#with the reminder that the Things can be small and done in front of cartoons or with podcasts on or something

[microsuedemouse]

gang... taking some clothes out of my years-old mending pile and actually mending them? extraordinarily satisfying.

[bettermiya]

Dinner Guest

Pairing: Osamu Miya x AFAB!Reader

WC: 2.8k words.

Triggers: Cannibalism, Abusive Ex, Nonconsensual Drugging, Consensual Handjob, Human Butchering against an NPC, Violence, Blood. MDNI. 18+.

Summary: Osamu offers you a perfect meal. Horror!AU. Hannibal-esque!AU.

You get home from work exhausted, but the smell coming from the kitchen is enough to wash away some of the day’s stresses. You drop your things off by the front door and slip off your shoes- you’ll get everything put into its proper place later. Right now, the aroma from the kitchen is drawing you in like one of those cartoons, a beckoning finger that pulls you forward until you are practically on top of Osamu.

“What are you making for dinner?” You peer around his broad frame to stare at the pots and pans on the stove. The smell is divine. Osamu turns to you and presses a kiss into your hair.

“Hayashi rice.” He says, letting his face linger against your head for a few moments as he takes in your scent. “It’s almost ready. Go sit, I’ll bring it over to the table.” He lightly nudges you with his hip before going back to his cooking. You linger a moment, mouth watering while he tends to the meat and sauce. He gives a small huff of a laugh and uses his chopsticks to cut free a tiny corner of meat- it’s so tender that it easily gives way. After carefully dipping it in the sauce, he cups a hand beneath the gently steaming morsel and offers it to you. As you lean in, so does he, and he meets your eyes as he gently blows on the hot food.

“Open, darlin’.”

You do, and he eases the food into your awaiting mouth. A bit of the sauce drips onto your chin, but you hardly notice. You’re melting with the warm, comforting bite. Osamu notices, however, and before you can step away to go to the dining room, he brushes his tongue slowly over your skin. Warmth spreads through the rest of your body as the tip of his tongue teases your lower lip. You lean closer, expecting a kiss, but he pulls away with a grin. “That’s all yer gettin’ for now. Go get settled ‘n get off yer feet. I’ll be done soon.”

The apartment you share with Osamu is open and spacious. You pad on sock feet from Osamu’s kingdom of ranges and spices and knife blocks into the adjoined dining room with its intimate, small table already set for two. There are candles glowing on either side of a beautiful centerpiece of fresh flowers. You take in their subtle perfume as you finally pull out your chair and take a seat. As you sit there, you close your eyes, thinking you’ll rest them just for a moment while you wait for Osamu.

You are awakened by the aroma of the rice and beef and the dark demi-glace and the sensation of Osamu’s breath against your neck. He has pulled his chair very close to yours. He kisses your jaw and nips at the lobe of your ear. Feeling a smile cross your face, you lift a hand to brush through his short hair.  “Sorry. Work took a lot out of me today.”

“That’s alright, darlin’. I don’t mind. Ya look pretty when ya sleep.”

Dinner is a quiet affair. He asks you about your day in low tones in between taking bites of food and brushing his hand against your thigh and the small of your back. You are nodding by the time you finish, the stew of beef, carrots, onions, mushrooms sitting warm and comforting within your stomach. Though it’s a little embarrassing and you feel a bit guilty for not being able to stay awake long enough to spend the evening together sprawled on the couch like usual, you love the way he gathers you from the chair into his arms so easily and carries you back to bed.

His hands are strong and warm as they gently unbutton and slide away your clothes. He teases you with soft caresses and little kisses and dresses you again into a soft, clean shirt that smells of him. You try to groggily protest and ask for more attention from his mouth and hands, but he reminds you that you’ve had a hard day. “Sleep a little, and we’ll see.”

When you drift up from sleep, he is climbing into bed beside you, having finished cleaning up from dinner and changing into his own pajamas, which consist only of the soft pants of the set. You realize you are wearing his shirt that completes the set. It seems fitting. He curls up behind you, dragging you against his chest. His lips find the base of your neck, the curve of your shoulder; his teeth tug at the lobe of your ear. You’re still lingering in that hazy place between reality and dreams, sleep threatening to pull you back into its embrace.

One of his strong hands nudges up the hem of the shirt you’re wearing and glides along the plains of your bare stomach. His fingers slip beneath the hem of your underwear and gently tease the warmth between your thighs. You drift back to sleep riding waves of pleasure. Your dreams are filled with his soft murmurs.

You wake up to the sound of a door slamming. Groggily, you grab your phone and check the time. The glow of the screen scatters spots across your field of vision; the blocky numbers tell you it is early in the morning. The space beside you on the bed still holds a bit of warmth from Osamu. He must have just gotten up to go to the restaurant. Sometimes he leaves in the wee hours of the morning to buy special ingredients from the markets- usually various cuts of meat he carries home in big, dark bags. You’ve asked before to go with him, but he says there’s no reason for you to get up so early when you work such long hours and besides, you don’t really want to see a bunch of animal carcasses being chopped up, do you?

Normally you sleep through his absence and by the time you wake, he is back with all of his meat neatly packed away in his large freezer box and he is in the kitchen preparing you breakfast. It’s very rare that you wake up with him still gone. He makes sure to tire you out enough so that you never have to be alone while you are home, or so he likes to say.

You sit up, swinging your legs over the side of the bed, and rub at your heavy eyelids. You’re having a hard time keeping yourself awake, but you want to check on the loud slamming of the door. You’re pretty sure you can also hear heavy footfalls coming down the hall. Osamu is usually so quiet, especially when you’re sleeping. Your mind still feeling a bit hazy, you stand up and pad barefoot toward the bedroom door, only for it to be shoved open.

Fear pours over you like cold water. You still feel very foggy, but there is no mistaking the figure who is standing in the doorway. It’s your ex. You have no idea how they found you after all this time. You deleted all of your old social media. You changed your number. You moved in with Osamu in a completely different city. The apartment, the restaurant– everything is in his name. You even went through the trouble of changing your name legally to prevent this exact outcome.

Your mind is not working quickly enough. You open your mouth to dumbly ask how they found you, but before you can, they are storming forward and shoving you backward. You stagger, but manage to remain standing. Lifting both of your hands, you try to speak, but they strike you across the face so violently, stars burst across your vision and you drop to your knees. Pain flares in your knees and your head; you feel like your brain has rattled about in your skull. Blood is pooling in your mouth.

“Did you think I wouldn’t find you?” They’re screaming obscenities. They kick you in the stomach, and a mixture of blood and saliva bursts from your mouth and sprinkles the carpet. Suddenly, they snatch a handful of your hair and drag you from the room. Your brain is finally beginning to catch up with what is happening. You scream and kick and grab for their hands, trying to make them release you.

They stop, and for one moment, you think maybe by some miracle, they will stop and listen to reason. Instead, they grab the side of your head and slam it into the wall. The fight goes out of you, and you are on the verge of losing consciousness as they begin pulling you again. You tilt back your head to look up at them, and see Osamu standing behind them. There is a strange look to his face, one you haven’t seen before. His eyes are cold and calculating, his jaw is tight. He lifts both of his hands and claps them together hard against your ex’s ears.

They drop you, and your head knocks against the tiled floor of the kitchen. You didn’t even realize they had dragged you this far. You can hear your ex screaming, but it sounds dull and far away. Turning your head, you watch as Osamu grabs them by the throat and easily lifts them up, slamming them down hard onto the pristine surface of the kitchen island. From where you are lying, you can’t see exactly what happens next. Osamu lifts a knife and it comes down; your ex stops screaming, but their legs, dangling over the edge of the island, are kicking wildly.

Osamu kneels down beside you and very tenderly cups the back of your head, lifting you into a sitting position. Your head is throbbing in time with the rhythm of your frantic heartbeat and the spinning and tilting of the room is making you very nauseous. “Can ya hear me, darlin’?” His voice is very low, very calm…. almost dangerously so.

You try to nod, but that makes your head hurt worse. “Yes.” You finally manage.

“I’m real sorry,” He murmurs, kissing your temple. His eyes linger on your mouth, where your busted lip is still leaking blood onto your chin. Cupping your jaw, he leans forward and brushes his tongue along your skin and lower lip, cleaning away the smear of red from your skin. “I thought I gave ya enough to let ya sleep through this whole nasty business.”

You look at him confused. He lifts you up and sits you down in one of the dining room chairs. You can still see into the kitchen. Your ex is grabbing at the knife, which is sticking out of the middle of his throat. Your head is spinning. Everything feels just a bit unreal. Osamu steps away, but he returns quickly to your side, pressing a towel with ice inside against the back of your head. He lifts your hand and presses it to the towel. “Hold this here.” You nod and hold it.

“What did you mean before…?”

“Mm… I put something in yer drink tonight. Just somethin’ to help ya sleep. I thought it’d be enough to keep ya sleepin’ til I was done with…,” He stood up and walked over to your ex, whose struggling seems to be growing more sluggish. “Ya see, I told ‘em where to find us… the plan was to take care of ‘em without ya havin’ to be involved, but… things didn’t quite go as I planned. S’okay, though, darlin’... y’all never have to worry about ‘em ever again.”

Your mind is slow to comprehend what is happening. You watch Osamu pull free the knife, see the spray of blood arc upward like a fountain. You blink, slowly, and when you open your eyes again, you see the flash of a large cleaver. Things unfold before you in hazy flashes. Your ex’s head disappears from the counter. Osamu methodically begins butchering the body. Cuts of meat are wrapped and bound together with twine. The various cuts of meat are stacked neatly together. Osamu hums as he works. This all feels like a dream… a strange nightmare. He comes to check on you off and on during his work.

He takes away the ice and towel. His lips brush against your brow. Kneeling in front of you, he takes your hands and kisses your palms, the tips of your fingers. “Are ya feelin’ okay?”

Your head is still hurting, but the nausea has gone away. It must be the shock and the ice you had been holding to your battered head- you’re shivering. He touches your cheek. You are staring at the neat, wrapped packages that had once been your ex, but the fear and revulsion you should be feeling are not there. Not yet. Osamu stands again and moves back into the kitchen.

Over the next few minutes, he carries everything from the kitchen to the large freezer. “We’ll have a lovely feast when yer feelin’ better.” He promises. When he’s done, he scoops you up and carries you back to bed. After tucking you in, he kisses your forehead.

“Try to rest. I’ll keep a check on ya.”

You wake late the next day to the smell of breakfast. Osamu sets a tray beside you on the bed. There is miso soup, rice, and strips of meat. Your gaze lingers on the meat, thinking back to the strange dream you had the previous night. It must have been a dream. It couldn’t have been real, and it all seems so strange and hazy in the warm glow of the sunlight spilling into the bedroom. Osamu smiles and strokes your cheek. “I hope yer hungry.”

You eat. He watches, smiling calmly the entire time. His hand is stroking your bare thigh while you eat. When you’re done, he offers soft words of praise and draws you into his lap. You are more awake now with the full breakfast settling nicely in your stomach. The previous night begins to come into more focus. You remember the blood… you remember the meat… you think hard about the taste of the cooked meat and rice and soup on your tongue.

But his hand is drifting down… down… teasing and working between your legs while his mouth tastes your skin…

You stop thinking so hard and lose yourself in the touch… the taste…

“Yer such a good girl,” He murmurs into your neck, his voice a low rumble at the back of his throat. His touch is slow at first, a steady stroking in lazy circles. You lose track of your thoughts. Your awareness is shrinking; all you can focus on is his finger tracing those careful loops between your legs. You try to help him along by arching your hips into his hand, but he hums against your skin and gently lowers you back onto the bed. He leans over you, his hand still moving so slowly and deliberately.

“There’s no need to rush,” He says, moving his mouth to yours. His teeth catch your lower lip and scrape against the still tender flesh there. You taste a bit of your own blood, and so does he as his tongue slides into your mouth. His finger presses deeper, slowly. Your back arches. Heat is pooling in your abdomen. His finger eases back, circles. He breaks the kiss before his finger slides in again so he can hear the low moan escape your bloodied lips. He hooks his other arm beneath your head, tugging you closer. The fingers of his free hand curl beneath your jaw and tilt your head up while his thumb brushes over your lips.

He presses his thumb into your mouth, and as you run your tongue along his skin, he purrs. “Tha’s my girl.”

Two fingers now. They press into you slowly, deeply. You whimper around the thumb in your mouth as your hips arch upward into his touch. His teeth mark the skin where your neck and shoulder meet; he sucks and licks the place where he bites. He allows your hips to rise against his hand while he teases you, his fingers moving in and out in a steady rhythm. You are panting, gasping, bucking against him. This time, when his fingers slide in, he hooks them and strokes as you cry out.

Your body is quivering. Your thoughts have scattered. There was something you were thinking of, but his hands, his mouth… his tongue… his teeth… you can barely focus on anything other than the sparks of heat and pleasure in the places where he touches you. He turns your face toward him and kisses you as his fingers continue their work.

“I’m real proud of ya,” He says, his hot breath washing over your temple. His touch draws another shuddering cry from your lips. Your whole body is alight. You are beginning to tire, but he is relentless in his ministration.  Again… again… your body arches into his hand… you gasp and tremble… you whimper…

When you are utterly spent, he slides his fingers free and brings them to his lips, running his tongue along them while he holds your gaze. A faint smirk tugs at the corner of his mouth.

“Delicious.”

[baekhvuns]

LET IT BE KNOW THAT THAT I WOKE UP TO HJ COSPLAYING AS SOME WHITE MAN?!Alright guess I'll have to wake up at 6am on Friday too, fuck this.😭 I feel like the next teaser will be even more unhinged, but the scaleeee?! That's why they need so many tours and fan calls they spent all their money on this idusuehshahdjsrf

Ok, before I give you the ranking, any predictions? 👀 I already have one in mind actually

Well shit, I'M NOT READY AT LEAST NOT FOR THAT Seonghwa 😭 let me wash my hair first before I meet him

It is tiring seriously... like yesterday I concluded there's a beef between two accs I follow 👁👄👁 I almost unfollowed one of them, but decided to mute cause she's funny sometimes, but also 🤡 the other one I like more, from what I gathered the first one isn't a fan of certain multis (obviously Staytinys) and keeps blocking people for that, lmaoooo. I muted all the fanbase accounts, but yeah the TL is A LOT to take right now.

LEE JOOYEON?

Yes Skz's debut hit pretty hard, they were like we just started but we're already in HELL, so true. I was like that with Next Level and Savage, also Good Boy Gone Bad... I still can't say I love any of them, but I was forced to listen to them so many times and busted some moves, so now I play them occasionally 🙈🙉🙊

I know too many stories about uber drivers without the license etc, I don't wanna get near them (even my friend's messed up cousin drove an Uber even though his license was taken away FOR A REASON 🤡) I feel like taxi drivers are safer, they control them better. We have Uber and there's Bolt as well, both susssss not to mention a lot of them don't speak English nor the local language and sometimes don't even make an effort to communicate 😭 AND NO WAY?! Should've done a split ride with Yibo, damnnnn

I had no idea which Y/N I would be, but model sounds more right than mafia 😅

Dohwan and Soohyuk WOW YOUR MINDDDD </3

Ok the King Tut thing reminded me of a cartoon I used to watch it's called Tutenstein and I was obsessed idyjshduehdhehe anyways that guy's story was real sad indeed same with his wife

Ahhh twins I got Lino too! And Changbin which I didn't expect

Me when I don't take my ADHD meds vs me when I take them and start dissociating Ok but Hwa was such a small and jumpy boooooy that live and when he was sulking in the background? NEW REACTION PIC, also wearing something straight out of Wooyoung's or Mingi's wardrobe. Btw, the fact I instantly recognised Hwa's hands in the photo San posted, yikes but also Song Mingi what's with your nails brooooo

Hmmm, depends, I read some bad fake dating AUs tbh lol, I like when people are getting to know each other, buuuuut I think ex lovers getting back together can be fun if well written and them reconciling makes sense! So maybe I'll choose the latter since it's less common. What exactly are you planning? 👁👁 - DV 💖

hi hello!!

LET IT BE KNOW THAT THAT I WOKE UP TO HJ COSPLAYING AS SOME WHITE MAN?!Alright guess I'll have to wake up at 6am on Friday too, fuck this.😭 I feel like the next teaser will be even more unhinged, but the scaleeee?! That's why they need so many tours and fan calls they spent all their money on this idusuehshahdjsrf

COSPLAYING AS WHITE MAN 😭😭😭😭 did a oli london real fast HRKWHDKW NAURR THE WAY ITS IN 3 DAYS I CANT BELIEVE 😭😭🔫 THE SCALE ITS LITERALLY A MOVIE???? sci-fi rebellion >>>

Ok, before I give you the ranking, any predictions? 👀 I already have one in mind actually

i WOULD LIKE TO SAY 1. since ttwhy is gone, bodyguard might be here 2. ttwhy 3. lets not fall in love?? 4. mr and mrs park! tHE REST I HAVE NO CLUE FBDB

Well shit, I'M NOT READY AT LEAST NOT FOR THAT Seonghwa 😭 let me wash my hair first before I meet him

LMFAOOOO 😭😭😭 HES SO FINE IF FEEL SO UGKY JUST STANDING IN FRONT OF HIM EVEN IN THE BEST OUTFIT

It is tiring seriously... like yesterday I concluded there's a beef between two accs I follow 👁👄👁 I almost unfollowed one of them, but decided to mute cause she's funny sometimes, but also 🤡 the other one I like more, from what I gathered the first one isn't a fan of certain multis (obviously Staytinys) and keeps blocking people for that, lmaoooo. I muted all the fanbase accounts, but yeah the TL is A LOT to take right now.

👁👄👁 what’s the beef on 👁👄👁 BFKWHDKS god staytinys stop 😭😭😭 i feel its a army and blink fanwars 😭😭😭 YEHA THE TL IS KINDA CRAZY but this hongjoong

LEE JOOYEON?

DID HE JUST NOONA EHWJHDWK HE JUST NOONA-ED THWKFJWKDJWK 😵‍💫😵‍💫😵‍💫

Yes Skz's debut hit pretty hard, they were like we just started but we're already in HELL, so true. I was like that with Next Level and Savage, also Good Boy Gone Bad... I still can't say I love any of them, but I was forced to listen to them so many times and busted some moves, so now I play them occasionally 🙈🙉🙊

LMFAOOOO ALREADY IN HELL LITERALLY 😭😭😭 FBWKDHWK next level’s sort where the beat drops is so >>>> and savage’s build up with those harmonies 🤌🏼🤌🏼 but i didn’t like girls cb it felt as if there was no chorus? or a drop or something memorable,, illusion tho sounds better! GOOD BOY GONE BAD IS SUCHNA SECOND GEN SONG FBENFH

I know too many stories about uber drivers without the license etc, I don't wanna get near them (even my friend's messed up cousin drove an Uber even though his license was taken away FOR A REASON 🤡) I feel like taxi drivers are safer, they control them better. We have Uber and there's Bolt as well, both susssss not to mention a lot of them don't speak English nor the local language and sometimes don't even make an effort to communicate 😭 AND NO WAY?! Should've done a split ride with Yibo, damnnnn

LMFAOOOO????????? 😭😭😭🤚🏼 omg yes taxi drivers are safer and softer theyre so nice half the time and so wholesome dbdbd LMFJKAHDKS UBER DRIVERS WOULD DRIFT IF THEY HWD THE CHANCE DBDB AW THAT SUCKS 😭😭😭 BRKWDH YEAH WANG YIBO and thej there was the kr1s wU in there after yibo dbdb

I had no idea which Y/N I would be, but model sounds more right than mafia 😅 /// Dohwan and Soohyuk WOW YOUR MINDDDD </3

i think u could be a hybrid! a mix of mafia and model,,, the combo,, deadly >>> NO FR IMAGINE THOSE TWO TOGETHER ID YELL SCREAM AND U WILL NEVER HEAR FROM ME

Ok the King Tut thing reminded me of a cartoon I used to watch it's called Tutenstein and I was obsessed idyjshduehdhehe anyways that guy's story was real sad indeed same with his wife

TUTENSTEIN?? STOP BC I RMR IT IT WAS SOO COOL DBDBDB no omg that’s so sad but he took his revenge on the ppl who found his tomb so <3 good for he

Ahhh twins I got Lino too! And Changbin which I didn't expect //// Me when I don't take my ADHD meds vs me when I take them and start dissociating Ok but Hwa was such a small and jumpy boooooy that live and when he was sulking in the background? NEW REACTION PIC, also wearing something straight out of Wooyoung's or Mingi's wardrobe. Btw, the fact I instantly recognised Hwa's hands in the photo San posted, yikes but also Song Mingi what's with your nails brooooo

LESSGOO omg changbin??? 👀 LMFAOOOO STOP THWKFJWK 😭😭😭 BC HE LOOKS SO CUTE DOING THAT 😭😭 no bc seonghwa in all black triggers something in me and its VILE 📉📈📉 LMFAOOOO MINGI NAIL SLANDER FBFBFB

Hmmm, depends, I read some bad fake dating AUs tbh lol, I like when people are getting to know each other, buuuuut I think ex lovers getting back together can be fun if well written and them reconciling makes sense! So maybe I'll choose the latter since it's less common. What exactly are you planning? 👁👁 - DV 💖

hMMMMM what if the fake dating is they know each other since kids but the y/n hates all the guys the _____ has <3 YES EXES TO LOVERS WITH THE RIGHT PERSON WRONG TIME 😮‍💨 IT MAKES SENSE YES !!! nOW yunho or san 🤨.

he’s so 😭😭😭 reminds me of bb!hwa

is this the ceo u rather prefer bc i do have an au that’s 10k in <3

AND THIS

heres a quizie!

OH ALSO U HAD QUES since u said u went to india for a wedding,,, did u get to wear the outfits? the jewelries??? 👁👁

[bakurapika]

i don't want to reblog and actually @ any of the art in particular, but finding bad-/comic-art seems to have whole genres of types of "bad art (i don't know if it sounds bitchier with or without the quotes so i added one quote. you're welcome for the confusion)

this is a blog post in the traditional opining-for-no-reason sense so this is under a readmore

i know it's a bad trend in general to have women all be sexualized without the men getting the same treatment, but we don't get context, so like

genre 1: normal sexy women. im including stuff that is stylized in a way that emphasizes curves/bust/butt but (butt lol) is emphasizing things that look good. by which i mean, it has a clear line of action, you can tell what's going on, but the proportions are intentionally weird or it's apparently chilly out today. like ngl i'm kind of into this look. reminds me of some early-to-mid-00's cartoons. (plus, in that example, the guys are getting the same goofy expressions and poses)

genre 2: abnormal sexy women. this is the michaelangelo approach if, instead of grapefruit, he stuck beach balls on the boobs and butt. it's not a character choice for a woman to be a Sexy Woman - it is the default design, and any angle which does not have boobs and/or butt must be corrected. this is where you get those weird spine issues and strange torso twists and "this body looks normal except her boobs are in antigravity" where the net effect is not sexiness but uncanniness.

i don't think that ONLY the boob/butt thing will put the art into this category though. counter-example, this is boob/butt but (butt) it gives an exaggerated fluidity to the motion imo. it doesn't feel like we're looking at a woman with weird anatomy, but like we're seeing her torso and then seeing her run. the hands being distorted make it feel more like a smear to me. contrast this one, where you can't tell at first if we're even looking at her back or her front. i'm not sure if they drew the hands wrong or maybe this was a crunch time problem or if it was intentional. it's not more anatomically "wrong" but it's confusing instead of conveying its movement in a glance

or this cover where it seems to be a normal, referenced portrait, but with her boobs appearing massive, because the rest of the torso is a little foreshortened but her Boobs Cannot Be Small. the boobs take up the whole thing, they interrupt any sense of movement, and are given as much importance as her face. in fact you wind up with stiffer poses a lot of the time because you're restricted to pin-up appropriate movement.

genre 3: inexperienced or done quickly. things get wonky and off-model in ways that aren't on purpose, and there seems to be no one in the editing process who was willing or able to correct it. im also lumping some stylization in here that doesn't seem intentional, like this one, where the anime-eyes are going against the mood that seems to be otherwise conveyed.

im also lumping in "you can see what they're going for but they couldn't find a reference image" which seems like it might create some of the weird anatomy. like they had to look up a face and a body and it looks badly photoshopped. or like this one i almost think they did some inks on the wrong layer and accidentally colored over it?? children seem to get this issue a lot too, although granted, even baby jesus has that issue for centuries so it might be an age-old problem

genre 4: stylized so much it is hard to see what's going on. this one is even more subjective than the rest, and all art is subjective so whatever. but when the poses get funky or the design is complicated, then you need to really compensate with line weight and careful color choice and composition or else it looks cluttered and weird. at least that's how i would approach that problem but i don't art much. spider-man seems to deal with this the most that i'm seeing so far, although you could probably put the liefeld offenders in here too

genre 5: silly. the art might not even be bad but the expression or pose is silly

genre 6: too detailed in the wrong spots. man muscles. also otherwise non-sexy women who get their nipples shaded in situations that it doesn't make sense, or where other similar shapes aren't detailed. or the faces are lined a lot to make it intense but wind up making the whole thing really dark and hard to parse. (don't @ me about yugioh.......)

genre 7: racist. might be the colorist or the pencils/inks or all. even those that aren't intentionally offensive seem to just not know what non-white people look like

i think the reason im writing all this (and not tagging anyone obv) is because there's not really a point to saying YOUR ART IS BAD AND YOU SHOULD FEEL BAD for many of these, esp the off-model ones. i guess im overanalyzing because i want to learn from it?? and maybe articulate to myself why "haha girl sexy" and "oh no boobs too big" get such different emotional reactions from me, and why i don't need to feel bad for thinking girl sexy, and it does not mean i am perpetuating bad boobs. dont accuse me of perpetuating bad boobs :(

[kyberphilosopher]

Fensterln

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me.”

Warning(s): some allusions to sex, explicit-ish language, fluff, reader has a whole ‘Black Cat’ thing going on. Word Count: 3273

Notes: This is a requested work. This is a headcanoned canon version of Superboy, meaning he is no version in particular and simply the character I figure as a whole. Reader can be any gender.

“Fensterln is when you have to climb through someone’s window in order to have sex with them, without their parents knowing about it.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

You know, most people think that climbing up the side of a building is easy. Like it’s nothing. They see it on TV, and in the movies, and in cartoons even, and they think, “That doesn’t look so bad!” because it doesn’t. Cartoons and actors don’t have to deal with the wind whipping their hair, constantly pushing their whole body all around, the butterflies of anxiousness making their heart thump, threatening the scenario of falling to their death. It’s terrifying. It takes a lot of skill, a lot of courage, and a lot of luck. 

“Shit.”

Your right hand releases from the glass, arm slowly swinging back until it’s at your side. The same sides foot follows this pattern of rotation, until only your left fingertips and toes are stuck to the wall of the building, suctioning you to life. Below you, hundreds and hundreds of feet, is an island of grass and sand, encompassed by a large body of water. Over the tidal waves chip chopping away, there’s a distance. And in that distance, is the city, just under the inky blackness of the midnight sky. 

Jump City, it’s called. You’re not too familiar with it. Most of your time is spent in Metropolis, or Gotham. Luckily, both of those cities have plenty of skyscrapers to practice scaling. One could say that you’d perfected the art of this sort of thing. The finger pads on your suit are sophisticatedly sticky, seamlessly letting you latch onto anything with grace. Your feet are the same. 

The wind hits your face like sharp needles, amplified by the cold air and the incline. Your hair whips around wildly, also different from how it flows, softly, in the movies. The harsh breeze roars in your ears, louder than the thousands of explosions you’ve heard in your lifetime. Although dangerous, nothing beats the view. Those thousands of lights in the distance, the cars, the buildings, this building that you’re on now. Titan’s Tower is far larger and closer and more important than anything else at the moment. 

