#u do not have to match length at all. it's mostly just me trying to get into liu'er's head DSAFDSF

[sixthear]

Liu'er has woken up in strange places he did not remember falling asleep in before. But this definitely topped all those other times. He did not like this place. There were too few trees. Strange metal contraptions that flew down roads made of paved black stone. The air around here felt thick, and bitter. Almost like he was trying to breathe in smoke— except there was no fire in sight.

More alarmingly, there were so many people! His hearing was blissfully muffled, and for once he wasn't concerned— even with dampened powers, this place was too much! But he cannot sit idly by and lament the situation. He needs to find the other monkeys. Maybe— maybe Shihou and the elders were brought to this strange place, too. He'll even settle for Yutu. Any familiar and friendly face, really.

He's not sure how much time is spent aimlessly wandering around, sticking to side streets and eventually the rooftops, before he finally spots something vaguely familiar. Another monkey, one with black fur! He... Doesn't immediately recognize the older monkey beyond that though. So with a small and anxious chitter, he carefully trails after Macaque for a bit. Staying mostly out of sight and a safe distance away...

After narrowly losing track of Macaque, though, he finally announces his presence by scrambling around a corner into view. Worried about completely fumbling his chance to talk with the only other monkey he's seen so far, he gives a definitive loud CHIRP, a signature sound of distressed young monkeys.

"Wait up, please, mister!"

@sageshadowed

[dynamic-k]

If you're accepting asks for this right now, I've always been curious... do you have colors for some of the villains in the Super Sticks AU? Some colors were probably mentioned and I forgot them, but overall I don't remember all of the villains' colors being revealed.

This ask has been staring at me for quite some time, and I did honestly try much earlier to muster up some brain cells to give an answer-

I am always always accepting asks, it's just a matter of me answering on my own time. Theeeeesss one took me a whhiiile~ sorryy

To be honest, if there are not descriptions in the fic or bonus features, than I just don't have a description.

Sometimes, that's how I write. I have the semblances of a character design in my head, but I am definitely more on the word-oriented side of making an AU.

-

I will say that Madame Pop-Up has a pretty heavy design, actually. She was supposed to look a very specific way.

While it might sound strange to hear all at once, that's how it is so deal with it- /silly

-

Madame Pop-Up has a creamy-white [with like- barest hint of pink/red] skin with rosier and more prominent pink patches/splotches.

#fffffa, for the creamy white

#e6b3e5 for the rosy pink

Boots: #b80b45 [Ankle boots or higher, take your pick, she could wear either.]

Gloves: (which go about mid arm length) #fc0859

Poppy flower shade: #fc0820

With yellow middle.

She's supposed to be like a glamourous movie star look. I have yet to decide if I want her canon identity to be famous in that way or not, but it is tempting and matches my envisioned style of her to a T. :]

[The patches should look sorta streaky, like thick stripes. Large brush stroke stripes, of a sort? ]

Think a patches cat. Occasional spots, mostly stripes, a bit random but it looks nice because again: she is very showoff-ish and glamorous.

U U

An intimidating movie-star style though. She terrifies Chosen for a REASON, guys-

Oh and Madame has these color eyes: #bf0d52

-

Those are pictures I found online that match closely with how I imagine Madame's hair. Take creative liberties or variations if you want. 

Oh yeah, hair color: uhhh

[*digging in my worn cardboard box of hexcodes-*]

#520642

There-

-

Now uh-

I DID try to make a sketch.

...It got a little..

...coffee-d. Q Q

..Oops.

[And no, she doesn't have only one arm, I just- Didn't draw it-]

I BLOWDRIED THE LIVING DAYLIGHTS OUT OF THAT PAPER, WE'RE FINE-

I went back to my initial Arc One description, apparently Madame has a mask. I almost forgot about that: Like I said, I'm more word-oriented and delve deeply into plot.. and leave designs lacking sometimes-

I try my best, I'm glad the Ladybug Brothers have solid designs at least-

I'm gonna work equally hard with how the Color Gang will look in Arc Two, but that's still gonna be a while-

Uhh, the mask is..

You know what- 

I am just gonna explain how the style is. If someone wants to draw my OCs, use the style descriptions and go ham with whatever you deem fitting.

:]

I love all my fanart, no matter the 'accuracy' or whatever. :)

-

Uhhm, so let's move on to Mudd.

He is really easy to describe because I spent barely any time making him.

I'd just started the AU and needed some bully guy. And then ended up making him Red's nemesis- By accident-

Okay- XD

Uh.. Mudd has an arm canon on his left arm, and he can use it to funnel his acidic mud wherever he pleases at varying pressure rates.

Due to the acidic qualities, and occasional rocky clumps within the dirt substance, it does pack more of a punch than it might sound.

Mudd doesn't really create mud out of thin air, it's more like he manipulates the dirt around him and makes it into acidic mud via his sweat because I thought the way Bakugo's quirk in MHA worked was epically awesome and took creative liberties-

Then he can manipulate his mud into the arm canon and fire it out quicker than he could utilize effort to thrust it himself. Energy saver.

Uhm. He's a bulky figure. Simple brown-themed costume with maybe occasional black, no cape, generic mask.

There ya go. U U'

-

-

Moving onto the Alcoholic family:

-Vodka and Whiskey, the twins.

-Rum, the mother.

-The Jade Pretzel, the father. [And a british dramatic variant of Jade from A Second's Tale.]

-

-

The twins are the thin, wiry sort.

If anyone is familiar with this Junkrat and Roadhog animation for Overwatch:

Junkrat's build is similar to how the twins are. Actually the hair too, a bit, now that I think about it.

It sticks up and outward a little more for Whiskey; the younger of the twins. 

Take creative liberties with the costumes, honestly. 

All I know is that Whiskey is more greener themed, because his abilities are relatable to the nausea effect in Minecraft.

Vodka is more like...

Pinky browny? 

[*more digging in my worn and torn cardboard box of hexcodes-*]

#a36c6c

Have at thee-

O vO'

-

Rum is a bit more on the deep purple end of color scheme. With a RUM RED littered about as the complimentary color. She is fairly muscular, and has a stockier build than her sons.

-

Now, uh- The Super Sticks variant of Jade-

I found a stick-figure piccrew and made ST!Jade and SS!Jade respectively- [not 100% accurate, but the vibes are present-]

He has a monocle. Canon. You heard it here folks, I HAD to- 

It's got a gold rim, clear glass. 

It's actually attached to his mask, which is green and gold themed, so the monocle doesn't easily get knocked off if he moves too fast or something.

I will.. describe more of him when I actually complete the chapter where the Ladybug Brothers are battling the Jade Pretzel- 

The fight scene eludes me at the moment, so I keep writing more color gang shenanigans for future chapters instead- And probably a good thing too, since the ending homestretch of Arc One really didn't give our Color Quad the spotlight they deserve, so I'm putting more focus on them in Arc Two~

-

Uhhh, and that's it..?

[*brain buffering-*]

...Do I need to describe Primal/Prime a little bit since at one point she played a villain role-

-

Okay, yeah, why not~ 

:]

Primal is cool. She's got emo vibes, but is browner/tan themed rather than black or something you'd find on an emo-stereotypical design. 

She prefers practical over stylish canonically, but ends up appearing rather well-designed anyway, in the eyes of others.

And her hair alternates from side, over-the-shoulder braids, to long back-ponytails on a whim.

Yes, Vic has a side braid too, but it isn't that long so it sticks out sideways in the back, and doesn't touch the shoulder.

Primal's hair is also a different length. It's aboooout mid-upper chest. :)

And that, I think, is all. 

-

...I really hope I don't immediately remember a villain OC I just forgot to speak of after hitting the Post button-

Thank you for the ask, and I deeply apologize for how long this sat in my Inbox. Fret not, your ask vehemently stared me in the face until I was intimidated enough to gather my notes together and some braincells too-

U U

Have a lovely day~

Edit: Do ignore that gloved hand in my sketch.

...Just ignore that. We all know I can't do hands.

I went powerpuff mitten style purely for some saving grace- XD

[seumyo]

OMGGG CONGRATS ON 1K EUMY MY LOVE!!! im beyond words that describe happy for u ur such a sweetheart u deserve it sm<3 I SAW THE SCRAPBOOKS POST AND ID LOVE A SHOTO TODOROKI ONE!!!! 💗

im an enfp so im a loud extrovert, and i try to make sure ppl dont feel awkward or embarrassed around me bc im 10x worse HAHA 😭 i have insane attachment issues like i was crying so hard when my friend ignored me for a day. big lover with big emotions, hopefully that counts as an emotional intelligent person hehe<3

i am also a complete art kid and i never stop drawing, im also in choir and stage band so im basically all of the above (except sports. does watching haikyuu count?🤔) HAHAHAHA

id love a little description about our dynamic or something!!🥹 and be free w ur colour palette and do what u think deems best 🗣️!!! a song would be velvet ring by big thief, one of my favs rn<3

THANK USM EUMY UR THE SWEETEST AND ONCE AGAIN CONGRATUALTIONS ON THAT DESERVED 1K!!!

ᯓ★ SHOTO + SAKU!

★ Todoroki Shouto hated did not like you at first. The first time you two met in U.A., not once did he glance in your direction. Don’t take it too personally, he’s battling inner turmoil stemming from his complicated family life and upbringing.

★ Skipping to when he does warm up to the rest of the class, he still keeps his distance from them as he tries to test the waters. Now, you, dear Saku, are the first to invite him to have lunch together via the crumpled paper you left on his desk during free period (he almost threw it in the trash, but he telephatically felt your distress thought it might contain something important, so he decided to read it). He accepts, of course.

★ Lunch together was awkward, but Todoroki appreciates your effort to fill in his shortcomings in the conversation. So to say, he just listens to you while you ramble about anything and everything.

★ When he gets home that night, he definitely tells Fuyumi that someone invited him to eat together at lunch, and that it was nice. He doesn’t realize that he kept your note neatly folded in his wallet.

★ Do you know the concept of personal space? Todoroki does not. Whenever you’re doing something, whether it’s doodling or writing notes, he will peer over and check whatever it is that you’re doing. Completely unaware that he, too, has attachment issues (trust).

★ “Am I too close? I’m sorry, I didn’t notice.” And you guys were inches from kissing each other!

★ Romantically, it takes him a long time to understand that what he was feeling is clearly not platonic anymore. But when he does realize thus, he skips the steps in his head and wants to spend the rest of his days with you (you’re not even dating yet, and he’s already thinking of the future ten years later). Todoroki’s hesitant to engage in a romantic relationship because he thinks that you deserve someone who wouldn’t hesitate to court you and love you openly (he’s worried that he’ll end up like his father).

★ The initial dynamic is someone who talks a lot and the other listens (with the most lovestruck eyes yet still unnoticeable). When you do get into a relationship, he’ll still treat you just like when you were friends, but with a bit more effort to show you how much he cares. Acts of service & Quality Time are his love languages. This man is your ride-or-die forever and would go through lengths just to spend time with you (cue to Todoroki just appearing by your side whenever you’re not busy).

★ Whenever Todoroki talks to other people, it’ll always be, “Oh, where are Saku and the others?” You will always be the first person that comes out of his mouth, an unconscious habit of his.

★ Matching bag charms, candid photos (of him, mostly), handwritten notes that are passed to each other during class, enjoying each other’s company even if you two are just walking to the cafeteria together or him waiting for you to tie your shoelaces (he does them himself further into the relationship), finding out that Todoroki kept most of the things you gave him (especially your little notes and doodles), and the tips of his ears turn a bit reddish whenever he’s flustered—and you’re the only one to notice because it only happens when he’s with you.

[urlocalnonbinarybastardwrites]

hiii saw u were doing a ship match up thingy and wanted to see if u could do me with pjo?! not sure if ur still doing them tho so i apologize if not!

so first of all i’m pretty fem presenting, she/her, im a girl and im bi :) i got medium length wavy brown hair with long curtain bangs (im tryna grow them out..) i also wear glasses! im half mexican, white dad😬 and im literally a no sabo kid (IM TRYING TO LEARN SPANIDJ I SWESR.) im pretty tan as well, im 5’4 if that matters, my friends either call me very calm or like very weird, im also very sarcastic and ppl say my personality is fun and silly. i am an introvert tho but like very loud and outgoing wjen with my friends, like im highly embarrassing when im with my friends in public

i like to read (pjo), im pretty smart #ap/honors classes😇 but like i act rlly dumb sometimes. i play piano (not very good!) love atla, stardew valley, i lovr horror movies, hate roller coasters, love nayure and animalsnand shit and I TALK A LOT. IM SUCH A YAPPER. also rlly like painting and drawing and stuff like that but im not the best at it, i also keep lots of trinkets in my room that just dont have a specific place to go like theyre just everywhere. oki idk what else to put so >_<

take ur time in doing this and thank uuu!!

Your PJO ship: Percy Jackson!

Explanation: starting off with looks, I think that he loves your medium length brown wavy hair. He just likes the way that it looks in the fact that it’s not completely curly not completely straight. It’s just wavy and it kind of reminds some of the oceans waves almost with the way that it goes up and down, and I don’t know. I just think he would love that feature about you.. he really likes your curtain bangs and thinks that they are adorable and they go really well with your glasses. I feel like he’d make a lot of jokes about your glasses and also your curtain bangs like friendly teasing just show how much he likes them. He would also tease you about not knowing Spanish yet even though he knows literally knows himself and he’s such a hypocrite but yeah, I feel like he that’s something he would kind of tease you about, he loves your weird personality, but he also loves the side of you. That can be calm because it very much contrast with his personality and I just feel like you guys would have such opposites attract energy and it would be really, really sweet. he’s also pretty sarcastic, silly funny, etc. so I feel like that’s something that you guys would have in common and I feel like you guys would make such a dynamic duo in battles with all of your comebacks and smart remarks and things like that I just feel like you guys would be hilarious together, and everyone around you would honestly kind of love it. You guys have the best banter. Like the best top-notch.. he relates to The being smart but kind of acting dumb sometimes thing, and even though he wishes that you wouldn’t dumb yourself down sometimes because he knows how incredibly brilliant you are he would understand and he would be a hypocrite if he told you otherwise, so he mostly just nods along and gets it. he’s not the best at art, but I feel like you would still be great at art so he would absolutely support you and constantly stand behind you and ask questions whether you were painting or drawing or whatever he would just be totally invested in it even though he has ADHD and can’t like sit still for long. I still feel like he would find a way to be invested in it and, if you ever wanted to draw something would be offensive please do not make a portrait of anyone you would get punched in the face with that shit man he cannot draw for crap. I love him, but he can’t draw for crap so I feel like he’d always ask you for lessons and stuff anyway you guys are cute. I ship it. 🩷

[ragingbullmode]

I'm a baby goth who really wants to get better at makeup and more specifically eyeliner similar to what you do. Do you have any products or tips you reccomend for getting started? I try to look up advice online but it's overwhelming and it's kinda embarrassing to ask for advice irl.. ty in advance if you decide to answer this.

hi !! idk how good my advice will be but ill do my best to answer as well as i can !

as a heads up i freehand everything but i have seen people use the tape method to keep their liner/eyeshadow straight (which is just putting a piece of scotchtape on the side of ur eye where u plan to have a straight area of liner)

i found using water activated liner helped me a Lot when i started doing more graphic looks at the end of last year (since its water activated u can easily just wipe it off with a makeup wipe or wet tissue) but there is a difference in feel when applying it compared to using a liner pen (to me at least) ie the brush length makes it easier for me to do the smaller details as it gives me more control, but once i got a good feel for doing stuff like that it made using the pen easier. water activated is also much better if u plan on more colorful looks; liner pens do come in colors but they dont pop as well or as bright as the water liners.

as for making ur liner symmetrical… not sure how to give the best advice for that 🤔 the way i do it is ill line out one eye with the outline of what i want to do & try to match the other eye best i can. i have shakey hands but ive found planting my elbow on my desk table & my lining hand on my cheek really helps to stabilize myself so my lines come out straight. to straighten out my lines (like if i made one side to thick) ill just wipe a smidge of it with a wet cotton pad with water liners, but when i use a liner thats waterproof i use micellar water or a make up wipe to fix it.

as for my lids i use a mehron skin prep toner (its the only product ive found that works for my Very oily lids, but its definitely not for everyone… stings like SHIT if its in ur eye especially since i am… not supposed to use it for what i have been 😬. adding that bc if i do t use it sometimes the oil will denature the liner & smear it all over my lids lol. on top of that i put foundation & whatever eyeshadow i want on top of that when the foundation is dry enough it wont smear. putting liner over whatever u layered on ur lids is a commitment & a little hard to fix if u want to put the liner on in 1 go which is why i recommend practice & playing around !!

dont be scared about it not looking nice at that start, just start with something simple to get that feel for it so u can work up to what u want 👍

as for products, i got my water inks from bymelolops (latina owned, based in puerto rico !) i bought this liner brush (and a few water inks as well) from gavissi. my eyeshadow is mostly sugarpill (i only buy when its on sale, its a little pricey but worth it) but if ur on more of a budget colourpop has good options. as for liner pens, ive been using the last of my nyx liner, but am looking for a good alternative (loreal supports isr*el) so im unfortunately not much help here as im Also on the look out 😮‍💨

i definitely suggest getting some cheap stuff to play around with !! many places like sephora & ulta also sell small sample sizes of liners so u can get one of those to try out before u commit to something. a lot of what i started with years ago came from the dollar store bc that was all i could afford at the time lolll

[bokutosbiceps]

[here for the matchup trade!'

fandoms i would like: same as yours, bsd and demon slayer. no preference as long as they arent too young!

prominent personality traits: passionate, levelheaded, contemplative, opinionated, honest (heart on my sleeve). realistic but optimistic about it. individualistic. i am an ambivert. sometimes my mouth runs and i trip up over what i am going to say, and i'm blunt. sx/sp. im a big person on wanting improvement and having ambition (mostly for myself, but i will encourage others).

hobbies/talents: i like to read and write and listen to music and taking walks. i draw too. i'm really good at explaining things in a very cohesive manner. my logic is really good, so my persuasion is extremely good too. im very efficient and creative, which i apply to many things in real life. i also have very good intuition.

