#before the devil breaks you spoilers

[prentissluvr]

my boy only breaks his favorite toys — sam winchester

pairing : sam winchester x gn!reader ➖⟢ genre : angst ➖⟢ cw : canon typical violence, injuries, knives, non-sexual partial nudity, guilty sam, rejection, talk of death/dying, sort of a case fic at first, mentions of stitches, lots of feelings, poorly edited & my first(?) attempt at a full angst fic lol (no happy ending!), set in season 5, so some spoilers! ➖⟢ wc : 10.6K ➖⟢ listen to : my boy only breaks his favorite toys by taylor swift. requested ! summary : you get injured and sam realizes he's more scared of getting you hurt than he is of anything else, even losing you and your love.

MOVED BLOGS TO @sammyluvr !! no longer active on this blog! all fics can be found there!

to be in love is the strangest experience. to be in love for a long time, for years on end with little to no reciprocation is even stranger.

somehow, you can watch him fall in love with someone else, kiss somebody new, romance another girl, and be blindsided by a fourth. jess you could never be mad at. she seemed too sweet and good for sam, for you to dislike. madison never did anything wrong either, but you did hate how much she unintentionally hurt him. sarah, too, was sweet and brave and helpful and she made him smile. that, of course, didn’t stop you from wanting to be that person instead, but you didn’t feel like you could complain.

ruby, you still feel rightfully angry with sometimes. for sam’s sake, you wanted her help to be real and true, but it felt clear to you from the beginning that not everything was right. now you’re dealing with the apocalypse and sam’s guilt that you alternate between wanting him to let go of and wanting him to feel it just a little bit longer.

besides, jess and madison are dead, so it’s unkind to be too jealous of them, and you’re sure that sam hasn’t spoken to sarah in years. and ruby’s dead too, so she doesn’t pose a threat any longer.

it’s all been so strange, because you’ve seen sam go through it all, kiss them all, love them all in some way or another, and you’re pretty sure all it’s done is make you love him more. at this point, you’re sure that you’ll never love anyone the way that you love sam. unceasingly, ardently, passionately, and for now, quietly.

but after the knowledge of the looming apocalypse has come the strangest part of it all. having loved sam since he was seventeen and secretly doing everything in his power to get away from this all, you know him and each of his mircroexpressions and tones of voice all too well. and these days, sam looks at you in ways that you’ve never noticed before. these days, sam looks at you like he’s trying to figure out if he’s in love with you.

it’s not as if you’d given up hope completely, because no one who’s as in love as you are ever will, but you’ve learned how to live with unrequited love. the pain can be stabbing and all-consuming sometimes, but it’s survivable so long as he doesn’t stop smiling at you or letting you rest in his lap or being the only one to call you a special nickname. even if you’re not the love of his life like he is yours, you’ll always mean something to him as his closest friend.

so now, it catches you off guard when sam looks at you as if he’s considering the possibility that you’re the one who hung the stars up in the sky or talks to you with this gentle joy that’s just somehow different from before. those moments are rare, but incredible to have when you consider the looming apocalypse that sam is blaming himself for. he’s battling the fact that he’s supposed to be the vessel to the devil himself, but he still finds the time to hold your pinky finger for a fleeting moment and not say a word about it. and now, sam does that thing where you say something and it makes him smile, and instead of casually holding your gaze like he used you, his gaze will falter and he’ll tilt his chin down and lick his lips as if he’s suddenly shy around you.

last night, dean was out and you and sam were researching for the case you’re working on. you ended up sitting side by side on your shared bed, trying to get comfy as the hours dragged on and the moon moved higher through the sky. completely unprompted, sam had lifted his arm up and around your shoulders, using his gentle hand to cup the side of your head and bring it to rest on his wide shoulder.

your heart soared and you did your best to keep researching, but the lull of his breathing and the clacking of the keyboard as he typed one handed sang you to sleep right then and there, tucked all cozy into his side.

you waking up in his arms certainly set the tone for today. this case is ugly and there was another victim last night, but sam has this sweet, touchy air about him. as you walk to the crime scene his hand lingers unprofessionally close to the small of your back, and from the tightness to his lips, you’re guessing that he’s holding back from saying something he knows will make you laugh.

you resist the urge to give him a secret smile, soft and loving because you’re selfish enough to try and get him to see that you want him like this. you want him to see that you already love him back, and all he has to do is let himself fall. but you don’t want to overwhelm him, so you go about assessing the crime scene and interviewing the witness like he’s your fbi partner and not the person you love most in this world.

the witness’s statement along with the security camera footage that dean saw at the police station confirms that you’re up against a shapeshifter. much like the first one the three of you hunted together in ‘05 it seems to be disguising itself as a loved one before killing its victims.

“this thing can shapeshift to look like literally anybody, but it can’t come up with something original?” dean jokes.

sam shrugs in his usual sam way. “well, it is an effective method,” sam reasons, despite knowing that dean’s just making fun. sam’s not even looking at dean; his eyes alternate from checking his computer screen where he scouts out city plumbing maps to find the best places in the sewer to look for the shifter, to letting his eyes roam over your features. you wonder if you’ll have to get used to sam staring at you as much as you do him. though, you can’t say that that’s a bad thing by any stretch. maybe he’ll finally notice the way that you look at him and maybe he’ll finally realize that it might be you who he’s been loving this whole time.

sam stands from his spot across from you, grabbing a map of the city from the bedside table. instead of returning to his original spot, he slots himself right next to you to lay the map out on the table. he runs a hand along the length of it, crossing your chest and brushing your nose with the fabric of his flannel before moving his hand back to rest right beside yours on the table top. he leans over the map and you tilt youu head to look up at him as he points out the most likely spots that the shifter could be hiding out at. you only pay half attention as he speaks, more able to take in the sight of his lips moving than the actual words that they’re forming. you’re not uncareful, you just know that sam will make sure you and dean remember the most important things when you get in the car.

—

“are you sure splitting up is a good idea?” sam stresses from the passenger seat of the impala.

“we know how to test for the shifter and we all can take care of ourselves,” dean says, repeating just about the same thing that he said before.

you lean forward in your seat. “we’ll be fine, sam. i agree, it’s not ideal, but there’s a lot of ground to cover and we can’t let the shifter get to anyone else,” you reason.

“i know,” he huffs, still unconvinced due to the possible dangers. but, there’s always danger, and if you’re siding with dean, he knows he doesn’t stand much of a chance of winning the argument anyway.

—

the sewers are dark, damp, and smell like shit. they grow even darker as the sun begins to set above ground and you’re grateful for the bright flashlight that you have on hand. you’ve been tramping through the dark and sewer waste for over an hour and heard nothing helpful from the boys.

you keep your silver knife at the ready, in case you run into anything or anyone. you all agreed that if you see each other, the very first order of business is to test yourself with your own knife to be sure. when you hear footsteps, you immediately press yourself against the wall, doing your best to stay hidden until you can see what’s heading your way. the second you see a person’s frame, you immediately recognize it as sam. he told you that you’d probably run into each other at some point, so you relax a touch. even so, you keep your knife in front of you as you step into the pathway.

“sam?” you call out, stopping a good length away from him.

“hey. yeah, it’s me,” he says, holding out his hand and knife to show you as he slices a thin line across his forearm. you sigh in relief, then quickly repeat the action to confirm to him that you’re you as well.

“you heard from dean?” you ask, closing the space between the two of you. sam meets you halfway, shaking his head.

“nothing,” he sighs, turning back where he came from.

“damn. an hour in the sewers and we’ve got jack,” you frown. “exactly how i like to spend my friday nights.”

“course it is, it’s the perfect date spot,” he jokes back, leading you left, down a new path you assume he skipped on his way over to you.

“mmm, does that mean we’re on a date, winchester?” you flirt. he takes the quip with composure as you step back into a main hallway, wide enough to walk side by side. he waits for you to be next to him before he continues. he didn’t even laugh a little awkwardly at your comment like he normally might. he must be in a flirty mood.

“if that’s what you want,” he flirts back, flashing you his gorgeous grin. the passage is still sort of tight, so his knuckles continually brush against the back of your hand, and the fabric of his jacket rustles against yours.

“being a flirt today, are we?” you tease, maybe pushing the limits a little.

“just for you,” he fires back, and that just about stuns you into silence. he’s in an awfully good mood for someone stuck hunting a killer in the sewers under an unfamiliar city. you nudge him playfully with your elbow, not even sure how to respond with words. so with that, you fall into a comfortable, familiar silence, the only sounds being the echo of your sloshing footsteps through the sewer.

out of boredom, sam teases you with his pinky finger, sticking it out and poking your hand with it. you push back gently, playing along. he escalates the game by poking your side. you giggle a little, swatting at his big hand. 

“stop that!” you whisper-shout. “what if the shapeshifter comes along and we’re too distracted because you’re tickling me?” his proximity, his flirting, and his goddamn smile are already distracting enough. 

“i wasn’t tickling you, just poking,” he teases, but doesn’t do it again since you’re right enough.

“yeah, you said that last week after you did that. it tickles, which means you’re tickling me,” you retort before letting the silence fall over you again.

you head down a narrow path, forcing sam to walk behind you. even then, you can feel his closeness. a minute later, you step out into a wider area where a grate lets in a stream of moonlight. sam comes out after you, stopping by your side. the moonlight casts a glow on his face and, like you always do, you can’t help but think about how pretty he looks, even after a long hour and counting of traipsing around in a sewer. continually, even in the more open space, he stays right by your side, close enough for your elbows to brush.

“think we should call dean?” he suggests, “regroup, maybe call it a night?”

you tilt your head to the side in acknowledgment. “tempting,” you respond, “i’m getting hungry. let’s at least call him, then go from there.” you step further into the space in fron of you, trying to escape the chilly draft coming from the narrow pathway you came in from. but the floor in here is slicker than you realize, and you slip embarrassingly hard, completely losing your footing and letting out a short gasp as you fall.

sam’s instincts are impeccable as always, and a strong arm wraps around your waist before you can fall too far. once you’re steady, sam doesn’t move to pull you all the way up and onto your own feet. he just keeps you dependant on his hold to stay off the slippery floor and brings his other hand to meet the one wrapped around your side. he looks down at you, half of his face illuminated by moonlight, the other half fallen into shadow. you stare right back up at him, flustered but too happy for any sort of such purposeful physical contact with him to care about that.

it feels like a movie with you in his arms like this, willingly stuck there by the both of you. then he leans down closer to you and your eyes widen. in the partial darkness, he looks at you like he’s no longer just wondering if he loves you, more like he knows it for sure. he looks at you with such unabashed love, so overwhelming in a way that you hadn’t expected from him for a long while, if ever. you think that for sure he’s going to kiss you, and you know even better that you’d let him without a second thought.

this certainly isn’t how you imagined it’d be at all. not this soon and not in the middle of a sewer system, surrounded by awful smells and an unpleasant humidity. you suppose that the moonlight filtering down is nice enough, and that you’d never expected anything grandiose or overly romantic with him anyway.

then you hear footsteps, and a split second later, your name being called in sam’s voice. only it wasn’t the sam holding you who said it, it was someone behind you. it only takes a millisecond for everything to click. this sam, the one holding you close, cut himself with a knife you recognized. that’s why you didn’t bat an eye, but you failed to remember that that particular knife of sam’s isn’t made of silver, just a weaker and ineffective metal alloy.

before you can process it, that exact knife is being plunged into your gut. you let out a strangled cry of pain.

sam, the real sam, shouts your name again and you think you hear his running footsteps until he stops dead in his tracks when the shifter yanks the knife from your stomach and puts it to your throat. you cry out again, choking a little on your own breath as you stretch your neck, trying to see your sam. 

but the shifter presses the knife down, drawing a line of blood on your neck and growls, “look at me. you’re going to watch your precious little sammy as he slices your throat.”

you can imagine sam putting his hands in the air, mouth open and ready to talk the shifter out of it when you hear two loud gunshots, and you’re dropped to the floor, too shaken up to break your own fall. your head hits the ground hard, and the next thing you can register is sam again. you get his voice and his hands, one sliding under your neck to cup the back of your head and the other pressing hard against your wound. he winces when you grunt in pain at that, but keeps his hand in place.

“hey, hey. stay with me. look at me, c’mon.” his words are followed by your name, said in a sweet and desperate sort of way. you’re still dazed, but your head begins to clear up a bit. above you, sam’s face is pinched in worry, so much more worry than you’d expect him to express because of something as easily fixed as a measly stab wound.

it’s not completely inconsequential and it’s bleeding a whole lot more than you’d like, but you’ve dealt with this sort of thing and worse before. sam will stitch you up and you’ll be as good as new in a few days. even better, cas might come around soon and he’ll fix it right up for you.

“‘m fine, sam,” you grumble as dean drops down by your other side.

“shifter’s dead. we should go,” he says, more to sam than you since he’s clearly the most worried out of you all. dean places his hands on your arm, ready to help you up, but sam just pulls you into his arms and up against his chest. he stands and you wince from the pain of the movement, but relax a little seconds later. you expected to limp out of this nasty place, one arm slung around each of the boys as they do the heavy lifting but keep you on your feet. it seems sam won’t risk even that; he needs you closer, more protected, and in less pain.

dean leads the way to an exit, climbing up the ladder first and opening the heavy grate. only when you urge him to does sam let you down. he knows that he can’t carry you up, but he sure would have liked to. instead, he has to settle for lifting you as best as he can, his strong hands never straying from you until they’re on your ankles and dean’s got you, pulling you up the rest of the way and letting you lean on him until sam reappears.

the fresh air is amazing to breathe in and to feel on your skin, but what you’d most like is to be laying in bed after a long, hot shower. and to not be in quite as much pain. you sigh into dean’s jacket, and just a second later he’s shifting you back into sam’s waiting arms. he doesn’t sweep you up this time, but he keeps you steady while dean jogs off to get the impala and bring it to you. with strong hands, sam eases you to the curb on the side of the road and wraps his arms around you, keeping a wide palm pressed against your wound to staunch the bleeding.

as you wait, sam is silent, and not in the soft and comfortable way he often is around you. you’re sure that he’s got a million things to say, not all of them 100% fair to you and all of them completely worried.

and there’s just so much to say that he can’t choose, and he thinks that, for your sake, he should hold back. sam knows he can get a little too angry sometimes, and you’re bleeding badly with your face smushed unattractively against his shoulder and he knows that this isn’t the time. he shouldn’t yet interrogate you about what happened or tell you aloud that he’s overly worried about you because suddenly he’s feeling things for you that he didn’t realize he was feeling before.

you let him brood in silence, and though this is just about the closest physically that you’ve been with him today, he feels sort of distant and unreachable. it pains you.

when dean arrives, sam loads you into the car, piling into the back seat after you to give you a shoulder to lean on. you can feel dean’s eyes on you as he glances back through the rearview mirror, and you’re sure that he too wants to ask what happened, how the shifter managed to trick you despite the rules you’d set.

“dean, we should head to the hospital,” sam says, his voice cutting into the tense silence of the car. you shake your head weakly.

“no, sam. i’m fine, seriously.”

“no,” he counters, “you’re bleeding a lot. we’re going to the hospital to get you some real stitches.

“your stitches work just fine,” you argue, your words half lost in the fabric of his coat.

“and what if you need more than just stitches? we can’t risk that,” he presses, and you know he’s not going to give up.

“sammy’s right,” dean piles on, and you sigh, then wince in pain. you don’t even grumble out an annoyed, “fine,” and instead just like the silence take over again as a begrudging relentment.

When all the doctors do is give you a few stitches and an iv and let you out just an hour later, you resist the urge to say “i told you so.” but really, you’re glad for the professional help, knowing that, though you still feel like shit, you’re far better off than you would’ve been if you’d gone straight back to the motel. the car ride is quiet, but you know that you’re due for a bit of an interrogation when you get back.

tonight, dean starts it, because sam is practically brooding in the corner.

“so, you gonna let us in on what the hell you were thinking back there?” he asks, sounding ready to just about throw his hands up in the air. “did you really not follow the single rule we set? it almost got you killed.”

“i know, and i did,” you sigh, “but it tricked me. it had one of sam’s knives and it cut itself and i wasn’t paying enough attention to realize it wasn’t one of sam’s silver knives. it was a damn good actor too,” you explain. dean clenches his jaw, probably looking for some other point to make. these winchesters never know when to stop arguing. “we’ve all been tricked by shifters before. it happens, i messed up, you saved my ass. that’s all.”

you guess dean’s not in as much of a fighting mood as you thought, because he just shrugs. “you’re damn right about the ass saving part.”

you crack a wry smile, “guess it’s my turn to save your ass then.”

“only thing i need saving from now is that sewer stench. so i will call first dibs on the shower.” he leaves no room for argument on that front as he disappears into the bathroom. only then do you glance at sam, wondering if he’ll say something. his expression has got so many emotions swirling around that it’s almost unreadable. but you’re you, and you know him and love him in a way that nobody else does, so you can decipher it all pretty well. there’s anger, like always, probably targeted at the shifter and a bit misplaced in you for getting yourself hurt. then there’s guilt, because, in classic sam fashion, he likely thinks that it’s his fault.

you’d put the pieces together a bit ago in the hospital. the red marks above sam’s eyebrow and around his wrists and the shifter having sam’s knife and appearance tells you that the shifter got the jump on sam. it probably hit him over the head, tied him up, and stole his knife after stealing his appearance and accessing his memories. and though you can know that it’s clearly not sam’s fault the shifter got to you, he’ll still think so.

he’s thinking that because the shifter got the drop on him, you got hurt. he’s thinking about how trusting you were because it looked like him, about the position he found you in, and though he couldn’t see it, he knows the look you were giving his lookalike. he’s sure that it was that syrup-sweet, honey-dripping-from-your-eyes look that he’s been all too aware of and all too fond of these days. and because of that, it must be his fault.

on top of that, he feels like he was the one to do it. you got hurt by something with his face. you were almost killed and the last thing you would have seen would have been a cold, dark smirk on his face as he killed you. that thought pained him more than anything he could express.

you, of course, don’t yet understand the full depth of his guilt, but it bothers you anyways. you wish that sam could stop blaming himself for everything bad that’s ever happened when all he’s ever done is try to be good. while in the midst of wondering if you should speak first, interrupt his self-destructive thoughts and tell him it’s not his fault, he beats you to it.

“you should’ve been more careful.” his voice is unexpectedly hard and cold, devoid of his usual guilt and gentleness. tonight, he’s more focused on his anger. and of course, you know it’s because of that guilt that he lashes out, but it hurts nonetheless. even so, you want to soften him and get him to open up, so you apply the opposite tactic as him.

when you speak, you let your voice be full of emotion, of sincerity and gentleness and understanding. “i know, sam. i’ll pay more attention next time, i promise. but i’m okay.”

this catches him off guard a bit. normally, when he targets misplaced anger at you, you fire back and tell him how stupid it is that he’s trying to blame you. he already knows it’s stupid, and your soft eyes make him even more guilty. it’s not as if he’s being just as silly this time, but your approach works, a little.

sam does soften a bit; you can see the slight change in the way that he holds his shoulders, but it’s not enough to get him to admit that he’s just worried and blaming himself. all you get is pursed lips and a tight brow. he just can’t get over the image of himself plunging a knife into you, can’t get over your cry of pain or the feel of your hot and sticky blood seeping through the cracks of his fingers.

sam’s realizing that, for all the countless times you’ve come close to death, this is the first time since he’s started to think that he’s most likely in love with you. and that, more than anything else in the world, not the literal devil or the apocalypse or whatever, is the scariest thing that sam’s had to realize and endure in a long time.

now, sam can’t run from being lucifer’s vessel. even if he never gives in, he has to confront it and fix it somehow. he certainly can’t run from the apocalypse, or the world will end. he can’t have that, not when the world is you. it’s his responsibility. sam can’t run from those things, but he sure as hell can run from the way he feels about you. and he’d do that because he can’t afford to be in love with you. you can’t afford for him to be in love with you or for you to be in love with him because it seems like that’s already gotten you stabbed by a hand that looks just like his own. and all that’s happened between the two of you is playful flirting, sidelong glances, and shared smiles, so he can’t imagine what might happen if things go an inch further than they already have.

he got jess killed, he hurt you bad with ruby, and though sarah’s still alive as far as he knows, he attributes that to the fact that she’s far, far away from him. not to mention the people he loved like family who are dead because of him too. that’s another horrifying thought because even if sam didn’t love you the way that he does, he’d surely still love you some other way.

so, sam’s going to run, sam’s not going to let you any closer, sam is going to keep you at an arm’s length. he’ll stop looking at you like he wants you, he’ll stop hovering so near, he’ll quit his goal of making you smile or laugh at least three times a day, and he’ll do everything he can to make sure you don’t love him too much. he can’t let you tell him you love him, he can’t let you confess because he’ll be too far gone if he hears that come out of your mouth. he’s gonna run because he’s decided with horror and glory all at once that yes, he does love you, and that’s the worst thing he could do to you other than slit your throat with his own two shaking hands.

from where you sit, just feet apart, you can see sam grow more and more distant by the second. you can’t figure out what’s going through his head, but you’re sure you wouldn’t like it if you heard him say it aloud. you open your mouth to say something to him, get him to say something back, but you can’t find the words. anything you come up with gets stuck in the back of your throat before you can even make a sound.

sam looks at you, just for a fleeting moment that’s too fast and slippery for you to grab hold of it. his eyes hold regret, like he’s done something that he can’t take back, and he doesn’t like what he’ll have to do next in order to keep the consequences at bay.

then his eyes are gone from yours, along with that strange look, and you’re suddenly at a loss of how to reach out to him. it hurts because you know that what it will really take is time and patience, maybe more than he deserves.

you barely notice the time passing, but you watch sam take dean’s place in the bathroom and you can feel dean’s eyes on your back. you’re sure he can feel the shift in the air. when sam returns from the shower, you realize just how badly you want to get clean. you walk to the bathroom and feel a little lucky when you find a small plastic tub to fill with soapy water. you can’t take a real shower for the sake of keeping your stitches dry, but you’ll be damned if you can’t get that sewer stench off of yourself. when you bend to place the tub at the bottom of the bathtub, you grunt audibly in pain due to the movement. you sort of expect sam to come running to help like he always does, already surprised that he didn’t offer from the start when you told the boys you were going to wash up.

apparently, dean had expected the same; while he’s more than happy to be the one to help you, sam almost always beats him to that sort of thing before he can even try. you glance through the open door and see dean looking from you to sam, back to you before he stands from his bed in a rush.

“hey, hey, whatcha doin’ all that by yourself for? can’t have you busting any stitches, we paid for those,” he jokes, already in the bathroom with you by the time he’s finishes talking.

“pfft, yeah with stolen credit cards,” you retort, without actually resisting his aid. he takes your place by the faucet, nudging the bucket under it and turning on the hot water. you’re lucky that the shower doubles as a small bath, meaning you can easily sit in it alongside the bucket and just wipe yourself down without getting the floor wet.

you sit on the closed toilet seat as dean fills up the bucket, adds some soap, and mixes it around a little.

“want me to help you in?” he offers.

“mm, are you trying to see me naked?” you poke fun.

“and if i said yes?” he jokes back.

