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indignantlemur · 2 days

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My dear Indi, I need your expertise !

Do you have any ideas or headcanons for Andorian outfits, from lighter to warmer? What would they look like in general, what texture is most appreciated or considered fashionable ?

Thanks ! 💙

Hello Zier! Let's see what I can do for you! Fair warning, this one is going to be image-heavy.

For the most part, Andorian fashion in my headcanons isn't unified. Different folks prefer to wear different things, same as Humans, but there are broader elements that are quite common.

Firstly, we know from ENT and subsequent appearances in the modern Treks that Andorians tend to wear a lot of leather, often embossed or tooled to have a particular sort of feel. The samples below from Discovery give me powerful 2009-2013 Gareth Pugh vibes.

Beyond that, the only other time we see Andorians is when they're in Imperial Guard or Starfleet uniforms, which mostly just gives an overall impression of leather, suede, and future-kevlar.

The Andorian ambassador in "Terra Prime" had a very different feel from these, of course, and that shiny outer robe ultimately inspired Thoris' official get-up.

By contrast, some super early screen tests and comic book depictions for everyday Andorians look rather different, however. We've got draping fabrics, robes, tunics, some thigh high boots, and what looks like bits of armoured studding and chainmail. That's quite the departure from the other depictions!

And then, of course, we have Shran's post-Imperial Guard coat. This one gets its own mention, because that coat is fabulous.

Honestly, this isn't a lot to work with. It's better than nothing, of course, but the different depictions feel very disjointed and all over the place. There's no sense of unity in the designs across the board.

So, from there I looked to real-world fashion to help me build a better idea of what I wanted my Andorians to actually look like outside of a uniform. As much as their depictions would lead us to believe that Andorians have an oddly prevalent leather kink, that's really not practical. Leather is a useful material, and certainly a heavily carnivorous population would end up with quite a lot of it, but surely that can't be everything they wear. So, I started looking around for things that felt like they fit the vague aesthetic we were given to work with.

Below are some samples from the ungodly huge pinterest board I keep for ideas and references for Andorian fashion. I think these mostly hit all the key notes for my headcanons.

A lot of these images are very bland in terms of colour, particularly by Andorian standards, but I think you should be able to see what I've drawn inspiration from.

What I ended up with was a combination of future-fashion elements, and influences from places like Japan and India - with a heavy slant towards using leather, silk, velvet and occasionally soft, drapey fabrics. Heavy ornamentation, such as embroidery, is very common but lacework on clothing is actually quite unusual. Andorians tend to find it catches on their chitin and tears too often to be worth the fuss.

In particular, I really like the idea of layers, off-set or asymmetrical necklines, and elements of structural/architectural fashion for Andorians. Tooled leather is very popular, as well.

Another detail about Andorian fashion that I've mentioned a few times in other posts is that they like to show off their chitin patterns. Often this is done using leather as the medium, but embroidery is also a perfectly acceptable option. Often times, these articles of clothing (usually outerwear but not always) will have a Clan sigil somewhere on it as well, but it's not at all a requirement. These practices accomplish a couple of different things:

Firstly, it offers prospective playmates a tantalising 'preview' of what's underneath. Andorians are not shy about these things, nor do they understand why aliens think they should be. Some Andorians find particular types of chitin patterns very attractive, while some are averse to partners with what they perceive to be too much or too little chitin - or worse, chitin patterns that are far too similar to their own, which would suggest a shared lineage somewhere.

Secondly, it shows off Clan affiliations, especially for Clan members who were not born with their Clan's 'typical' chitin pattern. (Married individuals will often wear things that show their affiliation to both their birth Clan and their marriage Clan, as well, though these are usually ornamental items such as jewellery or hair pieces.)

Thirdly, wearing one's Clan affiliations stamped on their sleeves can sometimes serve as a conflict deterrent. Some Clans are just not worth picking a fight with, and knowing who's who ahead of time instead of after someone says something spectacularly stupid tends to save lives. Since the Unification, the need for these sorts of deterrents has dropped substantially, but it's never entirely gone from Andorian society.

This is not to say that I imagine that all Andorians wear the same things. Being able to express individual preferences is very important, especially in a society where most other individualistic pursuits are seen as counter-productive to the harmony and unity of a community.

Shral, for example, deviates from the norm by preferring dark colours and minimal ornamentation. To other Andorians, his sartorial choices are almost conspicuously bland. On the other end of the spectrum, Thelen adores vivid colours - neon oranges, shocking yellows, acid greens - and fully embraces the bombastic colour palettes his people are known for. Thoris is doomed to be trapped in billowing robes he'd much rather burn in a steel drum behind the embassy under cover of darkness, but he prefers layered tunics, boots, and breeches that don't inhibit his movement. Vrath is in the middle of the road, favouring bold colours and practical clothing but never quite able to resist bits of ornamentation that give her wealthy Tha'an Clan allegiance away. Miraal, on the other hand, adore soft, draping fabrics and wears very little leather, or any other similarly heavy materials, and she prefers to wear minimal ornamentation so as not to distract from her wares.

In terms of seasonal clothing, Andorians can tolerate very broad rangers of temperatures, and they have thermal regulators built into much of their clothing. They can get away with quite a lot, in terms of weather, but a heavily cultivated sense of caution generally prevents them from wandering out into surface conditions wearing anything less than full winter gear - though, naturally, their idea of full winter gear is rather lighter than what a Human would go in for. In extreme heat, Andorians have no problem wearing as little as possible - often to the consternation of other species who do not share their total lack of nudity taboos.

Regarding colours, I headcanon that much like how Vulcans view green as a traditional mating colour owing to the hue of their blood, and Humans view red much the same way, so too do Andorians with the colour blue. Just wearing blue alone isn't an invitation for anything, but it is very noticeable and considered a very attractive colour. Wearing a particularly fetching shade of blue while lurking in a bar and being very noticeably single, however...

Andorian silk is a luxury item, and one in high demand. Made from cocoons harvested from a domesticated relative of the infamous Andorian ice borers, it's ten times stronger than Terran silk, rendering it resistant to slashing and piercing damage. It can be woven into heavy brocades or crafted into a diaphanous, organza-like material, or blended with other fibres. It almost always has a slight iridescent or even metallic shine to it, a highly coveted property, and it is ludicrously expensive.

Hope this helps! <3

#star trek #andorian #andorians #emigre by indignantlemur #headcanon #Andorian fashion and fabrics #Andorian fashion #Andorian silk

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dragonlordofmiddleearth · 1 year

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I wish the Merlin 6: kingdom come people would be more upfront about their script being fanfic and not official because I am sick and tired of seeing people bitch about the bbc "scrapping" the supposed sixth season. There was no sixth season. Merlin did not get cancelled, it just ended. Afaik the kingdom come peeps have no affiliation whatsoever with the original merlin team, other than their contacting some of them to be like "hey would you want to make our script?" and the representative being like "appreciate the offer but no thanks". The script is no more canon than any fanfic you or I might write, it just so happens that they did it in script form which seems to have confused a lot of people, and no-one seems to have corrected the massive misunderstanding for some reason

#bbc merlin #merlin 6: kingdom come #merlin #to be clear this is not hate or meant aggressively in any way #im just tired of the years-old misunderstanding #ive actually been a fan of theirs for years without realising lmao bc afaik theyre the 3 rings left gals behind it #i stumbled upon their finale reaction vid shirtly after it aired #and then a while later stumbled onto their fan songs which are very very good and captured the characters pretty well imo #i just wish they would clear up that theyre not actually the merlin writers or w/e ppl seem to believe #bc ive seen so many people actually like ANGRY at the script being 'scrapped'#and thats just not the truth of the situation at all #i assume its bc they put smthn like 'this is not just fanfiction' in the blog description for some reason #when. It Is.#you might have sent it off for serious consideration but unless it is actually produced by the same people #it is not official material for the actual show #i swear im not trying to be a dick im just tired of ppl complaining over it #ill shut up now ive said my piece

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volitioncheck · 2 months

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i think i wouldn’t hate disco elysium’s collage mode nearly as much if it weren’t for 1) the way that it was marketed in such a tasteless, soulless manner, let alone the fact that it was a last ditch distraction from a dead on its feet studio piloted by dumbass thieving execs and released on the day of the court declaration, and 2) those dumbass fucking stickers

like if it had been included with the base game from the start and had been titled something a bit more tasteful and in-line with how i would have liked the feature to be marketed as— something like “exploration mode”, something that perhaps could only be unlocked after completing the game for the first time, AND didn’t have those stupid as hell visually and tonally incongruent with the artstyle stickers, i would have applauded it as a nice little bonus for being able to study and appreciate the 3d models and environments for reference.

#it is just so bleak man.#i have no words left to say for the latest development at zaum studios so instead i will just remember how fucked up this was lol #those stickers are the same energy as that dumbass fucking christmas card they put on steam.#cutesy fanart is awesome and all but don’t muddy the tone of the actual source with it. why is that necessary.#for gods sake what happened to boundaries #again i probably would take a different tone to even the stickers if #it had been done under the original creators (which i don’t think it would have‚ which is my point‚ but say hypothetically it happened)#but with the circumstances the way they are it is impossible to not view it all as tainted with a veneer of absolute tastelessness #and a disrespect to the source material and a sorry attempt to appeal to the shallowest parts of ‘fandom’#like you can add cartoony emoji faces and a sticker with harry and kim as cats. or their hands with the caption ‘best friends!!!’ (wtf lol)#and a frame with a bunch of pride flags being waved around (hard to articulate why i feel doubly annoyed of this one.#your corporate pride parade aesthetic is showing again. also it feels… lazy)#but you can never‚ ever erase the fact that you are parading around a stolen IP that you are entirely out of touch with #and one that you clearly have *no idea what to do with*#(something that we’ve all known for months with these hints but today has finally been basically confirmed as the sequel seems to be #officially cancelled with the last of the original writers’ crew being laid off)#how could you have known what to do with Elysium? how could you ever have?#hope you have fun with your stickers. rot #disco elysium #me talking

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sonknuxadow · 2 months

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idw is doing pride month specials for monster high and star trek so i think they should do one for sonic too where they say sonic is canonically trans and have a panel of tangle and whisper kissing thats so massive it takes up 2 pages

#Also sorry monster high fan moment but im kinda surprised that they decided to have a story about toralei and clawdeen as a couple #not saying it would never happen or anything #i just think that in g1 at least their relationship would have to go through a bit of development in order for them to canonically date?#so i wonder if theyre actually gonna show how/when/why they got together or just skip over that part #whatever im just happy that toralei is a focus in this at all because i love toralei #and clawdeen is also pretty high up there on my list of favorite characters . so double win #and its cool to see her dating a girl in official material after her being a lesbian has been a popular headcanon for so long #and . theres also valentine and spelldon i guess . i never cared for them very much but good for them and people who like them #idgaf about star trek thouhg sorry i dont have anything to say about that

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unproduciblesmackdown · 5 months

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fantastic guide here

#i don't think it was in the sensory friendly performance pdf that i originally saw b/c i Would think i'd remember if it had been #the pictures are great and love to have the names for all the ensemble city mice troupe members #as well as that ''orville wingate ii'' confirmation #(also matty's picture is a Headshot b/c we do Not see actor ronnie s. bowman pictured even though he was in the ensemble for most of its #run; however this sensory friendly performance was the last performance of the show overall; and ronnie left about a week early for his #bway gig; & i imagine all these pics come from a nice official recording that took place earlier Release The Material btw....so to update #it to who would actually be playing matty at the time required turning to an actor headshot)#summer stock #orville wingate #will roland

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justanisabelakinnie · 6 months

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Unpopular fandom opinion but: "If it's not in the movie/book/show itself then it isn't canon, idc what the creator says!" is such a stupid af bullshit take lmfao.

#like not everything can be condensed into the source material like you'd like it to #it's such a backwards and limiting way of looking at media too #isn't it much more fun to look at the additional information/extra stuff revealed about the world and characters that the writers have #oh so lovingly provided for you?#if the creators say something then it IS canon #yes ik that not everybody has access to social media to find out information that wasn't revealed in the show #but that doesn't mean it's not canon just because not everybody sees it #i see so many people say stupid shit like 'if the creator actually cared enough about this detail then they'd put it in the story! therefor #it's not canon!' and while yes sometimes that may be true #other times it's not included simply because the creator couldn't find a way to include it or--depending on the medium--there was no way to #include it #and this is not me talking about 'x would not fucking say that' instances or justifying bad writing being covered up by going on twitter #but when creators reveal additional details about the characters or the world then idk why you'd want to pretend it's not canon or isn't #official just because it's not in the story #another stupid thing i see people say is 'those are just the creators headcanons' which is the stupidest and most pretentious thing in the #world #headcanons refer to what you think about OTHER PEOPLE'S characters that are not your own #you wouldn't call art a creator made of their own character 'fanart' an author's thoughts on their own characters is not a 'headcanon'#that is just so naive entitled and disrespectful #and people say this about author's interviews and the likes but like...what's the point of getting those interviews if you're not going to #take them as canon?#they add to the worldbuilding #that's the fun! that's the spice! that's the appeal!#come on now you guys i'm tired #fandom #my post

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yell0wrabb1t · 7 months

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Actually I think the serial killer of children mad scientist abusive father works far better as a villain of a story than the protagonist of a fall from grace tragedy. Bold claim I know but also any other character around him works far better as a protagonist and heroic figure than simply as a supporting character in his story.

