#“His children are perfectly fine! F you!”

[lets-try-some-writing]

Okay, TFP univererse but Unicron adores humans? Like, the moment he sees these feral little organics scattered around his frame he's like "What is this... adorable little creature? I guess I'm a father now." Extra points if he still poses as an eldritch abomination to Cybertronians . I'm a sucker for a character who is this ruthless and vile creature to everyone but secretly acts like a total softie towards his children😭 If you can, I would like to see reaction from both humans and Cybertronians at this development.

I love a good old bad guy (sort of) redemption arc. A dad gotta love his kiddos even if he is the destroyer of everything.

Abrupt Parenthood

When Unicron awoke and felt the presence of Cybertronians he was about ready to flip out in rage. He was so blinded by their presence initially that when Primus's disgusting Vessel appeared before him and told him of the entities living upon his surface, he did not believe it at first. However Primes were very rarely known to lie, and the one before him felt sickeningly familiar to the one he fought so long ago, and so he briefly paused to consider the given information.

As he felt around his frame he was flabbergasted to discover that the Prime was right, he was totally covered in all sorts of fleshy organic creatures. He paused for nearly ten minutes as he just took it all in, the flora, the fauna, the whole ecosystem that had flourished upon him. And most importantly, he took the time to look at the sentient little life forms that had spawned from him, the tiny and oh so fragile humans. He should have felt disgusted, but as he observed the millions of humans on his frame he found himself feeling oddly protective. And so when the Prime pleaded with him to remain in at least partial slumber, Unicron complied stating that he would need time to consider the situation.

His avatars went back into dormancy and he stopped his awakening, instead opting to watch the small entities living on his surface in awe. They were so short lived, even over the course of the few weeks he spent just watching he saw hundreds of thousands of them be born and die all within mere days of each other. Not only that but they were weak beyond words, at least physically, especially since their only armor was hardly anything of note when compared to Primus's creations. The little humans died daily due to any and all possible causes, some to accidents, some to their own stupidity, some to violence, and even more to pure bad luck. But they also showed immeasurable drive and ingenuity, every single one of them living their lives to the fullest and striving for greatness even when so small in the grand scheme of things.

They were weak, they were short lived, and they were oh so foolish in the sight of elder races. But they were the most wonderful little lifeforms Unicron had ever seen. Before he even realized it, he had grown attached to the beings that were born of him and rapidly accepted the mantle of fatherhood. He did not stop his children from doing as they wished, he did not stop their deaths or interfere in their actions. He may have been the great destroyer, but when it came to his offspring, he was much like Primus. He understood that his children needed to be left to their own devices for the most part if they were to learn. And while he did occasionally use a small avatar or highjack an animal to stop things like suicides and the like, he otherwise left the humans alone.

However his general passiveness in response to his new offspring did not stop him from harassing Primus's creations. While unable to transform or access much of his power due to the humans possibly being harmed, he could still make life difficult for the Cybertronians on his surface.

He cared little for the factions of his brother's creations, but he did tend to be more lenient with the Autobots for a host of reasons. First and foremost because they went to great lengths to protect his offspring and keep them from harms way. Secondly because the Prime, despite being Primus's horrid vessel, loved the humans he had taken on almost as much as Unicron himself. Unicron hated the Prime, but he was loath to loose such a powerful protector for his little ones. So long as Optimus lived, there was a good chance that he would continue to guard Unicron's offspring with his very spark, something the destroyer would not object to considering his situation. And of course his third reason for being kinder to them was simply because they weren't outright attempting to abuse his powers and semi-dormancy at every opportunity. There was a sense of caution that was kept, the Autobots never daring to touch his blood or interact with him at all save for the Prime's occasional attempts to speak with him and ensure he had no plans to awaken fully any time soon.

Usually Unicron's harassment ended up being small things like inconveniencing the Autobots by making it rain more often in certain areas or causing them to be unable to find energon for a while. Although he took care to ensure they didn't starve, he needed them alive for the time being after all. He purposefully liked to bother Optimus by sending ominous signs, leaving the Prime on edge for weeks and usually never doing anything with it. He also made sure that the tree humans under their care were always kept safe, even going out of his way to awaken an avatar when required to keep them from harm. While not usually his way of going about things, he only wanted his children to die naturally, not because of his brother's children's petty war. He was half tempted to try and give the human children gifts or something of the like to protect them, but upon noticing their fear and the general toxicity of his blood, he put that plan aside and served as a protector only when required.

The Decepticons however received no such leniency. While normally Unicron would be pleased with Cybertronians handing themselves over to him in exchange for power, this instance was different. Megatron wanted to rule Cybertron, and Unicron could care less. But the warlord had expressed a desire to cyberform earth as well, destroying all life upon its surface, and that could not stand. Earth and its inhabitants belonged to him, no one was allowed to touch his children, especially not a wayward brat of Primus. So he made life as miserable for the Decepticons as possible without outright murdering them. He would prefer if the Cybertronians wiped each other out, so why get rid of either faction? So long as they obliterated themselves he wouldn't have to worry about retribution from his brother or possible threats from them in the future.

Usually he tended to just screw over the Nemesis's flight patterns with terrible storm and other elemental hazards. He also found it incredibly entertaining to make life harder for the Vehicons in the mines. He sometimes made a few terrorcons with old corpses just to watch the Decepticon troops scream. Screwing with Megatron through strange visions and odd dreams was also funny, especially when the warlord couldn't figure out why he was dreaming of frolicking with the Autobots and doing the tango with Ratchet. It was just so much fun for Unicron to mess with Shockwave too, often subtly altering experiments of his to watch the scientist silently fume. He usually didn't do anything actually harmful unless the Decepticons harmed his humans, in which case he would gladly throw terrorcons at them or shoot their ship with lightening and the like as a warning.

The humans are his children. No one screws with them unless they want a very pissed of god of destruction doing everything in his power to ruin their life.

[rileyslibrary]

Synopsis: A new lieutenant comes to your base—a hot one. Ghost isn’t happy.

Relationship: Simon “Ghost” Riley x F!Reader

Word Count: 1,334

Notes:

I haven’t thought of a title, so I’m replacing it with a picture of Ghost’s expression that perfectly captures the fic’s concept. Let me know if you think of one.

Platonic fluff, duh.

Warning: Lots of swearing ahead of you, British slang as well. Told you, he’s not happy.

UPDATE: there’s a Part 2 now. Things get messy.

Want more?

———————————————————————

The rumour mill went into overdrive as soon as the ‘new guy’ arrived at the military base that morning. A former special ops legend with impressive credentials; what’s not to love?

But it wasn’t just his military skills that had everyone talking; it was also his appearance. Rumours of his Adonis-like looks had spread throughout the base, and everyone was dying to catch a glimpse of him. Even the mess hall was dominated by talk of his stunning looks.

What did you think of him? Well, you prefer to take such things with a grain of salt and not put too much stock in them. After all, beauty is a matter of personal preference, and no single definition applies to everyone. So you wanted to evaluate things for yourself.

Okay, fine. Yes, the rumours were true—the guy is exactly as they described him.

The new lieutenant stands tall and proud in front of the line you’ve all formed, his wavy hair coiffed into a deep side part with a thick fringe swooping over one eye. His chiselled jawline is accentuated by a short, perfectly groomed beard, and he gives everyone a brilliant smile as if he’s auditioning for a toothpaste commercial. His voice is booming and almost comically enthusiastic as if he were trying to engage a class of children. He gives orders by pointing at soldiers with gun fingers and winking, causing some of you to stifle giggles.

“All right, soldiers, pay attention!” he says, clapping his hands like a cheerleader. “Today’s tasks are routine: cleaning, organizing, equipment repair, and inventory taking. And, hey, if we pull this off, I’ll buy everyone a round at the local pub! How does that sound?”

Some of the soldiers exchange skeptical glances, wondering if this guy is for real.

But Ghost? Oh. My. God.

Ghost’s agitation becomes too hard to hide as the new lieutenant speaks. He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, moving frantically as if eager to be anywhere but here. His eyes keep rolling back as though they’re searching for some leftover patience in the depths of his skull. You keep staring at his crossed arms. They’re so stiff that his muscles must ache from the effort. It’s as if he’s trying to keep them in place, so he doesn’t unleash them and back-slap the hot lieutenant’s pretty face. That, or he’ll let out a primal scream any second now.

“Y/N,” he turns to face you, and you stand at attention, “you’re on border patrol with me today-”

“Y/N is staying with me at the office today,” Ghost opposes him. “There’s a lot of paperwork that needs to be done.”

“Can’t you get someone else to fill out the paperwork?” the man asks, shooting Ghost a wink and a grin.

“Can’t you get someone else to help you with border patrol?” Ghost winks back at him and turns to face you. “Y/N, on your feet, c’mon,” he says, walking towards the building.

You exchange glances with the new lieutenant and shrug. This is too awkward.

“WHENEVER YOU’RE READY, SOLDIER,” Ghost commands, and you dash towards him, brushing past the new lieutenant, who also happens to smell amazing. Of course, he does.

“What the fuck is wrong with you today, Lt.?” You whisper as you run behind him, “where’s the camaraderie we discussed during yesterday’s briefing?”

Ghost shoots you a glare over his shoulder. “Just trying to keep my paperwork safe,” he mutters.

“What’ll happen to the damn paperw-” you proceed to ask, but then evaluate his words; you’re the paperwork.

At the office…

He’s reticent as he sits on his desk—not like he’s a social butterfly any other day, but today, he seems angry. Almost hostile. His eyebrows are tied together, his restless leg syndrome is back, and he takes too many cigarette breaks compared to what you’re used to. He answers your questions with one-word statements when—and if—he acknowledges your presence. Yesses and nos are all you’ve been getting since you entered the office, with the occasional “tsk” he might utter while he looks at his papers.

“Pass me the stapler.” He commands.

“Magic word, Ghost.”

“Pass me the fucking stapler, please.”

You slide the stapler over to his desk. “You’re rude today, Mr Riley.” You comment, turning your focus back to the laptop’s screen.

He doesn’t reply in the form of words. Instead, his feelings manifest themselves by aggressively stapling the papers together.

“Perhaps you’d like me to ask for the stapler by winking at you?” He finally mutters under his breath.

“Like the guy that came in today?” You scoff.

Oh, you have his full, undivided attention now. He turns his chair towards you and leans his weight on his thighs as if you’re about to tell the most exciting story.

“What do you think of him?” He asks.

You flick your wrist dismissively. “I don’t know him well enough to form an opinion. I prefer to reserve judgment until I get to know someone.” You give him a pointed look, hoping to convey your message without having to spell it out for him.

“He’s a fucking bellend, I’ll tell you that much.” He mumbles in response. Guess the message got lost in transit.

“Come on, man!” You shout and punch your fist on the table, “it’s obvious that he’s got you rattled.”

“He’s not rattling me!” Ghost protests, but his defensive tone betrays him.

“Sure, he’s not,” you reply sarcastically, “that’s why you’ve been chain-smoking and stapling papers like you’re trying to murder them.”

Ghost lets out a deep sigh and rubs his temples.

“Is it his looks?” you ask.

“No, it’s not his looks,” Ghost rolls his eyes, “I’m much better looking than him, that’s for sure.”

“Are you...I don’t know, intimidated, maybe?” You shrug, “because you’re worried he might take your place as the top dog around here?”

He looks at you incredulously. “What are you talking about? I’m not worried about that.”

“Sure, you’re not,” you smirk. “That’s why you’ve been acting like a total jerk all day.”

He looks up and sighs. The poor man looks like he desperately needs an ego boost. Beneath Ghost’s tough facade there’s Simon, after all. And Simon is a human being with the same insecurities and worries as everyone else.

“In any case,” you say, trying to comfort him, “nobody takes such douchebags seriously in the army. And I get it; the guy’s trying to make a good impression and all, but, my God, he needs to chill with all the...” you start winking and pointing gun fingers left and right.

He’s so happy he lets out a sharp chuckle. “He’s a fucking nobhead, isn’t he?” He asks, “trying to take charge and acting like he knows everything.”

“Indeed,” you reassure him, “and that cologne, I almost fainted as I passed him; how could you stand beside him for so long?”

“Don’t ask.” He shakes his head.

You reach over and give his arm a squeeze. “Don’t worry about it, Ghost. You’re the most respected operator here,” you say, giving him a small smile, “just do me a favour and give the guy a chance; he has so much to learn from you.”

He nods. “I wanted to neck slap him so hard,” he mumbles, “knock his pretty white teeth out.”

“Which are fake, by the way.”

“Are they?” He asks, shocked.

“100%.” You reply with conviction as if you are the guy’s dentist.

“I knew it.” He yells, slaps his hand on his thigh, and turns his chair back to his desk.

You look at him from the corner of your eye. He seems much more relaxed now. Hopefully, he takes your advice to heart and proceeds with the same resilience and leadership he does on the battlefield. Or, maybe, you temporarily diffused a potential conflict, and the captain will have to get involved pretty soon. Who knows. At least he feels confident in himself now, and the guy’s teeth will live to see another day.

———————————————————————

Part 2 ->

[pascallftv]

eighties baby

summary: your parents throw an 80’s themed party in their mansion. you try your best to contain your infatuation for joel, your dad’s best friend. you and your friend get a little too drunk and joel decides to teach you a lesson.

content: joel miller x reader, no outbreak, little plot, dbf!joel, reader in her twenties

warnings: CONTAINS MATURE CONTENT. 18+ mdni!, age gap is 20s/50, piv unprotected sex, oral (f receiving), cream pie, doggystyle, dirty talk, choking

an: i’m baaaaaack ;) this was… wow! pls enjoy

“Your ass looks immaculate.”

You glance over your shoulder in the reflection of the mirror, locking eyes with your best friend. She’s giving you wild eyes while biting her bottom lip that’s covered in bright red lip stick. Her makeup was done very vibrantly compared to usual; blue eyeshadow with bright pink blush.

“You don’t think it’s too short?” You ask, popping a hip to accentuate your ass further under your very tight and very short mini skirt. Typically, you wouldn’t mind if a little bit of cheek was hanging out the bottom of your skirt, but this was your parents’ party, not your typical college party. Your best friend rolled her eyes and you and laid a smack down on your ass. You yelped in surprise.

“It’s perfectly fine. It’ll be dark.” She begins, then her voice lowers. “Plus, Joel will want to eat you alive when he sees you in it.”

You bite your bottom lip to fight back a grin. She knew you too well. You sighed and placed your hands on your hip, your head turning to the side as your further inspect your outfit in your full length mirror. You decided to go with an 80s glam rock look instead of the typical vibrant colors from the time period. You were wearing a tight black leather skirt and matching top, with knee high platform boots with silver chains on them. You had grungy black eyeshadow matched with a glossy red lip. You felt hot.

“I can’t be too obvious. You cannot let me get too drunk tonight.” You say sternly. You were talking more to yourself than anything. You knew if you drank too much alcohol you would make a fool out of yourself in front of Joel.

Joel was your father’s main man. They’d known each other for decades now. Joel was a stern man; the crinkles by his eyes from his fifty years of wisdom weren’t usually intensified by joy, more by scowls. You’d like to think at one point he was a light hearted man, but you can’t help but wonder what in his years turned him into such a sour puss. You could count on one hand the amount of times you’d seen him genuinely laugh. It was an extremely rare occurrence, but the times he had, it was the most amazing sound you’d ever heard.

“Fine. But this is your chance to act as unhinged as you want because in the morning you can blame the alcohol.” Your best friend winks at you, patting you once more on the bum.

“You’re a terrible influence.” You turn to face her. Your shorter friend stares up at you with a devilish grin and runs her thumb along your bottom lip, cleaning up your red lipstick.

“We should head down there, take a couple shots, scope it out.” She suggests, grabbing your perfume off your vanity and spritzing it on the both of you a few times. You nod in agreement, and check your outfit in the mirror one last time. You take a deep breath and grab your friend’s hand to leave your bedroom. The 80s music was already thumping from your parent’s massive surround sound speakers downstairs. The lights were off, with the sole light source being a couple lamps and some red lights your parents used for their annual Halloween party.

When you made it downstairs, the house was already packed out. The entire neighborhood was in your parents’ house. All of the couples in the neighborhood were in attendance, as well as their children (all in their twenties or older). If you squinted hard enough, it even looked like a college party. The lighting was just enough to see the basic traits of everyone’s faces, most of them being somewhat recognizable to you. You had just graduated from college earlier that month, so you were home temporarily until you found your full-time calling.

Your friend dragged you to the kitchen where all of the alcohol was stashed. On the island, there was a lineup of liquor with the appropriate mixers. She decided to pour you each a hefty shot of tequila, as well as a lime wedge. You absolutely hated any dark liquor, and unfortunately vodka had been tainted for you in your time at college, so tequila was the sole surviving option for you. You didn’t mind the taste of tequila, but the catch was its effect on you. Unlike other forms of liquor, tequila made you incredibly horny. After around 4 tequila shots, you had the tendency to shed off articles of clothing like you were battling a heat wave. This made you nervous considering you knew Joel would be in attendance; however, as your friend said, you can use the liquor as a scapegoat if it got that bad.

As you and your friend shot back your tequila, you began wondering where Joel could be. The party started over thirty minutes ago, and it was uncharacteristic of him to be late, meaning he was in the house somewhere. The thought alone made your skin crawl.

“One more.” Your friend called out over the music, pouring you each another hefty shot. Your eyes got wide. You knew you’d have to take a break from drinking after this shot, otherwise you’d end up butt ass naked in the middle of this party.

Another hefty shot later, and you were already feeling the buzz from the alcohol. Your veins felt tingly and your limbs felt weightless. You each made yourselves your mixed drink of choice, and decided to make your way out to the makeshift dance floor in your parents’ spacious living room. They had a portable disco floor, as well as a disco ball hung from the ceiling. No one took parties more seriously than your parents.

Your friend grabbed your arm and pulled you onto the dance floor, with “Talking in Your Sleep” by the Romantics blasting from the speakers. Your eyes wandered around the room trying to find the brown eyed man you’d be longing to see. Sure enough, you spotted him. He was sitting on the sofa, leaning back with his legs spread out in front of him. He had a glass of what appeared to be whiskey in his hand, resting on his thigh. You gulped when you noticed he was already looking at you. You quickly looked away and took a sip of the tequila sour you half-assed at the kitchen makeshift bar.

You made eye contact with your friend, and you gave her panic eyes to let her know you found him. She caught on almost instantly, and took that as a queue to scoot out of your line of sight. She leaned closer to you to say something in your ear.

“Go sit next to him.” She suggested loudly into your ear.

You shot her a look of unease. Wouldn’t that be too obvious? You shook your head no rapidly in response. It was too early in the night for you to do something as ballsy as that.

After about half an hour, your friend’s drink was empty and she was dragging you back to the kitchen. Your drink was still three-fourths full. Your stomach was bubbling with anxiety knowing that Joel had a direct view of you in your anything but conservative outfit. Besides, you were scared for your actions if you ingested any more alcohol.

Your friend took two more shots and mixed herself another strong cocktail. You knew she was going to be shitfaced in the matter of minutes. You rub your forehead and sigh. It’s going to be a quick night for her.

Your predictions were correct.

Forty minutes passed and her cocktail was gone, and so was she. She was so plastered that she couldn’t stand up straight, constantly grabbing your arm for support. You looked around the room and immediately made eye contact with Joel. He’s watching the both of you intensely, his head nodding over to the side as he observes your friend stumbling around. You’re fully embarrassed at how gone your friend was already. Your stomach flips when you noticed Joel was lifting himself off his spot in the sofa, making his way towards the both of you. He grabbed onto your arm, a look of concern crossing his features.

“Come on.” He said shortly, moving his arm from yours to hers, helping her stand up somewhat straight. “Let’s take her upstairs.”

You glanced down at your friend and her head was lulling to the side, her eyes fluttering shut. There was no salvaging her. You nodded in response to Joel and helped him practically carry your friend upstairs to your bedroom. After her nearly falling every few steps, you finally make it to your bedroom. You noticed Joel’s eyes wandering around the walls of your room as he took in the decor. You had various band posters still hanging in your childhood bedroom, many of them being 60’s rock bands that your dad showed you. You gently lay your friend down onto your bed, and almost immediately she’s snoring.

“Jesus Christ, I’m so sorry about this, Joel.” You mutter, looking up at him with apologetic eyes. You absentmindedly toy with your hands in front of you. Despite the shots you did take, you were still feeling nervous; the liquid courage wasn’t doing its job.

Joel stepped closer to you and shook his head. His brown eyes were soft and his eyebrows were furrowed.

“It was nothing, really.” He assures you, taking a glance back at your friend. He was amused at just how fast your friend fell asleep. He turned back to look at you and felt something flutter deep in his gut.

He had kept his eyes in you all night. He couldn’t believe how grown you were. Sure, he had known you since you were young, but you were a woman now. You had always been pretty, but now, you were stunning. He felt disgusting about it. Of all the women in his life, none of them compared to you, his best friend’s daughter. The entire night he had watched the way your latex skirt was fighting to stay over the plump flesh of your ass. Your top wasn’t much better; it left little to the imagination, your nipples peaking through the thin fabric of it. You were genuinely perfect in his eyes, and it was causing him the most intense moral battle of his life.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” You asked quietly. His eyes were wandering over you, but he was saying nothing. It looked as though he was fighting something internally.

“What are you doing here?” He asked blandly, ignoring your question entirely. You furrowed your eyebrows in confusion.

“What do you mean?” You pondered, crossing your arms over your chest, unintentionally pushing your boobs up further, placing them in perfect display for Joel.

“You could be anywhere, yet here you are drunk at your parents’ party.” He said, glancing down at your chest, hoping you wouldn’t notice, but of course you did. You chuckle in response.

“I just graduated college, Joel. I’m home temporarily until I can find something full time. What’s the matter? Am I inconveniencing you somehow?” You asked with pure sass.

“Well not entirely, no.” Joel says, stepping closer to you. “You’d think you and your friend would have a little self control considering the environment. This isn’t college, sweetheart.”

“I beg your pardon? I’ve barely drank anything. For god sake I helped you carry her.” You get defensive, emphatically gesturing towards your friend that’s passed out in your bed. “And unfortunately she could’ve been way worse than this.”

“You should’ve stopped her before she was fighting to keep herself standing.” Joel scolded you, his brows furrowing further.

“Aww what’s wrong, Joel? You have no children of your own so you have to parent me?” You snarled, stepping another inch closer to him. Joel frowns, his fist clenching at his hip.

“You’re a little fucking brat, ain’t ya?” Joel growls, getting centimeters away from your face. He was so close that you could feel his hot breath on the skin of your face.

“And you’re just a dickhead, huh?” You fire back.

Joel grabbed you by the forearm and tugged you towards your bedroom door. Before you could protest, Joel was dragging you down the hall to a spare bedroom. He swiftly pulled you inside and locked the door behind you. He grabbed you firmly by the throat, squeezing just the sides as to not restrict your airflow.

“Bit of an attitude problem, eh?” Joel spoke sternly. You gulped, gawking up into his crinkled eyes. “Might just have to sort you out.”

“What are you doing, Joel?” You squeaked out, your hand reaching up to grab ahold of his forearm. His face moved closer to yours, his eyes moving down to your crimson lips.

“I can only imagine you put on this poor excuse of a skirt to try and get someone to pay attention to you in the way you’re craving. You’re a little fucking whore, aren’t you?” Joel growls, his free hand moving down to your skirt, pulling it away from your body so it smacked back against your plump thighs. You gasped. You didn’t know how to respond to that. Was this actually happening?

After years of secretly fantasizing about a moment like this, it was finally happening, and you were flabbergasted.

“Answer me. Tell me what you are.” His grip around your throat slowly moved up to your jaw, his fingers squeezing your cheeks, making your lips purse.

You groaned in response, a hand trailing up Joel’s torso to his chest, laying a flat hand against him. His heart was beating rapidly. You glanced down and noticed the bulge straining against his vintage Levi jeans. He was enjoying this a little too much. You forced your face away from his grip, grabbing his wrist as hard as you could.

“I’m not a whore.” Your words were laced with venom. You were frustrated. Not because of the substance of Joel’s words, but because you were so fucking aroused. If it were anyone else, you probably would’ve planted a firm kick in their groin or sucker punched them in the lip. His words were disgusting, but you were eating it up.

“No?” Joel cocked his head at you. His free hand snakes up under your skirt, his fingertips pressing against your folds. His fingers were met with moisture. Your panties were soaked through. His gaze fell to his hand, then back up to your doe eyes. He smirked devilishly at you, his hand moving to your face. With his thumb, he pawed at your bottom lip, pulling it away from your teeth.

“Your cunt says otherwise, darling.” He muttered, his breath fanning across your face once more. You swallowed hard. You averted your eyes from him, his gaze making you feel entirely too hot.

“My parents.” You blurted out, your gaze returning to his momentarily. He swallows, his thumb still sitting by your mouth.

“They won’t know.” He said. You retracted your grip from his forearm, and he took that as an opportunity to run his finger up the outside of your arm painfully slow. “What’s wrong sweetheart? Scared of your daddy finding out?”

Your lips parted, a harsh exhale escaping your throat. Your body was on fire, your skin littered with goosebumps from Joel’s touch. To any normal person, this situation would be incredibly alarming. Yes, your moral compass was clawing at the back of your mind, but you craved interaction. Your morals were out the window, your desires taking superiority.

“Yes.” You whispered, your gaze falling to Joel’s lips. They were tempting you.

“If you don’t want this, stop me.”

Joel’s hand moved from your arm back towards the bottom of your skirt, pushing it up over your thighs, your red panties on full display.

“Fuck.” Joel growled, his fingertips grazing your mound through the lacy fabric. He pushed your panties to the side, his finger running through your folds, collecting your arousal. “Stop me, angel.” He teased.

His fingertip ghosted over your sensitive clit, your legs jolting in response, a whimper leaving your mouth. His mouth hovered over the soft skin of your neck, his breath stirring up goosebumps.

“S’matter sweetheart?” Joel muttered, planting a soft kiss to your throat. “Tell me what you need.”

“N-need more.” You said, your brows furrowing in desperation. You glanced down at his hand between your legs, your lower gut fluttering at the sight. He applied more pressure to the circles he was dancing over your swollen bud, the pleasure sending your head to lull backwards. You whimpered more, your legs beginning to feel like jello.

“You sound so pathetic.” Joel spat, working his fingers faster on your clit. You exhaled unevenly, your hand coming down on Joel’s bicep for stability.

You felt that familiar white heat beginning to ignite low in your belly, your cunt throbbing steadily. Your eyes squeezed shut. You were close— but Joel knew that. He wasn’t going to let you come just yet. Without warning, Joel halted his actions, his hand leaving your folds. You could’ve cried in that moment. Joel grabbed your forearm and tugged you towards the bed, pushing you down onto the duvet.

“Joel, please. I need to cum.” You whined, your head falling back into the soft mattress. Joel purses his lips at you, his hand running along the smooth skin of your leg, inching closer to where you needed his attention most.

“Jesus, sweetheart. At least you know what you want.” Joel said, squeezing the flesh of your thigh with the rough skin of his palm. “Here’s how this is gonna go. First I’m going to taste you. Then, I’m going to fuck you until you forget how to think. Got it?”

You nodded pathetically, grinding your hips down onto the mattress, desperate for some sort of friction. Joel ghosted his hands over your thighs to the seam of your latex skirt, gripping it between his fingers. In a swift motion, Joel tugged the skirt down your legs and off your body, tossing it somewhere on the floor. He left your boots on, not quite wanting to get rid of them yet. Your pussy looks so pretty underneath the transparent lace fabric of your thong. It left little to nothing to Joel’s imagination. Your breasts were spilling out of your black top, your areolas peaking out. You looked breathtaking.

“Fuck, angel. I wish you could see yourself. So pretty for me.” Joel muttered, lowering his face to your groin, pressing a soft kiss to your inner thigh. He ran his large hand up the back of your thigh, squeezing every few inches. You bite your lip and you stared down at his face as he littered kissed across your thighs. His salt and pepper beard added even more texture to the sensations you were feeling. He slipped his fingers underneath the fabric of your panties and slowly pulled them down your tights and over your boots, leaving your heat bare. Joel lowered his face down to your core, his hot breath fanning over your sensitive skin. He pressed a kiss to your pelvic bone, then ghosted his lips in a line down to your sensitive bud. He planted another kiss over your clit, taking his sweet time teasing you. Your pussy was throbbing at this point, desperate for any sort of touch.

“Joel please.” You pleaded, grinding your hips up towards his mouth. “I need your tongue.”

“Good girl.” He said, lowering his tongue to your folds, licking a wet stripe up your vulva, tracing a circle around your clit, sucking down on it gently. He moaned into your flesh, the vibrations sending a chill down your spine. His tongue began to work faster, flicking up and down and side to side over your clit. He brought his middle finger to your opening, ghosting circular motions over it, before slowly pushing it inside of you. You exhaled deeply at the sensation. He began pumping his finger rhythmically in and out of you, paying special attention to curl his fingertip upwards to brush against your g spot. As he felt your walls growing accustom to the girth of his singular digit, he added a second finger, pumping faster. Just from his fingers and tongue, you already felt fucked out of your mind. The pleasure sent shocks down your legs and up your spine, your head rolling back into the mattress in euphoria. A quiet moan slipped through your cherry lips, your fists grabbing the bedding for leverage to cope with the immense pleasure coursing through you.

“Joel.” You whimpered, one of your hands jetting down to grab at his hair as he lapped at your wet heat. His soft brown eyes flicked up to meet yours at the sound of your voice. Your moan went straight to his already throbbing cock.

“Christ, baby.” He groaned, lifting away from your core to unbutton his Levi’s. His hand fumbled with the zipper to get them off as fast as he could. The anticipation was killing him; he was so hard that it was beginning to hurt. He needed inside you immediately.

Finally managing to slide his jeans down his legs, his cock was straining against his boxers. The tent was revealing in itself; you already knew he was packing a punch. It felt painfully slow, but finally Joel slipped off his boxers, revealing his erection. Leaking at the tip, he brushed his thumb over, cleaning up the precum that had accumulated from tasting you.

You sat up from the mattress and grabbed his face in your hands, pressing your lips to his. Your lips moved against his in a passionate rush. You could taste yourself on his lips. Another whimper rose from your throat, the moan vibrating off his lips. The sound of your wet kiss filled the room as he lowered his body over yours to lay you back down against the bed. His hand moved from his cock to your breast, pulling it out of your top and giving it a firm squeeze.

“Fuck.” He muttered against your lips as you rocked your hips into his. You needed his touch desperately.

“Fuck me.” You breathed out, pulling away to look him in the eye. “Please.”

That was all Joel needed to hear. He reached down to take his cock in his hand again, guiding his top to press into your folds. He ran back and forth against your slick, his precum mixing with your arousal. His eyebrows furrowed in pleasure as he felt your wetness already beginning to coat him. His eyes lifted back to meet yours as he began to slowly press his tip into your entrance, the stretch already making you feel crazed. Your lips parted, an exhale escaping your lips as he pressed himself into your further. Your hands darted up to grab onto his biceps as leverage. He lowered down to your lips, pressing a slow, gentle kiss to them as he pushed his length inside of you to the hilt. Another moan escaped your lips.

“Y’okay?” Joel breathed out, slowly pumping in and out of you, allowing you time to adjust. You nodded your head, unable to form a coherent sentence.

“More.” You begged. “I need more.”