“Okay then,” you mutter, twisting your body over to the right twice more, until finally both hands and feet are connecting against the glass in a stealthy, perfect crawling position. 

You work your way up, one foot and hand at the time. You resemble that of a spider, or perhaps a cat. One, two. One, two. 

His room is on one of the top floors, if not the top floor. From the two other times that you’ve done this, you remember the number of steps, the distance, the little cracks in the glass panes to look for so you know you’re close. Even from the outside, hundreds of feet up, hanging above death tantalizingly, you know exactly where you are and where you need to be. And you know, of course, that you are close. 

Your right hand leaves the wall once more and reaches down to the belt on your hips. “Coming, my love,” you mutter as you flip open a small pouch attached. From the inside you pull out a slim switchblade, made specifically to cut through glass walls like this- designed it yourself. 

The knife springs open. In a circle big enough to fit your entire body, you trace the blade in a wide arc from up to down, left to right. Then you flip the blade back inside, place the whole thing back into the pouch on the belt, and shove your left elbow against the middle of the glass in front of you. 

It pops free immediately. The circle of wall falls forward into the room, with you not far behind.

Landing like a gymnast on your toes with your arms overhead, you are immune to the sharp pain in your femurs that comes from a sudden pressure like this. The glass pane is still intact on the floor ahead of you, which is coated with a red carpet that you recognize so well. It’s much warmer inside than it was outside, although you can still feel the night wind from behind you.

“Silent,” a voice remarks from beside you. It’s not an amused tone, really. It’s genuine and full of awe, surrounded by something casual. 

You hum as you stand before throwing a look over your shoulder. Sure enough at your back, splayed casually on a bed against the wall you just broke through, is your favorite boy toy. Dark, curly hair framing his classically handsome face, nose scrunching slightly on instinct. He’s wearing the black and red super shirt he always does, coupled with the plaid pajama bottoms you’d gotten him as a gift in spring.

You want so badly to quip something back, but you both know you can’t right now. Not when you’re so close to the door. And yeah, that’s partially Conner’s fault, if not all. Too much noise would attract the attention of his team mates, the Titans, and then something probably not that great would happen. Maybe they’d throw you out. Maybe they’d fire him. Maybe things would just get weird. It’s not as if you and Connor are an official couple, even after all this time. You could stop sneaking around to see each other at any sense of danger.

You take a step towards the bed he lays on, noting the big, bright smile that lights up Superboy’s face at the motion. “Can you fix the hole?” you whisper, just loud enough for him to hear.

Conner’s eyes go wide and the smile gets bigger.

“In the wall.”

The smile turns into an eye roll. “Yes,” he sighs, almost dramatically, pushing himself up. The boy crosses to the center of the room a few feet from you and begins picking up the perfect circle of cut window- wall while you look around the area.

You’ve snuck into Conner’s room before. Twice, in fact. It’s not clean, not horribly messy. His leather jacket is usually hanging off the dresser or door handle. Sweatshirts of different colors are littering the floor in a collective pile. It looks like a normal teenage boys room, really. It just feels very ‘Conner’.

First, he pushes the glass back into place in the wall, then he takes a few steps back. You throw him a smirk, nudging your head to encourage him to do the thing.

Conner’s eyes heat up. Little at first, as a soft yellow. Then into an all consuming scarlet that hisses out in two beams meeting in the middle between them. They move in a circle around the pane until you can’t even tell it was ever not there, and the wind you once heard no longer exists. The wall is perfectly in tact.

“Thank you, Superboy,” you tell him, tone laced overly sweet. Your hands, freezing from the cold even through the gloves of your costume, wrap around Conner’s upper arm.

“Yeah,” he tosses, back, voice low. His cheeks are turning pink.

You unhook your arms and saunter over to his mattress. As you throw yourself on and relax as you sink into the pillows, you let your eyes close. “You’re lucky I like you so much,” you tease. “Mm, do you know a lot of people who would climb up the Tower for you? I don’t.”

Upon hearing him take a single step forward, one eye pops open. “I know you missed me,” you continue.

Conner lays himself on the bed beside you, hands behind his bed with his arms bent. You turn to face him, propping your head up with your palm.

“You never answer my texts,” Conner says, Adam’s apple bobbing.

“You text me?” you smirk, watching Superboys eyes sink close as he releases a sigh of defeat.

Your left leg slips over Conner’s hips. Then you pull your whole body up and over into a straddle over him, looking down at him. He’s handsome in the way nobody can argue with, so perfect and soft and structured. When you squint, he looks like Superman. But Conner’s not Superman, he’s better. You can’t explain why, or how, but he just is.

You place your palms forward on his chest at first, then backwards, behind your back, on Conner’s thighs. Your chest puffs out at the slight change of position.

Below you, the boy bites his lower lip softly in thought for a second. “What if I got you a phone?” Conner asks you. His light eyes holding yours through thick, dark lashes. “Just so you can text me back sometimes?”

“Us?” you gasp with wide eyes. “Talking? During the daytime?”

Conner glances away. “Message received. Very funny. Forget it.”

“I’m messing with you,” you promise with a smile. “Loosen up Super-Annoy.”

“So you’ll let me get you one?” Conner pushes himself up with a snap, eyes wide with some kind of excitement.

Well… would you? You haven’t had a lot of long term partners, if any. Your time with Conner has been the longest with anyone, and he’s not even really your boyfriend. He’s just… you know… the guy you kissed on a rooftop one night. The guy who once surprised you with a cone of ice cream, again on a night time rooftop, whilst you were sitting on the side of the building to watch the city below. The guy who remembered your birthday, the guy who keeps sending you the many, many texts reminding you that you can watch your favorite show on the TV in the tower. The guy who once lied to get you to ice skate with him.

Something about Conner has been enough to keep you hooked for months and months, always coming back. Sneaking into the Tower, taking more and more trips to Jump City, keeping notes of events throughout your week to tell him about when you see him. 

How silly. Never giving the time of day to any other partner of yours, but for Conner? Conner has gotten at least eight months of it. 

“I’ll think about it,” you roll your eyes. 

“You promise?” Conner urges. 

“Yes. Jeez, I promise. I will think about letting you get me a phone that only you have the number to.”

“Please don’t laugh at me about this.”

“I’m not laughing at you.”

“It feels like it.”

“Connor,” you clasp a hand on his shoulder, pushing back laughter. “Have I ever laughed at you?”

“W- Is that- is that a serious question?” Conner’s eyebrows raise. 

“Get up,” you roll your neck. “I want to change positions.”

The boy below you shifts. For a quick moment, something pokes between your hips from underneath. Your pupils dilate in response, but by the time they finish, the movement has ceased. “Tell me about your day.”

“I want to lay down,” you say as you stretch. “I just scaled up the side of the skyscraper-”

“You love it.”

“-and it was oh, so cold. I’m tired.”

“That’s not your day.”

You just stare at him expectantly, not quite sure what it is you’re waiting for. 

“I can’t get up. You’re sitting on top of me,” Conner concedes. “You chose to be up there.”

“Prove it,” you challenge.

“Yeah, yeah,” the boy below you hisses as if annoyed. “I get it,” he says, but his arms are already snaking around your torso to pull you close and slowly pull you into a new position. 

You lay on your side, back against Conner’s broad chest. His arms stay wrapped around your middle as he curls up against you on instinct, legs quick to tangle with your own. You know he must really be interested in you if he’s not going to mention that your ‘work’ shoes are still on while in bed. 

“You’re an ass,” he mutters into your hair. 

“What was that?”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Ha,” you chuckle once. “Douche.”

“Please tell me about your day now?” you hear Conner almost plead. “Please?”

One of your hands, your right one, rests on top of Conner’s against your stomach. “Oh, you know. The usual. I helped out a small jewelry store today, snuck into a big building, currently hiding from Nightwing- you know how it is.”

“There wasn’t much crime today. I mostly just stayed in. You know that big building you snuck into?”

“Such a douche,” you breathe.

“Jealous much?” Superboy rumbles against your ear. 

“I’m gonna tell Dick,” you tell him. “I’ll send an anonymous tip that one of the Titan’s is a big poop face.”

Conner puts his whole face in your hair. “Shiver me timbers.”

“Yeah, yeah. It’s not fair you guys get a whole building to yourselves. What are you even using half these floors for? People in Gotham are struggling.” You frown. “Well, except for Wayne. But you know what? He’s a douche too. You’d get along.”

Conner squeezes you once. Then you feel him still from behind you, not even breathing. And then-

“Move in then.”

At once, your brows furrow. “What?”

Your companion squeezes you once more. “Move in. Move in with me. In the Tower.”

Your mouth opens and closes a couple times, eyes looking around. You can’t see Conner, but you can feel him out. His eyes are closed, still inhaling the scent of you shamelessly. It’s hard for people to catch you off guard, not just like this, but at all. You just have that sarcastic, witty, sultry reputation. And for him- Super-Annoy, of all people- to just throw you off so easily?

“I’m not a Titan,” you decide on explaining, almost asking. 

“Become one, then.”

“I don’t have the money to move in. The rent must be crazy.”

“I’ll pay for you.”

“Conner,” you swallow. “This isn’t funny.”

“I’m not joking.” His head pops up. When you turn yours a little, you can look up at him, and he can look down at you. “Move into the Tower.”

Now your eyes are wide, and his are relaxed. No, Conner’s are focused, drilling into your own. “I’m... hardly Titan’s material.”

This was true. You’ve been skirting the gray line far longer than you’ve known Superboy, and he’s been super since the beginning of his creation. The first time you’d met was about ten seconds before you’d robbed a bank and sent him a wink before disappearing. 

“You just told me, not five minutes ago, that you helped a small business. Helping people is what heroes are all about. You can do this, Y/N. You are Titan’s material.”

Shit. He’s right. 

“Why not?” Conner questions. 

“I... um...”

You’ve never lived with another person before. Your family, once upon a time, sure. Not friends. Not Dick Grayson, or Kori, or Rachel fucking Roth. And certainly not Superboy- Super-Annoy. Not someone you have a ‘thing’ with. What would that mean for the two of you? And when things go terribly, terribly wrong, what then?

Gotta’ think fast. 

Your face is wiped clean, replaced by your signature smirk. “Get me a phone first. Then I’ll consider it.”

Conner doesn’t budge though. You wonder if X-Ray vision can see through lies too. “I mean it,” the boy tells you. “I want you here.”

“I have to survive the night in the building with boy prodigy and star flame.”

“Starfire.”

“Whatever. I have to do that first. There’s a reason we sneak me in, you know.”

Your free hand reaches up and cups Conner’s cheek without you telling it to. You ask your brain why, but yet, your palm doesn’t move. It feels over Conner’s cheekbones, encouraging you to look deeper into his somehow soft eyes. Your fingertips can even feel his hair, which is in need of a wash, as they get comfortable. 

“For you,” you finish the sentiment, voice now genuine- also not predicted. “Sneaking in for you.”

“I don’t want you to feel like a secret,” the boy above you whispers, pouring his entire heart into it. 

You answer with a snort. 

If anything, Conner’s the secret. If he had his way, the two of you would probably be on your honeymoon at this moment. Hell, your whole relationship and subsequent marriage would be a honeymoon. You’re the one letting him follow you around. You’re the one never giving him just what he wants. 

But then again, you’re the one who keeps coming back. Conner’s the one that never left. 

“Trust me,” you nod with a humored grin. “I don’t.”

Conner sighs and falls back down to rest behind  you. “Good.”

Besides his breathing, then there is silence. 

Really? Telling you to move in? Of course it doesn’t seem like such a big deal to him. Of course he has the solution to all the reasons why not. Your fairly certain that Conner hasn’t thought about this until mentioning it, but even then, how did he have all the answers so fast? Where would you stay? With him? Sandwiched between Conner and Wally West playing video games for the rest of your life? Dying after Donna Troy catches you accidentally stealing her lunch?

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Conner begins, “but you should really stay the night.”

In response, you practically burst. “You hate being told what to do!” you say as you squirm in his arms. “Now you’re giving me suggestions?”

Conner sits up again so he can look down at you with a little frown. Luckily, it’s too nice of a view to be really scared of anything he could do. “Shh! You’re gonna get caught, Y/N.” Then Superboy’s eyes widen a little. “If you lived here, you wouldn’t have to be so quiet, either. You could just come through the front door.”

“Oh my God,” you squeeze your eyes closed. “Conner...”

One battle at a time. 

“Fine,” you begrudge. “I’ll stay the night.”

Conner tightens his grip around your form happily in response. “Will you need any help in the morning?”

“No. No, I got it.”

Silence. 

Say it. Say it. Say it. 

“Conner? I, uh...”

Say it. 

“I don’t have any sleeping clothes,” you lie. 

“Sleeping?” you hear the boy behind you whisper. “I didn’t think we were going to be sleeping.”

“Now who’s going to get us in trouble?” you smirk. “Seriously though. I’ve been wearing my suit all day.”

“I can get you out of it.”

“You can’t just see through it?” you question. “Don’t you have X-Ray vision?”

Conner groans. “You’re ruining it.”

You smile. Conner’s the only partner of yours you realize you’re actually happy to be around. “I think you just want us to get caught.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Yayyy. Request finished. Next I have a Reverse Flash request, and then I should be good with the DC requests for now. Other than that I have some Jason Todd things, something for Damian and 2 fics for a character I haven’t written for before but are looking pretty good. I hope this satisfied the prompt that I was given in the request. Let me know anything you want or whatever. 

[spacedikut]

omg okay imagine being famous (and dating spence ofc) but then an ex-boyfriend (whom you're still friends with and dated for a long time) writes a song about you and the relationship and it's on the radio 24/7 and SPENCERS JUST SUPER GRUMPY AND HES LOWKEY JEALOUS AND INSECURE AND I JUST OFUEBUWBFOEUBWF my heart.

rereading ur ask makes me realise i diverted from ur ask entirely and im. sorry </3 fluff. 829 words

one day, when spencer comes home, you’re poised on the couch and spencer is terrified. because you look at him, eyes wide, and tell him to sit down because “we need to talk” and when has anything positive followed that?

he sits, satchel still strapped across his body, one shoe missing because he dropped whatever he was doing when he heard the tone in your voice. you hold his hand, make his heart flutter then sink because this is the textbook way a breakup happens and-

“there is currently a song written about me sitting at number 1 in the charts.”

he stares. blinks. moves in closer and narrows his eyes as if he didn’t hear you properly.

“...that’s...that’s it?”

he doesn’t want it to bother him - as much as it pains him, he knows about your ex and knows you no longer have any feelings for him, but...

he forgets about two particular nuisances: derek morgan and emily prentiss.

derek likes having the radio on during drives. spencer doesn’t seek out the song, because why would he, but the voice playing sounds familiar and the lyrics remind him of a certain someone.

the second it registers he’s jerking forward, making the seatbelt lock, and switching the radio station. he does it silently and doesn’t look at derek’s confused face, just sits back in his seat and mumbles: i don’t like that song.

enter: emily prentiss

she smacks a magazine on spencer’s desk and... you’re on the cover. with your ex. there’s a headline about him wanting you back, writing a song about wanting you back, and having that song about wanting you back break records. spencer turns away.

derek notices and reads it and- everything clicks. he lets out a heheheh like some kind of cartoon villain and spencer’s done for. he’s done for because derek and emily share this look and open their mouths at the same time and start saying things like - not the first time you’ve been associated with someone in the tabloids, huh, pretty boy? - well, if my ex wrote me a song... - how does it go again? let me look it up...

and they learn the words quickly, apparently, because every chance they get they sing it and hum it and emily sends him a video of herself playing it on the piano, and spencer grits his teeth and soldiers on. he won’t complain. it’s not your fault and every time it starts playing on the radio, you react before he even thinks about it - when he pouts, you squish his cheeks between your hands and kiss him between words: you kiss mean kiss so kiss much kiss to kiss me

and... how can he be mad at you when you try so hard to make him feel better? any time your ex is mentioned or derek and emily start laughing, you’re doing this thing where you show him you love him, by kissing the back of his hand or wrapping your arms around him or- or simply telling him, and he believes you because you do. and that somehow makes it worse.

then you’re at a bar, looking oh so pretty and spencer can’t stop staring. of course he can’t, because you’re his and he’s yours and every day he feels luckier and luckier. 

until...

“spencer, cover your ears.”

emily prentiss is on the stage, microphone in one hand and wine in the other. she dedicates her performance to you, and begins belting out the lyrics that your ex wrote for you right to your face, in front of your current boyfriend.

the boyfriend that you watch turn into himself like a turtle retreating into it’s shell.

he keeps a straight face, forces a laugh when necessary, but then you’re telling everyone you’re leaving early and pull him outside.

“i love you, spencer reid,” and despite everything, those are the sweetest words and mean the world to him. “a whole lot. a stupid amount. and that song sucks.”

he usually avoids pda, but finds that your body close to his gives him the comfort he needs in that moment. “...the song is pretty good. you don’t need to lie.”

“have i ever lied to you?” you give him this look, with raised brows and a small smile. you know the answer.

“no, you haven’t.”

“do you think i should start now?”

“please don’t.”

“alright,” you wrap an arm around his waist. “the song sucks, and i love you. the song sucks, and i love you. do you hear me? the song sucks, and i-”

his laugh cuts you off. you join him, laughing into the night sky but hoping he understands your sincerity. he does. he’s good like that.

“the song sucks,” he repeats. quietly, timidly.

you hum.

“and i love you.” louder, more sure.

you grin.

this time, when you get into the uber and the goddamn song plays, you look at each other and laugh. 

[miekasa]

random armin/mikasa/jean headcanons (college au)

↯ pairing: armin x (fem) reader, mikasa x (fem) reader, jean x (fem) reader

↯ genres and warnings: college au, fluff, lets see how many times i can mention eren in writing that has absolutely nothing to do with him

↯ notes: this.... probably won’t be a regular thing, i don’t know that i can consistently continue writing for them, but this sure was fun and reminded me that i actually have feelings for someone other than levi :// didn’t ask for that, but here we are

ARMIN ARLERT

Would most likely get pretty good grades, but he can definitely be lazy about it and hear me out.

If it’s a class that he likes and is genuinely interested in (which is the majority of them), he’s going to put in the work—sometimes too much work—to make sure he’s doing well. He usually studies very meticulously, and stays on top of his game throughout the semester.

But if it’s one of those bs classes the university makes you take, or some kind of stupid elective that was the only course that could fit into his schedule? Well, Armin is smart enough to bullshit his way through anything, so he’s not going to exert himself for a class he doesn’t even care about. 

Oh, and he’s very vocal about complaining to you about said bullshit courses. (Completely justified, go off king).

“I swear sometimes the TA just lowers marks randomly to ‘keep the class average.’ Granted, I didn’t really study for the quiz, so I wasn’t expecting a stellar grade or anything, but I know they do that sometimes.” “Well, babe, why didn’t you study.” “Because I hate it, (Y/N).”

Like I said, takes school seriously and tries his best; but even he knows he doesn’t have to be at 100% all the time. It’s also kind of a flex how smart he is and how much he can get by on doing the absolute bare minimum.

Poor Connie is studying his ass off for their shared elective and Armin barely looked at the first page of the textbook, and he’ll probably get a 90 anyways.

Imagine he’s so caught up with his other classes, he actually forgets about a midterm for his stupid elective, and at first he’s freaking out, so you kind of have to remind him of who tf he is. You finally get him to relax and he blinks at you, “Oh right, I didn’t study because I didn’t have to haha nice.” 

Helps you prepare for presentations by letting you practice them in front of him. Actually gives good feedback, but sometimes he’s just watching you and not really listening.

Sometimes, you have to be the one to remind him to take a step back and take care of himself, before his schoolwork. He doesn’t like to worry you, and likely feels guilty when he sees you walking up to him in the library at 2am; so he won’t fight you on it, and just lets you help him pack up all his stuff and head home for the day.

Likes head massages. Maybe sometimes has faked a little bit of a headache to get you to massage his head and play with his hair. He’ll never tell.

If you rub his cheek while he’s laying on top of you, he will knock out like a baby. Almost immediately. It’s a surefire way to get him to go to sleep.

Schedules dates with you, and plans them out meticulously. Sometimes gets playful and sends you a whole ass e-vite.

“Armin, why do I have an email invitation for our date to the library?” “So that you don’t forget, of course.” “How could I forget, it’s later today, and you’re literally helping me study for my midterm.” “With popcorn!”

Probably the type to get a job on campus. You and your friends come to visit him when he’s on shift and annoy him. He secretly likes it.

Oh, he’s kind of shady. Scratch that, can be very shady. He complains about school to you, but also just complains to you in general; he doesn’t outwardly do that a lot, but you’re his confidant.

Sometimes you get surprised and call him out on it and you’re like “Oh my god, Armin, the poor girl didn’t mean to mess up the project,” and he’s like “Well. Sometimes people are idiots and it has to be said.”

Has a bad habit of rolling his eyes and he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it. “Did you just roll your eyes at me.” “I don’t know, did I?” Bye.

His hands are always covered in some kind of ink/markings. Accidental brushes of his pens, streaks from his highlighters or markers, a little bit of lead from his pencil along the side of his palm.

Speaking of which, he strikes me as the kind of guy to keep a bullet journal. Not necessarily decked out and fancy with Polaroids and extravagant fonts; but definitely neat, and decorated to some extent, depending on how he’s feeling. It makes him feel organized.

He would pencil in important dates and markers of your relationship into said journal. “Friday night: museum date—remember to buy the tickets in advance.”

If anyone is going to buy, wash, peel, and cut up fruit for you, it’s going to be Armin.

Lowkey tutoring all of his friends, and might be the sole reason that Connie hasn’t dropped out yet. He likes tutoring you the most, though. 

Get this, sometimes he asks you to tutor him, even if he knows damn well he doesn’t need it. Maybe he’ll even sign up for a stupid elective if it’s a class you’ve taken before, just to have an excuse to get you to teach him something. 

Likes trying new things with you. He might not always like the new things that you try, but he’s open to trying them at least once. Well… most things anyways. Just don’t ask him to get up at dawn and go jogging with you.

I genuinely cannot tell if he would be a morning person or not. Maybe mid-morning. Probably not a rise-and-shine at 6am kind of guy, but is up by at least 10:00am every day. Very cute when he’s groggy though, and stumbles around a bit like a baby deer when he first gets up, especially if he’s hungry.

He likes to bike. And really likes when you go on bike rides with him. As long as you both are on your own bikes, you learned the hard way that tandem biking isn’t cut out for you.

Knows that all-nighters aren’t good for you, but sometimes you have to pull them anyways. If you both have a lot to get done, he’ll stay up with you and make sure you both take breaks and drink water.

Can twirl his pens in that really fast and fancy way, and can do the thing where he rolls it between all his fingers too. I’ll let you think bout the implications of that for yourself.

He likes watching cartoons, and reels you into all his favorites. Definitely likes to stay in on weekends watching cartoons with you and just chilling.

Will go to a party with you if you ask, or if his friends are hosting, but nothing beyond that. You didn’t hear this from me, but he’d probably like to smoke more than drink.

Sometimes you think he needs a break and you commission Eren to take him out for the night, but Armin still comes back looking more composed than him. A little sleepy and maybe a bit out of it, but not sloshed, much to your disappointment. “Eren, you really couldn’t have tried to be more a bad influence?? I was counting on you!!”

Eren’s confused, like, “Did you want me to get him white boy wasted??” “Yeah, kinda!! It’s what he deserves every once in a while. Ugh, next time I’m calling in Sasha, she knows how to drink.”

By the way, if you’re dating Armin, you’re kind of dating (or at least babysitting) Eren too. Or vice versa. Either way, they will also go on dates without you. (“Hanging out. We’re hanging out, and I’m tutoring him so he doesn’t fail Biology, (Y/N).” “Likely story, ocean eyes.”)

Can be touchy in a very absentminded way. He’ll reach out to play with your ears/earrings, habitually rub at your shoulders if you’re standing in front of him, mindlessly toy with the ends of your clothing. Half the time he doesn’t even realize he’s doing it, he’s so cute.

Plays one sport—is on the soccer team. It keeps him busy, and forces him to focus on something that isn’t academics once in a while. He’s pretty good at it, too; he and Eren make a good team when they play together.

You and Eren tried to get him to join the baseball team too. Eren, because he likes playing with Armin. You, because, well… the uniforms. He would look so good in the uniform.

MIKASA ACKERMAN

Makes her classes look like a breeze, even though it’s at least 300 pages of reading and writing per week.

Kind of gives me Elle Woods “What, like it’s hard?” kind of vibes when it comes to schoolwork. You’re in awe of how she just did 75 pages of reading with a tiny ass font in one sitting, and she just blinks at you like “Was it supposed to be difficult?”

Speaking of which, she likes to read in general; for leisure, outside of her school work. She’ll recommend you books, too. If you don’t like to read, she’ll still try and rope you in with shorter stories, or just read them aloud to you herself. 

Sits at a table across from you while you both do your schoolwork independently. It doesn’t sound like much, but it’s a quiet, almost implicit sense of intimacy that she really likes.

Bundles you up when it’s cold, and won’t take no for an answer. You will wear a hat, whether you like it or not.

Always prepared—and by that I mean, she carries things on her that she realizes you might need. Tissues, extra pens, an extra pair of mittens. She strikes me as the kind of person to pay attention to details like those.

Likes to walk you to class, even if her class is very far away from your building. She doesn’t mind.

On that note, she knows your schedule pretty well, where it pertains to classes and personal interests.

If you’re the type of person who can slack off or even just get caught up in other things when it comes to school work, she’ll be there to keep you on track and hold you accountable. Usually through setting aside times to study with you, but can even be through small things like asking you how your assignment is going.

(Nevermind that you completely forgot about the assignment, and hadn’t even started it—but that’s the point; she knew that).

Hear me out: holding pinkies. Maybe not when you’re walking, but when you’re seated next to each other. The longer you’re together, the more likely she is to initiate it, too.

Would rather study at home/in her apartment than in the library, but if you like to study there, she can compromise a few days out of the week.

Makes you playlists, and they’re usually really good, because she knows you so well. Sometimes she gets cute and customizes the cover art to a picture of the both of you.

She’s your ride or die, so if you complain to her about a prof you don’t like or a TA you don’t think is fair she’s 100% on your side. She might not always be able to do anything about it, but she’ll definitely let you complain to her.

Texts you throughout the day to check up on you, but usually disguised through other questions. Asks what you want/had for lunch when she’s really checking to make sure you ate. Asks you what time your lectures end, just to make sure you didn’t skip it (again). Asks you what time you’re going to be done studying to make sure you don’t stay up all night cramming again.

Takes a genuine interest in your courses, and absolutely loves to listen to you talk about them.

If your classes are vastly different, she’ll still try and help you however she can, even if it’s only in small ways, like proofreading something for you.

Doesn’t use emojis alot, so your contact doesn’t have a bunch of hearts next your name on anything. But she does put your last name in as Ackerman. 

Has social media, but mostly uses it to keep up with her friends, and you. You’re in most of the few pictures that she does post, and she might not say it, but she really likes it when you post photos of/with her. 

Not sure why, but I think she’d be a pretty decent artist if she tried. That trend of doing glass paintings on TikTok? I think she’d be into that, and would plan out the whole thing as a date with you.

Keeps up with all your favorite shows to talk about or watch them with you. Sometimes she’ll purposely miss a few episodes so that she can spend the night and marathon them with you.

Likes to stay in and drink cheap wine and just watch or talk about whatever with you. You could watch a terrible show just to laugh and comment on it the entire time and she would be so happy. 

Doesn’t like to sit down on public transportation, and honestly would rather you didn’t either, but she’s not going to stop you from taking a seat. If you’re sitting, she’ll stand in front of/over you, and always keeps wire headphones long enough for you to share music that way.