-> appearance-wise, i’m east asian, with a wispy middle part and shoulder length black hair! i look more cute-sque than hot or whatnot.

thank you for this matchup exchange!

the PRESSURE !! after you wrote me that fantastic match up, i am feeling the p r e s s u r e … 😅 but i’ve got some spicy snacks + the motivation so here we go!! i hope you love your matches 😁

bungou stray dogs

i match you with DAZAI OSAMU 🖤

you + dazai would just be two little peas in a pod. the thing he appreciates most about you is your appreciation for ambition, as well as how you can tell someone like it is! he hates people who beat around the bush, but he really revels in the fact that he’ll never have to worry about that with you. you guys rarely ever fight because every discussion is level headed + free of insults/trickery (on your part at least, we all know dazai can be a cunning man). dazai could sit + listen to you talk for h o u r s. he’ll be sitting there with his chin resting on his open palm, a small smirk on his lips as he listens to you talk about whatever you’re passionate about that day. after you’re done with your speech, he’ll just wrap his arms around your waist and give you a sweet smile and a kiss on the cheek.

getting to know dazai can be difficult, though, even if he loves you. he’s very closed off + protective of his feelings, so it takes a lot for him to be able to trust someone. when he met you, though, he could see that you were his twin flame. he felt as though you’d be able to understand the inner workings of his heart and mind, so he’d share them with you. you’re the one + only person he’d open up to like that, so be grateful! conversations with him can be so deep and provoking that you’ll both be left squinting at the sunlight streaming in through your windows, wrapped up in each other’s arms, after pulling an all-nighter just to talk.

dazai thinks you’re soooo intelligent, so he’ll often ask you for advice if there’s a situation at the detective agency that’s got him stumped. he’s so thankful to have you on his slide, because you truly can open his mind to perspectives he’s never seen. he also really admires the way you can bring things together to flow so smoothly, + he believes that this is truly a showing of just how smart you are! with that being said, dazai will constantly be trying to challenge your intelligence. whether that be with little riddles, pranks, games of chess/checkers, quizzes on random facts he’s picked up on—all of it, you gotta stay on your toes!

dazai’s favorite thing to do with you is to walks around downtown yokohama! he knows you love going for walks + he can identify with that, as walks usually help him clear his mind. you guys will stroll next to the river, in between the tall buildings, stopping at various food or knick knacks stalls just to see what there is to see. you guys pretty much have the entire city mapped out by heart from how many walks you go on. dazai tries to make it a nightly occurrence, only because he knows that work can keep him pretty busy, so being able to hear you, his favorite person, talk about your day while strolling around yokohama, his favorite city, is the best way he can think of to unwind after work.

demon slayer

i match you with RENGOKU KYOJURO 🧡

rengoku love love LOVES your passionate + optimistic self! its something he admires so deeply about you, like he really couldn’t have chosen a better person for himself. he wouldn’t be able to get along with someone who’s closed minded or negative, but he always tries his best to befriend most people! he doesn’t have to try with you, though, it’s extremely natural for him. he also really admires that you’re always striving for improvement + that you have great ambition, because he can definitely relate to that. he loves that your relationship consists of building each other up + encouraging each other to do your best + give your all no matter what you do.

a relationship w rengoku would being by his side at all times. he never wants to let you out of his sight! whether he’s training, reading, sleeping, eating, he’ll want you to be there! on a cozy night, one could find you + rengoku cuddled up under a kotatsu, reading or writing, often interrupting each other to show off something one of you found interesting in your book or to get opinions on your writing. he’s the biggest cuddle bug in the world, so he absolutely loves any sort of physical contact or affections from you. in his perfect world, you’d always be underneath that kotatsu in the winter, or splayed out on a futon in the summer, with your fingers running through his fiery locks while he just listens to whatever is on your mind.

another thing about rengoku is that he always wants to make sure you’re taken care of. it’s always “have you eaten?” or “did you sleep well?” or “do you need help with anything?” he’s your number one fan + he always wants to make sure that you’re content in life. if there’s anything that’s upsetting you, he will coax you into telling him + then immediately figure out a way to solve it. if it’s something that he has no control over, the empath in him will take over + he will also be upset. sometimes even more upset than you are. we love showings of solidarity in a partner.

rengoku also really wants you to be safe at all times, even though he’s almost always around to protect you, he worries for the day that he won’t be around when you need him. with this being said, you two will spend countless hours training. he’ll teach you the basics + teach you special ways in which you can protect yourself until he’s absolutely satisfied. it’s a dangerous world out there, but rengoku will be damned if his girl can’t protect herself!

a/n: idk how you managed to be matched w two of the hottest men in their respective franchises LOL it’s just what you deserve, what can i say 😉 anyways, i really hope you liked them !! thank you so much (again) for mine 😁

[sparrowhawk-rose]

Just a reminder that it's perfectly fine to start a story with a description of your main character. I feel like the cringey way fanfics tend to do this has made people shy away from doing it at all but honestly? It's a great way to ease your reader into your writing style.

So how do you make sure it's not cringey?

Here is an example of what you don't do:

Hi my name is Ebony Dark'ness Dementia Raven Way and I have long ebony black hair (that's how I got my name) with purple streaks and red tips that reaches my mid-back and icy blue eyes like limpid tears and a lot of people tell me I look like Amy Lee (AN: if u don't know who she is get da hell out of here!). I'm not related to Gerard Way but I wish I was because he's a major fucking hottie. I'm a vampire but my teeth are straight and white. I have pale white skin. I'm also a witch, and I go to a magic school called Hogwarts in England where I'm in the seventh year (I'm seventeen). I'm a goth (in case you couldn't tell) and I wear mostly black. I love Hot Topic and I buy all my clothes from there. For example today I was wearing a black corset with matching lace around it and a black leather miniskirt, pink fishnets and black combat boots. I was wearing black lipstick, white foundation, black eyeliner and red eye shadow.

- My Immortal

Let's break down the primary traits.:

long, ebony-black hair with purple streaks and red tips that reaches her mid back

icy blue eyes like limpid tears

looks like Amy Lee

vampire without fangs

pale white skin

goth

wears mostly black clothes from Hot Topic

a description of their outfit and makeup

First point of discussion: Is all of this necessary? Her hair is described as long as well as reaching mid way down her back; this is redundant. Many details can also be inferred, such as her being goth.

Second point of discussion: What can we learn about her personality based on these traits? Since this is in the first person perspective, it can be assumed that this description mirrors her thoughts about herself. You know that she tries very hard to be seen as a goth and may even be trying to be someone she's not. She has an air of confidence, but says she wishes she was related to Gerard Way because he is a "major fucking hottie," insinuating that she does not find herself attractive. By her extensive description of her outfit, you can infer that she puts a lot of effort into her appearance.

Third point of discussion: Is the character likable/interesting so far? Honestly, at this point in the story, most of what you know about her is that she tries way to hard to be "different" and is overly conceited. To most people, these are not very likable qualities. Additionally, this descriptions leaves the reader with no questions about the character - there is no mystery.

Fourth point of discussion: Is the prose written well? No. It's fucking dog shit, let's be honest.

Here is an example of what you do do:

He was not conspicuously tall, his features were striking but not conspicuously handsome. His hair was wiry and gingerish and brushed backward from the temples. His skin seemed to be pulled backward from the nose. There was something very slightly odd about him, but it was difficult to say what it was. Perhaps it was that his eyes didn't seem to blink often enough and when you talked to him for any length of time your eyes began involuntarily to water on his behalf. Perhaps it was that he smiled slightly too broadly and gave people the unnerving impression that he was about to go for their neck.

- Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy

Let's break down the primary traits:

not conspicuously tall

striking but not conspicuously handsome

wiry, gingerish hair brushed backward from his temples

skin seemed to be pulled backward from the nose

something slightly odd

doesn't blink often

smiled to broadly

creepy expression

Discussion Questions:

How is this different from My Immortal?

What questions does this description raise?

How would you rewrite the passage from My Immortal to be more like the passage from HGTTG?

How would you write a description of your main character based on what you learned from this post?

What is the definition of "net zero information?"

[buckyhoney-library]

nsfw alphabet, b.b

A/N: so sorry it took so long! hope you enjoy! sebastians & nomad!steve should be out sometime this week(end)!

reblogs/likes/feedback are greatly appreciated & highly encouraged

However, do NOT repost/steal ANY of my fics on my blog!

Warnings: 18+, language, smutty thoughts, sorry for any missed typos!

chris evans nsfw alphabet

A = Aftercare (What are they like after sex)

bucky takes aftercare so seriously! he makes sure that you have everything that you need and you're taken care of first. showering you in praises, holding you close, getting you water or snacks- he is at your beck and call.

B = Body Part (Their favorite body part on themselves and on their partner)

thighs. thighs. thighs. He loves laying between them with his head resting on your stomach. His fingers tracing patterns on your skin- peppering kisses on the inside. bucky's arms are hooked around them while he is giving you head, rubbing small circles on the outside.

bucky has grown to love his vibranium arm, because of how much you love it. he has changed arm usage from a weapon to a useful tool in every situation. being able to cool it and playing with temperatures, pinning you down- making sure you go nowhere- or even being able to cause it to vibrate.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum)

he loves to paint with his cum. as much as he LOVES to cum inside you and make you hold it- there is something so pretty with his cum plastered on your back or on your tummy. "you look so pretty with my cum on your thighs," bucky is especially fond of watching it drip down your breasts or leak down your thighs. bucky just stares in awe of how it glistens against your skin.

D = Dirty Secret (What do they secretly want)

he wants you to praise him. bucky lives off of praise and when you whimper how good he's making you feel or how he's such a good boy? it throws him over the edge, encouraging him to go faster and harder. he'll never ask for them, but when you start hyping him up, fuck he enters a state of nirvana.

E = Experience (Do they know what they are doing?)

1940's bucky as we all know was very experienced but after eighty years of nothing? he needs a little help regaining his confidence, but man will he practice and have no problems asking for help. he'd be a little embarrassed of cumming early or not being able to satisfy like he used too, but bucky watches porn and experiments like no tomorrow, catching up on all the new toys/techniques/positions etc.

F = Favorite Position (Self-explanatory)

bucky's favorite position would be cowgirl or where you're laying on your side, so he could hold you. cowgirl because he gets the perfect view of your body and everything about it.

with an honorable mention of missionary- but missionary with your legs in the air spread for all can see. if he's feeling a little spicy, he'll press on your lower abdomen, adding extra pressure.

G = Goofy (Are they serious during sex or goofy

BOTH. There is a time and a place for serious, rough, passionate sex (and boy does he enjoy that), but for the most part, Bucky wants you to feel good and he wants to learn- which means there will be some mishaps and failed moments, but he loves those moments just the same.

H = Hair (Are they well-groomed?)

he is well kept and clean. bucky isn't hairless, but he does make sure that everything is trimmed up and clean.

J = Jack Off (Do they masturbate?)

bucky only does when you're away or he's gone for a mission. when you're home, he has no problem telling you he's in the mood. when he does masturbate, it is to your pictures/videos you've sent or through facetime/phone calls. he doesn't watch porn unless that is the only option or he is looking for new things to try with you.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

oh boy does he have loads of kinks! bucky loves praise (receiving or giving)! during the more passionate and rough sessions, he is into degrading (but not too crazy) innocence kink. if you have met after his second sexual awakening? god, how he loves to ruin you. he loves the idea that he gets to teach you and that you're at his mercy. ice play/warming (idk what the word is) he loves when you call him sarg does this man have a filthy sarcastic mouth. dirty remarks of comments that leave his mouth- god, it's enough to you off in seconds.

L = Location (Favorite place to do it)

he is a traditional man at heart, so he loves the bedroom. bucky gets to be as loud as chooses and go as long as he wants without the fear of someone walking in or interrupting.

M = Motivation (What turns them on or gets them going?)

leggings. jeans. short shorts- anything that enhances your thighs or when you shoot back firey/witty comments matching his energy. The more traditional turn on's as well, suggestive comments, touching his chest letting it fall to his belt, lingering kisses on his lips and neck. "it's like you're begging me to fuck you silly,"

N = No (Something they will not do. Turnoffs.)

nothing with bodily fluids (other than saliva or cum) & i don't think he'd be fond of being too open in public- he's a private guy, but he doesn't mind the simple pda and light touches.

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

okay let me tell you- bucky loves getting head. your lips make him cum faster than anything else. "open wide, darling" he loves the ability to do it virtually anywhere (privately of course) and the quick clean up-but he mostly loves watching you take his length completely, hitting the back of your throat. "fuck, such a good girl taking all of me," hearing you moan into him and gag makes him go FERAL. bucky isn't a head pusher, but he does grip your hair.

bucky does love going down on you too. his cock throbs at the sight of your legs shaking and squirming. the sounds you make encourage him more, but he doesn't stop when you cum- he licks up every last drop of you. "im not stopping, so i'd stop moving if i were you," he'll occasionally pop his head up to make sure that he's doing everything right and you're enjoying yourself- the last thing he wants is for you to fake it (which only happened when he first re-entered the dating world)

P = Pace (Are they fast or rough? Or slow and sensual?)

there is a time and place for everything. bucky loves sensual sex because he feels the most connected to you and he has been without physical/emotional connection for so long that it's become a must. it is also where he feels the most control and the best, when he can be 100% vulnerable- something never thought he could do.

fast and rough is for those needy moments where he can't get his hands off of you- complete feral mode. when you've been teasing him relentlessly and he needs to remind you who's in charge. those nights are when the kinkiest of kinks come to play.

Q = Quickies (Their opinions on quickies rather than regular sex)

quickies are reserved for dinner parties, group outings, etc. where you look too good and he can't keep his hands off of you. "i wanna see if you taste as good as you look". quickies usually consist of fast rough sex that leaves bruises or marks. they also mainly consist of giving/receiving head.

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

oh does he! he has almost ninety years of sex trends/toys/etc to catch up on. it will be the middle of the night and you'd be fast asleep only to be woken up by him shaking your arm and going "baby, we have to try this!"

bucky isn't a risk-taker in the sense of public and potentially getting caught, he is a risk-taker in the sense that he is willing to try anything once.

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

bub is a super-soldier. his stamina outlasts yours by HOURS. you'd be panting and lying sideways and bucky would be ready for the next round and you'd have to tap out. he would chuckle and hold you, teasing you about how you can't last. "can't handle this cock? i thought you said you could go all night?"

T = Toys (Do they own or use toys on themselves or partners?)

bucky has a whole drawer dedicated to the greatest quality toys. "only the best for you, dollface." he loves seeing how far he can push you with the vibrators. tying the vibrator to your clit and watching you be sent over the moon. bucky wouldn't be too crazy about using toys on himself, but he isn't opposed to being handcuffed (or pegged)

U = Unfair (How much do they like to tease?)

BIGGEST TEASE in the galaxy. Touching you, grazing your heat, kissing your neck, rubbing the inside of your thigh, (stuffing a vibrator inside you while you're on the phone), or whispering dirty things in your ear- but God forbid if you tease him back. there will be hell to pay if you try teasing him back. "you better rethink your next move, darling," "i think you forgot who's allowed to tease who."

V = Volume (How loud are they? What sounds do they make?)

bucky is pretty quiet, with the exceptions of grunts and whimpers. His mouth is filthy and he dirty talks like there is no tomorrow! he is also a cocky little shit and sarcastic- which doesn't stop in the bedroom. "your cunt feel so good around me," "open your eyes, i want you to watch as i ruin you" "look at you, you're soaked for me"

W = Wildcard (Random headcanon for your character)

cockwarming. babe lives for cockwarming. early morning lazy sex, but too lazy to pull out of you. you'd be laying on your side with your leg over his, with his cock buried inside of you. "no, honey, just stay" he would mumble with his head resting in the cook of your neck, placing small kisses on your neck, but falling back asleep.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants)

baby, that serum did wonders. bucky is packing that seven to eighter. his cock would poke through your tummy and he won't stop talking about it for weeks.

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

HIGH. VERY HIGH. he is ready whenever and wherever the time calls.

Z = ZZZ (How quickly do they fall asleep afterward?)

bucky's stamina is so high that he probably is starving. he would perform aftercare for you, but once you'd have cared for- he is standing naked in the kitchen making a sandwich.

[gavin-plz-call-me]

i saw you did an nsfw alphabet for wannabe challenge so i was wondering if you could do one for tears of themis? i'd love to see one for artem

Hell yeah, alphabets are the only nsfw stuff I'm good at writing

AO3

Artem NSFW Alphabet

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

-Stills inside/beside you for a moment while you both catch your breath, then he��s combing through your hair, peppering your body with loving kisses.