Joel ran his hand from your thigh up your belly, dragging his finger tip slowly to take in every inch of your skin. He reached your neck, wrapping his calloused fingertips around your throat, carefully squeezing on the sides. He leaned down to meet your lips, taking your bottom lip between his teeth momentarily.

“So fucking needy.” He grumbled against your mouth, his eyelids fluttering closed.

Suddenly, Joel began pounding into you. His hot breath fanned over your face as he rammed in and out of you, his length reached the deepest parts of you. You gasped, your hand reached up to grab his wrist that was busy squeezing your throat. Your eyes rolled back in your head and he slammed into you over and over. You were sure he was hitting you so deep that he was nicking your cervix. Just when you thought you couldn’t be more overwhelmed with pleasure, Joel’s free hand snaked between your thighs, his thumb finding your clit, ghosting gentle circles over the sensitive nub. You squeaked out a moan, the pleasure overcoming your senses completely. Your legs began to shake from the stimulation, your lower belly muscles tensing from the overwhelming sensation. Your breath was shaking, the oxygen feeling as through it had completely left your lungs.

“F-fuck.” You stuttered as Joel thrusted into you. “I’m close.”

Joel took this as an opportunity to slide out of you, wasting no time in flipping you onto your belly, laying a hard slap against your bare ass cheek. He groaned as your ass jiggled from the slap, his hand coming back down to grab a handful of your flesh. You pressed your face down into the duvet, letting out a moan. Your pussy was throbbing from the sudden lack of attention. You wiggled your hips, nonverbally begging for Joel’s cock. He chucked, slapping your ass once more before pressing himself back at your entrance, ramming into you fully, his hips meeting your ass in a rush. He grabbed a cheek with his rough fingertips, pulling your ass apart to get a full view of himself slamming into you. Your tightest hole was on perfect display for him.

“One day I’m going to claim you here too.” Joel growled, his fingertip grazing the ring of your asshole. You gasped, your forehead coming down onto the bedding, pressing your face down into the duvet to cover your moan. “You’d like that wouldn’t you? Me claiming your tight little ass as mine?”

You nodded rapidly, a straggled breath leaving your mouth. It was so goddamn hard for your mind to focus on anything except the feeling of his tip grazing the opening of your cervix with every thrust. Once again, Joel reached his hand down to toy at your clit, bringing you closer to your climax. The white heat hit you again as your legs began to shake under you. Joel wasn’t far behind you, and his pace wasn’t easing up.

His hips met yours hard and fast, the sound of skin slapping echoing off the walls of the spare bedroom. If it weren’t for the music thumping downstairs, your sinful act would’ve already been heard throughout the entire house. Joel leaned down, kissing you against your spine, his hand kneading your ass.

“F-fuck, where do you want me? Your mouth? Or should I fill you up?” Joel grunted, his hand snaking around your front to firmly grab your breast, pinching your nipple between his fingertips.

You gasped, the stimulation for your nipple slipping you into the beginning of your orgasm. You didn’t answer him, the feeling of your impending climax completely taking over your body.

“Look at you cumming around my cock. Such a good fucking slut.” Joel growled, his pace somehow quickening further. His hand reached up to your hair, grabbing a fistful of locks and pulling your head backwards. His other hand reached around to your throat as he bent down to kiss you from the intense angle, your orgasm taking over you entirely. Your toes began to curl beneath you, your pussy clamping around Joel’s cock that was twitching deep inside you. Your pussy clenched down around his length, hugging it perfectly.

“Fuck.” Joel whimpered, his high hitting him like a train. Your spasming canal clamped down around him as he came in hot spurts, coating your walls deep inside of you. Your walls clenched around him, milking every ounce of cum from his length.

His thrusts slowed as his seed filled you up, his hands grabbing your hips for stability as he came the hardest he’d ever came in his life. He moaned as he slowly slipped his spent cock out of you, some of his release dripping out of your used up hole. The sight was intoxicating.

“Fuck.” Joel breathed out again, taking in the ruined state of your folds. He ran his fingers down your slick, mixing his cum with yours. You flinched at the sensitivity of your pussy, whining as he brushed over your clit.

You were spent. Your face was still pressed against the mattress, your ass still perched in the air. Joel’s cum was slowly leaking out of you, and you couldn’t bring yourself to move. You were too fucked out of your mind to notice that Joel had left the bed to retrieve a wet rag from the attached bathroom. You winced as he gently cleaned up the juices spilling from you.

“You look so beautiful with my cum dripping out of you.” He spoke, running a hand up and down the back of your thigh. He pressed a kiss to your sore ass cheek from where he had smacked it.

You rolled over onto your back, your tender breasts jiggling from the movement. Joel leaned down and took a breast into his mouth, gently sucking on your hardened nipple.

“As much as I’d love to stay here and fuck you all night, I should go before your daddy starts to wonder where we went.” Joel said, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips.

A pit grew deep in your gut at the thought of Joel leaving you, but you knew the nature of this interaction and it would be silly of you to expect any different. You gazed up at him and frowned.

“Don’t look at me like that.” Joel shook his head and straightened up, moving his attention to dress himself. He began buttoning his flannel that he’d taken off during your interaction at some point that you hadn’t noticed. You watched in silence as he pulled his boxers and Levi’s back up over his legs.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Joel said after he was fully dressed. You were still laying on the bed completely nude attempting to recover from the mindblowing sex you’d just endured. Joel walked towards the door, turning briefly to look at your one last time.

“You might want to get dressed, sweetheart. Hate to have your daddy walk in to see my cum spilling out of you.” He winked, then disappeared out of the door, leaving you alone fucked out of your mind.

[stubz]

"Hey guys I got whooping cough."

"OH! OHOHOH! BEGONE SICKLY ONE! QUARENTINE RIGHT F*CKING NOW I CAN'T BE GETTING THAT."

"Woah calm down--"

"Do not tell me to calm down! Do you have any idea how contagious this shit is?!?!"

"Well, I heard but I'm wearing a mask and I'm literally on the other side of the glass wall, talking to you on the phone right now!"

"Like I give a rat's ass! I work at the child centre!! I. CAN'T. GET. WHOOPING. COUGH. BEGONE. NOW."

"Okay okay okay! I get it, going now! only like 8 of the kids could get it anyways...not even the same species."

"Love you!! I'll make you some cabbage soup!" with that she goes back to her lunch. Oblivious to the strange looks from her co-workers.

"Uh, what's whooping cough?" asked Op reaching for the salt with her tail.

"A very contagious human disease that gives you a nasty cough for several days to a few weeks."

"Oh, that doesn't sound too bad."

"Yeah but it can make you feel just awful and is actually very dangerous for infants, young children, and the elderly."

"How dangerous?" Fenrir asked

"Well...they could die."

*silence*

"Its not often though, usually rare, they're just more at risk. I mean I had it when I was a baby and look! I'm perfectly fine."

For a while no one said anything. Just eating. Until Fenrir asked another question.

"Why is it called whooping cough?"

"Because that's what it sounds like. The inhale sounds like a whooping noise. But according to my parents I sounded more like a barking seal."

"What does a seal sound like?"

"Hold on." she fishes out her phone and finds a video of a seal barking.

*Seal noises*

"...and what does whooping cough sound like?"

*Whooping coughing noises, which honestly sounds like someone coughing up their heart and soul*

"...how the f*ck are you alive???"

"I second that."

"My Dad tucked me into his coat and walked out in the winter air so that it would clear my lungs."

"That's it?!"

"Cold air is what saved you from death?!"

"...I mean I probably had some antibiotics but yeah. There's no real cure, just a vaccine."

"THERE'S NO CURE FOR THAT?!"

[alumi-san]

Wrightworth family au

- Phoenix and Miles started dating between AATaT and AAI.

- Edgeworth non officially adopted Kay and Sebastian after the events of AAI2.

- They moved into his apartment for better or worse>:)

- Sebastian and Miles accidentally called each other "father" and "son". It started happening more often so they decided "screw this!" and got use to it.

- Similar thing happened with him and Kay but without this much embarrassment.

- Phoenix met Apollo when he asked him to defend his teacher.

P: Well, not the first time a kid has asked me to defend someone.

- Afterwards, Phoenix adopted Apollo when he was 15 (not sure how it happened since we don't know his life between moving back to Japanfornia and becoming a lawyer)

- He is technically a dad to Pearl and took care of Maya so he knows what he's doing... right?

- When Phoenix analyzed Apollo's adoption papers he noticed something...

P: You're a girl?!

A: No, I'm a man!

P: Oh, then we need to change your documents later.

Apollo cried after that because it was the first time someone accepted him as male in a long time.

- Nick brought Apollo to the court with him on the day when MM-4 happened. He was very insistent on this since he wanted to see his idol in action (he didn't mention the idol thing because it's embarrassing now when it's his dad) but instead Phoenix suggested Pollo stay with Trucy. He was pissed at him but quickly got along with her pretty well.

A: I only know Trucy for 5 minutes. But if anything happened to her, I would kill everyone in this room and then myself!

- Apollo perfectly knows what she's going through since he was also abandoned by his father.

- Trucy was adopted 2 months later after Apollo.

- Phoenix thinks he disappointed his son despite him saying that he knows it's not his fault.

- After Phoenix's disbarment he wanted to break up with Edgeworth since he was a burden now with two kids and no job. Miles didn't want to hear any of it saying, that he cared about him and the children and would help with anything he could. He's not letting Wright give up so easily.

- Edgeworth visited the Wright family as much as he could and called them every day (with Kay and Seb of course)

- Kay created a chat group called "Wrights & Edgeworth's" plus "Team Task" just for the gang.

- When Apollo turned 18 and graduated from school he thought of finding a job since it wasn't right that only Phoenix and Trucy bring money and even that was not enough to pay for the office (they would starve without Miles). But Phoenix reassured him that everything was fine and he should focus on his law studies instead.

P: Especially studying Japanese, good lord I had problems with it in my days.

A: 半分日本人じゃないの? (Aren't you half Japanese?)

P: ...

P: Since when do you know Japanese?

A: Since... always?

- Trucy doesn't force Apollo to be her assistant! He's doing this willingly.

- After "Turnabout Succession," Phoenix, Apollo, and Trucy hugged each other, crying that this was finally over. And then they all celebrated it.

- Phoenix did tell Apollo that he hired Athena because f*ck miss communication! Apollo of course was like "WTF Dad?! She's 18!" In which Phoenix replied "Pollo, your auntie became a prosecutor at 13"

- Also Athena is now a part of the family.

- Between AADD and AASoJ Miles and Phoenix finally got married and moved in with each other and they're kids.

- Kay renamed chats into "Wrighworth's" and "Team Taask"

And that's all for now! Be free to ask questions about this au.

[babydollmarauders]

KIDS — JACK HUGHES

jack hughes x fem!reader

FAITHLYNN’S 500 CELLY!

🌷: “They’re not your kids, back the f*ck off.” & “That was kind of hot.” & “How is my wife more badass than me?” with Jack.

warnings: toxic mother (readers mom), profanity

as a mom, one of my biggest pet peeves is when someone else tries to parent my children. it happens most often with my own mother. she and i never had a great relationship, and i thought it may get better now that i have my own kids, but i was wrong, it’s only gotten worse.

she makes passive aggressive comments about Jack and i’s parenting choices, tries to undermine my decisions, and has even completely disregarded my words completely. but the real cherry on top is what’s happening right now.

Jack just got back from a roadie, and he was spending time with the kids when my mom showed up at our house. when i asked her what she was doing here, she said that she ‘thought i might need some help with the kids while Jack slept’. which rubbed me the wrong way because first of all, she knows he always sleeps on the plane so that he can play with Eli and Luella when he gets home; and second of all, she acts as if i don’t take care of my children all on my own the entire time he’s traveling.

“mom, what the hell?” i stage whisper, standing across from her in the kitchen. i glance out the kitchen doorway towards the living room, where Jack lays on the floor on his stomach, between our four year old and two year old, coloring with them. “you know full well that we’re perfectly fine.”

“well, i just wasn’t sure. you know, he spends so little time with them already, and he just got back from a long trip, i figured he would be tired. so i came over to take care of them so he could sleep.” she feigns innocence, raising her hands up in mock surrender.

“do you realize how bad he already feels about being away from them? he does the best that he can in order to spend as much time with them as possible, and you coming here, just assuming that he’d be giving up any time he has with them, is rude and disrespectful.” i tell her.

“well now that i’m here, i’d like to spend some time with my grandchildren.” she says.

“fine. whatever.” i storm out of the kitchen, and Jack’s head pops up when i walk back into the living room. his eyebrows raise at the sight of my irritated expression and i shake my head to tell him that i don’t wanna talk about it. his attention is pulled away when Eli calls for him, telling him to look at his drawing, and Jack praises our son’s art skills.

my mother follows me into the living room, and Luella stands to come show me her picture.

“look! mommy!” i crouch down, looking at her page of multicolored scribbles.

“it’s amazing, Lu! you did such a good job!” i tell her, my smile wide as i clap for her. she giggles and turns to show her grandmother the drawing, but my mom pays no attention to the art.

“oh, Luella.” my mother scolds. “look at your pretty dress, it’s all covered in popsicle. you have got to be more careful. and you shouldn’t have been eating a popsicle this early in the day.”

i roll my eyes. she can’t even help criticizing a two year old.

“she wanted one after lunch, and she did a good job with her food, so we gave her one, mom.” i tell her, my tone hostile.

“you need to stop giving them so much sugar.” she replies. “no wonder they have trouble listening. all that sugar and barely any adult supervision”

“they’re not your kids, back the fuck off.” i say lowly through a passive aggressive smile. “they have trouble listening sometimes because they’re children. and they have plenty of adult supervision.”

“i’m just trying to help you, y/n. lord knows you could use it.” she huffs. my eyes go wide as i look at Jack to see if he heard that, and i know he did because the muscle in his jaw ticks from clenching it. but i know he won’t say anything because he doesn’t want to offend his mother-in-law.

“Jack.” my words are sweet, but venom drips from my voice, and i square my shoulders to prepare for an argument. “can you please take Luella to get changed? and take Eli with you.”

my husband jumps up at my words, corralling our kids into Lu’s room.

“what the fuck is your problem?” my tone is harsh as i attempt to keep my voice down. “those are my children. if i needed your help, i would ask for it. i’m sick and tired of you coming over here and making comments about our parenting or judging my husband for how he takes care of our family. Jack loves his job. he loves hockey. and yes, he has to leave sometimes, for a week at most, but he is the best father to our children.”

“y/n-” she starts.

“no! i’m not done. if you want to continue to be a part of their lives, you’re going to stop with the passive aggressive comments. you’re going to quit undermining our authority. and for the love of god, you are going to stop criticizing my children! you already fucked up my childhood and i will not let you ruin theirs.” i’m nearly yelling at this point, my anger reaching new levels. “do i make myself clear?”

my mother huffs, eyeing me up and down before nodding.

“good. now i’d like for you to leave. i would like to spend time with my children, whom i love very much, and their amazing and selfless father.” i tell her. my mom spins around, stalking towards the front door and i don’t move until i hear the door shut. it’s then that i finally let my shoulders slump, heaving out a deep sigh.

Jack steps out of the kids room, the children trailing after him as he makes his way over to me. his hands grip my waist as he pulls me against him, a smirk gracing his lips.

“that was kind of hot. like, seriously, how is my wife more badass than me?” he leans down, pulling me in for a kiss. his lips are soft and taste like the grape popsicle he shared with Luella earlier. “you did great, baby.”

“you think so? i wasn’t too harsh?” i ask, tears stinging my eyes.

“no. you said what needed to be said. i’m so proud of you for standing up to her.” he mutters against my lips.

“thank you, babe.”

-

-

[wood-white-writer]

“Didn’t mean to make your heart Blue” || [9/…]

— OPLA!Buggy x F!Reader

“And I know no one will save me, I just need someone to kiss.

Give me one good honest kiss and I’ll be alright.”

— Mitski, “Nobody”

Pairing: Buggy the Clown (Live Action) x F!Reader

Parts: Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8

Summary: You were an apprentice of Gol D. Roger’s crew in your youth, long before his eventual demise. Along with the Red-Haired Shanks and Buggy, you were a formidable trio; the embodiment of a new generation of pirates yet to come. But times changed, and so did you and your friends.  In which there is lost affections, mentions of the past, and re-bonding over a bath. Unshared thoughts and feelings of regret return from years of negligence, and whereas some aspects remain buried, others have a chance to resurface from the depths.

Warnings: fem!reader, LA!Verse, slight canon divergence, morally grey reader, mentions of violence and blood, dual-pov (though primarily Buggy's), Buggy being a simp, implications of Buggy being a horny simp

A/N: AND HERE WE ARE! FINALLY, AFTER SO MANY WEEKS, THE NEW CHAPTER IS UP! Seriously, I want to thank you all for your immense patience and support. As I mentioned in a previous post, work has been hectic as hell and I know I wrote that this chapter would hopefully be finished last week, but life took its toll. Hopefully, you'll enjoy this chapter, though I myself have mixed feelings about it.

INCLUDES SOME SELF-MADE SKETCHES AT THE BOTTOM, so you’re warned

The sun warms your face as you breathe in the fresh scent of the sea. You’re lounging on deck, hands folded behind your head and feet hanging over the railings in a rather peculiar position, but you’re perfectly content.

Luffy benched you for the rest of the voyage to Arlong Park, a decision you initially found insulting to no short degree. Well, maybe benched is not the right term to use, but more like “I don’t want you to die, and I think you need to relax this once”.

You had argued that no, you’re fine and the love bites Arlong left you are nothing compared to the marks Mihawk left on Zoro, and he’s still up and about as usual.

But Luffy is firm about his decision, and what the Captain says goes.

So, here you are, enjoying some quiet all while letting your wounds heal, and it seems that nothing can hope to put an end to this ambiance that is—

“HEY! THERE ‘YA ARE!”

…. You spoke too soon. Way too soon.

A shadow falls over your face like a curtain and blocks the view of the sun. A shadow belonging to - you make a lucky guess - a severed head that’s been talking for way longer than a severed head typically should, in your experience.

You open one lazy eye to pinpoint the exact perpetrator and see a bright red dot staring down at you from Usopp’s grip.

Buggy winks at you, making those mildly irritating clink-clink noises.

“I can’t stand it anymore,” Usopp grumbles. “You take him! He’s annoying and keeps telling me my nose is too long!”

“Because it is, you shidiot!”

“It’s average!”

“That’s what your mom said!”

“You keep my mom’s name out of your mouth, you psychotic, fucking—!”

“Be quiet.”

Both the clown and the slingshot simultaneously shut their mouths before things have a chance to escalate on a non-verbal scale, and you take this as a sign that your break is officially over and buried ten feet under.

Stretching your arms out loud enough to pop a few vertebrae, you shift to lean your back against the railing and give both boys an unimpressed look-over, like a disappointed mother having caught both of her children in the act of something. “It’s too early for you to be making a ruckus.”

“It’s 11 am,” Usopp points out.

“Still too early.” Deciding that you’d rather not deal with this with more effort than you’re willing to spend, you return to your previous position. “Leave the head, or don’t. Just let me rest.”

“Fine by me.”

With a thud and an “OW FUCK!”, Usopp unceremoniously drops the clown and forgoes his Buggy-sitting duties to do whatever he wants to do, leaving you to pick up the slack.

A string of curses flow from Buggy’s mouth, which you only vaguely pay attention to. There was something along the lines of “Long-nosed asshat,” and “Right on the nose”, but you abandon all interest in favor of feeling the sun on your cheek.

“So…” you hear him jump a little closer. “Alone at last.”

You don’t answer.

“What? Don’t give me that! I thought we were good!”

You remain selectively mute.

“Hey! Don’t ignore me! I don’t like it!”

“You survived it for twenty years. I’m sure you can stand it for a few more minutes.”

“…. Seriously?”

“Mhmm.”

You don’t know what possesses him, but he keeps quiet for most of the next thirty minutes, and you take the time to continue basking in the sun. 

It’s a luxury you can rarely afford, and you’ll be damned if it gets ruined now or all time, least of all by him. You’re not going to even open the can of worms that is last night’s events, so you lock it in a chest to be dug up for another day. 

Not now. It won't be that long until you reach Arlong Park, and shit will go down. This might be the only chance you get to replenish your strength and gods do you need it now more than ever.

"… Hey?” Buggy starts.

You let him decide whether to perceive your silence as an opening or a locked door.

“I’m bored.”

“Tough.”

“Can’t we do something else?”

“We could fish. Your head might serve as a good bait.” Despite yourself, your lip tugs a little in what is supposed to be a halfway smirk. The image of Buggy dangling above the shark-infested waters from a hook to his bandana would be an entertaining sight to behold.

He swallows audibly. “Was that a joke?”

“Keep bothering me and we’ll find out soon enough.”

“C’mon! Don’t be like that! Seriously, I’m bored! Ain’t much you can do when you’re just a head… except to give one, but that’s beside the point.”

Too much detailing, you think. He wants entertainment of any kind; you want peace and quiet. What to do and how to kill two birds with one stone? You open one eye and let it drift over to Buggy, who in turn is staring intently at you. 

In the sun, you make out every detail of his rugged face. His make-up’s almost wiped completely off the skin, with only remnants of the red lipstick and blue diamonds vaguely in place. His stubbles have grown slightly, given the lack of access to a barber, and if you get close enough, he probably stinks of—

A lightbulb goes off in your head. A devious one, blinking to every corner of your brain. 

Despite what anyone thinks, you’re not above being petty.

With a push, you sit up and glance over at him. “Anything?” 

Buggy raises his eyebrows and nods desperately. “Yeah! Anything! As long as I ain’t got to sit here doing naught-shit, I’m game!”

You turn to him, put each of your hands to the edges of his jaw, and lift him a little closer to you. Whether from the sun or just him alone, he’s warm and soft under your digits.

“Alright,” is all you say.

Buggy beams much like the bulb in your head, and a loud bark of laughter erupts from his mouth. You almost pity him, pity him for being oblivious to what’s to come.

But it needs to be done.

There’s no other way around it and he’s had it coming. He deserves this, you tell yourself. He deserves every inch of ruthlessness you can offer, and you’ll deliver.

————

Buggy blanches, lips wobbling in horror as he slowly glances up at you. Betrayal fills his bright-blue eyes and, for the first time since Orange Town, he sees you as the beast you both know you are. 

He’s afraid.

He’s afraid of you.

He knows you can be vindictive; he knows you can be brutal, but in all the time he’s known you, he’s never perceived you as cruel.

Maybe it’s time for him to reassess that thought.

“No,” he whispers softly. “No, please.”

Your face is blank, and cold, and he doesn’t know if it’s a trick of the light or not, but there’s a shadow across your face that darkens everything but your eyes. Those bright eyes he used to hold in such high regard.

“You want my forgiveness,” you state calmly as you gradually lower him to his demise. “You have to earn it.

“Please, anything but this. I’ll do anything other than this!”

But his pleas earn no mercy from you. He wiggles in your grasp like a fish out of water, and as much as he tries to beg and move and free himself, your hold is iron incarnate.

Buggy lets out an ear-curdling scream the moment he feels the water under his neck.

“NOOOOO!”

————

Honestly, how childish, you think as you begin to soak him in the basin you procured from the kitchens. He hisses like a cat as you pour the water over his head, rinsing his hair. Try as he might, he cannot escape your grasp. 

It’s not even deep enough to reach his chin, and still, he acts like it’s acid he’s been thrown into.

But you’re determined, this has to be done.

“Oh, quit whining” you chastise, getting drops of water your way with all his scuttling. “You need this.”

“You’re gonna drown me!” he accuses.

“It’s soap and water, and it’s not even that deep.”

“You say that now, sure! But the moment you let go, plop! Oh, there goes Buggy the Clown! Taken from this world too early!”

You roll your eyes. “I’m holding you up, you’re not going to drown. Now, stop acting like a child.”

Buggy is restless and continues to thrash around for a good ten seconds more before finally relenting, a look of sour disapproval on his face. It’s so caricatured and animated that it threatens to make a suppressed chuckle leave your throat.

He still looks the same when he’s mad.

Now that he’s finally calm, you lower him so that the edge of his neck finally stands on the bottom of the basin. Then, you soak a rag and raise it towards his face.

Buggy flinches. “Can you …. Eh… leave the face?”

“There’s hardly anything there anymore, and it’ll irritate your skin if you leave it on for too long.”

“I think I can tell you what irritates me or not, like this bird bath for instance, thank you very much.” He scowls and edges further away from the wet rag. “Seriously, just leave it.”

“I’ll reapply the make-up.”

“… What?”

When you first boarded the Merry, you happened to find some leftover make-up hidden away in one of the shelves. It was strange, considering how the boat was freshly built, and imagined that one of the builders had taken some personal liberty in the large space before the project was finished.

For whatever reason, you didn’t throw it out, though you didn’t use it yourself.

If it can get him to accept the fact that he needs a wash, you’re willing to do it.

“I’ll put on your make-up if I can wash off what you currently have,” you clarify. “Deal?”

Buggy goes quiet, and his eyes widen slightly, but not out of horror or dread. It’s more like … when you catch the sight of something unexpected; a delayed reaction that stirs feelings you have yet to decipher. 

Finally, after some internal debates with himself, Buggy nods. “Fuckin’ fine then,” he utters, and despite the crudeness of his words, they’re lenient.

Content, you gently place your free hand to his left to keep him stable and use the other one to carefully drag the rag across his stained cheek. 

Buggy watches you intently through the process, never taking his eyes off you unless you’re wiping off the painted diamonds on his eyes. Your hands, for once, are soft to the touch. They’re soft for him, as though a single misplaced touch might shatter him like glass.

He used to be acquainted with the soft touches long before the cold and brutal ones. Soft fingers that pinched his cheeks as you helped apply the paint over his face. 

Soft touches against his arm when he was feeling particular for some reason, whether it was good or bad.

Your fingers intertwined with his’ as you came to terms with your captain’s death, sitting by the edge of the docks as the rain poured from above. It was cold, he was freezing, and too close to the waters for his comfort, but he wanted nothing more than to sit in the rain with you and share the heat from your fingers.

Even after everything, you’re still capable of reserving those touches for him.

After wiping the makeup completely off him, you raise the cup and fill it with water. “Close your eyes.”

He doesn’t want to, but he does and feels the water rushing down like the rain on those docks.

When he’s finally finished, you fish him up from the basin and put him down atop a soft towel on the table. Like a cat, he instinctively shakes off the residue of water, only to find you already raising a new towel towards him.

He stops moving, and you takes this as your cue to continue. You’re attentive, he notices. You wipe his face first, then his ears, then his hair. You dry it and scratch his scalp at the same time through the fabric, and he instinctively leans against your touch.

This is … nice.

“When did you cut your hair?” You ask out of the blue as you continue to dry him, making sure to leave no spot too humid.

He almost failed to catch onto your words with how at ease he is. “Hmmm?”

“You used to have long hair before,” you elaborate. “Why did you cut it?”

“…. Too much of a hassle to maintain,” he answers after some thought. “It’s hard to find the time to take care of it.”

“… I see.”

The truth is, he cut it right after he left. Not particularly clean either. You know that feeling you get when you feel like you’re losing control, and ridding yourself of any additional weight seems to relieve it? 

Well, that’s what Buggy did.

He cut it with a pair of rusty scissors, severing chunks at a time — some bigger than others — until all he was left with was pieces sticking out to each side like a madman.

It didn’t help though. It didn’t make him feel any lighter from the weight on his chest. From that gnawing feeling.

Still, he maintained the habit and got better with practice. It became more of a practical thing with time; he was a busy man, and he could do well with fewer things to get in his eyes, but it never eased the pain.

But feeling the tips of your fingers lightly graze his hair, however, he feels more relieved than he’s done in the last twenty years.

After a few minutes, you remove the towel and give him a neutral one-over. It’s the first time you’ve seen him as an adult without any of that makeup, and you’re reminded of just how much he’s changed, but also how he’s not.

Even after all this time, it’s still Buggy.

Buggy sees you watching him, and he can’t help but feel slightly self-conscious now that your eyes are on him without his usual armor.

But you don’t comment on it, nor show any surprise in any sense of the word. There are times when he hates your face, not because of anything superficial, but because you make it so damn challenging for him to figure out what goes in that brain of yours. He’s reminded of how you were when you were younger, how lifeless you used to be, and it feels like you’ve regressed to that state.

Another thing to add to the shitlist of things he’s regretful about.

He licks his lips and opens his mouth to say something when the door suddenly bursts open. Buggy jumps whereas you merely look over your shoulder to spot Zoro standing there, his eyes narrowed between you and the clown.

Buggy frowns.

“Zoro,” you speak plainly, as if you failed to notice his annoyance towards the spectacle presented before him. “Is there anything?”

“The hell is this?” His eyes flicker between you and Buggy like it’s the worst show on earth. “What’s going on?”

“He reeked,” you explain. “I have merely been rectifying it for the sake of our noses.”

Buggy wants to argue with the statement that No, he fucking doesn’t, but he suppresses it for the sake of figuring out where this conversation’s headed.

“Since when do we make it a habit of bathing prisoners?” Zoro asks, his hand resting on the handle of his sword.

“Since when have we had prisoners?” You counter.

The swordsman scoffs. “The clown’s needed upstairs in ten.”

“Sure.”

“I’m right here, you know?”

Zoro gives him a nasty look and nothing more before heading back out the door, shutting it with a forceful thud.

“Why do you even stick around with these nobodies?!” Buggy questions. “They can’t navigate for shit, they have no sense of preservation, and they suck at fighting!”

You shift back to raise a knowing eyebrow at him. “They defeated you, didn’t they?”

“That’s—! … I was outnumbered, it wasn’t a fair fight!”

“No fights are fair in the life of piracy,” you point out. 

He bites the inside of his cheek. “All I’m saying is, you’re too powerful to be with these losers. You could join my crew! Think about it! We’d be unstoppable!”

“You mean, join the same people who locked me up and whose asses I subsequently kicked?” 

“Exactly! Don’t worry, they’ll get over it! Once they see how awesome you are, they’ll accept you with open ar—!”

“I decline.”

Buggy pauses, his enthusiasm promptly vanishing and getting replaced with bitter disappointment. “You’re not even going to consider it?”

“Why would I?” You wipe away a descending drop from his right eye. “I have no interest in joining another crew.”

“You say that, and yet here you are with these losers.”

“I was never going to stay permanently.” 

He pauses. “You weren’t?”

“I’m here for Luffy, and once I’ve decided that he can hold his own weight above the waters, I’ll leave.”

“… Where will you go? After, then?”

It takes you a moment to answer, like you don’t know the answer yourself quite yet. Your hand stills for a moment before resuming with the task at hand.

“Who knows?” You shrug. “The sea is my home. I’ve missed it, so I will remain where the waves pull me.”

That won’t do on its own. Stay with me. Buggy wants to ask, and if he had knees, he’d ask on them. Come with me. Be with me. You won’t have to be an official member of his crew; you don’t have to bend to him. You just have to stay. 

Stay with him.

That’s all he’ll ask.

Stay with him until he has the opportunity to figure out a way to make it up to you. 

Stay with him so he can compensate for the twenty years you suffered in each other’s absences.

Just stay.

“Hey.” He’s surprised by his own initiative. “Why’d you even leave your crew and stick your feet on land if you love the sea so much?”

You raise an eyebrow in question.

