing" beneath the most innocuous images of you. He sends you dumb memes at concerning hours of the night- frequently while intoxicated, and especially when you've had a stressful day.

- As a partner, Kaeya is surprisingly loyal. His friends (and yours) will joke about him being a total slut, how you must have to keep him on such a short leash. He doesn't take offense to this though, and in a way, he gets a kick out of being perceived this way. But in truth, since he's been with you, he's never once considered anyone else. When you're alone together, there's a warmth in his gaze and a gentleness to his touch that no one else has ever seen.

- Everywhere Kaeya goes, he seems to "know a guy." He's always got an in- and an elaborate story of how he met this person and why they're, frankly, worryingly open to doing him favors. It's rare that a date with Kaeya goes by without you being offered free drinks, free desserts, a better seat at a restaurant or theatre, etc. Generally, when pressed, he'll wave a hand and say, "Babe come on, you know me- I just love making friends." Though you've heard whispers that some of his "friends" are just people who can't afford to be on his bad side.

Diluc:

- Was on track to become a police officer for some time, but it took barely a month from completing his training for him to become entirely disillusioned with the entire system. He quit (bluntly and forcefully, I might add) and now works as a P.I. His quietly thoughtful and serious nature puts clients at ease while allowing him to examine each case efficiently and effectively. I also figure we'd still carry over the "bartending at night" angle from the games- it's a great way to network and gain intel while undercover.

- His phone is basically a device for work, the news, and sometimes for contacting you, and absolutely nothing else. He hates the constant noise of social media, and refuses to jump on trends when things move too fast to get meaningfully invested in anything. Still, while he tries to angle his screen so you won't see it, he has set a picture of you as his wallpaper.

- Diluc loves the quiet, domestic side of your relationship. He treasures things like cooking together, cuddling on the couch with a movie, or even working on chores and projects together. He comes from money (though he doesn't talk about it much), so the more down to earth life that he's made with you is precious to him, and he appreciates all of the little moments that reaffirm your bond. That said, he does have an excellent memory for things like birthdays, anniversaries and such, and he is not shy about spending some cash on such occasions.

- Your friends all think he's super hot (and they're right), but are also a bit intimidated by him. Once, you tried showing them a sweet message he sent you drowning in heart emojis and they insisted that couldn't be him. Now there's a running joke in your friend group about your secret side-guy who leaves you nice voicemails when you've had a bad day and has flowers sent to your work- since they're convinced someone as serious and put-together as Diluc couldn't be your incredibly affectionate boyfriend.

NSFW 18+ v

Kaeya:

- Kaeya loves showing you off, especially in an outfit he bought just for you. It seriously turns him on to watch you over a nice dinner out wearing something a bit risque that he selected for you, noting the appreciative glances in your direction from others nearby, and knowing that you're his. The way his line of sight wanders your body all night makes it exceedingly clear that he can't wait to tear that lovely outfit off of you when he has you alone.

- Definitely the adventurous and experimental sort when it comes to kink, and he especially enjoys a bit of exhibitionism or semi-public fooling around. During a similar date night, with you looking so positively delicious across the table, he'll watch with a wolfish smirk as you squirm from the vibrations of a toy he pushed inside of you earlier that evening. He reclines in his seat and levels his gaze on you, saying, "My, darling, are you feeling alright? You look a bit flushed..." as his hand fiddles with the toy's remote. Then, once he gets you home or- even better -to a hotel, he'll press you against the window as he fucks you into panting, mindless bliss. Sometimes he doesn't even want to wait that long, and he'll find somewhere to park his car and fuck you in his back seat

- Kaeya has sending dick pics and lewd selfies down to an art. Seriously, his pictures are beautiful- of course helped by the fact that his body is gorgeous as well. Naturally, he loves to receive erotic images of you as well, and will save each and every one of them for "later use." If you're into it, he'll gladly send you a video of himself stroking his cock just for you, while describing every filthy thing he imagines doing to you in explicit detail.

Diluc:

- Generally speaking, Diluc wants to wine and dine you before the spicy business. He's a romantic at heart, and he wants you to know that he adores every part of you- and your body just happens to be one item on that list. He's not as obvious with his desires as some, but lingering gazes across the dinner table, or a hand at the small of your back trailing around your waist, all make his intentions clear. There's no doubt your lovely evening together will end with his strong body pressing you against his matress, his lips at your throat and your thighs clinging around his hips.

- He's generally fairly private about his sex life- not shy, per say, but insistent that your mutual pleasure is something for only the two of you. He's also not likely to sext or send lewd photos unless you really, really want them (and he's kind of adorably awkward about it at first even if he does try for you)- but if you tease him by sending him something naughty, his mind short circuits. His face burns crimson and he stops whatever he was doing and just stares at your beautiful body on the screen, as though he can already feel you in his hands.

- Diluc is a busy man, so there's likely to be stretches when the time and energy for sex simply isn't there. But once he's wrapped up a case and he finally has some time to breathe, you can bet he'll lift you into his arms and carry you to the bedroom the first chance he gets. You might even start to suspect that it's a way for him to vent his work stress when his thick cock pounds into you so nice and steady and deep- but you're certainly not about to complain, especially when you've been without him for so long.

#genshin impact #modern au #kaeya #diluc #kaeya x reader #diluc x reader #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact smut #fluff and smut #genshin impact headcanons #genshin not sfw

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spencers-renaissance · 3 years

Text

i can't forgive me & you can't forget

Summary: Spencer is happy that his boyfriend is as compassionate as he is, but watching Derek do everything he can to help Strauss with her alcoholism when he stood by and did nothing back when he was struggling with his dilaudid addiction is beginning to take its toll.

Tags: hurt!spencer, miscommunication, angst, insecurity, est. rel., hurt/comfort, cuddling & snuggling, angst w a happy ending, fluff TW: referenced past drug use, addiction, and overdose, implied/referenced alcoholism

Pairing: Derek Morgan x Spencer Reid

Word Count: 4.5k

Masterlist // Read on AO3 // The other fic in this universe

Inspired by @marisatomay’s post here!!! The title is from the second part of the poem Betrayal by Lang Leav.

It’s pushing ten pm by the time Spencer finally hears the front door open and close with a soft click, hears the rustling of Derek ditching his leather jacket on the crowded coat rack and toeing off his shoes — no doubt placing them neatly at the side of the hall like he always does — and listens to his footsteps as he nears the bedroom where Spencer’s been holed up since Derek left.

“Hey, baby boy,” Derek says with a warm, relaxed smile, his fingers already working on undoing his shirt buttons, before digging through their wardrobe to find a more comfortable top.

“Hey.”

Spencer watches him with tired eyes. He’s been feeling as hurt and despondent as he does this evening for weeks now, but tonight is the first time he doesn’t have the energy to hide it. He’s spent the entire afternoon in bed, and he’s certain it shows in the imprints of the creased pillowcase on his cheek and his messed up hair, and where just a couple of days ago he’d rush to hide those tells, he simply doesn’t care enough anymore.

Derek turns around from the wardrobe and shrugs off his shirt, replacing it with a soft blue t-shirt Spencer’s always liked on him. “Have you had anything to eat yet?”

Spencer shakes his head. Derek undoes his belt and switches his trousers for a pair of grey sweatpants before walking over to the bed and climbing onto the mattress, grinning cheekily as he rolls over Spencer’s body and leans down to press a tender kiss to the tip of his nose.

It’s sweet and romantic and so painfully normal, and maybe that’s exactly why he suddenly finds himself swallowing back tears. He’s hardly spent any time with Derek outside of work in weeks and he’s hurt and sad and struggling, and it’s only making it worse that his loving and attentive boyfriend hasn’t seemed to notice. Really, Spencer knows he needs to communicate, and that a significant part of his pain is his responsibility, but the shame—

“Well that just won’t do,” Derek murmurs, interrupting his thoughts as he brushes his fingers over a lock of curly hair resting on Spencer’s temple. “I’ll go and make you something. Or we can order in? What do you fancy?”

Spencer shrugs, looking away. He’s not trying to be difficult, it’s just incredibly hard to think about food and a relaxing night in with your partner when you feel like your insides are splintering and you’re just barely holding yourself together.

Even without looking directly at his face, Spencer can see Derek’s brow furrow and his happy expression fade, and soon enough Derek’s fingers are at his chin, gently moving his head until he’s looking at him again. “Hey, pretty boy,” he says gently, looking so concerned it makes his chest ache, “what’s wrong? Tell me what’s going on in that big old head of yours.”

So much of him wants to give in and tell him everything, wants to spill his fears and his anxieties and his anger and his shame onto the sheets of their bed and lay it all out for him. He wants to shout, “See? This is who I am! This is all my mess and my pain and my regret! Look at it!”

But he can’t. He squeezes his eyes shut for a moment before opening them again to meet the swirling worry in Derek’s deep, beautiful brown eyes and he wills himself not to cry. “Nothing,” he lies. “I’m just tired. Hungry.”

He knows Derek doesn’t believe him, but there isn’t much he can do if Spencer isn’t willing to communicate, so he nods reluctantly and leans down to place a kiss on his forehead this time, lingering there for a moment longer than he usually does. The feeling of his boyfriend hovering over him and asking him what’s wrong and kissing him so tenderly is all Spencer’s craved for weeks, but now it’s here, he still feels sad and empty and hollowed out by shame and bitterness, desperate for something more without so much as an idea as to what exactly more might entail.

“I tell you what, I’ll go make you some tortellini, alright? There’s a pack in the fridge and it only takes a couple of minutes so I’ll be back before you know it,” Derek promises, and Spencer can’t decide if that’s a good thing or a bad thing.

Regardless, Derek hops off the bed and heads out to the kitchen, leaving Spencer alone in the softly lit bedroom. He pulls the duvet further up to his chin and buries his face in it, the soft fabric gentle on his skin, and the comforting scent of Spencer’s shampoo mingling with Derek’s cologne settling him slightly.

Derek had spent the afternoon with Strauss at the rehab centre. And not for the first time.

The problem is, how can Spencer be mad at him for that? Really, it’s the epitome of his character: genuine, constant, unconditional compassion for everyone around him, no matter who they are or what his history with them might be. Of course he’d see Strauss struggling with her addiction and swoop right in, getting her settled in at the centre and spending hours with her on visiting days, fighting alongside Hotch to persuade the director to let her keep her job.

But watching him leave every week, watching him text her encouraging messages, hearing him talk about her progress and recovery… it strikes a nerve deep inside Spencer. He isn’t proud of how he feels. He knows it’s petty and illogical, but he can’t help it.

Because somewhere deep in his soul, an old version of himself, a sad, lonely, scared, addicted-to-dilaudid boy is crying out, why didn’t you do that for me?

It’s that question that really plagues him. They’re called into work the next day for a fairly interesting case in North Dakota, and there are some fairly strong links to the world of academia, so usually, Spencer would be all over it, reeling off facts and statistics and reaching out to his contacts to further the case. But for some reason, he just can’t get his head in the game.

He finds himself zoning out on the jet and wandering off at crime scenes without even knowing where he’s going. Initially, his team had assumed that he was thinking, or was going somewhere deliberately that might help them with the case, they’d all counted on Doctor Reid to come up with some brilliant theory to bring them closer to catching their unsub.

But Hotch had quickly realised that his head was somewhere else and kept him close to his side from then on. At least staying at the police station with Hotch and being tasked with reading through the unsub’s literary work and constructing a geographical profile both gives him something specific to focus on, and — as much as Spencer hates to admit it — keeps him away from Derek.

“You want to tell me what’s going on?” Hotch asks gently when they both find themselves at the coffee pot in the late afternoon. He doesn’t look over at him, his eyes focused on the stream of coffee and creamer headed straight for his mug. Spencer knows it’s a tactic to make him feel less ambushed and more relaxed, but that doesn’t stop it from working.

“No,” he says honestly.

Hotch nods in acceptance. He puts a warm hand on his shoulder and squeezes briefly. “Well, you know where I am if you change your mind.”

Both JJ and Emily eye him suspiciously throughout the case as well, but no one is more confused and concerned than Derek. Spencer tries not to think about the irony.

“Baby, what’s got you all distracted like this?” Derek asks softly when they’re finally alone in their room that night, full up from the rushed dinner they’d all had in the lobby before crawling to their rooms for a couple of hours’ sleep before the manhunt continues in the morning. “This is so unlike you and you know it.”

Spencer doesn’t reply, just continues quietly changing into his pajamas before brushing his teeth and washing his face. Derek’s still sitting in the same position when he comes out, looking frustrated and contemplative, and Spencer feels guilty for making him feel this way, but he just doesn’t know what to do. He can’t act like everything's okay because it isn’t, and he’s tired himself out from pretending that it was for weeks, now. But he can’t tell him what’s going on either.

The thing is, how is Spencer supposed to admit that he’s still hurt over something that happened almost five years ago now? And how is he supposed to admit that Derek doing the right thing is only reopening wounds he’d tried so hard to heal and close? That both Derek and Hotch had specifically helped him heal and close?

He doesn’t know how to verbalise his feelings without sounding petulant or pathetic, so he doesn’t. He keeps them buried deep inside him and hopes desperately that no one comes digging.

“I’m fine, Derek,” he lies again, leaning down to kiss him gently before rounding the bed and crawling under the covers. “Just having an off day, I guess.”

Derek sighs but doesn’t push any further, clearly knowing a lost cause when he sees one. Instead, he follows in Spencer’s footsteps and gets ready for bed silently, whispering a quiet good night before switching off the lamp and climbing into bed on the other side.

It feels like the expanse of white sheet between them goes on for miles.

It’s the first time Spencer’s regretted Hotch’s decision to continue letting them share a room.

The question continues to plague him over the next week. He gets marginally better at pretending he’s not falling apart at the seams, and it’s enough to make almost everyone back off, but Hotch is still concerned and Derek is still confused, and he can feel himself drifting further away from the team each day, as though his rope tying him to the others has been cut, and now the current is having its way with him.

Nothing much changes. He continues in his hurt and lonely quietude, and Derek continues to ask what’s wrong, sighing sadly when he gets nothing out of him, and they exist in tandem.

It had always felt — ever since the beginning of their relationship — as though their relationship was a salsa dance. They were tangled in one another’s lives, both physically and emotionally, and they existed in this relaxed kind of ease that Spencer’s only ever seen before in long-term relationships. They’d fallen into a lucky, easy kind of love, and it was never as much work as everyone had promised him a relationship would be.

They’ve been together for four years, and their worst fight was over whether the cheese grater went in the cupboard next to the sink or above it. (Granted, it had spiraled into some other disagreements that came along with cohabitation, but. Still.)

Spencer knows he’s introducing a dynamic they’re unused to, and he hates it. Guilt plagues him, mingling with his shame and sadness until he’s drowning under the weight of it, no way to claw himself to the surface to take a breath.

They exist on parallel lines: next to one another; yet never crossing over. Their relationship is no longer a salsa dance.

The next off-day they have, Derek can’t get out the door fast enough. “I’m off to visit Erin,” he tells Spencer, and it still makes him irrationally angry that he’s stopped calling her Strauss and now refers to her like a friend.

Is it better that Strauss is now Derek’s friend? Him helping someone he actually cares about makes him not caring about Spencer all those years again slightly less of a gut-punch, he supposes. But the fact that Derek and Strauss of all people are becoming closer while he and Spencer drift apart hurts in a way he can’t even begin to explain.