-Has wet wipes/tissues to help clean you up at arm's length, so if let’s be honest, when you whine about not wanting to leave his side just yet, he can help you clean up.

-If you’re still clingy after a while, this man will carry you to the bathroom to get the rest of the way cleaned up.

-If you find yourself in a more dominant role in the bedroom sub Artem? It’s more likely than you think be prepared to pepper that man with so much love and care.

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

-His favorite body part of himself is his eyes. They’re a nice color, but I don’t think he thinks about his appearance too much.

-As for you, would it be cliche to say your brain?

-While your beauty was what attracted him first, your mind is what really sealed the deal.

-Your mouth is a close second, because it helps you voice your thoughts in that beautiful voice of yours and, I mean, if you wanted to give him a blow job too he wouldn’t be complaining…

-Is an ass man.

C = Cum (Anything to do with cum basically… I’m a disgusting person)

-Is hesitant on deciding where to cum.

-He thinks cumming anywhere in/on you would not be a very pleasant experience for you.

-But in the heat of the moment, he’ll probably end up cumming inside you if he’s wearing protection, or on your thighs/ass if he’s not.

-When he cums, whether it be in you or on you, he’s grabbing you a tissue when he comes down from his high to clean you up.

-If you swallow his cum he’ll be a little disgusted, but a lot turned on.

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

-Has masturbated in his office after you’ve left on multiple occasions.

-Sometimes the perfume you were wearing was extra enticing, sometimes what you were wearing made you look extra hot, and sometimes your presence alone is enough to get him hot and excited.

-Is mostly ashamed about the times he did it before you two were dating because it felt like an intrusion of your privacy.

-Once Celestine came to his office right after he finished and he was so mortified that she’d somehow be able to tell that he did something. She knew something was up because of how much he was blushing, but she didn’t know what exactly

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

-Big old virgin

-I’m not even saying that to be mean plus being a virgin isn’t bad it’s just true.

-Sure, his lack of experience may be a bit of a hindrance at first, but he’s a clean slate.

-He’s not gonna be doing some weird thing with your clit because a girl he was with before liked that.

-Train him to perfectly pleasure you, and, trust me, he’s a fast learner.

F = Favourite Position (This goes without saying. Will probably include a visual)

-Your first few times together he only did missionary, because, while he knew there were other options, he didn’t know how to initiate them.

-As he got more experience, however, he grew to absolutely love doggy style.

-Loves your ass, so it’s an obvious choice. Plus, if he’s extra flustered, he can easily hide it.

-Grips your ass extra hard while kissing your neck and back. If he’s feeling extra brave, expect a few whispers about how good you feel.

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

-He has his goofy moments, but most of the time he’s 100% serious.

-Whether it be because he’s concentrating on learning how to pleasure you correctly, or, when he’s gained a bit of experience, just concentrating on both of your pleasure.

-I feel like as you guys get closer, however, an awkward moment may turn into a brief bout of giggles shared between the two of you before continuing.

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

-Shaved himself completely when you two started dating.

-Was convinced you’d be disgusted by any hair down there. My poor insecure baby

-When he gets more comfortable around you, he’ll let it grow out, but he still trims it to keep it neat.

-Carpets match the drapes.

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

-Is a whore for a sexy, romantic atmosphere.

-I’m talking rose petals, candles, and a couple of glasses of non-alcoholic wine.

-Wanna have the most romantic love-making session imaginable? Set all of that up for him instead of the other way around.

-He’ll be so in love with you at that moment he’ll have no choice but to give you the best orgasms you’ve ever had.

J = Jack Off (Masturbation headcanon)

-Before meeting you, he jacked off maybe once or twice a week, and it was more of something he had to do than something he wanted to do.

-When he met you, he thought you were the most attractive person he’d ever seen, so his sex drive and, naturally, his masturbation sessions increased.

-Increased to every other day, maybe every day. He tried to not think of you during these times as he felt it was an invasion of privacy emphasis on tried.

-After finally getting together with you, his sessions have decreased back down to once or twice a week.

K = Kink (One or more of their kinks)

-Likes having sex in his office, but that’s the most public space he’ll do it in.

-Also loves it when you’re slightly dominant on him.

-Doesn’t want to do any of the more kinky stuff, tying him or you, depending on his mood with a tie is about as far as he’ll go.

-But just take charge, he loves it.

L = Location (Favourite places to do the do)

-Can’t go wrong with the good old fucking in bed. It’s easy, comfortable, and you guys can take as long as you want.

-Get him riled up at work by wearing something that beautifully shows of your ass, or make sure he knows you’re wearing that pair of panties you know he loves or, fuck it, no panties at all he’ll polietly ask you into his office so he can fuck your brains out.

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

-Loves when you assert yourself, especially at work.

-Get all confident during a trial because you know you’re going to win? That’s all the motivation he needs.

-Does not help his productivity at all, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

-Expect to fuck after a trial, extra hard if you won.

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

-No threesomes/group sex.

-It’s not even because he’ll get jealous okay maybe a bit of that but you were his first and only. Everything he’s learned about sex has been about specifically pleasuring you, he wouldn’t know where to begin when having sex with other people.

-He’s more than content with you being his one and only.

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

-Not skilled at the beginning like all things sexual, but he’s a fast learner.

-Good communication is key here, as it is in all aspects of sex with Artem. Guide him to where you want to be pleasured, praise him when you really like what he’s doing, and give him some delicious moans and he’ll be a pro at fucking you with his tounge alone in no time.

-Is too shy to ask for you to go down on him, and will insist you don’t have to when you try to initiate it.

-Ignore him and do it, the noises you draw from him are absolutely worth it.

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

-Starts off at a weird middle ground sort of pace, not fast and not slow.

-Is fond of slow and sensual when he grows more experienced, but will occasionally get rough with you.

-That usually happens when he gets a bit too jealous of a guy who got a bit too close to you for your liking.

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

- doesn’t really have a choice in the matter at the beginning, mr. 30 seconds (sorry Artem)

-For real, he prefers longer love-making sessions, but if you’re teasing him in the office a quickie will ensue.

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

-Grows more confident the more the two of you have sex.

-He does like fucking in his office, so he likes a bit of risk, but there being too many people in the office, or the chance of Celestine walking in at anytime, Artem would much rather feign working on a case and take you home.

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

-At first, like most virgin boys, his stamina is basically nonexistent.

-Let him take his time, he’ll get to fucking you until the sun rises in no time at all.

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

-Has never thought about getting one for himself when his hand does the job well enough.

-Is very open to using toys on you in the bedroom, especially when he’s feeling insecure about his ability to please you which happens often, scream his name and make him forget those insecurities.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

-Not a teaser in the slightest.

-You want something specific in the bedroom? He’s already doing it, you barely have to ask.

-On the flip side, sort of loves it when you’re unfair to him.

-Just barely touch him and stop at the brink of his orgasm, he gets a sick sort of pleasure from that.

-It also helps him gain more control over himself in the bedroom, so it’s a win-win.

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

-May try to stay quiet, after all, in all the porn he’s watched which isn’t a lot because I feel like watching it makes him feel uncomfortable the man is always basically silent.

-That does not work out for him, though. He gets so overwhelmed with pleasure that he can’t control what his vocal cords are doing.

-Gains a bit more control over it over time, but he realizes you like his moans, so he stops trying to keep them at bay.

W = Wild Card (Get a random headcanon for the character of your choice)

-Is a total switch.

-Can be pretty dominant at some times see his atmospheric card

-But I can totally see him wanting you to dom him sometimes. Loves seeing you dominate the court, if you bring that energy to bed, oh boy is he like putty in your hands.

X = X-Ray (Let’s see what’s going on in those pants, picture or words)

-He’s of average girth and slightly above average length. Has a nice, thick vein that runs the length of his penis.

-Uncut.

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

-Has a very active imagination how else would he become such a great lawyer?

-And while that helps him out in his work, anything about you can really set him off.

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

-Is out like a light

-Especially the first few times, his body doesn’t know what hit him.

-But even after a while, he works so hard that the moment he has the chance to fall asleep, his body is taking that chance.

-Make sures to stay up long enough to get cleaned off and help you clean yourself up.

[nyxvuxoa]

NSFW Alphabet

Dean Winchester x F!Reader

T/W: PwP. It's all smut. Detailed talk of smut. Mention of kinks.  A/N: I have never written one of these before, so I thought I’d give it a shot. Gif is made by me. Requests are open.

A = Aftercare

Dean is all about aftercare.

He will shower you with attention after.

He will get you your stuffed animal if you have one, a blanket, a snack, your favorite show.

Needless to say, you will be spoiled.

He will praise you constantly afterwords.

You'll be told what a good girl you are and how you made him feel so good.

Prepare for cuddles, because he's going to want to just hold you for a while.

B = Body part

He loves his cock. Seriously.

He believes he knows how to use it and he really does.

If there is one thing he can be really confident in, it's that.

Other than that, he loves his lips.

On you though, it's your eyes and your hands.

He loves eyes that feel like they are boring into his soul when they look at him.

And he loves how soft your hands hard.

The fact that you are good with them is just a bonus.

C = Cum

He knows you love it, so he's not shy about it.

He will cum on you and in you.

Especially in you if you beg for it.

He loves to cum in you.

He likes seeing it dribble down from your legs.

It's like a small mark of territory on your (or in you),

and especially loves seeing you collect it onto your fingers then licking it

The idea of you licking up his cum in general drives him crazy.

He wouldn't hesitate to cum onto something to watch you clean it up with your mouth.

If he cums on your face, it's always around your lips.

again, so that he can watch you lick at it.

D = Dirty secret

Outdoor sex is a favorite.

Be it in baby, on a dirt road, in a bathroom somewhere.

He likes the idea and risk of getting caught with you.

Which only makes any sort of quickie a little sexier.

He also likes listening to you.

Sometimes he will ask you to masturbate and walk out of view just because he simply wants to listen to you.

This often leads to a mutual masturbation time.

When he asks you to do this, you get extra loud for him and moan his name.

It drives him nuts.

E = Experience

When it comes to experience, Dean knows what he's doing.

Its never been difficult for him to get girls.

So getting laid was never a problem.

He knows every trick in the book and knows how to do them!

Dean is often called the "best night of someone's life" for a reason.

If you are inexperienced, that's okay, he will show you how to do it and how to please with him in mind.

And he will show you how to do it for as long as you need.

F = Favorite position

It's hard to narrow it down.

Dean likes sex in general but if he had to pick it would probably be any variation of the cow-girl position.

This type of position allows him to see all of you while still maintaining all of his control.

He can run his hands over your body and play with every inch of you all while watching.

G = Goofy

Dean's mood comes based off of you.

If you are serious, he's going to be serious.

If you are submissive, he's going to dominate you.

If you are playful and laughing, he's going to try and keep you playful and laughing.

It all depends on how you are responding to him.

H = Hair

Dean is pretty well-groomed.

He's not clean-shaven

but he does keep it cleaned and under control.

I = Intimacy

Dean can be pretty romantic at times.

He's one for wooing a girl.

For you, if he's been seeing you regularly and you aren't just a fling

it can be as simple as flowers and dinner

to the little touches and affections that he showers you with.

He's on to tell you that he loves you

and often, even during sex.

This is partly because he doesn't know if he's always coming home.

So he always wants to make sure you know.

He worships your body and often leaves love marks on it.

Be it fingertip bruises or a hickey, he wants you to know that you are his when you see it.

J = Jack off

When you aren't around, this is obvious.

But he's always thinking about you.

When he's alone in the hotel room, he will use the pictures (or video) he's taken of you on his phone.

Shower time is often spent thinking about you.

And he tries so hard to be quiet, but after some point, his grunts and groans are leaving the bathroom rather loudly.

When he grips himself, it's tightly, to try and make it feel like how tight you get around him.

He often fucks his hand hard and fast and imagines you taking in all of his length and width with such a deep need for him.

He likes to think about you worshiping his cock.

In the end, he finishes and imagines you taking all of his cum, preferably inside you.

K = Kink

Dean is actually a pretty kinky guy, but he never really viewed himself as kinky, it was pretty normal for him.

He very Dom. Loves to be in control of you. Especially in bed.

Bondage is always a bonus.

His favorite thing though, he has loves to have sex with you in front of mirrors because he loves to see every bit of you and watch his cock going in and out of you.

If you are willing to lick his cum off a mirror, he'd probably marry you.

He's got a bit of a daddy kink too. He likes the connection that comes with it and how you depend on him. Finds it actually to be pretty intimate.

L = Location

Dean actually doesn't have a favorite location.

He's constantly moving around a lot, so it never crosses his mind.

What matters is that he's with you!

That is really all he wants.

So I guess it's safe to say that you are his favorite location.

M = Motivation

Be verbal with him!

Seriously, praise him.

Tell him how good he feels, how much you love how he fills you, that you need to feel him cum.

This will drive him crazy!

Bite at your lip, he is always watching you when you do that.

Wear something just for him and something that he knows is just for him.

Be naked for him when he gets him.

Naked and kneeling for him.

This really brings out the dom in him.

He'll take control immediately.

N = No

Anything Dean does to you, has to be consensual.

Now, Demon Dean, that is a different story.

But Dean, he's not going to hurt you without consent.

He won't abuse you.

He follows the safewords.

While he will degrade you for a degradation kink, he won't degrade your body because he loves it.

He likes to hear you in pain, but only a good kind of pain. If he feels he's hurting you in a way that you don't like or didn't agree to, he will stop.

He will always stop when he needs to and take care of you!

O = Oral

If you are giving him oral sex, he loves it.

Like the man is easy to please, crawl under that table while he's doing research on a case and he will happily let you distract him.

Giving you oral sex is a little more of a treat for you.

He loves to taste you, especially if you taste like fruit or sweet.

He will take his time on you, go slow, his tongue will go over every little bit of your pussy.

He will suck on your clit.

And he will slide his fingers in while he does it.

And if you cum, he will keep going or he's going to stick his cock in you.

Either way, you won't be done.

P = Pace

His pace depends on the mood of the sex.

Sometimes he's going to be quick and rough, slamming into you until the headboard is smacking into the wall and you are screaming for him to not stop.

Other times he's going to be slow and take his time.

He's going to cherish those moments.

He wants you to feel every bit of him as slow as possible until you are begging him to fuck you harder and faster.

Q = Quickie

Quickies are never out of the question.

And they actually happen pretty often.

If Sammy goes out for food: quickie.

Before leaving for a hunt: quickie.

Shower in the morning: quickie.

Get the picture? He loves your body and wants it all the time.

R = Risk

He can be kind of experimental in general.

but with you, it's all about what you.

if you want to try something new, he will do it.

Sex in Baby? He'll drive somewhere nice.

Wanna fuck in the bar bathroom after drinks? He'll lead the way.

Wanna play with some rope and a kife? He'll make a run out to the car.

S = Stamina

This boy has all the stamina!

He can keep going and going for hours.

The only time he's going to stop is to hydrate and get a snack.

This also includes taking care of you, cause he can't keep going if you aren't taken care of.

T = Toys

Dean doesn't really own toys, mostly because he doesn't have a place to keep them.

But he will use what he has on hand if that is your thing.

Are you up for some cable ties, rope, or even some knife play?

If so, then he's your man.

If you bring toys though, he will use them on you.

Not himself, though you may be able to tie his wrists to the bed every once in a while.

If he uses a dildo or a vibrator on you, prepare to be teased about it.

“Aww, Buttercup, what's this? I bet nothing feels as good my cock.”

U = Unfair

Dean can be a bit of a tease.

He likes to get you worked up.

Especially until you are begging him to fuck you.

And trust me, he wants to hear you beg for it.

V = Volume

He's loud if you are loud.

He likes to match your volume.

Dean is a very auditory kind of guy, it's not as enjoyable for him if he can't hear you.

He wants to hear you moan and beg.

And in return, he will groan, moan, and tease you.

He doesn't care if someone is around, he wants a reason to make some noise.

W = Wild card

Katoptronophilia is a stable of sex with Dean.

It means he really likes to fuck in front of mirrors.

It's just not about seeing himself, he wants to see himself inside you.

He wants to see his cock sliding in and out of you.

He wants to see your tits when you are a reverse cowgirl on him.

He always wants a way to see your face when he's pushing his cock all the way inside you.

X = X-ray

Dean is very well endowed.

It's thick and long, and the coloring is just perfect.

The groomed hair makes it look even bigger.

I mean, it's really pleasing to the eye.

It's not often you see a photogenic cock, but he's got one and you damn well have pictures of it on your phone.

Y = Yearning

His sex drive is pretty consistent.

It's not difficult for you to turn him on, so you tend to use that to your advantage.

If you have a high sex drive, he will match that too.

He loves a woman that is crazy for him and spontaneous about their sex.

But he also likes routine with it.

Regular sex before bed? He loves it.

Z = Zzz

Falling asleep after sex also depends on the day and the type of sex.

If he's had a long day and the dom in him used you to release that stress, chances are after your aftercare, he will fall asleep with you in his arms.

On other days, he will be wide awake.

That usually means, grabbing a burger and some beer after.

Or round two, if he feels like he could keep going.

Regardless, in the end, he always takes the time to admire you.

He wants to love you and let you know that he loves you.

Even if it means just laying in bed and holding each other naked for a little bit.

[mango-bango-bby]

Mango baby I LOVED you NSFW alphabet for Dabi! IF you are receiving requests (and obviously if you feel like to) could you please do one for Tomu-kun? You don't need to do all of the letters if you don't want to :) Gracias bb!!

