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outpost51 · 10 months

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Happy Blorbo Blursday! How are your ocs holding up in a fight? What would it take for them to win?

Happy Blursday!

OHO OH BOY. I write fights a lot, especially with my main girls, so! Here’s some strategy breakdowns and snippets for you, content warning forrrr violence ALSO THIS GOT VERY LONG OH NO:

Atria fights like only one person is walking away in the fight: her, or them. There’s no draw; she fights to survive, and mercy be upon the poor soul who threatens her. Biotics, fists, teeth, knife if she’s got it — whatever it takes. She’ll keep going until someone brave enough pulls her off her opponent. If it makes you feel better, she'll probably feel bad about it.

Likelihood of victory: 75-80%

I charged while he was still frozen in shock. He was easy enough to take down with a well-placed shoulder to his belly; he was wounded, winded, and woozy. I wasn't thinking, couldn't think, blow after blow after blow hammering his face until nothing was left to be seen of the geometric lavender snaking across his brow and chin. With each subsequent strike, my hands got a little bluer and the crowd got a little louder. At some point human red started flowing together with turian blue; my knuckles stung. Some time after that, my hands glowed again and I felt the increased impact of every punch jolting into my shoulders. At some point he stopped screaming, but the spectators didn't, even when I was dragged off him and wrenched into a victor's stand by one still-clenched fist. They became ravenous. Insatiable. Consumed by their own hunger for violence. In my desperate bid to avoid becoming the corpse that whetted their appetite, I just managed to trade that burden for a different one, and still acted as their appetizer anyway. No one won in the Pits except the bookies. I learned two things that day: first, that drell came in size extra, extra large, if the massive marine mountain of muscle holding me six inches off the ground was any indicator; and second, that even in an adrenaline-induced fit of kill-or-be-killed desperation, taking a life took a part of you with it.

Dillon’s smarter. She knows when a strategic retreat is the best option, and when she’s got a fair shot at winning. It’s the magic she’s still trying to get a handle on — she might singe somebody’s hair orrrrrr... she might blow up half the block. Oops!

Likelihood of victory: 45-50%

Zadimus dropped down beside her, directing a current of air beneath himself on which he could recline. “The world won’t wait for you to be in optimal condition all the time, you need to be able to fight in any circumstance,” he quipped. “Particularly if you’re going to directly contradict your mentor’s advice.” Grumbling under her breath, Dillon spun around and slashed her hand through the air. The peak of a distant junk pile sheared off. She repeated the motion. A car went flying. The Abomination remained unscathed. “Goddammit!” she screamed. The resulting shockwave deposed the hedonistic emperor off his windy chaise.

Just don't go after somebody she cares about, or things might turn out a whole lot worse.

Likelihood of victory: start praying.

Dillon turned to give him one of the few pieces of her mind she could grasp in her half-inebriated state, and watched in slow motion as the horror swallowed him whole. Darkness closed in around her. A deep scarlet haze filled in what the void dared not touch. Static crackled across her skin, into her fingertips, her toes, her scalp, and zinged through her muscles, her bones, her veins, carving a fiery path straight to her heart. The pungent burn of ozone seared into her nose and throat until every breath was filled with the chemical tang of asphalt after a storm. She pulled the lightning from her body and let it dance a warning in her palms. The Abomination took one step forward. Dillon brought her hands together in a clap of thunder. Sticky viscera coated everything in a ten foot radius around a very whole, mildly offended Zadimus. “Oh, good,” he chuffed. “It was getting a bit stuffy in there. We’ll need to work on your timing, but overall, not terrible.”

Frankie would rather run, thank you. That’s what the gun is for. If she’s backed into a corner, better take her down quick before the big fucking robots she’s dating come to the rescue.

Likelihood of victory: 20-60%, depending on ammunition

Frankie drops a pin on her location and sends it to the only person she knows she can trust to hold their own with odds like these and have her back rather than stab it the second she goes down. Rough fingers dig into her scalp, rubbing their sickly, stale-cigarette scent into her hair so deep she thinks it might never wash out. The grip pulls her gut-first into a set of studded knuckle dusters. Sticky copper coats her tongue as her lungs try to remember what breathing feels like. She flails wildly, and out of sheer, dumb luck, the butt of her gun connects with her assailant’s face. It catches on the torn edge of his synthskin and tears it further; the monster lurking just beneath isn’t the man she thought it was, but a machine, and a few more pieces fall into place. If she can get at their memory chips, maybe she’ll actually have something substantial to back up her hunch. A manufacturer, an agency, a serial number, anything. Frankie swings again, this time more deliberately, and relishes the satisfying crunch of metal denting metal. A shower of sparks stings her hand where her gun has shattered the droid’s synthetic eye and it goes down in a hail of stuttered digispeak. There’s no time to celebrate, as another comes rushing forward with a shock baton — she ducks and rolls to the side, much to the displeasure of the bruise blooming across her midsection, but an angry ache is better than a cracked skull or fuck-you amps of electricity seizing up her entire body. The droid overcommits — not just regular AI, then, if they’re making mistakes, and another piece slots into the puzzle — and stumbles. Frankie takes advantage of the opportunity presented by delivering a kick to the base of its spine.

Jane is. Well, much like Atria, she was a street kid and the military never quite took that out of her. She fights to kill, though. If her opponent can still stand up, then goddammit, so can she. Somebody call John—

Likelihood of victory: there's a reason she's special forces.

Note: i had a hard time picking just one, because i love writing her fights. she's genuinely my favorite character to write fight scenes for, so i let the enablers pick lmao.

“Oh goodie,” Jane seethed over the rising cacophony of screaming and shouting and crying and gunfire and pain he was getting all too used to and never wanted to be. She pumped the shotgun in her hand. “I get to fulfill Jerry’s last request.” “Jane, don’t be—” “I’m not being stupid,” she called over her shoulder. “I’m being reckless!” All he could do was fight his way to her, over and over again. Keep himself standing as he watched her shoot, stab, punch, kick, rip, tear a path through the invading force. He kept them off her where he could, Sergeant Kieffer’s voice echoing over and over in his head. Do you think a turian pirate gives a fuck that he’s bigger than her? No, they didn’t, and they were so much bigger than her. Jane stormed straight towards the bastard who chatter had identified as the asshole spearheading this whole operation. Black armor, brown plates, swoops of red under his eyes, a bright red stripe down the center of his face — and a shotgun leveled at hers. Static crackled down his arms as he planted his feet and started moving through the mnemonics he could remember. Does that swashbuckling skullface give a fuck that he’s bigger than her? A blue corona engulfed his sister, but before she could strike, a batarian in red armor tackled her away from Haliat. She struck out with biotically-enhanced fists, kicked at the batarian’s chestplate, and finally managed to crack her brow into the pirate’s nose. The batarian rolled away from her, desperately clutching at his face with one hand and bringing up his pistol with the other. When Jane stood again, blood had painted a stripe down her face to match Haliat’s. The turian watched her intently, switching to his rifle. Jane ran both her middle fingers through the stripe, swooping them beneath her eyes and straight down to meet the corners of her mouth. She shouted something he couldn’t hear, but John could read her lips all the same: you’re mine. She looked crazy. Feral. Rabid. Maybe she was. Haliat turned and ran. Maybe they needed crazy.

#IM SORRY THIS GOT SO LONG I JUST LOVE MY TERRIBLE GIRLS OK #HOLDING THEM ALL GENTLE LIKE CHEESEBURGERS #blorbo blursday #sneeps.txt #crossfire ocs #bnsog ocs #arsonist chronicles ocs #helixverse ocs #oc: atria cassi #oc: dillon monroe #oc: frankie malone #oc: jane shepard

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lipstickstainz · 3 years

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just a few days - s. r.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader Summary: There’s no denying that Spencer and you hate each other. What happens, when you are forced to spend a few days together? Warnings: enemies to lovers, language, smut, fingering, oral (f receiving), typical criminal minds stuff Word Count: 4.5k A/N: hello friends. this is my first one shot and I hope you like it. gif not mine.

„I didn’t think you could be any more of a shithead, but you just proved me wrong.“

Many people believe in love at first sight. The heart starts racing, the knees go weak and you feel dizzy. You want to get to know the other person at all costs. Which is total bullshit, of course. You can't fall in love with someone at first sight. Interest, yes, but that's not love.

With Spencer and you it was different. The first time you met, you were breathless. Your muscles tensed to the breaking point, the blood pulsed in your ears, and your stomach turned. Only, in your case, it definitely wasn't love.

„I saw a trash bag on the side of the road today. Reminded me of you“, you shot back and Spencer rolled his eyes.

Hate at first sight really did exist, and Spencer and you were the prime example.

There was always a stupid comment, a scathing sideways glance, or catty laughter. Neither of you took it personally - why would you? You weren't interested in each other's opinions - and it didn't interfere with your work, which is why Hotch didn't say anything about it. It annoyed him, but he had also noticed that the quality of your work was higher when you were at each other's throats than when you worked separately.

You couldn't even remember why you had been so hostile to each other from the beginning. It was mutual antipathy, but no one knew why. You didn't know each other from anywhere else, had never met anywhere. Actually, you were someone who gave people a chance first to get to know them reasonably, but with Spencer it only took one look before you were sure you definitely didn't like him. Was it his aura? His charisma? His constant need to be smarter than everyone else?

At first, the two of you had been holding back. You had been professional with each other, staying out of each other's way as much as possible and not exchanging more words than necessary. Everything had been fine until one day something slipped out of Spencer's mouth. The team had been sitting in the conference room discussing the latest case. You had said something about the murder weapon when Spencer had rolled his eyes.

"Is something wrong?" you had asked him, annoyed. Spencer sat up straight in his chair and grabbed the crime scene photo.

"I've never heard anything so stupid," he said, looking at you with amusement.

"Excuse me?"

"Stop it," Hotch intervened. "We don't have time for bitching. JJ, inform the department we're on our way. Wheels up in thirty."

From that moment on, there was no turning back. You tried to belittle each other, but Hotch had forbidden you to relate it to work. Teasing and mean statements were allowed, but you were not allowed to get in the way of your work. And the most important thing: no arguing in front of outsiders. The team was used to it, but if others got wind of it, it would undermine your authority. So you had to pull yourselves together at times. Which was no problem.

Once inside the police department, Hotch divided the team. "Y/L/N, Reid, you'll go to the crime scene and examine the house for any abnormalities that might indicate motive," he said, and you looked at each other with disgust in your eyes. Hotch cleared his throat and gave you a look that said, "Get your act together or I'll send you home."

On the way to the scene, the radio was playing and you hummed the tune contentedly. You almost forgot who you were in the car with if Spencer hadn't suddenly turned off the radio. You made an annoyed noise.

"I wanted to hear that."

"I know," Spencer grinned, glancing at you briefly before looking out the window again. "And that's why I turned it off."

Sometimes you could strangle him.

The house was pretty run down from the outside. Spencer and you looked at each other. "If I had to hide your body somewhere, it would be right here," you grinned, walking toward the front door.

"I won't give you the satisfaction of killing me," he said, his mouth twisting into a crooked smile. "My death should have meaning. I'm not going to let someone like you kill me over that."

The interior of the house was in complete contrast to the exterior. Every room was cleaned and tidy, there was not a speck of dust anywhere, and the way magazines, pictures, and other decorations had been laid down indicated -.

"OCD," Spencer noted. "Look, Y/N. The magazines all have the same number of pages, the picture frames on the windowsill are all the same distance apart, and -" , he opened a cabinet in the kitchen, "the handles on the cups all point in the same direction."

"So the person has damage like yours," you said, surveying the pictures in the hallway. Luckily there were only two of you, or you would have had to stifle the comment.

"Ha. Ha. I don't have OCD."

"You still have some damage. Forensics said traces of bleach were found throughout the house," you added to his insight, walking down the hall. "The unsub cleaned and left everything like this."

"And how would you know that?" asked Spencer, who had followed you. In the ceiling in the hallway was the hatch that led you to the attic.

"The pictures in the hallway are not of the victim. They're printed photos of people from the Internet. There is no connection." You climbed the ladder and what awaited you there did not surprise you. The attic was filled with junk. It seemed like everything had just been shoved in. But again, there was not a woolly mouse to be seen.

"Apparently, the unsub places a lot of importance on maintaining the appearance of orderly, clean living."

You nodded at him and pulled your phone out of your back pocket. "Garcia, please search for wealthy families where children have been hospitalized with broken bones, hematomas or other injuries," you said, and Spencer snatched the phone from your hand. Annoyed, you looked at him.

"Equate that to sports injuries again, please. Thank you," he asked her before hanging up and tossing you the phone.

"Sports injuries?" you asked him, and he nodded.

"No parents would take their child to the hospital with injuries like that without an explanation. Sports injury is a good way to disguise something like that," he explained and you left the loft. When you got back into the car, you looked at him.

"If you snatch that phone out of my hand again, you'll be the next one with a slit throat," you smiled sweetly at him.

Spencer laughed out loud. "You grow a few more inches first, then maybe you can get to my throat."

Back at the precinct, the team profiled him and shared it with detectives. The plan was to lure him out of hiding and hope he would say or do something so you could arrest him.

"Bailey is targeting young couples in their twenties and thirties who are still in the early stages of their lives. They all moved in together a few days before they died. They were all very messy, which showed not only in their apartment, but also in their style of dress," Rossi explained.

"That's why two of our team will go undercover to draw him out," Hotch continued, giving Spencer and you a meaningful look. You knew what that meant. And you weren't in the mood for that. "Agent Y/L/N and Doctor Reid will be moving into a house on the outskirts of town, in the exact area where the last victim was found. Since he likes to return to the scene of his crime, he'll take notice."

"And then what do we do?" the sheriff asked, writing diligently.

"He'll show up a few days later and then we can go get him," Emily brought the conversation to a close and the group broke up. Hotch motioned Spencer and you to come with him to an adjoining room.

"I blindsided you with the proposal, and for that I'm sorry," he said, looking from Spencer to you, "but I'm afraid we have no choice. Tomorrow morning you'll move into the house and then it's only a matter of time before he comes. Just a few days. And until then, please try not to kill each other."

Spencer and you had been sitting together all night, working out a plan. Not only did you have to pretend to be a happy couple in front of others, you had to pretend behind closed doors. And that certainly wasn't going to be easy.

"Spencer, I'm only going to ask you this once," you began. "Are you okay with me touching you? Otherwise, we'll have to figure something else out. You can't flinch when I reach for your hand or give you a kiss on the cheek, even if I don't want to do that myself."

"I can handle that," he grinned. "As long as you promise not to snuggle up to me in your sleep. Because then I'll have to vomit."

Hotch was pretty happy with your plan and wished you good luck. He didn't want to bug the house because you still needed privacy, but the whole team was on speed dial. Besides, the others would take turns watching you. You weren't afraid, but knowing the others were always there calmed you down a bit.

The next morning, Spencer and you drove to your house. It looked a lot like the last victim's house. One story and an attic, the front yard hadn't been tended in ages. Spencer parked the car in the driveway and got out first so he could open the door for you like a gentleman.

"Are you ready for our new life?" he smiled, pulling you into his arms before you headed toward the door. His perfume was so strong it clouded your mind.

"With you, I'm ready for anything," you returned, placing your lips on his cheek.

Living with Spencer was more pleasant than you had imagined. You spent most of your time together in silence, Spencer with a book and you with music or magazines. You didn't avoid each other either, but spent every second together. Spencer always helped you cook and you helped him do laundry. You even went shopping together. There were little spats in between, but otherwise you got along fine.

You also noticed some things about Spencer that had completely escaped your attention until now. For example, he always had several books lying next to him when he read one. Which made sense if he finished one of them within ten minutes. Also, he would always mouth off a little when he was talking about something that was bothering him. And when he was talking about something he liked, he spoke with an incredible passion that was contagious.

What surprised you the most was sleeping next to each other. Since you also had to pretend to be overjoyed at home, you had also planned to share a bed. It was the most sensible and the easiest. Spencer's presence even calmed you down when you woke up in the middle of the night because you had a bad dream, and his regular breathing in the evening helped you fall asleep.

On the fourth night, a nightmare jolted you from sleep. You didn't remember what exactly you had dreamed, but you knew that you wouldn't fall asleep again so quickly. As quietly as you could, you got out of bed, not wanting to wake Spencer, and went to the kitchen. You flipped on the light over the stove, grabbed a glass, and filled it with water. After a big gulp, you felt better, but still worried. Tired, you leaned against the counter and rubbed your hand over your face.

"Are you alright?" asked Spencer, entering the kitchen. He was wearing a loose T-shirt and boxers. Something you hadn't noticed before.

"I didn't mean to wake you, I'm sorry," you said honestly, putting the glass in the sink. Spencer just smiled, "I had a nightmare."

"Do you want to talk about it?" he asked, standing next to you, you shook your head. "Okay." He was about to head back toward the bedroom, but stopped in the doorway. Spencer looked at you and you smiled weakly. He approached you again and reached for your hand. Carefully he pulled you to him and put his free hand on your lower back to press you closer to him. You laid your head against his chest and could hear his heartbeat. Then Spencer slowly rocked back and forth.

No one said a word as you danced with each other in the kitchen in the middle of the night. You enjoyed each other's presence and warmth. Spencer put a finger under your chin and made you look at him. There was no hate or dislike in his eyes. There was a twinkle in them that confused you greatly. Gently, he placed his lips on your forehead before pulling away.

"Let's go back to sleep," he smiled, pulling you by the hand back into the bedroom. In bed, he reached his arms out to you so you could lay your head on his chest. There it was again, his heartbeat. But this time it was faster, steady, but faster. Spencer reached for your hand again and intertwined your fingers. "Sleep well, Y/N," he was still whispering, but you were barely aware of it. You had never fallen asleep so quickly.

The next day, the two of you went for a walk in the evening. Spencer's hand in yours no longer felt strange, but very familiar. The whole relationship between you had changed fundamentally. There was no more bitching, no more evil glances, no more spiteful laughter. You wondered if it would stay that way when you left the house, or if you would go back to your old ways. Secretly, you hoped that you would remain friends when all this was over. Even though you had only been here a short time, you had actually grown fond of Spencer. You just hoped he felt the same way about you.

"Y/N," Spencer whispered when you reached your street.

"Huh?" You looked up at him and he smiled lovingly at you. You would never get enough of that look.

"Please look at me when I tell you this now. There's a man walking across the street, right at our level, with his hood pulled over his head," he continued to whisper and I tried not to let on. "He's been following us for two blocks. I think it's him."

I nodded. "We need to show him that we are to be his next victims," you stated. When you arrived at your house, Spencer pulled you even closer. You knew what was coming. You didn't resist, and not because it was part of your plan, but because you were waiting for it.

Spencer put his hands to your cheeks and leaned down to put his lips on yours. Your heart started racing, your knees went weak, and you felt dizzy. If Spencer hadn't been holding you, you would have slipped through his fingers. His lips were soft and warm and when you kissed him back, a grumble sounded from his chest. One of his hands moved to your butt, pressing your hips against his as he slid his tongue into your mouth. You felt hot and warm shivers ran down your spine. You tried not to think about the fact that you could feel his erection against your belly, but failed miserably.