This time, he spends the entire day crying. Every time the tears slow down and he catches his breath, another wave of grief and pain and anxiety and shame and jealousy crashes over him, and all of a sudden he can’t breathe again. It’s an exhausting cycle, and by the early afternoon his stomach muscles are aching and his ribs feel bruised.

It’s also the first day he gets a craving.

He’s an addict, right, he’s had periods of intermittent cravings over the years, that’s completely normal. Sometimes, even thinking about it in passing is enough for the itch to come back, to whisper the number of his old dealer in his ear, to recall in both his physical and mental memory the feeling that came with each press of the syringe.

This is the most intense one since his withdrawal immediately after waking up in hospital following his accidental overdose in his parking garage. It’s so intense that it scares him.

Crying harder than he thought it possible, he fumbles for his phone on the nightstand and — fighting the temptation to type in the digits of his dealer — he dials the number he’s had memorised since he was nineteen. He can’t speak through his gut-wrenching sobs, but he knows the sound of him crying this hard will be enough, so he lies in bed and continues his pity party until he hears the front door swing open and the rapid steps through the hall.

Soon enough, Hotch is pulling him into his arms and he finally feels a little less alone.

Hotch lets him cry himself out, and only when his tears have dried up and the hiccups have subsided does he say anything besides the reassuring murmurs he’d spoken into Spencer’s ears as he cried.

“Spencer,” he says — somewhat desperately — “please. You have to tell me what’s going on. Let me help you, okay? Whatever it is, I’m here. I won’t let you suffer on your own anymore, I promise.”

Spencer doesn’t raise his head from its position buried in Hotch’s t-shirt, but he does finally say something. He doesn’t know what overrides the shame that’s kept him quiet — maybe it’s the exhaustion or the loneliness finally winning out — but whatever it is, he’s glad it does.

“I had a craving today,” he whispers, because it seems like a good place to start. “Haven’t been feeling good since, uh. Since… Strauss.”

It’s hopelessly phrased, but it’s the best way he can explain it and Hotch, being the miracle profiler and father figure of Spencer Reid, figures it out instantly.

He feels the way he slumps slightly, hears the tired, frustrated sigh, and knows he’s probably beating himself up for not figuring it out sooner.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you, I just… I couldn’t. I didn’t know how.”

Hotch shushes him. “You don’t need to apologise for that, Spencer, don’t be sorry. I’m the one who should be sorry for being so blind, and I am. I hate that you’ve been suffering like this and we’ve all been too stupid to realise why.”

“It still, it still hurts,” he says quietly, sadly, regretfully, “it still hurts that no one helped me until it was almost too late. But everyone dropped everything to help Strauss— I’m sorry, it’s so selfish, I shouldn’t be—”

“Hey, Spence,” Hotch interrupts him, caressing his arm gently. “It isn’t selfish. It’s human. And you’re right, we should have helped you sooner and it’s always been my greatest regret that we didn’t, and that because of that dereliction of duty, we almost lost you.”

“I’m not, I’m not trying to make you feel guilty or anything—”

“Spencer, I know that. But you need to stop feeling guilty for how you feel, alright? It makes complete sense that this is bringing up both the feelings of rejection and betrayal, and also cravings for the drug you were addicted to at the time. It’s so obvious that I don’t know how I didn’t see it earlier.”

Spencer nods, but he doesn’t say anything for a couple of minutes. “Derek’s been visiting Strauss on our days off,” he admits quietly. “I’ve barely seen him for almost a month now, and that— it isn’t helping.”

“I can understand that. Have you talked to him about any of this?” he asks, even though Spencer’s sure Hotch already knows the answer.

He shakes his head.

“I know it’s hard, Spence, I really do, but I think you need to talk to him. Obviously, it would’ve been better if both he and I had figured it out without you having to tell us, but clearly, he isn’t going to realise by himself. I know that as soon as you explain it, he’ll understand completely.”

Spencer sighs. Some part of him had known this was coming, he just didn’t know how it would come about. He wouldn’t have put money on Hotch being involved, but maybe he should have done. He always seems to come to Spencer’s rescue.

“He’ll probably be out for a while. He usually stays out for hours when he goes to visit her.”

“Well, how about I stay until he comes home, and then you can talk to him? How does that sound?”

Spencer looks up at him. “What about Jack?”

“He’s out with a friend and their family anyway,” Hotch reassures him, smiling as he runs a hand down his arm. “Now how about I make you some tea and we go and sit on the sofa?”

Spencer reluctantly agrees and moves from the safety of his bed to the comfort of his sofa, but he has to admit that the light streaming in from the big bay window and the feeling of sitting up makes him feel just a little better straight away. Once Hotch is back and placing a cup of chamomile tea into his hands, he doesn’t feel quite so much like he’s going to burst into tears at any moment.

“I have to ask, Spencer,” Hotch says carefully, “did you buy any dilaudid? Or attempt to contact your dealer?”

“Thought about it,” he admits, not meeting Hotch’s concerned eyes, “but I didn’t.”

Hotch relaxes. “Good. I’m proud of you, you know.”

Spencer looks at him with a hesitant smile that only grows when Hotch beams back.

They spend the afternoon watching nature documentaries — and Spencer admittedly dozes through a lot of them, exhausted from the burden of carrying so much pain around and the physical exertion of crying so hard — until Derek comes home at just gone five thirty.

“Hotch?” he asks, confused, and his voice wakes Spencer up from one of his unintentional naps.

He scrambles to sit upright, going inexplicably red at the thought of what he knows is coming. For some reason, he feels like he’s done something wrong and he’s about to be told off. He hates that this is what his relationship with Derek has come to.

“Hi, Derek,” Hotch says, squeezing Spencer’s ankle and getting up from the sofa. “Spencer asked me to come over earlier” — which is a bit of a stretch when really Spencer sobbed into the phone until Hotch showed up — “and I was just keeping him company until you came home.”

Derek’s eyebrows only furrow further, looking between them, confused. “Right.”

“Spencer,” Hotch says, meeting his eyes, “are you okay if I go now? You’ll tell Derek what we talked about?”

Immediately, Spencer blushes red as Derek’s scrutinising eyes fixate on him, but he nods and smiles weakly at Hotch, following him with his eyes as he lets himself out, if just to avoid meeting Derek’s.

“Pretty boy?” Derek says cautiously, slowly taking off his jacket and approaching the sofa like Spencer’s a wild animal liable to be spooked away at any given moment. He supposes it’s probably quite a good analogy, actually.

Spencer shifts nervously in his seat, moving his legs out of the way to give Derek more room to sit down on the sofa.

“You finally gonna tell me what’s been up with you these last few weeks?” Derek asks, and Spencer isn’t oblivious to the hope in his voice. “I’ve been worried about you, baby.”

Spencer nods and closes his eyes for a moment, taking a couple of deep breaths to compose himself. He’s told one person, and it went fine— it went well, actually. Derek is his life partner, his soulmate, and they tell each other everything. He just needs to start at the beginning. He needs to tell him all of the disclaimers, remind him that he’s not angry at him for doing the right thing or for being the compassionate person he is, he just needs to— He needs to focus, and he needs to tell the truth.

“I called Hotch earlier because I was scared of myself,” he says, finally opening his eyes and looking into Derek’s. “I was having some of the most intense cravings I’ve had since being sober, and I was seriously considering calling my dealer, but I managed to call Hotch instead, and we talked about how I’ve been feeling.”

“Baby, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here,” Derek says regretfully, his face melting into the very picture of apologetic as he scoots a bit closer on the sofa so he can grab Spencer’s legs and pull them over his lap.

“I know,” Spencer replies, ignoring for now that him not being here is why they have a problem in the first place. He moves on. “I’ve been… struggling… over the last month or so with feelings that I haven’t really known how to rationalise or explain, and when I finally did make sense of them, I felt that I couldn’t share them with anyone, which is why I’ve been so distant and private. And I’m sorry for that, by the way.”

Derek just smiles, caressing his bare ankle with one hand as he rests his other over his shin.

He pauses for a moment, trying to find the best way to word his thoughts, but before he can think about it too hard, the words come spilling out, unbidden. “I’ve found it hard to reconcile your attentiveness and willingness to throw everything at helping Strauss, and the way no-one helped me with my addiction back in 2007.”

Derek’s face instantly falls, and saying the words out loud brings all the emotions he’d managed to control back again in full force, and suddenly his face is crumpling, too. Derek surges forward, moving them both until he’s situated between the sofa cushions and Spencer, cuddling him as close as he can while Spencer cries into his chest.

“I’m so sorry, baby, I’m so sorry,” he whispers, voice breaking as he begins to cry as well. “I’m sorry I didn’t do anything then and I’m sorry I didn’t put two and two together to realise why you were struggling so much. I can’t believe I was so oblivious, Spence, oh God.”

They lie there for a long time, crying together as Derek runs his hands through Spencer’s hair and Spencer clings desperately to the fabric of Derek’s t-shirt.

“I was just feeling so distant from you because we weren’t spending as much time together, and I had no idea how to admit that I was feeling hurt about something that happened almost five years ago,” he continues when they’ve both calmed down again, and they’re ready to resume the conversation. “I guess I just felt… ashamed of both my feelings now and being jealous, which is so ridiculous, I had no idea how to tell anyone how I was feeling. And I’m so sorry that my lack of communication affected us so much.”

“Oh, baby,” Derek sighs, leaning in to press a kiss to Spencer’s lips. “You don’t need to be sorry. I’m sorry that I was hurting you when I should’ve known the effect my actions would have. This whole mess is on me for so many reasons.”

“Der, I don’t want you to feel guilty,” Spencer says insistently, urgently, looking at him imploringly. “You’ve apologised enough for what happened back then, and there’s no way we can change what happened. You were just being the same kind and compassionate person you always are when you were helping Strauss.” He reaches out and cups Derek’s face gently, hating the tells of guilt and self-loathing he can see all over it.

Derek sighs and moves Spencer’s hand to his lips so he can kiss his palm. “When I was sitting in that hospital room waiting for you to wake up,” he explains, “I made a promise to myself. I told myself that I would never let anyone down like that again. I was never going to stand back and watch anyone else I knew fall into the same trap you did. So when I realised Strauss had a drinking problem, all I saw was an opportunity to keep that promise.

“The only problem was that I was so wrapped up in doing the right thing in helping her that I wasn’t doing the right thing by you. I should’ve realised all the feelings, physical and emotional, that this would bring up for you, but I didn’t think. I’m so sorry, baby boy, I really am.”

Spencer cuddles back into Derek, burying his face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder and relaxing into the reassuring scent of his person. “I know, Der. I forgive you.”

“How about we order in some Thai for dinner from your favourite restaurant and watch some Doctor Who?” Derek suggests after a couple of minutes of silence. “I think we’re long overdue for some quality time together.”

Spencer smiles at him, feeling so much of the heaviness that’s been weighing him down over the last few weeks lift that he feels almost like he’s floating. “I think that sounds like a plan.”

They set the living room up to be as cosy as possible, lighting the candles Penelope had made for them and using only their soft lamps to light the room, before piling the couch high with blankets and pillows until they’re cuddled together in a little nest.

The evening is spent eating their favourite food and watching their favourite season of Doctor Who, and while Spencer’s still hurting and they still have healing to do, this feels like a damn good start.

“I’m proud of you,” Spencer whispers to Derek late into the night, when they’re close to falling asleep in the comfort of their blanket pile.

Derek turns to him, looking confused. “What do you mean?”

“You made a mistake when you let things get bad with my addiction back in 2007,” Spencer explains, “and when you saw someone headed down the same path, you stopped at nothing to make sure you didn’t make that mistake again. If anything shows me how much you regret not doing anything sooner, it’s your devotion to Strauss’ recovery.”

Derek smiles at him, his eyes a little watery, and holds his chin gently as he leans in to kiss him. “I love you,” he murmurs. “I love you so much.”

Spencer kisses him again before cuddling back into his side. “I know you do, Derek. And I love you, too.”

And really, when it comes down to it, that’s enough.

Ahhh, this was the first fic in forever that actually felt fairly easy to write thank GOD. I loved this concept and writing that good, good angst was so much fun. Plus, we always love a happy ending in this house! Also, a reminder that how other people when you confront them with the way they hurt you or made you feel is not your responsibility.

taglist: @criminalmindsvibez @lesbiantodds @suburban--gothic @strippersenseii @takeyourleap-of-faith @negativefouriq @makaylajadewrites @iamrenstark @livrere-blue @hotchseyebrows @enbyspencer @reidology @transhanniballecter @spencerspecifics @bau-gremlin @hotchedyke @tobias-hankel @hotchscotchh @marsjareau @oliverbrnch @im-autistic @anxious-enby @kuolonsyoja @reidreids @ropoto @thosecriminalminds @wifeyprentiss @cmily @love-pyramus @notevanbuckley @thebipolarbisexualnerd (add yourself to my taglist here!)

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mandospace · 3 years

Text

My Moon (Boba Fett x Virgin!Reader Smut)

Request: Hey!! I really enjoy reading your fics <3 I don't know if you still take requests but if so, maybe something with current older Boba? Virgin, touch starved reader who is so kind but never gets kindness in return? Crushin' on Boba but you don't think he'd ever want you. Thank you for reading. <3

Requested By: @ortizshinkaroff

Word Count: 5,041

Warnings: SMUT! If you are under 18, DO NOT INTERACT! Swearing, dry humping, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), PinV sex, innocence kink, virgin reader

A/N: I really enjoyed writing this... like, a lot. If Boba could take my virginity like this I would DIE! Anyways, my requests are open so send in any Din or Boba requests you’d like me to write! I hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

“Right behind you, mesh’la,” Boba passed behind you, his large hand splayed against the small of your back as he squeezed past. His touch was fleeting, only a momentary brush of his fingers over the dip of your back, but its effect was lasting. Heat coursed through your body like a tidal wave. It was burning on your cheeks and you ducked your head away from his gaze. He didn’t even notice your reaction to his touch, he just continued on his way up to the cockpit of Slave One, like it was no big deal to touch you. Yet here you were, nearly hyperventilating as you tried to calm your racing heart.

He shouldn’t have this much of an effect on you.

Kriff, he could just look at you and you’d melt into a puddle. You weren’t sure if it was the green and red armor, his walk, his broadness, his voice, his touch-

Oh, who were you kidding? It was everything about him. He was perfect, like the Maker hand-crafted him just for you. Gave him all of the qualities that you look for in a partner- strong, brave, incredibly handsome. He was both heaven and hell for you. Heaven to look at, hell to be near.

You were perpetually stuck in hell. Boba was nothing but kind to you, always treated you well. Protected you on hunts and provided you with everything you could ever want. Every glance he gave you, every story of his past he bestowed upon you, every lingering touch made you want the older bounty hunter. It was almost painful being around him. He was like a roaring fire that kept you warm but if you got too close, he would surely burn you.

That small little touch had set your soul aflame. You tried to calm down your racing heart and stop the images that flashed in your mind. You wondered how it would feel to be with him. The image of him coming back from a hunt, dirty and exhausted, pressing your body against the metal hull of his ship made your pussy throb with need. You had never been touched by anyone before, but you wanted him to touch you. To take you apart at your seams and put you back together just so that he could do it all over again. Your eyes fluttered closed at the thought of his large hands mapping out your body, leaving sparks in their wake. A breathy moan slipped past your lips and you rested your head against the cool metal of his ship. You needed to get a hold of yourself.

“Are you okay, mesh’la?” his voice snapped you out of your thoughts of him pressing into you. Heat flushed over your skin and your eyes opened in surprise.