♡ Yandere Shigaraki NSFW Alphabet ♡

Of course, darling 💖 I love doing the NSFW alphabet!

(Fem!Darling)

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

Shigaraki doesn’t really know how to take care of you afterwards but he lays in bed with you, cuddling you, telling you how good you are for him and how pretty you are.

“I’m so happy, you’re so good for me”

“You’re so pretty, Y/n, I love you so much”

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

He loves everything about you. He specifically likes your chest. Shigaraki is a boob guy. Doesn’t matter what size they are, he’ll bite them, suck on them, leave hickeys all over your chest. His face is buried in your cleavage almost the whole time he makes love to you.

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

He likes cumming inside of you. He likes the idea of being the only person to get that close to you. The only person to love you that much. He likes too creampie you.

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

It’s not really a secret, but Tomura is a virgin. It’s not truly shocking as he’s never dated or even kissed a woman before. But he doesn’t like to admit he was a virgin before you, he finds it embarrassing. Please tell him he’s doing a good job and that he’s making you feel good, he’s scared he doesn’t make you feel loved.

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

Once again, he’s a virgin. Never even kissed before he took you. His only exposure to romance and sex is anime, video games, and hentai. So you’ll have to show him the ropes or let him figure it out on his own, he’s a fast learner.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying) ♡

Tomura truly doesn’t care about the position. Whatever you want he’ll do. Although, he would prefer to see your face and watch your chest bounce up and down. He likes to analyze your face to see if you feel good, he’s very insecure of himself and he really wants to show you that he can take care of you.

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

He’s not very goofy, he wants to feel good and he wants to prove how much he loves you.

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

You’ll see the natural black hair that grows down there. He doesn’t really groom himself but if you’d prefer it he’d trim or shave his nether regions hair.

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

Tomura’s a little bit of a wild card. He likes to pound fast into you. He wants to feel good and he wants to make you feel good. So the more you cum and the faster he pounds, the better you feel.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon) ♡

Masturbates a fair amount. It’s mostly a way to release stress fro his daily life, if you’d want to help him relive stress, he wouldn’t mind. He’d feel really loved if you wanted to help him out, he’d feel like you actually started loving him.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks) ♡

Tomura has a thing for watching you masturbate and helping you masturbate. He’ll sit you in his lap, covering your hand with his, helping you please yourself. He’s also a nasty boy, he won’t tell you but he really wants you to squirt on him. Like really, really wants you to squirt on him.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do) ♡

Tomura doesn’t take you out, even in front of the league. So always in his room. Sometimes he has you cockwarm him while he sits in his chair and plays video games. If you get horny, he’ll let you start moving while he try’s to focus on his game.

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

You. Just you, in general. You’re so sexy all the time.

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

No sharing. He won’t share you. He also won’t let you use toys, it makes him insecure. Why would you need toys when you have him? Does he not please you enough?

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

Tomura’s more of a receiver than a giver. He really likes when you give him head, it makes him feel special, like you’re trying to impress him and please him. That’s not saying he doesn’t like eating you out. He loves it and he’s good at it. He likes when you cum in his mouth. He’s really, really sloppy when he gives you head.

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

Once again, very fast. He really, really wants to make you proud of him.

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

Tomura doesn’t mind how long you two fuck. He’d love to pound into you for hours if he could but really it’s up to his mood.

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

He would love to try anything as long as he doesn’t have to share you. You can always tell him if you wanna try something new!

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

Tomura doesn’t have an insane amount of stamina but he can last up to about four rounds before he gets too tired. He’d love to go more but it wears him out pretty fast.

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

No. Why would you need toys when you have him? Is he not good enough for you? Is he doing something wrong? It makes him insecure, he’s afraid you’ll like a toy more than you like him.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease) ♡

Doesn’t tease very much. When Tomura wants to make love with you he’ll straight up tell you or start dry humping you.

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

Very loud moaner. He can’t control it. He 100% drools as well, you just feel so good! He can’t help all the loud noises coming out of his mouth!

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

Sometimes he starts dry humping you for no reason, sometimes just to get a reaction out of you.

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

Another reason he’s more insecure, is he’s slightly shorter than the average length. He makes for that in girth, though.

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

Tomura doesn’t have a super high sex drive but sometimes he looks at you and gets really hard for no reason. He doesn’t know why.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards) ♡

Tomura falls asleep fairly quickly and easily. If you play with his hair, he’ll be out like a light. He usually falls asleep with his head in between your boobs with his arms around your waist.

[keilemlucent]

tiles & released tension

(r18+)

gang orca | sakamata kugo x reader

continuation of this fic 

word count: 2.2k

the cycle of lust 

warnings: fem reader, monsterfucking, weird tongue, weird dicks, marking, mouthfucking, heat cycles, 

commission for @baroque-baby!!! thank u so much!!!!!!! 💗💗💗

a/n: wow here it is!! the second of the two comms :’’^) enjoy some more... Monster fucking esque stuff AND heat cycles!!!! enjoy y’all :’’^)

|||||||||||||||||||||

Despite how physically demanding the overall experience of Kugo’s rut was, you were well taken care of. Beyond that, even. He spared no expense, forgot no detail, and left no need or want unattended.

He was a dutiful lover despite his carnal hunger.

...

You vaguely knew when it was day and night. Your temporary home had large, arching windows and skylights that let sunbeams in to bend against the rippling pool. You knew when it was bright outside, though the exact time of day didn’t seem to matter much to Kugo or you.

That ‘morning’ (whenever you awoke, it was light outside), you’d woken up in the pool, tucked against Kugo’s chest in the lapping, gentle current of the water. It was always a bit scary, waking up being naked and half-submerged.

Yet, you were always mentally-reminded that no harm would come to you. Drowning? Absolutely not. Kugo was literally holding you. If any other danger entered a twenty-meter vicinity, you were sure Kugo would be ready to crush the threat instantly.

But, there were no threats. A peaceful courtyard that let in nice light during the evening with lots of pretty flowers and landscaping.

In some of your more fucked out and fucked up moments, arms braced against the wet tile as Kugo reamed you for the umpteenth time, you found yourself dazing off at the reflections and colors as you blinked back overstimulated tears.

Yet, that morning, you’d woken up without a writhing cock in you. Though it was close by and ever-hard, just as always.

“Mornin’,” You yawned, stretching to pop a kiss onto Kugo’s cheek. His chest rumbled out a sound too low for you to hear, a new, cetacean-based feature he’d developed over his rut. “Sleep well?”

“Very.”

Considered how much cum he spilled into you and the surrounding pool the night prior, he had to be exhausted, right?

To some extent.

He was a pro hero, with the stamina to match. Not to mention most of your days were spent in the pool of perfectly treated and temperate water, allowing Kugo to be in his most optimal state whether he was fighting villains or fucking your brain out.

You weren’t complaining.

Once again, dutiful.

Kugo adjusted you as he needed, a low growl pitching from his throat.

You ended up on your knees, skin scraping the tiles on the submerged bench below. It was a favored position, allowing the upper half of your body to be up and out of the water. Though you had, several times, gotten a mouthful or noseful of water due to Kugo breeding you (so fucking well) in the pool, it wasn’t preferred.

(Most of the time.)

Kugo rumbled as he floated in the water behind you, thickly-taloned hands coming to rest on your hips under the water, “You’re so beautiful in the mornings, you have no idea.”

He’d been waxing more since all of this started. In the moments he wasn’t insatiably worked up by his primal state, he was lavishing you in compliments and kindness as you’d never seen.

Kugo fished around in a nearby float basket, pulling away with a fancily crafted bottle of lube. It was a light lavender, oil-based, and heavenly smelling as he poured a bit of it on his hand.

Considering how long and sharp his nails had become, it was far too dangerous for him to prepare you like he once did.

Good thing his cock was tapered.

You could feel the bump of it against your ass, almost slivering against your hot skin under the water. Kugo slicked it down with the lube as he grabbed another item from the basket— a small bullet vibrator, waterproof and strong.

You beamed as he laid it on the pool deck by your arms.

“Am I allowed to use that?” You asked, keeping your voice teasing and sweet, still scratchy from sleep.

Kugo grunted another primal noise.

Consider it’d been several hours since he’d had his fill of you, he was bound to be insatiable. He tended to get a bit more... animalistic when he got so needy for you.

Social conventions had been mostly negated during the weeks of Kugo’s rut, it was a necessity. Not to mention that they were difficult to even think about with the distractions at your disposal.

The tip of Kugo’s cock, slick and squirming, teased as your entrance as he settled behind you, towering over your bent frame. The water sloshed around both of you, though neither of you minded.

You were far more focused on the way the appendage was teasing from your clit to your leak cunt without rest.

Laying your head on your arms, you arched your back at an even harsher angle, just barely grinding against Kugo as he prepared you as much as his cock would allow.

(It wasn’t entirely necessary considered how often he’d been stuffing you full— your cunt was practically shaped to him by that point.)

His chest bore down on your back, heat radiating off of him as he pressed you into the tiles and pool wall. You swallowed as his hand grabbed around your throat and jaw, pulling your head to the side so his long, (also) tapered tongue could lave along your shoulders.

“You always taste so good in the mornings,” Kugo spoke low and rolling. You squeezed your eyes shut, rolling your hips back to bump against his own.

As much as he fluffed you up verbally, you could feel how he was holding himself back from wrecking you.

His talons bit into the meat of your hips, his tongue licked its way to your ear, gooey saliva mixing with the water and sweat against your skin. His deep breaths, coming harsher each minute, made his chest bear down on your own, flattening you to the til, though not fully squishing you.

“Kugo,” You spoke in a singsong voice, grabbing the vibrator and flicking it on. “Why don’t you fuck me like you mean it instead of being polite? I thought we were past formalities.”

He went still, aside from the twirl of his thin cockhead at your entrance.

“I mean,” You were pressing your luck, but that was part of the fun. “I know you want to breed me so well that I leak all day, so why not get to it?”

You hummed, just for a moment, before Kugo was pressing you down, hard, squeezing the air out of your lungs in the best possible way.

“Is that really what you want?” Kugo growled, the sound shaking in several different pitches as he fucked into your cunt in one clean stroke.

You choked on your breath, scrambling against the wet tile as the vibrator slipped out of reach into the water.

Taking him at full length in one go wasn’t impossible, but the stretch of it all at once ached. His cock pressed and writhed in your cunt as he held his hips steady, shaking slightly.

You took a shuddering breath as his fat tongue rolled over your shoulders.

“How badly do you want to be ruined?”

If you could’ve melted into the water of the pool, you would’ve.

Part of you wanted to give one last fiery retort, but you were far too mushy to muster it up as Keigo thrust fully once more. He nearly bottoms out, you figure, considering the way his cock twists against your inside, pressing at your knot of nerves.

You moaned, lips parting and falling open.

Kugo greedily took the opportunity to further crane your neck, his thick tongue dipping into your mouth, snaking along the backs of your teeth.

You were caught up in it all, the sensations seemingly so fresh after sleep. Each new slam of Kugo’s hips, the taste of him filling your mouth, and the sounds of slapping water all felt magnified.

Whining, you bucked back into his thrusts, feeling the slow expansion of his cock inside you as Kugo grew ever closer.

His throaty laugh vibrated into your own mouth, the sound almost too loud for you to fully catch as your bones rang in your flesh with the tone He took your shock to push his tongue further, deeper into your mouth, licking at the back your tongue and molars.

It was almost too much, as oxygen became a luxury.

Except, Kugo grounded you easily, the hand on your hips and the pressure of his body above yours tethering you to reality as he fucked you in earnest.

Each slap of his body against your own ignited a new wave lust in your, slick spilling down your inner thighs and into the water. Your clit ached, helplessly ignored under the pseudo-surf. You didn’t have the mind in your to try and clamor for the lost vibrator, your mind swimming far too deep to think that far.

Instead, your ground back into Kugo all your could, your noises and moans dampened by the tongue throat-fucking you.  

He didn’t seem to mind at all.

You could feel yourself getting fuller and fuller, as impossible as it seemed. Kugo’s cock expanded as it neared climax, pressing at your walls before painting them white and sticky.

The grip on your jaw released, his tongue recoiling from your mouth as his head fell against your shoulder.

“How is this for ‘breeding’ you?” Kugo knew your asked, but asked anyway, chuckling at the way you desperately dripped for more of him.

You nodded, “Very, good. Very—”

Kugo’s pace became rougher.

His hand slipped under your, into the water to rub the meat of his palm into your clit in small, insistent circles. The nearby scrap of his claws only served to make you twitch and want more.

“P-Please, more!” You cried out, laying your head onto the tile as his thrusts got rougher, his teeth scraping and sucking at your neck, and his tongue soaking your skin—

And with a few final pressed of Kugo’s hand and you were coming undone for him in time with him absolutely filling you up.

It was filthy in the best possible way.

You sputtered out profanities as you came, Kugo’s hot seed spilling into you in thick, creamy spurts. The heat of it was almost scalding against the temperature of the bathwater.

Kugo kept a firm grip on you, despite the way how his skin had become so slick, fucking you through his long orgasm. It was something to do with his rut, but Kugo tended to spill into you not for seconds, but rather minutes.

It gave you time to come down as his fattened cock filled you.

You went pliant against the pool deck as another spurt of cum filled your core. Kugo was still in the throes of it, grunting every few moments and grinding into your insides. You weakly pressed back, shaking with your own breath.

Kugo’s hand pressed into your stomach, feeling the bulge of his own cock and cum filling you. The touch only strengthened your own sensations, the mix of it, and your full womb causing your eyes to roll back in your skull.

And then, it all slowed.

You were both still for a moment, the remnants of your movement told in the slosh of the pool and its harsh ripples.

Kugo gently turned your face to his, smoothing back some of your hair and dropping a few deliberate kisses against your cheeks, “Are you alright?”

You nodded, blissed-out and fucked out, “Very alright.”

It was all the response you could manage.

You couldn’t help but feel a bit disappointed as Kugo pulled out of you, an odd rush of water and fertile nut mixing below you. The absence of the stretch of his cock left you wanting.

But, Kugo was a dutiful mate, even in this state.

He carefully lifted you in his arms, carrying you out from the breeding pool to a nearby room.

It was one of the rooms you slept in, that of a handful of others. This one had a rounded ceiling and high windows, cream-colored walls and a large, water-proofed lounging bed.

Kugo gently set you down on it, grabbing a blanket-sized towel and wrapping you in it as fully as he could.

He tended to focus on your physical needs after fucking, especially when you two had been doing it so much. You’d never complain about how there was almost always a perfectly chilled water bottle in your hand and a bottle of massage oil at the ready.

Still, you wanted him—

That was why you were there, after all.

Kugo had stepped out, undoubtedly gathering up the supplies to tend to your body as he knew you needed.

You flickered your gaze to a nearby mirror, taking in your own visage.

Clearly, you’d been through the wringer. Dark circles punched under your eyes, your skin pruned from so long in the sweet-smelling water, and a smattering of rakes from Kugo’s teeth laid across your shoulders.

You looked like hell.

...

You smiled.

Kugo walked back in a moment later, just as you were standing up, wobbling on your jellied legs.

He was quick to wash to you, pulling you up against his slick body (as his cock began to re-harden again), “Sit down, love, please. I can get you anything you need.”

“You can,” You beamed up at him, craning on your tiptoes and pulling him down by his neck. “And guess what I need?”

He rumbled out a laugh, undoubtedly knowing where your words were going based on your suddenly tender affections, “And what's that?”

“You.”

[blueskrugs]

I Wanna Know You | Matthew Tkachuk

I heard this hannah montana song in a store at the beginning of december, immediately thought of Matthew, and then spent a week with it stuck in my head and trying to plan it out. sorry this isn’t a request, but I needed a break from writing them to remember why I loved writing. yikes. anyway, apparently I’m still incapable of writing fics that aren’t based on or inspired by songs. maybe one day...

length: 2.4k words

When I saw you over there, I didn't mean to stare But my mind was everywhere, I wanna know you

Matthew Tkachuk was magnetic. He’d always been like that, loud, the center of attention, lighting up whatever room he’d walked into. He thrived when all eyes were on him, and he lived to make people smile. That’s where you met him, at a party just before the start of the season, in Gio’s backyard on a night that wasn’t quite summer and not quite fall, either.

You were friends with Johnny's girlfriend, and she’d insisted that you come along. She’d told you that no one would care, and she had been right, because no one had paid you any mind other than asking what you wanted to drink. Besides, looking around, you were pretty sure other people had brought plus-ones or plus-twos and threes. 

Matthew was holding court in a corner of the yard, always with a shitty beer in his hand and a small crowd of people around him. Your eyes kept being drawn to him, not just for the way whatever stories he was telling periodically sent up peals of laughter into the night sky, but for the way his face lit up when he talked.

He caught you in the kitchen when you were grabbing water. 

“I don’t know you,” he said bluntly. You were taken aback. “I mean-” Matthew shook his head. “I’m Matthew,” he said, holding out the hand that wasn’t holding yet another Bud Light. 

“I know,” you said before you could stop yourself. 

Matthew laughed. “You a fan?” 

“Would you stop talking to me if I told you I were an Oilers fan?” You mostly just wanted to see what he would say. 

Matthew wrapped an arm around your shoulders and dragged you back outside. “Nope.”

There's a mark above your eye, you got it in July Fightin' for your sister's reputation

It was well after dark, and you’d had more than a few drinks. Which probably amounted to whatever courage it took to reach out and poke Matthew in the forehead where he was sitting next to you at a bonfire someone had built. 

