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[keiffeine]

NAVIGATION !!

kayla aka keiffeine | 21 | she/her | multi | sometimes nsfw

⤷ request status: closed!

⤷ currently writing: challengers & vld!

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[i-smoke-chapstick]

'CRY FOR ME,

-BENJAMIN POINDEXTER X READER-

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 ; This whole fic was inspired by this post by @masterfishbaiter71 ! Anyways, this entire fic is just about edging Dex til he has a meltdown and goes fucking crazy on you ;)

⋆ tags/warnings. benjamin poindexter x female reader. SMUT!!!! PURE PORN. Guys please don't edge Dex, for your own safety, warnings for sadism, mentions of dacryphilia for both dex and reader, dex taking his anger out on reader, kind of switchy vibes (starts off with somewhat subby Dex and ends with reader getting destroyed lmao), m!receiving oral smex, BLOWJOB BLOWJOB BLOWJOB, facefucking, sadomasochism, you're his north star, per usual that white boy loses his self control, emotional Dex, swearing. I saw this post and flatlined pretty much. I love my little dexy-poo. Again, tysm to everyones support on my fics! Im so excited for tommorrows episode!

♫ “Baby, I could slow down, if that's what you need me to do. / We can go another round, maybe to a new altitude. / I'll make you need it, and you want it.” Altitude by Montell Fish

"I'm...I'm trying-" He growls out a plea.

The words fall from his lips in short spasms and bursts. He's struggling to get them out, his jaw clenched like it might break. You see him white-knuckling the sheets, twitching like he wants to reach out and grab onto you. Onto any part of you he can get his hands on.

Your tongue flicks over his tip once, twice. Precum pools in a small bead at the top which you kitten lick off intently. You hear Dex moan- and it's a strangled, ragged sound.

"Trying to...what, Dex?" You tease. Laughing against his throbbing cock. He can't respond when you begin to just kiss the length of him, wet and hot. You feel his whole body jerk and a low groan tear out from him.

The only sound in the room is the slow, wet obscene noises coming from how you're working him. And the sound of Dex's heavy choked breathing.

He's close. So close. It's times like these you get to see his brain completely shut off, all the noise that plagues him turn into a pliant, quiet mush at the feeling of your mouth on him.

"I-I'm going to-"

Cum. He's going to cum. You know that, smirking around the head of his flushed red cock. Poor guy can't even finish his sentence. You almost feel sorry for him the moment you pull back.

The loss of your tongue is jarring. It's the third time tonight. You've been teasing him, watching his control falter with every lick and kiss. You've also been careful not to take him fully down your throat, cataloging every reaction he gives you. The sight of his pretty face contorted with a desperate, needy pleasure.

You chuckle when his abdominal muscles flex, his whole body tense. The absence of your mouth feeling like a bucket of ice water has been dumped on him. A sharp gasp is ripped from his throat, hips bucking in shallow thrusts to chase the loss.

His whole body taught with the effort not to snap.

You finally look up from your place between his thighs, if only to catch a glimpse of his face. You note his hollow cheek-bones twisted into a grimace at the loss. The beads of sweat trickling down his forehead and abs. The way his veins prominently stick out and throb from under his skin and forearms. The way his chest heaves at the lack of contact.

And yet, what finally gives you pause is when you meet his eyes.

His eyes. Those gorgeous, dark eyes of his- heavy lidded and red rimmed. Overstimulated and wrecked, like he's been crying, or at least is on the verge. Glossy and wet as he desperately attempts to blink them away.

For a moment, you think he really just is that needy. Crying for his North Star's mouth on him, eyes dimmed with nothing but complete worship. But when his eyes meet your own, biting the inside of his cheeks, it's when you finally notice the truth.

The way his brows are lowered. The way his body trembles. The way his cheeks are flushed. The way his cock pulses impatiently under your hand. His locked jaw.

That look of pathetic desperation in his eyes is nothing short of a hot, wild, frenzied anger.

He's not just needy. He's fucking furious.

