#Looking back it feels ridiculous I never talked to him about it. It’s basic respect trans people deserve from partners/those close to us

[reidmarieprentiss]

Good Boy

Summary: Based on this post from @reidsdimples ! Spencer is being a brat, you put him in his place.

Pairing: sub!Spencer Reid x Unit Chief fem!reader

Category: smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: smut (18+) additional warnings under the cut, bratty Spencer, boss/subordinate relationship, mommy kink

Word count: 5.6k

a/n: for you @lovingreaderfangirl <333 this is basically pure smut ,, don't like it don't read it

main masterlist

Additional warnings: sub!spencer, dom!reader, mommy!kink, handjob, edging (male receiving), overstimulation, unprotected PinV (wrap it before you tap it), oral (fem receiving), choking, slapping, slight nursing

You were the unit chief, and while your relationship with your boyfriend, Spencer, usually stayed out of your work life, today was different. Spencer had made a mistake, and to make things worse, he was acting out—whether it was from embarrassment or just a bad attitude, you weren’t sure, but you weren’t going to tolerate it.

"You will go back to that house and do another sweep," you said firmly, not looking up from the open case file on your desk.

Spencer scoffed, crossing his arms in defiance. "That's ridiculous, Y/N! Morgan’s already there," he snapped, his voice sharp.

Your head shot up at his words, your eyes narrowing in disbelief. "Ridiculous?" you repeated, incredulous. "No, Spencer. What's ridiculous is you missing a massive piece of evidence and then standing here arguing with me about it." Your tone dropped, icy and stern. "You will go back to that house and search it from top to bottom. I don’t care if it takes all night. Am I making myself clear?"

Spencer’s eyes flared with frustration, and he bit back, “So, what, you’re punishing me now?”

The edge in his voice wasn’t something you were used to hearing from your usually sweet, thoughtful Spencer. You stood up, moving around your desk with deliberate steps until you were standing close enough to feel the tension between you.

"Are you talking back to me?" you asked, your voice dangerously low, your authority unmistakable. 

Spencer swallowed, a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes as he realized how serious you were. He wasn’t used to seeing you like this—so angry, so venomous—but even though he was nervous, his stubbornness kept him from backing down just yet. 

Spencer straightened his posture, though his nerves betrayed him, making his hands fidget at his sides. He'd never seen you this mad before—at least, not directed at him—and he wasn’t sure how to handle it. But he felt too deep in this argument to backpedal now.

"I’m not talking back to you," Spencer muttered, though his tone remained defiant. "I’m just saying Morgan’s already there. There’s no reason for me to go too. We’re wasting time!" His voice escalated again, but it wavered slightly, showing the anxiety bubbling under his frustration.

You were having none of it.

“Wasting time? Is that what you think we’re doing here?” you snapped, each word clipped and precise, your gaze locked onto him with an intensity that made him shift uncomfortably. You were so close now that Spencer could see the tension in your jaw, feel the weight of your authority in the room. You weren’t his girlfriend in this moment—you were his boss, and you were demanding respect.

“Spencer,” your voice dropped, quieter but no less dangerous, “I don’t care how you feel about going back to that house. You missed something crucial, and you need to fix it. You messed up, and you know it. So stop acting like a petulant child and do your damn job.”

The words stung, more than he wanted to admit. His shoulders tensed, and he clenched his fists by his sides, but he couldn’t find the right words to argue back. He was embarrassed—not just because of his mistake, but because he knew you were right. But his pride was wounded, and that was hard to swallow.

"I... I just—" he started, but you cut him off sharply.

“No more excuses, Spencer. You will go to that house, and you will make sure every inch of it has been checked. And if I hear another word of backtalk from you, you’ll be off this case completely. Is that understood?"

Spencer’s breath hitched, his defiance slipping further away with each word you threw at him. He could feel the weight of the situation bearing down on him, and for the first time, he realized just how much he had crossed a line. But he was still too stubborn to admit it.

“Yes, Ma’am,” he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper, the edge of sarcasm still lingering, but now laced with a thread of defeat.

You stepped even closer, eyes narrowing as you stared him down. "What was that?"

Spencer swallowed hard, realizing he wasn’t in a position to push any further. “I understand,” he said more clearly, his tone softening. He wanted to reach for you, to find some semblance of the warmth he was used to from you, but he knew better. Right now, you weren’t his to reach for.

Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the office, leaving behind the tension that lingered like a storm cloud. You stood there for a moment, watching the door swing shut, anger still simmering beneath your skin, but also a twinge of sadness. Spencer had never acted out like that before, and though you knew you had to be stern, it hurt to see him so distant and defiant.

But this was work. Personal feelings would have to wait.

—

However, there was a time and place for personal feelings to come to the surface, and that time was now—in the privacy of your shared apartment with Spencer.

You had gotten home first. Spencer was still out, likely combing through the crime scene after you’d sent him back to fix his earlier mistake. Frustrated by the lingering tension between you two, you huffed your way through your evening routine. You made dinner, though you knew Spencer would probably be too upset to eat when he got home. He could have the leftovers later. After that, you showered and curled up in bed with a book, waiting for him to return.

When Spencer finally came home, his anger was palpable. He slammed the front door behind him, muttering under his breath as he left a trail of clothes through the hallway on his way to the shower. The bathroom door slammed shut as well, echoing through the apartment. You sighed and rolled your eyes—if Spencer thought his attitude would go unaddressed, he was mistaken. He was in for a real punishment tonight.

After what felt like forever, Spencer emerged from the bathroom, his hair damp and towel wrapped loosely around his waist. At least he had the sense to show a hint of submission, you thought.

Without looking up from your book, your voice calm and controlled, you gave your command. "Kneel."

Spencer froze, taken aback by the sudden authority in your tone. He turned his head, his confusion evident. "What?"

You set your book down slowly and fixed him with a steady gaze. "Did you not hear me? Or are you talking back again?" There was a warning in your voice, a promise that you weren’t playing games tonight. "I really don’t want to make your punishment worse, baby."

Spencer hesitated for a brief moment, the weight of the situation settling in, knowing you were in complete control now. He lowered his gaze, the tension between you thick, as he finally obeyed, dropping to his knees.

You stood up from the bed, your movements deliberate as you slowly circled around Spencer, letting your eyes roam over him with a quiet intensity. The soft sound of your bare feet against the floor was the only thing breaking the silence as you took in his posture—tense, but submissive, waiting for what was coming next. 

When you stopped in front of him, you reached down and tilted his chin up with a single finger, forcing him to meet your gaze. His eyes were defiant, even now. You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes.

"You know you’re in trouble, right, baby?" you asked, your voice sweet but laced with warning.

Spencer didn’t respond right away; instead, he narrowed his eyes at you, his lips pressed into a thin line, as if testing how far he could push. Without hesitation, you slapped his face lightly, the quick sting enough to make him let out a soft whimper. His eyes widened in surprise, but he still held his ground.

Roughly, you grabbed his cheeks in one hand, squeezing his face so he had no choice but to focus on you. "I asked you a question, brat."

“Yes, Mommy," he mumbled, his voice small and obedient now, the fight in him fading. "I know I’m in trouble."

"Hmm, good," you said, releasing his face with a satisfied hum. You began pacing around him again, like a predator stalking its prey, before stopping just behind him, leaning close enough that your breath tickled his ear. "And why are you in trouble, smart boy?"

Spencer swallowed hard, his throat bobbing. "Because I argued with you. I was disrespectful. I–I acted like a brat."

A smirk tugged at the corner of your lips. "That’s right." You stood up straight again, looking down at him. "And now, you're going to make it up to me, aren’t you?"

Spencer nodded, his face falling into a sad expression, clearly regretting how he had acted earlier. He was always your good boy, and he knew that punishment was rare because he hardly ever misbehaved. The realization of how far he'd pushed you today weighed on him, leaving him feeling small and upset.

"Why are you pouting, baby?" you asked, your tone softening just a touch as you stood in front of him, looking down at his bowed head.

Spencer shrugged, his eyes fixed on the floor, unable to meet your gaze. He shifted uncomfortably, his hands fidgeting slightly in his lap, but still, he said nothing.

"Words, Spencer," you reminded him firmly. "Speak up."

He hesitated for a moment before finally looking up at you, his eyes filled with guilt. "I hate that I disappointed you," he admitted, his voice barely a whisper. "I don’t like being punished… you never have to do this. I’m supposed to be your good boy."

You felt a flicker of sympathy for him, knowing how much he valued pleasing you, but you held firm. "Yes, you are supposed to be my good boy," you agreed, leaning down slightly so that your eyes were level with his. "But today, you weren’t. Today, you acted like a bad boy, and now, you have to accept the consequences."

Spencer bit his lip, nodding again, the weight of his actions settling in further. "I know… I’m sorry."

You placed a gentle hand on his cheek, stroking it softly for just a moment before pulling back. "Thank you for apologizing. But you still need to learn."

“Stand up. Don’t keep the towel,” you ordered, your voice cold and almost bored, leaving no room for hesitation. Spencer flinched at the command, the sharp tone slicing through the air as he scrambled to comply. The towel slipped from his body, falling to the floor as he stood there, bare and vulnerable.

“Get on the bed,” you continued, moving with a quiet precision as you retrieved something from the dresser, your back turned to him. “Hands above your head.”

Spencer couldn’t see what you were holding, and that only added to his nervousness. He climbed onto the bed, his heart racing, and stretched his arms above his head, just as you instructed. 

When you finally turned back toward him, he caught sight of the ties and lube in your hands, and his body reacted instantly—a slight twitch of excitement mixed with fear. His breath quickened, but his eyes never left yours. He hated the feeling of being restrained, of not being able to touch you, to feel you close. But there was something intoxicating about the power dynamic, about giving himself over to you completely.

You approached him slowly, deliberately, the ties dangling from your fingers like a silent promise of what was to come. Without saying a word, you moved to the head of the bed, taking his wrists gently but firmly and securing them to the bedposts. Spencer’s chest rose and fell rapidly as the ties tightened around his wrists, his muscles straining, already longing to break free.

His eyes searched yours, desperate for any hint of softness, but he found none. You were in control, and he knew it.

"Mommy," Spencer whimpered softly, his voice barely above a whisper, full of need and desperation.

You glanced down at him, your gaze calm and measured. "Yes, baby?"

His eyes flickered with longing as he whined, "I want to touch you."

A sigh escaped your lips, and you leaned down slightly, your fingers brushing lightly along his arm, teasing but not giving him what he wanted. "I want that too, my love," you murmured, your voice laced with a touch of sympathy, though your expression remained stern. "But I can't give you a reward quite yet."

"Yet?" Spencer perked up, excitement sparking in his eyes, the word like a glimmer of hope he clung to.

You smirked at his eagerness, trailing your hand down his chest in a feather-light touch, just enough to make him squirm. "Yet," you confirmed. "But you'll have to earn it, baby. That means no whining, no more attitude. Understand?"

Spencer nodded eagerly, his eyes wide with anticipation, but you could see the struggle in him—how hard it was for him to hold back, to stay restrained when all he wanted was to feel you. "I’ll be good," he promised, his voice shaky. "Please, I’ll be good."

You smiled, your fingers trailing lower. "We'll see, baby. We'll see."

Spencer squirmed involuntarily as your fingers teased his stomach, his muscles tensing beneath your touch. "Keep still, Spence," you instructed, your voice firm but calm, watching as he took deep, shaky breaths in an attempt to regain control over his body.

His wide eyes followed your every move as you reached for the bottle of lube on the bedside table, and he watched, anticipation building, as you squirted some of its contents into your hand. The cool sensation made his breath hitch the moment your hand wrapped around him, his back arching off the bed instinctively.

Without missing a beat, you placed your other hand on his hips, pressing him back down into the mattress. "Spencer, be good," you warned, your tone leaving no room for disobedience.

His body trembled, caught between the overwhelming sensation and the need to obey you. "I’m trying," he whispered, his voice strained as he fought to stay still, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the ties. His chest heaved, desperate to be good for you, but the pleasure was intoxicating, testing his restraint.

You smirked, knowing exactly how far you could push him. "Good boy," you murmured, your hand moving slowly, deliberately, keeping his hips pinned down as he tried not to writhe beneath you, every muscle in his body begging for release, but you weren’t done with him yet. Not even close.

After almost an hour of torture, Spencer was doing everything in his power to follow your rules, his body taut with tension as he tried to stay still beneath your touch. His breath came in ragged gasps, his wrists pulling at the ties as he strained not to buck his hips against you. But you were making it so hard for him—each time your hand changed pace, it sent him spiraling, his mind spinning out of control. You could feel his body tightening, every muscle coiling as he teetered on the edge.

And just when you knew he was close, so close, you let go.

A desperate sound tore from his throat, half whine, half groan, as you pulled your hand away, denying him the release he so desperately craved. His eyes were wide, his chest heaving as he looked up at you, practically begging for mercy.

"Please," he whimpered, his voice cracking under the weight of his desperation. "Please, I want—"

You shushed him gently, running your hand down his chest in a soothing gesture. "Spencer," you said softly but firmly, your eyes locking onto his. "What did I say about being good?"

"I-I’m trying," he gasped, his voice shaky as he fought to hold on. "I’m really trying."

You could see him unraveling, his mind quickly losing grip on any sense of control. And that was exactly where you wanted him.

"Then keep trying, baby," you whispered, leaning down to press a soft kiss to his chest. "You’ll get what you want when I’m ready to give it to you. Not a moment before."

You sped your hand up, focusing all your attention on the sensitive tip, moving with quick, intense strokes. Spencer's body reacted immediately, his back arching violently off the bed as a scream tore from his chest.

"Mommy! Please!" His voice cracked, high and desperate, tears beginning to stream from his eyes as he lost all composure. "I’m going to come!"

But instead of granting him mercy, you snapped sharply, "No!" The command echoed in the room, and Spencer flinched at your tone. "If you come," you warned, your eyes dark and unwavering, "I’m not stopping."

His breath hitched, and his sobs grew more frantic. He fought to control himself, but the sensation was overwhelming, his mind teetering on the brink of bliss and despair. The threat of what would come if he disobeyed hung heavy in the air, fueling his panic as he tried, with every ounce of strength, to hold back the release his body so desperately craved.

"Please," Spencer sobbed, his tears mixing with the sweat on his face as his entire body trembled beneath your relentless touch. "I-I can’t… I can’t hold on…"

"Yes, you can," you whispered, your voice soft but commanding as you leaned closer. "You will, or you’ll regret it, baby. Be good for me."

He choked out a whimper, his muscles straining, teetering on the edge of breaking as your hand continued its torturous rhythm, and every nerve in his body screamed for release. But you were in control, and Spencer knew there would be no relief until you decided. 

You pressed your palm firmly against the sensitive tip, rubbing harsh circles that sent shockwaves through Spencer’s body. He couldn't hold it any longer—a guttural scream tore from his throat as his orgasm ripped through him, his release spilling across his stomach in hot, frantic bursts.

But there was no mercy in your eyes as you watched him unravel beneath you.

"Oh… bad boy, baby," you tutted softly, your voice laced with both disappointment and a dark edge of amusement. Without missing a beat, you gripped him tightly, continuing your mean, relentless rhythm even as his body spasmed from the intensity.

Spencer writhed beneath you, his sobs louder now as the overstimulation set in, his body too sensitive to handle the unyielding pace of your hand. "Please, please!" he begged, his voice hoarse, his tears mixing with the sweat on his face. "I-I can’t—please stop, I’m sorry!"

But you only leaned in closer, your hand maintaining its punishing rhythm. "I told you, baby," you whispered, your breath hot against his ear, "if you came, I wouldn’t stop. And bad boys don’t get to decide when it’s over."

Spencer whimpered helplessly, his entire body shaking as he endured the overwhelming sensations, unable to escape the torment of your touch. The line between pleasure and pain had long since blurred, leaving him at your mercy. And you weren't done with him yet. 

You suddenly let go of Spencer, pulling your hand away from him. For a brief moment, he thought the torture had finally ended, and he took deep, strained breaths, his chest heaving as tears continued to spill from his eyes. 

"Thank you, Mommy," he whispered, his voice barely audible as he sighed in relief, closing his eyes as if he could finally rest.

But just as he began to relax, his eyes shot open, wide with shock, as he felt you sinking down on top of him, your body enveloping him in an overwhelming rush of sensation. The overstimulation hit him like a bolt of electricity, and his body reacted instantly, thrashing beneath you in a desperate attempt to escape the intensity.

"Mommy!" he cried out, his voice ragged and broken as his body twisted under yours. His muscles tensed, his movements frantic, but there was no escape.

"Shut up," you seethed, your voice low and dangerous as you wrapped your hand around his throat, tightening your grip just enough to still him. His breath hitched, and his panicked eyes met yours. "I’m in charge," you reminded him, the weight of your authority pressing down on him as surely as your body did.

Spencer whimpered beneath your grip, his mind a haze of overstimulation and helplessness, but he knew better than to argue with you. His resistance faded as he realized you weren’t done with him yet—not until you decided.

"Tell me, baby," you panted, your body moving rhythmically as you rode Spencer, chasing your own release with relentless intensity. Every roll of your hips drove him deeper into overstimulation, but you were in control, and you weren’t letting up. "How does it feel?"

Spencer sniffled, his voice shaky and tear-filled. "S-so good, Mommy," he stammered, struggling to hold himself together as his body continued to tremble beneath you.

You laughed, the sound sharp and mean as you continued, "Thought you couldn’t take it." There was a mocking edge to your voice as you rode him harder, the sensation overwhelming his senses. "Were you lying?"

"No!" Spencer cried, his voice breaking as he clung to the edge of his composure. "It—it hurts, Mommy, but I like it!"

"Yes, yes, you do," you taunted, your tone dripping with satisfaction as you gazed down at him, your pathetic, brainless boy. "You like it when Mommy uses you, don’t you?"

"Yes!" he nearly screamed, his body shaking uncontrollably, caught between pain and pleasure. "Please! Just want to be good for you," he sobbed, his desperation palpable as he surrendered completely to your control.

You leaned forward, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "Then be good, baby, and take everything I give you." Your body continued to grind down on him, mercilessly chasing your own release, pushing him further past the point of no return.

By the time you reached your release, Spencer was a wreck beneath you, his body trembling as sobs wracked his chest. He cried out in desperation as your muscles tightened around him, sending him further into an abyss of overstimulation. Each second felt like an eternity for him, trapped between the aching pleasure and the need to obey you.

Just when he thought relief was finally coming, you lifted yourself off of him, hovering just above him, denying him that final push he needed. Spencer’s whine was pitiful, filled with frustration and longing. "Mommy! Please!" he whimpered, his voice cracking as tears continued to stream down his face.

"Please what?" you asked, your tone deliberately condescending as you leaned back, watching him squirm beneath you. "Use your words, dumb baby."

Spencer swallowed hard, his body twitching with anticipation, his mind too clouded to do anything but beg. "Please let me come," he sobbed, his voice raw and desperate. "Please, Mommy."

You smirked, your eyes dark with amusement as you leaned forward just enough to tease him with the possibility of what he wanted. "Hmm… okay, baby," you said, your voice dripping with false sweetness. "But you’re cleaning it up after."

Spencer twitched at your words, his entire body lighting up with excitement at the promise. The thought of finally getting the release he so desperately needed was enough to make him shiver. "Yes, Mommy," he gasped, nodding eagerly as his breath hitched in anticipation, his mind already surrendering completely to your control.

You lowered yourself back down onto Spencer, and his loud, desperate moan filled the room as he watched you take him in again, the sight alone enough to push him closer to the edge. His body was trembling, every nerve on fire as you rode him hard and fast, the intensity of your movements leaving him powerless to do anything but submit. 

His hands tugged against the restraints, his eyes squeezed shut, and with a strangled cry, he found his release, his body jerking as he filled you up. The sensation of you pinching and tugging at his nipples sent him over the edge, his cries growing louder as his body finally gave in completely.

You slowed your pace, riding out the last of his climax, before finally relaxing on top of him, your breath steadying. Spencer lay beneath you, panting and exhausted, his chest heaving as he came down from the overwhelming high.

With a soft sigh, you pulled off him, moving up his body with a deliberate slowness, positioning yourself directly over his face. You looked down at him, your fingers gently brushing through his hair as you smiled wickedly. "Ready to clean up your mess, baby?"

Spencer’s eyes widened, his mouth already watering at the thought, and he nodded eagerly, his voice breathless and submissive. "Yes, Mommy, please," he whispered, his eyes full of adoration as he awaited your command, ready to obey, to please, and to make up for every bit of his earlier defiance.

You lowered yourself onto Spencer's waiting mouth, threading your fingers through his hair as you settled into a steady rhythm, guiding his movements with gentle yet firm pressure. His tongue worked eagerly, desperate to please you, to clean up every bit of the mess he'd made.

“Oh, Spence,” you sighed, your head falling back slightly as you rode his face, each stroke of his tongue sending waves of pleasure through your body. "Your mouth is so good, baby."