“Ow,” Matthew said, rubbing his forehead. You hadn’t even poked him hard enough to leave a mark, but there was something there, a cut just above his eyebrow that had barely healed all the way.

“How’d you get that?” you asked.

On your other side, Noah snorted. Matthew flipped him off. “I’ll have you know that I was defending my little sister’s honor.” Noah laughed outright now. “Okay, she and Luke Hughes were arguing about something dumb down at the Lake this summer, and I stepped in.”

“And?” you prompted, because you could tell the story didn’t end there. 

“And I wasn’t paying attention where I was walking and fell off the end of the dock and hit my head.” Matthew somehow managed to look sheepish while grinning as the group sitting around the fire burst out laughing. He rubbed at his forehead again wryly. “My mom says it’s gonna scar,” he added. 

“Maybe leave out the falling off a dock part next time you tell the story,” you told him. 

Matthew grinned at you and winked. You settled back into your lawn chair and took a sip of your drink, watching as Matthew launched into another tale of something that happened at the lake over the summer, thinking that you could get used to this.

Matthew kissed you for the first time later that night, alone in the hallway as the party was winding down, still tasting a little of beer, and, yeah, you could definitely get used to this. 

And valentines are lame So you bring me flowers just for no occasion

The first time Matt brought you flowers for no reason, you were suspicious. It wasn’t your birthday, or anniversary, or Valentine’s Day– and he hadn’t missed any of those things, either. But there they were, waiting on the table in your apartment when you got home from work. You knew they were from Matthew because the card had one of his dumb cheesy jokes on it, but you still didn’t know why they were from Matthew. You snapped a picture and sent it to him, simply asking, “what did you do?”

Matt called you instead of responding. 

“What did you do?” you asked again.

“What makes you think I did something?” Matthew asked. You could hear him pouting. 

“Why else would you give me flowers?” You were still a little anxious about it, and Matthew wasn’t exactly helping. “How did you even get them in my apartment, anyway?” The Flames were on a road trip, had flown out to Chicago that morning.

“Used your spare key and dropped ‘em off before I went to the airport this morning,” he said. He sounded a little proud of himself.

“Matthew,” you sighed. “I gave you my spare key for emergencies,” you chided.

“And I needed to give you flowers!”

“Matt!”

“Okay, I just-” Matthew cut himself off. “My dad used to send my mom flowers from longer road trips, and I always thought that would be something I would do one day.” Matt trailed off, and he sounded hesitant for the first time all conversation.

You reached out and ran your fingers over the petals on one of the roses in the bouquet. They were pretty, and it was cute that Matthew had wanted to give you flowers, had thought of it while getting ready for a road trip in the middle of a busy season. 

“You couldn’t have at least put them in a vase?” you asked, grinning, though Matthew couldn’t see you.

Matt huffed out a laugh, surprised. “I was running late!”

“Yeah, well, now these poor flowers are half-dead,” you told him, holding your phone between your shoulder and your ear so you could root through your cabinets for a vase to rescue the flowers that were indeed wilting a little.

“Then I’ll just have to send you more,” he said.

“Oh my God, Matthew.”

The flowers kept coming throughout that first season together, with no real rhyme or reason: before some road trips, whether they were over a week or just two days, or when he came home from a road trip, showing up at your door and producing a bouquet with a flourish and a crooked grin. It always meant that Matthew had been thinking of you, no matter where he was.

You smile, nеver shout You stand out in a crowd

As Matthew got older, he had developed a habit of adopting rookies. It was entertaining to watch: Matthew, not really much older than a rookie himself, but with an A on his chest nonetheless, going full big brother-mode on all the kids fresh into the league.

Which is why you were woken up in the middle of the night by a phone call from one of said rookies. You listened to Matthew stumble out of bed and root around for a hoodie in the dark, grumbling under his breath about “idiot kids.”

“What happened?” you asked, still half-asleep.

“Fucking ow,” he said, tripping over one of his shoes. “Fucking Zary got in a fight at a bar or something, I don’t know. He asked me to come pick him up.” Matthew had managed to get matching shoes on his feet, and was now looking for his keys. “I’ll be back with him later if I don’t kill him.”

Matthew did not kill Zary, just drove him home and directed him to the guest bedroom to sleep it off, because he did love his rookies, though he would never admit it to anyone. 

The next morning, Connor was waiting nervously in the kitchen when you both woke up.

“Coffee, kid?” Matt asked.

“I didn’t start the fight!” Connor blurted.

Matthew snorted. “I didn’t ask, but good for you, kid.” He started fiddling with his coffee maker. 

“You’re not gonna, like, yell at me?”

“Do you want me to?”

You laughed softly. “Be nice, Matthew.”

“I’m always nice!” Matthew protested. “And, no, I’m not gonna yell, but you are bag skating after practice for a week,” he told Zary, pointing a fork at him. The piece of fruit he’d had speared on it fell off and hit the floor. “Ah, fuck.”

You're fragile and you're strong A beautiful and perfect combination

For the most part, Matthew didn’t let much bother him. He was good at leaving the game on the ice, not taking anything too personally. He did, however, take his game very seriously. He was always trying to be better, for himself for the team, and he prided himself on becoming a leader in the locker room over the years. He took bad losses to heart, and he was the first to blame himself for any mistakes he made. 

The Flames were having a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad, well, couple of weeks. Okay, maybe you were exaggerating just a little, but it certainly wasn’t pretty. They were losing more than they were winning– they lost every game on a four game road trip, the games they were winning were sloppy, and they were losing ground in the standings. To make matters worse, in the latest game, Matthew had missed an easy goal on an empty net. Yeah, definitely not pretty. 

You made it home before him and waited. 

Matthew slammed the front door when he came in, but there wasn’t a lot of force behind it, like he was too exhausted even for frustration. You had been idly watching an Oilers game because it was on, but you turned the TV off when Matt came into the living room. He wasn’t wearing his suit jacket, his tie wasn’t tied properly anymore, and his dress shirt was rumpled. 

“Oh, babe,” you said. Matthew made a face at you. “Do you want to change or just-”

“Cuddle?” Matt asked.

“Yeah,” you laughed. “Come over here.”

Matt wasted no time in coming over and flopping gracelessly onto the couch with his head on your lap. You ran your fingers through his hair, and he pressed into your hand.

Matthew sighed, long and loud, ending in “Fuck.”

“It wasn’t that bad,” you tried, but you both knew you were lying. 

Matthew opened one eye to glare at you. “I hate this so much,” he said. There was a crease between his eyebrows, and he’d been chewing on his bottom lip. He sat up and pushed his hands through his already messy hair. “I don’t understand what’s wrong, we’re supposed to be a better team than this.”

You really weren’t sure how to comfort Matthew, but you hated seeing him like this. You reached out and took one of his hands, pulling him in for a hug. He slumped against you like his strings had been cut.

“I’m supposed to be better than this,” he whispered, and there it was. Matthew could grin his way through a game, letting chirps and insults roll off his shoulders, but when it came down to it, he would always be worried about being good enough, always wanting to impress everyone. To make people proud.

“Oh, babe,” you said again, but this time your heart broke a little for him. Matthew sighed again. “This is not your fault, you know that. You are good, and you’re a good team. You’ll get through this just fine.”

Matthew huffed like he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t argue with you. You sat quietly in the dark living room for a while, long enough you thought Matthew had fallen asleep. 

“Hey,” you said quietly. Matthew stirred and stretched. “You have a couple days off next weekend. Do you wanna drive out to Banff and do something?”

Matthew perked up immediately. “Can we go dog sledding?”

I like how you are with me In our future history

It was the end of the season, and you were at another backyard party at the Giordano’s. You were idly watching Matthew chase some of his teammates’ kids around. Well, actually, Matt was being chased by some and chasing some others. You weren’t sure how anyone knew who was doing the chasing. The other girls were chatting around you, but you were only half-listening as you watched Matthew scoop up a giggling Tillie Backlund and spin her around.

You couldn’t help but think about how Matthew would be with kids of your own one day. 

“I’m too young for baby fever,” you muttered into your sangria. 

Annica laughed next to you, following your gaze. “He’ll be a good dad one day,” she commented.

“You are not helping!” The other girls were laughing, now, too. 

“Have you two ever really talked about the future?” Meredith asked.

You scoffed. You hadn’t even been together for a year yet. “Not really,” you admitted. 

Your eyes didn’t leave Matthew as he flopped into the grass and let the kids swarm him. And yet. Matthew hadn’t stopped talking about how much he couldn’t wait for you to come down to St. Louis this summer, to really meet his family, to spend time down at the lake with everyone. How much his family was going to love you. 

You’d always dreamed of your future, of a picture-perfect wedding and a few kids and a dog. Growing up, the man of your dreams had always been just that, a dream, but lately when you thought about the future, Matthew was always there. That certainly felt like something important. 

After a few more minutes, Matthew extricated himself from the small mob of kids and made his way over to you, pulling the empty chair next to you close and kissing your temple as he dropped into it. 

“What’re you guys gossiping about?” Matt asked, plucking your glass from your hand and taking a drink. He made a face, but didn’t give it back to you.

“You’re great with all those kids,” Lauren said pointedly. Matthew beamed. 

Your group dissipated a little not long after that, and Matthew tugged you out of your own chair and into his lap. He poked you in the side a couple times.

“You’re awfully quiet.” You made a noncommittal noise. “What’re you thinking about, babe?” he asked.

You nosed at his jawline, pressed a kiss there. “You ever think about having kids?” you murmured.

Matt’s arms tightened around your waist, pulling you closer into him. “Yeah, of course.” He was smiling softly at you. “Oh.” 

You giggled a little. “Just one day,” you added.

Matthew kissed you, just a quick peck. “Yeah, one day,” he said.

One day didn’t feel so far away if you knew it would be Matthew by your side. Maybe you’d be used to his antics by then.

And maybe someday down the road I'll sit back and say to myself, "Yeah, I thought so"

[elverted]

*  knowing  your  partner  well  can  potentially  make  writing  a  lot  easier,  repost,  do  not  r.e.blog.

name :  sera. pronouns :  she / her ,  they / them. preference  of  communication :  at  this  point  smoke  signal,  carrier  pigeon  or  yelling  into  the  void  is  fine  w.  me  but  i  also  enjoy  tumblr  dms / discord  ( though  i  do  tend  to  forget / avoid  answering  them  because  socializing  is  Hard  sometimes :( ) name  of  muse(s) :  jane  ‘ 011 ′  hopper  ( this blog ),  selina  �� catwoman ’  kyle ( @nineprowls ),  dan  torrance  ( @shinedied,  maybe  one  day  his  muse  will  return  from  the  war  but  he  on  hiatus  atm ) experience / how  long  ( months / years ? ) :  lmao  u  make  it  sound  like  a  profession,  but  ig  i’d  count  2013 / 2014  when  i  rlly  started  rping.

best  experience :  would  definitely  be  meeting  @surftendo  back  in  the  twdrpc  mostly  because  we  are  engaged  and  have  been  living  with  each  other  for  the  past  7  years  xoxox  but  other  than  that,  i  love ??  every  like  ‘era’  /  muse  i’ve  taken  up  because  i’ve  always  met  new  people  and  really  have  been  super  lucky  with  always  having  friends / partners  who  are engaged  to  write  w.  me  ♥  oh,  another  thing !  people  who  follow  you  through  different  blogs,  and  are  willing  to  engage  with  you  on  any  muse !

rp  pet  peeves / deal  breakers :  writing  underage  muses  but  being  gross  about  it  ( oversexualization,  sexualization  in  general,  extreme  focus  on  shipping / romance  when  they’re  like  children  --  aging  up  just  to  ship / smut,  etc ),  being  an  elitist  ( in  whatever  form,  either  with  aesthetics,  muse’s  canon,  the  whole  comic / book  >  film / show  bs. ),  toxic  shit  ( cliques,  bullying,  trying  to  collect  people,  etc ),  anon  hate  or  vaguing.  and  godmoding / metagaming / etc.

muse  preferences  fluff,  angst,  or  smut :  given  jane  is  still  a  minor  ( even  though  i  do  think  often  about  her  as  an  adult,  etc )  i  do  not  engage  in  any  s3xu4l  content  on  this  blog  specifically.  i  do  love  angst,  but  also  like  breaking  down  canon  events  in  thread  form,  writing  out  the  actions  characters  take  against  a  partner  is  usually  super  interesting  as  well  as  making  really  sad  plots  :)

plots  or  memes :  it’s  honestly  a  lot  easier  for  me  to  engage  with  someone  with  memes  because  it’s  something  i  can  just  immediately  jump  on  and  run  with.  plotting  is  great,  but  often  times  i  find  a  lack  of  interest  to  actually  discuss  indepth  or  one  party  is  contributing  more  ( and  sometimes  it  isnt  me  tbh  but  i  do  love  coming  up  w.  ideas  we’re  all  just  scared  of  rejection )

long  or  short  replies :  i  can  get  pretty  winded,  but  honestly  i  try  to  make  sure  it’s  necessary  the  length.  though  i  do  try  to  match  at  least  the  paragraphs  of  my  partner  i’ve  been  trying  to  be  okay  with  either  one  reply  shorter  or  one  reply  longer.  just  feeling  the  flow  and  writing  what  i  think  is  appropriate.  quality / having  fun > quantity !

best  time  to  write :  oh boy  it’s  usually  whenever  i  can,  these  days  it’s  either  early  morning  ( 7 - 9 am )  to  like  late  evening  ( 10 - 3am )  but  honestly  the  muse  strikes  when  it  strikes.

are  you  like  your  muse(s) :  in  a  way,  yes.  there  has  to  be  that  initial  connection,  source  to  tap  into  for  me.  though  everyone  can  pretty  much  right  anyone,  i  feel  it’s  more  engaging  for  me  personally  if  i  can  tap  into  a  character’s  feelings.  though  i  can  hardly  relate  to  jane’s  experiences  in  the  lab,  i  can  understand  the  feelings  and  try  to  tap  into  it  that  way.  i  think  the  muse  i  connected  with  most  has  been  her,  dan  torrance  and  carl  grimes  because  of  their  rough  childhoods  and  having  to  grow  up  in  traumatic  conditions.  writing  them  has  actually  helped  me  throughout  the  years  with  coming  to  terms  w.  my  own  trauma.

Tagged by: @batfall ( love u ! )  Tagging: @surftendo ,  @crscendo ,  @rulebent ,  @ourpaladin / @guiltskate ,  @lightspoke ,  @nancewheelr​ ,  @gentsleuth ,  @gallowes  ,  &  u  since  i  just  wanna  keep  tagging  ppl  <3

[hrina]

In The Ring, Pt. II - Cross

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M WORD COUNT: 7k REQUESTED: highly lol!

hi again! here’s PART 2 of boxer!harry :) thank u all for such a wonderful response on the first part, i can’t explain how much it means to me. i worked really hard on this chapter, so i hope u guys love it! if u do, reblogs and feedback are very much appreciated, and i’ll probably ask for ur hand in marriage in return.

warning: parts of this fic will contain mentions of blood, violence, mild stalking, and sexual content. if any of that makes you uncomfortable, please take care of yourself and keep scrolling <3

u can find the rest of this series on my masterlist, which is linked in my bio! my inbox is also there if you wanna spare a few thoughts about this part. love u guys sm, stay safe out there 💛💛💛

~*~

    January 19, 2021

It’s ten at night, and you’re curled up in bed, scrolling through social media. You should be doing the assigned readings for your anatomy class, but you’re procrastinating. Besides, watching video after video of cute kittens peeking their furry little heads out of cardboard boxes is a much better way to pass the time.

Your relaxation period is interrupted when a notification banner descends from the top of your screen. It’s an unknown number, but the content of the message makes your eyes widen in surprise.

Hi. It’s Harry. I’m at the gym.

You tap on the text immediately, waiting with bated breath as you’re taken to a different app. You chew on your bottom lip for a moment, thumbs hovering over the screen before they begin to type.

Hey! I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

Harry’s reply is short, concise, to-the-point—just like him. Oddly enough, it makes you smile.

Okay. See you soon.

~*~

The first thing that Harry notices when you walk through the door is that you’re slightly out of breath. He’s standing in the middle of the ring, his eyes fixated on the opposite side of the room as you enter. Your hair is tied up in a high ponytail, and you’re wearing a pair of leggings and a tank top under your jacket. Your sneakers squeak against the floor as you stride over to him, fingers wiggling in a friendly wave.

“Hi!” you call out, shooting him a kind smile.

Harry leans against the ropes circling the ring, careful not to put too much of his weight on the barriers lest he flip over and fall to the floor. It’s happened once or twice, and each time, he ended up with a bruised tailbone afterward.

“Hi,” he replies.

You shrug your coat from your shoulders as you draw nearer. “How are you?” you ask, peering up at him curiously.

“Good, thanks,” he says. His fingers toy absentmindedly with the silver cross pendant dangling from his neck. “Er…did you run here?”

“What? Oh, no,” you answer with a breathless laugh. “I drove. But I was hurrying—I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

You’re so fucking sweet. He’s going to throw up.

“It’s alright.” He shrugs. “I don’t mind.”

“Still,” you say, tightening your ponytail with both hands. “You’re going out of your way to do this for me. And while we’re on the subject of that—thank you, again. I really appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Harry says. He slips between the ropes and hops down from the platform. “Shall we start?”