With his other hand, Spencer reached for the key and opened the door without breaking away from you, then pushed you into the house where he could have pulled away from you, but he didn't. His kisses grew hungrier and greedier, his hands reaching under your butt so he could lift you up. Your legs knotted behind him. He carried you toward the bedroom and pressed you against the wall. You rubbed your hips against his and he moaned into your mouth.

"Fuck, Y/N," he groaned, sliding a hand under your shirt. His fingers danced over your bare skin and his touch burned into your skin. You wished this moment would never end.

"Cameron Bailey, put the knife down and raise your hands," Derek called out. Spencer and you jumped apart, completely confused and gasping for air, and saw the team standing in your bedroom. Derek took Bailey into custody and led him away. How had you not noticed that he had come into the house?

"Are you all right?" asked Emily, but you could only nod. What would have happened if Bailey hadn't broken in? How far would Spencer and you have gone?

It wasn't long before the team was back on the plane. Spencer sat alone at one end of the plane and you at the other. You hadn't had time to talk about what had happened, because after Bailey was arrested, you had packed your things and gone to the airport with the others. But what did you want to talk about? About the kiss? About the touch? About your friendship, if you could call it that? Never in your life had you been so uncertain as at that moment.

Spencer probably didn't want anything more to do with you, and you tried to tell yourself that you were okay with that. You tried to adjust to things going back to the way they were. It scared you that deep down you cared. You had hated Spencer for years and just a few days with him had completely turned your feelings upside down. And that bothered you the most.

"I could use a beer right now," Derek said when you arrived at Quantico. "Anyone coming?"

"I'm going home," you replied, slinging your bag over your shoulder. "My shower is waiting for me and my bed is calling for me too."

"Same here," Spencer gave and together you walked to the elevator while the others talked about where to go to celebrate. The silence between Spencer and you was unbearable, both outside the elevator and inside. You wanted to say something, but couldn't manage more than a guarded smile, which he kindly returned. At least no more bitching.

"Good night, Y/N," he said goodbye and left without turning around once more. You took a deep breath and headed home as well.

Once home, you dropped your bag on the floor and tried to wash off Spencer's touch in the shower. You brushed your teeth to scrub his taste from your tongue, but nothing could chase away the thoughts that haunted your mind. You put on fresh panties and an oversized shirt, which ended just below your butt. You were on your way to the couch when there was a knock on your door.

Without hesitation you opened the door and your heart stopped. Spencer stood in front of you, hands buried in his pockets and a small smile on his lips. "Hi."

"Hey," you said softly, and you didn't realize until then that you were standing in front of him half-naked. Embarrassed, you pulled the hem of your shirt down further. He glanced briefly at your hands and blushed before looking you in the eye again.

"I know this probably sounds stupid, but I don't know if I'll be able to sleep alone tonight. I've gotten used to sleeping next to you and after today, I don't think either of us should spend the night alone," he babbled, entering your apartment without prompting. You shut the door behind him. "Besides, there's something I wanted to do." Carefully he put his bag on the kitchen counter and came towards you with long steps.

It was not five seconds before he pressed his mouth on yours and a sigh came out of your mouth. His hands were everywhere and nowhere at the same time, so greedily they moved over your body, while yours got caught in his hair. When his fingers grazed your bare skin on your legs, you slumped against him.

"I didn't want to let you go home alone," he whispered between kisses, looking deep into your eyes. "I didn't want to sit so far away from you on the plane either, and when I got home, all I wanted was to be with you." His tongue dominated yours as his hands slid under your shirt. Your skin burned like fire where he touched you. "Tell me to stop, Y/N. Please tell me to stop and leave. Because if you don't do it now, I'll stay forever."

You went to kiss him, but he broke away from you and grabbed your chin with one hand, making you look at him. He was expecting a response. "Stay, Spencer. Stay forever and I'm yours."

That's all the confirmation he needed. His hands were on your hips again, but moved further down to briefly stroke your ass before leaning down and grabbing the back of your thighs. Without effort, he lifted you up and his lips assaulted your neck, and as he sucked on the soft spot where your jaw met your neck, all you could do was whimper his name.

Spencer carried you into your bedroom with ease, his mouth never leaving your heated skin. The warmth in your body grew with each kiss as he gently laid you on the bed. You pushed yourself to the head of the bed, allowing your head to rest on the soft pillow as Spencers hovered over you to kiss your neck.

His lips moved to your collarbone, his hands slid under your shirt and you arched up to meet him so he could easily pull it off. Hastily you reached for his shirt and undid the buttons to rip it from his torso. His weight was heavy on you and his hot skin almost burned you with every further touch. Without a word, you unbuttoned his pants and he kicked them off his long legs. For a brief moment you looked at each other. In that look were all the apologies you wanted to say, but that was no longer important. What was important was the man in front of you, the man you had fallen head over heels in love with in just a few days.

You put your hands on Spencer's back and felt the muscles dancing under your fingers. You took a quick glance at his black boxer briefs, which already seemed a little too tight for him.

"God, you're beautiful," he moaned as he glanced down your body. His hands were on your breasts and he rolled your left nipple between his thumb and forefinger. Again, you arched up to meet him.

"Spencer," you moaned, "no teasing. Please," you begged, closing your eyes to feel his touch more intensely. When you opened your eyes again, you could see a crooked grin on his face. He was enjoying your begging. Before you could say anything, he grabbed your panties and you could hear him ripping them. Cool air met your hot core and Spencer's boxers landed on the growing pile of clothes on the floor. You had to swallow. He was long and surprisingly thick and you wondered if he would fit. Spencer looked at you silently with raised eyebrows.

"I'm on the pill," you explained, grabbing his shaft with your hand and running your thumb over the tip to smear the pre-cum, making him moan with pleasure. You pumped him two times before Spencer grabbed your wrist.

"I won't last long if you keep this up, love," he rasped, guiding his pulsing erection to your wet entrance. You hooked your legs around his waist and pulled him so close to you that there wasn't an inch between you. He looked at you one more time, searching for something in your face, but you just smiled at him, drunk with love. And then he glided home.

His cock was stretching you like no man before did and it almost hurt, but with the pain came the pleasure. Spencer rested his forehead on yours and his breath was hot on your skin. "Are you okay?" he asked softly, stroking your cheek with his thumb. You leaned into his gentle touch.

"Move, please, Spence," you purred, and that was all he needed. He withdrew almost completely from you before thrusting into you again. He quickly found a steady pace and his length stroked all the right places. The heat between your thighs spiraled in your belly and you dug your nails into Spencer's back.

"Spencer, fuck," you breathed and he grinned before pressing his lips to your throat and gently biting your collarbone. Before you knew it, he was sliding his hand between your bodies and rubbing furiously over your clit and it was all getting too much for you.

Your nails raked across his skin and certainly left a few marks on as you climaxed and your vision went black.You spasmed around his cock and felt it twitch inside you. Spencer moaned a mixture of swear words and your name as he coated your walls with his cum, his fingers digging into your hips and probably bruising them.

He placed his lips on yours one last time before carefully pulling out of you and disappearing into the bathroom, returning with a warm washcloth. "Careful, love," he says softly, running it along between your legs to wipe your mingled cum. When he touched your sensitive clit, you flinched involuntarily. He returned the washcloth to the bathroom before lying back down with you. He pulled you to him and kissed your forehead. "Can I tell you something?" he breathed, you looked up at him quite exhausted.

"Of course."

He smiled lovingly. "I've fallen head over heels in love with you in the last few days," he confessed and your heart stopped. "The moment you laid your head on my chest in bed. You turned my whole world upside down and I can't imagine spending a single day without you anymore."

"You don't have to," you replied, putting your hand to the back of his head so you could pull him down to you. Gently you placed your lips on his and you felt his cock twitch against your belly. That's how strong your effect on him was. "I love you, Spencer."

In one fluid motion, he rolled onto you and pressed his mouth onto yours. This kiss was like the one in the house, angry, hungry and greedy. His hand slid between your legs and his fingers gently circled your clit. Your legs twitched and he pushed further down so he was eye level with your cunt. Gently he slid two fingers inside you and you moaned loudly. "I love you, Y/N. Don’t you dare forget it, when I make you scream and cum around my tounge.“ He licked long stripe from your entrance to your clit and gently sucking on it. Your body shook under his tounge and touch, as he slipped to fingers into your dripping cunt again. „Are you ready for round two?"

#spencer reid #spencer reid smut #spencer reid headcanon #spencer reid one hot #spencer reid blurb #spencer reid fanfiction #enemies to lovers #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x reader smut #criminal minds #criminal minds smut #Emily prentiss #aaron hotchner #derek morgan #Jennifer jereau #dave rossi

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jangofctts · 3 years

Text

Sink Your Teeth In (Part 2 of Are You In Or Out?)

Rated: Explicit (Paz is in the next chapter DONT WORRY)

Word count: 7.5k

Warnings: mentions of violence, blood, the cold?, reader is in PERIL YET AGAIN, vaginal fingering, oral female receiving, unprotected vaginal sex (wrap them schlongs yall), brief hand jobs, swearing, angst, very VERY light choking, din is a sub sorta?? bottom energy

Summary: Well. At least you aren't dead. After a solo hunt gone wrong, you’re dumped in a cave on Csilla. Hopefully someone finds you before you freeze to death.

a/n: hey…so uh. HOW ABOUT THAT EPISODE HUH?!? aheM anyway--yall I just wanna thank everyone first off for all the love and support!!! I see all of your comments and tags and AH IM SO LUCKY TO HAVE ALL OF YOU GUYS. ALSO SPECIAL SHOUTOUT TO @djxrxn THIS WOULDNT HAVE BEEN DONE WITHOUT YOU BB GORL

Well—

Here you are.

Taken by surprise by another bounty, further proving how irrevocably incompetent you are at this line of work. You blame the binders. An older, clunkier model—easy to pick if you’re clever enough and yes. Maybe you should’ve asked to borrow a carbonite chamber, but hey—where’s the fun in that?

Not much, as it so happens.

Your feet had been kicked up on the dashboard, dozing and unaware of the freed bounty creeping up behind the pilot’s seat. Something delightfully blunt smashed against your temple, jolting you into a brief conscious state where the only thing you could think before passing out again, was a resounding—

Oh, fuck me sideways with a fucking lightsaber—

The rest is hazy. A blur of colors and the fuzzy shapes of your bounty’s face sneering in amusement when she bound your wrists and ankles and left you in the cargo hold. Vaguely you recall your ship being commandeered, swung into an unidentified atmosphere and landing on said unknown planet Or planets. Planet hopping to cover up a trail.

The bitter cold, sharper than a needle through skin is what shook off the last dregs of unconsciousness. The bounty’s hand was hooked into the collar of your clothes, dragging your limp body through drifts of snow and ice. You would’ve fought back—should’ve even though each extremity felt like a numb block of lead. Not very useful in a fight…

Soon, the snow turned to mud and the mud to stone as a mouth of a cave slid over the impossibly blue sky. Dumped in a cave, and left to die—perfect way to bite the dust. Your bounty turned captor lands a sharp kick to your ribs, mouthing some curse in a language you don’t understand, and left without a second thought.

Seems about right. You have a knack for lying helpless and half dead in places you ought not to be in.

Two days and counting, you’ve been holed up in this blasted cave with no food, no supplies and no comlink. It’s going be a fucking chore to find you—nearly impossible. You’re lucky in that aspect you guess—you know enough bounty hunters to sniff out a a needle in a whole stack of needles, so all it is is a race of time against the elements and how long it takes for one of them to notice.

Aeris is no help. He left a day before you had—hired as personal protection for some syndicate leader halfway across the galaxy. Ives is in a similar boat, off-world and unavailable to drag your ass out of the hole you’ve dug. Which leaves…

You sigh and pinch the bridge of your nose between your forefinger and thumb. Anytime you even think of those two a migraine cumulates behind your eyes. It’s…it’s not like anything bad happened in the aftermath—there’s been no fallout or arguments with barbed words as weapons. It’s been quiet. Like stepping onto a sheet of cracked transparisteel in a library full of tight-lipped academics.

The questions lurk under the surface of every conversation and longing look cast your way. You’ll need to clarify and sort things out eventually, but fuck—it’s such a mess of frazzled heartstrings and fine strands of impossible thoughts that lead into an endless void of doubt. You’re shoving that emotional time bomb to the very back of your mind—everything is still so raw…

So you ran.

Picked up any and all jobs that the Guild provided just to escape the looming decision of confronting a certain pair of Mandalorians. That and with them having their own tasks to complete, it was rare to see them, let alone together in the past few weeks. A simple run in here and there in the halls of the Covert, but you were too busy to stop and chat—forced a chaotic schedule upon yourself as an excuse to avoid staying in once place at a time.

Coward.

The word knots in your stomach like gnarled tree roots escaping their prison of dark soil on untrodden land.

Maker—how did everything become so tangled?

You draw your knees up to your chest and release a long, drawn out exhale that echoes through the cave. You sniff and force the swell of tears that prick at your eyes away. You’re pretty sure they’ll freeze and you’re not hoping to find out.

The only good thing about being dropped on this Maker-forsaken, wasteland devoid of anything but snow, is the free ice for the nasty gash on your forehead. A nice little parting gift.

It’s shallow…you think—it stopped bleeding the night before and is now just a scabbed over, tender wound that throbs whenever you move your head too fast. Concussion maybe—a mild one.

Maker willing when someone finds your sorry ass they’ll have bacta. Or a blanket. Either would be peachy.

Sitting up with a wince, you shuffle to the mouth of the cave for the thousandth time and scour the skyline for a familiar ship. Or, any ship really. The only thing you do see is a lonesome wisp of cloud against the grayish blue sky much to your chagrin. You scowl and stalk back into your little hovel and slump back onto the ground.

The hours drag on, the watery light of the dying sun barely doing anything to warm you. Sulking is hardly what you should be doing—not great for the burdened mind and all that, but ah, it’s so fun to wallow in misery. You curl your knees up to your chest and you must slip into a doze because when you’re snapped back into the present, footsteps punch through the frozen tundra outside your cave.

Adrenaline crackles down your spine—the bounty changed her mind. Ultimately decided she’d be safer in the long run with you dead. Fine.

If this is where your grave is going to be, might as well get in one or two punches. What’s another black eye anyway?

A shadow flickers at the mouth of the cave, curling around the wall as she draws closer. A brown boot kicks through the snow and—

“Changed your mind? I—“

Your words die on your tongue as relief floods your veins. Din Djarin stands before you, a sight for sore eyes in these trying times.

Frost glitters on the burgundy chest plate, glinting in the dim sunlight that touches the mouth of the cave. A delicate feathering of the dainty crystals that no high end lace maker could ever hope to mimic curls up the front of Din’s visor and eats away at the edges of his cloak. His heavy step forward reverberates off the walls, some of that ease replaced by the prickle of dread. His silence is unnerving.

“Din,” you say again, just so he’ll say something. “I can—“

You move to stand, but he interrupts with a halting;

“Sit.”

Your mouth snaps shut and you drop back on the floor. This…is not good. His footsteps are heavy as he approaches you and every muscle in your frame tightens like a fist wrapping around your ribcage and squeezing. The precise edges of his helmet are not a forgiving sight and even when he kneels onto one knee you have to resist the natural urge to flinch. Like this, despite hunching over, Din is broad. All hard muscle and sinew amplified by the bulky layer of beskar.

Your tongue runs over the insides of your teeth as you track his hand that he thrusts foreword. You hiss and jerk away at the sudden needly pain when his gloved thumb finds the edges of your head wound. A low sound of disapproval filters out through the helmet in a low metallic buzz.

“You won’t need stitches,” he says. Din reaches into one of his various supply pouches and pulls out a tiny vile of bacta. He casually pulls off his right glove, unscrews the vile and smears the bacta over his thumb. This time you don’t make a sound, even though your nerves scream at the razor like sensation of his thumb working the bacta into the damaged flesh. He doesn’t ask how the injury happened and you don’t care to tell him. There’s a time and place for stories about battle scars and near misses—it’s much too fresh to be spoken of right now.

The brief torture finally ends after once last glance over for other presenting injuries. He finds none, replaces his glove and stands with a muted grunt. You know what’s next. You’d rather avoid it—you aren’t keen on the berating lectures—as deserved as they are.

“I found your ship on Sato 3,” Din begins with a growl. “Imagine my surprise when I found your bounty selling it for parts.”

Ah, there it is. You wince and study your fingernails. “Pile of junk anyway…”

“I thought you’d be smarter about these things,” he snarls, his sharp tone deadly enough to slice through bone. “Was the hole blown into your lung not enough for you?”

You swallow and bite your tongue.

The bristling Mandalorian, continues and jabs an orange tipped finger at you. “You are reckless.”

Your chest constricts as you look away, shame blooming in the pit of your stomach.This is a new facet of Din you’ve never encountered. You aren’t naïve—even the most docile of people can harbor a temper, you know that. And you know Din is by no means passive—he’s an elite warrior equipped with a small arsenal at his disposal. You don’t expect him to coddle you or treat you different than any other companion; but…but it’s hard not to take his ire to heart. Not when it’s the kind of anger that boils deep in your chest and erupts with molten streams that leaves scathing wounds and blistered feelings.

You chew your lip hard enough to taste blood and avoid his piercing gaze. You think if you do you might catch fire and burn to a crisp. “I’m sorry.”

The meek apology settles in the air like a heavy fog. Din’s anger still brews, looming and dark but he reigns in his temper and switches out the searing cadence of his words with chilly informality. You’re not sure which is worse.

“No more bounties.”

“What?” Your brows knit together. The fuck does he mean.

“No more hunts alone—“

You interrupt with a scoff. “You’re grounding me?”

He strides across the small space and plants himself on the opposing wall. “Until you’re competent enough, you have no business being out in the field. You might as well be bait at this point.”

“Competent.” You echo through clenched teeth.

His helmet dips, leveling a steady glare of indifference. “The Crest is a half cycle’s walk from here. In the morning I’m taking you back to Nevarro.”

“I’m not a child. You can’t just,” you throw your hands up in dismay, “ban me from bounty hunting.”

Din’s armor clinks together as he moves to sit. He rests one elbow on his propped up knee, extends his other and rolls his helmet to meet your eyes. “Your actions reflect the Covert now. We can’t risk discovery because of one stupid mistake or a careless loose end.”

That hadn’t even crossed your mind. Stars, you want to smack yourself. Your ship, as shitty as it was, hosted a good chunk of sensitive information, all encrypted and translated into binary. A mediocre slicer could hack through it in hours. Not exactly foolproof but hey, at least you had something. Good thing your bounty wasn’t in the market of selling stolen ships to the Empire.

“Din?”

The Mandalorian makes no noise of affirmation that he heard you. You sigh and take his silence as a go ahead and clear your throat. “How long was I gone for?”

Here, in the cave it’s been nearly three days, but the rest of it you’re not exactly sure. Hunting the bounty down took up at least a week or two and even longer to capture her and there’s no accounting for the time lost after your ship was commandeered. Your teeth roll over your bottom lip as you wait for him to respond.