The most insufferable human when she’s sick and she knows it. She hates being sick. And she knows you shouldn’t be around her or else you might get sick but she also just wants you to hold her. (You do).

Likes to sleepover at your place. Talks with you about your day while you lay down. Always smells good. Very cuddly when sleepy. 10/10.

Hates the act of doing her laundry, but likes doing it with you. Lowkey starts buying and using the same detergent and fabric softener as you because it makes her smell like you.

Gets very embarrassed if you kiss her in public. Very red in the cheeks, it’s kind of cute, so I wouldn’t blame you if you did it on purpose.

JEAN KIRSTEIN

Jean is… quite smart, if you ask me. Or, at the very least, analytical, which can be applied to a variety of academic settings.

The only thing is, he’s incredibly lazy about it. He wants to do well in school, and can definitely pull himself together for a midterm or an exam; but is horrible at keeping pace with all his other work and assignments on a regular basis.

He also can’t sit still, which is why even though he is very kind and chivalrous and brings many snacks to your study sessions, he is also competing for number one worst study partner. Right next to Eren and Sasha.

Gets pouty when you tell him you don’t want to study with him. “But… but… but I brought snacks! And bubble tea!” “Yes, but you also have the attention span of a rabbit, Jean.”

At the end of the day he understands… that doesn’t mean he’s not going to be bitter about it LOLOL. It’s fine, you can make it up to him by hanging out with him afterwards.

Is, like, classically trained in at least two instruments because his mom put him in lessons as a child. He used to hate it growing up, and he doesn’t practice much now, so he never talks about it.

One day you happen to mention something about comparing two songs, telling him they remind you of each other but you don’t know exactly why or why, and very nonchalantly he’s like, “They sound similar because they share the same major chord in the chorus, and they’re in the same key.” 

And you just kind of blink at him like, “Okay, Beethoven. How. How did you know that.”

Once you realize he can, like, actually play the piano and violin really well you’re always begging him to play for you. It doesn’t happen often—it’s not like he owns a violin anymore and he certainly doesn’t have a grand piano in his shitty college apartment—but sometimes you sneak into the music room when it’s empty and he’ll play something for you.

He’s a romantic at heart, so he doesn’t mind, and if anything kind of enjoys you watching him play. It’s much better than playing for random parents in a recital. You’re dead if you ever mention it to any of his friends though.

Also not a frat boy, but definitely likes to party. Everything with reason. If he crushed a midterm on Thursday, he deserves to throw back a few beers on Friday night, you know?

Touchy when he’s drunk. Well, touchier than normal; he’d be the most affectionate out of every one on a regular basis. But he’s touchy and messy when he’s drunk, so he’s all over you.

Messy, but happy. All smiles and giggles and red cheeks, with his arm around your shoulder, boasting you anybody who will listen about his super hot girlfriend.

He and Eren throw the best parties when they team up together. (Only slightly related, but those two, when drunk together, could probably pass as a couple; they’re so uncharacteristically happy, and affectionate. You may or may not be keeping some photo and video evidence of Eren and Jean drunk cuddling).

Sends you videos when you’re in the middle of class. And only then. He plans it to be annoying. Because he is annoying.

Also always sending you those in-messsage games while you’re in the middle of lecture or studying. “PLEASE play virtual pool with me!! I’ll even let you win one round!!” “I AM TRYING TO LEARN!!” “LEARN LATER 😡😡😡”

A fucking fiend in your Instagram comments. It’s a miracle none of them have been removed or reported for inappropriate content. Replies to OTHER people’s comments complimenting YOU!! He’s so much

@sashabraus: aww you look so cute @youruser!! that color looks so good on you 💕 @jeannotjean: omg omg tysm @sashabraus 😊 i picked it myself @youruser: SHE WAS TALKING TO ME @jeannotjean!!! ME!!! @jeannotjean: @youruser you have no proof 🙄 @youruser: SHE USED MY @!!!! GET OUT OF MY COMMENTS!!! @jeannotjean: you’re so hot when you yell at me via insta comments 🥵🥵🥵 would it be better if i slid into your dm’s instead 😫😫😉 @youruser: @jeannotjean BLOCKED!! EFFECTIVE IMMEDIATELY!!

You try explaining your coursework to him and he’s just looking at you with puppy dog eyes like, “I haven’t a clue what you’re talking about, babe, but you look hot while doing it, so, please, continue.”

He’s another cocky annoying bastard (endearing). Always tilting you head up to look at him and smirk at you. Pisses you off just to put his arm around your shoulder and be like, “It’s okay, I know you love me anyways.” Winks at you in public just to embarrass you. He’s the worst. The worst.

King of picking you up and throwing you over his shoulder for absolutely no reason at all.

He lowkey wants to get an ear piercing and uses you to talk him into it. “Don’t you think I’d look hot with a piercing? I think I would.” “You would look good regardless, Jean. So, do it if you want to.” “Right. But, like.... do you think I would look hot.”

For as annoying and cocky as he can be, the second you actually genuinely tell him you think he’s attractive or talented or whatever, he gets kind of shy. It’s very cute. 

Likes trying new restaurants with you, even though he really should stop spending all his money on food. Sometimes trying new restaurants means ordering from a new place, but it’s whatever, you know.

Honestly… the two of you would probably have a ridiculously high Uber Eats bill. You really should go outside and, like, be people every once in a while LOLOL

Okay, but it’s mostly Jean’s fault. For as much as he likes to party, and doesn’t mind hosting a party, he doesn’t do much beyond that. He hangs out with his/your friends, and with you, obviously, but he’s not the kind of guy to have his weekend booked up all the time.

He would much rather stay in with you, and talk trash about his stupid group project partners, and lay on your stomach and try to teach you how to play his favorite video games.

Spoiler: he fucking lies and/or leaves out key parts of the gameplay!! Just so he can crush you and laugh about it!! Annoying, but you’re the one keeping him around, so, who can you really blame but yourself.

[quietmyfearswith]

needy little ; preferences

warnings —  DDLG, swearing, mentions of longing/missing someone, ��mentions of leaving someone, teasing??

characters — dark!andy barber, dark!steve rogers, dark!ransom drysdale, dark!bucky barnes, dark!lance tucker,  dark!clark kent, dark!syverson, dark!august walker

a/n — THIS IS FIC  WITH DDLG DYNAMICS,, do not interact if youre not 18+,, finally??? a new fic???? oh my god im sorry, i may be a bit rusty..

tagging — @la-cey​ @doozywoozy​ @melancholyy-hill​ @pedropcl​ @beck07990​ @isysen​ @anna-bailey @briefnerdwobblerpainter

their love language | with their little | when you’re insecure | slipping into little space | fussy | happy hoelidays | cartoons | obssessed |little rules | innocent little | bratty little | little activities

masterlist | join my taglist! (please follow my rules)

After placing two scoops of the chocolate ice cream on the cone, Y/N lifted her head up to look at her daddy who sported a scowl on his face as he was drumming a pen in between his fingers as he tried to piece together the facts of the case. Normally, she wouldn’t be allowed so close to Andy as he was working, but given how needy she had been all morning — despite sitting right by his feet wasn’t enough for her — she promised to remain well-behaved and quiet for him so he gave her the green light to go ahead and stay with hi as she played with her scoop and learn toy set. Silently putting down her cone by the ice cream trolley, she moved towards his leg and when he didn’t move or acknowledge her, she clung her arms around his calf as her cheek snuggled up against his shin. “What?” Feeling something cling around his lower leg snapped him right out of his focused trance as his confusion easily melted into adoration as he peered down and saw his girlfriend curled up against him. “My petal’s quite needy today isn’t she?” “Sorry dada,” She said lowly as her fingers drummed rhythmically against his clothed leg, “Was behaved and nice.” Nodding, he then bent and carried her to sit on his lap. She squealed excitedly as she then wrapped her arms around his neck and nuzzled her face in his neck, “Wuv you, dada.” Humming, he rubbed her back soothingly as he looked into her eyes, “Need to hold dada huh?” The smile that formed on her lips was a toothy grin that was the attorney’s favorite sight in the whole world. “Want to hold you so much, dada; ‘m sorry,” She pouted at the thought of him being disappointed at her; sensing the drop of her mood, he then cooed and peppered kisses all over her face, feeling his prickly beard graze her skin prompted her to erupt in a fits of giggles as she loved the affection that he was showering her with. “This what you needed, my little petal?” He asked her in his gentle, playful tone as she nodded and snuggled herself against his chest as she toyed with his large fingers, “Mhm, love you so much, dada.”

“Hello?” August answered the phone call with a frown — Y/N was never one to call her boyfriend when he had missions that required him to go undercover and/or while he had overseas operations; so it was alarming that she called him he thought of only the worst possible scenarios. “Hi, daddy,” She sniffled out into the phone — part of her was relieved she got to hear his voice, but really she just longed to be with him. “What’s wrong, little one?” He furrowed his eyebrows as he impatiently tapped his fingers against the steering wheel; she let out a sigh before admitting, “Miss you, daddy. So sad without you.” Despite feeling pain on the field of his job, the sound of her small and vulnerable voice was the most painful thing he ever had to hear or endure. “Little one, have you been good for me?” She nodded against her phone as she hugged the Cinnamoroll stuffie that had a shirt specifically sewn on for the stuffie which had the words “daddy’s little one” embroidered on it, “I do, daddy. Miss your kisses and hugs so much.” As he parked his car in front of their yard he smirked as he answered her, “Well who knows when I’ll get back right?” He was positive that there was a pout on her lips as she thought of the likelihood that she was going to be alone for a while, “But daddy I miss you already!” Her whine was so loud that she didn't hear the way August opened up their front door and walked to the living room where she was lying in the couch; he ended the call and he could see her slumping down her shoulders from behind before jumping down beside her and hugging her, “Well good thing daddy’s home now, yeah?” She let out a shrilling shriek in excitement as she kissed his bearded cheeks repeatedly, “I missed you so much, daddy! Promise I was the goodest girl for you!”

“How are your chicken tenders, sweetie?” Bucky asked after pressing a kiss on her forehead; they were out to dinner with Sam and his girlfriend, Leila — who like her was a little too. After the two bonded over the activity paper the server handed to them, they both munched down on their meal. “So yummy, tătic! But,” She trailed off as she looked around nervously. After drinking down a chunk of his beer then looked at him with worry written on his face, “What’s wrong, sweetheart?” Without a word, she snuggled close to his side right as she tangled her arms around his metal arm before looking up at him with doting eyes, “All better, tătic!” Slightly picking up on what she was up to, he grabbed another chicken and tapped it on her lips; she moaned lowly when he fed her then snuggled up more to his arm. “Need my touch, don’t you sweetheart?” Shyly, she nodded as she played with his fingers, “Always want you close to me.” Sam and Leila were both busy being all snuggled up too so Bucky repeatedly, sweetly kissed her lips before telling her, “How ‘bout we take a bath later, sweetie?” Extremely thrilled with the idea of spending tub time with her daddy, she nodded too much that little chunks of the chicken she was eating escaped her mouth as she expressed her liking of his idea, “So excited for that, tătic! Can we go home now and bathe together?” Chuckling at the small mess she made, he wiped the sides of her mouth with a napkin then kissed her forehead, “Only a few more minutes before we can bath together, sweetie.”

“Into the tub you go, doll,” Steve sing-songed as he gently placed Y/N into the bathtub that was filled with warm water and soapy bubbles. She giggled as she felt the warm water graze her skin. For a while, she was busying herself with playing and blowing the bubbles; after a while, she was craning her neck to look for Steve, “Sir? Where are you?” A pout was now formed onto her lips that earlier was stretched out into a smile. The super soldier was in their shared bedroom preparing what she was going to wear after her bath when he heard her distressed call for him. Entering their ensuite bathroom the skin of his forehead wrinkled up as he approached her and kneeled down by the tub, “What’s wrong, doll?” A small amount of water splashed onto him when she crossed her arms, “Want you, sir.” Not fully understanding what she meant, he brought a hand to caress her back — as if to coax her into explaining as he said, “I am here, doll. What do you want?” “Want you here, sir,” Unclasping her arms from where they were crossed, she dropped her arms in the bubbly water and pouted at him. Nodding in understanding, he then stood up; hearing her whimper in need made him chuckle a bit, “I’m just gonna remove my clothes then join you in there okay, doll?” Gone was the frown that earlier donned her face for she now had a wide grin as she clapped when Steve slowly dipped in the tub, careful as to not spill water out of the tub. Once he was fully seated in the tub, his doll then moved over to him and hugged him tight, “Love you, sir.” Placing her on his lap, he then kissed the top of her head as he tried to calm his beating heart, “I love you too, doll. Now, how ‘bout we clean you up with your favorite shampoo hm?”

“Where you bringing me, baby girl?” Sy wondered out loud as he allowed his nearly 200 pound self to be whisked away. It was unusual of her to remain this quiet; for some her whining and blabbering would be annoying, but the Texan captain loved how verbal she was especially since it served as a constant reminder about how much he was needed by her. Upon being brought to the den of their house that served as the office, he furrowed his eyebrows in confusion as he gently stroked her back, hoping to coax out an answer out of her, “What are we gonna in the office, baby?” She pointed to the landline phone and to the stuffed animal that arrived defective a few days ago. “You want me to make a call?” He asked and she nodded with a wide smile. “Why can’t you make the call?” The question was asked out of curiosity, but with the way she batted her eyelashes and bit her lip bashfully had him worried. A small smile graced his face when she opened her mouth, but she quickly closed it and instead grabbed a pen and paper. Sitting down on the swivel chair, he patiently waited for her to finish jotting down her message. When she was done, she shyly slid over the paper to him and once he read it the words broke his heart, “My voice is ugly. Who said this, baby girl?” Shrugging her shoulders she fiddled with her fingers but he placed her on his lap which allowed him to gently stroke her thighs, “Come on, baby girl, please talk to me? I miss hearing your pretty voice.” As if to prove his point, his beard tickled her skin as he pressed kisses on her throat; she giggled as her hands pushed his wide chest away and cleared her throat, “Some guy said my voice is too deep for a girl.” Sy’s jaw clenched in anger at the person who disrespected his girl’s feature; a thick finger of his hooked under her chin to make her look at him, “Listen to me, okay? Don’t listen to the meanie who said that. Your voice is beautiful and lovely, just like the rest of you.” Biting the inside of her mouth, she then looked up at him with teary eyes; he was about to question as to why she was tearing up when she wrapped her arms tight around his neck as she peppered kisses on his bearded cheek, “Thank you, daddy. Needed that reminder.”

“Papa?” Y/N groggily called out as she rubbed the sleep away from her eyes and looked to the side of the bed; she frowned when she noticed that the gold medalist wasn’t occupying the earlier spot he claimed. Grabbing for the first stuffed toy he had given her in her arms, she made her way off their bed and checked their walk-in-closet and ensuite bathroom — and was displeased when he wasn’t there. There were two other bedrooms and a bathroom on the upper floor and all three areas did not house her loving boyfriend.  “Where are you?” She was now close to crying as she headed down the stairs. Upon hearing noise coming from their dining room, she then skipped over there and was shocked to see him wearing his USA jacket and was faced in front of a laptop. “Well I have to say that my biggest motivation has to be my loving girlfriend,” Just as he said the last word he shot Y/N a sincere smile, patting her lap — motioning for her to sit on it.  Thankful that she wasn’t wearing her little pajamas and instead fell asleep wearing one of his sweatshirts, she shyly sat on his lap and was surprised to see that the accomplished gymnast was being interviewed, “And she just pushes me to be the best I can be, in all aspects.” At the compliment, she shyly waved at the interviewer. “Well that is all the time we have. Thank you so much Lance Tucker for gracing us with your presence and introducing us to your lovely girl too.” Lance’s computer screen faded into his screensaver of the two of them — the gymnast kissing her cheek as she smiled wide into the camera. “Woke up without you and was so scared, papa.” Her confession had his heart hurting a bit but he cuddled her and explained, “I’m sorry, angel. I had an interview and you looked so adorable while you sleep that I didn’t want to wake you.” At his explanation, her little mind was able to understand it and nodded, “Promise to never leave me?” His reply was instant, “My greatest nightmare would be leaving you. I love you so much, angel,” For the only thing he has ever been sure of in his entire life was that she was going to be with her for the rest of their days together.

As much as Ransom and Y/N enjoyed summer, the bright sunny days allowed them to stroll around the different sights and go on long road trips across the state — even the country if the only Thrombey child wasn’t feeling lazy. “Princess, have you packed your clothes already?” He asked from the main floor of his house as he zipped up his duffle bag after checking once again that he had packed the necessary garments for their three-day stay in the high-end resort Ransom got them a booking to.  “King, can you come here please?” The man that was called for had to chuckle as he made his way up the stairs, heading for their bedroom because he could practically sense that she was pouting as she called for him. “Princess, everything alright with you?” Seeing her kneeling down in front of her suitcase with a wide array of clothing articles spread all around her. Shaking her head, she crossed her arms as her lips formed a pout, “Need king to help me pack.” Wrapping his arms around her  and placing her on his lap, he kissed the side of her neck, “My little princess needs help packing her clothes?” Snuggling against his chest, she nodded as she slipped her thumb into her mouth, “King packs my clothes better.” Having her in his lap as he was folding some of her clothes then placing it on her matching suitcases didn’t pose as a challenge for him; in fact he loved the thought of her being all small that she needed him. “Such a helpless, needy little thing you are hm?” Even though he was partially joking, she took it seriously but was not offended by it, “Just want my king near me at all times, please.” After zipping up her bags once they have been filled with all the clothes she was probably going to use during their stay there, he simply kissed her cheek and gently pat her thighs, “Well king’s not going anywhere without his pretty princess. Now let’s go on our vacation, okay?”

“Where are you, bubba?” Y/N pouted as she rubbed her hands on her arms as she stood by the balcony in their apartment. Her phone was in one of the pockets of the bathrobe she was wearing, and when she grabbed for it, she searched on Twitter for Superman. A sad smile graced her lips when she read about him being currently in a different country, aiding citizens who were currently suffering a forest fire in their location. Locking her phone, she then moved towards the door and before fully going in and locking the door behind her she looked up in the sky with hopeful eyes, “Please come home soon, bubba.”

Removing the robe from her body, she rested it by her dresser then crawled under the covers as she hugged the pillow Clark often laid down on when they slept together. A gush of strong wind blew past her and before she could even process what it was or see it properly, she was faced with a freshly showered Clark who was smiling and laying down beside her, “Hi, bubba. I’m home.” Her cheeks hurt from smiling so wide as she kissed his lips repeatedly and excitedly. “I’m so happy you’re home, bubba! I missed you so damn much.” She moaned out in pleasure when his arms opened wide and cuddled her close and warm into his chest. Pressing a kiss on the top of her head, he then rubbed her back soothingly, “I know, bubba. I heard you.” hearing those words, she hid her face deeper into his chest, not having the guts to look up at him. With a cheeky grin, he reassured her, “ And don’t worry, I’ll be all yours this weekend. There’s no way I will be neglecting my precious bubba.”

[one-rosy-sock]

Coming Undone | Abner Krill x fem!Reader (1/2)

Go to the {Ao3 Link} for more info...

Fandom: The Suicide Squad (2021) Rating: T (M for future chapter) Summery: You’re a psychiatrist. You should know the warning signs when a relationship with a patient is becoming problematic. But you refuse to consider this, because Abner Krill is a lot of things, and violent is not one of them. Warnings: PTSD, childhood abuse, trauma, brief mention of past suicide attempt. 

Notes: no use of y/n Disclaimer: Author is NOT a real therapist. I do not own DC comics. __ The first time you met Abner Krill, he was recommended to you by a colleague at Belle Reve.

It had been several weeks since the convicted metahumans defeated Starro, that giant one-eyed starfish. Sometimes it amazes you to no end what strange things exist in this world. The Corto Maltese coup and monster defeat held onto headlines for several weeks until the next big thing came to top it. Seeing such exciting news affect your patients wasn’t unusual, but to have a high profile patient be a part of such news was a first, you’ll admit.

As for you, well, things were pretty much the same. You see your patients during the week at your office. You’re a licensed psychiatrist, and oftentimes you see men and women who have been convicted of a felony or are ex-prisoners themselves. It wasn’t a dream job for many women, much less anyone, to counsel people so troubled. You aren’t like everyone else, though. No, you might not have x-ray vision or super strength, or any super fancy gear to punch bad guys, but you do have a gift not many have: A good ear and an open heart.

And a prescription notepad, but you are determined to make your sessions more than just a pill dispensary.

You are aware of who Abner Krill is. The Polka-Dot Man. One of the metahumans who went to Corto Maltese and defeated Starro. This has partially immortalized him in the media as a superhero, despite his past as a prisoner. Some of your patients were metahumans too, but none as powerful or as widely known as the Polka-Dot Man. His identity and those of his teammates had been concealed from the general public. As of last week, you know his real name.

His appointment’s in the morning on a Tuesday. Your secretary came by as you were straightening up your office to let you know he had arrived. You fluff the couch pillows, throw blanket over the back, tissue box on the side table, a mild scent infuser on your desk. The century-old computer at your desk whirls to cool itself off. Earlier you'd taken the time to shoot an email to Ms. Waller confirming Mr. Krill's appointment.

You follow your secretary up front. She goes to her desk and you step into the waiting room.

Though foolish, you half expected to see Abner in his super suit. The polka dot suit and headgear. Instead, he’s wearing a pair of khaki trousers that hugged high over his hips, and a somewhat flashy, silk button-up tucked neatly into the waist. And, dare you say, a fanny pack. His outfit looked straight out of the 70s or 80s. You don’t know the definitive difference between the decades. But his shirt looks clean and pressed, the collar tucked down nicely. He has one leg over a knee, bouncing it rhythmically as he watches the fish swim around the tank in the wall. It looks like he tried to read a magazine, but stopped halfway, finger wedged between the pages.

“Mr. Krill?”

He jerked in response to his name, swinging his head up with a guilty look gleaming in his eyes. You think of a puppy who’s been caught peeing on the carpet. His expression, or perhaps the way his face was structured, reminded you of a puppy too. His face was somewhat sallow, somewhat droopy. Lines indicate a lot of frowning. Like a sad, droopy cartoon dog. His face narrowed down from his eyes, making his red cupid’s bow mouth seem small. A strong, straight nose dominates his face. His big eyes seem dark and questioning. Like a scared, lost child.

Krill quickly shoots up like a bean sprout, shaking his hands out. The magazine drops to the floor. He swears, bends down to pick it up, and anxiously fusses over righting it on the coffee table. You watch the way the glossy purple cuffs wave as he moves about in jerky, quick moves.

“Good morning, doctor,” he greets warily, avoiding your gaze and staring at your shoes.

“You must be Abner,” you smile. You reach out your hand. In a painful, pregnant pause he visibly wavers as he stares at your hand as if you’d stuck out a gun at him. Finally, he reaches out to take your hand.

He has a strong grip. Sweaty hands.

Hastily, he pulls away.

“Nice to meet you. Why don’t we head on back?”

He nods. His legs are long yet his steps uncertain, reminding you of a gangly adolescent. He follows you down the hall from the waiting room and awkwardly stands by as you open the door to your private office. You hear him pat his thighs as he waits. Like a shadow, he follows and sticks close but careful not to touch. Barely making a sound.

After your office door clicks shut, the two of you sit in your respective places. Your desk chair has a high back, cloaked in a fraying, multicolor knitted throw blanket. A bit garish against the dull beige walls and simple yet whimsical desk decorations beside you. There’s a poster that reads It’s OK to feel this way: over a circle divided by colors and sections, listing different emotions.

You pull your knees up and begin to take off your shoes.

Your patient stares in visible confusion.

“Would you like to take your shoes off?” You ask, setting your shoes aside as you straighten up in your chair. “I find it easier to relax without them.”

“Um…” he trails off, his downturned mouth pursing as he considers this. The tension rolling off him makes him stiff and hard to read. All you’re getting from him so far is how much he doesn't want to be here.

You watch him while occupying your hands with things on your desk so he doesn’t feel pressured to make a decision. From the corner of your eye, you watch him swallow, Adam's apple bobbing, and he slowly reaches down to untie and slip off his oxford shoes. He sets them neatly beside his feet. Hands tucked in his lap, sock feet on the ground. Looking up at you somewhat imploringly.

“This is a safe space, Abner,” you smile at him. You have your clipboard and pen in your lap, but you make yourself relaxed and as welcoming as you can. Note-taking can be done later. Visibly, at least. Don’t want to make him think you’re already assessing him before y'all begin to talk. Can’t force him to talk.

Ex-prisoners often struggle with reforming to civilization after release. He couldn’t be forced to attend therapy here despite the outside forces that pressured him to. If he wanted to walk out, he could. Abner was so tense he seemed to be walking on eggshells. He struggled to relax his shoulders, like his limbs were too long for his body. During all this, he hadn’t met your gaze one.

“Whatever we talk about won’t leave this room, unless, for instance, you said you plan to hurt yourself or someone else.”

This gets a reaction out of him. A grimace, a shake of his head. “No, I wouldn’t…”

“Of course not. You’re a superhero now, right?”

He grins. It’s brief, boyish, sheepish. He’s studying the design of your clothes. You consider that progress from your feet.

“You were recommended to me by Dr. Rooney at Belle Reve,” you begin conversationally, baldly, wanting to get a feel of where he was coming from. Your colleague had said Krill was not a violent inmate, but was often verbally bullied by other prisoners. He tended to avoid crowds, thus mostly avoided. More than once he had been on suicide watch. Casually, you glance down at your clipboard. Born in Philadelphia to Augustine Krill--father unknown--and tried and convicted for first-degree murder as an adult in the city of Metropolis. He was incarcerated at Belle Reve shortly after turning eighteen. He was in his early forties now.

You look back up at Abner. He had that sad puppy dog look again, staring at nothing in particular with his neck hunched.

“Did you and Dr. Rooney get along?”

“D-Doesn’t your notes say?”

You make a face. “I want to know what you think of Rooney, not what he thinks.”

Abner didn’t answer right away. “He was okay.”

“Okay,” you echo, licking your bottom lip as you cock your head up. “Okay is better than nothing.”

“We mostly spoke about my mother.”

“Oh?”

“She experimented on me and my siblings. She wanted us to become superheroes,” he said. His voice held much more confidence than anything he’d said so far, but his expression remained unchanged. It was because he kept words void of emotion.

“I see.” Yes, you did see. You had anticipated the topic of his mother coming up if you didn’t ask him about it first in future sessions. Dr Krill was listed in his files as a scientist at S.T.A.R. Labs, and having six children whom lived on site with her. CPC had been called a few times, rebuffed every time by various means other than being convinced nothing was wrong. The whole thing was fishy, especially after the untimely deaths of three of Dr. Krill’s children. The whereabouts of the other Krill children were unknown. All investigations into S.T.A.R. Labs had been terminated by higher powers, even after Abner’s arrest and psychological evaluation.

Abner continues, to your surprise. “I pictured Starro as my mother.”

“You did?”

“It makes it easier, when I convince myself that my enemy is her. I don't like killing.”

You pick up your pen and tap your lip, looking down at the way he was fidgeting his feet. “Did you regret killing your mother”

Abner’s knee stopped bouncing. “No.”

“Do you regret killing the other scientists at S.T.A.R. Labs? The--”

Abner grimaced and brought his hands to his head, tugging on fistfulls of black hair. “I-I didn’t mean--I-I--”

“Hey, it’s okay. You don’t have to answer that today,” you placate with a soft tone, putting down your pen, fingers rubbing along the edge of your clipboard. After a moment of heated silence, you set your things down on the desk and stand up. This makes your patient crumble in on himself, trying to hunch low enough to shield some blow. You smile sadly where he can’t see. “Abner, do you see my poster here? With all the emotions?”