“then you’d never see the light of day again,” you threaten, already moving to slide off your jeans, with a bit of a struggle. dean’s strong hand immediately finds your elbow, holding you steady. you’re not worried about either brother seeing you in just your underwear. with the life you live, stuck in motels, or getting hurt in less than ideal spots, they’ve seen you that way plenty. and while dean can’t hold back from a lewd comment or two, he completely respects you and views you like another sibling. he helps you with your shirt too, as lifting your arms up proves even more painful than you’d thought.

dean kindly sets a folded towel down on the bottom of the shower bed for you to sit more comfortably, then helps you ease in. then he’s grabbing two clean wash rags, dunking one in the water and handing the other to you.

“try and keep those stitches as dry as you can,” he instructs, and you oblige by placing the dry rag over your covered wound. “we’ll change the bandages when you’re done.”

“mhmm,” you nod, “thank you, dean.”

“‘course, kid. you want me to get your back? or i can send sammy in to help instead,” he offers, saying that last part loud enough for sam to hear. you glance out the open bathroom door only to catch sight of sam’s back as he heads for the outside door. he moves out of your line of sight, but you can hear the door being open and shut behind him. you sigh in disappointment and a bit of hurt. dean curses lightly under his breath and you suddenly feel awkward and ashamed for no practical reason. but dean knows that sam isn’t being as good to you as he should, so he’s being extra nice instead.

“if you– if you could do it that would be nice. thanks,” you frown, then try to fix it with a strained smile. when dean is done, he hands the damp cloth to you, and you thank him again quietly.

“just holler if you need anything else,” he reminds you before walking out, leaving the door open by just a sliver.

you carefully wipe down the rest of your body, relishing in the heat of the water and the feeling of being just a little cleaner. you’re slow about it, letting yourself savor the alone time and telling yourself that you won’t worry about the events of the day until tomorrow. during the time that you clean yourself, you hear the outside door open and close twice more, and you assume sam’s come back and left again. by the time you’re done with the soapy water, it’s gone lukewarm, but you’re successfully feeling much more relaxed.

“dean!” you call out, hoping he’ll come and change the water for you so that you can get rid of any extra soap suds still lingering on your skin. there’s no reply for a long moment. “dean?” you call again. “can you help me again?”

without a word in response, you hear footsteps, then the creak of the bathroom door. instead of dean, you find sam poking his head into the room.

he clears his throat awkwardly. “dean left to get some more food. i can, uh– i can help.”

“oh, okay,” you smile at him a little, then feel sort of pathetic because of the hope that rises in your chest. you force your voice into nuetrality. “thanks, sam. i, uh, i just need to dump this out and get some new water. it’s just sort of heavy.”

“right, yeah. of course.” sam enters the room fully, filling up the small space with his tall, broad frame. when he gets close, you extend a hand, silently asking him to help you stand first, despite the fact that you could do it yourself with the help of the wall. but sam can’t very well deny you, so he obliges by grabbing your hand and placing the other around your bicep to hoist you up. his strong hands and arms pull you up easily, and help you back onto the tile floor. you feel the tickle of a rivulet of water run down your right leg, then a few more on your left. sam dutifully pulls the towel you were sitting on out and hands it to you before he dumps out the soapy water and turns on the faucet, checking the temperature before letting it splash into the bucket

you stand there in silence, watching him work, watching him keep his eyes averted from your almost naked form, watching him struggle with being so close to you.

“there,” he says simply when he’s done, grabbing the towel from you and placing it back on the bottom of the tub. once he’s eased you back down to sitting in the shower, he straightens and takes a step backwards towards the door. but he can’t just leave, not like that. “is there anything else you need?”

you think you’re allowed to be a little selfish sometimes, so you say yes. “uh, yeah. could you, uhm, could you just wipe down my back? i can’t tell if there’s still soap on it.” sam almost tells you that there isn’t and just walks away, but he caves to you and the look in your eyes.

he looks like he’s not sure if he wants to stiffen and close himself off and do it in silence, or soften and open himself up to being gentle with you. it seems he’s unable to treat you too coldly, no matter what sort of fear or silent commitments to staying clear of you he’s made.

“‘f course,” he agrees after a moment, getting down on his knees, pressed right up against the wall of the bathtub as he takes the wet rag from you and dips into the newly hot water. he keeps his eyes trained on the skin of your back, and you keep yours to the plain white surface of the tile wall in front of you. his hand is as gentle, warm, and encompassing as you know it to be. of course, he’s trying not to touch you directly, keeping most of his hand covered by up the cloth. but the motel rag isn’t a generous size, and his hands are, so the base of his palm or the pads of his fingertips keep brushing against your cool skin. he’s hot in comparison to you, as per usual.

the task doesn’t have to take long at all, but sam must be having trouble parting from you now that he’s back and so, so close. so, he takes the rag across the whole expanse of your back more than once, applying a gentle pressure that soothes and relaxes your still tense muscles. only once he’s heard a sigh of satisfaction leave your lips does he bring his hand away from you.

there’s a few more moments of quiet, only punctuated by the sounds of lightly sloshing water as he dips the rag back into the water, then squeezes it out so that it’s not too soaked for your next use. he hands it to you and asks, “anything else?” without getting up or even glancing at the door like he wants to escape. he lets himself look at your face for a moment, before tearing his gaze away once more.

you shake your head lightly. “that’s all. thanks.”

“mhmm,” he nods, “tell me if you need me.” that’s not how he meant to say things, but it’s how it came out anyways. and oh how you wish to tell him, i need you. he wants to hear you say it too, until he remembers himself and the fact that he’d cave if he did. and he can’t cave, not ever, not even if you told him that you need him. these days he feels like he needs you.

“okay.” you wait for him to leave before you put your attention back on yourself. when he closes the door behind himself, you heave out a deep sigh, then yawn, suddenly hit with a wave of bone-deep exhaustion. you make quick work of wiping off the rest of your body and brace yourself on the wall to stand. you’re not sure you can bear being stuck with sam in such close proximity again tonight, so you dress yourself with just a bit of trouble and leave the tub of water alone for one of the boys to take care of tomorrow.

when you leave the bathroom, dean’s still gone and sam’s laying on his bed. you almost tear up at the sight of him, tucked tightly into one half of the space and his back so purposefully facing your side of the bed. upset with this small cruelty, you climb into dean’s bed instead and fall asleep on your back before you can even change your bandages.

—

last night you caught sam reaching for your hand. he was motioning with the hand further from you, distracted as he complained about something dean said earlier. you glanced down for no particular reason and a movement caught your eye. his unoccupied hand had drifted closer to you, reaching out seemingly on instinct, as if walking next to you should mean holding hands with you. quickly, you looked away, and you never felt his hand even brush past yours. but you heard the rustle of his jacket as he moved, the pause in his words, and the shift in tone when he finally continued to speak. you don’t think he knows that you noticed.

and the day before that, he gave you this dazzling smile and didn’t even think twice about it. sometimes he’ll smile at you wide, and the pretty look on his face will be ripped away as if he’s had some horrible realization that smiling at you is somehow a sin. but this last time, the smile faded naturally, untouched by the overbearing hesitancy he seems to have kept clutched in his hands for the past few weeks since that night with the shapeshifter.

there’s this constant push and pull coming from him that you can’t quite wrap your head or heart around. many days, he’s distant and that’s it. all you get is talk of cases or how to stop the goddamn apolcalypse. other days he’s able to be decently normal; he’ll joke and chat a little and you’ll get a glimpse of your sam. and some days he just can’t stay away, like there’s this tug pulling him to you that’s too strong to resist. it calls his hand towards yours, his eyes all over your face, and his body to stand right by you. those days he can’t cover up any sort of longing gaze and he’s stuck staring right at you and missing you more than he ever imagined he’d have to.

you suppose you prefer the in between days, because they’re the closest to the sam that you’ve had by your side for so long. they’re closest to the sam that’s your best friend, the sam who didn’t know he loved you yet. those are the days you can most easily pretend that something isn’t wildly off about you and him, because dealing with unrequited love has sort of become your norm. and while the days he can’t hide that he feels more for you are a desirable confirmation that there’s some part of him that can’t resist you, they’re also a painful reminder that it’s not quite enough to keep him from distancing himself.

and lord, it just hurts so much when one of those sweet days turns sour. you’ll feel at ease, hopeful and glad for the day's luck, when suddenly the good day has turned too good or one of you has laughed too sweet and loud because of the other. at that, sam will instantly pull away as if it’s dangerous to be happy together. you can see his eyes change from content because of you to tortured because of you and all you want to do is take him by the shoulders and shake him hard. then mostly likely kiss him hard too, if you can get him to come to his senses.

of course, there’s that never ending love. you really don’t think you could stop loving him if you tried with all of your might. but there’s certainly anger. each day that passes by, you become angrier and angrier with him, so frustrated with him and his stupid decisions. with too much time to think about him and his odd behavior, you feel nearly sure that he’s just plain old afraid. of losing you or hurting you or some other classic, stupid reason and frankly, it’s completely unromantic. it’s making you feel like you’re losing your mind.

so when sam takes today, a half-normal day where you don’t feel the weight of his hesitance bearing down on you, and he snatches that away with a simple, closed-off expression, you feel far too fed up to just let it go.

dean’s off at some bar and though his support in your argument might help—because you’re almost positive that dean is on your side and is getting nearly as frustrated as you—you need to confront sam alone first.

you let silence reign in the motel room until sam’s done showering and about to settle into doing a bit of extra research before heading to bed.

“sam,” you start, already cursing to yourself when he looks at you without any of his usual eagerness to hear you talk. you’re sure he can already tell that you’re displeased from the way you said his name. “we have to talk.” 

his jaw clenches and he glances down at the closed laptop in front of him. he contemplates how to answer for a moment. “i should really check for any signs of lucifer. we haven’t gotten anything new in weeks, we’re bound to catch wind of something soon.”

your anger flares, but you tamp it down in favor of keeping this conversation as civil as possible. an angry you plus an angry sam never ends well, and you’re determined to make yourself heard before either of you walk away in frustration.

“no, sam. don’t ignore me. i know that you checked during lunch today, so it can wait until tomorrow,” you counter.

“this is important, you know that.” his voice is so flat and emotionless and stubborn and so unlike him that it hurts.

“it is,” you agree, “but you already checked today, so i’m asking you not to make excuses and listen to me, sam. it’s not that hard.” you bite your tongue, almost wishing you hadn’t made that last biting comment because you know it’ll just antagonize him. but you also know that your anger is warranted.

you can see sam realizing he can’t get out of this conversation in the way that he purses his lips in frustration.

“i– y’know, i’ve really tried to give you time.” you don’t wait for him to really look at you to start. “we all need time sometimes, but it’s not fixing anything. you’re not… you’re not trying to fix anything, it feels like.”

he won’t even look at you when he talks. “what do you want me to fix?”

“the way you’re treating me!” you say, indignant and raising your voice a little, unable to hold back. “you– i don’t know, you’re acting so strange! like– like one second you’re normal. normal sam, my best friend sam. and then you act like you don’t want me around. like you’d rather be stuck in the car and motel rooms with anyone else in the world but me.” only once you start talking do you realize just how much you have to say. it’s not just stop acting this way, or let’s talk about it, it’s so much more. so much that you need him to hear and to understand.

your voice quiets again. “you know, once, you told me that i was a god-send. that, that you can put up with all this shit because we get to do it together. it’s always been you and me! of course, it’s always been you and dean, but sam! we’re best friends,” you say it more like a plea than a statement. “you used to say that. then it got to the point where it felt like we didn’t even have to say anything at all. we just were. it used to feel like you’d do anything for me, just like i’d do for you. i never even questioned that, not once until ruby came along. even then, i knew it wasn’t you. not an excuse, but i knew, once she was gone, you’d figure it out again. just like always. we always figure it out. so why, why for the love of god are you not even trying?” your own words hit you like a wall of bricks. when things happen, when things go wrong, or you don’t understand something, you’ve always figured it out together. what you’re supposed to do is voice your concerns to the other and usually without saying the words, ask for help. this time, sam won’t share the burden with you, won’t attempt to figure it out with you even when it so clearly involves you.

sam opens his mouth to speak, and at least he’s looking at you now, but you won’t let him say a word yet. he’ll shut you down, and you can’t have that.

“why do i suddenly feel so stuck? i feel like there’s nothing i can do, like you’re slipping away, right through my fingertips! and that’s just the strangest feeling when, for the longest time, i was convinced that you’d be the one constant in my life. i really, really thought that way, sam. and i get that i’m biased and blinded by my own feelings, i just never imagined that you’d do anything like this, pull away so suddenly and quickly and adamantly like it’s your life’s mission to put a bulletproof wall in between us. so, i guess at the very least, i’d like a bit of an explanation as to why you don’t want anything to do with me anymore.”

your question hangs in the air, heavier and more smothering than a water-soaked wool blanket. you suppose you could keep talking; you’re not anywhere near out of things to say, but you need him to respond. he’s the one letting the silence take over, not you. he takes a deep breath, like he’s known he’d have to explain eventually, but would never be the one to willingly bring it up.

he answers plainly, almost honest. “it’s safer this way. it’s dangerous for you to be close to me.” you want to scream because you were right. you would’ve loved to have been wrong, for him to have magically had some good reason for all this. but in the end, it has come down to the evils of the world pressing down on a good man and that good man caving to believe what the evils tell him he is. you want to scream because sam is wrong. being close to him feels like saving grace. 

he’s not cursed, he’s not the cause of all the pain and death that rains down on the people he loves. and what about him? what about all the pain and death that rains upon him? where does he get reprieve, an apology for being singled out and tossed through all of these horrors by unexplainable forces? why can’t he blame god? why can’t he see that it’s not his fault?

“that’s not true,” you beg, “and it’s not an excuse to treat me like shit.” he looks away, a physical manifestation of the fact that he doesn’t want to admit that you’re right about at least that.

“i’m not trying to… to hurt you.” sam face just falls. he looks devastated. he wasn’t trying to hurt you, in fact, he was trying to do just the opposite, but it happened anyway. “see?” he pleads, desperate for you to understand, “no matter what i do, being around me is hurting you. i can’t keep putting people through that.”

“so what? you’re gonna pretend to hate dean too?” you counter.

sam looks hurt. “i wasn’t pretending to hate you. i’d never even pretend to feel that way about you, i–” he stops himself before he can say the words and clears his throat, not trying to be subtle when he changes the subject. “dean’s different. he’s involved in all this shit too. he doesn’t have a choice but to be around me, but you? you could be safe somewhere else.”

“and you think i want that? you think i’d make the choice to leave you, just to be a little safer?” you want to keep going, but he interrupts you.

“no, that’s exactly it. you’d never leave us, and i know that. but if– if we stay at a distance, you might be safer.” he’s doing everything he can not to make it sound like he wants you to go. he just can’t explain that the issue is that he loves you, that he thinks the solution is to stop loving each other.

“that’s bullshit,” you shake your head. “sam, i know that you think you’re cursed or some shit like that, but it’s not true. none of this is your fault.”

“how? how is it not my fault? the people i love die because of me, and no other reason. how is that not my fault?” he argues, desperately believing himself.

“because you’re not the one who killed them! you didn’t make that choice. those things happened to you too, sam. how much grief and loss have you had to go through because of things you couldn’t control? it was never your fault, sam.”

“and yet, if they weren’t around me, they never would have died. it doesn’t matter what choices i made, it was the simple act of being close to me that’s gotten so many people killed. and i can’t lose you, too. i just can’t and it’s just too possible that it’ll be because of me. i can’t live with that. i can’t let you get hurt.” this is the most raw his voice has been in weeks, months maybe even. you can see just how completely, irrationally terrified he is that he’ll get you killed and you’re starting to think that he’s too far gone for you to reel back to reality, to hope and perseverance and closeness. but you can’t seem to give up, still full of things to say.

“that’s not how this works!” you refute. “this is my life, it’s your life, our life. and whether or not i’m around you or close to you, i’ll still get hurt! it’s not like i’m just going to quit hunting so you don’t have to worry. so sam, you could hurt me on purpose; pull away, refuse me when you have to know damn well how i feel about you. it’s not like i’ve ever really been that subtle, you were just never looking for it until now. or– or you could do your best and if i get hurt, it's an accident, right?” you practically beg for him to agree, for him to see that treating you this way is so much worse than anything else that could happen to you because of him.

he curses under his breath. you’re getting so close to saying the sort of words that will make his resolve snap, one way or another. he says nothing and you’re still waiting for him to understand you. so, you hit him with something even more solid and irrevocable than your logic: your love.

“you can’t seriously think that i’m going to just let things go on like this, can you? is this really your plan? to pretend we don’t care about each other? to throw over a decade of friendship out the window because you think somehow it’ll keep me safe?” you make sure that he’s looking you straight in the eyes as you continue, voice thick with emotion, “sam, there’s nothing, nothing that could keep me from loving you. i’ve loved you since you were seventeen, at least. i was watching you study, realizing that you really were gonna go to college. damn, i was so happy for you and i was ready to do anything to help you get there. then i started thinking about how much i was gonna miss you. wondering if maybe i could get away too. if we could get away together. the next week my dad dragged me away on another hunt and i didn’t see you for a year. we saw each other nearly right before you left and i considered asking if i could run away with you. but i didn’t want you to have to drag any remnants of the life with you, and i was exactly that. i wouldn’t have been able to make it anyway.

“and you know, the saying that absence makes the heart go fonder, it’s not psychologically true. the more time you spend with someone, the more you get to love them. but i really felt like it was sort of true because i missed you so bad that it made me love you all the more. i tried to talk dean out of asking you to come back to look for your dad, but when i saw you again i gave up on that. i didn’t care that you had had jess or that you liked madison or sarah, and sure, ruby hurt a little more than them, but no matter what, i just liked being close to you. when i saw you again, i swore i couldn’t look away. and i was content loving you through looks and longing and letting you be. 

“but sam,” your voice cracks as you say his name and you try to swallow your tears, “this is just cruel. there’s not even anyone else, but you feel so much farther than you’ve ever been. you’d really refuse me after you dare to give me hope that you might actually love me back? i spend far too much time looking at you to miss the way you look at me. and i love listening to your voice so much that i could never miss the way your voice has changed when you talk to me as of late. you gave me hope for just a few weeks, and now you’re asking me to– to what?” you shake your head, not even sure what he’s trying to change or fix and how.

“you want me to let you go? and what, that’s it? do you want me to stick around but pretend i don’t love you? or– or do you want me to just stop loving you and you think that’ll somehow fix things? because that sure as hell isn’t possible,” you look at him so carefully, so deeply as you search for an answer in his eyes. “or do you just want me to go?”

you didn’t mean that question, but sam truly considers it. at first you desperately wish that you could take it back. you don’t want to go, you don’t think you can be apart from him like that.

but he goes and does the worst thing that he could and he tells you, “yes. you should go.” he can’t even look you in the eye when he says it and you know that you with certainty that you can’t stay. you can’t do that to yourself, to your pride, to your peace of mind. because with those four words he’s told you that he loves you, but not enough to try.

or too much, perhaps. he loves you too much to try, because it’s him who will really be worse off if something he does gets you killed. sure, you’d be dead, but sam… sam would be alive and stuck with far too much guilt and loneliness and loss and greif to deal with. but if you go, then sam can’t be responsible for you. he can’t curse you with his love that way, so sam may want you closer to him than he’s ever wanted anybody, but he wants even more for you to go.

you want to say something awful back. i hate you crosses your mind, but it’s so far from the truth that you couldn’t even say it out loud. if you did, it would still mean i love you.

you’re horrible, sam, is the next thing that falls into your mouth, but you clamp your jaw shut before those words can fall out. you don’t swallow though, you let the words sit on your tongue and you taste them and consider them. because in a way, they’re true. sam’s being horrible to you. but you’re naive, and, oh right, hopelessly in love with him, which means you want to spare him. it means that you don’t want to convince him further that he can never be good enough for you, because he is. he is when he isn’t being like this, and if he can figure it out, maybe he’ll beg on bended knee for you to come back, say he’ll do anything to make it up to you, tell you he still loves you so much and he can’t be apart from you if you’ll let him come close again.

but you’re so fucking angry at him. you’re almost blinded with love, but not quite because you already know that those hopes of yours are ridiculous moments after you think of them. he’s burned any possibility of you and him to the ground. you know this and you know that he knows it too. you hope it haunts him forever and you don’t care if that’s cruel.

“go ahead, sam,” you laugh humorlessly, bitterly. the sound makes him look up from the guilty hole he’s burning into the table top with his eyes. “add me to your list of ghosts before i’m even dead, and know, without a doubt, that this time it really was you who did it. you lit the match, sam. you pulled the trigger.” he looks at you, dumbfounded as if he finally understands what you’ve been trying to say this whole time but knows that he’s gone too far. once a trigger’s been pulled, it can’t be undone and he knows that. that knowledge is a sort of pain that rings in his ears and swirls violently in his stomach.

you grab your coat from the hanger on the wall beside you.

“wait,” he chokes out, tears shining in his eyes. you shoot him a harsh look and he shuts his mouth. he doesn’t get to say that word.

“i’ll call if i figure out how to stop the fucking apocalypse. otherwise, tell dean not to call, ‘cause i’m not coming back.” you grab your bag from the floor by the bed and walk past him to take all the cash from his wallet. you feel his eyes follow you until you reach the door.

hand on the door knob, you turn back to him and you stare him square in the eye to be sure he can see your tears, to show him he made you cry. you won’t tell him he’s horrible, so you’ll settle for a simple, “you’re wrong, sam. you’re wrong about this.”

then you walk out the door, cursing yourself for hating the sound of him crying more than anything in the world.

[aenokiawrld]

𝓓𝓲𝓿𝓮 ᯓᡣ𐭩

kiss below the line…

a/n: i hate him but at the same i ain’t mind letting him tap 😋 also using colored panels for now cause it’s cuter tee hee

・┆✦ʚ♡ɞ✦ ┆・

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

18+ !! MINORS DNI

─── ⋆⋅ ♰ ⋅⋆ ───

cw: p in v sex, oral sex, afab!reader, reader lowk a top here but sanji gets a tad bit of confidence towards the end, sanji know how to eat that kitty 🙏, reader a FREAK, call this man sanji freaksmoke ong 💀🙏, reader wears a bikini, no set arc, risky public sex, they fuck in a secluded area but still open to public, porn WITH plot

tags ✮⋆˙ smut, afab!reader x sanji, beach date, p in v bby, no set arc - no spoilers

now playing: dive - victoria monét

After a long strenuous journey of hopping from island to island, you suggested the crew stop at a tropical resort for a few days to rest and gather supplies for the Sunny. Liberating islands from tyrannical rule and going against from oppressive government is tiring…Well guess what? It’s time the Strawhats get a well deserved break!

“Hmm, yea sure,” your rubber captain shrugged.

“Wow, you didn’t really think that through did ya, Luffy?”

“No, you’re right. After a long battle, I’m pretty beat plus…”

“Plus?”

“A seafood boil sounds nice,” he laughed as he rubbed his rumbling belly.

Robin chuckled at Luffy’s expression, “Well, since us devil fruit power users can’t swim in the water, I wouldn’t mind indulging in a nice seafood feast cooked by our skillful chef.”

