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archieimagines · 1 year

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touching din | din djarin

Summary: The three times that Din bends his own rules and engages in physical touch.

his primary love languages are acts of service and physical touch. i will die on this hill. i started this one just to indulge in the thoughts of touching his lovely face. it’s been in the works for a while and although i know it’s far from perfect, i’m glad that it finally gets to see the light of day! warnings: bad language, potential incoherence? idk i’m very tired but i hope you like it tags: plenty of fluff, plenty of indulgent, sfw touching, and then a good handful of angst. rollercoaster central. this takes place over a period of time, so part of it comes after finding out grogu’s name, which is why he’s referred to as many things! word count: 4650 written by: archie support me on ko-fi!

The travelling between planets would’ve been excruciating if not for your life partner and your adoptive child. The three of you made rather an unorthodox family. A runaway from Corellia, a Mandalorian and a… a sweet ball of green. An unorthodox family, indeed, but loving.

The Child chirped and bubbled away on your lap, apparently having a conversation with you while you sat in the pilot seat. You listened attentively, made agreeing noises at all the right moments, the lights of hyperspace travel filling the cabin with slow flashes. He really was so cute. You’d tell him it often, and you’d tell him that Din thought so too, even if he’d never say it. That much was obvious.

It was in the way he carried him, the way he protected him. The occasional pat to his head, or the quiet rub to his long ears as he slept. He wasn’t the type to openly say it, but it was clear, and that was what counted.

The Child reached out to the knob atop the gearstick, fingers wiggling.

“Baby, no. We have to always ask Din about the ship, hm?” You bounced him gently on your knee in an effort to ease the sad coos- but there was no need. A gloved hand reached around you, exposed fingertips closing on the ball. It was unscrewed and placed into the waiting green hands, content whirs and chatters soon filling the air.

The warmth in your chest grew into a smile as you dropped your head back, peering up at the helmeted man that stood just out of sight. “That’s a yes, then?”

A nod. “That’s a yes.”

“I didn’t hear you come up.”

He nudged his head to the Child, voice soft, “You were having an important conversation.”

And then he did what you loved.

He reached a slow hand out and stroked it over the top of your head, coming to a gentle hold at the nape of your neck, and leaned in. Your eyes fell closed as the cool beskar met between your brows, and you didn’t need to see him to know his eyes were closed too.

A beskar kiss.

You heard a soft sigh through his voice modulator. This was the way his people would show love. He made no move to break away, even from the awkward angle at which he leant. He savoured the moment, breathed with you, his thumb running back and forth over your skin. You weren’t sure if he could feel the goosebumps that his touch rose every time, his fingertips slipping into the lower roots of your hair.

He loved to touch you, you could tell. It wasn’t easy, and these moments were few and far between with his action-packed lifestyle, but the tenderness of these touches clearly meant so much to him. To you.

Without disturbing the occupied bundle on your lap, you reached for Din’s other hand. It hung by his side until you took it in your own, slowly raising it to place your kiss on the knuckles of his fingers. You kept it there a while, backs of his fingers to your lips, his helmet pressed to your forehead. The warmth of those digits filled a void left by the cold beskar. The warmth of human touch.

Long moments slipped by as you absorbed it until you became self-conscious. He hadn’t pulled away, but you weren’t even sure how he’d felt about it with his covered expression, so you let out a resigned sigh and lowered his hand.

But he surprised you.

His fingers opened up instead, laying delicately on the side of your jaw, his similar hold on the back of your neck still in place.

His thumb reached out to meet the corner of your lips, before tentatively, almost shyly, brushing over the centre of them.

He wanted more.

You were only too happy to oblige, lips raising into a delicate peak, placing a tender kiss to the pad of his thumb. Soon, he shifted, placing his index finger there instead. Then his middle. Each of his fingers tapped to your lips, and you made sure to place your affection on the tip of each one, giving in to the urge to smile.

He loved this.

You heard the tinned sound of a sigh before his fingers slipped away once again, soon followed by his reluctant leaning away.

He stood tall above where you sat, visor staying fixed on you. He was just looking. Just peaceful. You shone an easy smile, somehow both cosy and breathless from the moment.

His helmet turned towards the green being on your lap.

He blinked up at Din, and soon, a confused coo filled the cabin.

Din shrugged one shoulder. “You’ll get it when you’re older.” And with that, he settled back into the passenger seat, arms crossing over his chest. “Rest up,” he called, presumably to the pair of you. “We’ll touch down for fuel in six hours.”

Din’s bunk was the epitome of comfort. Cramped, yes. Warm, yes. Especially with two bodies. It’d easily become stuffy in there with the panel sealed while the pair of you shared his thin mattress, and you’d always wondered how he managed to keep his helmet on even in that environment. Or perhaps… He couldn’t feel the stuffiness because of the beskar. Or maybe… He was just always stuffy in there, used to closed air.

Your eyes raised from where you’d had them closed, cheek pressed to the chest of his flight suit to mimic sleep. Early mornings after a long, well-deserved sleep often came like this, and there was something so soul-healing about laying there to absorb his calm, peaceful presence before getting up for what would likely be another day of action.