“Y-yeah, why?” you cleared your throat, hating how desperate you sounded.

“I heard you moaning. I thought you were hurt,” he strode up to you and cupped your face in his hand. The worn leather felt delicious against your skin and his warmth seeped into your cheek. You flushed again.

“I just stubbed my toe,” you lied through your teeth. His forefinger and thumb gripped your chin and Boba tilted your face up towards his. He had never touched you for this long before, this intimately, and his dark eyes peered into your own. If he didn’t stop this, you were going to do something embarrassing. Like kiss him. He wouldn’t want that. “I’m fine.”

His eyes narrowed. “Be careful, princess.” Boba tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear before walking back to the cockpit. His touch lingered and it felt like there were live wires littering your skin. You could still feel the pressure of his fingers gripping your chin.

Maker, you had to get a hold of yourself. You couldn’t think about your employer like this. Boba wouldn’t want someone like you, he would want someone stronger and more beautiful. A woman who knew what she was doing both in and out of bed, not some floundering girl that became flustered after one touch. He deserved better than you. Your brain told you all of these things, anxiety pilling on top of each other. The weight sat on your chest and threatened to push you under.

Pushing those thoughts aside, you got back to work. The day quickly passed on the ship due to its regulated timer. Even though the two of you were hurtling through hyperspace, the ship’s internal clock dimmed the lights in accordance with a planetary cycle. You had worked on many different projects during the day, fixing weapons and repairing the various mechanics found in the ship. You tried to distract yourself from the memory of Boba’s touch on your skin. He was so close to you earlier today, his scent so much more powerful due to his proximity. He smelled of blaster residue and rain. He smelled like home.

Shaking your head to dispel the thoughts of Boba, you made your way towards the cockpit to wish him a goodnight. He was in his pilot’s seat, fingers programming coordinates into the ship’s navigation system. The white streaks of stars and planets passing by the ship shined on his painted beskar armor. His helmet was placed on the passenger seat, black visor reflecting the light. He didn’t notice when you came in, or at least he didn’t give any indication that he did.

“I’m heading to bed,” your voice was small, worried that you were bothering him. “Just wanted to say goodnight.”

“C’mere, mesh’la,” Boba turned his seat to face you and held out his hand. His eyes searched your face, looking for any hesitation. Sucking in a breath, you made your way to him. He grabbed your hand when you were close enough and tugged you towards him. You stumbled over your feet until you came to a stop between his spread legs.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” he squeezed your hand tighter and looked up into your eyes. You felt your heart stop when his free hand reached up to caress your face, gloved thumb gliding over your cheekbone. “You’ve been a bit... off lately.”

Heat coursed through your veins in embarrassment. You weren’t as slick as you thought you were in hiding your feelings for the older bounty hunter. You tried to say something, anything, but you just stood there- gaping like a fish out of water.

“You can tell me, mesh’la,” Boba tugged on your arm again. This time you couldn’t go any further forward and you fell into his lap. His arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you into his chest. The other brought your legs up and over so that you were sitting sideways across his lap. His thumb started tracing patterns into the skin above your knee. “Please. You’re scaring me.”

He was so close to you in this position. His dark eyes met yours and your heart sputtered inside your chest. It would be so easy to just reach out and learn what his scarred cheek would feel like against your palm. So easy to pull him towards you and kiss him.

“Mesh’la.” his tone was pleading and the hand tracing patterns on your skin moved up your leg to grip your hip tightly. You couldn’t help but suck in a shaky breath at his touch. Your eyes dropped down to his chapped lips and you wondered what they would feel like against yours.

“I-“ your voice came out choked, the words stuck in your throat. Being this close to him was intoxicating. His very presence was like a drug to you. How were you going to explain to him that you wished he would take everything from you, take everything you had to offer? To take you on every surface of his prized ship until you were screaming his name?

“Girly, you’re driving me crazy with your silence,” Boba growled low in his chest. The hand on your hip moved up to grip your chin, making you look at him. “Tell me, mesh’la.”

The pressure of his thumb and forefinger gripping your chin and his proximity was too much. His scent was overwhelming. Everything about Boba was too much. Before you could stop yourself, your hand came up and tugged his face towards yours. Your lips crashed against his and fireworks that could rival the destruction of the Death Star erupted behind your eyes.

Boba groaned against your lips, his hand holding your jaw moved up and into your hair, tangling his fingers in your locks. His tongue swiped at the seam of your lips, begging for access which you happily granted him. Your tongue pushed against his and you couldn’t help how you pulled him even closer with both hands. The feeling of him biting your bottom lip made you whimper.

“Boba,” you whined against his lips when the need for air became too great. Need for him pooled in your underwear embarrassingly fast. He had barely touched you and you were already soaking through your panties.

“Mesh’la,” Boba moaned against your skin, his lips trailing across your face and down your neck. He stopped over your pulse point, sucking a dark mark into the skin that was sure to last weeks. His lips made their way back up to yours and pulled you into a bruising kiss. He wasted no time before he licked into your mouth. You had no idea that he even remotely reciprocated your feelings. When you had leaned in to kiss him, you were almost positive that he would push you off his lap in disgust. You never would have predicted that he would want you too.

“Need you,” Boba groaned against your lips, nipping your bottom lip again. The hand in your hair moved down and gripped your hip to reposition you in his lap. He grabbed at your thigh and tugged so that you were now straddling him, your legs on either side of his and pressing against the arms of his chair. Boba rolled his hips up into you and you felt the prominent bulge that was straining against the fabric of his flight suit.

Gasping, you pulled away from Boba in shock. Once again heat flushed through your veins, pooling low in your stomach and resting on your cheeks. His hands gripped your hips and ground your clothed center onto him, rolling his hips up to yours in time. The feeling of him pressing against where you needed him most was too much. You had never done this kind of thing before and you had no idea what you were doing. You didn’t want to disappoint him. “Wait.”

Boba’s lips paused against the skin of your neck before pulling back to look at you. One of his hands released their grip on your hip to cup your cheek. “What’s wrong, ner me'suum'ika?”

You were momentarily thrown off by this new name he called you. You knew it was Mando’a, just like the one he usually called you, but you never knew what he was saying. Blinking away your distraction, you met his dark eyes. “I’ve, um, never done... this.”

Boba looked up at you in confusion. “Done what?”

You were positive that you were burning hotter than any sun at that moment. Here you were, straddling the man of your dreams, his hard length throbbing against you, and you had to admit to him that you were a virgin. That you haven’t done anything before and that you couldn’t please him in the way you wanted to, the way he deserved. “I’m a virgin.”

He blinked twice at you, absorbing your words before a chuckle sounded from his chest. Dread dropped in your stomach like a rock until he opened his mouth. “That doesn’t bother me, ner me'suum'ika. If you want to stop we can stop.”

His soft words warmed you from the inside out. Boba gave you such a soft look when he told you those comforting words. He gently pulled your face to his and placed a soft kiss against your lips. While you loved how soft and gentle he was being with you right now, it wasn’t what you needed. You needed to feel Boba inside of you.

You experimentally rolled your hips over his clothed length, basking in Boba’s moan. His hand returned to your hip and he pulled you closer against him, rubbing his hard cock against you. “Mesh’la, we don’t have to-”

“I want to,” you cut him off with another roll of your hips. The feeling of his hard cock pressed against your core was incredible. With every roll of your hips, the fabric of your panties grinded against your clit in the most delicious way possible. The feeling of Boba pressing into you and his lips on yours was driving you crazy. You needed more of him. “Just-” the words caught in your throat when he pressed his cock against you, rubbing against your clit. “-have to show me how.”

Boba’s eyes darkened with lust at your words. A growl ripped through his chest and his grip on you tightened. “Fuck, baby, I’ll take care of you, don’t you worry.”

He crashed his lips against yours and he rolled his hips into you. Your lips parted in a gasp at the feeling of his throbbing length and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth once more. Your hands traced down his chest, trailing over the cool green beskar. Stopping the motions of your hips, your hand palmed his cock through the material of his pants. He felt so big in your small hand and you haven’t even seen him yet. You went to unbutton his pants and release his throbbing length but he stopped you by grabbing your wrist.

“Not yet, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba tsked, pulling your hand away from his groin.

“But I need you,” you whimpered.

“Not yet, baby,” he grinned and pulled your hand to his lips, pressing a gentle kiss to the back of your hand. “I’ve got to get you ready for me first.”

Boba stood up from his chair and grabbed your waist. You squealed at his quick motions and the sensation of falling but he easily pulled you against him and wrapped your legs around his waist. He carried you through the hull of his ship and into his chambers before setting you down on his bed. Boba stood between your spread legs and took in the sight of you- chest heaving, hair wild, eyes dark, and lips swollen from his kisses. Maker, he wanted to take you right then and there but he had to be gentle and take his time with you.

Leaning over you, Boba pressed his lips to yours before trailing down your neck. Sighing his name, you relished in the feeling of Boba’s lips against your skin and his hands roaming your body. His large hands pushed the hem of your shirt up, exposing the soft skin of your stomach. He kept tugging up until your shirt was discarded somewhere in his room. Boba cupped your covered breasts and moaned at the feeling of your pillowy flesh. He dipped his head down and pressed kisses over your breasts, licking and sucking marks into your skin.

“Fuck, you look so pretty,” Boba kissed up your throat. He reached behind you to undo your bra, tossing it to the floor so it could join your shirt. His thumbs brushed over your nipples and a soft moan slipped past your lips. Boba had barely touched you but the pleasure was already too much.

“Boba,” you whined and tugged his face up to yours so you could capture his lips in a kiss. You trailed your hands down his armored chest, stopping right above his trousers. Gripping his hard cock, you moaned into the kiss. “Please.”

“Eager, are we?” he chuckled. “Don’t worry, ner me'suum'ika, I’ll take care of you.” His lips began to trail down your body, hands cupping and squeezing whatever soft flesh they could grab. Boba licked at one of your pert nipples and smiled when your breath caught in your throat. He made his way down your body and unbuttoned your pants, tugging them down your legs along with your underwear. The garments fell to the floor and Boba laid down between your spread legs, drinking in the sight of your sopping pussy. Your eyes screwed shut when he trailed a gloved finger through your dripping folds, collecting your arousal on the worn leather. Boba’s eyes were dark and the grin on his face was devious when he sucked on his finger, licking away your juices. His resounding moan made your hips buck in need. “Taste so good, mesh’la. Can I taste you again?”

His eyes met yours from between your legs, silently asking for your permission. All you could do was nod your head eagerly, the excitement and pleasure already building up. The answering smile on his face was beautiful, a bright white against his tan skin. Before you could commit the sight to memory, Boba dropped his head and licked a broad stripe between your folds. His tongue was searing against your core- unlike anything you’ve ever felt. The air left your lungs in a gasp at how good it felt to have his tongue on you. Boba licked at your cunt, gathering up and tasting your arousal before he wrapped his lips around your clit, sucking hard. You moaned loudly- a little bit embarrassed at the sound he drew from you- but you couldn’t care less. Boba Fett was between your legs, lapping at your pussy like a man trapped in a desert and you were the only source of water for miles.

“Oh!” expletives constantly fell from your lips as he continued his delicious torture on your cunt. You could feel him smirking against your folds, proud that he was making you feel this good with just his mouth alone. The pleasure built up inside of you, threatening to spill over. Boba’s tongue dipped down to your entrance, drinking you in. He brought his gloved hand up to your folds, circling your clit before dipping down to where his tongue licked. Pressing in, Boba worked his finger inside of your tight cunt. It was only one finger but the feeling of it curling against your walls made you throw your head back against his pillows and arch your back in pleasure. Boba just smirked and wrapped his lips around your clit and sucked, pushing another finger into your fluttering hole.

“Got to open you up so you can take me, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba hummed against your folds, the vibrations sending waves of pleasure coursing through your veins. He started to push a third finger into you, the pain of him opening you up stinging just a bit. “Maker, you’re so tight around my fingers. I can’t wait to feel you on my cock.”

His words were like an electric shock to your system. “Please,” you begged, grinding your pussy against his face and fingers. You could feel the coil inside of you tighten as he curled his middle finger against the bundle of nerves. “I want you.”

“Not yet,” Boba chuckled lightly, pumping into your pussy at a faster pace. “I want you to come for me first. Do you think you could do that? Come all over my fingers and mouth?”

Your jaw dropped at his filthy words, mouth forming an ‘o.’ You had never experienced this much pleasure before- your hands had never made you feel this good. You wondered if sex always felt like this or if it was just because of the bounty hunter between your legs. His fingers brushed against that spot inside of you and his tongue flicked your clit and before you knew it you were cumming on his fingers and mouth just like he wanted you to. Your back arched and your hands gripped the sheets under you tightly, a cry of pleasure echoed off the metal walls. It felt like you were floating above your body, watching you cum as Boba licked at your pussy, prolonging your pleasure. Soon enough you were crashing back to reality and the feeling of him continuously lapping at your cunt became too much.

“Boba,” you choked out, trying to push his face away from your pussy. Before the overstimulation became too much, he pulled his fingers out of you. His eyes seemed darker than they were before as he stared up at you from between your legs. The sight of your cum smeared over his lips and chin made your heart falter in your heaving chest.

“Did so good for me, mesh’la,” Boba cooed, pressing a kiss to your clit before he climbed his way back up your body. He pressed his lips against yours and you could taste yourself on his tongue. The kiss was passionate and it took what little breath you had away. You had never felt this much pleasure before and you desperately wanted to return the favor. You wanted to know what he tasted like.

“Not now, little one,” Boba stopped your hand that was palming his hard length through his pants. You whined against his lips but he just chuckled and gave you a quick kiss. “Tonight’s about you. I want to make you feel good.”

“Sucking your cock would make me feel good,” you mumbled against his lips. Boba’s eyes widened at your words, shocked that you could be so dirty. Heat flashed over your cheeks.

“You’ll get your chance,” Boba smiled and tucked a piece of hair behind your ear. “Trust me, I want to watch you try to take me in your mouth but that’s for another time. Right now, I need to be inside of you.”

You couldn’t argue with him when he used such sound logic. Him voicing that he wanted to be inside of you made your pussy throb with need. Nodding your head, you pulled him into another kiss before he stepped back from you and began to shed his armor.

He was so broad with his green and red armor, but somehow he looked even bigger when he stripped his clothes off his body. Silver scars littered his skin, each one had a story and you desperately wanted to learn them while you traced your lips over each and every one. Boba smirked at the hungry look in your eyes as he took off his clothes. He knew he wasn’t the best looking man in the galaxy but the way you looked at him made him feel like he was. His cock pulsed in his pants with the need to be inside of you. He couldn’t wait any longer after months of dreaming about it. Boba tugged down his pants, freeing his aching cock.

Boba’s cock sprung free and the sight of him, all of him, made you gulp. He was so big, you weren’t sure how he would fit inside of you. His cock was both long and thick, and while you didn’t have anything to compare it to, you were positive that he was well above average. “I don’t think it will fit.”

Boba’s laugh was rich as it bounced off the metal walls of his chambers. “Don’t worry, ner me'suum'ika. It’ll fit, we just have to take it slow.”

You nodded at his words and scooted up his bed, making room for the bounty hunter. Boba leaned over you, arms on either side of your head. His large frame trapped you beneath him. Boba nudged his nose against yours before he captured your lips in a kiss. “Are you sure about this, mesh’la?”

“Of course,” your hand cradled the back of his head and you pressed your forehead against his. “There’s no one else I’d rather do this with.”