You suddenly see the pervy chef’s nose start to heave heavily, a few drops of blood trickling down his chin, “OF COURSE, ANYTHING FOR THE BEAUTIFUL LADIES OF OUR SHIP!”

His stance takes a 180 as he faces the men of the crew, “The men have to hunt for their own food.”

Zoro looks at him with annoyance, “Hey! Can I at least get some sake?!”

Luffy pouts, “No fair! I want to relax like the girls too!”

“Well, real men hunt for their own food!”

You sighed, “Sanji, relax, the guys worked hard at the last island. Cut ‘em some slack will ya?”

His demeanor changed as soon as you spoke, “OH MY DEAR, [NAME], YOU ARE SO RIGHT.”

“Alright, fine, since we’re going to have a seafood boil, I gotta gather some ingredients.”

“A spectacular feast created by our lovely cook, my mouth is watering just thinking about it, if I had any saliva…YOHOHOHO!”

“Then, it’s settled! Nami, set course for [insert cool island here]!”

“Right away, captain!” The beautiful tangerine-haired girl yelled back.

————

The summer sun shone upon the golden sand, the crystal blue water crashing upon the shore as the coconut trees swayed to the calming wind. The resort is occupied by many beach goers as children ran along the hot sand with beach balls, men clinked their beers, and ladies were served fancy mojitos. The smell of grilled meat lingered the air as barbecue parties took place nearby.

You reveled in the moment until hearing your captain’s booming voice destroy your peace of mind.

“WOOHOO!”

“LUFFY, DON’T GO IN THE WATER, YOU CAN’T-”

The rubber boy struggled to keep afloat in the water has he gargled for help, “HELP! HELP!”

“swim…” You facepalmed.

“I got it…” The green haired swordsman immediately dived into the water before rescuing your struggling captain.

“Captain, be more careful, will ya?”

He coughed up seawater, “Bleghhh, Zoro, I might throw up on you…”

“LIKE HELL YOU WILL!”

You decided to sit with the girls when the blonde cook approached all of you. He sported black swimtrunks, along with a half-opened tropical shirt while holding a tray full of orange cocktails, “Well, ladies, can I interest ya’ll in some ‘Sex on the Beach’ drinks to quench your thirst?”

The black-haired vixen smiled, “Thanks, Sanji. You really know how to read our minds.”

“Wow, these look refreshing, as expected from our cook!” Nami took a sip of the alcoholic drink.

“No kidding, I was starting to feel a bit parched myself,” you smiled.

Sanji covered his nose to prevent a nose bleed from coming out, “Ladies, Ladies, no need to thank me. Just doing my job.” He smiled to himself as he replayed the compliments in his head.

You looked at him with concern, “Hey, Sanji. How’s ingredient gathering going for ya?”

“Huh? Oh, I’ve been trying to catch some fish and crab for the last 30 minutes but I think the amount of people here are scaring them away.”

“Hmm, hey! I can help you look for a secluded spot for fishing!” You cheerfully suggested to him.

“Oh, I can’t let a lovely lady like you get up and help me out like this!”

You chuckled, “No worries, I’d rather walk around then sit down doing nothing.”

“Well…I guess it wouldn’t hurt to have extra help.”

————

You sealed the bucket full of prawns before setting it aside and sitting down on the dampening sand, “Wow, we caught a lot today! We’re gonna be eating tonight, aren’t we?” You looked at the remaining gold rays of light slowly disappear in beyond the horizon.

He laughed at your amusement, “I should start cooking soon if we’re gonna serve this on time for the crew to start feasting.”

You attempted to carry the heavy bucket of freshly caught prawns, but it proved to be difficult with the sandy environment preventing better movement in your legs.

He noticed your struggle with the filled container, “Need any help?” He walked towards your sinking figure in the moist sand, lantern in hand to illuminate the darkened atmosphere.

“Ah, no, no! It’s ok!”

“Come on, [Name]. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

“No, really, I can manage-”

“I’ll just grab this part-”

“Sanji! It’s gonna-“

Splash

“…fall,” your once dried figures now soaked with sea water as both of you guys fell backwards into the incoming waves — his trembling body loomed over yours, salty droplets falling onto your face.

The sound of your increasing heart beat pounding in your ears from the closed distances between your bodies. Your eyes couldn’t help but be drawn to his toned abs up close to your face, despite the evening darkness sweeping in to mask the dimming sunset.

You were embarrassed to admit it, but you always had a slight interest in the blonde cook. Sure, you were a little annoyed by his flirtatious attempts and his slightly pervy behavior — yet, in his times of seriousness that complimented his cool, stoic character, it was…quite attractive.

The amount of times you caught yourself staring at him as he cooked the crew’s meals with rolled-up sleeves, or chilling on the ship while lighting the butt of his cigarette. You had to resist the urge to bite your lip then and there.

But, seeing him on top of you while half naked and wet took the final slice of the cake.

“O-oh my god, I’m so sorry! I should’ve listened to you-” The blood rushed to his cheeks and ears to form an embarrassed blush before lifting himself off you.

“Hot damn….” You muttered to yourself.

“Uh…what?”

“Um- Uh, nothing,” you shot him a sheepish smile before lifting yourself up. “It’s all good, I should’ve just accepted your help,” you laugh awkwardly as you drag the fallen bucket.

“Ahem, that would’ve been awkward if anyone in the crew saw us,” he brushed his hand through his blonde locks before searching his pockets for his cigarette box.

You suddenly halt your process of dragging the prawn bucket, an invisible lightbulb lighting upon your head. You turn to the chef before smirking at him,“I wouldn’t mind giving them a show.”

You could practically see his eyes bulging out of his sockets at your flirtatious manner. Who knew the pervy cook would get nervous by one of the only girls in the Strawhats? You wanted to take advantage of this sudden burst of confidence…

You walked up to him, his face producing a red hue on his cheeks as he watched your figure close the proximity between you two. His heartbeat increased at the sight of your practically bikini-clad body swaying in the moonlight. He clutched the cigarette between his teeth…

You look up at his flustered face before stealing the lit cigarette from his lips, a seductive tone poisoned your words, “Can we stay here for a bit?”

The nervous cook gulped, “U-Uh um…why?”

He watched as you took a drag out of his own cigarette before putting it out — He never found anything so sexy in his life; not even when he saw a naked Nami back in Alabasta before.

You harshly pushed his toned figure onto the dry sand before noticing the now obvious bulge in his pants. You were quite pleased by the outcome of this situation as you watched the cook fall to his knees for you — he relished in the sight of you using him. It was kind of different from the way you seen him with other girls. Slowly, you hovered over his body; his eyes glued onto your bikini-covered chest as he felt his mouth become dry.

“I think you know the answer, Sanji…”

————

A needy moan escaped from the cook’s mouth as you caught his lips in a sloppy kiss, your tongue ravaging with his as you grinded your clothed heat on his crotch. His body had become so turned-on from your sudden dominant nature, your touches like a tempting devil.

“[Name]…fuck,” his hands moved to your hips as you continued dry humping his erection.

You caught his lower lip between your teeth, “You’re so fucking sexy when you say my name like that, wanna scream it more for me?” You watched his body shutter as you exchanged the movement of your hips with your rubbing over his hardened bulge.

“A-ah shit, mon chérie, quit teasing me…”

You bit your lip as you continued your edge on his clothed cock, ignoring his pleas for your pussy. You relished in the sight of the blonde begging for your attention. You rubbed his erection in a faster pace, grabbing the outline of his size — he groaned at your intense touch.

A sly smirk creeped onto your face as you guided his hand under your skimpy bikini top, his hand instinctively squeezing the soft mound of flesh, brushing over your now hardened nipple. A soft moan left your mouth as you felt his rough hand roll the pearl between his fingers. You slapped his hand away with a smirk on your face.

You slowly shoved two fingers into his mouth, feeling the warmth of his tongue sucking and licking them, “Wanna show me what that mouth can do?”

You remove your bikini bottom, revealing the transparent slick trail of your arousal connecting from your pussy to the dampened cloth. You toss it to the side before hovering your crotch over his flustered face.

You harshly grabbed his face, “Make me cum and maybe I’ll give ya a reward.”

“…Yes, ma’am…”

You cautiously lowered your hips onto his face before you felt strong hands hastily grab your hips and slam you down. A yelp came out of you at the sudden pressure of your crotch rubbing on his face.

The warmness of his tongue desperately overlapping over your needy hole as you bit your lip to conceal the sounds of your impending pleasure. The sound of the crashing salt water colliding with the sand had become quieter as the sun died down and the moonlight became brighter.

The sound of sloppy wetness overtaking your hearing as he fucked his tongue inside you. You face twisting from the overbearing sensation of pleasure took over your body as you grinded your cunt further into his face, the feeling of his nose rubbing against your sensitive clit, the smell of your arousal radiating off your warm body.

He lapped his tongue over your erected bud as sucked you off like a starved man. He groaned as he pulled your hips harder onto his face with need, his grip tightening around you. — He became obsessed with the taste of you and he was wanting more.

He slid his hands over the fleshy mounds of your ass before spreading them apart for better access. The speed of his tongue fastening had jolted the nerves of your body, your back arching from the overstimulation on your abused clit.

“S-Sanji! Oh god, keep going!” You cried out in pleasure. The moist sounds of his mouth connected with your saliva-coated cunt.

“Mmm’ Mon chérie, cum on my face,” he groaned as he swiped his tongue over your pulsating hole.

Your core tightened as you felt your approaching climax form into a pit in your stomach, “Then, you better savor it while you can, Blondie.”

He swore he could’ve felt his cock twitch in his swim trunks at the sound of his nickname slipping from your lips. God, the things you do to him…

You swayed your hips to the movement of his hungry tongue as the muscles of your increasingly tightening before you felt the imaginary coil unravel and relax. Your milky liquid leaking out your pulsating hole, smothering over the cook’s face.

He released the suction of mouth over your erected bud with the sound of a pop. His chin had been covered in his own saliva and your arousal. He huffed and puffed as he caught his breath. The taste of your cum lingered as on his lips as he licked them without shame.

“Good boy, I think it’s time I give you your reward,”you shifted your body off his face, the feeling of the cold grainy sand resting below your knees as you lowered your face over his crotch.

A surprised moan escaped the cook’s tainted lips as you pressed light kissed over his erection, the taste of ocean salt overtaking your taste buds. You could practically feel his wanting cock straining along the restraints of his wet as it ached for your touch.

You grabbed the hem of his trunks, peeling the fabric to reveal his touch-starved cock — it had a slight curve to it, the circumcised tip supporting a swollen redness as it leaked precum, his shaft with a few veins trailing down to his nicely-groomed happy trail of blonde hair surrounding it, his balls desperately awaiting to be emptied from all the edging you did to him.

“Nice cock, dude.”

“Haha, very funny, [Name],” he sarcastically rolled his eyes.

“I’m being serious, Sanji,” you swipe your index finger over the dripping slit of his tip.

A grunt escaped his lips as you flicked his sensitive cock in a teasing manner; Your hand running down his shaft before slowly fisting his cock in your hand. That fucking smug smirk painted on your face that drove him insane the entire time.

Your hand moved up and down faster as you watched his face twist from pleasure, his body jerking from the sudden jolts of electricity running in his body from your touch — You swiped your tongue over the flushed head, savoring the taste of the transparent liquid as you continued your pace on his shaft. A sharp hiss escaped through his teeth as you rubbed and squeezed his sensitive balls in the process; god, he was about to burst then and there.

He gripped the sand below him as you brought him to the edge of his orgasm, you enjoyed the amount of overstimulation you brought to his cute face as his curly brows scrunched together in pleasure. You bit your lip as you felt his cock twitch in your hand before-

“Sanjiiiii! [Name]! Where are you?? I’m hungry!!” You hear Luffy’s voice in the distance.

The cook looked back at you in horror, in fear that both of you guys were about to get caught by your captain. Luckily, you were out of sight from your rubber captain due to the steep rock wall that separated you and Sanji from him. You shot him a devious look as you continued your movement on his needy cock, “Gonna answer?”

Oh, fuck you.

“W-We’re still busy fishing so g-go away!” He yelled back with nervousness.

He bit the inside of his cheek as you engorged his cock into your mouth, the salty taste of his precum filling your taste buds as you slobbered over the tip and shaft.

“Well, hurry up already!!” the hurried tone of your captain’s voice echoing in the distance.

The cook groaned in annoyance, “SH- SHUT UP AND BE PATIENT OR ELSE ITS VEGETARIAN FROM NOW O-ON!!!”

“AGHH FINEEEE…”

A small snort escaped through your nose as you heard their short banter. Sanji was such a cutie patootie when he got mad at the crew you thought to yourself.

That’s probably why you enjoy seeing the cook moaned and whimpered as he submitted to your touch, wanting more of your attention from you. <3

He felt as if he could cum to the vibrations of your gagging alone as you struggled to swallow his cock whole, hitting the gag reflex that sat in the back of your throat. What didn’t help was when you caressed his swollen balls, squeezing them as if they were putty in your hands. They tensed at your touch as they added onto the ongoing stimulation on his messy cock.

He bit his lip while grabbing tufts of your hair as he felt the euphoric climax slowly creep towards his tip as you continued sucking him like a summertime popsicle.

Just when he was about to release his seed, you halted your action; releasing his cock with a pop as it bounced towards his abdomen. His cock twitched with impatience as it awaited more of your stimulation. The tip redder than before as it begged to release its seed.

He huffed, “Mon chérie…wha… what are you doing?”

You hovered over him before whispering in his ear, “I’m gonna ride you, that’s what i’m gonna do.” You bit his ear before aligning yourself over his cock.

You slammed on his cock, causing both of ya’ll to gasp in pleasure as you felt the gumminess of your walls swallow his size. He grabbed the fat of your ass as you bucked your hips up and down.

“Oh god! Oh yes!” You cried out as you felt him match his hip movements with yours.

Your pussy was practically a perfect mold for him as you sought to reach that euphoric feeling of edging to your arrival. You became obsessed with the feeling of his tip kissing your cervix as each thrust became deeper and rougher. You swore you saw a tear well up in his ducts as you watched his face become a moaning mess.

“Hah, oh fuck! K-Keep going at this speed, I might cum inside you…” He squeezed your ass harder as he kissed and sucked the skin on your collar bone.

“S-Sanji- hah!” You felt his lips lick the soft flesh of your chest as he moved his hands towards the underside of the fabric triangles, pushing them upwards to reveal the dark pearls of your cherries.

“Sanji!” You screamed his name as you felt the warm sensation of his tongue lap over your erected nipples. Now you’re the one being a victim to overstimulation.

He groaned as he made out with your right nipple while pinching your left one, the friction leaving you speechless as you were left in a moaning mess. He clenched your the soft mound as he felt your moist walls squeeze around his cock.

“You’ve been teasing me this whole time, I couldn’t help but retaliate…” He left your right boob with purple marks around your now tender nipples. He shifted his attention towards your left boob as he sucked and bit your dark pearl, enough to send electricity towards your pussy.

“Mmm’ you taste so divine, Mon chérie…This is way better than some seafood boil.” He loved the way you clenched on his cock as he sucked your sensitive nipple.

No amount of crashing ocean waves nor the sound of seagulls squawking under the illuminated night sky could muffle out the sounds of sloppy slaps and moans of the heated moment you both shared. You cried out his name in hiccups as he continued the movement of his hips guiding his cock towards your cervix, increasing his speed.

“Sanji, Sanji, Sanji…i’m gonna cum!” You were going dizzy at his hypnotizing movements.

“Fuck, me too…Can I cum on that pretty face of yours, Mon chérie?”

You nodded as you felt that familiar tightening feeling in your abdomen of your impending orgasm had . The thought of releasing on his cock was racing in your mind as you wanted to savor the sensation the next time you had the “urge.”

You gripped his shoulders as you arched your back to the ripping feeling of your toe-curling release, a cry for pleasure escaped your lips as you felt your abused walls clench around him. — thick, white…it poured from your used hole as it coated on his twitching member, waiting to come as well.

He groaned at the sight of his cock being covered in your slick, like a used sex toy. He fisted his cock, your cum serving as lubrication to relieve himself.

He chanted your name in mutters as he took in the sight of your fucked-out face, sporting a tomato red and a trail of saliva dripping down your chin as you huffed and puffed for air. His hand instinctively stroked faster as the aftermath of your face around him even more. He let out a groan as he felt the nerves in his shaft jolt as ropes of hot cum spurt from his reddened tip.

You smirked as you watched the white fluid land on your face along with your hickey-covered chest. You didn’t want to lie when you felt surprised by how much spilled out of him—embarrassing amount continued to drip onto the sand from his now sensitive cock.

You bit your lip, “Didn’t tell me you had that much in ya.”

His face became flushed, “It’s not my fault, I was pent up from how much you edged me today!”

“You’re really hot when you’re hard at work, I couldn’t help seeing you in such a submissive state,” you stuck your tongue at him.

His heart skipped a beat at your embarrassing words, “MY LOVE, I’LL LET YOU DO WHATEVER YOU WANT TO ME IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY.”

And…he’s back to his usual self.

The chef’s ears perk up as he hears rustling from the nearby coconut trees. You noticed his reaction before your attention redirected towards the origin of the sound.

“What the hell, where am I?

The mosshead looked towards your direction as he noticed the two figures in the distance, immediately recognizing the both of you.

Both you and Sanjj’s mouth dropped open before you guys scrambled on the sandy floor, readjusting your swimsuits and jumping in the cold salty waters to wash off the evidence. In the back of your mind, you wanted to cry of embarrassment; the thrill of almost getting caught was exhilarating itself. However, getting caught a a different story.

“Go away, moss head! We’re trying to fish in peace over here!” The blonde cook yelled at the swordsman.

Zoro smirked, “You sure this is fishing, cause last time I checked, you’re supposed to have your clothes on.”

Both you and Sanji looked at each other with an embarrassed blush on your face before quickly diverting your faces knowing the opposite direction.

“Zoro, you can’t tell anyone…” You softly pleaded.

The swordsman yawned, “I don’t really care, I was tryna find curly brow since Luffy was getting antsy about the food.”

“Oh and I was wondering where you kept the sake.”

The cook facepalmed himself, “You fucking drunk…it’s in the wine cabinet now go away.”

The swordsman yawned again, “Wow, thanks I guess. I’ll let yall do your thing but hurry up cause the captain looks like he’s about to munch on our emergency food (chopper).”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever. I’ll get started once [Name] and I bring our shellfish catch back to the ship.”

You sighed in annoyance, “Let’s just get out of here.”

As the three of you walked back, the little devil on your shoulder caused you to land a nice smack on Sanji’s ass. He turned around with surprised look on his face while rubbing the impacted area. You shot a smug smirk at the cook before doing the “p in v” gesture with your fingers.

He smirked before giving you a wink. You quietly giggled before whispering in his ear, “Let’s do this again, but more private.

[quack-quack-snacks]

Drowning Without You By My Side

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Pairing(s): Cha Hyun-su x Fem!Reader Summary: Ever since losing everything, you felt like you were drowning. Trying to end it all wasn't successful when an unknown and unnatural force was hell-bent on stopping you, but when a near-death experience - unintended this time - causes you to tempt Death's grasp, you finally meet the force keeping you bound to the world. Warnings: Season 2 spoilers (slightly)! Slight panic attack, drowning, explicit detail of attempted suicide on the reader's part (The National Suicide and Crisis Hotline is 988. There are so many people who care about you and would love to help you. You are not alone), cutting and bleeding (during the roll calls), Ah-yi being too cute for her own good, and Hyun-su being a fond little cinnamon roll and a great big brother (even if it's only for a scene), no use of (y/n). Word Count: 6,163

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Hyun-su!

You woke up with a start, sweat slickening your skin and causing the slightly ripped t-shirt to stick to your back. It was designed with a band of which you'd never heard the likes of before the apocalypse started. Your breathing was quickened intensely and you wiped your hands over your face, pushing your palms into your eye sockets as you fruitlessly tried to calm your heart rate. It took several minutes of doing every method you knew to stop a panic attack before you were finally able to take a deep breath without it stuttering in your lungs. You swung your legs over the edge of the hammock you had designated as your bed since you first arrived at the stadium all those months ago. To know that you hadn’t seen the boy you once called home in over half a year was a hard pill to swallow. You hated yourself for letting him go.

Hated that you didn’t try harder to follow after him.

Hated that you let the group force you onto the truck with them and head to the safety camp.

It was a never-ending cycle of self-loathing since you’d arrived at the stadium. When you’d found the secret exit leading out of the stuffy concrete walls you were trapped in, you found yourself leaving whenever possible. You couldn't handle the pitiful stares of your fellow Green Home survivors and the eyes of the citizens in the stadium who disliked the woman that protected the “murderer” of the chief’s husband. Although Eun-yoo and you did not really have any sort of relationship in terms of friendship, you had an unspoken agreement to protect and stand up for each other. If not each other, you had no one. The people you each had viewed as the closest to you of anyone had gone missing or even passed on to the next life. You both refused to admit that last thought out loud, though. 

Every morning, you would wake up and attend the morning roll call before getting dressed and leaving for the day until you returned just in time for the evening roll call.

Today would be no different.

You dropped your bare feet onto the frigid concrete floor and walked towards the bathroom, suppressing a shiver. The entrance to the bathroom had been taken off after an incident inside of the stadium. It involved none other than yourself and the elder brother of one of the boys who bullied Yeong-su when the two of you got into a fight. You can remember the exact words he had spoken to you after you talked to him about the boy’s behavior.

“The little shit deserves it. Being the little brother of a murderer and the devil’s advocate,” he’d said, referring to Eun-yu and yourself. “I hope he ends up becoming a monster. I even hope I’ll be the one to have the honor of killing him.”

You remember punching him square in the nose as soon as the words left his mouth. He’d flown backward and slammed into the bathroom door, successfully knocking it off the hinges and breaking the flimsy wood in half. You were positively seething at the absolute audacity the man had. Not being satisfied with how he’d fallen, you jumped on top of him and started pounding your fist into his face. You hit him over and over again, undeterred by the few hits he managed to get in, until you were pulled off of him. You started thrashing around violently when you felt hands wrapping around you to pull you off of him until you realized it was Park Chan-young, the young soldier who had been an alibi and friend to you and the rest of the Green Home survivors since you’d first gotten on that truck. A small crowd had gathered around after hearing the commotion and yells coming from the two of you before they all parted to allow Chief Ji in. When she saw you, her confused stare deepened to a glare but she ignored you in favor of transporting the brother you had just fought to the medical room. That was a hell of a day.

The inside of the bathroom was a regular locker room. Not surprising considering it was originally used for the players of the baseball team. The only difference was one of the walls was poorly rebuilt with rocks and bricks by Chief Ji and some of the stadium's residents after it was impacted by the missiles. 

Before you had started heading over to the bathroom, you had grabbed your small compact bag of hygiene supplies and brought it with you. Although toothpaste was hard to come by and you had to share the rations the soldiers found with your neighbors, you were able to find some on one of your days out. You brushed your teeth dry, not wanting to use any of the limited water on something like brushing your teeth. This had become something you were used to. 