Watching his visor for long moments, working out if he was still sleeping or looking back at you- it had become somewhat of a hobby. Sometimes, you had convinced yourself, if you looked hard enough, you could see the slightest shape beneath the vision slot of his helmet.

You weren’t sure if they were really there. But, in the dim light of the bunk, you could swear the bridge of his nose casted a shadow that caused a darker shadow inside the mask. His lashes were dark and long, and they fluttered slowly as his eyes closed in steady blinks, looking back at you with such leisure.

But then… Had you made that up?

You squinted, straining your eyes until you were sure— yes, you’d made it up. He was still sleeping.

But it didn’t hurt to imagine he had long lashes and a strong nose, perhaps even a strong brow to match. It didn’t hurt to imagine you could see the faintest outlines of the man you love.

Sated, you turned your cheek back to his chest, eyes falling closed to mimic his slumber. Or at least—

“Morning.”

— What you thought was slumber.

His voice was groggy in the modulator; that intimate morning voice. Deeper, softer than usual.

It brought a smile to your lips. “Morning, my love. You were awake?”

“I have been for a while.” His arm tightened snug around your body in his hold, half atop his. “I like to watch you wake up.”

A soft laugh. “Not creepy, hm?”

“Not even a little bit.”

Silence lapsed with his low tone. All was quiet. Not the whirring of the ship, not the sounds of the forest he’d landed the Crest in the clearing of. Only the delicate air of his breathing inside his mask, catching in the voice modulator so quietly that ordinarily, you wouldn’t be able to hear it.

The thought stirred a deep intimacy in your chest. No one else would get to hear this. No one else would get to lay with him like this, press against his armour-free body like this. You splayed a hand over the cloth of his chest, toes wiggling from an uncontainable contentment with how your leg rested over his. Not an ounce of beskar between the two of you.

But yet…

Gentle fingertips trailed upwards, over his upper chest, swirling delicate patterns in the creases of his fabric. Your eyes remained closed, focusing everything on him, the warmth that met your touch when you worked past the collar of the flight suit, meeting the skin of his neck.

It wasn’t the first time you’d touched him so. Of course, after this long together, you’d been intimate many a time-- You were both human, after all... But the helmet had always stayed on.

Your fingertips splayed over his throat, and it vibrated with his low hum.

It was no secret by now. He loved to be touched.

You could just imagine him there beneath the visor, eyes closed, brow relaxed. His face caught in a long moment of calm where it was often riddled with worry, or effort from the fighting. Bringing him such serenity like this was the least you could do for him, showing him that he’s loved. So, so loved.

Slowly, your touch crept just a little further up, seeking his jaw. But as your knuckles knocked the edge of his helmet, a gentle hand closed around your wrist in warning. He didn’t need to speak.

Your voice was the softest murmur. “I won’t take it off. Can I just- Feel you?”

He didn’t move, not for a while. You raised your eyes, peering up at him from where you were nestled in his chest, as if you could possibly read his facial expressions.

His hold eased, thumb lazily rubbing over your veins before letting go, and you found a buzz of warmth in your chest. He trusted you with his most precious boundary. Silently, you vowed to always protect that trust.

Delicate fingers worked upwards, feeling for hair from his chin. But, a soft gasp- There was no beard. The gentle prickle of cropped hairs caught your fingerprints as they swiped along his jaw, and you marvelled at it.

“You shave?” The words came out with a soft, amused breath of disbelief, eyes rounded in surprise. For some reason, it’d always made sense that he’d be bearded, long-haired. He had no reason to shave, knowing that no one would ever see, but now that you knew, it clicked.

Of course he’d shave. Din was a particularly thorough person, he was always driving himself forward to do a perfect job of his work: of course he’d take care of himself too.

“If it grows too long, it’s uncomfortable. Catches in the modulator.”

“Ah,” you hummed, brushing along the ridge of his jaw in the confined space. There was something about feeling his jaw move as he spoke, verifying that he really was human, really did have goings-on behind the mask that shielded him from the world. There wasn’t much room in there to move freely, only your fingers able to reach his face, but it was comfortable. You could feel the soft sway of his breath on your touch. “What colour is it?”

“Black. Brown, black.”

You hummed, eyes fixed on his visor lazily, though you weren’t really looking at him. You were visualising as you studied the contours of his lower face, mapping him out as best as you could in your mind, nails brushing through the stubble on his cheek. They trailed towards the corner of his lips, where you noticed the strands got longer. A moustache?

The smile that lifted your face was automatic, beaming at the realisation. You followed the direction of it, above his upper lip, soon finding a little sparse patch on his philtrum. Your eyes drifted closed, imagining the way it might feel to kiss him now that you knew this; how his facial hair would scratch your upper lip, your chin. Perhaps it would be almost sore on your skin if you kissed him long enough, hot enough--

His lips raised to press a real kiss to the centre of your fingers. Slow, shy, even a little clumsy.

A rich gasp pulled from your throat. It was electric to feel his lips on your skin, pressing the affection directly onto you, after these long years of going without.

You let your fingertips lower, finally feeling the shape of his lips, that subtle cupid’s bow as it raised into yet another peck, slow and tender against your touch. Your brows drew together, fighting the emotion that welled up in you, trying to make you cry. You weren’t all too sure why-- this was just- so much. It was so much, to feel him like this, to receive his first kisses like this. Something you’d never even imagined you could have.