Boba was usually a very composed man- never one to show his emotions. But you pressing your forehead against his, unknowingly giving him a keldabe kiss, and saying those words made him flush visibly. The blush that dusted his tan, scarred cheeks was beautiful. Before he could do something stupid, like confess his feelings for you, Boba pressed his lips tenderly against yours.

Taking hold of his cock, he pumped his long shaft a few times before he dragged the tip through your wet folds that were dripping with your cum. A shiver ran down his spine at the feeling of his cock rubbing against your wet pussy. Boba notched the tip at your entrance, slowly rolling his hips forward and pushing into your tight cunt.

It was slightly painful, Boba’s cock pushing into you. He took it slow, only giving you an inch of his length at a time, letting you rest inbetween and grow accustomed to him. Soon enough, pain melted into pleasure and Boba bottomed out, the wiry hair at the base of his cock brushing against your clit. Your chest was heaving and you could already feel the pleasure building up inside of you again. Boba pressed another kiss to your lips, groaning at the feeling of your walls tightly clamping down on him. You were so tight around him and you felt absolutely perfect. It was like you were made for him.

“Can I move, ner me'suum'ika?” Boba panted, trying to restrain himself from pounding into you. Burying your face into his neck, you nodded and pressed a small kiss to his pulse point. Drawing his hips back, Boba grit his teeth at the feeling of your velvet walls dragging over his cock. He paused with just the tip of his cock in you, giving you a moment to adjust before he ground back into you. The sounds that you made were heavenly- breathless moans and whimpers mumbled against his skin. Boba slowly rolled his hips into yours, setting a languid pace.

Your nails raked down his strong back when the head of his cock brushed against that bundle of nerves. A gasp left your parted lips and you moaned his name, unintentionally clenching around his hard length. Boba’s hips stuttered against yours and he pulled your face back up to his.

“If you keep doing that, I’m not going to last,” he sheepishly admitted, nudging his nose against yours. A sly smile made its way onto your lips and the sight of you beneath him made Boba drop his forehead to yours. You felt too good.

“Me neither,” you captured his lips in yours and Boba picked up the pace now that you were used to him. The feeling of him grinding his hips into yours, cock pulsing hot inside of you had you seeing stars. He once again found that spot inside of you and you gasped, “there!”

Boba grabbed your leg and brought it up and over his hip, pushing deeper into you at this new angle. His fingers dug into your thigh and he could feel your release approaching with every brush of his cock against that bundle of nerves. Your breathing was picking up and the moans slipped past your lips faster. Boba brought his thumb down to your cunt, rough pad circling your clit. Your back arched and your chest pressed against his. The feeling of him dragging against your walls and his thumb working circles into your clit was becoming too much.

“Boba, I-” your words were cut off by a sob, tears began to form at the corners of your eyes. You could feel your orgasm approaching faster than before.

“I know, I can feel it,” Boba groaned into your mouth, picking up the pace of both his thrusts and thumb. Your walls were clenching around him and he could feel his own release building inside of him. “Come for me, ner me'suum'ika,” his hips snapped against yours and he licked into your mouth. “Cum all over my cock.”

It was too much- his cock, his thumb, his words- and you came crashing down like a meteor. His name fell from your lips repeatedly in sobs and cries of pleasure. Your nails were digging into the skin of his back and you were positive that you were leaving angry red marks on his tan skin.

The walls of your cunt clamped down around his cock and he could feel the juices of your release coating him. His hips pistoned against yours as he chased his own high. “Where?” Boba moaned against your lips, feeling his balls start to pull up tight with his impending release.

“In me,” you mumbled into his mouth. You were still reeling from your release, drunk on Boba. You needed to know what it felt like for him to cum inside of you. “Come for me, Boba.”

Your sultry words pushed him over the edge and he grunted and groaned as he spurted his cum inside of you. The warmth of his seed painting your walls was something you’d never forget- you’d cherish this moment forever.

Boba’s hips stilled and he could feel the need for sleep overcoming him. You were so warm, so soft- Boba wanted this for the rest of his days.

“Thank you,” you whispered, gingerly placing a kiss at the edge of his mouth. Boba cupped your face and pulled you into a proper kiss, tongue swiping over your bottom lip.

“For what?” he questioned, pulling out of you with a groan. Your combined releases spilled onto his sheets, soaking them, but he could care less.

“For this,” you pressed your face into his chest as he pulled you against him, his arms wrapping around your smaller frame.

“It was an honor, ner me'suum'ika,” Boba placed a tender kiss on your head, breathing in the scent of your shampoo. You smelled like home.

“What does that mean?” you yawned, nuzzling further into him. “Ner me-me’suu-”

“It means ‘my moon,’“ Boba smiled into your hair. “Is it... is it okay if I call you that?”

“More than okay,” you were glad that he couldn’t see your face because of how flushed it was. You pressed a kiss to his chest. “What can I call you?”

“Whatever you’d like, ner me'suum'ika,” his eyes started to drift close. “I’m yours.”

______

Mando’a Translations:

Mesh’la = beautiful

Ner me'suum'ika = my moon

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saintshigaraki · 3 years

Text

won’t you give me your cruelest smile

↳ DARK ACADEMIA TSUKISHIMA KEI

pairing: tsukishima kei x gn!reader

word count: 1.4k

excerpt:

He makes no move to get up as he watches you pack. “You really don’t like me, do you?” He sounds far too pleased for your liking.

“No one likes you,” you snap back, stuffing the last heavy tome in your bag and shouldering it. “You’re an ass.”

a/n: @yamagucji said dark academia tsukki and my brain quite literally short circuited

tags: enemies-ish to lovers (more like academic rivals to lovers), tsukki being an annoyingly smart condescending history major, reader goes through the five stages of grief when they realize they might actually li- 🤢 like him, a reference to the classic ‘ooooh you wanna kiss me so bad it makes you look stupid’

If there is a single, minuscule, barely visible silver lining in having Tsukishima as a partner for your quarter project it is that, without a doubt, he is smart.

You have to admit, begrudgingly, that his intellect borders on genius-level which is something you use as silent proof to attest to your working theory that there is in fact, no god, or at the very least not a kind one, because if there was they wouldn’t be blessing gremlins like the one sitting across from you with a gift like that.

He’s quiet now (after about an hour of telling you all the ways your interpretation was oh so very wrong) and content to stare at you lazily, his eyes half-lidded and filled with his specific brand of cruel amusement that leaves you wanting to do nothing more than smack his black-rimmed glasses right off his smug face.

You take a deep breath and try desperately to quell the utterly unique type of rage he elicits in you, although as always, nothing you do ever quite manages to bring your boiling blood to a simmer.

He’s twirling his expensive black pen between his stupidly long fingers. Every once in a while the light catches on the onyx stone of his pinky ring which somehow manages to flash directly in your eyes every time. He notices, of course. He notices everything. Which makes you think he’s doing it on purpose just to be an ass.

Which, admittedly, is perfectly in line with everything else he does so, you come to the frustrating conclusion that he most definitely is doing it on purpose.

“You’re embarrassingly easy to rile up,” he says, interrupting your silent seething, his voice deep and smooth and absolutely dripping with condescending satisfaction.

Your eyes flash up from the book you’d been only barely processing just to be met with his own golden-brown ones. He’s smirking down at you, of course. You don’t think you’ve ever seen him wear any other sort of expression.

You want nothing more than to glare at him but that would just be proving his point so instead, you snap your book shut. It rings out loudly in the empty library.

“It’s late. Let’s start this backup tomorrow.”

He makes no move to get up as he watches you pack. “You really don’t like me, do you?” he sounds far too pleased for your liking.

“No one likes you,” you snap back, stuffing the last heavy tome in your bag and shouldering it. “You’re an ass.”

He tilts his head back, exposing his long neck, and laughs. It’s so deep you feel it in your own chest. You just barely manage to suppress a shiver, which thank fuck, because he would’ve most definitely noticed it and you don’t think you’d be able to live that down.

You make your way towards the front doors but not before he manages to slip on his wool coat and catch up to you, with ease of course, his long legs have become your number one enemy over the quarter because he always, always, catches up with you when you try to speed walk away from him.

The autumn chill immediately settles into your bones, your skin prickles unpleasantly. You can see your breath in the night air. A shitty end to a shit day.

You both head down the cobbled street in strangely comfortable silence. He’s close enough that you can feel the heat he radiates and you’re silently thankful for it.

You get to the fork in the path where he takes his way back to his dorm and you take yours but instead of peeling off left like he usually does he sticks to your side.

You stop immediately and eye him up warily. “What are you doing?”

He rolls his eyes. “Asking idiotic questions doesn’t really suit you, you know.”

You say nothing, content to narrow your eyes.

He rolls his eyes again and lets out a long-suffering sigh. “I’m walking you home, try not to be a brat about it.”

“You never walk me home,” you point out, suspiciously.

“You are rather good at pointing out the very obvious, aren’t you?” and before you can respond he already had turned on his heels and started walking. You have to half jog to catch up.

You watch him out of the corner of your eye with the intent of trying to read his motive but you get stuck on the fact that his cheeks are flushed rather prettily from the cold.

“You sure do love to stare, don’t you?” he asks rather conversationally.

You’ve never wanted the ground to open up and swallow you whole more in your entire life. Your cheeks burn hot even in the frigid cold.

He notices. Of course he does. What does Tsukishima Kei not notice?

“No need to be embarrassed,” he needles cruelly. “Denial can be a brutal beast.”

You only barely manage to stop yourself from asking what exactly he means by that, what exactly he thinks you’re in denial about.

But you know he wants nothing more than for you to ask so you take a sweet sort of satisfaction in not questioning him further, at least on that front.

The rest of the walk back to your dorm is spent in less comfortable silence than before. There’s an odd sort of tension in the air, like a rope pulled so tight you can physically feel it starting to fray, getting ready to snap.

It comes to a head when, after getting to your building, instead of immediately going inside you find yourself looking down and shuffling your feet.

You know you should thank him, even if you didn’t ask him to walk you home. You guys never worked this late, you’d lost track of time (it’s scarily easy to lose track of time when arguing with Tsukishima) and you know it was nice of him to walk you home when he’d have to double back another 15 minutes in the freezing cold to get to his place.

You know you should thank him. It’s the reasonable, polite thing to do. But it’s just so fucking hard to be reasonable and polite when Tsukishima Kei and his galaxy-sized ego are involved. No one in your entire life has been able to get under your skin as he has. It’s like he was perfectly crafted to be your own personal headache.

You brave a glance up at him and find that he’s standing very, very close and staring, rather intensely, at you. A curiously amused gleam in his eye.

Your mind stutters and then stops completely, going painfully blank.

He’s so stupidly pretty.

His skin is flawless, you’ve never once seen him with even a single pimple, his hair is the nicest pale-blond you’ve ever seen and it falls in perfect tufts against his forehead, but it’s his eyes that always make you shift from foot to foot. They’re such a unique shade of golden-brown, and now, shrouded in the dark and mere inches away from your own face, you’d swear on your life they were practically glowing.

“You’ve got something on your mind?” he asks, his tone anything but sweet. He’s so close you can smell the warm spice of his cologne and the ever-clinging scent of ancient books that seems to follow him wherever he goes.

“I-” but you can’t seem to put together a coherent sentence. You don’t think you’ve ever hated someone so much in your life.

Somehow, he’s managed to push in even closer. “You know what I think?”

No, you want to say, and I don’t want to know. Your heart is beating far too fast and you can’t explain why.

(You know exactly why)

“I think you want to kiss me.”

And just like that the rope snaps and you’re viciously tugging him down by the collar of his too-nice coat so you can smash your lips against his.

The kiss is brutal. Far too mean with too much teeth. At one point you taste the sting of iron and you can’t tell if the blood is his or yours.

He backs you up against a wall without breaking the kiss. When he bites at your lip, no doubt cutting it open, you grab a fist full of his hair and tug cruelly and his responding groan tastes so sweet on your tongue.

He doesn’t pull away until your lungs are screaming for air.

He’s inches away from you, pupils blown wide, lips swollen (and a little bloody), and his hair is a mess. It’s the most out of sorts you’ve ever seen him.

If you thought he was pretty before, he’s absolutely beautiful now.

His smirk widens into a full blown smile and you understand now why he doesn’t show it often. It shows too many teeth, it’s downright wolfish. Predatory, even.

You don’t really have time to think on it though before he pulls you into another bruising kiss.

have some dark academia tsukishima headcanons while you’re here

he is without a doubt the most pretentious asshole you will ever meet and and you will HATE yourself for eventually finding him weirdly charming in any capacity

he is, of course, a history major which. if you have ever met pretentious male history majors you will know that this means he is a literal walking, talking, annoyingly tall headache

interrupts professors constantly. does it like he’s getting paid. will argue and argue and argue with them without that dumb condescending smirk ever, ever managing to slip off his face

(the worst part is, he’s honestly probably making a good point most of the time. but you’d quite literally rather die than admit that to him)

he is always walking around campus lazily flipping through leather bound books so old they’re cracked precariously at their spines, all on different ancient civilizations. you’d think that’d mean he’d be running into people but the student body collectively parts like the red sea for him which sets your teeth on edge.

he’s unbelievably arrogant and the worst part is its not baseless like you find yourself so desperately wishing it was

he IS smart, wickedly so. disgustingly, cruelly intelligent and he will use it to pick you apart piece by piece while that stupid fucking smirk stays glued on his face.

(you start to seriously question whether or not he’s even human because how can anyone keep the same, perfectly calculated expression for that long?)

always looks like he stepped straight out of some dark alternate universe vogue photoshoot with his constant rotation of black turtlenecks, long coats, and oxford loafers all tied together by the same 5 rings he’s never seen without, two of which are set with hefty onyx stones

you will be unlucky enough to be paired up with him for a project that will take all quarter long and multiple meet ups a week. when your professor announced your partner, you genuinely consider dropping the class and when you find out you wouldn’t be able to drop the class without switching majors, you genuinely consider switching majors

you don’t. and by the end of the quarter you’re really starting to question whether that was a good thing or not

#haikyuu #haikyuu x reader #hq!!#tsukishima x reader #tsukishima kei #hq #tsukishima kei x reader #tsukishima x y/n #tsukishima x you #tsukishima imagine #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu imagine #haikyuu scenarios #tsukishima scenarios #you think thats enough tags lmaoooo #vicwrites #vicwriteshq

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oblxvion · 3 years

Note

hii can I request tease mikasa stripping and face sitting on her fem s/o!? 👀💕

oooh yes😼

-> pairings: switch!mikasa ackerman x switch!f!reader

-> wc: idk i'll count later

-> warnings: NSFR, stripping, face sitting, overstimulation, praise

note: this is my first time writing wlw so i hope its not too bad!

also, if we are mutuals and you want to be on my tag list, the link is at the bottom of my post!!

ty naya, ky and fia beta reading🤲🏻

it had been a long day at work, you came home exhausted and wanting to let off some steam. it was one of those days where your coworker got on your nerves and you just wanted to relax at home in the comfort of your partner.

and here you were, laying back on the bed as mikasa stood at the foot of the bed, bringing herself up so she was on her knees in front of you. she was wearing nothing but a oversized t-shirt from her family friend, eren, and clad in a pair of light pink cotton panties with a little bow in the front. although she wasn’t dressed for the occasion, you still thought that she was as beautiful as ever. her figure was perfect and you felt so lucky to call her your own. you drank in her form in the minimal clothes she was wearing, eyes wandering as she began to undress ever so slowly, it was as if she trying to make you struggle.