“Almost two months.” He replies evenly. “Your transmissions were cut three weeks ago and I didn’t think anything of it. Comms are always patchy in Wild Space."

Leather creaks as his fist balls at his side. “You didn’t answer for days. Paz and I tracked the ship to Sato 3, but you weren’t there. Do you know how difficult it was to pick through all the planets recorded on your log?”

You blink and return to picking at your fingernails.

“You weren’t easy to find, I—“ He severs the rest of his sentence with a crackling sigh and tilts his head back. “You’re lucky.”

The hesitance lacing his words makes you bite your tongue, the snarky retort crumbling to ash in your mouth. Din doesn’t bother to filter his words—he’s blunt. Efficient and to the point when he does decide to speak. That…well that was different.

He was worried—

You rub at your cheek—numb with the cold and curl into yourself. Din was worried. Easily the most feared bounty hunter in the parsec, worried that he couldn’t find you.

A different cold—one that settles deep into the marrow of your bones and hugs your soul with a sheet of frost, makes a home in your heart. The severity of what could’ve happened replaces that sheen of hilarity and fuck. You were closer to freezing to death than Din finding you here—alone in some stupid kriffing cave.

Somehow the idea of that is worse than the brief brush of eternal slumber you had on Nar Shaddaa. Up to that point you expected to die young—no harm and no foul in it either. You had no attachments, no debt to pay—a drifter in an endless galaxy.

Now you’re here, buckling under the weight of mismanaged friendships and your uncanny skill at weaseling into any and all trouble.

Neither you or Din jump to fill the silence. The ashes of disaster settle in nicely with the frozen echo of an endless winter.

It’d been a couple hours shy from sunset when Din arrived, the sun providing weak light that hardly touched the mouth of the cave. Now as the shadows grow longer and with the temperature dropping, the two of you are swallowed up by the unyielding darkness of night.

Din shuffles and fishes out the solar light from his supply bag. It clicks on and warm, orange light illuminates the cave. It bounces off his beskar, fracturing the light like a million tiny suns in the tempered metal and in the impossibly dark visor. He looks up, and tosses the light over.

You catch it easily and despite the warmness of the light it emits, it offers no heat for your chilled fingers. You set it to the side and tuck your hands into your armpits.

By no means is the cave warm—the natural thermal vents kept the ground dry and free of the ice and snow that rages outside, but it doesn’t protect you from the occasion chilly draft that cuts through each layer you wear. Then again, you weren’t planning on taking an unexpected vacation on Csilla. No time to plan really.

You sigh and pull your knees up to your chest and cast a glance at your ever radiant ray of sunshine across from you.

He looks nice and cozy—leaned back against the cave wall, one leg crossed over the other while his hands sit intertwined just below his navel. The beskar must provide insulation—maybe a fancy heater in that bucket of his, or maybe he’s just too stubborn to show anything other than indifference.

Another bout of shivers tear through your frame and you’re certain Din can hear the enamel of your teeth clack together. You shove your hands deeper into your armpits and tuck your chin into your chest to preserve heat and pray that sleep isn’t far off—can’t be cold if you’re unconscious.

Metal scrapes over stone as Din readjusts himself and you can feel him looking at you. It’s not a terrible weight to bear; intense and analytic, sure and in the past it would’ve unnerved you. Now, instead of it feeling like he were peeling back each fibre of your soul each time he stares, it’s familiar. A pattern of sorts—

It happens each time Din wrestles with an uncertain question. He deals in absolutes, and it’s no surprise he rarely knows what to say to you.

“You’re shivering,” he states. You roll your eyes. “Are you cold?”

“Boiling, actually,” you snip. “Why else would I forget a jacket?”

A sharp hiss of air crackles through the vocoder. “Don’t get mouthy with me. It was a simple question.”

“Well—there’s not much to do about it,” you sneer, watching your breath condensate in the air. “I’m freezing, exhausted, and hungry.”

You know you’re being snide—but your nerves feel like they’ve been severed at the root with a dull vibroblade. You have neither the time nor energy to spare for simple questions. Din should understand that—seeing as he’s a man familiar with short temperament.

The space between you is ripe with crackling tension, and maybe—if you weren’t so fucking cold—you’d play the mediator. Thread stitches into the gash you both sliced into your friendship, as small it may be. You’ve lost friends over less—this could end up no different.

You sigh and turn your head. This is a problem for tomorrow.

Irritated and upset, you squeeze your eyes shut and chase after sleep. You slip in a doze faster than expected, any and all discomfort fading away a you toe the line between a deeper sleep and waking dreams. You think you imagined Din saying your name—Maker you can’t even escape him in your own fucking head—

It doesn’t end—like a nagging buzz that swells until it’s right near your ear. Spite spurs you to ignore It and exhaustion convinces you to drift further away. That is, until a hand, gentle and warm curls around your shoulder. You once again hear your name rumble low through Din’s helmet, but it’s much too difficult to open your eyes. Why can’t he leave you be? You barely feel the cold now…

“Stay awake.” Din sounds distant, in some other plane of existence despite the steady hold he has on your arm. “Maker—you’re colder than kriffing ice.”

“Go away,” you grumble through numb lips. Such a pest.

He’s talking—but the words don’t make sense. Muddled—split between that hazy line of dreaming and consciousness where you can’t decipher what’s real. His hands however—you can feel those plain as day. A bare palm cups your cheek—shreds through the layer of frost you’re positive has crystalized over your skin and rouses you to a more coherent level of presentness.

“Don’t quit on me yet—“

“Nah,” you mumble. “I’m hard to…to kill. L-like a scrap rat…”

Din grunts in response. “Rat is a compliment. You’re more of a spider-roach.”

The ends of your mouth quirk. It’s the best you can do—a full smile just might push you to the brink of death.

“C’mon—I won’t let either of us freeze,” Din sighs. His fingers find the magnetized latches on his cuirass and it slips off with practiced ease, the armored thigh plating following a moment later. He neatly sets it to the side and grabs his cloak to fasten it around you. With another sigh, Din shuffles in behind you and wraps an arm around your middle, nestling his legs and body snuggly around yours.

Maker—you don’t have time to bother about the intimacy of this because all you’re drawn to is the furnace like heat. Fuck, he’s so warm. You have only a second to enjoy it before your body begins to thaw—bringing forth waves of achey pain.

His chest molds to your back, both arms curling over your own arms that are scrunched up tight around your chest. You shake in his hold, vicious waves of cold clashing against his body heat—it hurts—like sticking your bare foot into hot coals.

You squirm, little gasps of discomfort slipping out that echo around the cave. Din shifts, tucking you further under his body until he’s nearly crushing you. It’s a bit tricky to breathe like this but hey—you’re not complaining. Not when your nose is buried in his soft undershirt that smells purely of Din.

Your fingers and toes still throb as they thaw, but it’s working. Cuddling Din Djarin to stave off hypothermia—sounds kriffing ridiculous.

“You’re still shivering,” he says. “I might…”

Your breath catches in your throat as he trails off. “Might what?”

Another shiver wracks through your body as his frosty helmet catches on bare skin when he dips his head in embarrassment. You don’t quite catch what he says and he doesn’t bother to clarify. “Forget it.”

You turn your head as much as you can, straining your eyes to meet the strip of visor. “Tell me.”

He mumbles under his breath again and cuddles closer, slotting his hips against your ass. “Might know…know another way to keep us warm…”

Oh.

A spark breathes to life in the pit of your tummy. You wiggle onto your back, your nose brushing the vizor. “Does it involve me taking off my pants?”

Din huffs, his hands, previously latched onto your hips, starting to crawl up your waist. “It could…”

You smirk and rock your hips back, eliciting a low growl that rumbles through his chest. With your whine of approval, Din’s hand slips between your legs and gives the meat of your inner thigh a squeeze. You let your knees fall open as far as they can in this position and it’s all Din needs to cup your cunt through the thin material of your trousers.

Crackling pleasure flood your veins as the heel of his palm grinds into your clit, and while the pressure is nice, it does nothing to satisfy. Only feeds the growing flames of desire with brittle kindling.

You pull at his undershirt and whimper, thrilled once his deft fingers, calloused and thick unlace your pants and yank far enough down to fit his hand. His fingers trace your outer lips, a ghost of a touch as arousal swells in your stomach. He parts your folds once your wetness begins to dribble out and coats his fingertips with your arousal.

Stars—you need him. You arch into him and whine. “Touch me. Din, please—“

You jerk as Din’s thumb swirls a slow circle over your clit, a rush of endorphins surging out like unrefined fire whiskey. Din’s head tilts to watch you writhe over his fingers and the sudden chill of his helmet touching the inside of your flushed neck steals away your next inhale. Goosebumps race down your entire being, adding to the influx of your excitement that pools in your lower belly.

Your hands tangle into his undershirt, pulling him closer until you can’t find where he begins and you end. His heart pounds in his chest, thrumming to the dance of your own heart that yearns to break free from your ribcage. Your breath catches when two of his thick fingers tease at your entrance. Your walls flutter around him as the slip in easily.

His fingers roll forward and stroke against something devastating inside of you, and he when his palm rolls back, it bumps against your clit with that divine firmness you need. Your cunt tightens around the two digits as they curl.

“Fuck. Can you hear yourself?” He pants, groping your breast to elicit a high pitched wail. “You always make—make such pretty noises.”

Butterflies erupt in your stomach at his words and fuck. You’re already dipping head first into release. A moment later you’re arching into his chest as every muscle stiffens in a crescendo of bliss, your stuttered breathing harsh even to your own ears.

Your quick pants fog up his visor as Din rests the crown of his helmet on your forehead, the metal a cool relief to your flushed skin. He slips his fingers out of your dripping cunt, your chest still heaving with exertion as the last strands of your high fizzle and ebb away. Din shifts and and snakes his fingers, still shiny and wet with your arousal, beneath the lip of his helmet and sucks them clean with an appreciative groan.

“Fuck—“ You breathe, pushing your face into his hand as he cups your cheek. Din’s thumb brushes over your cheekbone and swings his leg over your hips to hoist himself over you.

“Do you remember...” He starts, his voice buzzing through the vocoder. His fingers tickle down your cheek and trace the parted outline of your lips. “When you let me taste you?”

You nod, and it’s all you’re able to do. You’re not even sure you can formulate words, let alone voice them right now.

Din’s thumb pulls at your plush bottom lip, and you can’t help but slide your tongue along the digit. He grunts and slips his thumb into the wet heat of your mouth. “I think about you every night…how you came on my tongue—”

Your stomach flips as a rush of arousal sweeps through your tummy. You groan and you’re half sure you’re gonna dissipate into the floor from how hot your cheeks burn. “Din—"

He continues without missing a beat.

“You were so fucking wet for me—dripped all over my hand,” he murmurs, nuzzling his helmet, still chilly and frosted over, into the crook of you neck. “I want to do it again—can I?”

You’re nodding before he even finishes his sentence. He wasn’t the only one longing for his head between your thighs on those long nights apart. Remembering those plush lips and addictive touches could only get you so far and well—he’s here now. You said it once and you’ll say it again—there’s no chance in hell you’d be passing up this opportunity.

Din lifts his head and as you watch the light glitter in the reflection of the beskar, a sudden stray thought ricochets into the forefront of your mind. “Din, the light—your helmet.”

He pauses, his body tensing as he mulls over his options. “It’s—I—it’s ok…It’ll be ok.”

Din inhales a stuttered breath and casts a brief glance over his shoulder. It’s a dim light, kicked into the corner and laying on its side. From this angle, his face would be partially obscured in shadow…but still. There are easier ways to go about this. Ways that don’t risk jeopardizing the very foundation of who he is—what he stands for and what he so devoutly follows.

To say you know anything about his religion is laughable. Everything you know can fit on the back of a thumbtack and even still, you’re sure that half of that is still based upon rumor and speculation. But this—what Din is hinting at, you know is not something to be taken lightly.

He’s stripping his soul bare for you—allowing you to glimpse at that bleeding heart of his he guards so securely within layers of flesh and bone and impenetrable beskar. Din is gifting you his trust and there’s no where else to put it except for the space beneath your breast bone.

Yet, even still—this could mean nothing at all. You have no way to know the exact magnitude of what this means to him. If he’s alright with this, who are you to question?

He mumbles one last thing about the light and sits up. Goosebumps rush up your bare skin at the loss of the heavy warmth of his body. You whine and curl up closer to his legs, greedy for any spare iota of heat like you’ve been denied it your entire life.

Maker you hate this fucking planet—

Your attention snaps back to Din when he makes a noise of uncertainty. His hands are cupped around his helmet—hesitant, nervous and you suspect if Din’s hands weren’t plastered so tight around the metal, he’d be shaking. You chew on your lip and prop yourself up.

Cautiously, so as not to startle, you reach up and curl your fingers around his wrist. You can feel his pulse thrumming through his veins—alive, flesh and bone like you. Not some heap of sentient metal built for the horrors of war. You don’t know why you do it—just seems right to pull the fragile and vulnerable skin of his inner wrist to you mouth. You plant a gentle kiss there and smile when he cups your cheek.

“You don’t owe me anything, Din,” you say, staring into the darkened depths of his visor. “Least of all this.”

Some of that tension held in Din’s shoulders melts. He utters something in that clipped language of his people, and the only thing you can make out is your name. He lurches foreword and fuck—you’re terrified for a split second he’s gonna cave your skull in but instead he lightly bumps the crown of his helmet over your forehead.

“I want to. For you—only you.”

Din doesn’t leave any time to unpack all of that. He sits up again, wraps his hands around the beskar—

The metallic thunk of the helmet reverberates through the cave like a crack of thunder.

You were right.

You can barely see his face—if you really look, you can see the murky outline of his nose, dark hair and a sliver of his tan skin that the light touches. Attractive—but you knew that already. You touch his cheek and smile, your thumb catching over wiry facial hair and soft skin. Din makes a sound low in his throat and pushes his cheek into your hand.

“I still want to taste you,” Din says, his voice richer when stripped of that tinny vocoder. You like listening to him speak without it, you think, and it’s a damn shame you never get to hear it. “Please.”

Before he can escape and fulfill that fantasy, you yank him into a blinding kiss. He kisses the same—all wild edges and with desperation lining each motion—but there’s a new found tenderness here. Like he’s savoring each gasp and every brush of skin you grace him with like it’s your last night left in the galaxy.

He breaks away from your mouth and peppers kisses and nips down your jaw, then lower as you arch and expose the bare skin of your throat. There’ll be a plethora of bruises tomorrow, and with no hope to cover them either but fuck it—Din can leave as many hickeys and teeth marks as he wants.

If not for the cold still latching onto your very soul, you’d ditch the shirt; give Din better access instead of him needing to shove a hand up under and grope at your breasts. He gives the fabric an annoyed tug, but it’s fruitless. There’s no use when there’s better things to be sought.

He shoves your shirt as far up as it goes, shivering as he mouths down your stomach, licks around your bellybutton and sucks a bruise onto your hipbone. Your pants are already pulled halfway down—one sharp yank and they’re around your ankles and off in the next breath.

Cupping your knees with both hands he gingerly spreads your legs and drapes them over his muscular shoulders. Din rubs his patchy haired cheek along your thigh and hooks his hands under your ass, his ivory white teeth catching the light as he smiles.

“Fucking perfect—“ He groans, planting his lips over your inner thigh. His tongue swipes a wet line up, stopping just before your aching cunt to dig his teeth into the sensitive flesh. You jump at the burst of pain and shoot a hand down, tangling your fingers into the soft curls atop his head.

Din grunts and jumps to your other thigh, leaving no inch of skin neglected and without evidence of his teeth and lips. By the time his thumbs touch the outer lips of your cunt, the aching need for him is burning you from the outside in. He has to still your twitching hips with a calloused palm, and only after you settle does he surge forward.

His tongue meets your swollen clit, ripping a tangled cry from you vocal cords. He’s just as eager as the first time he tasted you, if not more—every action backed by needy abandon. He sucks at the bundle of nerves then sweeps his tongue lower. Din’s thumbs part your lower lips as he runs his tongue though your soaked folds, the tip of his nose bumping against your clit that send delicious sparks throughout your whole body. Little noises and breathy gasps fill the cave, encouraging Din to push his tongue deep into your aching entrance.

Your hand fists into his hair as your hips stutter and rock into the searing heat of his mouth. The noises you make are obscene, and Din is no better. Each pass of his tongue over your pussy is matched with his own deep moans that vibrated against your clit. Fucking hell he’s devouring you alive.

Your orgasm sneaks up on you, robs you blind and crashes over you in deep waves that drag you out to sea and never to be found again as you spill onto his greedy tongue. Your fingers are threaded tight in his hair as you squeak and press harder into his mouth, riding out your pleasure until it shifts and becomes raw and sore.

Din doesn’t pause for even a second—all too happy to stay put between your thighs for eternity. Your legs are trembling when you force his head away, a nice, tingly warmth settling into your limbs

A dark thrill rushes down your spine when he looks up, wild hair and mouth covered in your slick. If not for the low lighting you imagine his eyes would be glazed over and Maker you want him again. Din swoops down and presses his mouth to yours, the taste of yourself heavy on his tongue that slips past the seem of your lips.

You whine after he breaks away and sits up—an opportunity for your eyes to roam down his body. He’s still got his trousers on, a considerable bulge tenting the front. With a smirk you reach up and grab a handful, delighting in Din’s startled grunt. “Easy.”

You flash him a wry smile and give his clothed cock a playful squeeze. “Take them off.”

Din huffs and pulls at the drawstrings. “Needy.”

He says it with no bite and no coquettish retort on your end springs to mind—especially when his thumbs hook into the waistband and pull. A slow reveal of sun-kissed skin and a sparse happy trail that your eyes eagerly drink up.

Din’s cock bobs as his trousers fall around his knees, tip shiny and wet and curling towards his navel. You bite the inside of your cheek and reach out, a rush of arousal pulsing through your core at Din’s low moan. He’s heavy in your hand, deliciously thick and throbbing—and all of it for you.

Din gasps out your name as you lightly squeeze and stroke down, your pace dreadfully slow and teasing. Who knows when you’ll get another chance like this—a Mandalorian willingly on their knees for you.

Your other hand slips up his chest as you stroke him, intent on grabbing a handful of his thick hair that curls softly against the column of his neck. Your fingernail lightly scrapes across his nipple and he sways, pitching forward before he catches himself and straightens. Din’s eyes are squeezed tight, chest heaving with shallow pants as a smirk tugs at your lips.

“It’s ok, Din,” you whisper. “I won’t break.”

Your fingers twist into the hair at the base of his skull and guide him back. He slumps forward with a sweet moan, laying his weight onto your body that you’re all too happy too bare. His nose is nestled into the slope of your neck as his hands lock around the dip of your lower back while the other cradles the back of your head, drawing you into a loose semblance of a hug.

