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skzdarlings · 2 years ago

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part i: bodyguard!felix x reader

masterlist.

PART I ; PART II ; PART III ; PART IV ; PART V ; PART VI ; PART VII ; PART VIII ; PART IX ; FINAL PART.

( READ ON AO3. )

Your father hires an inconspicuous bodyguard to accompany you at school and supervise you at home. What seems like an innocuous change in routine eventually spirals into a forbidden romance that grows more passionate over the next decade.

Companion series to my sharing the bed one-shot. Follows the relationship between reader&felix from beginning to end. It will be a multi-part series.

pairing: lee felix/reader content info: eventual smut. violence. parental abuse. situations of intense peril overall. forced proximity. enemies2lovers. angst with eventual happy ending.

One of your father’s disgruntled bodyguards shoves you for walking too slowly. You have enough tenacity to glare at him when you stumble, but even at fourteen years old you are smart enough refrain from retaliation. You know your father will not take your side as you are already in trouble for sneaking out last night. You met with some school friends and attended a house party like a normal fourteen year old, a punishable offence because your life is anything but normal.

You just hope this punishment is a physical one. A few smacks might sting but you’ll get over it, whereas you don’t want to lose your already limited phone or computer privileges.

You walk into your father’s office with the expectation you will be alone, so you stop short when you see the back of a stranger’s head.

Your father’s guests are usually suited old men or pretty young women, not a beanie-wearing teenage boy. He’s kicking his legs like he’s in an ice cream parlour and not in a chair across from one of the most powerful men in the country. Your father is behind his desk, hands steepled and attention determinedly fixed on you. Punishment time is the only time his attention is so rapt.

The door closes behind you, the guard outside slamming it shut. The boy in the chair looks over his shoulder at you. He has a soft face, much too soft for a place like this, his cheeks sweetly freckled and mouth like a pretty pink bow. He has dark eyes, his eyebrows the same shade of dark brown. His hair has been dyed a strawberry blonde, bangs sweeping out from under the beanie. He has to flick them out of his eyes as he looks you over.

You stare at him. A change in routine does not bode well for you and this is a massive change.

The boy just smiles. It is disarming in its sweetness and it petrifies you. You know how to behave when an ugly brute glares at you but a pretty boy smiling is unnerving.

Your father clears his throat. You and the boy both look his way, the boy dropping his gaze in a subservient way while you glare.

“Daughter,” your father says coolly. He gestures to the free chair beside the boy.

Some days, when you are feeling especially petulant or when your father is distracted with his phone even while meting out punishment, you will stomp your foot and refuse him. Maybe it is your stunned bemusement, but today you oblige without argument.

Your gaze drifts to the boy as you approach your seat. The boy does not look at you.

He looks like a normal teenage boy, wearing a hoodie under a flannel and blue jeans ripped at the knee, but you know better. There is always a flaw and this one is immediately jarring: his shoes are army regulation boots, the same as your father’s guards, albeit smaller. You have no idea why he would need them. He looks about your age and is a slender, delicate thing.

“Sit,” your father says. You realize you have standing there, staring. You look at your father and obey, sinking into the other chair. “Good.” Your father folds his hands on his desk. “My loving daughter,” he says dryly, “It has occurred to me that your present circumstances are not the most conducive to your development and well-being.”

You cannot help but scoff. Talk about understatement of the century.

The security teams? The constant surveillance? The knowledge that your wealthy father has accrued so many enemies that you can barely step outside without feeling threatened?

The fact you desperately want something bad to happen, because at least it would be different than the bad in here?

Your father just frowns.

“Don’t test my patience,” he says. “Especially as I have constructed a compromise according to your whims, young lady.”

Your brow furrows. You have no idea where this is going but you know you won’t like it, because you never like it.

“I only want what’s best for you,” your father says. “You’re my daughter, after all. My only child and my only heir. I want you protected but I want you capable, and you can’t be expected to thrive with the company of my men constantly surrounding you.”

Your heart kicks up with hope even while your brain knows better. Your father is not a generous man and he is clever with his words. There is a reason he has reached the heights he has reached. No one is better than your father and your father settles for no less than the best in turn.

You are an agonizing disappointment, but you lash out because you would be a disappointment regardless. Your father does not want a human daughter but a plastic doll that he can lock away until it has use, at which point he expects unending gratitude for your very existence.

This might sound like a concession of freedom but you know him better than that. The vice is tightening, not loosening. You will never be free.

“I have a gift for you,” your father says. “This is Felix.”

You and the boy, Felix, look at each other. Felix smiles again. He has the audacity to wave at you, a little salute and cutesy tip of the head.

Your nostrils flare with a sharp intake of breath. You look at your father.

“What is this?” you ask, so much wrong with this scenario that you don’t know where to start.

Your father smiles for the first time since you walked in the room. He needs to be in the position of highest power and that is obtained through making everyone else small. The more visibly uncomfortable you are, the more at ease he feels. He slouches comfortably in his big chair as he stares you down. You feel trapped in the little seat across his desk.

“This,” your father says, “is your new bodyguard.”

You look at Felix again. He is once more looking at your father like an obedient little puppy. It’s for the best as you are certain your expression is betraying every single thought. You are angry, confused, frightened. The confusion worsens your other emotions.

“Bodyguard,” you repeat. “He looks like he’s twelve.”

“I’m fourteen,” Felix says, startling you with a deep voice that does not remotely match his face. The rounder sounds are accented with an Australian twang. “Same as you.”

You look at each other again. You hide your confusion under a piercing glare. Felix draws his mouth into a flat line, not quite smiling, not quite frowning. He taps his fingers on the arm of the chair, a mismatched rhythm, some song only he can hear. His leg bounces.

You look at your father.

“Fourteen,” you say. “And short. And skinny. Look at him! I could throw him out a window!”

“You could try,” your father says, drole. “You wouldn’t succeed. Oh, hush.” He swipes a hand through the air when you open your mouth to speak again. “Felix is more than competent, believe me.”

Your father would not hire a second rate bodyguard, but there is simply no way this Felix kid is good for anything. You just can’t believe it. This is a test of some kind, maybe a mind game.

Your hackles are up and they won’t come down. Felix flicks some hair out of his eyes and the motion makes you jump. He doesn’t comment. He clears his throat and sits a little straighter, looking like every goody-two-shoes keener you ever gave a sneer.

“You will no longer require a full security detail,” your father says. “Not at home or at school. No where, barring certain occasions under my discretion.”

This has your heart racing again. Currently, your father has guards posted in several places around your school. No one but the school administrators know they are for you, but that doesn’t matter because you know. You know they are not general security, that they are specifically watching your every move. If you skip a meal or eat too much, they know. If you talk to one person and not another, they know. If you forget to do homework or flunk a test, they know. If you put on more make-up or roll up your skirt, they know. If you fall, if you laugh, if you flirt, if you breathe a little too hard, they know, and they report it all back to your father.

It doesn’t end there. They keep you on a schedule for your “protection” and if you stray from that agenda, they are on you. That means no chatting too long after class, no extended bathroom breaks, no stopping to smell a fucking flower. In the car, out the car, through the doors, at your seat, at your locker, upstairs, downstairs, fuck, fuck, fuck. How you’ve lasted this long, not even you know.

You spend all day suffocating under the extension of your father’s eyes, then you return home, flanked by bodyguards, only to be stuck with supervision until you are finally permitted to go to bed. Naturally, this is the easiest time to escape so you are in the habit of breaking out at night. You’re good at it too. Most nights you move without any detection, having memorized all the chinks in the mansion’s high-tech security armor. Last night was the result of some bad luck.

Now you are here, your heart racing, your breath catching.

It must be a trick. You look at Felix then your father, trying to hide your eagerness and your suspicion.