Finally returning to your sleeping space, you didn’t bother changing out of the clothes you slept in and just decided to continue wearing them. The outfit was comfortable yet simple: a pair of oversized off-white sweatpants you had to manually make a drawstring for using a shoestring, and a short-sleeved dark blue shirt. Your shoes were the same ones you wore the first day this monsterization started. They were originally a pristine white you had tried your hardest not to taint, but now they were stained beyond repair from your adventures. You consider yourself lucky you had only bought them a week before the outbreak. They held up well throughout the year you’d spent with them as your sole pair of shoes. 

The morning announcement calling for roll call sounded through the silent air of the little enclosed unit you were lucky enough to be given.

Although luck may not have been the true cause. So many people were reluctant to be near you when they slept and complained enough times to the chief that she eventually just set you apart from the rest. Although it was lonely at times, you were thankful for the shred of privacy you had been granted. 

Once your shoes had been put on along with your sweater, you calmly walked down the hall toward the place where your assigned group met for roll calls. You arrived just in time to see Yeong-su slap away Jin-ok’s hand when she tried to pull him back from a soldier who was grinning meanly at him. You could see the built-up tears in the boy’s eyes that he desperately was trying to push away and rushed forward. Seeing the reasoning behind his tears, despite the consequences that you knew would ensue, you roughly pushed against the soldier’s back which sent him tumbling forward and his face met the ground floor with a sickening sound. You risked a glance to look back at Yeong-su and Jin-ok. Yeong-su’s arm was bleeding rapidly, seeming obvious that the soldier who cut him too deeply hit an artery. Hopefully, it wasn't a major one. The boy’s lip was quivering as he held back his tears. You could see all the emotions in his eyes: anger, frustration, helplessness, but mainly relief. Relief from you coming in to defend him. You quickly sent a look to Jin-ok and she immediately knew what you meant. She gently took Yeong-su’s hand and this time he didn’t resist as she led them both away from the scene and to their living quarters. 

You barely had time to let out a relieved smile before a fist was sent flying into your left cheek, sending your head snapping to the right and you falling back, only barely and painfully catching yourself with your elbows. You looked up at your assailant to see the officer who was tormenting Yeong-su standing above you. His nose was bleeding heavily and if you didn’t know any better, you would’ve thought he was beginning the transition period to a monster. He wiped at his nose to no avail and sent you a heavy glare. He leaned down and roughly grabbed your arm, hauling you to your feet and pulling out his knife. You held eye contact even when the blade roughly slashed across your forearm, right over an already existing cut. You praised yourself internally on how you kept your face entirely neutral and how the soldier looked angry and disappointed at your lack of reaction.

You gave him a slight smirk as you held up your bleeding arm for his view, the blood gushing down and covering your bruised elbow. “Happy?” You questioned tauntingly and your smirk grew as you saw the man seething. Despite his intimidating height, you couldn’t help but think he looked like a cartoon character with the way you were sure steam would be bursting out of his ears at any second. When he made no further move to continue the fight, you swiftly turned around and walked out of the room, smiling when you heard him yell in frustration and throw something to the floor. The knife, you presumed. 

You didn’t bother visiting the doctor to help you treat your wounds as you wrapped a strap of clothing around it and called it a day. Any respect you had for him instantly flew down the drain when you caught him drinking the rubbing alcohol meant for treating wounds and acting immaturely all the time. You walked in the direction of the exit, making sure to not be spotted by any soldiers as you did. When you finally got there and pushed the door open, you let out a breath of relief. The moment you stepped out the door and into the clean air of the outdoors, you felt yourself relax a little more than before. You found it odd how you felt more relaxed outside of the safe haven the stadium provided but you couldn’t help yourself. In the outdoors, you felt free. You could think without hindrance and allow yourself to feel an emotion that wasn't complete and utter despair.

The ground crunched below your feet as you walked across the gravel towards the green grass fields. You had no objective or destination in mind for today, you just wanted to escape the oppressive hands of your 'superiors.'

Walking on light feet, still making sure to keep your head focused on the area around you in case a monster appeared, you found yourself standing in front of a building. There was nothing special about this building. Half of it wasn't even attached as it lay broken in shambles around the structure. The ladder leading to the roof was rusted and had some of the metal bars sticking out awkwardly. The building in total was relatively normal and in good shape compared to those around it.

The only special thing about this building was the memories that it spurred within your head. 

You climbed up the ladder, tears blocking your vision as they collected on your waterline despite your deepest efforts. You lost everyone. You lost Hyun-su; the boy you called home; the boy you called your soulmate; the boy you loved more than anyone or anything else. You lost Ji-su, the girl you decided you could call your best friend after spending so much time with her on the first floor of Green Home for those days at the beginning of this mess. You even lost Su-yeong, the little girl you’d grown so protective over… gone without a second thought. You never truly had Eun-yu so it wouldn’t hurt as much whether or not she had died. The only person you truly felt you had left was Yeong-su. You hated yourself for doing this to him but only having him wasn’t enough to stay anymore. 

You felt like you were drowning. You were unable to handle the constant feeling of your emotions overpowering you. You’d heard so many times that it got easier as time went on but you never thought you would be able to overcome this. Although it might have been fitting to end your life by drowning, you just wanted a quick and painless death.

Falling solved that for you. 

When you finally climbed the ladder to the roof of the building, you couldn’t help the sobs that wracked your body. You hopped up onto the edge of the building and looked up. The sky seemed to perfectly oppose how you were feeling. Soft, puffy white clouds were fluttering through the atmosphere and forming different shapes you could just barely make out. The tears slipped down the side of your face as you tried to gain some sort of peace before you followed through with your decision. 

The wind was a gentle, cool breeze across your damp cheeks as you stood and glanced across the beautiful terrain below you. The grass had just barely begun to grow out of its perfect and well-maintained state, but it was still a wonderful sight to see. There were flower gardens surrounding the tall building, some crushed brutally by the falling of the walls but most were left perfectly untouched and thriving in the new world. The sight made your body calm down, the tears cascading waterfalls of sorrow down your cheeks slowly coming to a stop. You’ve heard of the acceptance of death people have when they know they’re about to die. You’d never thought you would have to face that kind of acceptance, never really thought the way you’d die would be because the world had been cruel and gave you too much pain for you to handle. You never thought that yet there you were.

There you were, standing on the edge of the tallest building you could find, one foot raised and hovering over the edge and you giving one last smile to the world before having your other foot join it. 

The wind screamed in your ears and you swear you could hear voices within it. Voices calling your name. Voices that sounded too similar to one you’d lost. You let your eyes fall shut as memories flashed through your mind. Memories of reading to Su-yeong and Yeong-su; memories of playing the guitar and singing with Ji-su, laughter interrupting each word because you couldn’t take yourselves seriously; memories of Hyun-su. 

Memories of shaking his hand when you first met him after he moved in across the hall from you in Green Home. 

Memories of him coming to you crying for the first time and confessing how he couldn’t stand being alive anymore.

Memories of losing yourself in his eyes when he smiled at you.

Memories of his touch against your cheeks when he leaned in to leave a kiss against your forehead.

Memories of him.

A single tear drop fell from your eye and you smiled at the thought of meeting him again, whether that be in your next life or the one that comes after death. There was no doubt in your mind that he was gone, and that thought alone was more than half of your reasons for wanting to end it all. 

Just as you were sure you were about to hit the bottom, a strong yet lean arm wrapped around your body and gently set you down on the ground before retreating just as quickly as it had appeared. You shot your eyes open only to be left with the blue sky above you and the intense wind that breezed over your body as whatever it was that saved you disappeared. For a few moments, you couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t move, couldn’t blink, couldn’t think, couldn’t do anything except stare in perplexment at the sky. As you sat up, you still couldn’t think straight and allowed your body to work on autopilot as it walked you home. 

It took a full week until you were finally able to come to terms with the fact that either you had imagined the whole thing or something - someone - had saved you.

A month after your first attempt, you tried again. You couldn’t handle the stares of disdain and hatred towards you after you had defended Eun-yu as others criticized her about her apparent murder of Chief Ji’s husband. Yet, just like the last time, you were saved miraculously last minute by that same strange force. 

You tried a dozen more times, all ending with the same result. It was so frustrating and you could barely handle the pain knowing you couldn’t even control your death, let alone your life.

The tears streamed down your face violently as you knelt and smacked your fists angrily against the wet, coarse dirt of where you were, once again, gently placed down after another failed attempt to end your life. The shredded noose hung limp around your neck and you ripped it off aggressively. You let out an agonizing scream from the deepest part of your lungs and it ended with more sobs as you let yourself fall onto your side with your knees pulled into your chest. Your loud sobs slowly quieted down but the tears never stopped falling. You stood up from the wet ground, your hair and clothes both stained by the mud below. Water rained down from the heavens, soaking your shirt and making it cling to your chest. Your tears blurred with the raindrops that splashed against you and slowly made their way down your face, disappearing down your neck and into the collar of your shirt. 

“Why are you doing this?” You yelled into the open air, receiving no answer. “Why? Why do you keep doing this? Why won’t you just let me die?” You choked on a sob at that last question and yet you still received no answer. Defeated, you decided to retreat back to the stadium and get cleaned up. When you returned, Jin-ok was the first to notice the bruising around your neck and your tired, puffy eyes. When she asked, you played dumb but you could tell she saw right through you. Luckily, she left it alone. 

You ended up curled up in your hammock for hours as you sobbed your heart out. 

Although the stadium might have been a better place to follow through with your plan, you refused to put your few remaining friends - if you could even really call them that - through that. Put them through the pain of seeing your dead body and knowing they might have been able to stop it. Even though you would be dead by then, you wouldn’t be able to live with yourself. The only way you would allow yourself to follow through was outside of the stadium.

But a certain someone, or something, wouldn’t allow that to happen. 

That was the last time you tried to end your life.

You’d had many dangerous encounters since then but every time they would be cleared out by your guardian angel before you could even really call them a threat. It got to the point where you felt more safe outside the stadium compared to within its concrete walls.

Sighing, you averted your eyes from the building and walked around it, focusing instead on the plants that were just starting to bloom in the early spring. The breeze was a welcome chill that rose goosebumps along your arms. As you continued to walk, your mind blank and your feet destinationless as you wandered, you came across a large pool of water.

And a girl.

She was young, and couldn’t have been more than 5 years old. It was such a shock to see her there, especially all by herself, that you didn’t realize she was sinking until it was almost too late. Without a second of hesitation, you jumped right into the lake and swam as fast as you could towards her. Grabbing a hold of her hand, you pulled her along as you swam back up to the surface. You dragged her towards the edge of the earth where the stable ground met the water and laid her down. Lowering your head to her mouth, you tried to listen to her breathing but instead, you got a headbutt to the ear. She shot up and started coughing up water. You ignored how your ear stung at that moment and instead rubbed along her back while she breathed heavily. 

“Are you okay?” You asked her and she suddenly snapped her head towards you, like she didn’t recognize your presence until you spoke.

Slowly, she nodded. “Yes,” she hesitated before quietly asking, “Did you save me?”

You smiled at her shy mannerisms as she played with the hem of her wet and dirtied dress. “Yeah, I did.”

She looked up at you, almost surprised with your confession, and gave you a shy smile back. “Thank you,” she whispered before averting her eyes again.

You couldn’t stop the smile growing even brighter on your face at her adorableness. You looked around, seeing nobody else in sight. Your eyebrows furrowed as you began to worry about who she was and why nobody was taking care of her. “Are you alo-”

Just as you started to speak, a wet and slimy tentacle-like appendage wrapped itself around your torso and yanked you back into the lake. You thrashed around but couldn’t unravel yourself from the monster’s grip. You saw your knife float away and sink further down the dark abyss that was the bottom of the lake. With it, the last of your newfound hope to live followed. Just as you lost the last of the reserved air in your lungs, a sudden figure dove into the water and wrapped its arm around you. Just before your eyes fluttered shut, you swore you saw the blurry face of the same boy who haunted your dreams. The boy who haunted your nightmares.

The same boy who haunted your mind as you stuttered between the line separating life and death after surrendering to the lack of oxygen. 

“Hyun-su!”

You screamed as you saw the military take him away. You lay helplessly against the side of the crumbling Green Home building as the pain of moving around too much from your wounds caused you to be dead-weight in your spot. 

He let out a scream of agony that ended with your name and you felt your heart shatter. He was surrounded by multiple people; doctors, scientists, and soldiers alike. Each person’s face was surrounded by a strange darkness. The only thing you could make out of their faces were their evil, wide smiles, and their eyes tainted a demonic red. The sight made you feel even more helpless and despair-ridden than before.

You could do nothing but watch as the love of your life was taken from you without a second thought. 

Hyun-su gathered you in his human-form arm while the other, extended in his monstrous form, swung back and forth through the water to slice at the monstrous being that dared to harm you. He didn’t waste much more time under the water to fight the beast as he noticed your eyes had slipped shut and you weren’t releasing any more air bubbles. He surged upwards, his wing doing most of the work as he darted through the surface of the water and onto the solid ground near the same little girl you had saved before.

Lying you down on the ground gently, he lowered his head to your mouth to hear if you were breathing, cursing quietly when he realized you weren’t. It was at times like these that he thanked whatever deity existed that he allowed himself to be persuaded by his parents to be a lifeguard for a summer. That way, he learned and was certified in CPR. 

Plugging your nose, he administered two breaths into your mouth before pressing his - now both fully human - hands to your chest. Just as he prepared for the first chest compression, you suddenly started coughing and turned onto your side as you continued to cough up the water from your lungs. He was so thankful there wasn’t enough water in your lungs that he would’ve had to break your ribs giving you CPR. 

But he would choose broken ribs over a body that wasn’t breathing any day.

After coughing your lungs dry, you fell onto your back with your eyes closed as you took many deep breaths. Suddenly, you remembered the face you clearly remember saving you and shot up into a sitting position, your eyes wide and surprised. Your gaze immediately fell upon him.

Hyun-su.

You held your breath as your eyes met and you stared at each other for a few moments. Your hand hesitantly raised to reach out for him. His gaze didn’t stray from your own as you brought your hand to his face, a mix between a sigh and a sob leaving your throat as you felt the soft skin of his cheek touch your fingertips. He was wet and cold, but he was alive. A smile grew onto your face but it dropped just as Hyun-su’s began to form. You yanked your hand away as if his skin suddenly burned you, and it might as well have. You could see the hurt expression taking over his face but the feeling of the anger, betrayal, and grief flooding through your veins overpowered any feelings of remorse you might have felt. Taking a quick moment to look around for the child you saved, you let out a small sigh of relief when you saw her innocently watching the interaction between you and Hyun-su, breathing normally and sitting safe and sound on the grass.

“Take care of her for me, will you?” You asked him coldly, not waiting for an answer as you stood up and started speed walking in the opposite direction. 

“No, wa- wait!” He scrambled to stand up, calling after you as you ignored his advances. “Stop!” He finally caught up to you and wrapped his hand around your bicep gently, turning you around to face him. 

“What? What the fuck is so important that you finally feel the need to talk to me?” You let out a sob of a laugh as you ripped your arm away from him. You could slowly see the realization of why you were acting so angry and upset dawn on his face as guilt settled into his eyes. “You’ve gone this entire time being just fine as you save my life just to leave me there, alone, time and time again. So please - please - explain to me what is now so important you feel the need to reveal yourself to me.”

You looked at him expectantly as his mouth opened and closed, looking for an answer. He seemed to find it as he finally said, “I just… I really thought you died this time. I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

You looked at him, frustrated, for a moment before harshly scrubbing your palms over your eyes which were tearing up against your will. “So… what, after all the times you saved me, now you want to check on my safety?” Taking a deep breath, you forced your face to look calm, masking your anger for his sake so you could get out of this situation with as little hindrance as possible. You dropped your hands to your sides, your tears smeared across your face leaving it in a shiny glow. “Well thank you, Hyun-su, for your consideration,” you spoke the last word with bitterness lacing your tone that you could tell he caught as he winced softly. “But I am fine.”

You turned around, fully intent on heading back to the stadium when his hand wrapped around your bicep again. “What?” You asked angrily and turned around only to be pulled into a tight hug. You didn’t waste time in fighting his grip but he was relentless. “Let me go!” You screamed at him, although it was muffled by his shirt. “You’re such an asshole! I fucking mourned for you! I built a fucking memorial and brought a flower every single week without fail and yet you were never fucking dead! Why did you keep letting me think you were dead?” You were now pounding your fists into his chest, no longer resisting his embrace but expressing the built-up anger, sadness, grief, and self-loathing you felt every single day. It all stemmed solely from the way you hated yourself for not trying harder to save him. Not trying harder to resist Eun-hyuk when he told you and Eun-yu he would bring him back. “Was it you? Was it you every time I was stopped? Every time I was in danger, it was you who saved me, wasn’t it? What gave you the fucking right?” The crying started again. In turn, your hits became less and less powerful with each strike along with your screams gradually quieting. “Why did you have to leave me?” You sobbed out and let your head fall onto his chest as he buried his face in your hair. Your hands clutched onto his t-shirt as if trying to anchor him to you, scared that if you let him go, he would disappear again. Your knees gave out, exhausted by the emotional turmoil washing over you from the last five minutes. And so soon after death caressed you on the cheek too. Hyun-su caught you and slowly lowered the two of you to the ground, never once breaking the embrace. 

You sat in silence, only broken by the sound of your sobs as they slowly subsided. When you settled down, you spoke once more. 

“Did you know I was in love with you?” You didn’t feel any physical reaction from him that would express what he was feeling in that moment so you continued. “I never stopped. Loving you, I mean. I don’t think I ever will, but god, I hate you so much right now.”

There were a few silent beats where the only sound you could hear was the sound of his heartbeat against your ear until he spoke. 

“I didn’t think I would be able to handle seeing you again and find you with this exact reaction. By the time I left the military’s grasp, I tried to find you but then I saw you on that ledge.”

It surprised you and calmed your nerves all the same. 

“I knew I was just being a coward but I thought too much time had passed for me to just show up. Today was just a bit different.” He leaned back a bit to look at you and you did the same. He gave a small smile when he saw you again, with your wet eyes and glistening cheeks you looked wonderful. Even after sobbing your heart out, you were still the most beautiful girl he’d ever seen. “My love, I’ve loved you since the first moment I saw you, and I never stopped either,” he leaned in slowly so your foreheads rested against each other and your noses brushed. “And if you need time to stop hating me, I’ll wait as long as it takes.”

You looked into his radiating brown eyes as the last tear slipped from your own before bringing a hand up to cup his cheek once again. You let out a small laugh which he returned with an adoring smile. Leaning in, you pressed your lips against his in a soft, unhurried kiss. He slid a hand up from where it was pulling you into his embrace to rest against the back of your neck as he held you against him. When the both of you were smiling too much to continue the kiss, you leaned back just enough to stare into each other’s eyes. The adoration and love you had for each other would be clear for anyone to see from the way you gazed at each other.

You suddenly pushed forward and wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him close and hugging him once more. He sat still for a moment as he processed what you did only to wrap his arms around your waist. He hugged you just as tight and with just as much desperation as you did.

“God, I missed you so much,” you whispered into his ear and he sighed shakily into the spot where his face was buried in your neck. 

“I missed you too, so much. I’m so sorry for not coming back sooner.”

“Well, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters to me,” you reassured him and he physically relaxed, his shoulders untensing and him falling further into your embrace. 

The sound of the soft pattering of footsteps interrupted the moment you two were sharing. However, it was entirely welcome when you saw the little girl you had saved before standing beside you. You pulled away from Hyun-su, but not too far as he grabbed onto one of your hands. You smiled at him slightly, he was obviously just as starved of your touch as you were his.

“Hi there,” you told her gently when you turned back to her, not wanting to scare her in any way. “What’s your name?”

She looked down shyly, not answering until Hyun-su reached out to her with his hand. “It’s okay, she’s a good one,” he reassured her as he brushed some stray wet strands of her pin-straight black hair out of her face when her small hands were unable to. He took her hand and gently pulled her closer to the two of you. It made you smile as you saw them interact. The caring and soft way Hyun-su acted with her reminded you so much of a father interacting with his daughter.

It just made you love him even more.

He gave her one more nod of reassurance before she timidly introduced herself.

“M-my name is Ah-yi,” she stuttered out and you silently cooed at her adorable little shy smile. “Thank you for saving me, Miss.”

“Of course, Ah-yi, you are very welcome,” you gave her your own smile and some of her shyness seemed to fade away. You then gave her your name and she visibly brightened up. 

“You’re the princess!” You gave her a confused smile with a small laugh as she then began to explain. “Oppa’s told me stories about you! How you’re the princess of the big green castle and how he was a knight in shining armor who was saved by you, the warrior princess!” She talked animatedly with her hands swinging around wildly and her chest puffing out at the end to make her seem stronger. Your lips formed a big smile as you looked over at Hyun-su to see him lightly glaring at Ah-yi with a big blush coating his cheeks. 

“Ah, so you’ve told stories about me, have you?” You teased him and he looked at you before rolling his eyes. 

“Shut up,” he mumbled and you yelped as he yanked on your hand, sending you falling onto his chest with a loud laugh. 

You talked a bit more with Ah-yi, somehow ending with her laying her head in your lap as you leaned against Hyun-su with your back to his chest. The three of you watched the clouds, pointing out any shapes you could find and making up stories that Ah-yi seemed to love. Every time you looked over at Hyun-su, you could see all of his attention focused on you and how you interacted with the small child. 

Time seemed to fly as eventually, the sun started to fade into the distance, only leaving splotches of light shining through the leaves of the tall trees surrounding you. All three of you stood up and you glanced in the direction of the stadium with sad eyes. You couldn’t stand the thought of leaving Hyun-su yet. Even the thought of leaving the small girl you had grown strongly attached to in the past few hours broke your heart. Hyun-su seemed to sense your hesitation as he grabbed your hand. 

You looked back at him and he looked at you so fondly you felt like your heart might burst. With his thumb gently caressing your knuckles, he looked you in the eyes and said, “Stay. Stay with me. With us. You don’t have to go yet.”

He seemed just as desperate to make up for lost time with you as you were with him. His eyes widened and that smile you loved so dearly formed on his face when you nodded with little thought put into the decision. Pulling you closer with his arm circling your shoulders and one of yours circling his waist while the other hand reached out for Ah-yi to grab. She practically leaped at the opportunity.

“You ready, princess?” Hyun-su asked you in a soft teasing voice and you looked up at him with the same passionate smile gracing your lips. 