“I mean, you were Captain of the Cross-Haired Pirates, for crying out loud! You used to be legendary!” He proclaims, almost saddened by your apparent dismissal of your previous title. “You had fame, berries, a reputation that preceded everyone! Everyone feared you! Why’d you ditch all of that? Because of that rubbery prick? Because of Shanks?”

“Is that really what you want to ask me?”

“Yeah!”

You sigh through your nose and put the towel down to recline in your chair. “I didn’t become a Captain because that’s what I wanted. I became a Captain because it provided an outlet.”

“An outlet? For fucking what?”

It takes you a few seconds to finally reach a suitable response. 

“Anger,” you admit calmly, your arms crossing over your chest as the words stir on your tongue. They must taste bitter. “I was angry, and it festered every day, churning into a poisonous substance in my body. Being a captain with a crew, I could take it out on whoever I wanted. Pirate, marine, unruly crew member, it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.”

It makes sense now, he thinks, the reputation you’ve garnered over the years. Beware the Beast in the East, people would chant in passing towns and harbors, like you were a ghost story. Her eyes were like swords, and her hands were twice as sharp.

There wasn’t a single place where blood didn’t paint your steps.

He never met you while you were a captain; he didn’t want to, couldn’t find it in himself to pop by even once. Still, he kept your poster hidden in the dark depths of the chest in his quarters, if only for acrimonious reminiscence. He would spend some drunken nights doing nothing but staring at it, and it was like he could feel your rage seep through the ink on the page and scorch his fingers. A reminder of what he did.

Now, looking at you and comparing you to the poster, he fails to see the resemblance. He doubts he could’ve spotted it had you reunited earlier on. Captain Cross-Hairs was sharp around the edges, with pecks of blood on her cheeks and fresh scars on her face.

He licks his lips in deliberation. “You were pissed… because of what?”

Because of me?

“I don’t know.” He watches your chest expand with your breath, mesmerized simply by watching you commit to living. There used to be a time when you didn’t. “I didn’t care about money or power. I didn’t care for much of anything, except to purge that rage from my body. I fought, and I killed. It helped, for a time; I felt satisfied, but after a while, you grow bored of eating the same meal.”

When he looked at you when you were younger, he imagined he saw the scorching sun. Burning and bright and enlightening. 

You were … everything, but he never imagined that the same fire that used to mesmerize him would burn a thousand ships in his absence. 

But he was a boy back then. He’s older now, more experienced in the ways of life, he knows better.

He knows enough.

"But the boy," you say with a certain gentleness in your voice that does not evade his notice. "He's good."

"He's weak," Buggy scoffs, feeling his belly fill with sour smoke. He recognizes the feeling. It's the feeling he got when he watched Shanks talk to you that night by the fire. The same feeling he got when he watched you stay with Shanks that day. 

"He's defeated every opponent he's come across."

"Didn't beat Arlong, though." Buggy points out with a smidgen of childish pride and smirks. "Got his ass handed to him real good if I remember correctly."

You look back at him in that narrow way you usually reserve for him when he's crossed a line, and he can already tell he fucked up.

"I watched him grow, Buggy.” You say firmly. “I was there for all of it. I watched him learn, I watched him fight, I watched him leave land. He’s not like us — he doesn’t waste time on regret. He’ll become better than we ever were.”

Buggy glowers but doesn’t say anything else, insisting on letting your words simmer in his brain until he can find the will to let them go.

You procure something from the drawers and it’s only when he looks down that he realizes it’s the make-up. With gentle hands, you lift him and place him in your lap, the brush already blue and ready.

“I’m not here to talk about what used to be,” you say. “Now hold still.”

The diamonds across his eyes come first, the brushing makes his face tickle and it’s only by sheer willpower alone that he manages to refrain from staring at you. 

“Takes us back,” he whispers and closes his eyes so that you can finish. “Doesn’t it?”

He hears something akin to a chortle that doesn’t quite reach your throat, but he considers it a small win.

“You looked a mess,” you answer. “A child could’ve done a better job than I did.”

“Wasn’t bad for your first try, though.”

Except that it was. It was pretty bad. Your hands were shaking, and you held your breath like you were afraid of making a mistake. By the time you were finished, he looked like a canvas painted by a child, but he didn’t have the heart to tell you that.

He used to think that it was strange. You were skilled at nearly everything you committed yourself to, without even trying. 

When he thinks back on it, maybe it wasn’t skill; maybe it was just an ingrained fear of failure that drove you to become the best at what you did.

Then again, your worst could never be the worst in his eyes.

You finish his eyes, and when he looks up at you, he sees the same determination and focus in your eyes as he did that day. It’s the same look you have when you’re targeting something, be it an enemy or a point of interest. It’s always the same.

And he can’t look away.

You move onto the crossbones next, and he’s happy he won’t have to close his eyes for this one. He’s not certain you can pull off his iconic look, but he’ll give you the benefit of the doubt for now.

After all, you strive for perfection. He doubts this will be an exception.

Get it? Perfection and except— You know what? Nevermind.

He can feel your attention in every stroke of the brush, feel the white paint glisten on his skin before it dries. Your warmth lingers like burning embers, he feels like getting too close will burn him, yet he wants nothing more than blisters upon his skin.

He looks at you, looks into your focused eyes, and he feels … something tightening, back where his body is. It could be his stomach, his head… other places, but he can’t tell. Arlong’s been busy abusing his body long enough that he can’t differentiate between a kick or a punch anymore.

But this isn’t Arlong.

It’s you.

He can handle a tight body if it’s because of you.

When he was young, and his body began to work in the way of a man, he would sometimes wake up and feel sweaty and … stiff. He knew enough to know what it was, to know what caused it, but he didn’t know how to approach the situation.

He knew the source of his frustrations. He knew how to alleviate them, but he didn’t. He respected you far too much to ever dare cross the threshold. He figured that simply talking to you, simply holding your hand, and being at your side would be enough. He would be content with just that.

But he watched you … develop. It didn’t seem like such a big deal at the time, but he couldn’t help but marvel at the sight. He imagined feeling your flesh under his digits. The softness across your chest and hips. The warm skin. 

He looks at you now, sees the scars peeking from under your shirt, on your face, and he wants to feel the rough edges. 

Buggy gulps and he’s rather happy now that the rest of his body is not attached to him. He’s lost enough dignity as it is.

“And now, the mouth.”

Yes, he wants to touch that t—

You take the lipstick, and in a straight line, smear it across his mouth in a way that snaps him out of his thoughts. He can feel the warmth emitting from your thumb as you finish his face, and it takes him half a mind not to—

“Done.”

Disappointment lingers in the clown’s visage, and even when you present him a mirror and see the identical likeness to his wanted posters, it does not alleviate the feeling. For what it's worth, he's impressed with how far your make-up-applying skills have reached since last time. 

It's perfect.

But it means you’re done, and the nobodies require his flashy expertise to get Miss Ginger back. 

You dump the discolored water out and put the rest of the equipment away, and he feels his head weigh another ten pounds at so. He somewhat hopes it would; maybe it would be heavy enough that you wouldn’t bother carrying him up the deck?

… Oh, who is he kidding? It’s you. You won’t have any trouble in that department even if he were to weigh as much as a boulder. Ten boulders, even.

To his surprise, instead of reaching for him, you lounge back into your seat and nonchalantly cross your arms and ankles. He’s confused. Weren’t you going to go up with him already?

“If Zoro needs you, he can get you himself.”

That’s what you’ll leave it be like. He, freshly washed, dried, and painted. You, just casually sitting like you have no urgency to get back to the world.

“He’ll be pissed at you,” Buggy warns. “And probably threaten to throw you into the sea.”

You shrug, your eyes already closed, giving him no indication whatsoever that you’re particularly concerned with the veryscary swordsman. He grins with all his teeth on show.

Unfortunately, the green-haired asshole turns up not even five minutes later. All but ripping the clown by the roots of his hair and taking him away like a sack of flour. Buggy spews curses and threats, but they all fall on deaf ears.

It’s only when he’s positioned on deck that he’s finally free of his torment, if only for an hour or two. He begrudgingly instructs the long-nosed slingshot where to sail, adding a few creative insults along the way. Hey, it’s not Buggy’s fault they’re too easy to rile up.

“Is that long nose compensating for something?”

To which he earned a slap to the back of his head. From whom, he doesn’t know, but he’ll take his victories in whatever light weight they come in.

After a while, he shifts his head to eject another insult to the slingshot when he sees that you’re standing a few feet away, your arms crossed while leaning against the railing; eyes closed but face focused and attentive.

He cuts his verbal daggers down a notch.

It gets late, the sky darkens, and one after another, the crew members resign to their chambers save for the slingshot, who still insists on going for a while longer. Him, and you, surprisingly enough. 

You stay, for all of it; neither complaining nor muttering a sound. 

You're stoically positioned on the sidelines, hardly moving at all. He would've died if he'd been standing in the same position for more than one hour, but you endured a total of six without a shiver or a strain. Like a soldier in the rain. A monk in a temple of thorns. 

A beast in an empty forest, lonesome in its hunger, yet content with what content remains buried in its stomach for the time being.

Long-nosed slingshot finally calls it a night and withdraws from the steering wheel with his hands outreached for the head. Before his dirty fingers can hope to graze the magnificent head that is Buggy's, you stretch your arm out like a shield between them.

"I'll take him."

Slingshot snorts. "Really? You want to?"

"Do you want to?"

With his hands raised in mock surrender, Slingshot relents. "... Fine, be my guest."

With a nod, you take the head and retire back to your chamber on the ship. Buggy yawns in your arms, tired, but satisfied with the warmth embracing him. Your steps feel like waves with each one you take, nudging him further and further toward the edge of sleep. Only unadulterated stubbornness keeps him awake.

It darkens for a moment. When he rouses back, he feels softness underneath him. A pillow of sorts, not comforting enough to offer him sleep, but enough to keep him relaxed.

He nudges around, like a fish in a small bowl, only to find that he's not on the table, nor in a barrel, nor a bag. The surface beneath him is made of fabric, and swings with his movements. 

He's in a hammock.

More precisely, your hammock.

“Sleep.” He hears your command. 

He finally locates you, seated by the window of your cabin with your palm under your chin, staring out into the darkened ocean.

He turns, voice diluted with drowsiness. “You too…”

“Soon.”

“Now," he almost whines.

The look you give him is not any different from the kind you usually provide, but it lacks the usual undertone of annoyance. He can tell you're tired, even if you're refusing to show it. The shadows under your eyes stand out more prominently, even in the dimmed candlelight. 

With an inaudible sigh, you stand and while he expects you to move towards the hammock, he's disappointed to see you aiming towards the door instead.

"H-Hey, where are you going?"

"The kitchens," you respond. "You can sleep here for the night; I'll take the couch."

"That's not necessary!" He wiggles so that he can look at you from over the edge of the hammock, careful as not to fall from the height. A thought dawns over him, one that makes his cheeks feel warm. "We- We can share! I don't take a lot of space!"

"You still take up too much of it."

"Are you calling me fat?!"

He's almost insulted when you don't answer to contradict his assumption, yet despite the innate urge to defend his honor and spew shit at you, he decides to let it slide.

"C'mon! I promise I'll behave," he tries again. "You'll hardly notice me. Those couches suck balls anyway, so why not?"

He watches you give it some thought for probably a good two minutes. He expects you'll decline his proposition, finding that your own pride weighs more than the need for decent sleep. 

Then, you lower your shoulders in defeat and make your way over to the hammock. "Scoot over."

He obliges rather excitedly, and when he wiggles back a bit too much to make space, he can feel gravity threaten to drop him on the other side of the hammock. Before it gets to that point, you grab him by the side of his face and hold him until you can lift yourself and lay down. 

Only then do you lay him down, on the right side of your abdomen. He's mindful of the wounds that have yet to heal there, so he tries not to invade too much. Still, he can't deny, he's quite comfortable. Very comfortable. 

He's the most comfortable he's been in a long time - twenty years.

He surpasses the urge to push closer to you, share your warmth, and elects to look up at the ceiling instead.

"Hope you don't snore," he jokes, only to have a yawn follow promptly behind.

"I don't snore," you answer, deadpan. "Now go to sleep."

He's not convinced, but he doesn't comment on it. This peace hangs by a thread, and he'll be damned if it's cut short now of all times. He shuts his eyes, and in his dreams, he's presented with the sun on the blue skies above.

He feels warm all over.

----

Taglist: @kurinhimenezu, @carpinchootaku, @ay0nha, @teh-vampire-bunny, @lokiscure, @internationalsuper-spy, @detectivesparrow , @yuriwk , @notyuralycat, @angeli-fucking-cat, @machinema7k , @shuujin, @avatar-lover, @gingernut1314, @autumn-slaves. @marvelouskatie, @floristoflillys, @dizzyenby, @redpool, @deliri-yum22, @aemondsb1tch, @ackroxia, @gayandfairycore, @knightsfavoriteprincess, @asterizee, @aamethyst23, @lizzie1107, @cyberwears, @heylookliisten, @f41k47, @beep-beep1, @crimsonflameproxy, @unpopular-sober-thoughts, @rayleeya, @timeladyrikaofgallifrey, @fanshavegottensotoxic, @fluffybunnyu, @sirenmelody23

(If you want to be tagged for this story, just send me a message or leave a comment :))

(Additionally, some sketches of how I imagine Cross-Hairs to look like while I’m writing.)

[zafirosreverie]

The Brightest Star (North x F!Reader)

Every year since I have this blog I have written at least one fanfic for North when Christmas is close, I couldn't let this one be the exception, so I hope you like it.

______________________________

You sighed as you tried to control your shaking hands, you really didn't want to ruin another machine, but nothing seemed to work. You couldn't help it, not when he was so close, even if you couldn't see him, you could feel it in your bones, that terrible, ancient fear that stabbed into your skin like a million needles, seeming to inject those horrible shadows into your being.

You shuddered when the memory of that terrible day suddenly came to your mind. You had blocked out most of the details, but you remembered perfectly the feeling of a deathly cold hand wrapping around your throat, stealing all the air from your body, the darkness slowly filling your senses and the screams of children echoing in your ears.

Pitch Black had escaped, but you could still feel his grip on you.

"Are you ok?"

You jumped when you felt a large but warm hand on your shoulder and thanked everything in your mind that you hadn't screamed when you saw blue eyes filled with concern staring at you.

“Yeah, I’m fine” you lied.

The man didn't seem to believe you, but he was kind enough not to push, so he just gave you a gentle squeeze and took a seat next to you. Internally you were grateful that he was so easy to work with, because you were sure that your teacher would already be questioning you.

You silently passed him the toolbox and returned to your own project, allowing muscle memory to take the reins and letting your memory wander back to that day, though not to Pitch's terrible memories, but to the bright light that you had next to you.

Nicholas St. North, retired bandit, loud but kind man, Santoff Claussen's savior. Again, you didn't remember the details, but you did remember the way the blanket of darkness around you was suddenly broken with the clean cut of a sword, and the cold that seeped into your bones slowly melted with the warmth of a pair of big arms. You felt safe even without knowing who the man holding you was.

North had saved you, he had saved your home, your children, magic, and because of that he had not only earned a place as Ombric's apprentice, but, without knowing it (and you wouldn't admit it), he had earned a permanent place in your heart.

He was a brilliant man, with surprising ingenuity, his inventions surpassed anything that had been created before in the town, and a heart of gold. Ombric had given him a place in his house, and since you were also technically his apprentice, it was a matter of time before you struck up a friendship with the former bandit, to the point that your teacher joked that you couldn't live without him anymore.

Not that you cared, you liked North more than you were willing to admit, and the man in the moon knew that man needed a family, a home to belong to, and you hoped, deep down, that somehow you could be part of it.

You just wished he could see how special he was, that he could see himself the way you and Katerine saw him. Despite his carefree attitude and the confidence he projected in front of others, especially in front of children or Ombric, you knew that guilt and memories of his past life still haunted him, that he often questioned whether he really deserved a place as a guardian.

"Do you think I'm worthy?" he asked

"You are" you smiled, reassuring him "you're a really bright star"

________________________________

You smiled as you watched the elves running around, getting between the tables and getting in the Yetis’ way, who were already too used to it to really bother with them. You loved this time of year, the bright lights, the decorated trees, the colors, the warmth of the fireplaces, the cookies, the gifts, and in the middle of it all, him.

In the end, Ombric had been right, you couldn't stay away from North, so when he formed his alliance with the Yetis, moved to the North Pole and built his magnificent city where his inventions brought joy to everyone, you had naturally been at his side.

It had been a long time since you had finally admitted your feelings for the man, and with Manny's blessing (who had made you age as slowly as North did), you had sworn to share his mission of protecting wonder in children for whatever centuries you had left.

"Mrs. Claus" a cheerful voice sounded behind you.

You smiled as you turned to him. In front of you was Santa Claus himself, as imposing as the legends said, with the years reflected in his face, which still retained its childish warmth and as handsome as the day you met him.

"Mr. Claus" you replied "ready for your big night?"

Christmas Eve was always a busy and difficult night for North, but you knew that, like you, he would never change the children's joy at seeing that Santa had visited them for anything. 

He simply smiled and offered his hand to you, escorting you down the hallway as you headed to the reindeer shed. You never accompanied him on deliveries, preferring to wait for him with a cup of hot chocolate and freshly baked cookies, but you were always there to watch him leave. He had said you gave him luck, and you never questioned it.

"Tell me, darling" he whispered "do you still think I'm worthy?"

Oh, so it was one of those nights. Despite everything he had experienced, despite how much he had done for children and for the world, there were still echoes of his ghosts walking through his mind. It wasn't as frequent anymore, maybe once every few years, but sometimes, he still needed you to remind him how special he was.

"North" you said softly "look around you. Look at everything you've created, the wonderful ideas you've made come true, look how much this place has grown"

Carefully, you let go of his arm so you could take his hands instead, making him look at you with an intensity and fragility reserved for you.

"But most of all, look at what you have become, everything you represent" you said "You are not only the guardian of wonder, you are more. Christmas is not only about gifts and beautiful lights, it is the memories that are created, the love that is strengthened, the joy that is shared, the illusion that is reborn even in adults. You represent all that. Even when the magic seems lost, people find it again in your figure, in your celebration"

North smiled and closed his eyes, savoring the feel of your palm as you caressed his cheek gently.

"You are the most important guardian, protector of magic" you continued "and you are the brightest star of Manny's new golden age."

[isaut]

𝒍𝒖𝒄𝒌𝒚 𝒐𝒏𝒆𝒔, 𝒇𝒊𝒓𝒔𝒕 𝒆𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒖𝒏𝒕𝒆𝒓— f!reader x captain rex. 11.1k. ao3

you meet rex on a friday night in a bar. it's the start of a whole lot of coincidences. next. masterlist.

It’s a warm, spring night. The first warm night of the season. The sun still sets early, still leaves the evening blanketed, tucked in. In celebration of the weather’s grace, grace had been extended to the 501st. A night off. A night in their blacks, suits tucked away on their ship. 

Naboo’s streets are lined with lamps encased in glass and iron. Intricate designs, ones that were hammered out by grizzled, loving hands generations ago. The streets are cobblestone, not dirt nor concrete. They’re slightly uneven, mined from below the planet’s surface. The favorite of a queen generations ago. 

Taking the lead of the group are Fives and Hardcase. Their hands are all over each other: around each other’s necks, shoving each other, playing tag along the winding roads. They’re more like children on these streets, adulthood and responsibilities loosened by the shots taken back at the ship. Flavorless, bright green. From some hole-in-the-wall corner store in Coruscant. 

Hardcase darts up the road, ducking behind an intricate column. He’s not well hidden at all, shoulder peeking out from behind. Nonetheless, when Fives walks past and Hardcase jumps on him, the former stumbles, hands stuck between bracing himself from falling and grabbing his brother’s legs to keep him on the piggyback. Instead, they both tumble to the ground, laughing loudly in the night. 

The laughter sounds good. It sounds better than the screaming, than the shouting, than the panting, dying breaths that can be heard over the comms. 

Tup helps them both up, his hair down and flopping around his jaw. It’s a shaky business, alcohol and giddiness marring all of their veins. 

While Rex doesn’t like drinking, isn’t favorable to the warmth from a fresh shot, isn’t favorable to the inhibitions that comes with it, he is favorable to the comfort it brings his brothers. Twelve hours ago he’d been running through dry desert, frantically pulling helmets away from their suits, checking for pulses, holding his own face as the force left their eyes–

“You going to have fun tonight?” Comes a voice from beside Rex. He looks over— Kix. There’s a hair of worry in his eyes, a flash of concern. 

Rex clears his throat. Pushes back the thoughts. If he trusted himself more he’d drink. 

“I’ll stay out for a while,” Rex replies. 

Kix pats his shoulder. No more words are exchanged. No more words need to be exchanged between the two of them. 

The trio of stooges stop in their tracks, drawn to a bar. The door opens, and a few women tumble out of it, hair perfectly done and breathless. With them, music wafts out behind them, the acoustic tones shutting with the door. They giggle and wave at the group, one of them pulling a paper pack of cigarettes out of her purse. 

Fives waves back. He’s got a not-real grin on his face, one that he thinks is cooler than it is. 

“I think we should go here!” Hardcase says, louder than he needs to. Louder than is acceptable in the quiet streets. It earns them a look from some passerby, and a giggle from the tallest of the women. 

The name of the bar swings in the warm breeze on a wooden sign, seared into it. Comienzos. 

“When we get in, we can do another round of shots!” Hardcase continues. Rex doesn’t think they need another round of shots. But Hardcase’s hands are clapping down, hard, on Rex’s shoulders and shaking him around a bit. “And this time make sure our beloved captain joins in! 

“I’m really— I’m fine without one,” Rex insists, waving his brothers off. 

“It’s team building!” Hardcase presses. He loops around Rex to be in his face, tilting his head in a way that is probably supposed to be pleading but comes across as childish. “C’mon, you can’t say no to team building.” 

Unease churns in Rex’s stomach. Not from the shots, but from imagining Hardcase a little too risky. A little too forward pushing. A little too maniacal. Panting last breaths over the comms. 

“Fine. I’ll do one,” Rex bends. He’d regret it. He’d regret not seeing the joy immediately sprawl across his brothers’ faces.

Hardcase lets out a loud whoop! It draws more attention. From the women, from an older couple walking a fluffy, four legged animal. Rex gives a little wave and a nod to the couple, as if he could silently apologize for the disturbance they’ve caused. 

Once inside, Rex is bathed in warmth. Bodies are moving on a tightly packed dance floor. Humans, not droids, stand on a stage with an array of instruments. They play each one like it’s an extension of their body, like the instrument has been part of their skeleton since they were born. They’re wooden and brass, and the band shows no sign of stopping soon. 

Finding an open spot at the bar, Fives pushes to the front to flag down the bartender. She’s a pretty woman, with tan skin and black hair and a low cut shirt. Something that Fives is very appreciative of. 

“Brother’s night out?” She calls over the music. 

“Dad’s genes are strong,” Fives says. “We’re gonna do a round of shots.” 

The bartender doesn’t seem phased at the joke, which dims the expectation in Fives’ eyes. It’s worked on every girl in the past, after all. 

Rex pats Echo on the shoulder. “Gonna go sit down. Do not get crazy.” 

Echo clicks his tongue. “We’d never.” 

Rex isn’t a fan of liars, but he doesn’t push it. Instead, he turns away from the bar and heads towards an empty table in the corner. It’s miraculously empty and seems to have enough stools for all of them. 

When they’d been given their night off, General Skywalker had been flippant but also wished the force to be with them. Perhaps it was happening right now. Rex is slightly thankful as he slides into one of the stools, and watches his brothers from afar. The Stooges do what Rex only assumes is a secret shot. Clear liquid is tipped back from a small shot glass, and then quickly set back down on the table. 

Kix, already on his way over the table, points his thumb back at them as if to say get a load of this. Rex huffs a laugh through his nose and shakes his head in disbelief. He slides into the seat beside Rex, rolling his eyes. 

“As if we aren’t going to notice,” Kix says. 

“Whether or not we saw…” Rex tacks on. He watches them hoot and holler as Echo does a shot of something an amber color. Hardcase rubs the back of Echo’s head with that maniacal grin on his face. 

On surprisingly sturdy legs, little yellow shots with candied rims are brought over to the table. An expression of disgust forms across Rex’s face before he’s even tried them. The sweet treat must be Tup’s choosing. 

“What is this?” Kix asks, pulling two towards him and Rex. 

“Limoncello,” Tup says. “Maria recommended it.” 

Rex wants to be on the ship watching a nature documentary on his datapad maybe with a cold beer. 

“Maria?” He asks, bringing the shot to his nose to take a whiff. It’s citrus sweet. 

“Tup was a big boy and asked for her name,” Fives laughs. 

“Don’t marry her in your dreams,” Rex warns, a teasing smirk on his face. 

“Don’t marry her in your dreams,” Tup mocks under his breath, shaking his head from side to side. “I just asked her for her name. Don’t be weird.” 

The shots are for living another day, apparently. Rex doesn’t see that there’s anything better to cheer for. Not dead yet. The glasses hit the table, then are dumped back down their throats. 

It is sweet. A little sour, but mostly sweet. Rex isn’t a fan. 

Kix shares his distaste. He gathers the glasses into both his hands and stands. “I’m getting beers. You want?” 

“Yeah,” Rex replies. 

“Hey!” Fives calls after Kix. Kix turns, raising his eyebrow. “Nothing for us?” 

“You’re going to be drunk enough,” Kix replies. He turns, and heads off towards the bar. 

Hardcase hasn’t sat down yet. Instead, his hands are clapped on Echo’s shoulders. He’s speaking to Fives about his brother, making diabolical plans to get him laid that night above his head. He’s speaking too loud to be discreet, and loud enough that it makes Rex want to be swallowed by the floor. Fives gestures over to a group of women, a different group than the ones seen before, and adds to their conspiring. 

All four of them, the Stooges and Echo, head off towards the women. Rex takes a deep breath of the warm air. Glances over at Kix– The bartender, Maria, seems to actually be engaging him in conversation. She’s leaned over, giving him a look down her shirt, and is laughing at something he’s saying. 

Rex looks back at the dumpster fire that’s going on across the room. Fives seems to be making some sort of case for Echo, hand on his shoulder and speaking animatedly. Maybe it’s the same lie, the one about Echo being a virgin, they’re spinning. 

Kix returns with two beers and a triumphant look on his face. He slides one over to Rex, and is sure to clink the necks together in cheers before taking a sip. 

“What’re you so happy about?” Rex asks. 

“Maria said I was pretty,” Kix hums. 

“How nice of her to give us all a compliment,” Rex mumbles. 

“Hey, don’t be like that,” Kix says, furrowing his brow.

“Sorry.” Rex speaks into the beer’s mouth, taking a long pull.

A beat of quiet passes between the two of them. Rex watches the dancefloor. It’s more attractive than his brothers failing miserably at wingmanning each other. 

The dance floor has swelled as the night has progressed. A few of the girls walk away from the Stooges, joining the breathing floor. Rex’s attention isn’t on anyone or anything in particular. Instead, he’s watching the general shapes, the general flows of rhythm that extend through the physical body. 

“Maybe you should try getting laid tonight,” Kix suggests. 

“I’m not in the mood,” Rex replies, almost too quickly. He’s not. 

Kix lets it go. Rex returns to his watching. Maybe the beer will make him feel better. Maybe a walk will clear his head. Maybe he really should have stayed in with a nature documentary. Everyone on the dance floor moves with such ease, as if they are all of the same mind and body. One living organism.

“Hardcase straight up asked if they wanted to, and I quote, fuck,” Fives huffs, sounding more like a petulant child than a rejected adult. 

Rex’s attention snaps away from the floor. Fives sits down on a stool beside him, resting his head in his hands. 

“He let down Echo. What if he never gets his dick wet?” Fives bemoans. 

Hardcase rolls his eyes. He crosses his arms, and doesn’t sit down. “I think we should go to the next bar.” 

Rex looks beyond the bemoaners. It seems like Tup and Echo are doing just fine, now that Hardcase and Fives have walked away. 

“Don’t think a new bar is going to fix your problems,” Kix says, his gaze following Rex’s.

Rex stands. He claps both Hardcase and Fives on their shoulders. “I think the problem is you.” 

They look over. A pained expression paints their faces. 

“We have to go to another bar,” Fives insists. 

“I’m content right here,” Kix says, bringing his beer to his lips. “Maria gave me her freq– Hey, where are you going?” 

Rex turns, a few paces from the table. “Taking a leak. Want to hold my hand?” 

“Fuck off,” Kix sighs and turns back to the group. There, he has questions to answer about the bartender from his eager brothers. They sit around him, hanging on to each word that Kix reluctantly shares. 

“What I thought,” Rex mumbles to himself, and heads off in search of the restroom. 

It’s tucked back behind a wall, sitting behind a large oak door, common in Naboo. After trying the handle, Rex sighs. It’s occupied. 

Rex leans back against the wall while he waits, closing his eyes. The music reverberates through the wall, sending pleasant waves through his body. 

“Ugh, is it occupied?” 

Rex turns his head to face the voice. Immediately, he straightens off the wall. Words escape him for a moment, stuck somewhere in the blank spaces of his brain. You’re beautiful. Red lips, long lashes, curve-hugging dress. His lips part once, then he finds his words, though it’s not many. 

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sorry.” What is he apologizing for? 

You sigh, crossing your arms. “Honestly, kind of insane this place only has one bathroom.”

Rex nods. Words filter back to his brain in a slow, gracious trickle. “You come here often?” 

A laugh stretches out past your red lips. “I’ve been known to spend an evening here, yes.” 

There’s a beat of silence. You glance towards the wall before back to the man in front of you. 

“What about you?” 

“Me?” Rex turns his head back to you. “Oh, I’m just visiting.” 

“Where from?” 

“Small planet, far away. Nowhere as nice as here.” 

“Oh, I’m sure it’s plenty nice. You’re just from there, so you don’t see the beauty in it.” 

Rex shrugs. He’s about to reply when the bathroom door opens and a patron exits. He gestures towards it. 

“Ladies first.” 

“Oh, thank you so much.” You deflate with graciousness. With a hand on the door, pushing it open, you look over your shoulder at Rex. Your lashes bat down as you take a long look up and down his body. He’s filled out quite nicely, but there’s something about him that draws you in. “When I’m done in here, I’m going to smoke a cigarette on the rooftop. If you want to join me.” 

“Oh, I don’t smoke,” Rex says. He makes a split-second decision. “But I’ll join you.” 

You smile wide at him again, then disappear into the bathroom. Rex resumes his slouch against the wall. A faint smile crosses his face as he thinks about your own smile. 

Rex doesn’t bother telling his brothers where he’s off too. Instead, he goes straight from the toilet to the rooftop. It takes a small staircase where the middle of the stairs are worn down, and a good push on the door that seems to be stuck on its hinges.

The rooftop is nice. Decorated with little lights and a few tables. It’s clear that it’s meant for patrons, but wasn’t being used tonight due to the live music below. The night sky stretches on above you, stars drowned out by the city lights of Theed.

The bar is across the street from the sea, so the lights are swallowed whole by the waters of Naboo. You stand by the wall, which is a white plaster that reaches your waist, curved at the top. The fairy lights illuminate you, working with the moonlight to encase you in an ethereal glow. There’s a shawl around your shoulders, and a pearlescent cigarette case glints in your hand. 

Your head turns at the sound of the door being opened. A lazy grin makes its way across your face as you recognize the handsome stranger from earlier. 