“In exchange, you will have Felix,” your father says. “He will attend school with you as a classmate. He is in all your classes and extra-curriculars. You are to keep him with you at all times of day. He will accompany you everywhere at all times of day.” Your father leans in. “Do you understand that? At all times of day.”

It does not sound too different from the security team other than the obvious fact there is only one of Felix. Even if Felix is the most skilled bodyguard in the world, he is still just one person. It seems too good to be true so it must be. Your father is waiting until you are comfortable so he can rip the rug out from under you, to put you in your place, which is flat on your back like a stupid, helpless, needy baby.

You will not give him the satisfaction. Curtly, you say, “I understand.”

“Good,” your father says. “I’m having a new bed installed in your bedroom as we speak. It should be ample space for two people without your privacy being overly encroached. When you get home, you will clear a space for Felix to move his things into your room.”

Despite your effort to remain neutral, obvious surprise blinks across your face.

“Wait, what?” you ask, darting forward in your seat. “What are you talking about?”

Your father tips his head as if perplexed with your outburst.

“Did you think you were getting away with something?” he asks. “Constantly sneaking out at night, evading my men. Do you know every time you pull a childish stunt like that, it endangers me and my business just as much as you?”

Your anger bubbles to the surface as quickly as his, cold laughter punching out of you as you say, “Oh! Your business! Of fucking course!”

“Don’t use vulgar language with me, child!”

“Don’t call me a child!” you snap back with as much fervour. “I’m fourteen years old! I’m not a little kid and I don’t need some other idiot kid babysitting me! I don’t need anyone fucking watching me!”

Felix is sitting ramrod straight, his eyes flicking back and forth between you and your father. He says nothing. He just sniffs and scratches a little circle on the exposed skin of his knee.

“You are my daughter, this is my house, and I will do with both as I please,” your father says.

“Then maybe I don’t want to be in this house!” you shout.

“You want to leave?” your father asks. He smacks a vicious hand down on his desk, rattling his computer. “Go ahead. Pick yourself up and walk out that door. Where are you going to go from here? You have no money and no skills and no protection. See how long it takes someone to pick you up off the street. You don’t want to be my daughter? You want me to ignore you when they put a gun to your head? The least they will do is kill you, you stupid little thing. But go on, since you’re so wise and brave and all grown-up. Walk out that door. I dare you.”

You sit on the very edge of your seat, your hands balled into fists. You long to swing them at his smug face but you can only sit there, vibrating with rage.

“Do you have something more to say?” your father asks.

You kick his desk, the adrenaline forcing it out of you. He smacks a mug and it smashes on the floor. Felix still does not react, though his gaze does linger on the broken mug.

“What about him!” you shriek, pointing at Felix. It draws his attention back to you, his eyebrow lifting at your pointed finger. “You’re going to leave me alone with a boy? In bed?” You imbue this exclamation with all the suggestive horror you can. “I can’t share a room with a boy! What if he’s a pervert! What if he takes pictures of me! What if he rapes me! You really trust some random boy to be alone with me?!”

The silence that follows is somehow more shrill than the yelling. Your father stares at you, resolutely focussed with such a cold glare that you shiver.

Felix shuffles in his seat. His mouth opens and he looks contemplative, weighing his words, but your father speaks before he can.

“Felix,” he says, “put your hand on the desk.”

Felix delays only seconds, more surprised by the order than reluctant. He obediently rests his hand on the desk, palm facing up.

Without looking away from you, your father grabs that hand and flips it over. Felix jerks, his feet planting, but he manages to restrain whatever instinct rattled him. He looks at his hand, at where your father pins it to the wood.

You look there too, fuming, then you look at your father. He is still glaring at you, even when he reaches into his desk. Your brow furrows when he retrieves an enveloper opener, a sleek little knife, shiny and sharp. He smacks it onto the table beside Felix’s hand. It makes you jump.

Felix just looks at the knife, tipping his head as if only mildly curious.

“Felix,” your father says. “Pick up that knife.” He leans back in his desk chair and crosses his arms, his expression bland and uncaring as he looks at you. You shake less from fury than fear, looking from your father to Felix.

Felix picks up the knife with his free hand. He looks at it, his expression revealing nothing.

“Thank you,” your father says.

He has not looked away from you even once, asserting his knowledge that Felix will obey without his supervision. You try to be as steadfast as him. You act like you couldn’t care less about the unknown boy and his freckles and beanie. This is between you and your father. You glare just as fiercely.

“Now, Felix,” your father says, “I am going to count down from three, then you are going to drive that knife into your hand. All the way through to the desk. I trust you know the spot that will do the least lasting damage.”

Your gaze whips from your father to Felix, staring at him wide-eyed as the stupid boy doesn’t even flinch. He just turns the knife over. His brow briefly pinches as he rests the tip of the knife against a soft spot on the back of his hand.

Your horrified brain is already several paces ahead, picturing his bloodied hand pinned to the wooden desk. You taste bile and it is only partially for the gore. The rest is for the fact Felix does nothing more than blink at his hand.

“Three,” your father says. “Two.”

You scream, “Stop!” at the same your father says, “One.”

You tackle Felix. The adrenaline flies out of you the same as that kick. The knife clatters to the desk and both your chairs fly out from under you.

Felix is fast. He flips you around so he takes the brunt of the fall, your head pillowing on his stomach when you land in a tangled heap on the floor. His beanie falls off when his head hits the ground. He barely winces, looking down at you.

You stare back at him, breathing hard.

“Are you fucking insane?” you ask. Tears fill your eyes, much to your horror. You try to suck them in because there is nothing you hate more than crying in front of your father. You don’t even know what is prompting the tears. Maybe it’s the forced recollection of how thoroughly his guards have invaded your life, the revelation that you will be forced to share every living moment with another intruder, or the fact he almost maimed a fourteen year old boy just to make a point.

Or, maybe, the fact you fell for it like you always do. Just a stupid little girl, high in her emotions, vulnerable and weak and in need of intervention.

You push away from Felix, directing all your emotions at him.

“You’re a fucking lunatic,” you say, spitting when you talk. “What did you think you were doing? Freak. Do you think you’re brave? You’re an idiot.”

Felix props himself up on his elbows, just staring back at you. His gaze flicks up when your father stands. That awful man circles the desk to look down at you.

You refuse to look up. You wipe your arm under your nose. Tears blur your vision.

“Felix,” your father says, “there is a car waiting outside. Take my daughter home. She is not to leave the house tonight.”

You wrench your arm away when Felix tries to help you up. He says nothing to your glare but at least he’s smart enough not to smile again. He gets up and dusts off his pants, then retrieves his beanie. You clamber to your feet and march toward the door without looking back or waiting. Only when your hand is on the doorknob does your father call your name.

You freeze, wanting so badly to ignore him and storm outside, but once the coldness settles in your veins you cannot move.

“Come here,” your father says. As if under a spell, you can only move when he demands it. You turn, facing him as he approaches. You hold still, your eyes full of tears and fists curled at your side.

Your father walks up and swiftly strikes you across the face. Tears spill over and you grab your cheek, heaving with frightened breath as your useless new bodyguard just stands there and watches.

Your father sighs.

“You’ll learn,” he says. “One way or another. If I have to chip at you with an axe until you take my shape, I’ll do it. You’ll thank me one day. Felix. Take her home. Now.”

You let Felix take your arm and guide you out of the room, too drained to fight him.

You refuse to be accommodating. If you’re unhappy then you will make Felix unhappy too, and if Felix is unhappy then maybe he will leave. Then your father will be unhappy and you finally won’t be.

You glare at the massive new bed taking up space in your room. It is still a big room otherwise, with plenty of space for two people, but your things are spread out everywhere and you have no intention of moving them. Instead, you empty out a single bedside drawer and point to it.

“There,” you say. “That’s yours.”