#fnaf #five nights at freddys #William Afton #martin speaks #no i wont say sorry for being salty. explode #i love William afton i despise everyone who tries to rewrite reality and say that there's no official books that show him to be an abuser #when the novels exist and they were written with by scott and a co-author. and William is in there talking and shown to be a total shit head #and they are literally one of the few sources of how characters are.#like no hate to people with aus who write William to be a human character. shout out to a skeleton in melonland.#my problem is when people try to claim that there's no official material depicting how William acted. when the books are right there and he #fucking treats Elizabeth like shit #actually sorry for writing so much #i will go to sleep now

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catpriciousmarjara · 2 months

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DP X DC: Dani Does Things and Leaves, Explains Nothing

Heavily inspired by this dp x dc prompt and the comments and reblogs under it:

Please go check it out and @stealingyourbones entire page. They have some great dp x dc content and meta.

Local Ghost Princess Decides to Help Out Fellow Clone, Leaves Chaos Behind, Heroes Left Concerned and Very Confused, More at 10.

Now Dani knew that this world had superheroes. She knew they had an organization of sorts that had a hate-hate relationship with various government entities and a love-hate relationship with the public, depending on who you asked. However she had no intention of being involved with them. She was on vacation after all. Besides this world was just a stopover anyway. Why bother when she wasn't here on official business? But it seemed that while she didn't want anything to do with the heroes, they, however inadvertently, wanted something to do with her. How else will you explain one of the worst cloning results she had ever seen crash into a tree right in front of her while she was enjoying a nice cup of litchi boba tea in the park?

The botched clone job slid down the branches and hit the ground with a thud. She raised an eyebrow at the the rampant malevolent magical lines running through the body exacerbating the overall instability of the clone's anatomy. Clearly this individual had run into an irate mage who cast some sort of destabilizing curse and shot them right out of the sky. Dani was thankful this was an isolated section of the park and that she had put a rudimentary avoidance ward over the area. Otherwise, a superhero crashing into a tree would've caused quite the ruckus and interrupted her boba time.

She took a sip of her boba and crouched down to examine the conked out hero. This one was the one they called Superboy wasn't he? She grimaced at the state of his engineering. Whoever did his cloning did not know what they were dealing with. Her own cloning went better and she was ectoplasmic goop half the time. And Vlad was dealing with halfa DNA! Probably the most complicated genetic material in existence. Superboy over here was constructed from actual tangible genetic sources and yet...ugh.

Honestly speaking beings of this plane probably wouldn't have noticed anything wrong. A level down in power scale compared to the individual who acted as genetic donor, most likely that Superman guy, and random instances of destabilization would most likely be the extend of their knowledge regarding their faulty cloning. And when those instances of instability gradually ironed themselves out they probably patted themselves on the back and thought all was well. She should cut them some slack.

Dani hummed as she chewed on her boba pearls. Unfortunately she wasn't known to be the most merciful when it came to ensuring the well-being of clones.

Suckers probably didn't pick up the fact they unleashed a possible catastrophe upon their world. Superboy was obviously fashioned from Kryptonian DNA. A species known for becoming near godlike upon absorbing solar energy from a yellow sun. That means that their bodies have mechanisms at play beyond simple biology. Specifically energy pathways and an energy processing core. Superboy wasn't a level down in power from Superman because of some biological imperfection, he was weaker because of flawed energy absorption and storage. And that meant that his energy core was unbalanced, and once it reached a particular threshold...well its gonna be a spectacular light show this side of the galaxy that's for sure. Of course it was just a possibility. There was no guarantee he would reach that threshold in his lifetime. Unless he ran into a white mage who was vicious enough to cast a juiced up imbalance curse that is. And what do you know! Turns out you can organically be that unlucky!

She put down her cup and ran a simple diagnostics. Sure enough the magic had intensified the issue. This man needed help, the kind of help that wasn't usually available in this part of the omniverse. But she just so happened to pass by and just so happened to have expertise in this field so today was somehow simultaneously Superboy's lucky and unlucky day. He really was going through it.

As to why she would interfere that's easy. She was the Guardian of Cloned Beings after all. She can't have a fellow clone suffer could she? And plus, what were the chances that he would end up like this right in front of one of the only beings that would know how to fix the issue? Dani grinned in glee. Truly the laws of causality worked in intriguing ways.

She stood up and let her talons manifest, plucking the strings of SuperboyConnerKon-el's make and striking them one by one in the tune of an old Krytonian melody. Shame what happened to them really, but all things had their fate. It truly was great to see some of them survive and make a home elsewhere. Dani wished them the best.

As she worked, untangling knots, and straightening out blockages, the hero finally began to stir. His eyes opened and they were understandably unfocused. Disoriented and confused, he looked kinda like a bamboozled Cujo and Dani felt her lips twitch up in a toothy smile. For some reason that seemed to startle him. She mentally frowned. Did he expect her not to smile at him? That would've been rude of her. Dani might be a gremlin but she was never impolite.

"I'm just about done with the curse", she told him. "Leaching out the corrosive magic was easy but I need to repair your energy coils and that's tricky. Don't worry though. Everything's on the house. Always did have a soft spot for the House of El ever since my aunt married into it for a short while."

Dani pulled a particularly stubborn power node open. "I would like your permission before doing that through. Body autonomy, informed decisions and and all! So yes or no? You'd detonate like a bomb if I didn't though."

The young hero's eyes widened. He still didn't seem to know what was going on so she hit him with a short term clarity spell. And a small information spell to cover her bases. That got him to gather his wits enough and she watched as he processed the influx of information. His complexion was ashen when he got through the bundle and he finally managed a shaky nod. Good enough.

Dani smiled at the Kryptonian. "Great! Now this would take like twenty minutes give or take five. You can sleep now." She promptly knocked him out cold and cancelled the spells so as to not overload his brain.

And just as she predicted, twenty minutes later, she plucked the last string with a flick of her wrist and surveyed her handiwork. Exemplary if she said so herself. One of her best work! Cheerfully she shot an awakening spell at Kon-el and crouched down again, patting his head.

"You might need to be careful for a few days while your body adjusts to its new energy capacity and conductivity. Your overall system has been optimized as well so be careful", she told the groggy young man.

She paused. "And don't worry. I didn't access your mind. This was all strictly physical repair aimed at preventing you from exploding like a supernova and taking the planet with you."

And once again that part made his eyes widen. Good. He truly understood the urgency. Or that could just be him being loopy after solar energy overload. It was a bright, sunny day after all.

She stood up, creating a portal to the next world on her itinerary. She looked back at the most likely high as a kite Kryptonian. "You kinda owe me for all that extra work hero! I might just come to collect one of these days!", she joked as the portal swallowed her body and she was lost to the spaces between spaces.

She'd already told him it was all on the house so Dani didn't think that anyone would take that last part seriously. However she forgot the fact that one Conner Kent was in her own words 'high as a kite' and hence might miss some crucial details.

She also forgot to leave behind an explanation packet.

And thus she was utterly unaware of the chaos she left in her wake, happily traveling through the multiverse.

..............................................................................................................................

"So you're telling me that not only did someone find me when I was out cold and get rid of the spell, but they also rearranged my guts and gave me an upgrade?"

"...Yeah."

"What the fuck?"

..............................................................................................................................

"Conner, do you remember anything? Anything at all? Whatever they did required some serious magical power. We don't know why they did it or how. For all we know they could've done something dangerous that we can't detect yet."

"Litchi boba tea".

"Kon what the hell?"

..............................................................................................................................

"...Its in bits and pieces...but I'm pretty sure there was a woman?...white hair, green eyes...something something on the house...something about an aunt and the House of El?...and there was this strange white symbol on her chest and this really soft music was playing that went something like this...(confused humming noises)...and something about me owing her?"

"Kara? Why are you looking at me like that? What's wrong?"

..............................................................................................................................

"Let me get this straight, Superboy was healed by the Kryptonian primordial goddess of portals, messengers, travelers and other such domains, and not only did she save him but also gave him a tune up? And explicitly said that he owes her now? And this powerful divine being, who is also supposed to be the daughter of Krypton's Death God according to legends mind you, is most likely still on earth with motives unknown? Plus your entire House is descended from her family?"

"...Yeah that about sums it up."

"..."

..............................................................................................................................

"Oh man why did this happen just when I was going to go on vacation? Why couldn't the Death God or whatever reschedule?"

"Death gods notoriously don't reschedule, they're death gods. Also she's the daughter of a death god, not one herself. Most death gods are also famously fair. If not fair by our standards, fair by theirs".

"...That's good to know?"

"I confess I don't know about the fairness of children of death gods however".

"...great. Thanks anyway J'onn".

"You're welcome".

..............................................................................................................................

"You okay there man? Someone just rifled through your body and did who knows what...that's gotta be terrifying. You want to talk? We're all here for you, you know that right?"

" Thanks guys. And yeah it was freaky. But apparently I would've exploded and blown up the planet with me if she didn't do that so I guess I'm more grateful than scared."

"...Explode and blown up the what now?"

..............................................................................................................................

"Is there anything more we should know about Clark?"

"Legends say she has a brother and he's associated with great calamities?"

"...."

"Bruce? You alright?"

..............................................................................................................................

DPXDC refuses to be done with me. Leave me be accursed crossover! Leave me be!

(Btw Kon didn't make the connection because he was really out of it, and not because Clark and Kara didn't introduce him to Kryptonian culture.)

Thoughts and suggestions are welcome!

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ipseitydelrey · 5 months

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all zipped up ☆ s. reid

ship virgin!sub!spencer reid x dom!fem!reader

warnings shameless smut, loss of virginity, handjob/oral (m receiving), p in v penetration, consent! (cuz it’s sexy!!), slight dacryphilia? idk, spence needs guidance lol, you also let him play w/ ur boobs hehe, pet names (honey & babe), riding

word count 3.0k (went a lil overboard oops)

summary a few months into your and spencer’s relationship, you’re both invited to one of rossi’s dinner parties. the dress you decided to wear was simple, but you needed help getting the zipper all the way up…luckily your boyfriend is there to help.

You and Spencer had only been officially dating for six months when you had gotten an invitation to one of Rossi’s dinner parties.

According to your boyfriend, the older agent would typically host one every couple of months and always after a really good end to a BAU case. Of course, loved ones can be brought along as plus ones, but Spencer would always go alone.

Since you had both declared your relationship official, there hasn’t been a dinner in a couple of months, until the one day Spencer came home and asked if you wanted to go with him. That day is today.

You only have a couple of hours to get ready, and there is this lovely dress you’re planning on wearing. Brand new; you haven’t even worn it yet. Your boyfriend opted to change in the bathroom so while he’s in there, you unzip your new black dress.

As you slip into the dress, you see in the mirror — that is mostly just for decoration — that the tight material accentuates your curves. You run your hands over your sides and hips, smoothing out the fabric, and you reach for the zipper. You pull it up about halfway until you’re unable to reach and zip it up completely.

“Oh, come on,” you silently groan, at which point you hear the bathroom door open. You look over your shoulder. “Hey, Spence?”

Around the corner, he pops into the room while fixing his tie. “Yeah, honey?” he responds, still looking down as he tightens the knot.

You turn your back towards him and you bring your hands up to bring the zipper edges together. “Could you?” you ask.

At your request, he finally looks up. You can feel him staring at your back as it’s been a few seconds since you asked. Well, you can’t really blame him; you’re not even wearing a bra.

You look back at him, “Spence?”

He snaps out of his trance. “Right, sorry,” he stammers as his cheeks flush pink. He approaches you from behind and timidly, yet gently, places his hand between your exposed shoulder blades while his other hand trails down to the zipper. His fingers dip slightly in between the zipper tracks and his touch grazes your spine; you aren’t entirely sure whether that was intentional or not, but you aren’t complaining. No, not at all.