“Don’t cry,” he murmured against your fingertips, tone almost a caress. His own fingers raised to brush at the corner of your eye. One must’ve slipped out.

You didn’t even know he was looking at you. Your lashes fluttered open, gaze meeting where you imagined his eyes would be. “I can’t help it,” you whispered. “You’re perfect.”

He’d lied to you. He’d massively, irrevocably, intentionally lied to you.

Your jaw ached from your grit teeth as you fought back angry fires in your heart, determined not to cry until you’d pulled your family safely off this forsaken, evil planet.

Din had been tasked with a mission of political undertones involving the spice market. He was masking as a bounty hunter to get information, so this time, the importance was in keeping the right people alive.

Of course, it didn’t work, and those people were now trying to kill you.

Your fingers trembled as you fought against the clock and the jolts of blasters firing at the ship to strap Grogu into his passenger seat. Your eyes were bleary, but you had to focus, secure him in safely. You wouldn’t take anyone’s safety for granted after this stupid stunt.

“Get her in the sky!” Din shouted up through the hatch, pushing his voice so loudly against the fighting and blasters below that it almost outgrew the modulator, his real voice peeking through.

Grogu’s sweet eyes peered up at you, giving a questioning gurgle. The poor thing had no idea what was going on, was probably terrified by it all, and even your demeanour on top of it, but you didn’t have time to explain.

“We need to go!”

You buckled the baby in tightly and fought your emotions to ruffle a quick hand atop his head, hoping to soothe him even a small degree before falling into the pilot’s seat, specifically buckling yourself in, and jamming the engine on with jerky movements.

The Crest resisted you, far too old and rickety by now to be good for quick getaways with a cold engine, but with some slow drags, turbulence from knocking through trees and extra laser blasts from below, she was finally in the air.

You heard the distinctive sound of fighting downstairs, someone being kicked off the ramp at an easy 400 feet altitude, and then the mechanical sound of the ship being closed off again.

The ladder creaked with Din’s climbing, and you didn’t look back to him as he collapsed into the other passenger seat, not ready to talk to him yet. You were still seething, and wouldn’t engage with him until you’d pulled up safely out of the planet’s atmosphere.

Long moments of quiet dragged by. He knew you by now. He didn’t need to see more than the square set of your shoulders to know that he shouldn’t speak yet unless he wanted to upset you more. That, and you still didn’t look at him even as the minutes neared a full hour, focused on getting to the nearest hyperspace route.

He glanced to Grogu, who sat there blinking, clueless as he could be. He must’ve known something was going on, even if he didn’t know what exactly Din had done.

Din reached a gloved hand out, petting lightly on the green boy’s head. He still didn’t speak.

Eventually, your frustrated fires ebbed into a more containable state, you shifted the Crest into light speed, and unbuckled your belt with a heaved sigh. “Downstairs, Din.”

You stood, instructed Grogu not to touch a thing, headed down the hatch, and pointedly avoided looking at Din the whole time.

The body of the ship was chaos. Lazed burns in everything the three of you owned, strewn across the floor and torn from the struggle. Clearly, he’d really had to put up a fight.

It was his own fault.

Boot on metal as he stepped onto the floor beside you. You finally looked at him.

You didn’t need to see his face to know he was exhausted. It was in the way he held himself, the way his arms just hung there by his sides, strong shoulders visibly slouched to the trained eye.

You reeled on him. “Why didn’t you let me in on it?”

Silence.

“Less of that, Din. Speak to me, I need to understand.”

There was a pause before his voice came. Firm, but gentle, as if pointedly trying to keep the peace. “You wouldn’t understand.”

“Then make me understand.” You pulled an upturned crate closer and planted yourself on it, trying to keep the buzz in your veins under control, but your tone was clipped nonetheless as you gestured to a crate nearby. “Go ahead, let’s hear it.”

He sighed and tugged the crate over, perched on the corner of it opposite you. His knees were parted and elbows on his thighs, hands clasped together as he thought through his facts. The best way to make you see that he’d done the right thing.

“I couldn’t tell you my true location because if you knew, your presence would have soiled the plan.”

“So you’re telling me I’m a hindrance.”

“No.”

“That’s certainly what it sounds like-”

“It needed full discretion to work. I’d told them-”

“I can keep fucking secrets, Din.”

“I know you can.”

“So you lied? Told me you were on the other side of town? How was I supposed to get to you if something went wrong?”

He sighed, his head dropping forwards in exasperation. “I told you to stay on the ship.”

“That’s not always possible. You know it’s not! Hunters still have fobs fixed onto Grogu, Din, there’s no escaping that!”

“I couldn’t have you interrupting or we’d all be dead. I’d told them I was alone- no, look at me.”

Your jaw was aching from how you grit your teeth as you forced yourself to look up at that visor, the weight of frustrated tears brimming at your waterline. You gave a small nod.

“Listen,” he started. “I’d told them I came alone. If you’d known my location, you would have interrupted.”

“To save your skin? Yeah, I would.”

“Exactly. We’d both be dead, and the hunters would take the kid.”

“You think I can take care of him without you? We don’t stand a chance without you around, Din.”