“I think you come here more than you’re letting on,” Rex says. 

“Sue me,” you hum. 

Rex crosses the distance to reach you. He’s handsome, face lit up by the fairy lights and backlit by the door he emerges from. There’s a nice chisel to his face that hints at the rations that fill his diet. In the darkness, his eyes are a glinting brown. 

Flicking open your cigarette case, you withdraw a cigarette and place the white butt between your lips. Immediately, red lipstick rings around it. Your lighter lands in your hand, with the same pearl sheen as your case. You illuminate the tip of the cigarette, casting your face in the glow of the handheld fire. 

The light shuts off abruptly. 

You exhale away from his face. 

“Oh, I never introduced myself, did I?” You pull your cigarette away from your face to examine the tip and make sure it’s burning smoothly. Then, you follow through on your words and let your name tumble from your lips. 

Rex does so in turn. It’s nice to meet you, as he tells you in turn, repeating your name on his tongue to try it out. The syllables flow nicely, more than he’s used to. There’s an antique ring that he’s a fan of. 

You take another drag of your cigarette. “It’s fitting. Your name.” 

Rex can’t help but chuckle at the truth behind your words. It does fit, doesn’t it? Almost as if it had been picked out for him. Still, it warms him that you like it. That you enjoy the one thing he’s picked out for himself. 

“I saw you staring earlier,” You say. “Do you dance?” 

“It’s not for me. I just like watching.” 

Your lashes skim down your cheeks again as you look him up and down. The sheer sparkle over your lids is becoming a treasure. When they return their gaze to his own eyes, your brow is raised in question. Lots of men like watching. 

“What kinds of things do you like watching?” 

Shit. What kinds of things does he like watching? His mind goes blank, and his lips supply the one thing he can think of right now, because an example is standing right before him: “Pretty women.”

“Oh?” You feel your face warm slightly. Flattery. You have to hold off from asking if you’re one of the pretty women he likes looking at. 

“Don’t get to very often. Always a nice, good thing when I do.” 

“What keeps you from it?” 

“The war.” There’s a lot of admittance coming from his lips. It feels strange on his chest. Like there’s a slurping on his soul he can’t tell if he should lean into or avoid. 

You hum. Another drag of the cigarette. “Scary times we live in, isn’t it?” 

Rex wishes he was better at asking questions. His tongue feels too big for his mouth. “Hopefully you don’t get too close to it.” 

“I suppose I don’t.” You pull the cigarette away from your face and place it before you, checking the burn on the tip before raising it back up again. Your arm crosses your chest to support your cigarette elbow, and it presses your chest together. Rex’s eyes dip for just a moment. “Closest I get is asking Gungans for art to hang in the museums.” 

“What puts you in that situation?” 

“I’m a curator for the National Art Museum. We’re actually celebrating tonight. You into art?” 

“I don’t get the chance for it very often.” Only art he had was the jaig eyes on his helmet. He had painted those on, long ago. Taped down the area around them and used an airbrush. Sometimes he’d find Tup drawing in the common area during downtime. Tup liked portraits– sketched anyone and everyone he saw in ballpoint pen. Rex wouldn’t deem his exposure ‘museum worthy.’

“That’s a shame. Don’t dance, don’t look at art, don’t even get to look at pretty women.” You shake your head. “I feel bad for you, Rex.” 

“Don’t,” Rex says. “‘S just part of the job.” 

“Still. Maybe this is why–” 

You’re cut off by the door to the rooftop jostling open. A large figure fills the space, calling out. 

“Rex? We’re going to another bar. You ready to go?” 

From the cadence, Rex can recognize the voice as Kix. “I’ll catch up later.” 

“Right.” Kix pauses, and then makes an exaggerated movement across his lips, as if he was zipping them shut and locking them. He even throws away the key. Rex’s eyes crinkle with a small smile and he waves him off. 

The door shuts firmly behind Kix. 

“You sure you don’t have to leave?” You ask, slipping your bag from your shoulder. 

“Nah. See them everyday.” 

Flashing him a smile, you reach inside your purse and produce a tin. You pop it open and place a mint on your tongue. Rex’s eyes follow your fingers intently. “Want one?” You offer. 

Rex almost denies. Why must he take more? Instead, he goes along with it, nodding. 

“Open your mouth.” 

Rex does so. You place the little white mint on his tongue, a small smile on your lips. The muscle flutters slightly. 

“Come dancing with me,” You whisper. “I don’t care that you can’t.” Your eyes flit down to his hands, which rest clasped together before you. They’re large, the nails wide. You glance up at him, and lean in slightly. You smell like cigarettes and mint, not something that Rex would ever think he’d like. “I want you to put your hands on my body.” 

The sharp breath Rex takes is invigorated by the mint. He almost swallows the small, white candy. 

“Yeah?” You ask, smiling widely at him. “Or do you want to stay up here and talk for a little longer?” 

Rex swallows. He bets his brothers are gone– Hardcase had probably been begging to leave since he was rejected. Rex glances down your dress again, then to your hips. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” you hum, catching his lingering gaze. You slip your hand between his, separating them from their clasp. His fingers are calloused against yours, signs of hard work over every smooth surface. You slip your fingers between his. “Just follow me.” 

Rex does check to see if his brothers are still present. Luckily, the corner is empty. Free of them. He feels his shoulders loosen as he follows you over to where your friends are sitting. A giggle rises in your throat as you toss your bag beside one of your friends, flippantly telling her you were going dancing. Happily, the ones around the table titter upon seeing you with a man in tow. You reach over and take a sip of her drink, laughing when you’re whacked on the hip for your thievery. 

Dancing you do go. You lead Rex to the outskirts of the dance floor, somewhere where he can still breathe. Taking Rex’s hands within your own, you  place them on your body. The one that wraps around your hip practically engulfs the bone. His other does the same to your hand. 

“I promise, no one is watching,” you say, “And I won’t take it personally if you step on my toes.” 

“I’ll take it personally if I do,” Rex says. His eyes leave yours for a moment, and land on one of your friends, who is, in fact, busy watching. Quickly, he returns his gaze to you. You’re gazing up at him, a faint smile on your lips and a faint sway in your body. 

Rex looks at his feet once you start moving, genuinely worried he’d step on your toes. He fills the space as your feet leave them, and you gently turn him to make a small circle with your box steps.  

“Keep your eyes up here, on me,” you murmur over the music. Your hand slides to rest on his chest, and his on your shoulder. Rex’s eyes immediately flash back up from your feet. “Let’s go a little faster.” Your gazes are locked too close to each other. It’s all mint and smoke and a spice that Rex can’t place. Maybe it’s your perfume. 

Rex keeps up much better than you had thought. He keeps himself nearly pressed against you, with just enough room for the rise and fall of your chests to fill.

“You’re doing really good,” you whisper, the complement washing over Rex. “Want to spin me?” 

“I don’t know if I can,” Rex murmurs in reply. 

“It’s easy. Just pause and let me spin and we’ll pick right back up,” you instruct. “It’ll be easy.” 

It is. Your fingers glide against each other as you turn, Rex’s hand sliding across your waist as you spin. It electrifies when it crosses over your naked lower back. You settle back into the rhythm of the music, grinning up at Rex. 

And oh, suddenly he doesn’t care about your friends staring at the two of you. 

“You’re a natural.” 

The sweet words swell Rex’s chest with pride. After all, his body is good at doing what it’s told to do. And you’re much more attractive than any general who’s ever given him orders. 

Under your gentle and enticing guidance, Rex gets it, to some degree. Understands the rhythm to some degree, as long as your hands and encouraging words were nudging him along. Gotten to understand your body to some degree, smell your perfume and feel your chest press against his. 

“I want a drink,” you state. 

“Let me get you one,” Rex replies. 

“You misunderstand.” Your hand rests over Rex’s chest, right over his heart. It’s not beating as quickly as you would have expected it to after the cardio of dance he had just participated in. “I want a drink at home.” 

“It’s late out, let me walk you there.” The response is natural, easygoing. Second nature. 

“I hope you do. I hope you join me, too.” 

Oh. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

You grace him with one of those near kisses he’d witnessed earlier when he was just watching. It feels completely different to be on the receiving end– To have your breath almost mingle with his. 

The walk to your apartment isn’t too far. It’s close enough that Rex can see why you’d frequent the bar so often– It was barely a walk and you seemed to enjoyed dancing. He wondered, just for a moment, if he was just another part of your normal Friday nights. Work, dance, bring someone home. 

Secretly, he hopes he’s an exception. 

The gate to the apartment’s courtyard squeaks as it opens. Rex reaches over you and pushes it the rest of the way. The movement has you engulfed in the scent of soap and the hint of sweat. You find yourself taking another breath. 

“What a gentleman.” You throw a smile over to him as you step in. 

Within the safety of your apartment, you discard your purse on the small table in the entryway. Flip on the lamp that reads there as well. It fills the small area with a warm, orange glow. 

“Take your shoes off,” you say, placing a hand on the table for balance as you lift a foot behind you to fiddle with the straps. 

“Here,” Rex says, voice soft and rolling in the small space. “Let me help you.” 

He drops down. His fingers are large against the soft leather straps and the small metal buckle. There’s half a thought to press a kiss to your knee, half covered by the asymmetrical hem of your dress, but he refrains. He stands and dutifully takes off his own shoes. 

With a heavy gaze, you look Rex up and down again. He’s a head tilt taller than you now, not in your heels anymore. He seems to take up more space now, too. Now that he’s somewhere so personal. 

You slide into your slippers and pad through the apartment, leading him towards the main living area. Each lamp is flicked on manually, which surprises Rex. Most buildings were designed to be easily controlled by one central data pad. 

The warm light is a stark contrast to the fluorescents he’s used to. So is the atmosphere of your living room. 

Tall, cream ceilings with windows to match. There’s a balcony, which is locked shut by a heavy brass contraption. The sofa and chair are thick with cushioning, and the coffee and end tables appear antique. 

Rex follows you into the kitchen. Another small space, where he finds himself closer than ever to you. The tile is cool through his socks, an intricate design in shades of cream. 

“Do you want wine or beer?” You ask, opening up the refrigerator. 

“Beer, please,” he replies. 

You produce two from the fridge. They clink together as you hold them by their necks in one hand. As you turn, you’re met with the view of Rex leaning against your counter. It’s a far cry from most of your… visitors, who make themselves at home on your couch the moment they enter. 

You like this change of pace. 

“Want to sit inside or outside?” 

“Where do you want to sit?” 

“Outside,” You admit. 

“Then outside.” 

You smile. Rex simultaneously wants to never stop watching the pull of your lips and break the smile with a kiss.

On the balcony, you flick on some more lights, illuminating the area until the darkness of the night consumes the rays. There’s a small table for eating, and a couch. Beside the couch is an elaborate glass hookah set up that you’re quick to move aside. 

Taking a seat on the couch, you pat the spot beside you for Rex. You hand him his beer as soon as he’s sat. 

Facing him fully, you rest your arm on the back of the couch. 

“You said you never danced before, but I have a hard time believing that,” You say. 

Rex takes a pull of beer for confidence. “What makes you say that?” 

“You were a lot better than I was expecting.” 

“Glad I could defy expectations.” There’s a glint in Rex’s eyes that the light accentuates. 

Humming, you pose your next question. “Is this your first time on Naboo?” 

Rex can’t help but chuckle. He’s by far no stranger to Naboo, but typically spends his days stationed within the capitol building. “No, but it’s the first time I’ve been truly off duty here.” 

“And? What are your thoughts?” 

“I have no complaints.” Rex flits his eyes down your body. “Have certainly had a change in expectations for the night.” 

“Oh?” You tilt your head to the side. “What were your original expectations?” 

“I…” Rex’s voice gets lost as his eyes wander, watching your lips form to take a sip from the bottle. The way your fingers wrap around the glass. “Definitely not this.” 

You hum, and it makes a reverberating sound through the glass. “This?” 

“Something not so rowdy. I was expecting rowdiness.”

“Tell me more,” you urge, leaning into him. 

Rex’s heart flutters uncharacteristically in his chest. He swallows. Your perfume has a spice to it that he’s never smelt before. 

“My brothers and I have the night off, so we went out. They’re… A lot. Don’t always think things through.” They deserve not to, Rex thinks, at least when they’re off duty. 

You laugh. “I think I can tell. Two of them tried picking up my friends.” 

“I must apologize for them.” 

“Don’t. It was funny.” You reach over, into his space, and run your fingers over his buzz cut. “Are you a natural blonde?” 

Rex glances over at your bracelet, which dangles precariously on your wrist. 

“Yeah.” The touch of your fingers feels good. Soft and gentle. 

“I was blonde when I was a baby,” you comment. 

“I think the brown suits you.” 

“You’re sweet.” 

Rex hums. You withdraw your hand. “You don’t get out much, do you?” 

“Is it that obvious?” 

You smile. “Perhaps. What keeps you in?” 

“Work.” 

Taking another pull of your beer, you tilt your head to the side. “You know I’m going to ask you what you do.” 

“Nothing fancy. I’m just a soldier.” Rex picks at lint that’s not there on his pants. “For the Republic,” he tacks on. 

“Oh.” You take another drink of beer. “Can I be honest with you?” 

“You’re going to be, anyways.” He gladly anticipates whatever truth you’re about to share with him.

“I’m a pacifist.” 

Rex muddles the words around for a moment. “I think I’d be one too.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Would have to think on it a little bit more but… Between you and me, I’m ready for it to be over.” 

“I bet. I think you’re too handsome to be a soldier, anyways.”

Rex feels his face warm. It feels like a compliment just for him. Not one to be shared. 

“You don’t think there should be soldiers.” There’s no heat to his words. Perhaps, in another life, he’d agree. 

“Please, I’m trying to call you handsome. Will you please accept my compliment?” 

“I’ll accept it.” Rex takes your hand in his and presses a kiss to your knuckles. 

This time, a warmth spreads across your cheeks. You take a final drink of your beer. The metal end table you’re aiming for is on Rex’s side. Instead of passing the bottle to him, you completely lean over him. He gets a good, long look down your back. His hand has half a mind to run down the expanse, to dip into the valley of your spine and run over the swell of your ass. 

You pause in front of him as you settle back. 

“Tell me, Rex,” his name slides off your tongue, “What would you do if I kissed you right now?” 

Rex’s eyes drop from yours to your lips. “I’d be very thankful.” 

You inch your face closer. “Would you kiss me back?” 

What a ridiculous question. Rex responds by setting his beer down and sliding his chilled hand through your hair, resting it at the nape of your neck. 

A shiver trickles down your spine. 

Rex’s lips are on yours. Warm, confident, slightly chapped. 

You rest your palm on his chest. His heart thrums away beneath. One of his hands comes to rest on your hip, thumb smoothing back and forth over the fabric. 

Your tongue slides across his bottom lip. His mouth opens, tongue sliding alongside yours in wet heat. Easing yourself against him, you twist your body to take a seat on his lap. It’s sideways, your dress won’t let you straddle him. Instead, your legs are tucked up next to him. 

His hand slides down the smoothness of your legs, down to your ankle before up again. He continues his journey upwards, to your waist and your open back, playing with the low dip of your dress. 

You allow your head to lull into the hand that supports you there. Rex presses into the kiss, nose pushed against your cheek. As your tongues pass each other again, you don’t know where yours ends and his starts. 

Rex kisses like he’s drinking water. Like the quench to his thirst rests in your lips, in the slick of your saliva. There’s a thrumming building in your core, right where your soul lies. 

Your heart aches for him as you pull away and he chases your lips. His eyes flutter open, blinking amber into the dim light. 

“Hey,” he says, voice rolling over roughness. There’s a faint hint of red from your lipstick over your lips. 

“Hi,” you reply, a little lilt and giggle to your voice. You wonder if your alleged kiss-proof lipstick had shifted.

There’s a lazy, pleased smile working its way across Rex’s mouth. 

“Want to follow me inside?” 

“Gods, yes I do.” 

You slip off of his lap and onto your own two feet. Leaning down, you take Rex’s hands in your own and pull him up to his full height. 

“Lead on, gorgeous,” Rex says, dipping back down to get another taste of your lips. 

The door to your bedroom is wide open. You fumble for some more lights, slipping around the room to turn most of them on. There isn’t much in your bedroom: only a bed with a large, wooden headboard, an armoire that’s as old as the building, and a vanity you found at a flea market. A few paintings of deities Rex doesn’t recognize hang on the walls in dark wood frames. With the lights dim and warm, you come back to stand before Rex, wrapping your arms around his neck. His hands settle on your hips, then slip to your lower back. 

“You don’t need to be so polite,” you murmur, sliding your hands down his chest and further, fingers dancing along the hemline of his shirt. 

“Feel like I gotta. Not everyday…” he trails off, distracted by the feeling of your fingers, slightly cold, dancing up under his shirt. You don’t go far, just enough to feel over the v of his abdomen. 

“Not everyday…” you encourage. 

“‘S not important,” Rex decides on. It’s not. You don’t need to know he rarely does this. That his experience here isn’t to his normal standard. He ducks his head, pressing his lips back against yours, walking you towards the bed. 

Your teasing question dies in Rex’s mouth, swallowed by every slick pass of your lips opening and closing on each other. The backs of your knees hit the edge of your made bed, and you fall back on it. 

Unfortunately, Rex doesn’t come with you. Instead, he stands before you and between your legs, hesitation momentarily seeping across his face. You sit up and lean back on your hands, the way your shoulders move causing one of the dress straps to slip. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, tilting your head so it rests on your shoulder. 

“Nothing,” Rex says, pulling his shirt off over his head. 

He’s quick to lean back over you, doesn’t give you much time to admire the planes of his pectorals, or the almost-defined abdomen he has. Wants to drive your attention away from the scars that litter his skin. His knees dip in the duvet, and you spread your own to accommodate him. As your dress rides up, his gaze follows the fabric, which still leaves you modest. 

Rex is consuming above you, taking up every aspect of your vision. Your hands run over his shoulders, defined and firm, down his arms, defined and firm. His muscles are carved like the statues you select for showcases. It causes a giddy, girlish giggle to bubble up from your lungs. 

“What’s so funny?” Rex murmurs. 

You shake your head, hand moving back to cup his face. “Nothing. You’re just… You’re so muscle-y.” 

Rex blinks at you, once. Then he ducks his head, a smile forming. “Really?” 

“Yeah.” You think you might have dreamed him up once before. With your eyes shut, and a hand in between your thighs, the moon high in the sky. “Yeah.” 

Rex’s lips find the pulse point you apply your perfume to, licking over what remains of vanilla beans and spice. Your hand rests upon the back of his head, a sigh leaving your lips. He sucks and laves lavishly, never leaning his full body weight against you. A trail is formed, from jaw to shoulder, as he nips and kisses. 

Shrugging your shoulder again, the other strap of your dress is encouraged to slide off as well. The fabric of your dress continues to keep you modest, despite Rex’s kisses continuing over the plane of your exposed breast. 

He lifts his head, meeting your gaze. 

“May I?” He asks. 

And to think he’ll ship back off after tonight. You nod, sliding the straps down so your arms are freed from them. Your nipples, erect and wanting, stubbornly keep the garment up, coming between them and their desire. 

Delicately, Rex slides your dress down to your hips. A punched out whine mews from the back of his throat at the exposed skin. It’s equally unbecoming, for him, and attractive, for you. With his hands firmly on your waist, he lowers his head further and swipes a long line across your nipple. 

Your nails scratch along his shorn hair, a breathy sigh leaving your lips. You’ve missed the feeling of a mouth on you, and Rex’s is wet and eager. His tongue swirls around the fat of your nipple, slurping around it with obscenity. 

Rex wonders how your nails will feel digging into his back. 

You push against his forehead, and his lips detach with a pop! His cheeks are ruddy, his eyes wide, filled with worry he’d done something wrong. 

“Take off my dress,” You breathe, sitting up on your elbows. Glancing down, you take in your chest, and the array of splotches that decorate your chest and breasts. 

Rex swallows and nods. He slips back off the bed, and undresses you with careful, steady hands. An open mouthed sigh leaves his lips as he has you bare before him, only in your underwear. Mindlessly, he uses his hands to messily fold the dress before throwing it on top of a chair in the corner of your room. 

Rex’s back swells with the size of his breath. His eyes dart all over you, unable to find just one place to land. 

You tap the side of his thigh with your pointed toes. “You doing okay up there, handsome?” 

“Yes ma’am,” Rex breathes. He bends down to press a kiss to your stomach, nipping at the soft skin there. When he falls to his knees between your legs, you know it’s over. There’s never been someone through your door like this. 

Rex sucks deep kisses into the fat of your thighs, over all the sensitive bits. Your hands slide over his hair, nails scratching against the short hair without purchase. 

Mouth centimeters away from your clothed pussy, Rex glances up the mountains and valleys of your body. He speaks your name, calling your attention down towards him. 

He doesn’t even need to ask, before you’re breathing a “Yes, yes, yes.” 

Instead of sliding your panties to the side, or removing them completely, Rex swipes his tongue along the already wet fabric. You can feel the edges of his tongue over the areas of your labia that try their hardest to eat your underwear whenever you’re out. Rex seems insistent on tasting you through the silken fabric, his nose pressed up against your covered mound. 

Your hands leave the back of his head and hook under your panties, trying to push them down. As your hips rise off the bed, his hands wrap around your thighs and pull you closer. 

“Rex, let me, let you…” 

He pulls off with a sigh. His eyes are slightly glazed over, and you want nothing more than to pull him up for a kiss. 

“Is it okay?” He asks. 

“Give me your hands,” You urge. He offers them to you without second thought. 

Contorting your hand, you gain control of his right hand and dip his fingers past your panties, so they slip behind the flimsy fabric. Rex sucks in a breath, fingers sliding through nothing but warmth. 

“Right?” You release his hands and tuck your fingers under the waistband of your panties and slide them down until the top of your mound is visible. 

Rex slides them down and off you, and you reward him with a fair piece of praise: “Good boy.” 

Rex stills above you. His eyes trail up the line of your body and land on your face. Your brows furrow. “What is it?”

“Never heard that one before,” Rex replies. 

“Really?” You find that hard to believe. With a man like this? 

Rex nods. He slides his fingers through the silk of your cunt, collecting your wetness on his fingers and sliding it up over your clit. You gasp, hand coming up over your mouth. 

“Don’t do that,” Rex murmurs, reaching a hand up to wrap around your forearm, easing your hand away from your face. He replaces your hand with his thumb, swiping over the smearing red lipstick. 

There’s a brief moment where he doesn’t move from his gaze, where he just lingers over you. 

Then, without warning, his fingers are moving again. They’re slipping through your folds, and he’s lowering himself back down to the side of your bed again. His lips join his fingers, as if it was second nature. Breathing. 

His fingers part your folds for his tongue, which traces opening to clit, in a long pull. Rex’s eyes flutter shut, savoring the tang on his tongue. His lips close around your clit, laving attention over the sensitive bud. 

Little gasps pop from your lips, and Rex’s ears twitch to pick up each one. There’s a firmness in his pants that’s veering on uncomfortable, and his body shifts to apply underwhelming friction. 

There’s nothing but warmth and attention in your core. Waves of pleasure lap at your shore, tides pushed and pulled by Rex’s attention. 

Rex lifts his head. He wants to watch your facial expressions as his middle finger slides through your wetness. As it presses against your entrance, which all but sucks him in. A contented sigh slips through your lips, and Rex rises up your body to press his lips back against yours. His tongue slides against yours with the same pace as his finger, easing you deeper into the bedspread. 

Your legs bend so your knees brush against his sides. Leaning back, Rex’s hand rests on your knee, gently moving it to the side to give him a better view of how his finger moves in and out, of the whiteness that clings to his finger. 

He slides out completely, then wets his ring finger to join. At the welcome intrusion, you stretch your arms back above your head, pulling your stomach taunt. Rex’s fingers coax within you, searching for the perfect spot to press upon. 

You shift your hips slightly, and a sigh leaves your lips when he grazes upon the spongiest part within you. Rex curls his fingers, and a breathy moan leaves your lips. 

Satisfied, Rex ducks his head back down. His fingers find purchase on your mound, exposing the flushed wetness of your clit. His tongue works in unison with his fingers, flicking over the bud.  

The tides within you swell. Subconsciously, your legs close in around Rex’s head, swallowing him closed like an oyster. Your hips shift, rising and rolling in synchronization with his fingers. Up and down, up into the warmth, down into the pleasure. 

“Rex…” you breathe, fingers grazing against his head.  

He hums into you, eyes opening and watching as your hand slides along your stomach, nails creating little deltas along the flesh. 

Your thigh quivers beside him. Moans rise from your mouth, floating into the heady air. 

Temptation to speed up, to intensify swirl around in Rex’s mind. To elicit louder cries, to encourage the small of your back to lift off the bed. Instead, he keeps his course steady, eyes fluttering shut once more. 

There’s another weak call of his name, laced in between a moan. Rex groans, content to do nothing more than hear it again. He’s listening, he promises he’s listening. He can feel the tightness building, can hear nothing but the slick sounds emitting from where he’s dipped inside you. 

The final crest over is prolonged. Arched back, complete stillness, whimpering moan. Hands fisted in the bedsheets. Rex slows his movements, detaching his mouth first. 

He hovers above you, lazily moving his fingers. Your legs continue to quiver, your chest continues to suck in deep breaths. Your eyes crack open, a hand lazily rising to tug on his dog tags, pulling him down and closer to you. 

You slot your lips against his. There’s wetness and tang and a rapidly familiar warmth. You hold him close by the side of his face, feeling his jaw move with each swipe. 

“Thank you,” you whisper against his lips. 

“Don’t thank me,” Rex replies, pressing another kiss to your lips. His fingers withdraw with a slickness, and he’s careful to not set them on your bedsheets. 

You give a non committal hum. Reaching for his hand, you bring it to your lips, licking a stripe along the underside before taking them into your mouth. Your tongue laves over the digits, sucking every drop of your essence off of them. 

When Rex withdraws his hand, his eyes are wide. There’s a beat of your breaths, before his lips are on yours again. He plunders your mouth, chasing after the taste he was planning on enjoying himself. 

You slide up your bed, until your head is comfortably pillowed. A groan slips from you, when you see that Rex is still wearing pants. 

“That can’t be comfortable, can it be?” 

You watch with rapt attention as he slides his pants off and down along with his boxers. Your next breath hitches in your throat when you get a good look at his cock. 

Heavy. Seated among a thatch of thick, dark hair that trails up to his bellybutton. 

You swallow. Then, you reach over and fumble within your nightstand, pushing aside lube and vibrators for the box of condoms that was in there. 

“Come here,” you beckon, patting the space beside you. Rex crawls on the bed beside you, shoulders rippling in the lamplight. His thighs are decorated in thatches of hair that thicken as they near his groin. 

He settles between your thighs, hands moving over the smooth skin. 

“You’re beautiful,” Rex murmurs. His hands engulf your thighs, sliding upwards to where they crease into your core. 

Spellbound by the reverent tone of voice, you slide your legs apart for him, revealing the very place he had just been. His eyes dip down, then up to your chest. His brows furrow, seeing the little marks he had left in his wake. 

One of his hands rises, fingers gliding over a hickey on the side of your breast. “My apologies about this.”

“Oh, Rex,” you coo, covering your hand over his, “There is absolutely no need to apologize. In fact, you can even leave more.”

Rex’s eyes search yours, discovering nothing but lust. Pupils blown wide. 

Cupping his face in your hands, you pull him closer for another kiss. His hardness slides between your folds as he presses close, and he groans into your mouth. Long, drawn out. Pent up. 

“Feel good?” You widen your legs for him. His cock slides along your clit, rubbing against it deliciously. You hum in pleasure.

Another moan slides from his lips. You reach between the two of you, fingers carding through his happy trail as you follow it to his hardness. He’s heavy in your hand. Your fingers dance along the underside, cutting between his heat and your own. You thumb slides over the flushed tip of his cock, and another groan comes from Rex, this time directly in your ear. 

Your core squeezes. You feel a dribble of wetness slide from your hole. 

Removing your hand, you gently push him back and away from you. Rex goes easily, all too quickly. You tear a condom off and pass it to him. 

Rex dutifully takes it. There’s little fanfare as he wraps himself up, sliding the latex on. 

You push him back again, giving him a little nudge on the chest. Situated on his back, you climb over his hips, dragging his cock back through your folds. Rex’s eyes flutter shut before they snap back open. 

“Don’t want to keep you from watching,” You reply with a breathy laugh. 

“Wouldn’t want to miss it for the world.” Rex gives you a handsome half smile that makes your mind stutter. 

You return the smile, through slightly smeared lipstick, and rise up on your knees. Rex finds his cock for you, and your fingers pass over each other as you take it in your hand. The head presses against your entrance, which flutters at the pressure. 

Biting your bottom lip, you let gravity ease you down. One of Rex’s thighs rests propped up behind you, the other turned open. He offers you his hands for you to hold onto resting against so you don’t slip down his cock too quickly. 

Once fully sheathed, you give yourself a moment to adjust to the fullness within you. Your hips begin rolling slowly, warming yourself up even more. A punched out whine comes from behind your bitten lip. 

Rex’s brows are pinched together as he watches, mouth open and lips in a wide ‘o.’ He lets you grind against him, lets you start to shallowly bounce yourself up and down on him, lets you take your pleasure into your hands for a few minutes. It’s pleasurable, combined with the little moans that you’re letting out, but it’s not enough. 

His hands find your hips, and he braces his feet against the bed, knees up. With little effort, he lifts you up to the head of his cock before pulling you back down. For the next pass, he’s sure to thrust his hips up to meet you halfway. 

The look on your face is a mixture between pleasure and shock. It doesn’t take you long to get on board with the change of pace. Your hand presses over your stomach, so you can feel Rex as he slides in and out of you, and you make sure to hug his cock with every pass. From your vantage point you watch as all of his muscles move in harmony with each other. Your core squeezes. A ring of white begins to form on the base of Rex’s cock. 

With your hips as purchase, Rex pulls himself up into a seated position. Immediately, you lock your ankles behind his back. He chuckles as he leans in to kiss you, pressing you back against the pillows again. One of his hands supports your lower back, the other on your thigh. 

You look at him through your lashes. His own pupils are blown wide. 

“I’m not very good at sitting back,” Rex murmurs. 

“Thank goodness,” you hum, hands running over the planes of his shoulders. 

“Thank goodness?” Rex repeats, slowly sliding out before pushing in even slower. At this angle, you can feel every centimeter as it's fed into you. “Why’s that?” 

“Um…” You can’t exactly think through your comment. 

“Tell me,” Rex urges, continuing the slow thrusts. 

“I just… I don’t… I like…” How deep is he?

“What do you like?” 

“I like… I like working with… With gravity…” 

Rex slowly picks up the pace. He hikes your body up, giving your knees no place to notch but over his shoulders. 

“With gravity?” 

You whimper your affirmation. 

“Is this better?” Rex’s hands move from your hips to your thighs, holding them flush against his chest. When you nod, he moves to press your legs back, so they’re butterflied away from your cunt. “Or do you prefer this?” 

Your reply is a moan. One of your hands cover’s Rex’s splayed fingers, the other reaches above your head for your pillow. A breathless chuckle leaves Rex’s lips, and he continues to keep a steady pace. Each thrust you can feel in your throat with how deep he’s pressing– you didn’t know you could feel anything that deep within you. 

