#like dude I wanna push him to his absolute limits

[bethanysnow]

How I think Stray Kids would date a Plus Size Girlfriend!~ Makenae line!

Hyung Line

-Han

This man is going to deny his feelings so hard???? Like my god- he is gonna flirt with you, hold your hand, be an absolute adorable pain in your ass. Let you in, and if asked about it? Nahh, we are just friends. And its gonna crush you. But he knows as soon as it left his face he shouldn't have said it. He is just protecting his heart and he is scared.

He is so internal about his deep feelings that most people wouldn't be able to tell if he was upset, but if you see that his eyes are gonna light up like fireworks. We see how aware he is around Leeknow, how in the SKZ show he did with Minho he was able to tell like 'wait 10 seconds and if he sighs or huffs he didn't really wanna do it' THIS MAN IS SO DETAILED?! Like we know he is an angst boy, and loves writing heartbreaking songs, I don't think that he would change that about himself, but he would write about your troubles. How he is so desperate to see yourself the way he sees you. Which I think if he was to date a plus-size girlfriend it would unironically be a like Noona thing? We all joke and tease that this man is subby and needs a minho or a dominate woman, but I think he just likes to not have to be 'the pants' as it were. I don't get a super typical masc vibe so having someone who is on the other side of the spectrum is helpful. He isn't a dominant person, he doesn't like the attention a lot of the time. He reminds me of like very calm and collected kinda he will be your peace. He will remind you to drink water, and hold you when you're sad, but also wants to be held.

He will fall in love with you internally and grow to love your body. Which is a pain, but its true I think. First thing out of his boys mouth is how cute you are, and prepare to have your cheeks squished. Lots of demanding kisses, lots of hand holding. If you can carry him? OOO YOU'VE GOT HIM IN THE PALM OF YOUR HAND! He loves to be baby, but don't let that fool you that he is any less man than changbin or Channie or anyone else

-Felix

I think out of everyone (this may be controversial) this man is the one that is going to have the most internal problems with the idea. Where for hyunjin its a lot around his perception, but for felix its all internal. I say this because like Chan, he lived in Australia, and moved to Korea. He is going to have a lot of complexes regarding his looks. He went and starved himself for 5 ish days because he felt he needed to for a fashion show. (which isn't true) He did martial arts and as someone who dated a person who also did martial arts with a similar amount of awards, there is so much conversation around what your body can do? In that culture? Pushing past those limits, finding your inner strength. This is great in theory, but not so in practice if done poorly because it forces you to think far more critically and not constructively about yourself. He has on record talked about how not great he thinks he looks and it breaks my heart and I very much think that it would affect a relationship. Not that I think he is worried about public reception, but he might buy into a lot of the bad science that's out there around plus-size bodies. I also think him and Chan would make jokes that aren't that.... well-received?

But if he gets through all of that, you have an absolute dork on your hands. He is so ready to skip chapters and be 4 years married going to your daughter's dance recital. He will dote on you and lay on you, and just hold your face in his hands and squish your cheeks to make duck lips. He is I think like Han in that softer masculinity, not that it's any less masculine. He's just not gonna be very dude-bro about it. If you want to take the lead he's all for it. If you want him to be the lead he'll happily step up. I think like some other members of SKZ he wants to provide for you, he wants to make sure you are happy and taken care of and feel loved. If you have a love language or a attachment style he will research it, or if you have an interest he will look into it to try and talk to you about it. Being plus size I think it wouldn't affect him much and if you needed to sit he'd sit with you.

He knows shame, and so if you were stuck in a situation where you felt shame like going to dinner with friends or being invited to do a day outing and getting winded? He would defend you or try his best to make it suck less. He is such a quiet reliance that he will be your security when the world falls apart.

-Seungmin

This motherfucker doesn't give a single flying fuck about how you look. Or how you think you look or if you think you look bad. It will always go like this

"Whats wrong?"

"...It's nothing"

Punches you in tiny "what's wrong?"

"I just don't feel pretty okay? Or like I deserve you or just gahh!"

"..Well that's dumb. Of course you deserve me. We love each other."

and he will walk away, run back ruffle your hair or give you a kiss and walk away again. THATS IT! I think if it was really serious he would listen and try to help, but he knows hes not gonna change how you feel about yourself in some grand gesture. We know he teases a lot of people, but if you made him aware that 'hey lets not' I think he'd be considerate about it. He'd then tease you about something else, but he knows not to super cross lines set up. If someone around yall makes a 'joke' or tries to make fun of you I believe he'd either try and spin it in a way where its not bad, or he'd play threaten violence but you know its not as...play as people believe it to be. He is I think also in the line of softer masculinity, but is more leaning towards the hyung line of masculine than someone like Felix. (everyone has their moments of course)

He is one of those people that I see wanting an equal partnership, someone he can have banter with (not just be rude and see if you put up with it) but like actual witty banter. He is simultaneously baby but also is happy to hold you close. He doesn't care about looking stupid in public so don't let you think for a moment he wouldn't hold your hand in public. He would bring you up in any conversation, just so proud of you and your accomplishments. He is rather shy of a person, until you get to know him then he is a twerp so if you can bounce with that energy you've got a good relationship in spades.

-I.N

This man is such a dweeb! In a good way! But his clumsy ass would actually be falling head over heels! I dont think hes gotten a lot of outside experience in the dating scene due to school and then just instant idol life? So someone with similar youthful energy that matches his would do really well. I think he'd need someone his age too, unlike Han who would be interested in a noona. Noona stuff for him I feel is more kidding than real relationship material.

This is where I have to apologize to Jeongin stans, I do not have a single romantic or interested bone in my body for IN other than 'he is baby, let me feed him food'. I wanna take care of him like a big sister, not a girlfriend. Though because of this I will link some fics to hopefully make it better. (I haven't read these so be warned)

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

@7ndipity @kaciidubs @itshannjisung @dreamescapeswriting @moonlightndaydreams @cutesyh @maymayribee @hanjisunglover @ldysmfrst

[thatanimewriter]

SLAVE TO THE BLADE.

➳ request: Team Rwby with a male S/O who is in a Kenpachi situation, he's a swordsman(samurai), mentally shackled himself from going all out because of how strong he is, wears an eyepatch to keep most of his aura from leaking out, loves to fight, wishes to fight a worthy opponent, bonus: Jaune studies under him as a student, please and thank you

➳ character/s: ruby rose, weiss schnee, blake belladonna, yang xiao long

➳ warnings: mentions of fighting, mention of food (weiss)

➳ notes: imma be real, i haven't gotten past the first few episodes of bleach since i was like, 12, so this description is what i'm going off of-

𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐫𝐮𝐥𝐞𝐬 / 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭  / 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐬 / 𝐰𝐢𝐩 𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

��─ 𝐑𝐔𝐁𝐘 𝐑𝐎𝐒𝐄.

she probably met you through jaune lets' be real, cause dude loves to ramble about stuff n he's probably talked about you a few times

wanted to fight you so bad the first time she met you, but you wanted to see if she was worthy first so you don't waste time

has asked about the eyepatch before but never really got a clear answer, it was quite vague cause you didn't wanna get into it

didn't beat you in a fight, but she lasted longer than you thought she would, so you started being friends and eventually dating

if she ever needs scary dog privileges, you're the go to, just have your resting face and the full get up and you're set

grumpy x sunshine dynamic for sure, you're so cool and intimidating n then she's there

minus aura points for the combination, but maybe it could be bonus, cause you're just so confusing as to how this happened

probably a top tier combat duo though, y'all crazy on the battlefield for real

she appreciates all the silent ways you show you love her like covering the table corner when she bends down

paying attention to small things like that thing she mentioned months ago n suddenly VOILA, it's here

she returns the sentiments by doing some more grand gestures but she'll tone it down if you ask

── 𝐖𝐄𝐈𝐒𝐒 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐍𝐄𝐄.

girl probably found you weird as hell at the start, but got over it quickly considering the world you live in-

she can appreciate an aesthetic though, she likes the samurai thing but confused by the eyepatch

japanese pirate??? what's going on with you???

the absolute TRAINING REGIME you put her through when you start dating is insane, but winter probably approves to a degree

push the limits, especially considering weiss' semblance with glyphs and stuff

you probably also improve a bit if you experiment with dust in combat

stubborn meets stubborn though, strange arguments will arise for certain situations

like whether you can like, get jaune to go away for a moment because she wants time with you but he's training under you-

or where to eat if she wants one thing and you want another, but eventually you get what you want respectively n come back n share

quality time king, that's what you are in this relationship

she will try on your eyepatch at least once because she's curious, but she got very embarrassed when you caught her

── 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐍𝐍𝐀.

she thought you were a bit unrefined just for how much you want to fight people all the time

but she did want to try you out to see if she was a worthy opponent, so she fought you once

n that's how the 'i hate you' to lovers pipeline began for her-

training sessions are nice for you both, she enjoys being pushed further than usual but she's a lil bitter you have to go easy on her

will just listen very knowingly when jaune rambles about a training session with you

it's probably a moment of bonding for them tbh, they both relate to how difficult it is to fight you

a lot of quality time again, you might read a book that the other recommended and just read in silence together

you do a lot of stuff in silence together because it's just nice to hang and relax

people definitely understand how you guys got into a relationship, you vibe match, except you're just a bit more energetic than her

you also have somewhat similar insecurities about harming people you care about, so there's another level of understanding between you

don't tell anyone, but she likes a scratch behind her cat ears and she purrs, which you found out by accident-

── 𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐗𝐈𝐀𝐎 𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆.

you met because she picked a fight with you ._.

you're both just as eager to fight people, so it was only a matter of time before she came and snuffed you out

you think she's very reckless, but you can teach her some tactics in the get-to-know-you phase

that was probably how she got to know you: the winner of each fight got to ask any question they wanted

was very mad when you admitted to letting her win a couple times because you're just so powerful

people avoid you in the halls because they don't wanna do a 1v2 against you guys

she's tried on your gear at least once, n tried to get you to wear hers but that was a hard no from you

her abilities and endurance has definitely improved because of you, but she just wants to be the better pupil vs jaune-

there's an unspoken competition between them that they think you don't know about but you do

you say jaune is better for lols and because you think her lil frowny face is cute

also because you feel a bit bad for jaune-

[soppingwetlegs]

MHA HeadCannons x fem reader (AgedUp!MHA guys (early 20’s))

Jealousy jealousy jealousy

************************************************

*********Katsuki Bakugo*********

soooo handsy, the moment he sees literally anyone looking at you he’s grabbing your waist, your ass, your hands, anywhere he can touch.

he will definitely full blown make out with you while making direct eye contact with the person looking at you.

“do you wanna die?!”

“the fuck are you lookin’ at, extra?!”

death glares every person you walk passed to make sure their eyes stay where they should be.

“I will obliterate you with you no hesitation.”

“You know you’re mine, right?” Of course you do, you smile and kiss his cheek.

“I’m gonna make you wear a bag over your head next time we go out.” he’s joking obviously…kinda..

absolutely NO hesitation to blow up on some rando in your Instagram comments. “WHO ARE YOU?! WHY ARE YOU COMMENTING ON MY WOMANS STUFF?! I WILL FIND YOU I PROMISE!!!”

loves to post himself on your social media stories, whether it be pics of him kissing you, holding your hand, his hand on your ass, you sleeping on his chest, etc. he’ll always caption it “just reminding her followers to stay in their fucking place. 💣”

definitely gives toxic vibes but he means well, wouldn’t be bakugo without a smidge of toxicity.

“I love you, woman…but dammit I wish you were ugly sometimes..”

**********Izuku Midoriya*********

honestly it takes a lot to make Deku jealous, he’s very comfortable with people looking at you because he sees it as admiration and takes it as a compliment.

sometimes people push his limits though.

“oh wow, that man has been staring at you for a while.” He’ll say as he moves to block you from the strangers eyes.

“excuse me, sir. you’re staring at my girlfriend, i know she’s beautiful, but I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t do that anymore, please.”

handsy but not too crazy about it, he’ll rest his hand on the small of your back or take your hand in his when he sees too many wandering eyes.

will always stand in front of you if you have to adjust any part of your outfit.

doesn’t hesitate to grab something for you to prevent you from bending over. “oops, no need to give anyone a show, they don’t deserve. I’ve got it, beautiful.”

ensures that the waiter at any restaurant you two eat at talks to him the most, he has no problem ordering for you.

“I feel like he hasn’t said a word to me since we got here. I’m still gonna tip him 20% of course, but I am not happy about it.”

always encourages you to wear his clothes when you go out by yourself. “I’m not jealous! I just think you’d be more comfortable in my shirt is all!”

prefers to stay in on date nights.

“You’re so beautiful, sweetheart. I’m starting to think it’s a curse.”

**********Eijiro Kirishima*********

genuinely finds humor in his own jealousy.

“what the hell is that guy looking at?”

loves PDA and will sometimes take it a bit too far and piss you off. only for a sec though. “sorry, babe…too much?”

he will absolutely walk over to the person checking you out and talk with them about how hot you are, encouraging them to flirt with you before walking over to you with them and laughing in their face when you tell them he’s your boyfriend.

“HAHAHA dude you totally fell for it! now keep your eyes to yourself, perv.”

love love loves when you wear revealing clothes for a date night just so he can be mean to strangers.

smirks at people checking you out before pulling you into a kiss.

“hey man, MY eyes are up here. got something to say?”

Denki is truly his biggest opp. “Dude I promise I will break every bone in your body if you keep looking at my girl like that.”

will carry you over his shoulder when there’s too many people looking at you. “alright, shows over everyone! let’s get the hell out of here”

“man how did i bag such a babe like you? it’s kinda infuriating.”

*********Denki Kaminari*********

literally doesn’t get jealous. just agrees with everyone that compliments or flirts with you.

“I know dude, she IS so hot.”

will purposely point at your cleavage and give a thumbs up to anyone looking.

everyone tries to mess with him but it just doesn’t work out.

“she’s way too hot for you, sparky.” he laughs “man, tell me about it!”

posts you all over his social media, treats you like an actual prize.

“how did i get so lucky?!😍🔥” “guys look how hot my girl is!!!” “she is unreal”

makes sure everyone looks at you at least once when you wear a dress or anything slightly revealing. “have you guys seen her?! I mean look at that!!”

he’s literally the biggest green flag ever.

loves to shower you with compliments and affection at any given time.

“I’m so lucky you’re mine…”

not jealous of literally anybody…except Shinso. “dude don’t smirk at my girl…”

***these were so fun to do omg. sorry if they don’t seem super accurate but they make so much sense in my mind lmfao***

[fernsnailz]

goddamn it now you've got me thinking about Sonic Minecraft headcanons and shit lmaoooo lemme like... spout a few: -Tails is the redstone nerd, he's the one who would literally learn to build computers inside of minecraft. The others purposefully ignore redstone in caves purely because they dont want him building massive shit that lags the entire server lmao, if he wants the redstone he has to get it himself. -Amy and Sonic are the two who use shaders, Sonic has a beefy-ass PC that Tails made for him so he likes to use shaders to make the world look as cool as possible, but he's also still a freak for high FPS so he tends to use low-end shaders with very basic texture packs. Amy, however, pushes her own PC to it's limits to make shit look as beautiful as possible, and she has a whole slew of texture packs that she's organized and uses. She's the screenshot lover, and the primary builder of the group. -Omega isn't in the server because he would not stop asking for mods that add explosives so he gets his own modded world where it's just.... always chaos. -Amy is also the primary server moderator, while Tails helps her with the technical stuff. -Rouge has been banned and unbanned like 14 times for stealing so now they shut down the server if Amy or Tails isn't online to make sure she doesn't cause trouble again. -Sonic, as you've mentioned, tends to explore a lot, so the others often find random dirt huts every 1000 blocks or so from when he forgets to take food with him and his sprint runs out at night time lol -Knuckles is the primary mining dude, he also absolutely refuses to give up his emeralds to trade with villagers because he wants to rebuild his home ruins in Minecraft and hopes to use emerald blocks for that. -Shadow is.... a bit of a wildcard??? He just tends to do whatever the hell he feels like, which is either building onto his house made of an assortment of random blocks, or causing absolute fucking mayhem for everyone else. He's also the one who spends his EXP on naming his weapons the most batshit insane stuff. -There was a moment in time when they were all in a VC together that Sonic said "Oh hey I found Shadow!" and not even 5 seconds later the message "SpeedyBoi was slain by XxUltimateShitlordxX" appeared in the in-game chat -Tails most likely helped set up some of their Minecraft accounts so many of them ended up stuck with names they absolutely did not choose

thats all i can think of right now lol, but this is making me wanna make a Shadow skin for MC

these are very fun, i think the only thing i would add is that the one time omega was in the server he downloaded every speedrunning strat known to man and beat the ender dragon in under five minutes

also silver does not play because he thinks herobrine is real <3

[beemers-hell]

what's shindas, ikutes and fumeis' relationship dynamic like? i love the polyam rep I wanna know more Abt em!!

RUBS MY HANDS EVILY

lol get ready for an essay and a half

Ok so the first thing you gotta know about the mob poly is that they have been best friends since they were in kindergarten. They have been ride or dies for each other since they were literally in elementary school. They have been through every high and low of each others lives together, so already they have a really tight bong just through that.

Fumei was the first to make any moves, which was with Shinda, they're high school sweethearts that were just meant to be. Both Fumei and Shinda would confide in Ikute about their feelings for each other, and when they did start dating they'd still chat with Ikute about their feelings and how much they loved the other and how how hot the other one is and date plans and all that junk. And Ikute was chill with it cause those were his besties, however he did start to get a little tortured by Those Feelings after a while cause he realized he liked Fumei, but didn't act on it cause Duh he's already dating Shinda. But Shinda is really fucking good at reading people so she eventually kinda pushed him until he told her what was up, and she didn't even have a problem with it she was like "bitch shoot your shot anyway were already super close to each other i trust you to not take him from me" and like, it didn't happen immediately cause Ikute is just reserved like that. But eventually thr two had a particularly Gay ass moment with each other and he folded and spilled about his feelings for Fumei, and Fumei's an absolute sweetheart with too much love for his poor little heart anyway so he was like "I like you alot too the way I like Shinda alot I can make this work cause I want it alot" so then the poly was formed like, near the end of high school.

And now they're in their 30s and still together so obviously they got their shit figured out!

Firstly, Fumei, since he's the connecting point: Like I said, he's a massive sweetheart! When he loves someone he LOVES them; it can be a little overbearing sometimes but he knows Shinda and Ikute's boundaries and limits with everything like he knows the back of his hand so he rarely ever has problems with overdoing it with them specifically. He's very much a heart on the sleeve kind of dude and does everything in his power to make sure his partners know how much he loves and cares for them. He's out voluntarily getting up before everyone else to make full course meals for breakfast, he's hiding little sticky notes with disgustingly cutesy love letters written on them in their belongings, he's taking care of their aches and pains when they complain, he's very much a very selfless guy that gives his all to his partners. He does have to Show His Love differently between them because they aren't the same person of course, but the point is he gives his all.

Hes also being kinda fruity with one of the Mob Poly's friends, Lucius, a side character guy I haven't mentioned like, Ever Lol, but they're more of a fwb kinda deal rn. Shinda and Ikute are cool with it cause they think he's tight anyway lol

Shinda's more relaxed about it, she shows her love more through small gestures, she's not as showy about it as Fumei is. Like she will make sure you know you're loved by her, but she's content with just chilling and not worrying about it 24/7. She' s a really good counter balance to Fumei, cause she loves the fact that he dotes on her (and Ikute, obvs) all the time and treats her like royalty, and he loves the fact that she's so casual and chill about it. They're like, almost opposites, but yanno the saying!

Ikute, like I said, is very reserved, so he rarely engages in outwardly obvious acts of love and all that gay shit, but Fumei (and Shinda, by extension) knows damn well how much that dude loves him. Cause Ikute doesn't open up about his feelings and struggles as easily as he does with them, or talk for hours on end about whatever subject he's fixated on with anyone thr way he does them, or accept any physical touch as normal the same way he does them. Ikute doesn't regularly do very big showy grandiose acts of love like Fumei, nor does he engage in smaller acts like Shinda does...it's kind of random whether or not he'll surprise them with something big or do something smaller, its mainly dependent on his mood. The point is, Ikute doesn't act the same way with the whole rest of the world the way he acts with Fumei (and Shinda), there's like a flip thats switched when he knows he's alone with them and feels far more comfortable. That's how they know!

And, the important thing to note is, Shinda and Ikute don't love each other the same way they love Fumei. Cause like, yanno, Ikute is a gay man, and Shinda obvs respects that, he's not attracted to her like he is Fumei. However, they still are so very close to each other, and trust each other like no other, hell they are physically affectionate with one another, its just different from how they trust and love Fumei. I guess it's kinda complicated to explain? Not in like a negative way, they just have a more complex relationship than friendship, but isn't romance either? They're like "You feel like an extension of me you understand me like nobody else does I would do everything in thr world for you" but not in like a soulmates-who-complete-each-other kinda way. They're not just the type of romance web that's like "were dating the same guy and not each other but were cool" its a little deeper than that. I'd like to say they're on some 70s queer "fuck it we ball" kinda shit but I'm not sure how to explain it. I think a queer platonic relationship is how you'd describe them? Like I said its complicated lmao

Point is: These bitches can fit SOOO much gay shit into them

[acaplaya-musings]

VoicePlay Visuals - Classical Chaos (part 2/2)

(The video itself obviously isn't a two-parter, but this post is! You can go to part 1 here!)