Spencer whimpered in response, his efforts growing more determined with every sound of approval that escaped your lips. You could feel the way he was trying so hard to be good for you, to make you proud, and it only fueled your desire to push him further.

"Making Mommy so proud," you praised, your voice laced with satisfaction as you tugged gently at his hair, controlling his pace. His tongue flicked faster, more desperate to hear those words again, and you couldn't help the soft moans escaping you as you continued to ride his face, letting the sensation build.

With each passing second, Spencer's mouth worked harder, your praise driving him to do anything for you. His whimpers were muffled by your body, but the eagerness in his touch and the way he responded to your every command made it clear—he was willing to do anything to make you proud.

You continued to ride Spencer’s face, your fingers tightening in his hair as you guided him, making sure he stayed exactly where you needed him. His tongue flicked and swirled in all the right places, and the sounds of your pleasure spurred him on, his hands instinctively tugging against the restraints as he longed to touch you, to feel your body against his.

"That’s it, baby," you breathed, your voice a mix of praise and moans as you pressed down harder, your body shivering from the sensations he was creating. "You’re making Mommy feel so good."

Spencer whimpered beneath you, the vibrations of his muffled cries only adding to your pleasure as you ground down onto him, riding his mouth with a newfound urgency. Your hips moved faster, chasing the climax that was building inside you, each stroke of his tongue sending you closer to the edge.

"You like this, don’t you?" you asked, your voice breathless but firm. "You like being my toy, Spence?"

His desperate whimpers were the only answer you needed. You tugged harder at his hair, pulling his face closer, your pace quickening as the pleasure began to overwhelm you. Spencer’s tongue moved in perfect rhythm with your hips, eager to push you to your peak.

As the tension built, you gasped, your body trembling as you felt yourself nearing the brink. "I’m so proud of you, baby," you whispered, your voice strained as you rode out the waves of pleasure. "So proud…"

With a final, desperate grind against his mouth, the climax washed over you, your body convulsing as you cried out, the release crashing through you in waves. Spencer didn't stop, his tongue continuing to work, not wanting you to take away his favorite treat. 

His mouth and tongue continued their relentless work, his eagerness only spurring you on as your cries grew louder. "Oh! Good boy!" you gasped, the praise slipping from your lips as your hips thrust faster against his mouth, riding the wave of pleasure that was building once again.

"You like tasting yourself?" you panted, your breath coming in short, sharp bursts as your body moved with a desperate rhythm. Spencer moaned beneath you, his muffled response sending vibrations through your core, and it only drove you to push harder against him.

"Like it coming out of me?" you taunted, your voice strained and full of need as you felt his tongue lapping eagerly at the mess you had made together. The idea of him cleaning up his own release, desperate to please you, sent shivers down your spine, adding to the already overwhelming sensation.

Spencer whimpered beneath you, his body reacting to your words even as he remained restrained, helpless to do anything but obey. The combination of your command, the praise, and the undeniable power you held over him had him lost in submission, and you could feel the tension building in both of you again.

"Such a good boy," you praised, your voice trembling with the intensity of your pleasure. "So good at doing exactly what Mommy needs." You rode him harder, your body nearing its limit once more as Spencer's tongue worked tirelessly beneath you.

The room was filled with the sounds of your panting breaths, your moans mixing with Spencer's muffled noises as he continued to drive you closer to the edge. Your body trembled uncontrollably, your hips grinding down faster, chasing that final release.

With a breathless cry, your third climax crashed through you, your entire body quivering as Spencer’s tongue carried you over the edge once again. You moaned his name, gripping his hair tightly as you rode out the waves of pleasure, not slowing until every last bit of satisfaction had pulsed through you.

You pulled yourself off of Spencer, and immediately he let out a whine, his lips pouting in protest, not wanting you to take his favorite treat away, he could eat you out for hours. His neediness tugged at your heart, and you couldn’t help but smile as you gently stroked his hair.

"Baby, Mommy is sensitive," you said softly, your voice filled with affection. 

Spencer pouted even more, his eyes big and round as he mumbled, "I just wanna make you feel good."

"You did make me feel so good, baby," you reassured him, your smile widening as you saw his face light up, the joy radiating from his eyes.

"Am I your good boy again?" he asked, his voice tinged with hope and a bit of that endearing vulnerability that always made you melt.

Your heart softened instantly, and you leaned down, cupping his face in your hands as you pressed a tender kiss to his lips. "You’re always my good boy," you whispered against his mouth. "I love you so much."

"I love you too, Mommy," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, eyes full of adoration.

After you untied him, you took your time massaging his arms and wrists, soothing the slight redness left behind by the ties. You helped him into the shower with you, gently guiding him as he leaned heavily against you, still needing your care. The warm water cascaded over both of you as you softly washed his body, your touches gentle and nurturing. Spencer rested his head against your shoulder, completely relying on your strength, his exhaustion clear as he sighed softly, content in your embrace.

Once you were both dried off and dressed for bed, you brought him back to the comfort of your bed, where you massaged lotion into his arms, making sure he felt taken care of. Your lips peppered soft kisses over his skin as you worked, your voice a soothing murmur as you whispered how good he was, how proud you were of him.

"You’re so good, Spencer," you murmured between kisses. "Always my good boy."

Spencer sighed, his body fully relaxed now as he basked in your affection, letting your words and touch wash over him like a warm blanket. His eyes fluttered closed, a small smile playing on his lips as you continued to kiss and praise him, reminding him of just how much he meant to you.

“Mommy…” Spencer’s voice was soft, hesitant, as he lay beside you, his head resting on your chest.

“Mhm?” you murmured back, feeling the weight of tiredness pulling at you, though still present enough to listen to him.

“Can I suck…?” His voice trailed off, filled with uncertainty.

You giggled softly, a wave of affection washing over you for your needy little baby. "Of course, Spence," you murmured, lifting your shirt to give him the comfort he craved.

Without hesitation, Spencer nestled his head underneath, latching onto your breast with a soft sigh. His body relaxed against yours, and you could feel the tension melt away as he suckled gently, his breathing becoming slow and steady.

You stroked his hair lovingly, the intimate moment between you quiet and peaceful. “You’re such a good boy,” you whispered softly, letting him find the comfort he needed as you both slowly drifted off to sleep, his head resting safely against your chest.

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tag list <333 @dirtytissuebox @yokaimoon @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance

[multiverse-menagerie]

Perchance… could I request the bg3 companions with a Tav who has a bleeding heart? They’ll do what they need to do, kill who they need to, etc. but they still are easily tricked by just basic human kindness and often feel guilty for killing folk and whatnot. They’re ridiculously caring towards the party as well, often putting their needs above their own.

Karlach

Karlach gets it. She really does. But she’s been through (literal) Hell and has learned to be a bit more cautious

But she adores how much you love and trust people

I almost see her as someone who would go behind after you to set people straight if they conned you or anything like that

Something about it is so heartwarming ;) to Karlach, watching you take care of everyone - herself included. She wants you to look after her forever while she does the same for you

Shadowheart

almost disgusted by your altruism, in the beginning. She sees no point in it and points it out readily to you

Deep down though, even in the beginning, she likes it and almost envies you for it. She feels bad for speaking down to you especially after she’s had time by your side

Shadowheart enjoys being doted on and care for. She enjoys that you treat your friends like family and that you’re all carving out a little place for y’all

She’ll pout if you’re fussing over someone more than her, though she tries to deny it

Lae’zel

Similarly to Shadowheart, I think at first Lae’zel would find your actions unnecessary and dragging. She’s on a time crunch and knows where she needs to go, and helping all these people isn’t helping y’all

I’m not sure Lae’zel would ever truly warm up to being so willing to lend a helping hand. But I think she would appreciate and commend (and come to respect) you for being able to care so deeply for others (she’s not so certain she’s capable of that magnitude)

Forces you to take care of yourself and won’t hear shit about it; no she didn’t cook this meal just for you to ignore it bc Shadowheart needs to traumadump some more, eat you doofus

Gale

Gale finds it endearing, if a little worrisome. He’s happy to let you fawn over your camp mates but he’s draws the line at being so easily swayed by strangers

He tries to be diplomatic when he’s urging you away from suspicious individuals bc he really doesn’t want to hurt your feelings or make you feel like you need to change, he’s just trying to protect you to his best ability

Gale’s not particularly used to being doted on, but it’s almost…relieving, in a way. Refreshing?

He does work very hard to make sure you’re taken care of as well, cooking good meals and forcing coercing you to bed at a reasonable time

Wyll

heart eyes

Wyll himself sees (or wants to see) the world through rose colored glasses so he’s enamored that you do

He’s also probably one of the only ones to really understand your guilt over killing, even when necessary. He’s happy to talk you through your emotions over it and never hesitates to reassure you that you’re doing the right thing

flusters when your attention turns to him, but doubles it back in repayment to you

Astarion

Astarion seethes at first. He hates your tender-heartedness, hates how kind and soft you are, how loving you are with everyone, it’s just grinds against him

As he sorts through his trauma (and comes to appreciate your care, towards him and your friends at least) he stops whining about it…as much

He will absolutely shut someone down if they’re trying to use, manipulate, or fool you. Astarion only refrains from more…permanent silencing solutions because he knows you wouldn’t like it

He does, however, preen under your attention. True, no-strings-attached care? It takes him a long time to comfortable with it but he cherishes it

Halsin

While he certainly adores your tenderness, he tries to caution you over being too willing to blindly believe someone

Halsin is happy to comfort you through any remorse or guilt of course, but is quick to remind you that this is simply the way the world works

Watching you take care of your little band of misfits makes him melt. You care for them and then he cares for you when you come to him at the end of the day

Halsin would carry your burdens for you if he could, instead he’ll travel by your side and help you help others (while giving you looks that make you swoon let’s be real)

[alaia777]

HIIII I hope you’re doing good! I just LOVE YOUR WORKS!! And I just saw that your request were open soooo… (It isn’t actually a request at first I just wanted to share a thought I had and you can write something for it if you want or ignore it as well it’s fine too but I just felt like sharing this idea!)

So basically, I was thinking about a Reo x Reader in which the scenario would basically be:

Reader is a friend of bachira, Isagi & Chigiri (obviously reader is chaotic & unserious if friend of bachira) and like Reo rlly likes reader’s vibes and kind of fall in love with her, but he doesn’t allow himself to have these feelings for her because he thinks reader is not from the same world as him and his parents will never accept him dating someone like that.

BUT dot dot dot,

Like a week later, his parents are having like some meeting with others important persons and their children have to be there too bc why not so Reo is here, AND WHO HE FIND AT THIS MEETING? READER!! And then he realises we’re actually from a rich & high status family and he sees us acting way different than we did when he saw us hanging out with bachira, like we are now acting respectful and serious while it was the opposite when Reo first saw us, and basically Reo is like ‘wow, she’s perfect’

THANKS FOR READING MY REQUEST THROUGH ITS NOT REALLY ONE, I just felt like sharing that thought! Remember to eat & drink well, byee!

hellooo!! i really loved your idea, it was so much fun to write! i hope you enjoy it as much as i enjoyed working on it! take care, sending you all my loveeee <333

you’ve been friends with isagi, bachira, and chigiri for a while now. you were first friends with chigiri, who introduced you to them, and honestly, it felt like you fit right in—your personality blending perfectly with the other three.

you don’t like to pick favorites since that can break friendships, but if you had to, bachira might be something close to that. he’s always buzzing with energy—while the other two can have their moments of calm, bachira never seems to run out of battery. it’s like he’s constantly on, always looking for the next thrill, the next laugh, the next game to turn life into.

and you love that—finally getting to cut loose and just have fun. with bachira, it’s always something ridiculous. once, you both convinced isagi and chigiri to have a shopping cart race in an empty parking lot. you pushed bachira at full speed while he screamed like he was in a high-speed chase, and chigiri nearly crashed into a bush because isagi was too focused on winning to steer properly.

another time, you and bachira tried to see how many arcade claw machine prizes you could win in a row, turning it into a full-blown competition. bachira ended up with a ridiculous number of stuffed animals, chigiri kept missing on purpose just to avoid carrying them, and isagi nearly broke the machine by shaking it too hard.

“this thing is obviously rigged,” he muttered.

“or maybe you just suck at it,” you teased, grinning as you pulled out yet another prize on your first try.

even the simplest things turn into adventures with them, and you wouldn’t trade it for anything.

there has been an addition to your friend group. well, not exactly an addition—they were already friends with the others, but you hadn’t met them before. their names were nagi and reo.

nagi was easy to figure out. he was laid-back, always looking like he was five seconds away from falling asleep, but somehow still keeping up with the chaos you and bachira stirred up. he never tried to stop it—just stood on the sidelines.

reo, though—reo was different.

he was friendly, easy to talk to, always jumping into conversations with a confidence that made him seem like he belonged. but with you, there was something else. something hesitant.

he seemed to gravitate toward you without meaning to, always ending up next to you in conversations, standing just a little closer than necessary. but then, just as quickly, he’d pull away—like he caught himself getting too comfortable. like he wasn’t sure if he was supposed to.

and you couldn’t figure out why.

he could figure out why.

he liked you.

your eccentric personality, the way you always seemed to smile—not just around his friends but around him too—made his heart weak. you had this way of making everything feel exciting, like the world was a little brighter just because you were in it. and unfortunately, he knew that whatever he was dreaming of whenever he looked at you was just that—a dream.

you two were from different worlds.

he couldn’t show up to dinner with his parents and introduce you as his girlfriend. not because he didn’t want to—god, he wanted to—but because he knew exactly how that conversation would go.

“who are her parents?”

“what does her family do?”

“does she understand our world?”

and he wouldn’t have the answers they wanted to hear. because, as far as he knew, you were just an ordinary girl from an ordinary life. no name that held weight, no empire backing you, no future that had already been paved out for you like his had.

so he kept his distance. as much as he could, anyway.

except it was impossible. because no matter how hard he tried to convince himself that it wouldn’t work, that it couldn’t work, he’d always find himself right back next to you—laughing at your jokes, getting caught up in your energy, wanting more of you in ways he knew he shouldn’t.

but dreams weren’t meant to last. and this? whatever this was? it was never supposed to start in the first place.

that thought followed him everywhere—at practice, at home, and even now, as he sat stiffly at a round table, surrounded by people who spoke in dull, rehearsed tones.

these events were routine. his parents dragged him to them from time to time, expecting him to sit through dinner, shake hands, and engage in polite, empty conversations. it always bored him out of his mind. the food was expensive, the champagne flowed freely, and yet, it all felt lifeless.

there were other people his age, but they were no better. perfectly mannered, perfectly dull, sticking to scripted pleasantries that never led anywhere real.

he wanted you here.

he wanted to hear your laugh cut through the hum of forced conversation, wanted to see the way your eyes would light up whenever bachira pitched some ridiculous idea.

he could already picture it so clearly. except—

why was he actually seeing someone that looked exactly like you a few tables over?

his breath caught in his throat.

same face. same familiar spark in your eyes. but the version of you sitting there was—classier.

your hair was styled differently, and you wore a dress that looked like it cost more than someone’s monthly salary. it fit you effortlessly, draping over you in a way that made you look like you belonged here, like you were born for this world he’d convinced himself you weren’t a part of.

except it was you.

and reo felt his entire reality tilt on its axis.

he couldn’t stop himself from approaching your table, and when your eyes met his, you greeted him with a sweet smile—polished, composed, a little too perfect compared to the one he was used to.

“good evening, reo. it’s a pleasure to see you again,” you said, your voice smooth and measured.

the words felt so foreign coming from you that he blurted out the first thing that came to mind. “why are you talking like that?”

for a split second, your expression wavered, the ghost of your usual smirk threatening to break through. but just as quickly, you reined it in, maintaining the same poised demeanor.

your parents, however, exchanged puzzled glances.

“honey,” your mother asked, her tone curious but polite, “do you know this young man?”

reo’s gaze flickered between you and them, his mind still struggling to reconcile the version of you he knew with the one sitting before him now.

you smiled—again, too polished, too controlled—and folded your hands neatly in your lap. “yes, mother. this is reo. we have mutual friends.”

mutual friends.

reo didn’t know why that made his stomach twist.

“is that so?” your father chimed in, looking him over with the kind of careful scrutiny reo had grown up around. “and what do your parents do, young man?”

reo didn’t answer. he was still looking at you, waiting for you to crack, to drop the act, to laugh and tell him this was all some elaborate prank. but you didn’t.

instead, you tilted your head ever so slightly and gave him that same polite smile.

and reo—who had spent weeks convincing himself that he could never be with you because you were from a different world—suddenly realized he had never known a damn thing about you at all.

reo didn’t give you a chance to react. one moment, he was standing beside your table, and the next, his hand was wrapped around yours, pulling you away from the lingering stares of your parents and the stiff, dull atmosphere of the event.

“reo—” you started, but he didn’t slow down, weaving through the elegantly dressed crowd until he found a quieter spot, a secluded balcony overlooking the city. only then did he let go, turning to face you with narrowed eyes.

“what the hell is going on?” he demanded, breath slightly uneven, whether from frustration or something else, you weren’t sure. “why were you talking like that? why are you here—like this?”

you exhaled, leaning against the cool railing. “because this is my life,” you admitted. “the one i never told you about.”

his jaw clenched. “so what? you’ve been lying to us this whole time?”

“no,” you said quickly, shaking your head. “it’s not like that. i just, i didn’t want this to matter. with you, with nagi, with bachira, with chigiri and isagi—i didn’t want to be this person. i just wanted to be me.”

reo ran a hand through his hair, his expression unreadable. “so you’re telling me you’re rich. like, stupidly rich.”

you huffed a small laugh. “yeah. basically.”

he let out a long sigh, looking away for a moment before glancing back at you. “so all this time, i thought i couldn’t be with you because i was the rich one and you weren’t.” he scoffed, shaking his head. “turns out, i was completely wrong.”

your lips parted slightly. “wait, what?”

he blinked, as if realizing what he had just admitted. his ears turned the faintest shade of red. “nothing,” he muttered quickly. “forget it.”

but you didn’t. a slow smile crept onto your lips. “reo, were you avoiding me because you liked me?”

he groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “can we not do this right now?”

but you were grinning now, stepping closer. “so if i had just told you the truth from the beginning, we could’ve been on a date ages ago?”

“alright, that’s it,” he huffed, and before you could react, he grabbed your hand again, but this time, it was different. slower. more deliberate.

“dance with me,” he said.

you blinked at him. “reo, there’s no music—”

“so?” he smirked. “i bet you’re a good dancer. with all that rich people etiquette training, right?”

you rolled your eyes, but your heart was racing when he pulled you closer, one hand settling at your waist.

“if i take you on a real date,” he murmured, “you won’t run off and hide another secret life from me, will you?”

you laughed softly, resting a hand on his shoulder. “no more secrets. promise.”

reo grinned, spinning you under the city lights. “good. because i’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for.”

[themuseinthewoods]

Headcanons for romantic relationships with Tombstone men

Characters are Doc Holliday, Wyatt Earp, Virgil Earp, Morgan Earp, and Johnny Ringo

Edit: I did have curly bill on this but because I am unable to portray him in a way that is polite and respectful to any that actually enjoy his character, I just went ahead and removed him. I am very, very sorry.

X reader headcanons, pretty sure they are gender neutral? Kinda on the shorter side cause its a lot of characters

I did gender neutral reader, but it is a little geared towards the feminine amongst us. but like I said gender neutral.

covers everything from the start to potential marriage

warning: me being ridiculous and some cursing

anyways, enjoy!

Doc Holliday never has an illness looked so good

Doc Holliday is the kind of man to flirt and say the most filthy things while also being charming about it, so you better get used to him trying to fluster you, although he'll enjoy it even more if you say something back

he's not going to do that until you have a relationship yet, before that he'll try and pull you in with his witty remarks and humor

darling will be your nickname, it comes naturally with his charming southern drawl

in a moment of vulnerability, when you are discussing the nature of your relationship for this first time, he doesn't want to pass his tuberculosis to you or slow you down by 'making' you love a sick and dying man but with some reassurance, he's 'non-existent' fears just disappear

he likes having you on his arm when you are together, its basically cuddling for him

sit beside him while he gambles (he'll never let you play) and hold his arm, or simply pour him drinks and cheer him on

if you smoke, sharing a cigarette (literally) is one of the highest forms of flirting for him

he will always walk you home, its partly manners and partially because he's hoping that you'll invite him in for a longer visit

he knows quite a lot about the world and he is willing to discuss anything you wish too

he's very protective of you, especially because of the life he lives. nobody is gonna hurt you

if you want to get married. that's great

he'll happily marry you, it's the closest he'll get to settling down and while he won't be able to just stay in one place, it will be nice for him to have one person

he will make sure you know that you will be widowed at some point but he will promise to love you until the very end of his days

Wyatt Earp holy fuck he's handsome, those eyes

oh boy, so uh, you like a challenge huh?

he's not an easy person to flirt with I mean you've seen the movie-

lets say that you manage to crack through to this 'oak' as Doc calls him and now he's smitten

once he's kinda warmed up to you, simply spending time with you, sitting in a field just quietly talking

sure, he craves adventure but he'll help keep them tamer when you're around, he doesn't want anything bad to happen to you, he's seen too much and because your his beloved, its so important for him to protect you

he'll dance with you and while it takes him some time to get used to it, he will eventually enjoy it

the only cuddling

honestly? he'll kinda like it if you sit next to him while he works so that he can then walk you home

cuddles? yeah, he likes giving you hugs where he holds you to his chest so he knows your safe, he'll have you pressed against his side, head on his chest as he holds you

help him do something that might be a minor inconvenience to him and he might melt

marriage? as long as you're ready for a life on the road and he's gonna treat you like a royal

you're gonna be very happy

Virgil Earp *screaming* WHY ARE THEY ALL HOT

I am sorry, not really but he is number one on the husband materiel list

he might seem like not much of a conversationalist and honestly, if you had any hesitation in going out with him at all, its because you're worried it'll be awkward and honestly, I feel ya

I would like to politely correct you because he is more then happy to discuss many things with you

and oh boy, when your relationship kicks off he likes to have you either on his arm or in arms

and he is good at it!