Felix is standing in the bedroom doorway wearing a backpack. He looks around the room, not sneering at its lacey, ivory princess-ness but not looking too enamoured either. He is passive as ever, quietly receiving his surroundings. He closes the door behind himself and shrugs the backpack down to the crease of his elbow.

“Kk,” he says. He puts his backpack on the floor by the bed then takes off his beanie and puts it in the drawer. He sits on the edge of the bed, hands folded in his lap. He stares at the wall.

What a weirdo.

You stare at him until he looks at you, then you scoff and roll your eyes. You dump your things on your desk and stalk over to your private bathroom door.

“Can I go pee without your supervision, or do you need to hold my hand?” you ask sarcastically.

“I don’t need to,” Felix says, “but, uhhh, I guess I can if you need help. But if you have a problem with doing it by yourself then we should probably take you to a doctor. I know first aid but I can’t really help with incontinence or like the opposite. Lol.”

He says the word lol out loud, a single grating syllable. You do not dignify his weird humour with a response. You stomp into your bathroom and slam the door shut.

There are bars on the bathroom window now. You grab the nearest bottle of soap and chuck it there, furious when tears spring back to your eyes. You feel violated even in your privacy, glaring at those bars as you shower and wash away the day.

You look at your reflection in the mirror, touching where your cheek feels tender from your father’s strike. He usually doesn’t hit your face or anywhere someone could see swelling or a cut. You suppose today’s slap was more personal than strategic.

You put on a thick sweatshirt and sweatpants. When you step back into your room, the weirdo is standing at the window with his hands behind his back. He is wearing just his ripped jeans and a t-shirt, plus those ugly army boots. He looks at you when you open the door, giving you a brief assessing stare before he smiles.

It would disarm someone more naïve. You just glare.

“Where are your things?” you ask.

He tips his head like an inquisitive cat. “Huh?” he asks.

“Your things,” you say venomously. “Aren’t you moving them in here?”

“Uh, I did,” he says. He turns and points to his side of the bed. “You gave me a drawer, remember?”

This kid unpacked a beanie.

Maybe it’s a good sign he isn’t fully moving in. Maybe this whole charade is just your father threatening you. He will torture you with this invader until he thinks you have learned a lesson, then things will go back to normal. Felix probably isn’t even a proper bodyguard, and how could he be? A skinny, pretty fourteen year old boy? He’s probably an actor or model or something.

You give him a derisive smirk and shove past him. He just shrugs and approaches the bathroom door, pausing before entering. He looks back at you.

“Don’t go anywhere, yeah?” he says, then walks into the bathroom and closes the door.

You exhale sharply. You had no intention of going anywhere, honestly too exhausted to do anything but putter around on the computer, but fuck this kid. He’s your father’s paid actor or some other nonsense, so who does he think he is to give you any orders?

You storm out of the room with the intention of marching around outside, but you stumble when you enter the upstairs corridor.

The huge house is eery in its silence. You shudder as you look around.

Even when your father is not home, the security team is here. Someone is always awake, at least one person keeping guard in the corridor, the rest of them scattered in the house and guest house. But they’re gone. They’re all genuinely gone. And because it is late evening, all the housekeepers and cleaners are gone too. You have not been in a house this empty your entire life. It feels uncanny, ghostly even. It completely halts your half-baked plan to leave, not that you planned on going much further than the pool-house.

You stand still, suspended in the unfamiliar emptiness.

“Whatcha doin’?” Felix’s freaky deep voice is suddenly right beside you. You jump away from with a startled squeak. He just stands there, his mouth in that stupid flat line, his shaggy blonde hair bouncing when he tips his head.

“Nothing,” you snap, annoyed that he scared you. “I’m just going to the kitchen for a snack. Is that against the fucking law now?”

“It’s not really healthy to eat this late at night,” Felix says, “but it’s not illegal. That would be weird.”

“I hate you,” you say. His even temperament has been driving you insane, so it is satisfying to see a flicker of genuine surprise on his face. “Just leave me alone.”

“Sorry,” he says, recovering quickly. His voice is steady. “Can’t do that. Sort of my job, you know?”

You roll your eyes then turn and stomp all the way down the stairs. Felix trails behind you without protest, not making much noise despite the boots but he is impossible to ignore regardless.

You go to the kitchen and open the fridge. You aren’t hungry but you feel like you have to eat something now just to prove a point.

Felix ambles up to the counter and perches himself on a stool. You look over your shoulder at him. He waves.

“I’m not making you anything,” you snap.

“That’s fine.” He folds his hand on the counter. “I’m not hungry. Thank you.”

You reach into the fridge and grab an eggplant out of the produce drawer. It is a ridiculous response, but you decide to out-weird the weirdo, making eye contact as you bite in the raw eggplant. You try to hide your displeasure, chewing the thick vegetable slowly. Felix tips his head very far then straightens. His eyes narrow.

“I’m pretty sure that’s toxic,” he says.

You stop chewing.

“Yeah,” he says. “Eggplant, yeah. I think when it’s raw it’s like not good for you or something? I think there’s like a chemical in it. Maybe it’s only if you eat a lot of it, uhhh, I don’t know. Just in case, I wouldn’t eat it like that if I were you.”

You stare at him with a chunk of raw eggplant still on your tongue. He could be bluffing. He could be playing mind games. He could be telling the truth, since he delivered each sentence so uncertainly. Maybe he’s just bad at mind games. You’re good at them. You’ve been playing them since you were a child, so you just stare him down, swallow the eggplant, then take another bite.

His brow furrows. You are pretty sure your displeasure is a little more obvious now, your mouth partially open as you chew. Felix did not balk at stabbing his own hand but he looks very scandalized right now. You consider it a success.

“Stop it,” Felix says.

You take another bite, ripping into it with a ferocious tear.

“What are you doing?” he asks. “What? Are you trying to commit suicide by eggplant?”

You just shrug, chewing with your mouth wide open now. His stool scrapes the ground and you brace yourself, shuffling in the opposite direction when he circles the kitchen island.

“Spit it out,” he says.

“No,” you say, spitting eggplant as you say it. You very nearly choke.

“Seriously,” Felix says. “This isn’t funny.”

You chew obnoxiously big in his direction and he pounces, smoothly intercepting your escape. He cages you in against the counter, blocking you when you try to move. You drop the rest of the eggplant and push at him, dribbling mushy vegetable and cursing through your mouthful.

“Spit. It. Out,” he says, putting his hand under your mouth like a mother to a baby. You shove that hand away, then try to shove his face away. He clearly doesn’t want to get too physical with you, but eventually he grabs your chin and holds you still, your face pinched in his hand. You stare at him, breathing hard through your nose. “Stop it,” he says.

The house is empty. The house is genuinely, seriously, completely empty. Your father trusts Felix that much.

Who is this fucking kid?

You spit the eggplant at him. It spatters on his shirt and wins you an eye roll. It’s the first expression from him to make you smile.

“Bed time,” he says, stepping back to brush the mess off his shirt.

You cross your arms and lean against the counter. “No,” you say.

“No?” he asks. His deep voice fractures with a higher-pitched sound of surprise. “Why not?”

Because you hate your father and everything he puts you through. Because petty victories are your only victories. Because there is something seriously wrong with Felix if this is his life situation, and there is something seriously wrong with you for the same reason.

So you shrug. “Make me,” you say.

There is a beat of silence.

Then the world is upside down because Felix picks you up and slings you over his shoulder. You cry out, slapping his back as he marches to the stairs. Where is he even hiding this strength?

“Put me down!” You pound on his backside while he carries you up the stairs. “When my father hears about this—”

He puts you down on the landing, swinging up a step to afford him an extra foot of height over you. He holds your wrist in his hand and looks at you very seriously.

“What?” he asks. “When he hears about me doing my job?”

You try to tug your hand back but Felix holds it tight.

“Are you serious right now?” you ask. You continue to squirm your hand in his grip. “Who the fuck are you? What do you even get out of this?”