Fun fact: I'm actually typing both parts of this post less than 24 hours after the video's public release! Getting early access on Patreon means I've had ample time to process the video, and by the time it released on YouTube I simply could not wait to begin analysing it!

Okay so I ended part 1 at about 2 minutes and 17 seconds into the video (not quite halfway but close enough), and that is where we shall continue from!

Rachel has just pulled the spellbook back from Layne, and things are getting just a little bit more chaotic now!

Lol rip @ Eli trying to intercept the book-grab but stumbling/toppling forwards instead 😂

"Can I-" "Nope"

"Can I-" "NOPE"

LOL RIP ELI

(Also not a visual thing but I really must give credit and kudos for the inclusion of the Wilhelm Scream here - classic, iconic, we stan 👌)

Uh, Rachel, Ms White Witch...

(Also highlight and contour ON POINT btw)

*YOINK*

Geoff is just Vibing, we love to see it

(Okay but seriously this version of Fur Elise kinda slaps ngl)

Geoff: "Wait what are you doing?"

Pfft, remember how I mentioned the connections to the Little Mermaid Medley video in my first part? Now Geoff is the one having his voice stolen instead of the one doing the voice-stealing! 😆

Cesar @ Rachel: "Actually I'll take your voice too now!"

Pfft, Cesar really said "I might not have a huge role in this, but I'm still gonna do the absolute MOST" (seriously he's so hilarious in this video and I love him 😂)

Oh boy the book is gone again!

In most cases I'd say that the use of a horn is "pushing it" when it comes to acapella, but this is VoicePlay, and Violayne is a thing, so yeah this is mild in comparison 😝😁

Cesar is like "OMG HOW COULD YOU? HOW DARE YOU??" while Geoff is just like "dude, really?"

The whole Can-Can bit is utterly hysterical and I love it so much every time I watch this video - Layne bouncing and clapping along, fireworks suddenly appearing, Cesar actually doing the can-can, it's just absolutely VoicePlay Brand Of Dumb and I'm so here for it 😄

Eli's cast a love spell between Layne and Rachel!

Geoff's reaction is 10/10, I love it 😂

Uh oh, the spell broke!

And oh she is MAD

(Also love how Geoff appears to be the least scared of The White Witch)

Seriously the special effects/post-production stuff/CGI was freaking insane in this video! So good! That was all Layne too I guess?

Too hard to get a good picture of it (and I'm nearing the screenshot limit once again anyway) but I love how the fire starts shifting through the whole spectrum of colours during the In The Hall Of The Mountain King bit!

"The LAST PAGE. Very Important! DO NOT LOOSE!! Bad Things Will Happen!!!"

(It's meant to say "do not lose" but it still kinda works, as it can also meant "do not set loose"/"do not make loose"!)

Also the other page appears to be from an old dictionary (what the spellbook was actually made from I guess?), specifically a page of words starting with O!

Surprise! Rachel/the White Witch had the last page tucked away the whole time!

Cesar, Eli, and Layne: *Panik* Geoff: "*sigh* Yep here we go again..."

(My god everyone was killing it with the facial expressions in this video! So many good ones!)

And it's bye bye Grundels once again!

What a queen, iconic, love her, we stan👑💜

(And make sure to stick around for the credits!)

Yeah, this video DEFINITELY needed/deserved to be split into two Tumblr posts, and honestly I wasn't sure if I was gonna hit image limit too soon and have to start cutting images from one or both parts, but thankfully I managed to cover just about everything I wanted to.

Hope you enjoyed these posts as well, and if you wanna know what posts I'll be doing next, click the link here if you haven't seen the post already! (I'm currently open to suggestions for "bonus" VoicePlay Visuals posts!) But until next time!

[pyropsychiccollector]

what do you think would be some of the classes reaction to the whole harem thing? like obv theyre not gonna be mean, as long as nagi and everyone is happy, but also some people reaction would be funny i think

karma would love it, seeing the tiny nagisa he knew from first year now have more people that like him than he knows what to do with, karma would basically have infinite teaseing material at that point.

Or meahara, who probably goes up to nagisa all "how dude? just how? teach me your ways" and poor nagisa who didnt even notice anyone liked him that way for most of the schoolyear is just equally as confused.

.... Well, "mean" is a matter of perspective, isn't it? (❋•‿•❋)

Karma would have a field day with Nagisa having up to six girlfriends. (❋•‿•❋) He wouldn't sabotage Nagisa by any means, but you know there would be no end to the embarrassment Nagisa suffers... Akari would try to put her foot down for hubby's sake, but would clam up when Karma turns around and embarrasses her, too. Yukiko's politeness would probably be pushed to its limits cuz of Karma's tomfoolery. Fuwa would possibly make it worse with her manga references, if she happens to know any harem manga's... Yada would likely be more successful than Akari in confronting Karma, but... she's easy to get flustered, too.

Rinka and Rio, though? (❋•‿•❋) Well. Payback's a bitch. (❋•‿•❋)(❋•‿•❋)(❋•‿•❋)

Isogai, Meg, Chiba, and Hara would most likely attempt to be the most mature and accommodating to the.... bizarre dating arrangement. Manami would wanna be supportive, but romance really isn't her forte; and she can feel a bit meek when in the midst of her more vocal classmates. :3 Sugino would be down in the dumps for a while; Nagisa and Yukiko would try getting him hooked up with any baseball-loving girls to get him out of his funk. :3

Takebayashi might try to keep his head down and avoid all this drama. But might get roped in if Kimura, Mimura, Yoshida, Muramatsu, Hazama, Itona, Terasaka, and Maehara start any betting pools about how long this arrangement will last. ...... Or if the arrangement lasts longer than they expect, than side bets on different shenanigans popping up because of how much Nagisa has to juggle with these girls. Kurahashi would take the polygamous relationship as her green light to "share" Mister Karasuma with Professor Bitch. There's no stopping her now~ :3

Maehara and Okajima would probably be among the most annoying - Maehara because he would keep offering Nagisa dating advice, and eventually Nagisa's girlfriends would shut him down hard and fast. ... If not outright put a restraining order on him. (❋•‿•❋) And Okajima... Well, he'd keep trying to get gravure shots or other perverted "opportunities" from them and Nagisa, and he would meet a similar fate to Maehara.

Okano... uh.... (❋•‿•❋);;;;;;;;;; Nagisa might be in trouble for the first little while she realizes what kind of relationship he has with six of her friends.... If she "accidentally" knocked him out with a chair during the Valentine's Day chapters in the manga, Nagisa might be running for his life.... At least until the girls can calm Okano down. Somehow. (❋•‿•❋)

Ritsu would absolutely be Nagisa's wingwoman. She'd help the girls out, too, but Nagisa tends to doubt himself a lot, and he just doesn't "get" why so many girls like him~... Ritsu would help him be prepared for dates and making up with girlfriends if they're upset for whatever reason. ......... And fortunately or unfortunately (depending on who you ask) Ritsu might get Nagisa thinking about the.... lewd side of this relationship sooner rather than later. (❋•‿•❋);;;;;; Even without trying, Ritsu is very.... flirtatious. (❋•‿•❋);;;

Karasuma might be a concerned papa bird for a long time. He trusts these kids to look after themselves, but polygamy is very.... unorthodox, and it's very easy for one (or more) of them to get hurt and neglected. Might try to talk them down from this arrangement, but may eventually abide it if they keep at it and work with each other to be happy. Irina would be another wingwoman, coaching the harem on kissing and other intimate acts.... Of course, Nagisa can't afford some of the high class establishments that Irina coaches them about, so she begrudgingly has to lower the bar. (❋•‿•❋) Naturally, she insists they work up to spoiling each other rotten. But deep down, Irina IS looking after these kids in her own way.

........ And if Koro-sensei ever lived past his expiration date, God help Nagisa and his girlfriends. (❋•‿•❋) They think Karma's incorrigible? Well.......... (❋•‿•❋) Koro-sensei will be even more of a Papa Bird than Mister Karasuma. The happiness of seven of his kiddos is on the line, after all.

[sonoraswinds]

this is exactly what my face looks like when you say Nathan did nothing wrong, bitches you better be joking, his words in voicemail MEAN ABSOLUTELY NOTHING for the actions of the adult young educated man who kidnapped, drugged, harassed, strangled, s€xually assaulted and, i bet my ass, r@ped young women, this is a total insanity when people saying ”ahh poor boy! dad abused him! he's a victim”, umm, Ted Bundy was abused, Columbiners were abused, all serial killers and r@pists were abused, you can name it, POOR DUDES, Nathan's past does not minimize his responsibility, he's brutal, he has no limits, he's spoiled and cruel, that ain't something like punching your buzzed mate in face, stealing a can of beer from the store or being rude to teachers, when u could have said ”yeah, he's hostile, he's difficult, he has parent issues, but it's not too late”. yeah, I can already hear your protests ”no missy! he was used! it’s not his fault! sure he did bad things but he knows it was a mistake,” save your fucking breath, okay? those things he did, drugging and kidnapping women. that’s not an “oopsie” 🤭, that’s not a “well I messed up but I’ll say sorry and make it better”. this is an inescapable fact about Nathan Joshua Prescott you beloved: he drugged, kidnapped and s€xually assaulted young women. he got them straight to Jefferson and god only knows what Mark actually did to them. nobody! i'll say it again NOBODY pushed him into doing these gruesome atrocities. he did it himself because he wanted to. because lives of these girls mean zero shit for this man. remember that fucking nonchalant tone of ”i'm kinda devastated right now” in Principal Wells' office after Kate's suicide attempt/death. like he's giving a flying fuck...😎

the second Prescott decided it was okay to steal the autonomy of women, to hurt them, to traumatize them for life, he became a fucking devil

OK?

Nathan takes serious antipsychotics? So do millions of people. His meds don't help him? MAYBE BECAUSE HE always MIXES it with ALCOHOL AND DRUGS? hm, dunno. I take SSRIS, but i don't fucking drink because i'm fucking scared shit of side effects or a sudden cardiac arrest. you crazy ass if you blame all of this on Jefferson's manipulative behavior, Prescott always knew what he was doing, he has never had an empathy for others

you'll say ”HEY CHIC he has never r@ped girls nobody mentioned that” but dudes🙏🏼 FACE the fucking truth. Prescott is a pure evil, everything he did was about having control over something, he enjoys it, this is the power he has never had before, he knows he is untouchable, he uses this advantage all the time through the game. i'm so scared of people saying this voicemail is a fucking redemption arc for Nate. y'all should apologize to Jesus Christ, i mean it

”i didn't wanna hurt Kate, or Rachel” blah blah, YES, YOU DID, this is exactly what you did, and you fucking knew about consequences, you knew all of your actions traumatized them, you're not dumb, not littlesillycinnamonroll, you're just a real predator. this is unforgivable, and irl y'all would NEVER think about justifying such crimes

[louscartridge]

off limits?

tw- fem reader, angst, swearing, lowercase intended, me sucking at writing  

request-  hello! i heard you wanted requests for kevin from mental lords so how about kevin falling in love with hunters sister and him confessing and how hunter feels about it. you absolutely don’t have to write this. thank you!

also yes hunter says “heay” at the end

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

“no no riiiight here” y/n said taking hold of the brown haired boy’s index finger to the second fret of the a string, walking him through playing the b major cord. you play guitar and kev wanted to give it a try. needless to say- hes confused.

“hey.. HEY! tooooo close guys way too close!” your brother hunter yells, stomping down the stairs to the basement and pushes the two of you apart.

“relax dude we weren’t doing anything”

hunter always had one rule for all of his friends. one and that was all; siblings are off limits. pretty reasonable right? considering hunter doesnt have many friends, it was never a problem - or so he thought. kevin had always had a liking for y/n but in the past few months that liking had progressed to loving.

“i play guitar too you know. just ask me”

-----------------

a like months time skip brought to you by my sisters mud potion

-----------------

“i mean seriously kevin what is your deal?” you whisper yell despite the basement you two are in being soundproof.

kevin had been avoiding you for the past couple of months out of nowhere, leaving you upset and confused.

“i mean seriously, every time you come here it’s to hang out with hunter and you don’t even bother to look at me!”

“nothing! nothing is wrong i’m fine.”

“that’s not what i asked kevin”

every time you guys speak you both get louder and louder

“so why the hell are you ignoring me?!”

“because you make me want things i can’t fucking have!” he said louder than anything either of you had said throughout the entire argument.

“seriously kevin?”

no answer.

“kevin.”

no answer.

“whatever”

-----------------

another time skip brought to you by me and hannah being on ft (i love hannah sosososooso much she’s the best so super sexy and cool)

-----------------

kevin nervously stands in front of the basment door of the sylvesters, the faint sound of hunter playing the guitar could be heard behind it.

“i can do it. i mean really it’s not that big of a deal.” kevin whispers to himself

once he forced himself into the basement he just stood there for a bit until hunter finished playing Aces High by Iron Maiden. kevin was hoping he would just move on to playing another song so that he could walk away.

“jesus christ kevin- do you plan on killing me?”

or not.

“uh- no actually. i wanna tell you something? or ask? i dont really know how to word it but i know you pro-”

“kevin shut up, slow down take a minute to think of how to word it. then tell me.”

after a few seconds of kevin thinking about it he desides to just go for it.

“ithinkiminlovewithy/n”

hunter drops his guitar out of his lap from the state of shock causing him to say nothing but a small

“shit”

a few minutes of the two musicians sitting in awkward silence and hunter still hasn’t said anything.

“soo uhhh-”

“y/n. as in my sister. y/n??”

“well yeah. why do you think i’m telling you this.”

“you know.”

those two words caused kevin to panic. ’is he gonna kick me out of the band?’ ‘is he gonna say we cant be friends anymore?’ the possibilities raced through his mind.

“anyone else i would’ve been really mad,” he paused for a moment “but- i trust you enough for you guys to be okay”

“really?” kevin hopefully questions

hunter sighs before answering “really.” he confirms “go”

“....where?”

“go go go” hunter hurriedly rushed his best friend up the stairs to the small hallway

“go make a move i suppose”

“ok ok okayyy im going!”

kevin knocks gently on the door of y/n’s room, soon being followed by her swiftly opening the door.

“oh my god. what do you want”

“to apologise to you”

“for real?”

“mhm”

you stand there for a second before roling your eyes and walking away to your bed leaving you door open, kevin taking this as him being allowed to follow you. closing the door behind him he sits next to you flattening the black blanket underneath him. neither of you say anyhing the only sound being the slipknot song you were previously playing on your guitar. you and hunter had always had different music tastes. sure, both in an alternative scene but yours being more nu metal and emo than his.

“i wanted- no” kevin sighs, now not knowing how to word it to you. so instead, he went back to not saying anything.

“ok?” you pick your guitar back up continuing to try and play Vermillion.

kevin looked around your room, inspecting your poster covered walls. there was barely any actual wall visible, all of the paint covered with the likes of deftones, pierce the veil, silverstain, icon for hire, lamb of god, volbeat, kittie and so many more, half of which he had never even heard of.

once he noticed he’s just been sitting next to you doing nothing, he turns faceing your side sitting cris-crossed, causing you to stop playing.

“you gonna apologise anytime soon?” you asked harshly

“oh- yeah sorry. i’m sorry..... you wanna know why i was ignoring you? i love you. there. i love you and i was scared that i was starting to like my bestfriend’s sister. was ignoring you the solution? no. was it stupid? yes.”

after you didn’t say anything he started to panic. again.

“sooo here i am. not ignoring you. are we switching the roles now?”

not knowing what to say you turn around faceing him now you too siting cris-crossed. taking a shaky breath out you grab his shoulders pulling him closer to you, and you lean into a kiss. he was taken aback at first, but once he realised what was happening he kissed you back, moving his hands to your cheeks.

“oh shit. no… no” you suddenly pull away, panicking

“what?”

“hunter? what about hunter? you’re his best friend! i shouldn’t be kissing you!”

“no no its ok i spoke to him before coming up here. actually he kinda pushed me up here- not that i didnt wanna tel-”

“ok i get it just stop talking and-”

before you can finish you sentence you’re interrupted by hunter swinging open your door.

“heay!! i may have told you it was ok, but don’t be moving so damn fast!”

[hansensgirl]

push it to the limit.

summary. | As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him.

warnings. | Non/Dubcon, watersports, obsessive behaviour, coercion, bribery, dark themes, drinking (champagne), hate fucking, unprotected sex, rough sex, public sex, dumbification, degradation, dirty talk, humiliation, breeding kink, choking, allusions to anal, reader is really rude (so is Niki), *sexism/misogyny/paying for sex (see a/n), and more. 18+, MINORS DNI.

word count. | 8.4k

pairings. | Dark!Niki Lauda x Reader, James Hunt x Reader (it’s one-sided).

author’s note. | please enjoy, and please don’t forget to reblog! if you take ANY inspiration from my fics (i’ll know, trust me) and you don’t give credit, you will be blocked and i’ll let others know. *he talks about paying you for sex as a way to degrade you, it’s brief and in german! it does not reflect anything about me or my blog. we are pro-sex work here! it’s just fiction.

“Look! There he is!” a small voice tells you, pointing somewhere with a great distance. You’re not sure how he manages to spot his favourite racer from so far. Among the sea of heads, your younger brother sits on your shoulders. You can feel him touching you down to your bones, and you try to ignore the pain just for him. “You sure? You said that five times before, y’know,” you denote, and you hear the six-year-old groan. “Yes, I’m sure! Look, he’s drinking that nasty stuff like always,” he adds, and you realize he’s talking about James’s signature champagne.

“It’s not nasty,” you mumble under your breath, remembering the way the pleasant liquid felt and tasted against your tongue. Sticky gold is what you’d describe it as, and you recall how it stained your skin. Shaky hands are bound to tremor even more under pressure, and your friend is an absolute clutz. It’s no wonder she made such a mess, as it is one of her best traits. But a particular pair of hands that seemed to have Midas’s touch cleaned you up, and you still to this day wish you were awake to thank them. You have many regrets, but that’s just a small one.

“Can we go closer to the fence? I want to try and talk to him,” your brother politely requests, and you let out a heavy sigh. Your mouth is pressed in a line, and you begin to shift your feet. You’ve got boots made of suede, a brown colour that always seems to go best with your all-black outfits. There’s a matching jacket on you as well, and it has fur on the cuffs and collar.

“What’s the marvel of watching it in person rather than watching it on television? Out here, we struggle so much, and you can barely even watch them properly. On the television, well, you see it all, and you can be as comfortable as you want,” you wonder out loud, and the child holds onto you tightly. He squeezes your head tightly, and the ribbon in your hair begins to fall in your face. It’s white silk, with a lovely hem to it. You save it for these races your sibling always wants to go to. Your other coloured ones are left for daily excursions, and sometimes a good party, too.

“Excuse me!” you loudly call out, and other women cast you nasty glares. You’ve seen those same looks one too many times, and you don’t pay any mind to them. If they truly care about their spots, they’d stand up and fight for them. But they’re just like babies with a piece of candy in their tiny fists. Maybe a jellybean, or perhaps even a pack of those oh so enjoyable Sour Patch Kids. “Why do you like only him?” you ask, raising both your eyebrows as you get closer to the fence. “I like James and Niki!” he exclaims loudly, and you loop your fingers between the holes of the fence.

“Niki? As in Niki Lauda? That arrogant, Austrian asshole?” you question in shock, not minding your foul language at all. “Yes! The guy that Dad hates. He’s cool, and he’s fast,” he explains, rolling his eyes. “Honestly? There’s nothing cool about him. He’s just… fast. James is the cool one,” you argue, and you can hear him groaning. “You like James Hunt because he looked at you that one time,” he snaps back in annoyance, and you sigh dreamily in remembrance. “Exactly! Now I need to look for Niki, I wanna say hi to him!” your brother exclaims, and your eyes scan the entrance area for Niki Lauda.

“Don’t just say hi to him; ask him for an autograph! We can sell it to one of his fans afterwards. They’re always dying for anything of his,” you propose, and your brother simply ignores the swindling ways that you’ve inherited from your grandfather since you were a kid. It’s the reason why you tend to find purses with deep pockets and smooth zippers that don’t pinch on the inner fabric. You reach into your bag, and you grab a marker that you’ve always got with you.

The crowd gets louder and louder, almost as if you’ve got headphones on your head and you want to turn down the volume, but you keep hitting the wrong button. A woman shrieks in your left ear, and a man whoops in the other. More bodies press against you, and with the marker in between two of your digits, you hope that you don’t return home with billions of bruises. On the big screen, recaps from the previous races are being played. It’s win after win, all on behalf of Niki Lauda and his incredible luck that doesn’t seem to have any end.