Your train of thought is cut off entirely when you feel a hand come up, tangling in your hair, and pushing you down in one hard, smooth motion. You feel the head of his cock immediately hit your esophagus.

As if on instinct, you gag around him, throat tightening as he groans loudly. He pants as he pushes you all the way down, manhandling your mouth onto his cock like a fleshlight. He holds you there for what feels like forever, those glossy eyes of his drinking in the sight of you gagging on him.

"Breathe...Breathe through your fucking nose." Is all he orders, trying to catch his own breath while you sputter around him. The words come out harsh. The change of pace is jolting. His eyes are still wet with need, the hard lines of his body still rigid underneath. You feel his hands tighten in your hair to a pressure than borders on painful.

He's seething. That anger boiling over and melting into a mean look on his face he was trying so, so hard to repress for you. But you just couldn't let him, huh? Had to make him the bad guy.

He observes as your mascara quickly begins to run, your own eyes welling. Something about it makes him shudder. Only when he sees tears of your own does he begin to move. You two can cry together.

"Good. That's...That's good. That's it." He loosens his grip on you ever so slightly to pet your hair, take you in like the goddess you must be, his saving grace. His body begins to relax, coming down from his anger as his breathing calms down...right before he rams his cock sharply down your throat.

You let out a loud gag and whimper around his cock, and he inhales sharply in unison.

"All quiet now, huh." He grits out, shoving you down further as you choke. The force of his words are coupled with the sharp thrusts of his hips fucking up into your throat. When you whine, he decides to push you harder. "Look at me. Look at me."

His words sound like both a livid command and a desperate plea.

You struggle to open your eyes, but when you do, you're still met with bloodshot and glistening gaze that now completely matches your own.

He holds you there, both of you shakily breathing, tears pooling while you cry around his dick.

He briefly wonders if you knew. If you knew you were killing him like this. If you knew how hard he was trying not to grab your head and fuck your throat raw. Be...gentle.

Guess it doesn't matter now.

Dex’s grip tightens in your hair, fingers flexing like he’s still fighting himself even as he starts fucking your throat in short, brutal strokes. His voice is low, rough, and broken.

“Couldn’t…just...wait anymore.” The words come out both furious and strangled. Like he's desperatley trying to apologize, to tell you why, but they lack any and all remorse the more he bullies your throat.

Each thrust is measured but punishing, his cock sliding deep, stretching your throat until fresh tears spill down your cheeks. His eyes stay locked on yours the whole time- glossy, furious, and starving.

His thumb gently wipes a tear from your cheek even as he keeps ruthlessly using your mouth, the contrast between the soft touch and the vicious snap of his hips making your head spin.

He's close. Again. For the fourth time tonight. And something tells you this one won't end in broken pleas or shallow thrusts up into nothing.

He’s panting hard, hips snapping up faster, losing the last threads of control.

“Swallow it. All of it. Right now.”

His voice cracks on the last word. And with a final groan, he shoves himself as deep as he can go and holds you there, pulsing hard as he spills straight down your throat in thick, endless spurts. He stays buried, breathing ragged, thumb stroking your tear-streaked cheek almost tenderly while his cock twitches against your tongue.

He leans down to rest his forehead against yours, pulling you back up with a gentleness that contrasts his earlier actions. His touch is hot, the sweat of his body sticking to your own. Your throat will be sore tomorrow.

The two of you stay like that for quite some time, losing count of the hours. You might just end up kissing each others tears away.

[keiffeine]

happy birthday!!

omg, ty suni!!!!!!!!!

[ava-deb]

JOSH O'CONNOR as PATRICK ZWEIG in CHALLENGERS (2024) dir. Luca Guadagnino

[i-smoke-chapstick]

Submissive, but in the way a guard dog is submissive. If you could sum up your relationship with Dex, that might as well be it.

It's not that he means to come off like a muzzled pitbull while the two of you shop together. Or that he means to scare the poor teenage cashier when he miscounts some of your change.