“y/n, baby, keep your eyes on me,” she cooed, leaning down as if she were going to give you a kiss. you were eager to for the feeling of her lips on yours, but to your despair, as soon as hers barely brushed yours, she pulled back and regained her position at the edge of the bed.

you gave her a small nod before bringing your hands by your head, not once removing your eyes from mikasa. she lifted the shirt over her head to reveal her perfect breasts, the ones you loved. it took everything in you not to reach up and play with her nipples between your fingers, but you knew that she would hate that, this was for you after all, she was doing this for you, and you were going to let her have her fun for a bit.

her hands slid down her body ever so slowly, not once breaking the eye contact with you. she made little whimpers and noises as the played with her nipples, pulling and twirling her fingers around them.

your gaze never left hers as turned around she slid her panties down her legs, exposing you completely to her. she was so wet, strings of her slick attached to the fabric. you could feel yourself growing impatient, you wanted to please her, it relaxes you after all.

"mika, baby, c'mere," you whispered softly, motioning her to come join you on the bed. she angled her body back towards you, gave you a sly smile before climbing onto the bed, her face millimeters away from yours. she pressed a soft kiss onto your lips, moaning at the sensation before pulling back.

"you're so pretty, so perfect, y/n," she mumbles against your ear, sending vibrations throughout your body as she sat her naked body on your lap before placing kisses on your neck.

you could practically feel the heat radiating off of her core as she tried to grind her hips to release any sort of friction. she was so needy, so desperate for your touch and it was feeding your ego immensely. you pulled her towards you once more, interlocking your mouth with hers before leaning back once more.

"come sit," you smirked, motioning towards your face. mikasa follows your order, maneuvering herself so that her plush thighs hugged your head. your arms wrapped onto her legs as were face to face with her cunt, glistening with her slick.

you brought your tongue to her clit, swollen and waiting for any sort of pleasure. she tasted so good, so saccharine just like always, you swore you could get drunk off of the taste.

"fuck," she breathed, hand coming to the headboard to support herself as you picked up the pace with your assault on her pussy. you could feel her hole twitching when your tongue hit a certain spot on your clit, but you wanted to have some more fun with her.

mikasa moaned at the sensation of your tongue intruding her hole, it felt too good. she knew she wasn't going to last like this. the constant switch between your muscle in her clit and inside her was driving her crazy.

the view you had, it was so pretty. her hair sticking to her head with sweat, cheeks flushed as she ground her hips onto your face, breasts moving with the slightest movement. you could feel yourself getting aroused by this, by pleasing her.

mikasa could feel her orgasm approaching fast, you knew with the way that her breathing became more heavy, more ragged. she looked down at you, bottom lip between her teeth as if she were asking you if she could cum.

"go on, princess," you urged, voice muffled.

"oh, fuck, y/n, 'm cumming," she whined, reaching down to your head to keep it in place as her vision went white, her juices all over your chin and mouth. you lapped it all, not wanting a drop to go to waste.

you pressed a kiss to her cunt, easing her down from her high as she looked down at you with a sheepish smile.

"you did so good, baby. so fucking good," you smiled as she climbed down to kiss you once more, tasting herself on your lips.

"let me make you feel good now, y/n," she whispered, voice tickling the side of your ear.

you felt much more relaxed later, to say the least.

NEW taglist (fill out here): @kuroosperiodictable @kirsteiiins @luvmegumi @mikasasmoochie @inusdoll @erebusoul @miyanom @emeren @miyanom

#mikasa ackerman smut #mikasa ackerman #mikasa ackerman x you #mikasa ackerman x reader #mikasa ackerman x reader smut #mikasa ackerman x y/n #mikasa x y/n #aot smut #attack on titan mikasa #snk smut #shingeki no kyoujin imagine

254 notes · View notes

erika-being-erika · 3 years

Text

More levihan reccomendations!

Part 1

• One Last Time by PiercingThePage

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Levi & Hanji have been dating for about 3 years in highschool. He starts to have feelings for one of the pretty girls names Petra Ral. After he starts cheating on Hanji with her, he decides he wants out of the relationship. Until the day he decides to tell her, ends up being the day she tells him that she's pregnant. Will they make it out well, or will Levi start to realize he is becoming his own dead beat dad

• Having My Baby by Countess_Dorkula

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Another SNK Kink Meme fill. Follow Levi and Hanji as they go through the marvelous adventure towards parenthood.

• catch me if you can by fanmoose12

[Multi-chapter || on going]

Summary:

The Ackerman duo. Just the mention of this name filled Hange with so many feelings. Mostly, when she reread the files of their cases over and over, until her eyes watered, she felt pricking annoyance. Sometimes, when she stared at the dead bodies of those scarce unfortunates who stumbled upon their crimes, she was filled with hatred and a pushing need for revenge. Hange couldn't deny, however, there were times when she marveled at the impudence of their crimes. And, when she was investigating the Ackerman's cases and saw just how meticulously planned they all were, she couldn't help but feel something close to fascination.

No one knew who they were. No one had seen their faces, no one knew their true names. Almost everyone knew of their crimes.

Hange was determined to unravel every last one of their secrets. She will put an end to their crimes and then she will get the elusive Ackermans behind bars.

• Partners by fanmoose12

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

When Petra was promoted to a detective and partnered up with legendary Levi Ackerman, she felt like the happiest person in the world.

But, as she soon found out, detective Ackerman she used to admire so much was actually a far cry from the ideal policeman Petra thought he was. He was rude, harsh and easily annoyed.

And, in addition, he still hadn’t moved on from the death of his previous partner - detective Hange Zoe.

• can't keep my hands off you by fanmoose12

[Multi-chap || completed]

Summary:

Hange, Levi and their not so secret relationship.

• Looking for You by fanmoose12

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Returning from a long mission, all Levi wanted was to spend sometime with Hange. But instead he got a message from Erwin, urging him to come to HQ. There he found out, that Hange was missing for over a week and that his new mission is to partner with Moblit, Hange's loyal assistant, and together find and bring Hange home.

• A Tale of Two Slaves by TundrainAfrica

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

"Soulmates don’t exist. Fate doesn't exist. Everything's a choice. And Levi could only watch as she made the choice for him."

Levi remembers everything from their past life. Hange doesn't.

• Free-Falling by djmarinizela

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Skydiver and tea shop owner Levi Ackerman meets the town’s resident mad scientist and tries to convince himself that he's not falling for her.

• All of Me by MannaTea

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

By the time they reached the trees, Sylvia's sides were heaving, her flanks covered in sweat-foam, but they couldn't afford to stop; two titans had become more. Hange refused to look behind her, but she could tell by the way the ground shook that one of them was at least a 13-meter class.

And all she had with her was one blade and a horse who was about to drop dead of exhaustion.1

• Dreams May Not Come True by MannaTea

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Levihan. Hange knows something is wrong when she goes down to breakfast one morning and the smell makes her stomach churn.

• Something Like Destiny by MannaTea

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Reincarnation AU. Zoë doesn't have dreams; she just knows.

• A Dangerous Game by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

A snk 1920′s AU:

Sina is wild, crowded, bursting with industry. Home to jazz, fashion - and corruption. Crooked politicians, dirty police, and powerful gangs have turned the city into a cesspit of violence where the powerful rule. At the center of the chaos are the Ackermans - one of the most powerful gangs in the city, Mayor Fritz - who is as corrupt as he is wealthy, Erwin - a police commander determined to weed out the corruption in his own department, and Hanji - a journalist willing to risk everything to expose their city’s darkest secrets.

• A Simple Choice by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

The rain had started up again. Fat droplets drummed over her hood, drenching the fabric. Her horse’s reins were wet and cold; though her fingers, numbed from continued exposure to the elements, could hardly feel them.

Following the sound of the explosion, they’d arrived at a clearing. It was a mess of blackened, shattered wood, and the wagon, a skeleton, was little more than a smoking husk. Beyond the wreckage, a titan lay prostrate. Felled, its limp, hulking form was barely visible through the rain.

As soldiers shouted, pointing at the creature, one of the horses still tethered to the ruined wagon, writhed. When the beast screamed a broken, panicked wail, her own horse shifted, flanks twitching with unease.

Hanji barely noticed.

The soldiers' voices, the poor beast’s screams, even the heavy, even thrum of rain - had silenced as she looked to the river.

A body lay at the edge of the dark, white-capped water.

• License to Science (And Kill) by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

When International criminal organization, TITAN, successfully steals an arsenal of missiles along with their encrypted launch codes, Code Blue is initiated. It up to Agent Levi Ackerman, a spy in a class of his own, and Research scientist Hanji Zoe, the premiere authority on the organization, to halt a global catastrophe in its tracks.

She lowered her glasses, brown eyes blinking over the rims. “Does this mean I have a-” One brow lifted. “License to Science?”

“No. But I do have a License to Kill. Don’t tempt me to use it.”

• Aftermath by just_quintessentially_me

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Levi rushes to the wall in the aftermath of the Armored and Colossal Titans' attack.

“Are you worried about your wife?”

The question shocked him out of his musings.

Levi looked up, “My what?”

But the pastor was already speaking, “You’re obviously beside yourself with stress – and it’s understandable. Not knowing if your wife has survived-”

Levi cut him off, “My what?”

The pastor hesitated, apparently realizing he’d made some mistake, but misunderstanding precisely what it was. “Your…wife? The woman we traveled with before? She’s ah – forceful. You two uh – have the same, er – strident personality. When we first met, she dangled me off the wall.”

• Terrible Things by someonestolemyshoes

[One-shot]

Summary:

The first time he tells her she’s pretty, Hange is all kinds of filthy - sweaty, dirty, twigs in her hair and mud on her shoes and a great big disgusting ball of everything Levi hates.

She is also crying.

It isn’t like he’s never seen her cry before - they’re nine and crying is just what kids do, especially kids like Hange who like to play with things they probably shouldn’t play with and like to climb trees even though they’re kind of clumsy and so the crying, in it’s self, isn’t all that weird.

What’s weird is that Hange - Hange, with her print-smudged glasses and ratty ponytail and clothes two sizes too big for her - is crying because a boy called her ugly.

• Acquiescence by 3LevisInATrenchcoat

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

On Judgement Day, the tide brought someone strange.

• My soulmate by a_golden_hearted_snk_fan

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

When your soulmate gets injured or hurt, their injuries show up on your skin with a slight sting then slowly fade. It was a rare thing to occur, but Levi and Hanji were the lucky ones.

• SOS by djmarinizela

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Levi is a reclusive senior student who shares an apartment with Mike, Nanaba, and his best friend, Hange, who he's secretly in love with. Oddly enough, they also belong to the same secret club with a special operations squad. The 104th cohort is a bunch of freshmen misfits they've taken under their wing, Moblit is Hange's lab partner also vying for her affections, while Erwin’s the newest instructor who doesn’t know how to teach. And they say school is fun.

• the moon is dark by alteirkay

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

His face was wet.

“What the hell?” He murmured touching his face to see if he was mistaken. He was not. His hair was damp with sweat. There was an uneasiness invading his whole body. He was filled with it like he had drunk it straight from a bottle. His chest was heavy, his breaths were uneven, and his right eye was throbbing like a hammer was hitting at it continuously.

He was feeling like he had just lost someone.

• The Experiment by KakashiSensei

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

After a public brawl between them, Commander Erwin confines Captain Levi and Zoë Hange to barracks. When the Survey Corps next heads out, they are left behind as a punishment. Soon bored out of her mind, Hange turns her scientific curiosity towards the most interesting specimen within her reach: Levi. When his past reaches out to him to claim him back, she joins him on a dangerous journey. Do budding feelings have a chance in the most desolate of places?

• windmill by alteirkay

[One-shot]

Summary:

Here is the thing about Levi, his heart is a windmill in the middle of a wilderness where there was no wind to make it twirl, there was no wind to make it beat, pound and feel. Just feel.

Until one day he got hit by a storm so wild, so rare and so incredibly terrifying but in the most beautiful and breath-taking way that it left him defenceless, vulnerable and weak. Like a tiny little flower which had long passed its day of blossoming in a fierce, winter dawn yet it stood erect with its fragile body, challenging against the merciless winds and the brutal frost.

He fell in love.

• In Your Shoes by Neighborhood_Nori

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary

Levi, Paradis Studio's strict ballet instructor, can't stand the newly hired hip-hop instructor, Hanji. As a ballet dancer with his own complicated history with hip-hop, Levi only has respect for the more refined forms of dance. Can Hanji change his mind about her and her style of dance through determination, persistence, and her passion for dance?

• Distractions by Rookblonkorules

[One -shot]

Summary:

Hange’s love for pop culture interferes with her and Levi’s work.

It’s annoying.

• Leave You Whole. by zerothecreator

[One-shot]

Summary:

Levi spends his last moments in Hangë’s arms.

• Moments by Anonymous

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Levihan Modern AU

She's a long-legged, sun-kissed beauty with tattoos in hidden places and multiple piercings.

Her leather jacket's on his bedroom floor, her ripped jeans too and she's pretty sure one of her heeled scarlet boots got left in the living room in their haste last night. At least her glasses are on top of the bedside drawer- they managed that, at least.

• more baby snacks by argethara

[One-shot]

Summary:

Levi tries to find out how and why boxes of Udo's biscuits are gone.

• Anniversary by EllePellano

[One-shot]

Summary:

AU One-shot: Erwin and Levi have a short conversation about the woman they both loved

• All We Are by TundrainAfrica

[One-shot]

Summary:

"We’re what’s left of the old survey corps Levi. We’re all alone.”

“We can’t be alone if there’s two of us.”

“So what do you suggest Captain Levi?”

“We stick together…” Levi answered. “We stick together, Commander Hange.”

During the time skip, Hange and Levi's relationship develops.

• Thin Ice by Xenobia

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Takes place between events in chapter 90 of the manga. Hange, now commander of Survey Corps, commissions Captain Levi to scout territory in the mountains to search for a supply tower she believes may still be stocked. The scouts need all the supplies and currency they can get in order to carry on with their goals. Against his better judgment, Levi joins her on this excursion. The bitter, early winter makes their mission harder than expected, however. The pair find themselves relying on each other to survive, and they find it increasingly difficult to treat one another as comrades in arms and nothing more.

• Hidden Meanings by WhatHistoryForgets

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Hange never thought a materialistic item could mean so much to her until she lost it.

• Of teacups and stale bread

[One-shot]

Summary:

Five times Hange prepared tea for Levi, and the one time that he did.

• Unintended Consequence(s) by Ella3982

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

Not all of the Anti-Personnel Control Squad died when the cavern collapsed. Some of them escaped through the tunnel Hange, Moblit, and Armin used. When the two parties meet, the Anti-Personnel Control Squad takes the three Survey Corps members hostage with the intent to force the Survey Corp's hand. However, when they find out that Kenny Ackerman has died, they become more desperate.

If the Uprising Arc had ended a bit differently, how would it alter the course of the story? What would change, and what would stay the same?

• A Fire in the Shadows by free_pancakes

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

LeviHan in an Avatar the Last Airbender AU - a side story occurring alongside the events of ATLA

Levi, the nephew of a fire nation captain, stumbles upon a ragtag group of 5 known as the Scouts, formidably known for foiling the plans of local fire nation control, living in the forests a few miles north of Ba Sing Se.

• Speak Your Dark Pleasures to Me by Lamia of the Dark (VisceraNight)

Summary:

A collection of drabbles and oneshots exploring a sexual relationship between Levi and Hanji.