He looks back up, glancing from you to said poster. His attention is answer enough.

“Whatever you feel in this room is valid to you and to me. Not now, but in the future I’d like for you to give me short but detailed descriptions to how you feel on certain things. It's okay to say something you think is taboo or unorthodox. This room doesn't have ears or a head to judge. Do you think you can do that?”

The couch makes no sound as he moves to better see the circle chart of words. Timidly, he nods.

“Great,” you smile sadly and sit back down. “Let’s get back to that later. Today, I’d like to talk about something other than your mother.”

Abner tilts his head. You must be doing something to exceed his expectations, because now he’s looking at you and not at you. “The Corto Maltese mission?”

“No. I want to know about you. I want to talk about Abner Krill. Who are you?”

His blank stare makes your heartache a little for him.

The following silence, where all you can hear is his ragged breath, the whirl of the monitor, and the soft mist of the incense humidifier, is thick. You can cut it with the tip of your pen. The sound of his voice as he speaks is almost staggering. "I am... I am my mother's son."

“No."

He flinches.

"Your mother does not define you. What you think about your mother and how you feel about her should not determine your sense of self or your future. You liked defeating that monster, right?”

Abner nods.

“You’re a superhero because you took action, not because she moved your hand. What you say here today, and any day, should be the same. Do you think you can do this for me?”

“I don’t understand…”

“I want to know the real Abner,” you smile. “Not Dr. Krill’s son.”

He still can’t make eye contact. The fidgeting starts back up. “But, what I am is because of her.”

“Not unless you choose otherwise. Starting today, you and I are going to help define Abner Krill. First, you are not your mother’s son.”

“But I am?”

“No. You are not your mother’s son. You’re Abner Krill, superhero. What does Abner Krill the superhero like to do?”

Understanding slowly started to dawn on him, visible in his eyes as he lifted his slanted brows. Recovering from trauma was no walk in the park, but the two of you had to start somewhere. Rooney over-fixated on Abner’s fixation on his mother and the abuse, and after years of obsessing over it to “fix” him, it seemed to become all Abner could think about. No one had really given him proper trauma recovery therapy, or helped to treat his PTSD. You wanted him to take the first step into self-evolution. No one could do it for him. You want him to define himself other than his mother’s son. Seeing himself as a superhero was perhaps the start of it.

“I-I don’t know,” he frowned. “I like to read…”

“That’s great!” Your enthusiasm startles him. “What sort of things do you like to read?”

“Well… Ah, I-I uh... I like the classics….”

The rest of your session with Abner was mostly casual. The safe topics you steered him to visibly made the man relax. He spoke about the fictional worlds he enjoyed immersing himself in. He liked the classics because they were “soft”. Sweet romances where the only real worries were who’s going to the ball. He didn't like tragedies or novels about war or great violence. With some coaxing, he opens up to talk about his favorite foods, animals, celebrities, songs-- You ask about his (non-virus related) talents or any hobbies he might’ve picked up at the prison or since he’s been out. Steering him away from the topic of his mother confused him in the beginning, leading you to assume he had anticipated mostly speaking about her. He’d been prepared like he might prepare to go into battle.

You know he won’t be able to just brush his mother aside; his virus was because of Dr. Krill. He blamed his 20+ years of incarceration at Belle Reve on his mother’s experimentations. He blamed himself. He hated her. He hated himself. Feared her. Feared himself. It was an inner wound that would never heal, you know this without a doubt, but you hope with time it becomes easier to manage as he takes control and independence of his new life.

“Did you ever go to school, Abner?”

The phantom smile on his face falls, but you haven’t lost him as he turns to you. Looks at your shoulder. “No. We--my siblings and I--were… homeschooled.”

“Right. Well, you at least know what homework is?”

“Yes. Of course. Am--Do you want me to--?”

With a hand gesture you hope is placating, you smile and gently cut him off. “Don’t worry, I’m not assigning you an essay to write or a month-long project to present. I’m not that cruel,” you chuckle. “But I am going to push you a little. Can you try that for me?”

He looks as if you’ve asked him to consider sacrificing his firstborn. Thankfully, he nods as he plucks a loose string off his knee.

“I want to see you biweekly, so schedule with Patrica upfront. Maybe this Friday or Saturday?”

“I-I can do that, yes ma’am.”

"Now, it's your choice to come back or not but it would make me really happy if you did."

His back straightens. "Yes. I'll be here."

“Beautiful, Abner. Beautiful. Sometime this week I’d like you to do something you normally wouldn't do. Go on a hike, join a gym, take a class on cooking or arts and crafts. It can be simply looking up a food recipe you’ve never tried before and making it. Tell me about your experience. If you’re around strangers, how is your relationship with them? If you see something new, how does it make you feel? This isn’t an order, Abner, just a… strong suggestion, mm? All I’m asking is for you to do something new and spontaneous. It can be at home or outside. Your choice.”

Abner licked his lips. It had taken a great deal of effort to convince him to come here at all today. Today is the first time speaking to him, but you’ve had his file for a few days now. You’re a little grateful for that. There was a lot to read. However, it took outside forces such as one Amanda Waller and fellow ex-prisoner teammates to get him to come here. You suspect someone dropped him off if he didn’t take a cab himself. He had no driver's license.

“Ah… Okay. Um, yes miss. Ma'am. Doctor! Ah--”

“You can call me by my name,” you reassure, tilting your head to him. “This is a safe space for you and I. We may be doctor and patient outside that door, but here, we can be as familiar with each other as we'd like. Like old friends.”

He turned to you with a look that sent a thunderbolt of sensation down your spine. Surprise, awe. A silent question gleamed in his puppy-dog eyes. He doesn't respond, brows raised high as he just stares at you.

You cover for his lapse. “I’ll see you in a few days. It was wonderful to finally meet you, Abner,” you say, looking at him without pretenses to hopefully show your honesty. He had an incredible gift that could help save a lot of people, and from what you've learned from recent character evaluations on him he had the makings of a fine superhero. First thing first, he needed to adjust to civilian life after years of being locked up, and years of having nothing but unresolved trauma. All the while, you hold back a rueful smile at his demeanor. You won't say it aloud of course, but he was so cute. Idly, you wonder about his sexuality- but you can ask that another day. For now you wanted him to be a little more daring to try new things and focus on something other than his mother.

You stand up and shake his hand. His grip is a little looser this time, lingering longer, but he moves away quickly, gathers his shoes, and you see him out. His scurrying reminds you of a startled elk. Large yet quick, stumbling over his long legs. Running from you as if you held a rifle instead of a purple glitter clipboard.

It was hard to believe this man had committed mass homicide.

[midgardianweasley]

Build-a-bear adventures

Build-a-bear adventures.

Natasha Romanoff x fem!reader

Summary: A top trained assassin, her girlfriend, and a build-a-bear workshop, what better way to spend a day off. 

Word count: 2.1k

Warnings: Agonisingly fluffy.

I was planning on posting angst, but, decided on a fluff instead<33 

“But babe. Babe. Babe.” You poked your girlfriend, fully aware that with every prod, you were only contributing to the headache worthy eye rolls she had been giving you for the past hour. You were joking, of course you were, she knew that, but she also knew that it was possible you were about to be single in 0.2 of a second if you didn’t stop poking her. 

With a sarcastic smile and a deep breath, she turned her head towards you, momentarily stopping your movements as you returned a sickeningly sweet smile back. 

“Yes?” 

“I don’t think you understand.” 

“I do understand.”

“This is life or death.” You spoke with a poker face, a weak attempt to try and make your point valid. 

“I think that may be exaggerating just a little bit honey.” She chuckled lightly at your tone and the way you moved in your spot on the sofa, now having your legs crossed in front of you, hands enthusiastically moving in front of you. 

“No. No, see, you don’t understand! We need to do this!” 

“Is my unconditional love not enough?” 

“No.”

“Ouch.” She dramatically placed her hand on her chest, a smirk plastered onto her face as she watched you rile yourself up with every sentence.

“Okay, sorry, I didn’t mean that, your unconditional love is more than enough, and while I unconditionally love you too, that doesn’t change the fact that this is a necessity.” 

“Like the ones from the jungle book?” 

You groaned loudly, throwing your head back as the assassin teased you. 

“Baby, please!” You moved once again, now clambering onto her lap with your hands interlocked behind her neck, your faces mere inches away from hers. Her hands immediately went to your waist to steady you, pure energy coursed through your veins as you tried to convince Natasha to go ahead with your idea and she wasn’t certain you wouldn’t fall off of you if she didn’t hold you down.

“You seriously want to?”

“Yes.”

“Today?”

“Yes.”

“Instead of cuddling in bed with movies?” Her eyebrows raised in question, not faltering as she watched you pretend to ponder, stroking an imaginary beard on your chin.

“Yes.” You smiled, your inner child shining through. 

Knowing she wasn’t going to win, she sighed gently, running a hand through your hair and giving you a quick kiss on your temple before tapping your thighs to signal for you to stand up. 

“Alright. Get ready and we’ll go.” 

“Really?” You squealed, clapping your hands together as you rocked back and forth on your heels. 

“Really. Now hurry and get your shoes on, we don’t want to get stuck in traffic.” 

She watched with nothing but adoration as you whizzed off to get ready to leave, swearing that she’s never seen you move so quickly in her life. Despite her playful protest, she walked over to the kitchen counter to pick up her car keys, swinging them around her pointer finger as she walked over to the doorway of the compound living room. 

‘I can’t believe I'm doing this.’ She thought. 

Although she’ll deny it to anyone that asks, she’s absolutely whipped for you. 

“I’m ready!” Your voice called out, encouraging Natasha to shrug her leather jacket on and walk towards her smiling girlfriend, taking her hand as they walked out together with content smiles on their faces. 

‘Let’s do this.’ 

_______________________

It didn’t take long to arrive at your destination, your eyes immediately drew themselves to the store windows filled with stuffed bears in a variety of different outfits, some bears were dressed up to fit a theme, some bears were characters from loved movies, some were just bears in dungarees. 

That’s right. You’ve managed to bring a trained assassin to a build-a-bear workshop. Why? 

To get matching bears. 

You looked towards Natasha, a huge grin on your face, only faltering slightly as you were met with her hands and forehead on the drivers wheel. You tugged on her sleeve, ignoring her disagreement, her head not leaving the wheel, but turned to face you.

“Stop being silly, c’mon, you’re looking forward to it! I know you are!” 

“Babe. We’re parked outside of a teddy store.”

“Exactly! It’s fun, you’re excited, I'm excited, let’s go!” 

You didn’t hesitate to open your car door, jumping out of the car and shutting the door behind you, the redhead not far behind you as she once again took your hand, reminding you how lucky you are that she loves you. Your response was a simple kiss on her cheek, a small blush following shortly afterwards.

“You’re cute.” You pinched her cheek.

“Yeah yeah, let’s go get our bears.” 

_______________________

“So, that’s both of your bears stuffed, do you guys want to put voice boxes in them?” The kind staff member asked the pair of you. 

You glanced towards Natasha, silently asking if she’d like one or not. She gave you a brief smile before looking back at the woman helping you with your bears. 

“Sure, I don’t see why not.” She winked at you before following the woman over to another station within the store. There were rows and rows of different shapes and coloured voice boxes to choose from. 

You had the option of choosing a pre-recorded sound, like animal sounds or a bunch of different ‘i love you.’ in different voices. You didn’t mind what voice you had, honestly, you would’ve been content with an ‘i love you’ from Elsa at this point. However, you saw your girlfriend make a beeline for the ones that you record your own message into. 

“You’re gonna do your own one?” You asked, moving over to stand beside her. 

“Nope. I’m making one for yours.” She said proudly, holding two of the small items in her hand, holding it out for you to take one. You couldn’t help but feel your heartbeat quicken at her words. This is the sweetest thing you’ve ever done with someone else, and to think she wasn’t even that eager to come in the first place. You knew she’d have fun. 

Taking the small blue speaker from her hand, you were instructed to press the button on the back of the plastic, hold it down to speak, and release it when you were finished, but it can only be a short message. The both of you tucked your bears under your arm, bringing the box to your mouth and cupping it so that it would come out loud and clear, and so the other couldn’t hear what you were saying. 

Once your messages were done, you handed each other the speaker to place in the paw that had a ‘press me’ sign sewed into it. The woman ensured it was inserted correctly before taking them elsewhere to be sewn up, leaving you both to look at the racks of tiny clothes hung on the wall. 

It was almost as difficult as choosing clothes for yourself, there were too many options, and every single one was adorable. How did literal children do this? 

“Please tell me you can’t decide on an outfit either.” The Russian spoke from beside you, her gaze focused on the fabrics, styles and patterns in front of you. 

“It’s easier trying to take a pop tart off of the demi-god at home than trying to pick a pair of jeans and a t-shirt for a stuffed animal. What the hell?” Your arms gestured to the wall in front of you, exasperated as you tried to decide whether you wanted the blue jeans or black.” 

“Hi guys, here are your bears, just letting you know, there’s also some dresses over there if you want to check them out.” The woman smiled, watching as you and Natasha shared a glance of horror. 

The two of you were gonna be here for a while.

______________________

Finally, you and Nat had dressed both your bears. You chose a pair of black jeans, a white t-shirt and a black leather jacket for yours, and Natasha had chosen a Y/F/O. It appeared as though each of you had made ‘mini me’s’ of the other, and they seemed pretty damn accurate too. 

After successfully creating and dressing your bears, it was time to name them, pay, and then you could both go home and relax. You had no idea building a bear could be so exhausting. 

Both you and Natasha had to pick a name. You thought it over, whereas Nat had just rushed right in, choosing to call her bear ‘honey.’, the nickname she always reserved for you. Gripping your bear tightly, you observed the birth certificate being printed out, the name, the owner’s name and the date clearly written in bold, black letters. You could’ve sworn you saw Natasha’s eyes light up when she was handed the sheet of paper. 

“What about you, miss?” The woman asked, ready to type in whatever name you gave her. Glancing behind you quickly, you caught the eye of your girlfriend behind you, immediately knowing what to call it. 

“Snoopy, please.” 

You heard one loud and short laugh erupt from Natasha’s lips, her hand shot to cover her mouth, not intending to be so disruptive when she heard what you had called it. 

‘Snoopy’ is the name of a cartoon character, which was probably what people would think you named the bear after. In reality, it wasn’t that at all. 

When you first met the team, you were informed of what everyone’s roles were and how they contributed to the group. There were supersoldiers, scientists, a god, all different kinds of people, including the incredibly attractive spy. When you went on your first mission, she had to hack into a computer to retrieve some stolen data, but took her time to also look at some other things they had on there too, just to kill time. 

The first words you said to her on that mission that wasn’t to do with what direction you were running in, was ‘Alright, hold off Snoopy, you can do that in your spare time, hurry up.’, and at first she was annoyed with the nickname, claiming she wasn’t snooping, nor does she ever ‘snoop’, but she soon took it in her stride. It was still a running joke between the pair of you 2 years down the line, and you never let her forget it. 

“Nice name, babe.” She coughed, unable to fully settle down from her laughing fit.

“Why, thank you! Yours isn’t so bad yourself.” You spoke as you blew her a kiss that she grabbed in thin air and pretended to shove into her jean pocket, earning a small shake of the head before you took your printed certificate and went to purchase the bears. 

_______________________

Once you got back to the compound, the both of you were completely shattered, unable to keep your eyes open to watch some TV before bed. Eager to get some sleep, the two of you just ended up changing into your pyjamas, following your shared night routine before collapsing onto your bed. 

You lay beside her, still able to smell her perfume after so many hours, the scent making your eyelids feel like rocks. Grabbing your bear, you put it in between you, Natasha doing the same thing, before snuggling up close together under the covers. She reached over to put some fallen hair behind your ear, smiling gently at you as she did so, the gesture lazily returned. 

“Thank you for suggesting today, baby. I really enjoyed myself.” She whispered, a murmur of agreement following her words.

“Thank you for taking us Natty, I had fun.” You mumbled with closed eyes, sleep quickly taking over. 

“Get some sleep, my love.” 

You nodded once before responding. “G’night Nat.” 

“Goodnight baby.”

And that was you, out like a light. 

Natasha reached over to give you a kiss on the forehead as her final goodnight, not realised that she’d leant on the teddy in the process, only noticing when she heard your voice in a non sleepy state. 

“I’m madly in love with you, Romanoff.” She heard you laugh, followed by an excited “I’m done!”, obviously you forgot to let go of the button after you recorded the initial message, but it had made it even more special. She couldn’t help but adore you with every bone in her body. 

You weren’t awake now, but when you were, she hoped to see your reaction when you listened to her message in your bear, the words spoken in Russian, but you’d heard them before, so you’d definitely know what it meant.

“Moye serdtse tvoye, lyubov' moya.” (My heart is yours, my love.)

She was right. 

She’s absolutely whipped. 

 Taglist: @natashas-favourite-knives @eilarch @natashaswifey @lostandsearching​ @wandaromanova​ @pottahishotasf @d14n4ol @xxromanoffxx 

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

hi! i love your blog! i was wondering if maybe you could write something where y/n and harry just had their first baby and they finally get some time to themselves and she's a little insecure about their first time after the post partum and nervous about her body or how it gonna feels like? thank uu💖

omg thank you 🥺🥺 I'm so sorry this took so long! i hope you like it :)

a very romantic bath for two

warnings: body insecurity, body image issues

word count: 2.8k

You sighed as you inspected your body in the mirror, running your fingers over the raised lines on your tummy and hips. Many of them were new; they had popped up sometime during your second trimester. At the time, you had been too busy worrying about the new life growing inside you and preparing to bring her home to focus too much on what was happening to your body. Even during the last few weeks of your pregnancy when you felt huge most of the time, Harry made sure to remind you constantly how much he loved you and your new body. He would rub your belly all the time, leaning down to kiss it and talk to your baby. He insisted it would help them develop faster once they were born, but you weren't quite sure where he got this "fact". You both knew he just liked being close to you and your baby.

He really hadn't left any room for you to be insecure during your pregnancy. He reassured you every day that you were more beautiful than ever, and he was always showing you how much he liked your new body. He could never keep his hands off you, always wanting to touch and hold you. It even got annoying at times, but mostly you appreciated it, and you were glad he never let your hormones get the best of you. Then, after Stevie was born, you were too busy and exhausted to even think about your appearance. You and harry were barely getting any sleep, and all of your time was devoted to caring for the newest member of your family. It wasn't until now, when Stevie was a little over 3 months old, that things started calming down a bit. She slept through the night most of the time, and you were finally coming out of that sleep deprived haze you had been in. Unfortunately, this gave you time to really look at yourself in the mirror. You had just gotten out of the shower, and Harry was with Stevie in the living room. You tilted to the side, looking at how much bigger your stomach was than before you had Stevie. The skin there was dimpled and soft, much more squishy than it used to be. And the stretch marks. They were everywhere, and much more prominent than they had ever been. You weren't sure if you would ever be able to get back to normal. Your negative thoughts were interrupted by a short knock on the door. You quickly wrapped a towel around yourself before you called, "You can come in!" Harry peaked his head into the room, smiling softly. "Sorry to bother you, but I'm out of wipes. I think there's another pack under the sink?" "No, it's okay, i was done," you smiled, reaching under the sink to grab the package. "Is she okay?" "She's fine, lovie," he smiled softly. "You don't have to feel bad being away for her for half an hour." "I know," you sighed. "But i still do. I hate not being next to her all the time." "Me too, i just want to hold her and never put her down." You nodded, sighing internally at how much you already missed your baby. "Why don't you finish up in here and then we'll make some lunch?" "Sounds good," you said, smiling at him in the mirror. Once the door was closed, you dropped the towel again. You really tried not to be too upset about how you looked, but it was hard. You knew if you told Harry he would just say the same thing, that it was normal and he thought you were beautiful. You didn't think that would help much. So you pulled on your old t-shirt and sweatpants, running a brush through your wet hair before making your way out to the kitchen. "Hi, baby," you smiled, picking Stevie up from the play mat on the floor. "I missed you." She snuggled against your chest, her head leaning on your shoulder as she let out a content little sigh. You leaned down, grabbing Stevie's rattle and putting it back in the toy box before you made your way into the kitchen. "How does spaghetti sound?" Harry asked. "Sounds good," you nodded, settling into one of the chairs at the dining table. you were about to pull off your shirt to feed Stevie, but the image of your prominent stretch marks made you reconsider. "Can you grab me one of the blankets?" You asked, but kept your eyes on Stevie. You knew if you looked up, you would see that sad and confused look on his face as he wondered why you suddenly wanted to cover yourself around him, and you really didn't feel like explaining your newfound insecurities right now. Thankfully, he didn't press for answers. "Sure, love. It's in the nursery?" You nodded, fiddling with the collar of Stevie's onesie to look busy. "Okay, I'll be right back," He gave a small smile before he left the kitchen. "What am i gonna do, hm?" You asked Stevie. She just blinked in response. Harry came back with the blanket, draping it over your shoulders from the front. "Thank you," you said quietly, adjusting the cover so you could pull your shirt up. "Of course, love," he replied, going back to the stove. "I wanted to ask you something, actually." You

hummed questioningly, eyes fixed on Stevie under the blanket. "Well, we just haven't had any time alone since Stevie was born, and my mum is dying to spend some more time with her, so do you think... I mean, only if it's okay with you, maybe we could have my mum take her for the weekend?" You hesitated, your heart suddenly beating much faster. Being away from Stevie for more than a day... of course you knew she would be safe and happy with Anne, but still... the thought made anxiety spike in your chest. Then there was the matter of being alone with Harry. You probably should feel guilty for not wanting to spend time with him, but with the way you had been feeling about yourself lately, you couldn't bring yourself to care. But you also knew refusing this would cause all sorts of problems. It would make both Harry and Anne feel bad, and you really didn't want to upset anyone. So, taking a shaky breath in, you nodded. "We can do that. I just... i don't think I can do more than a day or two." "That's totally fine," Harry reassured you. "I don't want to be away from her for that long either. I was thinking we could drop her off Friday after lunch, then pick her up Saturday evening. Or sometime Sunday if they're really having a good time," he laughed. "They'll have all sorts of fun together, mum might not want to let her go so soon." You smiled at the thought of the pictures you knew Anne would send you. Stevie and her in the garden, Stevie in the stroller as they went for a walk, Stevie in the high chair while Anne baked cookies. "Okay. After supper we can get her stuff together." Harry beamed, coming over to kiss your forehead. "Thank you, baby. And if it gets to be too much, we can pick her up early. We can do whatever you need, okay?" Despite Harry's constant reassurance, you felt no less anxious the next day. You checked and re-checked Stevie's bag, making sure she had enough clothes to last her a week. "Lovie, she's only gonna be there for two days," Harry reminded you gently. "No, I know, but what if she spits up a lot? Sometimes she spits up a whole bunch and then she'll need to be changed, and what if-" "Hey, hey," he cut you off, placing his hands on your shoulders and speaking in a soothing tone. "It'll be alright. She's gonna be fine. She has enough clothes, and everything is gonna be okay." You nodded, taking a deep breath as you looked into his eyes. "Right. She's gonna be fine."

-----

"And the milk is here-" you held up several plastic bags- "I'll put this in the fridge. And to heat it up- wait, you already know how to heat up milk," you laughed nervously. "Um, and her onesies are all in the backpack. I have extras in there- a lot of extras, because sometimes she spits up a lot. And then her diffuser is in there too- we usually put a few drops of lavender oil in there, it helps her sleep. And diapers and wipes and diaper cream are all in the bag, and... oh! Her stuffed bunny. It helps her calm down if she's fussy. And I think... that should be everything," You exhaled, trying to smile at Anne. Harry put his arm around your waist. "Y/N, she knows how to take care of a baby. Look how well i turned out!" Despite how nervous you were, you managed to laugh. "Right. I'm just... I'm sorry, I've never been away from her." "It's alright," Anne smiled reassuringly. "I understand how scary it is to be away from her for the first time. But you can call or FaceTime, or if it's too much you can come pick her up." "Thank you," you sighed. "We should probably get going before i change my mind." Harry nodded, unbuckling Stevie from her carrier. He hugged her to his chest, kissing the top of her head. "I'll miss you so much," he said. "But you'll have so much fun with your grandma. And we'll see you soon, okay?" he kissed her one more time before handing her over to you. "Be good for your grandma, okay? I love you," you kissed her just like Harry had. "I love you so much." Before you could start crying, you handed her to Anne. "Thank you so much for this, Anne," you said. "We really appreciate it." "You're a godsend," harry agreed. "Thank you." "Of course, I'm happy to have her," Anne smiled. "Now shoo, so i can spend some time with her!"

-----

"It's so quiet," Harry said as you walked into the house. "I'm not used to it." "I know," You laughed. "There's no cartoons or baby shark, it's crazy." "Can't say I miss baby shark, though," he shook his head. "I think we need to find a new song for her." You nodded. "It got old really fast." "It did," he laughed. "And now... we can enjoy some peace... and quiet." He stepped closer to you, smiling as he heard your breath hitch. "I was thinking maybe we could have a bath together?" Your heart started thudding faster in your chest, and not for a good reason. "No," you said quickly. Too quickly. Hurt and confusion flashed across his face, and you immediately wanted to take back your words. "I just- I can't," you said quietly, stepping back. "Is there... did something happen?" he asked gently, eyes softening when he realized how close to tears you were. "What's the matter, love?" "Harry, I just can't," you shook your head as tears welled up in your eyes. "I'm sorry. I'm trying but I just can't get back to normal. I look terrible and I have all these stretch marks and everything is just wrong," you cried, bringing up your hands to cover your face. "Baby..." he whispered, moving closer and opening his arms. "Come here." You did as he asked, walking into his arms and leaning against him as you cried. "I just don't want you to see me," you sniffled. "Your body isn't wrong," he shook his head. "Not at all. It might look different than it did before, but that's because it went through something amazing. It gave us Stevie! It- you are perfect. Alright?" You nodded against his chest. "I just... i really don't like the way i look anymore and i don't think you will either." Since your face was pressed against his shirt, you didn't see the way his face dropped. You didn't see how much it hurt him to hear you talk about yourself this way. You felt him inhale a shaky breath before he hugged you tighter. "I'm so sorry you feel this way. I had no idea how much it was bothering you. I want- I want to show you how much I love you. Will you let me show you?" "How?" you said quietly. "Do you trust me?" You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. He smiled, pulling back and taking your hand. He lead you into your bedroom, closing the door behind the two of you. He crossed the room to stand in front of you again, his fingers gripping the hem of your shirt. "Can i take this off?" he asked quietly, keeping his eyes on yours. He must have sensed your hesitancy, because he dropped his hands down to his sides. "It's just me," he reminded you. "We don't have to if you don't want to, though." "No, it's... it's okay," You decided, raising your arms. He smiled gently, tugging the soft material up and over your head. You kept your eyes on him as soon as the shirt was off your head, too apprehensive to look down at your body. "You're so beautiful," he whispered. He hooked his fingers in the elastic of your sweatpants, looking at you again for confirmation. You nodded, allowing him to pull the rest of the clothing off your body and taking his hand to step out of them. He lead you over to the bed, keeping his eyes on yours the whole way. "Lay back," he instructed quietly, watching as you did what he said. He climbed into the bed behind you, settling himself between your legs to meet your eyes. "You're amazing," he smiled. "The most beautiful woman I've ever seen." he brought his hand down to your stomach, and you cringed immediately when he brushed over one of the marks. "It's okay," he soothed. "There's nothing wrong with these. You know what they are?" You shook your head. "They're little marks that remind us of Stevie. They show how strong you are for carrying her, and keeping her safe until she was ready to come out and meet us. And they show how someday, you'll be able to have another baby, and keep him or her safe just like Stevie. Right? That's all they are." He moved down, leaning his head closer so he could press a soft kiss to one of the marks near your hip. "I don't want you to change anything

about yourself," he said, moving his lips over the lines on your tummy. "I love you just the way you are." Tears were welling up in your eyes again, but this time they weren't from anxiety or fear. This time, they were because you felt overwhelmed by your love for him. "Harry..." He looked up, his face falling when he noticed the tears in your eyes. "No, please don't cry," he said, moving back up to hover over you again. "I'm sorry, please don't be upset," he frowned, wiping one of the tears away with his thumb. You shook your head. "That's not why- i just love you so much," you said, trying your best to smile. "I love you too," he smiled back, leaning down to kiss your forehead, then your nose, then your cheeks, and finally, your lips. "I love you so, so much, and I will show you every day if you'll let me," he sighed, moving off you to lay on his side. He kept one hand on your hip, helping you turn over to look at him. "I want you to tell me if you're ever feeling like this again, okay? I want to know so I can help you." "Okay," you nodded, still sniffling a bit. "Thank you." You leaned against him, tucking your head in his neck. "Thank you." "Of course, lovie." He wrapped his arms around you, kissing the top of your head. "I want you to always know how loved you are. It doesn't matter how many times I have to remind you; i don't ever want you to feel like this and not tell me. I love you way too much to let you be this sad." "I will," you promised. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner." "it's okay," he soothed, running his hand up and down your back. "Do you think... it's okay if you're not ready yet, but do you think we could try taking a bath?" This time, you barely even hesitated before answering. "I think we can try," you nodded. "We can even turn off the lights if you want, just light a few candles," he mused, his face pressed gently against your hair. "It's more romantic that way anyways." "That sounds good," you laughed. "Come on then," he said, sitting up. "One very romantic bath for two, coming right up."