When you ask him about the terrified cashier, he feigns ignorance, "Sometimes people just get scared...Look at the city we live in." He doesn't verbalize the last part, but it's clear. And if anyone did anything to scare you, he'd put a bullet through the middle of their skull. Even if it was him. Especially if it was him.

All it takes is a naive grin from you to reel him back in. As soon as you're back home, and there's no dishes in the sink, and no mess to clean up. He's only settled when a controlled environment is established, with you at its center.

He'll tentatively relax in your arms with a hesitant raise of his hands to cradle you back. Breathe you in. He always closes his eyes when he has you like this. All to himself. Where no one can hurt either of you. The way it should be. You quiet the noise until all he can hear is the soft sound of your heartbeat.

But the noise you quiet in his mind is never fully silenced. Not when he knows someone out there could take you from him. Not when there's someone out there that could hurt you. Scare you. Even just...annoy you. Strip his peace away with you.

He fantasizes about what he would do to that poor, excuse of a person. How he could take that annoying cashier that inconvenienced you out back and watch his blood paint the brick wall.

He finally reopens his eyes with a small, twitchy smile on his lips. He might as well keep watch. You can rest, he's got this. It's his job.

You'll start to realize...lately, every time you sit down with Dex at a diner, mindlessly reciting menu options, he's staring at the waiter just a little too hard. And counting the number of knives on the table. Just incase.

[vigilantekisser]

punch and click

pairing: matt murdock x secretary!reader

summary: it’s ridiculous, because matt murdock is just kind. that’s who he is — kind to everyone, sweet to the elderly clients and charming to the young ones. beloved by the whole neighborhood. this smile isn’t special. you’re not special. (wc: 1.5k)

tags: f!reader, mutual pining, i keep writing flangst when i want to write smut... sigh. SUPER UNEDITED, if this has some similarities to my earlier secretary!reader blurbs that’s bc they’re branched off one mega draft… hehh ^_^;

part one of us at the end of the year

You’ve got it bad.

You sniff inwards, nose starting to drip on account of the weather. The bottom of the paper cups sting and dig into your fingers. This is a timed event, a regular one by all accounts. These coffee runs see you return to Matt’s office precisely when his cup sits empty, the faint ring of dried espresso at the bottom the only evidence of his last drink. 

He’s never in peril of having to go without. Your eight months as secretary to Nelson, Murdock and Page have seen to that. Like second nature, you’ve memorized the rhythm of his days. You can have his files ready before he asks, organized exactly how he prefers: contracts first, discovery second, correspondence last. And if you’re lucky enough, his lack of vision will be enough to veil it, protect your affections for him a little longer, under the guise of simply doing your job well. All of it banked on your hope that he’s not that perceptive.

So, a losing battle.

To say you’re pushing it would be an understatement.

How else to explain the stupid, painstaking braille notes you started leaving three months ago? The first one itself cost you fifty-five minutes and a headache (not to mention one stolen slate-and-stylus set, courtesy of the rarely-opened file cabinet), fingers aching from all that gripping and punching just for five words— 

Made completely worth it by the smile that had broken across his face once his fingers had finally brushed over those dots.

It’s routine now: arriving early, with coffee from the good cart or brewed yourself, and while it cools to drinking temperature on his desk (never too hot, he burns his tongue), you hunch over, punching away at whatever silly thought, whatever sweet contemplation that’s crossed your mind that morning. 

Coffee machine plotting against us / Can feel it

Foggy ate all good donuts tragedy strikes NMP

Happy Friday. All done!

You’re working on today’s (Printer can smell fear / demands human sacrifice. Hire intern?) when the door opens and Matt enters, shaking snow from his dark hair. He’s early. December in New York has been merciless, of the particular wet slush kind rather than the cold, postcard-picture type you’d dreamed about as a kid, but Matt at least navigates for himself well enough to still be charming.

“Morning,” you call out, all casual-like as if your heart hadn’t just kicked into double-time.

“Morning. That fresh coffee I smell?”