He grabs a hold on the zipper between his fingers and slowly starts to pull upward. You feel the dress hug your figure, as well as seeing in the mirror how the dress is quite tight on you. The bottom of it rides up on your thighs slightly so you drop your hands to tug it down. In the mirror, you can see how Spencer’s gaze trails down to where your hands are situated. The sound of the zipper moving ceases, but his hands remain on your back.

“Anything else?”

“Actually, yeah.” You lean forward towards the dresser — not intentionally showing off your ass right in front of your boyfriend. The necklace you had picked out is adorned with small pearls, complimenting your skin tone and your black dress perfectly.

When you stand up straight, you hand the necklace to Spencer over your shoulder. You look at him in the mirror, “Please?”

He takes the necklace and runs his thumb along the pearls. The rocks are slightly cold when he places it along your exposed collarbone. While doing so, he lightly drags his fingers across your flesh, and you start to think he might have ulterior motives. Then again, a couple weeks earlier he had confessed that he was a virgin…so is he trying to give it up to you tonight?

He clasps the necklace together and brings his hands to grasp your shoulders, rubbing them softly. You look at yourself, how the pearls sit perfectly against your collarbone and subtly brings attention to your breasts. You are definitely aware of the second part of that claim because after he puts his chin on top of your head, Spencer isn’t exactly subtle about him staring at your chest. Surely he must be aware of where he is looking…

“Spence?” you call, but to no response. You try again. “Babe?”

“Hm?” That pet name seems to get his attention.

You bring a hand up to fidget with the pearl necklace. “Is something wrong?” you ask. Of course, you know nothing’s wrong but you know a bit about the effect you have on him, especially in this state.

At your question, he lifts his chin up and he stops rubbing your shoulders. “No!” he says, a little too loud. He clears his throat awkwardly. “No, no, sorry. Nothing’s wrong.”

“So,” you start as you bring your hand down to smooth out any wild wrinkles in the fabric, “is this dress okay? Do I look good?”

He digs his fingers into the soft skin of your biceps; not too harshly, however. “You look beautiful,” he says softly, then his voice drops down to a timid whisper. “You always do.”

Still not getting the message, you think to yourself. So, you decide to take initiative by taking his hands from their place on your arms and moving them down to hold your waist. You try to suppress a small smirk as you ask, “Is it tight enough?”

The question makes his eyes grow wide as his trail of thought derails to something else that could be tight; you yourself aren’t too sure if you were talking about the dress or your growing heat. But hey, if a misunderstanding gets him going, you aren’t complaining.

The placement of his hands on your waist also gives you the opportunity to push your back to his chest and your ass to his crotch, which you gladly take after feeling his erection pushing up against your backside. You hear him whine next to your ear at the friction making his pants tighter.

“Wait…wait, please.” He pulls away a little, leaving you a little cold.

You turn around but his hands remain frozen on your waist. “You don’t want to?”

“No, I do, I do. It’s just, ah…”

Your mouth moves faster than your brain. “Do you want me to guide you?” You move your hands on top of his, gently caressing the back of one of his hands with your thumb.

His breaths are shaky, but after a few seconds he nods.

“I wanna hear you say it.”

“Please,” he begs, squeezing your waist softly in need. “Tell me what to do.”

His consent brings a smile to your face and you bring your hands up to his neck. Then your lips collide with his, at first soft and loving, but then grows hungrier. His lips gape open to moan, allowing your tongue to enter in a heated kiss. You gently push him towards the nearby bed and he falls to a seated position on the mattress.

When you break the kiss, he looks up at you with his red lips and unkempt hair. You place one leg on each side of him, straddling his hips, but your attention goes to his neck for the time being.

“First,” you state, as your hand pulls on his tie a bit, “is it okay if I take this off?”

Instead of letting you do the honors, he eagerly unties it. While his hands are preoccupied with that, yours starts to unbutton his dress shirt. The tie hangs loose around Spencer’s neck when he goes to help you unbutton by starting at the bottom. He lets you unfasten the last button and slide the shirt off of his torso.

“Help me unzip?” Ironic how you’re already getting out of your dress mere minutes after slipping into it. But he’s fast to undo the zipper and let the top part of the dress fall, revealing your breasts to him.

His hands remain on your back, unsure of where you want him to touch, and he simply stares. Not out of judgment, as you can tell by the way his dick twitches in his pants, but out of the need to memorize every blemish on your soft and plush skin.

“Go ahead,” you say as you push your chest out a little. “Feel them.”

A wandering hand belonging to him cautiously makes its way from the small of your back to the side of your tit. Nervously, he outlines the curves with his fingers before eventually grasping ahold a little harshly; it’s obvious that the poor man hasn’t even fondled a woman’s boobs before this.

“Too tight. Let go a little,” you advise softly.

“Got it. Sorry.” He softens his hold on your chest and starts to squeeze your breast gently.

With your other boob feeling neglected, you suggest, “While you’re doing that, you can use your other hand, or maybe your mouth.”

He seems a little taken aback by the suggestion of using his mouth, but he continues to fondle your tit, even running his finger over your hardened nipple. “How so?”

“Oh, with your tongue. Maybe even teeth.”

His brow furrows in confusion. “Wouldn’t that be painful?”

You laugh a bit at his cute concern. “Well you don’t have to bite, you can just nibble.”

Continuing to play with your breast, his head leans forward against your other tit. He runs his tongue lightly across your nipple, which rips out a velvet moan from your throat. Now that he knows what to do for you to make those sounds, he works on your breasts, using his fingers to lightly pinch one nipple and swirling his tongue around the other. The stimulation makes you grind your thinly clothed cunt against the tent in his pants, making him shudder and whine against your breast.

Your hand snakes to the back of his head and you grab onto his curly hair, which elicits a moan from him. After a few more seconds, you pull his head back and make him look at you with his drool dribbling down his chin and his lips all red.

“Why did you pull back?”

The way he asked was keen, like he wanted to have his tongue run across your flesh again. And while you would also enjoy that, you don’t have a lot of time.

You get off of his lap, letting the undone dress and your panties pool around your ankles and you step out of it. You get on your knees in front of Spencer and you start to unbuckle his belt. “I wanna make you feel good.”

His hips slide closer to you. “Are you sure?” he asks innocently.

You take off his belt and he lifts his hips, allowing you to slide his pants down. You look up at him, “Is this okay?”

He nods his head feverishly. “Yes. Definitely,” he says with a meek smile. His pants completely slip off, leaving him in his boxers. You palm him and his hips uncontrollably buck up to meet your touch.

“Is this all because of the dress?” you question, referring to his hard-on, and you smile smugly. Your hand goes past the waistband of his boxers and you wrap it around his dick.

He mewls at your touch and you start to stroke him. “Y-You looked so good in it,” he sputters out, bucking his hips up to fuck your fist. “Please, I couldn’t help it!”

His little whimpers and pleas as you massage his member sends jolts of excitement straight to your already throbbing clit. Your other hand goes to pull down his boxers and free his cock, letting the precum seep out and lubricate the handjob you’re giving him better. You massage a finger over the tip and he moans at the sensation.

“More, more,” he pleads breathlessly, his head thrown back while his hand makes its way to your head and he grabs a fistful of hair.

Understanding what he means, you bend your head down and kiss the tip teasingly. Spencer groans when you start to wrap your lips around his cock, taking him in slowly. He’s big in your mouth, so you use your hand to take in what your mouth can’t.

He tries not to jerk his hips up and fuck your mouth but as you continue to suck him off, it’s getting harder to control his movements. When he looks down at you, you look up at him — eyes glossy and tears filling the brims, drool running down your chin and his cock, your cheeks puffed out — and he feels a heat coiling in his stomach.

“T’much, s’too much- I’m gonna-” and with no warning, he bucks into your mouth and hot splurts of cum hit the back of your throat. You’re not complaining, as you try to swallow as much as you can, even though a bit dribbles out of your mouth and runs down his softening dick.

Your lips leave him with a ‘pop.’ A bit of his cum remains on your chin so taking the opportunity to tease him, you swipe it with your index and lick it off. The sight of you enjoying the taste of him already makes his dick semi-hard again.

“I’m sorry,” he apologizes quickly, “I’m sorry; it felt so good and I didn’t—”

You get off your knees and shut him up with a kiss. He can taste himself on your tongue and while normally he would be slightly grossed out, in the moment he finds it arousing. After a moment, he pulls away from the kiss. “Can…can I return the favor? Please?”

The adorable way he asks makes you smile sweetly, and you place your hands on his chest. “As much as I would love that,” you say while you push him slightly, “I just want you inside me. Is that okay, Spence?”

He slides backwards to allow you to have more room when you straddle his hips again, this time with no fabrics between the two of you. One of your hands holds onto his shoulder while the other goes down to hold his cock and line it up with your wet pussy. As a precaution, you state, “Just tell me if you don’t want this, okay?”

His hands go to grasp your waist. “I want it, I want it so much, please…”

With his approval, you start to sink down on his cock. Although you’re experienced with plenty of other guys, you’ve never had a dick this big inside you before. You can feel it split you open, and while it’s a bit uncomfortable, it’s overtaken by the pleasure it brings you. Spencer whimpers with every inch you’re taking and every couple inches, you stop to let yourself get used to his girth and size. Thankfully, he isn’t one of those guys who pushes you down even though it hurts, because his hands remain on your waist, gripping it tightly.

Eventually, he bottoms out and you sit against him with his cock in you for a minute or two. One of his hands presses your belly to feel where he is inside you and that action is what makes you start to lift your hips up. You start off at a slow pace, mostly for Spencer’s sake since he’s already moaning like a porn star, making your walls clench around him.

“S-So good,” he groans, and he begins to help you ride him by moving his hands to cup your ass and lifting you up and down, still maintaining your slow speed. “Y’feel so good around me.”

You let him dictate the pace. “Are you okay with going faster?” you ask. You weren’t expecting him to immediately quicken the pace, but it’s a pleasant surprise since it’s apparent how much pleasure it’s bringing him. His jaw is slack, not even attempting to block his wanton moans, and his eyes are half-lidded so prettily.

He looks down to see how you’re connecting, his cock sliding in and out of you with apparent ease. The way your cunt takes him so well makes him feel another low coil in his stomach, signifying another orgasm close to erupting.

“Where…where do I…” he tries to ask, but his question keeps getting interrupted by his moans.

“In me. In me, fuck, you can cum in me,” you groan, letting your head hang back slack while your pleasure envelops you.

He quickens the pace again, the sound of your ass slapping against his thighs and your moans echoing through the room. The coil snaps and he cries out your name. His cum paints your walls while his eyes roll up from the overwhelming pleasure.

The pace slows and you start to take control of it again. “Please, Spence, I’m so close,” you say. “Hold out f’me, okay?”

He nods lazily and he wraps an arm around your waist. His hand goes down to where you two meet and he finds your clit with ease, rubbing it hard with the soft pad of his thumb.

The extra stimulation is just what you need because soon enough, your orgasm rushes through you like a waterfall. The orgasm lasts a while and eventually you start to come down. You rest on his lap, cockwarming him while you kiss his neck wearily.

“Was…was it okay?” you ask when you pull back.

Even Spencer knows how absurd that question is, how you’re focusing on whether you performed well and not on your own pleasure. “It was amazing.” He kisses you, soft and tenderly. “You’re amazing,” he whispers in between kisses.

When you next take a breather, you glance at the alarm clock on the nightstand, showing an analog ‘7:52 PM.’

“Y’know,” you start, brushing the hair out of his eyes with your fingers, “if we leave now, we would only be fifteen minutes late.”

“It’s that late?” He looks back at the clock to double-check.

You get off of him, his cock slipping out of you with a groan. “What are we going to say if they ask why we’re late?”

He stands up and pulls his boxers up. “We’ll say you were helping me with something,” he says with a smile.

hope y’all enjoyed !! <3

#★ sei’s fanfics #★ spencer reid #spencer reid #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x you #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid smut #fanfic #spencer reid fandom #dr. spencer reid #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fic #mdni

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zeltqz · 5 months

Text

having rindou as a clingy, needy fwb

content: safe sex, sexting, suggestive pics, rindou is a horny guy, needy guy, clingy guy, implied possessive rindou, fem!reader

a/n: ive been so inactive im so sorry guys i feel so bad :( uni has been literally kicking my BOOOOOTYYYY anyway enjoy this quick one shot with rindou :))

He’s bold.

You set the shopping bag down on the floor by your bed and began to unpack its contents, ready for a mini fashion show in front of your mirror when your phone chimed by your bedside table.