“What do you get out of this - this - everything?” he asks.

“I get my life,” you snap. “In pieces and only for a little bit, but mine.”

“Me too,” he says.

A breathless silence follows. You realize you are holding his hand, having twisted and turned so much that he clasped your fingers with his. You both look there then at each other. You abruptly let go.

“Can we go to bed?” Felix asks, softening his voice. “Please.”

Your lower lip wobbles. You look at the stain on his shirt. You think about his hand on that desk.

“And what about my other question?” you ask.

He tips his head again, but his expression is no longer neutral. He wears his confusion openly, briefly but substantially.

“What?” he asks.

“My other question,” you say, blinking back your tears. “Who are you?”

“You tell me first,” he says. “Who are you?”

It’s easier to fight and scream than plainly express yourself. No one ever listens, so you are not practiced. You have Felix’s undivided attention but it suddenly feels like too much. You do not have it in you to glare anymore. You meet his pained gaze with your own and join him on the next step.

“I’m tired,” you say. “Let’s go to bed.”

He goes to check the security system while you get ready for bed. You are already nestled under the covers, shivering despite the thick layers because the house sounds so quiet and you are honestly scared. You jump when the door opens and Felix enters, your eyes meeting in the dim light. He looks away first, going about his own routine. You turn your back to him.

The bed is big but you still feel it dip when he gets inside. You look over your shoulder. He is laying on his back with his eyes closed. He is clearly still awake but the semblance of sleep accentuates the natural innocence of his face. You have seen the flicker of a few deeper emotions, none of them childish, but he looks his age while laying there.

His eyes open. He glances at you. You wonder what you look like to him.

“Good night,” he says, shattering the terrifying silence.

You don’t argue it. You just nod then turn away, closing your eyes, letting the sound of his breathing lull you to sleep faster than usual.

#skz x reader #stray kids x reader #lee felix x reader #felix x reader #bodyguard au

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cowboyjen68 · 1 year ago

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Do you have any tips on how to dress & like.. BE as butch as you can whilst living under a household that expects you to be feminine and dress feminine? Sorry if this is a difficult question..

Start with boxers or boxer briefs. (boy shorts in the girls section). These can be passed off as sleeping shorts, summer PJ's etc so when they are in the laundry you can just call them that.

Wearing boxers was a game changer for me before I really started to go back (like when I was a kid) to wearing what I really wanted to wear.

T shirts, Hoodies, jeans and canvas high tops are pretty gender neutral and so are flannel shirts. Most of these things are seen as casual teen or young adult wear. Leaving the house in a flannel over a a t shirt can look very different if tucked in with a nice leather belt. Add a cool buckle and suddenly BUTCH.

They make "women's cut flannel" that is a bit more of a fitted look but getting one a little large and tucking it in takes some of the feminine look from it. Wrangler and Eddie Bauer both carry a women's line.

Wrangler has a women's dressier button down (snap if their retro version) shirt line that is decent and getting it a bit larger and tucking it in or worn open over a T shirt can give you a bit of a butch look but "look mom, it's a woman's shirt". The think about Cowboy fashion it the men's and women's shirts are equally as bold and colorful and flashy.

Columbia sells decent walking and hiking boots that are very similar from men's to women's. I think most farm stores and wilderness outfitters are going to sell clothing for either gender that is very similar.

I hope this helps a bit. (thrift stores and estate sales, even garage sales are great places to get a lot of variety).

#butch clothes #butch #butch fashion

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hillbillyoracle · 2 years ago

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Androgynous/Masc Leaning Capsule Wardrobe Ideas

In honor of International Nonbinary People’s Day, I offer you the clothing advice I wish I had like 15 years ago. I prefer a small well curated wardrobe but it is so tough to pull that off as a nonbinary genderfluid person. I spent years struggling to make my capsule wardrobe work for me. Every example I saw was either with feminine clothes or with the world blandest men’s clothing.

For reference, I’m AFAB and live in Kentucky - very hot and muggy in summers, can get quite cold (-20 F) in winter but it’s usually mild with highs are in the 30F-40F range most days. This is the advice I’d give my younger self if I could.

Focus on 10-15 Core Items

While I am fluid, I consistently spend most of my time “inbetween” these days. Having a neutral to masc learning main wardrobe with some feminine items to mix in wound up working best for me. So here’s the masc leaning base wardrobe I recommend.

~3 x Button Ups - I went with short sleeve Hawaiian shirts for myself because I love bold patterns. You can find a lot of Hawaiian shirt these days that don’t have stereotypical “island” patterns on them while still being pretty light and breathable in summer. If your style leans more classic, consider oxford cloth button ups. You might need more button ups if you work in a business casual setting.

~3 x Tees - I like graphic tees, specifically hand screen printed ones so that’s what I go with. But if your style is more classic then consider investing in some good quality solid color tees.

~3 x Casual Tops - for me this is a tank top, turtleneck, and a Henley. But you might consider a collarless button ups, plain long sleeve shirts, and ringer style long sleeve shirts.

~3 Pants - for me, I have black and stone washed denim since those are my favorites. I look for tapered fits over skinny or boot leg where I can. I have one pair that’s a jogger style I quite like. You might look for chinos or khakis if you have a more formal dress code at work but they’ll still work with graphic tees and other tops if you style them right.

~3 x Layers - for me this is a cardigan, a flannel, and a hoodie. You might consider v neck or crew neck sweaters, cable knit sweaters, and fair isle sweaters as well.

Feminine Clothing Module

What’s nice about this approach is that you can then create a feminine clothing module that plays nicely with your main wardrobe.

For me this looks like

1-2 Dresses - I have a maxi tee dress and a long sleeved linen dress since that works more for everyday wear for me.

1-2 Skirts - I don’t have any presently but the next big feminine swing I have I’ll be ordering a nice linen skirt in my favorite color.

1-2 Casual Tops - I don’t have any presently after my last big wardrobe edit but business casual shell tops, camisoles, and cowl neck tops work well here.

1-2 Layers - I have a linen blazer in a women’s cut and a long striped duster. You might consider a kimono style shrug/wraps, sweaters in a more feminine cut, and women’s cardigans

You don’t need a lot here because so much of the main wardrobe can be mixed with a feminine element or two and it becomes much more feminine - especially if you’re AFAB but even if you’re AMAB. It doesn’t take a lot a feminine clothing to make an over all outfit look more feminine and subtle touches work just as well as more overt styles ime.

Sizing

Sizing is tricky as hell. I’m plus size (size 18-20 in women’s pants) and especially trying to find masculine stuff with the right fit is a pain. I really recommend going in to try things on if you’re able but if not get comfortable with the idea you will likely need to send things back. Yes you can take measurements but those measurements are still listed with different proportions in mind.

For men’s clothes I lean toward a slightly oversized fit - as most men I’m around do. For women’s clothes, I lean toward a slightly tight fit - as most women I’m around do. Look at the people around you and see which fits they lean toward and opt for that where you’re able to for yourself.

Shoes, Outwear, Special Occasions

Shoes - I tend to opt to go neutral in my shoes and outerwear. Not in color or pattern mind you but gender. For shoes, I currently have 3 pairs - a pair of crocs (with spikes), running shoes/sneakers (old Champion brand slip ons), and a pair of Doc Martens. These are good options if you’re AMAB too because the sizing is unisex or available in similar styles for men and women. Other good options are Vans, Chucks, any hippie sandal brand you can think of. “Nicer” shoes are great but often pretty gendered. I lean toward getting “nicer shoes” that are opposite my assigned gender when I do grab them.

Outerwear - I also tend to opt for gender neutral options for outerwear too. Since it doesn’t get terribly cold here, I stick to a micropuff jacket from North Face and layer a black denim jacket over it when it gets cold. When I wear it with masc stuff, blends in. When I wear it with feminine stuff, it adds a slight edge I like. Pea coats are decent options as well. If you live some place real cold, a lot of the long winter coats are basically the same between genders, just different fits.