[sweetchup]

Bi•valve

Noun

an aquatic mollusk that has a compressed body enclosed within a hinged shell, such as oysters, clams, mussels, and scallops.

AKA

The Most Common Seashell in the Ocean

————————

Vol. 1: Just Keep Swimming // Ch.1

Type: Poseidon x reader

Word Count: 1,800+

Masterlist

————————

“Ok… ok… is there anyway you could—… no? Wait please don’t—…” You let out a sigh as the other side of the phone line goes dead. “Another miss…”

You crumple to the floor of your bedroom in a heap. The storm was still in full swing outside even though hours had gone by and it was now dark. It seemed the storm had caused quite the ruckus in Athens—the capital where you were staying at—and most emergency services were busy.

They even ignored you at the police station you went to earlier, though it likely didn’t help your situation that you couldn’t even speak their native language of Greek…

—.—.—

“No, no. Lost. Child. Not mine.” You explained once more to the officer in front of you, the only one in this place that knew of the slightest hint of english.

The officer only shakes his head once more at you before walking away, turning his attention to the other patrons here that needed help. You wished it was just that they didn’t understand you—that they didn’t understand that you had found a lost boy struggling at sea—but it was slowly becoming clear that they just didn’t believe you.

Tan skin. Brown hair. Brown or green eyes. That was what the average greek boy here looked like. A big contrast from Triton, the pale skinned blonde haired blue eyed boy who you were currently holding in your arms. They just simply didn’t believe that he was a Greek child that had gotten washed away at sea during the storm.

It also didn’t help that no one had called in a lost child that had a similar description to Triton. And, with no other option and too much to do, the police just chose to ignore the glaring problem right in front of them.

“Miss (Y-y/n)?”

At Triton’s call, you looked down at the boy and realize that the more that you look at him, the stranger he gets. Soaked from the rain and sea, you would have expected him to be shivering like a leaf but he was as still as stone. As if he couldn’t even feel how cold his skin was right now. As if he was used to being soaked with the coldest depths of the ocean.

“Miss (Y/n)?” Triton calls again, snapping you out of your thoughts.

“Ah, sorry, I spaced out. Yes?”

“I-I…” You watch patiently as the boy begins twiddling with his thumbs. As if he wanted to tell you something but was quite embarrassed to be so.

“Is something wrong, Triton?”

“N-no!” The boy shouts out, the loudest you’ve heard him speak so far, before instantly realizing his tone and caving in on himself. His shoulder and back slumping forward as if to hide himself from your sight.

“It’s alright. You can tell me, I don’t mind.” You reassure the boy. You can’t help but sincerely wonder what happened to him. What happened to the little boy, who looked no older than 10, that made him so scared and skittish? And you doubted that getting lost at sea is what caused it.

“I…”

A loud growl cuts off Triton and not the animal kind either.

“Oh… are you perhaps hungry, Triton?” You ask the boy as he bashfully ducks his head into your shoulder out of embarrassment.

“Y-yes.”

You can’t help but let out a small chuckle at Triton’s antics. Even though he was quite strange, he was still a cute child at heart.

“Well let’s go grab something to eat. It seems there’s no one to help us here anyway.”

—.—.—

As you reminisce about Triton—who you soon find out after that is a lover of raw fish, extremely strange if you had to say so for yourself—you can’t help but wonder where he went.

After you took him back to your place, a small, only two rooms, one bath apartment you rent near campus, you allowed him to take a shower and borrow some of your clothes. He should still be sitting in the living room watching some cartoons and eating after you left him to take a shower and make a couple of phone calls, all unsuccessful by the way, but it had been well over an hour. You wonder if he could have perhaps gotten bored by now.

Deciding it wouldn’t hurt to check up on the boy, you sit up from your spot on the floor and make your way out of your bedroom.

“Triton, is every—“

You stop mid sentence as you take in the scene in front of you. Water…. Water was floating. Triton was floating as well.

It was hard for your brain to rack around what you were seeing. Triton, the strange boy that you had saved from the sea, was floating in your living room on top of a bubble of water. He didn’t seem surprised in any way either as he was in the middle of playing with some tiny bubbles of water himself. Separating and un-separating them at will.

“T-Triton?” You call out again, this time catching the boy’s attention. His face turned to one of surprise and shock as he released the bubbles of water allowing it and him to crash to the floor. Even though your living room floor was now soaking wet, that was the least of your worries.

“M-Miss (Y-y/n), how long were you…?” Triton’s voice trails off as he realizes the question was not needed, you had already seen enough. He begins to pale at all the possibilities. Even though he was in fact a god and could not be hurt by human weapons, there were still many things that could happen to him. He was still a child after all, no were near his mother’s and father’s level of strength.

“Triton…” Your voice calls out again causing Triton to flinch as you draw closer to him, “Are…are you okay?”

Triton, whose gaze was locked at the floor, turned his head upwards in surprise to look at you. Your gaze was not one of disgust or anger. No. Nor was it cold, a gaze he had come to know that his father often wore, or of disappointment, a look his mother often glared at him with. No. Your gaze was kind. Sure, it looked confused but it was also filled with warmth out of concern for him.

Triton felt the hot bubbling feeling of tears in his eyes. He would normally try to hold it in, forcibly stop himself from crying as he knew if his mother found out she would surely beat him. But, he didn’t.

He let the tears spill out. Tears that felt hot against his cold marble skin. Marble skin that was an aching reminder that he was a god, a perfect being. That he shouldn’t be feebly crying in front of a human like this.

Yet, as you wrap your warm arms around his shaking form, he finds himself not minding his warm tears. Warmth reminds him of you, the only one who dared to comfort him. Not his father, nor his uncles and cousins, or the servants, and never, never, his mother.

Triton finds himself crying again. Instead of out of fear, it is out of misery this time. He wished he wasn’t a god, he wished he didn’t eventually have to go back to his terrible mother, he wished that his father would pay more attention to him and show him something… anything. He wished he could just stay like this in your arms. A stranger that was more of a mother to him in less than a few hours, than his own mother was in his hundreds of years of existence.

“It’s okay, Triton. Everything will be okay. I’m not angry.”

Triton couldn’t help but think how he never doubted you in the first place.

—.—.—

As you run your hands through the Triton's hair, who was curled up on your lap, you think about what he had told you.

“So you’re a god…The son of Poseidon and Amphitrite…”

“Yeah…” Triton whispers out, his voice slightly strained from all the crying he had done.

A god. Triton was a mighty Greek god. Even though you couldn’t wrap your head around the situation, you knew you had to. Especially after all that has happened up til now and if you were—

“Are…are you angry?”

You pause for a second, shocked slightly at what Triton had muttered out, before finally answering, “I’m not. Not at all. I just…”

You wondered how you should phrase it.

“… I don’t know how to get you home, Triton.”

The silence is overwhelming after. You didn’t know if you should have told the young boy that but it also wasn’t right to lie to him. You feel Triton shift under your arms and you loosen your grip as he slowly sits up.

“I…” Triton starts before pausing. His gaze shifts from his hands to your eyes, the first time the boy had ever locked eyes with you since you saved him. It reminded you how icy blue his eyes were, a blue that you now realize is not possible for a human to obtain. At least not naturally. A firm reminder that Triton wasn’t one, he was a god. “I… I don’t want to return home.”

“What…” You say startled, “Ok, then how about one of your uncles or—“

“No. I…I want to stay here. With you Miss (y/n).”

Stay here… with you. You didn’t know what to think. You were a struggling college student who spent hours upon hours studying every day. Could you even take care of a child, nevertheless a god? What about his mother, who Triton explained was a horrible being? Or his father, the king of the sea? Could you protect Triton from them? From a god, a being so much stronger and powerful than you?

“I…” You started before abruptly stopping. You wanted to protect Triton, help him. You had to find a way. You couldn’t abandon the child before you like this. Not after hearing his anguished cries for the last hour. As you held him, you felt as if he was made of glass. Like if you even squeezed him too tightly he would shatter into a million pieces in your arms.

“I…I can’t assure anything, I am just a human after all. But you can stay here for as long as you want Triton.”

As you watch the young boy before you smile and collapse in your arms, it was then that your mind had decided. You would protect Triton for as long as you could,

…no matter the cost.

Author Note: Oooo things are heating up. It seems Triton and Zeus have opposite plans for the reader and that could spell trouble. Hehehe. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoyed this chapter, I am immensely thankful for all the support that got shown on my prologue chapter of this series. Please contunie to give your support and tell me your opinions about my work. It really does help as it shows what I can improve on in future chapters and works. Till next time 💕💕

Taglist: @angeli-fucking-cat @marixxhq

[taestefully-in-luv]

The Island | KTH (Two)

Summary: You’re just two strangers waking up in a room on a lonely island where a company in the business of love has placed you. They believe that thanks to their in depth research you two are destined soulmates. What happens when your ‘soulmate’ and you want nothing to do with each other but falling in love is the only way to leave?

Pairing: Taehyung x Female reader

Genre: strangers to lovers, very slight enemies to lovers, soulmates au, roommate au, slow burn, fluff, smut, angst, slight crack, and drama.

Word Count: 10.4k

Warnings: swearing

Notes: Hi everyone! Here’s ch2 of the new story, hope you guys like it. let me know if you want to be added to the taglist, or send an ask if just want to chat!:)

Taglist: @ggukkieland @monvieesdaebak @707sblog @peacedreamer14 @dopedreamfireparty @everythingnamjoon @taebae19 @typicalgenzworld @mooniyooni

© taestefully-in-luv

Previous --- Next

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t think you have ever been this bitter in your life—and you have a few things you can be bitter about. You could honestly make a list. But this? This is the ultimate bitterness and you hate it. It is driving you absolutely nuts! You’re alone with a man on an island…that’s lonely enough, right? Well, said man doesn’t even want to talk to you…that makes it ten—no, a million times more lonely. And you have every right to be bitter about that. So, yes maybe you are being a little petty when guys do interact.

It’s not like you are trying to purposely be petty, no, it’s not like that. You just can’t help your smart ass mouth or how childish you can become. Taehyung doesn’t seem to mind completely though, he just has his own smart ass comments or he becomes childish himself. It’s a horrible mix! Neither of you win! And you always want to have the last word but with Taehyung as your opponent it’s almost impossible.

“Maybe if you weren’t always following me, they would have sent us home by now.” Taehyung states bitterly as he puts his slice of bread on top of his now made sandwich.

“I’m not following you.” You roll your eyes, “I have to eat too.”

“You can’t wait until I’m done?”

“You look pretty done to me…” You point at his sandwich and he scoffs.

“I still have to eat it.”

“Eat in your room for all I care.”

You and Taehyung are getting along just fine…maybe not swimmingly but like, fine. It’s been a couple weeks and you have mostly stayed out of one another’s way but it’s moments like this that you end up interacting.

“I think I’ll eat at the table, thanks.” He grabs his sandwich and makes his way to the dining room table, sitting down with a thump. He aggressively picks up his sandwich and takes a bite while showing you a smart ass smile.

“Fantastic,” you state, “Me too.” You finish pouring milk into your cereal bowl and set it back inside the fridge. You dramatically make your way over to the table as well, giving him a wide grin as you sit down in front of him. You slightly slam your bowl down on the table, some milk dribbling over the edge of the bowl and Taehyung snarls.

“Great, you’re making a fucking mess.”

“If you went up and ate in you room you would have no idea about this mess.”

“But you still would have made this mess?”

“Ignorance is bliss, Taehyung.”

“You’re such a…” he stops, setting his lips into a firm line and you lean your head forward, clearly curious about what you are.

“Such a…?” you blink at him repeatedly and his lips curve upward into a charming smile.

“A fucking brat.” Taehyung grabs his sandwich again and takes an obnoxious bite while grinning and you give him your best annoyed eye roll.

Okay, maybe a little less than fine. This company has got it all wrong! All. Fucking. Wrong. You two are barely getting along! It’s just eye roll after eye roll, smart ass comment after smart ass comment. That’s it. That’s the relationship. Taehyung barely spares you a glance throughout the day. You do your own thing and he does his. You won’t lie though…you are curious what he gets up to…the last week he has left the house and doesn’t come back until sunset…and he comes back sweaty and exhausted.

You want to ask what he does, you do, you really do. But something tells you he wouldn’t even tell you even if you begged. And you’re not about to beg for this asshole.

So, you guys keep to yourselves save the occasional breakfast/lunch/dinner run in. While he does god knows what, you have also been trying to keep yourself busy. You have recently learned to cook a couple meals, nothing too fancy but you feel proud. You play a lot of games, read a lot of books and watch a lot of movies.

But to put it simple—You’re bored. Fucking bored. You miss human interaction. You hate to say it but your food run ins are mostly on purpose at this point…you just want someone to chit chat with for a few moments even if its unpleasant conversation—because hey! At least it’s conversation.

You and Taehyung eat in silence after your little convo, he and you share strange eye contact…you call it strange because it’s more like he glares at you and you glare at him. Your eyes never leave one another. You feel like he’s trying to cast like, black magic on you, maybe something where if he glares enough you will burst into flames. You assume this because that’s exactly what you’re doing.

“Stop looking at me.” Taehyung finishes his last bite, wiping his mouth clean with a napkin.

“You stop looking at me.” You fire back and he sighs, folding his arms across his chest.

“Why would I look at you?”

“Why would I look at you?” you mock, shoving a spoonful of cereal into your mouth and Taehyung squints at you.

“Oh yeah, real mature y/n.” His lips curl inward and he relaxes his arms at his sides as he stands from the table.

“I’m going to my room now.”

“You literally don’t have to announce everything you do.” You raise the bowl to your lips and drink back the leftover milk. You don’t want to look at Taehyung’s expression, you know you’re being ruder than usual. You’re just bitter. Yeah, pretty god damn bitter. You hear Taehyung release a long breath, and you’re starting to think he’s right, maybe you are a brat.

“Goodnight y/n.” he says much softer than you were expecting.

Yeah, maybe you are a brat.

~~~~~~

You’re snuggled up on the living room sofa, the TV plays some cartoon movie you found on the shelf (obviously one of his picks). The movie is on a low volume as you have a book in your hands. You just started it this morning and you have not put it down, it’s called The Roommate, a funny and sexy novel. Too bad your own roommate is nowhere near funny nor sexy. Okay, maybe he’s a little sexy. But his attitude is the opposite of sexy so therefore he isn’t sexy. Yeah, totally. Whatever you have to say to yourself, right? It’s evening now and you’re almost done with the book, you have hardly taken a break from reading. This reminds you of your last memories before the island…the night before you were…kidnapped. Yeah, kidnapped. That’s how you would describe it.

The night before you were like this…snuggled on your sofa in your parent’s house…

“All I’m saying is it doesn’t seem like you’re trying that hard to—”

“Honey, relax.” Your dad cuts in. Your mom is going on and on again about how you still haven’t found another job.

“Relax? Our daughter suddenly left her job and moved back to town!” Your mother throws her hands up, “And she won’t even tell us why!”

You sit here, your knees to your chest as you read your book. You try your best to ignore your mother…you two have rarely ever seen eye to eye. If you told her why you “quit” your previous job and why you had to move back home she would probably find a way to blame you.

“She will tell us when she’s ready.” You hear your dad whisper to your mother. “Don’t push her, you know that makes it worse…”

You can’t help but nibble on your lips, starting to feel the anxiety build. You try to focus on the words on the pages in front of you but they’re beginning to become blurred.

“Oh what is she 5 years old? You treat her like a child! She’s an adult she can handle a little confrontation.”

Your eyes lose focus on the words in front of you, instead all you see is blurred vision thanks to the tears that try to visit.

“I’ll be going to sleep now.” You announce, closing your book and setting it on the end table next to the sofa. “Goodnight.” You grab your phone and stand from your place on the couch. Thankfully, your dad offers a soft ‘goodnight sweetie’ and your mom just nods her head.

You make your way down the hall to your bedroom, opening and closing the door quickly. You lean back on the bedroom door and sigh out, blinking away any tears that tried to appear. You won’t cry. Not again. You feel your phone buzz in your hand, startling you. You unlock your phone to see who messaged you when you see it lit up with a notification from him. You feel your whole world collapsing. Why the fuck is he messaging you?

You stare at your books pages, in deep thought as you recall your last night before the island. You don’t want to remember honestly. You shake your head, ridding yourself of your thoughts when the side door opens in the kitchen. It’s Taehyung. He’s sweaty and clearly exhausted again…what the hell does he do outside for so many hours?

“Hi.” You say, looking up at him from your book. Wait. Why did you greet him?

“Hi…?” Taehyung is just as surprised as you are, with his wide eyes and open mouth. He scrunches his brows together as he eyes you. He gives you a small wave, confusion written all over his face as he begins walking through the entry way and heading upstairs.

You sit here embarrassed as hell. Why did you say hi? And why was your voice so high pitched? You turn red, redder than you probably can imagine. You drop your face in your book and groan, wishing you didn’t say something as simple as ‘hi’.

You have to remind yourself you two aren’t talking. That your roommate here at Casa de la Trapped, isn’t looking to become buddy buddy with you. Which sucks because you are human, you know, a social creature. What’s the harm in becoming friends? Sure you two banter, but you can tell he isn’t a bad guy. You just don’t get any bad vibes from him, in fact sometimes it seems like he’s forcing himself to be closed off.

You try to go back to your book when you hear a faint yelp from upstairs. Did Taehyung just kind of…scream? You sit here with your book, your ears in the direction of the stairs trying to listen for any indication that something is wrong. But it’s silent. You decide to go back to your book when you hear the noise of Taehyung running down the stairs. He is out of breath by the time he reaches you, standing next to the sofa.

You quite literally choke on your spit when you see him. This boy just don’t give a damn, huh? He’s standing here, trying his best to breathe evenly with nothing but a dark red towel hanging lowly around his hips. You gulp at the sight of him. You knew he probably had a nice body but you were not expecting this. His strong build surprises you, his soft, caramel skin glows even in this lighting and his muscles flex with every movement.

“Uh,” you begin, setting your book down again, “Can I help you?”

“As a matter of fact, yes.” Taehyung rushes to say, he sounds much different than usual. His voice is usually calm and deep but right now it’s panicked like a child.

“With what?”

“There’s a spider in the shower, I need you to take care of it.”

“You want me to kill a spider for you?”

“Kill?” Taehyung brings a hand to his chest, a shocked expression on his face. “All life is precious, y/n.” he pouts. “Just get it and take it outside.”

You tilt your head and try not to laugh as you look at him…he looks bothered, that’s for sure. But god, what a baby. Can’t even take care of a small bug by himself.

“Fine. Show me where it’s at.” You rise from the couch, pointing at the direction of the stairs.

“Yes, yes. I’ll lead the way!” Taehyung walks quickly. He makes his way upstairs with you following right behind him. He leads you into the bathroom when he brings back the shower curtain to show you the spider.

“Well?” you ask expectantly. “Where is it?”

Taehyung turns to face you, his face as white as a ghost.

“It was just here, I swear.”

You roll your eyes as you fight back a grin.

“Sure, Taehyung. Are you sure you weren’t just trying to show off your body?” you shamelessly drag your eyes down his body and he goes red.

“W-Why—why would I do that?” he murmurs out, “Plus, I am sure you’ve already imagined what I look like without clothes.” He recovers quickly, a smirk making its way on his face.

“Not likely.” You say nonchalantly. “Well, if there’s no bug—”

“Wait! You don’t expect me to use this shower still, do you?” He looks panicked again, like a small child.

“Uh, yes?”

“The spider could be lurking anywhere! Let me use your shower.” He suggests, loving his own idea. You on the other hand, do not love his idea.

“Nah.”

“Nah?”

“Yeah, nah.”

“y/n…” He whines, “Please. I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” You raise a brow, a small smirk creeping on your face. “Okay, have breakfast with me tomorrow. And you actually have to talk to me.”

“y/n…” he warns. “You know we shouldn’t do that.”

“And I want 5 facts about you.” You stand your ground, your hands on your hips as you speak. “And I’ll give you 3 about me.”

“How is that even fair?”

“I’m the rule maker here, Taehyung.” You narrow your eyes at him, “Get used to it.”

Taehyung walks closer to you, his breaths reaching your skin.

“Oh y/n.” Taehyung’s voice goes low, “I definitely make the rules.” There’s a moment of strange tension as he stares down at you…then he’s speaking again. “If you only give 3 then I only give 3. That’s the deal.”

You stare up into his dark eyes and you struggle to swallow your own spit, he might only have a few inches over you but maybe they are a little intimidating.

“F-Fine. Use my shower.” You step out of his way and gesture towards your room. “See you at breakfast tomorrow.” You wink.

Taehyung rolls his eyes but this time it almost seemed playful and not overly dramatic. You don’t want to get your hopes up but when he’s not being closed off and frankly, rude, he’s really not that bad.

“Don’t get used to these types of deals.” Taehyung throws over his shoulder as he walks to your room. “Basically, don’t get used to me.” He says a little quieter, but you still hear him and you frown.

“Like, I would want to!” you yell out.

Taehyung does not want to leave this shower, ever. He’s almost kind of bitter that he let you have this room! You get the awesome rain shower and he’s stuck with some plain, basic shower head in the guest bathroom. He eyes all the different bottles that sit on the shelves inside the shower, these must be all the bottles you use in your real life, he thinks. He grabs the shampoo and opens it to sniff it. He’s never gotten close enough to you that he can smell your hair but man, this is what you smell like? Delicious. He squirts a generous amount of the shampoo in his palm with an evil glint in his eye and massages it into his scalp. Whoops, did he just use your shampoo? Oh well. He rinses his hair out and uses your conditioner as well, but he doesn’t stop there. He uses your body wash too! It smells divine and its making his skin so soft.

Taehyung just knows that him using your shit would bother you, he just gets that vibe. And he’s not sure why but riling you up is quite fun. Taehyung turns the water off and grabs his towel and starts drying off…he steps out on to the shower mat and eyes the room as he dries himself. He sees you organized all your lotions and whatever other products onto the sinks counter top, he sees how empty “his side” of the sink is. It previously held all his belongings that he had moved into his bathroom—the guest bathroom.

“Are you almost done in there?” He hears you knocking on the door. “I want to take a shower before bed!”

“Yeah, yeah.” He whispers out, “Hold on!”

Taehyung wraps the towel around his hips again and goes towards the bathroom door, he stops to check himself out in the mirror before opening the door.

“I’m all done, cry baby.” He rolls his eyes and you secretly hope they get stuck like that for how much he does it.

“Me, the cry baby? You wouldn’t even use your own show—”

“—anyway, bathroom is all yours.” He breezes past you, but stops before exiting the bedroom. “Um…” he turns around, “See you in the morning.” And then he’s walking out.

~~~~~~

You made eggs, bacon, pancakes, and have fresh fruit in a bowl all set up on the dining room table. For some reason you are too nervous to call out for Taehyung and let him know that breakfast is ready…you know, 30 minutes ago. You just patiently wait, sitting here tapping your fingers against the wooden table.

Another 20 minutes pass by when you hear faint footsteps from upstairs…he must now just be getting up, you think. You rush to reheat up some of the food before he makes his way downstairs. You set the bacon, eggs and pancakes back down on the table and make yourself busy like you haven’t just been waiting for almost an hour.

Taehyung finally walks through the kitchen, his face evident with sleep and his hair sticking out in all directions. He blinks at you lazily before his eyes widen in panic.

“B-Breakfast. I forgot—”

“It’s okay, I just finished.” You cut him off with a strained smile. “I see you like to sleep in.”

“Most days, yeah. Because I go to bed so late.” He admits sheepishly. Then he smirks. “Can that be fact number 1?”

“I’ll allow it.”

“Oh, you’ll allow it? How gracious of you.” Taehyung takes a seat at the dining room table and he starts with grabbing two pancakes from the pile and setting them down on his plate.

“You cooked all of this?” He asks, surprised.

“No, the other people who live here did it.” You deadpan.

“Always a smart ass.” He says while pouring syrup all over his pancakes, “Aren’t you going to sit down?”

“Right…” you make your way to the table and take a seat in front of him. You start with some pancakes as well, waiting for him to finish with the syrup so you can pour your own generous amount. He notices you waiting, his eyes finding yours and the corner of his mouth twitches into a sort of half smile. He slides the syrup across the table and your hand goes out to grab it, your fingers touching his.

“S-Sorry.”

“Sorry.”

You both get out at the same time. You stare at one another for another few seconds before Taehyung rolls his eyes,

“Big deal, our fingers touched. No need to get weird.” He chuckles, and you feel your heart feel all fucking weird.

“Anyway,” you clear your throat, “What’s fact number 2?”

Taehyung takes a bite of his pancakes and moans into the syrupy mess, his eyes finding yours again.

“Oh? You’re greedy for information.”

“I’m a little greedy.” You admit, “So?”

“Fact number 2…I’m almost 5’11.”

“So you’re 5’10. Just say you’re 5’10.”

“But I’m not just 5’10. Because I am almost 5’11.” He groans, “Can’t you just humor me here?”

“Okay Mister 5’11.” You laugh, “My fact number 2 is that I have one older sister.”

Taehyung nods his head, remembering the picture of you and some other girl that you looks a lot like you.

“I see.” He swallows his food, “So you’re the baby of your family?”

“Yes.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” He smirks at you, “You have that baby of the family vibe.”

“Hey! What’s that supposed to mean?” you give him a curious look and he looks at you like you can’t be serious.

“Because you’re…you know,” he gestures towards you with a knowing look and you scoff.

“No, I don’t know.”

“Brat.” He states simply. “Because you’re a brat.”

“Whatever.” You grab for some eggs and bacon, and Taehyung does the same.

“So, what’s fact number 3?” you ask, piling some eggs onto your plate.

“Already want the last fact? We are barely just eating.” Taehyung points out. He shovels some eggs onto his own plate once you are done, and sticks a piece of bacon into his mouth.

“Greedy, remember?” you remind him with a smirk. “So?”

“I’m sure you already gathered this but…I’m an aspiring musician.”

“I figured you were…that, or an artist.”

“Art is just a really fun hobby for me.” He admits. He loves to paint but singing and making music is where his true passion lies.