“Yeah, just how you like it,” you say, quickly finishing up, and stand to smooth your shirt out, cross his office with the gathered files. To watch him hang his coat and fold his cane gives you the impression of a hot spike sinking between your brows; it’s not hard for you to superimpose apartment walls and picture frames onto the sight, imagine it domestic. 

Oh, you’re so gone.

Matt luckily doesn’t notice. He inhales and groans appreciatively, much to the prickled pleasure at the back of your neck. “You’re an angel.”

“Hardly!” You set the folder down on his desk, punched-out index card included. “Um, okay, you have a meeting with a Mr. Meyer from BMP at ten, then the people from the Lust—sorry, Lutz—case are coming here to see you at two… They should have those files you requested. And Foggy wanted to go over the plan for the Gillespie deposition before noon… I left some out, but you can check the rest in the file I sent you.” All of it comes in a rush and you’re straight short for air, but still, with affected nonchalance: “Oh, and your note.” 

“...My note.” With the way his fingers search the desk and find it immediately, you’d think nothing you said meant anything to him but just that. You chew on your cheek, bouncing on your toes slightly, watching as he reads. His expression softens and a huff of laughter escapes him, the smile tugging at his mouth.

“What? The printer?”

“Yup. Keeps jamming.” 

“I didn’t know you had such cutthroat tendencies in you.” 

“Consider it, Matt. Lots of kids out of work there looking for something to do.”

You’re backing toward the door before you can do something stupid, like stay too long. He’s still smiling, and it’s so bright and beautiful it makes you feel stripped bare.

It’s ridiculous, because Matt Murdock is just kind. That’s who he is — kind to everyone, sweet to the elderly clients and charming to the young ones. Beloved by the whole neighborhood. This smile isn’t special. You’re not special. 

“Okay, then. Let me know if you need anything else,” you squeak, already fleeing. 

“Wait—”

You don’t trust yourself enough to turn around.

“Thanks for the note, it’s sweet.”

Fuck fuck fuck fuckity fuck.

Heart pounding in your chest, you feel like you’re going to pass out. You should say something witty. Something light, biting. Instead, you mumble, “Okay, s’nothing,” and escape to your desk, thankful he isn’t aware of the flush creeping up your neck. 

You pass Karen’s office on your way out, and she glances up with an eyebrow raised. She’s caught you staring at Matt’s office door more than once, but to her credit, she’s never said anything.

“You okay?” she asks.

“Yup! Fine!” You collapse into your chair, pulling up the planner on your screen. “Just fine.”

A printer demanding human sacrifice.

Matt can’t help smiling like an idiot far after you’ve scampered back off to your desk. He knows he shouldn’t encourage it—he knows it’s wrong or at the very least, doomed. You’ve been leaving these notes for months now; he should tell you that you don’t have to. 

Exploiting his listening ability isn’t something he’s proud of but he does it all the same. Your heartbeat kicks up whenever he’s near. Call it selfish, self-centered, but Matt knows what that means. There’s a sweetness to your scent when you’re near him, warm and coaxing, and it makes him want to gather you up and just—

And just nothing. He can’t. He won’t.

Ruining good things is what he’s best at. Sweet things, of which you’re the epitome— genuine kindness. 

It’s not that he’s a nihilist; in fact, he’s been more optimistic as of late. But even if it were all in good fun, all light and casual—he can’t consider the point of starting anything at all. Maybe if he were younger, he supposes, a little less scuffed and clipped by life, he would’ve risked it for a chance at something like this. But you deserve better than a life of constant lies and waiting up at night wondering if he’ll come home at all. 

Still, it’s utterly endearing to him, hearing every muttered curse and frustrated sigh from you first thing in the morning as you work on the notes. You spend your lunches sometimes at your desk, just practicing, and he’s heard you prick your fingers more than once—the whispered ow, dammit—as punctuation to countless mistakes.

To tell you to stop would mean not getting these notes anymore. These little windows into your thoughts he’s intoxicated with.

So, there’s nothing else to do but be kind to you in return without crossing that line. There are no dinner reservations, no lingering touches nor confessions. He can’t covet that much. Only this: kindness, sweetness, a mirror to your own thoughtfulness, perhaps more than he should. That’s all he can do.