You’re finally able to make out what people are screaming; the curly-haired man’s name. “Niki! I love you!” they all shout, and you wonder if any of them like James. It seems like you haven’t found your people, and maybe just for today, you’re the odd one out. “Seems like you’re not the only one that has Niki amongst their favourites,” you grumble, and your brother lets out a giggle. A few moments later, he sits up far more proper on your shoulders. The hand with the marker in it grabs onto one of his legs, and you make sure he doesn’t fall down and ends up being the true loser of this race.

“Niki! I’m your biggest fan!” he shouts at the top of his lungs, using his full voice and then some. You look over to the entrance, and you spot the brooding Austrian wrapped in red walking out with a deep frown on his face. You fight the urge to roll your eyes, but your brother doesn’t care about your deep annoyance towards his idol. Niki shoots a look over to where you’re both standing, and your brother waves his arms from side to side, trying to get the racer’s attention. Even if he doesn’t, you have a feeling that Niki will be more displeased than anything.

It only makes sense, as he always acts that way with his fans though they’re the only people who appreciate him.

His nose is upturned, and he tries to pinpoint your brother and his powerful screams. High-pitched yet so loud, it’s no wonder why his tantrums are the root for almost all household headaches. “He’s looking over here,” you tell him, and your brother nods. “Yeah, because of me! He’s going to come, and I’m going to meet him!” he squeals, somehow connecting none existent dots to fuel a form of hope that dwindles inside him. You can be mean, but you’re not cruel. So you won’t be a realist, and you’ll let the youth on your shoulders believe what he wants to think.

“And when you meet him, ask him to sign something,” you advise, not letting go of your chance to make a few hundred dollars. He doesn’t say anything, but you know he’s pondering whether or not he should do it. “Niki! I love you!” the woman next to you screams as if she’s using every bit of her energy to get him to notice her. Your head already starts to ache just a bit, and you wish you brought some form of a pain killer. Niki saunters over to the fence, and for some reason, you don’t feel proper behind the fence.

It’s the way he carries himself with the highest of heads, a sort of confidence dragging with his every step. He knows he can do anything right now, and everybody except you would love him for it. He could make an entire turn and not greet his fans, and they’ll laugh it off. You’ve witnessed his haughtiness, and there’s no doubt inside you that you’ll see it again. “Niki! Good luck on the race!” a person says, and the rest of the crowd laughs at them.

“Dude, he doesn’t need your luck,” someone next to them says before elbowing the poor fan’s ribs. You can hear them wince in pain before they start to scream at the racer once again. Niki raises his hands up to his chest, almost as if he’s surrendering to something. That bratty smirk of his is replaced by a cheerful smile, and while everyone adores it, you see right through the façade. “Hello, everyone!” he greets, and you already want to roll your eyes until they fall back into your skull.

Niki stands right in front of you, and you try to look somewhere other than his face. Your view darts wildly until you finally settle on looking at the exceptionally boring asphalt underneath your feet. The screaming quiets down, and you wonder if everything is okay. “Uhm, Mr. Niki Lauda? I love you! I’m such a big fan! I watch all of your races, and I try to go to them all! Can I have an autograph?” your brother gleefully expresses, and you snap your head up at his words.

Much to your dismay, you lock gazes with the man you hate most in this entire stadium. His eyes are rather dull, yet they’ve got a sort of darkness in them that makes you feel just a tad bit uneasy. Both begrudgingly and excitedly, you hand the marker to your brother, who, in turn, gives it to his idol. Niki takes it gratefully, and he raises his least dominant hand. The other fans try to reach for it, for him. But he ignores them, and he gives a high-five to your brother.

You can’t hear the sound of their palms meeting because the displeasure of the crowd drowns it all out. “What do you want me to write it on?” Niki questions, taking the cap off of the marker. “Uhm, my shirt?” he offers, stretching the red fabric towards the elder. You observe as the racer awkwardly signs his name on your brother’s clothing, and you know that your Mother is going to be more than angry. Your Father, on the other hand, will be filled with pride and excitement.

“Thank you so much!” the child squeals, and Niki simply waves his hand as if it was no big deal to him. But you know that deep down inside, he was probably a bit annoyed. “Do you want an autograph, Miss?” Niki asks, and you take note of how his demeanour has changed. His features are softer, and his eyes seem to be lit up. “Oh, uh, no, thank you. I’m waiting for James. I love him a lot,” you tell him, pushing your shoulders back in confidence. The people around you let out gasps, and they follow their sounds up with whispers that aren’t so hushed.

Niki’s face drops, and you give him your fakest smile. He stares at you, almost as if he wants to lash out and scream. Maybe even call you a name or two. “That’s alright,” he assures after a while, and you have the urge to say something snarky. He hands the marker back to your brother, who is too busy being in awe of his favourite racer to listen to you being on your worst behaviour. Niki walks off, but this time, his stride lacks his boldness. “He’s so cool!” your brother squeals, staring at the Sharpie. You sigh, knowing that you two will constantly butt heads over Niki.

“Well, I beg to disagree.”

“Niki! Is everything okay?” one of the mechanics asks, and the star nods his head mindlessly. Instead of pressing him for some sort of answer, he leaves Niki alone to mull all by himself. There is not one person who dares to talk to him before the race unless it has to do with the car or the competition itself. It’s out of pure fear because nobody likes to face the Austrian’s wrath. From screaming way too loudly to piercing, uncomfortable stares, he never knows how to properly communicate with others.

He gazes at you from just a few mere metres away. His eyes are like ice, and he hopes you can feel the coldness from where you are. He really fucking hopes you do. You’ve got that sultry look to you, and it’s not cast towards him. No, it isn’t at all, and it irks him all the way to his bones. You ogle James fucking Hunt. Of all the other inferior racers there, you choose to admire James, and Niki hates you both for that. At every single race, he’s seen you show up to, you never look at him.

You don’t acknowledge him at all. It doesn't just hurt his ego; it also breaks his heart. Your preference and love for the Englishman injure those butterflies inside Niki’s stomach, and yet they still continue to flutter. The funniest, most ironic part of everything is that the races you attend always end with Niki being the winner. Never James. But you still idolize him over the Austrian, and he’s tired of it.

“Make sure it goes fast, okay? Fast, but nothing should catch on fire or malfunction,” Niki tells his technicians, and they halt what they’re doing. “But, Sir-” one of them starts, and Niki closes his fist for them. “No,” he simply states before crossing his arms once again. Niki looks back over to you, and you’ve now got a smile on your face. He loves the sight, but he knows his adoration will turn sour in a few seconds once he follows your line of gaze. So he chooses not to, and he decides to use you as his motivation.

The racers all go to their cars, and they pull their helmets on. Some are dressed in black, some in white, and only two in red. James and Niki. Niki is surrounded by his team, and James has twice the number of people next to him. Along with mechanics are girls in short skirts with jackets similar to yours. Deep down, you wish you could switch places with one of them, but maybe it isn’t as good as it seems to be. Perhaps your spot behind the fence with your younger sibling is what’s meant for you.

Your neck is more than exhausted. Your shoulders have a unique pain to them, one that not even doctors can begin to describe. Your bones are in desperate need of a crack, and your muscles crave a lengthy stretch that’ll leave you shaking. Yet, you continue to stand there with no complaints ready to fly off your tongue. The whooping behind you is so loud, but you’ve gotten used to it. “C’mon, Niki! You can do it!” your brother cries out, clapping his hands in excitement.

Niki flashes a thumbs up, and he looks at you one last time. As he watches you ogle the man who would pop champagne moments before touching heaven, he puts his foot on the gas pedal and his hand on one of the levers, ready to push it to the limit. Maybe this time, you’ll finally notice him. Perhaps this time, you’ll realize he’s the best racer there is. He takes a deep breath, and he reassures himself that he’ll win as always.

“I have a feeling Niki is going to win this one,” the lady next to you says, and her friends nod their heads in utter agreement. You want to ask why she thinks that, but you’ve already left a bad taste in the crowd’s mouth. “Do you think Niki will win?” you ask your brother, looking up at him as best as you can. “I think so, but maybe James will surprise us!” he predicts, and you nod your head. “I hope James wins,” you whisper under your breath. Your bottom lip falls victim to your teeth, and you gnaw on it out of stress.

You keep your sights on James, and occasionally, you glance at Niki. Perhaps it’s simply just morbid curiosity that’s eating at you because there’s no way you’d just casually look at a man you despise with all your heart. As all the racers go to their designated spots in their cars, excitement fills your stomach. But it’s mixed with fear, as anything can go wrong at these tracks, and that’s the last thing you want to happen. You get lost in your thoughts, thinking about all possibilities.

Who will win? Who will get hurt? Who will get angry? Who will become sad? You ask yourself all these questions that don’t truly matter much to your life, and yet you still try to find an answer inside of you.

Suddenly, the sound of engines revving and then taking off fills your ears. Screams follow them up, and you realize that the race has started. You wait until every single car leaves your view before looking at the scoreboard. You can’t bear to watch them risk their lives while you stand not so comfortably yet safe behind a fence. “Oh my God! James is in the first place!” you squeal like a kid in a candy store, and your brother claps.

Some of the people around you cheer for James, and others for Niki. But you ignore them, and you simply focus on what the orangish-yellow neon lights say. Some names switch spots rapidly, perhaps too quickly for you to keep up with. But you stay trained on the upper two; I. HUN, II. LAU. The former stays on top for most of the race, and the latter switches with him every now and then. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon,” you nervously mumble, hoping that the Englishman stays on top.

“Seems like your favourite is going to win,” the known lady cleverly smirks, and you give her the side-eye. “Yes, because he’s good at what he does,” you confidently agree, hoping that you won’t have to eat your words in the next few minutes. She chuckles before shaking her head. “No wonder you don’t like Niki Lauda,” she expresses, shaking her head practically in some form of awe. “What are you talking about?” you annoyingly press, already growing tired of whatever conversation she’s trying to make.

“You’re both egotistical and full of yourselves. You do it because that’s who you are, and Niki does it for his own reasons, like pure enjoyment. It’s so obvious for you to dislike him because he’s a reflection of you, and you hate that,” she states, proud of herself for whatever reasons. “That’s dumb, and so are you. He does it because that’s who he is. I do it because I don’t like some people—such as yourself—and because I have plenty of reasons to be prideful. Not egotistical,” you snap, and she raises her hands as if she’s surrendering.

“Sure, whatever you say.”

Your mood has turned absolutely irritable, and the bitterness has claimed you entirely. You realize that you haven’t checked the places since before speaking to the lady, and you get excited. Flicking your head up, you expect to have your preferred person’s name at the very top, but instead, you see the name of the one and only Niki Lauda. I. LAU, II. HUN. “No, no, no!” you panic, watching as James stays in second place. None of the names change places at all, and you find yourself to be absolutely crushed. “Yes, yes, yes!” the crowd cheers and your face has fallen in disappointment.

Niki’s name gets announced, and everyone is absolutely elated. Everyone apart from you. Your brother celebrates the win from his high spot, and everybody jumps for joy. You stay silent, and you try your hardest to not swallow your pride. Each driver gets out of their cars slowly, and they congratulate the Austrian with smiles on their faces. You stare at him callously before you notice that James is still grinning. Despite not winning entirely, he never actually lost. So there’s no reason for you to be so dull and gloomy.

He walks off with his posse of men and women, and you realize maybe it’s time for you to head home as well. “So, your favourite won,” you say to your brother, and he giggles. “Yep! And yours lost!” he jokes, and you let out a forced giggle. “Yeah, yeah,” you brush off, making your way through the energetic body of people you strongly dislike.

Niki is engulfed in overly suffocating hugs. Some hands shake him, and some even slap him on the back, not so lightly. He doesn’t know which pairs belong to which bodies, and yet he goes with them all anyway. “You did great, Niki!” one voice praises. “Yeah, great job, Niki!” another adds. He thanks everybody in one sentence, and he pulls away once they start to mingle amongst themselves. The fantastic win of his isn’t what’s on his mind. It’s the thing that’s been etched and burned into his brain for him to think about, even though it should be appreciated now.

No. You’re what’s on Niki’s mind, and he has no intention of letting you leave.

He looks over at the swarm of heads that may have drowned you, and he can’t find you there. Not one trace of you is left behind, and his blood boils. Do you truly hate him to the point where you can’t even stay back for a few more seconds? Niki swears in Austrian under his breath, and he frustratingly walks over to the crowd. Fingers that aren’t yours reach out for him, and he ignores them all. “Have any of you seen that woman with the little boy on her shoulders?” he angrily questions, cracking his knuckles in anticipation.

His heart is still clamouring wildly in his chest, practically beating against him to be let out. “Uhm, she just left… She went that way! But I could easily replace her if you want…” a woman flirts, and Niki completely ignores her words after he gets what he wants. He leaves abruptly, and they are still yelling after him. “So eine verdammte Schlampe. Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dir eine Lektion zu erteilen, du hast darum gebettelt, seit ich dich gesehen habe,” he grumbles, walking through the crowded entrance.

Niki emerges with perseverance and even more anger than before. He searches through the sea of racing enthusiasts, and he spots you being bent over. It’s a wildly lewd position for you to be in, and Niki finds himself feeling flushed and displeased at the way you let others leer at you. He should be the only one to see you that way, nobody else. The Austrian wants to storm his way to you, to grab you and drag you somewhere more private so that he can put you in your place, but he knows the current setting isn’t right.

“Uhm, Mr. Lauda? Would you like a drink in honour of your win? It’ll be on us!” a shy waitress offers, appearing out of nowhere. He jumps in fear, but he quickly calms down. “Well…” he ponders, even though he’s not a fan of drinking after a race. In a trice, the lightbulb in his brain goes off. It shines brightly, and a clever idea starts to nag him. “Do you, uh, mind doing me a favour? I’ll even pay you extra,” he quickly prompts, and the waitress smirks. “Sure!” she agrees, carefully balancing the glasses on her tray.

“I need you to take all these glasses—maybe add some more champagne and make sure they’re really full—to that person over there,” he instructs, pointing to where you are. He watches as you wave to your family, who drives off without you. “The one with the brown jacket?” she double checks, and he nods in assurance. “Yeah, that one. Take them to her, and tell her they’re from someone who adores her and her love for champagne quite a bit,” Niki directs while trying to hold in a villain-like laugh.

“Ok! Then I just leave?” she asks, tilting her head innocently. “Yes. And don’t mention my name or anything about me at all,” he adds quickly before placing a hundred-dollar bill on the tray. The waitress slips it into her pocket before walking to where you’re standing idly. Niki watches the innocent worker make her way towards you until he realizes he should hide away before she makes a mistake.

“Excuse me, ma’am? Hi, I have something for you,” a waitress tells you, and you furrow your eyebrows in confusion. “I- What? I never ordered anything, I think you have the wrong person,” you tell her, turning your back and facing elsewhere. “No! I have the right person. They said they’re someone who adores you and your love for champagne!” she gleefully clarifies, and only one person comes to mind. James. You let out an excited, eager gasp. One that can’t be rivalled by any of Niki’s fans from his win.

She hands you the two full glasses, and you can just tell that the golden liquid is of high quality. You get drunk quickly, perhaps a little too easily. But that’s never stopped you from enjoying yourself at all. “Thank you so much! Oh, and I’m sorry for being rude at first,” you softly whisper to her, and she simply waves you away. “No worries,” she reassures, and she walks off before you can finish your first glass.

Tilting your head back, you bring the first flute to your mouth and you down everything it has to offer in just a few gulps. The drink slides down your throat with such ease. It’s brut, and it has a sort of bitter yet sweet taste to it. Sighing, you smack your lips and take whatever is left of the first glass gratefully. You then switch the glasses around with shaky yet skillful hands. “Thank you, James, for being such a lovely guy,” you murmur to yourself, dragging out the last letters of each word.

The alcohol quickly settles inside you, and it starts to distort you as always. Blurry eyes and a hazy mind, you’ve turned into a drunken mess in a matter of a few seconds. You slowly sip on your second and last glass before your temptations grow tired of your sluggishness. You down the entire thing until there’s a small drop at the bottom that just won’t budge. You let out a tiny sound of amazement, and you find yourself wanting to have some more. You lick your lips, trying to search for a slight hint of the sort of melon flavour until it goes away.

“Uhm? Does anyone know where that waitress went?” you ask loudly, and those who hear you shake their heads ‘no.’ “Damn,” you frustratingly mutter, lightly stomping your foot against the concrete. You roll your head backwards, in both a stretch and a habit. Your mind feels heavy, but your bones and muscles are even more burdensome. You bring your skull back to its normal position, and you decide to go look for her. Stumbling clumsily, you walk back into the dreaded arena where everyone is still celebrating Niki Lauda’s victory.

Niki watches you amongst a crowd of fans who are trying to form some sort of discussion with him. They hound him with all kinds of questions, some about the race itself and some about the esteemed racer and his personal life. Like a hunter stalking his prey, his eyes stay trained on you until you disappear behind the red door that leads to rooms that only named people are allowed to go to. “So, what are you going to do now, Mr. Lauda? How are you going to celebrate?” one of them asks, with a sort of sultry tone to their voice that he fails to notice.

“I have plans with a friend of mine for tonight,” he briefly states before pushing through them and following you into the stadium. “Can I join?” another asks, and he simply ignores them as they call after Niki with even more curiosity. It’s not hard to spot someone in bright red overalls suddenly walking into somewhere he shouldn’t be, but it’s easy to pay no mind to him because he’s a champion and most people who see him aren’t.

“Where, where, where are you, kleine Maus?” he hauntingly calls out, and his voice echoes back. Niki can hear the sound of your shoes clicking against the ground, and he decides to follow it. He tries his hardest to calm his heart down, but it’s hard to both hold your breath and make sure you’re not nearing cardiac arrest. The racer quickens the paces of his feet, practically jogging towards you as you decide to turn around and forget about the champagne.

Your jacket slips off your shoulders as you whip your body around, and suddenly, you’re pushed against a wall. The brick is painted over with a sort of cream colour. You begin to panic as strong hands keep you from fighting your attacker. “Du bellst wohl nicht nur, kleine Maus,” he notes out loud, and you don’t understand a word of what he’s saying. The voice is familiar, though, except for the fact it’s a few octaves deeper than you last heard.

“Niki?” you question, halting your flailing fists and restless legs. “Yes, kleine Maus?” the man questions and your jaw drops in shock. “What the fuck?! Are you insane? Get off of me!” you scream loudly, and his hopes of getting you still begin to die like a flower in the wintertime. Niki grabs ahold of your wrists in his dominant hand, and he swiftly turns you around and stomps on your ankles. “Help!” you cry out, but his other hand presses your face against the wall.

“Shut up, shut the fuck up,” he orders in your ear, pushing your white ribbon out of your face. You listen to him, but you disobey his commands at the same time. Writhing around, you try to escape the claws that squeeze you tightly, and you fail miserably. “Cute. Now stop fighting me, or else I’ll hurt you so badly you wouldn’t be able to go to anyone for help,” he threatens, and you gulp thickly in fear. Your saliva tastes of alcohol still, and you regret ever coming to the race.

“Good girl. See? That wasn’t so hard. All you need to do is listen to me,” Niki instructs, talking down to you like you’re some child who doesn’t know any better. “Why?” you choke out through gritted teeth. Your cheekbones rub against the brick, and the pain is gruesome. “Because I need to put you in your place. Do you seriously think you can just mouth off to me like that? To disrespect me like that? To prefer that pathetic racer over me?” he asks, and you let out a whimper. Each of his words sinks into you like needles filled with anesthesia.

They numb your mind until you realize what’s really happening, but by then, it’s too late.

“Well, obviously, I prefer James over you! Look at you, you’re rude, and you’re a horrible, shitty person. Now get off of me!” you lash out, even though your body doesn’t move. Niki simply laughs like a maniac, and you find yourself wanting to take back your words. “Maybe I’m so rude because I like you. Like how little boys tease little girls when they have crushes. You do know what a crush is, right? Just making sure since you’re so cold-hearted. Bet you don’t know anything other than hatred,” he spits, and you’re pretty offended.

“I know what you’re talking about! I’ve had feelings for people, okay?” you bite back, and Niki becomes curious. “Really? Let me guess. James Hunt? Some old boyfriend of yours? A man at a party who cleaned you up because you don’t know how to take care of yourself?” the Austrian questions, and you don’t realize who he’s talking about until you look at his hands. They’re the same as those gracious ones, except they’re more rough and lack gentleness. “That was you?” you ask, and you’ve lost all fight in your body at the realization.

“Well, of course, kleine Maus. Someone had to watch your back, and that someone is me! Du bist nicht so klug, wie du dich selbst darstellst, ganz ehrlich. But that’s okay, it’ll be okay. It’ll be just alright now that I’m here to put you in your place,” he reassures you, and you don’t even have the energy to ask him what he means. “Look, I’m sorry, I really am. I’ve learnt my lesson now, can you let me go? I won’t tell anyone, Sir, I promise!” you plea and your words start to blur into one another.