You were halfway with taking your top off when you heard the buzz and walked over to it and grabbed it.

rinnn wyd

You smiled at his random text message, eyes trained on your screen as you sat backwards onto your bed and texted back.

you Just came back from shopppinggg

Setting your phone down, you’re about to stand back up to head towards your mirror when he responds at lightspeed. Oh he must be so bored today, you snigger and decide to text him back.

rinnn What you get?

you Cant tell you thattttt Too personal

rinnn What was it? Lingerie?

you Oh um

rinnn No way. Pfft yeah right

you WHATS THAT SUPPOSED TO MEAN????

rinnn Nothing i just cant see you in that at all

you Well its true

rinnn Sureeee Lemme see it

you Ok wait one second

You stand up from your bed and walk over to your bag, grab the lacy bra and matching panties set and place it flat on your bed. It took longer than a second to snap the photo as you wanted it to look perfect and presentable so you spent longer actually wiping stray crumbs from your bed, closing your curtains to get perfect lighting, straightening out your bedsheets in order to get the perfect photo.

Once you were pleased, you hopped back onto your bed and sent the photo to Rindou. As expected, since it took longer than you said to send the photo he went offline and you huffed impatiently. Ten minutes later your phone was buzzing and you zoomed for it eagerly, only for your smile to fade when you saw his response.

rinnn Thats not what i meant

you WDYM?????

rinnn Did you get it for your boyfriend?

you You know damn well i dont have a boyfriend

rinnn Lmfao i know. just checking

you what???

rinnn Show me the fit tho

you I did

rinnn Put it on

you oh…OHH Sure okay…

You weren’t expecting that at all honestly. Yet the idea of putting it on for Rindou weirdly turned you on. You bit your lip and stared down at the lacy material laid on your bed and slowly began to strip off your shirt and bottoms. Once it was on, you quickly walked up to the mirror and examined how it looked on you.

It was the cheapest matching set available in store and you weren’t rich by any means so it’ll have to do. You quickly grabbed your phone and snapped a photo of you standing in the mirror.

The photo was horrible. You were stiff, awkward and you accidentally took the photo in the middle of blinking. You wanted to cry but you couldn’t find the confidence left in yourself to retake it, so you cropped your face out and sent the photo to Rindou without a second thought.

It all happened so quickly that you failed to realise the gravity of what you just did until you saw Rindou read the message. Your eyes widened and you tossed your phone across the room, flopping instantly onto your bed and thrashing between the sheets for a minute or two to let your frustrations and anxieties out.

It was the first time you ever sent someone intimate photos and you made a promise to your younger self that you’d wait until you were in an official relationship to do that. But here you were sending them to your best friend just because you wanted his approval for reasons that were beyond you.

Your phone buzzed minutes later and you peeked an eye open at your phone from across the room, took a deep breath then reached for it.

rinnn Damn u look so sexy right now

you Lol stop Thank you tho

rinnn Send another

you Desperate much?

rinnn Coming from the girl buying lingerie for herself

you Nothing wrong with that :( But fine wait

You feel exceptionally giddy when you stand up from your bed, your confidence rising back up in copious amounts as you waddle towards your mirror. This time, you recorded a short video of you from side to side, showing off your assets as seductively as you possibly could before sending it to him.

His response only spurs you on even more.

rinnn Would u kill me if i was hard rn

you Probably yes Flattered, but yes

rinnn How would u kill me?

you Choke you maybe. Or like suffocation and prolong it as long as i can

rinnn With your thighs? I wont mind that

Your face flushes as your thumbs freeze over your keyboard.

you OML YOURE SO HORNY I DIDN'T MEAN IT LIKE THAT

rinnn Thats how i took it

you Yeah i know, you weirdo

rinnn How would you suffocate me though?

you With my hands duhhhhhh. Actually maybe a pillow. More surface area.

rinnn You’ll be on top of me?

The image of you on top of him with your hands around his throat plagued your mind and you were lost for words for the third time tonight. It didn’t even occur to you that you were sexting your best friend.

you If that's how you want to go out then yes

rinnn It is

you Then i will

rinnn Good

You This escalated so fast Goodbye rindou

He’s needy.

His phone is ringing.

Rindou’s phone is ringing whilst he’s on top of you, lips kissing and sucking your soft skin just under your jaw as his cock thrusts slowly into you. Your hands are playing with his hair, running your fingers through them, scratching at his scalp when his cock reaches that spot inside you with enough force to tease, not satisfy you.

You’d been begging him to go rougher, want to hear the loud slap of his hips against yours but he’d been so adamant on taking his sweet time, like his phone hasn’t been ringing for the last thirty seconds.

“Rinnnnnn,” you grumble irritatedly, the soft strokes you were doing on his hair now turned to a full on tug , as harsh as you could, with enough force to completely still his lips on your neck.

He pulls away from you and lifts himself up onto his arms, looking down at you with a peeved expression on his face.

“What.” His hips still don’t still, thrusting ever so slightly into you but keeps on managing to hit that spot regardless and see your eyes roll as you bite down your lip to stifle a moan.

Unlinking your arms from around his neck, you try to reach over to the bedside table but your arms are too short. Grumbling, you try to shift and Rindou just stills entirely, watching you grab his phone that was face down as it rang continuously for the last minute.

Missed call: Dad

Your eyebrows raise as you read the contact and turn the phone towards Rindou. He clicks his tongue, irritated your attention is off him and grabs the phone.

“It’s just my old man, who cares?” He tosses the phone backwards on the bed, this time you can’t reach it if it rings again and his thrusts restart, slowly rolling his hips into your core.

“What if it's important?” you mumble, your voice shaky when he relowers himself on you, kissing your lips softly. “Rin—” Your words keep getting swallowed by his lips and he doesn’t stop kissing you until you finally give in.

He grabs onto your hand and lifts it, nestling it on top of his head and moves your fingers to play with his hair. You got the hint and began stroking his hair again, loving the way he hums into your mouth whenever you tug at his hair.

You were finally submitting to him again, his phone long forgotten in your mind and he grins before pulling away from the kiss to reattach his lips back onto your neck, adding more to the marks he left on your neck prior.

“Rin faster please,” you whine, trying to lift your hips to feel his cock deeper inside you but he’s quicker. A firm hand pressing down on your hips to keep them flat on the bed.

“Stop being so needy,” he says, voice muffled as he doesn’t stop sucking down your throat.

“I’m needy? Says the one who’s been kissing me and having me play with your hair for the last—” You grab your phone that was under his pillow and check the time. You got here around five p.m and it's now close to six. “—hour.”

“Were you not complaining you barely get aftercare during sex? All those other boys you were with practically discarded you, now I’m doing it and you have a problem?” His hand runs on the underside of your right breast before cupping it, squeezing it in his hand, enjoying the way you shiver momentarily. “Make up your fuckin’ mind.”

His tongue licks at your nipple and your body jerks briefly before stilling as he sucks on your soft nipple till it hardens.

“That’s—not the same and you know it, Rin.” you huff, unable to think of a comeback; not when he’s treating you like this. He chuckles and bites gently on your breast.

All you can think of as you toss your head back is the feeling of his soft lips on your breast, his tongue licking at your nipple, sending static down your entire body.

His mouth is hot against your skin and you find yourself subconsciously lifting your chest higher to feel more of his mouth.

Your hands grab onto his face and lift him to look at you before pulling him towards you for a kiss. His hand rests on the headboard behind you as your needy mouth moves against his.

You take the time to run your fingers along his sides, dragging them along his bare back that’s far too clean for your liking, not enough scratch marks like usual. If only he’d actually fuck you like you wanted.

This time, your phone starts to ring beside you and you pull away, breaking the kiss and completely missing the way Rindou rolls his eyes as you instantly go to answer it.

“Hello?”

Bored, Rindou bends back down to your neck only to have you press your spare hand against his mouth, looking sternly at him and shaking your head.

“Oh hi Kakucho. Yes, Rindou’s with me.”

Rindou gives you a confused look and you shrug before listening intently at your phone. “Oh really? Yeah, we’re not busy right now. I’ll tell him. Okay, bye.” You hang up and put your phone back on the bed.

“Why did you lie?” Rindou asks.

“Kakucho said he needs you for something. I don’t know what, he won’t tell me.”

“Okay? I’m still busy though.” He pins you back down to the bed when you go to sit up. “I’ll fuck you for real this time. Let me finish.”

As if to prove his point he shifts backwards, grabbing your ankles and lifting your legs to rest on his shoulder. He leans forward and his cock instantly slides deeper than before; you moan loudly.

“Right there?” He rolls his hips again, testing. You nod rapidly, breathless and that’s all he needs before snapping his hips recklessly.

Your walls flutter around the condom with each thrust and he can’t get enough of how good you feel around him. He buries his head between your shoulder and his pillow and listens to your moans, how loud and shaky they get when his hips press firmly against yours.

“I’m close,” you say softly, biting down on your lip.

“Me too. Shit.”

His orgasm comes faster than he’d expected, his seed spilling out into the condom when you moan his name softly as your own walls spasm from your own orgasm. He lays on top of you momentarily before remembering Kakucho’s call and reluctantly lifts himself off you.

He slides off the bed and you lift your jelly legs up to sit upright, watching him change back into his clothes.

“What time will you be back?” you ask, resting your chin on your arm perched on top of your knee.

“Not sure to be honest. I don’t even know what these people want.” He fixes his belt. “Why? You’ll miss me?” he adds with a smirk and you roll your eyes,

“Other way around Rindou.”

“Mhm sure .” Fully dressed, he fixes his hair that’s been ruffled from earlier. “C’mere.”

You slide off the bed and walk over to him. He cups your cheek and pulls you closer, gently kissing you.

You pull away after a few moments and push him towards the door. “Get out already. Stop stalling and go see your friends.”

He laughs before closing the door.

He can’t keep his hands off you.

Rindou has his arm wrapped around your shoulder, keeping sure your body is pressed against his side the entire party. If you wanted to get a drink, he’ll be with you with his arm around your shoulder. It’s a friendly gesture, what can he say?

If you wanted to play beer pong with his friends, his arm is around your hip, standing behind you, close enough so that your ass constantly brushes his crotch whenever you make any sort of movement.

His friends all look at him like he can’t be serious. Ran can’t even think of a time he’s seen you without Rindou’s arm around you honestly. It’s gotten that far.

If you’re sitting on the couch, Rindou’s arm is around your waist, making sure you’re sitting as close to him as possible. What can he say, he just wants to make space for others on the couch. He’s a generous guy.

You’re currently in the bathroom, fixing your hair up to get ready to step into the pool.

Rindou’s watching you as he sits on the edge of the bathtub, shamelessly running his eyes along your body in your bathing suit. You’re not oblivious to his staring, only used to it at this point. It’s not like you don’t stare at him too whenever he’s shirtless.

It’s only admiration .

Rindou stands up and stands behind you as you take your earrings out, his chest right against your back as you look at him through the mirror.

“You good?” you ask, concerned. He’s been silent the entire time you’ve been changing.

“Yeah. Why wouldn’t I be?” he murmurs, distracted by the thin strap of your bathing suit. He can’t help but wonder how something so thin can be sturdy enough to hold up in the waters. The last thing he wants is for it to come loose and have your entire chest exposed in front of all his friends.

“I dunno Rin. You’ve been really quiet since Sanzu mentioned swimming—”

“Isn’t this a little flimsy?” he cuts you off, ignoring you in favour of tugging at your strap.

“You think?” You tug at the other one and wonder. “I think it’ll be fine. Actually! Could you tighten the strings at the back?” You reach behind your back and gesture at it.

“Sure.” His voice is low as he unties the straps and begins tying them again but tighter. Halfway, he stops and you don’t notice until you’ve fully taken out your earrings, feeling your bikini top begin to slip.

“Uh, Rin?” You feel him moving the straps off your shoulder but before you can question it, he’s turning you around and hoisting you up onto the bathroom counter. “Rin. What are you—”

He leans forward, entrapping in a kiss that has you shutting up instantly. His hand palms your breast through your bikini top that’s on the verge of falling to the floor.

Your hands move to the side of his face and hold him close to you as he slips between your legs, his hand dropping to rest at your hips. His tongue plays with yours, licking into your mouth and you have to fight to keep the soft moan rising in your throat down as you ran your hands down the plane of his chest, gripping at the waistband of his shorts to tug him closer.

Your bikini top finally falls to the floor and it feels so good to have his hand caressing your bare breast.

A loud knock at the door startles you; Rindou remains unfazed, only irritated at being interrupted.

“What the fuck do you want?” Rindou yells at the door.

“We’re about to get in the pool. You guys coming or not?!” Sanzu yells back from the other end.

Rindou turns back to you and you shrug, not really minding what you do. His eyes drop down to your lips, your bare chest, your legs, then his dick that’s been hard in his shorts for the last five minutes.