“We shall,” you agree, biting back a teasing smile. “Am I going up against you?”

Despite himself, Harry chuckles. He shakes his head. “Not yet. First, you need to learn the basics.”

“Basics,” you echo, nodding once. “Right.”

He leads you over to the side of the ring, where a pair of punching bags have been strung up near the wall. The arrangement is nothing special—twin leather bags, one brown and one black, filled with sand and stitched together with strong, coarse thread. Reflexively, you reach out, running your fingertips along the black bag and giving it a gentle push. It swings outward before returning back to you. Harry watches you closely, examining the gentle crease between your brows and the slight glaze that smooths over your pupils. He clears his throat quietly, and you seem to snap out of your trance.

“Do you know how to punch?” he asks.

You purse your lips, looking unsure of yourself. “Um…I think so.”

He nods. “Show me, then.”

The blow that you deliver to the bag is weak at best. Harry immediately notices a handful of things that you’re doing wrong. When you pull your arm back and peer up at him, he’s trying his hardest to hold back a smirk.

“What?” You frown.

“Nothing.” He snickers softly, shaking his head again. “It’s just…that was cute.”

“‘Cute’?” you parrot, narrowing your eyes. You scoff good-naturedly, stepping back and holding your arm out in invitation. “You do it, then.”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Gladly.”

The chain hanging from the ceiling rattles when his fist makes contact with the leather. The punching bag itself swings forward in an extraordinary arc before hurtling back in your direction. You gasp when Harry stops it with his palms. He grunts quietly, stilling it before turning around to face you. There’s a small smile playing on his lips, and he’s sure that his eyes are gleaming with a smug sparkle. You just cross your arms over your chest, gazing at him evenly with your chin held high.

“Fine,” you say. “Tell me what to do.”

Harry gets you situated back in front of the bag, standing beside you and studying your posture.

“First of all,” he starts, “you need to make sure that the position of your feet matches the position of your arms.”

“What do you mean?” you ask, shooting him a confused pout.

“Like this—,” Harry reaches for your shoulders before pausing, his fingers only inches away from your skin. “Er,” he clears his throat, fixing you with inquisitive eyes, “is it alright if I touch you?”

You nod wordlessly. Harry swallows down the lump in his throat as his hands close the distance between your bodies. He slants your torso to the side before reaching for your arms, bending them at the elbow so that your fingers—now curled into loose fists—are suspended in front of your face.

“If you’re angling yourself this way,” Harry starts, mimicking your stance, “you need to make sure that your right foot is leading you. But if you stand in the opposite direction—,” he changes sides, adopting a mirror image of his previous position, “—then it has to be your left foot. Got it?”

“Got it,” you say confidently. That same crease is digging into the space between your eyebrows; Harry aches to reach out and flatten it with the pad of his thumb.

“Also,” he says, delicately wrapping his fingers around your wrists, “when you punch, you can’t drop your other hand. Keep it up at all times—you need to guard your face.”

“Guard my face,” you murmur, mostly to yourself. “Okay, cool.”

You throw an experimental punch at the bag, and Harry doesn’t miss the shadow of pain that flashes across your features. His eyes trail down the length of your arm, lingering on your fist. Before you can deliver another blow, he stops you, catching your knuckles in the calloused valley of his palm and halting your movements.

“Keep your thumb on the outside,” he says, peeling your fingers open and freeing your thumb from beneath them. “You’ll break it, otherwise.”

He curls the digits back up, this time so that your hand is settled in the proper arrangement. He then steps back, jerking his head toward the bag and encouraging you to take another swing. “Try it, now.”

The third blow is better than the past two. You beam up at Harry when a promising smack! echoes through the air. He smiles reassuringly at you, nodding his head and tugging at the collar of his t-shirt. “Good. That’s a start.”

“Put me in, Coach,” you tease, bringing your fists up to your face and bouncing playfully on the balls of your feet. Your eyes shimmer as you peek at him from behind your knuckles. Harry presses his lips together to keep himself composed, but he can’t stop the faint snort that slips out of his nose. You laugh cheerfully, dropping your arms back to your sides.

“Okay, so I know how to punch,” you say. “What’s next?”

“There’s four main punches in boxing,” Harry replies. He steadies himself in front of the bag, his left foot extended to provide balance.

“The jab—”

He punches with his left fist, pointed and forceful.

“—the cross—”

He strikes with his right hand, driving the weight of his body into the blow.

“—the hook—”

He curves his arm, angling it accordingly so that he can deliver a hit to the side of the bag.

“—and finally, the uppercut.”

He bends his elbow, scooping upward so that his fist makes contact with the bottom half of the bag. The sand inside shifts audibly as it rattles around, looping in every direction and gathering momentum. Harry turns back to you as it continues to swing in circles, cracking his knuckles loudly and seeking you out.

Your eyes are wide. If he didn’t know any better, he’d think that you look a bit…enthralled. His brow furrows in confusion.

“You alright?”

“Yes,” you say immediately, and he’s taken aback by the breathless quality of your voice. You clear your throat quickly, scratching at your hairline and looking away. “You’re just very…dedicated. That’s all.”

“I’ve got to be,” Harry hums. He turns back to the punching bag and ceases its movements. “This is how I make a living.” His lips quirk up with the hint of a smile. “We can’t all go to medical school and become doctors.”

A weak laugh tumbles from your mouth. “I haven’t even gotten in yet,” you say from behind him.

“But you will,” he murmurs, the reply slipping out before he can weigh it on his tongue. “Without a doubt.”

He pauses when the words finally sink in, his shoulders stiffening and his eyes stamping shut. If you weren’t standing so close, he would have leaned forward and crushed his forehead into the rough leather of the punching bag. His lips mould around unspoken curses as a heavy silence descends upon the two of you.

At last, you finally choke out, “I—thank you, Harry. That’s really nice of you to say.”

“No problem,” he grunts. He steps back, spinning on his heel but refusing to meet your gaze. You’re probably looking at him like that—with soft, glimmering irises and earnestness woven through every cell in your body. If your eyes lock, he knows that he’ll be overrun with the urge to kiss you.

And he knows that if that happens, he might not be able to hold himself back.

“What time do you have to be home?” Harry asks, subtly trying to change the topic.

You lift one eyebrow challengingly, like you know exactly what he’s doing. Still, though, you humour him.

“I told my dad I was going to a friend’s house,” you say, shrugging lightly. “We have time, don’t worry.” You smile as a thought crosses your mind. “Just make sure you don’t get me too sweaty by the end of the night, okay? I can’t go home looking like I’ve just run a marathon.”

Harry’s cock twitches in his shorts at the thought of rendering you sticky and speechless. Of watching you walk away from him with wobbly knees and messy hair. Of dropping you off at home and nibbling on your neck one last time for good measure. He quickly shoos the temptations away, clearing his throat and nodding in accord.

“Minimal sweating,” he concedes. “I’ll try my best.”

Deep down, he knows that you’ll most likely be drenched with perspiration once he’s through with you. You’ll figure that out soon enough, though.

Harry makes his way over to the ring, snatching up a pair of gloves lying on the platform. He turns back around, tossing them to you and fighting a smile when you yelp in surprise. With an awkward flail, you manage to catch them in your arms. You shoot him a questioning look, lifting your eyebrows and waiting for an explanation.

“Put those on,” he orders, clapping his hands together once. “We’re gonna try to perfect your stance, tonight.”

“Why do I need to wear them, then?” you ask, gazing down blankly at the gloves nestled against your chest.

“You don’t need to, I suppose,” Harry says, shrugging. “But your knuckles will probably be destroyed by the end of the night.”

“Oh.” You make a face, wrinkling your nose up in distaste. “Okay, yeah—I’ll use them.”

He smirks, folding his arms over his chest. “We want to be careful, don’t we? Those are the steady hands of a future surgeon.”

You scoff, laughing gently at his quip. “Hopefully,” you say, a sweet smile playing on your lips. “Let’s just pray that I get the right grades.”

You will, Harry thinks, but this time, he bites his tongue to keep the sentiment contained. You’re smart, and you’re beautiful, and you’re kind. You’re perfect. I can’t stop thinking about you. I want to kiss you. I want to fuck you. I want to sleep next to you at night and prepare you breakfast in the morning. I want to make you laugh. I want to make you smile. I want to—

“Harry?”

He blinks. “Yeah?”

You fix him with a benevolent look. “Zoning out on me?”

“No.” He shakes his head, approaching you as you struggle to tug on one of the boxing gloves. His eyes fall to your hands and he reaches out, halting your movements with a gentle, “Let me.”

You peek up at him shyly as he guides your fingers into the glove. He keeps his gaze trained downward, avoiding your eyes. One of his rough palms grasps your elbow as he tugs the Velcro strip tight around your wrist. Once he’s done the same with the other one, he releases you and steps back.

“Thank you,” you say softly. He just nods in response.

“Make sure your feet are shoulder-width apart,” he says, and you spread your legs according to his command.

For a brief moment, the image of you separating your thighs to accommodate his hips flashes through his mind, but he squeezes his eyes shut and wills it away.

The rest of the night is painful—his cock grows stiffer and stiffer by the hour, spurred on by each sweet smile that you send his way. By the time you’re through with the session and bidding him goodnight as he locks up, he’s half-hard beneath his black shorts. He hopes that you don’t notice.

You shoot him a cheerful wave and drive away, and he watches before toddling over to his own vehicle. As soon as he slides into the driver’s seat, he releases a heavy, guttural groan, slouching forward and pressing his forehead to the crest of the steering wheel. Blindly, he sticks his key into the ignition and turns it, and the truck rumbles to life. A quick glance at the dashboard reveals that it’s well past midnight. Only then does he realise the extent of his exhaustion.

He backs out of the parking lot, pulling onto the main street and training his eyes on the road ahead. If he squints, he can still make out the red taillights of your car.

The journey back to his apartment passes in no time. Harry climbs sluggishly up four flights of stairs, tumbling into his home and pressing the door shut with one hand. He drags his feet down the hall and past the threshold of his bedroom, pausing only to rip his t-shirt from his torso before collapsing onto his mattress. Obscure silhouettes dance across his eyelids as they drift shut.

The last thing on his mind before sleep overtakes him is the gentle slope of your smile.

    February 21, 2021

One month and a handful of late-night sessions later, Harry finds himself inundated with guilt. He’s constantly plagued by memories of your virtual conversations—short, brief little interactions consisting primarily of him letting you know that he’s free to train that evening. Your responses, ripe with exclamation marks and prattles of gratitude. You’ve taken up the habit of texting him after each lesson, too, composing a quick thank-you message before shutting your phone for the night.

And Harry regrets everything—agreeing to teach you how to box, letting you know when he’s available to meet, encouraging you as your technique progresses. On several occasions, he’s considered breaking things off, telling you that he’s too busy, that you should be focussing exclusively on school instead of on how to throw a right hook.

But then you look at him like that. With bright, trusting eyes and open features and that easy, dazzling smile. And the wall that he’s been trying so hard to build back up—not that it was particularly robust to begin with—comes crashing down.

His match is set to start in fifteen minutes, and you’re not here. You have a midterm tomorrow—your father had mentioned it in passing. You’ve been holed up in your room all weekend, he said, permanently absorbed in the pages of your textbook.

And Harry’s nervous, because you’re his lucky charm. What the fuck is he supposed to do, now?

The minutes seem to fly by—before he knows it, he’s stepping out into the ring with the crowd’s thundering screams echoing in his ears. His opponent isn’t the biggest man he’s ever gone up against, but he’s definitely not scrawny. Harry’s maybe two inches shorter than him—under normal circumstances, the height difference wouldn’t have fazed him. But he’s already on edge due to your absence, so even the smallest observations are proving to be exceedingly disconcerting.

Looking back, he supposes that he should’ve known.

Doomed from the start, destined to fail—whatever you want to call it.

Point being, he loses. Horrendously.

And he’s not quite sure when they bring the stretcher out and peel him off of the floor of the ring, but he knows that it’s sometime after the second round. He blinks rapidly, fading in and out of consciousness as moisture trickles down the side of his face. Somewhere beneath the wooziness, he’s well aware that the match is over. Your father is standing over him, walking at a brisk pace to keep up with the two men carrying him out of the arena.

“What do you mean, he called in sick?” your father spits, his eyes alight with anger. “You couldn’t find anybody else?”

The man behind Harry’s head says something that he can’t quite discern. His response makes your father grit his teeth and pinch the bridge of his nose. He fishes his phone out of his pocket, punching in a number and bringing the device up to his ear.

A few moments later, his expression lights up, relief flooding his features. “Gioia? Yeah, hi…”

Harry’s vision fades to black.

~*~

“…going to have some strong words with the bastard that did this—”

“Gioia, please. That’s how the sport works.”

An outraged scoff. “Who the hell kicks a man while he’s down?”

No reply.

Harry drifts off once more.

~*~

When his eyelids flutter open, it takes a moment for him to regain his bearings. Through the blurriness of his vision, he sees a dim light hanging from the ceiling, bathing his surroundings in a pale white glow. He blinks rapidly, hoping that his sight will sharpen with each flutter of his lashes. There’s a dull pain throbbing against the right side of his torso, battering against his ribcage and pulling an agonized groan from his lips.

The low sound is met with a high gasp. Seconds later, a face is looming over his own. Harry forces himself to concentrate on the person’s features—kind, worried eyes, raised brows, and pretty, parted lips. His heart begins to gallop in his chest.

“Harry,” you breathe. A few gentle fingers card through his hair. The sensation of your nails against his scalp makes him shiver. “How are you feeling?”

“Peachy,” he croaks, his voice hoarse.

Despite the worry swimming around in your irises, you emit a shy laugh.

“Are you able to sit up?” you ask, pulling your hand out of his hair. He nearly whines at the loss.

“Think so,” he mutters. He places his palms flat against the surface beneath him—a bed, perhaps?—and pushes himself onto his elbows. The muted pain in his side flares fiercely, making him choke on his own breath. You reach out for him, setting one hand down on his shoulder while the other wraps delicately around his bicep.

“Easy, easy,” you soothe, tutting disapprovingly. “Be careful.”

“’M always careful,” Harry says.

“Yeah,” you reply sarcastically, nodding your head. “And that’s how you ended up like this, right?”

A short, wheezing laugh punches its way out of his lungs. “Touché.”

Once he’s sitting up, he takes note of the room—well, it’s not really a room. The only thing separating the two of you from whatever lies outside is a thin curtain drawn over what he presumes to be the exit. To his left, a single cabinet with multiple drawers stands only a few feet away. You’re both tucked into a little alcove in the wall, no bigger than a standard bedroom. Harry glances around, his gaze landing on a single plastic chair facing the bed. Everything is set up like a hospital room (but far less comfortable, and severely lacking in terms of medical equipment).

“Where’s Coach?” he asks, creases forming along his forehead.

“He went to go grab us some coffee,” you explain, your eyes scanning his face. “It’s late.”

“How late?”

“Nearly two.”

“Fuck.” His head snaps toward you. “Don’t you have a midterm tomorrow?”

“Yeah.” You chew nervously on your bottom lip. “But it’s fine.”

“No, it’s not,” he says, gritting his teeth and glaring at you sharply. “What the hell are you doing here?”

You recoil a bit at his harsh tone. “Your stupid medic took a sick day,” you tell him, your voice hard. “And my dad asked me to come in and have a look at you. Who knows where you’d be if I hadn’t shown up.”

Regret washes over him. He slouches back against the bed—it’s more of a cot, really—and blows out a heavy sigh. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have—”

“It’s okay.” You wave his apology away with a quick flick of your fingers. “Just…be quiet for a second, alright? I need to examine you.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he mutters under his breath. He doesn’t miss the way your lips twitch as the words sink in.

“Can you move to the edge of the bed?” you ask, gnawing on the inside of your cheek. “I need to see you properly, but I don’t want to make you stand just yet.”

“Sure.”

He shifts his body to the right, slowly dragging his legs off of the cot with a distressed wince. The floor is cold when his feet make contact with the ground, but he pays it no attention. He’s shirtless, clad only in the shorts he’d been wearing when he first stepped into the ring. He purses his lips and feels something stiff realign against his cheek. When he brings his hand up to his face, he finds a cottony piece of fabric taped onto his skin.

“What—?” He looks up at you in confusion.

“It was bleeding pretty badly,” you tell him. “I had to stop it, somehow.”

For the first time that night, he takes you in properly. You’re wearing a baggy t-shirt and a pair of grey sweatpants—it looks like the type of outfit that one would shrug on if they were in a rush to leave the house. Another pang of guilt jolts through his chest.

“What happened?” Harry croaks, pulling his hand away from his cheek.

“My dad told me that the other guy was wearing a bracelet,” you say; frustration drips from your words. “He didn’t take it off before the match started. It’s not a big cut, but it’s deep. You’ll probably need a few stitches.”

“And you know how to do that?” he asks, watching as you circle around the bed and approach the cabinet on the opposite side. He twists in an attempt to keep his eyes on you, but then grunts lowly at the ache that thrums against his side. When he looks down at his torso, he discovers a large splotch of blue and purple decorating the skin covering his ribs.

“I watched my mom do it back when my dad used to coach Artie,” you say absentmindedly, rifling through a few drawers and collecting the supplies that you need. You pause, your eyes clouding over with something forlorn. “Now that I think about it, that’s probably why I want to go into medicine. I think…it would’ve made her proud.”

“It would’ve,” Harry agrees.