It’s full. Almost too full. Your cunt flutters around his cock, anticipating and rewarding every stroke. 

Your hand is on the way to cover your mouth, but Rex is faster. He slips his fingers through yours, pressing your hand into the plush of your pillows. Your other hand reaches up to cup behind his head, sprawling out over the nape of his neck. As your lips reattach to his, his thrusts fluster before speeding up, giving you no choice but to pull away to let out a moan. 

“Oh, fuck,” you breathe. One of Rex’s hands comes to knead the soft tissue of your breast. 

It leaves its work quickly, however, to spare attention towards your clit. As his thumb swipes over the bundle of nerves, an even louder moan climbs out through your throat. Your thighs shake, and your hands rise to press against your headboard. 

Rex almost feels bad. He’s going too fast, he’s going too hard, your headboard is millimeters away from knocking against the wall with each rhythmic push of his hips. But your face is contorted in pleasure, eyes screwed shut and head tilted back. 

Your eyes flash open as you feel your orgasm rapidly approaching. 

“Rex,” You gasp. 

“What is it, sweetheart?” Rex asks, leaning over you. “You gonna cum?” 

You whine. There’s another thrall of pleasure at the pet name. 

“Tell me,” Rex urges. His lips hover over yours. 

“Yeah,” You breathe, the vowels hitching with every thrust. “Don’t– Don’t stop.” 

“Wasn’t planning on it.” Rex gives you a grin before a grunt, trying his hardest to keep a steady pace. He’s throbbing, you can feel the twitch of his cock inside you. 

Your orgasm spills over and out, rippling from your moans down to your cum. As you peak, Rex’s thrusts speed up for a brief moment, then still, as he empties with a groan into the condom. Your legs feel gummy, weak and heavy as Rex eases out of you and rests your shaking legs on the bed. The sweat on his shoulders glazes in the light as he cleans up. 

You gesture to the bathroom, which is attached to your bedroom. Closing your eyes, you listen as Rex throws the condom away, then as cabinets open and close. 

“In the closet,” You call, voice lighter and higher than you’d ever heard it. 

Rex returns with a damp, warm washcloth as he removes the last traces of sex from between your legs. He presses a kiss to your knee, a little too soft for a hook up but makes your stomach flip regardless, before getting back off the bed. 

When you crack open your eyes, you see that he’s pulling on his pants. You sit up on your elbow. 

“What are you doing?” You ask. 

“I figured you’d want me out of your hair,” Rex replies. 

You pout. “Come lay with me for a moment, at least.” 

Rex hesitates. You rub the bedding beside you. “Just for a moment. And then I’m going to go take off my makeup.” 

Rex obliges. He slides into the spot and you rest your head on his chest. His arms wrap around you, thick and secure. You exhale, relaxing into him. Maybe you should have taken off your makeup first, then you could rope him into spending the night. Absentmindedly, you card your fingers through his chest hair. His hand begins to rub up and down your back. 

“Normally I insist people spend the night,” you murmur against his skin, eyes slipping shut. He hums to show he’s listening. “I like it.” 

“I gotta be gone real early in the morning,” Rex replies. His voice rumbles through his chest. 

“That’s a shame.” 

“Why?” 

“Was going to make you breakfast. I have avocados that need using… eggs that need frying… coffee that needs drinking… I just got new coffee cups…” Your words begin to slur together from sleepiness. 

“Hey, gorgeous,” Rex says, jostling his shoulder slightly. 

You hum, raising your eyebrows. 

“Go take that makeup off.” He sits up, bringing you with him. His eyes glance down at your nipples, which are soft in the heady air. 

“Right,” you say, climbing over him and off the bed. “Don’t slip out.” 

“I’ll stay right here,” Rex promises. 

Rex doesn’t leave in the middle of the night. Instead, he’s under the softest sheets and the heaviest blanket he’s ever experienced, with the fan on high and a naked woman next to him, tucked up under his arm and sleeping soundly. He finds sleep doesn’t evade him as easily as it normally does. 

Morning comes too soon. Rex wakes to the birds chirping outside, to the early streaks of dawn as she streams through your window. He’s still on his back, arm thrown over his head. The pillows are too soft. Beside him, you’re still mercifully asleep. Back exposed, arms wrapped around your pillow. Nose tucked into your bicep. 

Shit. Rex has to leave. He glances over at your sleeping figure again, then slowly sits up. Despite trying his hardest not to disturb you, he’s unsuccessful. You stir beside him, shifting around and sitting up on your elbow, rubbing your eye. 

“Hey.” Rex’s voice is rough in the morning air. “I gotta get going.” 

You huff a sigh and flop onto your side. “Give me a second. I’ll make you coffee.” 

“I really can’t stay,” Rex says. He keeps his hands to himself– The lustful era of the evening had been left before the sunrise. It wouldn’t be to his morals if he laid a hand, no matter how soft, against your skin. 

You’re lifting yourself back up, duvet slipping down to your middle. “No, I– Let me.” 

Rex’s eyes dip down to your breasts before back to your face. He’s already out of the bed. “I have to get back.” 

“A cup of coffee isn’t going to kill you,” you insist, sliding out of the bed. You head over to your armoire, pulling an oversized sleep shirt out. 

“Really, I appreciate the hospitality,” Rex repeats, pulling on his pants. “But—”

Rex’s protests land him sitting at the kitchen table, gaze torn between watching you make coffee and the view out the window he’s beside. You have a really nice view, overlooking Theed. However, you are also a really nice view. 

With the fridge open, you pluck a carton out of it and set it on the table. 

“I only have plant milk,” you say, “Hope it’s okay.”

“Oh, I drink my coffee black,” Rex says. 

You blink at him. “You know, you look like you do.” 

Rex hums. He watches appreciatively as you pour two mugs of coffee. 

“Where do you have to be this morning?” You ask while handing him a mug and taking a seat beside him. You do not take your coffee black, and look like you don’t anyways. 

Rex murmurs his thanks as he accepts the mug. He takes a sip before responding. The real answer is that he needs to be back at the ship before General Kenobi notices General Skywalker’s absence, and Rex is included in the “You know, Anakin, it’s important to remain focused on our missions at hand” spiel. Instead, he gives you: “Work. Before that I have to make sure everyone’s made it back from their nights.” 

You desperately want to ask him if he’s one of those fabled clones that the Republic breeds. But it feels too personal. Too out of pocket. Instead, you settle on changing the topic entirely. 

“You know, you have very distinguished features.”

Rex raises an eyebrow at you. “Pardon me?”

“Like… your nose and your eyebrows and your jaw.” You trace the features on your own face. “You look kind of like…” You remember that Rex had mentioned he didn’t have time for art the night prior, “Well, there’s this painting of a philosopher named Diogenes. You resemble him, but without the beard and the hair.”

It’s the strangest, and most detailed, compliment Rex has ever received. “Thank you?” 

You hum, taking a sip of your coffee. “It is a compliment, by the way. He’s handsome in the painting.” 

Rex takes another drink of coffee. It’s stronger than he’s used to, for sure. The stuff on the ship must be watered down to accommodate so many drinkers, and after tasting this cup, he’s not sure the coffee he’s used to is actually coffee. “What about you? Are you doing anything today?” 

“No, I have the day off.” 

Must be nice. “What are you going to do with it?” 

You drum your fingers on the side of your mug. “Paint, probably. Maybe go for a walk. Practice my Gunganese.” 

What a life of leisure. First, there’s an ache of jealousy that stokes itself deep within Rex. By tonight, he’ll be in a debriefing meeting about a planet that’s fallen under Separatist control. Then, it’s washed away with the reminder that he’s designed to allow for people like you to have lives of leisure. That life isn’t for him. 

“I don’t know any humans who speak Gunganese,” Rex comments.

You sigh. “That’s the whole issue. The Gungans have been here long before humans and yet no one really speaks their language. I’ve been learning to try and at least smooth things over in a cultural sense. They have such a rich history with fascinating art pieces that I really want displayed in the museum, so people can learn more about them.” 

Rex raises his eyebrows. The only Gungan he knows is Senator Binks who is… If Rex will allow himself a moment of selfishness, not his favorite person to be assigned duty to. “That’s quite noble of you.” 

“It’s the least I can do.” You shrug. 

“You speak any other languages?” 

“My Rodian is really rusty. I took it in school, so I can write essays but my conversational isn’t very good. What about you?” 

“Kaminoan.” 

Your brows raise. “Really? What does it sound like?” 

Rex chuckles, a little sheepish. “It’s nothing special. It’s not attractive or anything like that.” 

“Rex, I literally speak Gunganese. I promise it’s probably more attractive than that.” 

True. Rex clears his throat. Takes another sip of coffee. Thinks about what to say. When he sets his mug back down, he gives you a sentence. It rolls off his tongue, second nature. 

It is attractive. All vowels and consonants that slide together. You cross your legs under the table. 

“So, what did you say? 

“That you make your coffee really strong.” 

A blush rises on your cheeks. “There’s milk and sugar if you want it.” 

“No, no, it’s not a bad thing,” Rex says quickly, “I like it. Really. It’s leagues better than what I normally get.” 

“You’ll have to let me know the next time you’re in town,” You hum, finger tracing the mouth of your mug, “I’ll make you another cup.” 

Rex’s heart tugs uncomfortably. That would be nice, wouldn’t it be? 

“I don’t know when I’ll be back on Naboo,” Rex says, “But you've definitely made my visit worth more than I could have imagined.” 

You hum at that, then stand from the table. You open a drawer and pull out a pad of paper, shaped in a heart, and find a pen. You scribble onto it, then tear it away. 

“Here,” you say, passing the paper to him. “This is my frequency.” 

There’s an x next to your name like a little kiss. Rex accepts the paper, and doesn’t bring up that there’s no way he’ll be able to contact you, not when all of his communication is heavily monitored. Instead, he tucks it into his pocket, where it feels warm against his thigh. 

Rex leaves your apartment with a day-old croissant in his hand and the taste of berries and coffee lingering on his tongue. The sun seems brighter. The sky seems bluer. The birds seem to chirp in a melodic harmony. The walk back to the ship is pleasant. One that he doesn’t mind taking the long way for. After all, there are things for him to appreciate. 

[katsuthelittlekitten]

Fluff alphabet for yandere Elijah mikaelson x fem human reader

Asked by @catmikaelson20

A - Affection

Elijah is an affective man despite what people usually think. With his princess he always feel like kissing or hugging her closer to his body. Honestly, he literally just need her around because it makes him mad when she isn't.

B - Beginning

In the very beginning, Elijah was the one crazy in love with you, always being around and keeping an eye on you. He just wanted you and in the end he got what he wanted...you.

C - Cuddling

Oh god...he loveeeeesss cuddling with you. It really isn't a problem were you are or what you do when he want to cuddle with you, it's right there and now. Usually you never complain about it because you do love it really bad to.

D - Domestic

Elijah is a big help in your domestic life. He is the only that cook, always and that's because he is extremely good at it. He help doing the laundry and the dishes when needed, a real gentleman, your gentleman.

E - Efforts

In the start, Elijah was giving way much more effort to get your attention and show you how much you meant to him. However, when things got serious between the both of you it became a good share. You both have effort to make your relationship work perfectly.

F - Feelings

Because of how badly he experienced love in the past at first it isn't the easiest thing for Elijah to tell you how he feels all the time and what his emotions are. Yet, once he gets to open up it all get better and easier.

G - Gifts

I mean common~ We are talking about Elijah Mikaelsons here. Of course he give you gifts...all the time at a point that you need to tell him to stop and relax because it's just to much. Dresses, expensive jewelry even a new car because you once complain you didn't had one. It all was nothing for him, Elijah just love to spoil his princess.

H - Hugs

Just like the cuddles, he absolutely live the hugs even if he is more of a kisser. The times he loves to hug you the most is when you both are around other and he feel the need to get you closer and show you affection.

I - Intimacy

Elijah is a gentleman and it follows him in bed when you both get intimate. He will make sure you feel comfortable and that everything is ok for you at all time. He will be gentle and sweet not wishing to hurt you or anything. He will take care of your desire before his and make sure you are absolutely satisfied before comes his turn.

J - Jokes

Your vampire is not really the one that does the jokes, it's more of your department. Yet, he does laugh a lot when you do them and he think you are the cutest and funniest person on earth.

K - Kissing

Elijah is the best kisser. You honestly never felt that good and addicted to anyone's lips that you are with his. After all, because of his long life he does have a lot of experience even if you hate to think about the fact that other women kissed him before you.

L - Little Ones

This is not even a question, he wants you to carry his children. Elijah wants a girl and a boy and he already chose their name : Elizabeth and James. she can't stop thinking about you all pretty and pregnant around the house.

N - Needy

Elijah can get really needy when he wants. He'll just literally ask for your attention all the time. Then, he would just hug your body to his to make sure you don't move and keep you there until he is satisfied, sometimes it can last hours. Not that you complain of course.

M - Mornings

Your original boyfriend is an early waker, yet since he met you and started sleeping with you it all change. It's impossible to get out of bed before ten because he will make sure you can't more out of his grip. Elijah just seems to be more affectionate when he wakes.

O - Obsessed

He is decently obsessed of you, he thinks about you all the time and consider that you are his little princess. He can't be separated from you even one day and when you aren't with his he will call you multiple time and send you text to know if your fine and ok.

P - Patience

Elijah is a really patient man, be learned this quality during all his years as a vampire and he would wait for you forever it it's needed.

Q - Quizzes

He remembers everything about you and things you've told him, Elijah is an extremely intelligent man and he have a amazing memories for things that are important about you.

R - Remember

He would never forget your anniversary or special date that he has to remember because you are the only thing on his kind and the only one that matters.

S - Security

Elijah is like a security dog for you, literally. He would never let anyone hurt you and he make sure that people around knows what they will face If they put you in arms way. He killed and tortured already for you. The only idea of his princess being in pain is enough to make him want to burn a town down.

T - Trust

Elijah trust you with everything he is, he would give you his heart in a platter if you asked for it. The one he doesn't trust however, are the people around you. Your friends especially guy friend and strangers that could harm you.

U - Ugly

He absolutely hate when you say things involving your physical appearance and body in a negative way, for him you are persecution on earth and he won't allow you to even think about this word.

V - Vanity

Hummm....it's Elijah the man that always wears suits and look like a freaking model that we are talking about. Of course he take care of himself and like to look absolutely perfect and handsome at all time. It's literally his mark of commerce.

W - Whole

Before meeting you he was empty and was a shell of himself. However, now that he found you it's just like he revived and he feel whole again.

X - Xtra

Theirs in nothing in the world he wouldn't do for you, anything. Theirs is nothing that is to much or out of reach.

Y - Yuck

Honestly their is nothing Elijah doesn't like about you, he tried to find something but he never succeeded. You just seems to be perfect.

Z - ZZZ

Sleeping with you is the best thing in earth for him, he got used to be asside if you all the time and feeling your body against his as you sleep just makes him feel happy and relaxed. Sometimes, when he doesn't feel sleepy but you do, Elijah just caress you hair and looks at you sleep.

[daisynik7]

Dirty Thirty

Pairing: Kishibe x f!reader

Rating: Explicit

cw: thigh riding, cunnilingus, fingering, spanking, spit play, vaginal sex (doggy, cowgirl), cockwarming, use of pet names (princess and Master)

Word Count: ~5.6k

Summary: An alluring stranger gives you a special treat on the night of your 30th birthday. 

Notes: Kishibe is in his mid 40s. Also, apparently he is 6’4”, so reader is shorter, below 6’. This is very self-indulgent considering my own 30th is in a few days (shout out to all my fellow Pisces babes)! Also, I started this after finishing Chainsaw Man a few weeks ago, so this is a result of heavy Kishibe brainrot.

Additional Note: Check out Part 2 here: After Last Night! Reblogs, likes, and/or comments are appreciated. Thank you for reading!

--------------------

The bass of EDM music reverberates through the speakers at the DJ’s booth. This particular bar you frequent turns into a club at 11 PM. College kids from the university down the street congregate in this establishment on the weekends, like today. You and your friends have been here since an hour ago, drinking and chatting in a booth hidden away to the side of the dancefloor. After dinner, you stopped by for a quick drink. With the booze and vibes just right, you ended up staying. 

Tonight, you celebrate your birthday. It’s the end of an era, really. You’re officially thirty. You’ve been dreading this day for the past few months, sad to bid farewell to your twenties, which wasn’t all that anyways. The number of times your friends reassure you that your thirties are the new twenties only brings you mild comfort. Glancing at the crowd tearing up the dancefloor, you can’t help being envious of their youth. 

Maybe it’s your buzz talking. You’re not one to feel sorry for yourself, especially about something as inevitable as aging. Thirty is young. Who cares if you’re the only one in your inner circle who’s single, unmarried, or childless? There’s no shame in it. You’re sick of women being scrutinized each year they get older for not doing what society tells them they should do. Who the fuck cares if you don’t have a ring on your finger or haven’t popped a baby out your vagina yet? It isn’t on your radar, and that’s perfectly fine. Men don’t get this much shit for remaining bachelors well into their forties or fifties, why should you?

You fidget with the glittery Dirty 30! sash you wear over your little black dress. A shimmering tiara sparkles on top of your head to complete your ensemble. Your friend’s voice in your ear snaps you out of your thoughts. “Hey birthday girl, how’s it going?”

Smiling, you hold your half empty glass up towards the middle. “Good. Thanks so much for coming out to celebrate tonight!” You’re ready to chug the rest of your liquor so you can head to the dancefloor. The other three women in your group cheers, clinking their drinks with yours. 

You’re about to suggest dancing when your friend says, “Shall we call it a night?”

It catches you off guard. The music just started and it’s not even midnight yet. You’re not ready to go back to the real world; it’s your special day until you fall asleep, which you don’t plan to do for a few more hours. You’re silent though, listening as the other girls repeat a similar sentiment. 

“My husband is waiting for me at home, so yes.”

“And my babies have an early morning play date tomorrow!”

Your friend beside you turns to you and asks, “Ready to go?”

Contemplating for a moment, you respond, “I think I might stay, actually. Have another drink or two.”

They stare at you bewildered, surprised you want to be here alone, which is unusual for you. “Are you sure?” they clarify.

“Yeah! Go ahead, I’ll be fine! I’m a big girl now,” you joke, standing up to hug them. They kiss you on the cheek, greeting you one last happy birthday before leaving together to go home to their husbands and children. 

Craving another drink, you abandon your booth to approach the bar. You order your favorite: a vodka cranberry, your comfort cocktail throughout your 20s. A reminder that you’re still the same you despite moving up a decade. 

You close your tab, promising yourself this is your last, and go back to your table. It’s now occupied by an older man in a black coat, sipping on amber liquor. Annoyed, and slightly intrigued, you sit opposite of him in the same booth. He lifts his head up slowly, noticing you. 

“Hi there,” you greet him. Even in the dim light, the stitched scar on his left cheek stands out. The metal piercings on his ears glisten, the strobe lights reflecting off them from the dancefloor. 

“Can I help you?” His voice is low and raspy, either naturally or from the alcohol. 

“I was sitting here earlier. The other tables are all occupied, and I really don’t want to stand around on the dancefloor by myself. Can I sit here until I finish my drink? There’s plenty of room for the both of us.” You put on your most charming smile.

“Where are your friends? I’m sure you’d rather sit with them instead of with an old man like me.”

“They ditched me to go home. Besides, it looks like you could use the company.” You tip your cocktail into your mouth, keeping your gaze on him. 

He watches you, skeptical. “How old are you?”

You glance down at your sash, which is now twisted so that the answer to his question is on your back where he can’t see. You grin at him. “Don’t you know it’s rude to ask a woman her age?”

He hums, unamused. “I’m not keen on hanging out with girls in their 20s. Not really my style. Not tonight, anyways.”

“How old do you think I am?” 

Narrowing his eyes at your tiara, he responds, “You’re wearing a crown, drinking a cranberry vodka at a bar that plays this shit music. I’d say you’re 23.”

This amuses you, like getting asked for your ID does, which is becoming rarer nowadays. It’s flattering.

“Hey, you’re here too. The only difference is that you’re drinking a whiskey,” you tease him, pointing at his glass. 

“In my defense, I finished work nearby and this shitty cesspool was the closest bar I could find.” He takes a swig of his alcohol. “So, am I right?”

Sliding the sash to face him, you answer, “Nope. You’re wrong. Lucky for you, today is my birthday. And I just turned thirty.” 

He cracks a smile at this, giving you a flutter below your belly. You’re not typically into older men; however, this guy has piqued your interest. There’s something about him that is alluring. Exciting. 

“Happy birthday,” he says, swallowing the rest of his whiskey. “Get anything good?” 

“No. But the night’s not over yet.” You’re full-on flirting now, not at all ashamed of how brazen you’re acting. Fuck it. You only turn thirty once, right?

There’s distance between you, but the tension is so thick, you could smell the bold scent of liquor coating his lips. He leans closer, a wicked glint in his eyes. “Well, I guess it’s my responsibility now to give you something good.”

~~~

Minutes later, you’re in the back of the cab, riding towards an address he mutters to the driver. He holds you, interlocking his fingers with yours, peering out his window in silence. You focus on your entwined hands resting on the middle seat, the intimacy of it all distracting you from the fact that you’re about to hook up with this attractive stranger. 

The driver arrives to a swanky apartment complex. Once inside, Kishibe doesn’t give you enough time to marvel at the beautiful interior of the room. In an instant, his lips are on yours, both palms cupping your cheeks assertively. Breath hot and chalky from the mint you saw him savor earlier in the car. It barely masks the lingering taste of that cigarette you witnessed him drag waiting for your ride. He didn’t have the same type of smoker’s breath that you’re sick of from your coworkers. With him, you don’t mind it at all. 

His hand trails down your neck, thumb carefully brushing over a pulse point right below your chin. His skin is rough and calloused compared to yours. The scraggly facial hair scattered along his jaw is scratchy on your cheeks. 

He breaks the kiss, gazing at you while he removes his overcoat, hanging it on the rack in the corner, kicking his shoes off in the process. There’s a small bar cart in the kitchen, where he pours himself a whiskey. At the freezer, he reaches for the ice, dropping three cubes into the dark liquor with a plop. You stand still, observing him, nervous and thrilled about what this mysterious man will do to you tonight.

At the couch, he takes a seat, thighs spread wide, his wrist hanging low between them, gripping the top of the glass with his fingertips. “Come here,” he beckons. 

Removing your heels quickly and abandoning your purse, you step towards him, ready to sit beside him until he demands, “No. Not there.” He pats his thigh with his free hand. “Here.”

Your body trembles with lust as you straddle him, pussy pulsing against his muscular thigh. He studies you, from your hazy stare down to him between your legs, savoring his cold liquor all the while. You gulp loudly, obediently waiting for his next command. 

Gently removing the crown atop your head and tossing it aside, he asks, “What do you want from me, princess? It’s your birthday after all.” Hearing him call you princess gives you a rush you can no longer contain. You start moving on his thigh, riding it to feel the glorious sensations on your clit.

His chuckle vibrates through his chest as you grasp at his collar to hold you steady. “This is what you want? Okay. Take what you need. Come on my thigh. I’ll watch.” His gravelly voice in your ear makes you ride him harder, grinding against him until your creamy mess is soaking through the thin fabric of your panties. You clench his tie, loosening it around his neck. He continues to watch you, sipping on his booze, enjoying his own private show.

Once the glass is empty except for the melting ice, he sets it down on the coffee table, pulling you in closer, his hand behind your neck. Lightly blowing cool, whiskey breath along your lips. You lean forward to kiss him, his tongue slipping past to explore your needy mouth. The longing for his touch on every inch of your body grows stronger by the second as you moan into the kiss, bouncing on his leg. 

“Can you come by yourself? Or do you need my tongue on it? I can lick it up real good if you’ll let me.” His obscene suggestion surprises you, as if you weren’t already performing lewd acts on his lap. You tug at his tie to pull him into another fierce kiss before sitting next to him on the couch, lifting the hem of your dress up to reveal your wet undergarments. 

“I’ll let you do whatever you want to me. But I’m not calling you Daddy,” you tease, spreading wide for him. 

His voice is low in his throat, kneeling on the carpet, face positioned between your thighs. “Good, because I prefer to be called Master.”

You roll your eyes at him, to which he responds, “What? You don’t like that? I bet I’ll have you screaming it all night long.”

This has you speechless as he drifts towards you, staring at the wet spot soaking through your lingerie. “Look how fucking wet you are for me.” He hooks his fingers around the fabric, stretching it to the side to expose your sopping cunt. Leaning in closer, he flicks his tongue gently onto your clit, causing you to squirm above him. 

He’s testing the waters, starting slow to gauge your limit. It’s gentle at first, toying with your bud until it’s plump and sensitive. Until your wanton moans are bouncing off the walls of his big, fancy apartment. There’s no doubt that he knows exactly what he’s doing. It’s obvious this man has years of experience beyond you. Having this stranger swirl his tongue on the most intimate parts of your body makes you weak in the knees. This is the first time all night that you’re thankful to be turning thirty. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be in this apartment, getting wrecked and torn apart by him.

“I’ve always wanted a plaything I can ruin,” he breathes out, finally wrapping his lips around you. “Will you be my pretty plaything tonight?” He surrounds your clit, drawing an erotic whimper from your mouth. 

“Fuck, Kishibe. Yes. Use me as your plaything, fuck.”

He eats you out noisily, emphasizing every wet sound his mouth makes on your swollen bud. Several times, he spits on it, spreading his saliva up and down your pussy, plunging his tongue into your entrance to get it lubricated with his own drool.  

“You’re fucking drenched down here. When’s the last time you let a grown man eat you out like this? I bet you’ve never been with someone like me, huh?”

You shake your head, swiping through his hair, spreading yourself wider for him. “Never.”

“I can tell,” he says, slipping his middle and ring finger into your entrance. “So fucking wet for me. I love it.” He pumps into you, curling his digits just right, resonating all the way down to your toes. His lips latch onto your clit, drinking you up to quench his insatiable thirst. 

“Hold these for me,” he says, guiding your fingers to your panties. “Want to stroke my cock while I eat this gorgeous pussy out.” You hear the unbuckling of his belt, the sound of him shoving his fist into his slacks to jerk off. The vibrations from his moans tickle your skin as he nuzzles himself deeper into your arousal, practically drowning in it, flattening his tongue to smear his warm saliva all over. You whine in ecstasy, heedless of attracting any neighboring attention to your explicit blubbering. 

“Come on my face,” he muffles, too busy lapping up your clit to pull away, fingers pumping in and out of you, shiny and sleek with your slick.

It doesn’t take much longer for you to reach your orgasm, pleasure jolting through your body while he works you until you’re overstimulated, twitching from the euphoria. He laughs softly, face glistening with your essence, taking a seat beside you. You watch him in a daze as he sticks his cum-coated fingers into his mouth, sucking them clean. “You want a taste, too?”

You nod, disoriented from your intense climax. He drags your bottom lip down using the pad of his thumb, mumbling, “Open.”

Obediently, you stick your tongue out for him, knowing fully well what he’s about to do. Your pussy throbs again, ready to be fucked for real by this provocative stranger you were so fortunate to meet tonight. 

He grazes your open tongue, then spits in your mouth. “Swallow,” he demands, voice husky with desire. You do, making sure to gulp loudly, incredibly aroused and needy for his cock. 

“Show me,” he whispers, opening his own mouth to mimic you. “Ah.”

You show him your tongue again, a dumb expression on your face while he inspects. Satisfied, he grunts, “Fuck, you’re bad. You’re a bad girl, aren’t you?” He reaches down to your soaked panties clinging to you. “Take these off.”

He slides out of his trousers, revealing briefs that barely conceal his obvious bulge. As you slip out of your underwear, he removes his, displaying his impressive cock. “You going to ride this cock now?”

Without a word, you nod. You’re already anticipating how fucking amazing he’s going to feel inside you. Your brain is jumbled with naughty thoughts of him taking you in all positions in every room of his apartment. 

There’s a hungry gleam in his eyes as he watches you mount him. You hoist your dress up, stripping it from your body. He unclasps your bra, baring your breasts to him while he still wears his dress shirt and tie. For some reason, you want him to keep it on. Get it nice and dirty with slick and sweat.

You reach behind you to position him at your entrance. Once aligned, you slowly sink onto his cock, allowing yourself a few seconds to adjust to his size. Given his stature, it’s not surprising how big he is, both in length and girth. When you bottom out, he lets out a raspy fuck, holding your ass to squeeze your plush cheeks. “I’m ready whenever you are, princess. Like I said, take what you need from me. Milk me dry. I know you want to.”

Spurred by his provocative encouragement, you ride him, rocking your hips back and forth onto his lap, gripping his cock tight with your wet cunt. Forehead pressed to his, lids closed, jaw hanging open, experiencing the best fuck of your life. With a brief glance, you catch him watching you, a similar dazed expression on his face. You bounce on him faster, his dick pounding into you over and over again, determined to feel every inch you possibly can. 

“Fuck, Kishibe, feels so fucking good,” you moan, directing his fingers down to your clit. “I want to come all over this cock. Make me come, Master.”

Bingo. His eyes widen as soon as it slips from your mouth. It’s the magic word. The trigger. 

Without hesitation, he brushes his thumb ruthlessly onto your swollen bud. “Say it again,” he demands, pressing it hard as he massages it, eyes wild with lust.

“Fuck, make me come, Master. Make me come.” You’re riding him so fucking good, couch creaking, clutching his shoulders tight, his carnal stare locked on your every movement. 

“Tell me when you’re close,” he growls.

“I’m close, I’m close!”

Suddenly, he pulls out, cock covered in your arousal, wet and stiff against his abdomen. Strings of slick cling to the hem of his dress shirt. You’re about ready to yell at him for teasing you. Before you can, he stands up, grabbing your wrist to lead you into the bedroom. His breathing is heavy as he points to the bed, hastily removing his clothes. “On your knees, ass up. I’m going to fuck you so good. Make you squirt all over my fucking sheets.”

The anger immediately subsides and you’re back to being eager again, knowing damn well that he means every fucking word he says. You do as he commands, wiggling your ass to entice him. He chuckles behind you. “I’m sorry for denying you earlier. I just really want to see this ass bounce on my cock like this.” He teases you with his tip, tapping your clit, sliding it along your pussy lips. 

“You’re not forgiven,” you pout, growing impatient. 

Placing a soft kiss on your lower back, he laughs again. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.” 

If there’s one thing you’ve learned about this stranger you met mere hours ago, it’s that he is a man of his word. 

He guides his cock into you slowly, stretching you little by little until you’re squeezing him, his entire length inside you. “Look at you, sucking me in again like you were made for me.” He starts thrusting, holding you steady to penetrate you deeper. 

“So fucking good!” you cry out, fists bunched on his silky sheets, drool leaking from the corner of your mouth. 

“I know, princess. It’s amazing for me too.” His heavy balls slap your damp skin with every brutal thrust of his hips, fucking you hard, dipping into your sweet spot until you’re woozy with pleasure. “You take it so good. So fucking sexy.” He tightens his grip on you, increasing his pace. “So fucking beautiful.”

You throw your ass back, arching your spine to get the perfect angle. With your cheeks bouncing obscenely against his thighs, you beg, “Spank me, Master. Spank me like a bad girl.”

Not wasting a second, his rough palm connects with your ass, the loud smack ringing in your ears. He spanks you again and again, your pussy clenching him tighter while you continue to thrust back onto his cock. You’re about ready to burst, desperate to reach your second orgasm after being denied earlier. You play with your puffy clit, electricity rippling through your body upon contact. Whimpering, you rub your bud faster as he pounds into you, cursing under his breath. 

“Fuck,” he moans, staring at your ass jiggle after each fresh slap he delivers. “Come on my cock, princess. That’s it. Get it creamy. Just like that, fuck.”

Waves of pleasure sweep over you, the intensity of it causing you to tremble before him. In the midst of your climax, you plead for him to finish inside you, greedy for his cum. It doesn’t take long for him to fill you up, staying nestled deep in you as he releases his warm load, letting out a husky fuck.

He pulls out, his warm release leaking from your pussy, dripping onto his sheets. He ogles at the pornographic sight in front of him, pleased with himself.

“Like what you see?” you tease, lowering your torso and relaxing on the bed.

“You are a naughty, naughty girl,” he says, collapsing beside you. “Can’t believe I let you seduce me.”

“Oh, so it’s my fault? You were the one who offered to give me something good for my birthday.” 

He raises a brow at you. “Did I succeed?”

You gaze at him, properly examining his appearance. Scruffy facial hair, eyes that are perpetually tired, the striking scar aligned with his frown. You find yourself wondering what his story is; someone this fetching must have a story.  

“Considering the mess we made, I would say you exceeded my expectations.” You lay your palm on his firm chest, his now steady heartbeat lightly thumping against your fingertips.

“I’m glad to hear I wasn’t a disappointment.” He doesn’t take his gaze off you. Normally, you’d be intimidated by such intense eye contact. With him, it’s different. You feel safe. He places his hand on top of yours, rugged thumb gently caressing the skin of your knuckles. The two of you stay like this, enjoying each other’s presence in an easy silence. 

“We can’t do this again,” he mutters, finally looking away from you. He turns onto his back, staring up at the ceiling, your hand still snug under his.

“Why not?” The shift in energy surprises you. This is not the typical pillow talk you’re accustomed too. 

“I’ll keep wanting to see you if we keep this up,” he admits. Although it’s a sweet sentiment, he’s deciding to end it here and now, not even waiting until the morning like in a typical one-night-stand.

Matching his candid demeanor, you ask, “What’s wrong with wanting to see me again?” A strange feeling of unease swells in your chest, anxious for whatever truth he’s about to reveal. 

He takes a breath before explaining, “I’m a Devil Hunter. The best in the world. My job is very dangerous. A young woman like yourself shouldn’t get attached to me. My life is expendable.” He avoids you while he speaks, eyes laser focused on the ceiling, barely blinking. It’s as if he doesn’t want to say it; rather, it’s part of a script, forced to recite the lines like it’s standard procedure. How often has he had to deliver this sober spiel to his ex-lovers? You start to pity him, speculating how detached he must remain to the outside world strictly because of his risky profession. 

You continue to stare at him, letting the information sink it. The air is thick with a serious tension. It’s a sudden switch from the wild romp you just experienced. Choosing not to pester him further, you decide to lighten the mood. You scoot towards him, mouth skimming his ear, muttering, “Well, l didn’t really like you anyways.” The cold metal of his piercings contrast the soft warmth of your lips.

He turns to you again, the tension in his brows easing slowly as he gives you a small smirk. “Oh yeah?”

You nuzzle your nose against his. “Yeah.”

“Good. It’s better this way,” he says, planting a kiss on the forehead. 

Sighing, you ask, “Can I at least spend the night?” 

“Of course. I’ll even cook you breakfast tomorrow morning.”

“I hope that doesn’t mean a cup of coffee with a splash of whiskey and a couple cigarettes,” you joke. 

He chuckles. “I’ll throw in some eggs for protein, does that work?”

“Sure. I’ll take whatever I can get, since this is the last time we’ll be seeing each other.” 

There’s a small smile on his lips as he gazes at you. A minute passes and he reaches for you, grazing your cheek delicately. You feel comfortable in bed with him. Protected. You snuggle into his chest, his arms wrapping you into a bear hug. Cozy in his embrace, you listen to his rhythmic breathing, lulling you to sleep.