“I don’t think you’re sorry, kleine Maus. I need to do what’s necessary because I’m fucking tired of you and your bullshit,” Niki snaps, and you whimper from the harsh tone of his words. His change in behaviour gives you whiplash, and you realize that there’s no way out of whatever he has planned for you. “So careless, so mean, so ignorant… So clumsy. I guess you aren’t as independent or as strong as you claim to be,” he whispers, and he causes tears to sting your almost empty eyes. They hurt, and they carry such maliciousness to them that you can’t help but be terrified of Niki.

A hand comes up to the waist of your jeans. They flare out at the bottom, and well, they look pretty damn good on you. But maybe a little too good because they make Niki think wild thoughts. He expertly takes the buttons out of their holes, and he unzips your rusted zipper. “P- Please, Niki,” you beg one last time, but Niki ignores you. He pulls down your pants against your protests, and he lets them get tangled with your tired feet. Your bare ass is exposed to the cool air of the arena, and goosebumps begin to rise on your skin.

“Such a lovely ass, kleine Maus. Maybe I should fuck it instead of doing what I had planned. Would you like that?” Niki politely asks, and your eyes nearly fall out of your skull. “N- No, thank you, Niki,” you shakily reject, and he nods. “You see, unlike you, I’m not so mean. So I’ll spare you, but only this once,” he cheerfully tells you, acting as if you’re supposed to start jumping up and down at his words. The closest thing to gratitude he’ll ever get from you is silence.

Niki still has a tight grip on your hands, and with your legs now immobilized from the mess by your feet, you can’t do much to save yourself. He wraps his arm around your waist, and he grabs at the crotch of your panties with no care at all. The cotton bunches up, and his fingers graze lightly against your folds. You try to ignore his touch, but he does the opposite and forces you to focus on it. He’s frozen, and you’re waiting for his next malevolent move. You can hear his heavy breathing, and he angles his digits upwards so he can touch you even more.

You press a fist against the wall, and you try to brace yourself as best as you can. Unexpectedly, a fierce pain strikes you in your hips, and it hurts more than you can describe. His hand has left you, and you can feel the air breeze against your pussy. Your panties are on the floor, ripped into a shred of fabric that no longer has any good use other than reminding you of how you could’ve avoided this entire situation. “I’ll get you better ones, don’t worry,” he reassures you in a humorous manner, and you squeeze your eyes shut in annoyance.

Instead of having your hips jut out for easy access, he pushes your torso against the wall until there’s a pressure inside your stomach. Instead of pain, it’s a sort of tingling sensation that makes your eyes bulge out in shock. “Uhm...” you hesitate, and his ears perk up. “What is it?” he frustratingly asks you, and his harsh tone snivelling. “N- Nevermind,” you mumble, and you just try to take deep breaths. “Are you ever going to shut up?” Niki questions as his other hand skillfully unzips his red overalls.

He’s wearing a simple pair of shorts and a t-shirt for the hot weather and occasional coolness. You keep quiet, not sure if you should answer him or not. Niki grumbles in another language that you don’t understand, and you realize that no matter what you do, you’ll always make him angry. Even your begging doesn’t bring you any fruits of labour. Only disappointment.

His shorts join the pile of clothing on the ground, many colours clashing that leave his eyes to be sore. Sunset pink panties, pale blue jeans, vibrant red overalls, and black shorts. It’s a fashionista’s worst nightmare. His hard cock is left in his boxers, and he’s just too impatient to fully undress. He throbs out of want and need, with a swollen tip that leaks with pre-cum. “I know this isn’t so… What’s the word you people use? ...Ah, romantic! I know this isn’t so romantic, but it’s not supposed to be. I’m the only one who’s supposed to enjoy this, not you. So I don’t care if you want to fake a smile or anything like that, all you need to do is not say anything,” he explains, and you nod your head.

“O- Okay, Niki,” you assure, and he lets out a groan that is followed by his tongue clicking against his pearly teeth. “Dumb whore,” he spits, and his hand wraps around your throat. You’re inebriated beyond belief, and you don’t realize he can crush your windpipe in a split second until he whispers in your ear. “Can’t do one thing right, can you?” he retorts. The grip he has on your wrists suddenly loosens up, but you’re too sluggish to fight him. And even if you try, you’ll end up a pathetic loser with even less honour than before.

The fat tip of his large cock presses against your mildly slick pussy. “You’re already wet for me, kleine Maus! Oh, such a whore. You say you don’t want this, yet your little cunt is telling me otherwise. Maybe you should use it to think instead of your empty brain. You’d end up in better places if you did so,” he advises, and you try to tune him out. But he’s like an alarm that just won’t stop until you do something, and yet, you’re helpless. “Ich kann es kaum erwarten, dich zu meiner Hure zu machen. Wie viel verlangen Sie? Einen Dollar? So oder so, du wirst von mir gefickt werden,” Niki snickers, and you have a feeling his words lack kindness.

But who the hell are you to worry about kindness?

Niki pushes his hips forward as his cock slowly sheathes itself inside of your tight pussy. The way you hug him makes him moan immediately, and he wonders if he’s the first you’ve ever had. “Jesus Fucking Christ, you’re so right, kleine Maus,” he groans, slowly bottoming out inside of you. You’re biting down on your wobbly bottom lip, trying your hardest to keep quiet and not let out any cries. The pain is searing. It’s the worst thing you’ve ever felt, and it ingrains itself into your mind until it’s all but an illusion. You’re practically about to be torn in half from his cock, and you’re at an impasse.

The racer curses as his balls rest against your ass, heavy and swollen. He’s deep inside you, filling you up until you’re bursting and you don’t know what to focus on; the pressure in your stomach that just seems to grow with each passing second, or the pain that leisurely turns into pleasure you’ll be addicted to? Everything is so much all at once. “Feel that, kleine Maus? Do you feel how deep inside you I am? Good, because you’ll have to get used to it,” he tells you, and you writhe around.

“So desperate already…” he whispers, watching as you can’t stand still at all. Niki’s hand leaves the base of his cock, as he thrusts his hips forward to elicit a reaction from you. He holds onto you tightly, and your body jerks from his movement. Your swollen stomach is pushed further against the wall, much to your dismay. You let out a gasp, and you try to close your legs as much as Niki will let you. He chuckles before he drags his cock backwards. His tip is the only thing inside you, and he suddenly begins to pump into you roughly. “Oh my God,” you whimper quietly, and your words are drowned out by the sound of skin against skin.

He thrusts up into you at a quick pace, one that your fingers or past lovers could never rival. It seems as though he’s fast when it comes to almost anything. “Die beste Muschi, die ich je hatte,” Niki whispers. Your pussy slickens up as he fucks you, coating him with your sticky wetness. The sight is something to behold, and his cock slips in and out of you with each thrust. “Make some pretty noises, kleine Maus. I want to hear how much of a slut you are for my cock,” he demands, and a loud moan moves past your lips without warning. It’s lewd and pornographic, yet it’s not as debauched as the sounds your wet pussy makes.

“Yeah, that’s more like it, hure,” Niki praises, and you mewl once his cock begins to touch that sweet spot of yours. It makes you go dizzy and hazy, and it also makes your legs weak. You involuntarily stop clenching your thighs together. Each thrust brings you against the wall, and you feel like you’re about to explode. Your pussy clenches down on Niki’s cock tightly, and his motions stutter. “Are you going to come already, my little slut?” he questions, slowing down his thrusts just to see you get frustrated. But the reaction you have is quite the opposite of what he wants, and he’s confused.

You let out a shaky breath that is filled with relief. You try to cross your legs together and push your ass backwards so that you’re far from the wall, even if it means that you’re closer to Niki. Your efforts don’t do much, and you want to wail in defeat. Niki observes you carefully before he shoves you back against the wall. You cry out before whispering a simple ‘please’ to him. He doesn’t realize what you’re talking about until he watches you place one of your hands on your stomach. You splay your fingers out delicately, and Niki chuckles.

The hold he has on your hips goes away, and he reaches for your hand. “Shh, it’s okay,” he reassures, and you furrow your eyebrows in both confusion and surprise. Niki pulls his cock out of you until you’re an empty, gaping mess. Suddenly, he presses down on your bladder until warmth trickles down your legs, soaking the fabric at your feet. A few tears leak from your eyes, and Niki watches as you burn up with embarrassment and shame. The pain and pressure in your abdomen go away as you finally alleviate yourself.

“Dreckig, dreckig, kleine Maus,” he degrades, and you don’t have it in you to be offended. The streams of liquid eventually come to an end, and you’re so ashamed. You press your face against the wall and wait for Niki’s next word. But he doesn’t say anything at all. Zip, zilch, nada. Instead, he pulls his hand away from your stomach and uses it to silently guide his cock back to your drooling, aching hole. “Couldn’t help yourself, I know. It’s okay, it’s not entirely your fault, liebling,” Niki tells you, even though he’s more patronizing than comforting.

“Es ist nicht deine Schuld, dass du nicht weißt, wie man etwas richtig macht. Keine Manieren, keine Höflichkeiten... Ich verstehe, dass du so bist, aber ich bin hier, um dich zu ändern. Ich bin hier, um dir beizubringen, dass du unter mir stehst und dass du nichts anderes tun solltest, als meine Hure zu sein und mich zu verehren,” he continues, and you’ve decided to give up entirely. You forehead rests on the white brick, and Niki begins to fuck you roughly once again.

He pounds against your sweet spot relentlessly, not one error in his rhythmic thrusts. “Poor little thing acts all tough until it comes down to it… And now look at you, you’re a complete mess with my cock stuffed inside this perfect pussy,” Niki grunts, leaning his body forward. His chest is right up against your back, and his chin rests on your sweaty shoulder. Your white ribbon is a tangled mess, the two ends of it twisting together and falling in your face. The silk material is no longer cooling, and the styling purpose of it has lost its touch.

The plunges of his cock are more deep than quick, and each shove of his hips sends you spiralling in pleasure. “F- Fuck,” you moan, seeing stars in your vision as your legs twitch from overwhelming gratification. “Yeah, you like that? You like the way my cock makes your pussy feel, kleine Maus?” he questions, and he further pushes his head down until his mentum digs into your skin. You wail loudly out of pain before nodding your head desperately. Niki squeezes the sides of your neck even more, but he also pushes down on your windpipe until you’re gasping for air.

You wheeze resoundingly, and the sound of you suffering for breath sends even more blood down to Niki’s pulsating cock. “Say it, tell me how much you love my cock and how much of a slut you are for me,” he demands, and you grasp at whatever’s left in your vocabulary. “I- I love your cock, Niki. I’m such a slut for you and your cock. You make me feel so good. I love your cock so much,” you pathetically mewl, and you can feel a form of tightening building up in you. Your lower abdomen burns up with searing flames, ones that trail all the way down to where you’re both connected.

You get wetter and wetter, more loud and desirous as your climax builds up. It’s like a staggering tower that reaches up to the sky and past the clouds; it has an end, but it keeps growing. “Are you going to come, kleine Maus? Are you going to come around my fat cock? I know you are. C’mon, do it,” Niki urges, and you moan his name loudly. “Do it, come on my cock right fucking now, or else I’ll make this worse for you,” he demands, and your back arches violently. You let out a gasp as your jaw goes slack. Red fills your vision, and you’re clamping down on his cock.

You moan his name loudly, and your juices coat his already sticky cock. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you mewl, digging your nails into your skin as you struggle to keep quiet like he ordered you to do. Your pussy spasms wildly, and your clit throbs, desperate for a few fingers to rub it. Your legs shake just a little bit, and you find yourself meeting Niki at his every thrust, desperate to keep going. Your ass moves backwards, and his hips move forwards, and the Austrian fucks you through your orgasm. Your nerves have sparks flying from them, and every part of you is sensitive.

“You’re so pretty when you come, kleine Maus. You look just like a desperate whore,” Niki grunts, and he can feel himself inching closer to his own climax. It’s like the light at the end of a tunnel or the chequered flag that usually waits for him at the race track before he’s announced to be the winner. “I’m gonna come inside you, kleine Maus, even if you don’t want me to. I’m going to fill you up with my seed and make you all nice and round. That way, you’ll know who you belong to, and you won’t be whoring around for the James Hunt you love so much,” he whispers in your ear, and you rapidly shake your head.

No, no, no, no.

“Yes, yes, yes, kleine Maus, you’re going to take my seed because I said so. Now stop fighting me,” he moans in your ear, and his thrusts grow sloppy and lazy. Niki shallowly fucks into you, and his balls begin to tighten up. His chest rises and falls, and he can feel his high beginning to climb up to the sky. Up, up, up, and away. Niki moans out the little pet name he’s applied to you, and he entirely shoves his cock inside you until he can’t move anymore. Growling, he comes inside you without a care in the world.

The raging, red tip of his fat cock is so deep. White ropes of his seed shoot into your womb, filling you up until you’re an upset, messy cumdump. “This is all you’re good for, kleine Maus,” Niki whispers in your ear, reminding you of your so-called place that he believes you belong in. His cum drips down your inner walls and leaks past his cock, and your fluids mix with each other. Niki’s cock twitches inside of you, but he remains as hard as a rock.

“Can’t wait to see you with my baby, kleine Maus. And I can’t wait to see James’s face when he sees you with me. Er wird so schockiert sein, dass sein Gesichtsausdruck unbezahlbar sein wird,” Niki laughs wickedly, and you can’t imagine you’ll ever meet anyone as cruel or as twisted as he is. “Can you get off of me now? I want to go home, and I want to stay as far away from you as I can,” you snap in both annoyance and exhaustion. “Nu-uh,” he tuts in a disciplinary manner. “You’re not going anywhere, kleine Maus,” Niki tells you. He tilts his head up until his lips touch the skin of your ear.

“I still have to celebrate my win with you, and I’ll make sure to push you to the limit, kleine Maus.”

[moldisgoodforyou]

you’re excused

wordcount: 2.6k

warning: hinting at smut

_______

After another late night out, the group of four stumbled into the pizza shop they frequented regularly - Sophie leaned on Rafe, Colin was walking like he hadn’t had a drink all night, and James was leaning on the other side of Rafe, like liquid when he was drunk. Rafe fished his AmEx out of his pocket like usual and slid it across the counter, authoritative. “Hey man, how’s your night? We’ll take a large pepperoni.”

The cashier shrugged, pointing to the sign on the register. “Cash only, dude. Sorry man.”

“Damn, cash-only? Since when?” Colin lamented, turning to leave the pizza shop.

“Oh!” Sophie’s face lit up. “I know what to do.” She went to pull up the hem of her tank top and Rafe grabbed her insanely quick, arms wrapped tight around her chest. “Absolutely fucking not, Sophie.”

“I’m just using my assets!” She protested, squirming in his grip. He kept a tight hold on her, practically frog marching her out of the shop.

James laughed, shaking his head. “Bold move, Soph. I appreciate the effort.”

“Not in a million fucking years.” Rafe grumbled, holding her tight.

“This is blatant misogyny.” She argued, trying to wrestle her way out of his arms.

He didn’t let her move an inch. “By not letting you show your tits?”

“Yes. They’re great tits, the world deserves to see them.”

“Good god.” He sighed, only letting her go when she stopped moving. “No. Only I deserve to see them.”

“No, dude, I think she has a point. That sounds pretty misogynistic to me.” James pointed out, only for Rafe to sock him in the arm.

“Don’t ever talk about her tits again -"

“I wasn’t technically talking about her tits, I was talking about the concept -"

As the two started to wrestle, Sophie slipped back inside the pizza shop. She found three dollars in her pocket and gave it to the cashier, then returned with two large slices of pizza, handing one to Colin. The boys stopped wrestling abruptly when they saw the exchange. “Hey, wait, I want one.” Rafe protested.

“No. You didn’t let me show off my boobs.” She replied primly, taking a large bite of the pizza.

“You didn’t - Sophie. No. You didn’t.” He glanced back and forth between her and the pizza shop, confused.

Sophie grinned, strolling forward to link arms with Colin and kept walking, with no response.

Colin smirked and leaned down, whispering. “Are you gonna tell him you found cash or should I?”

“Nah. He’ll get over it.” She shrugged and tapped her crust against his. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.”

Rafe jogged to catch up, walking next to the two of them. “Wait, I want some. I’m hungry too.”

She made a show of taking a big bite. “Mmm. I’m sure you are. It’s really good, Rafe.”

He frowned. “Can I have the crust at least? You never eat the crust.”

“I dunno, this crust is really good this time.” She replied. “Are we still going to my place?”

“We’re going to your place?” James chimed in, unsure. He nearly tripped over his feet as he tried to shove himself in on the sidewalk so they walked four across. “I wanna go home instead.”

“No, you two aren’t coming.” Rafe shook his head, then looked to Sophie for confirmation. “Right?”

She finished the majority of the pizza and handed the rest to Rafe, holding back a smile at the grin that lit up his face. “Yeah, it’s just us. Unless you guys want to…?”

“No, we’ll go home.” Colin nodded up at the upcoming intersection. “This is us anyways, we’ll see you ‘round. James, this way, buddy.”

“Bye!” James waved, peeling off with Colin. Once they were out of sight and Rafe finished the pizza, he glanced over at her, unsure.

“You didn’t really flash that guy, did you?”

“Might have.” She shrugged. “Does it matter?”

“Yes, it matters.”

“Okay. No, I didn’t, I found cash in my pocket. I would have though.”

“I know you would have.” He grumbled. “How drunk are you?”

She squinted, holding up her thumb and her pointer finger close together. “Only a lil’ bit. We can still hook up, if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

He groaned, rolling his eyes. “You have to stop calling it hooking up. We’ve been dating for nearly a year.”

“Eleven months is not nearly a year.” She retorted, checking her hip against his. “What do you wanna do?”

“We’re still sticking to that November date instead of Halloween? Huh?”

“Yeah. We are. What position?” He could tell she was drunk because she spoke a little too loudly, her tongue slipping over some of her words. “We could do reverse cowgirl, 69 - we haven’t tried that, um -”

“Sophie -”

“Missionary, I guess, but that’s kind of boring -”

“Jesus, Soph, please shut up -”

She raised her eyebrows, stepping in front of him to cut him off. “Excuse me?”

He sighed and reached into his pockets, adjusting his shorts, and was thankful it was dark enough to hide his situation. “You’re excused. Can we go home?”

Her eyes flicked down to below his belt and back up to his eyes, with a smug grin. “What are you gonna do to me?”

“Sophie.”

“I bet you wouldn’t even last if I go down on you. You’re so predictable.” Sophie smirked, knowing she was pushing Rafe to his limit.

He reacted instantly, reaching out and catching her forearm and pinned her against a parked car in the alley, caging her in around her head with his forearms.

She inhaled sharply, caught off guard with wide eyes.

He grinned, leaned in close and whispered in her ear. “What was that?”

“Um. I, uh, I don’t know.” She stuttered, feeling her knees go a little weak as his lips brushed against the shell of her ear.

“Something about me being predictable?” He supplied, giving her a kiss on the cheek then pulled away like nothing had happened. “Hm?”

She took a moment to compose herself, swallowing hard. “You’ve done that before.”

“No I haven’t.” He argued, taking her hand.

“You have.” She nodded, slipping her hand into his. “Halloween, when I finally told you how I felt.”

“You remember that?”

“I remember every damn detail of that night.” She replied with a grin, her eyes bright. “You combed back your hair but had one little strand out of place, it kept falling into your eyes on top of your glasses. When you kissed me I was almost convinced to hook up with you right then and there but I was afraid I’d ruin it and you wouldn’t want to see me again.”

“Sophie.” His tone took on a serious edge and he slowed their pace a little so he could look her in the eye. “No matter what had happened that night, I knew I had to find a way to keep talking to you after that class. Hell, I’d have settled on going back to arguing every day if I meant I’d still get to see you.”

She blushed, grateful they made it to her house and even more grateful her roommates were back at the bar. “You’d still fight with me?”

He nodded, punching in his code to let them in. “I would.”

“About what?”

“I don’t know, about the stupid shit we always fought about.”

“Give me an example.” She stepped close, trapping him in between the kitchen counter and her body.

He held back an amused smile at the way she tried to take charge. “Like how you think you can get away with grinding on me at the bar with no consequences. Or how you leaned across the bar, with this top so loose and low cut that I can practically see your nipples right now, so the bartender would give you free drinks. Twice.”

She noticed his eyes darkened a little and she stood taller as a sly smirk spread across her face. “I wasn’t flirting.”

“Better not be.” He flipped positions with her quicker than she could process what was going on, lifting her up onto the counter and slotting himself in between her legs. “I don’t want anyone else even thinking they have a shot with you.”

She wrapped her legs around his waist instinctually. “I can’t help it if other people flirt.”

“You can not encourage them.” He kissed her hard, his hands immediately going to her waist. “Twirling your hair, doing that thing where you try to look all innocent with me - yes, exactly, that -”

She grinned, biting her lip as she blinked up at him. “I’m not doing anything, Cameron.”

“You absolutely are, Flint.” He growled, slipping his hands under her ass and lifting her off the counter. “You and your fucking bedroom eyes.”

“You do it more, you know.” She informed him with a smirk. “You smolder.”

“I smolder?”

“Yes. Your eyes just kind of...linger on me, then you meet my eyes, and then you lick your lips. Sometimes you’ll rub the back of your neck too, and I’m pretty sure that’s just so you can show off and flex your arms.”