“Lead the way, my shining knight.”

~~~

Pt 2: Floating Above Those Dark Skies :)

[wordsvomit101]

I will hide this soon but I somewhat got my thoughts together on this chat

Notes: Credit is to @shyanimeboi and their friend, I only got these images from before everything got taken down. And the chat images are only small parts of the full things.

Warning: There will be spoilers for the main story

So Lucifer actually gives some info about how Gehenna is the country where devils are the loudest and laugh the most compared to other countries and how they have the least amount of insomniacs, yet ironically their own king suffers from insomnia the most.

Now, I really like Satan, but I never thought much of him besides that I think he is a hissing cat and a very cool motorcycle guy who likes to spank you and kick his followers and has a very interesting friendship with Mammon (that bromance alone deserve its own analysis). But with the context Lucifer gave us, I can see how self-sacrificial Satan is as a King and how his followers will do the same for him.

Devils in Gehenna can be destructive, as shown in the main story, Leraye's event with Sitri and Paimon, and Lucifer's Selfie Card prologue, but compared to devils in other countries, how they manage through war and their outlooks on it are very fascinating. They're cheerful and very assertive in battle, even running first to danger with enthusiasm:

(Yes Leraye did indeed moan out loud being stabbed through the arm trying to be the shield. Love him but the dude needs someone with a bit of common sense in his life to save his ass from dying for real)

And how easily excitable and easygoing they are with MC and being injured (even explain why with a big smile like dudes are talking about losing both of his legs as if he is commenting about the weather):

I didn't think much of it and took it at face value but now thinking about it further. How can most of them be like this? Being the country where devils are the rowdiest and destructive yet have a community so tight-knit that their violent tendencies never break the strict hierarchy (how they address the nobles and how they respect each other), maintain a very positive attitude despite being the country that is attacked by angels and suffers from angelification the most by far, and easily unified with a common goal. For me, it also took something else other than love to be able to maintain that attitude.

It has been too long since it made me forget why I liked Satan in the first place. In my personal opinion, as the king of wrath, Satan embodies a formidable and unyielding strength. His constant anger can be seen as a source of power, fueling his ability to protect and lead his people with an uncompromising approach. By personifying wrath, Satan takes on the collective anger of people and shoulders their emotions of anger, fear, and insecurity, like how he was when MC got angry, it fuels him further but it might also burden him like a drug. Yet, this allows his followers to weather through the stress of war, and as their leader channels and contains the destructive emotions that might otherwise disrupt their society being one of the reasons.

While Satan is perpetually angry, his followers only exhibit a controlled form of violent temper that is not taken seriously even by Sitri. This difference in emotional intensity is crucial. Satan’s role as the emotional absorber ensures that his citizens’ anger never reaches the destructive levels that could harm the community. Gehenna's devil's violent temper is a recipe for disaster but it is controlled, expressed through minor conflicts, brawls, and property damage, and serves as a controlled release of frustration. This behavior, although disruptive on the surface, is actually a stabilizing force, preventing deeper, more harmful conflicts by allowing for regular, minor (please don't be like them irl and seek professional help if you exhibit the same behaviors, these people are fictional demons so their standards are not the same in reality) venting of emotions.

The outcome of Satan's actions is a society where people are the least insomniac and laugh the most. This sadly contrasts with Satan's own issues, where he becomes the most insomniac devil who cannot close his eyes when asleep and is said by Lucifer to have long been a depressive guy, who is always hard on himself the most and he is the type to be glad that his restless wakefulness helps you have a restful night.

From what I think, Satan's insomnia can be seen as a metaphor for the relentless vigilance and constant anxiety that comes with his responsibility of being his country's leader amidst the biggest war Hell ever experienced and having his country be the one that gets attacked the most. This inner self-sacrifice is a testament to his commitment to his people’s happiness and stability, even at the cost of his own peace. Yet he always shows to be confident and strong, and because in a stressful situation, he always remains level-headed despite how he usually acts (ex: He is the one who stops Sitri and Leraye from attacking Lucifer in the Two-Star event). He is also the one person who is calm and gives out a clear order of what to do and can rally everyone's morale, as well as the immense power and authority to command respect from others and back up his claims.

But more than anything, what devils in Gehenna respect him for the most is how his love for his people speaks louder than words.

In the situation he is in, he can't be weak for any moment even when he secretly wants to. He can't break down because if he falls, what would become of his country, which probably is the question he might ask himself a lot. So he can't let himself be vulnerable even if others know how hurt he is inside.

To make this more relatable, I will be honest, I don't usually connect much with leader characters because I don't understand their struggles. But when I put father being the metaphor for a leader, it becomes a lot easier to see the picture a bit more. Satan is like a father (King) in this, being the pillar of the house (Gehenna), he puts his people's emotions and well-being before himself, he either protects them as best as he can or he will be the one to do the hardest thing and the dirty work that most would not willing to do. And that is another way he shows his love as well.

Personally, not only does he love them but he also respects them as well, he is rough and not gentle about it but he always acknowledges their efforts. (like a dad-)

But it is a mutual thing, as much as Satan loves them, his citizens also share the same feelings. They let Satan draw power from their blood, which indicates a deep level of devotion and willingness to sacrifice. Blood, often seen as a symbol of life and vitality, represents the most personal and significant offering one can give. It is also canon that Satan can only draw power from the blood of people who love him, the obvious being Sitri.

But if that doesn't convince you and you get angry at Satan for treating Sitri like an unwilling personal blood bag then let's look, buddy, this guy is a simp- He eats more food rich with iron so he doing fine.

Gehenna's devils also treat Satan's kicks as special treatment to be fought over suggesting a ritualistic or symbolic form of reverence. This is seen as a badge of honor or a sign of personal attention from their leader. It shows that even seemingly negative actions from Satan are perceived as valuable or desirable. They're masochists, even if harsh, it is still a form of validation or connection.

And whatever horror collection of plushies Satan rips in half that Leraye got going on with this:

With all of this, I can see why Gehenna is the most romantic country, they expressed their love very clearly due to the foundational elements of mutual sacrifice, emotional stability, cultural norms of validation, and a unified community with shared values. The intense emotional bonds and the willingness to endure hardships for the sake of others create an environment where romance can thrive. This setting can foster deep, meaningful relationships that are built on trust, sacrifice, and unwavering devotion, making Gehenna the most romantic in a unique way.

This is more of me yapping about Satan and Gehenna than anything so sorry if you expected it to be Lucifer, this is probably part 1 and part 2 would be the end of this short series.

[queenimmadolla]

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: You surprise Eddie with your baby's first trick-or-treat costume. Spoiler alert: she's adorable.

a/n: for maisie 🩷

more penny and Eddie here

“I’m waitiiiiiiiiing.” Eddie sang out from the couch, tugging at the neck of the cream colored turtleneck you’d guilted him into wearing. It wasn’t as bad as the sweater he had to wear with it. Truly the ugliest thing he had ever seen. 

  It was so ugly, it offended him and he was a little grumpy about it, which you teased was appropriate considering he was supposed to be dressed as Bert from Sesame Street. 

  Yeah. Sesame Street. 

  The (totally) gay puppets.

“You’ll have to get close.” Eddie had threatened when you pulled out eyeliner, not to line his eyes like you did before one of his shows or a date night, but to link his brows together in the most unrealistic looking unibrow ever. 

  Once upon a time, up until like two Halloweens ago, Eddie had used this day to be completely and thoroughly chaotic. Messy. Well, as messy as the social pariah could be on Halloween. So just really drunk, maybe high—sometimes both—making out with someone who wouldn’t acknowledge his existence the following day (and he was very grateful for you for breaking the curse on that last carefree Halloween). But that was the old Eddie Munson.

  Gone was the Eddie Munson that either went all out–in leather, eyeliner and fake blood–or barely tried with some devil horns and a bad sense of humor for halloween to deal weed and drugs, smoke weed and drink til he threw up, or get fucked. Granted, he wasn’t going through this change alone. 

  Your opportunities to party on Halloween night with your friends–having all gotten ready together for the big, slutty night out–drinking ‘til you were stupid only to wake up on your bedroom floor (sometimes not even yours and on one year, the top of your neighbor’s car) with no real repercussions were no more.

  Your days as primarily careless teenagers and now young adult were over, replaced with enjoying the night in a way you were both surprised to find that you didn’t hate, even as early twentysomethings. 

  Hell, the both of you were eager–even if Eddie had to wear a lame costume. He’d wanted to be Ernie, at least.

  “Shut up!” You called back from the bedroom. Eddie snickered at the amusement hidden under your voice and shifted until he was lounging on his side, arm propped up with his hand.

  “Still waitiiiiiiiing!”

  You’d been hiding a certain costume from him for the past three weeks, and the anticipation was killing him.

  “You are the most impatient man I have ever met.” 

  “I just gotta have you, baby.” Came his immediate response and his grin widened when he realized he didn’t even have to think up replies for your quips, it just came natural now. He knew you that well. Still made him giddy and want to kick his feet in the air.

  He loved being married to you. Sue him.

  “Okay, here we come!” You announced and Eddie scrambled to sit up straight, eagerly leaning forward to get an early peak. 

  You walked down the short hall, dressed in a striped sweatshirt, jeans with the bottoms rolled into cuffs and a pair of red converse. Ernie. But Eddie already knew what your costume was, it was a couple’s costume and you were indeed a couple. 

  It was who you were glancing back at, just out of his line of sight, that held his curiosity. 

  “C’mon, baby. Go show daddy!”

  At your prompting, your baby–just a couple of months over a year old–came waddling out, footsteps awkward as she got used to the orange duck feet covering her own and the padding and stuffing of her yellow duck costume, clutching a bottle you’d given her to keep her from fussing while you got her dressed. Her curly little head and chunky cheeks were framed in the hood of the costume, with the duck’s  head resting on hers.

  “Are you kidding me?” Eddie asked, mouth dropping open as his eyes darted from his cute little spawn in her adorable costume to your smug expression and back, “Are you joking? OH MY GOD!”

  Eddie reached his arms out to Penny, fingers curling into his fists as he made grabby hands, “You are so precious, my little baby, come to daddy!”

  Penny was delighted with his praise, drooly mouth dropping open and big brown eyes sparkling as she rushed forward. Her lack of coordinated motor skills paired with the duck feet and the padding of her duck bottom throwing her equilibrium off meant she immediately lost her balance and you and Eddie both inhaled sharply, quickly rising to attention as she wobbled forward briefly, then fell back on her cushioned tail feathers.

  It was far from a dangerous fall, so you and Eddie stood frozen, waiting for her response so as to not sway her to have a certain response, having taken her to the doctor’s after a fall once only to learn she was perfectly fine and had only started crying because you had. 

  You both learned real quick to wait for her response after falling, sometimes she cried and had a boo boo that Daddy and Mommy could fix with some first aid and a kiss, and other times she'd run right into the wall, get up, and walk away (albeit while muttering in angry baby gibberish).

  Penny blinked once, eyes flying from your face to her dad’s before she wiggled her bum against the floor, set her bottle down next to her and tried to stand up. 

  You both let out matching sighs of relief before Eddie darted forward to scoop her up.

  “Are you rubber ducky?” Eddie asked once he had her situated in his arms. All she did was give him that big, beautiful smile of hers (no longer gummy with the teeth she had coming in but thinking about that made Eddie teary eyed) before her attention strayed to his long curls and her chunky little fist flew out to grab some of it, staring it down before she put it in her mouth.

  “Say, yes, baby.” You encouraged her after picking up her bottle, hand tucking in one of her curls peaking out.

  “Yesh.” She parroted, mouthing aggressively at the hair in her fist. While she was distracted, Eddie took the opportunity to press kisses into her cheek, smothering her in them until she grew annoyed and snapped her head in his direction, mouth wide in protest.

  “Sor-ry!” He huffed, still grinning as he pressed another one into her soft cheek. She was all talk  and no bite. Mostly.

  “What does the duck say, baby?” You asked, trying to prompt her. She could do some of the animal sounds and she’d gotten the duck right a few times.

  “Moooo.” And sometimes she moo’d.

  “That is one interesting duck.” Eddie commented and you shushed him.

  “No, baby. Quack.”

  “Cack.”

  Your heart dropped into your stomach. “Okay, that’s a little too close to–we’ll stick with moo.”

  You grabbed her trick-or-treat bag, a disposable camera and a couple of other things you thought you might need to take her trick-or-treating for the first time, while Eddie continued to coddle her, only putting her down when you were all ready to go. 

  Penny was little miss independent until she caught sight of the steps outside of the trailer. Then she whimpered, dropped her bottle and turned to Eddie, shoving herself at his legs as she reached her little arms up to him.

  “Up! UP! Up!”

  It was mean of him, really it was, because Penny was genuinely afraid of the steps but that also meant she demanded her daddy hold her in his arms, and that wasn’t really a loss for him so he hoped she’d hang onto that fear for a while before she got inventive and found another way to climb down them without him.

  Eddie picked her up and she curled into his chest, chin on his shoulder as she clung to him with the duck head on her hood hitting the side of his face. He was trying to hide his smile but it was much too large to conceal and you glared at him with no malice, more amused with Eddie than anything.

  “It’s okay, sweetpea. Daddy will protect you from those big, mean steps.”

  He cackled as you shook your head with a smile. 

  “You are so messed up, capitalizing off of her fear.”

  “Hey–it’s easy for you, she still demands and needs your boob. Did you see her refuse my kisses in there? I’m fighting for her affection here. And I’m gonna keep doing it, as soon as she gets over her fear of steps, I’m telling her a monster lives underneath them. Now, let's go get some candy I’ll also eat on her behalf.”

  He bounded cheerfully out the door, Penny bouncing in his arms while you locked up behind him and called out in your laughter.

  “And using your baby for candy–oh, you’ve got to choke tonight. I’ll save you, but you’ve got to choke.”

  Eddie paused, waiting for you to catch up as his lips curled into smirk in a very Grinch like manner and you groaned, eyes squeezing shut as you realized what he was implying without having to verbalize it. 

  “I mean, I’d be happy to arrange that–”

  “Keep walking, Bert. We only have an hour and a half so we’d better get a move on if you want a decent amount of candy to steal from your own baby.”

  “I’m not above taking candy from any baby.” He confirmed leaning down just as you leaned up to meet in a kiss, the both of you smiling into it. It was brief, ending when Penny accidentally pecked the both of you with the head of her costume.

[nightylantern]

Gallagher x Reader; The Devil in Disguise

Pairings; Reader x Gallagher

Warnings; HUGE SPOILERS FOR THE 2.1 QUEST, also this isn’t canon, in other words the way they implied stuff at the end may be there to throw us off, this is a “what if”, if what was implied is true. Death mention, secrets, suspicions, already established relationship between the two

Creek

You glanced up to see a slightly tired Gallagher enter the room, noticing he looked slightly disheveled, on top of that he was a bit late.

“Gallagher? Are you okay, why are you so messy, didn’t you say you were having a meeting in regards to your job?” You headed over to him to help remove his vest and accessories, suddenly he grabbed your hand a bit frantically but nonetheless gave you a smile,

“I’m fine hon, just a bit of trouble on the way here, some hooligans on the streets were a bit to drunk,” he chuckled, and once again smiled, except it didn’t reach his eyes.

You knew something was up for a few days now, despite the fact that he kept his calm demeanour and relaxed behaviour, you knew something was up, and well it made sense. He explained to you that “Death” was among the dreamers and that a stowaway and the famous singer Robin, had been killed, thus he asked if you could simply stay inside. You knew he was working off the clock to figure out who could be behind it, but even so there was something…off…

You have known him for years now. How he approached you on the streets complementing you and serving you a drink, he wasn’t a bartender then, but he was exceptionally good. You eventually figured out his ties to the bloodhound family, which you didn’t mind but you found it odd how many of his coworkers never recognised him, to which he told you he simply did most of the work in the shadows.

Even with your suspicions you chalked it up to him being exhausted and him trying to prevent “Death” from taking any more people, so you simply kissed his cheek and told him you would prepare dinner, as well as the fact that he should go shower, to which he said he would as he headed for the bathroom.

Once he was in he closed the door and sighed. “Almost got caught,” he thought as he looked down at the inside of his vest and gloves, covered in the goo. He used them to cover up the remains of Sunday but he was also careful you wouldn’t find any of it on him and question him. He sighed again upon thinking of the events that had occurred before.

So what if he killed two prominent members of the family? The family, the supposed family that was open to peace and harmony, the family that had took away so much from many, the family that outed Mikhail as a traitor…Mikhail.

He would be lying to say he was doing all of this solely for Mikhail, but that didn’t mean that wasn’t one of his motives. Guilt eventually came at him for betraying his old companion, and then anger seeped in when figuring out that the family wasn’t all so innocent either. Naturally before he could strike he needed a good alias, and that’s where you came in.

He knew once a killer was a front, people would be less likely to suspect someone who not only was high in terms of security but also someone who had a lover, after all why risk their lover’s security when he planned to kill right? He knew you were the right one when meeting you, he complimented your looks to start small talk, not that he didn’t think you weren’t pretty, you were gorgeous. Then he kept meeting up with you and eventually you agreed to be his lover. At first everything was going according to plan, at least that’s what he thought.

He was using you from the beginning and yet, he grew fond of you, he truly cared about you and knew what he was doing could put you at risk, yet he was to far in deep to turn around and prioritised his plan above all. He wanted to break things off to protect you but at the same time, he couldn’t do it, and he didn’t know why.

He knew he wasn’t a good person, and knew you would be better off if you both were not together, but still. He didn’t know if it was love or simply respect, or anything in between but he truly did want to stay with you.

But it’s fine, all he has to do is to carry out the remaining tasks and finish his plan while also protecting you, and continue being a “minion”, of the enigmata without you knowing. All he has to do was continue to keep up his facade without any suspicion, all he ha-

“Gallagher, honey?” Your voice interrupted his inner monologue, wow he was actually getting into this anti hero role wasn’t he? “Are you okay? Do you need me to come in? You’ve been in there for a while and I didn’t hear any shower, just some mumbling…”

“Don’t worry! I was just zoning out, I’ll be out in a moment love, just give me some time,” he replied almost immediately. After hearing your footsteps leave he cleaned what he could of his clothing and took a nice shower before changing and coming outside to you setting the food on the table. “It’s fine, it will be over soon,” he thought as he headed to the table. Even if it ends with deception, he just needs to be secretive just a tad bit longer and everything will be okay…

“A complete Gallagher,” he recalled Sundays words, yes, he would just have to continue on and be nothing but a Gallagher to his “beloved,” if not for your sake, then for his own.

Once again nothing is canon, just my personal interpretation of him and his lover at the end of the quests, I hope you enjoyed this fic!

[erii-ya]

Punishing Female Trafalgar Law

LAW X FEM READER

A Valentine’s Special One Piece FanFic

CW: **NSFW, smut, bounded, finger-fudging, swear words, dominant reader, submissive Law, spoilers, not proofread**

WC: 1.7k

Dedicated to Anonymous (This may not be to your liking, but I thought of dedicating this story for you still. But I’ll make another one more decent. 😅)

🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞🔞

“Y/N-ya… ngghh… s-stop this…” Law huffed. Feverishly squirming under his restraints while you take your time thrusting two fingers inside his wet sex. Choking back a sob, not wanting to accept the fact that you are in control this time and not him.

An unexpected opportunity arises, much to your luck. After getting hit by one of Blackbeard’s men’s devil fruit, Trafalgar Law was turned into a woman. The lasting effect of the DF power is unknown, so you took the opportunity before you missed the chance.

Restrained in your bed by seastone cuffs is your captain and partner, Trafalgar Law, in his female form, as you like to call it. Why you have a seastone cuff is thanks to you being a weird collector of unusual things.

You gave her a maniacal grin, “Aww, the princess wants me to stop?” you teased. Curling up your fingers inside him, hitting that perfect spot you know so well will make him see stars - or hearts.

Law writhed in pure bliss. He didn’t expect this to be too…good. Now he knows just what you feel whenever he does this to you. “Yes…nghh-no… ahh fuuuck.” and for the nth time, he squirted. 

Making a mess on your shared bed and on you, but you didn’t care. As if it’s not enough torture for Law, you played with his clit while he's at it, the same as what he does to you. Overstimulating him while he moans and spasms uncontrollably under you.

The way he looks right now, sweat forming on his forehead, the uneven pump of his chest, and his half-lidded eyes full of undeniable desire and excitement, made you even more eager to mess him up. You want him to experience the same things he’d done to you, how he played and bullied you down there.

Law was gasping for air, looking at you. He wants to say something, but his thoughts are still in disarray after another display of performance. Without missing a beat and to build up his arousal, you shamelessly suck up your fingers that were covered with his essence, licking it clean. You saw how his eyes widened and gulped down in anticipation.

You hover over him, giving him a sloppy kiss to which he hungrily returns. “Can you taste yourself? You tasted so sweet, love. Just how I like it.” you told him in between kisses. Law only moaned in agreement.

“Good girl…so obedient for me.” you cooed. You act precisely as how he is when he fucks you dumb, and you, in fact, are enjoying it. The feeling of being dominant over him for the first time in the course of your sex life was so satisfying it’ll be etched in your memories forever.

Breaking the kiss, you slowly descend to suck on his melons, going down to his sex, leaving a trail of bite marks and hickeys on his body. “Wh-what are you-ooohhh shit…” he hadn’t got time to finish his words when you started to ‘eat’ him out. 

You had never done this before, so you mentally followed how you remembered him doing it with you. Licking his folds while playing with his clit, seems to give him the same amount of pleasure as you experienced since he started to convulse again and was trying hard to squeeze his thighs shut. But he can’t because his legs are splayed out in restraints for you.

“You truly do too much work for me whenever you do this, don’t you?” you stopped for a bit, making him whine in dismay. “Oops, sorry. Were you enjoying it? Just want to appreciate you for a minute.”

“Y/N-ya… stop… t-teasing… m-me…” said Law, heavily breathing, lust covering his strained voice. “I-I want… to cu–ngghhh” moaning louder when you thrust your digits inside him again.

“You’re saying something, hon?” you asked, mischievously toying with him while you continuously pounded your fingers painfully slow inside him. You can feel him clench your digits in their every thrust, desperately clinging onto them for immediate relief until you see him starting to buckle up his hips, attempting to chase his climax.

Then you stop. Removing your fingers inside him.

Law glared at you due to your sudden halt. He was almost there, reaching his needed peak, but you mercilessly stopped and left him hanging on nothing. “W-wait.. Why’d you- why’d you stop?” he groaned.

Eyes lustful, you stared back at him; licking your lips, you asked, “Was it good?”