The most protective out of all his brothers, especially after the incident with losing Morgan

Marriage, defiantly gonna happen.

He's gonna pride himself in being your husband, trust

Morgan Earp *more screaming*

this cutie-

this sweet boy-

you better, and I say this will all the love in my heart for my readers, because y'all mean the world to me, but you better treat him kindly

because things will happen

that are out of your control

and only maybe out of mine yes it was very difficult for me when he passed-

anyway, he's gonna treat you better then anyone ever has and ever will

he is number two on the husband materiel list

he'll be thrilled when you even agree to let him take you out and afterwards you're in a relationship?

he's taking you dancing, he'll buy you presents, compliment you constantly

It's the best day of his life when you agree to marry him, but its quickly replaced by the day you marry him

do me a favor

run into his arms after a long day

take care of him

he needs it

Johnny Ringo the only bad guy I love

oh. you thought Wyatt was hard to get to know.

I need to hold your hand while I say this but, Johnny is so much harder, and it's because of the life he's had. he didn't have a good start to it all

look, I love him and you better be ready for commitment because as soon as you manage to get his attention, he is locked in.

he's quiet, but he listens and if he likes you, he'll let you talk to him, occasionally saying something insightful that lets you know that he really does listen and he really does care

However, at this point he doesn't really declare the nature of your relationship

sure, he gives you pet names, has you on his arm when you 'happen' to run into each other on a night out, actually talks to you, is calmer when your around, and he threatened to shoot a fellow cowboy when he made a comment towards you

he's in love, but he's also scared

so you're gonna have to ask him "are you courting me?" and when you finally get your answer, congrats, your his.

he'll walk you home, he'll buy you drinks, not unusual but now he'll ask to come in and visit and he'll share a drink with you

he gives amazing hugs, wrapping you in his arms when you come to greet him after he and the gang have been out doing who knows what and kissing your temple

marriage, kinda scares him but it also is welcomed

you're a good influence on him and maybe someday, when he's got enough money, you both can settle down somewhere permanently and your gunslinger will retire his ways and become a rancher or something a girl can dream ok?

[ms-demeanor]

Knowledge Fight anon again - thank you for the list and recs! I look forwatd to checking them out. I was excited to see there's a West Wing podcast because I enjoyed that show, but yourself and the hosts hate it so maybe not for me lmao. Though I will still give the first episode a listen - very curious to understand why our feeligns about the show differ so vastly. And if you -want- to rant about why you hate TWW - feel free! I'm genuinely curious - I'm European, have never lived in the US, so for me it was one of the biggest tools of learning how US politics work, which made it absolutely fascinating to watch.

Anyways! I'll be looking at the other podcasts as well, they all seem very interesting, and the common-denominator format you describe them having does jive with me. Thanks again!

My very republican father and sister very much wish that all democrats would act like the democrats in the west wing. It's touted as a point of honor and a great example of compromise when Democrat Jed Bartlett appoints a republican justice to the Supreme court, any time there's an environmentalist or a union supporter on the show they're painted as extreme and uncompromising, in the later seasons the Jimmy Smitts character is running as a democrat on a pro-school-vouchers, anti-tenure/union (so anti-public school, basically) platform, the show as a whole is against entitlements (free college especially is something the ostensible dems in the show aren't even interested in enough to lament).

Idk at a certain point it gets frustrating to see anti-abortion, anti-gay marriage, anti-healthcare republicans being praised as the mature compromisers in the room with complicated motivations and good points when every time a leftist protest shows up it's a warehouse full of people without enough message discipline to talk to to cameras without erupting into a shouting match and getting brushed off as whiny babies by toby zigler.

"Oh, we need CJ to look a little loopy, let's have her agree with these cartographers who are pointing out that the mercator projection privileges the global north." "Oh we need to present something that's a ridiculous waste of money, how about a wildlife crossing that would prevent keystone species injuries in an area of urban incursion, that's bullshit that we shouldn't spend money on." "Oh, we want to explain why big pharma can't provide free HIV meds to african nations in 2003, let's suggest that it wouldn't matter even if they did because *Africans don't have clocks and can't take meds 12 hours apart.*" "this hollywood producer is pushing too hard for gay marriage in 2007, let's lecture him about how you need to slow down and respect the process instead of being an activist about it"

There's this interview with Aaron Sorkin where he's saying "America used to be the world's heroes, when my dad was a soldier people would say 'thank god, the Americans are here' and they don't say that anymore and it's because of Donald Trump" - Sorkin totally ignores US imperialism and the way that people in Vietnam and Iraq and Afghanistan wouldn't say 'thank god, the americans are here' to an extent that is genuinely startling, and that shows up in the show. At one point in the show president bartlett okays the assassination of a foreign leader and says 'today we enter the league of ordinary nations' as though the US hasn't backed coups or assassination around the world, as though the CIA isn't a thing, as though Henry Kissinger isn't a thing, and it's *bizarre* from a show that is supposed to be politically aware.

I'm actually super hesitant to recommend the west wing thing to general audiences because i don't always agree with the hosts or their guests but as an analysis of the surprisingly right-leaning politics of the show it's a worthwhile listen.

It's honestly something i could rant about for way too long because I had early warning signs about it. My sister *loves* this show and its politics. She's got a "my president is Jed Bartlett" sticker that she keeps next to her signed copy of one of Ann Coulter's books. If my sister thinks your liberal character is reasonable and level headed and has good policy positions, your liberal character isn't all that liberal.

The show is steeped in American exceptionalism and imperialist apologia but it's got a tearjerker soundtrack and maybe the best and most charming cast ever assembled so you ignore it when CJ wants to brush off constitutional protections against illegal search and seizure or cruel and unusual punishment (she's a huge fan of cops and intelligence agencies and not a fan of oversight) or when she shits on affirmative action (she believes her father lost his dream job to a less qualified candidate who was selected due to minority status, and that that job loss led to his mental decline - CJ Craig thinks that DEI hiring practices killed her father) because Allison Janney is an incredibly talented and charismatic actress who is elevating the hell out of her character.

But, you know, it would be kind of fucked up if a Democrat president's chief of staff was cheerfully on-record about the fact that she thinks intelligence agencies are more effective when nobody knows what they're doing so we should leave them to their own devices.

Thank you for the opportunity to rant i cannot fucking stand this show and i kind of want to do an episode-by-episode breakdown of various flavors of bullshit but there are much better things to do with my time so i don't but it's nice to have a chance to yell about the stuff that makes me crazy off the top of my head.

That said: if you want a podcast that is less vitriolic but does actually get into how parts of the US political system work, check out 5 to 4, which is a podcast by 3 lefty lawyers talking about Supreme Court decisions. It's great!

[visualtaehyun]

TNP EP.5 language annotations & novel extras ✨

I'm late and this got long again so jumping right in! As always, please refer back to previous posts (EP.1 | EP.2 | EP.3 | EP.4) because I'm too lazy to repeat explanations lol

Disclaimer: not a native Thai speaker, still learning 🙏

Small details & additions

มีอะไรหรือเปล่าข้าหลวง /mee a-rai reuu blaao, khaa-luang/

-> ข้าหลวง /khaa-luang/ or ข้าหลวงน้อย /khaa-luang naawy/ (น้อย /naawy/ meaning 'minor') is a royal's or noble's attendant or servant

Ramil likely remarked on it because Nin did the respectful heart gesture in thanks to Ava who is 1) of the same rank and 2) younger 🤔

เพราะว่าถ้าท่านหญิงเอวาลงแข่งเนี่ยะ การแข่งขัน��ี่มีระหว่างผู้หญิงกับผู้ชาย ผู้ชายมักจะไม่กล้าออกแรงเต็มที่พ่ะย่ะค่ะ /phraw waa thaa than-ying Ava lohng khaeng nia, gaan khaeng khan thee mee ra-waang phuu-ying gap phuu-chaai, phuu-chaai mak ja mai glaa aawk raaeng dtem thee pha-ya-kha/ = (more literally) Because if Princess Ava competes, [in] a competition between women and men, men usually won't dare to use their full strength.

CalvinJay

Since Jay uses casual impolite speech with his friend, he at first addresses Calvin that way when he mistakes him for his friend:

ทำไมมึงมาเร็วจังวะ /tham mai meung maa reeo jang wa/

...and then apologizes and switches to polite ผม/คุณ /pom, khun/ + ครับ /khrap/ which they both use with each other from there on out!

Sidenote: I'm so enamored with Net's character already! I've never heard him speak in such a slow measured manner, it makes him sound so shy and sincere 🥹

Ran & Calvin

Ran of course starts off with ราชาศัพท์ /raa-chaa-sap/ but is then quickly asked to speak to Calvin like any other student, same as Calvin politely addresses him like any student would their professor:

- Ran: เจ้าชายอยากได้อะไรเพิ่มเติมบอกกระหม่อมได้เลยพ่ะย่ะค่ะ /jao -chaai yaak dai a-rai pheerm dteerm baawk gra-maawm dai loei pha-ya-kha/ - Calvin: ขอบคุณนะครับ แต่เรียกว่าคาลวินดีกว่าครับ /khaawp khun na khrap, dtaae riiak waa Calvin dee gwaa khrap/

Ran & Paytai

Ran: ผม/คุณ /pom, khun/ (+ sometimes ครับ /khrap/ )

Paytai: ผม/อาจารย์ /pom, aa-jaan/ + ครับ /khrap/

This basically also happens in the novel, except it's Tai offering instead. It's from the same scene in Ch.22 as the one I ridiculously already mentioned last week, not expecting the Garden of Eden painting to show up after all 🤡

So here that scene is now, starting from the sweets:

"Marble chocolate." The younger man pushed a plate of smooth cake towards him, his light brown eyes fixed on Charan, who was about to refuse. "No, thanks. I..." "I think you shouldn't refuse. Sweets can reduce stress, just like art soothes the mind." Paytai nodded toward the canvas frame beside him. Charan didn't respond but didn't refuse the sweets either. He used a small fork to cut the cake, savoring the sweet and slightly bitter taste of the chocolate inside. Charan seemed focused on eating, though his mind was elsewhere. "..." The man remained silent until his conversation partner spoke again, bringing his wandering thoughts back. "That painting, is it the Garden of Eden?" "Yes." "The forbidden garden... It's beautiful. It makes one feel that humans and greed are inseparable." Paytai's smile was captivating. Charan thought the other was just making small talk, but it was his own subconscious that betrayed him. The Garden of Eden... Charan didn't want to think about why he painted it. "It's not greed. It's desire and humans that go hand in hand," Charan kept the conversation flowing to avoid suspicion. He tried to act normal, but he knew his eyes weren't focused on the person in front of him. Partly because he often glanced down the hallway as if looking for someone. Until Paytai's words, like a needle pricking his heart, brought him back to the conversation. "Humans and desire go hand in hand, like suffering and love, right." Charan wasn't sure if Paytai noticed anything. But he was smart; the former's instincts warned him to be cautious. He needed to do something to divert the conversation... "Some people are addicted to suffering." Charan's face returned to its usual calm, his sharp eyes meeting the lean figure. Paytai was hard to read. He seemed flawless, never showing weakness. Everyone saw him as perfect from head to toe. But not Charan. [...]

RamilPaytai

Ran: ยิ่งเป็นสิ่งต้องห้ามก็ยิ่งอยากเป็นเจ้าของ /ying bpen sing dtaawng-haam gaaw ying yaak bpen jao-khaawng/ = (more literally) The more forbidden something is, the more [we] want to be [its] owner/holder/possessor.

I can't wait to find out if Tai really wants to be owned--

...or if what he wants is to have that same claim to Ramil as well - be it as romantic equals or in a more dominant position:

I was surprised by the way to hear Paytai use ราชาศัพท์ /raa-chaa-sap/ with Ramil even in private! This might still change in the series but their novel counterparts differ in that regard - in private, they both often omit pronouns or call each other เธอ /ter/ and also don't use much of any ending particles. It makes them sound a lot more on equal ground (though implications of a D/s dynamic are present in the novels as well).

There's also this interesting line right here:

ไม่รู้หรอ ว่าตัวเองเป็นของของใคร /mai ruu, raaw? waa dtuaa-ehng bpen khaawng khaawng khrai/

Let me explain this via comparison - a more neutral way to say this would be: [...] ว่าตัวเองเป็นของใคร /waa dtuaa-ehng bpen khaawng khrai/ = (more literally) Don't you know? Whose you are?

In the novels (Ch.22) this line is: [...] ว่าตัวเองเป็นคนของใคร /waa dtuaa-ehng bpen khohn khaawng khrai/ = [...] whose person you are. ...which sounds a bit more like "whose side you're on" or "where your allegiance lies" in comparison to what Ramil says in the show:

[...] ว่าตัวเองเป็นของของใคร /waa dtuaa-ehng bpen khaawng khaawng khrai/ = (more literally) [...] whose thing/property/belonging you are. ...which sounds every bit as objectifying and possessive and "who owns you" as you're probably thinking now.

Bonus Jimmoi adding fuel to the fire :P

เข้าใจไหม เธอคือของของเรา ของเราคนเดียว /khao-jai mai? ter kheuu khaawng khaawng rao. khaawng rao khohn diiao/ = Understand? You're mine (/my possession). Mine alone.

Ramil & Rachata

Quick addition to their pronoun use:

Ramil: ลูก/เสด็จพ่อ /luuk, sa-deht por/ + พ่ะย่ะค่ะ /pha-ya-kha/

Rachata: ฉัน/แก /chan, gae/

Also, his dad mentioned the companion thing!

ฉันปลดสหายคนสนิทแกแน่ /chan bploht sa-haai khohn sa-nit gae naae/

RanNin

We're still flip-flopping all over the place in terms of pronouns but this time the offender is Nin! I thought it was being in public or maybe Chakri being in hearing distance when they're in private that dictates when he switches between his royal high horse aka เรา /rao/ to polite neutral ผม /pom/ but I'm not so sure anymore.

Here they're in private:

เรามา... /rao maa.../ vs. literally a moment later: แล้วทำไมคุณไม่อยู่ที่วังกับผม /laaeo tham-mai khun mai yuu thee wang gap pom/

Here they're very much in company:

คุณก็ต้องกลับไปกับผมด้วย /khun gaaw dtawng glap bpai gap pom duay/ ...though it makes sense here of course: จะขัดคำสั่งเราหรอ /ja khat kham-sang rao raaw/

Anyway! While we're talking about Nin abusing his royal standing and since the theme of ownership is so present throughout this episode...

การต่อรองแลกเปลี่ยนเป็นเรื่องปกติ /gaan dtaaw raawng laaek bpliian bpen reuuang bpohk-ga-dti/ = Negotiation and barter/exchange are totally normal.

กระหม่อมไม่ใช่ของแลกเปลี่ยน /gra-maawm mai chai khaawng laaek bpliian/ = I am not a bartering object./I am not an item [to be] exchanged.

And now here we've got an interesting middle ground of Nin using his privilege:

ผมสั่งให้สบตา /pom sang hai sohp dtaa/ = I command you to look into my eyes./I ordered you to look into my eyes.

ตอบผมได้หรือยัง ว่าทำไมคุณถึงเป็นโค้ชให้ผมไม่ได้ /dtaawp pom dai reuu yang? waa tham mai khun theung bpen coach hai pom mai dai/ = Can/will you answer me already? Why you can't be my coach?

This scene hurts so much 🥲 Ran has never looked more affected and on the verge of crumbling! Meanwhile, Nin is understandably trying to hold on to the only one he still has, the only person he can trust, without really considering what he's asking of Charan though.

Here's the equivalent scene from the novels, in Ch.25:

"Please don't do that again. It's very dangerous." "Then don't avoid me... if you don't want me to take risks again," Khanin retorted immediately, as Charan's words were exactly what he'd expected. It was as if Khanin had thrown a hook, hoping the other would feel something. The young man didn't want to beat around the bush: he just wanted Charan to know that he was the main reason for his risky situation. Avoiding each other without reason was a big deal. If Khanin had done something wrong, Charan should told him. Not distancing himself like this—it was affronting. Khanin didn't like it when the other had something on his mind but didn't speak up. If it were someone else... they could do whatever they wanted. But he'd already considered Charan as one of his allies, which was why he kept pursuing him like this. "It's late. It's time for you to rest, Your Highness." Charan remained the same Charan, acting like an unyielding rock. He reached out to open the door, but Khanin was faster. He grabbed Charan's hand and pulled the door shut again. "I'm not a child who has to go to bed before ten... Seriously, aren't you curious about what I want to talk about?" Frustration surged through the younger man, prompting him to blurt out the question. His cute face and dark brown eyes showed his disappointment, which affected Charan more than he let on. "..." Charan remained silent, staring as if he wanted to communicate something but said nothing. It was Khanin who couldn't stand the awkwardness and brought up the crucial matter. "The competition requires team members... [note: Ran becomes Nin's team's coach and team member later] My grandfather found people for me to choose from, but I need someone I can trust..." "My deepest apologies, but I don't fight with swords in front of others, Your Highness." Charan didn't even wait for Khanin to finish before he refused. His actions were like a hot flame burning Khanin's last straw. "Rejecting me so fast? I didn't even say I wanted you to fight or do anything... Is this the one who said they'd protect and take care of me... the one who said they wanted me to compete?" "..." "You're so... so bloody heartless, do you know that? You brought me here, left me, and disappeared... Did you ever think about how I'd fare?" Khanin's voice revealed his vulnerability and disappointment in Charan... He closed his eyes slowly, then opened them again when his patience had reached its limit. Khanin had never thought silence could hurt anyone, but this time, Charan's silence was hurting him deeply. "You mightn't remember, but I'll remind you again. Right now, I have no one else to trust... I only have you." Khanin didn't shout or scream, but strangely, Charan felt the young royal's voice echoing in his ears, about to embed itself deep in his heart.

And embedded in his heart it is! Don't think I didn't notice the apples on your coffee table there, P'Ran!!

His butler's name is Narong by the way.

I was really surprised to see this tbh! As far as I recall from the novels, we didn't get any sign of life from Thatdanai until Ch.37 which is like three quarters into the entire plot (including special chapters) and hit me like a freight train at the time :<

Aaaand surprised again to see that we got that RanNin duel after all, though void of its original context. In the novels, Nin challenges Ran to a duel in Ch.9 and experiences a similarly crushing defeat. The winner's right later (Ch.11) allows Ran to order Nin to cooperate with him until Nin is safe, or in other words-- until they've reached Emmaly.

Expectations for EP.6:

Tharin & Nin father-son-bonding

Wasin saying that, to Meenanagarin, Assavadevathin is like the sun

the bracelets from the novels = Charan's mother's pearl jewelry, so I'm kinda expecting that scene at the market from Ch.31/32

MIRAAAA pleaseee I've been expecting her intro for weeks now! I'm starting to think though that EP.6 will be more Meenanagarin-focused so we'll only get to know Mira once Davichmetha gets their focus 😔

getting closer...

⇒ emblems, territories and royal houses of Emmaly ⇒ royal family of Emmaly + other character bios ⇒ relationship chart ⇒ characters and cast of TNP ⇒ all my TNP posts

[kyriethesquishysquid]

Heard Through the Grapevine (König/Fem!Reader)

Summary: There were always crazy rumors whirling around military bases and KorTac was no different. König, in particular, was often the victim of the most vicious rumors. Despite knowing her opinion is unpopular, the lovely reader refuses to partake in spreading the lies and often stands up against them instead, all while trying to battle her growing feelings for the quiet colonel. 

Word count: ~9K

A/N: Some use of Y/N. Reader’s description is left rather vague but there are details of her being short, chubby, and with hair long enough to pull back. Reader is aged between her mid-twenties to mid-thirties. While König has no exact canon age, in this fic he will be somewhere around 40 (an age range I’ve seen people come to match with his ranking as colonel). König has anxiety, reader has anxiety, we ALL have anxiety. Slightly possible medical inaccuracies- While I am a nurse, I am not an AP or Emergency Room nurse so I’ve never done stitches myself. I’m using my basic medical knowledge, what I’ve learned in classes, and Google. So please forgive any inaccuracies! As always, I've never played COD. No beta we die like Graves.