“None of that is intentional.”

“Well it works.” She laughed, yelping as he started walking up the stairs. “I can handle myself -”

“You shouldn’t have to.” He cut her off with a kiss, biting her bottom lip. “Fucking tease.”

“I’m not teasing.” She insisted, breathless as he gripped her ass a little tighter, pressing her against the wall at the top of the stairs. “Fuck, Rafe.”

“Yeah?” He kissed her again, running the tip of his tongue along her lips. “Tell me what you want.”

“You taste like pizza crust.” She mumbled, laughing when he pulled back with a quizzical expression. “Sorry. Sorry. Got distracted.”

Rafe rolled his eyes, carefully setting her down. “Fine, I’ll go brush my teeth -”

“No!” She grabbed his wrist as he moved to walk down the hallway. “C’mere. Need you.”

A slow smirk spread across his cheeks as he stepped back in her space, reaching out to tuck a piece of hair behind her ear. “Yeah? You need me, baby?”

She bit her lip, staring up at him with wide eyes as she nodded.

He slowly stepped forward, gently pushing her up against the wall as he slid one of his thighs in between hers, his chest touching hers with every rise and fall of their breath. “Tell me.”

“Tell you…?” She echoed, hands going to his waist.

“Tell me. Tell me what you want.”

Sophie blushed, breaking eye contact. “Rafe, I’m not gonna -”

“Fine, then I won’t touch you.” He replied, raising his hands as he backed away with a smug smile, but he barely got back before she wrapped her hand around the back of his neck, yanking him down to her level so she could kiss him, hard.

“Stop, fuck, you’re teasing.”

“I’m -” He pulled back just enough to lift her up, tapping the back of her thighs to signal for her to wrap her legs around his waist. “Fuck. M’not. Just wanna hear you.”

“Oh, you’ll hear me.” She promised, sucking a spot against his neck. “You’ll hear me, baby. All night.”

He paused, breath catching. “I kinda have a work meeting at 8am tomorrow -”

Sophie laughed, pecking his lips. “You know damn well when I say all night I don’t mean it.”

“Okay. Yeah. Yeah, yeah, got it. Okay, fuck, keep saying sexy shit to me.” He exhaled, nodding quickly as he strode into her room and kicked the door shut behind him. The door slammed especially hard and she winced when he dropped her to the bed.

“C’mon, Cameron, door’s gonna jam now.”

“Don’t care. I’ll figure it out. Take your shirt off.”

“Demanding.”

“You like it when I’m in control.” He pointed out, grinning when she let him tug off her crop top and unbutton her jeans. “Okay, c’mon, hips up.”

She obliged, lifting her hips and helped wiggle the denim down her legs. He pressed kisses down her thighs as he tugged them off, grinning.

“Fuck, you’re hot.”

“I know.”

He just laughed, pulling back to tug his shirt over his head. “I love your confidence.”

“I love you.” She replied, moving a little up the bed.

Rafe beamed ear to ear, fumbling with the button on his corduroy pants. “I’m never gonna get tired of that. Ever. Fuck. Will you?”

“Will I get tired of it?”

“No, my -” He gestured helplessly at his stuck button, yanking on his pants. “It’s these new pants you convinced me to buy, I look like I’m straight out of a fucking Ralph Lauren ad.”

“Oh, so nothing new.”

“Sophie -” he sighed, exasperated, but cut himself off quickly when her fingers teased under the waistband of his boxers. “No, keep going.”

“Magic word?” She tugged him forward, pushing his pants down to pool around his ankles until he kicked them aside.

“Suck me off?”

“Rafe.”

“Oh, sorry. Please suck me off?”

“Rafe Cameron.” She rolled her eyes, flicking his abs, and got up on her knees on the bed then pulled him down to kiss him, hard.

“Sophie Flint.” He grinned, running his fingers through her hair. “God, you’re so fucking pretty.”

“Keep that up, really does wonders for my ego.” She breathed out, moaning when he tugged on her hair a little. “Fuck. I need you.”

“But I wanted to -”

“Rafe.” She pleaded, looking up at him with doe eyes, and that was all he needed to reach into his nightstand and grab a condom.

“Okay, okay, hold on -”

“We don’t have to -”

“Yes, we have to, you nearly broke up with me last time we didn’t -”

“I did not -” Sophie huffed, exasperated. “Are you going to fuck me or not?”

“Fuck you? Baby, I’m gonna -” He grinned, making Sophie roll her eyes before he even opened his mouth again, and sang, horribly off key. “I’ll make love to you…like you want me to…”

“You’re so weird when you’re drunk.” She giggled, grabbing his hand to tug him onto the bed, shaking her head as he stood there, completely naked, singing way louder than he should have been for nearly 3am on a Sunday.

“You love it. Love me.” He insisted, letting his full weight fall on top of her as he pinned her to the bed.

Sophie grinned, grabbing his chin so she could kiss him properly. “I do.”

“Yes, I’ll marry you.” He replied with a grin, kissing her hard and slow, swiping his tongue against her lips.

“Stooooppp.” She whined, blushing. “Get in me already.”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me.” He smirked, gripping her hips. “Tell me more.”

“I don’t know why you’re dragging this out when you could literally be fucking me right -"

“Making love -"

“Okay, Romeo, whatever you say -"

He laughed, clearly not concerned about time, and leaned down to press a kiss to her lips. “Love you.”

“Love you too. Please fuck me.”

“Yes ma’am.”

taglist: @drewstarkey @lemur46 @jjmaybanksbaby @edgeofgr8 @quxxnxfhxll @obxtess @hoodpankow @vtgirl802 @outerbankies @messagesinthesky @nicolecarsley @svechnikolan @ilovejjmaybank @obxtess @abbyj1822 @oopsiedoopsie23 @g4bster @jjmaybankzz @freddymaybank @dontjinx-it @illbesafeforyou @moniamaybank @tovvaa @jailcalledlife @sunshineitsfine44 @randomficsandshit @outerbankspreferences @outerbanksbro @karsinner @kkmaybank @whoeveniskendall @lemur46 @outerbankies @proactivetypeofperson @gloriousmoneyrascalbiscuit

[slashingdisneypasta]

Horror Villains x Reader || Reactions

Reacting to: Reader getting slipped a love potion so whoever they see first, they fall madly in absolute and total love and adoration of. They first see Slasher. Notes: Yep, I've been watching scenes of Strange Magic. This is because of that. I definitely recommend listening to a version of 'I Cant Help Myself (Sugar Pie, Honey Bunch)' while reading XD I'm listening to the Jessica Mauboy cover! ^^

Warnings: Definitely non con elements (Not sexual though) Characters Included: Billy Loomis, Bubba Sawyer, (Mayor) Buckman, Carrie White, Chucky / Charles Lee Ray, Chop Top Sawyer, Drayton Sawyer, Freddy Krueger, Jennifer Check, (Sheriff), Hoyt, Jason Voorhees, Michael Myers, Patrick Bateman, Pennywise (OG), Stu Macher and Thomas Hewitt.

Billy Loomis:

🎶'I can't help myself'🎶

What.

What kinda - bullshit- leave me the fuck alone-

Honestly he's trying to get the hell away from you (As you tail him) while Stu's at the side texting you where they're gonna be and laughing his bloody ass off when you turn up and Billy suddenly sprints to the bathroom.

Bubba Sawyer:

🎶'Sugar pie, honey bunch You know that I love you'🎶

Oh my gosh, the moment you expression changes from one of fear and disgust, to wide eyed adoration and you start fawning over him?? He has no idea what to d o. Oh, the poor baby XDD

Like, he's just hugging his chainsaw to him as you get up close and touch his shoulders and fix his tie and follow him around and he doesn't r e a l l y mind, cuz its not like you're hurting him, but he is just confused. He's searching for Drayton. Like he'll have any answers, pft.

(Mayor) Buckman:

🎶'I can't help myself I love you and nobody else'🎶

-I'm sorry, what now? Beg your pardon, there?

As soon as he recognises that sparkly, attentive look on your eyes he's slightly baffled. I mean, he's used to being loved - his town a d o r e their mayor, - so he isn't quite as lost as Bubba is or even Billy, but- he just had your friends killed? Sweetheart are you in your right mind?

I can see him sorta, awkwardly starting to treat your a little better then your friends. What?? He'd feel just awful being terrible to someone who 'loves', him! I mean you'll still die probably, but you can stand by him until its time. Self absorbed prick

Carrie White:

🎶'In and out my life You come and you go Leaving just your picture behind And I kissed it a thousand times'🎶

(*^^*) I'm sorry (*^^*) What? (*^^*)

Oh my gosh she's a mess. What do you mean by calling her Sugar Pie? Honey bunch? Sweetheart? Cutie!?!?

She's going to run away my guy, she's going to flee. She is not used to this kind of attention (Or any at all, for that matter) and you've flustered her. She doesn't believe you're just making fun of her though (Since you're just so... adoring. She intense. So in love- this cant possibly be an act) though at least, so there's that.

Just calm. down. bitch. You're going to scare her.

Chucky / Charles Lee Ray:

🎶'When you snap your finger or wink your eye I come a-running to you I'm tied to your apron strings And there's nothing that I can do'🎶

Depends- as a human or a Good Guy?

As a human he might be a bit more reserved about the whole thing and a whole lot more confused like... is this a joke? That's a gun in my pocket, not somethin' else if that's what you're thinkin'. You gettin' off on this? What? What's the deal, here?

As a doll though it TOTALLY goes to his head. You just took this bastards ego man and shot it up with some steroids. Like yes- they even want me when I'm plastic. That's fuckin' right.

I would say, 'No way hosay, he's fleeing- he's got a hot ass wife already!! But that has never really stopped our asshole gremlin man so...

Chop Top Sawyer:

🎶'I can't help myself No, I can't help myself'🎶

'DRAYYYTONNNN, C'MERE AND MEET MAH HONEY PIE. I'M GETTIN ME HITCHED!'

*Drayton from somewhere else in the part* 'YOU'RE WHAT?!'

Yep. No getting outta this now. You're getting married to him. Enjoy.

Drayton Sawyer:

🎶''Cause sugar pie, honey bunch I'm weaker than a man should be I can't help myself'🎶

*Cough* me *cough*

I mean... *awkward cough cough's*... what?

Oh boy, Drayton is awkward. And PINK. Why're you looking at him like that? Why are you running your fingers through his hair? Why're

Like Bog in Strange Magic I think Drayton would set you aside from the rest of the victims for a while, until whatever's gotten into you has worn off at least. And begrudgingly take care of you- and try to tell you that your feelings are just whatever poison's jacked you up- and to please calm down- you wont want this old boy when your senses are back-

Gosh, he's too cute. I love him a lot.

Freddy Krueger:

🎶'I'm a fool in love, you see Wanna tell you I don't love you Tell you that we're through And I've tried Every time I see your face I get all choked up inside'🎶

Hmmmmm~ What'd you just call him?~

You're playing fire here babes-

And by that I mean he's going to push you until he finds the limit to this potion- for fun. Will you still 'love' him if he leads you off a cliff?~ If he carves his name into your back? If he forces this disgusting sludge down your throat? Will you do aaaanything for him?~ How about killing your friend over there?

Goodluck.

Jennifer Check:

🎶'When I call your name Girl, it starts a flame'🎶

Yeah, I mean of course, who doesn't, bye-

This is not shocking to her XD She's hot and amazing, she knows, alright? Shoo.

Depends- are you a dude? Cis or trans- a dudes a dude. And if you are a dude, she is going to take this admiration and use it to her advantage.

If you are not a guy, though, you'll probably get off easy, with an eyeroll as she stalks off. Maybe even a smirk.

(Sheriff) Hoyt:

🎶'Burning in my heart, tearing it all apart No matter how I try, my love I cannot hide'🎶

... Is this a trick? You fucker-

Paranoid military man kills you immediately because he thinks this is a ploy to survive and hurt his family.

Jason Voorhees:

🎶'Sugar pie, honey bunch You know that I'm waiting for you (waiting for you)'🎶

Mmmmmm... 😐 this is new territory... he really doesn't know what to do, here...

Uhh... he may lower his weapon, and tilt his head; Silently asking his mother what to do in this situation as he assesses you- you and your own tilted head, corner of your mouth tilted up as you look up (UP UP UP- ) at the 'love of your life'.

Tea? Do you want some (cold lake water and floor leaf) tea?

Michael Myers:

🎶'I can't help myself I love you and nobody else'🎶

Wh... what?

Not gonna lie- you threw him off, for sure when you got down on your knees and just gazed up at him. Even with blood all over him, even holding a shar knife, even with the corpse of your friend a few feet away.

But mostly his feelings are please go away you're freaking me the fuck out.

*The sound of your neck snapping*

Patrick Bateman:

🎶'Sugar pie, honey bunch I'd do anything you ask me to'🎶

How sad for you.

He really doesn't care, man. Just tries to go on with his life, even with you following him around everywhere and trying to get his attention, and being there at his every beck and call- he does enjoy having coffee whenever he wants it, though.

Pennywise (OG):

🎶'I can't help myself I want you and nobody else'🎶

Oh this is HILARIOUS.

Penny figures it out immediately and has a good laugh, as you giggle softly, awkwardly along with him (Which makes him laugh harder-). Ohhhh, you made his century.

You're gonna taste delicious, when he's done with you.

Stu Macher:

🎶'Sugar pie, honey bunch You know that I love you'🎶

Ahhhhh... say what now?

Billy cackles like an evil ferret behind him as you wrap your arms around Stu (The boy himself a slave to his hornier impulses but struggling as Billy's right there and also this is kinda rapey-). Good. he gets a taste of his own medicine now. He looks mortified. GOOD.

Thomas Hewitt:

🎶'I can't help myself No, I can't help myself'🎶

Thomas is a mix of Michael and Bubba- he's thinking but why, but also what do i do what do i do what do i do-

Like one one side, he's annoyed. Because you're geting in his way and he needs to help out his mamma and do what Hoyt tells him to, in order to keep his family safe.

But on the other- he's kind of enjoying this kind of attention.

God, someone just take the decision out of his hands.

[no-droids]

Brown Eyes

Part Nine of the Rough Day Series

Rating: Explicit

Word Count: 10.1K dont. just dont

Warnings: Smut, AS ALWAYS.  Canon typical violence, verbal references masochism/pain kink (NOT ACTUALLY EXPLORED IN THIS CHAPTER MY DUDES, JUST HINTED AT/DISCUSSED), slight degradation, exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, a bit of ass play (!!!), FLUUUUFFFFFF

***

“What?”

“Hm?”

“What is it?”

“Nothing.”

“What’s the hold up?”

“I’m just…”  The helmet looks you up and down, considering.  You scrunch your nose at him and rock back and forth on your feet impatiently as he sighs.  “It’s going to be like teaching a foundling to read.  I’m just trying to figure out where to even begin.”

“Because it’s so fucking pretty here, I’m just going to pretend you didn’t say that,” you say pointedly, looking around at the vast field of flowing grass surrounding the two of you and breathing in the warm, fresh air into your lungs.  “Your vibe is clashing, Din.”

“Because I don’t really know what that means, I’m also going to pretend you didn’t say that,” he returns, and the child’s giggles float up alongside the breeze as he chases after another, slightly smaller green reptile that you also currently have no name for.  He tilts the beskar thoughtfully at you, and you squint against the way the sun catches the visor directly in your eyes from this angle.  “What do you want to learn first?”

“I want to shoot a gun,” you blurt without thinking.

“Okay, hand-to-hand it is,” he nods firmly, and then pats his unarmored chest with one bare hand.  “Hit me.”

You blink down at the dark fabric stretched across his left pectoral, and then back up at the metallic visor staring back at you.

“Hit me,” he says again in response to your silence.  “Hard as you can.  Right here.”

“Are you sure?”  You ask, lifting your gaze up to him once more with a twist of your mouth, already out of your comfort zone.  “What if I hurt you?”

“Are you fucking kidding?”  He actually sounds… pissed off.  “Hit me.”

You immediately shove your hand up against his chest in response to the sharp order, and your palm makes a quiet slapping sound as it collides with what feels like solid rock concealed underneath black fabric.

Din says absolutely nothing.  Almost a… forced silence.  Like what he wants to say will very likely be vaguely mean and dismissive of your feelings, so he’s keeping his mouth firmly shut under the helmet.  He just pats his chest again, each one purposeful and distinct, easily making twice the amount of noise hitting himself as you did hitting him.

You ball your fist up this time and whack him with it, considerably harder this time and even making a solid thud against his pectoral, though he doesn’t even move a fraction under the blow.

“I am…” he tries to choose his words carefully after another moment of purposeful silence.  “…insulted.”

You grit your teeth and raise your arm up and back, swinging it out at him as hard as you physically can, but then the curve of his broad shoulder suddenly jerks back just before you can touch him and your fist is caught from the side with a gentle grip.

“Better.  You wound up that time, that gives you momentum.  But never come at someone like this,” he tells you, lifting your arm back up to the way it was before and then slowly hinging it down again against his chest.  “This is how you were going to hit.  See how your pinkie is taking the brunt of the punch when you come down at it from an angle like this?”  He pushes your fist against his chest a few times to demonstrate your pinkie squishing against the solid plane of muscle.  “No matter how hard you hit me, your hand is going to take that much force, too.  That attempt had about half the power you want, but you might’ve broken your finger if I let you make contact like that.”

“Half the power?”  You narrow your eyebrows at him.  “You’ll break my whole hand.”

Din angles your wrist straight and pushes your closed fist against his chest again, this time head-on instead of at a downward angle.  “Always try to use these first two knuckles to reinforce against the impact, they’re the strongest and best aligned with the bones in your wrist.  You should also physically brace yourself for it.  Flex your arm—create as much rigidity around your joints as you can, keep your fist clenched tight to maintain integrity of the soft tissues in your hand, and your body should protect itself against the blowback as long as you land right.  Try again.”

You diligently wind your fist up again and then go to snap your arm straight forward this time, but he steps up and catches your elbow before you can even move.  “Wait.  Look at this—see this chicken wing?”  He flaps your elbow back and forth while his other hand holds your fist in place next to your head.  “This is no good, this is where you’re losing half your power.  And having your arm up like this is making you open to rib and kidney shots.”

You squirm to the side when he taps the bend of his knuckle against your kidney, and the vulnerable spot is tender even though he barely uses any force.  “I’m winding up,” you inform him with a huff.

“You are,” Din acknowledges.  “But your movement is limited like this.  See where your elbow is compared to your center of gravity?”  He flaps it again, and your shoulder pulls uncomfortably when he pushes it back just a bit too far.  “You’re restricting yourself, look.  Your shoulder is in the way, this is as far as your body will let you go.  You’re also using up too much energy trying to swing your whole arm around just to make contact; it’s sloppy technique, it slows you down, and it’ll tire you out.  But, if you wind up like this—” Din lowers your elbow until it rests flat against your side, and then hinges it backwards instead of up near your head, “—see how much further away your elbow is from your body now?  Instead of swinging outwards, think of a slingshot forwards.  Use explosive, forward momentum that you generate from your shoulder—you’re aiming for a sharp, streamlined jab.  This way you conserve energy, produce twice as much power, and your arm now covers up all this important stuff under here,” he explains, trying to tap his knuckle against your side once more but being blocked by your forearm.  “Good?  Now go again.”

He lets you go and steps back, and this time you instinctually plant your foot behind you to give you a solid base foundation that’ll allow you more room to twist, your physics brain lighting up as soon as he said slingshot.  His helmet quickly drops to your stance and then immediately lifts back up to your face again.

You do exactly as he said—you wind back, keeping your arm tucked tight to your side, and then explode forward with a sharp spin of your shoulder and snap of your elbow, colliding your clenched fist into his chest as hard as you possibly can.

He grunts and takes two steps back.

You howl.

“FUUUUUCK!”  It gets lost in the giant field of grass as you clutch your fist, torn between cradling it to your chest like a baby and shaking it out violently at your side like… something distinctly not a baby.  You settle for just bending over and holding it tightly to your stomach, eyes clamped shut and screeching with such fervor that the back of your throat stings sharp with it.  “WHAT THE FUCKING—FUCKFUCKFUCK—!?”

“Good!”  Din encourages over your wailing.  “That was good!  How’d that feel?  Holy shit—that felt good.”

“What’s the point of hitting you when it hurts me and makes you feel good!?” You cry out over your shoulder, somewhere between genuine hatred and agony.

“That was perfect,” he tells you immediately, almost sounding vaguely… out of breath behind you?  “Don’t change a thing—that’s how you punch every single time from now on, okay?  That’s how hard you hit.  Fuck, that felt fucking good.”

The… something in his voice is enough to take your mind off your throbbing hand for just a second, quickly snapping upright and whirling around to face him with your eyebrows very, very narrowed.  He stands there in front of you and you continue to eye him with as much silent skepticism as you can express, until the both of you speak at the same time.

“What was that?”

“Let’s go again.”

Neither of you move, and you feel like your face is scrunched up as tiny as possible at him right now with dubiousness.