Special Occasions - I would recommend not worrying about special occasions until or unless they come up. I have the same two “special occasion” dresses that I’ve been using for years because they come up so rarely and I can’t bare to spend too much money on something I’ll wear maybe once or twice a year. Formal wear is highly gendered and if you learn androgynous it’s a tough needle to thread. For those events with hosts you know, it’s worth reaching out to them to see what they think makes an outfit “formal” - could be nicer cuts or materials, could be rigid gender norms - can’t know until you ask.

For most special occasions, I do not know the host, so I default very structured looks in accordance with my assigned gender. Still feels a bit edgy but no ones gonna have the guts to say it’s wrong. For AMAB folks you might do the inverse, more flowy looks and colors while still adhering to your assigned gender. All depends on the level of familiarity you have with the hosts and the flack you’re willing to catch.

Outfits

Some masc leaning outfit ideas:

button up, hoodie, pants, boots

graphic tee, flannel or cardigan, pants, sneakers

turtleneck, pants, boat shoes

button up, tie, cardigan, pants, chelsea boots

Some fem leaning outfit ideas:

button up, cardigan, skirt, sneakers

shell top, wrap, pants, sandals

graphic tee, skirt, sneakers

dress, sandals

Conclusion

Hope this was helpful to someone out there!

#nonbinary #androgynous #nonbinary fashion #international nonbinary people's day #genderfluid #genderfluid fashion

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pettypiastri · 2 years ago

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under the warm white lights

quinn hughes x fem reader

wc: 2.7k

warnings: children? one mention of starting a family/marriage. one passing mention of alcohol. one single swear. one innuendo. pretty wholesome fluff :)

a/n: happy valentine’s day! a short lil piece for our beloved quinny :) since quinn is the oldest and i didn’t feel it was fitting to make jack or luke married given their ages and places in life, “Sara” is a fake fourth Hughes child and has a daughter named Olive! Enjoy friends, and feel free to send in some requests if you have any ideas you wanna see written!

Despite it being winter vacation, your alarm wakes you up. A ripe 7am but you’re not as mad as you would be during the semester since you know what’s waiting for you this morning. As you take an extra moment to yourself, stretching out on the cozy queen bed, you know you’re far from the first one awake today.

Rising with a yawn, you take to the bathroom to complete your morning routine before slipping on a sufficiently warm outfit. Even the extra blankets and raging heater in the Hughes’ house can’t keep the Michigan winter out of your bones. After pulling fluffy socks on your feet, you depart the clutches of the spare room and venture toward the kitchen.

Ellen is tucked into a bar stool reading a paper and clutching a coffee cup. Her head perks up at your entrance and a warm smile shakes the remaining chill out of your body. There are a few other family members scattered about the living area including a couple of the little ones.

“Morning sweetheart. Help yourself to some coffee.” Ellen says. You nod and mouth a ‘thank you.’ Filling up a cup, you take a seat near Ellen and Quinn’s sister Sara where you can see through the sliding glass back door. The warm coffee begins to jolt you awake. You take leisurely sips and chat intermittently with the women as you wake up but your gaze is continually drawn to the outdoor rink.

Quinn, Jack, Luke, and a few of their hometown friends are skating around playing hockey on the pond, lit only by the warm white lights strung around the perimeter. It’s not yet sunrise. You just know they’re chirping each other constantly by the smiles glued to their faces. The thought makes you grin; you love watching the boys do what they love.

One in particular though. Quinn’s always been such a smooth skater. He’s effortless out there moving around his buddies and tossing playful hip checks around to his brothers. His electric grin is almost visible from there. With the glowing string lights softly illuminating his form, he looks almost angelic, edges fuzzy from the warm white light. You can’t take your eyes off him.

You only notice how long you’ve been staring when you raise your cup to your lips and there’s nothing left in it. As you debate what another cup might do to your body, Sara’s little girl Olive starts badgering her mother about going outside.

“Not right now hunny, mommy’s still waking up.” She sighs, trying to bask in a few more minutes of peaceful quiet.

“I can take her… if you don’t mind of course. I was gonna wander out that way myself.” You pipe up, looking at Sara for approval. Her daughter is already squealing delightedly and begging her mum to agree. She smiles at you in a heartbeat.

“You don’t mind? That’d be great, thank you Y/N.” She regards you warmly before ushering her little one to grab some necessary outer layers. You rise to put your mug in the dishwasher and find a few warm clothing items too. With some leggings on your lower half and fuzzy socks underneath your fur lined ankle boots, you think the hoodie and flannel you pull on will keep you warm enough. Oh and a beanie of course, complete with pom pom. Returning to the kitchen you find Olive tugging her extra clothes on so you bend down to her height to help finish the job.

“Ready chickee?” You ask, pulling her beanie down over her ears. She nods eagerly and you can’t help but boop her nose before heading toward the backdoor. “Hold my hand babe, it’s slippery on the stairs here, okay?” She whines an ‘I know’ but does as you say anyway, moving hand in hand with you down the creaky wood stairs. There’s no wind this morning thankfully but the cold still sends a jolt through you. You both trudge through the slightly snowy walkway toward the rink. You pick your head up to look for Quinn, knowing he’ll want to say ‘hi’ to his niece, but you’re distracted by the gorgeous dawn sky. The stars are still out and as your eyes adjust you see just how many constellations are visible.

“Olive, look up at the sky!” You coo crouching down to pick her up in your arms. “There’s Orion. And the Big Dipper. Y'know what’s special about that one babe?” She shakes her head no. You grab her hand gently and guide her finger along the path made by the two outermost stars of the scoop. “It points to that star right there. The big bright one you see it? That’s the North Star. It never moves so you always know where North is.” She makes noises of amazement and proceeds to ask you more questions about the stars and what other constellations you know. You spend a few minutes in your own little world talking about and marveling at the sky.

Quinn’s POV

They’ve been staring at the sky for several minutes now. I can hear Olive’s giggle from here, even above the sound of skates on rough ice. Y/N’s been pointing at different things and speaking softly to Olive. Every once and a while Olive’s tiny hand flies up to the sky and points at something, her excited chatter getting a bit louder. Sometimes Y/N moves her hand to point somewhere else or turns on her heel to give Olive a new view. Watching them from afar makes my heart warm. It’s such a genuine, organic interaction I can’t help but be filled with love. I wish Y/N was holding our kid instead of just my niece. But that’s getting way ahead of myself; we’re not even dating… yet… I hope. I hold my tongue so as not to disturb their moment and mine vicariously.

“Lost in a little daydream there Q?” It’s Jack. For as annoyed as I am about him interrupting, I’m also glad that he’s the one catching me in fantasy land and not one of my buddies. Jack knows how I feel. He knew even before I caught on. I just hum, keeping my eyes on the precious sight a few seconds longer. “She’s good with her. Fits right into the Hughes clan.” His words are accompanied with a slight nudge. For once his tone isn’t teasing and that’s what gets me to break my stare.

He wears a soft smile to top off his genuine statement. I can see in his eyes what he means inadvertently: “Tell her how you feel. You’ve loved this girl for years. The family loves her too. Make her an official part of it.” It’s nothing more radical than my normal thoughts when I’m a few shots deep or apparently on cold Michigan mornings. I smile solemnly back at the older boy, conveying what doesn’t need to be said verbally either: “I’m not ready yet. One day. Baby steps.” Instead I stop lazily leaning on my stick and take a few strides toward the edge of the rink.

Y/N's POV

“Well good morning sleeping beauty… ” Quinn calls softly. You know immediately the greeting was meant for you when he meets your eyes and gives you a warm smile. Both his actions and his words make you blush. Hopefully it isn’t noticeable under your already wind bitten cheeks but comfortingly, you notice his look just the same. You wonder if it’s because of the wind too or something else.