“Yes… yes, babe, so please… let me cum.” he begged. 

HE. BEGGED. 

The surgeon of death BEGGED.

It boosted your ego so much that you can’t stop thinking how you’ll prolong this game with him. He’s not the only one on edge for a while now. You can feel your own wetness dripping down your legs. If only you could be turned into a guy right now, you’ll definitely fuck the lights out of him.

You walk over to his side, tracing your fingers on his sensitive skin. Sitting down, you gently wiped away his drool and tucked the strands of loose hair covering his sweat-covered face behind his ears. Slowly laying down beside him, giving feathery kisses on his cheeks, your arm snaked behind him so you could fiddle on his hardened nips, pinching them from time to time while the other hand reached down on his sex, your middle and ring finger alternating between circling his clit and lunging inside.

Law felt the familiar knots on his stomach again, heat building up along with it. “Babe…” he said breathily. “Please… let me cum…” pleading for an immediate release.

You stopped what you were doing and shushed him. Cupping his face with one hand, you close your mouth to his ears, licking it sensually as how he liked it. 

“You want to cum, hon?” Law nodded eagerly, lust drunk. “Me too. Can you feel how wet I am for you right now?” you cooed—placing one of his thighs in between your dripping sex and humping on it. The squelching sound it made was too much for Law to handle. Giving him shivers, and you feel his body tense against yours.

“This is so unfair, love.” whispering in his ears in a flirtatious tone. “As much as I want to play and tease you more while you’re in your female form, I wish you could fuck me senseless instead.” 

Hearing your remark made Law choke.

“Fuck me so hard the only thing I could do is scream your name.” you added. “But I guess it’s not my lucky day, so to be fair, cum for me instead… but only through my voice.” purring to his ears. 

As much as it pains him to admit, Law was actually enjoying this sadistic side of you. He was so thrilled seeing that confidence while you tormented him the whole time. And that dirty talk… hot damn. It makes him too impatient to go back to being a man so he can wipe that smug grin off your face using his cock.

Law’s already at his limit. Your voice sends a tingling sensation throughout his body, and it’s not helping him at all. He started jerking, trying his best to free himself from his shackles, and you’re enjoying watching him try.

To add more fuel to his now blazing fire of desire, you continued purring sweet nothings and dirty talking through his ears. Biting it, then licking, then moaning deliciously after.

“It’s alright, love. You’re doing great.”

“Ngghhh yes… yes that’s it… cum for mee”

“Can’t wait to have you inside me again. My pussy’s throbbing just thinking about it.”

“I am so hot and ready for you, babe.”

“I need you, Law.”

“I love you, captain.”

“Remember to pump me up with your seeds once you're back.”

“I want all of it. I want all of you.”

As soon as you said the last word, Law went on an overdrive—his slim female body spasms in delight with his successful release. Appalled that he came to a climax because of your voice. 

You didn’t interrupt him this time and let him chase down his high. Planting kisses on his face, neck, and shoulders.

“Such a good boy.” you said, wrapping him in a hug as he pants, trying to get even breaths.

You both stayed in that position; moments later, you heard his light snores. Seeing that he’s already out cold, probably due to your exhausting torture, you carefully stood up and removed the seastone cuffs securing him one by one.

There were red marks around his wrists and ankles, proof of him trying to unbind himself the whole time. Feeling a pang of guilt, you softly caress the marks as if it’ll help heal them.

“I may have gone overboard. I’m sorry, love.”

To appease him when he wakes up, you change your clothes to one of his since yours has gotten quite messed up earlier and go over to the kitchen to get him some water and whip up an Onigiri. 

As you return to your shared bedroom, you are so busy mentally thinking about the other things you must prepare to clean him up that you don’t notice the towering shadow in the room waiting for your return. You placed the tray you were holding on his desk near the entrance and were about to close the door when you saw Law –in his original, manly figure, in all his glory, closing in on you.

‘Oh no. This won’t be good.’

“Fuck. I forgot somethi–...” You frantically turn around to open the door when Law cuts you to it, pinning you in place between him and the door.

Feeling his breath in your ears, he whispered, “Why the rush, Y/N-ya? Didn’t you say you are so hot and ready for me?”

“I should’ve left you in cuffs until morning.” you whizzed. 

Law only chuckled; wrapping his other hand on your waist, he spun you around to face him. There, you saw golden eyes staring back at you, piercing your soul and your very core. You swallowed up a lump.

His eyes are still lustful; you know he’ll go feral any minute because you awaken the beast.

“Who would’ve thought this was YOUR lucky day?” mocking you for what you said a while ago. “I hope you built up enough stamina because just as you wished, I’ll fuck you so hard; not only will you scream my name… but you may also not be able to walk for the next. Three. Days.”

‘I am sooo dead.’

(*/ω＼*) (*/ω＼*) (*/ω＼*) (*/ω＼*) (*/ω＼*) (*/ω＼*) (*/ω＼*)

A/N: Never thought my first Trafalgar Law fic would be smut. Not even sure if I intended it to be a dirty smut or a decent smut if that makes sense. Happy Valentine's to all!

My bisexual heart had never been triggered by a fictional character until this dazzling pirate captain came to my knowledge. Thank you, Oda-sensei! Thank you for making Trafalgar D. Water Law. I hope the live-action will do him justice, too.

[impala-dreamer]

Slow Like Honey

A Supernatural Story

~When Dean makes a deal with Michael, things go really well. Until they go really... really wrong...~

Dean x Reader, Micheal!Dean x Reader, Sam Winchester, Jack

3,124 Words

Warnings: Grace!Kink, NSFW, Show spoilers for 13x23, Mind Control through Grace? Idk it's awesome. 

Impala-Dreamer’s Masterlist  ~  Patreon  ~ Published Works

Everything was happening at once and all Y/N could do was stand by and watch. She kept her arm around Jack, let him lean on her a bit, sure that he was more broken than he let on. Blood was pouring from his nose and mouth, but the stream appeared to be slowing a bit as the seconds ticked by.

Sam wasn’t as bloody, but just as hurt, if not more than she was. The ringing in her head wasn’t stopping anytime soon and her back ached as if a few vertebrae had been shattered after Lucifer had thrown her across the chapel and into the stone pillar. How she wasn’t dead, she couldn’t fathom, but the questions would have to wait- they still had a job to do. Not that it was going very well at the moment.

Michael- Dean with Michael inside of him- she wasn’t really clear what was going on- was hovering above them, held tight in one of Lucifer’s fists while the other pounded into him, surely breaking each bone in his face. He hung, limp and suspended over the ornate chapel floor while Lucifer sought to put an end to Dean and Michael in the same moment.

The Final Moment.

The Last Showdown.

This was it. This was what the history of earth and every damned thing that had ever happened to them had been leading up to. This single moment.

And for the first time in a long time, Y/N had no hope inside of her. Every ounce of faith in herself, Jack, Sam, Dean, Chuck, everything had vanished.

They were going to lose.

And then they were going to die.

She couldn’t decide which was worse, the dying or the losing after everything they’d gone through, but she figured after Lucifer ripped her apart, she wouldn’t really care.

Above them, Dean groaned painfully, his head snapping back awkwardly and dangling in the air. Lucifer reared back for one final strike and Sam shook his head, refusing to let it end with his brother’s body broken and tossed aside.

Lunging forward, he dropped to one knee and grabbed the golden blade from the floor.

“Dean!”

Somehow, beyond any belief Y/N had left, Dean managed to catch the sword and jab it into Lucifer’s chest.

His scream was deafening, the light of Archangel Grace escaping him was blinding.

Dean crashed to the floor and all eyes were on Lucifer, watching as the Devil Himself was defeated.

This was not the Final Moment.

It was not the end of them, but the End of Lucifer.

They hid their eyes as a final burst of light illuminated the chapel and when the searing heat cooled, they looked to find Lucifer dead, his massive wings smoldering on the stones.

It was dark, the church cast into shadow without the shining blast of Grace. Silence covered them; awe forced them to move. Dean rolled to his feet and Y/N ran to him, hugging him close for a split second before curiosity got the better of them both.

The group huddled around Lucifer, staring down in utter disbelief.

Jack was the first to speak, barely able to give a voice to his shock. “Is he…”

Sam answered, nearly breathless and stunned. “He’s- he’s dead.” A gasp of relief pushed out of him and Sam’s lips quivered in an unbelieving smile. He turned to Dean who was gawking at the corpse, exhausted.

“Holy crap.”

Sam took a step, the smile growing on his face. “You did it.”

Dean looked up with tears rimming his eyes. He tried to take a deep breath but the weight of what had happened was pressing down hard on his chest.

“No.” He grit his teeth, inhaled a little deeper, grabbed Y/N’s hand. “No. We did it.” A smile tried to tug on his lips but there were too many emotions trembling inside of him. Y/N squeezed his hand. He looked to her and then his brother, to Jack. “We did it.”

Sam broke; a strange laugh of relief bubbling out of him. He bent over, smiling, free from Lucifer for the first time in his life.

Jack stood there frozen, grateful but lost.

Y/N dropped Dean’s hand and covered her face, hiding the tears that were falling. “Oh my god,” she whispered. “I can’t fucking believe-”

Relief was short-lived.

As always, the other shoe dropped.

With a pained groan, Dean doubled over, his breath racing, his head swimming. He clenched his body tight, fighting against something the others couldn’t understand.

“Dean?” Y/N’s hand hovered over his shoulder.

Sam closed in. “Dean?”

His brother dropped down, nearly tumbling to the floor in pain. He gasped for air, grunting as if he were being torn apart inside.

“Dean!”

Y/N watched in horror as Dean struggled, shaking and panting with pain.

His voice rang out, echoing through the chapel. “We had a deal!”

She went to touch him, to wrap her arms around him, do something, anything to ease his pain, but suddenly, it was over.

His frantic breathing ceased, his muscles eased, his body unclenched.

Dean stood up straight as if a metal rod had passed down his spine. He took a small breath and his features relaxed into eerie calmness.

Sam jerked back, seeing a change that Y/N could not see from her stance beside Dean. His lip quivered and fear flooded his hazel eyes.

“Michael.”

Sam’s whisper shook Y/N to the core and she held her breath, turning to face Dean.

He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, then down at the burned wings on the floor. Finally, he set his eyes upon Sam and nodded slightly.

“Thanks for the suit,” he said, voice chillingly unlike Dean’s yet completely the same.

Y/N’s heart was racing with panic and she did the only thing her body would let her, she reached out and grabbed Dean’s hand, holding it tight.

A rush of wind, the flap of wings. Something tugged at Y/N’s insides and she felt her body lift from the ground. She squeezed his hand tight, refusing to let go, refusing to lose Dean again.

She’d been with him through horrors and a hundred deaths, stood by his side while the Mark of Cain had burned his soul to the point of demonic takeover. She’d followed him blindly to Hell and Heaven and back again. She would not let him go. Not ever.

The wind was pushing down on her, striking her from every side, the force of flight nearly killing her. She gasped, suffocating as the air around them thinned and her eyes lost focus as the world around them went dark, spotted by the clearest stars she’d ever seen. Below was gray and misty, above them nothing but blackness.

They were in the sky, above the clouds, she realized and her lungs protested the lack of oxygen. Her eyes went wide, mouth fell open, skin paled, fingers slipped from his hand.

A strong arm wrapped around her back and pulled her close. The tightness of his grasp around her shoulders felt strangely reassuring as she slipped quickly into unconsciousness.

It was raining.

She could hear it beating against the broken and rattling windows; smell the sweetness of the storm as it fell through the holes in the old, rotted ceiling.

Y/N woke up on the ground in the middle of a large empty space. The stone floor was cold and dotted with puddles as it rained down, collecting in the dips and dents of the old building. Large rusted machines lined the back wall and busted hanging lights dangled equidistant from each other down the length of the room. It was an old factory, she surmised, but where, she had no idea.

Her right arm was tucked beneath her head, her left dangled in the curve of her waist. She was sore but not from falling, as if she’d been placed there gently to wake on her own. She shivered at the thought and pushed herself up to sitting, rubbing her hands down her bare arms.

“You’re cold.”

Dean’s voice made her jump and Y/N stood quickly, spinning around to find him a few yards away. Everything she had inside wanted to run to him, kiss his lips, throw a comforting arm around him, but memory kept her feet frozen. Her pulse quickened.

“You’re not Dean,” she said bluntly, mouth dry and skin crawling.

He smiled softly, just a simple turn of lips that she’d seen a thousand times before, but this was different. His stare was sharp, his stance ridgid. It made her heart ache and her panic rise.

“No,” he answered easily. “My name is Michael, but I’m sure you have figured that out already. You’re not as… stupid as you appear, I’m sure.”

He took a step forward and she countered, almost stumbling over her own feet to get away. Her heel fell into a puddle and the sting of mold hit the air and her nose.

“Where are we?”

Slowly, he looked around and then shrugged. “What does it matter?”

Blood was pounding in her ears. Fight or flight making her bones tremble. She stretched out her fingers at her sides to try to calm herself, but it did little to mask the fear in her voice.

“It matters because I want to know,” she snapped, forcing as much confidence in her tone as she could. There was little left inside of her, but she always knew she’d go down fighting.

“So inquisitive.” He smiled again and turned to the left, one step starting a circle around her. “Well, I have a question for you.” He clasped his hands behind his back and walked slowly, boots thudding through the open space. “What did you think you were doing by clinging to me like that? What was your plan?”

She swallowed hard; tried to think. “I wasn’t clinging to you. I was… hanging on. To Dean.”

An amused laugh passed his lips and her stomach flipped.

“Dean is… gone now.” He stopped his circuit and spun on one heel, turning to stare at her. “So why don’t I just get rid of you?”

Y/N held her ground, spinning to look him in the eyes. She was shaking, but stood upright, exuding what little strength she had. “You won’t.”

Michael tipped his head to the side, intrigued. “Really? And why not?”

She bit the inside of her cheek, forcing herself to keep going. “I don’t… I don’t know. But you could have let me go at any time. Hell, you could have dropped me somewhere over Chicago and yet you didn’t.” She lifted her chin, daring to quarrel with the most powerful angel in the universe. “I woke up here. Safe.”

Michael jerked forward, suddenly a breath away from her. She sucked in a deep breath and smelled the air on him, Dean’s faded gas station cologne. He clenched his jaw, annoyed. “Oh, you are far from safe.”

If this was the end, she wasn’t going to cower. She was going to face it with pride and grace. She dropped her shoulders and cocked a brow. “Well, if I’m wrong- Kill me.”

“We’ll see.”

Annoyance melted into something new. Michael narrowed his eyes, let his gaze drift down her face, her body. It chilled her and excited her in a way she couldn’t stand.

“He liked you… Dean,” Michael told her. “He cared for you. Loved you, even.”

Her chest ached. Past tense. He’s really gone. “How do you know?”

Michael stepped back, let his arms relax. “Because I can see inside of his mind.” He tapped one finger to his temple. “I know what he knew, I know what he felt… did… said, didn’t say. I know… everything.” He grinned at her shock. “I know you.”

Y/N shook herself. His tone was entracing but wrong. Everything about him was wrong. “You don’t know shit about me,” she spat.

“Don’t I?” He blinked slowly, capturing her attention even deeper. “I know how you came to hunt with the Winchesters after your family was killed by wolves. I know that Sam took a liking to you because you were good at research and liked… science fiction things. Dean didn’t care for you at first, did he? But… you gained his trust, learned from him, slowly became his lover. I know how you pined for him for years before he even saw you as anything more than a little sister. I know how you moaned when he first kissed you… How your fingers wrapped around his flannel whenever you were scared. How you… let him inside of every… part of you. How you would scream when he touched you just right-”

Enraged by his intrusiveness and her own whispering arousal, Y/N cut him off with a growl. “OK, enough! You’re just being crude.”

“Am I?” His smirk returned. “Funny how all human life depends on sexual intercourse and yet you find it so distasteful to discuss.”

Y/N scoffed and crossed her arms, symbolically closing herself off. “Well, we’re all a little fucked up, I guess.”

Michael’s eyes fixed on hers. “Yes. You are.”

The green was there, just as always. Deep and dark in the dim light, with flecks of gold that always mesmerized her. But behind the green was something else, a monster, a liar, another problem they had to solve.

Y/N looked away and took a breath to cleanse her soul. Without looking back, she changed the subject. “Why’d you break your deal with Dean?”

If he was surprised, he didn’t show it. A blank expression wiped his face smooth and he spoke slowly and truthfully. “Because I could. Because I… wanted to. Because there never really was a deal.” He paused for a moment, considering her frailties. “Dean was… desperate and stupid. I played him for the fool he was.”

Tears stung her eyes and Y/N grit her teeth, jolting forward with fists clenched. “Don’t you dare-”

“Or what?” Michael dipped his chin and looked closely at her. “How can a tiny thing like you hurt a powerful being like me?”

Fire burned inside of her and she went all in. “I don’t know, but I’ll die trying, you son of a bitch.”

Michael laughed. Fully and loudly. It was only a second, but he was clearly entertained by her vigor. “I enjoy your fire, your passion,” he explained. “I find you interesting. I’ll let you live.”

Surprise ran through her but Y/N kept her rageful sneer. “Gee, thanks.”

Michael was dismissive of her sarcastic appreciation. He shrugged and went on. “And in return for my mercy, you will be my slave.”

The laugh that echoed was her own and Y/N stared back in utter confusion and offense. “Excuse me?"

His foot fell against the stone as the circuit began again. “I need someone to show me around this new world. To explain to me about life here, help me move through the world unnoticed until I’ve worked out my plan.” He paused and regarded her with a possessive gaze. “That someone will be you.”

She stared back and jeered. “The fuck I will.”

Michael spun to her. His jaw tensed. “You will obey me.”

His tone sent a shiver down her spine but Y/N took a dangerous step towards him, testing fate. “I will… stab you in the neck.”

A spark of Grace flickered in his eyes and the blue made her gasp.

“I don’t think so.”

She could feel herself weaken, as if the glow was burning away at the resolve lodged inside of her.

“I… No, I won’t. You’re…” Her mouth watered, her eyes glazed over slightly. His face blurred, but the Grace was bright, sharp, digging deep into her. “No…”

Michael leaned in ever closer. “You like this, don’t you?”

She struggled to clear her head but he was already doing it for her. “S-Shut up.”

His eyes widened and the blue expanded, floating out to caress her cheek.  She swooned; a heavy gasp making up her last breath as everything around her slowed.

Michael studied her, fascinated.

“You find it… intoxicating,” he said, sending out another wave to sweet down her body and she moaned. “Arousing…”

The very word made her pussy ache and Y/N’s knees shook. She clenched her thighs together tight and dug her nails into her palm to stay steady. She just had to fight him, had to remember to fight.

The blue was everywhere, bright and warm. It ran slow, like honey across her skin, hitting every sweet spot that made her breath hitch and her eyes flutter.

“You’re so… easily manipulated.”

Michael’s songlike tone washed over her and Y/N crumbled, her body giving in to the pleasure. She swayed on her feet and Michael caught her, wrapping an invisible wing around her back, holding her upright but at a slight angle. She sank into the feathers, amazed at the strength, terrified by the feeling, but too light headed to speak.

Grace swirled around her nipples, rubbed between her thighs. She moaned and Michael watched intently, studying her, taking notes.

“A flick here, a touch there…”

Every word was like a tongue flickering over her clit, every stroke of Grace was a thick, delicious cock thrusting into her slick heat.

“A bit of pressure in the right spot… A taste of pleasure… And you’re a weak, helpless mess. Totally at my mercy… totally under my control.”

She tried to think of Dean, of how he’d want her to keep fighting, but the more she thought, the more Michael’s Grace flooded her system. The harder she fought him, the stronger his pleasure became until there was no more fight, no more worry, no more Dean.

“Your body… Mine.”

She moaned loudly, near to panting as his Grace pulsed inside of her, curling, thrusting, stretching, pounding.

“Your mind… Mine.”

Her eyes rolled and she cried out, cumming hard and squirting into her jeans. The warmth dripped down her thighs and she held back tears as her body shook, consumed with his power, lost in the ethereal magic in his eyes.

When she could stand, he pulled his wings away, leaving her shivering and feeling exposed. She trembled when he came close, held her breath as his fingers tipped her chin upwards.

The green was back, but she couldn’t remember why that was so important.

Michael swept through her mind and grinned. “That’s better.”

She sighed happily and smiled back, dazed and awed.

“Now…” Michael let his fingers slip down her throat, gently squeezing against her pulse. “Let’s get started.”

2024 Forever Tags (Always Open! Send an Ask!)

@babysimpala @beardburnsupersoldiers @chenshemesh1 @cosicas-cuquis @deans-baby-momma @deanwinchesterswitch @feelmyroarrrr @foxyjwls007 @hobby27 @impalaspixie @jackles010378 @kazsrm67 @k-slla @leigh70 @lyarr24 @nancymcl @peachy-vans @pizzagirlxnsfwx @rachiem4-blog @sexyvixen7 @the-wounded-healer05  

[pursuitseternal]

“Dexterity Check First, My Sweet:” finger-licking smut 🔥with Spawn!Astarion for “Bites in the Night” part 9

Astarion x f!reader | E | 3K of finger fucking licking smut

Summary: Flaming Fist soldiers on your heels, caught red-handed trying to steal some food, and your Vampire Rogue has one place in mind for you to hide: Sharess’ Caress. Where better to spend an hour laying low together than a pleasure house… where he can tutor you on the dexterity skills that got you into this mess

CW: Vaginal fingering, finger licking, breast play, anal fingering, generally arrogant Spawn Astarion, Act 3 spoilers if you squint maybe…

Ao3 link | Series on Ao3 | Masterlist

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“Can’t you run any faster?” Astarion hisses at you, eyes narrowed as he glares over his shoulder, leading you down alley after alley in Baldur’s Gate. The clanking of armor still echoes behind you—the Flaming Fist still trailing.

And you, you’re hustling, but it’s harder given your wardrobe. “This was your idea,” you pant, aggravated in reply. “You said ‘Wear a dress for once, darling. No one will suspect us if you look decent for once…’”

His hand shoots out from the shadows, pulling you into a darkened doorway. His chest heaves, lock picks in hand. “I know what I said. It’s true, my sweet. You do look decent for once. It’s not my fault you can’t use those hands for anything subtle and smooth that isn’t my cock.”

He flashes a quick smirk your way before picking open the door you both press against. That smirk that melts your innards and makes you quiver instantaneously.

Turning, you keep an eye out for the soldiers who caught you stealing from the vendors. Of course after weeks in the Shadow-Cursed lands, food and gold were scarce. What little you still had only stretched so far in the City. So, you and your Rogue decided to take a… new course of action. One he swore was foolproof… easy… something he did a thousand times over hundreds of years… And he had insisted you look ‘decent’ in a dress for it.

Which was how you now find yourself squeezed against some alley door, panting, and afraid of being arrested as the soldiers who caught you nicking food from the stands close in.

“Hurry, Astarion,” you elbow him in the shoulder where he crouches beside you. “They’re coming.”

“Darling you can’t rush art,” he sneers in reply.

“It’s not art, it’s crime.”

“Maybe next time, you'll not get us caught then. Maybe you need some lessons on just how to expertly use those fingers…” he pauses, even as the clanking of armor draws even closer. He stands quickly, spinning you both, pinning you hard against the planes of the door as he crushes you against the wood. His mouth devours yours, your eyes filled with nothing but his pale skin and mussy, silver hair. Your every sense is consumed by his taste in your tongue, his scent in your nose, his wiry body bearing down, covering you completely.

That passion, that ardor steals your breath, lost in the sound of his breath in your mouth and the wet working of his lips, his tongue with yours.

So distracted you barely even notice the flurry of guards rush right past you until they have long passed. Barely noticed that he’s hidden you from their sight in his distraction. Kept you safe. Then he breaks, his devious smirk at your arousal only makes you pant harder. “You clever devil,” you rasp, trying to swallow. “Kept us hidden… and clearly you do enjoy this dress.”

“What would you do without me?” he taunts, reaching for the handle of the door, letting it creak open behind your back. “They’ll be back, we need to lay low for an hour or two…” that wicked gleam in his eyes only darkens. “How fortunate that we can hide here…”

You turn, taking a step inside the door. Instantly, you recognize it from your adventures so far. The scent of perfumes and sweat, of alluring flowers and dirty bodies all at once. Thick crimson curtains draped over every wall and door, ready to soften the cries of orgasm and the sounds of sex.