“We’ll see you in a bit.” Rindou kisses you again, lifting you off the counter slightly to slide the rest of your bikini off.

“We’re busy right now.”

#—tr </3 #rindou haitani x reader #haitani rindou x reader #rindou smut #rindou x reader #tokrev x reader #tokrev #tokyorev x reader #tr smut #tr x reader #tokrev smut

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gallusrostromegalus · 2 years

Note

You don't think matcha is tea????

Matcha isn't a Tea in my humble Opinion.

Matcha is an experience.

The year is 2009, the place is the University of Hawai'i at Manoa in Honolulu, and I am recovering from a still-undiagnosed disease that left me with a 100+ degree for over three weeks, extreme weight loss and permanent Brain Damage. I have signed up for an introductory Art History class because I need an additional Humanities credit.

It's called "The History and Philosophy of the Japanese Tea Ceremony", and for a class I can only sort of remember, it stands out.

So I'm in professor Roberts' Japanese Tea Ceremony class, looking and feeling like death warmed over, but I'm genuinely interested in the subject matter and show up to every class because I have nothing better to do, and ask questions and turn in my homework, even if neither are particularly coherent at times, and rapidly become his favorite student. The thing I learned in public school was how to show up to events even if I don't want to, analyze tests and other written materials for patterns and charm educators by holding up my end of a conversation, skills that have served me in the modern world far more than learning actual course content would have.

The Tea Ceremony, historically, takes a good month to prepare and the entire evening to carry out- the guest list is curated to create social bonds and intellectual stimulation alike, a poem is composed for the season, and a seasonal flower arrangement created to decorate the space. When the guests arrive, they must all crawl through a small door to enter the tea garden, regardless of profession or rank. Hands are ritually washed in spring water, and there is a slow processional walk through the garden, to admire the artistry of the landscaping, and the composition of seasonal elements to create this particular night of beauty. The entire ceremony is about appreciating both the joy of existing right now, in this time and place, and the unification of the self and the universe and the endless cycles of nature.

The guests arrive at the tea house and meet the Tea Master, who will be making the Matcha that evening. The guests are seated in particular order, the Most Revered Guest- sometimes a high-ranking official, sometimes a visiting scholar or artist- is seated closest to the Tea Master. The Poem is read aloud. The Flowers are admired. The tools for making the Matcha are taken out, examined as objects of art, and their history told. The matcha powder itself is taken out- the case examined, the cultivation of the tea discussed, and only then does the Tea Master make the Tea.

Matcha is not brewed- it's a fine powder made of crushed green tea leaves, and the powder is whisked together with not-quite-boiling water in a bowl to create a much more substantial and flavorful drink. This drink is presented to the Most Revered Guest first, who is expected to take a sip and, in a moment of Zen spiritual clarity, comment on its flavor and how all the elements of the tea, art, garden and season all complement each other, and perhaps offer some sort of philosophical statement.

At least,

That's how it's supposed to go.

About a month before the spring semester is over, Professor Roberts announces that he has a surprise for his class- a good friend of his, a Professional Tea Master, will be visiting Hawai'i, and has agreed to perform a Tea Ceremony for our class! I am very excited. The other 10 people in class are varying levels of amiably confused to distressed by having to go to An Event (TM) for a grade, but agree. One of my classmates, an astrology hoe named Jessica, pointed out that with the 11 students, Professor Roberts, and the Tea Master, there will be 13 people present, which is basically inviting disaster.

"Jessica." Sighed Professor Roberts. "It's a Tea Ceremony. What disaster could happen?"

Despite Jessica's misgivings, Preparations for the ceremony went on. We learned about Ikebana while deciding on the Ceremonial Bouquet and tried our hands at it with what Professor Robert could get at the grocery store for $12. We learned about calligraphy and different types of poetic compositions while making the Seasonal Poem, and stain the hell out of the classroom carpet learning the brush strokes. We learn about different types of Matcha Bowl sculpting and glazing and we are not allowed to touch the demonstration bowls or the kiln because Professor Roberts was beginning to suspect that some of his students (me) were suffering from coordination issues. I apply myself with zeal, if not necessarily talent. I was, at the time, an Art Major, but my professors in the art department had been grading me on a secret "this bitch almost died last semester and is re-learning how to hold a pencil" curve, and boy howdy did I stumble and break leaves and splatter ink like it.

Despite my ongoing unmonitored recovery, Professor Roberts viewed my enthusiastic class participation with rose-colored glasses, and about a week before the ceremony we had a class where he brought out the used Kimonos and Obi and other forms of japanese dress he'd borrowed from the theater department so that we would be traditionally dressed(ish) and experience the ceremony authentically(ish). While people were trying on clothes to see what would fit, he took me aside and told me he wanted me to be in the position of Most Revered Guest, the person who makes the zen statement upon which the entire event hinges.

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" I asked.

"You're the only person who doesn't fall asleep in class and you talked about how the flowers stagger their blooms to not compete for the bees- you're perfectly engaged and conscious of the seasons!" He said, blindly. "You will need different shoes though." He indicated my flip-flops. "I won't make you learn how to walk in Geta, but nothing with Heels. Ballet flats are fine."

"...These are the only shoes I own." I said.

Professor Roberts stared at me.

"-I used to have a pair of sneakers but I think a homeless guy stole them while I was at the beach last month."

"What?" Roberts blinked.

"He probably needed them more than I do. I'll see if I can borrow some flats."

"...I don't think I've ever met a woman with less than 10 pairs of shoes." Said Roberts.

"I'm not a woman, I'm and undergrad." I said, still three years away from learning the term 'Nonbinary'. "Those are Jordan's only pair of shorts, you know." I pointed at my classmate, who had been wearing the one (1) pair of basketball shorts for the entire semester.

"I WASH THEM." Jordan shouted defensively, wearing the longest Men's Kinmo the theater department had, which barely came down to the top of his calves.

"Oh God." Said Roberts, a horrifying new world opening up to him like a tub of Expired sour cream.

It was the day of the Ceremony.

The Seasonal Theme we'd worked on was "The Turn Of Summer", and the weather was complying maliciously.

Normally, Tea Ceremonies are scheduled for the more temperate evening, but due to the school needing to host something in the adjoining cultural center later, we could only use the Tea Garden in the middle of the afternoon, and the summer sun was a sweltering 98 degrees and a similar level of Humidity. The Camelias were melting.

Where Jordan had difficulty finding a Kimono that suited his ent-like proportions, I'd had the opposite problem and the only Kimono short enough to not trip my Hobbit-sized self was a Child’s size. My roommate had helped me get into the Kimono and Obi before the ceremony, and leant me a pair of her Ballet Flats, but we discovered an issue- this Kimono was designed for a flat-chested prepubescent youth, and even though I barely scraped 5'0", I had the robust proportions of an Irish Peasant, and the only way to avoid displaying a frankly offensive amount of cleavage was to use the widest Obi we could find and sort of tuck my boobs into it.

"Hm" I said. "Kind of hard to breathe."

"Yeah, but you're sitting for most of it, right? It can't last more than an hour, so just like, shuffle and don't talk much?" She suggested.

To her credit, the first forty-five minutes of the ceremony only involved shuffling through the gardens and not talking while the Tea Master lectured us on some of the finer points of the garden's design.

But then we got to the Tea House- a small structure only barely able to accommodate the 13 of us, which was in the shade but hotter than the outside because of the roaring fire in the middle of the room, where the water for the Matcha was boiling. The room was surrounded by a narrow sort of porch, part of which hung over the Koi pond, where several massively overfed carp blurbled expectantly for treats at the arrival of humans. I sat down, legs folded under me like Professor Roberts had insisted, and realized that this pushed the Obi UP, and now my rib cage was being compressed in all directions.

I tried to pay attention to the rest of the ceremony, but two and a half hours is an awfully long time to listen about lecturers you've already heard when your body is undergoing a sort of internal horserace to see if the heatstroke, sciatica pain and numbness, allergies or suffocation-by-compression will cause you to pass out first. My legs had gone numb below the knee by the time we were done with the flower arrangement. My entire legs were numb before we were done with the Poem. By the time the Tea Utensils came out, I was seeing spots of colored light in my vision and could only breathe if I focused on it very, very hard.

But! The ceremony was genuinely interesting! and Professor Roberts was counting on me! So I did my best not to sway or throw up from watching the Tea Master whisk the Matcha, and dutifully took the bowl with a pair of hands that felt like slabs of ham that I was attempting to puppet from another dimension, and took a sip.

They say that Smell and Taste are far more closely connected to the emotional centers of the brain than any other sense, and I believe it because the instant I inhaled both the grassy, powdery smell, and tasted the moderately viscous bubbly liquid, I experienced an intense flashbulb memory back to a previous late May-

The Year was '98, the place was my elementary school art room, and we'd been using the seasonal hot weather to paint on a massive scale as the art dried quickly- each third-grader had been given a roll of butcher paper, a cheap brush, squirts of non-toxic paint and a water cup, and allowed to go hog-wild on our murals, and the rush of creative energy and the imminent sense of freedom as the semester drew to a close truly embodied the summer of youth, carefree but with an almost psychotic fervor, where lack of care was both freeing and dangerous as you lost track of your surroundings in the act of creation-

Which isn't a bad seasonal-philosophical connection statement to make, but the actual words that came out of my mouth were:

"Wow. This tastes exactly like paint."

The first sound I heard after the moment of silence was the cartoonishly loud gasp of horror from Professor Roberts, which was almost immediately drowned out by the thunderclap of laughter from the Tea Master, slapping his thighs and wiping tears from his face, unable to stop. I desperately tried to explain the connection between the fact I might be dying of heat stroke right now, and how I ended up drinking my paint water back in Mrs. Krantz's art class because back then I was also dying of heat stroke, but mostly ended up wheezing half-formed sentences as the rest of the class took sips and offered opinions varying between "Wow, that's thick. Like a Hot smoothie." and "Oh yeah, it tastes like summer. Like how a freshly-mowed lawn smells like summer." Professor Roberts slowly melted into a pile of shame, and the Tea Master slapped him on the back, still howling with laughter.

"They're honest! Nobody else will be honest! This is magnificent!" he wheezed.

Eventually, everyone had their taste, and the ceremony was concluded. The second the Tea Master had packed up his tools and stepped outside for a breath of fresh air, Professor Roberts was in my face.

"HOW COULD YOU SAY THAT?" he hissed, grabbing my arm and pulling me up. "GO APOLOGIZE RIGHT NOW!" he shoved me out onto the porch where the Tea Master was looking at the Koi, who had started bubble-begging aggressively again.

Except that my legs felt like blocks of wood that my pelvis was renting from another planet where legs hadn’t been invented yet, my vision was entirely static between the dehydration and lack of oxygen, and my vestibuar system had fucked off an hour ago, leaving me to stay upright by purely by the virtue of the over-tightened Obi. So instead of bowing and apologizing profusely like my professor expected, what I actually did was stumble out of the room, say something like "Hsdfkf" and topple head-first into the koi pond.

Fortunately, the impact of the bottom of the pond with the top of my skull activated a sort of last-resort emergency self preservation system and I inhaled with enough force to break the Obi-Jime and probably a couple ribs from the pain that hit both my sides like lightning. Unfortunately, the thing I was inhaling was fish-shit riddled Pond Water, so my emergency self-preservation system ordered an even harder Exhale.

The Tea Master, to his immense credit, had immediately jumped in after me, and pulled me upright just in time for me to forcibly exhale half a gallon of rancid pond water directly into his face, then start screaming. Screaming is an extremely appropriate reaction to have when injured, because it alerts everyone that you require medical attention, but is very unpleasant to experience from four inches away, which is probably why he then immediately dropped me.

Fortunately the pond wasn't very deep and this time I sat there, scream-gasping as my lungs reinflated, Koi fish burbling and sucking at me with tremendous excitement, until the EMT from the campus clinic arrived, a vanguard before the actual ambulance.

"Okay uh. You're bleeding." he said, cautiously wading into the pond.

I opened my eyes to find that I had apparently acquired a large and profusely bleeding head wound, which had activated some long-suppressed Shark Instincts in the Koi, which were eagerly gumming at the streams of blood and trying to suck on my forehead. "Good thing they don’t have teeth." I said in the distant bliss that only zen masters and people with serious head injuries get to experience.

"Do you want a towel?" he asked, helping me up.

"No, this is rather refreshing, actually." I said, still absolutely smashed on endorphins, Koi still enthusiastically swarming at my kneecaps.

"I mean like for your-" the EMT Gestured Vaguely at my torso.