Something snaps and crumbles deep in your soul that bleeds the heartstring blues, humming with broken chords in the presence of Din’s soft fragility. Your hand moves from between his legs to instead wrap around the wide expanse of his back, squeezing him tight to your chest. You hold each other like there isn’t tomorrow to look forward to and you wonder if this is how it feels to fall apart. Two spinning halves of a supernova torn apart and destined to collide and shatter into a million fragments of dazzling light.

Yes, you’re scared he might blind you or burn you with his brilliance, but you can’t look away.

Your fingers crawl up his muscled thigh and settle on his hip. “Lie down for me?”

There’s no hint of hesitation or complaint as he maneuvers himself onto his back, patiently allowing you to clamber over his legs and straddle his hips. His cock rests on your inner thigh, pulsing and leaving a dribble of wetness every time it twitches.

“Good boy.” It’s subtle but it ripples out like a heavy stone thrown into a still lake. Din shudders and says your name in a cracked whisper. He rolls his hips, both of you groaning at the sensation of his cock running along your dripping center.

Another time for that game maybe.

Your desperation is running hot and wild to have him inside you and you know he’s in a similar boat. You grab the thick shaft of his cock and grind the tip of him through your lips, breath hitching when it extracts such a perfect moan from the man below you.

“Ride me,” he pleads, clamping his large hands over your hips. “Fuck—I need you.”

How can you deny such a request?

You line the wide head up with your aching center and slowly work him in. Shivers wrack through you, and Maker—he’s splitting you apart, molding your insides to the shape of him. Beads of sweat dot your hairline by the time you’re seated fully on his member, the both of you pushed even closer towards madness.

Din squeezes your ass and props his knees up, rolling his hips up into you. You whimper and tip forward, propping your palms over his chest as he sets the pace. You may be on top but there’s no changing the bold colors of power and lust that cloud his mind, fueling the brutal movements of fucking up into you. Your thighs burn already and Maker—why the fuck are you already tired? You’re not doing any of the work.

Quicker than lightning, Din curls forward and manhandles you onto your back. You squeak as he grips your thigh and yanks it around his narrow hips, thrusting in deeper. His right hand crawls up the front of your shirt and wraps his fingers around your throat in a loose hold. His thumb hovers over the dip at the base of your neck but he makes no move to press down—just allows the weight of his palm to do the work. And fuck—it works.

Choked garbles of his name pass through your lips as you buck and squirm in his hold, feeling your arousal begin to drip down the back of your thighs. You’re skirting the edge of sizzling release that alights your nerves with liquid wildfire. Your nails harpoon into the meat of his shoulders as your eyes squeeze shut. Din won’t allow it.

“Look at me,” Din snarls, yanking your head back by your hair. “I want to—to watch you cum for me.”

A blush scalds your cheeks but you listen. Your eyes flutter open for him, sliding to the dark shadows of his eyes that sweep you into their own gravity well with no hope to escape. You don’t mind.

“You’re so g-good for me—always so perfect.”

White hot light bursts behind your eyelids, and that’s all it takes. Your body seizes, your cunt squeezing impossibly tight around his cock as you cum. This one is different—steals your breath away and leaves you a broken husk of a person lost in most delectable forms of agony and pleasure. The cry of his name pierces the air only spurring the Mandalorian into a jarring pace to seek his own peak of ecstasy.

Din’s nose nuzzles into your neck, his pants hot and sharp against your flushed skin. “You f-feel so—fuck. Say—say my name.”

You leap to his request and with a playful nip to his earlobe, you whisper it to him with the sweetness of starcherrries and the promise of better things.

He tips over the edge, his hips faltering into no discernible pace as he cums. Din buries his teeth into the skin below your jaw, a mess of whines and begging gasps of nonsense as he fills your cunt to the brim.

Your harsh breathing mingles as you both lazily slip down from your high. He rests his head over your sternum, listening to your beating heart that drums in a wild staccato as your fingers carefully comb through his hair. If not for the ache in your hips you’d keep him here forever. Din pulls out and you both groan at the loss.

He doesn’t completely move away and you’re glad for it. He brushes his knuckles down the expanse of your cheek and dots a tender kiss to your hairline. Your name rumbles low in his throat as he shifts lower and gives your ear lobe a playful nip. His stubble scrapes along your neck, and you can’t help but giggle and squirm—but the weight of his body keeps you pinned. Your name slips from his lips a second time, breathy and drawn out in a sweet sigh, like he’s savoring the sound of each syllable and roll of the tongue.

Din lifts his head, only slightly—near enough that his nose bumps into yours and his lips scrape along yours that are still parted and wet. “I—can I tell you something?”

You cup his cheek and steal a kiss. It’s supposed to be quick—but instead he leans into it, guiding your mouth into a slow dance of sticky sweet movements that are caught in a slow draw, like crystalized honey abandoned in a glass jar. You’re enraptured by his touch—his skin mottled with scars yet somehow still unfairly soft. He smells of snow—like metal and soap and something gentler, that’s uniquely Din.

Fuck—you can feel your mind slipping away, wrapped up so snugly in his presence you almost forget to answer. “Yeah—anything.”

Crackling static suddenly rips through the cave, startling you both. A distorted voice chatters on the comlink that lies forgotten beside your pants. It blinks and the transmission ends just as abruptly. With a sigh Din brushes it off and tilts his head to tempt you into another kiss but—

Whoever’s trying to patch through is persistent.

His lip curls in a scowl and snatches the comm. “Jorhaa’ir.”

You only catch your name being mentioned twice as rapid Mando’a is exchanged. Aeris maybe judging by the tone, but no that’s not right.

“Wait—is that Paz?”

The muscles in Din’s shoulders tense, confirming your suspicion.

“Is everything ok?” Din doesn’t resist you when you pry the comlink out of his fingers and patch in. “Paz?”

Your heart skips a beat.

“There you are,” the comlink crackles and you smile. “You’re a pain in my ass, you know that?”

Stars—you didn’t think you’d miss hearing Paz’s voice. Your chest aches.

The conversation is short, he asks you how you are and when you’re coming home and in the time it takes to answer, Din is peeling himself from your body. While you're distracted, he pulls on his pants and sits at the edges of your vision.

You both pretend when you say goodnight to Paz, return the comlink and crawl into his arms that nothing has festered with savage detachment. You don't remember to ask him what he was going to say and he lets you forget. The golden heart that bleeds molten ichor slips from your sight and becomes shut behind walls of beskar and bushes of thick thorns and overgrown ivy.

He still holds you, but it’s the coldest you’ve ever been.

Tag List: @teaofpeach @corrupt-fvcker @nelba @datmando @ben-is-a-hoe @dreams-like-clockwork @aeryns-library @auty-ren @huliabitch @anxiety-riddled-mando @phoenixhalliwell @cptnbvcks @thesoftdumbass @krissology @starlite41 @legally-a-bastard @basslinedweller @cloud-of-roses @elenamiria @goldafterglow @maybege @equalstrashflavoredtrash @wandxrlust @hdlynnslibrary @calamity-queen @sgtbookybarnes @pinkninja190 @lackofhonor @darthstyles @spacegayofficial @absurdthirst @blue-writes-a03 @max--phillips

#din is a certified bottom #ANYWAY welcome to pound town #din djarin x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader x paz vizla #paz vizla x reader #paz vizla x you #paz vizsla x reader #paz vizsla #the mandalorian x reader #the mandalorian #star wars #sw #fanfiction #sw fanfiction #my writing #are you in or out?

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r6shippingdelivery · 3 years

Note

headcannons for hobbies? Like what they do on their off time?

Hi nonnie! I actually did a Hobbies HC for “all” ops a long time ago. But seeing that was before the expanded bios, and it only reached up to Gridlock and Mozzie, I’d say it’s time for an updated version, don’t you say?

Some of the answers are unchanged from the old post, because I already nailed it or the new info didn’t disprove my ideas. But I had to revise a lot of the answers I gave the first time around! In order to find their hobbies and/or get a glimpse of their lives beyond Rainbow and what they might like, I read all the bios, and looked up concept art, and elites, and past battlepass content, etc. And when none of that was enough, I just went with my gut instinct 😂 Thank you to @grain-crain-drain, @dagoth-menthol & @todragonsart for bouncing ideas with me when I was stuck! 💕

Hobbies Headcanons for ALL ops (up to Neon Dawn)

FBI

- Ash: According to her savta, shooting things is not a hobby, but Ash disagrees. And since according to her expanded bio she knows Hebrew, Arabic, English, French and Greek, I’m willing to bet she enjoys learning languages as well. - Thermite: He grew up on a ranch and loves riding. He’s also taken an interest in improving gadgets it seems, so my old proposal that he dabbles in forging/smithing stuff seems plausible. And based on this concept art, demolition derbies attending and maybe even competing himself too? - Pulse: He’s interested in a variety of topics and goes through phases of intense, nearly obsessive focus, until something else captures his attention. He still has a lingering fondness for building muscle cars, since it was something he used to do with his father. And like Thermite and Hibana, it seems he might enjoy demolition derbies. - Castle: He’s a language nerd, studying/reading/practicing new languages is his hobby for sure. Since the expanded bio says he rescues abused dogs, I don’t think it would be far fetched he volunteered at animal shelters too.

SAS

- Thatcher: Aside from repairing his boat, The Iron Maggie, he also enjoys fishing. He used to do that with his dad & brothers, and tried to take the rest of the SAS fishing as a bonding experience. It didn’t go very well - Sledge: He plays rugby, and has an inexplicable fondness of trying the wildest ideas that tend to end with something broken, be it one of his bones or a structure or wall (just read his extended psychological profile and you’ll see, lmao) - Smoke: Boxing, it helps him focus all his chaotic energy. And chemistry in general, it’s not just a hobby but a passion of his. - Mute: he enjoys tinkering with stuff, taking it apart and then putting it back together in a different way, just to see if he can improve it or make it work in his own way. Flying drones plays perfectly into that, with the added bonus of being able to do the flying part just for fun too.

GIGN

- Montagne: His main passion is working with people, teaching and mentoring others, and therefore when he’s not on duty, his main passtime still is mingling with people and getting to know them. I could see him making overtures with Castle, interested in the American and fascinated by his knowledge of various languages, an area Monty feels insecure about due to only knowing French and English. - Twitch: Engineering, robotics and developing an empathic AI is her life.Twitch is a workaholic passionate about those topics. She also greatly enjoys traveling and, according to her expanded bio, people watching. - Doc: He surely had some hobby at one point, but he can’t remember it, or the last time he had free time for it. Doc is also a workaholic, although one that loves to complain about it. - Rook: Apparently he’s passionate about cycling, auto racing, and rock concerts. Mainly cycling though, since he dropped out of university to cycle around France.

Spetsnaz

- Tachanka: He collects and repairs old weapons. Mostly soviet, but he has some interesting pieces from other countries too. And he dances surprisingly well. - Kapkan: Aside from a certain interest in psychology, his main hobby is hunting, of course. But he also whittles and carves wooden figurines. - Glaz: Quite obviously, painting. He’s an artist, and quite a good one. He also likes playing cards, especially poker. - Fuze: He builds new weapon prototypes for fun. And tests them, if he can convince Six of it. He also likes to bake from time to time, a skill he learnt thanks to his grandma - and because he has a sweet tooth.

GSG9

- Jäger: Planes. Model planes, repairing old WWI & II planes, you name it. And watching copious amounts of documentaries. - Bandit: His bike is his main hobby, both taking care of it and riding it. He also likes playing pool; and, if pranking people counts as a hobby, that’s his oldest one, dating from when he was a kid. - Blitz: He was and still is an athlete at heart, and Blitz loves running. - IQ: In order to disconnect from engineering pursuits, she indulges in rock climbing, spelunking, and writing science fiction stories.

JTF2

- Buck: He crafts mechanical puzzles, and enjoys all kinds of physical activity that can take place outdoors. - Frost: She just loves being surrounded by nature, and often goes mountain climbing or diving.

SEAL

- Valkyrie: Swimming and diving, of course! She wanted to be a professional swimmer, but now it’s just a hobby. And apparently she enrolled for a helicopter pilot license, and language classes. - Blackbeard: According to the expanded bios, he likes sailing and even participated in a championship. And since he climbed Mount Everest, it’s safe to say he also likes mountain climbing.

BOPE

- Capitao: He loves football, playing or watching it, doesn’t matter, he’s all for it. - Caveira: Spends a lot of time practicing Jiu Jitsu, in the gym and also on unofficial tournaments.

SAT

- Hibana: For her it’s traditional Japanese archery (Kyūdō). And probably demolition derbies too accounting that concept art from before with Thermite and Pulse. - Echo: According to the expanded bio, he has few interests outside work, but I always imagined he’d be into gaming and e-sports. Hacking too, and that’s a direct influence from Dokkaebi.

GEO

- Jackal: He plays the acoustic guitar/spanish guitar, and sings too. And now we also know he volunteers with at-risk youth. - Mira: Fixing cars is second nature to her, and thanks to her expanded bio we know she also does metal sculptures that incorporate used mechanical parts.

SDU

- Ying: Extreme driving, which can sometimes trigger her PTSD, and traveling. Especially exploring cities by randomly jumping in public transport and just going anywhere. - Lesion: He is also one to volunteer in underprivileged areas (like Junk Bay, where he grew up), and clearing mines and other unexploded devices. I also imagine him with a certain gusto for playing blackjack.

GROM

- Zofia: If obsessing about her father’s supposed suicide and the oddities surrounding it, and desperately trying to reconnect with her sister count as hobbies, sure, she has those. - Ela: She’s also an artist, one with a very particular vision that some have called narcissistic. Apparently she also does some “freelance” volunteer work, roaming the streets at night and offering help/comfort, or a willing ear to the people she meets.

707SMB

- Vigil: He likes to take walks around the forest, just aimless exploring and marvelling at nature and any animals he might come across. Often listens to relaxing music while doing so, and he might pick a pretty rock here and there to bring home. - Dokkaebi: Hacking is her hobby, of course. She also has several social media profiles and is an active member in a couple of hacking forums. As per a previous battlepass, I believe she enjoys mountain trekking too. And dancing to electro beat, due to her elite.

CBRN

- Lion: His rebel years left him with an appreciation for rock music and a dream to be in a group. Lion still plays the electric guitar, when he’s not off volunteering at the local church. - Finka: Pushed by her parents from a young age to try different sports, just like her siblings, she eventually discovered a strong love for fencing and ice-skating.

GIS

- Maestro: Cooking, and boxing, an interest he shares with Smoke. But mostly cooking. - Alibi: She’s also a marksman, engages Ash in friendly shooting competitions.

GSUTR

- Clash: She’s very involved in different activist causes, mostly surrounding racial issues and inequality. - Maverick: Photography, mostly nature or candid shots of his fellow operators. I also think he likes horses and riding. And Buzkashi of course, but he hasn’t played since he left Kabul.

GIGR

- Kaid: Playing chess, he’s a good strategist and it shows. And while dozing off with a cat on his lap is not a hobby, he also loves that. - Nomad: Traveling to all sorts of remote locations, she’s an explorer with a thirst to prove herself. She also keeps a travel journal, which includes maps and some drawings of the places she’s seen.

SASR

- Mozzie: Dirt biking, of course. The more dangerous the jumps and stunts are, the more he likes it. He knows his limits and works to surpass them. - Gridlock: Robotics. She still wants to compete again in robot championships, just like she and Mozzie did so many years ago. She would consider that fixing cars and vehicles has become more part of her job than a hobby, but still loves it too.

Phantom Sight

- Nokk: Fencing, as evidenced by some of her concept art, she participated in fencing tournaments. - Warden: He knows appearances are important, and he cultivated a very specific image, so he likes to take care of that, be it by buying luxury or antique cars, or designer suits, etc.

Ember Rise

- Amaru: Archeology and exploring the Amazon jungle is her passion. It used to be her whole life and job, but since she joined Rainbow, she’s been busy with training and missions, yet she never lost her love for adventure, history and protecting her country’s cultural artifacts. - Goyo: He’s a really good chess player, and enjoys other games where he either has to think, or his usual poker face and calm demeanor can throw his opponents off.

Shifting Tides

- Kali: When she’s not writing reports about her underlings progress, or making lists about who should be ascended/rewarded, who needs to be punished or chastised, etc, she’ll be doing yoga, since it helps her focus. Or hardcore pilates when she needs to burn away some frustration first. - Wamai: Diving and being underwater in general, be it on his special immersion tanks or on the actual sea, it doesn’t matter. He finds it calming (and he’s addicted to the anoxia sensation)

Void Edge

- Iana: Space exploration fascinates her, and she’s always trying to learn everything she can about the cosmos, watching documentaries and conducting her own in-depth research. - Oryx: Wrestling helps him hone his physical prowess, and it’s also a measured outlet for his deep seated rage. He also greatly enjoys reading poetry.

Steel Wave

- Melusi: She’s committed to the conservation cause, which stems from both her love of wildlife and nature, and her protective instincts. She likes to explore too, although she’s not driven by a will to prove herself or reach certain goals, but simply for the joy of seeing natural spaces. - Ace: Social Media. He’s obsessed with his public image and popularity. While he travels quite a bit, it seems he does it more to share new and exciting selfies on Instagram than for the pleasure of visiting new places.

Shadow Legacy

- Zero: He knits and crochets, it’s an engaging hobby that helps him clear his mind, plus he enjoys making stuff too. Not many people know about this side of him though.

Neon Dawn

- Aruni: She and Hero, her giant pouched rat, volunteer on landmine detection and removal efforts. She also likes to travel extensively, and has done so in the company of Twitch and Nomad.

#rainbow 6 siege #r6s #rainbow six siege #rainbow 6 #headcanons #Anonymous

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jiminisnotavirgin · 5 years

Text

Here with You

Pairing: idol!Min Yoongi | Reader

Genre: Smut and Fluff

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: oral, penetrative sex, intercourse, slight exhibitionism, buff Yoongi???, praise kink.

Description: Yoongi’s sad and his body’s in constant pain after bouncing from city to city in the last few months for the group’s biggest world tour yet. Aside from that, he doesn’t remember the last time he got a full night’s rest. You and his members plan a secret visit for you to surprise him in his hotel room after a concert. It’s been months, after all, and the two of you both have... needs that only the other can take care of ;)

Note: I live for soft Yoongi and I imagine he’d be as sweet as this (if not, sweeter!) to his significant other! We also can’t deny that he’d be absolutely delicious in bed, too. In MY OPINION, this is the BEST fic I’ve written up to date! Please tell me what you think :) I appreciate and enjoy each and every comment and response!

ALSO! I’d like to make it clear that the reader ISN’T Korean and I will let you know when they are. However, they are supposed to be speaking Korean to each other which is why I mainly use the word, “Jagi” instead of “Baby.”

Yoongi’s never enjoyed traveling or staying in hotels. For him, they don’t possess the same sense of peace or relaxation that they do for others. The only time he seeks the relief of a temporary hotel bed is after a long concert or flight when his sore bones ache and he can barely keep his eyes open. Even then, he tosses and turns all night, fluffing his pillows and kicking at his sheets until he eventually loses the fight and knocks out. At this point of their world tour, more than halfway through, the guys have noticed that Yoongi rarely leaves his room. They don’t blame him. His snippy attitude and overall mood are products of the group’s constant movement and although it takes a toll on all of them, Yoongi’s always hit the hardest.