He watches you carefully as you make your way back over to him, afraid of prying or saying the wrong thing. Your mother’s death had hit your family hard; he rarely hears you or your father mention her. But maybe that’s for the best—wounds can’t heal if they’re being ripped open time after time again. He would know.

You dump a handful of materials down onto the bed—disinfectant, cotton swabs, tissues, gauze, a needle, thread, and a pack of medical sutures. Harry swallows heavily.

“Do you mind if I…?” you trail off, pursing your lips timidly. Somehow, he understands exactly what you’re referring to.

“No, not at all,” he says. The words fall from his mouth a bit too quickly.

With no further preamble, he spreads his legs, and you step into the space made available between his knees. You lean to the side, reaching for the disinfectant and cotton swabs on the bed, but then nearly lose your balance in the process. Harry’s hand flies upward reflexively, settling on your hip to keep you steady.

You glance down at him with wide eyes, and he hastily removes his palm from your body. “Sorry,” he mutters, looking away.

“It’s okay,” you tell him, and is it just his imagination, or do you sound a bit…breathless?

“You’ve got a couple of scrapes on your face,” you continue. You clear your throat, uncapping the antiseptic and dipping a cotton swab into the bottle. “This’ll hurt a little.”

“It’s alright—fuck!” he swears, scowling deeply at the sting that blooms across his chin. You chew on your bottom lip, dragging the swab over his injuries with practiced, nimble fingers. His toes curl against the cold, concrete floor.

Once you’ve finished sterilising his minor wounds, you turn your attention to the massive bruise on his torso.

“Can I?” you ask softly, extending your arm but pausing only inches away from his skin.

He nods, not trusting himself to speak.

He fights back against a shudder when your fingertips ghost over his ribs. You hesitate, applying a bit more pressure and cringing when he groans. “Sorry,” you whisper, making a move to pull away.

“No,” Harry breathes quickly. He catches your hand in his, trapping your palm back against his side. Briefly, he notes the unmistakable softness of your knuckles, so different from his own. “’S okay. Do what you need to do.”  

You nod tautly, pressing your fingers against the bruise once more. Harry grinds his teeth together, trying his best to withstand the pain. You prod around for a few seconds, your brow furrowed in concentration. When you don’t appear to find anything worrisome, you sigh in relief and drop your arm so that it rests limply at your side.

“No broken ribs,” you announce quietly. “At least, not as far as I can tell.”

“That’s reassuring,” he jokes.

A weak laugh falls from your mouth. “I haven’t gotten into med school yet, remember?”

He chuckles. Your eyes suddenly darken, and an angry scowl curls along your lips.

“He kicked you while you were knocked out,” you murmur, shaking your head in disbelief. “Fucking asshole.”

Harry’s eyebrows fly upward, his mouth twitching at your vulgar words. You catch sight of his amused expression, but instead of mirroring it, your frown only deepens.

“It’s not funny,” you say. “He fought dirty.”

“This whole setup is illegal, baby,” he says. Neither of you comment on the pet name that slips out of his mouth. He hopes that you view it as part of an expression, and not a proclamation of his affection. “Fighting dirty—they don’t care about that. If anything, it just gives them one hell of a show.”

“Still,” you mutter, gluing your eyes to the discoloured skin covering his ribs. “He shouldn’t have done it.”

Harry smiles softly, reaching out and tucking two fingers beneath your chin. Your lips part in surprise, and he tilts your face up so that he can look at you properly.

“Thank you,” he says, his tone entirely sincere, “for taking care of me.”

Your throat bobs with a hefty swallow—he can feel it against his knuckles. You lift your hand up to his face, and for a moment, he thinks that you mean to stroke his cheek lovingly. But then you scrape your thumb over the bandage covering his cut, and he’s reminded that this doesn’t mean anything.

You’re here to stitch him back up—nothing less, and certainly nothing more.

“I’m not done yet,” you say.

The two of your drop your fingers at the same time. Harry clears his throat, trying to absolve the tension in the air. You seize some of the other supplies still strewn across the bed, laying them out properly before getting to work.

You’re diligent, removing the bandage on his cheek and using a few tissues to mop up the blood that immediately begins to drip downward, rolling over the jut of his jaw. He curses when you pass another cotton swab over his injury, screwing his face up at the smarting prickle of the antiseptic.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur absentmindedly, keeping your eyes trained on the wound. “We definitely don’t want this one to get infected.”

“Yeah,” he grunts, because he can’t exactly nod with your fingers probing around.

“This is going to be the worst part,” you warn, pulling back and opening the pack of stitches.

You unwind a piece of thread from its spool, taking the string between your lips and severing it with your teeth. Harry watches you closely, anxiety frothing in the pit of his stomach. In all of his years spent boxing, he’s only needed stitches once—the procedure hurt like a bitch, especially since there had been no anaesthetic available. He remembers the pain like it was yesterday, and he’s not looking forward to having to endure it again.

When you guide the first stitch through his skin, he balls his hands into tight fists. His lips tuck themselves into a thin line, and an agonized moan bubbles up in his chest. You squeeze your eyes shut for a brief moment; upon reopening, they glisten with unshed tears.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you whisper. Your voice shakes.

“It’s okay,” Harry grits out. His blunt nails dig into his palms. “Keep…keep going.”

“A few more,” you babble; he’s not sure whether you’re trying to comfort him or yourself. “Just a few more.”

It takes you roughly fifteen minutes (you haven’t really had much practice, after all) to sew his wound closed with five stitches. It is by no means the cleanest application, but it’s not bad. You retrieve another cotton swab and dip it into the bottle of disinfectant, running it along the seam of his injury one last time. After that, you finally blow out the stale air that has accumulated in your lungs.

“Thank you,” Harry mutters. “Truly.”

“No problem,” you breathe. You busy yourself with gathering up all of the supplies, cradling them to your chest and making your way around the bed. As you dump everything back into the top drawer of the cabinet, you say, “Harry. Can I ask you something?”

“Go for it,” he hums. He’s nervous about speaking too animatedly, afraid to disrupt the work you’ve just done on his cheek.

“How long have you been boxing?”

He peers at you from over his shoulder, eyes following your movements as you return to his side of the cot and sit down next to him. “Er…,” he pauses, thinking, “…about ten years, now.”

“You started at sixteen?” you say, blinking in surprise.

“Yeah.”

“Oh.”

He smiles softly before remembering the sutures sewn into his skin. A beat of silence passes.

“Can I ask you something?” he questions.

You nod. “Of course.”

“Why did you want me to teach you how to box?” he says. You open your mouth—to feed him another lie, surely—but he carries on before you get the chance to speak. “And don’t say it’s because you were just curious, or some bullshit like that. I want the truth.”

“Harry…,” you begin softly, looking at him with pleading eyes. He shakes his head, adamant and unmoved.

“The truth.”

Your shoulders slump in defeat. Instinctively, you reach for your throat, tugging at the rose-gold chain hanging there and fiddling nervously with the pendant nestled between your collarbones. It looks like you’re trying to figure out what to say, how to approach the situation without revealing something that could potentially make it any worse.

“Do you remember that guy I was seeing a few months ago?” you say, your voice small. “James?”

And oh, Harry remembers. He remembers watching the two of you swap spit on top of the bleachers at one of his matches. He remembers imagining James in the place of his opponent, and then making sure to aim all of his punches directly for the face (he won, that night.) He remembers seeing the sparkle in your eyes slowly start to dim the longer you stayed with him. He remembers the aftermath of your breakup, when James had shown up at the gym and screamed at you to come outside, deterred only after Portia threatened to call the police.

He fucking remembers.

“Yeah,” he spits. The affirmation is coated in a thick layer of venom. “What about him?”

His eyes widen a touch when it all clicks, then, like pieces of a puzzle falling perfectly into place.

“What did he do?” he demands immediately, fixing you with a stern glare. “Did he fucking touch you?”

“No!” you exclaim, shaking your head quickly. “No, no, it’s just…I’ve been seeing him around. A lot. And I’m not sure if I’m just being paranoid, maybe, but—,” you inhale deeply, “—it feels like he’s following me.”

Your name slips past Harry’s lips in a hard, firm tenor. When you look up at him warily, he stares straight into your eyes, leaving no room for you to break away.

“You need to tell someone about this,” he says steadfastly. “You need to go to the police.”

“I don’t even know if I’m right,” you tell him. Your mouth curls down into an apprehensive frown. “I don’t want to cause a fuss, especially if it all just turns out to be one big coincidence.”

“When was the last time you saw him?” Harry asks. A bitter taste settles on his tongue. “How often has this been happening?”

You tilt your head to the side, lost in thought. “Two days ago,” you finally say, shrugging helplessly. “And…I don’t know. I’ve seen him, like, nine or ten times in total.”

“Ten times,” he hisses, “in a few months? That’s not normal, and you know it.”

“Harry,” you plead, tugging nervously at the hem of your t-shirt. “Please. Don’t turn this into something it’s not.”

“How can you—?” he starts, but then you lurch forward, putting a dainty hand on his thigh.

“Please,” you repeat, shaking your head softly. “Just…keep this between us, okay? The last thing I want is for my dad to find out.”

And maybe it’s the tenderness brewing in your eyes when you meet his gaze. Maybe it’s the wilt in your voice, the feeblest he’s ever heard. Maybe it’s the feeling of your fingers on his leg, burning a hole through his shorts and searing a mark—a brand—into his skin. Harry sighs, looking away from you and running his fingers anxiously through his curly hair.

“You’re bloody stupid, you know that?” he asks, scoffing quietly.

“Yeah,” you reply, the corners of your mouth kinking up into a half-hearted smile. “I know.”

“Got you a latte, gioia—”

The dinky curtain in front of you is pulled back by none other than your father, who is holding a tray of coffee in his right hand. He blinks at the scene laid out before him—you and Harry on the small cot, sitting a bit too close for comfort. Your hand on his thigh. You both jump, breaking away from each other and inhaling sharply. Harry clears his throat as you cough into your elbow, standing up and reaching for one of the drinks nestled in the tray.

“Thank you,” you murmur quietly, pressing a gentle kiss to your father’s cheek.

His eyes bounce between the two of you, forehead wrinkling in curiosity as he asks, “What’d I miss?”

You peer down at Harry from over the rim of your cup, panicked and beseeching. He just shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly; the tattoos inked into his skin ripple with the act. His tone is steady when he meets your father’s gaze.

“I’ve got some bruised ribs and a wicked headache, but aside from that—,” he lies, “—nothing at all.”

~*~

Your father ends up driving him home.

He parks the car just in front of Harry’s apartment complex, watching with worried eyes as he slips out of the passenger door.

“You sure you’ll be alright?” he asks.

Harry just nods, waving away his concerns. “I’m fine, Coach, really. Thanks for the ride.”

Your father nods—still looking a little unsure—before speeding off.

Climbing up four flights of stairs with bruised ribs is hell, Harry soon learns. By the time he reaches his floor, he’s panting and wiping a thin sheen of sweat from his brow. He pulls his keys out of his coat pocket, unlocking the front door and staggering into his apartment. A pained whimper slips out of his mouth as he shrugs the jacket from his shoulders.

He slowly makes his way into the bathroom, cupping his battered side over the material of his t-shirt. The water is cold when he first turns the shower on. He grits his teeth, fiddling with the temperature and meticulously removing his clothes as it warms.

The moment the first droplet hits his skin, he lets out a deep, guttural groan. He hadn’t realised just how tense he was until now. He stands under the spray of the water, tipping his head back and letting it wash away every trace of dirt and grime on his body. His hair grows heavy with moisture, sticking to his scalp and his forehead. He leans against the wall of the shower, inhaling deeply. His eyelids flutter shut, and your smiling face appears amidst the darkness.

Almost subconsciously, his hand finds its way to his cock.

Part of him is disgusted with himself. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be thinking of you. He shouldn’t be—

He moans.

In the realm of his perverse imagination, you’re straddling him, your arms looped leisurely around his neck and your whimpers echoing into the cavern of his mouth. Your hips roll against his, unhurried and languid and deep. So fucking deep. Harry reaches down with one hand, squeezing greedily at the curve of your ass, and you whine in response, encouraging him to do it again.

He pumps his length in the shower, panting quietly.

Your fronts are pressed together as you rut into his lap, your nipples brushing against the ebony birds on his chest and your silky walls wrapped around him like a vice. He grunts; you swallow the sound down, your hot, heavy breaths wafting out onto his chin. His fingers dig into your thighs when you steady yourself on your knees, doing your best to bounce up and down on him properly. It’s frantic, it’s uncoordinated, it’s sloppy, but…it’s perfect.

Your nails scrape down his back as the two of you move together, a steady series of push and pull, like water under a bridge. If you’re the moon, then he’s the tides, bending and swirling under your gentle light. Every time you rock forward, he meets you there, your bodies connecting with faint slaps of skin on skin. You gaze at him with hooded eyes, lust simmering beneath your lashes. Electricity tingles across his shoulders.

The noises that you emit are music to his ears. Delicate sighs when he nips at your breasts, earthy groans when he hits that special spot inside of you. And woven between them, imploring pleas, murmurs of right there and oh, yes and so good.

It’s embarrassing, how quickly he finishes.

He stands there, leaning against the tiles with his cock in his hand and his release dripping from his fingertips. He has the decency to feel appalled by his actions, at the very least. If you were aware of what he had just done, he knows for a fact that you would never speak to him again.

He cleans himself up, shampooing his hair and scrubbing down every inch of his body. When he steps out of the shower and shuts the water, a wave of exhaustion washes over him, making him sway on his feet. His lips vibrate with a soft sigh.

His phone chimes from where it’s perched on the bathroom counter. When he taps on it, he finds a message from you.

Feel better soon, it reads. The guilt festering in his chest increases tenfold.

Thank you, he says back, shoving the remorse down. Good luck on your midterm tomorrow.

A moment later, your reply comes through.

Thanks! Goodnight, Harry.

Goodnight, he types. He pauses for a moment, debating over whether he should include a little red heart after the word. But then he shakes his head, rolling his eyes at his own insolence and sending the text without a second thought.

He doesn’t even bother drying himself off before padding across the hall and into his bedroom. He collapses onto his mattress, still covered in tiny droplets that bead along his shoulders and trail downward, wetting the duvet. He doesn’t care. It’ll dry, and so will he.

He falls asleep moments later, the repaired skin of his cheek tingling in the dark.

~*~

PART III: Hook

PART IV: Uppercut

if you’re enjoying this series so far, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

[mandospace]

Fooled Around (Din Djarin x Reader)

Request: Hi! I was wondering if you could do a Din x female reader inspired by the song "I Fooled Around and Fell In Love" by Elvin Bishop?Hope u can do it 💕

Requested By: @pepperlen

Word Count: 4,680

Warnings: Some mature content (mention of sex and brothels), extreme pining by our one and only Mando

A/N: I have never written an entire fic in one character’s POV, so I hope it turned out okay! My requests are open for both Din and Boba. I hope you all enjoy!

MASTERLIST

The galaxy was immense, the stars and planets innumerable. People of all races were still trying to understand just how big it was, to what depths the black and empty space stretched out before them. Sometimes, the distances between each point of light were immeasurable, too far for any humanoid to comprehend, no matter how hard they tried. Within the galaxy, there were trillions upon trillions of souls- each with a name and story to tell. One of those souls was a lone bounty hunter that traveled the immense space between the points of light.

Din lost track of how many planets and towns he has been to. The number ranged in the hundreds, if not thousands. Each planet and town was all the same though, even if their topography differed greatly. Every planet held small backwater towns where the scum of the galaxy seemed to hide, evading their captors. In those backwater towns, there was always a lone cantina that sat on the edge of town. Locals and vagrants alike frequented the establishment, where there was always an old bartender. At that bar, drunks of every race tried to drink their worries away in the same liquor every night. Desperate people wandered amongst the booths, looking for work, money, and sex. Sometimes, all three if you met the right type of person.

No matter the planet or town, it was always the same. The lone hunter had fallen into a pattern, one that he upheld almost as strictly as his Creed. Pick up a job, track down the bounty, capture the scum, and haul them back to the Crest. Depending on the job or planet, sometimes Din would wander back into the cantina looking for something to keep him entertained. Sometimes it was fighting amongst the drunks- eager to release his pent up adrenaline from the hunt. Other times, he looked for other means of releasing the tension that constantly laid beneath the shining beskar. More often than not, this release was found in the company of women who too were looking for company.

He wasn’t proud of the numerous one-night stands that he had during the length of his career. It was nothing personal- both participants looking for an escape from the dreary life the galaxy offered. No questions were asked of either party, both just eager to feel something besides the numbness that surrounded them in their everyday lives. While Din wasn’t proud of his many encounters, he certainly wasn’t ashamed of them. Each was a necessary means to an end- a way to break the tediousness that was bounty hunting. A way to feel something besides anger and violence.

When the kid entered Din’s life, his well-adhered schedule was practically thrown out the window. He was no longer the lone bounty hunter that jumped from planet to planet in search of quarries or release. Now, he was a single father that fended off the remnants of the Empire that was hell-bent on taking his foundling away from him. Din was tasked by the Armorer to reunite the foundling with his own kind- even if he had no clue what kind of creature the small green foundling was. It was declared that they would be a clan of two: branded in the Mudhorn signet on the tempered beskar of his pauldron. Wherever he went, the child followed; even into dangerous situations.