TW: Porn with minor plot. Romance and smut. Slight age gap (reader is somewhere around 5-15 years younger than König). Size kink, mild innocence kink(?) dom/sub themes, M!dom/F!sub, major power play, praise-degradation, accent/language kink, voice kink, dirty talk, multiple orgasms, and loottss of pet names (I’m a whore for pet names) in both German and English. Mentions of violence. Talk of blood, wounds, and stitching in a medical setting. 

Simple Translations (Longer translations will be included next to their sentences!):

Scheiße - Shit

Kleines - Little one

Kätzchen - Kitten

Schätzchen - Sweetheart

Liebling - Darling/Love

“You can’t say he doesn’t terrify you!” 

Your friend’s words scoffed through a mouth full of pizza made you grimace for multiple reasons, a shrug of your shoulders being your only answer as you dug back into your mashed potatoes. 

“Seriously, Y/N?” Mark pressed harder with obvious disbelief. 

“What?” you retorted sharply, “Is it so hard to believe I’m not scared of the colonel just because he’s a big guy?” 

 “Then what’s with the way you look at him?” your best friend, Lisa, added, unable to hide the coy smirk growing.

A heavy sigh left your lungs and you dropped your spoon onto your plate, directing a deadpan look at the both of them as you realized they were not going to drop the subject. 

Damn her and her mischievous nature. She was the only one who knew even a little about your hidden feelings for König, having been spilled one late night under the stars after far too many drinks, and she hadn’t stopped giving you shit for it since. Thankfully, she was a good friend and didn’t air out your personal laundry to anybody; not even your other mutual friends. However, that didn’t stop her from teasing you at every turn possible. Like now. The whole topic was a stupid subject in your eyes, brought on by the recent rumors about König having decapitated a new recruit for looking at him wrong. Ridiculous, unbelievable, and yet people wouldn’t let it go. It made you feel a kinship for the big man. Though for different reasons, you’d been the subject of many rumors over your life, having been picked on and subjected to bullshit drama simply because of your weight. Perhaps that was the biggest trigger of it all, but the fact you truly liked König was certainly a major supporting factor.

“Colonel König is intimidating, yes, but most men are intimidating; save for the present company,” you shot back with a little grin, earning a scowl from said man, “Nonetheless, I’m not scared of him. He’s never raised his voice at me, nor given me a reason to believe those stupid fucking rumors people want to spread about him. He’s always treated me with respect, more than any of the other cocky bastards around here do really. Those stupid rumors come from people who are jealous of him, either his rank or his superior physical condition, OR from people who have nothing better to do with their downtime than come up with spooky stories.”

Your best friend’s eyes went owlish in shock, pulling the corners of your lips into a frown of frustration at her childish behavior, and you prodded her shin gently beneath the table. 

“For fuck's sake, stop looking at me like that. You know I respect and even like the colonel, okay? So no matter what silly shit floats around, I’m not going to believe a word of it until the day I see these supposed cruel actions in person,” you sighed, then pled with her softly, “Just- Just drop it, please.”

When she didn’t respond, you felt a prickle of uncertainty send the hairs on the back of your neck on end. You tried to catch her gaze only to see it traveling off to your right before finally coming back your way with a nervous laugh. 

“I- I didn’t realize it but… he was sitting behind you,” she murmured softly. 

Spine snapping straight, you gaped at her in shock. 

“No way, you’re joking, right?” you hissed. 

The slow shake of her head made your heart fall into your guts, pounding heavily in your veins as you nervously turned in the direction she had looked, only to find him putting up his dirty dishes and exiting the room. 

“Mother fucker!” you groaned, “So- So he heard all of that?!” 

When she nodded, you were almost sure you were going to faint. You and König were on good terms as nurse and patient but that didn’t mean you wanted him to think (however correct it was) that you had some kind of crush on him with how adamantly you defended him. 

Food suddenly didn’t seem so appetizing with the nerves buzzing in your stomach. Pushing your plate away, you got up from the table and quickly dismissed yourself with the excuse of paperwork piling up on your desk. It wasn’t a complete lie at least. Medical documentation was never-ending, especially in a military base with accident-prone soldiers. You only hoped you could make it back to the medical wing without running into the big man himself and making things more awkward. 

Dumping your food, you shoved the plate into the dirty dish bin and rushed out into the hall. You were grateful to find the foot traffic minimal, allowing you to cross the base as quickly as your short legs could carry you. Your anxiety was already high enough with the worries of what König now thought; adding another unknown variable into the mix would spell certain disaster for your mental stability.  

The instant you stepped foot into the medbay and found it empty, you shut and locked the office door before snagging up one of the throw pillows off the old beaten-up couch and screaming into said pillow with all of your might. You screamed and screamed, until your throat hurt and your heart pounded loud in your ears, until you felt that nervous buzz of panic fade from your skin and leave exhaustion behind. 

“I’m gonna need a fucking drink tonight,” you sighed as you dropped into your computer chair, “She’s gonna owe me for this shit.” 

With that last thought, you fell back into the monotonous routine of finishing up charts and notes from the day. 

The next few hours passed quickly into days and days into weeks, time flying by in a blur as you buried yourself in your work and your patients in hopes of forgetting your troubles. You were both relieved and frustrated that you hadn’t seen the colonel at all during that time; relieved you wouldn’t have to deal with an awkward situation but frustrated because, despite the anxiety, you missed his presence. It wasn’t until Horangi assisted a hunched-over König into the office three weeks later that you realized he’d been gone on a mission during that time, a mission that had obviously gone askew. Immediately you jumped to your feet and ushered the duo over, prepared to balance the injured giant on his other side if necessary.

“What happened?” you demanded as Horangi helped König sit on the medical bed. 

“Nothing serious,” König replied, letting out a hiss when Horangi jerked his hand away and none-too-gently removed the makeshift bandage from the bigger man’s side.

A shudder ran down your spine at the amount of drying blood shining against his tight black shirt and then you eyed the tear in the fabric. His pale flesh was covered in different states of drying blood but the bleeding of the visceral wound seemed to be, thankfully, stopped for the time being.

“Good god, not serious?!” you snapped in disbelief. 

König had the gall to roll his eyes as you muttered to yourself about men being stupid and stubborn. As you leaned in closer to examine the gash, Horangi moved aside to give you room. Luckily, the cut looked relatively clean but the depth of it was concerning, with multiple layers of tissue peeking through the wound. 

“Hey, I’m going to debrief with the general,” Horangi commented suddenly, “I’ll let him know you’re getting fixed up first.” 

König gave a small nod in reply as the other operator left the room and you stepped back with a half-smile. 

“I’m going to have to stitch that up. If you’re not comfortable with me doing it, I can call the doctor in but I have done them plenty before if-”

“Ja, I want you to do it,” he cut you off quickly. 

That wasn’t a surprise. Nobody enjoyed having to call one of the docs in during the middle of the night unless it was for a dire emergency because they were all, understandably, cranky when woken. 

“That’s fine,” you agreed, biting your lower lip before gesturing at him and adding, “I- I’ll need you to remove your shirt so I can get a better look and stitch you up.”

König let out a noise of understanding as you turned away to wash your hands and grab out all of the necessary equipment you’d need for the stitches. Thankfully, the wound wasn’t deep enough to have chanced any vital areas, especially since it was on his side, but there was no doubt it was still deep enough that it wouldn’t heal properly without treatment. How he was even upright and talking like normal was beyond you. You were just glad you had been an RN in the emergency room before transferring to KorTac, your time there invaluable for all the shit you’d had to put up with here between busy doctors and never-ending patients. 

“Alrighty, let’s get this show on the… road”

As your gaze met bare, toned, skin, your brain immediately melted into nothingness. Gone were all the years of medical training and college; all that remained were the hormones of a bitch in heat. Never, in the entire year you’d worked with KorTac, had you ever seen him shirtless. He was hardly in here, between his elite skills and natural resilience against being hurt, and the only times he had been were generally for serious things that the doctor would have to take care of, or for routine visits that wouldn’t require him shirtless. So to say you were struck dumb was an understatement. 

Logically, you had known König was fit. It was practically written in all of their contracts to stay in peak physical condition, and the compression shirts he wore did nothing to hide the defined muscles in his arms and stomach, but seeing him without the fabric was even more daunting than you had expected. 

“Schätzchen?” he asked softly, voice full of something that sounded like concern. 

His gloved fingers touching your face finally jerked you out of your entirely inappropriate fantasy of getting the chance to lick up and down his abdomen and you nearly squeaked in shock, barely concealing the noise by clearing your throat. 

“Uh, sorry, I- I don’t know what came over me, uh, okay. Can you lie down for me, please? I’m sure you know this works but I’m gonna numb you up first. It’s probably going to sting,” you warned him.

Setting the equipment on the metal rolling table, you took the last terrifying steps toward him and it took everything in your power not to moan as you realized you were directly face to face with firm pecs until he finally sat. You managed to shake away the lustful thoughts on your own this time and pulled on gloves before grabbing up the syringe. 

“Ready?” you asked, not daring to meet his eyes lest you get too flustered to work. 

“Ja, go ahead,” he rumbled. 

With a steadying breath, you carefully poked the needle into the top layers of the wound and pushed the plunger down slowly. You’d seen other soldiers cry over the pain of a lidocaine injection into an open wound, not that you could blame them, but, of course, König took it all without even flinching. The man really acted like he was made of stone. It was insane. 

“That should kick in in just a few,” you murmured, capping the needle and placing it into the sharps container, “Wanna tell me what happened while we wait?” 

Feeling safe back near the cabinets rather than within arms reach, you finally let your eyes find him and watched in disbelief as he sat up without even a wince, cool blue eyes clear and steady.  

“Ah, nothing serious. There was one hidden upstairs and we didn’t realize it until- well, this,” he replied after a moment, gesturing to his side with a half-chuckle half-sigh. 

A frown turned down your lips at that. God, you really had it lucky, sitting here in your cushy position as a nurse. Sure, the hours sucked, and seeing people hurt (or god forbid worse) really sucked, but at least your life was never in danger like theirs. You hated thinking about him getting hurt like this, no matter how silly it was since he could obviously take care of himself. Swallowing hard, you nodded and grabbed another fresh pair of gloves, snapping them on with a forced smile. 

“Well, I’d hate to see the other guy then,” you teased softly.

It was a joke, and yet it wasn’t. You had no doubt his assailant hadn’t made it out of there in one piece. 

“Let’s just say, not even a talented nurse such as yourself could help him when I was done with him,” he replied.

You couldn’t help but giggle at how his eyes crinkled beneath the faded black smudges, further conveying the amusement lacing his tone. 

“I bet. I know I wouldn’t want to be your enemy, colonel,” you snickered, “Okay, lie down again for me please.”   

König leaned back with a little groan and tucked his right hand behind his head, keeping the angle perfect to avoid stretching or squishing the skin around the wound. There was a comfortable silence as you readied the needle with thread in the driver. You gave him a testing tap around the wound, to which he quickly affirmed he felt nothing before you got to work. You quickly cleaned the area, put a clean drape around it, and then snagged up the needle. It had been a bit since you’d done sutures on such a wound but you quickly fell back into the familiar rhythm with simple interrupted stitches. 

“You’re rather good at that,” he complimented quietly.

You felt your cheeks warm at the praise as you sent him a warm smile and replied, “Thank you. It’s nice to know I haven’t lost my touch since leaving the emergency department.” 

“Oh? What made you decide to come here instead?” 

Well, this was new. While König was always kind to you, it generally never went beyond small talk. You knew as much about him as he did you, though you couldn’t lie and say you were complaining about the change. That little fangirl you tried to hide so deep inside was dancing with elation over the fact that he was trying to keep a conversation going, but it wasn’t helping your little crush one bit.  

“Honestly? Better pay and escape from a bad home situation,” you admitted honestly, “I just didn’t have a great environment to accel in and when my cousin mentioned joining you guys, it just made sense.”  

Tying the last end into a square knot, you snipped off the extra thread and stood with a proud smile, examining your handiwork happily. 

“Gotta say, you’re a model patient, colonel. I don’t wanna see you in here for this again though,” you playfully scolded. 

As you turned away, you were startled by a sudden deep laugh. Not a chuckle or a snort, but a full-on belly laugh, and you were absolutely certain you’d never heard anything more beautiful.  

“And here I was thinking about getting stabbed again just so I could see meine süße kleine krankenschwester.” (My sweet little nurse)

“Hey, no using languages I can’t understand,” you retorted with a giggle, ducking your face in hopes of hiding the way your cheeks flushed with lust at the sound of his mother tongue. 

Why was that so sexy, hearing him speak German? Not that his speaking normally didn’t affect you but, when he fell into his old language, it just did something different. Another laugh rumbled from the man as you went about cleaning up the utensils and you had to grin. You knew, going forward, you’d do anything you could to hear that laugh again. A small glimmer of hope flickered to life in your chest as you ungloved and tossed them in the trash. Maybe this was the beginning of an actual friendship… or more.

As you scolded yourself over the lofty dreams, a presence against your back put a sudden stop to your motions, every last bit of you freezing in place except your heart which pounded valiantly in your veins. 

“You- You shouldn’t- shouldn’t move around so much,” you whispered breathlessly as you tried to shake off the sudden nerves, “Don’t wanna rip your stitches out already.” 

He was all but impossible to ignore, standing so close that you were certain you’d bump into him if you breathed too hard. Taking a small stabilizing breath, your eyes closed in frustration as you caught his scent, the faint smell of sweat, gunpowder, and something spiced, possibly a faded cologne or body wash overtaking your senses. It took all of your will to keep moving and cleaning up as if everything was normal. As you grabbed the antiseptic, you could visibly see the way your hands shook and mentally berated yourself. You were literally just sticking a needle into his side minutes ago. Why was this affecting you so much?! 

You grabbed onto the counter for balance and lifted onto tiptoe only to have the bottle suddenly snagged from you and shelved in its spot just barely within your reach. It would have been completely fine, a nice gesture even, if it weren’t for the fact he had to lean against you to do it. With his free hand resting against your waist for balance, you could feel every- single- fucking- inch of his form against yours. Forbidden images of him taking you right there against the counter flooded your thoughts when you got a very personal feel of his dick against your lower back, completely prominent in its shape even while soft.

The fates were fucking testing you to the ends of your limits at that point. 

“You should get a step stool, kleines, don’t want to hurt yourself,” he mused quietly.

A shaky nod was all you could manage, your fingers wrapping around the edge of the solid countertop and holding on for dear life. You couldn’t find it in you to reply with the mortifying lust clouding your mind. With your luck, instead of thanking him you’d ask to repay the favor with a blowjob. 

Deep breaths. In and out. After a few moments, you knew you should respond. You had to do something to diffuse the situation because he was obviously content to let you stew in your thoughts.  

“You- You- Uhm, you should go rest,” you stammered out after a moment.

And then he was gone. The instant he stepped away, you nearly dropped to the floor, your knees weak and back now startlingly cold. Tucking some hair behind your ear, you spun around and prepared to give him the usual medical spiel about resting and letting the wound heal, only to lose the ability to speak when a large hand cupped your jaw. 

“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

His voice was soft, warm with a tinge of amusement dancing at the edges, and suddenly you remembered the stupid conversation you’d had with your friends in the canteen. Your tongue felt thick and immovable so you settled for shaking your head no, trying to convey that he, in fact, hadn’t scared you.

“No? No, what?” he asked. 

Swallowing down the urge to moan, you shakily replied, “You don’t- didn’t scare me.” 

Your plump cheeks burned hot at the way his icy blue eyes subtly changed, lids lowering into an indiscernible expression as his irises searched your face thoroughly. 

“Are you sure? You’re suddenly much quieter, Schätzchen.”

A little curse escaped before you could catch it as you subconsciously melted into his hand when his thumb started stroking your jawline. The calloused texture rubbed deliciously against your soft skin and sent goosebumps down your arms.    

“I-I’m sure,” you answered, voice barely audible even in the silent room, “Just… unexpected.” 

When he leaned down and hovered just above your ear, you swore you were about to combust. He was close, too fucking close. Delectably within reach and yet so far away in the ways that mattered. Your thighs clenched together in search of some kind of relief when his scent infiltrated your senses again, the same as before but so much stronger, and you couldn’t help the way your stomach fluttered traitorously. 

“That’s all, hmm?” he rumbled lowly. 

Oh. That bastard! He knew what he was doing to you and he was teasing you about it! How was this the same quiet colonel that you practically had to bully into saying more than a few words just a couple of weeks prior? You lifted your hands and prepared to shove him away, to give him a piece of your mind, but he threw you another curveball with the sudden sensation of soft lips against your throat.

“Ah!” 

This time, your gasp was loud, rivaled only by the pounding thump of your heart threatening to burst from your chest. 

“I asked you a question, kleines, I expect an answer.”

A truly pathetic whine fell from your lips as your head fell to rest against his shoulder. How were you supposed to answer him?! Your tongue felt thick and immovable as you soaked in the sensation of his skin against yours.  

“König, please, I don’t- I don’t understand what you want here,” you finally managed to croak through parted lips. 

He let out a small hum but didn’t answer right away. His lips busied themselves trailing barely-there kisses up and down the side of your neck. When you felt his nose brush against your ear, you nearly jumped. Every touch threatened to make you come apart right then and there and it was quickly becoming too much.

“Is- Is this about what I said a few weeks ago?” you pushed for an answer. 

Pausing in his thorough exploration of your flesh, he let out a little breath before humming back, “Mmhmm. Imagine my surprise when I heard you defending me, Schätzchen, heard you tell your little friends so certainly that you were not scared of me; that you even liked me.”

Your nails instinctively dug into his bare arms as you fought for your sanity, his teeth scraping your neck and raveling away what little sensibilities you had left. 

“At first, I doubted what I heard,” he spoke as his hands took hold of your hips and squeezed softly, “You are so soft and sweet. Untouchable to someone like me. I’ve spent the last few weeks debating, agonizing over if you might feel what I felt. Tonight though, with the way you looked at me? I could finally see it.” 

When he pulled back, you couldn’t bring yourself to meet his gaze again but he was quick to correct that with a little nudge. 

“Still so shy.”

Your thoughts were running a thousand miles an hour; fear, lust, and disbelief were shouting at you in so many different ways that you thought you would pass out from overstimulation alone. While you’d thought about this happening almost every night since you’d first talked with him, you’d always assumed he would be a fantasy only. You never imagined the quiet, steadfast, colonel would ever have a mutual interest in you. Part of you wanted to drop to your knees and thank him for even touching you, while the other waited with panic-laced worries for him to announce that it was some kind of prank. 

When his calloused fingers trailed up your face and into your hair to scrape your scalp, it was like he flipped a magical switch. Gone were the panicked thoughts, the uncertainties, and the insecurities. All that existed were the beautiful sensations he created. 

“Does that feel good?” he asked. 

You nodded dumbly and let your eyes flutter back open as you heard him laugh, flushing with desire as you were once more pinned with those gorgeous eyes of his. 

“This isn’t some kind of joke, is it?” you finally questioned, managing to get somewhat of a grip on your psyche, “Because if it is, I’ll-” 

A sharp sting through your scalp cut you off as he tightened his fingers in your hair, following your silence with disappointed tongue clicks. 

“Do I really seem like the kind of man who would joke about something like this?” 

You shook your head slowly, muttering a defeated little “No sir” in response. Your efforts were rewarded with the release of your hair, hand tenderly cupping the nape of your neck instead. 

“I need to hear you say you want this before it goes any further,” he instructed you, firmly but gently.    

As your lips parted, you hesitated. Of course, you wanted this, but here? Now? Your eyes darted nervously to the cracked door before catching his once more. 

“I- I do but… König, anyone could come in and, god, you’re hurt and-”

You watched in awe, voice trailing off into silence, as he leaned in and pulled up his sniper hood, revealing a black gaiter which he promptly tugged down. The peek of a strong, square, jawline peppered with a short stubble made your eyes open wide in shock but your attention was quickly captured by his full lips, curled up into a smirk with a peek of sharp canines flashing through. Fuck, if only part of him was this gorgeous, you were afraid to see him completely bare. 

“As I have said, it’s not serious, and you’ve so graciously patched me up,” he purred softly, eyes boring holes into your sole as his lips almost touched yours, “Now, tell me kleines, do- you- want- this?”

“Yes, god, ple-”

Fingers dug hard into your soft sides as he finally captured your mouth in a gentle kiss and you instinctively stretched up to meet him, hands sliding up to wrap around the back of his neck in an attempt to convey just how badly you wanted him. Words weren’t your forte but actions… actions you could manage. 

A quiet groan escaped your lips as you felt his hips press against yours and hands came down to grab your ass. Your shock quickly turned into concern when you felt him start to lift you. 

“König, no!” you scolded him as you wiggled out of his grasp. 

The colonel had the gall to look confused by your rejection. 