He paused. Quiet lapsed, and you had no idea what he was thinking. Sometimes, he really gave nothing away, and it was infuriating. He didn’t let you in. He would rarely open up to you about what was going on inside that beskar that hid everything from you. Everything.

Sometimes, you were sure you didn’t even know the man you were committed to. He held so much of the power in this setup. He knew everything about you, everything was done by his thinking, and yet he didn’t need to disclose much at all. He’d keep you in the dark about everything.

What he was feeling, what he was thinking… Hell, even when he smiled at you he kept it to himself. You’d grown to handle those, but this, actively lying to you. As if you couldn’t follow instructions. As if you couldn’t be trusted.

You sighed as the drops in your eyes welled up enough to fall over your cheeks. You pulled yourself off the crate and approached the ladder to the cabin, calling over your shoulder. “Go clean up or something,” you sniffled, “I need a minute away from you.”

The clang of footsteps behind you, a gentle hand on your shoulder.

“Hey. Look at me.”

“I can’t, Din.”

“Why not?”

Such a simple question, such an impossible answer. You closed your eyes, struggling to pick out words that might illustrate what’s going on inside. The ache that sank your chest, that made your throat feel heavy with uncried frustrations. None of this was okay. Perhaps after you’d cooled down, you’d be able to see that mask as anything other than a barrier between you, that keeps him safe from your eyes. But for now, you couldn’t bare it. You scrambled to express it, but all you could let out was a strained “It hurts.”

Another moment of silence. Then, carefully, “What hurts?”

Clearly, he didn’t mean for his words to bring on the tidal wave of emotions and thoughts that you’d been keeping at bay.

“This, Din. All of this! Living in a ship, wondering if I’m gonna make it back in every time I step out of it, and not even being in on missions that risk your life! It’s like you’re cut off from me. Like we just live in the same space and I’m just there to entertain you. But it’s- it’s-!” You heaved a sigh, head buzzing with the force of the thoughts that were spilling out. They were so honest and raw from brewing for far too long. They must’ve been sharp as they came out, they must’ve hit him like a ton of bricks.

But of course, that damned beskar hid everything.

“It’s hard to be with a man who doesn’t trust me.”

For once, his voice rose. “I trust you more than anyone in the gal-!”

“You almost died because you didn’t trust me enough to let me in! You’d rather die than trust me!”

“That’s not how I-”

“That’s what your actions are telling me, Din. They always do. You never tell me what you’re thinking. I have to guess, but I can’t even read your fucking face. I live my life in question marks because you don’t even give me the option to-”

“You know I can’t show you my face.”

A deep breath left you, shaky and tired. So much pressure had alleviated in your head, like you’d finally emptied the contents of your mind onto a platter before him. And now that you could see it too, heard what you’d said, you felt almost ashamed for it.

Criticising the beskar was too far. That was his way of life, and had nothing to do with how he felt towards you. For sure, it was frustrating sometimes for you didn’t even know what your life partner looked like, but his culture was part of him. And you loved him.

“I know. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have-- What are you doing?”

He reached by you to snatch some fabric from a nook, and he folded it into a long strip without so much as a word.

“I’m- I’m trying to apologise-”

“You don’t have to. How can you trust a man you can’t see, right? We’ve been together so long, and you still don’t know who I am.”

You were stunned beneath the guilt that crashed over you. He took your words in so deeply, and fed them back to you plainly. You could see how you must’ve hurt him, with sentiments like this.

Your eyes welled with tears again. Whatever had come over you had clearly wanted to hurt him, but that wasn’t you. Your thoughts were too chaotic to pinpoint, swarmed with hurt and pain that was only now built on by the fact that you’d treated him so terribly. You’d sworn to him long ago that you accepted his Mandalorian binds, loved them even, but you’d let them get in the way with one incident.

“Don’t cry,” he spoke, modulated voice gentle. “I’m- I’m understanding you.” A calloused thumb brushed along your outer lashes to pause any tears that wanted to fall. “Let me help.”

And there was darkness.

He tied his makeshift blindfold behind your head in a loose knot, keeping your eyes in darkness. “Din? What is this?”

He kept quiet, and you heard shifting, something being placed aside.

“Why do you never-”

You cut yourself off when his hands took your wrists and lifted them gently, until your palms splayed on his stubbled cheeks. He gave a long sigh, and you imagined he’d closed his eyes.

Your heart jolted. He was here before you, bare, no helmet. When he spoke, his voice rang out clear and pure, the true timbre of his voice without modulation.

“I said, I trust you more than anyone in the galaxy.” His face moved with his words beneath your touch. “I’d move planets for you.”

He left you breathless. You dove at the chance, fingers tracing over his cheekbones, the bridge of his nose. It stood high and strong, just like you’d always imagined.

“This… This isn’t risky? I didn’t mean to offen-”

“You didn’t offend me. I know it’s hard, I feel it too.” He guided your hands to his lips, and he placed gentle kisses to your fingers.

The lump in your throat welled up again, your nose stinging from the tears that you tried to hold back. The thought of him struggling with his culture simply because he wanted to be close to you. “You do?”

“You know how many times I wanted to take it off? This seems… This is the best way. I’m not breaking any rules.”

You gave a watery, sniffly laugh. “This is the way?”

A hum of humour. “This is the way.”