“Let’s go again,” Din suddenly grunts out, hooking an arm around your elbow and tugging you to face forward once more.

“Did that turn you on?”  You ask him bluntly, your battle wound completely forgotten by your side.

“I swear if you don’t—”

“You get hard when you get hurt?”  You ask dumbly, all sorts of lightbulbs suddenly illuminating in dusty, cobwebbed corners of your mind.  Maker, that would explain so much.  “Is that why you wanted a handjob immediately after I burned a knife wound shut on your back?”

“You wanna learn how to punch today or you wanna learn how to block?”  Comes through the helmet, thoroughly unamused at your antics, but you just break into a mischievous little grin in response and push just one more button of his, knowing he’s only mostly joking.

“I’ll punch you,” you purr.  “Hold your arms up, show me your ribs.”

There’s a split second of silence before he quickly snaps his fist to his chest once again, oh, but it’s enough.  Your shoulders do a little victory shimmy and have to bite your lip to keep from beaming at him, so unbelievably proud of yourself for being able to read him this well without seeing his face. 

But—for the very same reason, you also plant your foot behind you and wind your arm back once more, knowing you were already treading on thin ice.

“Am I gonna have to start calling you chicken wing?”  Din suddenly barks out, a split second into your forward launch.  You almost stumble into him with all the generated momentum and catch yourself just in time, eventually stepping back and resetting with a frustrated huff.  Purposefully tucking your arm tight into your side, you pull back once more.

He mmphs when you make equally hard contact in the very same spot but he doesn’t move this time, and you somehow forgot how horribly painful it is to slam your clenched fist directly against a solid object with all your strength—much less, the second time around.  You attempt to deaden your response as well, but he has the luxury of the helmet to shield his face.  Silencing your scream just makes yours contort unattractively in front of him while your eyes clamp shut and you clutch your wrist, trying to bite back the crippling pain.

“Other hand—use the other hand instead,” he tells you quickly.  “You have two of them.”

“I used to!”  You snarl through the way you can’t even flex it anymore, how your muscles aren’t working through the angry sparks of acute sensation jumping down your fingers.  “Your stupid fucking pecs just broke my good one!”

“Want me to kiss it?”  Din asks—quickly, almost like he can’t help himself, and the snarky tone of it through the modulator coupled with the throbbing pain makes you grit your teeth.

“I used to love your body,” you lift your head and growl up at him while you cradle your swollen claw.  “Why did you take that from me?”

“Give me your hand,” he says calmly, holding his palm out for you.

“No,” you spit, the pain making you stubborn and resistant to anything you don’t immediately offer yourself, but he’s not impressed.  Din easily catches your elbow and brings it up, his other hand gently lacing through your fingers even as you try in vain to pull it away.  “Stop it—”

He completely ignores you and looks back over his shoulder at the kid, dwarfed by the tall grass and continuing to hop around behind what will likely be his lunch, before the helmet turns back to you.  “Eyes closed.”

“This isn’t fucking funn—”

“Close your eyes,” he tells you once more.  “Don’t open them.”

You take a deep breath and grind your teeth, not wanting to be treated like a baby.  It irks you that he’s dedicating so much time and effort into just infantilizing you and your very real pain.  Though, the pain is so real that it makes it almost impossible to express the sentiment—it comes out sounding childishly short and bratty.  “It hurts.”

“I know,” is all he says, soft and lilting and quite possibly as gentle as you’ve ever heard him.  “Close your eyes, sweet girl.”

His tone of voice is the only thing that compels you to listen.  You finally do as he says and flutter your eyes shut, overly aware of the hard grimace on your face now that you can’t see anything.  One of his hands releases you while keeping your numb fingers laced between his, and then a few seconds pass, before you suddenly feel soft lips pressing against your knuckle.

You hiss and tighten up on instinct, more in fear of the pain than the pain itself, but he holds your hand steady as he carefully trails gentle presses of his lips against your knuckles.  After a moment, you breathe out shakily, your eyebrows lifting just slightly at the sensation—before his mouth opens and his warm tongue glides delicately across your sensitive skin.

You gasp and your fingers twitch in between his, suddenly able to move again.  They knock against cool metal as his tongue slowly drags down the valleys between your knuckles—but then Din abruptly drops your hand at the sudden sound of sunshine giggles coming from afar.  Your eyes pop open just as his helmet is yanked down over his jaw once more.

“Let’s…”  He clears his throat through the modulator, taking a small step back.  “Let’s go again.”

***

You collapse down into a pitiful little pile on the grass, trying to catch your breath.  This is ridiculous.  You somehow have tender bruises all over your body and yet you’re the only one who’s done any sort of hitting whatsoever.

“That’s fine, we can take a break,” Din says gruffly from above you, but you’re too tired to even comment on the sarcasm.  You just groan, flopping down flat on your back while he sits in the grass next to you and silently waits for you to start breathing normally again.

“I hate this,” you pant, resting your numb hands against your forehead and squinting against the late afternoon sun.  “I don’t like this.  My body hurts and I barely did anything.”

“You’re good at it,” Din is quick to respond, and the blunt sincerity in his voice takes you aback, making you glance over at him in shock.  “I know,” he nods once the beskar turns and he sees the look on your face, “I didn’t expect it either.”

His tendency to compliment you while simultaneously insulting you doesn’t go unnoticed, but if anything, you decide to take it as a testament to his honesty and comfort in your presence.  Clearly he’d have no issue telling you if you were terrible at this.

Instead of responding, you lace your fingers behind your head and continue to just lay there, closing your eyes against the warm sunshine.  It’s gorgeous here, you get why this planet is renown throughout the galaxy.  Perfect weather, stunningly green rolling hills for miles, the gentle breeze dancing through the tall grass, brilliant white clouds suspended against a beautiful blue backdrop.  The only thing that’s missing is—

“When can we go see the ocean?”  You blurt up at the sky, unable to stop the words before they’re out of your mouth.

“What ocean?”  Comes tiredly through the modulator, monotone and filtered as he shuffles into a more comfortable position.

“Any of them,” you immediately respond, shrugging your shoulders against the grass.  “The closest one.  I’m not picky.”

“…Naboo doesn’t have any oceans,” Din tells you blankly.

You startle slightly, jerking your head over at him.  “What?  But—but I saw it through the transparisteel when we dropped.  This whole planet is practically covered in water.”

“It is,” he agrees with a tilt of his helmet, following you with the visor as you finally scramble to sit yourself upright.  “But it’s all one big… body of water.  Locals call it the Abyss, it stretches across the entire planet through a system of underground caves and tunnels.  It only surfaces as rivers and lakes and swamplands, though.  No ocean.  Not really.”

“Oh.”  It’s blank, but it’s… lacking.  The sun glinting against metal gives you an excuse to subtly turn your head away from him, and you hold back your sigh of disappointment.

“What’s the matter?”  He grunts after a moment, somehow succeeding in sounding mildly disinterested while still bothering to ask.  He props his knee upright to rest his elbow on it, apparently able to read you better than ever as well.

“Nothing,” you say on instinct and shake your head, already knowing it’s dumb.  You’re being dumb, there’ll be other planets with oceans—you just haven’t had the opportunity to go to one yet.

Din doesn’t say anything after that, but he also keeps the helmet subtly turned towards you, like he’s just… waiting.  The quiet almost doesn’t sound quiet anymore, not when there’s such a loud unspoken question still lingering in it.

“It’s just,” you say after a moment, trying to smile, but it doesn’t feel real.  It’s nothing more than a movement your mouth makes and it feels at odds with the mild disappointment you’re trying to hide.  “I used to be a moisture farmer.  Back on Arvala-7, where we first met.”

His continued silence tells you nothing.  You don’t know whether he’s confused and you should elaborate, whether he understands and doesn’t need an explanation, whether he’s interested or disinterested.  Nothing.  So after another few more seconds of nothing, you decide to keep going.

“There's something about water that just… hits different when you spend your entire life on a planet without any,” you say quietly, picking at a few blades of grass by your knees instead of looking at him.  “When I was a little girl, I used to think it was as rare in the rest of the galaxy as it was where I was born.  A limited resource you had to farm from the atmosphere to drink, because it didn’t occur naturally in liquid form.  It was… valuable.  Delicate.  Crystal clear—never saw more than a few dozen gallons of it at a time.  Something to be cherished.  Something you’d never want to waste even just dipping your hand into, because the dirt on your skin would contaminate it.”

You smile once more, but this time it feels a little bit better.  “You know… the first shower I took on the Crest the day I left that Maker-forsaken planet was the first time I ever felt my hair get wet.  We only ever had sonic showers on Arvala-7.”  And stars, the memory of it makes you want to shudder.  Ultrasonic waves vibrating the dirt and sweat off your body sounds a lot more thorough than it actually is.  You never felt truly clean until you were soaking wet on the Crest with shampoo in your hair, giggling like a child in the fresher while you made yourself a soapy little beard.

It springboards into another memory—the moment you first reached for a towel after showering, catching a glimpse of your hands and startling at the sight of your wrinkled, pruny fingertips.  You’d never heard of such a phenomena before that point.  You thought you’d asked Kuiil about everything, but to be entirely fair, he might not have even realized it happened, not from the leathery texture of his xenospecies’ skin.  The questions he did answer for you were plenty though, and you suddenly remember something he said to you years ago that was so jarring and unexpected that it’s stuck with you to this day.

“Kuiil told me once that water was loud,” you suddenly hear yourself say, and though your soft laugh is nostalgic and sincere, you don’t know why, but you instantly tear up as soon as the words leave your mouth.  “Loud.  How could—could water be loud?  What… what noise would it make?”

You sniff and continue to pick at the grass, a bit more vigorously this time, purposefully keeping your eyes down and blinking quickly.  “He said… he said streams and brooks… b-bubble.  They bubble.  And rain… rain is like static—like white noise, but… natural.  Not generated by a machine.  He said the ocean is the loudest, though.  It roars.  It’s powerful.”

Swallowing the lump in your throat and glancing up, you try to distract yourself from the memory of your close friend by looking out at the wavy grass, trying to see if you can spot the kid being dwarfed by it.  You can’t, not from this low angle, but you can still hear him playing happily in the distance.

“I’ve seen all the others now, thanks to you,” you confess quietly.  “Rain, rivers, lakes—but I always wanted to see an ocean.  A big, scary one, where the sound would just be… deafening.  Water, tons of it, crashing up against rocks and filling the air with mist.  Used to dream about them.  Wanted to see something I used to think was rare fill my entire field of view.  Wanted to see something I always thought was precious turn into something formidable.”

Din continues staring silently at you through your peripheral while you keep picking at the grass absently.

“I just—I don’t know.”  You finally look over at him and sigh, smiling softly and shrugging your shoulders.  “I just always dreamed of a place where I could go, a place where I could open my eyes and all I’d be able to see—all I could hear—was water.”

You stop talking after that, having run out of things to say and realizing you probably shared a little too much without ever being prompted.  The sunlight is gentle and easy, however, and it encourages you to close your eyes and just breathe, letting silent, eternal gratitude to the man next to you fill you.  You’d never know any sun that isn’t harsh, you’d never know the greenness of the tall grass in this sprawling field had he not found you, given you a chance to tag along the galaxy with him and his carnivorous little sidekick.

The sun begins making you sleepy the more you sit here in the middle of paradise, eyes closed and tasting the gorgeous air in your lungs.  But eventually, Din stands up and steps in front of you, opening both of his bare palms towards the setting sky and bouncing them up and down a few times.  “Up.  Come on.  I’ll teach you how to throw an uppercut before nightfall.”

You groan but lift your hands in his direction all the same, trying not to wince while you make grabby fingers at him, your knuckles slightly bruised and red.  He sighs and wraps his hands purposefully around your elbows, urging you up as he takes a few steps backwards.

It’s awkward.  You’re still feeling lazy and droopy-eyed, and the cool shadow he casts makes you even more sleepy.  You think he’s going to help more than you have to pull yourself up, and he clearly thinks he’s there to be your platform instead of your forklift.  What results is just you being dragged uselessly by your arms in front of him, until your torso and legs are stretched in an uncomfortable J-shape on the ground and your forehead bumps into his lower tummy.

He stops and holds you there, before grunting out, “Use your feet.”

“Just let me fall,” you tell him, your lips brushing against the dark fabric while your shoulders and spine pull tight at this angle.  “Just leave me here like this.”

The sigh he makes above you feels like he puts his whole entire being into it.  Din leaves you propped up against him for a second while he grumbles and readjusts his hold further up near your shoulders, before he maneuvers you until you’re gently settling down on your knees in the grass.

You think (hope) he’s going to release you and let you take a nap, but then you gasp when he shifts and the toe of his boot suddenly wedges itself between your closed thighs.  He lifts up on your arms just slightly, enough to take the weight off your knees so he can swipe his foot out and kick one of them open, before plopping you back down again and letting you go.

Up until that point, you’d been good.  You were content with being boneless for him and seeing how he’d deal, but then he gracefully crouches down in front of you and wraps one powerful arm around your back, hugging you tight to his chest.  Din’s open thighs frame your kneeling figure and you can feel his cock pressed against your tummy from this angle, and it sends a shiver down your spine.

For some reason, he decides to take this next part slow.  Maybe it’s because he can probably feel the way your heart is starting to kick up against his unarmored chest right now, but he drags it out.  Broad shoulder dropping and his helmet finding a home in the crook of your neck, Din braces you to his chest with one arm while the other slithers down the curve of your ass and then under—his forearm pressing firmly between your cheeks and then his open palm flattening tight along the length of your pussy from behind.

You moan softly next to the helmet while he works the thick muscles in his thighs to gradually lift you both from the ground.  Maker, the tips of his fingers are curved hard against your slit through your pants while he rises, pulling you up until gravity causes your thighs to slowly meet around his hand and your legs to dangle.

The feat of strength turns you on just as much as his choice of positioning does.  Fuck, you know you’re not the lightest person in the galaxy, but Din carefully sets you down on your feet without even so much as a grunt of effort, his hand staying tucked tight between your legs for longer than necessary.  Biting your lip and pressing your face into his shoulder does nothing to stop the quiet whimper you make when he decides to grind his strong fingers up into you just a bit.

“Din,” you whisper, wanting to melt into him, but then he’s instantly ripping his hand away and taking a step back.

You nearly fall over at the sudden lack of support after relying solely on him for it for so long, but you don’t even have enough time to open your mouth in upset.  There’s just a split second before a green blur bursts through the tall grass with a squeal and trips over the baggy potato sack around his body.

It’s like it happens in slow motion.  You both watch as he flies forward, skidding more than once on the ground and then landing face-down on your shoe, the little thump on your foot feeling so adorably anticlimactic after all the buildup.

Nobody moves for a second, except for the way your eyes flicker up at the visor currently tilted towards the ground.  You can tell Din is just holding his breath, just waiting to see if—

A hiccup.  You see broad shoulders tighten under the dark fabric, and then a sudden piercing wail is released against your shoe.

“Shit,” Din curses, already scooping the little thing up and bouncing him slightly to pacify him.  You bite your lip against the way his ears flop from the movement and he screams even louder.  “Hey hey hey, stop.  Stop it.  Stop crying.”

“Uh oh!  Where’d your little friend go?”  You ask while Din immediately turns the kid around to face you, your voice pitched soft and high in your register as you step closer.  “Did you eat him already?”

He just shudders out a cry, probably an affirmative, his mouth dropping and his little teeth peeking through while he sobs and his giant eyes well with tears.

“Shit,” Din curses again, this time in defeat, but you won’t give up that easy.

“Hey—hey goose, wanna see me beat your daddy up?”  You ask, lightly booping the little bump of his nose.  “Huh?  Wanna see me fight?”  You pull your top lip up into a ridiculous little snarl and flex your arms threateningly, and the sobs suddenly stutter to a stop within a few breaths.  “Op, yep.  See—he knows I’ll kick your ass, Din, he just got scared.”

“Please,” the modulator pfftts quietly, but the kid just blinks at you while you keep growling.

“I’ll hurt him real bad,” you promise him, putting your fists up in front of you and bouncing your weight back and forth like a prized boxing champ.  “I’ll, uh…” your list of trash talk repertoire is admittedly rather short, and both of them wait in silence for you to figure it out, the bigger one a lot less entertained than his miniature counterpart.  “I’ll punch him just.  So hard.  So hard that… it’ll bruise.  Yeah—I’ll make him bleed underneath his skin.”

“No, this is good, keep going,” Din encourages after a moment of awkward silence.  “Maybe you’ll be able to find your way there at some point.”

You ignore him, bobbing and ducking and then popping him one good in the shoulder with an accompanying vocal sound effect—except you quickly jerk your hand away and shake your wrist out, staring up at the helmet like he deeply offended you and mouthing, “Ow.”

A smile.  The smallest ghost of one, but you see it on the kid’s teeny green mouth when you flick your eyes down to him.

So, Din spends the rest of the lingering daylight teaching you the proper uppercut technique while he cradles an adorable little bug-eyed baby in one arm.  You keep making faces at him while throwing your fist up against his dad’s extended, downturned palm, until he finally starts giggling again.

***

Whelp, turns out you’re a fucking idiot.  Or maybe just a selfish bitch, either way.  Not a good look.

You thought, from the way the lovely afternoon went, that you were getting better at reading Din.  Knowing when to joke around, when to keep pushing, and when to stop talking, all from just his body posture and tone of voice alone.  But you’re also an idiot, as you’ve already established.

As you three headed back to the Crest through the dusky twilight evening, you remember telling Din that if there weren’t any oceans on Naboo, then you’ll at least be able to sleep in a bed on this planet.  A real one, one with a—oh stars, an actual mattress.  The word alone sent shivers down your spine, and the baby cooed while blinking his eyes slowly, well on his way to being tuckered out from the long day outside.

You don’t remember Din directly responding, but then again, that isn’t really all that rare in the grand scheme.  Granted, he was arguably more talkative today than ever before, and he did get a little bit quieter after that, but still, you couldn’t have known.  Only an incredibly hyper-observant person would’ve noticed in the moment—you’re lucky you can even recall this much in hindsight.

Though, this next part should’ve been more of a direct giveaway.  Once you were in the Crest, he put his armor back on.

You still didn’t think.  It’s such a normal thing, the beskar fitting tight to magnetic plates around his shoulders, thighs, and chest.  It’s normal, he wears it all the time.  Having him walking around in broad daylight sans armor and gloves today was odd, that was the outlier.

He flew the vessel to the nearest town, a quaint little village on the edge of a gorgeously full forest.  The ride was as gentle as possible—you were feeling soft and decided to hold the baby as he drifted off instead of placing him in the quiet darkness of his cradle.  The ears tend to make things a bit awkward, but after months of practice with it, you’re now a pro at rocking the little guy to sleep in your arms.

Din’s continued silence didn’t bother you—or really even register, considering you were trying to be quiet as well.  He slung your go-bag around his shoulder and pressed a few buttons on his vambrace to set the kid’s sphere protocols to follow behind him, before pressing a gloved palm to your lower back and leading you down the ramp, the sleepy baby tucked tight into your arms.

There were people in the village mingling while you three walked down the cobblestone path to the nearest inn, giving your ragtag group double-takes as you passed.  The innkeeper, however, was blind.  Not only did you not receive the same terrified courtesy the barkeep on Canto Bight had afforded you before, but he was clearly used to spotting and swindling newcomers, sightless or not.

“Only room left’s a suite,” he drawled, the cloudy whites of his pupils hovering just between your left shoulder and Mando’s right pauldron.  “Five hundred credits a night.”

The color drained from your face, your heart doing a giant flip in your chest and completely fucking up the landing.  You turned to Mando to reassure him that absolutely nothing about this was necessary, but he was already dropping the ridiculous amount of credits on the desk without a single word.

That should’ve been the nail in the coffin, to be honest.  His immediate willingness to hand over that many credits without the slightest protest, grumble, or sigh was the kicker—that’s how you should’ve known something wasn’t right.  He didn’t even allow you to split the cost when you offered to reimburse him on the way to the room.

But again.  You’re an idiot, so.

At least the suite is gorgeous.  Slightly old-fashioned and moonlit enough to skip even flicking the lights on, illuminated by large open windows with views of the village streets and sprawling mountains and forest beyond.  Everything inside is either cream or white, so clean and soft, and being able to feel the breeze billowing through the gauzy curtains is just.  After months of traveling in that enclosed ship, it’s restorative.  Almost nothing in here is made of metal.

So it’s not until right now—almost immediately after you settled the kid down into the incredibly large guest bed and walked into the master bedroom to find Mando sitting perfectly still on the edge of the mattress—now something feels off.  He looks so out of place as you quietly snap the door shut behind you.  The enormous floor to ceiling window decorating the far side of the room bathes him in pale light, highlights the blaster marks and bits of dirt clinging to the beskar as he sits on the bed.

“You’re going to get the sheets all dirty,” you, an idiot, tell him, your voice barely above a murmur.  “Take off your—”

“I can’t,” he rushes, though he jumps up from the mattress all the same.  You snap your mouth shut and freeze.  “It’s safe here but it’s… it’s still not a good idea, not if I want to sleep.  Not with people around, and all these… windows.”