You gestured to his freshly sewn stitches and bit out, “I don’t care how much you say it’s fine. I refuse to be the reason you pop your stitches and I’d rather not have to put a needle in your again. Just…” 

Your stern words trailed off as you saw the mild pink tinge across his upper cheeks. He was too adorable. Huffing out a low sigh, you rested your hands against his firm pecs and gently pushed him back toward the bed. 

“Lay down, I’m shutting the door real quick.”

Thankfully, he didn’t bother arguing, just turned with an annoyed grunt as you shut and locked the door. The annoyance in his eyes dropped the instant you carefully climbed up onto the bed with him, letting him guide you to sit over his thighs comfortably. 

“If we’re doing this, we’re doing it in a way that you won’t get hurt,” you warned him. 

“Verdammte Hölle,” he scoffed lowly, fingers digging into the plush softness of your thighs, “Fine, if you insist, just get over here.” 

A gasp passed from your lips into his when he dragged you in closer and you felt the bulge of his cock already growing through his cargos. And what a fucking power rush that was, to know you were affecting one of the strongest men in existence. You! A short, chubby, nobody-famous nurse and this god-like man wanted you. 

“Fuck,” you breathed out quietly, hands coming to rest on his chest as he guided your hips down against his, “König, I said-”

“You may be on top of me, but you are in no way in control, understood, Kätzchen?” he bit out huskily. 

Your heart stammered in your chest but you managed a little nod in response. Apparently subdued by your acceptance, his hands spurred you into motion once more, tearing a broken moan from your chest as his hardness pressed deliciously against the apex of your thighs. Even though clothing, he was working you up entirely too easily.  

He attacked your neck once more and growled out a terse, “Scheiße, I always knew you’d sound fucking beautiful like this. Mein kleines engel, so verdammt unschuldig und süß.” (My little angel, so fucking innocent and sweet)

While you had no idea what he said, it was clearly something sexual and you couldn’t help the way you shuddered. It was kind of funny. When you first met him, you’d been shocked by the pitch of his voice, having expected such a giant being to have a deep voice; and now… now you wouldn’t have it any other way. 

“Oh? Magst du es, wenn ich mit dir Deutsch spreche, mein dummes kleines Kätzchen?” (“Do you like when I speak German to you, my silly little kitten?”)

Instinctively, you ground down in search of relief as his voice filled your head and took over your thoughts. 

He chuckled softly and murmured, “You do like it. I can feel the way your sweet little cunt throbs against me each time. Do you always react this way when I speak German around you?” 

Your body froze at that, face heating and flushing down your chest as you finally understood what he was saying. No fucking way.

“You- You can feel it?” you asked meekly, hoping he’d say no. 

“Mmhmm, Deine kleinen Zuckungen sind so süß- Ah, there is it again,” he teased, “So, kleines? Is it like that every time?” (Your little twitches are so cute)

With a frustrated groan, you quietly admitted it before ducking down to bite onto his shoulder. You felt a thrill of satisfaction when you felt his cock jump between your thighs but didn’t even stop to gloat, too enthralled by the taste of his skin. You didn’t dare leave marks, unsure of the protocol for his position, but gods you wanted to. Maybe another time, if you were given the chance. Scraping your teeth across his flesh, you scooted back to sit farther down his thighs and began to make your way down his collarbone and chest until you were able to gently bite the meatiest part of his pec. 

“Ah, Scheiße!”

Before he could react further, you continued on and swiped your tongue across his nipple, earning a guttural moan and his fingers curled into the hair at the back of your head. For a moment, you questioned if he intended to stop you but, when he didn’t, you did it again. The little muffled curses he let out only worsened the mess in your panties and you had to restrain yourself from reaching down to ease the ache. It wasn’t until you were kneeling between his thighs and working at his belt that he finally stopped you.

“Kätzchen, just what do you intend to do?” he asked as you nibbled softly at the skin above his pants. 

You let out a huff and rolled your eyes up at him. 

“I intend to suck your cock, if that’s okay, colonel,” you shot back. 

He mumbled something quietly under his breath then added louder, “While I would love that, I don’t know how much time we have.” 

As you finally worked his belt open and began tugging his pants down, you couldn’t help but pout. 

“That’s not fair. Do you know how long I’ve wanted to do this?” you whined. 

The way his eyes rolled back and his hips arched made you grin. 

“And I would love to see those beautiful lips wrapped around my dick, but another time, kleines. Right now, I need to be inside of you.”

Your cunt clenched instinctively at that, at the promise of another chance to touch him, and you finally relented with a sigh. 

“Fine, fine, but you owe me later,” you replied, letting him pull you back over his lap. 

With a chuckle, he pulled you into a kiss and mumbled, “Of course, Schätzchen. Anything you wish, whenever you wish- except for right now.”

A flush crossed your face, deep and hot, as his words settled into your chest. When he began tugging at your jeans, you helped slide them and your panties down until they were hooked around just one leg. You weren’t given much time to ruminate on the feeling of your bare flesh against the scratchy fabric of his pants before the sensation of calloused fingers sliding down your slit stole both your attention and breath. 

“Ooh, look at you,” he crooned lowly, fingertips pushing between your lips and sliding back up until he found your clit, “So wet for me already.” 

Worrying your lower lip, your forehead rested against his cheek and your nails dug into his shoulders as you nodded slowly. Of course, you were. Who wouldn’t be when Adonis was touching them? He moved slowly, gently, almost as if afraid to go faster. It felt good but it wasn’t enough. 

“Ich wünschte, ich könnte jetzt meine Zunge in dieser heißen kleinen Muschi haben. Ich wette, du schmeckst himmlisch.” (I wish I could have my tongue in this hot little pussy right now. I bet you taste like heaven.)

“Ffff-Fuck!”

A broken whine escaped your lips when he finally slipped a lone finger into your core and it took everything within you not to collapse at that moment. One of his felt like two of yours but reached even deeper. You couldn’t resist rocking into his motions as he carefully worked you open. 

You didn’t even get a chance to cover your mouth before he suddenly forced in a second one and curled them against your g-spot, a moan spilling from the big man beneath you as you mewled.  

“More,” he demanded as his other hand tugged up his hood once more and smashed his mouth against yours, “Again.” 

You didn’t stand a chance in hell at ignoring his commands with the way he began hooking his fingers in a constant come hither motion against your spongy patch of nerves. Tears burned in your eyes as you fought for breath against the onslaught of sensations plaguing your body. It’d been so long since you’d let anyone else touch you, relying on your own hand and toys for release, and fuck if it wasn’t overwhelming. 

“König, ple-please!” you begged weakly, unable to keep from trembling against him as he brought you dangerously close to the edge. 

For all his talk about not having time, he was surely taking his. His fingers felt incredible but you needed to feel his cock. 

“Yes, Kätzchen?”

“Want you. Need you, please!”

His low moan was the only answer you needed, shaky hands diving down to work the waistband of his pants lower and tug at his boxer-briefs. You couldn’t even keep your eyes open to focus, too lost in the delirium of your approaching climax and the pleasure dancing along your skin. 

When you finally pulled him free, you instantly shoved his hand away and shuffled up until his tip was kissing your entrance, but he halted your motions before you could do more. 

“Don’t go too fast, alright? I don’t want you to get hurt,” he instructed you gently. 

You barely managed to open your eyes enough to meet his and nodded hastily. Go slow. You could do that. And yet, when he finally allowed you to move, you were tempted to just slam down, no matter how massive he felt. However, your self-control prevailed, only held back by the reminder that he’d probably stop you if you got hurt. 

It wasn’t until you started to lower yourself and you felt the fat head of his cock begin to split you open that you really understood why he’d been warning you, prickles of pain and pleasure dancing behind your clenched eyes as you sucked in a harsh breath. It didn’t matter that you were soaking wet and more than ready, your body was fighting to take each inch. 

“That’s it, gutes Kätzchen, just like that,” he praised softly. (Good Kitten)

Finally, after what felt like forever, your hips settled down against his and you let out a little mewl of satisfaction. 

“Jesus fuck,” you breathed out huskily, “This feels- Fuck, I can’t even describe it.”

“I know.” 

His voice sounded as tightly wound as you felt. Every muscle in your body ached but none more than the throb of your core. 

“Can- Can I move?” you asked. 

“If you’re ready.”

Steading yourself with his broad shoulders, you lifted up and slowly dropped back down, nails digging into his skin as he touched every last inch inside of you. When your eyes fluttered open, your cheeks bloomed a deep red as you found him already staring at you with awe in his gaze. It would have been anxiety-inducing if it weren’t for the bruises his fingers were leaving on your hips and the quiet little grunts falling under his hood. Knowing he was watching you though, it was daunting and lit a flicker of doubt in your chest, demanding you do everything to make sure you looked and felt your best for him. 

“Ah, wait, here,” he gasped suddenly, halting your motions as he tugged up your T-shirt.

You almost stopped him, wary of fully exposing any parts of you that you felt uncomfortable about, but he was too quick. He tucked the hem into the neckline of your shirt and instantly tugged down the cup of your bra, one hand wrapping around and lifting your breast while the other hand palmed your back and jerked you forward until he could wrap his lips around your nipple with a heady groan. 

“Fuck, König!” you whimpered, shocks of bliss making you pulse around his cock.

His moan was loud against your flesh as his hand left your back and guided your hips into motion once more, the dual stimulation enough to make you shudder. Bit by bit, you were able to work up to a faster pace, until pleasure started to take hold of your mind and you lost all sense of rhythm, more focused on coming than putting on a good show. 

“Ohgodohgod ohmygod!” 

A heavy growl vibrated against your skin as he grunted out between kisses, “Oh Gott, das ist es Kätzchen, kommst du mich holen?” (Oh god, that’s it kitten, are you going to come for me?)

You buried your frantic cries into your palm as you felt tears begin to fall. It was too good, too much, and you fucking loved it. The burn of his cock stretching your walls brought you so close to the edge that it hurt, each thrust making your clit throb with need. You managed a panicked, muffled, plea and were rewarded with teeth sinking into your flesh and a calloused thumb on your sensitive nub, tearing a hellish screech from your lips as you were instantly pushed over the edge. Your hand barely contained the frantic moans pouring from your throat as he pushed you through the crest. Every swipe of his thumb and thrust of his cock brought on another wave of pleasure, again and again until you lost the ability to do more than exist. 

With an audible pop, he pulled back from your abused skin and relaxed back against the bed, moans starting to rival yours in volume as his hands took hold of your hips and his knees bent under you. When he started thrusting up to meet each bounce of your hips, the fog finally took over completely. Leaning back enough to wrap your hands around his forearms, you gave over that last bit of control and just followed his lead. The sound of your ass meeting his thighs became louder, faster, in the quiet room; a lewd soundtrack coupled with the squeaks of the medical bed and your unstifled noises of pleasure.

“Mein gott. Look at that face. Not a single thought going through that sweet little head of yours, is there?” he groaned, chuckling when you suddenly leaned forward and buried your face in his neck with a meek hum, “No, no, don’t be embarrassed, kleines. It’s a compliment to have such an intelligent woman so brainless from my cock.”

You instinctively clenched around him and nuzzled further into his neck out of mortification. God, that shouldn’t be hot! You shouldn’t like that and yet you do. How did he manage to weave together such sexual praises into something that sounded like genuinely sweet compliments? 

“Sit back up, now,” he commanded sternly, “I want to see that beautiful face when I come.”

The change in position instantly put your senses back on edge, the press of his cock against your sweet spot all too tantalizingly perfect as he muttered gentle praises and led you back into rhythm, words slowly dissolving into the most unholy whimpers and grunts you’d ever heard. It wasn’t long until you couldn’t make out a single thing he said, English long evolved into German between frantic moans of your name. 

Suddenly his grip became overwhelmingly painful and you let out a squeal of panic, but the pressure was easily forgotten in favor of bliss as he began to thrust into you violently. It was almost as if he were trying to fuck himself into your cervix, a scary thought knowing he had the length to do so, but every attempt you made to lift off of him and create space was thwarted by his superior strength. And gods, if that didn’t do the dirtiest things to you. Even when he released one hip, he was powerful enough to keep you in place with just one hand, the other suddenly reappearing between your thighs. 

“Oh- Oh god, yes, König, just-” 

All it took was a few circles around your sensitive clit before you were thrown over the edge once more with a scream. Wave after wave rocked through your body as you rode him hard, thighs shaking and heart pounding as you scratched at him and cried his name all too loudly.  

“Oh Scheiße, ich werde kommen, bitte, nicht aufhören, nicht aufhören, bitte, bitte, bitte!” (Oh shit, I'm gonna come, please, don't stop, don't stop, please please please!)

Even in German, his message was clear. Fighting through your own hazy pleasure, you tightened your thighs and clenched around his cock eagerly, whimpering his name and pleading with him to come. You weren’t given any warning as he suddenly grabbed your neck and jerked you down into a ravenous kiss, a mixture of high-pitched keening and growling moans pouring into your mouth like oxygen when he buried himself one last time to the hilt. 

Tremors ran through your being as you felt his cock twitching, heat filling you with each pulse, and you couldn’t help the tears suddenly building in your eyes again. 

“Holy fuck,” you whined against his lips. 

When you clenched around him again and tried to move your hips, he put a stop to it immediately, arms wrapping around you and trapping your body to his. 

“Don’t you fucking dare,” he hissed darkly, “You start that andI won’t want to stop, and we definitely don’t have time for that.”  

A little grin crossed your lips as you melted into his hold and murmured, “Aye, aye, colonel.” 

His little snort of a laugh jostled you against his frame only for him to still and hold you tighter. You turned to rest your ear against his chest and listened to the steady heavy beat of his heart while your fingers trailed up and down his arms. 

“That was okay, right?” he asked after a moment, the uncertainty surprising. 

It took some effort to get him to let you go but you managed to finally sit up, hands slowly pushing up the edges of his mask to just until his lips were visible again, and you kissed him softly. 

“Better than I’ve imagined,” you whispered softly. 

He tensed for a moment before a little huff of a laugh puffed across your lips. 

“You’ve imagined this?” he asked back. 

Chewing your lower lip as you lifted again, you gave a shrug and replied, “Yeah, a lot, if I’m being honest. As you heard, you’re an intimidating man, colonel, but really, it only adds to your appeal.” 

It felt weird to be so openly blunt about your attraction to him but you supposed you were past the point of second-guessing things. His eyes searched your face intently for just a moment before he smiled, a warm, heart-pounding expression that made your knees weak. Fuck, maybe he hid his face for that reason. It wouldn’t do to have everyone tripping over themselves at his beauty. 

“I’m glad to hear that,” he murmured softly, reaching up to tuck a lock of hair behind your ear, “As much as I want to hold you longer, I’m afraid we should get decent before someone comes along and-”

“Fuck, yeah, you’re right!” you gasped, eyes darting to the door instinctively as you clambered off the bed. 

The moment you released your hold on him, your knees tried to give out but he was quick to give you a balancing hand. You thanked him quietly as you fixed yourself quickly- Well, as quickly as you could when your legs felt like jelly and your head was still spinning. When you were finally all dressed, he was carefully sliding his shirt back on. 

“Wait, let me make sure we didn’t tear anything loose.”

He gave you a look that told you how ridiculous he thought you were being, but he humored you with a sigh after a moment. Leaning in, you looked over the stitches and were happy to find everything still intact. 

“Good to go! Thank goodness,” you sighed happily, then flushed as you looked up at him, “Uh, you’ll have to come back in seven to ten days to get the stitches removed, which I’m sure you know. Other than that, just take it easy. Any damage you do will only prolong how long you’ll have to be on light duty.” 

“I see, and if I need assistance with any in the meantime? I can come to you?” he teased, eyes crinkling warmly at the edges.

Unable to hold in your grin, you replied, “Always. I’d be glad to help with anything you need, colonel. Just come find me.”

You tossed him a coy smile before making your way to the door, only to get spun and pushed up against the wood without warning. One big hand cupped your neck and forced your head up as he leaned in and kissed you, soft and light in a way that made your toes curl. 

“Sorry, needed one more,” he purred softly, chuckling as your face went hot. 

“Get out of here before I make up a reason to keep you here overnight,” you bit out teasingly. 

He gave you a mock salute before releasing you and allowing you to open the door. His gaze became soft once more when he studied you as you leaned against the door frame. 

“I’ll see you again soon. Have sweet dreams, Kätzchen.” 

“You too, König.”

When he finally walked away down the hall, you couldn’t help but watch him go. God, that man had the most perfect ass, and don’t even get started on that broad back. Biting back the flare of lust threatening to rekindle in your stomach, you ducked back into the office and ran a hand through your now-tangled locks, letting out a low sigh. The clock on the wall read two thirty in the morning, which meant you thirty minutes to get König’s chart typed up and then you could finally head home for the night. Thoughts of a hot shower and your soft bed had you groaning. Yeah, you were definitely going to sleep good tonight. 

…

“Sooo, how was your weekend?” Lisa asked, eyebrows jumping up and down in anticipation as you slid into the seat opposite her and Mark. 

You simply threw her a nonplussed look, not daring to give her any inclination. Lisa was good about keeping your feelings secret but you weren’t sure she could contain herself in public if you told her about what had happened with König, not to mention you didn’t want to chance him getting some sort of backlash if the fraternization rules applied to you. You’d have to do some research on that later if you two were going to meet up again at some point. Logically, seeing as you were contracted as a nurse and not as a solider, you hoped that you were outside of those rules but you weren’t certain.  

“It was fine. Nothing too crazy,” you lied seamlessly. 

She seemed to deflate at that. 

“Really? When I saw the colonel was back I had hoped…”

“Well, you hoped wrong,” you replied blandly, “I saw him but nothing happened. It’s fine, really. Probably for the best to maintain that professional boundary.” 

A body collapsing onto the bench beside you made you jump and nearly spill your food until you caught it at the last second, your heart racing from the shock until you saw it was one of Mark’s buddies at your side. 

“Hey, Ian,” Mark greeted, “What’s up?”

He was obviously as confused about his friend’s appearance as you were, but your confusion didn’t last long when he suddenly turned to face you. 

“So, I heard from a little birdie that you were single right now. Is that true?” Ian pressed, lips quirking up into a grin.

You shot a deadly look at Mark, earning a silent apology as his face heated, before you addressed the private next to you.

“I am but-”

“Great! You should come out with me Friday night! I have a weekend pass and I need a pretty lady to take with me to the city!” 

Well, shit. You knew nothing about Ian. You hoped he was a decent guy and wouldn’t be upset over you rejecting him since he was Mark’s friend but men were tricky. How were you supposed to turn him down without hurting or angering him? As your lips parted to answer, a massive hand suddenly slid around your throat and silenced you. Eyes wide in fear, you let out a shocked whimper and froze in place, only to catch the familiar scent of a warm cologne as a hard body pressed against your back. 

“There you are, liebling, I’ve been searching all over for you.”

König. Oh. Fuck. Tilting your head back at his insistence, you let your eyes meet his icy blues, obviously crinkled in joy. When his fingers tightened around your throat, you couldn’t help the way your face flushed in delight, your entire body warming with insatiable need as he descended and planted a loud smacking kiss on your forehead.

“Come now, I’ve brought lunch for us.” 

The entire table was silent during the exchange and you could practically feel Lisa vibrating in her seat, but you didn’t dare look away from him to address her. Nodding once, you rose to your feet where he finally released your throat. He interlaced his fingers with yours and you instinctively scooted closer, enjoying the body heat and comfort he put off.

“I’ll uh- I’ll see you guys later,” you threw back as he led you out of the canteen. 

The walk was quiet as he dragged you through the halls until he finally stopped at his office. With a little murmur, König opened the door and ushered you in first. The moment the door slammed shut, you were unceremoniously shoved against it, a little oomph escaping your lips at the impact. A weak moan left your lips as you felt his breath against your ear.

“Ungezogenes kleines Kätzchen,” he purred huskily “From now on, you will let it be known that you’re with me, got it?” (Naughty little kitten)

You hesitated before nodding and replied, “Y-Yes sir. I wasn't sure- I didn’t know what-” 

“Shh, shh, I know, schatz. It is not your fault. I didn’t make my intentions quite clear. You belong to me now.”

A shudder ran down your spine, forcing a moan low in your throat as you practically preened under his possessive claim. Despite the threatening tone, you felt no fear. If anything, it turned you on more than ever. 

“Yes, sir.”

“Good girl. Now get on my desk,” he instructed. 

Your confused glance was met with a smirk and a wink as he pulled away. 

“I prefer to have my dessert first, Kätzchen. We can eat lunch after.” 

[throneofsapphics]

let our bodies talk

Rowan x Reader x Ruhn

summary: Rowan and Ruhn help you deal with your guilt around sex, and take your virginity

warnings: virgin!reader, raw p in v (wrap it up everyone), religious guilt/shame, light hair pulling

word count: 3426

a/n: based on this request!

“Do you want us?” Ruhn finally asked, running a hand through his hair, the other toying with his lip ring. He pointedly ignored the silver-haired male staring at him like he wanted to chop him into bits and either sell them at the Meat Market or feed them to the creatures at the bottom of the Istros. 