His members notified you of this and that’s why you, his secret, longtime partner, decided to come for a surprise visit. Your ultimate goal is to cheer him up and see at least one of his beautiful, gummy smiles. Another reason why he hates traveling is that he has to be away from you and his home.

He’s currently sprawled out on the couch, limbs extended as he wields a pair of chopsticks in one hand and a paper carton in the other. He reaches for another piece of sweet, sesame chicken, unimpressed by the bunny documentary on the TV before a soft knock on the door catches his attention. The sound is light. Anyone else would’ve missed it but Yoongi’s music-producing ears are razor sharp.

“Coming!” he calls out with a mouth full of food. Not caring much for his looks at this time of night, he pulls a cap on over his disheveled hair and slips on his sandals before approaching the front door. He ignores the viewfinder and opens the door with a tug, still chewing the chicken in the back of his mouth without a care in the world. The words leave his mouth before he can catch a glimpse of the person standing on his doorstep. “Jimin, I told you already. I am not giving you any more champagne—“

“Yoongi!”

You still manage to glow, even in the faint light of the hotel hallway. His mouth freezes when his eyes meet yours and his heart beats at his chest excitedly, telling him to wake up! A tiny, polka-dot luggage stands behind you like a guardian and the situation finally makes sense in his brain. When you wrap your arms around him, excitement flutters in his stomach like millions of tiny butterflies. You smile, melting happily into the man you’ve missed for months.

“Jagi?” he whispers, wondering if the gorgeous apparition standing in front of him is only a dream. “I... I can’t believe you came all the way here.”

“Of course, I did!” You smile and Yoongi doesn’t miss the sparkle in your large eyes. The two of you stumble backwards into the entrance of the room before he regains his balance and squeezes you back. He pulls you even closer, smelling your shampoo and feeling the smooth, soft skin of your glowing cheek under the strokes of his thumb. His senses are heightened due to your familiar presence and he couldn’t be more grateful for your spontaneous visit. He needed it, needs you.

“I’m happy you’re here,” he continues with a smile once you pull back to take a look at his face. He twirls a lock of your hair around his long index finger, pure admiration filling his gaze as his other hand grips your waist. You don a yellow sundress with an intricate design of red roses and leaves. The colorful fabric accentuates your figure and the curvy shape Yoongi loves so much. “You look pretty.”

You glance down at your feet shyly, trying to ignore the heat rising to your cheeks as you clutch the sides of your dress. “Thank you. I almost didn’t buy the dress since it’s a little small.”

“I’m glad you did.” His large hand envelops yours before he laces your fingers together and leads you to the couch in the sitting area of the large hotel room. His metal rings feel cold against your skin but you have no desire to release his hand. “It’s perfect. You’re perfect.”

“Yoooongi, ssssssstop,” you whine but he raises his hands in the air defensively, palms flat and arms up, a look of pure innocence on his handsome face. Your eyes dart to his broad shoulders and the way his arm muscles slightly flex with each of his movements. Has he been working out?

“How do you still get so flustered whenever I compliment you?”

Yoongi is an organized individual so it doesn’t surprise you that his room follows suit, from his shoes by the front door to his made-up bed. The one thing you notice is his dinner set up of takeout Chinese food on the coffee table, however, it isn’t the slight mess that causes your heart to sink in your chest.

“Have you been eating well? All the fried food at this table is concerning,” you admit hesitantly. It isn’t only today’s dinner on the coffee table but other nights’ as well.

“My body’s used to it by now. Liquid junk food probably flows through my veins along with airplane cookies and coffee.”

“That’s gotta be bad for your stomach.” You frown, concern filling your pretty features. He sounds impressed with himself and it’s freaking you out just the slightest bit. He wishes to kiss away the fear written on your face.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.”

“Yoongi, you could lose a foot and you’d tell me not to worry about it.”

“Hey, hey, at least I’ve been drinking only water these past few months, that’s gotta count for something, right? Replacing all the water in my system?”

“I just wanna make sure you’re taking care of yourself even if it’s hard because of touring. I really do worry about you, Yoongi. Sorry if I’m being annoying.”

“You’re not annoying. I’m grateful because you actually care about my wellbeing aside from all the idol stuff unlike everyone else.” The two of you settle into the couch as he drapes his arm over your shoulder. “But seriously, you don’t have to worry. I’m not even thinking about food right now.”

“What are you thinking about?”

“You. And sleeping next to you later. I think I took cuddling for granted.”

“Yoongi, that is uncharacteristically cheesy.”

“Well, it’s your fault. I’m excited that you’re here and now I don’t know how to express it other than cracking dad jokes like Seokjin.”

“Please, keep the cheesy jokes rolling, then. I love them but I love you more.” Your lips lightly graze his and he melts into the kiss as you arch your back and press your chest against his. Unlike before he left on tour, you’re met with a hard, sculpted chest and you draw back, holding your hands against his chest as you formulate your curiosity into a question. Yoongi interprets your actions as a recoil but you assure him that you still want him close. “Yoongi, don’t take this the wrong way but you feel... different. Have you been working out?”

“Yeah, actually. Does it look weird?” His palm grazes the back of his neck awkwardly. “I started a few months ago. The stylists want me to stop because it’s harder to pick out clothes if my size keeps changing but it helps me sleep better at night. I’ve been meaning to show you on one of our video calls.”

Once again, your eyes drift from his face to the muscular bulge of his arm. You can’t control your tongue as you lick your bottom lip. Your dry throat clenches for something—anything—to eliminate the empty feeling in your mouth. Suddenly, you’re thirsty for another mouth-filling liquid only he can give. Damn. “I love all of your different forms and shapes and sizes because I love you but—“

“But?”

“But,” you continue as you lower your gaze, your long lashes accentuating the sudden lust oozing from your dark brown eyes, “you look really fucking good. Like, I-wanna-go-down-on-you-right-now kind of good.”

“W-What?” he sputters, caught off guard by your sudden use of obscenities. Your dirty mouth causes his cock to twitch like it has a mind of its own, straining uncomfortably against his tight black jeans. “You can’t just say that.”

“Why not? Getting a little flustered?” You flash a mischievous grin as you hop off the couch, settling yourself between his spread knees. The sight of you on the ground for him, hands roaming the expanse of his legs and the hidden space where they meet, ignites a flame of desire in the pit of his stomach, a tiny flicker that you have no intention of putting out.

“Don’t tease.” He swallows, squirming desperately as he feels your nails lightly scrape his inner thighs. “God, you don’t know what you do to me.”

“But I do,” you hum, hands settling on the silver buckle of his belt. You slip your fingers through, gradually weaving his leather belt until it’s completely off of his waist. The heavy metal dangles from your hand, jingling before you sling it over the couch arm with a loud clunk. “I know that you’ll do anything to get my mouth wrapped around your pretty cock, won’t you?”

“I can’t take it when you talk like that. You’re gonna kill me, I swear,” he groans. You undo his zipper and button, encouraging him to raise his hips so you can tug his pants down to his ankles.

“I’ll go down on you but I have one rule.”

“Tell me.”

“You can only cum when I tell you to.”

He hesitates. “I can’t—“

“Try. Practice the self-control we both know you have.” You nudge your pointer finger against his chest.

You’re proud to have Yoongi in your life, proud to have him as the one man who brings you pleasure in all forms. You’re the only one who gets to see him this way—hot and bothered and vulnerable, desperate for your touch—and you take pride in that. He’s a hardworking, dedicated, and determined man and he’s the same way in bed.

He lets out a low hiss when you free his cock from the constrains of his jeans and he feels you blow lightly. Your eyes remain glued on the creamy, white liquid coating the plump tip of his length. What he lacks in length, he makes up in his thick girth. He barely fits between your tiny hands but you pump him slowly, lathering him up in his own salty juices. The arousal lining your damp panties clings to the side of your thigh, threatening to drip down your leg. “I’m so wet just from looking at you.”

“Let me touch—oh, fuck.” He throws his head back in surprise, eyes flickering closed as he feels the sudden pressure of your tongue against his tip. Tingles radiate across his body from where your mouth meets his dick and in this moment, he’s grateful for the sexy, angelic vixen that you are and the way you force him to relinquish control in the pursuit of release.

It’s been months. Although you’ve touched yourself and imagined your fingers were his, your fantasies are never fully accurate when it comes to his impressive and gorgeous anatomy. Nothing is as great as when he’s struggling not to thrust into your mouth.

Your mouth envelops him eagerly, your tongue lapping saliva and precum around his soft, veiny skin. You moan around him, causing vibrations to shoot straight up his toned, clenching pelvis. Sweat builds on his forehead as the ends of his dark hair begin to cover his eyes.

“You have to stop or I’m—“

“Don’t forget my rule.” You slip your lips off of him with a loud pop, ignoring the unappealing glob of saliva dripping down from the side of your mouth. Your facial expression is innocent despite the naughty nature of your current act and Yoongi couldn’t be more aroused. His cock lands on his pelvis with a loud, messy slap.

He stands, motioning for you to take his place on the couch but you swiftly shake your head. “Your turn, jagi.”

“Not now, I can’t wait. I want you.”

“Impatient girl.” He can see the hunger in your eyes but there’s hesitance swimming in his. “Are you sure? I don’t want to hurt you.”

“Oh, trust me, I am all warmed up down there.” Although he’s seeking to pleasure you, he thinks of your comfort first, always aiming to stretch you out and make sure you’re fully lubricated before doing anything with you down there.

“I’ll be back for a taste later and that’s a promise. Now, where do you want me, jagi? I’m all yours.”

You wrap your arms around his neck, guiding him backwards to the bed. He grasps the back of your neck and tilts his head to the side, slipping in his tongue to create an even deeper bond between the two of you. His wet muscle clashes against yours as his other hand delicately fiddles with the loose spaghetti strap of your dress. He breaks for a moment, lips puffy and eyes heavy with lust before helping you peel off your dress in one smooth swoop.

The air in his body suddenly escapes his lungs when he looks at you, causing his breath to hitch in his throat. The moonlight glistens over your sweaty skin, highlighting your curves and shape. You used to be so shy in front of him but now you stand confidently, hands resting neatly over your hips like the art that you are. “I’m so in love with you. How did you find me?” he murmurs in admiration, happily giving into the spell your body casts on him. He isn’t asking about tonight; he’s asking about this lifetime, how the stars aligned your paths on the fateful day you met.

A loud thud from across the hotel room interrupts his sweet reverie like the chime of a bell striking midnight. Yoongi’s head shoots in the direction of the front door before he whispers a quiet, “I’ll be right back.”

He drags himself to the door, adjusting his long t-shirt over his boxers to cover the raging hard-on he’s got hidden underneath.

“Hyung!” slurs a voice from the other side with a few lazy bangs on the door. Yoongi sighs, rubbing his tired temple as he tries to gather his remaining patience. He barely opens the door in the hopes of somehow steering Jimin away but the younger’s face is merely inches away from the lock. His eyes are red with exhaustion, cheeks pink with intoxication. No one can drink like Jimin and be perfectly stable the next day.

“It’s late. What do you need? I’m really busy right now.”

“You’re always busy, Yoongi! I can’t find my room key. It was in my pocket before and now it’s not.”

“Did you ask Jungk—“

“Jungkook doesn’t have it, either!”

“Lower your voice.”

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what to do.”

“So you decided to come bother me. Are you sure you looked in all of your pockets? Thoroughly?”

The younger rolls his eyes before frantically patting the back of his skin-tight jeans with his palms. “Ye—“ His eyes go wide as saucers when he whips out the plastic card from his front pocket. “Hyung, you’re the best.”

“I know,” he answers quickly before glancing back at you in bed, thin sheet tucked tightly up to your chin. “Is that all?”

Jimin’s brows knit together curiously as he tries to look over Yoongi’s blocking shoulder. “Wait, is she here alread—”

“Goodnight.”

With a slam, Yoongi makes his way back to you, crawling over your figure as his face aligns with your neck. You giggle when he tickles the length of your throat with the tip of his nose, sniffing and kissing messily.

“I feel like a teenager or something, hiding like this.”

“I’m sorry,” he sighs. “Jimin lost his room key for the third time this month. Can you believe that? The only time he’s not a complete mess is when he’s dancing and even then he’s the biggest klutz in the room behind Namjoon.”

“You don’t think he heard us, right?”

“Probably not.”

“Hmm.”

“Well, you sound disappointed. Did you want him to hear us?”

“No, that’s ridiculous,” you insist nervously, trying to assure him that you’re not entertained by the idea of being caught or listened to while fucking.

“You’re such a bad liar.”

“I’m gonna go hide under a rock now and never come out. Ever.”

“Don’t be embarrassed. It’s good when you tell me what you really want; it helps me better understand how to pleasure you. We all have desires.” If you were a puzzle, Yoongi would know you forwards, backward, and back around if it was possible. “We’ve been dating for years and you still manage to blow my mind away.”

“Yoongi!”

“There you go again. I can’t win with you.”

“You can’t win but I’ll battle it out with you forever.”

There goes that word: forever. It sends some running for the hills but for you two, it’s the only way to express how much you love each other. Forever is an eternity. The thought of you, the greatest woman in the world, wanting to spend the rest of your days with him gives him enough confidence to do anything.

“You ready?” he asks you sweetly, aligning himself with your entrance as he pushes a stray hair away from your forehead. You hold your panty to the side, nodding and swiveling your hips as an invite. His hard tip prods at the soft skin of your lips and the anticipation is enough to set your skin on fire. “You’re so warm,” he groans, sliding another inch inside of you.

Your silky walls envelop him, welcoming him with tight clenches and liquid heat. You can feel every ridge and bump of his dick and just when you think he’s bottomed out completely, he continues to work himself into you. “Wow, it’s been a really long time.”

He pauses. “Are you okay?”

“Yes, keep going.” His hot breath fans over your face and you can smell the remnants of his minty toothpaste. “Your breath smells so goo—ugh!”

With a creamy slap and a loud groan, his pelvis hits yours. The pressure of his thick cock pushing against your cervix is heavy but he waits for a moment, allowing you to adjust to the sensation. “Damn, Yoongi, did your dick grow while you were out, too?”

“Clearly, you’ve forgotten what it feels like when I fuck you so let me give you a reminder.” He slowly guides himself out of you only to ram back in, full force until you’re completely full once again. He does this a few times and you begin to moan as each of his thrusts glides in smoother than the last, creating a slippery rhythm of pressure and pleasure.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you moan, body jostling as he rocks himself into you. Your round breasts bounce with his movements, tempting him to massage each supple mound. Your hard, neglected nipples prick against the palm of his hand, reminding him of their presence.

“You’re so good to me,” he answers before you share a wet kiss. “I don’t deserve you.”

“I love you.” Although you feel him plunged deep inside, it’s not enough. You hold onto his broad shoulder, gazing at him with desire. “Harder.”

Your request isn’t one he wants to ignore so with a light slap of your thigh, he motions for you to flip over. “Turn around.”

With one hand tightly grasping your lower back for balance, he uses the other to guide his cock against your slit, rubbing up and down until he settles on sliding against your puffy clit. He groans as he slips inside of you again but this time, he massages your pearl between his index and middle fingers, rolling and drawing circles around the tender organ until he hears your breathing become more erratic. You grind over his fingers to create friction before you find yourself fucking him as he stands still behind you.

“Do you like that?” you ask.

“Yes—ugh—keep fucking yourself on me.” He moans, placing his hands on the back of his own hips to give you full control of thrusting. “I bet you wish they were watching.”

“Who?”

“Jimin. The staff. The guys. All of them.”

You clench around him.

He continues, “Hell, even ARMY. Imagine how angry and surprised they’d be when they realize I have a girlfriend and that we have sex.”

“Yoongi,” you whisper weakly, giving into the obscene ideas leaving his mouth. The possessive nature of his words arouses you more than you’d like to admit. “Don’t joke around about that, it’s dangerous.”

“That’s exactly why you like it. Admit it.”

Suddenly, he’s whipped around until his wrists remain bound against the bed, your body hovering over his in a determined crouch. You lick your lips, satisfied with his surprised reaction. “Stop now before you get yourself in trouble.”

He has the nerve to lick his lips before he cracks a mischievous, gummy smile. “What are you going to do about it?”

Your lips crash against his, teeth clashing and tongues tangling as your bodies passionately intertwine. He chuckles into your sweet mouth and you try to kiss away any remaining bits of his charming attitude. The two of you begin to rock slowly, with his length still stroking inside of you and perusing your wet walls. His fingers tickle your clit once again and you become aware of the stirrings low in your stomach.

You stifle a particularly loud moan as his tip strokes that small, spongey patch along the inside of your entrance exactly the right way, back and forth and over again. “I-I’m close,” you manage and Yoongi takes your statement as a request.

“You can cum, baby. Take your time. I’ve got you,” he coos, soothing your anxious limbs that are desperate for release. “Let me see. Show me how you—oh, fuck, there it is. You’re squeezing me so tight, fuck. You’re so beautiful.”

He helps you ride your wave of euphoria as it quickly crashes over your body without warning. Tiny sparks of pleasure emit from your pelvic area like shocks of electricity, triggering a spasm of kicks starting from your calves. You clutch onto him tightly, using his shoulders like an anchor to work you through the rest of your orgasm.

His follows soon after yours. In a matter of minutes, he’s sputtering and groaning like a babbling mess, spilling his seed onto your entrance and stomach in thick, white ropes. You stick your finger into his juices and clean it with a quick swipe it with your tongue.

He smiles shyly as his pale cheeks turn pink, slightly embarrassed at your open and eager display for his cum. He pads to the bathroom and returns with a small towel to clean you off.

“You’re so gentle,” you remark, admiring the way he softly rubs at your skin.

“These towels are rough,” he answers absentmindedly, too focused on making sure your body is practically sparkling clean. He folds the towel and tosses it into the bathroom before slipping on his black boxers once again. You reach for your discarded panties using your toes, too tired and lazy to leave his plush bed. All he does is complain about hotel beds but this one couldn’t be any cozier.

You tug the sheets over your waist and fluff the seemingly-unused pillow on the left side of the bed. Is it too much of a stretch to believe he doesn’t sleep on that side since it’s usually yours when you sleep together at home? Probably.

“Go turn off the TV and come cuddle. I’m sleepy,” you mumble as half of your vision is suddenly covered with your tired and heavy eyelids.

When he locks the door, turns off the lights, and hops into bed beside you, he can faintly hear the beginnings of your light snores. He settles behind you, tucking his arm over your waist before you nestle into his chest.

For the first time in a long time, Yoongi drifts to sleep with a smile on his face. There’s no pain in his back and the pillows and blankets work together tonight to keep him warm, comfortable, and safe as he dreams that you visited and laid there beside him. He wakes up only once to make sure that his dreams are a reality and sure enough, there you are, legs curled up and body angled into his. He sleeps for the rest of the night in peace, not a single sound or thought to interrupt him as he makes up for the lost rest time he’s needed for months.