The words send you reeling.  You had no idea, you thought… “Oh.  I’m sorry, that—”

You immediately go silent, feeling absolutely fucking awful.  You didn’t think.  All you could think about was that bed underneath you, and you maybe… blindfolded in some way?  And then of course, him, in it—completely naked, helmet off, and laying next to you.

“You’re okay,” Mando tells you with a shrug, not sounding like… anything.  He looks like he’s about to say something else—his chestplate lifts with an inhale as he turns to you, but then seems to stop right as he’s about to speak.

“Shit—please sit on the bed, I don’t care if you’re dirty,” you quickly say, just as he blurts out, “You can still take your clothes off though.”

You blink at him for a second, not sure you heard him right.  “…What did y—”

“You can, uh.”  His voice is soft.  “I can… lay down.  On top of the sheets.  In my armor, just like this, and then you can take your clothes off and just.  Rub up on me a little bit.  If you want.”

A shudder quite suddenly rockets down your spine at the tone of his voice, the quiet, slightly hesitant murmur through the modulator.  The gulp you take is audible through the room, the only other sound being the closest trees rustling in the breeze outside.  The spread curtains dance with it, but they’re too sheer and light to make a noise.  “O-Okay.”

“Yeah?”  He asks lowly, and you quickly nod.

“Yeah,” you whisper, your body beginning to tingle, “sit—sit back down.”

He goes to move but then abruptly stops, and you hold your breath while you watch the visor jerk just a fraction to pin you in place.  Something instantly feels… different about him, a silent shift taking place within just a singular moment.  Like he all of a sudden realized that he didn’t actually like that very much.

Instead of acquiescing, Mando slowly steps in front of you, straightening up to his full height and absolutely dwarfing you with it, and your palms start to sweat.  Maker, when he speaks, it sends shivers down your body and the last thing you hear in his voice is hesitation.

“Take off your clothes,” he tells you, a dangerous edge to his soft tone.  The quiet dominance in it feels like the floor beneath you rumbles from it.

On instinct, your eyes flick over his shoulder to the open window and the village outside.  It’s barely been a few hours since sundown—townspeople are strolling down winding streets in the distance, ghostly moonlight mixes with the warm glow from large oil lamps lining the pubs and street corners.

You look back at him barely a split second later as he stands there in front of you, waiting.

You startle and immediately move to grab at the hem of your shirt, and your fingers unintentionally tremble as they start to pull it up. 

“Stop.”

His voice breaks through the silence, the modulated order halting your movements immediately.  You blink up at him, letting your shirt drop back down again, and Mando takes a second to look back at you, studying you from under the beskar.

“Go stand by the window,” he suddenly says, lazily tilting the helmet to gesture at it.

Your blood pounds in your ears during the still moments following, the thrill of it making you nearly go deaf for a second.  After you recover from the visceral heatwave that rockets through you, you slowly walk over to the window and then turn your back on the ballooning curtains to look at him.  The beskar is still pinned to you over his shoulder, though the rest of his body hasn’t moved.

“Turn around,” he tells you, and you shakily do as he says, rotating to face the open window.  You’re close enough to make out people’s expressions from here—friends mingling as they stroll down the sidewalk, their mouths moving but their voices and laughter muted at this distance.  An outdoor restaurant serving local cuisine to patrons and out-of-towners, a violinist and cellist performing a silent duet on the street corner.

There’s shuffling behind you.  The creak of the bedframe as he lowers himself on it and moves around, before eventually coming to a rest in what you assume is a comfortable position.

“You can keep going,” eventually comes his filtered voice from the bed.

Your eyelashes dip and flutter as more hot sparks of arousal kindle deep in your floor muscles.  Lifting your shirt up over your head has never felt like such high stakes before, but even as the fabric falls to the ground, your gaze continuously searches for anyone outside who may catch a glimpse.  Though, you’re not sure if it’s in dread or some kind of sick excitement.

The breeze hardens your nipples while you work at your pants, and the hair on your arms stands up when you remember who’s behind you, silently watching you get turned on by this.  Along with your underwear, your pants are pushed down your thighs, but instead of moving back from the pool around your ankles, you take a purposeful step forward towards the open window.

“Fuck—you dirty little thing,” you hear him breathe out, and a shiver rolls through you.  “Tell me how many people you can see right now, count them.”

You try your best, but give up halfway through and provide a rough estimate.  “F-Fifteen.”

“Scanner says seventeen from here,” Mando challenges lowly.  “Seventeen pairs of eyes that can look up any second and see your naked body.  Stripped bare, shaking, vulnerable.  Your gorgeous fucking tits.”

As hard as your teeth dig into your bottom lip at the rasp through the modulator, your nails dig into your palms even harder.  Still, you don’t move, and the open drapes flick and brush against your thighs as you hold there, the gentle wind doing absolutely nothing to cool your flushed skin down.

And oh, he waits.  He’s good about that, especially when he can probably read your infrared signature through the helmet right now.  You’re surprised you haven’t outright blinded him by how white-hot your body feels.  But after what feels like a small eternity, he eventually murmurs, “Come over here.”

Once you turn around and see the way he’s just laying back on the bed, relaxing and enchanted with the show, it’s a miracle you don’t trip on anything with how quickly you hurry towards him.  You’re already standing next to the edge of the mattress by the time you even register his body is subtly tilted so that his boots are hanging purposefully off the side of it.

Regardless of the hard dominance he’s exhibiting, the symbolic gesture somehow feels like it flips a switch inside you and lights up pure, aching adoration for him.  But against every instinct screaming at you to just scramble on top of him and show him how much you appreciate his thoughtfulness, you wait.  You wait for him to tell you what to do.

His glove lifts, comes up to gently touch the side of your face and cradle your jaw, and you have to clamp your hands together to stop yourself from reaching for him.

“Are you wet?”  Mando murmurs, sounding like his lips barely even brush against each other when they move under the beskar.  You don’t trust yourself to say anything without it turning into a desperate plea, so you just close your eyes and jerk your head in a nod, feeling your cheek graze against the leather on his palm with the movement.  It’s hard to swallow when your mouth feels so dry, and he lets you just suffer there and tremble for him a little while longer, letting out a quiet hum through the modulator as his thumb carefully rides the line of your cheekbone.

Maker, where does all this fucking patience come from?  Under normal circumstances, Mando is probably one of the most impatient people you’ve ever met, and yet.  It’s like he stores it all up.  Hoards it and refuses to dip into it most of the time—perfectly content to have a quick temper in most interactions, if only so that he can keep it handy for moments like this.  If only so he can have a seemingly endless supply of patience to sustain him while your average-sized stockpile is gradually and inevitably being depleted.

“You want to get up here with me?”  He asks quietly, and stars, that’s still not a directive, no matter how much it could casually imply one.  The ridiculous thing is—he never even told you this was expected of you.  Not once did he tell you to follow his words like they're gospel, not once did he say there was something wrong with speaking directly to him without prompting, or acting without explicit instruction.  He never even implied anything like that at all, but you still hold your body completely rigid as you jerk a nod against his palm once more.

Stars, it just isn’t fair.  He doesn’t look any different from how he looks every single day—there’s no patch of golden skin to tease you, beskar is covering him head to toe, but you’re hotter for him than you think you’ve ever been.  He’s stretched out long on the bed, a portion of him darkened by your silhouette but the rest bathed in gorgeous moonlight, breathing slow as he takes you in.  You stare silently at the visor, and for some reason, you—you’re quite suddenly struck with how gorgeous he could secretly be under there and you’ll just… you’ll never know.  You know his hair is thick and dark, you know the softness of his mouth, the sunkissed color of his skin, the prominent nose and straight teeth on the rare but blissful occasions he’d let you kiss him.  His eyes, though.  They could be any color.  Your credits have been on brown for a while, but the thought of you not knowing for sure… the thought of you actually having to ask him something like that is just—it makes you ache to touch him even more.  To give him something tangible at least, when you know the only way to ever have a true visual connection with him is with a dark visor between you.

You try to let the sentiment transfer through your needy expression, hoping he can read it from there.  His cock is hard—you can see it in your peripheral, pressing up against the dark fabric of his pants, but it’s like you’re the only one who notices.  He’s still admiring your face, or fuck, maybe he’s looking at your body—you can never tell for sure, but regardless, you stare purposefully at wherever you think his eyes ought to be, silently pleading with him and starting to get desperate.

Finally—fucking finally, the helmet rocks to the side just slightly, just the smallest tilt of his head towards his body, but the nonverbal invitation is enough.  Air you didn’t realize was even in your lungs suddenly whooshes out of you as you all but launch forwards onto the mattress to try and climb on top of him.

—Except, then his hand quickly drops from your face to press firm against your thighs, blocking the way your far leg tries to lift to swing over him in a straddle.  Disappointment crashes through you with an audible whimper and you start to panic a little bit as you shakily plant both knees back on the bed, wondering what you possibly did wrong.  Was it because he didn’t specifically say it was okay?  Was he just testing your obedience?

The beskar vambrace feels cool against your burning skin, and you try not to let the trembling of your body manifest itself in your breathing as Mando lazily drags his glove along your thighs.  Neither one of you says anything as he eventually trails his hand back and around, leather fingers coming to a rest between your legs while his thumb rides high, just under the curve of your ass.

And then he slowly starts pulling, before he gradually leads the leg closest to him up and over his body instead, until you’re settling into a straddle on top of his hips.  Backwards.

Everything in you shudders violently as both gloves gently trail up the length of your naked back, letting you brace your hands on the beskar strapped to his thighs and settle on top of him.

“Look at that,” he hums, letting his hands fall back down to the meat of your ass, grabbing handfuls of it and squeezing hard enough to make you bite back a gasp.  “Fucking pretty.  Pretty girl.  Stars, I fucking love looking at you, know that?”

The praise makes you mewl quietly and spread your knees even further, dropping your hips down until the underside of his cock presses up tight into your aching pussy.  You arch your back and walk your hands forward just a bit, just until you’re holding onto his knees and you have the right angle to start slowly rocking your body back and forth.

“Maker,” you whisper, your head tipping back while you drag your pussy against his pulsing erection, and his hands keep massaging your ass while the words start falling out of you now that you released the floodgate.  “Maker, I love your body.  So big, and—and strong.  Fucking hard, thick cock.  Fuck, I love your cock.  I love how fucking hard you get—”

“Bend over,” Mando breathes out behind you, his hands suddenly releasing fistfuls of your ass to grab around your hips and bring you to a stop.  “Fuck, keep talking like that, but show me your—just let me… let me look at it.”

Your heart slams against your sternum, your clit pulsing against the hard ridge of his cock, knowing exactly what he’s talking about.  Slowly, you bend your upper body over until your tummy lays flat along the cool beskar shielding his thighs and your tits are pressed against his kneecaps.  Your arms are long enough to rest your hands on his ankles like this, and your thighs are spread wide to keep your cunt pushed up against his cock.  But stars, you know he has a perfect view right now.  The slick lips of your pussy smearing against his dark pants, both holes on full display for him in the moonlight.

“Keep—Keep talking,” Mando reminds you after a moment, sounding painfully turned on while his cock jumps against your clit.  “Keep going.  Use it, get yourself off.  Let me watch.”

“Fuck, I love your cock,” you hear yourself repeat, breathless and needy as your hips start grinding down against him once more, the words coming from you without giving them any thought whatsoever.  He grunts and pushes it up for you, letting you get at it easier.  “I think about it all the time.  Think about the first time I felt it, how you were already rock fucking hard for me when I touched you.  You came so quick, right in my hand, in your pants—it was so fucking hot.”

“I’d had—” he grits out in his defense, “—shit, I’d had a… a rough day, and your hands were.  Fuck, s-soft, and—”

“Maybe,” you concede, biting your lip and closing your eyes against the swirling pleasure spreading hot through your body, the heat that burns you alive hearing the familiar warble through the modulator when he’s starting to lose himself in pleasure.  “Or maybe it was because you were half-conscious with a brand new scar on your back.”

His filtered groan rolls down your spine and his cock pulses hard against your cunt through the fabric of his pants, making you spasm in delight.  Fuck, your head drops down completely, just dragging yourself back and forth on top of him as you chase your orgasm like this.  Shameless—your ass flexing in front of him with every roll of your hips, your lower muscles fluttering with every drag against his cock.

“Fuck—fuck, let me touch your asshole,” Mando whispers suddenly, lifting himself up on one elbow and dragging the other hand up the curve of your cheek.  “Just—just a little bit, I won’t pu—”

“Oh stars above, fucking please,” you gasp against one of his legs, nearly jerking back against his hand as your pussy fucking leaks through his pants with it.  “I’ll let you do anything you want, you can—can put your thumb inside it—”

His other hand leaves you for a split second, and you think he’s taking his glove off, except then it swings down to crack hard against your ass, making you gasp and instantly go still for him on his lap.

The smooth leather covering the pad of his thumb carefully glides down your crevice, and you hold your breath until it finally brushes over the tight ring of muscle flexing for him.

“That all you’ll let me put in here?”  Mando asks quietly, and you let out a complete mess of a whimper, trying your best not to move under the bold touches.

You get another firm smack on the ass for being rendered mute for too long.  “Tell me,” he growls, rubbing his thumb against the vulnerable entrance while his cock throbs against your cunt.

“I’ll—I’ll let you do anything you want,” you moan once more, and stars, you can’t help it.  Your hips start to grind down against him even harder than before, and Mando curses as he slowly rides your movements with his hand.

“Dirty,” he grits out.  “Dirty girl.  You ever take it back here before?”  And stars, the way his cock drags against your pussy starts to make you lightheaded, how casually he’s talking about this while starting to circle his thumb around it and press firm against it.  Not hard enough to push inside, but enough to feel the natural resistance give just a bit.

“No,” you breathe, starting to pant while you work against him.  “Boys have tried.  But I’d let you.”

“Fuck,” he hisses, suddenly rocking his hips up against yours.  You nearly choke and your legs start to lock up, making your movements stunted.  “Fuck.  I bet you’d let me do it right fucking now, wouldn’t you?  Right here in front of this f-fucking window, where everyone can see?  Let me flip you over and stretch you out, and then fuck your tight little—virgi—”

“Maker, get your cock out,” you gasp, heat burning at your center and beginning to spread outwards.  It tingles hot through your lower abdomen and you start to get frantic, knowing you don’t have much time before your orgasm hits.  “Please, just let me ride it, let me cum on it—”

“No,” Mando immediately grunts, and you make a small sound of distress that quickly turns into a high-pitched mewl against his leg when the very tip of his thumb just barely breaches the haloed entrance.

“But—but I’m so wet,” you whisper, “oh stars, can’t you see it?  I’m dripping.  You could just slide it right in right now, I’d take it so fucking easy—”

He rips his hand away just long enough to smack your ass once again, hard enough to ring through the room and make you gasp.  “Quit.  You’ll take whatever the fuck you’re given and you’ll endure,” he snaps.  “Not here, not tonight.”

You bite back desperate protests.  He’d fuck you in a dark alleyway on Canto Bight but not here?  As if you haven’t already done so multiple times this evening, you immediately lament your stupid mouth and the thoughtless mattress comment.  You wish you could take it all back—you don’t care how nice this bed is, you want to sleep in anything he’ll fuck you in.  Nonetheless, your orgasm gallops forward and leaves your body struggling to keep up behind it—but Maker, you want so badly to feel him inside you when it finally hits.  You want to sink down on him and feel him break you open just as you start to cum.

“Oh fuck, please give me it,” you whine, sounding on the edge of delirium, the words pressed high and unintentional as your hands clutch at his legs.  “Oh Maker, please, please fuck me—fuck me in a real bed, please, just—fuck me right now and I swear I’ll sleep on fucking rocks for you every single night for the rest of m—”

A snarl rips through the modulator and he shoves your hips forward just enough, just enough to rip his waistband down—

You gasp in blinding relief and flip your head over your shoulder to watch, but then subtle movement catches in your peripheral.  You glance up just in time to see the doorknob slowly turning.

Thank your lucky stars you react on instinct alone, squealing and jumping off him before quickly shuffling under the covers.

“What the fu—” comes an enraged, filtered growl, metal clanking with how quickly he flips over to reach for you, but then he cuts off and the helmet whips to the door as it unlatches and slowly creaks open. 

The blankets are pulled tight under your chin as you shuffle down as far as possible, and though you can’t see the intruder from this angle, Mando is instantly reaching back to rip the pillow out from under the helmet and press it tight over his crotch, huffing out a sigh.

Soon, you’re able to spot one pointy little ear pop up, followed by the rest of the little gremlin scaling the treacherously tall comforter, pulling himself over the edge of the mattress with a determined three-finger hold and then doing a completely unnecessary little barrel roll once he’s on the level springtop.  The fact that it’s so fucking adorable just serves to irk you even more, and both of you silently watch the kid push himself up on two feet and then waddle slowly in between you two.

He finds a pillow he likes—one that happens to be placed directly in between you and his dad, before he settles himself down on it like a small bed on top of a much larger one.  The little stinker then flutters his abnormally giant eyes closed and seems to instantly fall back asleep.

There’s a few minutes where you just blink across from Mando, flicking your gaze between the chrome visor and the baby’s peaceful face.  Is this… is he serious right now?

“Were we being too loud?”  You eventually whisper, barely above a breath.  “Or is he just being purposefully annoying?”

He doesn’t answer you.  And, well, you suppose he has a point.  Regardless of why, it appears he's here now. 

You let out a slow breath and just try and relax, try and think beyond the flare of annoyance at the interruption, how close you were to feeling him fuck you into this mattress.  He’d still have the armor and helmet on, of course, but it would be just domestic enough to ruin you. 

But then again—you suppose this, if anything, is even more domestic.  Doing your best to calm your racing thoughts so you can eventually fall asleep directly across from him with his mildly aggravating, heartstealing little adopted kid snoring quietly between you.

Quite a while passes before you feel your eyelids growing heavy.  You spend almost the entire time studying every single inch of Mando while he faces you on the mattress.  The sharp angles and smooth curves of his helmet, concave in places but convex in others.  How fitting, you think.  To cover a man with a helmet just like him—sharp, smooth, contrasting, and deflective enough about what lies underneath to be reflective.

Then you find yourself thinking about what he’s hiding under it.  Once more.  You try to picture him, but it’s… it’s difficult.  You’re not used to translating things you’ve only touched into visual representations, it’s just not a skill you’ve ever needed to have handy.  And what about all the things you can’t, or haven’t been able to feel?  Freckles, or birthmarks?  Dimples?  Are his lashes long or short?  Do they stick out in a fringe when he clamps his eyes shut?  Does his nose scrunch up when he laughs?  Do his ears stick out?  Does he have wrinkles on his forehead, or around his eyes?

Maker, what color are they?

You continue to stare at the metal faceplate, blinking droopily at it but forcing yourself to stay awake just a bit longer.  Enjoy the feeling of the soft mattress underneath you while you still can, relaxing into the cool sheets and delaying your inevitable descent into dreams.  Savoring his extended presence here with you for as long as possible.

“Do you have brown eyes?”  You hear yourself murmur to him through the quiet darkness, lips barely touching and the words slurred from exhaustion.  You want to know.  You want to be able to color in the last paint-by-number of his face before you begin your work on the finer details.

Again, he doesn’t answer, and you figure he’s probably asleep.

[tanaka-ryunosakes-husband]

Can u bless us with some more nsfw bottom tanaka content. My boy doesn’t get enough

Yeasssssssss! Headcannons and hopefully blurbs. But I’m terrible at keeping blurbs short. Send help.

NSFW OBVIOUSLY. Male!reader x Tanaka (could be gn, but I mention a dick on the reader. and a daddy)

Okay so. He has a praise kink. praise him and it’s like he gets like a hundred times more sensitive.

Just

He’s sitting in front of you facing a mirror, between your legs. Just getting into foreplay

“You’re doing so good, baby. I need you to keep breathing for me okay? Gotta relax if we’re going to get anywhere tonight.” He nods back into your chest while still twitching and jerking with all of his muscles flexed.

You ease away from his dick to just rub his muscles out. He whines before shivering and actually relaxing into you. “See? I knew you could do it,” you reach for his dick again with one hand while reaching for lube with the other. “You ready for me to prep you? You gonna be a good boy and stay relaxed?”

“Yes. Yes please. I’ll be so good,” he shudders out. You start to maneuver him onto the bed so the position is better to stretch him out. He lies down easily resting up on the pillows. His legs spread out and back with his feet in the air. He held behind his knees to keep steady.

“Ryū, oh my god you’re so pretty laid out like this. I should put you here more often. Your legs are already out of the way too. I knew you were going to be such a good boy. You always are. My good boy, right?” You’ve only been rubbing up and down the back of his thighs, and he’s panting and whining like you’ve been at it for way longer than the ten or so minutes since he asked for this.

“Yes. Your good boy. Only yours. Please touch me. Or finger me. Do something please. I really need it,” you chuckle before obliging. He was your good boy, after all.

He is so happy and grateful for whatever you give him.

He could cum from sucking your dick and dry humping the bed with his pants on.