Rowan had more patience and experience with immortality than he did. If you wanted him to wait another hundred years, he would, gladly, but he wanted to know what page you were on and he was ... well, he was used to having rather forward partners, he supposed. 

It started with him as an emissary to your world, and ended with this relationship he never could have expected, but would never change for a thing. You were everything he’d ever wanted and more. 

Your mouth parted, skin flushed, and eyes widened slightly. One of his favorite looks on you. “Of course,” the words came out quickly. Adorable. Everything about you was adorable. Cthona, he really was obsessed with you. “We’re together, aren't we?” You gained back a little bit of that attitude he loved. His mouth curved into a smirk. 

“Yes, love, we are.” 

“Ruhn is asking if you want to have sex with us,” Rowan grunted from behind you. You whirled around, not having seen him apparently. He shot you a slightly apologetic look. You were the only one who got those kinds of looks out of him, and it made Ruhn respect you even more. The male would bend over backwards for you. 

“I m- I mean yes, I do, I just ...” you trailed off uncharacteristically. 

Ruhn leaned forward in his chair, forearms bracing his thighs, Rowan rounded the couch to sit next to you, leaving a careful foot or so between the two of you. This conversation didn’t need touch, not right now at least. Ruhn stayed in his seat. Just talking about this, the idea of it, was making all sorts of unproductive changes to his blood flow. 

-

You sighed, glancing between the two of them. You wouldn’t get out of this conversation right now, at least not without them getting an acceptable answer. How do you even begin to explain your relationship with sex? When it's so complicated you barely feel like you understand it yourself? 

“Just listen to me, please,” you half pleaded, half ordered. They glanced at each other before turning to you and nodding. “I grew up with a lot of ... shame surrounding sex,” you could tell Ruhn was ready to interrupt and say fuck that, but Rowan fixed him with a look and although the male glared back he kept his mouth shut. Another time you might have laughed. “So as much as I fucking crave both of you, those thoughts are still trained into me. That its dirty, bad, against the gods wishes.” 

Rowan pressed his lips together at the last one, you knew it was ridiculous too - some of the gods were notoriously horny, after all. 

“So I'm a little ... behind because I avoided everything for so long.” 

“Are you a virgin?” Rowan asked, tone carefully neutral. If they cared either way ... well, then they wouldn’t be the males for you. 

“Yes,” you lifted your chin just a tad higher, trying to imbue yourself with some sort of confidence. 

“That’s not a problem for me,” Ruhn said, almost soothingly. 

“It shouldn’t be,” Rowan sent a warning look your way at the snip in your tone, and you glared right back at him. He held both hands up placatingly, almost in a ‘not policing you, I'm just trying to keep the peace,’ way. 

Ruhn caught your gaze, and you both burst into laughter, eyes lighting with mirth. Rowan snorted. Basically a roaring laugh coming from him. 

“Come here,” the unintentional dominance in Rowan’s voice bent your knees before you could think better of it. Not that you wanted to, not really. He patted the area next to him, giving you the option to close the distance. You did. 

You felt more than heard Ruhn move, as the couch dipped on your other side. You liked it here, pressed between them, your legs lining up from thigh to hip, just a few layers between your skin and theirs. The desire to remove the layers was there, but that old guilt crept in and tainted it. Your hand brushed the back of your neck, head tilting down, eyes trained on the floor. 

Ruhn caught your hand, bringing it down to rest on his thigh. You flexed your fingers, exploring the feel of the corded muscle beneath those jeans. His leg tensed, keeping hand settling over yours, keeping you still. 

“However long it takes,” he kissed the exposed side of your neck, “I'll teach you to not be ashamed of what your body wants.” 

“Of what you want,” Rowan added, running his thumb over your knee, his hand cupping your leg. 

“I want both of you,” you said the words quickly, as if they might never come out if you didn’t say them as fast as possible. 

“You’ll need to be a bit more specific than that,” Rowan’s eyes trailed you from head to toe, taking in every inch of your body. A hunger that you either hadn’t seen or noticed before flared. Tightness coiled in your stomach, you could arouse those kinds of feelings in them. You found you liked that power. 

“Relax, Rowan,” Ruhn drawled. The other male tensed. You smiled. “I think we can ask some questions, can’t we?” 

A muscle in Rowan’s jaw flexed, but he gave a short nod. 

Sometimes you wondered if you were the glue bonding them together, but they had a bond of their own outside of the one the three of you shared. Not sexual, but almost ... you couldn’t quite find a term to describe it. Maybe you’d invent one later. For now, they were capturing all of your attention. Questions. You knew what kind of questions they’d ask, but it didn’t leave you feeling any more prepared for it. 

“Has anyone touched this beautiful body before?” Ruhn breathed against your neck, his hand running down your thigh indolently. 

“You,” you said, a touch of something like defiance in your tone. One of them pinched your thighs lightly. Rowan. 

“It doesn’t work if you don’t answer our questions, love,” he said. 

“Not very well,” you sighed, throwing your head back to look up at the ceiling. Why did this have to feel so ... 

“These conversations aren’t meant to be smooth,” Ruhn reminded you. It gave you a bit of much-needed courage and you gave yourself a reminder. You loved these males, trusted them, and knew they’d never do anything to intentionally hurt you or make you feel upset. In fact, they’d usually do their best to make sure the opposite happened. 

“Did you like anything about their touch?” Rowan’s large hand covered part of your thigh, tips of his fingers digging in light enough to add a pleasurable pressure but avoid that edge of pain. Regardless, each of their touches felt like fire in your current wound up state and you doubted anything could douse it right now. 

“When it was over,” you said, honestly, and drew a laugh from each of them. 

“I promise you won’t want this to end,” Ruhn said. Tilting your head, blue eyes peered intently at you, full of heat and passion and desire. “I think we can figure out how to ask these questions without speaking,” he brushed the top of your thigh, playing with your hemline, “hm?” 

You arched towards him, hands reached out to grasp at his arms, tugging him closer, closer, closer, however you could get any contact with him. Something about his tone and words awoke a new desperation in you. The time for talking, for thinking, was over. 

Ruhn caught your hands. You frowned. He switched them to one of his and used the other to tilt your chin up. “If you want this to stop at any time, just say the word. Or tap a few times if you can’t speak.” 

“We won’t be angry or upset,” Rowan added. 

“If you were, I'd kick your asses. Before leaving them,” you grumbled.

Ruhn held his hands up. “I’m terrified,” he deadpanned. 

The pause gave space for ugly emotions to rear and infiltrate, invading your headspace. 

You heard the words of the priests and priestesses from your childhood, of your mother and father wondering what the hell you were doing before damning and cursing you. Doubt had no place in this room, but it found its way inside anyway. 

“I don’t think she wants this,” you heard Ruhn say, and your head snapped up. 

-

Ruhn hoped his gamble paid off and Rowan played along, that they could draw out your competitive side. 

Green eyes narrowed, but he said, “I’m afraid you may be right.” Rowan Whitethorn wasn’t afraid of a damn thing, but that wasn’t the point. 

“Yes I do,” you spluttered indignantly. That was the point.

“Show us,” Rowan challenged you. 

“I don’t know how,” your voice dropped to a furious whisper, and he wondered if you might call everything off. 

“Ask for help,” Rowan countered. 

“I thought we would do this without speaking,” Ruhn interjected. 

In unison, both you and Rowan replied, “that’s what you said,” and he bit back a grin. 

“One question then,” Rowan continued, “do you want us to fuck you tonight?” 

“Yes,” there was no hesitation, in fact eagerness in your tone. Bringing out your competitive side did work, and he noted that for later. 

“We’ll be gentle,” Rowan told you. 

You huffed. Ruhn titled his head, Rowan raised a brow at you. 

“I want you, not some watered down version of you - both of you.” 

“As you wish, my love,” Rowan murmured. 

“Your funeral,” Ruhn joked. 

“But I have one rule,” he sat up a little straighter at your words. 

“What is that?” 

“No magic,” you glanced between both males. “I just want you. Both of you.” 

-

“Very well,” Rowan acquiesced, not sounding too put out. “Come here,” he patted his thighs. After checking for Ruhn’s agreement to your ‘rule,’ you did. 

This part, this first step, you knew how to do. You’d kissed both of them before. Straddling him, you balanced yourself on the middle of his thighs. His fingers trailed up and down your sides, front, back, everywhere he could reach, brushing sensitive areas over your clothing. Brushing too lightly for how drastically your body seemed to react. Or maybe that was the point, less is more. 

‘Let go, stop thinking,’ you reminded and reprimanded yourself. 

It took you a minute or two to realize Rowan was waiting for something. For you to initiate. 

Leaning forward, you brushed your lips against his, mimicking the featherlight touches he was leaving on your body. Rowan wasn’t having it, and gripped the back of your head, winding his fingers through your hair before bringing you together. 

He stood, mouth still on yours, and you tightened your legs around his waist, locking your ankles, he wrapped one arm around your lower back, and snapped at Ruhn with his spare hand. 

The other male, understandably, snarled in return and you broke away from Rowan to hide your giggles into his shoulder. 

It broke the tension, and after a few strides from Rowan you were bouncing back on your bed, thrown there by him. Catching yourself against the headboard, it was your turn to glare. 

“That’s what you get for laughing,” Ruhn shrugged out of his shirt, and fuck your mouth watered. “My eyes are up here,” he teased you. 

“I thought we weren’t talking,” you snapped back. 

Not Ruhn, you could see all of him, but you felt another hand on the back of your neck. Rowan. Lips brushed against your ear, “I should just bend you over our bed and fuck you, but I think we can make it a little more enjoyable than that.” 

That sounded very enjoyable to you, and maybe scared you just a tad but not in an unpleasant way. Involuntarily, your thighs clenched. Ruhn’s chuckle told you he noticed. Heat seared your cheeks, the back of your neck, your chest. 

Half-naked, he climbed on the bed after you. Rowan stood next to the footboard, seemingly content to watch just for the moment. 

They seemed too coordinated and organized, in your opinion, and alarm bells flared in your mind and you scrambled with your hands to sit up. 

“Are you speaking to him?” You couldn’t fight the hint of accusation in your tone as you asked Ruhn.

“We’re making this enjoyable,” he pushed down lightly on your shoulders, “let us.” 

“Let go, love,” Rowan encouraged. 

You pursed your lips together in a frown, but nodded. You could let go, for tonight. Letting your hands slide out, your back hit the soft duvet cover again, the fabric silky against your skin. Relax. You were entirely capable of letting go. 

Ruhn’s lips hit your shoulder first, a soft and gentle kiss, before trailing down over your chest. The longer he went on, the firmer, you wouldn’t exactly call it rough, he got. Each touch grew more intense, his hands on your ribcage, pushing you down into the mattress as his lip ring flicked over your nipple. Teeth lightly grabbing the now swollen peak, tugging it up, drawing a gasp, before releasing. Testing how each part of your body reacted to different pressures and sensations. Learning you. 

He was good at this, you realized, with a hint of jealousy you quickly tamped down. Here and now, you reminded yourself. Focus. Capable. 

Lost in his touch, you didn’t notice the other male sliding in behind you until you were rising, your back pressed against his chest. Ruhn made a noise of discontent, like a kid with his candy taken away from him. 

“Ruhn’s going to fuck you first,” Rowan murmured in your ear, stroking down the side of your arm. “And when he’s done, I'll get to fuck that pretty little pussy, how does that sound?” 

“Great,” you barely managed to say. 

Then he was gone, out from behind you, and you were lowered onto the duvet again, head propped up on a pillow, Ruhn’s head between your - fuck. You lost all train of thought, all capability of thought as his tongue flicked your clit. Your voice left you as his lip ring, that beautiful thing, slid across your clit, a finger slipping inside and curling, putting just the right amount of pressure - and throwing you over the edge. 

Ruhn slowly worked you through your orgasm, adding another finger and twisting. You winced slightly at the stretching sensation. He stopped. 

“Just a little,” you panted, “uncomfortable. Keep going.” At the uncertain look on his face you added a, “please,” and that did the trick. 

He kept watching you intently, looking for every little change that might tell him something is wrong. But ... you didn’t feel the need to put on a performance. Instead, you found you liked the intensity he looked at you with. It made you feel wanted and desired in ways you never had before. It was bringing you to new highs. With another scream, your body melted into the mattress, legs falling limply to your sides. 

“I think she’s ready,” you heard Rowan. You nodded your agreement. Just a taste and you’d grown greedy, wanting more, more, more. All they would give you, all you could take. 

A belt clicked, clothes rustled, and you sat up on your elbows, impressed that even with the slight shake in your arms you could still hold yourself up. Maybe it was sheer determination to see Ruhn getting undressed that did it. It was certainly worth it. 

Licking your lips subconsciously at the sight of him, you realized he was pretty everywhere, including his cock. Near the same color as his skin, but with a glistening pink tip and a bulging vein running down the side, you wanted him in you. Now. 

“Get over here,” you breathed. 

“Bossy,” he said, raising his brows, but didn’t fucking move. 

Pressing your lips together, you saw a few avenues in front of you, and picked the one you figured would light a fire under him the best. 

“I guess I have to do it myself,” you sighed and let one arm slide out, snaking its way towards your center. 

It didn’t make it, not as Ruhn was there, catching your hand. “Not this time, princess.” 

His hand splayed against the backs of your thighs, pressing them up and to the sides as he knelt between your legs. 

“Breathe,” he ordered, and you’re glad you listened as he first pushed past your walls. Sharp pain hit your abdomen, catching your breath in your throat. 

An icy wind found its way down your throat, and you decided you’d thank Rowan, mentally, now and yell, verbally, at him later. 

“How are you feeling?” 

“Keep going,” you hissed through clenched teeth. You might’ve had a lot of ... conflicting feelings surrounding sex, but that didn’t mean you hadn’t educated yourself. All the bodice rippers told you that the pleasure would kick in soon, that before you knew it you’d be overwhelmed by the “feel good” hormones. Gods you hoped they were real. 

He moved, but slowly. Lifting your hips to switch the angle, you gasped as he hit somewhere deep inside of you. That felt good. 

“That’s the spot, then,” he murmured, more to himself. 

“Fuck you feel good,” you moaned, nails clawing at his shoulders, searching for some kind of grip or anything to hold on to. He chuckled and lowered himself just enough you could grab them, before his hands spread against your sides, gripping you firmly. 

“Remember what you said earlier,” he paused inside of you. You wanted to scream at him. Instead you were left looking at his dumbly, eyes blinking. “About not wanting a watered down version of us. You’re still sure?” 

“Yes I’m sure, just fuck me or I'll-”

You didn’t get a chance to finish your words as he moved again, tilting your hips to that perfect angle before driving into you, over and over again. 

Not quite rough, but certainly not gentle, whatever he was doing was absolutely perfect, and as his fingers found your clit, you had your third - or was it fourth? - orgasm of the night. 

You actually whined as he pulled out, his eyes still open and fixed on you. He hadn’t finished. A pout started forming. 

As if he read the words in your eyes, he said, “someone else has been waiting for their turn, I’m sharing you tonight princess,” and jerked his head to the side. You followed the motion, and Rowan stood there, looking at you with pure hunger in his eyes. 

You swallowed. Louder than you intended to. Ruhn moved off you. 

“On your knees,” Rowan said roughly, but didn’t give you a chance before he gripped your hips and flipped you. Squeaking, your hands scrambled and slid before you landed on your elbows. His hand twisted around your hair, not pulling but gripping and tilting your head to look at him. “I still want to see your face, but it’ll be easier for you this way.” 

Easier? Just then, you realized you hadn’t gotten a good look at him, but based on how Ruhn went first you could put together a few things. 

“Alright,” you breathed. 

There was no hesitation from either side as Rowan slid in you, your body both welcoming and protesting him, your hips and thighs already beginning to ache, but you wanted more. A greedy little monster had begun to bloom in you. 

Both of them just felt right, in different ways, and you - 

“Eyes on me,” Rowan snapped. Your eyes flew to him, and his mouth indented at one corner in the way the stoic smile. “I said I wanted to see your face, love.” 

His hands gripped your hips. 

“See your pretty little face as you take my cock so well.” 

The words drew a moan from you, sending pleasure from the tips of your fingers to the bottom of your toes, making you push yourself back on him. Green stared at you, unrelenting as each slow, hard thrust nearly bounced you off him 

“Look how perfectly you’ve opened up for me,” he sounded almost teasing, “just like you were made for me.” 

Maybe you were, made for both of them as they were for you. 

-

taglists:

general: @rowaelinsdaughter @bookishbroadwaybish @nestaismommy @erencvlt @book-obsessed124 @callsigns-haze

throne of glass: @I-am-a-lost-girl16

crescent city: @I-am-a-lost-girl16

let me know if you'd like to hop on the tag list!

[tartarusknight]

wrote you a little omegaverse ficlet, i hope that's alright. thanks for all of your fics they are always so wonderful. have a great night!:

Omega!Steve had been told he gave off a scent like vanilla ice cream, and because of his status as a rare male Omega it somehow is overactive. His doctors scratched their heads and basically told him it's just one of those things. His scent so strong even scent blockers don't quite block it enough for alphas with the strongest noses. He dates betas exclusively after presenting, even though there are many alphas interested. True it's not ALL alphas, there are more respectful ones than disrespectful, but still too many of them came on too strong, and made him nervous. His only Alpha exception being Nancy, who despite his hopes barely even scented him. She never helped him through a heat, never knotted him. And looking back he knows it was for the best, feels complicated feelings about knowing she didn't really want to be with him forever, like he'd dreamt. Is sort of thankful he gets to experience those things with someone who truly wants him. In the meantime he is accosted by plenty of leering alphas and wants to straight up give his social life a break, even from betas.

Steve is delighted to find out he's been hired at Scoops, thinks,with the strong scent of ice cream in his workplace, it'll help get unwanted alphas off his back. Everywhere he goes he can play off the scent as being from his job. Has a somewhat blissful,albeit lonely, summer pretending to tank his flirting skills, get to know his coworker. And then everything goes down and he's captured ridiculed, and hurt for the prejudices involved in being a rare Male Omega, on top of being beaten for being found in the base. A scent he was simply annoyed by now genuinely frightens him more than ever. He smells so good,alphas with no sense of personal space are back to sniffing around and he hates it, just stop. Leave him alone. Dates betas praying one is a good match, but they all just leave him feeling lonelier than ever. It goes on like that until after spring break.

Cue Eddie,an Alpha who doesn't have a strong sense of smell, and has been ridiculed for that since he presented. Barely catches a whiff of Steve. But sees how Steve tenses when other alphas come sniffing around. Takes it upon himself to protect Steve, steps in front of other alphas when he sees something going on. It's not often, and they don't really talk about it. Eddie does have a bit of a crush on Steve but knows how unhappy Steve gets about leering Alphas doesn't try anything other than occasionally flirt, tries not to take it too far. He doesn't ever want Steve to feel uncomfortable with him. But Steve,who knows about Eddie's poor sense of smell is smitten, and hopes someday Eddie would stick around longer than just to be a gentleman and fend off other alphas. Stay closer. Problem is Steve's Omega adapts to Eddie's poor sense of smell and makes Steve's scent even stronger to try and entice Eddie. Even though he uses even MORE scent blockers his sweet scent lures in even more rude alphas,female and male alike, than ever. Steve, who finally decides to put it all on the line, invites Eddie over. Tells him he likes him and politely asks Eddie if it's okay if he removes his blockers. Eddie sheepishly tells him he doesn't think it'll matter he just doesn't smell anything anyway. But an amazing thing happens. Eddie finally gets a strong whiff of what he's heard others wax poetic about. Looks at Steve in sheer delight, his pulse racing. His(!?) omega smells SO GOOD!!!! Eddie still holds himself back, panting gazing at Steve. until Steve walks up close,leans in and says "I trust you" Undoes the first few buttons of his shirt, bares his neck "please, scent me. My Alpha," he kisses him "Yes, sweetheart. Anything you want, my sweet Omega. Anything at all." Steve smiles,puts his hand to Eddie's face, takes a calming breath and looks into his eyes,"Please,my Alpha, give me your knot?"

Awww Eddie's being such a gentleman!!!! And Steve he's trying his best with what he's born with. But it's hard and it's frightening yet he still finds the alpha of his dreams 🥰

Thank you so much for the ficlet!!!! I really appreciate you 💕

[littlemisskookie]

Crocodile Tears: Intro

Crocodile Tears: Index Ship: Stoner!Reader | Stoner!BTS Description: You accidentally eat brownies with aphrodisiacs in them. Even worse one of your asshole friends catch you reading smut to cope, and decides to airdrop your collection of your dirtiest fantasies to the rest of the house. Just your luck. Warnings: Dub-Con, Degradation, Humiliation, Dom!BTS, Sub!Reader, Weed (sorry it’s what helps get me in the mood to write these), Dirty Talk, Kink Shaming?, mentions of the reader being into kind of dark/taboo kinks, Jimin is incredibly mean for no reason, Reader is ridiculously horny and is good at weed Word Count: 2,397 A/N: This has now been edited and finalized which means I can get started on the first segment!