“Well look who it is! Nice of you to join us ladies!” Jack chirps you as soon as he comes to a stop at the edge of the rink. You roll your eyes playfully and hand over his niece when you see he’s abandoned his hockey stick to free up his hands. Olive is already squealing as Jack skates off to take her on ‘a tour of the rink’ you think you heard him say.

“I didn’t even get to say hi!” Quinn pouts at you, bottom lip jutting out and all. “So much for being the funcle,” he adds.

“Oh so I’m not entertaining enough company?” You place your hand on your chest acting wounded. Quinn just smiles, his pretty eyes twinkling from the string lights. He leans forward and kisses your cheek, dangerously close to your lips. The accidental proximity makes you shiver.

“Certainly prettier company than my brothers.” He offers, reaching a hand out to toy with the strings of your (his) hoodie. You smile up at him bashfully, enjoying this peaceful early morning moment. Reaching a hand out to readjust Quinn’s beanie to cover his ears, you try to distract yourself from his stare. He chuckles briefly at your avoidance before he peers over the boards to look down at your feet. Tsk’ing he sighs.

“No skates. Figured.” You slip your hand down from his neck to his chest, palm resting over patches on his old NTDP jersey.

“It’s like you forget I’m part of the general population sometimes: most people don’t own skates.” You get lost in his eyes for a few moments, unable to think of anything funny to tack on to the end of your statement.

In one fell swoop, Quinn lifts you up to sit on the edge of the boards. A squeak of fright leaves your mouth as you scramble to reach out for him. You’re able to steady yourself by grabbing his biceps while he takes advantage of the opportunity to slot himself between your legs.

The more compromising position has you inches from Quinn’s face. Your eyes meet easily and Quinn smiles bashfully at you, seemingly a bit nervous. He slips his hands between your hoodie and your flannel, resting against your clothed waist. The clouds of his minty breath tickle your nose. Your lips part involuntarily, unlocking when the tendrils of steam flutter against them. It’s the closest I’ll ever be to kissing him, you think.

“Aren’t you in the middle of a game Q?” You mutter quietly. Not much volume is necessary at this proximity. His eyes watch your lips as you speak. You try not to let the action go straight to your heart. No luck.

“Half time. Tryna get warmed up.” Quinn shrugs, gloveless hands slipping around to your back as he drops his face into your neck. Another squeak betrays you at the feeling of his frosty nose but you wrap your arms comfortingly around his back anyway.

“Didn’t your mom ever tell you about taking a girl to dinner first before you steal her warmth?” You tease, hands sweeping across his back and up to his neck. Quinn smiles into your neck, nuzzling further against you as if he’s shy.

“You want to go to dinner then?” He murmurs, barely above a whisper. Your heart flutters and drops to your stomach. It’s just rhetorical, a joke, you reason, trying to calm your rampant heartbeat. One of his big hands slides around your waist, settling on your lower back. His fingers are tentative and careful as he holds you against him, reflecting his trepidatious tone. You hum softly, feeling heat rise to your face and that tingly feeling in your fingers. You try to convince yourself it’s just the cold. Gently you pull Quinn’s head up by threading your fingers through his hair and giving a soft tug. You need to see his eyes to know if he’s being serious or if it really was a harmless tease. His cheeks are frosted red, maybe even more than yours; he’s always been a rosy boy. You run your fingers along Quinn’s strong jaw and meet his eyes but not before flitting over his plush lips. He looks serious albeit nervous.

“Chipotle doesn’t count.” You murmur. At this he laughs out loud, some of the tension of the moment slipping away. When Quinn collects himself his lips press another soft kiss to your cheek. Your actual cheek this time. Briefly you forgot what you both were even talking about.

“Okay but if it weren’t chipotle… what would you say?” He’s a bit mumbly but you find it all the more endearing in his rounded Michigan accent. Quinn can’t quite meet your eyes now; he bounces nervously between his skates, his hand on your waist, your eyes are bright. “Maybe we could dress up a little bit? I’d wear a suit just to see you in that dress… the one from the gala? The black one, tiny straps, big slit– fuck I can’t stop thinking about you in that dress.” A heat burns your cheeks, surprised by the dichotomy of Quinn’s bold honesty and his shy tone. One of his hands is playing with the stitching on your hoodie pocket, the other still on your back. You feel his thumb brushing softly there, trying to coax an answer out of you. When he finally looks up and holds your gaze for an extended moment, your heart leaps. He looks so nervous but there’s that beautiful, childlike hope in his eyes too. His courage gives you a push to act the same.

“Mmm I’ll go.” Your inflection is harmlessly flighty. This brings his attention back up to your eyes. He raises one brow at you, knowing you still have more to say.

“You’ll go if…”

“I’ll go if… you pay.” He rolls his eyes playfully at your musing but nods. You can tell he’s regained some confidence from your initial acceptance so he tolerates your teasing.

“Already was planning on it.” A big smile starts to pull at his lips but he swallows it quickly to try and play it cool. You fall for him even more in that moment.

“And,” You start, your stomach flooding with a new set of nerves. Cautiously you meet his gaze. “If you promise to take that dress off me at the end of the night.” You’re barely audible but Quinn hears you. Loud and clear. You study his features intently to see if he’ll reach out to catch your admittance floating in the air. Quinn’s Adam's apple bobs as he swallows thickly, before his tongue pokes out to wet his lips. His eyes still twinkle but there’s a slight glaze over them now.

“Whaddaya say Quinny?” You prompt, nervousness infesting your body. Quinn nods once, and then two more times.

“Yeah… yeah I’d like that.” His soft tone is barely louder than yours. If you weren’t so trained on him, you might’ve missed the whispered confession.

“Yo Quinn let’s go!” Luke shouts, effectively shattering your moment. Jack’s timing is impeccable too, as he swings little Olive over the boards and deposits her flat on her feet. He regards the two of you and your compromising position with a coy smile but for once doesn’t say a word. He skates off leaving you alone with Quinn for just a second more.

“Score me a couple goals eh?” You smile at him playfully, fingers curling into the hair at the base of his neck. Quinn’s gorgeous smile is instant, the lights reflecting off his beaming expression. You think you fall fully for him in that moment: your hand on his neck, his on your back, and smiling at you like a giddy kid. It happens so fast you don’t even realize it happens until after the fact. He kisses you. On the lips. The tiniest most fleeting peck but it sends a spark through you to the very tips of your fingers, banishing any chill residing in your bones. The action speaks so loudly despite being so small. It’s possession and excitement and disbelief and naive glee all in one. You can’t help but feel the same.

Wordlessly Quinn helps you back over the boards so you’re standing next to Olive. He takes you in one more time and shakes his head in disbelief, having a private giggle as he skates off to rejoin the boys. You pick up Olive as before, and start to trudge back to the house.

“Is Quinn your boyfriend?” She asks suddenly. You glance at her to see her intent stare as she ponders you.

“Almost.” You say. “Almost.”

Quinn's POV

“The hell was that?” Jack asks incredulously. I come to a stop beside him, waiting for the boys to faceoff. I glance once more at Y/N as she walks back across to the house before responding, the smile still very much on my face.

“I think we’re going on a date.”

#quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes imagine #vancouver canucks #vancouver canucks hockey #canucks hockey #canucks #jack hughes #luke hughes #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #my writing

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yellowjacketsfashion · 4 months ago

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Hey, do you know if any of the yellowjackets (adult and teen) wears cozy jackets/coat or windbreakers?

I already know about the Misty one, this L.L bean windbteaker is one of my most prized posessions ;)

I think a lot of the characters have jackets that look comfy but I don’t really know for sure as I’ve never worn nor felt most of them. I have a few of the hoodies and a coat though so I figured I’d review those for you in case you find that helpful!