Sharess’ Caress.

“What better place to hide than a pleasure house?” he gives you that feline grin that more than announces his intentions for how to pass an hour or two. “Oh, what a shame we will have to hide away… just the two of us… away from everyone else back at camp…”

“Did I call you clever?” you roll your eyes, despite the way your belly floods with heat. “I mean sly, cunning…”

“And very, very hungry,” he interjects, grabbing you by the waist and pulling you towards the stairs. “Starved practically…”

“How do you know where you’re going?” you hiss from behind.

“You forget so quickly these are my hunting grounds, my nocturnal domains. How fortunate you get me of my own free will during the daytime,” he quirks back at you over his shoulder as he turns down a hall and then another. “You’ve been dancing with a professional,” he smirks, breathing deeply as he draws to a sudden stop outside a door. “But you already knew that, my darling. Already experienced the fruits of my practice on the unworthy…”

“Gods,” you pant, “and you think me worthy?”

“Most worthy, my love,” he chuckles softly, turning the doorknob beside you. “Won’t you come and find out why it’s a pleasure house, my sweet?”

You smile, devious, “Emphasis on the… come?”

“I’m in such a good mood to be here with you, my darling, that even your unrefined wit won’t put me off or… soften… my regard for you,” he giggles, leading you behind the curtain that covers the entryway. Its fabric is thick, a dense sort of velvet, darker than blood.

You stumble into the dark, and instantly those hands… those strong, lithe, dancing hands, catch you. You hear so many other voices in the distance, a cacophony of moans and slaps and screams. You turn, looking for Astarion, an edge of… surprise in your heart. Surprise that warms quickly into a heady fear as he leers at you.

The soft light only makes every angle and cut of his face sharper, his skin almost lustrous, those hands leaving your grip to already begin to tear his tunic from over his head. Earth-shattering. Ruinous. He is beyond handsome.

And he’s yours.

“You can’t stop staring, darling…” he rasps, drawing closer in, closing in around you. The skin of his chest, the way every muscle and vein is familiar to you, it makes you force a swallow. “Not that I'm complaining, of course,” he gives that short burst of giggles to punctuate. “But we really… really must do something about those hands of yours.”

He catches them together in just one palm, his touch cool despite the growing heat that caresses your skin. “Strength doesn’t come from brute force all the time, slashing and twisting…” he breathes. You gasp, moaning suddenly as his other hand has already managed to somehow slink into the hitched hem of your skirt, his touch barely ghosting up your inner thigh. “You needn’t be so gruff and commanding all the time, darling,” he purrs. “Let your fingers find their own way, one by one in that merry dance…”

“Gods,” you groan, as indeed one by one they slip into your folds, sliding in so easily with how drenched you already are for him. He flashes that sideways grin down at you, eyes narrowed as he is savoring the way you shudder at his touch, at the way your mouth hangs open suddenly to feel him pleasuring you. “Please, more,” you sigh, arching back to find something to brace your body against. “I want more inside me, I want you inside me.”

“But I am, darling,” his grin only twists higher, “and this is my lesson for you, so you had better listen and learn.” His hold on your hands tightens, his thumb massaging over their backs, deftly and rhythmically stroking your taught muscles. His legs stride between yours, hips pressing hard against you, making you back until you smack the your knees on some soft furniture. But quicker than breath, he steadies you. Fingers slipping from your folds and your body to unbutton his breeches.

You don’t even need to look to know his cock stands at the ready, and you giggle as he presses it into your waist, so hard you feel its twitching through your gown. “Already?” you tease, feeling a blush sweeping over your cheeks and up your neck.

“Well, you’re going to need something to practice on…” His eyes gaze at you, glazed with desire, that crimson shine almost a bright red as the lights from the candles around you flicker and flame. “And, I will too,” he adds, voice thick in his throat as he takes the ribbons of your blouse in those long, lean fingers. “Something to play with, as an example of course…”

His breath is heavy, each inhale and exhale almost deafens you. He is close but refrains from brushing against you, nothing more than the way his fingers pull those thin laces of bodice, one by one.

Slowly. Painfully deliberate.

His gaze never wavers, doesn’t even have to look to know where to grip, where to touch. Until at last, the panes of your bodice split, your breasts achingly hard to feel the free air, the rush of his heavy breaths caressing them.

You try to catch his mouth, to bring him into a kiss, but he only shoves you back down to your heels. “Tch, tch,” he sucks his teeth at you, shaking his head in mock disapproval. “This isn’t a lesson for your mouth. Your tongue is already so good at sucking and swallowing, my pet.”

Oh, you shudder. His words alone push you to that precipice of need. Not to mention that constant washing sound of the pleasures around you. It makes you whimper to be denied.

“Shh,” he chuckles quietly, one long pointer finger on your lips to tap gently. “Think about how enjoyable it will be to put these skills into practice daily… nightly too…”

Your brow raises, mischief swirling in your belly as you quickly part your lips, drawing that finger between them to suck it hard.

His cock pulses against your belly, his mouth groaning loudly at the warmth and wet you swirl around it.

“Eager and naughty. You belong in this pleasure house, my love,” he growls. Slowly, he lowers himself to sit on the seat behind you, a settee you realize, covered in softest velvet. Your breathing grows rough, every inhale you make is filled with the perfumes of the house, masked heavily by that fresher scent of his skin.

Your mouth waters, his hands rucking up your skirts, clawing around your hips as he settles you on his thighs. He throws the skirts behind you, ensuring he has complete control, a perfect view of your soft-curled mound, your shaking thighs. But he leaves you aching, your pulse pounding as he can feel your folds soaking his skin and throbbing as you grieve the emptiness inside you.

His fingers seem to dance in the air as he reaches for your body, where your breasts hang so exposed. So easy for the taking. Fascinated, hypnotized by their dexterity, you watch as each of his fingers moves, of its own accord, each playing across your skin. His touch is delicate and deliberate.

The muscles of his hands clench, each movement visible as the candlelight caresses that masculine outline. Light warming his pale, pearl-like skin. Shadows following the ridges and trails the veins make over the backs of his hands, weaving gently up his arms.

You can’t resist, bringing your own touch to dance along those protruding blue lines. Mimicking the soft and commanding pressure he makes as he cradles your breasts, one in each hand, fingers twirling and plucking your nipples hardened to pebbles in his masterful touch. You can’t help it, can’t control it as the rhythm of his touch on your breasts alone sends those shivers of pleasure down your spine, your body under his thrall as climax pours through you. Hot and wild, you buck on the limited friction of his thighs, your cum coating that flawless, smooth skin.

And he giggles. With a little extra effort, he tweaks your nipples as you ride out the remaining waves. “Oh my sweet, see what skilled fingers alone can do?” he croons. His hips buck beneath your still-trembling thighs, making his cock jolt where it stands. Little trickles of his seed already leaking from that tight little slit. You want so badly to lick it clean, to quickly shove that hardness deep inside you to cool your burning lust. But you smile, taking it in your hands, not to be outdone by your arrogant, insufferable Rogue.

Plying that same silken yet commanding touch, you sweep a single finger up the trail of his precum, gathering it on your fingertip before slipping it in your mouth. Sucking it clean.

He groans, watching. His hands slide down your sides, holding your hips hard against his thighs. “What a good student you have become,” he praises in his honeyed tones.

You pull your finger from your pursed lips with a resounding pop. Licking the rest of those fingers one by one, you begin tracing just the soft pads of your fingers up and down his twitching shaft.

For hells take you if you weren’t about to stun him senseless with your fingers alone.

You keep your eyes on the motions you make, smiling harder each time his hips buck under your touch, cock twitching and jolting as you beat it in your grip. Maybe it’s the sounds that surround you, the wet slap of flesh, the moans of a hundred paying patrons, but your mind fills with a naughty idea.

Pausing, you clamber between his legs, pressing him wider with your knees. As he has done to you countless times.

“Just what are you doing, my sweet?”

You ignore the question, using a single hand to tug softly on the wrinkled silken skin of his balls. Gods, they feel tight and heavy in your palm already. Driving him closer to his own bursting release with each stroke you make.

“You’ll find out…” you grin innocently, meeting that flaming scarlet gaze of his. His tongue drags over his fangs, hunger lurking behind every clench of his body. The soft pads of your fingers slip further beneath him, following the hard seam of his erection until you brush the pert little hole of his ass.

Astarion hisses, arching his back as you press around it just a bit harder, circling it as he has done to everything on your body a million times.

“Darling…” he groans, raising his hips to let you in more. “Testing your dexterity on all of me, are you?”

You slip your touch inside, feeling him clench as you mimic the way he caresses you. The way he fucks you on those talented, eager fingers of his. You savor the way he growls, head thrown back against the velvet of the settee as you crook inside him deeper. For a moment, you forget all about his cock. Savoring the way you make him shake and quiver around your digits for once. But then, he clenches so hard around your finger deep in his ass, his cock ripples, thickening as you push him further towards the edge. He thrusts over and over into your other fist.

“Hells…” he pants, forcing his head up to meet your smile. “Where in gods names did you think to do that?”

You smile, so innocent and pouting and coy. “You’re not the only one who can read a book, Astarion…”

“Hgnf…” he grabs your wrists, the veins of his arms protruding even more as he flexes, pulling you down to collapse on his chest. “Lesson learned. Now I’ll claim my payment, it’s a brothel after all.”

No resistance is left in your body, too wet and hot and aching for anything other than letting that cool shaft of his cock to pierce deep inside you. And it does, sheathed so tightly in your cunt you cry, begging for more. Your scream could shake the walls, muffled only by those thick curtains.

“That’s right, my darling. Be loud, let them all hear you, hold nothing back like you do for me around the others,” he hisses low in the throat, hands tugging your dress apart all the more. All the better to let your breasts swing free with every unbridled buck of your body.

You groan, so loudly you’re sure you hear the curtains shaking.

And you do, as they pull back to open wide, the clatter of metal armor crashing through the soft slap of flesh. “Flaming Fist,” a cold voice startles you, anouncing. You gasp, clutching your bodice to hide the ample swell of your bosoms, burying your face against his chest as Astarion sits upright.

“What is the meaning of this,” he snaps in disgust and sneers in disdain, that commanding edge of his voice is dominating and cold. “I’ve paid good money for this, and you have no business to intrude on either my time or my pleasure.” He chastises, bracing his arms around you, curving you slightly around his side.

Hiding you.

“I’m sorry sir,” the soldier insists, far more timidly than before. “We’ve been trailing a thief we were tipped off today who would be pinching food stores from the markets today. We suspect she may be hiding here.”

“Get out or pay me the 500 gold I’ve already wasted by spending time speaking with you!” he bellows, gesturing roughly towards the door. “No one here but an angry, wealthy patron and his whore!”

That did it, sending them scattering and clattering as they shut the curtain firmly behind them.

You go still on his lap, a suspicious, scouring look on your face as you meet his arrogant, guilty eyes. “Tipped… off…”

His smirk curls wickedly to one side, shrugging demurely, a single hand splayed on his chest to feign innocence. “How else am I supposed to get you to accompany me here, say… Oh darling, I’d like to take you to a pleasure house so I can loudly fuck you away from prying eyes and listening ears?”

“You’d be surprised just how charismatic you might be if you checked, if you asked nicely…” you grind on his still throbbing cock, “…if you tried saying please.” You lean forward, pressing your hands on his chest to shove him back down. “Perhaps you could benefit from some lessons on asking nicely…”

That handsome face quirks, twisting harder as he smiles at you. “Dexterity check first, my sweet,” he purrs and crooks his finger against your clit. Reminding you just why you’re here.

[sky-kiss]

Best Served Cold

A/N: I want the record to show that I love Haarlep. Spoilers for Patch 5.0 Epilogue. Using it for evil. Hiding under a gif. Maybe don't read if you don't like. Sex and violence. Short bit of something.

Haarlep/Durge (GN), Raphael/Durge GN: Best Served Cold (18+)

Oh, the spoils of war are ever so sweet. 

The thought flits through Haarlep’s head, a disconnected spark lost amidst a sea of pleasure. The incubus grips their lover’s hips tighter, fucking up into them as if it’s their last night in Hell. Raphael’s treasured pet comes to take their pleasure from the cambion’s form one last time. Torrid, debauched, and so blessedly delicious. 

I wondered when you’d visit me, my godling, breathed into the hollow of their throat. They’d shivered, eyes widening in wonder and lust—Haarlep’s favorite combination. The incubus bathes themselves in the bhaalspawn’s hunger. You seemed so fond of my little brat. 

“Oh, look at you.” Haarlep breathes. Raphael’s voice, dark and heady, fills the chamber. The bhaalspawn shivers. “Made for his cock, weren’t you? More’s the pity: you were never disappointed by the real thing.” 

They ride him harder, snarling into the frozen air. Haarlep laughs, shifting their touch inward, fingers splayed low on their belly. He likes the contrast of their skin, devil-red against mortal flesh. Haarlep licks their lower lip and thrusts his hips up. There is something so debauched about the way the godling takes him. Furious, punishing, oh, it’s good. Nails bite into his shoulder. The bhaalspawn dips their head, licking the hollow of their throat.

Teeth graze over their pulse. 

And then they bite. 

Haarlep groans, a rush of blood and heat as they break the skin. The bhaalspawn turns their head to the side, hissing into the ruined flesh. There’s pain, but they’ve had far worse during their tenure in Cania. And they still clench around him, move. 

“Mmm, hungry for him, were you?” 

The godling laughs, nosing the underside of his jaw. “No. No, sweetling, that was just for you.” 

They purr, “I’m flattered, pet.” 

“Dreamed of it.” They groan, pushing up and impaling themselves on his cock. Haarlep spreads their legs wider. They want to watch. “Dreamed of this.” 

The incubus chuckles, rocking. “And is it everything you desire?”

“Almost.” They tip their head back, mouth falling open in rapture. “Raphael!” 

Haarlep hisses, pushing up under them. “No. No, pet, you call my name.” 

The godling laughs, rolling their hips. “Raphael.” 

Any response dies on the incubus' tongue. The voice is as familiar as breathing, so much a part of them after centuries of life. Haarlep’s blood runs cold. “You called, little mouse?” 

Haarlep thrashes, suddenly needing to get free, get out. Raphael is there. A mangled reflection of himself, but still alive. His left eye is milky, flesh badly burned and scarred. The right corner of his mouth curls up in a sneer. The godling clenches around them, moaning.

“Oh, Haarlep. Whatever’s the matter? You were so keen on using my form before.” 

The bhaalspawn’s grip is more sure than death itself, tearing through the flesh, leaving long stripes of blood across his pecs. Haarlep hisses, pitches, gets no further. They try to speak, but the damned creature kisses them, swallowing the words along with their air. Raphael closes the distance between them, hands clasped at the small of his back. Dispassionate. The once prince strokes a hand down the godling’s back. 

Fear settles low in the incubus’ belly, coiling alongside the rush of pleasure. So close to the end. A feverish weight at the base of their spine. 

Raphael strokes Haarlep's cheek. His one good eye narrows. 

“Once upon a time, you left me to our little beast…” the bhaalspawn groans, reaching out to fist a hand in Raphael’s robe. “...and I am a cyclical creature. An eye for an eye, hmm? Only fair I return the favor.” 

“Raphael…” They choke out his name, vision blurring. The godling’s teeth are back at their throat, biting, tearing. Haarlep tries to catch their hands, but they are brutally strong. 

Their little brat chuckles, bending and pressing a chaste kiss to their mouth. “Adieu, darling. It’s been…unforgettable.” 

And Haarlep screams. 

[radiantlyrey]

Ruby Sunday: Thoughts & Theories (SPOILERS)

WARNING: LONG POST. SPOILERS & SPECULATION AHEAD. MOVE ALONG TO NEXT POST IF YOU WANT TO REMAIN UNSPOILED!!!!!

The Facts Were These:

Ruby Sunday was abandoned by as a newborn baby by her birth mother. (Note A: Her birth mother's name is unknown, but has been promised to us. Note B: Her birth mother's provenance is equally unknown, and has not been promised to us.)

Ruby Sunday has been taken out of time twice--once by the goblins on the night of her birth, and once by her stepping on a prehistoric butterfly and changing history.

Despite a genetic test, Ruby Sunday apparently has no relatives on Earth who her DNA can be matched to.

The snow from the night of Ruby Sunday's birth and abandonment appears when the memory of Christmas 2004 is invoked. (Note A: It also seems to appear when she is feeling some strong emotion.)

Maestro, a child of the Toymaker and a part of the pantehon, believes Ruby Sunday is human until Christmas 2004 is invoked. They then think Ruby may be connected to "the oldest one" (another child of the Toymaker? another god?) before calling Ruby a "creature" who is "very wrong."

The events of "73 Yards" appear to show Ruby Sunday trapped in a loop of time (perhaps more a Möbius strip of time) that only breaks when she dies.

The Doctor at times is discomfited by Ruby Sunday and her existence. (Note A: He is surprised by the Butterfly Incident detailed in Point 2. Note B: He hides his concern about the snow with a hug. Note C: He runs a genetic scan of Ruby after their first adventure.)

The Doctor has been following Ruby Sunday since before they properly met. He has admitted this to her, but he has not explained why.

Ruby Sunday and the Doctor have a lot of common in their backstories--they were both abandoned as children; they were both adopted; they are both somewhat unconnected to their adopted societies. Coincidence seems to be tying them together, and to their adventures. (There have been a lot of parentless children in these stories.)

So those are the facts.

Now for some metafictional facts: There are a lot of strange things going on with Ruby Sunday. She has yet to properly, by herself, save the day. (In fact, in two of her five episodes, she has been absent for the climax entirely.) Most modern companions do this in their first couple of episodes. Despite her moment of defiance in "Boom", she has yet to make the Doctor angry with her actions, which most companions have done by now. It's almost as if she only exists as a character on a purely surface level. She has little depth, hardly any flaws; she and the Doctor get along like breezy best friends, but there's not much of substance about her. Given RTD's reputation as a character writer (especially as concerns Doctor Who), the characterization of Ruby Sunday has seemed more than a little flat. And I can't help but wonder if maybe this is all deliberate.

By this point in the season, when we've hit the halfway point, everyone has a theory about Ruby Sunday. The writing has encouraged the mass theorizing, piling on mystery after mystery with gusto. There are even theories (mostly driven by the fourth-wall breaks in "The Devil's Chord") about the whole season being some kind of misdirect or fakery. But those theories, I think, go slightly too far.

I have theories of my own, of course. My crack theory is that Ruby is either related to the Time Lords or even the Doctor's mysterious species. There is a little evidence for this--her disappearances and reappearances from the timeline, the time loop stuff from "73 Yards"--and it might be true, but I'm starting to shy away from it slightly. Another theory I've seen in this line is that Ruby is part of the pantheon, another god-like being who's been disguised as a human. This seems a little likelier, but I have another idea.

Maestro refers to Ruby Sunday as a "creature" in "The Devil's Chord"--and the word "creature" has the same Latin root as the word "create." I think it's entirely possible that Ruby was created as a trick or a trap for the Doctor, that she's merely an idea that's been given human form. The idea is this: "someone who travels with the Doctor." Fans have already pointed out the numerous parallels Ruby has with other New Who companions--she phones her mum from the future like Rose in "The End of the World"; her existence mirrors the mystery of Clara Oswald in Series 7; she has a lot of the spitfire spunk we've seen from Donna Noble; she even dies and comes back to life like Rory constantly did during his tenure!! Given the teasers we've received for the penultimate episode, "The Legend of Ruby Sunday"--an image of a monitor with the episode's title on it, and [NOTE: I cannot seem to find a source for this; please help!!!!!] a line of teaser dialogue about the Doctor's life playing out on multiple screens [AGAIN: cannot seem to find a source; if you know where teaser dialogue lines for this season were released---or if they're even real--PLEASE LET ME KNOW], it seems to me that the Doctor's life has been studied in order to create the perfect companion, a tailor-made trap for the Doctor and the Doctor alone.

I don't think RTD is stupid enough to pull a "gotcha! it was all a dream/TV show/hallucination!" trick for the whole season, which I know a lot of people are theorizing about. That is a hard needle to thread in the best of situations, and if it doesn't land effectively, then a good chunk of your audience will leave in disgust and never come back. But I think it's very possible you could pull the same trick with one character.

My theory is this: Ruby Sunday is a simulacrum, or hybrid (ha), or something else entirely! But she is not Real. She was created to be thrown away, a lure for the Doctor meant to be eaten or discarded. It might be that she's part of the Doctor's species, but caught by the pantheon (or something else) and changed into a tool or toy or something not-quite-Real. There's been talk about how Doctor Who is gaining more fantastical elements (goblins and gods and so on), and what is more fantastical than a fairy tale? I think the legend of Ruby Sunday is one such fairy tale, and I think I know how it's going to end.

Ruby will, at last, assert herself. She will break free of what she's been created (written) to be, and claim her personhood/characterhood. She will re-enter the world fully herself and fully three-dimensional. She will finally become Real, with all that that implies.

And nothing is more fairy tale than that.

[acurtist]

Irritating Character Tropes:

1. Meddler: Had to share explosive commentary about everything and everyone.

2. Gossip-monger: Make up stories and spread them far and wide like a virus.

3. Riddler: Speaks in puzzles and keeps people on toes the hidden meanings in their tales.

4. Jester: Everything and everyone is a joke. Must crack a few ones to earn them wages.

5. Rat hole: Has to sneak in in nook and crannies like a rat to uncover secrets.

6. Interrogator: Wouldn't stop asking same questions with different angles.

7. Petty Thief: Kleptomaniac and pickpocket extraordinaire.

8. Quarreler: Need to pick a fight about everything and anything.

9. Idiot: Speaks out of turn, doesn't know what they are talking about.

10. Lame Poet: Make everyone suffer with their awful compositions.

11. Liar: Conjures up lies out of thin air without skipping a heartbeat.

12. Plotter: Manipulative, calculative, untrustworthy, and narcissistic.

13. Personality Divergent: Sucks living daylights and happiness from people around them.

14. Chaotic: Unorganized messy scatterbrain.

15. Peeping Tom: Needs jail time.

16. Impersonator: Either mentally disturbed or suffering from insecurities.

17. Man child: Regardless of gender acts like a child that needs supervision and extra attention.

18. Foul-mouthed: Starts and ends every sentence with one cursive word or the other.

19. Daydreamer: Always have head stuck in cloud and couldn't focus for more than 5 minutes.

20. Overzealous: Strict adherence to authority figures. Will not hesitate to commit crimes.

21. Righteous Prick: Nothing they do can be wrong or at fault.

22. Existentialist: Make others depressed with their annoying cynicism.

23. Overly-enthusiastic Schmuck: Out of touch with real world and impervious to any challenges. Thinks goodwill is enough resource and help.

24. Undoctor: Has a home remedy for every disease and ailment. Usually a chain-smoker with a protruding belly.

25. Know-it-all: Grammar Nazi, encyclopedia, general knowledge enthusiastic. Insufferable.

26. Geek: Lack of boundaries and respect for privacy.

27. Dare Devil: Needs to get hurt before setting anyone else on fire.

28. Psychoanalyst: Wouldn't shut up about what you actually think, need, and want.

29. Fortune-teller: Spew nonsense out their ass and present it as divine revelation.

30. Manufacturer: Breaks more things than repairs.

31. Conspiracy Theorist: Busy in organizing telepathic peace talks with president and alien civilization.

32. Over-committed Logician: Acts like a machine until an emotional explosions.

33. Otaku/Fic Connoisseur: Spoilers spoliers everywhere.

34. Drama Queen: Nonstop emotional blackmailer.

35. Fatphobic: Anorexic, suffering from health and psychological issues.

36. Glutton: Overweight, hates skinny people. Could use some exercise.

I mean the list doesn't ends. I can honestly think of just as many more of these.

Gotta add them all!

[buzzybee26]

I've seen people saying that this season marks a transition from serious with silly elements to silly with serious elements (particularly after the 1st 2 eps) but now that we've had a lot more of the season, I think this is wrong. This season isn't silly with serious elements, it's a serious season wearing the mask of a silly season.