You coughed, smoke erupting from between your lips. You feel Jungkook's large hand offering a comforting (arousing) pat on your back, rubbing gently to comfort you out of your coughing fit.  Damn, why'd you have to get horny when you were smoking weed? It didn't help that you were surrounded by perhaps the hottest guys on campus. Who would've thought that befriending fellow stoner, Hoseok, over a blunt in a party would lead to introducing you to his other stoner friends? Before you knew it, you guys would hang out regularly, bonding over a bong.

Today wasn't supposed to be any different from those days. You had smoked with these seven plenty of times before. Most of the time it was in Yoongi's studio apartment, practically hot boxing the small space. 

Today though you guys were lucky.  Namjoon's rich parents were going to be gone on a cruise for two weeks. You guys could smoke carefree in a nice ass mansion and not have to worry about the smell, as Namjoon assured you the maids would take care of it. (They much preferred Namjoon to his parents despite the weed smell assistances, probably because he's so charming. You didn't blame them. Namjoon had that old money charm, the type that would make you not hesitate to do whatever he asked.)

You guys brought bongs, edible gummies, baked goods, weed, pipes, snacks, water bottles, pens and carts- anything a proper stoner hangout would need.

Part of the reason the guys adored you so much was because you had the highest tolerance of any girl they ever met, which was very contradictory to first glance. You could outsmoke any man you met, and could brag you had never greened out despite the amount of weed you'd smoke once challenged. You could simply keep going, you were a beast, this was your talent. You were proud to say you had outsmoked each and every man in this room, earning their respect and the privilege of joining their smoking group. You weren't going to argue. You've never gotten so much free weed and attention from hot guys in your life.  You were used to the attention it would bring you now for the most part. Cute girl who smokes weed? It's stoner boy kryptonite, basically your super power. 

Except against one. There was one guy that definitely wasn't the most respectful to you, treating you like he barely even liked you, but for some reason you didn't find yourself minding. You don't think you'd mind it from any of these guys, but as it was, your stoner powers gave you a leg up on these guys. Most of them wouldn't dare think about disrespecting a deity like you.

That didn't mean you didn't have your moments of coughing, though. Usually you were better and holding it down nowadays, but it was a bigger hit than you were anticipating. 

Jungkook pulled the bong back, face in front of yours to examine your expression. "You ok?" he asked. You look up at him, eyes locking. He's got that hooded eyes, hazy look in the eye that looked so similar to "fuck me" eyes. You didn't want to assume, though. Too many times guys told you it looked like you were giving them fuck me eyes when in reality out were simply stoned. 

"I'm good," you assured, trying not to think about how good his lip ring looked. Shit, you were probably staring at it right now. You quickly turn away, feeling flushed, reaching for the plate of brownies you had pulled from the kitchen. "God, I'm having insane cravings right now, though!"

"Wait, Y/N, where'd you get those brownies?" Jin inquired, squinting down at your plate. 

"In the kitchen. Namjoon said I could help myself to whatever food's there." You paused after scarfing down another bite. "Oh no, do these have more weed in them? I mean I think I'll be fine, but shit."

Jin's mouth dropped open. "Uh, no... not weed."

Your brows furrowed as you stared back at him. "What is it, then? Did you put fentanyl in brownies, Jin?!"

"God, no! Not fentanyl... aphrodisiacs," Jin sheepishly admitted.

"What the fuck, man, why'd you bring sex brownies to the party?" Yoongi laughed. "Trying to start an orgy or something?"

"No! Me and Y/N were just joking about it last time we hung out and were talking about those chocolates on tik tok that make you horny. She was like what if we all took one and saw what happened? I decided to make some myself and brought them. I didn't know Y/N was going to end up eating half of them herself!" Jin explained hurriedly, eyes glancing to you quickly for help. 

"So you were trying to start an orgy!" Yoongi accused. 

You bursted out laughing. "Well, that explains a lot. At least I can't overdose on aphrodisiacs. Teaches me not to let my munchies get the best of me." You turn to Jungkook, biting your lip at the sight of him. These sex brownies were really doing something to you. You're all giggly, though, from the weed. "Munch. Munchies. Do you think munches get munchies?"

"Y/N definitely seems high enough," Namjoon laughs. "Sorry you're just going to be stuck with the brownies... effects. You sure you'll be ok?"

You wave your hand dismissively. "I'll be fineeee. I'm basically horny most of the time anyways, this will be no different."

"TMI," Hoseok jokes, rolling his eyes.

You were fine.

For all of, like, ten minutes.

Once an hour had passed, you were practically wanting to jump out of your skin. You found your mind wandering off, you were biting your lips far more often than usual, your eyes weren't just blazed stupor, but full on fuck me eyes. You found yourself staring intently at your guy friends. Jimin's thick lips wrapping around a blunt, letting smoke pour out. The way he was staring back at you, almost suspicious. God, he'd probably be disgusted if we knew what sort of thoughts you were having about him. He always acted a bit disgusted by you. You eyes flitted away to his best friend next to him. Taehyung's hands gripping around the bong, elegant fingers wrapping around it, veins tracing along the middle. You wondered if he'd choke you if you asked. Wait stop. You try to keep your high mind from wandering off to dirty places and focus on what's in front of you. Jungkook's tattooed fingers as he rolled up a joint for you, doing so with such delicacy and precision. He was so careful, and was definitely the best at rolling. You sucked at it, and were grateful that Jungkook's attentive personality made him volunteer to be your personal roller. Without thinking, you bring your fingers up to your mouth, chewing on your thumbnail as you stare at Jungkook with a certain intensity.

It was Taehyung who spoke to you first.  "Y/N, you good? You looking kinda zoned out, there." 

You snapped out of it, hand flying away from your mouth. "Huh? Oh, sorry, I was just thinking."

"Your joint's done," Jungkook said, tatted hand offering it up to you.

"Thank you, Kookie," you grin, tussling his hair in front of you. Fuck, you wanted to grip it while his head was between your legs. You reach back, clearing your throat. "It's kind of hot in here, actually. I think I'll go to the balcony."

You hope they don't read too much into your need of absence, but who were you kidding. You were obvious. 

You leaned against the railing of the balcony, enjoying the fresh air. You lit up the joint and inhale the smoke, opening your phone to distract yourself. With smut. Hey, horny brain has a one track mind? You pull up your fanfiction recommendation blog, mainly used to store your favorites and save for later, for times like these. You scroll past the stories, each depraved tag and recollection of the smut's materials not seeming like enough. 

You clicked on the third story, entrenched in the words as you try to imagine the scene before you. The weed made your mind hazy. You didn't know how much time you had spent out here reading porn. The joint was already halfway finished.

You didn’t even notice the balcony door being open and shut behind you, finding yourself too engrossed in the words on your screen. Perhaps if you were sober, you’d have felt his presence behind you, eyes peering over your shoulder.

"What's sex pollen?"

You practically jumped out of your skin, squealing at the feeling of hot air against your ear. You spun around, lower back soon pressed against the railing as your space was invaded, to see Jimin, his red tinged eyes meeting yours. The one man here not impressed with your surprisingly high tolerance. Maybe because he of all people knew about deceiving appearances. He leaned in closer, far closer to you than he had ever been in the time you’ve spent with him and his friends. His chest was a mere few inches in front of yours, hands clasped against the railing beside yours, trapping you. The aphrodisiacs weren’t helping you, and you were feeling a certain type of way about having a handsome man so close to you.

"Jimin! What're you doing here?" Your heart pounded erratically in your chest, the anxiety overwhelming you at being caught.

"You've been out here for a while, the guys were getting worried about you," Jimin explained. A devious smirk formed on his lips. "Guess I should explain to them you're fine, just out here basically reading porn."

"I-I'm not-"

"Oh? What's sex pollen, then?" Jimin grabbed your phone, your reflexes too slow to stop him. He wore a shit eating grin as he watched your eyes flit between your phone and his face, unable to even process the beginning of your defeat. You were completely defenseless and stunned, not sure how to understand how he had beaten you so swiftly, or why he was particularly smug about it. You don't think he's ever smiled at you before, whether out of kindness or humor. This smile lacked both. This was a grin of enjoyment at the sight of you fussing and at his mercy. "Explain, Y/N."

You gulped. "I-It's just this like… trope.”

“Trope?” His thumb slides up the screen, the sentences scrolling by. “Seems pretty scandalous compared to your typical romance tropes. I don’t think I’ve heard of this one, before.”

“It’s more of a fanfiction trope than an actual literature trope…” 

“Oh? How’s it work, then? What’s so appealing about it?” Jimin’s amused expression was in stark juxtaposition to your flushed, embarrassed one.

“U-Um… it’s w-when the person gets affected by this pollen or something in general that makes them all... needy. And they need someone to take care of it for them."

“Take care of it how?”

You huffed, irritated with his teasing. “What do you think? You already know. It’s called sex pollen for a reason, quit teasing me.”

"Oh?" Jimin quirked up a brow, obviously pleased with your embarrassment and stammering. His hand came up to your throat, and there was a hitch in your breath. "But it’s so fun.”

“No it’s n-not-“ It was hard to keep your sentences structured well as Jimin tilted your head back, hand sliding further up to your jaw, making you lean back. Adrenaline pumped through you has your anxieties increased, all to aware of you dangling halfway off the railing at this height. 

“This trope of yours sounds very familiar. Taking aphrodisiacs, familiar.” His chuckle was taunting in your ear, his soft breath noticeable in the night air. “Hoping for something to happen, Y/N?”

"No, I-"

"Did you do it on purpose, sweetheart? Wanted one of us to take care of you? Put you out of your mercy and fuck you cause you need it so badly?" 

You gasped at his words, his hand gripping  your jaw, forcing you to look at him. Your back was still arched against the railing, and both of your hands clasped around Jimin's arm for support, afraid of both falling back and falling into him. His muscles felt so firm underneath your fingertips , and you tried not to think about how much you had missed the feeling of digits on your throat. Jimin's eyes flit over to your screen, going back to scroll through the stories you saved. He could probably feel your heartbeat against his fingerprints quicken as he delved deeper into your trove of dark and twisted fantasies. "Fuck, this is some really nasty shit, Y/N. You're into some depraved shit. Alpha/Omega? CNC? Step-siblings? Always knew you were a pervert. Bet you've thought about us gang banging you before, huh?"

His canines gleam in the dim light, taunting you. Your wide eyes met his with terror, and you whimpered in his hold.

"Fuck, Jimin, please please please don't tell them-" you pleaded.

"But how can I keep this to myself?" In horror, you watched his devious fingers tap against your phone screen, airdropping your blog of fanfiction collections to the rest of the house. He let you go, allowing you to catch your breath as he backed away from you. Fishing out his own phone, he accepted the request. He waved your own screen in front of your face, taunting you with your own powerlessness. You grab it from him, staring in horror as you see that three people accepted the airdrop. Fuck. It wasn't like you could even pretend it wasn't you, your name was attatched. The worst part is you didn't even know who accepted it, the names only being "iPhone".

You stared up at Jimin in horror, only to see his sadistic grin as he scrolls through your personal porn stash. "Don't worry, I'll make all your dirty fantasies come true," Jimin chuckled. "I’ll be a bit busy for now, though. Have to catch up on some light reading. Besides,” he turned towards the door, looking back to you with devious excitement. “You’re a big girl, I’ll let you take care of this by yourself.”

He left you alone on that balcony, gawking and trembling, wondering just what would happen if you were to step back in that house.

[bisnes-socks]

confession: menestynyt yksilö was never a personal favourite of mine from käärijä. but when @lhma asked me if i wanted to write about it, and i started looking into it, i found some new aspects of the song myself.

the song is of course about feeling like failure when things don't work out the way you planned, the way you dreamed. there are many very direct references to this in the song, and as i'm not in the habit of posting full song translations, i won't be going through all of them.

but i had noticed the references to famous finnish songs and artists before, but this time they got me thinking. three references to three very well known finnish songs, two in the first verse and one in the second verse.. well he could have referenced anything at all, to make a point about success, but he referenced these songs, and he talked about these specific things in the song, so let's look at them.

the track begins with a reference to Haaveet kaatuu, which is a song by a finnish artist Jore Marjaranta. it was featured on the soundtrack of the movie Pahat pojat. The song is about life taking you down a dark path you didn't want or expect, and your dreams coming crashing down as a result. this was a massive hit in 2003 and that is why i do think he is referencing the song here, even though i guess it would be possible to just use the same expression. but i do think it is a reference to the song, every finnish person who was alive back in 2003 knows the song and could sing the chorus, and be reminded of it just hearing those two words.

then we get "kulkuri laulava, kullankimalluksesta kaukana, ei pahemmin naurata". this is most likely a reference to a song called naurava kulkuri, by jere's known idol, vesa-matti loiri. it's a comedy song; loiri plays a character, who is trying to demonstrate how to laugh authentically in a song. he spends the vast majority of the actual song just laughing in increasingly ridiculous ways. 

so "naurava kulkuri" means the laughing tramp/vagrant/vagabond. in menestynyt yksilö käärijä raps "a singing tramp, far from the glitter of gold, not much to laugh about". the way i interpret this line is multifaceted. calling himself the "singing tramp" when the loiri song is the laughing tramp, it's like.. he aims for the grateness of loiri, but doesn't think he can ever make it there. it's almost like he is a bit hard on himself for lacking originality but still not reaching the same heights? but then he also says that there's not much to laugh about, being a "singing tramp" far from the glitter of gold, which not only is clever word play on the laughing tramp but also saying he's maybe trying it hard to justify his music career when it feels like it's going absolutely nowhere, and so a singing tramp is far from where he feels like he should be.

and then in the second verse, we get "kela sanoi, meistä tuli muurareita, taksikuskeja, suutareita" which is a reference to the song 1972 by Anssi Kela, which also came out in 2003. the song basically details a school renuion by the singer both describing his old school friends now as adults and both as who and how they were back then. with this line, and the next "mut osast meistä tuli pelkkii tunareita, turhakkeita joilla vesi tulee läpi kumppareista" he is both comparing himself to his old class mates who are doing better than him, but also, i feel, comparing himself to anssi kela, who became what käärijä wanted to be: a successful artist.

for context: Anssi Kela was massive 20 years ago and still a very successful and well respected musician to this day. his debut album Nummela, was the best selling album of the 2000's, dethroned only in 2012. that album is still to this day the 13th best selling finnish album of ALL time. and vesa-matti loiri was a legend, an actor and singer, known for a massive range of skills and for being just an all round icon. one of those legends you can't really even begin to explain to someone who hasn't lived in the culture, you know? so the references in this song are truly to cultural giants.

so the clear cut references he makes about success and failure are fairly obvious: he talks about dreaming of having a family and a home, dreaming of opening his own bar or something, just succeeding in things, and he talks about the flip side of it, the failure side of it all being having no money and trying to drink the negative feelings away but only making it worse. but then these references to musicians, i feel like they're not accidents. he could have referenced any celebrities as examples of success, but he chose these references. and knowing how loiri was an idol to him, i think all three references mean something to him on a personal level too. these are the success stories he dreamed of, even if he isn't saying it out loud as clearly as the things i listed before.

the song sounds and has the vibe of a very honest song to me. so even if not everything in it is meant to be taken literally, the honesty comes from the relatability of it all. the sentiments in it are very recognisable. and honestly, maybe that's one of the reasons this was never a favourite of mine - because sometimes it feels like it hits almost a little too close to home, a bit too close for me to want to deal with, haha. but that's for me to figure out on the pages of my diary i guess.

but thank you for this request! it sent me down the rabbit hole of finnish music and references to finnish music in käärijä songs, which in turn turned into a massive project that i am going to post soon, so stay tuned if this was at all interesting to you!

[steddieas-shegoes]

Request: Steve & El being siblings in front of Hopper. Steve and his younger sisters as he refers to them (El, Max & Erica) being ridiculous together. Max teaching them how to skateboard. Steve teaching El how to take care of her hair & they do martial arts classes together. Erica & Steve being space & rock nerds together. Just Steve & his lil sister's confusing the hell out of their respective parents by referring to Steve as their older brother, once the Sinclair parents, Hop & Susan Hargrove realize who their daughters are referring too its hard for them to not find it both hilarious & charming that Steve is the one their girls go too for comfort.

MY LOVE!!! I didn't quite get ALL of that request in here, but I got the FEELING of it all I think. I love that Steve probably acts like he's just being a good babysitter but these three are ready to kill someone for him in a heartbeat. Erica genuinely loves him more than Lucas, that's what I feel in my heart. Enjoy some cute big brother Steve moments! - Mickala ❤️

------------------------------------------------

“Okay, what are the rules?” Steve asked the car full of girls.

He didn’t have to look behind him to know that Erica was rolling her eyes.

“My only rule is to not break any more bones,” Max said from the passenger seat.

“That’s not entirely-”

“We have to wear our helmets and pads the whole time,” El said from directly behind him.

“Thank you, El. And?” He put the car in park, staring out at the empty skate park in front of them.

“And stay where you can see us at all times. Check in every ten minutes,” Erica sighed.

“Alright, have fun, don’t hurt yourselves, don’t talk to strangers!” Steve exclaimed.

They all got out of the car and grabbed their boards and protective gear from the trunk, taking a few moments to get ready.

Max was giving them some basic tips for getting started, how to balance when standing still and when moving, and how to take it slow.

Steve set a towel out on the hood of his car and sat on it, watching them all make their way to the flat area for beginners.

He smiled to himself as he watched Max adjust them on their boards, making sure their stance was going to keep them balanced.

As tough as Max was on the surface, she was a soft marshmallow on the inside, especially when it came to El and Erica. Steve loved to watch her share her passions, to show true happiness when so much of her life had been just getting by.

“Steve! I’m doing it!” Erica’s voice rang out.

“I see! Lookin’ great!” he yelled back.

He heard a car pull into the parking lot, but didn’t turn to see who it was. It was most likely a parent with their kid or maybe a couple teenagers with nothing better to do.

He didn’t expect Max’s mom to sit next to him on the hood of his car.

“She said she was coming here with her big brother and I was a little worried that her medications needed to be adjusted again. I’m certainly glad that it’s you,” Susan said.

“Oh,” Steve smiled. “Yeah. She wanted to show El and Erica how to get going. It seems to be going well already.”

He felt Susan’s eyes on him as he kept watching the progress the girls were making.

“You work at Family Video still right?” she asked out of nowhere.

“Oh, yes ma’am. Today’s my day off.”

He finally turned to see her nodding, taking in her nurse’s uniform and the dark circles under her eyes.

“They’re lucky to have you, Steve.”

“I dunno about-”

“They are. Thank you,” she said sincerely before smiling at him and standing up. “Tell Maxine I’ll be pulling another double. She’s welcome to stay with El again.”

“Sure thing.”

He watched as Susan got in her car and left, frowning slightly at the fact that Max would be alone again. Well, not alone. Not if she stayed with El.

He knew Susan didn’t have a choice, had to pay the bills somehow and couldn’t just not work. But it hurt him to know Max’s life was so similar to his in that his parents were never around either.

At least she had good friends.

And she had him.

—----------------------------

Steve was half asleep when the doorbell rang.

It was late, much too late for anyone who would ring the doorbell to be there.

He yawned as he made his way to the door, hoping it would be quick.

“El?”

El was standing on his porch, small cosmetic bag in her hands.

“Steve, I need help.”

“Come in,” he gestured for her to come in, checking behind her for something or someone to be following her.

Of all of them, El was the most likely to be able to defend herself, so he wasn’t sure why she was seeking his help.

He turned to see her sitting on the couch, already taking things out of her bag.

A hairbrush, some rubber bands, a headband, and a ribbon.

“What exactly do you need help with?” Steve asked as he sat down next to her on the couch.

“I need to know how to braid my hair. Max usually does it for me, sometimes Will, but I do not know how to do it myself.”

“And you thought that I could help with that? Why not ask Max to show you?”

“Because she is not a very good teacher when it comes to these things. She just knows how to do it but does not know how to show me. So can you?”

Steve couldn’t possibly say no to her big eyes looking at him like that. She wasn’t even doing it the way the other kids did when they just wanted to bribe him into saying yes. This was just El.

“Yeah. But a comb would be much better for parting your hair. Let me go get one,” he said, trying to shake off any exhaustion he was feeling before.

It was a long process.

El was incredibly smart, but sometimes the simplest thing to someone else would be extremely difficult for her, and her frustration would make it even harder.

But Steve had patience, especially when it came to El.

“Close! You just want to try to do it a little tighter so it doesn’t fall out while you put the band at the bottom,” he smiled at her encouragingly. “Feel how I’m tugging just a little bit tighter while braiding over here?” El nodded. “Try to do that on that side.”

El started over, and Steve could tell this time would be the time she got it right.

“There you go! It’s perfect!” he jumped up and took her hands in his, pulling her off the couch so they could jump up and down in excitement.

“I did it!” she laughed.

“Next lesson: french braiding,” Steve said when they both calmed down.