• Tips & Tricks by Sleepyheadven

[One-shot]

Summary:

Eren’s brow was furrowed forward in confusion as he spoke. “I thought you said that staring at people isn’t nice?” He said after a few moments, gathering his thoughts. He seemed genuinely bewildered as to why she was intensely staring down a stranger when she had told him countless times before that it was impolite to do so.

Oh, lord, was her only thought as she quickly scrambled for an excuse. “I - Uh - well, sometimes people stare at other people because -” before she could even begin to form a proper sentence, Eren interjected. She wasn’t sure whether to be grateful or dismayed by his actions.

“Is it because you think he’s cute? My friend Ymir stares at my friend Krista that way all the time, she says it’s because she’s so pretty!” Eren babbled happily, oblivious to the way Hange’s grip around the handle of the cart tightened. Her brown eyes darted back and forth between the stranger and her son, hoping that he couldn’t overhear their conversation seeing as Eren wasn’t the softest of speakers.

• A drunk man always tells the truth by krissixh

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Levi finds out that Hanji is engaged to a rich man. He gets drunk that night and confronts her his feelings. The two have to confront a lot of difficulties to be able to end as a couple.

• Relapses by Oreotragus

[Multi-chapt || completed]

Summary:

Despite having become a great asset to humankind, Captain Levi still has some trouble adjusting to his post-crime lifestyle, especially the social aspects of it. One extremely badly coordinated step out of his comfort zone creates a grand mess that he has to clean up.

• Weight of Survival by otterbeans

[One-shot]

Summary:

Hanji gives birth to Levi's unintentional child. She pretends to be surprised when he shows up for it.

• Don't drink the kool-aid by smallblip

[One-shot]

Summary:

Think of a number between one and ten. Because that's how you love in this world. First you toss out the word love. You tell it to its face that Commander Erwin Smith says “love is the ultimate cult of men... A sect... A dirty ploy by the whatever god is up there to make us all vulnerable..."

And then, everything falls into place.

• until another thursday evening by pinkweirdsunsets

[Multi-chapt || on going]

Summary:

and ever since they were only five, Levi had protected her, whether it was from the daily shenanigans she came up with or the criminal background he came from. She was his sunshine, messy and grinning, and he shielded her away from all terrible things.

until zeke yeager came along.

• Make It Make Sense! By cznpai

[Multi-chapt || completed]

I can't add the summary cause I've reached the limit. Welp i still have a lot of fics here so ill make a another post of reccomendations... HAHA bye!

#levihan #levi x hange #levihan oneshot #levihan fanfic #levihans #pls tell me if i putted the wrong link #guess im gonna make a part 3 👁👄👁#i thought all of them will fit in here #guess im wrong lol #k bye!

323 notes · View notes

jt-artsandfics · 3 years

Note

could you write Raiden and Shinnok being jealous and protective too?

Jealous and protective Pt2

Just a heads up I'm not to good at Shinnok just becuase I've never done stuff for him really or knwo much, so I just did a 3 hour study of him so I could try this he may not be in charcater but I hope I did him well. And well i wanted a fic of Raiden getting a massage from his partner too becuase man's stressed 25/8 and jealous makes him sad. So I hope it all goes well.

Warnings: talk of killing, stripping. About it I think.

Shinnok: jealous and protective.

Shinnok has a very short list or mortals he like let alone ones he trust. His S/o is one of them. He Himself doesn't know how they came go be close, but one thing is for sure.

He hates raiden being within the same building as them. And now Raiden stood trying to convince his S/o that Shinnok was only using them and in the end would kill them and their world, after all that's who he is. The God of death.

"Stay away from my Lover Raiden" Shinnok hisses as he stands infornt of His S/o. Raiden takes a step closer.

"Leave Raiden!, I am not interested in what you have to say" (y/n) replys moving to stand beside their lover.

"You would let him destroy you're world?, they place with your family and friends" the thunder God ask taking his stance ready to fight.

"Shinnok has done more for me they anyone else ever has, and I'll be damned if I let you hurt the man I love" they hiss taking hold of Shinnok's hand. Shinnok yells something to Quan Chi, the next moment we are walking back into the neather realm.

"My soul?, are you alright" Shinnok ask as he places his hand under his lovers chin bring them to look at Him. Their eyes flick up to his as they smile.

"I'm fine, just glad we got out of there" they say before resting their head against his shoulder. Shinnok closes his eyes as he holds them close.

"Tho I must know is it true, would you kill me?" Its quite for a moment. Ad he contemplates if he tells them the truth. In the end he doesn't like to his lover.

"At start, I saw you as little but hired muscle, someone to be disposed of once we were finished. But as time continued I grew to enjoy your company, your input and banter, I would only kill you if you betrayed me." He says looking away from them.

His lover places their hands on his face bringing him back to look at them. "I wouldn't expect anything else under those circumstances" they say leaning in to press their lips to his. Shinnok hums lightly holding them closer before they pull away.

"I am glad to hear that Raiden will not sway you, it has been a fear of my for a while" he admits. "I hate the God of thunder with a passion, he's ruined my plans on many occasions and I will not let him take you" he grumbles into his S/o shoulder.

"If much rather my God of death over earthrealms God of thunder" they reply and press a kiss to his cheek.

"I'm glad to hear that my love"

Raiden: jealous and protective

Raiden unlike what he tells people. He gets jealous very easily. He knows as much and it happens we he sees his S/o around his brother. Most times it's harmless but it effects him a little, he will see his brother hanging our wirh his partner and think that they are better off with Fujin then himself.

but they always come back to him with a bright smile and reassurance that they love him, and it helps lighten the burden of not being there all the time. All though there are other people who do invoke a more fight or flight reflex out of him when they are near his S/o most times he will be quite about it.

Raiden sits meditating trying to clear his mind of these thoughts, it did him no good feeling jealous of others, he was the one who is lucky to have the beautiful person that he is with. He tries to relax and release the tension in his body. His shoulders hurt and he has a slight headache from all the tension.

It doesn't help that of recent days things have become more calm then he is used to but be tries to enjoy the peace while he can. His eyes open and flick to the spot of pillows and blankets where his partner normally sat while he mediated becuase they enjoyed being near him. It sat empty at the moment.

"Raiden, Raiden?" He can hear his S/o calling out to him. He smiles lightly as he stands up from his spot that he was meditating in.

"I am in here sweet one" He calls out making his way over to them. He can hear the pitter patter of their bare feet as they make their way to him. He smiles gentle at them.

"Hey Rai, was looking for you" his S/o says wrapping their arms around his middle. He lets out a soft chuckle before pulling them in for a hug. "Forgive me, I thought you were out with the others. I did not know you would be back yet"

They pull away and look up into his pale glowing eyes. "You look tired babe, are you alright?" They ask lifting their hand up to the side of his face. Raiden leans into his S/o hand humming lightly.

"I'm alright, have a bit of a headache and shoulders hurt a little but nothing to cause worry" he reassures them. His S/o grabs his hand before leading him able over to his spot where a small collection of pillow lay from last time they were there. "Ok hot stuff, loose the hat, cowl and top half. Them lay down on your stomach" they say earning a rasied eyebrow from the thunder God.

"Please, I promise you'll enjoy it" he sighs before doing as asked. He removes his hat placing his gently down and undoes his cowl. His So watches as his white hair falls down his shoulders and back.

Raiden disrobes and moves to lay down on his stomach agaisnt the pillows and blankets. "Ok cross your arms infornt of you and rest your head against them" his s/o says. He does as he is told.

(Y/n) moves to rest on his back sitting gentle as the run their hands up his back. Raiden's breath hitches as his partner's hands run up his back and begin to massage his muscles around his neck, shoulders and back. He hums lightly closing his eyes as his S/o runs one hand thought his hair, pulling gentle at the knots and tangles before pressing soft kisses to his to skin.

"Let me know if I'm hurting you ok?" He hums lightly in response feeling his body loosen and not hurt as much as earlier. They stay like this for a while. Soft hands against hard muscle.

"How do you feel now Raiden?" Y/n ask as they move off of Raiden's back. His eyes open gentle as he smiles at them. "Relaxed, I don't wish to move now" he says and pulls his love into an embrace, They both laugh gentle.

"Your hairs so fluffy, you should wear it down more often. Give me a chance to braid and play with it" Y/N says running their hand thought it again.

" perhaps I will, just for you" he presses a gentle kiss to thier lips as they lay in each other's company.

"Glad your feeling better handsome"

#mortal kombat #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat imagines #mortal kombat raiden #Mortal kombat shinnok #mk shinnok #mk raiden #shinnok #Shinnok x reader #raiden x reader #raiden imagine #raiden #shinnok imagine

175 notes · View notes

plush-rabbit · 3 years

Text

What A Good Little Girl

Warnings: Non-Con, Degradation, Humiliation

Word Count: 3.6K

A/N: I’ve uh,,, I did a fic. Headcanons probably would’ve had it gone out quicker but I was kind of excited to do this,,, hope you like it!! I think I’m depraved with this but I’m not totally sure!! Its hard for to be like “hm, is this heavy or am I reaching?” anyways, enjoy!

Your hands grab fistfuls of the comforter, pulling on it, desperately trying to grab onto something to pull yourself away from him. Your knees dig into the mattress, hands letting go of the cloth and reaching out to grab the linen, pulling it away, your teeth gritted and eyes narrowed, hope and fear coursing through your veins as you reach to grab the various layers that decorate the once pristine bed. You’re desperate, crying and begging, shouting until your voice is hoarse, until you’re sure that blood runs down your throat.

His hands are on you, nails digging into your bare hips, the skin ripped and blood spilled as his fingers hook into your underwear, pulling it down, exposing your cunt and your bum. Your nails drag against the bare mattress, mouth open in a scream of help with spit spilling out and making the white sheets translucent.

“Stop!” You shout, trying to dig your toes into the slipping bedsheets. “Please!” Your sobs are ripped out of you, hoarse and ruined as tears stream down the curve of your face. Your body is flipped over, his fingers leaving bruises along your sides. Hair spills in front of your face, catching on your tongue and sticking to your cheeks. “Overhaul, I’m begging you!” You spit the hair out, your mouth parted as you gasp for breath.

He’s looming above you, the sharp point of the mask poking against your nose, his knee in between your legs, the front of it pushing against your sex. His hands grasp your wrists, pinning them above you, his eyes frantic and wide.

“I love you.” You can hear the smile on his words, gracing them with a twistedness that you’ve only heard in movies. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

You stop your thrashing, chest heaving and nails pressing against your palms. “Let me go. I swear, I- I won’t tell anyone. Just- Just, please-” your voice cracks, praying to any god above that is willing to listen that they would show the humanity in your attacker- “let me go.”

“No.” His answer is simple and your trashing resumes, your legs kicking out, screams tearing through the air and his knee presses further against your sex. “Shut up.” You refuse to listen to him, crying out, your wrists swirling and twisting, an escape attempt that is futile. His hand slams against your face, smushing your face lips wetting the palm of his hand. “I said-” his voice is cold, harsh and unforgiving, eyes narrowed at you- “shut up.” You let out a shuddering breath against his palm, your shouts lowering into a whimper. His hands claw, nails scratching at your chin. “I lied when I said I’m not going to hurt you.” Your blood runs cold and your body still, heart beating rapidly against your ribs. “I don’t want to but if I have to train you, then I will.” His head tilts, his eyes pushing upwards, the smile hidden beneath the god-awful mask. “Understood?” You nod to your best attempt, and his smile presumably falls. “I asked you a question. I expect a response.” His fingers press against your forehead and you hate to think of his touch on you. “I’ll ask once more.” His head tilts and you can feel the aura that oozes off of his body- it’s slimy and thick, tar-like and nauseating. “Understood?”

“Yes, Overhaul,” you whimper. You swallow the lodge that formed in your throat, teeth clenching at the pain of the raw wounds inside your throat. “I understand.”

He relaxes, the smile returning, the point of mask gently rubbing against you as if it were giving you a kiss. “I’m going to let your wrists go but if you dare to try anything, I’ll disassemble you. Don’t make me do that. I’d hate for our room to be bloodied.”

You want to vomit. Your fingers twitch as his hand releases your wrists and the need to survive wants to strike up at him but the look of his eyes make you stop. They’re unforgiving. You know that he isn’t lying. He’d ruin you in a heartbeat, in less than a blink of an eye if you even made a sudden movement. You lie still, your wrists aching and you have to ignore the urge to rub at them.

He grabs you roughly, pulling you onto your feet. Your bare body is against his, your chest against the fabric of his shirt. His hand rests on the beginning curve of your bum, his eyes, bright as the sun and golden like the blood of gods, burns into your very soul, marring you in a way that you will never be clean ever again.

He holds you tight, his arms circling around you and hands slipping around your body. His chest rises and dips, even breaths that meet your chest. His hand turns over, bringing it under the cusp of your breast, goosebumps pricking at your skin. His thumb rises, edging under your nipple, pushing the pebbling bud upwards. He places the curve of his beak against the curve of your neck. You hear a sharp inhale, his beak brushing against your pulse point, edging it closer to you, the point of it pressed close to you. When he pulls away from you, his eyes have widened slightly, head tilting at you. His arms release you and he steps backwards.

He stands in front of you, his heels clicking against the floors. “Kneel.” There’s defiance inside of you, wanting to snarl and spit at him and as if noticing that you still have that bit of urge to fight inside of you, he flexes his hand open. You kneel. Your knees digging into the floor, hands flat on your thighs. “Beg for it.”

The room is silent, unable to hear anything but your own heartbeat that echoes in your ears. “What?” You ask in a horrified whisper, hands clawing on your thighs, leaving marks in its wake.

“I want you to beg for my cock. I want you to beg for me to fuck you.” A shiver of disgust runs through your body. “I already love you but to be honest, the whole appeal of sex has never been a favorite of mine. But-” his fingers snap and you look up at him immediately- “I would like to be your first.” Your mouth opens in defiance but he raises a hand and you fall silent. “I’m aware you’ve been with women before but never with a man. I’d like to be your one and only.” Your body is filled with ants, crawling inside of you, scratching under your skin, the shiver makes your twitch, a jerking motion of your shoulder as you your mouth is filled with poison. He takes a step closer to you, the sound of metal clinking together as he undoes his belt. “You’re going to beg, and you’re going to do it well because if you don’t-” his hand grasps at your chin, smushing your cheeks together, and with a careful hand, he removes his mask placing it on the bed beside you, a face that you sure would have been beautiful if not belonging to the monster that stands above you contorts into a mess- “I’ll make sure that you feel every second of pain that I’m going to bring to you.” He releases your face and stands back up right, a tent in his boxers that shows how much pleasure he’s getting from the entire experience. “Beg for it.”

Humiliation courses through you and no matter how much you try to hype yourself up in your head, trying to ingrain the idea that if you don’t do what he’s asked of you, the punishment will be worse than you can imagine. Any defiance inside of you dies quickly, a flame snuffed out by a cold gust of wind that leaves the room devoid of light and warmth.

He clears his throat and you flinch. Your lips are dry, your tongue heavy with acid and with your eyes downcast, you speak with tremors. “Please, Overhaul.” You want him to kill you, you’d prefer it rather than anything else but a death with him wouldn’t be simple. “I- I want-” you might throw up- “your cock.” Tears burn your eyes and you’re begging for something worse than death on your knees.

“Do better.”

You bite on the inner corners of your lips. “I want to suck on your cock. Please.”