~~~

In the morning, you wake up alone, tucked under the covers, clothed only in a dress shirt, barely buttoned. The bedroom door is wide open, the sound of a pan scraping on iron ringing in your ears and the inviting smell of food cooking wafting from the kitchen. 

You spot a pack of baby wipes on the drawer next to you, noticing that your body is fresh and clean, opposite the sticky mess you fell asleep to. Next to it is a brand-new toothbrush and toothpaste. With these items in hand, you tip-toe into the bathroom, appreciating his thoughtfulness.  

When you’re done, you study his bedroom for the first time, and probably last. There are no pictures hung anywhere, no personal touch to anything. Only small traces of a man whose entire existence is his job. Several ties scattered on his dresser next to a metal flask. A mini calendar on his nightstand with random scribblings of future work commitments. Hamper in the corner of the room, filled to the brim with white dress shirts, black slacks, and a couple of mismatched argyle socks. You’re slightly tempted to investigate some drawers to see the type of weapons a Devil Hunter of his caliber carries, but you don’t.

You lean against the doorframe, watching him in the kitchen. He’s in a plain white t-shirt with navy-blue pajama pants. As promised, he is cooking a batch of scrambled eggs over the stove, a steaming mug of coffee in one hand, spatula in the other. Looking domestic and sexy as hell. His words replay in your mind. You shouldn’t get attached to someone like me. You almost regret sleeping with him, knowing you’ll miss him after you leave. 

Quietly, you stroll towards him until he notices you. When he does, he takes a sip of coffee and mutters, “Morning, princess.” 

Positioned behind him, you wrap your arms around his waist, raising your heels to place a gentle kiss on the back of his neck. It’s only now that you realize how much taller he is than you. “Good morning, handsome. This is a pleasant surprise.”

“I told you I’d cook you breakfast, didn’t I?” He cranes his neck to face you, smirking. 

“You did. I’m pleased to see you keep your promise,” you tell him, resting your cheek on his back. “You’re truly a man of your word. I think that deserves a reward.” You slide your thumbs under the waistband of his pajama bottoms, teasing him. 

“If you tempt me, you won’t be able to taste this delicious meal I prepared for you,” he comments, setting his coffee mug down the counter and turning off the burner. His hand covers yours, maneuvering it over the growing bulge in his pants. 

“Maybe I’m craving something else for breakfast.” You start palming his erection, suddenly hungry for him rather than the food. 

He turns to face you, looking at you up and down in his dress shirt, your legs clenched together to hide your arousal. Still smirking, he says, “You’re making this much harder than it needs to be.” He slowly pushes you against the counter, running his fingers up your inner thigh, spreading your legs to expose your wet cunt. 

You moan, anticipating another round of intense fucking, this time in his kitchen. It makes you want to christen every part of his apartment. 

“How are you this fucking wet for me already?” He whispers, rubbing his thumb on your throbbing clit. “You’re so sexy, it’s driving me insane.”

“Kishibe,” you breath out, struggling to steady yourself. “Fuck.”

“I got you. Get on the counter for me, princess. Spread those legs so I can lick that pussy clean.” 

With his hands on your waist guiding you, you hop up, opening wide for him. Knees bent and body folded forward, he starts licking your clit, palming his erection through his pants. You come within minutes, gushing over his tongue as it glides along your slit, nose digging firmly onto your swollen bud. 

“Fuck me, Kishibe. Want that big cock inside me. Want you to fill me up again with your cum.” You hop back down, turning around and lifting the hem of the dress shirt past your ass, ready to get railed right there on the countertop.

“Not like this,” he murmurs, kissing you on the cheek. “Wait for me in my room. We’re going to have breakfast in bed together.”

Minutes later, a tray with a plate full of eggs, toast, and bacon set on top is temporarily forgotten as the two of you fuck on the other side of the bed. Him sitting up, back pressed to the headboard, you riding him until he spills inside you, causing you to orgasm again all over him. 

You slump forward, resting your head on his shoulder, tired and satiated from another amazing fuck. Attempting to slide off him, he kisses you on the lips, his grip firm on your waist, unyielding. “Keep my cock inside you. Can you do that for me?” 

In your blissful state, all you can do is nod, getting comfortable on his lap. He reaches for a slice of bacon on the tray, letting you take the first bites before he finishes it, doing the same for a piece of buttered toast. He feeds you forkfuls of scrambled eggs, using the same utensil for himself. It’s pleasantly intimate for two people who just met. Playing the role of a long-term couple, indulging in simple delights together, like breakfast in bed.

Plate cleared, both your bellies full of nourishment, you stay in this position, kissing each other leisurely, no rush to separate. He whispers your name, fondling your breasts through the fabric of his dress shirt that you’ve made yours. He repeats it a few more times, relishing how it feels on his lips before he never has to utter it again. 

It’s bittersweet, knowing it’s ending as soon as it begun. You have no reason to be so smitten with him. You’re two people who hardly know each other. Still, you find yourself not wanting to say goodbye yet. Something’s there. A tiny spark flickering in the distance. Maybe you’re one of many women he’s done this with before. Maybe you’re nothing special. But in this fleeting moment, you let yourself believe it’s real.

The two of you reluctantly part after an especially long, passionate kiss. You dismount him, grabbing the wipes to clean up the mess that was made earlier. He gives you a smooch on the forehead before getting out of bed to exit the room, returning in less than a minute to hand you your outfit from last night. You briefly recall carelessly discarding it all over his living room floor right before you pounced on him. Is it too soon to consider that a fond memory? It hasn’t even been 24 hours and you’re reminiscing about him already. 

He leaves you alone in the bedroom to change. Before you undress, you bring the sleeves of the shirt to your nose and inhale deeply, memorizing his scent. You almost want to keep this shirt as proof that this happened. That Kishibe is real.

Back in your black dress, you sit at the edge of the bed, waiting for his return. When he walks in, he points at the sash and tiara next to you on the bed. “You’re not going to wear that?”

Shrugging, you respond, “It’s no longer my birthday, so it feels silly wearing it. Just toss it.”

You check your phone, estimating the time of arrival for the ride you requested. Any minute now, they’ll be here, ending your short-lived tryst. He offers to drop you off, but you refuse, not bothering to explain that doing that will result in you dragging him into your own apartment and keeping him a willing hostage for another few hours. It’ll only make it more difficult to not get attached. He doesn’t question it, probably understanding this himself. 

The ping from the app chimes through your phone. You stand up, smiling at him, swinging your purse over your shoulder. “That’s my ride.”

He walks you to the door, waiting for you to strap on your heels. Once they’re on, you smile. “I guess this is it. Thank you for a fun night.”

“Thank you too. This was fun.” It could be wishful thinking, but you hear a waver in his voice. Is he a little bit sad too?

You face the door, ready to turn the knob, when you feel his grip on your wrist. He spins you towards him, kissing you feverishly, his hand caressing your cheek, the other behind your neck. Yearning for one more moment of intimacy with you. He breaks away, resting his forehead against yours, eyes shut as he says goodbye with one last whisper of your name. You avoid his gaze as you exit, walking out of his life.

It’s better this way. 

[ay0nha]

The Ritual of Chaos | N.K.

SUMMARY: You refused morality just for the sake of being difficult. You made a habit of it. There were reasons habits quickly morphed into vices, something immoral and wicked. You were lethal, the definition of torment. Your silhouette alone was enough to send Nananmi spiraling.

PAIRING: Nanami Kento x f!reader (anti-hero of sorts)

WORD COUNT: 2K

WARNINGS: Introduction to story/reader/plot, higher-ups after reader, Nanami being a softie deep down, description of fighting/related injury, jjk typical things, tad angsty, made-up cursed objects, etc.

A/N: Posting from the drafts. Enjoy.

Nanami tags:

@chimamire-ga @eliuriastwo @moon-taffy @thefutureastronaut @planetahmane @musababy @khaleesihavilliard @vee-ai @killlerqween @nokkoongie @anti-heroism @nanamin94 @hatsunemitskislobotomy @mischiefmanaged71 @darkstudentsaladbakery

“Answer the question.”

The brief and concise statement thrown at you mimicked the ones prior. Your reluctance to answer was anticipated; everyone seated before the Jujutsu higher-ups reacted similarly. But the jury surrounding you didn’t have the same empathy for you.

“The answer is obvious, isn’t it?” You were oddly relaxed in the stiff wooden seat. The eyes on you hadn’t made you nervous but instead energized your subtle rage. “Or is our system that dull? Have you truly failed to see who is behind this?”

“Be mindful; your responses have repercussions.” The Jujutsu Commander warned. His position saved you from a scornful vote against your innocence. Yet, those who looked on weren’t too far off. “Were you or were you not responsible for what happened?”

The framing of your trial was spectacular. All evidence was vindictive, and the story was so perfectly skewed there was no way to worm your way out. Your fate was already sealed.

“You lot ask the wrong questions.” Your laugh was bitter.

“Your admission. Only.” His patience was running thin, and his politeness was only formality, as his tone opposed it entirely.

The truth was a volatile thing. Children were taught that it was essential in life, valued so highly that corrupt justice could manipulate it so finely that you almost believed it yourself. 

Lying, therefore, became a habit. It came naturally as if it was second-hand nature.

The twitch of your lip was poisonous. “Guilty.”

The others murmured at your feigned candor. The whispers were silly, as anonymity never existed for those behind the walls. Every face was bared, burned into your memory by resentment.

—

Your wrists itched. 

It was as if phantom threads tethered you down. When the knots tightened due to resistance, you became a marionette for those who put you in your place. You’d move with talent as a puppet controlled by those ranked above you. 

Your exhaustion created a silly—delusional— image. Your cheeks were rosy with red paint, and your eyes brightened with Pierrot-styled tears. You performed on a stage silently, an alienated observer of the mysteries and shadows of sorcery.

You took on a second life, reciting an alert, troubled, swaying, and deliberately uncertain verse. It didn’t matter if the audience understood; they considered what you said genuine art. Then, when it all ended, the standing ovation wouldn’t bring you joy but the flowers that waited for you. 

It wasn’t until the third time your name was called that you acknowledged its source. 

“Let’s go.” Nanami’s tone was sterile, but you knew he was fighting frustration at your closed eyes. Ignoring his instruction, you languidly rolled your head in his direction to finally acknowledge him.  “The car is outside.”

“Nanami…” You yawned through his name with teasing indifference. Although you were in the office under other pretenses, you would have been content toying with him. “I’ve missed you, you know.” 

It was as if you knew how your words tickled Nanami’s sides. They taunted him with childhood memories that made the tips of his ears heat. However, your words cemented that you siphoned your humor through affection. 

Nanami remained practical; any endearment had to be taken at face value. 

“You look good,” you commented politely as if years had passed. In reality, you saw each other often, but conversation was rarely exchanged past regulation directives. 

Your compliments continued to flow while you met where Ijichi waited. You noted how Nanami filled his suit well, age defining his features in a way most found enviable. There was hope in your voice that Nanami would return the favor to catch up with you. 

Yet, you knew criticism riddled his thoughts. 

Ijichi wasn’t as skilled at hiding his impression of you. He caught your eyes more than once through the mirrors as Nanami highlighted the dangers of the mission. Ijichi looked nervous to be so close to you, as if another one of your mistakes would cost him his life. 

“Ijichi, expect her to accompany us on several missions...” Nanami hadn’t looked up from the case file, but his intuition knew how to calm his coworker “...until I say otherwise.”

“Don’t be afraid to say it, Kento…” You mused coarsely.  “One oversight and mediation doesn’t apply to me…” 

The scenery slowly started to shift from highrises to foliage. The missions on the outskirts were always more discreet. The fresh air was too pure for the deadlier cursed spirits. Their strength had little to latch onto without a dense population to feed on. 

“I’m dangerous, don’t you know?”  You taunted your driver, eye sparkling with amusement. “So they ship me off to the countryside.” 

“We’re still within Tokyo limits.” Ijichi recited, thinking his misplaced comment would be helpful. “Mr. Kento specifically requested that—

“Notice how this never happens to Gojo?” You ignored him deftly. You scoffed tightly, your reprimands still fresh.  “How many buildings has he totaled? And yet, he doesn’t have a babysitter.”

“Twenty-four—” Ijichi’s answer flew out of his mouth before he could stop. You watched him shrink under your glare. “Excuse me, I didn’t—

“Enough. Focus.” In a tired tone, Nananmi reminded you both of your purpose. “The locals believe the church is haunted. Records say an occultist died there a few years ago…” 

Taking advantage of the car’s sway, you moved to see the file. The church was made of dilapidated stone that belonged to centuries prior. It only just started hosting more curses than humans could handle. Analyses were taken, proving that first-year students could handle it well. 

Yet, there was something off.  Nanami always read residuals uniquely. 

The blood looked fresh, scattered, and so beautifully patterned that it was clearly intentional. It swirled hypnotically, challenging anything rational. There was no use in prayers. The gore set the air with dust that could never settle; a blood-warm heat had set into your marrow, never to be forgotten; it had been dragged to your doorstep like a cat bringing in fowl. 

“Shit…” You finger traced the photo of some faint carvings. Your shoulder pushed into Nanami’s, your interest outweighing personal space. “This has to be one of us…”

One of us. Nanami flinched at the thought. It was this thought process that represented the rift you created. This mission was to determine your morality and whether Nanami was wrong to advocate for your reinstatement. 

You refused morality just for the sake of being difficult. You made a habit of it. There were reasons habits quickly morphed into vices, something immoral and wicked. You were lethal, the definition of torment. Your silhouette alone was enough to send Nananmi spiraling. 

However, you weren’t more than a wolf in sheep’s clothing to him. He struggled himself with his decision, he struggled with the blind faith he had in you. This was different, he decided. 

Nanami learned the hard way of earning your loose alliance. The scar you left behind cinched on his side, and sometimes, if he found you lingering in his mind, he swore he felt it ache. Yet, being in your presence seemed to be the closest thing to a remedy.

—

“What do you see?” Nanami’s tone was sterile, but you knew he was fighting frustration at your languidity. 

You felt childish and undermined, but you knew Nanami was following orders. Yet, your core frustration came from being in the countryside. The higher-ups slowly pushed you out of the city with each mission you were attached to. Away from real problems, you were no longer deemed theirs. That distance kept you busy with the unwanted chores of dealing with low-grade curses who were scared of their own shadows. 

The stone walls of the church were icy, and the lack of sunlight nurtured the cold. Nature started reclaiming every pew, and the stained glass became disfigured. Its evidence of abandonment seemed uneventful—normal. 

“Graffiti.” Your response was dull, your attention fragmented by your thoughts. 

Effort was a comical notion.

Sorcery required effort at times, just as breathing did. The icy air that reached the ends of your lungs stung. Yet, each breath was quieter, the effort only coming in the form of physical mechanics of pushing a warm breath back out that the air around you marked.

Although studied meticulously, sorcery’s fundamental trait was its vitality.  It shifted and molded. Evolved.  It made even more concrete things seem like rubber, rejecting electricity with an uncanny ability to mold into shapes unknown. It was the type of thing that could be so exciting to happen just to become something so vague that it no longer held value to it.

“No.” Another wrong answer.  “Look closer.” Nanami urged you, hands tucked away and nodding ahead. “The carvings are in a pattern. Do you recognize it?”

It was an ancient incantation, one whose effectiveness had lessened with time. Most charms were for protective measures, but the spiraled swirl of lettering was fresh. You traced your fingers across the symbols, feeling their lingering heat, only freshly scorched. 

“Cursed user?” Your breath was just shy of being transcribable in the air. 

The temperature was dropping by the second. Something dense settled on your skin as a warning. The cursed energy came from multiple points and was not able to find a convergence point. Instead, its disharmony grated against itself, creating such pressure that its purpose became overt. 

 In hushed tones, you were careful with your words. “Something is trying to get out.”

“Precisely.” Nanami’s voice echoed lightly, as did his footsteps.  “It has been entirely overlooked…” He explained leading you to the heart of the church. “...I’ve been monitoring this place for months—  

“So this is where you disappear to?” You bubbled, Nanami's whereabouts unintentionally drawing a smile out of you. Your laughter started to grow gently. “…and here I thought someone—a man like you, of your stature, would have—well, you know.”

“I don’t follow,” Nanami answered absentmindedly. His focus was still following the etchings and hoping to find any residuals.   

“You value your privacy,” You weighed earnestly. “I don’t blame you for handling your more intimate business away from, well, everything else.” 

Nanami paused. 

After a few heartbeats of hesitation, he caught onto your implications.  There was no reply save for a subtle retexturing of his breath, the gap between inhalations infinitesimally smaller, the length of his exhalations protracted.

It was nearly imperceptible as Nanami fought to smother it. It may have gone unnoticed, mistaken for concentration. However, to an experienced eye, you watched your words ripple an ever-still puddle of emotions.  

With a gentle clear of his throat, Nanami quelled your suspicions. “You’re the only other that knows this exists.” 

“Not even those old conservatives?” You were impressed by his discretion. “Breaking the rules for me, Kento?” 

It was as if you knew how your words tickled Nanami’s sides. They taunted him with childhood memories that made the tips of his ears heat. However, your words cemented that you siphoned your humor through affection. 

Nanami remained practical; any endearment had to be taken at face value. 

“Our visit is to resolve this before they find out.” He ignored you, reaching for his blunt blade. “Now, stand back.”

Cursed energy fluidly surrounded his stature as he conjured his technique.

With sharpened eyes, you took Nanami’s presence in. The suit he wore was filled well.  Even late into the evening, he was always so poised. Professional.  It worked silently, exuding from his presence alone. That magnetism couldn’t be credited to sorcery but to how he evolved, becoming pointed and moving without fault. 

It channeled well into his movements; the swipe of his blade was swift in finding the wall’s weak point. Everything was so well calculated. Nanami remained standing, untouched by the debris that floated around you. 

“Stay close,” He instructed, knowing curses fed off the unanticipated. “Please understand this is for information only.” 

Very little light penetrated the swamp of shadows. That gleam revealed etchings of connected hands. They were conjoined by a thin tongue of brilliant flame that wound around the hands like a red-hot wire.  

You stepped carefully, tracing the path Nanami created for you. He mumbled warnings that always came with the unknown, but his voice slowly warbled into a tune you could barely make out. The walls seemed to pull you in, their dissonance filling your senses. 

“It’s warm…” You noted the oddity, furthering your curiosity. Your fingertips burned against the markings.  “It’s like the cursed energy is…is it? It’s–It’s moving.” 

“It’s growing,” Nanami stated. A feeling of regret bubbled behind his words as if reprimanding himself for thinking aloud.  “These confinements can no longer hold it.”

The continued touch burned. 

You flinched, drawing your hand to your chest. The walls were upset by the action, groaning with age and anger. The sound was sharp and tonal, lacking an echo, its mournful cry resonating with despair. 

“Do you hear that?”  Your question dissipated lamely. Although words were spoken, the sounds around you overlapped, creating a deep and thunderous sense of urgency. 

The noise was luring you into a past that never was. This was the moment before a ship could crash onto the rocks. Your arms felt like lead, weighing down with poisonous consequences. 

The cursed energy pressed into your abdomen from all directions; the air was pushed from your lungs, your ribcage about to crack; your eyes felt forced back into your head; your eardrums swelled, pounding within your skull, and then with a crack like a whip you—   

“Are you alright?” Nanami watched you return to yourself. He called for you, but you were lost under the curse’s lure. It wasn’t until he reached for your palm that you sucked in air. “What happened?”

You felt a needle of pain in your nose like you were near tears. “It’s—crying.”

The missions on the outskirts were always more condensed. The fresh air was too pure for the deadlier cursed spirits. Their strength needed more to latch onto with a dense population to feed on.  This, however, deviated at the core. It was a mistake that relied on the distance to stay hidden. It was an anomaly that should have never been touched. And yet, it found its new prey. 

Nanami’s grip on you tightened with regret. “This was a mistake—

“No, wait…” Your brows furrowed as you pulled away. “There’s something in here,” You continued, hands reaching for the inner wall’s deterioration. The walls became silent, unwilling to guide you any further.  “We need to exorcise this—

“This was to survey only.” Nanami checked his watch, the hands taunting the idea of overtime. A sinking feeling swirled in his chest. “Exorcising an unknown, most likely, unregistered curse is too unpredictable.” 

A quick solution was never appealing when you were capable of unearthing hidden answers. That novelty fed your reputation of being offensively bold. Even now, as you moved through the unknown, you weren’t afraid of the repercussions. 

“Why did you bring me here, then? Huh?” The anger you carried felt foreign. Rarely, if even, had you directed it towards your counterpart. “Pity? To make me feel better about being benched?”

Although you were still present, Nanami watched you flee. Your guard returned stronger, but he didn’t regret his words. Nanami’s eyes were pleading, and you went to chastise him, but you found something distinct there. You didn’t know what to do with it, but to muse a buried thought. 

“You know that’s not—

Years worth of vexation simmered on the surface of your skin. “Save your lecture.”

You weren’t lucky like the others. There wasn’t a defining moment that made you who you were, or something so tragic that its vengeance led to motivation. Your birth was uneventful, your existence logged by a series of numbers, and your childhood consisted of mediocre memories. 

Even now, the memory of arriving at Jujutsu Tech was muddled with an indifference put upon you.  It wasn’t for a lack of enthusiasm but for the way, even there, with its rarity and quaintness, you were ignored so blatantly. 

There was never any demureness in how you spoke out.  You dissected the obvious flaws of the teachers and higher-ups, but your voice wasn’t considered the way others were. Your presence only became perceived insolence. You hadn’t cared about the threats offered, even when you were removed from the curriculum entirely.

The lack of lineage attached to your name and rare technique led to reprimands even in adulthood. Your presence with Nanami was one of them. 

Although not on an official mission, Nanami’s current company was obligatory. Where he went, you were required to shadow: learn from your mistakes and behave like a true first-grade sorcerer.   

After a so-called catastrophe, you were put before the higher-ups. Every grievance was brought forth and judgment determined you were unfit to even advocate for yourself. It was then those imaginary-thin strings wound around your wrists with permanency. 

You pulled at them the further you ignored Nanami’s warnings. 

“This is why you brought me…” You reminded him of your punishment. For you, even this, was to keep an eye on you. “...isn’t it?” 

With Nanami’s cemented frown, his intentions were further concealed. It didn’t have the capacity to speak of the trip’s impulsivity. It ignored the uncharacteristic apprehension that created knots between Nanami’s shoulder blades, new to the sorcerer celebrated for composure. 

It was rash, but the innate desire was clear; Nanami wanted to be behind your reprieve. 

“There are rules and regulations. ” He swallowed any lingering remorse. “They don’t stop for you.”

He mistook his demeanor for bravery, but his true bravery formed by being across from you. The only barrier seemed to be Nanami’s incorruptible moral code, a space where you couldn’t quite freely exist.

“Nanami Kento, the reluctant hero…” You tutted with tender sarcasm. A hand rested above your heart like the elderly read the headline that exploited your name, “...how kind of you to pity a recluse like me.…” 

Your words carried back to Nanami’s core, becoming distant as you furthered into the mess he’d created. The darkness succumbed to your presence, your cursed energy steady as it unknowingly created space for the spirit that lurked. 

Nanami’s lips shaped your name, but all you could hear was a mild ringing, a buzz. Your anger dissipated into a murky haze; the harder you blinked, the more the argument dissipated. Even if you had held onto it, the lump in your throat wouldn’t allow it to exist. 

The longer you lingered with the feeling, the more your surroundings slowly morphed. 

All you could hear was your shaky breaths, and all you could see was a faint familiarity with your surroundings. Even your stumbling steps forward felt practiced. 

“Keep up…” A disharmonious voice called for you. It was airy, like a child filled with excitement. “Hurry!”

The environment was damp, still reflecting the country’s dreariness. It was a good hiding place to play, to sneak, and for you to abuse. But the fog in your mind started to swirl. The colors became deeper, more like shadows that soon transformed into familiar figures. 

The curse’s magnetism was a warning you ignored, causing your pupils to blow large at the burden before you. 

The scene was explicit—nothing could be saved from the carnage. 

There was no use in prayers. The gore set the air with dust that could never settle; a blood-warm heat had set into your marrow, never to be forgotten; it had been dragged to your doorstep like a cat bringing in fowl. 

You recognized your own body from the anguish of your shoulders. Hunched over Nanami’s body as you held him tightly, that lump formed in your throat again. 

The fabricated illusion scratched at subconscious emotions and controlled your movements. Your sentimentality was your weakness. Even your stubbornness couldn’t block the overwhelming flood of anxieties and longing.

You watched yourself stuck in a loop, hand rhythmically gliding across the fabric of his shirt in hopes of softening it. To revive something that was determined to remain still.  Its structure was that of a fever dream, its kaleidoscope quality provoking you to interpret it. 

“Nanami?” You couldn’t tell which version of you spoke. Regardless, his name was like torture. “Nanami—please.”

Your defenses damped, your cursed energy draining the further you succumbed to the hallucination. 

“You can’t leave me—” The wails you let out grated against your skin, unrecognizable as your own. “I can’t do—please, Nanami!”

There was a disillusioned passion you felt. It grounded you within the false reality. Even if your mind wasn’t your own, your body moved with muscle memory. Your cursed energy crawled from your core to your fingertips, using the little amounts to start your technique. 

The blue energy extended like nails. You stalked forward until they met your second self’s back, piercing through your back until you could feel the breeze on the other side.  

The puncture flashed an image, revealing the truth of your damage. The spell you were under broke. The veil was no longer misguiding you. 

“Nanami—” You cursed his name as he grunted in pain. Your hand was warm with his blood. “Fuck. Fuck—” The words tumbled from your quivering lip. You couldn’t think of anything else, repeating the curse. “I’m so sorry—I—

Guilt crawled up your throat when you recognized his hold on your wrist. Nanami’s grip was the only thing keeping your strike from being lethal. Your mouth was dry, shallow breaths passing your lips with a bargaining plea.  

“No, no, no—” Your vocabulary became limited the further you panicked. “Nanami—

Nanami’s breath struggled, but there was determination on his brow. The copper taste took over his tongue; any warning could never make it out in time. 

Your body froze, and you were more aware of your surroundings than your mind. It happened too quickly for you to realize the position you had put yourself in; in a flash, you pushed Nanami to endure the hit from the curse that had forced your hand.

[blingblong55]

The Great War - Simon Riley//Vladimir Makarov

Creds to: @shadow0-1 for that Ghost work

Based on a request:

with the new mw3, lets do angst, something along the lines of "Somewhere in the haze, got a sense i've been betrayed" coming from us because 141 betrayed us horribly, which ended up in us getting tortured and then we pretennd its fine when it isnt. forget and forgive we lie and when we meet with Makarov, we tell them, 'oops sorry, forgot i was also a enemy at some point, guess its time to betray like real enemies do' and as we set Makarov free, we show that we have been working as his spy ever since they betrayed us. also can this be with a female reader and we also marry makarov behind their backs so thats why we betray so hard? i love u!

A/N: I forgot to add the angst....im so sorry pookies

Part 2

---- F!Reader, soldier!reader, enemy!reader, betrayal ----

It's been three months since Task Force 141 last saw you and how you betrayed them. Makarov and you have become the real-life Joker and Harley Quinn. In love with the other and maybe the love is toxic but the way he and you were so mental and in love made it all so good and bad. Everywhere you went, his hand held yours. It was romance for what poison could be. Deadly. One night, as Makarov and you celebrate your anniversary, he decides to spoil you. A private jet, a romantic location and a whole week in paradise. Well, that is the plan at least.