“The braiding is in a different language?” El asked, confused.

“No, honey, it’s just a different style. It’s a bit harder, but if you practice regular braids more, you’ll be able to do it no problem.”

“Oh, okay!” El beamed at him. “I should go home now.”

He glanced at the clock and frowned.

“It’s close to midnight. Does Hop know you’re here?”

El shook her head.

“He’s working. Joyce said it was okay though. I told her I was seeing my big brother and she did not mind,” El said casually, like the words wouldn’t completely shake Steve at his foundation.

“I’ll drive you home. Don’t want you taking your bike this late,” Steve sighed.

“You look tired.”

Steve startled, but relaxed quickly. Of course, El would notice that.

“I just haven’t slept well lately.”

“Is it because Robin and Eddie are gone?”

“Maybe,” Steve squinted at her. “I’ll take you home and then try to get some sleep before my shift tomorrow.”

“I can sleep in the guest room. Maybe it will help you sleep to have someone in the house,” El suggested, as if it wasn’t a big deal that she offered or that she clearly knew Steve’s problem was that he was alone in this house.

“Only if you call and let Joyce know first.”

Once El was settled in the guest room, Steve got in his own bed and closed his eyes.

It was the best sleep he’d had in days.

—-------------------------

Erica’s birthday party had been mostly family and her best friends from school, but for some reason, she’d invited Steve.

Not just invited, insisted that he attend.

So he did. He switched shifts with Robin for it and everything.

He went to Macy’s to buy her the skirt she’d wanted for months, ended up buying matching shoes, too.

She’d loved them, of course, as he knew she would.

But he got her a third gift, something he didn’t want to give to her in front of everyone. Something that meant a lot more.

He’d asked the Sinclairs if he could stay for a bit after the party, explained to them that the real present he got her couldn’t be given until the sun had fully set.

“Oh, of course, Steve! She likes you more than any of us anyway. Keep her busy while we finish cleaning up!” Mrs. Sinclair exclaimed.

So after everyone left, after Erica was sorting through her gifts and organizing them, after the night set in completely, Steve sat down next to her.

“Hey, littlest Sinclair.”

“Hey, biggest Harrington.”

“I’m…the only Harrington?”

She snorted, but didn’t respond.

Steve cleared his throat, not wanting to stay on something that confused him for too long. Erica would run with it if she thought she could tease him more.

“I got you another gift. You have to come outside, though.”

Erica stared at him.

“If I have to go outside, I don’t think I’ll like it very much,” she said with a raised brow.

“Trust me.”

She sighed and set down the purse she got from her cousin, standing up from her spot on the floor and gesturing for Steve to lead the way.

They went to the backyard, finally stopping where her telescope was set up. She’d gotten the telescope last Christmas, and often had meteor shower parties with Steve and El.

“Alright. So. Find Ursa Minor.” He waited until she gave him a thumbs up. “Now find Kochab.”

She’d been working on mapping constellations since she got the telescope, and had focused on Ursa Major and Ursa Minor. She’d gotten pretty good at locating a lot of things.

“So a bit to the left and a little up, there’s a star. And it’s probably already millions of years old, and will probably be around for millions more. But for right now, that star is named E.S. and was adopted in your name,” Steve pulled the certificate from his pocket.

He’d already found the star a week ago during one of his visits, or at least what he thought was the star. It was close enough anyway.

She pulled away from the telescope and looked at Steve with her mouth wide open.

“What?”

“Sorry it’s not a very creative name. I knew you’d hate if I named it Erica, and I didn’t wanna come up with something even worse.”

“You got me a star?”

The light from the moon was enough to see the tears forming in her eyes, and Steve instantly felt some gathering in his own.

“Well, someone who’s gonna change the world as much as you needs a permanent place in the galaxy, don’t you think?”

Erica fell into him, wrapping her arms around his middle. His shirt was already wet with tears, but he refused to comment on it, knew she would hate it if he did.

“You’re the best big brother,” she whispered, probably trying to hide her emotions.

“You’re the best little sister,” he whispered back.

[cauqhtz]

My opinion about Luffy and the world of one piece.

What does Luffy or One Piece in general mean to you?

I'll start! This is completely my opinion and my personal feelings!

I should start off my saying I am a hard person to please. I'm extremely "picky" with every aspect of my life. For example: I hate it when my food touches, even when I'm eating it. I eat it in order. there are exceptions though. I do like for my collard greens and rice to touch but only if I put them together. I still plate them separately.

It's ridiculous and sooo annoying but its a serious thing for me. It's like trying to swallow a pill. I physically cannot force myself to swallow anything that dont fit those standards.

It's like this for every aspect of my life. Books, movies, JOBS, tv shoes, etc..

the first time I tried watching one piece i turned it off maybe not even a minute after watching the first half of the first episode. I remember seeing nami at a party and her looking out to see the whirlpool and I got the wrong idea about what the anime was about so i swore off it.

Maybe a year later I saw a instagram post. It was basically saying how they didnt understand how they found a pirate story about some kid made of rubber kicking everyone's asses entertaining. I was in disbelief and kind of took it as a challenge. It sounded absolutely ridiculous to me at the time so I gave it another shot.

As soon as Luffy popped out of that barrel knocking one of those guys out saying he'd catch a cold for sleeping right there? I was laughing. ME? LAUGHING? To say I was sold would be an understatement.

Then theres the part where Luffy expresses his dream to be king. It wasnt because of some overused reason like very other anime like childhood trauma. It was because he wanted to. Thats it and thats all. I was blown away. My heart raced with excitement after that speech from luffy and I binged watched the episodes from then on.

I was obsessed. (Still obsessed) Back then I was still in highschool and I was binging the episodes from the moment I woke up, during all my classes and lunch, after school and falling asleep to it.

I think the only anime I binged like that would be HXH another anime I'm still obsessed with.

One of the funniest episodes of one piece for me is 497. I was rewatching the marine ford arc and I was in tears laughing at this episode.

But back to the question!

As a young woman of color? Luffy is a dream to me. Luffy is the perfect mixture of malcom x and MLK. He's what I think the world needs. He's one of a damn kind, there is NO character like him or story like one piece PERIOD and there's no amount of hate from naruto fans that'll make that less true.

The only character that is unafraid of crying, laughing, fucking up, tripping up in front of friends and enemies alike.

insanely selfish but he's strong. He can have his friends, hell he can make new friends and have them ALL by his side or far away from him. All alive and fucking thriving, why? because he fucking said so. He's strong in more ways than one. He has that luxury.

He's unafraid of asking for help. He has never once acted as though everyone else is beneath him and he can do everything by himself.

Gets pissed when he finds his vest with flowers sewed into it, wanting to be a manly man but unbothered at eating all the love themed food sanji makes specifically for nami and robin.

He has asked forced Pirate Hunter Zoro to join his crew? Nah thats just zoro his best friend and the guy who ate stomped out sand covered chocolate rice balls out of respect for the little girl he saved from Helmeppo.

Cat burglar nami? Nami the navigator. Her maps and weather skills are unreal!

Sniper king the liar? Yup but he's a damn good sharpshooter.

Black Leg/ Vinsmoke Sanji isnt he apart of a family of comicbook villians? Thats just Sanji! One of the best chefs in the world!

Tony Tony Chopper the raccoon dog that happens to be a doctor? Oh no thats chopper. Our crews miracle treasure. He's a talking reindeer monster.

The demon child is on your crew? Huh? Demon child? You can't mean robin! She's a good friend of mine and she's an archeologist! I'd have to kick your ass if you think otherwise! :D

Cyborg Franky? Oh yeah I couldnt take the sunny without him! They're a package deal!

The humming swordsman? Oh you mean brook! He's a talking, singing afro skeleton not to mention hilarious! The part about him being a sword-swinging musician was just a plus!

The first son of the sea jinbei...A fishman? Hell yeah! He's THE fishman! Jinbei is a good friend of mine and the 10th member I've been looking for!

Luffy's crew is a dumpster fire of diversity. That right there is rare within itself. I mean it's a Japanese show, yet most of the main characters aren't japanese! They originate from a little bit of everywhere across the globe!

They all look different and act different. They are all flawed and yet Luffy accepts them with open fucking arms with his TRADEMARKED grin nearly splitting his face in half!

Speaking of accepting them! Luffy is always overjoyed when reuniting with his crew. Jumping to give them hugs, screaming his hellos, jumping up and down, lunging forward to give them hugs, and waving with excitement at the sight of his friends.

I mean Luffy is unfucking matched. Even his voice is one of a kind and so fucking satisfying for his dialogue??

Two of my favorite quotes from Luffy are:

"I'm kicking your ass and wrecking your birdcage."

"Speak up for yourself, aren't you the leader of these guys? SAY SOMETHING ALREADY!"

Luffy's very name holds mind-melting weight.

I just recently found out that his brother ace was the one that came up with "Gum gum Rocket." Something I'm now pissed at OPLA for giving Garp the credit of.

Luffy as a captain doesnt do major plans or specific orders. He says something and his crew either follows along or finds their own objective for example the punk hazard arc when law asked luffy if he was going to leave his crew on the island to do what they said they wanted to do and leave with him to fight kaido.

Luffy refused saying if his crew was staying to get their own things done then so was he and that Law had to get used to it quick.

Luffy is freedom in physical form. There one second and gone the next. Something that gave Law heart palpitations.

ALSO SCREW YOU LAW FOR TELLING CHOPPER TO SHUT UP WHEN HE TOLD YOU BYE IN WANO!

Luffy has no rhyme or reason for doing things the way he does other than the fact that thats just who he is. Something that only Zoro and Robin TRULY understand. Chopper understood this recently, just before the time-skip.

For example when big mom assumed luffy was there in wano to pick a fight with kaido and luffy denied it sternly.

confusing everyone around him including nami and carrot.

He went onto say everyone not only responsible but associated would be getting their asses kicked.

And thats EXACTLY what happened.

Zoro wasnt even there for that and he was already cutting the majority of their members in half.

MIND YOU. LUFFY AND HIS CREW DIDNT PLAN ANYTHING. NOR WERE THEY AWARE OF THAT PLAN. ALL THEY HAD WERE DISGUISES AND THEIR WITTS.

You'd think that with every plan luffy screws up they'd be major consequences? NOPE bc he's stronger than that. Everyone else would have to adapt or get their asses kicked.

jinbei fought with luffy in the fishman island arc. not wanting luffy to make matters worse, instead wanting him to be seen as a hero to which luffy refused saying he's not a hero and that he had to get to his friends... until jinbei said and i quote. "Luffy, I'll let you have all the meat you want! Just do as I say!"

To which luffy agreed after a few more pleas.

friends and enemies are one in the same to him.

You want to hit him? Fine he doesnt care. but Lie to him? He's about to shove his foot up your ass.

You want to take credit for his wins unless your law or kid? Hell yeah! Couldn't have done it without you!

You want to defend him? Dont bother. This is his business. Stay the hell out of it.

You want to cry? Suck it up! Crying wont fix anything so get the fuck up and do something about it already!

You want to ask him for help? Sure! Anything! As long as you're the right person asking!

You want to call him a hero? Literally might knock your lights out.

You want to put him down in history and tell everyone what he and his crew did? Don't bother he's not interested.

I mean the list goes on and on. I can talk about luffy and one piece for HOURS and never get bored.

Luffy is a dream to me. I tear up thinking about him and wishing to be apart of that world for even a day.

Thats what Luffy means to me.

[suckishima]

man i love this sequence so much—and tbh their dynamic in general which i feel like we don't talk about enough

on paper they seem like such opposites—and they kind of are—with tanaka being a mood maker and morale stabilizer for the team, he's loud and boisterous and never holds back what he's feeling ("dial down my feelings?? what does that even mean??"), while tsukki barely speaks on the court, openly admits to disliking loud and excitable people, and seems to calculatedly hide his emotions away. you would think they wouldn't like each other and wouldn't work well together, but i think every interaction we see between them is a positive one

we see them kinda partner up to roast other teams or their own teammates, but also tanaka is one of the few senpai that tsukki seems comfortable openly making fun of directly. but then tanaka doesn't even ever seem mad by tsukki's taunts—occasionally he'll even pass judgement on how successful tsukki was with his comebacks. and tanaka will just throw a jab back easily, which tsukki doesn't really seem bothered by either—tanaka never gets under tsukki's skin the way kageyama does, for example

and then we get a great little sequence like this one that's deliberately pointing out their differences and then using them to emphasize something more, and it's just so effective??

what tanaka goes through in the first set of the inarizaki match of feeling like he's not doing enough and having it shoved in his face that he'll never be the best, is like a speedrun version of what tsukki has been going through since he was in middle school when he found out his brother was lying about being the ace. there are these little subtle callbacks too—with the dichotomy of being lame vs cool (yamaguchi calling tsukki lame for not trying and tsukki thinking yamaguchi is cool for saying so), and furudate even uses the same visual metaphor of a never-ending staircase

it took tsukki years to realize he might be looking at things in a destructive way, and then months more after that until he actually saw the merit of trying—and then even here we can see that he doesn't find any of this easy. and tanaka basically does all of that in thirty minutes or so.

and while tsukki seems perturbed by this, he isn't mad at all. you can feel the respect tsukki is veiling behind his words in the first panel of the page when he calls him "ridiculously mentally tough." it's "frightening" to him because it's something that doesn't come naturally to him personally, when it obviously does for tanaka

of course it's important to note that the situations are completely different in terms of the catalyst for those feelings, tanaka didn't have some world-shattering event he's been struggling with since he was a pre-teen (that we know of). he just had an off day. but what i like is that the emphasis here isn't really about the circumstances, it's about their attitudes, how they each react to feeling down about themselves

and i just love the way furudate put this page in here. we just had this awesome sequence of tanaka scoring a well earned set point by doing a move he's been practicing for months after he spent all match feeling inadequate—sounds a lot like tsukishima winning set 2 vs shiratorizawa with a stuff block that was preceded by months of extra practices from him, but the reader (rightfully) isn't thinking about tsukki at all. until furudate gives us this conversation and we're reminded (not specifically or directly of tsukki's moment but) that this feeling is something other players, other people go through too. like, furudate didn't have to put this page in here, the chapter and tanaka's moment would have been just as epic without it, but i feel like it just adds this extra little emotional grounding to it

it just, it feels so human. getting down, being hard on yourself, feeling or even knowing you'll never be the best, everyone can relate—it's a storyline we've seen in haikyuu before but furudate always manages to make it feel not only fresh but satisfying because of how they present it to us with a new lens every time. tanaka and tsukki are so opposing in their character and actions that it makes their moments feel different and new, so it's just as cathartic for the reader every time, even though the underlying message is the same

whether it's hard or not, it's always cooler to try

[lynzishell]

A few days later...

Prev // Next

Transcript below the cut:

Asher: Iris? Iris: Hm?

Asher: Can I talk to you for a minute? Iris: Sure.

Asher: I need to ask that Ezra not come to the house anymore. Just while Atlas and I are living here. Iris: No. I live here too. You don’t get to dictate who I’m allowed to invite over.

Asher: That’s not what this is. I’m not trying to control you or tell you what you can or can’t do. But Atlas can’t be around him, and I need your help to make sure it doesn’t happen.

 Iris: This is ridiculous. If Atlas would just give him a chance, he’d see that Ezra’s not that person anymore. I mean, he was a brainwashed kid, for Christ’s sake. I don’t think it’s fair for him to be punished for that. Especially after everything he had to go through to break free of it. Otherwise, what’s the point? How can we expect people to learn and grow, to open their hearts and minds, if they’re just going to be defined by their mistakes forever?

Asher: I hear you; I do. Unfortunately, no amount of growth or remorse on Ezra’s part can undo the harm he caused. And it doesn’t cancel out the pain that Atlas suffered as a result of his actions. It doesn’t all go away just because he’s sorry.

Iris: I know, but…

Asher: Look, I’m not saying Ezra is a bad person, or that he doesn’t deserve a happy life. I’m not even saying you shouldn’t date him. If he’s good to you and he makes you happy, then I support that. But Atlas is family too, and we can’t turn our backs on him. I know you care about him, don’t you?

Iris: Yeah. Of course. I’ve always loved him like a brother.

Asher: Exactly. And he’s always been open and kind and forgiving, especially toward you, even when you didn’t deserve it.

Iris: [nods]

Asher: So, you and I both know he doesn’t hold grudges. That’s not what this is. He’s not trying to punish anyone. He’s hurting. And every time we minimize his feelings and his experience, and we force him to be around the person that hurt him, we’re basically re-traumatizing him. Do you see how fucked up that is? We’ve failed him. And it ends now.

Iris: Don’t you think it could be good for him, or like, healing, to talk to him though? To tell Ezra all this and get a sincere apology?

Asher: Maybe. Maybe one day. But he’s not ready to try that again, not after how things went last time. He may never be, I don’t know, but if there’s any chance of it, then the best thing we can do right now is to have some patience and compassion, to show him that we’re here for him no matter what. And the best thing Ezra can do right now, is respect his boundaries.

[A few days later]

Spencer: Mom! Is Ezra bringing Milo over today? I got him a present! Iris: What kind of present? Spencer: I got a really cute rainbow ball from the Simoleon Store.

Iris: I see. I’m sure he’ll love it. Spencer: So, can he bring him?

Iris: Actually, I have a better idea. We only have one more weekend before the pool closes for the season, so how about we bring Milo’s present to him, and then we can take Ezra swimming? Spencer: Okay! Iris: Go put your swimsuit on then. We leave in five minutes.

Atlas: Is he coming over later? Iris: No. He won’t be coming over anymore. Atlas: Really? Iris: [nods] He’s happy to talk whenever you’re ready, but until then, he’ll keep his distance. And, for what it’s worth, I’m… I’m sorry.

[lanaconfesses]

You know what my favorite movie is? Sara, some Polish film from the 1990s. It’s about a mafia boss’s daughter falling for her bodyguard. She’s 16, he’s 40 – basically the perfect film for my “Lolita-era.” Watched it again today. No idea why I suddenly felt like revisiting it.

It’s been almost a week since Alex blocked me again. I finally mustered up the courage to text him something like, “Why would you say you love me and then act like this?” He replied with, “It really was a mistake,” and, bam, blacklisted. I’m not gonna lie – I cried. A lot. Oh, did I cry. I barely survived our breakup the first time. I was just starting to get my wings back, got myself together, and then he swoops in, sparks some ridiculous hope, and crushes it all over again.

“God, Lana, forget that loser, just get him out of your head!” chirped Chris over the phone (yes, that bestie, the one who managed to get Alex and me talking again). Meanwhile, I was sniffling in silence, ripping Alex’s love letters into tiny, bitter pieces. Not his letters, though. I wrote them myself – esoteric practice, ever heard of Love Letters Method? Anyway. “There are so many guys out there! Just pick another one!”

Chris would know. She’s been firmly “picked” for a while now. At the moment, she’s in Vietnam, flashing a ring worth more than my annual income, while her husband does high-powered business-y things I won’t detail for, you know, anonymity’s sake. Chris always respected herself enough to marry a man who was somebody, too much selfrespect to settle for anything less than something grand. She’s probably that one person whose relationship advice I should actually follow. If I weren’t so busy looking at all the wrong people, maybe I’d be sipping piña coladas in Vietnam too, waiting for, I don’t know, some rich diplomat. (Yes, my “Lolita-era” also included reading “Emmanuelle”, don’t judge me.)

But here I am, in my room, watching a movie about a schoolgirl and her alcoholic hitman lover, and honestly? I feel… not great, but not as wrecked as before. It’s weird. It still hurts like hell, but I know it’s for the best. Those five months with Alex were awful – except maybe for sleeping in his arms. But still, why did he have to be so cruel so cynical about it all? He knew exactly how much I cared. He knew how deeply I felt. I just feel... dissapointed?

“Listen, princess, I’m not proud of what I’m about to tell you, but during my wild youth, I’ve been with a lot of girls,” Adrian told me. No news there – he spent his teenage rebellion racking up experience and only recently decided to… calm down and become normal, you know. “I won’t even try to count them; I’ve forgotten most anyway. Most were one-night stands, the rest stuck around a bit longer. But I never treated any of them the way Alex treated you. And I don’t just mean what happened this time. Not just now, but all along. Lana, do you hear me? He treated you worse than some junkie hooker in a drug den. Is that really the guy you wanna cry over?”

I don’t want to. But I still do. Nothing Chris or Adrian says helps. They’re trying their best, bless them, but it’s not working. Sure, it’s nowhere near as bad as six months ago when I came home after Alex and I bombed our attempt at living together. But it still sucks. It’s finally sinking in – Alex and I? Not gonna happen. Ever.

“You deserve someone better,” Adrian went on, as if I don’t already know. “Want me to bring you flowers?” he joked. “Post a pic. Make that little bastard jealous.”

“He blocked me,” I muttered, my throat closing up with tears.

“Then screw him. Someone else will get jealous.”

He actually brought me flowers. And chocolate. Told me to snap a pic and post it somewhere, so… well, here it is. Posting.