“What’s your last fact?” he stuffs his face with another piece of bacon, you watch him as he eats the crispy meat.

“Umm…” you look up at the ceiling as you think, “I used to think I looked bad in sun glasses but then I got over that…so now I buy any cool, funky sunglasses I can find.”

“That’s a really random fact.” Taehyung chuckles, “I like cool, funky sunglasses too.”

“Wow, are you saying we actually have something in common?” you tease, bringing a forkful of eggs to your mouth.

“Don’t get used to it.” He says dryly. “Since we said all of our facts, I guess I can go now.”

“You’re not going to finish your food? Taehyung…” you place your hands on the table. “They’re not going to assume just because we are talking that we are falling in love for Christ’s sake.”

“Don’t want to give them any ideas.” Taehyung says a bit harshly. Your face falls into a frown and you stand from the table.

“You can finish your food. I’ll leave.”

Taehyung blinks up at you and opens his mouth to say something but he remains quiet. You shake your head at him and walk off into the living room. If he wants to continue this “Little to no interaction” thing then so be it!

Taehyung sits here with his appetite lost. He holds his fork in his hand out in front of him and attempts to cut into his pancakes when he just gives up. He drops the fork onto the table and sighs out.

“y/n…” he calls out but you ignore him. “y/n!”

“Don’t talk to me.” You say with as much attitude you can muster and Taehyung silently mocks your words. He grabs his fork and aggressively cuts into his pancakes and takes a bite.

“Fine by me!” He yells out with his mouth full.

“You’re so annoying!” You groan and Taehyung silently mocks your words again but you can’t see him.

“And you’re a brat!” He says stuffing his mouth with another slice of pancake.

Great. For a moment there you thought you two could almost get along but he is set on this bullshit of not talking. You walk to the shelves in the living room and choose a new book, another romance novel. You take a seat on the couch, and curl up into a blanket. Taehyung can do whatever he wants! You’re going to enjoy your book and forget all about his annoying ass.

~~~~~~

Taehyung is finally dressed into some shorts and a sleeveless shirt as he makes his way out of the house. He is going to continue working on his little…project. You are probably wondering what he gets up to everyday, he thinks.

He is working on building a raft. He wants to escape this island but he doesn’t know how to build a fucking raft and this company didn’t necessarily give him the tools to escape. But he’s figuring it out. He is quite literally breaking tree branches and going from there. But it is taking time but apparently he has all the time in the world. 3 months? 6 months? A year or even more? He releases a long breath as he walks the path to where his “raft” is. If anything it’s just nice to get out of the house and breathe the island air. This whole thing kind of just gives him something to do and he knows this may not really work but he’s got to try. He’s a man of action after all.

He finally sees his “raft” chilling against a tree close to the beach and he walks up to it. Already feeling frustrated just looking at the pathetic thing. He has to make it big enough for two people…he isn’t an asshole, he doesn’t plan on escaping by himself, leaving you here.

He goes to his knees and holds it up, he feels his frustrations bubble over and he throws it to the ground. How the hell is he supposed to escape with this shitty thing?

He slams his eyes shut and sinks into the sand. He wants to go home. Things aren’t easy here…he can’t sleep. He is surprised he’s eating as much as he is, and he has mostly bad interactions with you. And he knows that it’s his fault. But he knows this is for the best but he can tell it’s not what you want. To be honest, this is actually really hard for him. He tries to come off as cold and closed off so you won’t take an interest in him but he’s dying! He wants to talk to you too! He is probably one of the most social of his friends! He has a lot of friends and he loves talking and hanging with them.

Taehyung feels his eyes become wet with hot tears and he grits he teeth together in irritation. He wishes he was home with his friends, with his family, with the girl he likes. He misses everyone so bad. He knows the night you two were “kidnapped” was the last day of the year, meaning they started this experiment January 1. He recalls his last few nights before the island…it was his birthday.

“No! I want him to open my present first!” Jimin whines and Taehyung can’t help the wide grin that adorns his face.

They’re all out at a bar, the music is loud and the alcohol is nonstop. Taehyung is surrounded by his closest friends, plus Hana—the girl Taehyung has been crushing on for the last year. She brought along a couple of her friends to this night out of celebration.

“He can open whoever’s he wants first…which is mine, right?” Jungkook hands Taehyung a box and Taehyung chuckles.

“Just for that, your two are going last.” Taehyung says, “How about I open Namjoon’s first since he planned this night?”

Namjoon gives the other two boys a cocky grin as he hands Taehyung a bag.

“Can I go after Namjoon?” Hana’s sweet voice is heard over the blaring music. She looks absolutely gorgeous tonight, her pink dress doing her a million favors. Not that she needs the favors, she’s always gorgeous.

“Y-Yeah.” Taehyung blushes, “But you didn’t have to get me anything…”

“Really? You practically yelled at us when you thought we weren’t getting you anything.” Jimin playfully comments.

“Shut up dude.” Taehyung grits out, “Anyway, let’s see what Joonie got me.”

The night went on, the music got louder, the alcohol kept on coming. Taehyung is so happy. Everything is perfect. He doesn’t think anything can ruin his good mood.

“Want to dance with me?” Hana’s words leave her pretty, pink lips and Taehyung finds himself nodding yes before he can even register what she said. He would literally do anything she wanted.

“Then come.” She waves him over with her small, manicured hand.

Hana and Taehyung end up on the dance floor for quite some time…he’s too drunk to be nervous like he usually is. His large hands grip at her tiny waist as he brings her in closer, she lightly moans when she feels his hard body against her.

“We should talk.” Hana breathes out, “About us.”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide, panic starting to make its way into his body.

“What about us?”

Hana chuckles lightly, she goes on her tip toes and places a soft, sweet kiss against Taehyung’s lips.

“Nothing bad, I promise.” She takes his hand and leads him outside the bar, out to a little patio. Taehyung has a huge smile on his face as he follows her outside…it’s not the first time they’ve kissed but he still can’t get used to it.

“You like me right?” she asks, pointing to herself. She’s got that sweet smile and Taehyung feels his nerves spiking.

“Yes.” He finally breathes out.

“Good. Because I like you too.” She admits, she closes her eyes for a moment, Taehyung spots the golden eye shadow that is painted over her lids. She opens her eyes again and he spots a sadness in them.

“But…” she begins and Taehyung feels his smile fade.

“But what?”

“No…it’s nothing.” She clears her throat, “You should take me on a date. And soon.” She giggles. Taehyung feels his smile grow and he nods his head.

“I would love to. We can—”

“Hey Tae!” Hobi’s voice cuts him off, “Yoongi says he just got off work and is on his way!!” He cheers happily. Taehyung turns to face Hobi and gives him a thumbs up before he’s spinning back around to Hana.

“Let’s go inside. We can discuss more on our date.” She smiles, taking his hand again.

“Sure.” Taehyung grins, his stomach doing a million flips. “Let’s go!”

Taehyung feels a few tears escape his closed eye lids as he sits in the sand. It’s too early to be in this state, Taehyung thinks. But alas, he can’t help it. He misses his life. This island put his life on complete hold. What if he’s stuck here for a year? Would Hana wait for him? It’s not like he’s expecting her to…but he thinks he would wait for her.

He stands to his feet, wiping his face of any leftover tears and he begins working for the day. He finds new trees with branches that would be easy to cut down and he resumes his little project. Hours and Hours go by and Taehyung is sitting on the beach’s sand and staring out at the water. He’s tired, he’s sweaty and he’s hungry.

Taehyung starts making his way back to the house now that the sun is setting. It’s pretty orange glow sets a relaxing mood and Taehyung feels grateful. He walks up to the side door that leads to the kitchen and watches you from the window. You look calm as usual and he feels himself feeling frustrated all over again…how are you so calm? He was having a meltdown on the beach earlier and here you are cooking dinner with a small smile on your face. He doesn’t understand you. Does this whole situation not bother you? No…he knows it has to bother you but how are you able to be so relaxed about it?

He opens the door and walks inside, startling you. You bring a hand to your heart when you see him but then visibly relax after a moment or two.

“You scared me.”

“Sorry.” He mumbles lamely. And then he’s walking up the stairs leaving you to your lonesome.

~~~~~

Month: 1

It’s been a month. A whole month! It seems Taehyung has gotten even more distant with you…no major interactions since you two had breakfast together. He keeps his comments to you brief in passing and he barely makes eye contact. You’re fed up. You’re lonely. You need interaction and you can’t always cater to him! He can suck it up for once and do what you want.

Feeling brave, you give yourself a pep talk in your bathroom mirror. That’s right, you are going to just go for it! You are going to demand that he hang out with you. You fix your hair in the mirror and nod to yourself. Yeah, you got this. You exit your room and stroll down the hall to his bedroom, once you are standing in front of it you lean your head against the door, your ear lying flat against it as you try to listen for him. The room sounds pretty quiet…maybe he’s sleeping? No, no. You’re just trying to find an excuse not to do this, aren’t you? Ugh, pathetic.

You raise your fist up and begin knocking on his door. You’re left with silence…you’re being ignored. So you knock again. And again. And ag—

“What?!” Taehyung swings open the door, revealing that he was indeed maybe sleeping. His hair is doing that funny thing where it sticks out in every direction and his eyes are barely open.

“This better be important.” He huffs out.

Suddenly, you feel a wave of shyness wash over you. You feel kind of bad you interrupted his nap…but you got to stay strong.

“Please hang out with me.” You blurt out.

“Huh?” Taehyung looks at you as if you’re crazy. “Not happening.” He quickly says.

“Just play a game with me, or maybe we could watch that movie…”

“I don’t want to do anything with you.” He raises his voice just the slightest and you flinch.

“Yeah? You think I want to do things with you? Like you specifically? Hell no! But I just want to do something damn it!” you flail your arms up, and breathe out heavily. “I am so fucking tired of always being by myself, it’s literally driving me insane.” You admit, you look off to the side as tears threaten to wet your eyes. “I am alone every single day. It has been a month, Taehyung? Did you know that? You’ve left me lonely for an entire month! I am going fucking crazy!” you bring your hands to your hips, “I have tried learning to cook all these god damn recipes as a way to distract myself but dude, I don’t even like cooking. I read all day too…I have all these imaginary book friends and that’s where I meet my social needs, isn’t that insane? Oh my god, I am going insane. And you?! How are you okay?!”

Taehyung is left speechless at your rant. He realizes that this loneliness is really getting to you…he admits he isn’t much better. But he kind of likes that you’re beginning to spiral. Is that mean?

“W-What game?” he juts out his bottom lip as his eyes slide to the side.

You stare at him with wide eyes as your chest heaves. You screw your eyes closed, and bring a hand to your head.

“What game?” you open your eyes to look at him, “That’s all you have to say?”

“What game y/n?”

You glare at him, huffing out deep breaths trying to calm yourself.

“Mortal Kombat.” You spit out, “I really want to kick your ass.”

Your fingers work the buttons on the controller as you test out every god damn combo you can…and damn it is working because you are on fire.

“You could have warned me that you actually know how to play…” Taehyung pouts.

“You should have just taken my word for it, you loser.” You continue to kick his ass in the game, you are pretty good at pretending his character is actually him.

“One more game, y/n.” Taehyung begs, “I will beat you!”

“You haven’t won even one match, Taehyung. Just admit you suck.” You chuckle darkly.

You press a few more buttons until you see the word ‘Fatality’ grace your screen, you stand up in excitement yelling out your victory, you laugh like a god damn maniac and he can’t help but chuckle. Taehyung throws his controller to the ground and pouts dramatically.

“I know what will make you feel better.” You turn to face him, calming down.

“Nothing will heal this wound, y/n.” He states, throwing the sofa’s designated blanket over his body.

“How about we watch that movie you like so much?” you offer with a smile but Taehyung goes stiff at your question.

“I think we should just call it for the day…” he looks awkwardly to the side and you slump your shoulders.

“Oh…okay.”

“Listen…it’s not you—”

“Just stop.” You hold your hand up, “You want nothing to do with me, I get it.”

“y/n…” Taehyung looks down at his hands…he does feel bad. It’s not like he didn’t have fun with you just now. He just wishes this was all different.

“I’ll be in my room—”

“Teach me how to make one of the recipes you learned.” He cuts in.

“What?” you ask, completely off guard. “What?” you repeat.

“I said,” Taehyung breathes out, “Teach me how to make one of the recipes you learned.” He’s not just trying to be nice…he’s also, you know, hungry.

You hate yourself because you light up like the sun almost immediately. You wish you were strong and you could tell him to fuck off but instead you become the god damn sun from how brightly you shine.

“Really?” you ask with the most hopeful eyes.

“Yeah.” Taehyung laughs, “Really.”

“You mean…you want to actually spend time with me?” you ask bluntly.

“I guess you can put it that way if it makes you feel better.” Taehyung rolls his eyes, but it’s in that playful way you only ever get to see so often.

“It does make me feel better actually.”

“Well, then.” He stands up and motions his hand towards the kitchen. “Shall we?”

“Are you going to be annoying the whole time?” you ask, “Or will you be serious about learning?”

“God, woman.” He rolls his eyes again. “I hope I annoy the shit out of you.”

“Oh, you already do.” You gesture for him to go to the kitchen first.

“You haven’t seen anything yet.”

“Somehow I believe you.” This time it’s your turn for the dramatic eye roll. “Now come on.”

“Oh my god. You aren’t even listening!” you yell out over Taehyung’s nonstop humming and whistling.

“I truly believe cooking is like an art, you know?” he continues to whistle some made up tune, “These instructions are like…a guide but you can kind of do what you…” he makes a fist with his hand and shakes it in front of his face. “… you want.” He finishes. “Yeah, these are more like suggestions.”

“Can we please just follow the directions.” You deadpan. “I want this to taste the way it’s supposed to!”

“You’re no fun.” Taehyung says nonchalantly. “Cooking should be fun.”

“Cooking is so we can eat.”

“These dumplings are going to taste fine, y/n.” He assures you with a grin.

“You say that but…” you look at his pile of failed dumplings. “But…” you show him with your hand the absolute mess he’s made.

“Your point?” He raises a single brow and you scoff. There’s no way he is serious, absolutely no way.

You notice Taehyung is staring at you, his eyes look everywhere but your eyes and you start to feel nervous under his gaze. He has one of those dark, intense gazes that you just can’t shake off your mind.

“What?” you finally ask. “Something on my face?” you joke.

“Actually, yes.” He blurts out. “So much flour.”

“Oh.” You start to turn red with embarrassment, “Where? Here?” you point to various spots on your face with a towel and he just shakes his head.

“No, there.” He points but you still miss it.

“Just clean it off me!”

“You want me to touch you?”

“Yes, please touch me.” Then your eyes expand in size. “Wait, that sounds wrong.”

“You have a dirty mind, y/n.” Taehyung shakes his head again, “You’re just all kinds of dirty.”

“Oh my god, stop.” You look at him with your flustered as hell face, your face is probably redder than ever and it feels so fucking hot.

“Here.” Taehyung grabs the towel from your hands and begins wiping your face clean. “Your face isn’t dirty anymore.” He pulls his hand back, “But your mind still is, huh?”

“Will you just shut up?”

“Will you just shut up?” he mocks how you usually would and you roll your eyes. Hard.

“Doesn’t feel good does it?” He teases, “Getting a taste of your own medicine.”

“Can we please just focus on this recipe?”

“Fine.” He breathes out, “Except I will ignore this recipe completely and do what I think my ancestors want me to do. They whisper in my ear that these need more garlic.”

“You are so annoying.”

“You are so annoying.”

“Okay, I get it, Taehyung.”

You reach behind you and untie your apron and place it on its hook by the pantry. You walk over to the dining room table and take a seat.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Taehyung quirks a brow as you rest your head on the table.

“Resting. Letting you do all the work. You can cook from now on. I give up.”

Taehyung shakes his pointer finger at you and walks your way.

“Oh no, no, no.” he grabs on to your arm and begins dragging you up. “This was your idea so we are cooking together.”

“Uh, actually this was your idea.”

“Oh.” Taehyung’s mouth hangs open as he realizes how true that is. “Not one of my better ideas…” he admits.

“Oh? Do you usually have good ideas?” You make your snarky comment and Taehyung let’s go of your arm.

“Usually the best.” He says, a cocky smile making its way on his stupidly handsome face.

“I don’t believe that for a second.”

“Well, you don’t know me.”

“Oh? And whose fault is that?” You jab at him and he visibly deflates.

“You know 3 things about me actually.” He gives you a half smile.

“All I remember is that you’re almost 5’11.”

“Well, that one was the most important. So your head is in the right place.”

Taehyung doesn’t realize it because you didn’t say anything but his face is full of flour as well. You stare up at him and start to laugh. Taehyung looks at you, confused. An adorable pout forms on his lips as he begs you to tell him what’s so funny.

“Your face.” You point at him and his fingers go to touch his skin.

“Clean me.” He commands. “I cleaned you, it’s only fair.” He points out.

You nod your head and walk towards the counter to grab the towel, Taehyung follows closely behind you. You turn around quickly and your chest bumps into his.

“Oh sorry.” He says while scratching the back of his neck, “I got too close.”

You nod lamely, but neither of you step back. Maybe expecting the other to do it? You decide to ignore that and you reach up to clean his face. He has flour everywhere. No joke. This dude is messy. You kind of laugh as you wipe his face clean, he can’t help but laugh too. His breath mingling with yours as you two giggle.

“We are kind of a mess.” He admits, his tone is soft—almost shy. You slow down the patting on his skin and you gaze into his eyes for a moment. They’re dark. They’re powerful. You feel yourself getting lost in the moment when Taehyung clears his throat and you bring your hand back down.

“There.” You say, “All done.”

“Should we finish cooking?” Taehyung grins down at you.

“I don’t know, what do your ancestors say?”

“They say you’re a smart ass.”

~~~~~~

“Do you think we could…we could do this again?” You and Taehyung are standing outside your bedroom door. Why did Taehyung walk you all the way to your door? The world may never know.

“Do what exactly?” he asks as he sways back and forth in front of you

“Play a game…or cook dinner…or you know just hang out.”

“Maybe… once a week we can play a game or watch a movie or something…” he gets out awkwardly.

“Wow, you’ll grace me with your presence once a week?” you roll your eyes, “How generous of you.”

“Listen…” Taehyung looks at you more seriously, “I know social contact is important for like, our mental health or whatever. But we shouldn’t push it.”

“You’re so…”

“I’m so what?” Taehyung steps forward and you gulp.

“So unfair.” You whisper. Taehyung bows his head down, he feels like he is shrinking. Because you’re right, he is being totally unfair. But he thinks this is the right move, the smart move.

“Y/n…” he sighs, “I’m doing this so we can leave.”

“And what if your little strategy isn’t working? It’s been a month Taehyung.” You point out, “And we’re still here.”

“I know, I know. Jesus, woman.” He breathes out, his dark eyes finding yours. “Look, they will get bored with us.”

“How can you be so sure?” you step forward. “What if we aren’t boring to them?” you whisper, your eyes staying on his.

“That’s why we should interact as little as possible.”

“Taehyung. No offense. But do you really think I want to interact with you?” you spit out, “I just need something, anything. I just need someone.” You step closer, “And you happen to be the only person here.”

Taehyung’s brows pinch together as he looks down at you, a frown decorating his face. He…he doesn’t want to be hurt by that.

“Once a week y/n. That’s all I can offer you.” He steps closer to you, his feet bumping into yours, “Don’t get greedy on me.”

You tilt your head up and chuckle,

“I told you I’m greedy though.” Your eyes stay on his, his piercing gaze causing you to shudder but you don’t break contact and neither does he. He’s challenging you, you can feel it. His eyes begin to narrow as he stares down at you, you wonder what he is thinking. He sighs out, his breath hitting your face and you blink up at him. You’re about to say something, anything when his tongue darts out to wet his lips. You mean to keep your eyes on his eyes, you really do but you don’t. You hate yourself for dropping your gaze down to his lips. He smirks as realization hits him.

“Goodnight y/n.” He says, his voice so deep and low it catches you off guard. Then he’s stepping away from you and heading towards his room, leaving you at your door. You release the longest, shakiest breath as you watch him disappear.

You open the door to your bedroom and walk inside, you wish you could yell out in frustration. You wish you could scream into your pillow and know for sure he can’t hear you. You wish you weren’t here.

You change into some sleep clothes and slide into bed. You pull the blanket up to your nose and kick your legs dramatically. This guy is so annoying! Why can’t he just not care and live life normally so you can be normal too! Listen, you aren’t fucking thrilled about this either. But you’re handling it a lot better than he is. Why is that…? Why are you handling this so well? Maybe it’s because your real life is a fucking mess and this truly is the vacation you needed. You know, you know how pathetic that sounds.

You close your eyes and try to sleep but memories of your real life keep hitting you. You hate this. You hate all of this. You’re lonely. You’re all alone. In this this life on the island but also in your real life. You’re so fucking alone. You feel tears prick your eyes and you let yourself quietly sob for who knows how long. You wish you had someone to lean on…just in general. But you lost all of your friends at work…you lost your boyfriend…you only have your parents and even they are fed up with you.

After crying tears after tears you decide you’re thirsty. You tip toe out of bed and make your way downstairs…the house is so quiet and dark. It’s relaxing and also depressing. You finally make it to the kitchen when you scream bloody murder. Sitting in the dark at the dining room table is Taehyung.

“Wow, y/n. It’s not next week yet.” He jokes. You quickly turn on the dining room light and look at him like he’s insane.

“You fucking scared me!” you exclaim loudly, “And why are you awake?”

“I have trouble sleeping…” he admits, he scratches the back of his neck and gives you a sheepish grin. “What about you?”

You step closer to the table and Taehyung’s eyes slightly expand. He notices your swollen eyes and puffy lips. Had you been crying?

“Hey…are you okay?” he whispers out, standing from his chair.

“Don’t act like you care so suddenly.” Your eyes slide to the side, “I’m fine.”

Taehyung looks down, guilt burying itself into his body. He looks up at you and tries to speak but he doesn’t know what to say.

“I just came down for some water.” You tell him. “That’s all.” You walk over to the fridge for the pitcher of cold water then you walk to the cabinet and try to grab a glass from the top shelf but you struggle. You huff out and close your eyes in frustration when you feel Taehyung’s chest on your back.

“I’ll grab it for you.” He says softly. He reaches for a glass and hands it to you, you take it from him and offer him a small thanks.

“See? That’s something only people who are almost 5’11 could do.” He teases and you look at him with a serious expression. You look down at your feet and sigh out before you let a giggle slip between your lips.

“Goodnight Taehyung.” You look up to study his face, and you see his smile fade.

“What?” you ask.

“Once a day.” He says. “We can hang out once a day. But that’s it.”

You feel your heart do something funny…you feel your tummy doing something weird too. You feel your entire chest get hit with a wave of….something.

“It’s fine, Taehyung.” You finally say after a quiet moment, “I don’t want to push you.”

“This isn’t for you.” He smiles, “I think I need the social contact too.”

“Well, no fucking duh.” You state with the roll of your eyes. “We can’t isolate ourselves…it’s so unhealthy.”

“I get it.” He breathes out, “So, I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“And every day after that until we’re out of this place.”

~~~~~~~~

The next couple of days you and Taehyung play some games or watch a movie together, just doing at least one activity a day. Just like he said you two would. Admittingly you do feel better about this arrangement. Not talking at all was a pain in the ass and terribly lonely. Sometimes Taehyung will come to the living room and play a game by himself while you read, just sharing a space without really talking, even after he did his one activity with you. You hate to admit how much you like that he does that.

It’s not like you want to get to know him specifically…but you would like to sort of know the person you are living with…that makes sense, right? It’s not him! It’s just that he’s the only person here…and you want a friend. Yes, you can admit you want a friend. You aren’t going to fall in love with the dude…you just want someone to talk to and hang out with. God, is that such a crime? Plus, you’re in no place for love. If the company truly knows you, with their “research” and all then they should know you are not ready for any type of romantic relationship.

You lay here on the couch, your legs hung over the arm of it while you stare up at the ceiling. It’s hot out today and this house happens to come with a lovely pool. The ocean is scary so no beach for you…but pool? Yes. You lay here, wondering what Taehyung is up to. He went out again today like he usually does, you wonder if you can ask him about it now…now that you guys aren’t on total terrible terms. Nah, you will wait a little longer before you ask. Instead, you rise from the sofa and head upstairs to change into a swim suit.

You have a lot of options, to be honest. This place did not lack on the clothing items! You decide on a simple dark green bikini, you try it on and decide you like the way it looks. A lot actually. Have you lost some weight? You guess the lack of fast food options has made you a little slimmer, and the amount of fresh food that’s available here. Plus you started lightly working out in the home gym, sweating a storm.

You head back downstairs and go to the back where the absolutely lovely porch is located…it’s a whole wooden deck. With a glamorous pool in the center and a hot tub off to the side. You wish you really lived in a place like this—not here, specifically. (For obvious reasons) You shrug off the towel that’s wrapped protectively over your body and make your way to the pool. You don’t know what you’re being self-conscious for…Taehyung doesn’t usually come back until sunset and it’s barely the afternoon.

You dip your toes in the water first…it’s pretty chilly but you handle it, dipping your body further and further into the water. You shiver just a bit before dunking your head underneath, letting the water consume you. You stay underwater, opening your eyes and staring at the blue nothingness.

“I love you.” He says for the first time, making you float on air. You knew he was going to say it soon, you could feel it but you were not expecting it here.

You two are sitting at Cozy Coffee, your favorite place to relax and read and write. You are in the middle of writing a very intriguing sentence when your fingers stop typing in reaction to his confession.

“You what?” you ask, a small smile adorning your face. “You love me?”

“Yes.” He reaches for your hand across the table, “But you already knew that, didn’t you?”

“I had a feeling.” You tease. “But I…”

“You don’t have to say it yet if you aren’t ready,” he squeezes your hand, “I can wait.”

“No!” you squeeze his hand back, “I…love you too.” You admit softly.

He brings his hand back, folding his hands together out in front of him and sighs out, his breaths escaping him softly.

“These past 6 months with you y/n…” he begins, “Have been the most wonderful.”

“They have been pretty nice, haven’t they?” you smirk. “Tell me your favorite part?”

“Any part where you’re naked, for sure.” He laughs and you gasp.

“Hey! Behave.” You warn with a smile and he keeps laughing.

“I’m serious, this is the best relationship I have ever had. You’re definitely the best girlfriend…all these other girls have been crazy.”

You frown at that, “Why crazy?”

“Ugh, you know how women can get.”

You don’t like the way he said that, you feel your smile twist into another frown.

“What do you mean?”

“It doesn’t matter. Because you aren’t like that. You’re different.”

You smile again, once again feeling special with his praise.

“Different how?”

“Jeez, you ask a lot of questions.” He half jokes. “I don’t know, you just are.”

The water is starting to sting your eyes as you continue to hold your breath, memories flooding you. This water isn’t the only thing trying to drown you. You finally squeeze your eyes shut and swim up to the surface, gasping for air once you reach it. You breathe out heavily as you try to catch a breath, your wet hair dripping down your just as wet face. You swim to the edge of the pool and lift yourself up on the ledge and sit with your legs still in the water.

Why do you have to think of him?

After an hour or so that passes and plenty of sun later you decide you’ve had enough of the day outside. You stand to your feet and grab your towel and dry off, draping the towel over your right arm. You’re still pretty wet you admit, but nothing crazy. You head for the house, walking through the back door. Once you enter the house the cool AC hits you, causing you to shiver but you decide a warm shower will solve this. You turn the corner in the hall to head upstairs when your body slams into another body. You run into Taehyung hard causing you to tumble over and fall on top of him.