He is up to try almost anything if you ask him. Even if he doesn’t think he’ll like it. He is a sub bottom that just want to please you.

He’s a cry baby. He just gets so overwhelmed so easily.

Call him a pretty crier.

He wants to be close to you. As much as possible. Even out of sexual contexts. Touch is his love language and he loves big.

You’ve barely got two fingers pumping inside him and he’s already sobbing. His dick is twitching and purple. Left untouched since he got on the bed. He lets go of his legs without letting them drop very far and reaches for your shoulder. He pulls you as close as you let him.

“I know baby. I know. I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere. Give me a kiss?” He almost head buts you with how quick he does in for the kiss. It’s salty with his tears. His whole face is a mess so the kiss is sloppy. Just as messy and perfect as he is.

“I love you. I love you. I love you so much, just please don’t stop it’s so good. Feels good. So good,” he continues to babble on while you pulled back enough to adjust your hand and add a third finger. It goes in smoother than expected.

“So pretty, just for me…”

he’d be so good for you

you just gotta ask for what you want

so it’s cannon the dude is absolutely shredded. (seriously. skinny jacked? super duper toned but not bulked up. the best body if it’s a “fit”/ athletic body. at least. in my preferences)

imagine him being under you? and all of his muscles are strained and flexed.

hot

He’s got sweat dripping down his face and neck. Just slick and shiny. You’ve been edging him for over an hour, and it’s obvious he’s at his limit.

His muscles go tight as he holds back yet another orgasm. It’s taking all of his strength and control to do so. You haven’t given him the okay, and he isn’t going to disobey you.

“Daddy, please. I need to cum. I can’t do it anymore. please. please. I’ll do anything. Just let me cum,” he asks oh so sweetly. How could you deny your baby boy when he’s been so could for you tonight?

“You need to cum? Wanna cum for daddy?” He nods sharply. “Okay, go ahead. Cum for me. Cum for daddy,” it’s immediate. His body gets even more tense-if it’s possible. His load is falling on his stomach and his body goes slack. Without the cum stopping flowing he twitches and jerks occasionally. You help rub him through it. He’s utterly exhausted.

You pull out before finishing on his stomach too. It’s a pain to clean him up when you’ve cum inside him.

Aftercare is difficult every time. He wants to be held and hold you.

he gets so much needier and clingy than usual. which is already a lot.

But he’s gotta get cleaned up first. sometimes it’s a bath and sometimes it’s warm towels and passing out.

It’s lowkey a fantasy of mine to get a towel warmer so you can have hot towels at the ready. so. you have that here.

get multiple. it’s rude to just have one.

then give him all of the cuddles and fall asleep together.

a big theme has been praise. Praise him! he did so good! let him know!

You reach over to your towel warmer and grab a few. You take your time. Being thorough and gentle are the main priorities. Starting with the cum before sweat and lube. And a final wipe down.

“You did so good for me baby. You getting grounded?” he nods. “ Thank you so much. I always love this time with you. It’s a good escape and one of my favorite ways to relax. You always do so good for me.”

“Thanks for letting me clean you off. It feels good to get the stickiness off of you before we sleep. Thank you baby, you make this so easy on me,” he tries to nuzzle up into your neck and cuddle close, but you have some final things to do before that.

You make sure to turn on the heated blanket and turn off the lights before helping him under the blankets and sheets. He helps you push the duvet off since that’s coated in fluids.

“Thank you baby. You’re always so helpful,” he blushes and a little whine escapes his throat.

“Thank you. That felt really good. You treat me so good.” He’s getting out of the last of his sub headspace, and communicating better now. You give a gently smile at that; pecking the tip of his nose.

He shoves his face into your chest and snuggles as close to your body as possible. You wrap your arms around him. One of his favorite aftercare things is some lazy making out as sleep gradually takes both of you over. He’s always asleep pretty quick.

“Thank you baby. I love you lots.” One final kiss to his head before falling asleep too.

I got a little lazy at the end there. Sorry. uh. yeah. i just didn’t wanna leave you hanging for any longer.

Anyway Masterlist.

[pianorexic000]

Sweetspo Saturday

Hi y’all, so today is sweetspo Saturday.......

it speaks for itself. By the way, none of these are mine. I take no credit I have 0 creativity.

I dream of collarbones and thigh gaps, of hips jutting out and ribs just visible, casting shadows on porcelain flesh. I dream of crop tops and denim shorts, of thigh highs and sugar highs. And when I lay in bed at night, counting the calories of the day before my mind can’t help but wander, and I press into my doughy stomach, feel the hips hiding underneath, and remind myself how far I’ve come, and how far I still have to go.

Please listen, I know, I know it’s hard but listen, focus, you, you the most beautiful person on this whole entire planet you are going to make it, I promise you sweetheart, you’re going to make it. Think about it, think about how skinny you’ll be, how happy you will be, how you are going to be able to wear what you want, how you are going to be able to eat what you want and no one is going to make you feel bad for eating, no one. They’re going to be jealous, so fucking jealous, jealous of how you look and how you feel. They’re going to envy you. So stand up, keep your pretty head up and go. Exercise, drink water, eat less, eat healthy, sleep, do yoga, dance around. Get skinny and be finally happy. Please be finally happy.

You’ve been so disappointed in yourself lately. You’ve cursed those girls with a fast metabolism and regretted so much, sweetie. Countless of times you’ve thought, planned and wished to be skinny. I know you want this so badly, honey. But it’s never going to be given to you, sugar. You have to work for it and make yourself proud! ٩(ˊᗜˋ*)و

I know you’re very impatient with your weight-loss. You want to lose it NOW and would do anything to wake up tomorrow at you ugw. But that’s never going to happen, doll. It’ll take time, but you will get there, sweetie. You just have to be persistent and never give up. The road is very long, and there will be days where it’ll feel hopeless, angel. But i promise you that those days where you feel incredibly sexy and comfortable in your own skin are just around the corner. You’ll get there baby, but it’ll take time. So don’t beat yourself up.

You’ll look good in everything; you remember that bikini with the cute print? yes, you’ll look beautiful in it. you won’t look like a fat pig.

people will be jealous; they’ll envy you. you’ll become thinner while others are getting fatter.

you’ll be dainty; you’ll be the lightest in the room. everyone will be able to pick you up effortlessly.

others will compliment you; people will look at you and say “wow, have you lost weight?” “you look great!” “i wish i looked like you.”

you won’t be able to keep more than a cup of food down; you’ve trained your body, you and your body both know its limits.

you’ll have power; you can can control how you look, you’ll have control. self control instead of eating everything in sight. you’ll be proud when you refuse a chocolate bar someone is offering.

are you going to keep saying “i’ll do it tomorrow”

or are you going to start today?

you’ll get there sweetie, make them regret the day they dare call you fat; they’ll start talking GOOD behind your back; “she is losing so much weight omg” “ i wanna look like her.” “im so jealous of her tiny waist.”

make it happen, you cause the gain of weight

and the loss of weight.

It's Okay!

You were really bad this weekend weren’t you? You ate fatty food and cheated on your diet? I know you bash yourself for pushing yourself further from your goal, but it was just Easter and you were enjoying spending time with your family. Unfortunately that included eating. Thin is all you think about cutie, why would you stuff your face uncontrollably like that, sugar? You can’t stop now, i know it’s hard but it’ll be worth it in the end.

Meanspo

Dear You,

You’ve grown up being the “big” girl. You’ve grown up being the “I want seconds” girl. You entered college being the “let’s eat out because it’s easier” girl.

When will you be the “I eat healthy” girl? The “people can pick me up” girl? The “I love my body” girl?

Today? Oh, right, you say tomorrow. Funny, that’s what you said yesterday.

It’s YOUR fault you’re fat. You don’t control your fatty urges to binge and stuff your face. One day, you’ll regret that. And that day is TODAY. If you regret it, then make a change. Skip that meal. Eat less calories. Exercise and burn what you have consumed and stored from your past pathetic eating habits. Get rid of your fatty urges. BECOME SKINNY…Become beautiful. Because if you don’t start today, you’ll only hate yourself tomorrow… again.

Do it. Do it so you can wear cute short shorts without everyone looking at your thighs and being disgusted.

Do it for that bitch who always called you fat at middle school.

Do it for that fuckboy who never looked at you as girlfriend potencial.

Do it so you can be confident.No seriously you’ll never be confident with that big tummy dude.

Do it so you don't ALMOST DIE in fitting rooms.

Do it for the cute clothes.

Do it for the summer.

Do it for the pool parties and how all of your friends will be SHOOK at your perfect body.

Do it for that life little baby. You deserve it. You deserve so much happiness.

Imagine you’re sitting at your desk in your perfectly decorated bedroom. You’re doing school work (all A’s of course), and since the lighting is good, you stop studying for a second and take a selfie.

You notice your collarbones are perfectly peaking out, and your chest bones are slightly visible. You have no makeup on but you still look absolutely gorgeous. Your flawless skin (that you got from not eating junk food all the time) looks great on your camera. Your thin arms look especially toned in this picture, and your smile is unforgettable.

You decide to post it to Instagram, and it instantly gets likes and comments saying how gorgeous you look. You want to keep studying…but the amount of likes and attention is distracting!

You think to yourself “Amazing how my life has changed. 30lbs ago I barely got 30 likes. My grades were bad and I had horrible acne…it’s so great what being thin can do to a person”

One day I won’t have to suck in

One day I’ll sit down and not have belly rolls

One day my thighs won’t touch

One day I’ll be able to see my ribs

One day I’ll step on the scale and smile

One day I’ll be able to smile at my protruding collar bones

One day I’ll wear the clothes I want

One day I’ll be confident

One day I’ll be skinny

do it for the boy who leaves your snapchats at read. imagine how quickly he’ll reply when he sees how good you look in your new body. do it for the girls you envy, the girls who show up in crop tops and short shorts whilst you hide behind a baggy sweater. imagine how proud you’ll feel when you can finally wear what you want and look just as good, if not better than them. do it for the people who bullied you about your weight and the boys who turned you down because of it. watch them gawk and whisper among themselves at how much weight you’ve lost. do it for the mean girls, the ones that walk around school like they own the place, the ones who’s parties you never get invited to, the ones that all the boys want. prove yourself to them. soon they’ll notice you and you’ll be too proud to care. own your new found confidence, throw your own parties, feel wanted. do it for the boy you’ve been crushing on since the first time you met. make him want you just as you wanted him. laugh at yourself as he chases after you. watch him suffer just as you did. do it for the bikini you’ve never had the body to wear. make your old self proud. wear that bikini. finally feel good in it. go to the beach and the pool and show it off. it belongs on you. do it for yourself. do it for your own happiness and do it right now. you deserve this. it might take some time and maybe you’re growing impatient. but it’s okay, everything good takes time. so be safe, stay strong, and don’t give up. this will be worth the wait. trust me.

I literally cannot fucking wait until I’m thin. I can’t wait to not feel like the outsider in my friend group. I can’t wait to not feel like the ugly friend. I can’t wait to be as thin as my best friend and for people to not see me as a charity case. I can’t wait to be able to go shopping and not worry about what will hide my fat. I can’t wait to see my collarbones and feel great in shorts. I can’t wait to be able to post selfies confidently from any angle and get as many likes as all the thin girls from school. I can’t wait to be someone else’s thinspo. I can’t wait to be happy with myself. I can’t wait to be thin.

Okie lovey, I know you might have had a rough couple of days or maybe you’ve been doing everything right and you just need a little pick me up. That’s okay too. I’m here for you, maybe not there physically but I’m still here. Make some tea, and take a bath; while you’re in there light a few candles and take time for yourself. Paint your nails read a book or simply think about bettering yourself. You’re almost there, I’m so excited for you! I’m going to be there when you cross that finish line (UGW). Finished with tea? Are you hungry? No. Exactly, chin up sweetheart, you got this. I love you

10 Reasons I want to be Thin

1. A flat stomach looks so good in anything. 2. No more armpit fat. 3. Finally have a thigh gap (again). 4. Feel beautiful and in control 5. people you already know will ask you how you did it, new people you meet will fall in love with you. 6. Go on adventures and have fun without worrying about your fat jiggling around. 7. Tan outside or at the lake without wanting to die because you’re too fat for a bikini. 8. Going out to parties and making friends because you’re confident and beautiful. 9. Not wanting to cry every time you see your full body in a mirror/ reflection. 10. Not crying in general anymore. Finally being happy.

11 Reasons Why I'm Doing This

1. To be the skinny friend

2. So I can be lifted up and be called light

3. To wear anything and still look cute

4. To have pretty bones to show off

5. To hear those words; ‘Have you lost weight?’

6. To not feel guilty when having a sweet treat (occasionally!)

7. To wear tight jeans and not have a muffin top

8. To not want to cry every time I look in the mirror

9. To not feel embarrassed in a bikini or swimsuit

10. To sit on someone’s lap without fear of crushing them

11. To finally feel happy with myself

They are in the kitchen making dinner. It smells so good, and all you want to do is have some. But would that make you happy? Would that food actually do anything for you? Sure, it would taste good. But as soon as you swallow, it would be gone. You’d take a drink of water, and the taste would wash away. Five minutes of fun, and then you’d be full. Full of food, regret, hate, shame, and disgust. Today would be yet another day wasted. So go ahead, eat the food. Be the fat tub of lard you always have been. Or don’t. Don’t eat the food. Be a day closer to your goal.

The choice is yours.

[restapesta]

😠 (I love me some jealous hoes eheh 💙)

"So, uh, who are you texting?"

The question was supposed to come across as just a nonchalant inquiry, but the way Ian's fiddling with his phone, the screen blank and reflecting his slightly worried face, he fears it really didn't.

Mickey looks up from next to him on the couch. Usually, Ian would just lean over his shoulder and look—fuck, he had literally tried that not too long ago, but Mickey was obviously keen on shooing him away this time, tilting the phone out of sight.

It isn't as if Ian has doubts about who Mickey's so rapidly texting. It's definitely not another guy—as far as Ian's knowledge goes, Mickey really doesn't know or like anybody Ian himself doesn't—but there's just some weird part of Ian's brain telling him he needs to know.

Who the fuck is Mickey texting at eight in the evening, and why is there a smile on his face, and why is he chuckling every few minutes, and why is he blowing out irritated breaths between the sounds of him taking a screenshot, and why in the fucking hell are Ian's fists clenching in irritation?

Mickey looks up briefly, eyes flickering over Ian who's desperately trying to school his expression into unworried and totally, not at all, jealous.

It obviously doesn't work because Mickey just huffs out a laugh.

"Calm down, Tough guy. I'm just texting my sister."

That gives Ian a pause.

"You're texting Mandy?"

Mickey nods, fingers darting across the phone keyboard at rapid speed. "Yup." It's so simple. Said in such a simple matter, like that does literally anything to slow down Ian's heart and ease the constricting of his lungs.

He supposes it should calm him down. To basically tell his brain that, no, Mickey really isn't cracking jokes with any other dudes, and he isn't hiding any secrets or doing illegal shit behind his back. Instead, a lump appears in his throat, and a new feeling settles into his chest—and it's less of worry and more of anger.

He hasn't had an actual long, rapid-texting-and-laughing-out-loud conversation with Mandy since back in the day before everything went to shit. Not even after they reconnected sometime before the wedding, just enough for her to decline the invitation.

"She texted you again?"

Mickey looks up. "You know we've been in touch since I got out of prison, right?"

Of course Ian fucking knows that. He considers his options; whether or not he should just tell Mickey that he feels kind of sad that Mandy really doesn't want to keep in touch with him and it's making him jealous when he sees her texting Mickey, or if he should just bite his tongue.

"She never texts me." He finally concedes, plopping down onto the couch next to Mickey. He casts a glance towards the screen, the brightness turned up to the max.

He adds, worry overpowering anything else, "Your eyes will go to shit, by the way, if you keep going like that. You already have prescription glasses that you don't wanna wear."

Mickey rolls his eyes. "Okay, mom."

With a slight pinch to Mickey's bicep, Ian leans back against the couch, head going down on his husband's shoulder.

"Does Mandy really not want to talk to me anymore? I mean, we used to be best friends and shit. I helped her hide a fucking body. I just... I don't know why she never texts me."

Mickey sighs, phone down in his lap. When Ian looks up, he sees him looking...

Guilty?

Ian straightens, eyes squinting.

"What, Mickey?"

A pause.

"You have to promise not to get mad, okay?" He starts, phone discarded on the cushions and buzzing with incoming messages. "And you also have to understand that I am completely, one-hundred percent right about all of this."

Ian levels him with a look. "What did you do?"

Mickey blows out a breath, and then, as if deciding something, slouches back into the cushion and starts talking, face expression indicative that it's, "Really not a big deal, okay? Just something that happened."

"That has to do with Mandy not texting me?"

Mickey shrugs, eyes avoiding Ian's. "Maybe."

"Oh my God, what did you tell her?"

Mickey doesn't reply.

"What? What could you have possibly said to her?"

Mandy already knows everything. She knew about the bipolar, about Ian's fuck ups, about who he is. She knows about their marriage, their relationship as a whole. What could have Mickey possibly said to make her never want to talk to him again? To limit all of their conversations to happy birthday messages and occasional checkups.

"Mickey, I'm gonna ask you one more time. What did you—,"

"Oh, would you stop, for the love of God!?" He gets up suddenly, facing Ian who's still sitting on the couch, eyes wide. "I was jealous, okay!?"

Ian's brain struggles to catch up. "You were... Jealous?"

"Mandy's like, completely fucking in love with you!" He talks animatedly, hands going all around his body as he explains. "And I couldn't have a single conversation after prison without her talking about how amazing you are, and perfect and hot and kind, and I got fucking sick of her talking about my boyfriend like it's her crush! It isn't fucking normal, Ian!"

"So you told her..."

"I told her not to talk to or about you ever again or I'd make her life living hell." He shrugs like it's no big fucking deal.

"You threatened your sister for being my best friend?" And to think Ian was jealous.

"She's had you for the beginning of our relationship. And she was completely in love with you back then too!"

"She was in love with Lip."

"See?" Mickey points out. "That's as close as she got to you!"

Before Ian even gets a chance to reply, Mickey's phone is ringing with an incoming Facetime call.

From Mandy.

The phone is next to Ian, a simple grasp away—but Mickey's looking between the two, and it's obvious, so fucking obvious, that there is no way in hell he'll let Ian answer the phone.

"Don't you dare," He whispers.

They look at each other for one, two, three—

They both lunge for the phone at the same time, and both unceremoniously fall onto the floor, rolling as they try to get it in their hands—Ian to answer to call, Mickey to end it.

Except they accidentally answer it in the first place.

"Is that some new position you guys are trying out? Dry humping and shit?"

Mandy's voice is distorted and breaking, the wifi connection absolute shit, but Ian's face lights up with a smile as he pushes Mickey off of him and grabs onto the phone, facing the camera. His hair is disheveled, strands poking out as if he's just had sex, hair-pulling and all.

There's no fucking way Mickey has Mandy all to herself, that jealous motherfucker.

Mandy's looking beautiful. Literally stunning.

"What's up with you guys?" She asks.

"Mandy," Ian says, voice accusing. "You really that scared of Mickey that you actually listened to his threat about not talking to me?"

Mickey narrows his eyes at him. Calls him a bitch.

"What?" He hears her ask.

"Mickey told you not to text me and you actually listened!"

The three of them are silent for a moment.

And then, Mandy laughs so fucking loud that it sounds through their entire apartment.

Ian and Mickey look at each other, confused, as Mandy tries to catch her breath.

"Uh..."

"You jealous dumbasses! I can't believe you guys!" She says, tears falling down her face. "Of course I didn't listen to Mickey's threat! Bitches, neither of you talk to me as much as you should! I'll start texting you when you start texting me!"

Ian looks at his husband again, asking a silent question. Mickey just shrugs.

"But, you were literally just texting Mickey!"

"Jealous bitch," He hears Mickey whisper under his breath.

Mandy tilts the phone so her whole upper body is in view. She's still laughing, small giggles escaping past her lips. Ian forgets how much he misses them.

"I was texting Mick 'cause I needed to get your address for the anniversary gift I'm finally sending you!" She wipes at her eyes, fixing up her shirt simultaneously. "We can't figure any of this shit out, and he refuses to ask you to come help!"

Ian looks at his husband. Whispers, "Jealous bitch." Mickey flips him off.

The two finally lock eyes. The rage that had been bubbling up inside Ian's chest dissipates into nothing. They're both dumbasses. They keep staring.

"Okaaay," Ian hears Mandy through the phone. He doesn't look away from Mickey. "You guys are looking at each other all weird and I don't wanna be a part of that shit." There's shuffling on her end. "Call me when you're done fucking. I still need to figure out that address shit!"

Before either of them can say anything, she hangs up.

There's a moment where they just stew in their revelations. Ian asks first.

"Jealous of me and Mandy?" He quirks an eyebrow.

"You jealous of me and Mandy?" Mickey bites back.

They stare for another second.

"You think we don't text her enough?"

Mickey shrugs. "We could do it together? Make her the third wheel."

They stare. Mickey looks at him softly.

Ian jumps Mickey first.

Mandy was fucking right about the look.