I looked down and realized that not only had I broken the Obi-jime, the entire Obi had come undone and was floating several feet away, and I was only wearing the Kimono, fallen completely off my shoulders and was only being prevented from performing a full Lady Godiva by the valiant efforts of the safety pin my roommate had put in to keep it folded correctly while we figured out the Obi.

"Professor Roberts?" I stood up all the way, soaking wet, bleeding from my forehead with such force as to create actual streams of blood down my face, neck and chest, tits out, and addressed the poor man standing, white-faced on the deck above the pond. "I don't think I'm going to be in class on Monday-" I paused to fish a small Koi that had gotten trapped in the remains of the now-ruined Kimono, and tossed it back into the pond. "-Can I schedule a make-up exam for the Final?"

"FOR THE LOVE OF GOD, GET IN THE AMBULANCE!" He screamed.

I was x-rayed for a skull fracture, but my lifelong membership to the Lactose Tolerance Club had protected me, and I happily texted my roommate to come pick me up as "They x-rayed my head and found nothing" while the doctor stitched part of my scalp back together.

The following morning, I discovered that Professor Roberts had graded my exam before I took it. 100%. Truly, the best way to get a good grade on your finals is to get a serious head injury.

So, Matcha is not a Tea, in my humble opinion.

Matcha is an Experience.

And sometimes that experience is drinking something almost exactly like paint, ruining an important cultural ceremony, traumatizing your professor, and introducing a bunch of fish to the taste of human flesh.

***

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#Family Lore #Tea Ceremony #Matcha #injury mention #blood mention

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hazbin-writings-and-musings · 2 months

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Lucifer Morningstar x Pregnant!Reader Headcanons Part 2

I had a blast writing part 1, so here's some more headcanons of reader progressing through their pregnancy!

Warnings: Pregnancy Mention, Implied Smut

- He doesn't have a pregnancy kink per say, but... seeing you pregnant with his child does things to him that he can't even begin to put into words. He's always found you beyond gorgeous, of course, it's just that now it borders on literal worship. Said worship will be expressed quite physically on a daily basis; he'll slide his hands over your middle, leave trails of kisses up and down your body, and catch himself staring multiple times even before the two of you get out of bed each morning. He can't even really believe that you've somehow managed to get more beautiful, but he'll consistently try to describe the depths of his devotion in song, gifts, and countless hours spent adoring your presence.

- He'll want to start preparing for all baby related events as soon as possible, in part because the arrival of another heir is going to be quite the occasion, but he also just wants everything to go perfectly. The official announcement will come with multiple days of celebration across Hell, including a massive party in the castle itself, and each event that follows will somehow manage to top the last. You'll get enough gifts to fill up multiple rooms, and so many cards with well wishes you could fill up an entire library, but Lucifer expects nothing less. Every ounce of his considerable power is dedicated to making sure you get the best of everything. This dedication also applies to the little things the two of you do together, like decorating the baby's room. He'll insist on hand crafting the furniture, the toys, and every decoration with you directing at his side, and he'll use the most magical materials at his disposal. Hand painting the walls with stardust is not out of the question.

- Things have changed a lot since Charlie was born, and he was previously unaware of the many technological advancements now available for expecting couples, specifically ultrasounds. He's amazed and wants to attend every appointment even more at the prospect of actually seeing your child before they're born. Of course, upon beholding the lopsided blob on the screen for your first check up, he's far more overwhelmed than he could have ever imagined. He can see little hooves and everything! The doctor doesn't quite know what to make of the King near to weeping at the sight of a being no larger than a peanut, but you take it all in stride. Once he finds out that pictures can be taken of the scans, he requests as many as he can carry, and his pockets are bursting with photos of Charlie and her not-yet-born sibling. He'll show them to everyone that does and doesn't ask.

- While he can be overly protective and his efforts to provide for you are more akin to spoiling, he's not at all without cause in doing so; carrying a child of Lucifer is no easy task. As your body becomes the epicenter for a developing power beyond imagination, you'll need him by your side with increasing frequency, especially once the baby's uncontrolled magic starts surging and affecting your reality. You'll be unharmed, but it's still quite nice to have Archangel level powers around to get things back to normal once you start inexplicably walking up the walls, speaking in dead languages or levitating random items with a glance. He takes it all in stride with humorous stories about how Charlie did the same before her arrival, though your cravings for increasingly esoteric rare foods do have him apologizing for the inconveniences of angelic biology, as even he needs a few days to acquire the rarer items your body demands.

- As delighted as he is to have another child, he can't help but be haunted by doubts of all he's done wrong as a father so far. No matter how much of it was out of his control, he fears everything that went wrong will happen again, and that he might just be gaining a second child to fail. It's only through your loving reassurance that he retains some faith in himself, and dares to believe he'll be a halfway decent dad to two children.

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bluebeary-jay · 5 months

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Face to face

Din Djarin x f!Mandalorian!Reader

Summary: as riduurs, you and Din can finally show your faces to each other without suffering any consequences. but when the time finally comes, your insecurities and fears of rejection come into play, threatening to ruin this important moment

Tags: just pure tooth-rotting fluff, Din and Reader being insecure, they're sweethearts though and so in love, Din being a supporting husband <3, mandalorian customs are probably half-accurate but i did my best in research 😌

Word count: 3K

A/N: haiii guys!! long time no see 🤗 i had this idea ever since i watched s2 of the mandalorian almost a month ago and i'm finally done! thank you to all who stick around and i really hope you'll enjoy my first attempt at writing din (feel free to let me know what you think 🤭)! i love all of you darlings 🥰 and as always, happy reading!! 💕

Din Djarin wouldn’t ever admit it to anyone, but he always wanted a family. The memories of his parents were hazy, but he remembered how much they loved each other and in the depths of his soul longed for a connection like this someday. Being the bounty hunter didn’t give many opportunities to look for a relationship, however, and with time he abandoned the hope for a place and people he could call home. He convinced himself that he was content being on his own.

But then the Child came along, and with it everything has changed. This little wrinkly womp rat became the most precious being in his life and Din was ready to die to protect Grogu – but he never expected that he’d also meet his future riduur because of the kid.

He did. You, a fellow Mandalorian Din spoke to only a couple of times in the hideout on Nevarro, decided to help him on his quest, and from this moment on he didn’t stand a chance. You were everything Djarin admired – brave, compassionate, skillful and kind – and though you both respected the Way of the Mandalore and never removed your helmets in each other’s presence, he knew in his soul that you were beautiful as well.

It was a long road to come to terms with what he felt for you and gather the courage to actually let you know it. But it was all worth it just for this moment when you exchanged your vows and he officially became yours, and you his. Now you were his riduur and he finally had every right to admire and cherish you like you deserved.

And most importantly, he could finally see you. The pair of you talked about this moment a lot during the nights spent on the Crest, tangling your fingers together when the ship was flooded with pitch-black darkness. Din used to whisper to you of his dreams, how he longed to run his eyes over your uncovered body, taking his time to commit to memory every little detail of your physique and expressions. You, with a giddy and wistful tone, told him how impatient you were to at last find out how his lips would feel on yours and what color his eyes were. Even when you both knew you were going to marry, you didn’t rush things and never removed your helmets until your union became official.

But you did see each other’s faces, once, though not in a conventional way. Din remembered it clearly as a day, though his eyes – as well as yours – were covered by a piece of a material the entire time. Both of you were desperate for each other that night, the tension hanging above your heads straining the resolve about waiting. And then came the moment when you didn’t fight it anymore. Instead, you both sat down on Din’s cot and without your sense of sight spent the next hour talking and trailing fingertips down each other’s faces.

Din reminisced about this moment a lot of times. He tried to remember the shape of your features to create a full picture of you in his mind while he laid alone in his bed, longing for your vicinity. Even if your bodies were separated only by the layers of beskar, it was still too far for him.

He didn’t have to wait any longer now.

It was the day of your wedding and Din Djarin never felt happier than in that moment when you recited Mandalorian vows and he got to touch your bare hand again, not covered by a glove, to put a custom-made ring on your finger. It wasn’t a necessary but he wanted to make this day memorable and meaningful for you. A few tears of joy were shed, but his face was still concealed by the helmet, allowing his emotions to take hold of him.

He hadn’t let go of your hand since the small ceremony (if one could even call it that) ended, and you squeezed his palm every few steps as you walked toward a house that was going to be your home for the next couple of days. The Child was being taken care of by other Mandalorians so that you could be completely alone for this special moment.

You were buzzing with excited energy for the whole week prior to your wedding, but now Din could sense his partner’s nervousness. He wasn’t exactly surprised – after all, it has been years for both of you since anyone saw you without your helmet on. But with every moment that you neared the bedroom, you seemed more insular, more withdrawn and hesitant, and Din started to really worry.

“Are you okay, cyar’ika (darling)?”

You slowed down, not answering right away, which caused Din to furrow his brows with confusion. Maybe you didn’t want to do it after all? Maybe it was too sudden for you? Or maybe he came off as too eager?

“Cyar’ika,” he repeated softly, wanting to put you at ease – but it didn’t seem to meet the target. “If you’re not ready…”

“No. No, I’m ready. I just…”

You trailed off. Din wordlessly guided you to the edge of the bed, cradling your hands in his – one gloved one and one not. The light of the setting sun flowed in through the small window and reflected off the hard beskar you both wore, bathing your figure in a beautiful golden light.

He was already so in love with you. What could possibly be the cause of your hesitation?

“I’m just nervous,” you murmured at last with your head bowed, looking at your joined hands. “I don’t want you to be disappointed.”

“Disappointed?” the Mandalorian repeated before he could think, and shook his head slightly. “What are you… What are you talking about? Why would I ever be?”

You lifted your gaze, and though Din couldn’t see your eyes, he could almost feel the weight of your fears on his own shoulders. The modulator in your helmet was hiding any trace of it, but he knew you long enough to recognize the tiniest shift in your body language.

“Ner kar’ta (my heart). I could never be disappointed with you.” He laced his fingers with yours, once again admiring how perfectly they fit together, and lifted them to his chest. “You own my heart and soul now, and nothing will change that.”

He hoped to soothe your nerves, but you were still silent. It wasn’t at all what Mando was expecting from this evening and he was at a loss for what to do to fix it.

“Would it help if I showed you my face first?” he asked after some time, and your head snapped up.

“No.” Even with the modulator, your voice clearly sounded broken and regretful, and it was wounding Din more than anything else could. ��We were supposed to do it together.”

“We can,” he assured quietly, swiping his thumb over your knuckles. “But the most important thing to me… is for you to feel comfortable during it. If you want to wait–”

“I don’t.” You untangled your hands from his hold and instead brought them to his chest, placing them on the beskar breastplate. He couldn’t wait to take it off and feel your touch on his skin. “If I wasn’t sure, I wouldn’t marry you and make you my riduur.”

You leaned forward and lightly bonked your helmets together, a sweet gesture Din loved since the first time you did it.

“Ni kar’tayl gar darasuum or’atu an mayen. (I love you more than anything.) More than life itself.”

“I know,” he answered simply and delicately brought your hands to the edges of his helmet. It was obvious what he was offering you. “That’s why I’m willing to do it for you.”

You were still, not daring to move, and Din nodded slightly to show you that he’s certain of his decision. His heart was beating heavily in his chest, though, and he could feel sweat forming on the back of his neck.

Showing your face to others was one of the worst crimes in Mandalorian culture, but doing it with your riduur was the highest honor that not everyone was fortunate enough to experience. But Din Djarin was among the lucky ones. Even though it was not in a way he always imagined, he didn’t care as long as you were happy.

You gripped the edges of his helmet tighter and a high hiss sounded, a telltale sign that the metal piece was ready to be removed. And slowly – so very slowly – you did. Din felt a flow of cooler air on his hot skin: first his chin, then his cheeks, finally his forehead…

And lastly, he inhaled shakily before lifting his head to look into the void of your visor.

A second passed by. Then two. Then ten, though Din felt like it must’ve been a full minute now. And still you didn’t move, just watched him silently, motionless as a statue.

The Mandalorian swallowed with difficulty, starting to feel very self-conscious. The crisp air cooled the sweat gathering on the nape of his neck and he had to use all his self-control not to fiddle his fingers nervously. He felt so naked and exposed under your gaze, though he absolutely shouldn’t – you were his riduur and there was no reason to feel ashamed or insecure with you. But he couldn’t help worrying: what if he wasn’t what you expected? What if you didn’t find him attractive at all?

Then a movement of your hands drew his attention and he watched, transfixed, as you slowly started to take off your glove, tugging one finger off at a time. Once your hand was freed from the confines of the protective material, you flexed your fingers before lifting both of your palms to his face.