The palm of his hand burns against the side of your face, a print left of it as you curl on the floor, a hand holding you up and the other cradling where he has touched you. Your face pulls into a frown, gasping for breath, trying to not give him the satisfaction of you crying.

“I told you to do better.” His voice is cold, and when you look up at him, he’s rubbing the palm of the hand that had struck you.

You slowly come back to your original position, rising to while holding your cheek, the other hand coming to graze your pubic mound, fingers touching lightly on it to cover the intimate area. “Plea- Please Overhaul. I-” you swallow the poison in your mouth and look up at him with watery eyes- “Overhaul, I’m on my knees. Please, let me suck your cock. I want your cock so badly- I- I-” your face stings and you curve your hand to cover your mouth, the hand above your pubic drifting off to the side as you spread your legs- “I need your cock in my pussy.” His eyes burn against your body. Your mouth parts behind your palm, the hand on your thigh lifting and hiding behind your palm. The index and middle finger rest on the flat of your tongue, your lips closing around the knuckle, cheeks hollowing as you wet your fingers, sliding them out and looking at the tent in his boxers that twitches when your spit coated fingers touch at your clit. “Let me have the honor of sucking on your cock.”

He inches closer to you and you can see the tip of where his cock rests darken. “Say that you're a filthy bitch who wants cock.”

Your fingertips press against your entrance as you try to remember a previous partner, so desperate to make yourself want this. “I’m a filthy bitch who wants your cock.” Your fingers tickle at the inside of your walls, the spit making the stretch a bit less painful.

His hand rests above your head, fingers gripping against you to force you closer to his cock, nose against the tip. “Bark for me.” His cock leaks, arousal dripping on the tip of your nose and slipping to your cupid’s bow.

Hopelessness fills you. “Arf.” Your hair knots into his fingers, a sharp tug on your scalp. “Arf! Arf!” Your fingers curl inside of you, your head lifted as he tugs on your hair. “I’m a filthy bitch who wants your cock! I’m a little bitch just for you Overhaul! Please let me put my mouth to use and fuck my mouth! Arf!” His cock is pushed against your lips, splitting and the pre-arousal spilling past your teeth and filling your mouth with something bitter. Your fingers pump inside of you, trying to force arousal to drip. His hands curve to the back of your head, gripping your hair and forcing you further against him. “I’m just a filthy bitch! I want your cock, please! Arf!”

His cock pushes inside of your mouth, your eyes widening and squinting in distaste at the arousal that is forced down your throat. He holds himself close to you, his bills pressing against your chin. Your tongue is against his underside, the salty taste of him infiltrating your mouth and forcing you to remember how he tastes and feels.

“Move your tongue.” His orders are strict and you listen because you have no right to disobey him. Your tongue slips around him, feeling the vein that rests alongside him, the soft dip against his cockhead. “Keep fingering yourself but don’t you dare make a mess.”

Out of habit, you make a sound of understanding, the muffled voice surrounding his cock send vibrations against him. He grips your hair tighter, pushing himself deeper into your mouth, the bitter scent of his skin pressed firmly against your nose. The tip of his cock rubs against the back of your throat, a bitter taste that slides down your throat, thin and slippery that makes you feel sick. Tears spill past your eyes, sliding down to drip from your chin and land on your breasts. Nausea is heavy on your tongue, your fingers still inside of your cunt, the small bit of arousal that you forced to coat your fingers has finally dried and now your fingers are tight inside of you.

“You aren’t touching yourself,” he grits through his teeth, taking a small step further towards you. Your body stiffens and the hand knotted into your hair pulls away, smoothing over the stinging pain with a soft pet. “You know I hate messes, right?” You make a sound of confirmation with his length still inside of your mouth. Your fingers have begun to twitch, curling and petting over your velvety walls that slowly dribble with arousal. “I told you I would punish you, didn’t I? To keep fingering yourself and not make a mess? Well, you listened about not making a mess, but you still defied me.” Your body stiffens and he coos in a clincal voice, his hands slowly coming to curve to the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair to press firmly on your skull. “Well, consider this a lesser punishment for not listening to me. If you do that again, I might be forced to do something that you’ll regret.”

He pulls away from you, his cock slowly sliding out of your tightly closed mouth, his cockhead remaining between your teeth, more of the sickly, bitter thin arousal lands in a puddle on your tongue. He orders for you to open your mouth wider and you do so, the flat of your tongue resting on the underside of his cock and you take a shaky breath, tears still fresh and clinging to your lashes when he pushes himself forward, and you choke on your last breath.

His cock hits against the back of your throat in such a forceful manner that the only thought you’re able to hold onto coherently is that you’ll be left with a bruise. He slams to the back of your throat, holding tightly onto your skull.

Overhaul is unforgiving, holding your head to the hilt of cock, your nose squished against his groin and he stills for a moment. Your eyes water, spit running through the gaps in your mouth and his hand slaps firmly against your cheek. It’s an unwelcome feeling, the firm pat of his hand against your face, touching against his throbbing cock that pushes so deep into you that you are unable to breathe. He holds himself closely to you and one of his hand lifts, only to hammer against the other, pounding your skull closer to his skin. Tears burn their mark on the curve of your face, sliding and mixing with the thick, slimy spit that coats your shin and drips to your breasts and onto the back of your hand that is nestled into your cunt.

He pulls away, his cock bobbing with spit hanging onto him and dripping off in thick strings to the floor. It splatters against your legs and it’s uncomfortably warm. You gasp for breath, your face burning and lungs expanding with precious air. Your jaw aches, opened wide for a monster who claims to love you, who wants you pure and yet defiles you with the very body that he keeps so clean.

It’s a second of relief, the only pause you have in this nightmare of a scenario before he pushes into you once more. He swings into your still body, feeling the back of your throat with semen running down your throat. You are unable to move, your fingers slowly becoming coated in arousal that is induced by fear. The vision in the corners of your eyes begin to be speckled by black dots, your mind slowly lost as your hands curve around his thighs and nails press into his skin, a desperate attempt to be let go from the current scene that you are stuck in. He ejaculates into your mouth, spilling and forcing it down your throat even as your cough and speckles fly and land on his thigh.

Survival instincts take over and you are uncaring of any punishment that can be given by him. You slap his thigh, begging in a muffled cry to be let go. His hand hammers to the back of your skull as a warning sign, and you still, the muscles in your legs tense and you are desperate to be let go, to breath for a moment as your vision starts to grow dimmer by the second.

With a brief moment of mercy, he pulls away and you gasp for air, holding onto your chest that burns from restriction, your heart pumping madly. Your hearing goes distant as you focus on survival, unable to hear the scratching of fabric against each other, your vision blurry with tears missing that his bare legs come into view and walk away from you. You are on all fours, sobbing and begging to be let go, that you won’t speak a word of this. You trip over your words, blubbering, watching as spit that coats our chin drips to the floor, your sex hardly wet and the fingers that were inside of you moments ago are now curled into your hand in disgust.

There is a horrible brewing inside of you, whatever fight that you left in you has disappeared, leaving you a broken husk of a person that was ruined by a man. Someone so clean and orderly, respected and cared for, has made you filthy, has ruined you internally and outside, ruined your worth with an intimate act saved for lovers. You are on your hands and knees, crying and begging to be let go, acidic spit coating your tongue as you promise him that he’ll be the only man you ever love as long as he lets you go. But your words are nothing more than fuel for him to continue, evil growing deep inside of him as he saunters to you, gripping you the hair and raising you, pearls of discharge bead from his slit as he listens to your cries. He walks and tosses you onto the bed and with realization of what is to come, you sob harder and bury your face into the bed, your hands clinging to the bed sheets that you held onto so tightly long ago.

“Make sure you cry, okay?” His lips are on your shoulder blades in a gentle kiss. “I want you and I both to remember who it was that took your virginity. Remember that I claimed you.” His hands are cold as the trail down your body, his legs kicking yours open and you can feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance. He enters you, and you squeal, your scream high-pitched and hands tearing into the sheets.

Overhaul is cruel, slamming his hips into yours in a telling way that he does not care for your own pleasure but is purely seeking out his own. With every thrust, he meets with a cry, your back arching and something war and slick spilling onto your inner thighs and you can only hope with a muddled mind that he’s spilled inside of you, but you know that that isn’t the case. You cry his name and it's ruined on your tongue, stuttered out and broken, filled with agony and hate, drenched in everything evil and it matches who he is.

“Fuck-” his curse is cut off by breathless laughter- “you were a virgin!” His nails dig into your hips and your fears are confirmed. “Staining my cock is pure blood,” he claims and you can hear the smile, “you really are everything good and pure.” It's a mockery to hear those words. Time is blurring and your mind is starting to escape you, leaving you there to be motionless as he uses you to his own pleasure. He grunts above you, sweat clinging to you and your tears sliding down in silent sobs. Your hand is limp as he pushes it above you, curving over you as he holds your hand. Finally, in a ruined state, you can feel his seed spill inside of you, dripping in thick, white ropes that paint you pink and white, red messily swirled inside of you.

He pulls away with a gasp and his lips are on your burning body. He picks you up, holding you close to his chest, his heart beating reminding you that he is human. Overhaul picks you up and brings you into a bathroom and he lets you rest inside the tub, the water spilling onto your feet and soon rising to your collarbone. He joins you and washes your body with the scent of vanilla and orange blossom filling the air. His lips are pressed against your face, kissing you in what should be a loving motion as you cry and turn your body into his chest, mumbling how everything hurts. His hands are gentle on your body, cupping your sex and kissing your trembling lips.

#tw: noncon #tw: dubcon #overhaul x reader #bnha overhaul #yandere overhaul #kai chisaki x reader #chisaki x reader #kai chisaki imagine #yandere chisaki kai #bnha imagine #overhaul imagine

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pascalpanic · 3 years

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hi i love ur writing so much!! can i request something with mutual pining, denial of feelings, idiots-to-lovers, hurt/comfort/angst , maybe some jealousy and fluff and smut if you want i just need something really angsty with javier peña, frankie m or din djarin?? tysmm!!!!!

The Bantha (Din Djarin x f!Reader)

Summary: Being an animal lover does not work well with the plans the Tuskens and Mos Pelgo citizens have to kill the krayt dragon. A retelling of S2E1 of the Mandalorian: The Marshal.

W/C: 4.4K

Warnings: talk of animals being harmed/dying, lots of arguing and angst, Vanth kind of is gross bc I hate his character aha, we respect the Tuskens in this house and use proper terminology for them, language, tiniest mentions of alcohol

A/N: Not gonna lie, the idea for this fic came to me pretty quickly but it took me a long time to properly figure it out. Lots of drafting and editing so THANK YOU to my beta readers, you’re all the best ever!! Anon, I’m so sorry this took so long but I hope it’s worth it!

Of all the dilemmas you’d expected to face as you traveled the galaxy with a tiny, Force-sensitive, 50-year-old toddler and a Mandalorian with the emotional capacity of the earlier-mentioned child, the last one you’d ever predicted you’d face had to be the challenge of ridding a tiny desert town of a giant sand beast that eats their banthas.

“You are so fucking dense,” you groan as you and Din settle on a speeder bike, the little green child tucked in a wrap on your chest. “You’re a Mandalorian, a battle-worn bounty hunter with a kill streak probably in the thousands, and some random man asks for your help and not only do you fucking freely give it, you decide to help them kill the sand dragon terrorizing their town.” You groan to him, rubbing your temples.

Din nods and starts up the speeder bike. “You don’t need to summarize what we just lived through,” he grunts and you wrap an arm around him.

“I do, because I need to clarify that your dumb ass would do that. Sometimes I really do think you don’t have a brain under that beskar bucket,” you shake your head, trying to keep the anger that you’re feeling. If you’re not careful, it’ll turn to adoration and love.

You’ve been battling your feelings for Din for a while now, trying to force the giddiness bubbling in your chest deep down inside. The man is everything you look for in a partner: strong, committed, tall, protective. He’s good with the child, adorably cuddly and loving. He’s even funny sometimes, making dry-humored remarks around the ship.

“Excuse me for caring,” the man grumbles through the modulator. He’s strong and warm beneath your arms, the Tatooine heat making the beskar warm like your bunk in the morning when you don’t want to get up. Stop it, stop it you remind yourself. This is not the time to be enraptured by the Mandalorian man’s body.

That’s yet another trait you love about him- how caring he is. He’s a bounty hunter, a warrior by oath who never shows his face and probably knows millions of ways to kill someone with his bare hands. Yet he cares. He raises the child well; he even raised him alone before you came into the picture. He puts himself in harm’s way for innocent people on the daily, all because he simply thinks it’s right.

You take a sip from your water canteen and hand it to the baby on your chest so he can drink too. “No, I will not excuse you for caring when you’re doing stupid shit, Din,” you scowl and cap the canteen as two three-fingered green hands give it back to you. “You came here- we came here, our family did, to find Mandalorians. There are none.”

“This man will give me his beskar if we help,” Din hisses, revving the engine of the speeder, non-verbally telling Vanth to get moving. The man is dawdling along, a few meters away, as he packs his bike up.

“What do you need it for, huh?” You ask him, throwing your arms up in exasperation. “I’m not a Mandalorian. This little shit doesn’t need beskar. You have a full set of armor already.”

“Beskar belongs to me, to my people, by my Creed,” he says, articulating himself with his hands too. It’s a habit he’s picked up from you. “You wouldn’t ask a Tatooinian to deprive themselves of the moisture they farm.”

You put your face in your hands and groan. “No, you’re right, because they fucking need water to live. You do not need beskar to survive, Din!” You shout, getting off the speeder bike. “And please, forget I called us a family. We’re clearly just a bounty hunter and his… assistant, whatever the fuck I am, and some little kid we picked up for the ride.” You stalk off towards the building.

“Where are you going?” He asks as you turn.

Cobb is standing to the side somewhere, and you approach him. “You got another speeder? I don’t want to put up with him for the ride.”

The man chuckles and claps your shoulder. “Sure thing, pretty thing.” He wanders off and returns about a minute later with another speeder. Din watches the two of you in annoyance, visible from his rigid body language. “Hop on. You know how to drive?” You nod once and he heads to his own speeder. “I’ll lead. You two follow.”

The ride is uneventful at first. Cobb Vanth tells the two of you the story of how he came to be the town marshal, and Din nods his silent comprehension when the man in beskar looks over at him. Most of the stories are aimed at you, desperate to crack your stony anger. It doesn’t work. You stare straight ahead, daring to break your frown into a neutral expression when the little green baby coos excitedly at the wind in his ears.

There are valleys and caverns to navigate through, nimbly ducking and weaving on your speeder bike. The kid loves it, squealing happily when you fly over a bump or turn a sharp corner. It’s a joyride to him.

When Din and Vanth suddenly stop your ride, you panic, holding the child close against your chest. From your holster, you grab your weapon and stand next to the two men. The growling noises are revealed to be massiffs, huge dog-like lizards. You squeal in delight, immediately dropping to your knees and summoning the beast in Tusken.

“What in the hell is she doin’?” Vanth mutters to Din as the big animal comes bounding toward you.

“She’s always like this with animals. Thinks they’re all big puppies,” Din rolls his eyes but can’t help himself: he smiles beneath his helmet as the beast licks your face and you scratch its sides.

You’re such a wonderful person, Din sighs, even though he’s mad at you. You’ve always been amazing with other species, like massiffs and the little green child strapped to your chest. You’re so intelligent too: speaking seemingly endless languages.