You let your touch wander over his face, mapping it as well as you could. The curve of his eyelids, the strength of his browbone. He breathed softly, and you could feel the air on your palms as it pushed through.

You wove your fingertips into his hairline, pushing his locks back and bunching them up in your grasp behind his head. It was surprisingly long with unruly waves, and so, so soft.

He leaned in with a sigh until his forehead met yours, hands falling to their home on your waist.

And before you knew it, his lips were on yours. His warm, sweet lips fit perfectly against yours, and your head spun. It was so much, feeling him so close after nearly losing him, arguing with him, and your first kiss in the long years of being his. The first actual kiss.

He was unsure and clumsy in his affection, a little hesitant.

Clearly, this was his first one ever.

You let a hand trail to his jaw, guiding with a gentle touch. He soon settled in, became more confident in his kiss, even if it was still clumsy.

And it was perfect. The determined nibbles to your lips, the soft scratch of his moustache on your upper lip, the way he tugged you closer even as you were pressed against the ladder.

When it finally slowed to a stop, he murmured softly, so much closer than he’d ever been. The sound reached deep inside your mind to soothe your soul and make you crave more of his kiss. “I won’t ever treat you like that again. I’ll give you full disclosure of my missions, every single one. Alright?”

“Alright,” you agreed, breathless and flustered, “On one condition.”

“Hm?” He was clearly lost in this touch, so starved for so long, and it showed in his voice. He was utterly entranced with this new feeling, someone else’s fingers on his skin, words the last thing on his mind.

“We do this more often.”

A low laugh rumbled in his chest, nose nudging on the tip of yours. “Deal.”

#mandalorian imagine #mandalorian x reader #din djarin imagine #din djarin x reader #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal imagine #mando imagine #mando x reader #the mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian #grogu #the child #star wars imagine #star wars #pedro pascal #written by archie

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sukifoof · 10 months

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hii i was talking about this on twitter so i think i will just copy paste it here cuz i’ll probably delete it there at some point <3 twitter frightens me but i love my mutuals here we are all insane about flowey in the same way

i think saying “you’re the type of friend i wish i always had” is a really important thing for asriel to admit... this whole time asriel has dealt with so much grief and guilt about chara that it separated the actual person chara from the idealized version of them in his head who he has never stopped grieving. its a huge part of his character that hes unable to view them as they were because that’s just how his ptsd and guilt affects him. as someone who went through a similar thing that kind of grief can mess with your head and how you view yourself and the person who’s gone really badly. the pacifist route, for flowey’s character specifically, is a really good example of how grief and ptsd can make you feel disconnected from yourself, everyone around you, and like if only the person you lost was back everything would be perfectly fine again. the fact that he can admit they weren’t perfect and that he made the right decision is a huge character development that we don’t get to see in the no mercy route because he’s still convinced that this idealized version of them birthed from bereavement will make everything okay. similarly to how he believed toriel might have been able to fix him, he wants to believe there’s someone out there that could somehow return him to who he was before being traumatized, but the reality of it is this is just who he is.

his grief and trauma is a huge part of who he is like it is with real people, but it doesn’t have to be all of him. i think the emphasis the fandom puts on whether chara was Good Or Bad completely misses the point that it doesn’t really. matter i guess?? they were a kid people loved and now they’re gone. we're seeing people deal with the grief this brought and we know so little of who they are because there’s also a degree of separation about who they are to the people they loved as well. idk i hope this makes sense i think a lot about how chara is a kid who hated humanity and calls themself a demon. to me that just shows an EXTREMELY traumatized child with self hatred. i don’t know why there was ever this huge moral argument about chara when they’re literally just a kid with issues. they weren’t taught how to deal with how they felt and likely held themself in lower regard compared to the dreemurrs. its the same thing with asriel, he feels responsible for them being gone and his own trauma. he just wants a friend who can teach him to understand his grief or someone who can at least let him view the situation for how it really is

i just think. flowey is so well written but not understood very well by the fandom because the type of thing he’s gone through is kind of hard to grasp. it’s a weird situation that doesn’t have a completely black or white Is He Or Chara At Fault kind of answer. they were children. people are complicated and want someone to blame when something goes wrong and flowey directed that at himself. hes such a fascinating and well written character i love him dearly i hope u guys understand how insane he makes me <3

#undertale #utdr #flowey #asriel #asriel dreemurr #chara dreemurr #chara #utdr analysis

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n3tworksucks · 11 months

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Hey babe! Could you do like a NSFW alphabet headcanon thing for Carl Gallagher?

Ily🤍🤍

HIII BBY OFCC ILYT🤍🤍 (UPDATED!!)

word count;1430

warnings; nsfw n stuff sooo..... do what you want with that💀(an- i updated it because it wasn't too accurate and it was finally starting to bother me so i hope i made it a little more accurate😘)

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

he'd probably already have like a towel and water or something so when yall are done he could just quickly clean up then probably cuddle, or smoke and talk or both.