Taehyung yelps out when he makes contact with you, his body falling to the hard tiled floor and he winces. You fall on top of him, your chest smooshing his face. Yeah, your boobs in his face. That’s what that fucking means. Your wet boobs in his sweaty face.

“What the hell?” Taehyung mumbles between your breasts, “Get off me.”

You’re quick to try to scramble off his body, your hands landing in all the wrong places as you try to lift yourself. He groans loudly when you make contact with his lower hips and his hands go to grab your wrists trying to stop you from moving around so much.

“Chill, chill.” He breathes out slowly, still holding on to your wrists. He makes his way out from beneath you and pulls you up by the wrists.

“I wasn’t this sweaty before you ran into me…” Taehyung observes, “How wet are you?”

“I wasn’t this wet until running into you. How fucking sweaty are you?!”

“Fair.” Taehyung says with a smirk, then he’s blinking at you. “You went swimming today?” he eyes you up and down and you immediately feel insecure under his intense gaze.

“Uh, yeah.” You take the towel that’s draped around your arm and go to cover yourself with it.

“Why are you getting shy now?” as sly smile draws itself on Taehyung’s face. “You didn’t seem this shy just a moment ago with your tits in my face?” he questions with a low voice.

“Oh my god, can we not bring that up?” you begin to blush and you hate yourself for it.

“Why not?”

“It was an accident first of all. There will never be a time again where my boobs are in your face.”

“Oh you’re making the company sad.” Taehyung pouts.

“Shut up.” You roll your eyes and Taehyung laughs. His laughter dies down though when he shamelessly eyes you again.

“Green is my favorite color.” He says while walking past you and heading upstairs.