On the way there, the jet gets hit, Makarov rushes and puts a vest over you, his trusted gun and a kiss. "What are you doing?!" you frantically ask. "I'll meet you at our spot later my love," he lets go and then opens the door to the jet. The air tearing the door, he kisses you once more and as you look at him in fear and confusion, he gives you the illusion that he is right behind. Which he is not.

As you descend back to steady ground, the last person you ever thought wanted to see you, pulls a risky stunt. One he claims he has no idea he had the adrenaline for. Your body is so close to the ground as you watch your husband's jet explode. Ghost, holding you close as he deploys his parachute. "Vlad!" you call out with a tear-filled face. Ghost held you with all his mighty power until you two reached the grassy area. As he begins to unstrap, your hands hit his chest multiple times. Messy tears escape your face, "Why! why the hell did this happen?! What did you do!" Your hits became more defenceless as you cried and let out sobs of fear. Ghost wraps his arms around you.

In your memories, there he is, Vladimir and the children you were so set to want. Lazy Friday nights, the kids, Vladimir and you, a beautiful and complete family. It was like every puzzle was perfectly placed. Green lawn, sunny day, a puppy, giggles and small kisses. All gone in a matter of seconds.

"Shhh, shhh, I know, R/N, I know," his hand on your head, rubbing it as he kept you close to him. He was a trained soldier, after all, so he knew that occasionally he had to deal with people going through so many emotions. His gaze, why does it have to be this way? Why must he stare at you like this now?

No one knew Ghost had been on the lookout for you. That he went against every order given to him, that he broke an oath to hold you in arms this way as you cry. You pull away, your arms wrapping around your own body. Trying to find comfort in this moment. How did you lose him so easily? After so long of loving him in secret, he is gone this quickly. Like a cheap curse. But he was meant to be the lifelong curse. To ruin your very soul and taint you with his power of cruelness.

"God what were you even thinking?!" You push him., "You could've died, Simon. And then what?! huh!" You push him again and this time he grabs your arms. His stare lowered, eyes teared up as he confessed, "I did it for you," and now, he has become someone who he hates. Someone who betrayed the task force, someone who fucked it up and still it felt so right. Maybe you are a temptress, maybe you are the cruel one and not these men. Why must you make them love you so hard that they do this? What the hell do you even do now?

"I killed them all, please…please R/N, please listen to me." His voice more softer, gaze is so beautiful that it makes your heart flutter. "No, Simon-" "Listen to me this once. I know what I did is wrong but damn it, don't you feel it too? Don't you feel what I do? When I hear your voice, that sweet melody becomes my reason to wake up early, to smile, to even dare come back from operations. R/N, I know I'm not the best-looking guy in a crowd but…damn it, I would ruin everything for you."

His hand holds yours as he places it over his chest, "For years, so many years, this heart has belonged to just you." He whispers and holds you in for a kiss.

A gunshot.

One body to the floor and then darkness surrounded by crimson red.

No one ever said the joke or Harley Quinn had a good ending, guess it is the way this life goes.

[At the 141 base]

"Price, have yer seen Ghost?" Soap walks in after looking for his friend around the base for nearly an hour. "Should be in the shooting range," Price responds. "Think he mentioned something about going to the gym," Gaz mentions. "Not in any of those places." Soap says. The three men looked everywhere. Then, a soldier comes running in, "Someone stole the plans and mapping for the operation-" "and many of the files have been deleted, security footage is also gone." Another soldier comments. The three men have many possible answers and then two names come to mind. Makarov and yours.

"She fucking kidnapped him?!" Soap was furious and it was well known he hated you for what you did. Gaz, oh that man hated you for everything you were worth. In their books, you placed first place against Makarov and Graves. "That fucking bitch," Soap slams his fist on the table of Price's office.

As the men gather information and what else was taken, they realise a pattern here. After knowing who you were, your pattern who Vladimir is and his way of dealing with stuff, they understood the job was from someone on the inside and described you as someone who broke in. With contacts in many parts of the world, they looked for traces of him and traces of you.

You weren't even planning on this robbery to the base. Makarov wasn't either, so there is a third man. Alejandro and the rest of Los Vaqueros were told that they had someone else as a suspect. The devil herself, Valeria Garza. One look into her history and she was also not behind this mess. She was hunting down someone, yes but she didn't care for 141…yet.

After hours of exploring any enemy that would do this, it suddenly struck. And just as Gaz was about to give his shocking idea, Laswell walked in.

"Ghost wasn't kidnapped, the files were stolen but it was him…he is the man on the inside. This entire time, Ghost talked with Makarov, they weren't friends but allies. He is our next target," she slams his file on the table. "If we want Makarov, we take Ghost down first." "But how?" "We hurt the desire of his newfound criminal mind." "Which is?" "Grim. We know he was hurt when she revealed she was with Makarov, so it's time we take it old school and hurt her to get to him." Laswell looks over at Price, he nods and leans on over. "If we do this, I don't want casualties." "We got a deal?" "We do."

With that set, 141 found the targets of their next operation but this time, their calls had to be whispered. Two former members of their teams who knew them all too well, this has to be all a precise work of war. Simon 'Ghost' Riley, R/N 'Grim' Makarov, the new image of a ticking bomb. Their names are given to all the agents in the world. Hitmen, snipers and all countries, looking for two mad soldiers.

One was set to win. That win would set a new record for all criminals and good men. This is how modern warfare changes for the better and worse of us.

This is the great war.

A/N: i thought this was uploaded and it turns out it was in my drafts all along....i'm stupid

Tags: @actuallyhiswife @eicee @liyanahelena

[princessbunnib]

Adulture

Levi Ackerman |Attack On Titan|

Summary: Breaking the rules isn't so bad when the person you're breaking said rules with is just as shameless about it like you are.

Pairing: Levi Ackerman X Fem!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Smut MDNI, Switch Reader, Switch Levi, Marital Infidelity, High Tension, Little To No Talking, Sex In Livingroom, Sex On Table, Sex On Floor, Missionary, CowGirl, PullOut Method, Oral |F| Receiving, Sex Standing Up, Unhappy Marriage, Negative Talk About Having Children, Nipple Play, Slight Choking, Intense Intamcy.

Author's Note:

The build-up is long for this one but I assure you that it is definitely worth it.♡

I always snap when I write for Levi, idk why but I literally get so creative when it comes to him. Anyways enjoy Bunni's.

PT2 IN THE WORKS

____

"Y/n! what're you looking at? Hello? Am I not speaking to you!?" Your husband yelled at you while you were scrolling on your phone at the dinner table. The both of you were set out to go on a double date with his co-worker and his wife. You weren't enthusiastic about going, spending a longer amount time with your husband makes your skin crawl every time.

"Stop fucking yelling at me, I hear you but I'm busy right now. Am I not on the phone!?" You snapped back at him. "Oh? Busy? With what... making another nail appointment since all you do is spend money and sit around?"

"Oh please. It's not like I'm spending yours, remember that I have my own will you? There's no point in getting upset when your pockets are perfectly fine." You said and got up from the table, slamming your phone on the glass surface while making your way down the hall to the bathroom.

You've been unhappy in your marriage for as long as you could remember. It wasn't made on the sense of love. Just a legal arrangement to make more money as a unit. You married him at a young age. Early twenties to be exact. Now that you're halfway through the ages that would make 'your prime' you were tired of seeing his face everyday and needed a change of scenery. He didn't love you, both of you spent most time at eachothers throats. Arguing until one of you stormed out of the house before things got too heated.

He wanted you to do more for him when you felt that you were doing just enough. For one, he wanted children. He wanted you to retire as a buisness women and just be his pregnant wife for the rest of the marriage. You didn't want to be a mother. You saw how parenthood forced people apart and knew that you didn't want that for yourself.

Children were a commitment you're not willing to sign up for. You already signed up for marriage. Only difference was for marriage, you could sign some papers- go to court and be done with the legal relationship with the other person. But if you had children? You'd forever have that burden following you around. The memory of birth burned into you mind, making it impossible for you to forget that you're even a parent in the first place.

You didn't want to have someone else to take care of. Spending money on yourself and yourself only was perfectly fine with you. Oh- do you want to get your hair done? Just make an appointment. Did you want an at home message? Hire somebody to come over and take care of it for you. You'd rather spend money on what you loved instead of diapers formula and 'back to school' supplies.

Not only all of those factors. You valued peace and quiet. When you have children every ounce of quiet goes down the drain. Who cares about those blood sucking snot nose brats. There are many other people in the world who loves and wants those things. The population wouldn't crumble to bits just because one women doesn't want to be a mother.

While you were in the bathroom fixing your makeup your husband walked in and stood in the doorway. Glaring at you and rolling his eyes. "Let's go already, Levi and his wife are probably at the restaurant already. They've also been planning on a baby so why not get in good with her. Hopefully she could talk some sense into you."

"Oh yeah? I'll pass... I told you I didn't even want to do this anyway. I'll play nice with her but I won't kiss her ass just because. She's not going to be a little friend of mine." You scoffed with an obvious eye roll.

"Tsk. I know she won't. All your friends have to be men... like to have your options open huh?" He said before walking off.

Who cares what he thinks. You can't wait to get those divorce papers on Wednesday. That would make the perfect birthday gift now wouldn't it.

"Happy birthday honey, I want a divorce!♡"

____

Levi didn't think his co-worker was the best guy in the office. Y/h/n was a jerk. Not to him of course but to the other people around him. He was also a big flirt for someone who wears a ring and makes it a point that he's married. He coincidently hits on the new comers, the least they knew about him the better of a target they'd be for 'workplace fun.' He was a loud mouth bastard who overcompincated to be liked. His attempts to be charasismatic always come on as a facade.

He's gained an opinion over Y/h/n just by being observant. The most you stay silent around people, the quicker they'll think they can be comfortable around you and let their slip hang. Because of this, it was easier for him to find out the dirt on everyone. Just because a man leaves the house with a clean suit on dose not mean that he doesn't get his hands dirty.

"Levi! Come on, we have to go. You said that Y/h/n and his wife are already at the restaurant right?"

He was in his office seated at his desk when Yuki walked in with her hands busy as she put in her pearl earing that had fell off for the third time. "Why are you always in here? It's so dark too." She questioned while flicking the light switch and walking over to his desk, making her way behind it and turning Levi's chair so he could face her. "Doesn't everyone enjoy peace and quiet sometimes?" He simply said desiring to keep the conversation short.

"Well yeah but you didn't hear me calling you? Anyways come on. We should go, ugh you just look so handsome." She smiled as he stood up, he laid a kiss on her cheek before walking passed her. "You look nice too, the purple really compliments your skin." He stated and held his hand out for her to grab.

They both walked out of his office and made their way outside. Levi held the door open for her like usual and waited for her to be seated so he could close the door and enter the driver's side.

He felt a cloud of looming dread follow him around. He wasn't sure where it was coming from or why he was even feeling that way in the first place. His marriage with Yuki was average. There were rarely any fights and even an even less amount of conversation. He was the problem. Levi has always had a hard time keeping himself open to others instead of acting as if he was the only person on earth. He liked being alone but that all changed once he found himself proposing to Yuki. And now with them trying for a child, he thinks this is the way his life will be from now on.

At first he didn't think he'd make a good father. He had no idea what the definition of a 'good father' was anyways. His childhood was rough. So how would he know every way to not fuck up the childhood of a newborn. Yuki was a good women. Always egging him on to be better, telling him that he wouldn't be alone in parenting and they'd both do a good job. Even with her words of uplifting, he still had doubts. Parenthood can't be for him, he's too broken to even look into the eyes of a child and feel any desire or love to have one of his own.

When he was in the moment of proposing to Yuki he didn't have a guess of what the future would hold. If anything the fear didn't set in until he was finally standing at the alter. Everyone staring at him as she poured her heart out to him. The audience filled with her family, not even a crumb of his own in sight. He was scared of saying those two words. Before he could even fully decide, he agreed. Maybe marriage wouldn't be too bad and maybe this feeling of regret would slip away.

To his demise it never did. And now that he's been married for almost ten years... he is just a dead man walking.

"So what's his wife like?" Yuki asked as she glanced at him, waiting for an answer.

"Who's wife- oh... right." He trailed off but quickly remembered who she was talking about.

"Are you okay honey? You seem like you're out of it tonight. Should we call and cancel?"

"No I'm fine. Just a bit tired is all, work was tiring. And you know I don't sleep much so... it just goes hand in hand." He deflected, coming up with a quick lie and shrugged off his response.

"Oh alright... did you hear my question atleast? I asked what is Y/h/n's wife like."

"Y/n? I'm not sure. He doesn't talk about her much other than what her name is. I don't know her that much if that's what you're asking."

"I see... a man who doesn't talk about his wife at all is a complete jack ass then."

"Yeah... that's his middle name alright. I hope he doesn't drink too much, the guy can barley hold a stapler without losing an eye. When alcohol is in the mix he's almost no good at anything."

"If you know so much about him that makes him seem insufferable to be around then why do you tolerate him? Don't you think going on this date would be stressful as is?"

"Yeah... you have a point but- actually I don't even know why I'm doing this. I would've said no if I wasn't thinking it instead of actually speaking it. To be frank it be better off reading a book at home right now."

"It's only a few hours Levi, I've seen you hold a conversation with my mother and she is the most insufferable person I know. You got this tonight, I'm sure it won't be that bad either. Surely he can't be a piece of work when his wife is around, she has to balance him out some way right?"

"I guess."

____

You were sitting at the bar when Y/h/n walked up to you with two people behind him. The strangers were holding hands so that told you that they were the couple your double date was to begin with. You grabbed your drink from the bartender and turned around in your seat. Flinging your leg over the other as the slit of your dress opened to reveal more of your smooth freshly waxed legs that you spent an hour doing just for tonight. Luckily you moisturized just enough so you wouldn't be itching all night.

You for sure felt cold. But with alcohol so close to being in your system, you'd surely warm up faster. "Y/n this is Levi and his wife Yuki." Y/h/n said as he put on a fake smile towards you. You mentally rolled your eyes and got out of the stool chair. Levi quickly coming towards you with a hand to help you down so you wouldn't fall.

You weren't aware of who was helping you as you grabbed the soft but rough hand and focused on making sure your dress didn't get ruined by your heel. You looked up finally and nearly dropped your glass. Levi Ackerman... you've definitely heard of him, not only has Y/h/n mentioned him many times, you've also saw that many everyday objects have 'Ackerman' written somewhere on it.

You kept eye contact with him short and sweet, taking your hand from his and smiling at the both of them. His wife was gorgeous, the prettiest eyes you've ever seen. They were a bright green. Plump lips that were dabbed with a little blush red color that matched her cheeks. A full set of crystal clear teeth. Long lashes that seemed to be natural with a slight flare of mascara.

You were slightly more interested in her for a breif second until you realized that you probably should start talking right now.

"Hi! I'm Yuki- uhm I mean you already know my name but still hello!" She nervously smiled and held your free hand with both of hers. Looking at you with a gleam of admiration as if she's been dying to meet you her whole life. You smiled back at her and set your glass down. "It's wonderful to meet you, wow- you're so gorgeous..." You said halfway losing your train of thought.

She laughed lightly and brought her hand up to her mouth to not come off as too 'teethy' she then held onto Levi's arm and glanced at him. "Thank you! This is Levi- he's not much of a talker but I assure you he is nice too."

You broke eye contact with her and looked at him. His glare was peircing into your eyes as you tried to break away from his gaze to continue eyeing his wife but you couldn't. His skin was so pretty, blemish free and flushed with red at the cheeks and very tip of his nose. His lips soft and well taken care of. Eyebrows just the right amount of thickness and cleanliness. His dark eyes dilated once he raised his head just a bit to have a clear look at you. A smirk formed on his face, he quickly changed it to a smile as he most likely forgotten where he was at right now.

Strands of his hair were in his sight of vision hiding the view of where his eyes were traking to, leaving your husband and his wife utterly oblivious to his greedful gaze.

This moment seemed to last forever for him. He hadn't seen you at all in person but your name was burned into his memory. If he had known that Y/h/n had a wife like this by his side, he would've showed up to every single dinner party he invited him to just to steal a look of you.

There wasn't particular parts of your appearance that he could point out to consider above all attractive, he was staring at all of you. Your intrigued expression kept him hooked onto you. You were caught off guard by the extra people walking up to you. He wondered why the hell did your husband think this was the perfect time to ambush you with guests. By the looks of your drink, you weren't planning on being so friendly tonight either.

"Hello. It's a pleasure to meet you, Y/h/n has spoken so much about you." He lied with a smile and a gentle low nod to you out of respect.

Shit. Why were they both attractive? Are they swingers? Was this just some ploy to get you to swing with them? You wouldn't decline if it was. You didn't know which one you wanted more. Her, or Him... although Levi had a problem with his eyes being on you the whole introduction. Even when your husband brought the conversation to him, Levi was still staring.

In high fashion, his eyes made you worry about your appearance. Was your hair okay? What about your makeup? Did you have something on your teeth and that was why he was staring at you?

The four of you eventually made it to the table after minutes of pointless idol chit chat. You sat next to your husband, across from Levi while Yuki sat across from yours. He had his arm around Yuki's shoulders while she held his hand with hers. Their body language was something you craved. The most touch you and your husband were participating in was a simple knee touch under the table.

Your hands were clasped together in your lap under the table. Fingers twiddling with eachother as you payed as best of attention to the conversation as you could. You were mentally absent, it didn't take Levi not even ten seconds to figure out.

Guessing by the body language you and Y/h/n were presenting. You two didn't have any ounce of physical love for eachother. No wonder why when you'd pretend to fix your hair, your eyes would land on his when you thought he wasn't paying attention to you.

The funny thing was that you were the only thing he could focus on. The only time he broke a gaze was when Yuki would boast about their relationship and want him to look at her. He even went out of his way to steal a few kisses from her to make her claims of their love legit.

You coughed into your arm as you watched Levi's head turn. His jawline was so potent and sharp. The perfect slimness to still be seen but not be too much. His hair was freshly cut too, a crispy undercut. You glanced at Yuki, her hand lifting to hold Levi's shoulder as she kissed him softly. They giggled with eachother and whispered sweet nothings inbetween aswel. You needed a drink. Bad. The strongest drink you could ever have too. You glanced at the bar and noticed that you left your cup over there from earlier.

Shit. Would it be bad if you slipped away right now to get it? Hopefully Levi and Yuki won't think that you're leaving because their public affection was making you sick.

You glanced at your husband. He was busy looking at the menu rather than paying attention. With the conversation dwindling away he eventually put his attention somewhere else. You turned your body to step out of your seat but stopped and stared much more intently at Yuki. She kissed Levi for one last time before breaking her lips from his to ask him for something. He nodded, his veiny hand lifting to kiss her ring finger softly. "Sure. Give me a moment." He stated softly to her which made her bite her lip gently and run her finger through the back of his hair.

Your mouth was watering now. Not only you desired the taste of alcohol on your tongue, you also wondered how good she felt to know that she had the right to run her fingers through his undercut at any point. Dammit, get it together. Stop staring at them like this. You look like a pervert.

Yuki's eyes glanced at you once Levi turned around to get up from his seat. You stood up quickly and froze for a moment. She smiled at you while mouthing 'sorry' apologizing for her and Levi being 'too close' thinking maybe it was awkward for you to see. You nervously laughed and nodded at her then proceeded to walk away.

Your body told her that you were already on your way to get up so she didn't think much of you and Levi heading in the same direction. She then moved her hair out of her eyes and opened the menu to see what to order.

____

That was close. You almost lost it back there. Your glass from earlier was gone because the bartender cleaned it up which meant you had to order another one. What did you have again? You didn't even know. You ordered that drink so randomly that you didn't care to memorize the name so you could order it again if you liked it.

As you leaned on the counter a man walked up next to you, a stool was in the middle of of the both of you for space. You glanced over and it was sure enough Levi. He saw you and made a double take. Wondering why you were even up here. Before he could say anything stupid he realized that you were waiting at the bar. Clearly you were up here for a drink like everyone else.

"Hello again. Are you going to order first?" He asked with a concerned tone. The bartender was staring at both of you, their hands on the table as they waited for direction. "Who me? Oh no no I'm fine. I don't know what to get." You shrugged.

Who me? Yes- of course you. He's only staring at you right now. Who else was he talking to? A fucking fly on the table? Dammit your mind is foggy right now. You can't think straight and it's his and his wifes' faults.

Levi then ordered for himself. You didn't hear him considering you weren't paying much attention again. You watched the bartender bring up three glasses from under the table and line them in order. "Three rounds of Shōchū, third round done heavy coming right up." The bartender said.

"Third round heavy? Who's that for." You asked. He chuckled and turned his whole body towards you, leaning on the counter just like you and speaking up. "It's for you. I can see a stressed out person who needs a drink from a mile away. I'm the same way, guessing by your hands right now. You're extra nervous." He said.

Yeah no shit man. It's because you and your wife are very sexy together and apart.

"Really me? No I'm fine. Honest!" You laughed him off but he didn't budge. "It's fine. You don't have to lie. The drink is on me. In fact-" He turned to the bartender briefly. "Make the first just as strong as the third, thanks." He said clearly then turned to you once more.

"You keep saying that so your brain will believe it, yes? You don't have to do that with me. I get it. Public spaces make me feel on edge too." He shrugged still trying to get his point across.

You sighed and glanced at the table where you were sitting. Both yours and Levi's partner busy with eachother in conversation. You then glanced at him and sat in the bar stool chair, making sure to not fall thus making a fool out of yourself. The drinks Levi ordered were done and was slid over to him, he held the first cup and slid the third to you as he sat down in the chair next to you.

"I've never tried Shōchū, I'm more of a Sake person or I'll just drink beer- although that's rare of me because it's hell trying to find the best beer vender." You said while staring at the brown liquid in the glass, unsure if you should take the gulp.

"I don't even drink that much. I have black tea mostly. I only ordered myself a shot because you look like you need a drinking buddy- Yuki usually gets this." He shrugged and held the small glass out to you for a cheers.

"Yeah... you don't look like a drinker either." You said as your eyes glanced at his fingers, ignoring the golden band on his ring digit out of reflex. Such strong hands... Jesus... what a man he is...

"Oh? So you've been thinking about what I look like? Didn't think I'd be in your mind that quickly." He smirked while lifting a brow. Fucking tease. What is he smirking so many times for? You brushed off his statement and clashed your glass against his. Then cocked your head back and gulped the strong shot in less than a minute.

He drank his shot along with you and felt the sting of alcohol touch the back of his jaw. He winced along with you and felt his lips burn with numbness. His mouth watering as the taste was stronger than expected. He coughed a bit into his arm and cleared his throat. Glancing up at you to see that you were licking your lips, feeling the liquid on your bottom lip and taking the buzz with pride.

"That's so strong- I can't even fathom the taste..." You mumbled lowly but felt your nerves settle as your stomach burned with warmth that spread through your arms and legs, bursting out of your finger tips. Oddly enough the buzz transform inbetween your legs. Great- you forgot dark liquor arouses you over time depending on how much you drank. Your eyes met with Levi's as he wiped his mouth with a napkin and crumbled the tissue up. You stared at his lips for a moment, then at his hands. This time staring at his ring.

He noticed your eyes and trailed down to your clevage that was on full display in your dress. His lips pressing together and hand lifting to hide his growing smirk that was followed with a pleased 'Damn...' your finger traced the rim of the glass and brought attention to your hand. He saw your ring and memorized every detail in it. Your name was engraved in the silver band. He remembered his and set his glass down to tug at his own ring, making it seem like he was rearranging the tight fit but in reality. He wanted to take it off.

"Refils please?" You said to the bartender. Glancing at your cup along with Levi's. They gladly obliged and gave you two the same refill with the exact amount of strong dosage.

You then lifted your cup to his and smiled at him, uncrossing your legs and bringing your right one over the other instead. This movement brought attention to your soft thighs until you cleared your throat. "Cheers." You simply said which made him mindlessly bring his cup to yours. The small clink of glass was a nice sound you were familiar with hearing. Both of you took shots and quickly enjoyed the sting together. You were disgusted by it at first but now that you were relaxed, it didn't feel as bad.

You stared at his throat as he took the last gulp. His adams apple was strong and perfect. A deep sigh left your lips as you slammed your cup down, sliding it to the bartender needing another shot. Your brain was fuzzy with thoughts you should be ashamed to have. This moment was pleasing in many ways, not only you had Levi's attention on you and nothing else. You got to check him out in peace without being careful to not gaze too hard. You glanced at the table again and saw that Yuki was gone. Most likely at the bathroom.

"What did you cheers to?" He asked while clearing his throat again. "To luck. In hopes that both of us get really lucky tonight." You said keeping your meaning vague and hopping out of the chair.

He watched you as you walked off heading to the table again. Your hips swaying side to side, bringing attention to your body. He pulled on his tie thinking it was too tight and coughed lowly. Was it getting hot in here or was he just working up a sweat.

Get lucky? What did you mean by that? And why did he want to find out, badly.

____

It was hard for you or Levi to focus on the double date by now. You were over sitting here acting as if you didn't want to tearl him apart and rip his clothes off. You didn't care about anything else, just him and the burning pleasure blooming behind your clitorus. Your thighs squeezed together as you sighed and poked at your food. Enjoying what you had ordered but not going out of your way to eat it. You wanted something else in your mouth rather than this meal.

You watched Levi as he sipped his wine and licked the excess away. Bringing his fork up to his mouth and taking a bite of his steak. Yuki was closely knit by him, her fork making it's way onto his plate and taking a nice cut. She smiled at him and took the bite, he used his napkin to wipe his mouth but dropped it. He didn't want to be the customer that left a mess for the staff to clean up when he was able to clean it himself. He then ducked under the table and looked around to grab the white ball of tissue.

Just when he was about to reach out. You uncrossed your legs, revealing that you were wearing royale blue panties. He stared for a second longer then froze once you extended your leg out to brush up against his under the table. You brought your foot up and down his leg two times to make your pass more obvious to him. He then brought his head up from under the table and groaned while clearing his throat again. He put on a fake yawn and tossed his napkin on the table. Seeing you take a bite of your food and make a statement to your husband to tell him how you enjoyed your meal. Acting as if you didn't just make a risky pass at him.

Yuki then set her fork down and opened the menu again. Her eyes staring at the dessert section of the book. "Oohh Levi we should take some desert! What would you like?" She asked with a smile.

"Thank you for the date... you're such a good man~♡"

Levi heard you mumbled praises to your husband along with Yuki's question. He didn't want to answer her because he was too busy on hanging on every word you said. He turned his body to Yuki and placed his arm on the back of her chair. His eyes glaring at you though as you turned Y/h/n to face you, initiating a makeout session with him, sloppily kissing him and gasping into his mouth. Wrapping your arms around his neck as he caressed your arm, humming a response and chuckling at your sudden act of affection.

What was this feeling Levi was experiencing? Was it. Jealousy? Why? He can't feel jealous, you're married. Wait- HE'S married. And his wife is sitting right next to him. Why is he more focused on you than anything else. And how did you know? Your eyes opened as you stared right at him, giving him a look out the corner of your eye and stopping the kiss to smirk, allowing your husband to make kisses on your neck.

"Levi? Do you want carrot cake? That's your favorite still right?" Yuki asked making a suggestion. "Hm? Oh yeah- sure carrot cake... you know Yuki I'm exhausted... I think I'm going to call it in for the night." He said while fully looking at her.

She nodded in understanding and flagged the waiter that walked by. Asking him to get them dessert for to go and turned back to Levi. She remembered when he told her that he was tired earlier, he must need to lay down now then. "You know tonight was really nice. It was a pleasure to meet you two and Y/n! We should get to know eachother outside of this little meet up. You seem to be very sweet. Levi's tired and I'm almost getting there along with him." She said while placing her hand on his chest and caressing the back of his neck.

"Oh? Leaving so soon? You know what Y/h/n, we should go too... I have a long day tomorrow now that I think about it."

"Shit yeah- it's late. I have a meeting to hold tomorrow aswel."

Perfect timing. Now Levi could get a breather, he couldn't be in this restaurant anymore. Especially not with you eye fucking him from across the table while having a smile on your face.

____

When you got home Y/h/n was still lagging behind at the door. You kicked your heels off and unzipped your dress while looking in the mirror on the wall and uncliped your bra. A deep sigh leaving your lips as he rolled his eyes, stuffing his phone in his pocket and spoke up. "I got to go to the office, they need me to do some paperwork I dunno how long I'll be." Your interest was peaked, another night where he'd be somewhere else? Leaving you to be in your own bed?

"Can't you say no?" You said with an annoyed tone. "If I could I wouldn't even have told you, what do you care? You want me to stay here so we can argue? I'll pass." He said with a scoff.

"Whatever, just go if you're going to have a stick up your ass." You crossed your arms and placed your bodyweight on your left leg.

"I have that pain because of you."

"Well atleast one of us is having some company." You mumbled to yourself.

He didn't have time for your attitude so he left quickly and slammed the door behind him. You rolled your eyes and walked up to the window, watching him get into his car and pull off since the car was still on. Good ridense, the less you have to see him. The better.

You followed his car with your eyes. Making sure he was gone for sure. If he was going to pull back in it would've been right away. He was gone though, you were finally alone and knew it would be the same thing like every other night. You then grabbed your heels from the floor and walked upstairs, holding onto the railing tightly to successfully make your way to your room. That was until you heard a loud knock on the door. You turned around, dropping your shoes and heading back down.

You didn't even look out the window to see who it was. You opened the door and there stood Levi, his suit still on but tie ruined as he was struggling to take it off. He stood in your doorway, heavily breathing and staring into your eyes. His car was outside, he drove here that quickly? Whatever. Who cares about the logistics of the situation.

He stepped into the house without asking. You backed up, waiting for him to be inside so you could close the door. Once the door was closed you turned around again but this time was grabbed and pinned to it. Levi groaned and held your wrists over your head while tightly squeezing your jaw to turn your head so your neck was exposed. You whimpered at his assertiveness and started to yank at his suit jacket.

He allowed you to undress him, your dress was lazily on your body since you already unzipped it. Although he could have took it off correctly, his mind was making things hard for him to comprehend. He needed you and didn't care how hard he had to work for it. So he ripped off your dress and tore it from your body, leaving you in just your panties he saw earlier in the night. You pulled his tie, popping the buttons to his shirt and watching it fall off of him as there was nothing keeping it together.

Both of you managed to take things to the couch. He allowed you to push him down and get onto his lap, straddling him while you undid his belt while biting down on your lip and tossed the name brand piece of leather somewhere in the room. His eyes were glued to your bare chest, he quickly thought next and wrapped his dominant arm around your waist. Bringing his lips to your nipple and sucking on it intently while groaning, his tongue flicking up and down, side to side and in circles. He grunted loudly and used both hands to hold your breasts, bringing them together and flick his tongue inbetween them. Letting out a prideful moan and feeling your hips buck onto his lap as you held the arm of the couch.

You whimpered loudly and pushed his head down for him to stop. He allowed you to be rough as you got off of his lap, grabbing his hands to make him stand up. He groaned and held your jaw, bringing your eyes up to his and crashed his lips into yours while plopping down on the couch with you right alongside him to get his pants off. He watched you as you hurried up to get him undressed. Your fingers slipping passed the waistband of his breifs, your eyes looking at him hoping he'd allow you to go further. He nodded and moved his hips forward, a tent was forming by now. He wanted you to see what you did to him.