#bts #bts smut #bts au fanfic #fanfic #bts fanfic #bts ot7 #btssmut #min yoongi #bts yoongi #yoongi #yoongi x you #reader #yoongi x reader #bts fluff #kpop fluff #fluff #buffyoongi #buff yoongi #mine

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doginshoe · 5 years

Text

What You’d Do To Me Tonight

summary: Lucy had been in a blooming high school romance, but now that the love has wilted between her and her husband, she searches for a solace. However, she finds it in an already broken man that manages to set her alight in more ways then one. When her secrets spill, she finds her world begins to crumble from beneath her feet as the two men in her life torture her already broken heart.

warnings/contains: mentions of smut & domestic violence

part 1 __

He thrusted into her one last time before coming undone, a moan leaving her lips as he roughly pulled himself out and rolled to the side of the bed. Their chest heaving as they tried to catch their breath.

“You’re still on that pill, right?” Her partner asked and Lucy could only laugh as she kicked off the blankets, ready to stumble over to the bathroom to clean herself up.

“You ask that now?”

“Wait, I told you-”

“Natsu,” she sighed as she peered at him from over her shoulder, “Yes. I’m still on the pill.”

He grinned as he watched her stand and walk to the door leading into his small dingy bathroom, her backside still bright red from their earlier activities. “Thank god.”

Lucy gave a light chuckle as she turned on the shower head before grimacing at the sticky liquid between her thighs. It was only a quick rinse and by the time she came back, drying herself with one of the man’s few towels, Natsu was already settled on the side of the bed and liting up a cigarette from his nearly empty pack. He took a long drag before blowing the smoke from his lungs and then downing the remaining whiskey he couldn’t finish before they had started.

She rolled her eyes before grabbing her underwear having given up on lecturing him about his many bad habits. He would only scoff, not paying any mind to her words. As she pulled on her jeans he turned to her with a raised brow.

“Leaving already?”

It was like this a lot of the time. A quick visit after work to loosen up her tight muscles, forget about everything, and unwind then she would be off. It was never anything more between them and she was ok with that. Natsu had been clear that he didn’t need another woman in his life ‘bossing him around.’ The conversation about them being anything more was clipped and swept under the bed. She sent him a quick smile as she buttoned up her shirt and grabbed her bag.

“Yeah. I’ve got some things to do at home.”

He frowned and stood before she could make her move to the door, another cloud of smoke filling the air before he spoke. “You needa ride?”

Lucy dug into her bag and pulled out her keys. “I’m covered,” She grinned, “Beside’s I wouldn’t go near your death trap that you call transport.” Natsu snorted and she thought that would be the end of it but he seemed to have other ideas as he walked to his dresser.

“There’s nothing wrong with my bike. Come on. I’ll walk you out.”

“Your neighbours are going to have a heart attack if they see you walk out like that.” She gestured to his junk that was still out in the open for the world to see, but he only waved her away as he pulled in a breath from his cigarette and opened up his draws.

As he pulled out the smoke from in between his lips he grabbed for his loose jeans. “I’m not gonna give the old folks a heart attack, Smart ass. Just let me put these on,” he quipped as he stepped into the loose denim and lead her out the door.

“My, my you’re becoming quite the gentleman, Natsu Dragneel. To think I used to have to just dress myself and find my way to the door without an escort,” She said while forcing out a dramatic tone, a small smile pulling up on her lips. “Tragic.”

“Sometimes, Luce, I think all those books really do something funny to ya head.”

“I could say the same about that stick of cancer hanging out your mouth.”

“Hey!” He gave her a look as he opened up front door, “They don’t do anything to my head.”

Lucy stepped past him into the chilled air as she kept his gaze, spinning on her heel to face him. “Could’ve fooled me,” she answered, barely suppressing another laugh as he narrowed his eyes at her, trying to muster the scowl that sent men reeling, yet the tell tale sign of the twitch in his cheek gave him away. Natsu could never fool anyone.

“If you keep making that face it’ll get stuck!”

Natsu smirked, the facade dropping in an instance. “Tell me again, Luce. Are you sure you weren’t raised by old women?” His smile grew ten times as he spoke each word before he dropped his finished smoke to smother it into the ground.

Now was the time for her eyes to narrow as she slapped his shoulder. Natsu taking a step back and raising his hands to protect himself at her weak hit, his chuckle filling her ears. No matter what he always knew the ways to get under her skin and push her buttons. She always had to remind herself why she ever came and saw him, yet the answer was so sad that she could never dwell on it too long.

“My humour is just fine, thank you very much. Now if you excuse me I’ll be on my way,” she spoke before turning away, head tilted into the air. She didn’t get far before Natsu was pulling her back into his arms. She gasped as he grabbed her but settled into the warm embrace anyways as he held her.

“Drive safe,” he breathed as he placed a quick kiss to the side of her head that made Lucy’s cheeks warm. A soft smile made its way on her face as she enjoyed their contact. Sometimes, only sometimes, would Lucy revel in this feeling. It had been so long after all that she had a sweet touch, but she knew it would never work. She quickly pulled away, her fingers lingering on his as she turned back to him.

“I will.”

With that she let go and made her way to the car. As she pulled open the door and turned back to look up at his porch, he had already made his way inside and Lucy sighed as she climbed into the vehicle parked in their driveway. With a quick look to the time she cursed as she realised she was running late, her hands quickly turning the keys and putting her foot down to reverse out. He wasn’t going to be happy.

She tried her best to speed home. Yet, her shaking hands had the itch to turn around. Lucy could only hope he hadn’t been drinking again. He was worse when he was drinking. She gulped as she pulled into her own driveway. His car was already there, which she expected, but a small part of her hoped it wouldn’t. He had gone out to the pub, to the bookie, anything.

A defeated sigh left her lips as she turned off the car and grabbed her bag. She checked herself over in the mirror, peering at her neck especially. Natsu always had a habit of leaving unwanted marks even though she had told him that she didn’t like it. That had been a lie, but she couldn’t tell him the real reason - that she had another man to hide them from.

She shook her head to relieve herself of the guilt that had clung to her bones. Ever since the first night she had laid with Natsu, it had wound itself in her lungs and nearly suffocated her when she tried to sleep. He was just so addicting. The way he touched her, his delicate fingers, the way he made her laugh like there was nothing wrong in her life. With him she could forget and that was all she ever wanted. Lucy quickly rubbed at her eyes - It was something she could think about at another time. As she stepped out the car she forced her legs to move, but she had barely made it two steps before he opened the door.

“Where have you been?” He snapped, his dark eyes glaring at her as she made her way towards him.

Lucy held onto her bag a little tighter as she looked up at him, immediately bringing her gaze to the door behind him. “I was kept at work,” she mumbled, bringing her stare back to the man she had married.

“That’s the third time this week.”

Lucy shot him a filthy look before she pushed past him, whispering under her breath as she passed him, “That’s what happens when you have a job.”

As she made her way to the kitchen the front door slammed behind her and she froze. She didn’t want to turn around. If she ignored him he would leave her alone. If she made the excuse she was tired then she could stay in the room, pretend to sleep when he came up to bed. Nothing would happen tonight.

Many times Lucy was wrong.

“You stink of smoke.”

Lucy mentally cursed Natsu and his hotbox of a home. She should’ve sprayed herself with perfume before she got out of the car. The blonde dropped her bag on the kitchen counter as she wondered to the fridge, hoping to cut off the conversation as soon as possible.

“Did you hear me?” He called, voice getting louder as he stepped closer to her. “I’m talking to you.”

“It must have been from someone who I was talking to after-”

She could barely finish her sentence as he grabbed ahold of her hair, pulling at the long tresses and forcing her to face him. His eyes were alight with anger as he put his face in front of hers. Lucy swallowed.

“Who?” he spat.

“It was just a quick conversation, I swear!” she raised her hands to his as tears gathered in her eyes. “Please stop. It hurts, Jackal.” She tried to pry his hold on her hair but when he dropped his grasp a slap followed his movements.

Her head snapped to the side, the sting tingling her face but she refused to look at him, or let the tears fall down her cheeks. He grabbed onto her arm, squeezing it until the hold turned bruising.

“You’re an ugly slut,” he seethed as he pushed himself into her face, the smell of alcohol on his breath burning in her nose. “You hear me? Don’t you ever think you can lie to me!”

Lucy’s lower lip trembled as he shouted in her ear, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her arm. She didn’t dare speak, not that the lump in her throat would ever allow anything but sobs and screams to leave her lips. It would only make him angrier if she spoke. She had learned that the hard way when he had first hit her. They were barely twenty years old and having a stupid argument. When Lucy yelled at him, her anger getting the better of her, he had thrown a frying pan at her head. The cooking utensil barely missing her by an inch as it slammed against the wall. She had screamed at him, nearly packing her things but he had stopped her. His hand around her throat before pushing her into a side table and knocking her mother's favourite vase to the floor - one of the few things she had left of her smashing on impact and cutting Lucy’s hands.

She had kept quiet for the next five years.

He grabbed her face, violently turning it to so her brown eyes could gaze at the man she thought she loved. His eyes were blazing as he growled at her, “I know what you’re up to,” he spat in her face as he pushed her backwards. Her body slamming into the fridge as a choked sob left her lips. “You better be home tomorrow.”

Lucy could only nod meekly as she pushed herself up and wiped the spit from her cheek. He walked away from her, grabbing a half finished beer bottle from the table and walking to the living room. She wasted no time in running up the stairs to their bedroom and locking the door behind her.

The tears trickled down her face as she sunk to the floor. Her cheek where he had slapped her was still red, the skin sensitive and hot. She desperately rubbed at her eyes as she breathed in deep breaths. However, Lucy’s eyes were blank as she stared straight ahead. The only sign of emotion being the shake of her shoulders or the wet drops that she had missed.

What her brown eyes couldn’t tear her eyes from was the picture of her wedding day. She was beaming at the camera, her white dress still on as they had photographs in the gardens. Her father was beside her, his tired eyes managing to smile at the camera as he was seated in his wheelchair.

He had been incredibly happy for her. His baby girl growing up and finding a nice guy when she was only sixteen. The wedding being held as soon as they had graduated. Jackal’s future was always promising. He was taken in when he was only a child by his uncle who was a wealthy businessman and a good friend of her fathers. He was meant to inherit the company. Jude had always said ‘that boy will grow into a fine man one day.’ A bitter smile pulled at her lips as she realised how wrong her dad had been.

Her father had passed not long after the wedding. Six months of continuous heart problems that left him so exhausted he could barely get out of bed. He never saw Jackal when he had started to gamble, or when he had been disowned by his uncle. Her husband burned through more money then they could make, finishing her inheritance in a few short years. If it wasn’t for the house they brought when they had first moved out, she was sure they’d be homeless.

Even now they struggled. He spent his time guzzling drink after drink - either in front of their TV at home, or in the pub. She often wondered what her father would say now. He’d tried his hardest, working day and night, to give her an easier life. Yet now she could barely make ends meet as she was overdue on bills and had notices piling up in her mailbox of debts that needed to be paid. What she would often think about more is what her mother would think. If she was disappointed that her daughter was creeping around with another man.

A sigh left her lips as she continued to sit on the floor, her hands scratching at her thighs through her jeans as she was lost in thought.

She knew her mother would be most upset about her dead eyes. The way she could rarely give a smile these days. She had only wanted Lucy to be happy.

___

I never uploaded the full version of this because I was nervous but I’m releasing part 2 soon so I thought I might as well.

#fairy tail #fairytail #nalu #Nalu fanfic #Nalu fanfiction #angst #tw: abuse #natsu dragneel #ft jackal #Lucy heartfilia #my writing #What you'd do to me tonight #doginshoe #hints of smut

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mononokehunters · 6 years

Text

@dragonflame185 asked about Kusu’s first transformation into Hyper so I decided to go a little crazy... It’s still rough and I’ll probably edit and post it later on AO3 or something but for now... enjoy! :3

Dim light played over the shelves of the warehouse, illuminating the innumerable irregular boxes and bundles stacked high upon them and the figure of a young man rummaging through it all. It was still the middle of the day but the single barred window was high and narrow and the shaft of light it let in was filled with dust raised by the man’s explorations.

He sighed heavily through the cloth tied over his face, blinking sweat out of his eyes as he heaved another box down from a shelf to sit beside the others that dotted the narrow aisle, their contents strewn haphazardly across the floor. He wasn’t concerned about losing anything he’d removed, he knew exactly where it all went, but his excitement to find what he was looking for was too great to spare the time to clean up after himself right now.

The box he’d chosen this time was particularly cumbersome and it raised another cloud of dust when he set it down heavily. The wood was old and dented and bore an unfamiliar crest on the lid, tarnished nearly black with age. His brows lifted curiously and he brushed a curling strand of dark hair out of his face. He’d known his grandfather had purchased the property of a noble family to increase his own clan’s standing. This must be part of that transaction.

There was no way the box held what he was looking for but curiosity, especially at the odd paper seal pasted over the latch, kept him from setting it aside. Instead, he ran a carefully trimmed nail across the paper, tearing it neatly at the seam of the lid, and opened it.

His face fell slightly at the disappointing contents. Silly as he knew it was, a small part of him had been expecting exotic jewels, mystical charms, strange books, hopefully containing forbidden knowledge, maybe even a spirit in a bottle. Instead there was just... junk. A tarnished hand mirror wrapped in a tattered purple cloth, a string of beads that broke and fell back into the box when he tried to lift them out, what looked like a toy set of scales, a faded theatrical kimono and another box at the bottom underneath it all.

The young man lifted it out and set it on his lap, examining it closely. While the first box had been entirely unremarkable, if out of place, this one was so gaudy it was tacky to the extreme. The whole thing was covered with more paper seals but the details were still clearly visible. Inlay copper and jade eyes stared back at him blankly from the long lid while odd figures barely visible in the half-light danced across brass straps that ran around the edges. He smiled under the cloth as he let out a bemused snort. If this was the sort of thing the mystery family had hoarded, no wonder they had been in dire straits.

He looked back up at the rest of the clutter that surrounded him and chuckled. Perhaps he wasn’t the best one to judge though. His family was wealthy now and could afford their opulence, not to mention his many capricious explorations and indulgences, but his father was constantly reminding them that things might not always be this way. Diligence and sense and a certain amount of good luck had gotten them here. It could easily turn around at any time.

The box shifted on his knees and something inside jingled and curiosity took hold of the young man once again. His hopes of mysterious riches had been sufficiently dampened for him not to expect much but this odd little find was a nice break from his true errand here. Whatever was inside at least still had to be more interesting than the mundane ink stones and gift box sets he’d discovered so far. Tearing away the brittle seals, he opened the lid.

His eyes widened. A kaleidoscope of little lights reflecting off a dozen jewels tumbled across his face, dazzling him. It was sword, he could see that in an instant. The ridiculous design hinted at some theatrical prop but the patina indicated some old ceremonial purpose. The face on the hilt seemed to leer at him and he was reminded of a description he’d once read of ritual demon slaying swords in the distant provinces of China. He stared at it, fascinated. All of the treasures he’d imagined before could never compare to this. Entranced, he reached out to run a finger along the sheath.

There was a jolt like a static shock and fireworks flashed in front of his eyes and he fell back with a cry, trying to block them out but it seemed like they’d gone off inside his eyes themselves, crackling across his nerves and multiplying inside his head, roaring louder and louder until it felt like his skull should explode. He writhed on the floor of the storeroom, scattering boxes and screaming in agony as the fire spread under his skin and through his body all the way to the bone. Even as the burning spread, he was are of something else along with it, the feeling of another slipping inside his skin. His back snapped taut and he choked in pain and horror as he stared at the ceiling. His eyes. God someone else was looking out of his eyes! It was the last thought he had before darkness filled his world.

Slowly, cautiously, the young man cracked open his eyes and then blinked. The angle and quality of the light had changed, it was clearly coming on close to evening. Groaning and swearing softly, he picked himself up gingerly and ran a hand over his face. And stopped.

He stared. Abnormally gray hair fell into his face as he examined the pale skin and painted nails in gradually mounting horror. There was no mistake, these were his hands, the little wrinkles and delicate lines of muscle and sinew over bone were as familiar to him as his own face… Oh God, his face…

In a panic he scrabbled in the box for the old mirror, horror growing like a dark fungus in his chest as the polished glass revealed his features. His eyes widened as he felt the world fall out from beneath him. “Impossible…”

His face looked like a ghastly theater mask, demonic red rimmed eyes turned far too pale staring back at him like the eyes of a demon over a knowing painted smirk. And that wasn’t even the start of it…

Something golden moved behind his reflection and he cried out as he spun around to see it. He ought to have sensed it if someone had been standing that close! But there was no one in the narrow hallway, nothing but monolithic shelves and scattered crates spilling their treasures across the dirt floor.

He stared at the mess around him, trying to collect himself. There was no way he could stay here looking like this. He couldn’t even begin to imagine what his family would think or what he could tell them. And with his sister’s wedding approaching, it would be far too much of a risk, he’d be locked away for sure. His practice would be shuttered and all mention of him would be silenced. He’d seen it happen over less dire circumstances and he had no illusions about the measures his father would go to to protect the family’s position.

He jumped at a knock on the warehouse door.

“Young master? Is everything all right? Your father sent me to ask if you’d gotten lost in the stacks.” There was a touch of amusement to the voice, the young master was known for losing himself in his fancies.

The young man breathed deeply to steady himself before answering. “Yes, it’s fine, just fine. Tell father I’ll be up late, I’m sure I’ll find what I’m looking for soon.”

“Of course. I’ll make sure to leave dinner in your room.”

“Thank you very much.” He sighed as footsteps shuffled away into the growing twilight and turned back to assess his circumstances. The contents of the old box seemed to have acquired a new life in the dying light and as he stood in the warehouse among the collected wealth of his family, his life crumbling around his ears, he knew what he would have to do.

The next morning a servant discovered the storehouse had been robbed overnight. Little of value had been stolen but among the missing items was a vintage peddler’s chest and a few odd bottles and containers. What was most concerning was the total disappearance of the young master and there was little other conclusion to draw except that he had caught the thieves red-handed and had been kidnapped to ransom. But as the days stretched into weeks and months, no ransom note came and no other sign of him was ever seen or heard.

#mononoke #kusuriuri #medicine seller #ayakashi: samurai horror tales #ok to reblog #:(: library #:(: bitter medicine #:(: reason

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mentallyunstableunicornwrites · 6 years

Text

Heated Kiss

Yuuri sighed as his husband pressed his fingers into the muscles of his shoulders. Viktor was a master at coaxing even the worst knots out of Yuuri’s shoulders and neck and quite honestly Yuuri needed it. They were three weeks into postseason and Yuuri had taken to video game marathons in their living room as if it was his new job. Of course this came with a fair amount of junk food, a terrible sleeping pattern, and the worst posture that Viktor had ever seen from someone. Yuuri had a habit of cocooning himself in a pile of pillows and blankets on the floor and disappearing for days at a time.