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

I'd say he likes his upper body(like idk how to explain lmao) so his torso and arms and stuff because like he could do a lot with his arms and stuff ;)

and for you, probably your boobs or thighs because he likes leaving hickeys on them and he love going down on you, so I could definitely see him growing some extra love for your thighs, and it doesn't even have to be sexual too, he just loves every part of you.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically)

loves cumming inside, like if you're on the pill or hes using a condom, but if not, I feel like his pull out game if pretty strong, so hed like to cum on your lower stomach or back. and for you, he'd love it if you came anywhere lol, like him just knowing he made you cum just makes it better.

D = Dirty Secret (Pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

I feel like he'd wanna talk to his friends about his sex life not necessarily to brag. but also doesn't because he doesn't wanna risk any information getting out and you getting upset or something. but he'd probably tell a little to Ian if the subject came up somehow, but no details.

E = Experience (How experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

oh god do I even have to answer💀? yes he is. I think we all know lol.. but mostly from like research from when he was younger, because he's not a virgin, but he definitely knows how and what to do in general, but the more you go at it, the more he learns your body and what it takes to pleasure you.

F = Favorite Position (This goes without saying.)

hes got a few for different places, but his mains are missionary but maybe with one ankle on his shoulder, or dogy, and if you have a favorite he'd most likely try it.

G = Goofy (Are they more serious in the moment, or are they humorous, etc)

I mean, not all the time. I'd say 50/50. like there's times where its not a need to be serious but thats mostly the vibe, like it was an important date night or something. then other times like if you're both high or a little out of it then I'm sure there's a few giggles and jokes.

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

doesn't focus too much down there, but he'd probably trim when he feels like it or wants to look nice lmao.

I = Intimacy (How are they during the moment, romantic aspect…)

yess, he loves the feeling of being close to you and to him it feels like it just builds the bond more, like even if its angry sex, he'd still kiss you lovingly and stuff like that.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

sometimes yeah, like you're not able to see each other for a while, he'd probably jack off a few times, but doesn’t wanna do it often because he wants to wait for when you get to be with each other again ;)

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

he'd probably be into tying or holding your hands together, maybe a blind fold here and there if you're feeling frisky, and he'd probably be into smoking a joint or something too, like shotgunning.

L = Location (Favorite places to do the do)

mostly the bedroom, but, if you both were horny enough, probably a public bathroom, either in a stall or he'd lock the bathroom door and fuck on the counter. or anywhere, he doesn't care.

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

it doesn't take much, but he's better at controlling now, but what would get him going now is when you'd just physically love on him, like rub his thigh a little, kiss his neck, tell him you love him. if you do all those, he'd probably drag you away from everybody and go somewhere private. and idk why… but I can see this turning him on too, like when you're sweaty and stuff, I think if he thinks of another reason for you to be sweaty, that would probably get him going.

N = NO (Something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

definitely a no to anything that could hurt you and make you uncomfortable. no knifes, no major rough kinks and stuff, he'd hate to see you get hurt even a little with stuff like that, like wouldn't be too into harsh degradation, and doesn't wanna make you try unless its tears of pleasure.

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

loooves going down on you all the time, like, he gets pleasure out of it too, he gets pussy drunk a lot of the time, but also loves a good blow. but he mainly gives first, knowing you give back eventually.

P = Pace (Are they fast and rough? Slow and sensual? etc.)

if its just normal casual sex, probably at a slight faster speed just because. not rough, but if its special or you both have some time on your hands, he'd go slow and sensual

Q = Quickie (Their opinions on quickies rather than proper sex, how often, etc.)

not his favorite, but sometimes you both just need a moment, or just need to be quick with it. he's definitely good at quickies though if you need to be fast.

R = Risk (Are they game to experiment, do they take risks, etc.)

he doesn't mind experimenting with things youd wanna try, or something he saw on the internet or something. and he doesn't care about where, like a public bathroom or in a car. in a way he likes the feeling, but doesn’t necessarily wanna get caught.

S = Stamina (How many rounds can they go for, how long do they last…)

oh god, after military school he could probably go forever lmao, but obviouslyat some point there's rest. but I think he could go at least 3+. whether thats in the same time or same day, but i think after rounds, there'd be a break then he'd be back at it.

T = Toy (Do they own toys? Do they use them? On a partner or themselves?)

now… I think at some point, you both would talk about it, like maybe he ask about it after he passed that one aisle at a cvs💀 but if you did end up using toys at some point, they'd mainly be for you, like a vibrator or something, but wouldn't wanna use them all the time, because he wants to be the only one that can make you feel good yknow?

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he'd tease a little, mainly with his words, but even if he was unfair, he'd let you get back at him sometime to even it out.

V = Volume (How loud they are, what sounds they make)

if he's on top, he groans more, maybe let's one or two moans out, but its mainly heavy breathing. but if you were on top, he'd moan more, and act more subby. especially if he's he's pussy drunk, he'd moan while eating you out.

W = Wild Card ( a random headcanon)

so kinda back to like how to get him going, I feel like he's sensitive to certain touches and words/tones with you. like only if you're trying to get him going, and he can tell the difference between you being horny and you being affectionate, so if you touche him like that, you know he's sighing, closing his eyes, and leaning his head back

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on under the belt)

I'd say.. about 6.5-7 inches. I'm not gonna go further💀

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

pretty high, but can control his thoughts a little more, and by that I mean from 70,000 times a day to probably more times a day lmao

Z = ZZZ (… how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

he'd wait for you to fall asleep, and even when you're asleep, he'd still probably be awake not doing anything but laying with the love of his life.