Even though Din was acutely aware of your every move, he still somehow flinched in surprise at your touch, causing you to freeze and search his eyes with the air of concern around you. He quickly gave you a small nod, silently begging you to proceed, and, thankfully, you did. Your fingertips traced his cheeks, so delicately it almost tickled, brushing down the path to his stubble, and then back up to the arch of his nose and eyebrows. Djarin’s eyelids fluttered closed and he let out a shaky breath, giving in to the most amazing sensation that your touch was.

“I knew you had to be the most beautiful being in the galaxy,” you whispered from under your helmet with a voice filled with a plethora of raw emotions. Din regretted not being able to see your face at that moment, but if it would help you feel more comfortable in such a memorable and important situation, he was ready to do anything for you.

“I’m sure you’re a million times more radiant, cyar’ika,” he said back. His voice was weirdly weak and raspy, sounding strangely to him – probably because he knew there was another person hearing him without his helmet on. “Even if I don’t see your face, mesh’la (beautiful), today or ever… The love I have for you will never change or waver. That I promise.”

“It won’t exactly be fair to the Creed if I don’t remove my helmet in front of my husband,” you answered, half-teasing, but Din knew there was a real worry behind your words.

“You know very well there’s nothing said about it in the Creed.” He opened his eyes, offering you a small smile. “And I don’t remember our vows mentioning it, either.”

You clicked your tongue with exasperation, but Din also saw your shoulders relaxing, a sign that some of your nerves ebbed away.

“Gev bic (stop it),” you laughed, letting your hand fall down – but before it could happen, Din caught your wrist and lifted it back to his face. He slowly kissed the inside of your palm, down to the veins disappearing under your sleeve, his eyes fixated on your visor the entire time. His smile grew slightly when he felt a shiver run through you.

“I love you, ner kar’ta,” he whispered. “Even if you’re a half-Hutt under your armor.”

“Don’t push it.”

You let go of his hand and Din’s face fell, fearing that he really went too far. He reached for you but stopped when you straightened up and took a deep breath, your hands going to the last thing that separated you from him – your helmet.

He held his breath and his heart beat erratically as he watched you. He tried not to blink, not wanting to miss the moment when he finally got to see your face. Just the fact that you were willing to do this meant so much to him, but…

Slowly, you took your helmet off and placed it down on the mattress right next to his. Then, a pair of irises gazed into the depths of Din Djarin’s heart.

…you were wrong.

Oh, how wrong you were.

There was no mistaking it that you were by far the most breathtaking sight the Mandalorian had ever laid his eyes on.

The Maker must’ve been overly generous, or maybe favored you, for looking at you… it felt like coming home.

You stared at him with gentle, tentative eyes of the most beautiful color in the world, and Din would’ve gladly lost himself in them. Your lips, so tempting and soft-looking, were parted slightly as you awaited his reaction, but he couldn’t move. He just watched, spellbound, and wondered if this truly is reality and not some cruel, elusive dream.

He hadn’t felt such awe even when he saw Grogu doing his magic for the first time. Hadn’t felt such elation even when a new skin made of beskar was forged just for him. Had never before felt such love in his life.

You were a wonder. A miracle.

“Cyare?”

Your voice sounded almost fearful to your ears, but you couldn’t help it – Din seemed unable to utter even a word, and panic started to flood your veins when you noticed tears gathering in his dark, beautiful eyes. “Din–”

But before you could move away, he slipped off the bed and knelt by your feet. You were so taken aback by this action that you didn’t even react when he cradled both of your hands in his and pressed lingering kisses to your fingers, one after another.

“If I could, I’d marry you all over again,” he rasped, meeting your gaze with so much love and adoration in his brown eyes that it took your breath away. “How did I get so lucky…?”

“I think I’m the lucky one,” you let out a breathless laugh of relief, your pupils darting across the lines and grooves of his face. “You… you’re not just saying that, right?”

“Cyar’ika, look at me.” He gently tilted your chin up, making your eyes meet his. For a second he faltered, parting his lips in wonder at the feeling of your skin under his fingertips, before he swallowed and gazed at you again. “Do you doubt my words?”

No. There was really no questioning his motives. You knew Din was as honest as one could be and there were only your own insecurities at play here. But the longer you looked at him, his expression so full of love and devotion, the less relevant your own doubts were becoming.

You couldn’t think of anything else but him.

“I really want to kiss you,” you whispered instead of answering, and his face broke into a wide, joyous grin. “Can I–?”

The Mandalorian didn’t even wait for you to finish – the second those words left your mouth, he surged forward and pressed his lips to yours forcefully, eliciting a surprised sound out of you, which soon turned into a needy whimper. You didn’t give him a chance to back away and instantly tangled your fingers into his hair, moving clumsily to be closer to him.

But when you attempted to climb onto his lap, your breast plates collided with a metallic clank, forcing the pair of you to put some space between you. Din huffed with frustration, while you laughed and cupped his face in your hands.

“You’re quite impatient for a bounty hunter,” you accused him playfully, nudging your nose with his. You took a deep, calming breath, wanting to surround yourself with the smell of him completely, but your riduur didn’t let you indulge for long.

He moved quickly and, without a warning, kissed you briefly again – and then one more time. It was more like a light peck, and you longed to feel his tongue inside your mouth once more, but at the same time relished in every sensation that his lips brought. Every touch he gave you was something infinitely precious.

“I’ve waited longer than you,” he murmured. His hands were already moving, taking off the beskar on his forearms and shoulders, reaching where he could without removing you from his lap just yet. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me, cyar’ika.”

You smiled widely and looked up from his deft fingers to throw another teasing comment, but in one second you lost your train of thoughts.

Because Din was blushing.

The feared Mandalorian’s face – a face you were finally allowed to see whenever you desired – was sprinkled with redness across his cheeks and ears. And you were the cause of that.

The thought of it almost caused your eyes to water.

“What are you looking at, mesh’la?”

Your eyes found him again and you smiled brightly, causing Din’s heart to skip a couple of beats.

You took his stubbly chin in-between your fingers and brought his lips closer, planting a soft kiss there that had the Mandalorian melting. He covered your hand with his, feeling the band on your finger under his own.

A miracle.

“I’m looking at you.”

#din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #din djarin x you #din djarin #pedro pascal x reader #pedro pascal #din djarin fluff #the mandalorian fanfiction #din djarin fic #this man needs to be PRAISED he needs to be LOVED and CHERISHED !!!!!#imagine having pedro pascal's face and still being insecure 😔 /j

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neil-gaiman · 8 months

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Hullo, not sure if you’re gonna see this but I got to see the BBC proms today and it was actually incredible to see the Good Omens theme being played (front row!!!!!) - like I knew that I was in love with this story ever since I first encountered it, but never has anything in my life felt so magical as the last couple of months - all thanks to this show. First I got to see the trailer (absolute heart palpitations it was like being yanked out of reality into a fantasy world making life worth living again), then all the promotional material and the early screening I got to go to, the official release I got to watch with one of my closest friends, the feeling at the end of the season where “IT’S REALLY HAPPENING”, the fandom coming together afterward and creating so much beautiful art and fan-content that was just so much fun to participate in, and now this concert which has 1) the Good Omens theme and 2) In The Hall Of The Mountain King (one of my absolute favourites among others)? You, sir, have created an ecosystem of something beautiful - thank you so much. This is all incredible and tonight was awesome.

Did you get to see the concert? It was so so incredible and so worth watching

I didn't see it!

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doobean · 5 months

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AN EASY A - NAGI SEISHIRO

synopsis: There's a problem student in your class and he just can't seem to understand that he needs to put in the effort. You've already given him three chances to make up his assignments - all of which he ignored. But what happens when he suggests another alternative during office hours?

contents: explicit content, afab!fem!reader, age gap (he's 22 and reader is 27), student-teacher (duh), reader kind of a tough professor lol, also a bully too ig, sex in teacher's office, masturbation (reader), power imbalance, nonconsensual video recording, vaginal sex, unprotected, creampie, breast/nipple play, dom?reader, switch!nagi, cunninglingus, cumming on face and inside, degradation, name calling (brat x 2, good boy x 1), nagi having a big dick, happy ending :) word count: 3.7K a/n: part 3 of my kinktober event :3 SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG LIFE TOOK OVER BUT I HOPE THIS MAKES UP FOR THE LOST TIME ;; I WILL MAKE THE LAST KINKTOBER FIC EXTRA SPICY TOO DONT WORRY FAM - also im super proud of myself for literally scraping the draft and rewrote this within a span of two days?? like wow the pressure is on.

There are some habits that never seem to change — even with age. You’ve seen it all, experienced it too, from emailing your teachers last minute about having to make up an exam worth over half of your course grade to faking a family death in order to get an extension, or — and this is more for students who are a bit too ‘brave’ — blaming the teachers for their inability to do their jobs. You knew what you would be getting into when you went into this job, from having to do the last minute panic pleas to now being on the receiving end of it. And you now actually feel sorry for having to bombard your past professors like that.

You release a deep breath from your nose and flick the red gel pen across a student’s exam, circling the large failing number by their name. “I’ll see you next year.” You try to sound less harsh, more on the sympathetic side, since you’re relatively still within the same age group as some of these students, but who wants to hear that? That they have to repeat a course and be stuck a graduation year behind? Absolutely no one.

You want to look away as you hand the student back his exam scores because you just know it’s going to end with tears and meaningless pleas but that would be unprofessional on your end. Instead, you give the student a small smile and a couple of pieces of candy from the glass bowl next to you.

“Sorry if it’s not much but it’s better than nothing?” God, you need to work on your pep talk. These students are basically adults, not elementary school kids.

“A-Are you sure I can’t do anything else to boost my grade?” The student starts to whimper and you have to tense your whole body from cringing at their quivering voice.

Ugh, it’s useless. Why bother begging if they haven’t bothered to study the material?

Still, you manage to whip up an emphatic frown and shake your head, voice sounding more motherly. “I’m sure it’ll be easier for you to understand next time.”

Another whine and then a final huff before the student storms out of your office. By the time the door shuts and their wails are out of ear shot, you slump back into your chair and groan loudly into your palms. Your body aches from being at your desk all day long — your mind is doing no better, having to deal with students’ cries and unwarranted trauma dumping. Seriously, when are they going to pay teachers more to deal with this type of stuff?

On the bright side of things, your office hours are officially over. Final grades will be up by tonight and you’ve completed most of your tasks with all but one student being a constant no show for the eternity of the semester but that responsibility doesn’t fall onto you. He and the handful of others can just show up again next year.

You spend some time debating your options, eating a nice, warm bowl of noodles sounds good for now but… you did spend nearly eight hours cooped up in your office and you are feeling a bit high energy right now, so stress relieving might be a good answer first.

“Now, where did I put that thing?” You reach down your desk, pulling up your purse and rummage through it looking for a very specific purple ‘massager’.

It’s super rare for you to ‘release’ stress while on campus grounds, this might be one of the few times, with others following the same patterns, but you feel the utter need to reward yourself after today’s events. It’ll only take you maybe ten minutes max, afterwards it’s dinner and then a quiet train ride home. Plus, not like you have a partner who can do this for you — you barely have time to take care of yourself, let alone be in a relationship or commit yourself to a random hook up. Sometimes, it’s just better to handle the situation yourself since it is your body.

A breathy sigh leaves your lips as you place the vibrating head against the soft cotton fabric of your panties, already soaked through by just the thought of de-stressing yourself. You throw your head back, with one hand steady with the magic wand and the other traveling up to your blouse, unbuttoning the top and allowing your black bra to be exposed in the room. As you increase the pressure from the vibrations, your free hand spills your breasts from its cups, your thumbs and digits immediately running over the sensitive nubs and plush flesh of your chest as you start to chase your high.

“M-Mhm—! Right there…” You roll your head to the side and shut your eyes, imagination fleeting to the thoughts of a male seated in between your legs, his tongue desperate and latching to your overwhelmed clit and folds while your thighs keep his shoulders in place.

You think it’s so unfair that your other friends have already settled down with partners of their own. When holidays come around the corner, when you finally catch a break from all the whining and fake wolf cries, you just have to hear your friends gush about how romantic their partners are to them. You secretly hate winter because of it. All those talks about Christmas gifts, their New Year’s couples resolutions, their stupid fancy ski trips that cost close to thousands of dollars, and then top it off for Valentine’s Day. Summer is more bearable, only because of the lack of romantic holidays, but you still get bitter from seeing their beach photos and international trips.

You change the position of your magic wand, facing it closer and pressing it harder down your clit, nearly drawing blood from your lips as you suppress back a frantic moan — a moan that’s a mix of both pleasure and frustration.

Fuck the students. Fuck your friends. And fuck this job.