Normally, it wouldn’t bother Viktor. He had his fair share of ways to unwind after a particularly trying competitive season. Normally, it would include spending time out of the country with Chris on vacation in some far flung and ridiculously warm locale with views and room service. This year, however, things were a little different. Chris took Phichit on his retreat and Viktor was not going to intrude on that budding romance. That meant that Viktor was on his own to decompress. The only issue being that it felt more like there were ants crawling under his skin as they days passed and he was left to his own devices.

Sure there were plenty of ways he could decompress, but spending time with Yuuri always seemed to help him relax the most.The problem was that Yuuri would not focus on him rather than the game and that was starting to bother Viktor. He had tried everything that he could think of to draw Yuuri’s attention away from the game. He walked around the house wearing that one pair of pants that he knew made Yuuri drool all over himself. He cooked Katsudon with help from mama Hiroko over skype. He had even attempted to play the game with Yuuri until he became too frustrated with his lack of skill. Nothing that he did seemed to help drag Yuuri away from his game. It was Viktor’s hope that with a massage, perhaps he could manage to get Yuuri to pay attention to something other than the TV screen.

To his credit, it seemed to be working. In between matches Yuuri let his controller rest in his lap, head fell forward with a soft sigh as Viktor pressed into the curve where his shoulder met his neck. The moan the fell from Yuuri’s lips came involuntarily. That didn’t mean that it had any less of an effect on Viktor as his cheeks pinked in response. It wasn’t long before Yuuri was groaning his disapproval of Viktor moving his hands from Yuuri’s shoulders and placing them on his waist instead, thumbs drawing nonsensical patterns on his hip bones.

Lips replaced Viktor’s hands and Yuuri pressed into the touch, lips falling open as Viktor’s teeth pressed lightly into his skin. Yuuri’s hand reached behind him and wound itself into Viktor’s hair encouraging him silently to continue. Yuuri tugged lightly pulling Viktor forward so he could turn back to press his lips against his husband’s hungerly.

Viktor smiled into the kiss, gripping tightly at Yuuri’s waist as if it were an anchor. Finally some attention, some much needed attention from his amazingly talented husband. Viktor became putty under Yuuri’s movements as the man quickly flipped himself around so he was straddling Viktor’s legs, pressing into him with need.

The air around them was charged as they reconnected with one another. Viktor had missed this, had missed him. It was a funny thing the ability to miss a person who was in the same room as you. Yet, here he was finally reconnecting with a man that he had sat next to for three weeks.

“Bed.” Yuuri whispered as he pulled away. Viktor could only nod dumbly and follow his husband’s command. Yuuri grabbed Viktors hand and pulled him towards the bedroom door. Life and love, the two things that Viktor was missing from his life for so long, embodied in this one man who he was now proud to call his husband.

As they crossed the threshold Yuuri closed the door behind them before pushing Viktor against it, lips pressing hungerly against Viktors own threatening to devour the man whole. He moaned into the kiss raking his hands through Yuuri’s hair and tilting his head just slightly so that they fit together a little better. Yuuri’s hands slipped under Viktor’s shirt and gripped tightly at his hips pulling the man’s body closer.

Viktor could feel everything in the kiss, Yuuri’s devotion, his lust, his need as it consumed him. Yuuri took Viktor’s bottom lip between his teeth and tugged gently eliciting another moan. Viktor pressed into Yuuri determined to take what he wanted. The smaller man gasped a little as Viktor wound his arms around his body and pressed them flush together. He pressed Yuuri backwards until they reached the bed, falling together unceremoniously onto the mattress… and Makka.

The dog let out a yelp in surprise as his owners landed on him. Yuuri started laughing, pinned between the poor pooch and his husband. Viktor cooed words of apology before helping Yuuri off their fur child. Makka huffed as he jumped off the bed and stood patiently in front of the door to be let out. Viktor obliged. When he looked back at Yuuri they both fell into a fit of giggles, the moment lost but not forgotten. Like most things between them, the imperfect was what made their relationship so perfect to begin with.

Oh my goodness... that is it, 20 kisses. I am so sorry it took so long for me to get this one out. I was trying so hard to keep it in the T rating zone but my dirty mind kept trying to push it into something else!!!!

I want to thank a few people, first of all I need to send out a HUGE thank you to both @inlovewithyoi and @littorella for putting up with me through this process. Thank you J for getting over some major writers blocks and always encouraging me to keep going even when I was sure that everything I was writing was total crap! Also to Allie, the artwork that you made for me is beyond amazing and I am thrilled to have gotten the chance to meet you and talk to you over these past few months. You asking me if it was ok to do some artwork for my story totally caught me off guard but happened at a moment when I was pretty sure I wasn't going to be able to finish this project at all.

I also want to thank each and every person who took the time to read through all 20 kisses. You guys are really the reason that I keep writing because without you it would just be words on paper. Every person who wrote a review or hit that kudo button, you are the real champions in my life. Thank you so much!

I hope that you will continue to support me and my other projects! Thank you so much and don't hesitate to send me a message. I don't bite, promise, and it really makes my day!

See you Next Level!

#20 kisses #littorella #InLoveWithYoI #Heated Kiss #Final Kiss #yuri on ice fanfiction #Yuri on ice #yuri katsuki #yuuri katsuki #victor nikiforov #Viktor Nikiforov #makkachin #I love you makka

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stunudo · 6 years

Text

Dealt With

A Criminal Minds Fan-fiction

Featuring: Luke Alvez x Female Reader

Setting: Season 13

A/N: This was supposed to be short! Happy Smuturday! xoxo Stu

Your name: submit What is this?

Heading back up to your apartment with your weekly Target purchases, you smiled unconsciously as you saw Luke and Roxy leaving their apartment. You tried to be polite by ignoring your neighbor, but the man was so adorable and having a full conversation with his dog. Who wouldn’t glance over to take in the sweet moment?!

You lingered in your doorway as he knelt beside the dog, rubbing her ears and leaving a kiss between her eyes. You were blushing now because you just realized you were jealous of the affection Roxy was receiving, a dog, really Y/N? Had it come to this?

You sighed as you close the door behind you, looking forward to an uneventful weekend after a shitstorm of a work week.

Luke’s breath is hot on the side of your neck, you look away to ensure you don’t lose the angle. He grunts as he lifts below your arms, you feel the pressure lighten throughout your thighs. You gasp and keep pushing forward, you’re nearly there now.

“Easy, Y/N, with me, okay?” Luke says reassuringly.

You nod, unable to make coherent words at this point. His dark eyes lock on yours, even in a moment like this they dance playfully. You try not to yell at him, but he reads it all in your stare.

“Okay, 1, 2, and down.” He directs you into place. The awkwardly heavy and terribly impulsive stone planter dropped below your south-facing windows.

“Sonofabitch that’s heavy!” You exclaim, blowing the hair out of your face. Luke just chuckles.

“I’m surprised you got it into your car!” He teased.

“Well, you see, there was an overly friendly guy in the Garden Department that did the actual lifting there.” You explained, sheepishly. “He, uh, was pretty big.”

Luke’s face shifted, he nodded, “So, uh, now that’s dealt with, I should, uh.” He gestured behind him, “Get going.”

“Oh, no, stay!” You offer a little desperately. “Have a beer, it’s the least I can do.” His bottom lip popped out as he considered your offer. “Unless, you have somewhere else you need to be?”

God, could you be anymore obvious. Just ask if he’s seeing anybody, Y/N.

“Nope, just an easy night at home. Haven’t had a weekend off in awhile, so I owe it to Roxy to stick around.” He explained. “Uh, sure, a beer sounds great. Thanks.”

“No, thank you.” You smirk as you bend into the fridge.

Luke plopped the bottle down on the counter top as his shoulders rolled in laughter. Y/N was explaining how the distribution clerk had sent a shipment of roses on dry ice instead of the dozen cases of chocolates that were meant to be chilled.

“So the chocolate melted and the roses wilted, how’s that for morbid Valentine’s options?” She sniggered, licking her lips before taking a sip from her beer. He watched her closely, her lips puckering around the cold glass. His mind flying with images, Luke glanced away, trying to clear his thoughts. The clock on the mounted microwave read 7:39pm.

“Crap! Hey, I gotta let Roxy out. This was fun.” Luke finished the end of his third beer in a gulp.

“Can I come?” She said suddenly. “Uh, I mean, I love dogs and it would probably be a good idea to walk off some of the alcohol. It’s still early?” She tilted her head, how could he refuse when he hated to leave anyway?

“Okay, sure, but I’m warning you, Roxy takes her time whenever I have company.” He grinned, opening Y/N’s apartment door to cross the hall back to his place.

“I’m in no rush, but, do you have people, over often?” She asked, not so subtlety. Luke felt the gloat on his features, he checked himself before he replied.

“No, not really,” he admitted, his ego falling as the honesty was spoken. He unlocked the door, letting Roxy out to finally see what was keeping him so long. She bypassed Luke and went straight to Y/N’s crouching form, her voice beckoning the dog enthusiastically. God, could she be any more perfect, Luke thought. Taking a thorough glance down her top as she was bent over to pet his dog. Nope, she couldn’t, he told himself.

After the walk, you were strangely energized, convincing Luke to come back over for a pizza. You had learned that he loved old Kung Fu movies and you just so happened to have a few from back in college when you worked at an old Blockbuster. He was floored you still had a VCR, you shrugged it off. Glowing with the idea of spending a few more hours with the hot neighbor of your daydreams.

An hour later and you were settled in on your couch, another round of beer and the take out box open on your coffee table. He looked a little apprehensive, but you hoped the terrible dubbing would keep the mood light. You took a gooey bite of cheesy goodness as the opening animations buzzed to life. You groaned with pleasure as the taste coated your mouth.

“This is the best pizza I’ve had since moving to D.C.” You closed your eyes, reveling in it.

“I don’t know, I think the place on Massachusetts Ave might be better.” Luke argued, taking his own slice.

“Man, I doubt it. But you’ll have to prove it to me sometime?” You let the offer hang there.

“Sure, as long as you can keep it together in public. I don’t want anybody dying on my watch. Because it is, mind-blowing.”

You smirked at the idea, Luke had almost agreed to go out with you. You sat back to enjoy the movie, both of you relaxing as the food and drinks filled you with warmth and contentment. It was surprisingly easy being with Luke Alvez, you thought randomly, as you inched closer to the center of the couch.

Luke was having difficulties concentrating on the screen. Y/N, with one leg crossed over the other, brought her knee within inches of his. The closeness was intoxicating. He looked at the ceiling and went for it; the old junior high stretch and cuddle, the cheesiest move in the dating book. But that’s where it went from adorable to awkward. Instead of his palm resting on her shoulder, he had angled over generously and gently rubbed her breast.

“Uh?” She laughed, confused.

“Oh Christ, Y/N, I am sorry, that was not where I was going.” She had spun towards him, his hand worrying his jaw as she watched him scramble for an apology. “I swear!”

“Yeah, I figured.” She grinned at him, slapping his thigh. “It’s okay though, for you, I’m willing to let it slide.” Her eyes sparkled in humor, she was not going to let him live that one down.

He exhaled, but his chest still felt heavy. Y/N had leaned in and put her head against him, her legs curling up beside them on the cushions. He watched where he settled his hand this time, rubbing her tricep reassuringly. This turned out better than it should have, Luke thought.

The boob grab had set your senses on overload, being in his arms was wonderful, but your body wanted more. His cologne and firm chest were mere samples of the deliciousness of this man. You squeezed your thighs together and tried to regulate your breathing, to no avail. You shifted, trying to find a good position without placing your head directly into his lap. Shit, now you were looking at his junk.

Flustered, you sat straight up. Luke straightened up in alarm. “Everything okay?”

“There’s something else that I need your help with,” You begin sheepishly.

“Okay?” He was confused by your abruptness. “Now?”

“If that’s okay?” You bit your lip as he moved to stand up. “Uh, sure. <he cleared his throat> What’s the plan, boss?”

“Wait! Just, stay right there.” You held his shoulders down, leaving him on the edge of the couch. You slipped your dominant hand up to his neck, your fingers found his curls, your thumb grazed the coarser hair along his ear. Luke leaned into your palm, searching your touch out. You gave up talking and took his plump bottom lip in your mouth.

The tension of the afternoon fell into place; all the energy and the nervousness fueling your bodies like magnets. His huge arms pinned you to him. Your mouth taking control as your hands held his face. You stayed locked in a burning fire, letting yourselves learn how to touch each other. The kisses flowing to other parts of your face and neck.

At one point you kicked the pizza box and nearly spilled a beer. You both froze for a beat as the spell was momentarily suspended. His perfect grin and teasing eyes caught you off guard.

“Alright, I think its time we moved to safer quarters.” Luke hinted.

“What?” You asked, but before you knew it you were upside down. Luke had grabbed you by the waist and thrown you over his shoulder. “Luke! Alvez! Not fair!”

He stomped to the back of your apartment, towards the bedroom. In the mean time you appreciated the view of his ass as it hefted your extra weight. It was nearly as firm as his chest, you gave him an appreciate pinch right before he tossed you onto your unmade bed.

He fell beside you like a kid diving into a pool, pure enthusiasm. You found his rough mouth and swiftly removed his shirt. Your fingers raked down the bulky muscles of his back as Luke rolled with you beneath him. He made a barrier between you and the outside world, nothing could pierce this little bubble. His rough kisses scratched at the soft skin below your ear, trailing down your neck, he pulled at your V neck with his teeth, growling into your cleavage. Quickly you were both undressed, his length drawing your attentions. God, he was hard all over. Your hands slipped down his smooth abs as his rough hands encased each breast.

His low growl when you found his cock, made you squirm. Somewhat precariously you hooked your ankle behind his leg and rocked him backwards. You fell slightly haphazardly, but you got your intended outcome: Luke sprawled out on your pillows as your hand stroked his heavy length. You left little pecks over his thighs, his chest and along his protruding pelvis bone. Once your hot mouth took his tip, Luke belted out a dwindling stream of Spanish, you tried to keep your smirk to yourself.

The man was gorgeous, especially when he moaned. Balancing on your knees and one elbow, you took him deeper, trying to find a rhythm you both could manage.

“Y/N,” Luke whimpered. “Jesus, Y/N.” Your core twinged with the want in his voice. Straddling his knee, you began to grind against him, adding to the tension of your mouth and to your own pleasure. Suddenly Luke’s warm hand found your bare nipple, he tugged, getting your attention. You watched his face as you relinquished his dick, just to take it into your hand again.

“Y/N, I’m going to need you back up here.” You raised your eyebrows, what exactly was he saying? He understood immediately, his face braced for another apology. “No, it’s not bad. It’s good, too good actually.” He was so sweet when he backpedaled.

Her chest swayed as she snaked up his body, those tender nubs rolling between his finger tips. She was red from her efforts, his leg damp from her riding him. He leaned forward and drew her breast into his mouth, quickly. She purred as his face nuzzled her neck. “Y/N, I am here to help. What did you need my help with again?”

She rolled her eyes at his bad joke, but she couldn’t hide that killer smile for long. She gave him a faked laugh, but left a playful kiss on his lips. She sat back to straddle him, her hand teasing his tip against her clit. She sighed, her eyes fluttered closed as she sunk down onto his cock. Luke huffed as she clenched around him, she was so fucking smooth. She found her pace and leaned back, granting him a view of every inch of her torso as she swayed with her momentum. He clenched each of her thighs possessively. Eventually, she staggered, her body pulling at him, letting him know she was close. He whispered to her, “That’s it, Y/N. Come for me baby, take it.”

His fingers found her hood, delving into her folds to tease her clit, she moaned a high breathy sound. He hummed as she fell apart, pulling at her hair. His cock burned as she quaked over and over again. He kicked his feet to the sides, pinning her lower back in place as he pulled them both up. He rested on his knees and she continued to ride him. She gasped slightly as Luke took over, his strong forearms holding her up as his thighs began pumping into her.

How was he doing this? He was fucking you while he completely supported your body. The angle was like nothing you had ever felt, close and fast. He left throaty moans against your chest as you clung to his neck for dear life. He was a machine, soft skin pulled over sculpted muscle. His goatee stung as he nipped at your collar bone. The sensations were pooling between you once more, your second climax was rapidly approaching.

“Luke? Fuck, I’m, uhhh, already? Really?” You half whined half chastised him as you shook with the next wave. The surf had grown treacherous now, your body spasming with the overload.

He gave you a chuckled breath as he strained to keep you upright, you held his face firmly and kissed him fiercely. Breaking away you winked, “Time to let go, Luke.”

You pushed back from his chest, he instinctively, let your shoulders hit the mattress. As you freed Luke’s arms, he grabbed your ass, slamming into you with abandon. He was so close, you could tell by the clench of his jaw. The sinuous tendons in his neck taunt and tantalizing. “Come on, Luke, take it.” You returned his words to him. He grunted and froze, his voice louder than ever. A fierce guttural groan, you tightened around him, as he slowly pumped into you. Once, twice, thrice and you felt the excess overflowing. He knelt above you, his thumb teasing you as he watched himself ease from inside you.

A barking sound from outside made you both freeze. Roxy had heard him from across the hall and was worried about what was happening to her human. You rolled over, still facing Luke.

“Looks like you have something else to go deal with.” You lazily propped your head in your hand.

“You’re not getting rid of me that easily, Y/N.” Luke caught his breath, leaving a quick kiss on your forehead before throwing on his shorts to duck across the hall and calm Roxy down.

@dontshootmespence @imagicana @butsomeofusarelookingatthestars @cherry-loves-fanfic @illegalcerebral

#luke alvez #smuturday #criminal minds fanfiction #luke alvez smut #luke alvez x you #luke alvez x female reader #luke alvez x reader #reader insert #female reader #cm fanfic #light smut

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kuriquinn · 6 years

Text

Telanadas [10/19]

Cover Page & Disclaimer

first chapter

By some miracle, Sasuke does not give in to temptation and shoot Naruto in the back as they wander, which is just as well. After another turn of the corner, they end up walking into a larger chamber with two new paths. One leads down a set of stairs while the other—

“You two realise that sound carries around here, right?” Kakashi muses as he and Sakura materialise in the hallway opposite them. “We have been listening to you two griping at each other for at least ten minutes.”

Sasuke scowls.

“Aw, come on! You mean this place meets back around again in the middle?” Naruto complains.

“Looks like,” Sakura says, glancing at the new hallway that branches downward. “I guess this passage leads to another lower level, and the grand door we’re trying to open will bring us to the mountain.” Her eyes rove over Naruto. “What happened to you? Looks like you went three rounds with an ogre.”

“Something like that. It was awesome, Sakura, you should have seen it!” Naruto boasts. “There was this thing, sort of like a…hm, a druffalo but a lot meaner, and with horns and scales and—”

“Sounds like a bronto,” Sakura says, giving Naruto an admiring look. “We used them to move heavy loads back home. They can be gentle, but the Carta and the nobles bred them to be savages. They’ll trample any stranger they encounter, so you two are lucky to be alive.”

Naruto rubs his nose. “Well, I’m that impressive.”

“You still reek,” Sasuke interjects. “Did you two find anything in your search?”