The coffee is perfect again, he isn’t surprised by that. Tracing the note one more time, Matt sighs and pulls open the drawer. 

The card finds its place with all the others.

One way or another though, illusion must give way to reality.

It’s a Thursday. Business as usual. You’re at your desk, slate and stylus in hand, and there’s nothing clever to write. Not even anything particularly funny or interesting. The well has dried up, and your senses instead dedicate themselves to eavesdropping: the conversation is drifting from the break room, where Matt’s getting water.

“You should ask her out,” Foggy is saying. “She was into you, buddy.”

“Ah, I don’t know.”

“Come on!” You hear a thump, and recognize it for the good old-fashioned Foggy Nelson empathic gesticulating. “A, she gave you her number. B, she’s gorgeous, and B point five, she’s a lawyer, so you’d actually have stuff in common.”

A pause, then Matt laughs, soft and a little self-deprecating. “Sure. Maybe.”

“Maybe meaning you’ll actually call her or maybe meaning you’ll lose the number and pretend you never got it?”

“Meaning I’ll think about it.”

You stare down at the slate, at the empty index card holding nothing of note. 

Of course.

There’s a gorgeous lawyer from a bar. Probably sophisticated, brilliant, someone who drinks wine without getting her mouth stained and talks legal jargon and doesn’t need to Google half the terms that cross her desk. Someone who fits into Matt’s world.

It’s not like you were thinking you had a chance. A girl who leaves silly notes and can barely manage basic braille.

You set down the stylus. Even many minutes later, the note sits unfinished on your desk, and you stare at it for a long moment before crumpling it up and tossing it in the trash.

[keiffeine]

update: my art donaldson mii fell in love with my mii even though i wanted him to fall in love with patrick but OH WELL 😻

[keiffeine]

my shaylas

[keiffeine]

hiii i read ur keith fics and i love them smm

i wanted to ask if u could do a headcannon or fic of keithxreader like domestic life. like stuff of him and y/n being parents and all that!

thank you smm!

author’s note: ty for the req! i put down a couple hcs for you, it was so fun to write!

• after the war had ended and you and keith had settled down, domestic life was such a pleasant change of pace. you were both used to moving fast; being in space and fighting the galra for years always needed you quick on your feet. but now, you were able to…take it slow. no more wars to keep you attentive at all times, just an easy, slow-paced life.

• you had your own little place together. it was finally a home that felt like home, especially for keith. considering he had lived in a shack on his own for years; when his father passed, the shack didn’t quite feel like a home for him anymore. not the way that it had been before—it had grown to feel empty and unlivable. with you, however, he had that comfort again.

• it grew once you became parents. for a long while, keith never considered himself to be a good father. hell, he was almost certain he didn’t want children. you had changed that when you came into his life, and he absolutely adored the little family you’ve created. your child was a complete mini version of the two of you.

• admittedly, he was nervous as hell during the first few stages of it. during the first week, he would always refuse whenever you asked him to carry the baby, purely out of fear of something somehow going wrong—like dropping them. (keith got over that with your help.)

• i would also like to imagine that krolia would occasionally visit, and would check to see if the baby’s galra side would become apparent any time soon 😭.

• he loved watching you with the baby. the way your voice would go soft and how you’d respond to their babbles, or when the nights would eventually go quiet and he’d find you in the bedroom silently rocking the baby to sleep. it always filled his chest with warmth, the way you were so careful and overall just the way you loved.

• life had gotten to a point where you could always just be together in silence; it was never uncomfortable. no words could be exchanged but it was just simply existing together that made it feel so content.

• you also enjoyed doing the most simplest of things together. grocery shopping, folding the laundry, washing the dishes—tasks that were so mundane yet were somehow so enjoyable when you were doing it with keith.