“They are big puppies!” You coo and press a kiss to the forehead of one massiff. Another finds Din, who also bends down to give it scratches and attention. “Green bean, look!” You tell the child and put out his hand for the massiff to lick. “See? They’re our friends,” you tell him, admiring the way the little green child giggles at the scaly skin.

From around a corner, a Tusken appears, then several. You stand and lower your weapon, speaking to them first in their native language. “We mean no harm. You have beautiful massiffs,” you tell them then turn to Din and Vanth. “Drop the weapons.”

“Are you crazy?” Vanth shouts.

“We are here to put an end to the krayt dragon,” you explain to them in their language. “Your assistance and knowledge would certainly help us. You want it gone too, yes?”

They affirm you that it’s a yes, and you nod back at the men. You know Din understands. “They’re willing to help if you’ll stop being a douchebag.” Vanth starts to talk but you hold up a hand and cut him off. “I know, I know. We can strike a deal. Are you willing?”

Din’s heart is nearly exploding. In any other timeline, he’d be the one conducting negotiations, using his threat as a Mandalorian to run the show. But here you are, with your gentle nature, making deals and completing them through cooperation and kindness. It’s hard to speak in a soft tone when speaking Tusken, yet you can do it. All with a baby strapped to your chest. Maker, Din thinks, he might be in love with you.

Vanth sighs a few moments later. “Why the hell not?”

Din talks with the Tuskens for a while at the camp, planning and negotiating as night falls and the air starts to get cold. To entertain the child, you spend time with the banthas, brushing their fur and letting the baby get exposed to the animals.

The kid loves them. He coos happily as he strokes their thick fur, giggling as one of them gives him a kiss and covers him in slime. You wash him off and return, quietly talking with the Tuskens caring for the creatures.

You’ve taken a liking to them. They’re gentle and soft, like big lumbering puppies, really. They moo when you brush their fur just right, let their eyes slip shut when you scratch them between the eyes. You’ve always had a soft spot for animals, like Din said earlier.

Cobb likes you. That much is clear from the way he finds you when he’s not working with Din and the Tuskens, bringing you food and water as you and the child mind your business. He’s overly flirtatious, to the point of annoyance. He’s rude and crude about the Tuskens, calling them words you’d never use to describe a human.

Politely excusing yourself, you allow the child to run with some of the other Tuskens’ children and spot a silver-plated man sitting by the fire.

“Vanth is such a goddamn xenophobe,” you grumble as you sit down next to the fire with Din, the child off playing with some Tusken children. He’d ranted about the Tuskens as you rode with them, luckily in Basic so that the people couldn’t understand him.

“Thought you liked him,” Din says and cocks his head. “He certainly likes you.”

You roll your eyes and sip the canteen of water, looking at the crackling fire. “Those things are not mutually exclusive,” you chuckle, looking over at him. “What, are you jealous, tin can?” You tease and knock on his beskar pauldron.

“In your dreams, cyar’ika,” he teases. It’s clear to him that whatever tension had been between the two of you earlier has dissipated, enough for him to steal the water flask from your hand and pass it to the child as he toddles past.

“I was drinking that, you fucking bantha,” you laugh and smack him on an unarmored part of his arm. The Tatooinian desert gets cold at night, you find, and you pull into yourself a little more from the cold.

Din unclips his cape and drapes it over your shoulders, tucking it in beneath where your arms press against your ribs so that it wraps tight to your body. “Hm. You do have a heart under there,” you tease and sigh, naturally leaning against Din and resting your head on his shoulder pauldron.

“So it’s been said,” he nods and even dares to rest his head on top of yours. Through the bare spots in his beskar, he can feel the way your body radiates warmth into the chilly night. You spot a little green head toddling past again, much slower than the other children thanks to his tiny legs, and Din scoops him up.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur quietly, the roar of the Tuskens’ conversations creating a soft hum around you. “For what I said, when I yelled at you. You’re right. You really are just caring for them.”

He nods. “You don’t have to apologize.”

“I’m more sorry for saying we aren’t a family. I mean, we are, right? Not that we’re like, a couple or anything,” you say hurriedly, your voice low as you stumble over your words. “But you and this little womp rat…” you muse as you scratch the baby’s little green head. “You are my family. That much is clear to me.”

Din nods once more. “I agree.”

You smile up at him. “What’s going on under that bucket, huh?”

He turns, looking off. “Just going over the plans for how we’re going to get that krayt dragon.”

“Ooh, share,” you ask, taking one of his hands and lacing through his glove-covered fingers. “I didn’t mean it when we said all of this for some banthas, you know. I’ve really fallen in love with them lately.”

Din is quiet for a moment. He doesn’t answer. “Din?”

He knows you’re going to hate him for this. Your big heart, your animal-loving, sweet talking kindness is not going be okay with this, but he has to tell you the truth. “We’re going to have to sacrifice some of the banthas for this mission to work.”

“What?” You exclaim, dropping his hand. “You can’t possibly do that.”

“We have to. We need to lure the dragon.”

“Do it some other way!” You frown, looking over at the big soft desert cows. “Seriously, please, Din.”

“Doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “They’re not sentient.”

“But they can feel!” You exclaim again, standing. “Fuck this. Why don’t you sacrifice yourself to the krayt dragon and see how that feels?” You shout, storming off. You’re aware it’s childish, but you stomp to your tent and lie down. You close your eyes and hope Din doesn’t come to find you.

Of course you didn’t mean it. Of course you didn’t want Din to sacrifice himself to the krayt dragon. So why is he doing it? Why are you on your knees, screaming to the sky that he did exactly what you said?

You’d been avoiding him since that night, since you showed vulnerability and subsequently returned to anger towards the man. You’d wanted to apologize, but you couldn’t get over the sacrificing of the animals for the cause. You just couldn’t.

Din had flown straight into the sand dragon’s mouth, just seconds ago, and is now deep inside its bowels, you’re sure. You clutch the baby to your chest and wail, agonized and terrified. Vanth stands at your side, a hand resting on your shoulder as you wheeze and sob.

But this is Din. He must have a plan. He has to have a plan; he’s a battle-worn warrior and you’ve never seen him lose a fight. You’d stormed off before you could hear the rest of his plans the other night- maybe this was part of it. But the way Vanth stares at the dragon in terror makes you think that maybe it isn’t. Maybe Din just really fucked it up. You set the little green kid in his cradle and stand, sniffling and clinging to the metal sphere as if it’s your last lifeline to Din.

Suddenly, there’s a burst of green goo and out flies a shining silver rocket: it’s Din. “Oh thank the fucking Maker,” you shout as he lands not far from your small group, the wailing and dying sand beast behind him.

He’s covered in slime, but you’ve never been so happy to see the man. You rush to him and throw your arms around him, not giving a single fuck as you jump on him. “Please, never fucking do that again,” you wheeze into his cape, getting yourself covered in slime.

The hug is not comfortable. Din is all beskar where you want to feel his strong body, but it’s all worth it when he wraps his arms around you too. You’re crying, he knows it, and he knows just why. “I didn’t do it because you said it. You know that, right?”

You let go of him, sniffling and wiping your eyes. “Yeah. I was just so scared- oh Maker, Din, I can’t fucking lose you,” you admit, freely crying now. “I love you, I really do, and I can’t-“

“How?”

You look at him in confusion.

“How do you love me?”

This damn man. He’s full of surprises, just getting literally eaten alive by a krayt dragon, and now he’s asking you for a full emotional confession. You’re still reeling from the shock, but the fact that he’s there is enough. You don’t care that Cobb is definitely listening over your shoulder. “Every way. All of them. Romantic, friendship, family. You feel like my home and I want to be with you.” No better time than now, you suppose, to admit this all.

Din walks a step closer. “Romantic. Huh.”

“I hate that fucking helmet,” you admit, trying to deflect the emotion between the two of you. “I can never see your face. Can’t know what you’re thinking, your tone, your-“

Din cuts you off. “We ride back to the village and clean up. Meet me in the home as the suns set.”

What that means, you have no clue, but you nod. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” you murmur, putting a hand on the cut-out cheek of his helmet.

The town rejoices when you come back, shouting and celebrating over the dragon’s death and the plentiful meat that came with the creature. You’d joined in the reverie, taking a shot of spotchka and chanting along to a Tatooinian call-and-response they’d started. It was wonderful, really, and you and the little green thing were the stars. They admired the little green thing, cooing over him. You were proud to stand there as his mother.

The party died as the suns set. Din was notably absent from the hubbub, preferring to be alone as usual. You and the kid talked with the villagers, but as the suns started to sink, you excused yourself and found your way to the spare home you and Din each had rooms in.

Vanth and the women had taken the baby when you told them you were going to talk with Din. Not that it was hard: they all loved the little beast, showered him with affection. It was practically a competition over who got to play with him most.

The building has a warm glow as you wander over to it, wrapping your arms around yourself. The night has become cold now that the two harsh suns have sunk below the horizon, and it’s a relief to open the door to the home and feel the warmth radiating from a fireplace inside.

You find Din staring out of a window on the back, watching the endless wind sweep across the sand dunes, a dark sky contrasting the golden ground. Just his silhouette is visible, black against the deep blue. “Hi,” you say quietly as you walk in, the worn floorboards creaking beneath your feet no matter how deliberately you step. “Glad to see you got cleaned up.”

The man tilts his head in an obvious eye roll, even through the helmet. The slime was disgusting, although Din’s adoptive son had seemed to enjoy the gooey texture, as little ones are prone to. “I almost died and you’re already back to the sarcasm.”

“It’s called a coping mechanism,” you laugh gently and place a hand on his shoulder. There’s no beskar there, just soft fabric warmed by his body. It makes you shiver; even in the safety of the Crest, Din never takes off the armor. You wonder why it’s gone. Maybe to clean it?

Din’s quiet for a moment, enjoying the feeling of your fingers splayed over his shoulder in such an affectionate gesture. “You know how much I trust you, don’t you?” He asks and the black visor turns toward you, admiring what’s visible of your face in the moonlight. Your eyes glimmer and he admires them, the color he’s always loved.

You nod and smile just a little, cheeks growing rounder with the movement. “Of course.” He’s trusted you with his son, the most important thing to him in the galaxy. There’s one clear gesture even now: the absence of the beskar from his form. Maker, he’s broad, shoulders just as wide as with the metal.

He nods and shuts the window’s shutters, allowing even less light in before turning to you. There’s just a soft glow in the room, outlining the shape of the helmet and his shoulders. You can’t see any detail, just the shape. He walks over towards the long comfortable seating in the middle of the room and you instinctively follow, standing in front of it and stopping when he stops, facing him. His hands find your shoulders and his fingertips brush down your arms until they find yours. “Take off my helmet.”

“What? No,” you exclaim, frowning even though he can’t see it.

“Can you see anything?” He asks, a hand gesturing, an even darker shadow through the already murky visibility.

“No.”

“My Creed says you cannot see my face. Not that I can’t remove the helmet.”

You gulp hard, your fingers lacing through his. They’re bare. You’ve never felt them before. Often you’ve wondered if they’re calloused and tough from his work, soft from being hidden beneath the soft leather for all those years, or somewhere in between. They do fall into that in between, but they’re warm and strong and large, even without the leather casing them.

“I can’t do that to you,” you shudder, squeezing his fingers. “It’s the very thing about you, that you can’t take it off,” you start to ramble. You want to, desperately, but there’s no turning back now. If you feel his face, if you’re even so lucky as to kiss him, you’ll never be able to get enough of it. You’ll be subjected to an eternity of longing, even more than you’re yearning now.

“I want you to,” he breathes, his beskar-covered forehead falling against yours. “Please, cyare.”

“Why don’t you hate me?” You ask, your voice straining. You need to keep stalling, need to keep pushing it off or you’re actually going to do it. “I’m so mean to you. All the time,” you point out to him. You do it to keep him away, but he’s persistent. He never seems to care. “All we do is argue.”

“I may not be able to use the Force like the kid,” he mumbles, bringing one hand up to cup your face. “But I can sense your feelings. You don’t hide them well.”

“Din,” you plead, biting your lip and closing your eyes to prevent the tears that are threatening to well in them. “You can’t do this.”

“I can, and I want to.”

“Why are you so fucking patient with me when I’m only ever a bitch to you?” You practically wail, half annoyed and half honored. “You’re such a good man, Din. You don’t deserve someone shitty like me. I’ve got no hunting skills, I’m too stubborn, I’m mean and-”

He stops you by lifting your hands, setting them on either side of his helmet. “You can’t see me, so it doesn’t break the Creed. I want you to do this, because I want you.” He’s eternally blunt, but in this moment you can’t tell if it’s breaking your heart or warming it. “I love you too. Please. Take it off.”

“This is your last fucking chance, Djarin,” you tell him with a wavering voice.

“Cyare.”

“Okay,” you nod and take a deep breath. Din unlatches the little bit at the bottom that keeps it sealed against his head, and there’s a soft rush of air. Your hands grip either side and you slowly lift it off. Din takes it once it’s gone and rests it on the plush seat.

Your hands are drawn to his face like you’re being pulled on a string, your skin prickling as you feel the stubble along his chin and jaw. Your fingers trace his face for a few moments, exploring the new terrain. His cheeks feel hot, and his lips make you shiver again with how soft they are. Swallowing hard, you dare to look at his silhouette, noticing his hair is mostly matted down from the helmet. “What color are your eyes, Din?”

“Brown.”

You smile at that, and you rest your head against his shoulder, your hands dropping to your sides. His arms encircle you and it feels perfect, like you were meant to be like this for all of eternity and it took you long enough. “Of course they are.”

He chuckles at that and presses a kiss into your head, his hands finding your waist. “I did take this off for a reason.”

You lift your head, looking at his just-visible shape. “Really? I don’t know what you mean,” you flirt.

He’s silent. You’re sure he’s rolling his eyes, absolutely certain. “May I kiss you?”

The words are ever blunt, just like Din. “Yes, you bantha,” you tease, but the laughter is gone as his hands find your face again.

Just like that, his lips are on yours, radiating heat and love and it immediately tops the feeling of his arms around you. You gasp, not expecting him to do it so quickly, but your lips quickly meld to his and you sigh in content.

You stay like that for a while, hands traveling each other’s heads and necks and shoulders and sides as you kiss. He’s so warm and strong, his muscles just as sculpted as the indestructible metal that covers him. He’s so human.

After a bit, Din breaks away and presses his forehead to yours once more. He doesn’t speak, just rests there, his hands on your waist. His breath mingles with yours. For once, you’re speechless, unsure of what you can say back. The sarcasm has been stripped from your body like the beskar from Din’s.

“I better put the helmet back on,” he murmurs.

“Please don’t,” you whisper, tucking your face into the curve of his neck. You sit on the couch and he follows, desperate not to lose your touch. “Just… we’ll stay like this.”

He nods. He can’t say no when you kiss his neck feather-lightly, when your skin is pressed to his like this. He hasn’t had contact like this in years. He’ll prolong it as long as he can.

You do stay like that, relaxed and curled into each other. His arm wraps around you and you curl into a ball, nestled into his side. It’s been a long day for Din, you know, but the depth of it occurs to you as his breathing slows and his muscles relax.

He’s fallen asleep in your arms. You press a soft kiss to his neck and set a timer on the wrist-comm you’re wearing, so that you’ll both wake while it’s still dark in the room. For now, he deserves his rest. His face nuzzles into your hair, and he gives a soft sigh in his sleep. Yes, this is exactly what the beskar warrior needed: rest and you.

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