“Sort of,” Sakura suggests, holding up a faded, ripped piece of vellum. “We found a storage room with a lot of useless junk, but I nicked this off a skeleton. Based on where we’ve been, looks to be a map, and I think this—” She indicates a square-shape, “—might be an armoury or vault. Maybe barracks? I bet we’ll find something more useful soon.”

“And if not?”

“If not, we go back to that door, I open it, and you three go on,” Kakashi says.

“We’ll find something,” Sakura insists, and the others know better than to argue with her.

Their group reunited once more, they descend the stone staircase and meander through more underground passages and rooms.

Sakura was not wrong about there being all manner of items down here. Satchels of rations and healing herbs, as well as a plethora of keys which appear to open every door but the one they need. It is an exercise in frustration that has even Sakura’s optimistic demeanour wavering.

Then come the rooms with the traps.

Flames shoot up at them through pressure panels in the floor, and tripwires send projectiles flying at them. Twice Kakashi must yank Naruto back from iron vices hidden beneath false debris, which snap shut with the force to break bone. Sakura also nearly ends up prey to a sleeping poison before Sasuke pulls her out of the way, catching her around the shoulders when she wavers.

Their eyes seek each other out, and she telegraphs a silent thanks to him before he releases her.

It is slow going after that, as between Sakura and Kakashi they try to decide how to navigate or disarm the blighted traps. There is no opportunity to rest once they escape that chamber, because almost the moment they enter the next corridor, they are assaulted by more cultists. Wave upon wave hurry forward to deal with the interlopers, forcing the small outfit to pause in their progression and deal with them. They barely have time to recover before another drove arrives.

Every new corridor brings more of the same until Sasuke wonders if they might not be fighting the unkillable dead. It is a monotonous, exhausting pattern: enter a new hallway or chamber, give a cursory examination that no one has mortal wounds, and prepare to fight the next wave of cultists.

Hours go by like that.

And then there’s the drake.

A swooping scaled dragonkin monstrosity that attacks them from above the minute they enter the chamber Sakura pointed out on her map. The creature cannot fly like a female dragon can, but still leaps over great distances and scales the walls with its tensile claws. Blasts of fire bathe them from all directions.

Like the bronto, this animal’s hide also appears resistant to forged blades. The party of four is forced to whittle away at it hoping something will eventually penetrate its hide.

Sakura was right about needing Kakashi to save his strength because the beast nearly kills them all. Right when all of them seem about to collapse from exhaustion and the shredding wounds from the creature’s claws, the mage casts a revitalising spell to recoup their strength. He staggers to his knees, ashen-faced, but the other three can now battle the beast with renewed vigour. Despite his spell taking so much out of him, Kakashi continues to set a barrage of hexes and curses upon the beast.

Sasuke knows that he will continue to fight until he drops dead.

It is a joint effort that kills it: Kakashi’s magic, Sasuke blinding it with his arrows, and Naruto drawing its attention by facing it head-on. Sakura deals the final blow from behind, vaulting aboard its back and using her considerable strength to snap its neck.

When the beast lies dead at their feet, Sasuke notices something trapped beneath one of the larger scales behind its head. It takes a bit of wheedling, but eventually he pulls out a round, hexagonal bit of iron.

“That looks like the lock on the door,” Sakura says in surprise when he hands it to her.

“They hid it on the drake?” Naruto demands. “These people really are insane!”

“I do not envy the man who had to put this here to begin with,” Kakashi wheezes. “Even a mage would have trouble with that.”

“Whatever the circumstance for it being here, we can get out of this place now,” Sasuke points out. “Let us go.”

Sakura tilts her head to one side, considering him and then glancing at Kakashi. There is a frown tugging at her lips—her calculating face—before she decides.

“According to the map, there are no other passages leading here, and this place is well-fortified. Since we’ve already taken care of everything that could attack us, I think we should stop and rest,” Sakura says. “Whatever waits beyond us may not know we’re here. But once we go through the door in the large hall, we’ll have more challenges to face. And I have a bad feeling there won’t be any more chances to rest.”

Naruto looks grim, and nods. Apparently, he feels the same unnameable suspicion. Sasuke suspects this is more of the Warden curse they share.

“Normally I would argue we don’t have the time,” Kakashi says. “But…I think I will need a moment. Or several.”

“So, it’s settled,” Naruto says. “We take a break—and then we go kick more ass.”

It is not what Sasuke might have chosen, but he cannot argue with the need for respite. His skin burns and his muscles ache from their exertions that day. If they are to make the rest of the journey up the mountain in the damned snow, he needs to be able to walk.

Kakashi goes to the edge of the room as far as possible from them but still within the wards. He has explained before, that to centre himself, he cannot be influenced by any of their energy. Sitting cross-legged, he puts himself into a deep trance, meant to help him restore his magic. Naruto, in the meantime, catches an hour or two of sleep. Sakura busies herself with sharpening her axe, trying to mend the dents in it from their encounter with the drake. Every so often she will wince and check her side—the one that Sasuke treated—before going back to work.

After the third instance of this, Sasuke goes to sit beside her.

“You should get some sleep, too,” he says, lest Naruto or Kakashi be eavesdropping, but his chin juts toward the place where her hand rests.

“No, I’m fine,” she replies, answering both his suggestion and unspoken question. “Besides, I found something while Kakashi and I scouted that other tunnel earlier. It will help much more than sleep.”

She holds up a pewter flask. Based on the grin on her face, he can guess what the contents.

“Is that really the best idea right now?” he wonders. “We are already on a quest that makes me question your judgement. I do not think alcohol would be an added benefit.”

“Please,” she scoffs. “You think this is enough to get your drunk?” Her eyes flick over him judgementally. “Well, maybe it would knock an elf on his ass.”

He scowls at her and snatches the flash from her, flipping open the top. He has had enough taunting from Naruto today, he refuses to take it from her too.

“I wouldn’t—” she begins, but he has already taken a huge gulp.

And promptly grips his throat in agony.

“Fenedhis!” he chokes, tossing the flask away. She catches it before it hits the ground. “What foul creature defecated into this poison?”

Sakura sniggers and takes a sip without even a grimace. “Dwarven ale. If it doesn’t kill you…you’ll wish it did.”

“Why would you drink that?” he spits, digging through his pack for a water skin or noxious herb to take away the taste. “You would be better served throwing it at an enemy and hoping it melts his face off.”

“It’s not so bad after the first sip. After that, all the nerves in your throat are too numb to notice.”

She takes another sip, only a slight twitch betraying the effect of the alcohol on her. Then she passes it back to him. Sasuke hesitates a moment before accepting and taking the second swig.

It still tastes the way he imagines burning halla droppings and sylvan blood might taste, but she was right about it being less painful this time. There is a distinct lack of feeling in his throat this time. Luckily, her promise of the other thing is also correct: warmth spreads down his oesophagus to his gut and then beyond.

At his noise of surprise, she grins, and then the expression morphs into something gentler. Sasuke finds his own mouth pulling into an unfamiliar upward direction, and for some reason this makes her eyes sparkle. Her cheeks turn rosy and she quickly looks away, reaching for the flask again.

Over the next hour, time stretches between them as they sit in a companionable, comfortable silence. Somewhere in the midst of it, he forgets that they are in a frozen mountain, surrounded by blood-crazed lunatics, ancient beasts and whatever else lies ahead. Hands linger on each other as they pass the flask back and forth, and when she makes a particularly bad joke, he groans with something between amusement and disgust. His shoulders, so used to bearing the weight of his past, seem less burdened just then, and though he knows it is a false reprieve, he does not mind.

Still, the next time she passes him the ale, he shakes his head. “No. Any more, and neither of us will be battle ready.”

“Speak for yourself! It’s colder than an apostate’s tit in here, even if we’re out of the wind. We’ll burn off the booze in no-time just trying to keep warm.” A mischievous look enters her eyes then, tinged with something darker as she leans forward. “Of course, there are better ways of getting warm.”

The air between them is heavy with implication. Perhaps the alcohol is affecting him more than expected, because he replies slyly, “I should have known a dwarf would be an exhibitionist.”

She blinks in confusion.

“Exi…? Oh!” Sakura goes red and looks away from him, abruptly embarrassed and shy. “I’m not. At least I don’t think I am, I’ve never…” Her gaze flicks back to their resting companions and then her back stiffens. She casts her eyes about their surroundings as if she too has forgotten where they are sitting. When her gaze lands on him again, she offers a tight smile. “I guess you have a point. I suppose it’s too much to hope this place has a room with a plush bed and a roaring fire?”

She offers it to him as a lighthearted, flirtatious joke, but there is a false note in it. He knows that whatever spell settled over them before is broken now. He is more disappointed than he expected to be but understands the necessity of maintaining boundaries. Now is not the time for…ill-advised liaisons.

Whatever arguments certain parts of his anatomy would like to make to the contrary.

“We should save some of this for Naruto and Kakashi,” she goes on, “if only to see their faces after that first sip.”

Her eyes crinkle as she watches the other two. There is a fondness there, soft and protective, and far beyond how a person looks at mere travel companions.

“You care for them,” he says, and does not understand the stiffness in his voice.

“I do. We’re friends.”

“No. It is beyond that,” he says, trying to think of a way to articulate properly. “You love them in a way that is beyond friendship.”

And what is that needling, sour sensation he gets in his gut at that notion?

Sakura does not even bother thinking about it. “They’re also my family.”

“You have not known them long,” he points out.

“That doesn’t make it any less true. They were both at Kannabi Bridge,” she explains. “Kakashi looked out for me while I was wandering around the camp. I was this silly little dwarf who’d never seen the sky before, trying not to get trampled by all the cloud-heads at the camp. And Naruto was there when I woke up after…after becoming a Warden.” She clenches her fist at the memory here. “They saved my life. They lived the same betrayal in battle as I did. And neither of them has family left, either. I guess…I guess we sort of adopted each other.”

He frowns at this.

“And you’re part of it, too, you know,” she goes on, making him look up sharply. “We’d be your family, if you let us.”

There is an earnestness in her words, and he knows she is being truthful. She, and the others in their outfit, would accept him without question if he wanted it.

There is something in this moment which hangs, heavy and expectant. He finds that, inexplicably, a part of him wants to confront it.

Damned alcohol, he tells himself.

But gazing into Sakura’s earnest eyes, he knows that he is lying to himself.

And in that moment, Sasuke chooses to go another avenue.

Translations:

Fenedhis – a common curse word; literal translation is something like ‘wolf cock’, but used in this sense it’s similar to ‘fuck’ or ‘goddamn’

Sylvan – giant, walking trees which frequent forests near the elves

Comments and concrit are much appreciated, and very motivating! For information about supporting my original, non-fandom related works, you’re welcome to check out my ko-fi tip jar, or my patreon page.

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#naruto fanfiction #dragon age fusion #sasusaku #slow build romance #dwarf!sakura #elf!sakura #mage!kakashi #human!naruto #adventure #au #drama #romanc #humor #warden!sakura #sfw #for now #urn of sacred ashes #character development #relationship growth

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alexanderessex3dstoryart · 3 years

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Character Design - Anatomy and Robot Design Research - 28th of December

For this research section for my character, I thought I looked at body anatomy and robot designs online to help with my research for the character design project. This will mainly help to look at not only interesting robot designs that I can help towards my research, but also think about functionally how and mechanically would these parts work and how could I carry this over into a CG model-making process.

To start off with, I began to look into anatomy online like the different types of body forms as well as looking into muscles and bones for humans as this would help me with my visual library in coming up for ideas for my characters as well as helping me out later for my silhouette designs/drawings later on. I first looked at different body language in not only in a design sense but also posing wise too as one of the criticisms with my turnaround previously was how stiff the character looked as it didn’t have any flow to the character. This is why I didn’t just look at body shape but also something called contrapposto flow which shows how you can give flow to a model/character in a standing pose using Michelangelo’s statue as reference. Through just exaggerating in areas like the shoulders and ankles by titliting them, you create a more true to life character on screen than a character that’s standing in an A-pose that gives freedom to express which can also in term describe the character from just looking at it. Learning this, I understand the comments from the tutorial a lot better as this creates a much more dynamic and varied pose that allows you to understand the character better.

Body Form Diagram

Michelangelesque Contrapposto

After this, I then did some research on bones and muscles in the human anatomy as I felt inspired from one of my favourite artists of all time (Igor Verniy) as one of his projects led to him combining human bones with scrap metal and mechanical parts he found in a scrapyard to create these really disturbing but gorgeous looking sculptures.

Because of his artwork, it influenced me to look down this path of bones with technology which a video I found online really helped solidified what I wanted to do for the Hyde character’s design. From casually browsing on Youtube, I stumbled across a video of a deer snorting in the cold where visibly you can see the cold mist fly out of it’s nostrils. Because of this detail, it clicked in my head that I wanted to base my Hyde character using a Deer head as the basis for the design which linked in with Igor Verniy’s work, influenced me to look into trying to make a deer’s skull incorporated with technology. This was because I could imagine a mechanised deer that is collectively made from scrap and bone that is collected from the ground to help build up this monstrous beast as well as smoke snortling out of the deer’s nostrils.

Whitetail Buck Encounter With a Serious Snort || ViralHog

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Because of this new revelation, I began to research into two different types of mood boards for the Hyde character with one looking at deer heads and skulls and ideas for the Hyde character based off my deer prompt. Starting with the first mood board, I wanted to look at the designs of the antlers and the skulls as I plan to use these as a base for the head of the character and maybe design aesthetics for the body too. Two images I really love are the more metallic deer skulls and the real skulls with their large teeth as the teeth aesthetically is something I might enhance on the characters deign as well as the metallic skull of a deer as i’m looking to experiment in both fully metallic skulls and a cross between the middle.

For the the second mood board, I came across a scandinavian folklore called a Kyrkogrim which is a deity that often protects christian churches and they’re grounds from people that want to try and harm it. From this, I found that there could be symbolism from the folk tale could be implemented between the characters as Hyde while his methods are outlandish and brutal is all in all trying to protect his smaller vessel from straying away from his self and losing his identity. Researching the Kyrkogrim online, I found a lot of depictions of the creature being very human like but having a deer like head for its appearance which I was particularly fond of ‘Specimen 8′ from Spooky’s house of Jumpscares (the deer deity on the left of the mood board) as I love his creepy design to him from the antlers to his long and elongated cloak flowing down his body. I think if I was to create him more nuclear, it would be the main basis of where I would want to be taking forward with the character. In addition to looking at the Kyrkogrim, I also looked at the designs of the Wendigo as it’s another piece of folk-lore that I was inspired by as it also contains these deer like creatures in its depecitions. In addition to the folk-lore research, I looked into big bulky character designs mostly of the mechanical nature as the character is going to be made up of scrap metal lying across the ground which I instantly gravitated towards the bottom robot design for it’s cluster of colours and unproportionate shapes.

Through doing research on robots, I look into few images of real life robots that are made today and see how mechanically they work as well their design aesthetic. In addition too, I looked into robots built up from scrap metal for references and compare in visuals against the real life robots.

I first started off researching looking at robotic movement to see how morden robots have evolved in their articulation. This is where I stumbled across this video where a robot can simulate human movement in its body. Whilst not a fully autonomous robot that moves itself, understanding its movement was really fascinating to watch from how jittery but also smooth the movements were from the arms, legs and body of the robot were but quite strange at the same time with details like the legs and hands being so stiff in places. The design of the robot was something that really struck me as they use a lot of smooth and curved panels to hide the electronics of the robot but also have exposed areas in the arms and legs like wires and bolts.

This Humanoid Robot Can Mimic Human Movement In Real Time | Mach | NBC News

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From this first bit of research, this then led me to the Boston Dynamics Youtube channel where their most recent video showcases all of their most developed robots dancing to the song ‘Do you Love Me’. I was completely mesmerised by the animation and how in sync they were all in together especially for something that's been made today. The main highlight was how each robot had their own style of movement to them giving them a different personality as they danced. The robot people acted jittery and stiff but somehow smooth with the dog and crane robots much smoother but much more limited in flexibility compared to the human based robots. Overseeing the robots dancing and watching a few more of the other demos of the robots opening doors and doing stunts, they have a very slow and jittery movement to them before they do a really quick action like they’re building up energy for the action. This is definitely more seen in the human based robots as the non-human like ones operate movement is a lot smoother but often hold a position/stance before a next move is made.

In terms of design, they almost follow the same principles to the Toyota robots with the smooth white panel design to them with loose cables visible to the eye. However I prefer these robots to the Toyota ones very greatly as their visuals are more the kind of design I want to imagine for my Hyde character as they may have the protective panels on the more sensitive parts of the robots so they aren’t damaged, the loose cables and the exposed mechanisms that can be seen are so up my street for the character as it gives it a very futuristic look to it without looking too smart which what modern robots tend to look like. This is mostly shown in the human based robots that Boston Dynamics have made as the dog and crane are designed to have no protective panels or completely protective. Not this is a problem as both of their designs I really enjoy as I love the smartness of the dog looking robot and the complex and technical nature of the crane as they complement each other really well from how they move.

Do You Love Me?

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Hey Buddy, Can You Give Me a Hand?

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What's new, Atlas?

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Images from the ‘Do you Love me’ video by Boston Dynamics

After the Boston Dynamics research, I then looked into scrap/junk based robot designs on the internet as that's how I imagine the Hyde character to look like when I will design him. Going back to when I was first thinking about the character in this blog post. the character ‘Metro’ from the film ‘Reel Steel’ is the the exact direction I would want to take with this character and possibly for the render style too. This is mostly from the irregular shapes that have been attached to the design like they’ve been randomly placed on the character in a frankenstein sort of fashion to the character which would work really well with my Hyde character as he gathers bits and bobs collectively around his surroundings. Going back to variety, I love how the arm joints are constructed here as its on a three ball hinge but being really exposed compare to the other arm which is heavily built too. I think from observing this design, I want to do a cross between irregular shapes on the characters design in addition to the smart looking design of the Boston Dynamics robots. Essentially, a fusion between Reel Steel’s Metro and Boston Dynamics Human-like robot is what my Hyde character should look like with deer elements inspired for the character.

Below is the mood board I also created when looking into the scrap aesthetic and creating a scrap robot of some kind. Like with ‘Metro’, i wanted to focus on irregular shapes for the Hyde character as this is how I imagine he's going to be built up which I looked at character which were not inherently bulky but more going along that brief. With the top right image in the corner of this mood board, it uses an excellent use of these irregular shapes with bits of metal sticking out of the body. Another thing I like from these mood board images is that I’ve looked at a variety of both bulky and thin character designs as they use different ways to build up the metal and parts to make the character like the one on top with the purple background being comprised of one solid object compared to the one below it with different parts scattered across the design with different patterns.

Looking back on my research over these couple of days, I’m really happy from my findings as not only have I developed my understanding on the themes for my characters but also coming with new ideas and visuals that I can work from to make a final design for my characters. I think my favourite part of my research was looking up the deer-related content for the Hyde character as I ended finding a lots of cool references dwelled into like the Kyrkogrim and looking at modern day robots like the ones from Boston Dynamics. Their design of the panels being spaced out is something I would really love to incorporate into the character with loose cables and mechanisms being exposed to the eye.

#CharacterDesignBA2a

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