Lottie’s I Love H81 faux fur coat:

This coat is the warmest of all the Yellowjackets outerwear I have and would be good if you live in a colder climate. It doesn’t have a ton of stretch so it does have the potential to limit some of your mobility (if you have experience wearing a leather jacket you might use that as a frame of reference but it’s not that extreme). The fur isn’t super soft but it’s not bad, though if you don’t like the feeling of hair on your neck this would probably irritate you if you wore it for a long period of time.

Natalie’s "UO Yogi Fleece Cropped Zip-Up Hoodie Sweatshirt”:

I love this hoodie. I think it’s so soft and comfortable plus it’s pretty thick too so it’s nice and warm. It’s great to just throw on and has a loose fit. Natalie wears a grey hoodie but it comes in lots of different colors so theres lots of options if you’re not a fan of the grey. The fact that it’s cropped though might be a deal breaker for some but I’m short so it fits me fine (if you don’t like wearing cropped clothes I wouldn’t recommend this because it is pretty cropped).

Lottie’s American Eagle "Women's Oversized Button-Up Shacket”:

This is a nice hoodie that is pretty soft and comfortable. It’s not as thick as Natalie’s hoodie but it’s not too light. It is longer in length so it’s a good option for those who like things that aren’t cropped plus it’s pretty big so it has a lot of room (I actually got one a size smaller so that it would fit better under the fur coat Lottie has). I think it would be especially nice to wear in the spring and fall.

The Yellowjackets’s Holloway "Argon Hoodie":

I think this is a pretty standard hoodie. It also isn’t cropped so it’s nice for those who like a longer jacket. It feels like every other polyester sports hoodie I’ve felt before (slightly itchy) but the inside is pretty soft which I think is really nice. It was hard for me to find one so I ended up with a kids XL but it fits me fine (I generally wear a women’s S/M top for reference).

Misty’s “Uniqlo Windproof Outer Fleece Jacket”:

While I don’t have this one, one of the listings I saw of it on Poshmark specifically said it was “cute, soft, and cozy.” If you take that statement at face value it seems it might fit the criteria of what you’re looking for.

I do have a couple of the flannels and some of the close match jackets if you want me to review those too but I didn’t know if they counted so I didn’t include them in the post. Just let me know if you’re interested though and I’ll review them as well.

If anyone else has any of the other Yellowjackets coats, jackets, or windbreakers feel free to share your experience and/or suggestions!

#yellowjackets #fashion

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transfemme-shelterdog · 1 day ago

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This is a slight rant, I guess?

I'm a not-always-GNC transmasc.

And let me tell you. People have a weird reaction to whatever I present as, unless it's extremely androgynous with slight fem leaning so I am "visibly queer"... Because then they know exactly what box to put me in.

I'm more masculine? "What? What's wrong with femininity? Do you hate yourself?" Or "Ugh, finally! Thought you'd never dress like that! Finally you look like a man" or "why is it always hoodies/flannels/button ups?"

I'm more feminine? "What? What's wrong with masculinity? Do you hate yourself?" And "you can't dress like that, you are supposed to be a man. I can't call you the right pronouns if you dress like that... How will people know?"

People, in short, see me as a butch lesbian, but never truly accept my masculinity in that presentation due to my slightly more feminine body. But also only sees me as a twink gay man*, until I talk. Then I'm slotted into the first option. Is my experience.

But how I see it myself? I'm both. Simulationasly. And also neither. And a third thing sometimes even.

*I am not comfortable with people calling me a twink without knowing them well, yet people do. And doesn't always stop when I say I like women???

People just need to learn to let people vibe with their gender, and leave it be.

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runthepockets · 5 months ago

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Straight dudes who get all "trans women aren't real women" are so stupid to me. As a straight man who has dated and courted and fucked trans women and continues to do so, I'm telling you, it's all exactly the same as dating any cis chick. They're apologizing for "eating too much" on the first date, they're taking an hour and a half to get ready when we should have left 40 minutes ago, they're doing the "plausibly deniable" emotional manipulation shit when they're pissed at you cus it's not socially acceptable for women to just punch you in the head when they're mad, they're stealing all of your hoodies and sweatjackets and flannels, they're projecting their daddy issues onto you, and they're stealing fries off your plate after specifically saying they're not hungry.

Maybe there's a handful of insecurities and habits that cis women don't have mixed up in there too, but that's also true of dating black women instead of white women, or fat women instead of skinny women. It's the same shit and you're whining about nothing.

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theragethatisdesire · 2 years ago

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fic-d here, please, i desperately need the smut abc for plug eren because i am OBSESSED with him.

and i also need to know exactly what kind of clothes he wears, for … unrelated reasons.

hiiiii mooty moot <3 can i just say i'm thrilled you asked this. fair warning for anyone about to open below the cut, this is going to be an absolute MONSTER of a post. and i'm going to love every second of writing it lol.

okay first, the outfits. plug!eren is very like, stoner/streetwear type. LOVES layers, lots of hoodies and flannels and jackets, always wearing Vans, really favors a graphic t-shirt (thrasher, anime tees, has a really impressive collection of vintage band t-shirts and limited-edition supreme drops) i shall attach some reference photos:

idk if this is even the right vibe, but just very casual, whatever-works type of clothes. owns like, two button downs vs his 1001 sweatshirts lol.

and now...onto the nasty stuff LOL enjoy lovebug

PLUG!EREN nsfw headcanons under the cut <3

A. Aftercare

plug!eren is 25, yes, but he's also kind of just a boy at heart lol. it takes him awhile to understand the whole concept of aftercare and just laying and spending time together after sex because he bounces back fast, and is already jumping up to cook dinner or get both of you ready to go to a kickback or something like, two minutes after. once you explain the concept to him, he develops a complex for awhile that he "hasn't been treating you well", and goes really overboard LOL but eventually it evens out. becomes a big fan of snuggling afterwards but would never admit it.

B. Body part

eren was a thin kid growing up, and he's super proud of all the work he's put in to change his body over the years. especially proud of his back, it's his favorite muscle group to work and the one he tracks the progress of the most for sure.

on you, plug!eren is an asssss man. like, he's the king of ass men. constantly running up behind you to land a light smack, grabbing it, holds it while you're cuddling etc. also loves your hips? like, he loves when you ride him specifically so that he can hold on tight and grab at the fat around your hips. i cannot overstate how much he loves it.

C. Cum

plug!eren def has a face-painting thing. he loves to cum in you, and it takes him a few hook-ups to tentatively throw out there that he'd love to cum on your face, but after you let him do it the once, it's over. wants to cum on your pretty face and take pictures of you all covered in him every time you fuck.

D. Dirty secret

being an engineering/architect student, eren's not bad with a pencil and paper. loves to sketch the human body as much as he loves thinking up random building designs. not going to elaborate much here bc spoilers....

E. Experience

LMAO plug!eren is absolutely ran through, so yes, he knows what he's doing.

F. Favorite position

for eren, it's a toss-up between doggy or letting you ride him, both of which stem from his thing for your hips and your ass. i think he would say riding him solely because you usually cum harder that way and eren loves watching you cum, but if it's winning out over doggy, it's only by like, an infinitesimal amount.

G. Goofy

it takes him awhile, but once eren's comfortable, he can be such a goofball during the act. like, will giggle with you when you bump your head on the headboard, full-blown belly laughing when he tries to shove you up against the wall and knocks a few picture frames down. once, one of the legs under his bed broke and you both laughed so hard about it that you couldn't even finish the act. absolutely had a photoshoot of both of you pulling ridiculous poses right beside the now-broken bed.

H. Hair

eren's not like, full-blown bush or anything, but i don't see him doing much more than just trimming. he's terrified of nicking his balls or something if he fully shaves LOL.

on you, eren would never tell you what to do with your body (again, ran through enough to know that's a big no-no when it comes to women), but i think he secretly loves when you're completely bare because he's really into watching how you take him. it gives him an unobstructed view, whether he's eating you out, fingering you, or fucking you, he loves to be able to see every bit of you.