#carl gallagher #carl gallagher hcs #carl gallagher headcanons #carl gallagher x reader #shameless #shameless x reader #shameless smut #carl gallagher smut #carl gallagher x reader smut

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jeffthekillerzblog · 5 months

Text

a major plot point or like the entire thing about my au is just the creeps moving on and having their own character arcs throughout the years and finally heal from their past trauma

(rest is me rambling about my au...u don't have to read if u don't wanna its pretty long)

Jeff's arc is big on him finding his brother and coming to terms with what really happened. jeff is so incredibly stubborn and a big (very) egotistical. he finds it hard to open up and after what happened he feels that there's no point opening up anyway bc he's literally a famous asshole serial killer who's messed up SO many people's lives. another big thing about his arc is just owning up to his actions and apologizing to the people he's hurt. for example, nina. he led her on, treated her terribly for no reason, and was overall just an asshole. after they get into an argument he'll eventually apologize bc like he didn't HATE nina, he's was and prob still is in a terrible mindset and copes in such unhealthy ways. IDK OK I'm rambling but my point is he does eventually apologize to nina not because he needs her or like wants to use her again. he apologizes because he genuinely misses her and BOOM they become besties again after jeff properly apologizes and ya. BUT basically jeff's arc is him finally finding liu after all these years and yeah he apologizes to all the people he hurt (or the IMPORTANT ones) like nina, liu, and EVENTUALLY... jane. but that's WAY into the future (besides nina) he's way too full of himself to apologize now.

Nina's arc is her getting over JEFF. her love for Jeff began when she met him. she already admired him, but he turned into a full on crush. he did lead her on, and it hurt her a lot. shed spent tons of nights alone when jeff was supposed to be sleeping next to her, and she just felt so lonely, especially since jeff was so neglectful. She talks to clockwork about it and they help her realize her self worth and comforts her (she's terrible at it). Nina starts hanging out with Nat and toby more often, and it makes her feel SO much better about herself. Eventually she does get fed up of jeffs bs and they get into an argument and nina decides to leave. she kicks him out of her apartment and she doesn't let him come back. (she does....when he apologizes.....) She eventually learns to love herself and realize she doesn't need a stinky man's validation. Theres also a bit of her coming to terms with her own trauma, but I haven't fully fleshed that part out yet.

BEN's arc is probably my favorite. he's lost all his memories of his past life, and now after he accidentally found out he's NOT just a computer AI program, he decides to take it on himself to find out who his family was, how his life was, and how he died. I wont say as much bc I want to keep it a surprise, but in summary it fucks him up LMAO

ok that's it. OBVIOUSLY the rest of the creeps are healing as well BUT I have not fleshed out their stories yet...oops. so its just three for now. Except MUCH more stuff about the trio bc I love them with my all.. if u have any questions feel free to ask :3

#jeff the killer #creepypasta #nina the killer #jeff the killer fanart #nina the killer fanart #BEN drowned #ben drowned #ben drowned fanart #creepypasta fanart #creepypastas

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reiding-writing · 4 months

Note

could i please request spencer reid comforting reader whos been picking at her lips? Like idk maybe he brings around chapstick for her smth. Tysm!

dermatillomania [ s.r ]

Summary:

Spencer doesn’t want you to hurt yourself. Even unintentionally. So a lot little bit of research later he’s ready to confront you about it.

WARNINGS: dermatillomania (impulsive picking at the skin), mentions of very minor self induced harm, sharing germs??? spencer would be deterred by that i’m sure, well maybe not in this case

pairing: spencer reid x gn!reader

genre: pretty much straight fluff

wc: 1.5k

masterlist!!

a/n: this marks the my final fic of 2023, currently uploading at 10 past 11 pm so like less than an hour until 2024 (yay??)

i love writing for reid because it allows me to satisfy that nerdy part of my brain that endlessly thirsts for knowledge

Everyone had subconscious habits.

Yours just happened to be more physically harming than some.

You found comfort in the monotonous repetition of peeling away the layers of skin covering your lips, whether it be with your fingernails or your teeth.

It would often leave your skin red and raw, sometimes to the point where they cracked or bled.

It wasn’t usually too bad, but during times where you were over-stressed and under pressure, the small habit of yours became more of a staple of your personality.

You sigh softly as you sit at your desk, head resting in your hands as your eyes pour over the file in front of you.

Paperwork wasn’t exactly stressful when you compare it to the rest of your job, but after the week you’d just returned from it was clear that you needed a break.

Spencer glances up at you from his own desk opposite you, a small frown present on his face.

“Stop that,” His tone is soft and unchastising.

"Hm?" Your eyes flicker upwards towards his, your eyebrows knitted into a small line of clear confusion.

“Your lips. You’re going to scar yourself if you keep pulling at them like that.” Spencer’s words come out even softer than before, a small look of worry in his eyes.

"Oh-"

You pull you hands down from your face, the thumb and forefinger of your left hand that had been tugging at the cracked skin of your lower lip now tucked securely in your right as you clasp them together in your lap in fumbled embarrassment. "Sorry.."