After too many close calls with the little womprat, Din started to realize that he couldn’t do this on his own. When foundlings are taken in, the whole covert would raise and care for them. Show them the ways of the Mandalore: how to fight, how to protect the covert. Din didn’t have his fellow covert that he could rely on to help raise and protect the foundling. He was always out-matched in terms of fighting and raising the kid. When it came to fighting, Din couldn’t be as ruthless as he needed to be when he was constantly concerned for the child’s safety. When it came to raising the kid, the little green booger seemed to out-wit him at every turn. How could he discipline the small child that had Din wrapped around his tiny little clawed finger?

He couldn’t rely on the covert that seemed to have disappeared into thin air. Mandalorians were rare already, and the only ones he knew had vanished without a trace. Kuill was Din’s next option before he remembered the early demise his close friend had met because of his relation to Din. Cara was on Nevarro, wiping up the last remnants of Empire scum. Greef had resumed his position at the Guild; and besides, Din didn’t want the kid anywhere near him. Peli was running her hangar on Tatooine, too busy scamming pilots out of their credits over small repairs. He had quickly exhausted his very short list of allies that he could trust with the kid. It had become apparent that he would have to look for outside help.

Din wasn’t looking for anything specific in a caretaker, just someone that seemed competent enough to handle a child. He wasn’t even actively looking for someone when you literally stumbled into his life.

He was in one of the many familiar backwater towns of Dantooine, leisurely strolling through the open-air market that lined the town’s only street. The kid was nestled in the pouch Din had draped over his shoulder, dark eyes peering over the burlap sack. They were in town looking for some supplies, food and medicine mostly. The child had eaten up Din’s entire stores, though he wasn’t sure how he could eat that much. He was only a 50 year old baby, after all. 

When they were landing on the outskirts of the small town, Din had noticed that there was a local brothel that appeared on the holo-map. It had been months since Din last had any form of release- caring for the kid and evading the Empire had taken up his entire time. Even though he desperately wanted to relieve some stress, Din couldn’t. The kid was too important to risk taking his eyes off of him for even a moment. 

Distracted from the tension and stress that lingered underneath his beskar, Din didn’t realize that he was on a collision course until he collided with your body. You had been carrying a basket full of fruit that was piled high above your head, hence why you didn’t see the intimidating hunter in silver beskar. When the two of you collided, you fell onto your bottom with a groan, fruit rolling out of your basket and onto the dusty ground. Din just looked down in shock at you, surprised that he didn’t even see that you were right in front of him.

“Do you ever watch where you’re going?” You groaned, rubbing your backside in pain. 

He just looked at you, blinking slowly behind his helmet. You were beautiful, even though you were scowling up at him. Your hair was tousled from the fall and dirt was coating your clothes. The sun was bringing out the highlights in your hair, and Din longed to card his fingers through it. He had barely known you for two minutes but Din was already fantasizing about the feel of your skin under his, the soft breaths that would leave your lips. Stars, it had been too long.

“Hello, Dantooine to Tin Man?” You were waving your hand in front of his visor, trying to get some type of reaction out of him. “Mind helping me with this?”

All he could do was nod as he dropped to his knees and started to help you pick up your spilled fruit. Your hair had fallen into your face when you bent over and he wished he could tuck it behind your ear. He silently chastised himself. He hadn’t even said a word to you and there he was, dreaming about touching you while you were picking up the fruit that he spilled.

“So, what’s your name?” Your soft voice pulled him from his thoughts as you looked up at him. Din couldn’t breathe when you locked eyes with him- even though you had no way of knowing where his eyes laid under the black visor. Your eyes, though, were mesmerizing. “So you’re the silent type, then?”

Din cleared his throat and offered his hand. “I’m Din.” What was he thinking?! He had never revealed his name to another living being voluntarily, and yet here he is, freely and openly giving his name to a beautiful girl he had just met.

“(Y/N),” you smiled and took his hand in yours. He was shocked at how small your hand looked in his, but even more shocked at the overwhelming sense of rightness that flowed through his veins at the sight of your hand in his leather-clad one. “Oh Maker, who’s this?”

Din hadn’t realized that the kid crawled out of his satchel and started to waddle over to you. He moved to pick up the kid and put him back in his bag, but you had beat him to it. You easily swooped the kid up into your arms, setting him down on your lap. The kid just stared up at you, offering a toothy smile. “Are you hungry, little guy?” Riffling in your basket, you picked out the juiciest looking fruit before handing it over to the child. “There, enjoy that, little guy. He’s precious. Is he yours?”

“Sort of,” Din admitted as he shuffled to his feet. He offered you a hand to pull you to your feet which you gladly accepted. The kid was still cradled in your arms, munching on the fruit. Since your hands were full and the kid looked too happy in your arms to take him away, Din picked up your fruit basket instead. He was amazed at how easily you interacted with the kid. You hadn’t even known the small child for more than five minutes but the little womprat was utterly enamored with you. It had taken Din weeks to gain that level of trust with him and yet here you are, plucking another fruit out of the basket in Din’s arms and feeding it to his kid. “Do you want a job?”

Confusion flashed across your features before a blush settled on your cheeks. “Look, sir, I’m not that kind of girl...”

Embarrassment flooded Din’s system. “No! You misunderstood me. I would-” he almost said ‘I would never ask for that’ when he realized that he has asked for that in the past. He cleared his throat, trying to dispel the awkward tension. “What I meant was, you seem to be really good with the kid, and I need some help looking after him. I can’t provide for the both of us when I am constantly worried about him.” You just stared up at him, the child wiggling in your arms while he reached for your necklace. “I could pay you, and you wouldn’t have to worry about food. I would just need you to look after the kid while I hunt after bounties.”

“You’re a bounty hunter?” Din regretted telling you that detail, afraid that it would scare you off. Bounty hunting wasn’t the life for everyone.

“Yes, but I-”

“Do you travel the galaxy?” You eagerly asked, eyes shining bright at him.

“Of course, I often have to go to lots of different planets to track down my quarries. Why-”

“I’ll do it.” You had cut him off again, but he didn’t care. You had just said ‘yes’ to him without really knowing him at all. You were either crazy or a very trusting person. Maybe both. “I’ll meet you at the south edge of town at sunset with my things.” Handing the child back to him, you swapped the kid for your basket of fruit. You started to head off in the direction of what Din assumed was your house before you turned around to look at him. “Thank you.”

“For what?” Din was puzzled at the girl that was smiling back at him. The sun caught your hair, illuminating the soft highlights hidden within the locks. He wanted to reach out and touch it again.

“For giving me an adventure.”

___

For the past three months, Din has been in an almost constant state of agony.

He thought that bringing you on board would be a good thing: a much needed help in raising the kid. And it was a good thing, for the most part. You were always helpful, willing to do more than was asked of you. Many times Din would come back to the ship and you would have a warm plate of food waiting for him, the kid already asleep in your arms. The first time you did this, Din had to explain his Creed and why he couldn’t eat in front of you. You had nodded along, taking in his words before walking out of the hull and up the ladder leading to the cockpit. Before you had shut the doors, though, you called out to him and told him to eat his food and not to worry. You would take care of the kid and put him down for his nap. That miniscule kindness that you had shown the lone bounty hunter shook him to his core- a warmth seemed to have spread over him and his heart stammered in his chest. You did that for him every night, for every meal.

Not only that, but you were amazing with the kid. Suddenly the rambunctious little green womprat would mellow out any time you walked into the room. He would be fussing in Din’s arms, crying about something and you would just walk up to the hunter, take the kid into your own arms, and he would immediately calm down. It was like a sixth sense you had- you always knew the right thing to do to get him to calm down. When you started to sing the child to sleep every night, that’s when the warm feelings inside of Din’s chest turned to white-hot agony.

It was his favorite kind of torture, listening to you sing softly to his kid. Din was never in the room when you did this, he always kept far away because of his fear. Your voice was so soft, so melodic that if Din heard it directly, he would surely fall even harder for you than he already had. He would gladly succumb to your siren’s call and let you lure him to the vast depths of the ocean.

He wasn’t used to this, feeling something for another person. Sure, Din had cared for other people before, namely the little green foundling in his care. But he had never felt this deep, aching pull inside of him. Whenever Din was with other women, it was to get over the stress and tension that came with his bounty hunter life. The feelings he felt for those women were purely physical, purely surface level. A temporary lust that would dissipate the next morning after he had released his frustrations. Din had never felt these feelings that were emotional, deeper than any he felt before. When he looked at you caring for his kid or making dinner for the three of you, his heart would stop in his chest. With every smile you gave him, Din felt those at first insignificant, warm feelings grow and burn until they developed into a raging fire. He felt like he was swallowed whole by flames and every glance or touch you gave him was only adding kindling to the fire burning in his heart. If your little smiles and touches piled twigs onto the fire, he couldn’t imagine what feeling your lips on his would do to him. He would probably combust into a flaming inferno.

Din tried to ignore the white-hot agony being around you brought. He tried to reason with himself that he wasn’t that type of man. The type that brought home flowers to their lovers just because. The type that would rush home from work just so they could wrap their arms around their lovers and kiss them. The type that would actually want to settle down and start a family. Every time he looked at you though, he imagined what it would be like to have that type of life instead of the violent one he lived. He imagined that he would come home from work, and you would be cooking dinner for the three of you just like you do now, except things would be more permanent. The three of you would actually have a house- he didn’t care on which planet, you could choose any one and he would gladly build the house for you from the ground up. The child would attend the nearby school and make friends with kids his own age- well, kids that were actually kids and not 50 years old and still a child. He imagined that you would be cooking his favorite meal, that he would be able to come up behind you and kiss your neck and pepper kisses across your face because he no longer wore the helm of a Mandalorian. He imagined that you would laugh at the feeling of his stubble tickling your skin before you would turn around in his arms and truly kiss him. You would hold his face against yours and on your left ring finger there would be a simple band of beskar wrapped around it. He imagined that he would have a similar band on his own finger- a symbol to the galaxy that you were his and he was yours. He imagined that he wouldn’t be able to pull you flush against his chest because of your rounded belly, swollen with his child...

“Din?” 

Reality came crashing down around him at the sound of your voice. The image of the two of you in his mind faded and was replaced with the very real image of you staring at him, a worried expression etched on your face.

“Did you hear me?”

“No, sorry, Cyare.” Din cleared his throat. He hadn’t meant to call you that affectionate Mando’a nickname, but it just felt right. He hadn’t meant to do a lot of things, namely fall for you.

“I asked if you could pass me the wrench.” Wheeling yourself out from under the ship, grease had smeared across your cheek. Just like you were an amazing caretaker for his son, you were also an amazing mechanic. The place where the ship needed maintenance was too small for Din to get under, but you were just the right size.

Din grunted in response and handed you the wrench. The tips of your fingers just barely grazed the tips of his leather-clad ones, but it was enough to set the Mandalorian on fire with desire. He couldn’t take it anymore. He couldn’t deal with the agonizing feeling of being this close to you but not being able to touch or hold you like he wanted. Before he could do something stupid, like ruin the only friendship he’s had in decades, Din bolted up from the crate he was sitting on.

“I’m heading into town, I’ll be back later.” Din didn’t pause to listen to your concerned questions on if he was alright. This wasn’t the first time he had just bolted mid-conversation. 

The Razor Crest quickly disappeared behind him as Din trudged into town, looking for a distraction. It was all the same, each town he visited. He didn’t even need a map to find his way through the dust-covered streets. His feet just took him to the nearest cantina that sat on the edge of town. It was loud inside the bar, music blaring and people laughing. Din didn’t pay attention to any of the people- he just trudged to the corner booth and sat down. His head was swimming with thoughts of you. Even miles away, he could still smell your sweet perfume. It had somehow lodged itself in his helmet’s filters. He would have to change them out soon if he were to ever be able to focus on a hunt.

“You here alone?”

Din glanced up at the woman standing before him. She had some drink in her hand and a lazy smile on her face. Her hair was pulled up into a knot on the top of her head and was the same color as your hair. In the dim cantina lights though, Din was almost positive that your hair would look prettier, much prettier. It was always so shiny, smelling so good.

“Yeah.” His voice sounded gruff through his vocoder. He wished he could drink something, but he wouldn’t be able to in this crowd.

“Want some company?” The woman smiled at him, and all he could do was shrug. People could do what they wanted, it was a free galaxy, after all. “What brings you here?”

“Work.” He didn’t mean to be so short with the woman. Din was just preoccupied with his thoughts of you.

“No,” the woman laughed, resting her hand on top of Din’s. His eyebrow quirked under his helmet. “I mean what are you doing here?” Her thumb started rubbing circles into his worn leather. His brow raised even higher. 

“Escaping, I guess.” Her thumb continued to rub over his hand. She gave him another smile.

“Really? Me too. What a coincidence.” The woman grabbed his hand then, intertwining her fingers with his. She pulled his hand until he stood next to her. “Why don’t we escape together?” Her hand started moving over his silver cuirass. Din knew he shouldn’t go with this woman, but as the thoughts of you started to swirl through his head, desire pooled low in his stomach. If he couldn’t have you, he might as well go with someone who wanted him.

So he followed her out the cantina’s back door and into the dark alley. The sun was just starting to set on the town and Din realized that he has been gone from you much longer than anticipated. You were probably worried, wondering where he was.

“Relax, baby,” the woman purred, running her hands down his chest. “Let me make you feel good.” The woman pushed him up against the alley wall and started to palm the front of his pants. It had been so long since Din had gotten the release he’d been craving. His eyes slipped closed under the helmet. 

The woman continued her ministrations, hands roaming over his beskar-covered body. His eyes stayed closed the entire time as he imagined that you were the woman that was touching him, running your hands over him. Her hand slipped into his trousers and cupped his growing length.

“(Y/N)...” Din moaned, eyes screwing shut even tighter. Your smile flashed through his mind, adding more kindling to his fire.

The woman stopped dead in her tracks and removed her hand from his pants. “My name’s not (Y/N).”

Her voice broke the carefully crafted illusion that Din’s mind had conjured. His eyes opened to reveal the woman from the bar in front of him, not you. In this lighting, Din noticed that her hair actually wasn’t anything like yours. Hers was a much duller shade, lacking the shine yours held. Her smile wasn’t as radiant as yours. Din’s illusion shattered into pieces before him.

“I-I have to go.” Din adjusted himself in his pants before making his way out of the dark alley. The woman let out a disgruntled cry, but Din didn’t turn back to offer his apologies. Instead, he pushed his way through the crowd of locals making their way back home. The people that saw him jumped out of his path, terrified of the Mandalorian stalking through their town. He didn’t care, though. The only thought Din had on his mind was you.

By the time he got back to the Razor Crest the sky was black- only the stars lit his path home. With a press of a button on his vambrace, the ramp started to descend. He didn’t even wait for it to fully touch the ground before he jumped into his ship. His eyes swept the hull until they landed on you standing near the ladder leading to the cockpit- eyes wide with surprise.

“Din, where did you go?” 

He didn’t say anything, only slammed his fist against the button next to the ramp to close it. Din strided over to where you stood, pressing another button on his vambrace. The ship fell into darkness.

“Din, what are you-” Before you could even finish your sentence, Din had ripped his helmet off and tossed it to the floor. His gloved hands reached for your face and pulled you to him, crashing his lips against yours. Din could feel you freeze under his lips for just a second until you melted into his touch. A breathless sigh slipped past your lips and Din breathed in your sweet breath. His heart was slamming against his chest as he kissed you. Your kiss acted like fuel to an already raging fire that warmed him to his core. His left arm wrapped around your waist, tugging you tightly to his chest. Din’s right hand cupped the back of your neck, holding your lips against his whilst he drank you in. Your lips were so soft against his chapped ones and with every brush of his against yours, shivers ran down his spine. Your arms had wrapped around his neck, trying to pull him even closer to you. The way your fingers carded through his hair and lightly tugged made Din moan in pleasure. His grip on you never loosened as he continued to move his lips against yours. When you sighed for the second time, Din took the opportunity to lick into your mouth. He loved the way your tongue tangled with his. Din felt like he was a raging inferno- a star burning brightly in the dark limitlessness of space.

You had moaned his name against his lips when he pulled away for some much-need oxygen. He sighed your name into your skin, peppering kisses down your throat. His name continued to fall past your lips while his made their way back up your throat and to your lips. 

“Sweet, sweet girl,” Din breathed against your skin before capturing your lips once more. This kiss was shorter than the last but still held the passion shared in the first. 

“Not that I’m complaining,” you smiled against his lips as you held his face in your hands. Your thumb was rubbing soothing circles into his cheek, goosebumps left in its wake. “But why did you kiss me? Why now?”

Your question weighed on his mind before the answer became as clear as transparisteel. “I’ve been wanting to kiss you ever since I’ve met you. I finally decided that I couldn’t wait a moment longer.”

Din could feel your smile against his lips. “I’m glad you became impatient, Tin Man.”

He felt a chuckle rumble through his chest at the nickname you had given him the first day you met. Din couldn’t see you through the darkness of the ship, but he was sure your smile was radiant and would surely blind him if he gazed upon it. He never meant to be the type of guy who fell in love. He always thought that he would be by himself, following his Creed until the day he died. The only future that had stretched out before him was one of loneliness and hunting. Now that the kid and you had entered his life, another path had revealed itself. One where he wouldn’t have to be alone. Instead his future was much brighter: fueled by your kisses and surrounded in the warmth you gave him.

“Me too, Cyare,” Din nudged his nose against yours, fingers grasping your chin. He tipped your face towards his and brushed his lips over yours. “Me too.”