You stand here, embarrassed as fucking usual. Your whole body warming up and you don’t even feel that cold AC any longer. You breathe in and breathe out. Taehyung is not making this stay very easy, is he?

~~~~~~

Month: 2

“Don’t you use that blue shell!” You scream at the air around you, your eyes concentrating on the screen ahead.

Taehyung smirks, working his fingers on the controller. God, he can really move his fingers. Wait, why the hell would you think that?

“Don’t tell me what to do!”

You are both totally immersed in your game, the finish line in sight. You jump to your feet in rushed excitement as the finish line is soon approaching. You need this win to tie with him on your ongoing competition in Mario Kart. You’re both oh so close, the anticipation rising. Like, honestly you might shit yourself. Taehyung also leaps to his feet, joining you at your side. Now you are both screaming at the screen, your throats will totally pay for this later. You are jumping up and down, yelling at one another , slamming your fingers on the controllers, harshly pressing down on the accelerator button. You can see it. Its literally right in front of you! AND you are ahead of him! The finish line! Your screams getting louder and louder…when…you are graced with a black screen.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!” You yell in unison.

You turn to face Taehyung, the one you hate the most right now. Your eyes dark and your voice low.

“What did you do?”

“ME? I didn’t do anything!” He says accusingly.

“You must have! You knew I was going to win—”

“First of all, we don’t know that.” He cuts you off all matter of fact. So annoying.

You look at him incredulously.

“THAT’S IT! I’m going to strangle you!” Before you can take a step towards him to you know, kill him, the screen turns a bright white, catching your attention. Lucky dude. Your focus now on the screen, you look at it with your head tilted to the side. There are black letters at the top of the screen and you decide to read out loud whatever this caption says.

“Re…Request?” your eyes scan the word slowly. “Oh. Oh shit,” Your eyes go wide, you turn to face Taehyung, his expression mirroring your own. You had completely, like completely forgot about the ‘Requests’. It has been a couple months of silence so how could you not forget? You wonder if this company is finally ready to move …this…along. Whatever this is.

Only seconds pass before more black words appear on the screen. Your eyes stay on Taehyung though, too nervous to read what comes next.

Taehyung must realize you have no intention on reading anymore because he exhales deeply and faces the screen.

“Okay, here goes…” he begins, “The two subjects must…”

[nyasiaaaaa]

The Little things

Pairing: Din Djarin x Fem reader

Word count: 8k

Warnings: established relationship, shooting, angst, Smut (18+), spanking, Dom/Sub, oral sex ( m and f receiving) P in V, fingering ( f receiving), spitting, use of good girl ( once), breeding kink if you squint, Fluff, helmet-less Din ( he only wears it when he’s outside), tw eating

A/N: First time writing smut and first time writing for a Pedro character. For @its--fandom--darling 1k follower celebration!!! Thank you @absurdthirst for all your help. Thank you @aripariii for looking over this.


You throw your head back in frustration as you contemplate giving up feeding the kid. You had been trying to feed him vegetables for the past week. Every time you wanted to feed him some smashed peas with a spoon, he would use the force to push it into your mouth. You lift your head as you take a deep breath, ready to try again when Din walks in and throws jerky on the table for the kid. You look at Din in disbelief before getting up to clean the mess while you let the kid eat.

“I’ll be back in a few; this shouldn’t take long,” Din announced as he stood in place, scanning the room for his blaster.

“You missing something,” you asked, hopping on one of the crates looking over at him with a mischievous smile 

“Give it,” he grumbled out, walking up to you holding his hand out

“Give what,” you questioned as you tilted your head. “Give this,” you smiled, pulling out his blaster.

Din tried to reach for it as you pulled back “nope, let’s make a deal.”

“I don’t have time for games, cyar’ika,” he replied trying to convince you to give it up.

“Then let’s not play any. I’ll give you your blaster if you quit giving the kid what he wants when I’m trying to give him a balanced diet, ok.” 

“Ok,” he agrees to take the blaster from your hand. 

“Also, you don’t have to rush back for lunch; just make sure you are here for dinner” he gave you a nod in response as he fished, packing up his things.

You pick the kid up and dust him over, carrying him over to Din so he could say bye. Din looked down at his son and ruffled his head before looking at you. He bent down, placing his cold beskar helmet against your head. He didn’t need to say anything you already knew and vise versa. Din straightened up and walked towards the ramp before typing in buttons and letting it down. 

As Din was walking away, he stopped to remind you for the millionth time, “cyar’ika, don’t leave the ship, this is one of the most dangerous plants and-“

“I know you’ve told me all this before. I won’t leave me. The kid and I are going to chill here and watch cartoons or something,” you told him, interrupting his repetitive speech.

He stood there hesitantly, debating in his head before choosing to just walk down the ramp and away. You guys never did that stop and turn around things you’ve seen in movies; there was no need to. He was always going to come back; he had promised you. 

As soon as the Din was far away enough, you closed the ramp and started getting ready to leave. Dins birthday is coming up, and you’re trying to make him a chocolate cake. In one of your late-night pillow talks, you asked Din what he remembers from his childhood before the Mandalorian, he replies that he doesn’t remember a lot. What he does remember is how every year, for his birthday, his mom would make him a chocolate cake. It was the best thing he has ever eaten in his life, well, the second-best thing he adds a few seconds later. 

Since then, you have been collecting all the ingredients you need to make the cake over the next couple of weeks. You have everything but cocoa powder, the most crucial ingredient. You’ve looked everywhere, every plant, every website you couldn’t find it anywhere else but this plant. 

You don’t want to go against what Din has asked you, especially because you said you wouldn’t. Still, you just wanted to do something special for him, for his birthday, because he deserved it. After all, he had done for you, you wanted to do something for him even if others might consider it a little thing you knew it would mean a lot to Din.

 For example a few months ago, you tried to make sure Din started enjoying his meals more and eating meals more frequently. You did this by eating together like a clan Breakfast, Lunch, and dinner. You and Din sit next to each other at the small table you had built together, the kid in his high chair. Din had to adjust to it but never complained. He even started to look forward to it, rushing back to the ship sometimes after a bounty to make it in time for lunch or dinner.  

You smiled, thinking fondly of the memories you’ve created with your clan over the past months as you started getting ready to leave. As you’re finishing up and was about to leave, you activate the droid; you have to watch the kid. This droid you had found in a past mission but never had a reason to fix it until now. You had been working on it the ship during flight and while Din was away on hunts. 

When Din had asked you about the droid, you said you were programming the IG-11 to help clean around the ship. Din had been uncertain because of its killing background but ended up letting it go. You had lied though, you had kept the Droids programming and just added few changes to it. The changes were that when you left, its mission was to protect the child and take care of all its needs. It was to kill anyone or thing that came onto the ship unless it was you, Din, or the kid. 

The little white lie was never a problem either because you only activated the droid when you and Din were out to watch the kid, and you always made sure to come back to the ship before Din to deactivate it, plus Din never questioned why he’d never seen the droid in “action.” 

You set out to the local market nearby, where you were hoping to find the last ingredient so you could make the cake. Since you started a little late today and this is one of the most dangerous plants in the galaxy, you walked a bit faster than usual. The quicker you walked, the more excited you got. You were about to be done getting all the supplies to make the cake, just in time, because Dins birthday was in a couple of weeks. As you neared the market, you prayed to Maker that the thing you’re risking your life over was going to be here. You were incredibly proud of yourself for keeping this a secret from Din without him suspecting a thing.

***********

Din had tracked his bounty to a bar nearby; as he neared the bar, he could hear the noise of people inside. As soon as he stepped foot into the bar, it went silent, some people shaking in fear, others puffing their chest out and rising onto the balls of their feet slightly. Din looked around the bar; it wasn’t a bad bar. It just wasn’t the nicest. 

The same color brown wood was throughout, green bar stools, plastic lawns chairs, mice having a party in every corner. Also, the floor was sticky; he could feel it with every step he took, he would have to use a little more effort than usual to lift his foot up, and you could hear it in every step. Din hadn’t spotted his bounty during his initial scan of the room, so he turned to the bartender to ask if he had seen the bounty. The bartender wasted no time and pointed to the backroom as he kept his head down. Din reaches the backroom and sees a smaller room same design and layout as the front with four men playing poker and three bodyguards. Dins usually not a man of words, but he doesn’t really feel like fighting today, so he tells them, “We can do this the easy way or the hard way. The choice is yours.”

 One guard rushes towards Din and tries to grab him, but Din is quicker; he pulls a blaster and shoots a bodyguard in the chest. He starts getting attacked by two of the bodyguards but takes them out with ease. After the last bodyguard fell to the floor, he heard footsteps pounding against the floor, then pressure is applied to his back, one of the poker players had jumped on him. Din falls backward, crushing the person underneath him; he then quickly rolls over, props himself on one knee, and pulls his blaster to shoot the guy. Din then whips his gun around to the other side of the room to find two people standing there shaking with their hands up, neither of them his bounty. Din snaps his head in the direction of the door he came in as he hears the bell ring that’s placed above the door. He pushes himself off the ground and starts chasing after the man.

*************

You had to go to three different vendors in the market, but you finally found the cocoa powder you were looking for, the lady dared to charge you three times its worth, but you didn’t care anything for Din. You had to wander deep into the market to find the cocoa, so on your way out, you were doing a slight jog. You had hoped you were making good time and would make it back in time, but you had no way of knowing for sure.

***************

Din is chasing after the guy, and he’s so close the guy knows this too. The bounty suddenly stops in the middle of a crowd; he pulls out a blaster and waves it. Sounds of shock and fear echoed threw out the public. Din steps forward to get the guy he needs alive; the man suddenly looks around frantically, pulls the closest person to him, and puts a gun to their head. It was you. The bounty had put the gun to your head. Din’s mind blanks. He has no other thoughts besides getting to you; he doesn’t care if the bounty is for him brought in cold. The bounty had touched what’s his. 

Din quickly pulls his blaster ready to fire when suddenly you pull forward, folding over as you push down on your toes; you then spring up, moving your head back to strike the man’s head. The man then stumbles backward from the sudden impact. Din is quick to act as he runs towards the man and then shoots the man in his arm, the man falls to the ground, and Din proceeds to lift the man up and place him in handcuffs. 

Din turns towards you to scan your body as he looks for any injuries. His beskar covered face then looks up towards you as he asks, “hurt,” and you proceed to shake your head no. Before you can ask if he’s hurt, he grabs your arm and pushes you in front of him, signaling to walk. You do walk as he follows, dragging the bounty behind him. 

The journey back to the ship was quiet, too quiet even the bounty tried to speak on the tensions, “struggle in paradise, eh.” 

Din pressed his finger into his wound for that one.

You’d been so distracted by the event that happened you had forgotten about the droid, but it was too late. Din had already typed in the code, and the ramp was coming down. 

This was the first time, the one time Din wasn’t the faster person in the room; by the time Din pulled his blaster out, it was too late. It all happened in a blink of an eye. The bounty was dead. The droid shot him. 

You were nervous, it’s not like you were in desperate need of the credits, but the money could have help, and you know Din just went through a lot to get him.

“The child is safe, would you li-“IG-11 started before Din shot him. You were about to complain, but then you remember the situation you were in.

You stood in silence for a couple of minutes before deciding to look at Din only to find him staring at you. You turned your head away so quick that pain in your neck started to arise. “Din I-I-I’m so so sorry this is all my fault, I’ll take the blame, ok. Just tell Greef Karga, ok. Can he be brought in dead? I mean, it’s not a big deal, y-y-you’ve done it before. Greef Karga will s-still a-a-a-accept it right …. RIGHT!”

Din didn’t utter a word as he dragged the body onto the ship; he put the body into carbon freeze and closed the ramp. Then he just stood there. He didn’t move an inch. The tension in the air was so thick, you could even breathe properly. You knew this was your time to leave him alone. Earlier, you had noticed that the kid wasn’t in IG-11s arms, so you were planning on looking for him, assuming that he had been put to sleep because this was around his nap time.

“Ok, so I see that you need alone time; I’m just going to find the kid and take care of him,” you said as you turned to go look for him.

You didn’t even get to do a complete 180 before Din grabbed onto your wrist and twisted it, pulling your body closer to him. You could hear the hard deep breaths he was taking as he stared right into your soul.

“Why,” he whispered out, hurt invoice.

 “I-I-I,” you tried to speak, your eyes moving back and forth as you tried to find his.

“Why would you be so stupid? I told you not to leave, I told you this place was dangerous. You didn’t listen, why can’t you ever just listen.” He snapped at you, saying every word with a tremble. He let you go and started to walk away from dragging his feet across the floor.

“I’m sorry,” you choked out, your eyes watering up, tears threatening to fall.

 Your words had made him stop dead in his tracks. “Are you” he questions as he walks towards you. Each step he took towards you, you took one back till your back hit the wall. You were nervous but weren’t afraid, you knew Din would never hurt you, but you still didn’t like to be around him when he got like this. 

“WHAT WAS SO IMPORTANT THAT YOU RISKED YOUR LIFE FOR? DO YOU EVEN UNDERSTAND THAT YOU COULD HAVE DIED TODAY? DO YOU EVEN CARE?”

You did understand how sideways things could have gone, and you were trying to tell him that, but the words kept getting caught in your throat. So you ended up just slowly shaking your head in agreement.

“Are you sure cause you don’t seem like it? What about that FUCKING droid? You lied to me; why would you do that? You already know how I feel about them, so why would you do that. And to leave THE KID with it. I hope whatever you got was worth it. Just do what I brought you here for and watch the child,” he growled out as he walked away towards the cockpit so he could set our next coordinates. 

You stood there for a second shook but started to move to find the kid after the ship took off. He was in your old room, which you and Din turned into a toddler’s room after you moved into his. You picked the kid up and sat down in a rocking chair. You hugged the kid close to you as tears fell down your cheek. You were angry. Din had no right to talk to you like that. You messed up, you understand that, but to yell at you like he did have. Plus, you had risked your life for something for him. It doesn’t matter that he didn’t know it; he should know you better than to just assume that you would have intentionally risked your life for something stupid.

***********

 Din sat in his chair in the cockpit, feeling the weight of guilt immediately; the weight of his beskar couldn’t even compare to how heavy this felt. He felt awful; he regretted every word that came out of his mouth. He was just so angry; he had almost lost the only person he has ever cared about since his parents besides the kid. That was no excuse; he has had his fair share of screw-ups, the number of times he has almost gotten killed was too many to try to count on both hands.

 He took his helmet off and put his hands in his head. He was stressed after all the events that happened today, but he was most worried about what had just happened in the bay. He deliberated on going down there and apologizing to you but ultimately decided to give you your space and apologize later today. 

Din was going to apologize, he swore on Maker, but later that day, when he found you so he could apologize, you were sleeping in your old room. He was tempted to move you to the room you shared but then decide against it knowing you had fallen asleep in your old room for a reason. He slept in the cockpit that night; it didn’t feel right without you next to him. It’s funny Din spent most of his life alone; now he doesn’t even know how to sleep alone. 

The next day Din did honestly try to apologize to you, but every time he entered the same room as you were in, you got up and left. Din understood that you probably need space after the fourth time stepping into the same room as you and you walking out. Din decided that you probably needed one more day.

The next day came, and you still were leaving every room he came into. He was sad; he missed the family dinners and lunches, he couldn’t wait any longer, he decided to apologize to you as soon as possible.

Din stepped into the kitchen area around lunchtime; he knew you were cooking something that requires your full attention, so he knew you wouldn’t step away. 

“I’m-I’m sorry, I should have never yelled at you like that. I was angry because the bounty tried to run and then held you at gunpoint, he was touching what was mine, and I-I-I took it out on you. I should have never taken it out on you; I’m sure whatever you went out for was well worth it. I’m sorry, cyar’ika, ni kar’tayl gar darasuum.”

Din waited there for something, anything, you didn’t say a single word. You instead finished up your cooking, turned the stove off, and proceeded to fix you and the child a plate before heading off to the cockpit to eat. 

Din stood there in shock; this is not how things usually go after an argument. Din stood there for a few minutes as he contemplated what to do next. Maybe he had said it wrong, he thought; Din hadn’t apologized a lot in his life, he could count how many times on one hand, and all those times he had been with you. All those times, you had also accepted it, so Din shook his head of the thought that he had said it wrong. He decided to give you another day to think about accepting his apology.

***********

A day turned into two, then three, next things Din knew, three weeks had passed. It had been complete silence for three whole weeks. Din was dying inside. He barely ate or slept; he missed you, everything about you, even things that seemed stupid. He missed the way your hair smelled, he missed the warmth of your body as he slept next to you, he missed your smile. Din has never been before addicted to something, but he will bet this is what it feels like to go through withdrawal.

He craved you mentally and physically; he had started waking up this past week on the verge of a nut. He always had the same dream to, he would apologize and you would accept. Then he would worship your body like never before, discovering new things about you, what turns you on and how flexible you really are. Each and every time right before he would nut, right when you give him permission to cum inside, he wakes up, every time like clockwork. 

*************

It was around lunchtime, and Din sat in the kitchen debating his next move. He needed you. He missed the way you guys used to be as a clan; just him and the kid alone wasn’t the same. He looked up and saw you putting the kid in a high chair and turning to the fridge, taking stuff out to make sandwiches. He laid back, watching you move around the kitchen. You had one of his shirts on with some shorts that you couldn’t see unless you reached up to get something that made your shirt rise. 

He watched as you bent over getting something out of the fridge, his dick twitched in his pants. He had been so deprived of you that anything you did got him hard; he grunted as he started to palm himself over his pants.

You had heard Din behind you, you smiled to yourself, you knew he was dying inside, you’d heard it every morning when he was rubbing one out. You honestly had stopped being mad like a week and a half ago. You just wanted to see how long Din could stay away from you; you really wanted to see how long till you had Din Djarin on his knees. 

You finished cooking and made some food for the kid and you, but instead of going up to the cockpit like you usually do, you ate in the kitchen. You decided to stand up to eat, leaning over the counter, back facing Din. You moaned with every bite you took, doing a little happy dance.

You had unknowingly confirmed to Din that you were no longer upset and were playing. He had suspected it but wasn’t sure; you would do things like get changed with the door open or take a shower with the door open. He saw those things and thought that you were ready to talk, but when he tried, you walked away. He had assumed that you weren’t ready and wasn’t doing those things on purpose. He knew now, though, that you were playing some type of game, a game he was about to end. 

You had finished eating and looked up to find the kid sleep in his chair. You took the kid and put him in his room so he could sleep in peace. You came back to the kitchen to clean up; you felt Din’s eyes on you everywhere you went. You walked over to the crates to put some things from the kitchen up, passing Din as you went. You had felt him before you saw him, his back pressed up against you. You could feel the heat radiating off his clothed body as he pressed up against you. You leaned in for a second before realizing what you were doing. You turned around, trying to leave, but Din stood in your way. You had no other choice but to look up at him and go along with whatever he was trying to do.

“What do you want, Din,” you asked 

“I was going to say I was sorry.”

“Well, apology not accepted,” you said quickly, cutting him off before he said another word.

“See cyar’ika keyword, was, “he replied looking at you with his brown eyes

“So what do you want now, Din,” you asked as you walked backward, eventually running out of space as your back hit the wall. You swallowed the lump in your throat and asked him again what he wanted.

He didn’t reply; instead, he reached up and took a finger drawing it from your collar bone to your chest; you shivered as he stared circling your covered nipple before pinching it.

“You,” he said 

 “What”

 “You had asked me what I wanted now, and my answer is you,” he replied.

You were about to question it when he brought his finger up to your lips to quiet you before bringing his hand down and up your shirt to play with your breast. He made a low groan in his throat when he realized that you weren’t wearing your band wrap.

“At first, I was mad that you had put yourself in danger. Then I was a little sad when you started dodging me; it really hurt when you didn’t respond to my apology,” he chuckled. You could hear the smirk in his voice. He lifted up your shirt up over your head. He placed his hands back on your breast and then pinched one of your nipples, making your head fall back as you moaned out loud. 

“Then you started playing games with me, messing my head all up. To blame you for playing this game would be wrong of me,” he said as he left you boobs, and his hand traveled up to wrap around your throat. Your body leaned into his touch, your hand reaching out to wrap around his wrist that was at your throat. 

His hand squeezed your throat tighter at your silent request as he pushed you back, bringing his head down to bite along your collars before mumbling against your skin, “I realized that it’s not your fault, I should have taught you better, and I will” he said and then quickly pulled away and grabbed a chair to sit down.

“What,” you asked, eyes popping out head. You were confused, but it was too late; Din had already pulled you over his lap. He had pulled down your shorts; he was excited to see that you were wearing a thong, so he left your underwear in place.

“Din, what are you doing?” you questioned as you shifted around on his lap, trying to get a better look at him.

“If you’re going to act like a little brat, then I’m going to treat you like a little brat,” he said as he processed to take his gloves off. 

“I will give you an equal amount of slaps on each cheek, and you will count each one out, ok, and safe word is cake, ok, “He asked as he messaged each cheek.

You shook your head as consent, “I need to hear a yes cyar’ika,” he said, giving you a little tap on your right cheek.

You yelped, surprised by the slight sting that followed that slap, and wondered how on Tatooine you were going to endure more, mainly because you and Din have never done something like this before. A slap or two while he hit it from behind, was the closest thing that had ever happened.

“Yes,” you were excited, you’d never seen this side of Din; you might even start messing with Din more often. 

Din was smiling; he always loved to try new things with you. He continued to run over each cheek for a few more seconds before he raised his hand and landed the first smack on your right cheek. 

“One” You choked out as he rubbed the cheek he just slapped. 

It was hard, and it stung, but there was something about it that turned you on. 

Din lifted up his hand before smack the left cheek “two,” you tried to suppress your moan. You were kinda embraced at the fact you were getting turned on from this.

When Dins hand landed on your right cheek again for the second time, you moaned loudly as you said the number three. Din smiled at that; he was happy you were enjoying this new thing. Din continued to tear your ass up, each slap hurting more than the last. You were getting wetter with each one to the point where your wetness started to drip down your leg, your underwear no longer keeping it in as it was soaked.

You were preparing to feel a sting on your left cheek for the last slap. Instead, Din pushed you off his lap and set you onto the floor. You laid there confused as he spread your legs open and took your thong off. He got on the side of you and leaned down to kiss you. Your lips captured his in a passionate kiss. You were distracted as Din slipped his tongue into your mouth, so you didn’t see it coming. He had raised his hand and slapped your pussy. You throw your head back as you moan, tears streaming down your face from the intensity of the sudden, overwhelming rush of pleasure. 

You shot up before going back down as you raised your hip as he started to rub circles on your clit. He reached down, placing kisses along your neck up and down your neck to your collarbone and back up. He took your ear lobe and brought it into his mouth, pulling on it before letting it go.

These slow circles on your clit were killing you, “Please,” you whimpered as you reached down, placing your hand on top of him, encouraging him to go faster. 

He slapped your hand aways, stopping because of you. He rubbed his nose up and down on your ear before asking. 

“are you going to be a good girl for me?”

You shook your head up and down, unable to speak as he started playing with your clit again. You didn’t realize that this game you were playing had affected you too till now. You were so desperate; you would do anything he asked just so you could cum on him because of him.

 He took his hand away from cunt and brought it up to your lips. You looked Din in the eyes as you took two of his fingers into his mouth and sucked on them. You closed your eyes as you moaned, tasting yourself on his fingers. You weaved your tongue around his fingers before you hollow your cheeks, making a popping sound when he pulled them out.

He ran his finger down your body before shoving two fingers inside of you. You moved your hips down to meet the thrust of his hand. Your legs threaten to close as the pleasure builds, nonsense mumbling falling from your lips.

“More,” you begged 

“Faster,” you cried as he gave in to both of your demands. 

Suddenly he stopped, and your whines of complaint soon turned into a moan as he pressed his tongue against your clit. He shifted so he could wrap his hands around your thighs as he dove in. It was still the best thing he has ever tasted, he thought to himself. Your back arches as he bites softly on your clit before he sucks on it, and he pushes two fingers into you. You reached down your finger through Din’s hair, causing him to moan into you to moan as you clench around him. Din loves feeling the way your body reacts to him, the way you gripped his fingers, his tongue, his dick. 

You were close. You can feel it, and so could Din, so he quickened his pace. 

“I’m- I’m. “You tried to speak be couldn’t 

“I know,” he said, moving his thumb to circle your clit

You were so close, you could feel it in your stomach. You were about to cum when Din pulled his fingers out and started to lick them clean. 

You let a puff of air out as you lose your high. You prop yourself on your elbows as you looked at him, throwing your hands up asking why.

“I just wanted you to see how it feels to work so hard for something only to have it taken from you at the last minute.” He said, standing up but never breaking eye contact with you. You choked on your spit when you realized what he was referring to. 

You tried to stand up, but he placed a hand on your shoulder, pushing you back down into your knees. You cocked your head to the side, and he just reached down and took your hand, placing it on top of his pants.

You looked up at him licking your lips before unbuttoning his pants and pulling down his zipper; you pushed his pants down along with his boxers down. You spit into your hand before wrapping your hand around his dick as much as you could. You stroked him before sticking your tongue out and licking the tip, then running your tongue up and down his shaft. 

He grabbed you by your hair, yanking you back to look up at him. “Don’t play with me,” he said before taking his hand and wrapping it around your jaw to keep it open as he spits in it. 

He let you go, and you stroked him a few times before taking him into your mouth. You moaned around him at the taste of him; this caused Din to lose his balance for a second, making him grab onto a crate to balance himself. 

You swirled your tongue around his head before going back and forth, taking more of him in each time, you pulled back off of him, but strings of spit still connecting you to him. You purse your lips as you spit into your hand, reaching down to massage his balls before taking him back into your mouth, making sure to lick the pre-cum as you did. 

He reached behind your head to grab your hair as he thrust into your mouth, you gag on his dick, but he keeps going knowing that you will tap against his leg if it gets to be too much. Din grabbed on to your head with both hands as he continued to fuck your face; you could feel him inching down your throat with each thrust. He was about to nut; you could feel it as his balls started to tighten. He griped your hair tighter, signaling for you to look at him. “Where,” he asked, slowing down so you could choose.

He let go of your hair as you pulled back, sticking your tongue out. He smiled down out at you before taping his tip against your tongue a few times as he started to stroke his dick. He quickens his paces and grabs onto your head, pulling it tight, so he won’t miss his target. Din grunted as if he was in pain as he painted your face with white streaks. He rubs his dick smearing the last bit on your tongue. You swallowed the bit in your mouth before feeling around your face the rest and swooping it into your mouth. You licked your lips, smiling up at him when you were all done.

He bent down and swiped his thumb across your cheek, getting the little you had left behind into your mouth. You sucked on it for a second before he pulled it out. He grabbed onto your hand, helping you up as his hands cradled your face, and he pressed his lips to yours; he moaned into your mouth at the taste of him. He reaches down to grab your ass before smacking up light and kneading it as you wrap your arms around his neck.

He pulls back, breaking the kiss as he taps your side, signaling for you to jump up so he could carry you. You jump into his arms, and he takes you into the room you shared and lay you against the cot. You lay there waiting for him as he finishes getting undressed.

He got onto the cot and got between your legs; he stroked himself a few times before lining it up with you. He looked up to meet your eyes looking for consent, and you nodded your head, giving it to him. He slowly pushed into you feeling your walls stretch around him before tightening. Your head falls back as your eyes rolled into the back of your head. You grab onto the sheets, bunching them into your hands as you feel yourself being starched to your limit. You take your legs and wrap them around Din’s waist. You cross your ankles as you try to push him into you to make him go faster.  He stops suddenly, he’s not even all the way in, and he stops. You’re starting to regret trying to make him go faster, you can’t see much, but you can see him smiling. You know that smile, nothing good is about to come out of that smile. 

Din pulls all the way out before slamming back into you completely. You didn’t even make a sound because the air is knocked out of you; your back arches as you try to catch your breath. As soon as you caught your breath, he steals it as he leans down for a kiss capturing your lips roughly.

As he continuously pounds into you ruthfully, he takes one of your legs wrapped around his waist and pushes it to your chest to get a better angle to go deeper. You cry out with every thrust, your voice bouncing off the walls, echoing in the room. 

“Mine, This body, theses tits, this tight as pussy, it’s all mine,” he told you as he takes one of your nipples into his mouth. 

“It’s yours; every part of me is yours,” you agreed as you wrapped your arms around his neck, bringing him in closers. 

You were close, especially after being denied earlier; you need release. Din quicken his paces as he felt you clench tightly around him.

“I-I-I’m close,” you screamed out. 

“Cum for me, riduur,” he whispers in your ear.

The name he calls you pushes you over the edge; you clamp down on his dick as you cum. That doesn’t slow him down as he continues for a few strokes riding out you high before pulling out, flipping you onto your stomach, and pushing back into you without warning or rest. You back arch into his thrust as he makes your legs go apart, spreading you wider. He pops onto one knee, driving into you mercilessly as he reaches down to press your face into the mat. 

As he’s thrusting into you, you feel one of his fingers circle around your unstretched hole; you guys had been saving that experience, maybe for this moment. “Can I please? I’ll only put a finger in,” he begged you you nodding your head under his hand. He acknowledges the movement as he pulls out, reaching down swooping up some of your wetness before plunging back into you. He teases the hole before slowly pushing his thumb in, causing you to arch your back even more and let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “ f-f-fuck, Din” you stutter out when he got fully in.

Din quickens his pace in you as he sets a steady pace with his thumb. This was new to you, so being stretched like this, you were close to began for more; you wanted to know how it would feel to be pushed to your limit in both holes. You decided against it as you feel Din reach under you to toy with your clit, you chocked on your spit as you tried to catch your breath, all this pleasure was becoming too much for you to handle, you couldn’t even seem to catch your breath. 

The pressure builds up in your stomach once again as you feel your peak near. You let sob into the mattress as you feel yourself clench around Din like never before as you cum. Your back arching to the point of pain, which only adds to your pleasure. You feel Din slow down; at first, you are confused about what he’s doing, but then you realized he’s watching how well you take him. He’s looking at how your pussy quivers around him with every stroke. He then speeds up for a second, loving the sound of skin slapping and the gushing sound your pussy makes as your wetness flows out of you staining your sheets. 

Din chuckles before pulling you up by your hair, pressing your back to his chest, as he starts to thrust into you. Your body naturally arching into him as he reaches up and cups your right breast, moving his other hand down as he rubs vicious circles on your clit. Your tried body slumping against him as he takes you from behind. He knows you’re tired even if the grip you have on his dick says; otherwise, he stills know. He leans down into your ear, telling you, “you have one more in you, I know do.”

You reach up to take his hand from your breast to wrap it around your throat; you gave his hand an extra squeeze encouraging him. You get that familiar feeling in your stomach as he continues to pound into you with one hand wrapped around your throat and the other one rubbing circles on your clit. You whimper as you try to tell Din you close, but your body is too tired to even conjure up the words. Din understood you though, he was close, not far behind you. He knew that the feeling of you coming around him would do him.

You throw your head back against Din’s shoulders as you felt yourself unravel on him. Din places a hand on the wall as he losing his balance the feeling of your tighten around him as you milk him dry, he continues to pump into you, riding out of yours. Din pulls out, turning you onto your back, laying you down before opening your legs and settling himself between them. He pulled back for a second because you had winced in pain, his dick had rubbed against your extremely sensitive mound; he pulled back, readjusting his self before laying back down. He played comfortably in your arms, his head in the crook of your neck as he rubbed circles in your side while you laid there with your arms wrapped him.

Din lifts his head up and leans down to capture your lips in a sloppy but passionate kiss that held a lot of emotion behind it. You pull away, and he pushes his head into the crook of your neck, and you reach up and run your fingers through his loose curly. 

“I’m sorry about everything I said, it was wrong, and I was out of line.” He said but face still in your shoulder 

“It’s ok. I should have been more careful when I went out; I didn’t even bring a blaster with me,” you replied as you continued to massage his scalp.

“What did you get from the market.”

“It’s a surprise.”

“I hate surprises. Do you not remember the droid.” He asked 

“Hey, at least we know it effective,” you said laughing, but Din wasn’t

“Too soon,” you asked, but you knew it wasn’t as you felt Din smile against your skin. You guys fell asleep just like, you holding him in your arms.

********

The next day went by so smoothly; you guys were back to the daily routine like nothing happened. Din was excited to get back to the meal sharing, he didn’t say it, but he didn’t have to. You guys had eaten breakfast together but had your lunches separate because you each had your own projects to do. Which is what you told Din, but you had actually needed the rest of the day to set up everything for his birthday dinner and make the cake.

You weren’t even sure if Din knew today was his birthday, but even if that’s true, it will make for a better surprise. 

Din was coming down soon; he just had to set new coordinates. You guys needed to come out of hyperspace to get gas before continuing on your journey to the next plant where the next bounty is at, which is two days away. 

During one of your trips to the market, you found a pretty little black dress; you were so excited to wear it for his birthday. You don’t even remember the last time you were in a dress, and you knew Din had never seen you with one, so it would be like icing on top of the cake. 

 You heard footsteps above you move, and you were quick to act as you turned around, lit the candles on the cake, and flipped the light switch. 

You heard Din slide down the step and walked towards you; your back was still turned to him, and it was dark, but something was illuminating your face; he just didn’t know what. He reached over to the wall next to him and flipped the light switch on. He turns and sees the kid in his high chair next to you.

“cyar’ika,” He asked, stepping closer to you.

 You then turn around slowly, not wanting to make the candles go out. As soon as Din sees your face, he gives you a small smile, but it drops when he sees what’s in your hand. You were nervous for a second, thinking that you had crossed a line or something. Then you saw a single tear roll down Din’s face; you had never seen the man cry. You had been with him for close to a year and never have seen this. 

You set the cake down and quickly went over to him, embracing him in a hug. He hugged you back so tightly as if he was going to lose you.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum, ner Ridder,” he said, but you only recognized one of the words used.

You reached up and wiped his tears and took his hand and led him over to the cake, Din looked at you before bending down to give you a quick kiss, and he straight up, closing his eyes for a second before bending down and blowing out his candles. You clapped your hands in enjoyment and excitement and reached over to pull in your face for a quick kiss. You heard a slight noise, and you pulled back and turned to see the kid clapping also.

You laughed at that before reaching over and grabbing a knife so Din could cut his cake. Din happily took the knife from you as he cut himself a pretty big piece of cake; he took a fork and a huge bite. Din moaned as he took his first bite, slowly chewing on the chocolate fudge cake with chocolate frosting. His tongue dashes out to lick up any residue that he might have left on his lips.

“I might have to change my mind. This might be the best thing I have ever tasted,” Din said, bringing down the fork for another bite.

You faked gasped, “what does that make me second.”

“You know what? I think I need a refresher, especially with you in that little black dress,” I said, licking his lip, and he wrapped an arm around your waist.

“Later, the kid and I are hungry; it’s time to eat,” you said as you shoved him off of you. 

He wrapped his arms around you from behind and kissed you on the neck before saying, “no, seriously, this is the best thing anyone could have given me. I have a question though, is this what you went out to get” he asked, you hummed in response. 

“As much as I love my gift, and I really do, please do risk your life over something like this. All I need is you and the kid, and I’m happy, ok.” He said 

“Ok”

Cyar’ika - darling

Ridder - wife/partner

Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum - I love you.

ner Ridder - my wife/ partner




[its-me-im-coraline]

More than your beauty // Thomas Raggi

words // 884

warnings // some descriptive self depricating thoughts, other than that its fluff. cliche as hell lol

pairing // Thomas Raggi x F!Reader

author's note // if you want to be on the tag list let me know. i hope you are all ok and safe, especially if you are anywhere near any fires around the world.

request // yes, but I have no energy to search for it omg

summary // Reader is feeling quite insecure, more thoughts than she wanted are taking over her mind. Thomas finds her laying on their bed looking at photos of "everything she's not" while crying. The man can not stand how his love belittles herself that way while minimizing her worth to her looks.

This was not always a problem. Y/N was not always insecure to the point of breaking down. At least not when meeting Thomas. It was such a hard journey to finally learn to love herself, no dependency on anybody to validate to her what has been simply a fact: she’s wonderful, inside and out.

That’s exactly what drew Thomas in. Such a beautiful person with such a delightful soul, a presence that could simply put the guitarist to rest anytime he needed to relax. His perfect little partner in mischief. He was head over heels since maybe the beginning.

After the two started dating (and more specifically after the public got whiff of their relationship), that’s when things started going downhill for Y/N. All the comments on the daily, the posts about her appearance and how she ‘is not enough for Thomas’; all of it could break even the strongest of characters no matter how much one can try to deny it. The worst of all was all the comparison, to who they initially thought the man was dating and even his bandmate, Victoria. As much as Y/n adored the bassist, the comments comparing the two were painful as it gets.

At this moment, Thomas’ lover was sitting on his bed (the man himself being at rehearsals) thinkin about all those things that ‘should drive Thomas away’ from her. Your hair is not long enough, not light enough, not dark enough, not straight enough. Agh, those eyes… Who can even look into them and not be grossed out. The small scar from acne as a teenager, terrible. Those words kept haunting her, ruining her by the second. And truly within seconds there were tears in the girl’s eyes, one’s that would not stop pouring.

“I’ll go upstairs,” Thomas informed his friends, “I want to check on my love.”

Everyone in the house would joke about the infatuation he has for his partner, but Thomas does not mind. If anything, the jokes fuel his love even more, reminding him why he loves Y/N so much.

He couldn’t have been prepared for the sight in front of him when he walked in the bedroom. Y/N was on the floor crying, body towards the bed, face buried in the sheets and her arms. It was heartbreaking to see and Thomas could hear his heart whither at the sight.

“Cucciola,” he whispered, acting in an instant to pick her up, “hey, amore, it’s ok. I got you- sh, sh- I got you. It’s alright.”

His words did little to calm his lover down, if anything making it worse. He was the last person Y/N wanted to see in the state she found herself in. He just couldn’t see her like that, with tears in her eyes and sobbing. And for what? Stupid comments.

“What happened, my love?” His voice was smooth coming out his lips, leaving kisses around her face.

“It’s nothing, Thom-”

“It’s not nothing, Y/N. You’re crying. It’s something.”

Y/N knew there was no escaping Thomas now. He already saw, he already knew pretty much. Telling him the truth was the only logical thing to do. “Am I good enough for you, Thommy?” Yet once again his heart started breaking. “Of course, love, what are you even thinking about?”

“I mean, look at this girl. She’d be perfect for you. And Victoria, oh my god, she is beautiful as it gets! Why are you with me?”

If it was possible for his jaw to truly reach the ground like in cartoons then Thomas’ jaw would have done just that. This was downright the craziest thing he ever heard, a thought that not even a little bit crossed his mind. Not when he met her or started dating her and especially not now.

“Y/N. Amore - amore della mia vita… Where is this coming from? How’d you even think that?” So many questions he had now.

“I-I- nothing. Just stumbled across some photos and that’s that…”

Thomas was not convinced but he knew not to push any further right now, instead opting for stating his side in this situation.

“Amore,” he began, taking the girl’s hands in his own, “you are indeed looking beautiful. Always, in your all over the place state in the mornings and you're all dressed up at night. You amaze me by how beautiful you are.”

It was now Y/N’s turn to get shocked. It’s not like her lover did not show her affection and care on a daily basis, but the man has a bit of a hard time with words sometimes, usually going for actions.

“I’m not with you because of how you look, cucciola. I am with you because I love you. Because I love how you hug me when I cry, how you never shame me for the things that make me, me. I love you because you bring the light into my life, even in the darkest of days.”

No words came out of Y/N’s mouth, only sitting there and trying to process the words that were spoken. But Thomas had a different plan, lips crashing onto hers, conveying all of his love in that small little kiss.

“You are so much more than your beauty, my love.”

tag list: @bieberhoodforever @tabi-toast @ginny-lily @moriro-da-regina @the-killer-queenie @makapaka11 @teenyweenynightghost @superchrystaldrug

[roanniom]

This made my day seeing your requests open!!

I’d like to please request some hot dominat Clyde action. We all know he’s a softy, but we all also know he’s capable of being a big and scary if he needs to. Thoughts on Clyde protecting you from something and then still being riled up with you after, in all the best ways? :)

Hiya anon! I was happy to write this for you. Fun story, what Clyde does (re: the beer bottle) in this story is actually something a bar tender did when defending me from a creep back in my college bar hopping days lol. I WISH it was Clyde who had done it. I would have loved to thank him. 😉

Out of Trouble

Clyde Logan x Reader

Word Count: 2,730

Warnings: NSFW, PIV sex, possessiveness, dirty talk 

You reassess the situation you find yourself in – by no means an unfamiliar one, but definitely out of the norm these days and wholly unpleasant all the same. The man currently harassing you at the bar is clearly not a local. First of all, you don’t recognize the handsy son-of-a-bitch. And secondly, everyone in town knew that you were Clyde’s girl.

You two had only recently made things official, but in a way, hadn’t you always been Clyde’s girl? Your best friendship had always been tinged with a sweetness that surpassed the roles of mere pals. Sure there was flirting, how could you resist with the way a properly timed tease or suggestive comment could make Clyde blush and stammer as if on command? But even more prevalent, and more obvious to the patiently waiting members of the town, was the ownership you both had of one another. People knew better than to hassle either of you, verbally, hypothetically, or otherwise, in the presence of the other. You had Clyde’s back and he had yours, each of you displaying a possessiveness that made others smirk and roll their eyes while hiding their jealousy. You had what they did not, and now that the two of you were finally dating, envy was a common emotion amongst regular Duck Tape patrons.

Something this creep clearly was not privy to it would seem as he reached out to caress your forearm, an action which you flinch to avoid.

“Come on, baby. Let me buy you a fucking drink,” he was saying at this point. He was getting more forceful and though you had previously been courteous in your refusals, you realize that it might be time to fight back. He swayed on his barstool before continuing. “Stop being such a bitch. What could one drink hurt?”

“Every bone in yer fuckin’ body,” comes a low, deep growl that makes both you and the creep look up to the swinging door behind the bar. Your heart swells with relief and other, undefinable emotions as Clyde stalks up, his massive body an intimidating figure as it looms over the other, weasel-y man, threatening even with the bar between them.

“W-what’s your problem?” the creep practically squeaks before clearing his throat and jumping up, trying to draw himself up to his full height, which just comes across as laughable. Of course, next to Clyde, any height would be laughable.

“My problem is yer comin’ onto m’girl. That’s my problem.” His tone is deadly quiet. That’s your Clyde, soft spoken, even as his flesh hand clenches and murder simmers behind his eyes.

“Look, she was sitting here all alone. In my book that makes a bitch fair game - ” the creep begins, but he doesn’t get much farther with his misogynistic diatribe because Clyde reaches over, grabbing a nearby customer’s almost empty beer. Grasping the bottle around the neck, Clyde smashes the bottle down against the edge of the bar. The barrel shatters with a loud crash that silences the din of the room and causes the neck of every patron to whip around for the source of the sound. Clyde stands before the creep brandishing the remaining shards of the beer bottle like a shiv.

“Here’s what yer gonna do,” Clyde says calmly, the violence of his actions not succeeding in raising the volume of his voice. “Yer gonna apologize t’ the lil lady fer troublin’ her, understand?”

The creep stares at Clyde, wide-eyed and panicked before nodding and turning to you hastily.

“I’m sorry! I don’t know what I was thinking, sorry –”

“Good,” Clyde says, cutting the guy off so that he can no longer address you. You eye Clyde as he waves the shattered bottle menacingly. He’s never looked bigger. Never looked darker. Never looked hotter. When he speaks again his voice is even lower, if that’s possible. “Now yer gonna get the fuck outta my bar.”

The creep is gone in a matter of seconds, running out the front door so fast you almost imagine his skeleton being left on the bar stool in his wake like some frightened cartoon character. Before you can look back up at Clyde, his large hand is encircling your wrist and yanking you toward to door to the back of the bar. You let yourself be pulled, barely registering how the conversation kicks back in, customers already basking in the aftermath of Clyde’s rare emotional outburst.

Once the door to Clyde’s office is safely shut behind you, Clyde pushed you to sit down on his couch while he paces back and forth in front of you. You’re bewildered by this response, unsure if you should say something so you remain silent, watching him. After a moment Clyde yanks a hand through his hair forcefully. You swallow and decide to finally speak up.

“Are you okay, Clyde?”

“I’m NOT fuckin’ okay,” Clyde replies and you’re shocked at the way his voice raises with his words. You’re suddenly worried he’s gotten the wrong idea and you’re quick to fold your arms defensively across your chest, your own voice rising.

“Hey, if you’re mad at me you should know it’s not like I encouraged that asshole.”

Clyde is quick to round on you, looking panicked.

“I didn’t say ya did. I know ya wouldn’t…ya’d never…” Clyde trails off into a growl and resumes his pacing, flesh hand clenching and unclenching.

“It’s over, Clyde,” you soothe now, switching tactics and lowering your own defenses. He’s clearly distressed and you’re not sure how to calm him. “He’s not the first and probably won’t be the last guy to bother me.”

“That’s what’s killin’ me, darlin’. What if I hadn’t walked out? What if ya were alone an’ this happened?”

“I can take care of myself, you know.”

“I know ya can,” Clyde says, voice more characteristically quiet now but frustration no less palpable as he waves his prosthetic arm distractedly. “I dunno what’s gotten intuh me. I saw him touch ya an’…an’…” Clyde reaches out and swipes across a table, throwing everything to the ground. His chest heaves with his outburst. Yours is rising and falling rapidly now, too, but for you its stemming from the realization that this man. This sweet, beautiful man is losing his cool over his desire to protect you. To defend you. You’re a modern woman. As you’d just told him, you can take care of yourself and you are very proud of that fact. But something about the dark look in his eye and the way his muscles shift tensely beneath his shirt and the way he stomps before you makes you feel like you want to disappear in his arms and never resurface.

“You’re a good man, Clyde,” you say softly. He shakes his head and gives a humorless laugh.

“Not tonight, I’m not, darlin’. Not with these thoughts. I haven’t felt this way since…”

“Overseas?” you ask. He nods, trying to take a deep breath but releasing an even angrier exhale.

“I’m sorry, darlin’. I can’t seem to calm down. I’m just so fuckin’ mad.”

You watch your big bear, usually so gentle, wrestle with his emotions before you. Immediately you have an idea, standing up and moving to him. Using one hand to peel open his fist and interlace your fingers. He grips you too tight but you just bite your lip. Your other hand slides over his bicep and shoulder, kneading into the tense muscles there as you press your face into his chest. His prosthetic arm winds around your waist, pulling you into his body naturally. This does nothing to slow his breathing, which picks up more speed. Feeling you against his body is reminding him of how small you are. How vulnerable. He feels another surge of rage and desperation course through his veins.

“I don’t know why I’m feelin’ this way,” he mumbles but you reach up and grab his face to force him to look at you.

“Feel whatever way you feel,” you reassure him. You lift up on your tiptoes to give him a kiss, but the force with which he responds steals your breath. His arms wind around your body and crush you to him as his tongue ruthlessly explores your mouth, as if searching for solace can only be done in the space where you are most conjoined. The aggression is dizzying and his fingers are bruising on your frame but you love it. Used to light touches, soft caresses, you feel a hunger burn beneath your skin, as if your every muscle is rejoicing at the deeper pressure, the deeper friction.

When Clyde finally pulls away you are winded and dazed, now breathing just as heavily. His eyes look no less wild but now there is a tinge of concern.

“M’sorry, darlin’. We should stop, ‘m too worked up. Can’t be sweet to ya the way ya like.” His words are husky and rushed but you’re just as rushed to shush him. You’re already working at his belt and pulling him back to the couch.

“I like you in whatever way you’ll have me, baby,” you mumbled against his flesh, kissing down his throat as you pull him down to the cushions. “Take it out on me.”

“What if I’m too rough with ya?” Clyde asks, but his hands are already ripping your shirt over your head and his mouth latches onto your throat, your collar bone, your breast through your bra.

“I want you to be rough with me, Clyde. I’ve wanted you to be rough with me since the moment you walked out and gave that asshole what-for.” You’re pressed down, back against the couch now, with your legs tight around the wide barrel of Clyde’s body.

“Did ya like that, darlin’? Yer Big Bear defending ya?” He’s no longer hesitant in his movements and no longer trying to stop himself. Instead he takes a handful of your ass, pulling your pelvis up off the couch so that your clothed pussy presses fully into his erect and waiting cock. You moan, both at the sensation and at him calling himself Big Bear for the first time. You’d only been dating for a few weeks and things were still new, including shyness around pet names. You’d called him Big Bear the night before in the teasing lead up to some love making and he’d only flushed and stammered in response, busying himself by burying his face between your thighs.

But right now he’s gazing down at your face with an air of intensity and you feel saliva pool in your mouth and wet slick your quivering heat.

“I liked my Big Bear defending me. So strong and big.��� You say the last word as you close your hand around his enormous cock through his unzipped jeans. Clyde bucks into your hand and hums from where he’s suckling at the underside of one of your breasts, curved down into you despite your differences in height.

“Nobody else can have ya,” he grumbles before hoisting you higher on the couch so he can position his cock at your entrance. You gasp at the feeling of his member sliding between your folds, getting covered in your waiting slick.

“Nobody. Only you, Big Bear.” Before you can say anything else Clyde has speared into you in one swift motion and taken up an unforgiving pace. There was the aggression he’d been worried about and boy was it rough. You cling to him for dear life as he fucks you into the couch cushions. Your eyes roll to the back of your head and your jaw goes slack.

It hurts – he’s much too big to be going this hard this fast – but his grip on you is so tight it melts your aching muscles. The desperation of his thrusts make you hiccup through your inhales and you feel surrounded. Crushed. Filled. All in the best way possible. You love the darling Clyde who coaxes your orgasms with caresses and honeyed words and languid strokes. But this Clyde – this is your Big Bear. His eyes drink in your bouncing breasts as he’s not able to clutch them with the way he has to support his own weight with his good arm. Your back arches deeper from the effects of a particularly deep thrust, bringing your chest up to press against his and he groans.

“This body. No wonder people’re comin’ on to ya, darlin’. This body’s too perfect,” he practically growls, burying his face into your throat. “Maybe I should just keep ya here on my cock. Stay inside ya. Keep me warm and keep ya outta trouble.”

You moan loudly as his dirty words are accentuated by a change in angle that lets him pound into a particularly sweet spot. Your walls pulse around him.

“Oh god. Oh Clyde.”

“Back to callin’ me Clyde already? Am I not bein’ rough enough for ya?” Clyde asks, biting down into the sensitive flesh of your throat. You cry out, hips gyrating against him, legs and walls clamping down around him with an unconscious need to keep him buried deep inside you.

“F-fuck, oh fuck me, Big Bear. I can take it!” you practically whine.

“Yes ya can. So good, takin’ yer Big Bear.” His trusts begin to bottom out harsher, faster. The pressure and the speed have pulled your muscles as taut as they can go and you know you’re seconds from snapping. It was all so sudden. You’re both so worked up, not only from the experience out in the bar, but from the headiness of being this way with one another for the first time. He may be the one pounding into you, but you’re giving as good as you’re getting, rolling your hips up to meet each thrust. Pulling him down into you and raking your fingernails up and down his back.

It’s desperate and needy and possessive – equally so. He is yours and you are his and ownership never tasted so sweet.

Just as you’re about the cum, Clyde seems to sense it and shoves your legs up by the back of the knee, ensuring his next few thrusts rub up against the spot inside you that makes your eyes cross and makes your moans turn into desperate whimpers. You have the vague thought that this proves how well Clyde has come to know your body, what a great student he is of your orgasm, just as said orgasm crashes over you.

You know for sure that the Duck Tape customers heard you. Your belief in your audience becomes even stronger when Clyde lets out a delicious moan as he cums, too, painting your insides with spend made just for you. You’re sweaty and it’s only 7 pm on a Tuesday. Clyde’s going to have to go back to tending bar and you’re going to have to slink out, so clearly ravaged and thoroughly fucked to the likely amusement of a roomful of people who’d been rooting for your coupling. You chuckle to yourself, as Clyde drops the weight of his whole body on you, crushing you. Those people outside definitely got a chance just now to hear your coupling firsthand.

“That…was amazing.” It comes out breathless, as though you’ve just run a marathon. And because you have the mass of a large man pressing you into the couch. When Clyde finally lifts his head from its resting place at your neck he looks sheepish and embarrassed and pleased and winded.

“’M sorry if I was too much for ya, darlin’. Once ya started touchin’ me I couldn’t think straight.”

You silence him with a kiss, grabbing his face to make it deep. When you pull away your smile is ear to ear.

“If you make me feel like that, baby, there’s absolutely nothing to apologize for.”

Clyde moves to pull out of you, his cum now seeping out around his softening cock, but you tighten your legs around him suddenly.

“What happened to staying inside me, mister?” you tease.

Clyde stands abruptly, pulling you up with him still seated in your dripping cunt. Your gasp and scramble to hold onto him. He takes a few playful steps towards the door and you swat at him.

“No, I think yer right, darlin’. What better way tuh make cocktails than with my lil cockwarmer?”

~*~

Tagging some lovely friends (please let me know if you would like to be tagged or untagged in the future!): @noocturnalchild @thedivinemissn @insufferablelust @historyandfandoms50 @lostinthedrive @thewilddingleberries @edencherries @mariesackler @safarigirlsp @direnightshade @sacklerscumrag @paper-n-ashes @clydesfavoritegirl @wayward-rose @hopeamarsu @thegreenmatt @barbers-glimmerin-darlin @finn-ray-nal-beads @fizzywoohoo @maybe-your-left @aliveandlonely @han-not-solo @morby @emeraldsiren20 @maryforyou @aloneandsleepless @jynzandtonic @renmaulxo @millenialcatlady @leather-flannel-liquor @soggywhore