Spencer sighs softly, and takes a brief moment to observe you. The corners of his mouth twitch downwards into a slight frown.“Don’t apologize. I just… I’d hate for you to have permanent scarring.”

You hum softly in response to his caring nature, not meeting his eyes anymore out of the small amount of shame that trickles into the back of your mind, and your tongue runs smoothly over the raw skin on your lip in an attempt at soothing the sting. "Yeah.. thanks,"

Spencer looks away for a few seconds, thinking about your actions. After a beat, he leans over his desk slightly to grab a tube of chapstick from his desk drawer and holds it out to you over the small metal hatched wall of separation between your two desks.

It’s dark blue with no writing or labelling of any kind on it and has very clearly been previously opened.

“Take care of your lips, okay? They’re very important for human expression, phonation, and sensation.”

And to be able to kiss people with.

You hesitate to take the tube from him at first, not because he’d used it, but because it was his, and you knew how much he hated sharing his personal belongings for fear of germ contamination.

“Are you- sure you want to give me this? I can go and get one after work-“ You take the tube from his hand carefully, as though it might explode if you grip it too tightly.

Spencer is slightly relieved to see you take the chapstick, and smiles brightly at you before shaking his head. “It’s fine. You clearly need some form of relief, and I doubt you want to be waiting another six hours.”

He pauses, before adding, “I’d like you to keep it. It’s pure white petroleum, it should solve any soreness or dryness in no time,”

"Thank you.." You give Spencer a grateful smile as you remove the cap and twist the bottom of the tube to extend the chapstick upwards.

You choose not to acknowledge the small dip in the balm from where Spencer had used it on his own lips in the past, fearing the inevitable flush of your cheeks if you thought about the way you were indirectly touching your lips to his for too long.

"I’m- not sure why i can’t just stop, but.. yeah- thanks.." Your half-assed explanation is more of a way for you to distract yourself from your impending emotional implosion rather than a genuine want to explain yourself.

Spencer watches you apply the chapstick, nodding once as he does. “I have some advice on how to stop, if you’d like to hear it.”

You re-cap the tube of chapstick and place it next to the pencil holder on your desk for easy later access, exhaling softly through your nose as your mouth bends into a soft smile. "Alright, have at me,"

“First things first, you should try and figure out what’s causing you to want to peel at your skin.” Spencer dives into full explanation mode once you give him the chair. “Everything has a trigger, and figuring out what yours is is the first step to stopping it,”

You give a understanding nod to Spencer’s suggestion, your mind beginning to scrub your brain for and reasons why you might have the insatiable urge to pull the skin off your lips like you would the meat from a turkey.

“You should also redirect the behaviour. When feeling the urge or the subconscious action towards picking at your skin you should instead reapply a layer of chapstick to your lips instead,” Spencer gestures towards the tube on your desk, just barely visible from his point of view past your pencil holder.

“People with dermatillomania often times don’t realise that they’re engaging in the behaviour, so having somebody who is aware of the situation to redirect your attention is also a good idea.”

He’s obviously referring to himself in this moment, indirectly telling you that he’s willing to be stuck to you like a piece of gum under a shoe until you fully manage to break your habit.

"dermatillomania?" You blink your eyes blankly at him at the unnecessarily complicated term you’d never heard of that Spencer had casually thrown into his sentence.

“It’s the term for excessive skin-picking that causes damage or scarring. That’s what you were doing to your lips just now.” Spencer nods nonchalantly at you like it was common knowledge.

“Oh-“

You can’t say you’re surprised that there’s a term for what you’re experiencing.

You also can’t say that you’re surprised that Spencer knows what it’s called.

Spencer feels the need to explain himself upon your confusion and surprise at the revelation that what you were doing had a proper medical diagnosis.

“I’ve observed you for a while now, and noticed you often picking at your lips.. So I did some research and came across dermatillomania.” There is a tiny bit of embarrassment in his tone.

"You- looked it up for me?"

Spencer Reid had gone out of his way to research something that gave him no personal benefit solely for your wellbeing.

You swear you could melt.

You probably look like you do, physically feeling the pink rise to your cheeks as they heat up in flustered gratitude.

Spencer’s cheeks mirror your own in their soft pink hue, slightly embarrassed to have outed himself to going out of his way to research something on your behalf.

“I did, yes.” He pauses. “I just… well, I didn’t want you to unintentionally do any damage to yourself.”

You let out a soft exhale that could almost constitute as a laugh, pressing your lips together to prevent a smile from breaking out on your face. “Thank you Spencer.. That’s really sweet,”

Spencer nods, diverting his eyes from yours and leaning back in his desk chair to try and look as casual as possible. “Don’t worry about it. I’ve researched countless topics to help the team, this was just one of them.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. But he wasn’t going to tell you that instead of the usual half an hour he would spend learning about something for one of his team mates he’d instead read every single publicly available medical journal on dermatillomania he could possibly find.

He turns his face back down to his work as you do the same, pushing his desk drawer closed now that nothing inside it was any longer needed.

His eyes fixed on the blue tube that rolled to his the front of the drawer as he pushed it closed.

It was identical to the one he had given you in every way.

Except for the fact that the one in his drawer was still brand new.

But you didn’t need to know that.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader #mgg #spencer reid fluff #criminal minds fluff #asks 🫶

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