He needed you to see every inch of his body. This whole night was intense, he couldn't hold it back anymore. He needed you more than he wanted to and he had no regrets about what he was going to do. All he could think about was you.

You brought down his breifs as he raised his hips off the couch, planting his feet into the floor and watching your intrigued expression as his erection swung up hitting him in the stomach. You held his thighs and licked your lips, feeling the desire to have him in your mouth. This is much better than what you had at the restaurant. You held his inches in your hand and planted a kiss on him, he moaned lowly and held your hair in his hand so he could keep full eye contact with your lips as you showered his cock in wet prideful kisses.

You continued on for a moment until he grew bored and wanted the real thing. He lifted your head up with force, yanking your hair and making eye contact with you. Holding his erection in his hand at the base, slowly stroking himself while you nodded to him. Biting your lip and brought him into a makeout session while simotainiosly pulling your panties down from your hips. You straddled him once more, his hand holding your hip and inching down to give your ass a harsh slap. You moaned with a smile, wrapping your left hand around his neck and using your right to align him with your entrance.

He groaned while pushing his hips forward, his pulsating tip stretching you apart with every inch he slid inside of you. You moaned and nodded again, holding back words knowing they would be filled with lust. He threw his head back and slammed down your hips so you'd take him in completely. Both of you chocked on words and stayed still, attempting to fathom the act of becoming one. You moaned and grabbed his hands with yours. He watched you while carefully keeping his hips still. He stared at your hands as they held his. Your ring was on the same hand as his. He broke the hold with you for a moment and tugged at his ring like he did earlier in the night.

This time not ashamed to take it off instead of pretending like he was 'fixing the hold' of it. He tossed his ring on the coffee table, leaning forward but wrapping his arm around your waist to keep you from falling. You held his broad shoulders, staring at him the same way you were all night and wrapped your arm around his neck. He looked up at you, making vivid eye contact and biting his lip.

"Take it off." He simply stated and stood up, his hands scooped under your knees with a tight hold as he changed his footing to prepare himself for how he'd do this. You nodded with no questions and pulled your ring off aswel, tossing it to the floor rather than the coffee table. You looked over to the floor, seeing that the impact broke your diamond making your ring fall in two pieces. Levi then grunted and began to bounce you up and down his shaft, his hips thrusting forward in a steady rhythm to bring moans out of you. You whimpered while wrapping your other arm around his neck, throwing your head back and nodding.

You let out moans faster than you'd like to. Your fingers locking together on the back of his neck as he groaned with low moans while staring down at his hips as they slammed into yours, your clit brushing against his pelvis feeling his pubic hair brush up against you just right. Making you moan again and cry out loudly.

"Fhuuckkk MeeEee~"

Your words egged him on as you tightened around him. Your walls sucking on his shaft and squeezing pre-cum out of his tip. His hips thrusting faster now fucking the liquid up against your cervix. He threw his head back, becoming more loud with his sounds of pleasure and egged you on with his words. He sounded like he was taunting you rather than encouraging you. You didn't care what he meant, his voice was so sexy. You couldn't stop wanting him to be louder. "Uh-huh... aghhfuckkk~ take me all the way in that pretty pussy. You love it don't you? Yeah?" He questioned with his ego taking more control over him. You nodded and clenched around him again. "Yess yes! Huhhhh~ ughh yess! Right there- L-l-l-leeevvv-vii~♡"

He nodded and groaned loudly. His legs were giving out already, he then stopped and changed places to bring you down onto the coffee table and held your waist in his hands while you made sure to keep your legs open wide. You moaned while rolling your eyes back and held onto your ankles, now biting your lip and bringing your gaze back to him. He lifted his head up to stare down at you while letting out sloppy moans and random sentences. You smiled up to him, using your elbows to prop yourself up to stare closely at him and rest your legs on his shoulders. He then leaned into you, pressing his forehead on yours and staring much more intently at you to keep the eye contact. Your moans forcing his hips to penetrate you deeper and much more close to the back of your urethra.

"You're so tight- god dammit- and so fucking wet... aghhh thaaank youuu~♡" He whimpered uncontrollably while unable to break eye contact with you. You held the back of his head, running your fingers through his hair and of course feeling the stubble of his fresh undercut. Funny how you were thirsting over the simple thought of how it must've felt and here you are hours later experiencing it for yourself.

Your clit wouldn't stop throbbing. You felt too good. With the liquor still roaming in your system and him penetrating closely to your g-spot quicker than your husband ever could. You definitely felt words that you shouldn't say festering deep within you. You threw your head back to break eye contact, knowing that you couldn't keep this up. Those eyes... those same eyes from earlier that he used to examine every part of your face and truly see into you, not just what was outside but what was inside too. You didn't want him to look inside you, you knew that you were definitely a piece of work on the inside.

How much of a good person could you truly be? You were committing the worst crime a person could ever commit. Adultery... in which a person who is married goes against the contract of marriage and has sexual activities with another that wasn't the one they were wedded with.

You moaned again as you tried to stop thinking about the future of your choice. You didn't care but deep down knew that you should. Levi then slowed down his thrusts, yanking your hips off the coffee table and bending you halfway. Keeping your legs on his shoulder and lowly groaning while giving you deep, slow, sensual, and Intimate thrusting strokes. He had found your g-spot and didn't stop stimulating it. He wasn't thrusting into it, more so brushing up against it with the curvature of his shaft and using his tip to dig inwards. Stimulating your body in ways you didn't know possible.

Your nipples and clitorous began to tingle in unison. You couldn't deal with this pleasure but your body wanted more of it. Your blood was warming up and heartbeat was racing. As your clit tingled your legs extended out while still on his shoulder, making him chuckle as he grabbed them and pinned them to the table. Scooping his hands under your knees once more like before and picking up speed just a bit, you were moaning but you also were trying to hide how good you were feeling. Purposely placing your hands on your mouth to muffle your sounds as your eyebrows furrowed and eyes were little to closed.

"Say my name. Fucking moan my name Y/n." He demanded with a groan.

You denied him and shook your head in disagreement. You couldn't moan his name again, if you let out anything else you knew exactly what would come after. You can't... don't say anything to him... don't look into his eyes- don't moan his name- Don't Give In.

He threw his head back and groaned. Using his right hand to apply pressure to your stomach and continuing to stroke your g-spot but with a much more consistant steady speed. He knew for sure that his deep strokes from earlier would make you scream, but you're too busy acting like you can't. "Say my fucking name. Say it... what's my name? Tell me?" He repeatedly said with a light tone instead of demanding you. His hips rolling into circles to message your deepest hard to reach areas. You began to cry, he watched your eyes well up with tears as he thrusted. A smirk on his face by now taking pride in himself. "Say my name. Go on, say it... who's so deep inside you that you're on the verge of sobbing out of stimulation? Don't you feel it?-" He then pressed into your stomach more than once. "I'm so deep inside you that you can feel me in your stomach. I'm not stopping until you tell me what my name is baby."

You finally moved your hands from your mouth and allowed your tears to fall. Where was he all those years ago when you were about to get married? Why show up now when you could've been the one who was his wife. You could've had his last name instead. You wanted to be his wife, you wanted to be his everything. Your emotions were making this much more important for you. You needed him. You needed him... you needed-

"Levi! Levi!Levi!Levi!Leviiii! Leviiii! I Need Youuu Leviiii!~"

Tears rushed out of your eyes as you couldn't think anymore. Letting go of the guilt and remorse you held onto from a few moments prior. You felt your orgasm creeping around the corner. You knew it would be a big wave of arousal, you couldn't fight it. You wanted him to make you come. You were going to come weather you wanted to or not.

A few more strokes to your g-spot had your mouth open agape. You were about to let out another shameless moan until he brought his hips back and slipped out of you. A groan and slippery popping sound filling the room. Before you could react to him with annoyance that he stopped, you felt his tongue swipe on your clit.

You stared down at him and saw his head resting inbetween your thighs as his tongue did all the work and flicked back and forth. Making slippery licks on the sensitive bundle of nerves that felt like it was going to explode. You moaned again, both of your hands on the back of his head as you forced more of your clit into his mouth. Head thrown back and hips raising from the table out of reflex. Your toes curled as he lapped up his tongue on every inch of you instead of just your clit alone. He sloppily licked and sucked on your entrance, using his fingers to spread you apart and keep you exposed so he could devour every part.

"Hmmlsshhhhh sshhoo wheehhttghh~ anthh hwtheett~" He spoke into you while bringing his eyes up to yours, glaring up at you while you cried out his name again and pulled his hair in your hands.

("Hmmlsshhhhh so wet~ and sweet~")

"I'm coming- I think? Ughh I don't know anymore... thaannkk youuu~♡"

With those words Levi then proceeded to lift his head from your thighs and brought his tongue out to lick his lips until he stared at your expression. Needing to have his lips on yours no matter what. He called out your name which made you look at him with a dazed expression. He held your face and brought his lips onto yours, forcing you to taste yourself and in fact confirm that you were sweet. You moaned into his mouth while placing your hand on his chest. Other hand wrapping around his neck again to bring him closer.

The kiss broke eventually and there the both of you were. Out of breath, sweaty, utterly turned on, and almost at the edge of orgasm. "I need you." You whimpered, holding his face with your right hand hand and caressing the apple of his cheek with your thumb. "I need you too... I wanted to fuck you ever since we started talking at the bar."

"I wanted to fuck you since the first time I laid eyes on you... you turn me on so much Levi~" You encouraged and brought both arms around his neck to keep him close. He kissed your neck on the same spot your husband did. For some reason his lips felt much better, his canines dragging across your skin as he wanted to bite you and leave a hickey but knew that would be risky.

You moaned and felt the back of his neck again, whimpering his name and begging softly into his ear.

Your words encouraged him to take you off of the coffee table and onto the floor. He laid on his back while having you on top of him. Your arms still hugged around his neck while he aligned himself back up to your dripping used entrance that was pulsating and clenching around nothing as you desired to be stuffed again.

"Look at me. Just like that baby. Rock your hips for me- aghh fuck- Nghhhh... j-just like- thaaatt~"

You leaned upwards and placed your left hand on his knee for support while your right one was placed on his chest. You moaned loudly while throwing your head back and bouncing yourself up and down his shaft while allowing your entrance to meet at the base of his cock. This time he moaned and whimpered for you to keep going. His head thrown back as he tried to keep his eyes open so he could focus on your perfect body. Your breasts were his favorite part of you. He couldn't take his eyes off of them even if he tried to stare at the bulge in your stomach as you rode him. He softly whined but covered his mouth. Trying to hold onto his composure until you grabbed his wrists and pinned them to the floor on both sides of his head. You made eye contact with him while rotating your hips in circles and nodded down to him while placing your fingers in his mouth, encouraging him to suck them.

You bounced your hips up and raised them all the way until his tip was inside, then swirled your hips in a circle before sliding back down and grinding your hips in various ways. Levi groaned and sucked your fingers, he felt ashamed by doing this but the greedfull smirk you gave while looking down at him felt- rewarding?

"Ughhh-hhhhaahhhff~ s-st-stop~♡" He gasped with a whimper while feeling a pleasured tingle in his balls.

"You feel so good inside me~♡ don't you love how tight I am... speak up for me Levi~"

His ego wouldn't allow him to be submissive towards you. But he was already drunk off of you. Tasting you early in the way he did and managing to get you to moan his name made him proud. He desired you the more he watched you ride him.

"Fffuck m-mee... please- f-fuck me..." He begged while getting out of your hold and snatched your hands up into his. The two of you made eye contact once more. Low soft moans left your lips as your hips came to a stop, giving him the opportunity to thrust into you while letting your hands go and placing his hand around your throat, gently squeezing while you nodded and leaned upwards once more. This time throwing your head back and bucking your hips back and forth, in a circle and clenching yourself around him.

"I'm closeee~ haaaahh~"

"Mhm... I want you to come on my dick... can you do that? Please come on my fucking dick baby~" He whimpered uncontrollably and squeezed his hand tighter. You held his wrist gently and nodded, letting out small moans.

The eye contact you two kept was intense. Not only you were feeling it, he was too. All he could think about was you. Just seeing you and feeling your insides was all he wanteded this whole day. He knew from the moment he laid his eyes on you that he would risk everything going for him just to have atleast one night with you. He didn't care about his marriage or the life he'd have after, according to him this was heaven.

You moaned again but this time stopped your hips. You moaned softly while leaning down to him, holding his face with you right hand and having your other hand pressed on the floor. Both of you paused for a moment, his arms wrapped around your waist while you bit your lip and laid a soft kiss on his lips. You were an amazing kisser, he could taste your juices along with the strong alcohol you had earlier in the night. He kissed you again, this time pulling your bottom lip in his teeth and tilting his head to the side for better leverage. You ran your fingers through his hair tugging lightly and feeling his stubble.

You broke the kiss for air and held the side of his face once more. He pressed his forehead onto yours to continue eye contact and soon leaned up while having his arms around you. "I don't care about anything else but you right now." He lowly spoke to you in your ear and held your ass in his hands. Bouncing you up and down and groaned. You put your hands on the floor for support while he picked up the pace, thrusting faster into you with force and moaning loudly. "Yeah? Mhm... you make me feel so fucking good... I'm going to come soon-"

"Good... keep looking at me until you come- your eyes are so beautiful. I can't look away from them. I don't want to look away."

Levi glanced over his shoulder at your ring. It was broken from when he told you to take it off, he groaned in annoyance as he thought about how your husband treated you all night. He didn't even look at you or talk about you once. You clearly were being neglected in your marriage with him and it pissed him off to know that a women like you wasn't being taken care of.

That feeling of jealousy tried to resurface but then he remembered that he was the one inside of you right now. Making you moan his name and feel good all throughout your body. Y/h/n didn't deserve you, he did. You shouldn't have to be drinking everytime when in public with him to get through the night. You also shouldn't be in the arms of another because he wasn't doing his job as your husband.

Yuki didn't cross his mind at all. He glanced at his own ring but felt nothing towards it. If anything he was relieved to not have that charm of regret on his body. He wasn't thinking about the future, just you and him. How good you felt around him and how you had your hands on his chest, nails slightly digging into his skin as you softly whimpered. "Leviiii~ I'm so close~"

You turned his head so he could face you, finding his lack of eye contact a bit annoying. He brought you back down to the floor and wrapped your legs around his waist, now deeply stroking your g-spot like before and groaning loudly while staring into your eyes again. He buried his face into your neck and moaned your name while rutting his hips into you knowing that he'd finally come. Your legs locked him in place, back arching and head throwing back as you moaned his name for the last time.

He grabbed your hands and squeezed them again. His knuckles turning blush red as the pleasure running through his body was overflowing. "I love you! I'm coming! AghhFUCK-"

Woah. You hope he knew that you wouldn't be saying that back. Although it did make you feel good to hear him say it. Along with the fact that he said it first.

He continued to tell you those words like a broken record while his thrusts became sloppy and undone. You moaned for the last time as a knot formed in your stomach and exploded faster than you could take your next breath. That same warmth rushing through your body like before and bursting out of your finger tips. You cried out his name once more before wrapping both arms around his neck to keep the closesness.

Levi groaned and pulled out of you, his cock bursting with come and instantly covering your stomach. The cold air engulfing his sensitive, dwindling erection draining and slowly while also becoming soft. Heavily breathing until you looked up at him. You allowed him to bring you into his arms and hold your face, sloppily kissing you while you came down from your high, whimpering into his mouth and taking your legs off of his waist.

____

You and Levi didn't depart ways just yet. Instead the two of you laid together on the couch while you had the faux fur throw blanket over the both of you. His arm was around you while you rested your head on his chest, playing with his left hand hearing his calm heartbeat in the process.

"So what now?" He said breaking the silence and glancing down at you.

"I don't know. That was- something..." You leaned upwards and watched him as he grabbed his ring from the coffee table. Staring at it with a look of disgust and sliding it back on his finger. "Guess it's back to reality then. Look- let's keep this between us alright?-"

"Yeah of course. What? Did you think I was going to tell Y/h/n the second I saw him? He doesn't have to know." You dryly said then got off the couch, using the blanket to cover yourself up while Levi grabbed a throw pillow to place on his lap. He watched you in awe as you grabbed your ring, sliding it on your finger and picking up the diamond as it broke earlier.

"Shit. I'll have to get this fixed." You said with an annoyed tone.

The silence was starting to become unbearable. 'Back To Reality' he says... it's easy for him to say when there's actually love and physical attention present in his marriage. Reality set in that Levi didn't truly belong to you. Instead he was Yuki's husband. Just seeing them sitting across from you was heartwrenching, it made you jealous on many levels. You wanted to experience love while being married. You hadn't felt that in a long time and the lack of affection was making you bitter and cold.

Both of you were already married to other people and this little rendezvous was over. Sex with him was actually amazing. But you wouldn't tell him that at all. You just wanted to be in his arms forever, but you can't... because He's Not Yours.

You looked at Levi as he was face-palming by now, pinching the bridge of his nose in stress and glancing up at you. "I called in a favor at work so he'd be out of the picture tonight. I didn't want things to end without me seeing you... especially after what you did at the end of dinner, all night... I couldn't just shake you off you know." He stared at the floor once you turned around to try eye contact with him. He didn't know what he was saying or why he was even saying it.

"All that just to have sex with me? Don't you think you doing that would be suspicious if this ever got out? And what about your wife. If I was her I'd be up at any hour to see you walk through the door." You shrugged and wrapped your body up with the blanket.

"Why won't you divorce him? Aside from what we did- it's clear that you aren't happy with him. He's a jackass, I saw it the whole night... you were eyeing Yuki and I everytime we'd share a kiss or anything remotely intimate." He called you out because he had to know why on earth would you settle. It angered him slightly to know that you put up with him.

"I don't know. Levi you should go, he could come back and your car is outside still. It's time we get back to reality remember?" You deflected while watching him fiddle with his ring again.

"I want to see you again." He asked, his voice softening with his words.

"We're married. We can't see eachother openly, don't go falling in love with me now. This is a one time thing."

God damn you were in denial. You knew this wasn't going to be a one time thing. You craved the level of intamcy Levi provided for you. Why won't you admit it already. "I'm not falling in love with you. But you know that this won't be a one time thing. I should go now... I have work, I also hope that tomorrow is one of those days that you choose to show up and remind everyone that Y/h/n is married. Certain people seem to need a reminder."

You didn't say anything as he grabbed his clothes and quickly got dressed. He sighed heavily and stepped into his shoes while looking back at you. He was about to say something but you weren't looking at him to notice. You were too busy having a mental fight with yourself. Stop being so dry and atleast hug him before he leaves- you do want to smell his cologne... and second thought... he smelled amazing the whole night.

You then walked up to him and placed your hands on his shoulders. He wrapped his arm around your waist and lifted a brow, wondering what you were going to do or say. You landed a kiss on his lips, holding his jaw and turning your head to the side. Your tongue slipping into his mouth slightly before he turned towards you aswel and leaned back onto the wall. His hands attaching onto your waist, tempted to take the throw blanket off of your body.

Your hands slid down to his chest again. You pushed him away from you so you could breathe and also gain composure again. Levi pressed his lips together feeling the desire to kiss you again and not stop. He bit his lip slightly and chuckled while running his fingers through his hair, remembering that he had to go. "Goodnight to you too Y/n..."

[wifeofnatasharomanoff]

Say Yes To Me (chapter 2)

Series masterlist

Warnings: angst, implied smut, implications of nat having a dick, minor fluff

Words: 1,668

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x f!Reader

A/N: most of the first few chapters are set in flashbacks from before readers memory loss, and the setting after they find out that they lost their memory!

i hope you guys like this, ily my loves <3

“Natasha?” you say, with a hand on her cheek, stroking her face with the pad of your thumb.

“Natasha. Are you there?” a voice pulls her from her thoughts, causing her to face whoever was calling out her name. “..Yeah?” the nurse smiles, “Your wife, she recognized your children.”  she lets a sigh of relief out. Thank god. You remembered the kids, your kids. The babies that she'd always put first, she was happy that you didn't forget them. After all, they were your children. Yours and Natasha's.

A hospital room. You take deep breaths as you clutch oh, so very tightly onto your wifes hand, as if you were about to rip it off. “Oh my god! Why did I even decide to have a second baby—” you scream out. The sounds of a newborn infant crying cause your hold on her hand to loosen. “You did it dekta, you're okay. I love you so much..” the corners of your lips perk up in a strained smile, sweat glistening from your hairline.

“We did it Natty.. we did it.” your eyes were watery with tears of joy. “Remind me to not have another mini Romanoff till this one turns 3.” you say, pressing your forehead to your wifes.

Two kids run up to the redhead, a cute little chubby toddler, and the youngest, the soon to be 1-year-old baby girl who just recently learned how to walk. “Mama! Mama! I saw mommy! She look hurt!” the little boy says, climbing onto his mothers lap. “Hey, buddy! You saw mommy?” she dramatically gasps, “Did she tell you anything cool?” he nodded. “She said she saw a pretty lady with hair like yours in her dream!” he says, grasping Natasha's braid, and playing with the ends of her hair.

“She– she did?” he nods, “Mhm!”

They weren't dreams, they were memories. Memories that you had forgotten.. no. Memories that were moved to the very back of your mind, all you needed was a push. A push to get you to remember. Remember Natasha Romanoff, your wife, the woman you love.

It doesn't always work like that.

“Natasha?” you say, with a hand on her cheek, stroking her face with the pad of your thumb. She slowly awakens, her green emerald eyes meeting yours. “Oh Natty! I thought I lost you. I told you to be careful!” you say, both relieved she woke up and upset she was reckless in a mission.

She smirks, grabbing your hand from her cheek and gently kissing your knuckles. “Can't get rid of me that easily kotenok.” you playfully slap the uninjured side of her arm. “It's not a joke Natasha!”

You didn't understand, who was this woman? Why was she in your dreams? You couldn't see the rest of her face. Just those beautiful eyes, and her wispy red hair.

Natasha wondered what he meant by, ‘Pretty lady with hair like yours in her dream!’ did you dream of her? Or are these memories of her? She regrets leaving for the mission. Why didn't you beg her to stay? Why did she listen to you? Just a few days ago everything was perfectly fine. How did the Red Room even find out where your family was?

“Nat.. you're gonna be late.” 5 words you told her. Why did she listen to you? She could've rebelled and stayed home with you and the both of your children. Nothing would've happened. She would've protected you. Everything would've been okay.

“Nat?” a familiar voice pulls her out of her thoughts once again. “Clint.” she sighs, her shoulders dropping. “How are you holding up Natasha?” he says, taking a seat next to her. She scoffs. How is she holding up? You forgot who she is. How would anyone hold up if the love of their life forgot about them?

“Y'know, however, anyone would– feel if such a terrible thing happened to them.” Clint opens his mouth to talk but the woman interrupted him. “What type of shit question is that Clint? I don't.. I don't know what to do without her, okay? Is that what you wanted to hear?” he nods, “Look, they're trying their best. She'll remember. She remembered the kids, soon. Give it time Natasha.”

She turns to the children. “Hey.. buddy go take Ali somewhere and play hm? I thought I saw uncle Tony close by.” the little boy flashes her a bright smile before taking the baby and running off, oblivious to what was going on in front of them.

“Happy birthday Alex!” you say, kissing the 2-year -old boys cheek. “Ew, mommy! That's gwoss I'm not a baby anymore! I’ a big boy!” you laugh and ruffle his hair. “Hey, don't talk to your mother like that Alex.” he lowers his head. “Sowwy mama..” she chuckles, and walks up to you, hugging you from behind. “Hey dekta.” she whispers in your ear.

You smile at her words and pull away from your hug. “Darling! You made it!” she presses her lips to yours, “I wouldn't miss his birthday for the world.” she places gentle hands on your stomach. “How's our baby girl?” you giggle, “I think it's a boy.” she shakes her head. “Well, you're wrong moya lyubov.” she bends down, lightly kissing the top of your belly. “Oh– she kicked!”

You giggle softly, “That soon?” she nodded and got up to pull you closer to her. “We have ourselves a mini Avenger in there hm?” she asks, peppering light kisses to your neck.

“Mommy! Mama! Look, I'm uncle Thor!” the toddler says, standing up on top of the table with a hammer in his hand. You both turn to see what he was talking about. You widen your eyes, “Sweetie put that down!”

“What did you wanna hear? Yeah, Clint, I miss her. But going up to her, and telling her I'm her wife and the same woman who got her pregnant with our 2 kids won't work. Because she doesn't remember me.” her voice started to crack. God, why would she show her emotions like that?

“And telling her, it won't do anything good right now. We'd be back at square one. She's home with the kids, while I'm at a mission and– the fucking Red Room would be watching her. Do you know how that feels? To know that if you went back to the place you call home, being spied on by your greatest fear?” all Clint does is stay quiet and hear her talk.

“Natty.. stop worrying alright? It'll be fine, I don't care. I don't care about your stupid enemies, they could never break us apart. I love you, okay? I love you so much.. our babies are safe. I'm safe, we are safe.” you cup her face, caressing her cheeks. “We're safe?” you nod, and she pulls you into her lap.

“I love you. God– I love you so much Natasha..” she smirks, placing her lips in between your uncovered breasts, kissing your sensitive skin. “I love you so much more dekta.” she brings a hand to your waist to grind your hips against her crotch. “ohh Natasha..” you let out silenced moans in euphoria, rubbing your bare cunt against her clothed bulge.

“Fuck baby–” she groans, the feeling of your warmth overwhelming her. She brings a free hand down, gripping your thigh, gasping softly as her palm comes in contact with your slick skin.

“I miss her. Is that what you wanted to know? I miss my wife. I miss the mother of our children. And she– she doesn't even know who I am. It's my fault okay? If I wasn't out for a mission, I could've been there. I could've saved her. She would've been safe.” her voice was shaky, and her eyes were full of unshed tears.

You woke up confused, lost really. A woman and a man were beside your bed. A hospital room. Why were you in the hospital? “You don't recognize me?” the woman had told you with a nervous laugh.

You shook your head. You didn't know who she was but.. something about the woman drew you to her. Before you could say anything the man dragged the redhead away from the hospital room.

A couple of days after that odd interaction you were still in the hospital. The nurses would run tests on you occasionally, and ask you questions about things.

Except for today. “Mommy!” a little boy runs up to you and hugs your legs. He seemed familiar. You felt like you knew him but..

“'mommy!” a younger girl, she seemed to be 1 or younger. Crawls out from the corner, and hops onto the bed. Then you finally understood, you're their mother. “Alex hey sweetie..” you said to the boy. Did you know his name? Well of course you did, those memories weren't forgotten. Just stored at the very back of your mind.

“Did you get a boo boo mommy?” the toddler says, climbing onto the bed to kiss your forehead. You smile, “No Alex, mommy's fine buddy. Don't worry.” he grins, hugging you tightly. “I had a nightmare yesterday.” he whispers, “Did you have any nightmares mommy?”

You shook your head, “Hm.. I had a dream yesterday.” his little eyes popped out in joy and excitement, “Ooh! A dream? About what? Did you dream of candy? Or ice cream? Or–”

“No, I.. I saw a lady, she had red hair and.. green eyes.” you say, looking at the little boy's facial expression contort into a smile. “You dreamed of mama!”

Mama? Who was this? You were about to question him but then he giggled and ran off out of the room.

“You dreamed of mama!”

Was she the woman you saw beside your bed when you woke up? Was she the mysterious woman in your dream? You couldn't piece it together. As if your mind was scattered. It was scattered. You couldn't tell what was going on, half of the time you were just confused.

[i-literally-cant-with-this]

"There he is, there he issssss ohmigod!! (Co-worker's name) he ... is ... here. How do I look?" You bent your knees down to look at yourself in the small mirror in the back of the coffee shop, straightening your hair that was already perfectly fine for the situation.

"You look fine. You always look fine. Calm down, y/n. He's just a man."

You gasped, "Take ... that ... back. He is my future husband. The father of my unborn children - I mean, if we want to have any. We'll discuss that later. Over dinner. On our anniversary."

"Oh my god, you're insane. You're literally insane. Whatever. You better get out there and make his coffee or you-know-who will take care of it."

"Over my dead body!" You ran out to the front of the cafe and tried to slow your heart. But it was no use.

Kafka was standing in front of you. Cuter than he was yesterday. His spiky hair stuck out from his head and his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled at you.

"H-hi. What uh, what can I get'cha?" You asked, trying to sound even a little bit confident and failing miserably.

"I dunno. Dunno what I feel like today. What's your favorite thing here?"

You blushed, fighting off the urge to say 'When you come in' to him.

"I like the [your fav. drink]. And you're in luck. I make it better than anyone else here.

He smiled, "That sounds good, I'll take 2."

"Comin' up." You looked calm on the outside - at least you hoped so. Busying yourself with the 2 drinks for him, you tried not to peek over your shoulder to see if anyone was coming in to meet him.

You'd never seen him with a woman here. But that doesn't mean anything. Sighing heavily, you wrapped up making them and wiped down the machine.

"Here you go, 2 [your fav. drink]. Anything else?" You could feel your heart sinking deeper into the recesses of your chest. It felt hollow and it made you want to scream and throw yourself on the floor because someone was going to get that second drink that you made with love. No, not 'love'. Affection, maybe? No, it was definitely made with love. You have never been able to lie to yourself, why start now.

"Thank ya much. But I'll only be needing 1."

You tilted your head, not understanding what the hell he was talking about. "You ... you did say you wanted 2, right? I didn't hear you wrong?"

Kafka laughed, writing something down on one of the cups, "Nooo no no. I did say 2. This one ..." he put the cap back on his pen and held the drink out for you to take back. "...this one ... is for you, darlin'." He blushed and turned his head away from you. No doubt trying to hide the most beautiful shade of pink you've ever seen on a man.

"F-for me? What ... I mean, thanks?"

He looked disappointed for a second. "I uh, I wr-wrote something on the cup. F-for you, I mean."

You frantically turned the cup in your hands and ended up spilling the drink everywhere. "Shit! Oh my ... shit." You tried to read the writing on it but the drink caused the ink bleed and made it illegible. "Great."

Kafka stood there in shock. The amount of strength it took him to build up the nerve to write his phone number down for you was one of the hardest things he's ever done. And it was all washed away in less than 10 seconds.

"I'm so sorry. What did you write down?" Your face was twisted in embarrassment. "Y'know what, my god. Here. Here is my number," you wrote it down on a receipt, "call me. I like you. Ok? I've liked you for about 2 months now.

He smiled and pulled a napkin from the stack on the counter. He took his pen back out and wrote his name and number on it. Putting his hand out for you to take the napkin, "Call me. Anytime. And uh, I like you too." He pulled the napkin back, "Careful! Don't throw this away or something. I'm going to think that we're not meant to be or something, heh."

Tucking the napkin in your pocket, you looked him in the eye, "Don't talk like that! But yeah, I'll try to remember to clean out my pockets before doing laundry."

He smiled and took a sip of his drink. "Oh, this is really good."

You grinned, "I know, right? I told you!"

He looked at you and smiled, "I can't wait to taste you."

"Pardon?" You coughed out.

"I MEAN, I can't wait to taste what other drinks you can make. Jeez."

You narrowed your eyes at him and smirked. "No, no. I heard what you said."

"No you didn't." He tried convincing you ... and himself.

"See you tomorrow," you looked at the napkin, "Kafka?"

"See you tomorrow," he looked at the receipt, "sweetheart."

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