I. Intimacy

plug!eren struggles with being intimate, and while he craves it, he hides it under constant rough sex. after you've been together for awhile though, you have a huge, blowout, nearly-break-up fight, and when he fucks you that night, he's slow and sweet and definitely not tearing up, whispering little i love yous into your skin while he rolls his hips against you. making love is definitely in him, it just takes him awhile to get up to that point.

J. Jack off

24/7. no question. this man's sex drive is unbelievable and honestly? sometimes you're too sore or just not in the mood, really. my favorite thing about plug!eren is that when you just can't go another round, he'll have you sit up all pretty and naked for him and just jack off staring at you, making you talk to him and tell you how good he made you feel. lovesick little baby.

K. Kinks

huge pleasure dom. "can't cum again" is not in eren's vocabulary- he knows you can and he knows he can make you, so what's the harm in one more? not sure if this counts as a kink, but eren's obsessed with the way you smell. not just like, your arousal, but your perfume, that little scent that everyone has that just smells like them really gets him going. every time he stays at your house he can't keep his hands off of you, loves to steal little things like a pair of panties or a dirty shirt just to have at his place for when he misses you. could get down with a daddy kink if you were into it. i struggle to think of the word for this, but he's just nasty. his favorite kind of sex is freaky, nasty, flat-out disgusting sex with cum everywhere and the sheets ruined. big marking kink, loves to leave bruises and hickeys all over you as well.

L. Location

plug!eren is very possessive, what's his is his, so not really into the public sex thing, but will take you absolutely anywhere he knows no one could catch you and get a glimpse of what's just for him. really into sex in the kitchen for some reason?? shower sex too, god that is his favorite, just having you soaking wet and pinned up against the shower wall. up against a wall in general, actually. again, he's worked really hard to get all these muscles, and it definitely gets him off how easily he can just scoop you up and fuck you in his arms. might be an ego thing but hey, who are you to complain?

M. Motivation

anything that reminds him you're his. like, if he catches a glimpse of his hickeys on your neck under your makeup? you're going home from dinner early. you're walking around in one of his tshirts? he's bending you over the counter and you're not taking that shirt off for a second. eren's also a very detail-oriented person, so if he tells you he really likes red lipstick for example, and you wear it the next day, he knows it's for him and for some reason the thought of you choosing something to wear that you know will turn him on makes him feral. you're his pretty little thing, and he loves when you show off a little for him. LOVES lingerie. like, the complicated, full-set bells and whistles of garter sets and stockings and the whole thing. embarrassed at first because he can't figure out how to take any of it off of you, but when you just smile at him shyly and pull your panties to the side, he debates leaving you there to go buy an engagement ring LOL.

N. No

surprisingly, anal. eren's very well-endowed and a girl he was seeing for awhile talked him into anal, and even though they prepared well, she was still in too much pain to really enjoy it and it scarred him a little bit. he likes to hurt you within reason, but that's crossing a line for him, so no more than a finger or two and even then, only if you really want it.

O. Oral

LOVES GIVING HEAD. like, could die happy between your legs, it's his favorite part of sex type of loves giving head. has to beg you for it, but his favorite is when you ride his face. also loves receiving. really big into pulling out when he's getting close and having you finish him with your mouth. also loves eating you out after he's cum in you, then spitting both of your cum into your mouth. again, he's a nasty nasty man and i love him.

P. Pace

eren fucks fast and hard, especially once you've gotten used to his size. he has to ease you into it at first, he's not a total asshole, but once you've gotten adjusted, it's all gas no brakes with him. all those hours in the gym really pay off when he can have you bent over for what feels like an endless amount of time, crying and wailing under him.

Q. Quickie

weirdly, LOVES a quickie. totally gets off watching you limp off to work/class after he bent you over the bathroom counter in the middle of you doing your makeup just to make your legs a little extra-shaky for the day. you're both busy, what can he say? absolutely pulls your panties up with his cum in you and tells you to keep it in there for him.

R. Risk

eren's down for whatever you're down for. he's already fleshed out most of his kinks and fantasies at this point, other than a few things he really needs a committed partner for. it really turns him on when you take the initiative to shyly ask if you can try something, and when you come over one day tentatively holding out a pair of handcuffs? oh he's done for. the one thing he doesn't love is being submissive. he'll let you have your fun, choke him a little, ride him, etc., but he really isn't into being a full-on sub and being made to beg. i think that would be his other really hard no, come to think of it.

S. Stamina

eren is, again, ran through, so he's got some stamina. usually can last at least half an hour, sometimes he can even put himself off longer. he loves to try to go multiple rounds, but honestly, he wears himself out LOL. that doesn't mean you're off the hook though. eren might not be able to get it up, but he's got a mouth and some talented fingers and he loves to make you cum over and over just for his own entertainment.

T. Toys

toys are friends, not enemies! eren specifically loves your vibrator, it's small and easy to use in multiple different positions. his absolute favorite is to have you on top of him, fully seated and grinding against his hips, while he holds your vib to your clit. no chance of him getting enough friction to bust early, and he can make you cum at least two or three times like that until you're in tears and begging him to actually fuck you. yeah, that's his fav.

U. Unfair

eren's not so much of an intentional tease (bc he will accidentally work himself up too much and have to leave the bar early lol), but he's just so unintentionally pretty he doesn't have to try. i mean come on, he's beautiful and he's naturally so charismatic and flirty that he can tease without trying. and when you both get home and you're all riled up and pulling his clothes off, it's so entertaining to him. he loves when you tell him how pretty he is, how he got you all turned on just doing nothing but being himself.

V. Volume

plug!eren is a big dirty talker, but he's actually pretty vocal on top of that, too. loves to moan and groan and tell you exactly how good you feel, whether that's with a noise or his words. he's the loudest when you give him head, it just feels so good and he can't help but ramble on and on about how good you are to him. his "tell" that he's about to cum is when he starts rambling, words slurring together and it just seems like he can't shut up.

W. Wild card

eren loves when you're a little drunk, lowest of keys. not so drunk he's taking advantage of you, but when you let the responsible, professor mask slip and just really let yourself go and have fun, it drives him crazy. he loves seeing you happy, and in an honestly almost-perverted way, he loves seeing you go absolutely crazy with your friends. it just makes him so hard to see you uninhibited and dancing in the middle of the club like you own the place, all eyes on you.

X. X-ray

i think this was pretty well covered in the fic but.....yeah it's big. like, a solid eight inches, girthy, veiny, pornstar dick. eren's blessed and he knows it and uses it to his advantage. your favorite game together is to see how much of him you can get down your throat and eren's obnoxiously cheering you on like a coach. "you're almost halfway babe, have you been practicing on bananas or something?" "shut up eren! i'm trying to concentrate!"

Y. Yearning

okay i feel like it's basically canon that eren's ready to go at all times, no matter what, and plug!eren is not exempt from that. on top of this, though, he's really turned on by...idk, mundane things? like when you stretch with your arms over your head and he can see the outline of your breasts through your shirt, the curve of your neck, when you stick a pen through the bun on top of your head. like, the silliest things turn him on, only adding to his super high sex drive.

Z. Zzzz

eren's usually still bouncing off the walls right after, loves pillow talking and staying up late and discussing any topic he can think of under the sun. he's very restless as a person, so it takes him awhile to go to sleep, especially plug!eren. you usually fall asleep first. always has to go rip the bong a few times or he's just got 0 chance of knocking out, but he always sleeps better when you're snuggled up to him <3

#omg this is a MONSTER of a post i am so sorry to all #if you made it this far congratulations #i award u a gold star #THANK U FOR REQUESTING PLUG EREN FIC I LOVE YOU #much ado universe #much ado uni #eren #eren x reader #eren x reader headcanons

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