“H-Haah—! Oh my god…” Your hips buckle feverishly, body quaking in your seat as you start to feel a familiar coil tightening in your stomach and a rush down below. A build up of tears start pooling at the corners of your eyes as your vision starts to grow hazy. Your heart heaves forward, about to burst out of your chest, the imaginary man just about to finish you off—

Creak.

Your eyes immediately pop open and the color drains from your face at the squealing sound from the door. You don’t have enough time to cover yourself up when you realize that a student is standing by the entrance, wearing an equally shocked expression on his face. A tousle of white shaggy hair, large gray eyes, appearing at a staggering height with—your gaze trail to his hands and nearly faint from the sight—his phone.

The sound of the door creaking again snaps you out of the phase and your arms fly over your chest, the words stuck in your throat and your vibrator falling to the floor.

Shit, what should you ask first? Has he been recording you this whole time? When did he even show up? You’re positive that you were the only one left in the academic building, so what is going on?

“Um,” The male has the audacity to walk in the room, his gaze fixated on everything but you. “Are office hours still open?”

What. The. Fuck.

You blink once, twice, and, when the student is still standing there, confirming your thoughts that he isn’t an awful mirage sent down by the Lord himself, you feel yourself internally shrinking.

“I-Is that the first thing you want to ask me?” You stifle back a laugh, or at least you think it’s a laugh. Maybe even a few waterworks for later. “Just who are you?”

But then it hits you. The black and blue duffle bag he has by his side had his name engraved on it. You don’t need to take a closer to recognize the national team’s logo and you certainly don’t need a Google search to realize that Nagi fucking Seishiro, a soccer prodigy and your apparent student for the semester, might’ve just recorded you masturbating in your office.

You manage to find an old jacket from one of the drawers at your desk and throw it on before pointing a harsh finger at the man. “Delete it, now.”

“Will I get an A?” Nagi is surprisingly blunt and, now looking back, this might honestly be the first time you’ve ever talked to him out of the whole semester. He seems to catch your perplexed look, shooting you a pair of creased brows back as he explains, “All of my other courses were remote because of training and football games… You were the only professor that denied it.”

You huff, seemingly annoyed that he thinks he can be an exception to your course rules. “I don’t hand out favoritism to just anyone and,” You glare at the phone in his hand, sneering right back at his uncaring facial expression. “I’m definitely not going to pass you if you’re threatening to black mail me.”

“Maybe we can help each other out?” Nagi offers, maybe a bit too fast and too eager.

You cautiously sink back in your seat, eyes narrowing at his suggestion. “What are you implying, Nagi?” The male shuffles awkwardly in place and your gaze flicks down, eyes widening for the nth time today and an audible gasp slips out. “You can’t be serious.”

“I need to pass and you—” Nagi clears his throat and motions to your slick covered vibrator, which is still very much on and buzzing away on the wooden floor boards near his feet. “You didn’t finish.” He rakes his fingers through his hair and adjusts the semi-hard length through his sweats with his other before finishing his offer. “I’ll delete the video, help you, and you’ll give me an A?” Nagi lamely suggests.

You want to scream, dig yourself a ditch large enough to fit you and the rest of however much pride you had left, and wither away. You’ve had students coming to you with plenty of other excuses, much more tamed than whatever situation you’ve found yourself in. And, regardless how much shitty this actually is, it doesn’t get rid of the fact that: one — you’re still sexually frustrated from having your orgasm ruined by this oversized, lazy fucker, two — you literally just got this job a year ago and getting fired for masturbating on campus might not look so great on your record, and three — if Nagi is true to his words, maybe you both can just forget about it the next day.

“You don’t get the control, I do.” You rise from your seat, allowing the jacket to fall from your frame. Your gaze hardens on the male subject in front of you as you bend down to reach for your toy, turning it off and putting it away in a nearby drawer that’s most likely filled with other student’s graded assignments.

Whatever, they’ll probably cry more fluids on it when they get their results back anyway.

Nagi tenses when you reach over to touch his arms, feeling up his toned biceps and rest of his upper body underneath the black hoodie, and he doesn’t dare to move unless you tell him to. You let out a scoff, feeling satisfied that he’s already willing to compromise so quickly under short notice. With a light tug on his sleeve, you drag him closer to your desk and settle yourself on top of it. You hike up your pencil skirt to your upper thighs and spread your legs wide enough for the width of his shoulders.

“On your knees, brat.”

He silently obliges, bending down on one knee and his hands find home on your inner thighs. You resist the urge to squirm under his touch, still feeling rather sensitive from your earlier chase and not wanting to give him any ounce of satisfaction. Without any audible exchanges, he allows you to direct his head closer to the heat of your sex, the combination of your increasing wetness and the hot puffs from his breath makes your stomach twist in anticipation.

With a quick swipe, his fingers brush aside your panties to the crease of your thighs and lean in, giving a few experimental licks to your slicked cover folds before burying the rest of his face in. Your reaction is instant. Your fingers claw their way deep into his shoulder blades, thighs threatening to squeeze the living life out of him, but Nagi’s grip is even more threatening. He stays rigid, palms glued to your thighs and keeping them in place as his tongue flicks against the stiff nub — drawing lazy circles.

Your mouth betrays your character as he suddenly decides to insert two digits, scissoring their way into your velvety walls. Nagi grunts in response at just how lewd you sound right now.

“Soaking wet…” He observes with careful eyes at your sex before looking up, a playful smirk flashes across his face when he notices the flush in your cheeks. With another twirl from his fingers, combined with the slow swirls from his tongue, your head rolls back as the torrent seems to be relentless.

With the next extra pumps, you cum hard with a shudder, vicing your thighs against his head. You can feel the leak of fluids slide out of your folds, and Nagi pushes his face inward, making sure he slid his tongue against that sweet spot of yours again. It blinds you with a final surge of pleasure, and you cry out as your orgasm shakes you to the core, nails biting into his shoulders.

You’ve never experienced an orgasm that intense before, even with the usage of your vibrator — hell, you can’t even remember when’s the last time a man has made you reach that high. Bright colors cloud your vision as you tumble through what seems like an endless bliss. Your body goes slack, back now flushed against the office desk, but Nagi’s body is still tense, his muscles twitching as he gets to his feet and lifts your legs off his shoulders.

“Hey,” Nagi slurs, wiping away your slick with the back of his hand. “We’re not done here.”

“W-What are you talking about—ah!”

Your vision is just beginning to clear up when you find yourself trapped between Nagi’s arms. He’s hovering above you, a certain dark look casts over his gray hues as he bores into your own. You swallow hard, heart beating faster when you look down to see his sweats already laid around his thighs and his cock springs free, head spilling with heavy amounts of pre. Nagi’s length twitches at the sounds of your moans and the male takes that as a sign of approval.

“What?” He leans forward, his bangs brushing against your forehead. “You’ve never seen a penis before?”

“Don’t get smart with me, brat.” You spit back, immediately tearing your gaze away from his rather impressive size. Might be the biggest you’ve ever seen in person outside from those awful porn videos online.

If you can find the energy to, you might’ve laughed at his lame attempt to have the upper hand, but Nagi doesn’t waste his time. He closes the distance, smashing his lips against yours, tongue already dragging its way down your throat. You choke back but recover quickly, hands flying to his locks, grabbing fistfuls, and rocking your hips against his hardened appendage. A sinful groan slips from his lips and lifts one of your thighs up, your ankle resting on his shoulder while he wraps the other around his waist.

You part your lips when he breaks away from the kiss, a thin trail of saliva connecting you two, and a whine spills from you as Nagi begins sliding his cock in between your folds. He sucks in his teeth, breath hitching sharply at the sight.

“Wanna put it in so bad—” He shudders seeing your slick engulfing his length. “Can I—Can I please put it in?” His monotone voice now replaced with a shaky resolve, almost as if he’s seeking for your next stage of approval and pleasure.

You reach up and cup his cheeks in your hands, eyes softening at his glassy ones. “Promise to delete that video and you might get a chance, Nagi.”

“Sei,” The male breathes out.

You tilt your head. “Huh?”

Nagi leans into your touch, nuzzling his cheeks into your palms. “Want you to call me Sei… Can you do that?”

“Sei…” You whisper out, suppressing back a laugh when you see the towering male tensing at the sound of his name. The twitching from his cock brushes against your clit making you squirm. “Sei, make me cum around that cock of yours.”

A cry escapes from the both of you when he slides in, inching bit by bit and holding your waist with both hands as leverage. You can’t do anything but throw your head back, sounds leaving your hoarse throat at the sheer size from him. Your hands can only reach his thighs, nails leaving their crescent marks on his skin as Nagi bottoms out inside of you with a long, agonizing stroke. Nagi takes his time, building a slow but steady rhythm, staring down at you with intense gray eyes and making sure the thickness of his cock stretches your walls as he continues. You suddenly feel grateful that you came earlier, the extra slick and foreplay made the insertion easier because you’re certain without it there’s no guarantee that you would’ve been able to handle this mind numbing fucking.

After a few more experimental strokes, Nagi finds a comfortable pace. You’re now starting to get used to him and it feels so, so good that you’re finding everything in your power to spread your legs as far open as they would go. Sensing your struggle, Nagi lifts one hand to push your thigh back even further, and you let out a yelp, whining when you feel him brushing against that sweet spot inside of you again.

A warm rushing sensation starts building in your stomach again and you feel as if you’re about to jump off a cliff. Your walls clamp down around his cock, wails starting to bounce off the walls and legs shaking without any means of control. You’re absolutely floored by the way Nagi’s able to make your body react this much under his touch. It’s only your first time having sex, yet it feels like he’d been making love with you for a lifetime.

Your eyes fly shut as the feeling of his callous thumbs make their way onto your swollen clit, rubbing and tapping away. Flames are riding your nerves, you can’t hold back any sort of resistance in your voice as he picks up the pace, hips slamming into yours and sounds of sex filling the air. Nagi moves swiftly and punishingly, holding your hips still and not allowing you any room to move around as his cock tears against that spot that had tears finally spilling down your flushed face.

“Sei,” You choke out a sob, throwing a hand over your mouth to try and suppress some of the noise. Though, you and him both know it’s a futile effort.

The build up of pleasure is so binding that you’re beginning to lose sense of time and place, feeling only the desperate and feral thrusts from your student. Your second orgasm fades slowly, leaving you in a pool of ecstasy, but that doesn’t stop Nagi.

Still hard and pumping, his grip on your hips only tighten and he grunts out a lustful moan. “Feels good, right? Cumming all over me?”

You look up to him, tears of pleasure disorienting your vision, and in a state where you’re too incoherent to speak — pleading only with your doe eyes.

Nagi understood immediately. He slows down his pace, leaning forward, making sure the head of his cock kisses the inside of your cervix before bending down to place one on your own gaping lips.

“Such a good boy, aren’t you?” You manage out.

He groans at the pet name and peppers your face and neck with wet kisses, lifting your leg with one hand so that he can slowly stroke back and forth inside.

One of your hands reaches for your chest, fondling and toying with your nipples while your other hand reaches for the back of his head, gripping his white locks and pulling him down for another feverish kiss. Your lips remain sealed and pressed together in a battle of tongues as he rocks inside of you, sending you yet another orgasm as he moans into your mouth.

“H-Haah—I’m close…” His hips buck wildly. “Gonna cum inside of this pretty pussy…”

Nagi finally comes undone inside of you, his whole body shuddering as coats of white paint the insides of your velvety walls. A heavy pant from him catches your ears as he pulls out slowly, eyes admiring the hot, white trail that travels down your thighs and onto your desk.

By now, you can barely keep your eyes open, both mind and body exhausted. You try to get up, only to find zero strength left in your limbs, but soon you feel a pair of toned biceps around your waist and Nagi pulls you into his firm, yet comforting chest.

You want to ask him something again, something regarding that video he took of you earlier, but you’re beginning to lose your train of thought as exhaustion creeps up. Your entire body aches and your pussy is still emptying his remaining orgasm. But, strangely enough, you find yourself not caring about it anymore.

A smile makes its way onto your features as you drift off to sleep, making you miss the fact that Nagi did delete the video shortly after and scribble a quick note next to your purse. It’ll be another hour before you have the chance to read it.

‘Don’t forget that A. XXX-XXX-0506 - Sei.’

KINKTOBER TAGLIST (PART III)

@milkistoshi @mareonyan @saenora @blissblossom @wowonamo

#doobean:kinktober23 #cw: power imbalance #cw: video recording #cw: age gap #bllk #blue lock #bllk smut #bllk x reader #nagi x reader #blue lock x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi seishiro smut #nagi seishiro x reader #blue lock x female reader #bllk x female reader #doobean writes

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