• keith is awfully clingy as well. people may think that he’s the reserved and closed off type but the truth is far beyond that. in bed, he’s practically half-laying on top of you, face pressed against your neck, and his arms closed around your body. then the next morning, you’d have to spend a good minute detangling yourself from him. </3

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[keiffeine]

AND change this theme but im very indecisive

[keiffeine]

lowkey need to make more moots

[keiffeine]

hi!! I read some of your fics, and they make me so giddy hueehehehhe. Could you maybe write a love triangle between keith, lance, and reader? yk, stuff like jealousy, tension, and fighting over reader? Thank u!!!😋

author’s note: thanks sm for the request! apologies for taking so long to get to it but i finally locked in for it. i’ll def make a part 2 for this bc the prompt is so fun and i MUST continue this for y’all’s sake too.

if they weren’t rivals before, they were definitely rivals now.

the tension had definitely thickened between lance and keith; it all started when you were somehow brought up into conversation. lance had openly gushed about you in front of keith. he didn’t think of it much—lance was always fawning over new people no matter where he went and keith was certain this (assumingely) small fixation on you would be forgotten over a week. but as time went on and the more lance would talk about how lovely you are or how pretty you look today, keith realized, oh, shit, lance actually likes you? he felt jealousy twist in his chest.

“just so you know—“ keith had paused in front of lance as they were coming out of their lions. it was always post-mission that keith felt some lingering adrenaline, and it was causing him to grow a little more defensive and cocky about the whole situation. “i like y/n, too. so, don’t get too confident,” he said flatly, raising a brow at lance before walking away.

lance scoffed. the audacity of this guy! for half a second, lance was almost convinced that keith was just saying that out of spite, just to stir something that he didn’t mean and testing his confidence, knowing that their relationship was filled with endless teasing. but the tone in his voice, and the unreadable look on the paladin’s face, told lance that keith was just as serious about you.

“hey, how is that fair?!” lance calls, running after keith to catch up with his pace. “i told you i liked them first and now you’re telling me to back off?”

“so, what? because you made it obvious that means you have dibs on y/n?” keith gives lance a look, pausing in his step to turn and fold his arms. “that’s not quite how it works. besides, i thought you were into…” keith gestured vaguely, trying to remember lance’s most recent person of interest. “point is—i want to take that shot with y/n.”

“and i’m just supposed to give up?” the other paladin shoots back, eyebrows furrowed. he hates how matter-of-factly keith talks, like this isn’t something lance can fight when he definitely can. the urge to grab keith’s shoulders was tempting, but lance held back. “i’m serious about y/n.”

“so am i.” keith takes a step forward, his helmet nearly bumping lance’s.

lance straightens up and they both start measuring each other with a narrowed eyes. it’s unclear if they’re about to start fighting, with the way they both clench their fists. they both know better, had matured since the day they saved shiro from the outskirts of the garrison, but there’s an unwavering and almost eerie tension between them now—somehow deeper than before.

the next few days are chaotic and it doesn’t go unnoticed as the others have to (unfortunately) witness the two go at each other’s throats. tripping each other in the hallway, shoving the other out of the way to get to talk to you first, racing one another to the dining table to sit beside you, sparring turning into petty cat fights, or glaring at one another from opposite dies of the room.

“i’ve had enough of this nonsense between these two!” allura exclaims one day, standing outside of your room. you raise a brow as she gestures towards the direction of the lounge room. she’s visibly annoyed and, quite frankly, it’s always terrifying to see the princess be frustrated. (she is not a force to be reckoned with in this kind of state.)

“y/n, please, for our sake, do something about those two boys,” she says, almost pleading.

raising a brow, you make your way over in hopes to resolve the issue—whatever it may be—or at the very least, simmer the weird tension. no one has told you about what has been going on between lance and keith, not even the source of the drama themselves. it’s always a nervous “uh…it’s nothing!” from lance or “everything is fine” from keith, when it’s obviously the contrary.

“what is going on between you two?” you ask the pair when you enter the room. it’s completely empty aside from them, assuming they’ve managed to shoo everyone else away with the way they’re staring at each other, sat on opposite sides of the couch. their arms are crossed, jaw set, up until your voice hits their ears. they turn to you, lighting up immediately.

“and don’t say it’s nothing,” you turn to lance, holding up a finger, “or everything is fine,” you turn to keith, “because you’re making it quite obvious to the whole team that there’s something wrong.”

the two hesitate glancing at each other for a moment before looking back at you. it’s a question of do we tell them? but also: do we really want to give ourselves away like this?

lance, heart practically hammering against his chest, opens his mouth first. “y/n, we—”

“lance, don’t—” keith says at the same time.

“—both…like you?” lance finishes, like it was a question. he cheeks turn into a subtle shade of red and he immediately avoids your eyes, unsure if he was thankful or dreading the fact that the truth was out.

keith’s the same, pink in the cheeks, brooding demeanor gone and replaced by a flustered one. the air in the room turns thick again, and now it’s not just between them now, but you, too.

“it’s true,” keith mutters, turned away. “we were fighting over who’d tell you first.”

your skin turns a little hot. you were expecting something stupid, not two confessions at the same time! looking between the two, you’re searching for any telltale signs that this may be a prank, but it doesn’t seem like it is.

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[keiffeine]

Okay wait.. Ignore what I just send you.. it’s 🍓 anon and I just typed that really fast without pressing req anonymously… 🤔 I might kms

haha it’s okay!!

[keiffeine]

little preview of the keith + lance + reader love triangle req i got 😼 lowkey this might be a long one, oh dear

[keiffeine]

still gagged that my genshin stuff is being liked and reblogged and whatever bc i probably haven’t posted anything genshin-related in 3-4 years 😭😭

[keiffeine]

genuinely started playing genshin again bc of that fine ass man aka varka

[keiffeine]

HIII, how are you, been a fan of your writing and noticed you wrote from keith kogane!(/_;)/~~

i wanted to take a request from you, something with keith with a fem!partner with piercings and tattoos, like with with piercings on her ears and mouth, navel, some dermals on her collarbone, things like that. and her tattoos just mainly on her back and arms(shes a little buff/has a lean figure), but shes like quiet and a little intimidating, but just shy and awkward person.

just hcs like before and after they got together and his first impressions on her!

feel free to ignore this, just stay safe and drink water( ・∀・)ﾉ

keith kogane x fem!reader

genre: fluff, slightly suggestive at parts (nothing crazy)

• keith definitely finds you intimidating at first. not the “you’re so scary” kind of intimidating, but the “you look so cool” intimidating. (and because he felt so attracted to you, he felt like he’d rather keep it hidden than make a fool of himself.)

• the first time keith saw you, he only knew about your facial/ear piercings, along with some tattoos peaking from your arms. it wasn’t until he saw you in a tank top, he not only found out about the hidden piercings on your body, but tattoos on your back, too?!

• you were a quiet, timid person, so he felt even more surprised that you had such bold modifications on your body and piercings in places he didn’t expect. and knowing this, he grew more and more attracted to you. in times he caught you training alone, he’d unknowingly start staring at the way your muscles would flex and your piercings would glint in the light, sweat dripping down your tattoos. oh, it would send shivers down keith’s spine.

• along with your shyness, keith got the impression that you disliked him—you talked to the others just fine, and he felt singled out. any thoughts of trying to engage with you quickly dissipated for a little while until the tension felt horribly awkward, because, little did keith know, that you felt the same way!

• shortly after hashing out the miscommunications, you started dating. since you were so reserved and guarded, keith helped bring your walls down little by little, which brought you to be more comfortable especially in terms of opening up with him.

• he’ll listen very intently as you talk about your tattoos, whether they have meaning or what you like about them.

• he just admires you, all while holding you in his arms and tracing the contour of your muscles or the lines of your tattoos, appreciating the fact that you’ve reached a point where you can be vulnerable with him.

•especially in intimate moments, keith pays the most attention to your collarbones and navel, kissing and marking around those areas.

• if you ever have the time to go to the space mall, he’s always willing to look at jewelry with you, too. :)

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