Spoilers under cut

Space Babies looks like it's just "lol babies running space station, lol snot monster, lol farting space ship" at face value, but there's a lot more to unpack from how The Doctor relates the Bogeyman and being the only one of his kind to the underlying themes of abortion legislation and honestly a lot more to unpack than I don't have the brain power to write rn.

Devil's Chord keeps the silly tone, but destroys the world and does some important foreshadowing about Ruby and The One Who Waits. This is the one that leans most into the silliness, but it has the stakes to work with this analysis.

The plot of Boom is "The Doctor steps on a glowy land mine" which is a hilarious sentence and the next time preview for it was absolutely left us with a lot of questions pertaining to how that was going to be a full episode, but it ended up being a thesis on how organised religion, capitalism and war are some of greatest threats to humanity and they all make each other worse. Boom is played straight for pretty much the whole episode, but it looks like a pretty silly premise before you watch it.

The 73 Yards next time preview, whilst creepy, made the episode look a lot cheesier than it ended up being and they ran with this until the reveal that the pub goers were just messing with Ruby, after which we don't get any more stuff like uncomfortable close ups or characters expositing about local folk lore. The horror b-movie is a lie.

And now Dot and Bubble. The brightest episode of the season has the darkest ending so far. At first glance it certainly looks a lot sillier than it is with its bug-eyed monsters and "phone bad" aesthetic. This episode is all about deception. Ricky lies about the home world, Lindy lies about Ricky being alive, but there's more. The residents of Fine Time get the lie of Fine Time. The whole thing is about them looking past a vale to see what's really going on around them. The Doctor and Ruby get the lie that they will save these people. They go in, they try to help and the get cooperation for a bit, but the rich kids' pride and prejudice stops them. We as the audience receive the lie that these characters could be saved in the first place. The episode sets itself up to have a hopeful ending where the rich kids start learning to improve themselves as people in a new home that the Doctor brought them to. We get so focused on that narrative structure that we don't step back and look at the bigger picture. These people think they're so amazing because they don't waste resources with their consumerism and they have followers and they're stuck in a n environment that affirms their egos yet they can't even walk without their bubbles and they mostly get annoyed when the disappearances get brought up. Their egos are so overinflated and they're so used to being in an environment where they can only talk to other people who think and act like them, of course they're not going with the Doctor. They'll use him as long as they think they need him but they refuse to accept that they can't do anything by themselves if they're not in absolute immediate danger because they think they're so amazing. This feels like it should have a somber ending where we mourn the losses and look to a brighter future in the moment because of the tone and structure, but take a step back from it and there was no other way it was going to end.

This whole season has been a tonal lie that's been breaking down as we go and I really hope they do something cool with that idea.

[the-leviathan-inside-my-mind]

A Theory on Mrs. Flood and Susan Twist

Spoilers for Season 14 ahead!

1. Susan Twist is the One Who Waits

For those who don't know, Susan Twist is an actress who has been playing multiple background characters for this season. Since The Church on Ruby Road, she has played a background character with a speaking role for each episode.

At first, this may seem like an easter egg included by Russel T Davies. However, in 73 Yards, when Susan Twist plays the old hiking lady, Ruby points out that she recognizes her.

What if this reappearing background character played by Susan Twist is actually the One Who Waits? Quite literally, they are waiting in the background of the episodes, biding their time before they finally make a full appearance.

Additionally, there is an extra bit of evidence that may at first seem too meta of a conclusion. However, with the way the show has veen exploring more meta concepts (the Maestro playing the theme song in Devil's Chord, and the theme song not showing up after The Doctor disappears in 73 yards), this might not be such a leap after all. As we know, the actress's name is Susan Twist. And what does The Doctor say at the end of The Devil's Chord, which itself becomes a full length song? He says "There's always a Twist at the end".

(Bonus I found while writing this theory: In the behind the scenes video for The Devil's Chord, Murray Gold mentions that "The song was always called There's always a twist at the end".

The fact that the song was always called this means that the title may be more important than just an artistic choice)

2. Mrs. Flood is the Oldest One.

In the Devil's Chord, the Maestro mentions the Oldest One, who was there on the day of Ruby's birth. At first, I believed that the Oldest One and The One Who Waits were the same. However, this wouldn't explain Mrs. Flood.

Mrs. Flood is certainly not a normal old woman. She is one of the only characters with the ability to break the fourth wall, and demonstrates knowledge of The Tardis, in a scene which suspiciously happens in the middle of the end credits, almost breaking the reality of the show.

I have heard the theory that she could be Older Ruby, yet we have seen old Ruby in 73 yards. Additionally, breaking the fourth wall is a reality warping power. It's a power we have only seen used by the Maestro, and The Doctor right before the Twist musical number (where reality breaks due to the remnants of Maestro's power lingering after their banishment)

Could it be that she is also a member of the Pantheon? If so, I believe that they are the Oldest One. The only major argument against this theory is that the Oldest One is stated to be a He, and Mrs. Flood is referred to as She, but Mrs. Flood can merely be another form or disguise for the Oldest One.

Ultimately, I believe it would be interesting if these two suspicious old ladies are the very extra-dimensional beings that we are warned about.

Thank you for listening to my wild theories! Reblog and comment your ideas, I'd love to know what you guys think about this. I hope you also see my next theory, which is coming out soon, on the identity of The Oldest One. See ya!

[meownotgood]

equalizer. / gun fiend!aki x reader, 18+, reader is fem bodied, csm spoilers, gun play, fear play, blood play, monster fucking, mirror sex, dubcon, stomach bulge, aki has a metal dick

Once the Gun Devil has infected the mind of a human vessel, they can no longer think for themselves. Can't take control, can't rationalize anything coherent. Fiends hold on to some of their humanity. But in this state, the only thing they can perceive are their most carnal desires. 

He doesn't care that he's pushed you so roughly your head is left spinning when it hits the wall, he isn't thinking about how he's gripping your side so hard your skin might bruise. The only thing Aki — or is it the fiend who's possessing Aki? — can think of as he backs you into a corner, keeps you steady with his rifle under your chin, then leans in and starts nipping at your pulse with sharp canines is how badly he needs to get his cock inside of you.

It's some sort of impulse. Something you could only describe as animalistic, something neither you, nor any of the devil hunters back at Public Safety could ever begin to quite put their finger on, you're betting. Definitely something much more devilish than human.

You figure you should have studied the behavior of devils and fiends enough to predict this, but what's happening to you right now is far from anything you've encountered before. You're normally composed in these kind of situations. But when the most feared, most dangerous devil in all of Japan is right in front of you, and when he already has you wrapped right around his trigger finger, how could you possibly stay calm?

Even without his chapped lips scraping your neck, you know your pulse is thrumming and thrumming and thrumming, your heart is pounding in your chest — and he can sense it, can feel it. Your heartbeat is insistent on his mouth, your fear and anticipation radiates from you and runs deep in his veins. His head is heavy, he's stronger, even more sure of what he wants compared to when he first came here. You've got his one-track mind focused enough to doom you even worse than you already are. 

When he manages to bite down hard enough to break the skin, droplets of blood pooling in his mouth, that's when you're really screwed. Or maybe you knew you were from the very beginning.

The moment you opened the door and saw the devil standing there, back hunched and posture rigid. Hair all a mess, the same suit jacket you ironed two days before draping from his shoulders, muttering something to himself that sounds like the syllables of your own name, you were done for. You gave yourself no means of escape the moment you made the connection between Aki and this fiend in your brain. 

You're okay with that. You're okay with it because it's Aki. You were fine with letting him inside and you didn't panic even when he cornered you. But that was when you didn't know his intentions.

Now, now he's dragging his tongue over the length of your neck, warm and wet and messy, now he's lapping at your salty sweat and your delicious blood — It's good, a metallic pang hits his throat and he's breathing harder, his dick is throbbing in his pants. Fuck, he needs you; he's losing the last shreds of sanity he had left. He's gotten a taste of what he wants, but surely he won't be satisfied with just a taste.

You can tell he needs more when as he's still sucking on your neck, your fresh wound stinging from the flick of his tongue, at the same time he's shifting his rifle between your legs; your whole body tenses on instinct and tries to shrink further into the wall behind you, and he's huffing an amused, bone-chilling chuckle. The sound sends a cold shiver down your spine. 

Your plight is just something he finds amusing. Thrilling, even. You should give up.

Your heart beats against your ribs a little bit faster, he pulls away and you get a closer look at his face for the first time. Messy hair obscuring a thick twist of veins and marrow around his face, teeth stained crimson when his lips upturn in another playful smirk. Your gaze meets the end of a wide pistol, you think this all might end for a fraction of a second, but everything melts away as icy cold lips press fast against your own. 

Tugging you backward along with him, free hand clenched on the front of your shirt, the gun sticking out of his forehead forces Aki to tilt his head at an uncomfortable angle in order to kiss you. He's quick to explore your mouth, to suck on your tongue. He's pulling you closer and as he stumbles, your feet get caught out right from under you. Your hands reach up in an attempt to grab onto something, and your fingers run through thick, matted hair. He smells like charcoal and tastes just the same, bitter and rich with a sharp tang of blood. 

You've kissed Aki before. You can still remember what it's like to feel his soft lips on yours, his bangs tickling your skin, his hands on your waist. Doesn't matter how long ago it was, or how drunk the two of you were, or how many times the two of you swore you'd try to forget. You could never forget.

But this kiss burns harder than anything you're used to, this kiss is all-consuming, breathless. It steals the air from your lungs and leaves you yielding to his — to a devil's — touch. It's how you've wanted Aki to kiss you for so, so long now. Hasty and impatient, he groans into you, a deep and familiar noise, and everything turns into less of a kiss and more of a clumsy mess of lips and open mouths.

Clumsy. That's how you would describe every move the devil piloting Aki's body makes, from the way he trips forwards and falls to the floor with you pinned underneath him, to how his lips don't quite meet yours, his tongue swiping over your bottom lip, drool dripping down your chin until your mouth is messy with his spit. He's uncoordinated and God is he inexperienced, running on pure instinct and nothing else.

His hand is fumbling to undo your clothes like it's something he's never done before. He's kissing you through it, placing wet kisses on the corner of your mouth, breathing hot air onto your cheek and biting at your ear. He's learning as he goes too, but he still tears them off without regard for rips in the fabric or buttons popping off to roll across the floor. It's unceremonious in the fact that he stays clothed, but he strips you from just enough clothing to let him have you how he likes: shirt disheveled and simply tugged all the way up, everything else tossed aside. 

A line of saliva trails from his mouth to yours as he finally pulls away, and his rough palm glides from your chest to your hips to your thighs; he wastes no time tugging them harshly apart. His tie rests on your chest, the sleeve of his suit jacket is rough on your bare skin. And you like this, don't you? 

At every opportunity you've had to push him away, you haven't. He gives you another sloppy kiss and against all odds, you're gripping his tie to tug him in closer. He smiles into your mouth and shifts his rifle between your thighs, and to his wild amusement, you're spreading them wider. Your arms are shaking when the rifle cocks, ready to fire. But even so, he's pressing his lap into you, he lets you feel how hard he's gotten because of this, and you're arching your body into him, all on your own. 

You want to get fucked like this, right? How long have you gone without Aki, without anything?

You're so good for him too, so obedient. The muzzle is heating up, and you're starting to squirm, but all it takes is a firm press of his pistol to your temple to get you listening. He can't deny he likes how you shiver, how you're delicate enough to break. And all he needed was to run the steel tip of his rifle over your waiting cunt to get you soaking wet. 

He rubs his thumb over your lips and parts them to shove the digit inside your mouth; you're gasping and sucking and he's pressing the end of the rifle in, in, in until your pussy is stretching and you're taking it. Just like that, so damn easy. Aki fucks you with his gun in short little spurs, rough movements that have you clenching and writhing underneath him — eyes glazed over, wet drool coating his fingers when he shoves more of them in, index and ring along with his thumb. The metal barrel glistens from your slick arousal, it's intense and it drags against your walls in a way that hurts just enough to spark your senses alight, to feel like heaven. 

A sense of heaven from a devil who surely came from hell. He's disgusting for this, sure, but you're the one who's enjoying it. 

He pumps the rifle in and out, works you up to a steady rhythm as a small mercy before he really starts fucking it deep. Deep enough to feel the end nudging at your cervix: a mix of dull hurt and overwhelming pleasure. He drags it out, tilts his head down and spits a thick glob of saliva onto the end of it to make it easier, then shoves it right back in.

He's starting to pant, he grips your waist to keep you still and smears your own wet saliva over your skin. His arm is steady, but the rest of his body shakes just as much as yours. He focuses on your face, on the flutter of your lashes, he watches the addicting way your pussy takes his gun. He's rolling his hips, grinding against your thigh now, perhaps without even realizing it, breathing hard and searching for any bit of friction on his aching cock he can possibly receive.

You're close already, chest heaving and hands clenched where your arms are sprawled out above your head. You can tell he's thick from his bulge on your thigh alone, you know how hard he is, how badly the devil wants to put his cock in you, and the thought gets you even higher. He hits that perfect sweet spot and as you're falling to pieces, he's right behind you, cumming in his pants with sloppy humps of his lap into your thigh.

The feeling of pleasure hardly materializes for him. It isn't enough. He doesn't want to cum like this, he wouldn't have done so if he had more self-control — any self-control. No, he needs to have his cum in you. 

You're still catching your breath when you hear the clink of his belt buckle and the rustle of clothing. His cock is cold on your stomach, slick and sticky with his spend, even colder when he rubs the slit right at your entrance and lets it drip, drip, not yet giving you the satisfaction of sinking inside. It's only when you gasp a desperate, sweet please that he holds your waist, pulling you up with ease and deciding to settle you into his lap. 

Everything happens before you have a second to think. He's thick, freezing cold and impossibly hard, leaking with arousal; it's a tight fit, a stretch when he gets the tip in, but when he's pulling you and bucking his hips out of impatience, leaving you no choice but to sink down onto him, he slides in nice and easy, you take all of him perfectly. You swear you hear him give a sigh of approval the moment the devil is all the way inside you.

Aki Hayakawa is gentle. Aki takes things slow, he's careful with every one of his touches and thoughtful with all of his words. 

And this is Aki. This is his body, his broad shoulders that you grip to steady yourself, it's the same familiar lilt of his voice when he grunts out your name. Your name, because even now, even like this, he still remembers how to say it. Your own name is the only thing he remembers. You're the only thing he cares about.

And it's his calloused hand when he caresses your skin and digs his nails into your thigh, hard enough to leave marks. The glint of his circular earrings is just as you've always known each time he tilts his head and they catch the dying light. The way his hair falls over his face is the same as you remember, save for the barrel wedged right in the middle of his skull. 

Perhaps Aki is the one who's motivating the devil to act like this, to want you so badly. All of his pent up emotions, all the times he's wanted to have you but couldn't, when he's dreamed about taking you over his bed and touched himself to the thought — This is the culmination of everything. He just needed an excuse to act. 

But even so, this isn't the same. Aki isn't like this, Aki doesn't feel like this. The Gun Fiend is very, very different, because the Gun Fiend fucks rough. 

Each buck of his hips into you forces him deeper inside. He keeps an unrelenting grip on your side, he's smirking as he drags you down and then up again, guiding you to bounce on his cock. His dick throbs with every noise you make for him. You're so tight, you're dripping, you're getting his pelvis slick and smeared with your arousal and fuck, it feels so good to be buried deep inside your warm cunt, he never wants to pull out. 

And he doesn't. You let the Gun Devil fuck you how he pleases, use you like a toy. Your thighs hurt, and when you're slowing down, when he wants to get in deeper, he's wrapping an arm around you and pinning you to the ground again, this time on your stomach, ass backed up against him.

He sinks back inside in one smooth movement with a deep-sounding groan, he presses his hand to the back of your head and shoves your cheek into the hardwood floor. His tie tickles your back and his fingers clench tightly in your hair and — Oh, you can feel the ridges of his cock so, so much better. 

From the beginning, you reasoned his heart is colder than before, but you started to assume his body must not be entirely human, either. He feels too different. Once again, like more of a devil.

And now, when you're feeling him like this, close and inside, you're sure. Aki places his hand under your stomach, he lifts your hips and fucks into you hard, hips deft to your ass, and you feel the solid steel again, the indents in the shaft and the solid metal rings right around the head. 

In the end, it's no different to getting fucked on his gun. 

And as filthy as you are for admitting it, he feels so good. He fucks you with hard thrusts of his hips, his breath is scorching hot on your skin when he kisses your jaw. The end of his gun brushes the back of your skull and he mumbles a satisfied hum when you promptly get louder for him. 

You love when he fucks you like this, sloppy cunt squelching around him as he pistons his cock in and out. A layer of sweat coats your skin. You're kept pinned down by his weight on your back. 

When he angles his hips and drags you in closer, you're clenching on him — You're hit with waves of ecstasy as you cum for him again, and he isn't stopping, he moans and grips you tighter but he keeps fucking into you at the same desperate pace. The echo of skin slapping skin fills the room, Aki breathes your name against your ear in a pleased-sounding tone and his voice sounds so much like him you feel like you could cum once more. 

All your nerves feel light and fluttery, you're dizzy, the room is spinning. You're given a few moments to compose yourself when he buries himself deep inside and stops moving, tugging his tie from his collar to give himself more breathing room and relishing in how you pulse around him. 

At that moment, you're able to make yourself more comfortable by shifting your head to the side, and your eyes catch on the wall, on a pretty full-length mirror you bought for your apartment a few days prior. In the reflection, Aki's large figure is positioned above you, his body bent over your own, caging you in. Large rifle sprouting from his arm, barrel in his skull. His slacks are slipping down his thighs, his dress shirt's come loose from his waistband. 

He pulls out half-way, slowly this time, shaft shiny and slick, distinctly silver. His bottom lip quivers, still grinning in amusement. You watch as he grips your waist and shoves his cock all the way inside you, deep enough and large enough to put a round bulge in your stomach. 

God. 

Aki works back up to his previous pace, and your vision grows misty through tears, but your gaze stays glued to the sight. His grunts in your ear grow louder as he fucks you 'til he's close. He bites carelessly at your shoulder, presses his tongue to your neck and tries to taste more blood from where he bit you earlier. His dick slips out from his clumsiness and how messy you are; he rubs it against your clit, spreads slick on the inside of your thighs, grips your ass and shoves it back in. 

He's reaching for your hand as his breath picks up. There's a startling juxtaposition between how he grips the back of your hand tightly, running his thumb over your knuckles as a simple idle movement while fucking you so rough. Like he's not a horrifying devil, like it's Aki. The silhouette you see in the mirror almost crushes that illusion.

His hips get sloppier, his voice and his weight and his smell like a breath of charcoal are all you can perceive; he grits his teeth, and he gasps out your name softer than you expected. 

Then, he's letting go — He's moaning and pumping you full of his cum, warm globs of sticky white that drip from your cunt and onto the floor as he keeps thrusting in. Your body goes limp underneath him, you're twitching from the aftershocks of another high and he takes advantage, shoving in as deep as he can go, balls pressed to your skin, filling you with everything he has. Making you his. 

All his, finally. The Gun Fiend starts to feel a bit of relief for himself when he's empty, pulled out and collapsed on top of you. Breathing slow and heavy, he's still for the first time. 

He's nicer than you take him for, has a bit more of Aki in him than you anticipated, that much is true. He'll let you regain some clarity. But he hasn't bred you enough yet. He's nowhere near done with you. 

[aftgficrec]

Favorite Neil/Jean or Neil&Jean fics?

In the aftermath of the publication of The Sunshine Court the relationship between Neil and Jean has been put under the spotlight a little more (no spoilers here though!), but there have always been authors who have shown this combo the attention it deserves. In addition, many fics under our raven!neil tag feature friendships or relationships between Neil and Jean. - S

Previously recommended:

Neil Josten & Jean Moreau:

close friends Neil & Jean here

BFFs Jean & Neil here

Neil/Jean tumblr fics and headcanons here

‘Afterthoughts Chapter 68’, ‘Jean, Neil, and Kevin hanging out’ here (plus some more Neil & Jean under previous recs)

‘not very good at this’ here

Neil Josten/Jean Moreau:

Neil/Jean fics here (you can also find a link to our Neil/Jean tag here)

More Jean/Neil fics here

‘we’ll survive, you and i’, ‘Heart on Your Sleeve, Eyes on the Street (the Heart-Eyes Remix)’, and ‘Doves & Ravens’  here

Some of our favourites from previous posts:

Your humble and silky life by moonix [Rated G, 3582 words, complete, 2019, locked]

Jean’s life these days is quiet, uneventful. His best friend has a hopeless crush on the unattainable Minyard, Jean’s colleague at the botanical garden. Jean has a standing appointment every week with the most beautiful woman in the world, who is happily married to someone else—but that’s okay. There’s still Jeremy the waiter, whose smile is the highlight of Jean’s week.

tw: animal death

Black As Is The Raven, He’ll Get A Partner by nekojita [Rated E, 644156 words, complete, 2018]

When Wymack, Kevin and Andrew came to recruit Neil Josten in Millport, Neil decided to say 'no' instead of 'yes' to joining the Foxes and does what he does best, which is run. Unfortunately, that brings him to the attention of the Moriyamas, who return him to his 'rightful' place. Now Neil has to learn how to survive at the Nest with his only ally another 'asset' long kept under Riko's heel.

tw: violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: dubcon, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks, tw: drug use, tw: alcohol, tw: minor character death, tw: homophobia, tw: involuntary outing

Apart from Your World (A Part of Mine) by ApprenticedMagician [Rated T, 17647 words, complete, Aftg Big Bang 2018, locked]

David is shipping him off to the Isle of Anglesey and, frankly, Neil could use the time and distance away from an ugly break-up that still hasn't smoothed over. The problem is, if he isn't being reminded of his ex (courtesy of working alongside his identical twin brother), then he's being reminded of the mother who abandoned him (courtesy of their assigned patient who suffers the same affliction she once did). All around, it's shaping up to be anything but the trip he signed up for.

tw: references to past abuse

NB: find art for this fic by @llheji here

So Keep Your Heart On Your Sleeve (And Keep Your Eyes On The Streets) by CasTheButler [Rated T, 4162 words, complete, Aftg Winter Exchange 2018]

Cause it's a God damn long drive fall, Back to normality. Jean starts at a new school on a new soccer team, makes some friends, and spends the whole time falling in love with a punk. Written for the 2018 AFTG Winter Exchange.

tw: panic attacks

And here are some fics we haven’t rec’ed yet:

Neil Josten & Jean Moreau:

Je crois en la chance de rejoindre la mer by Elyant [Rated T, 2007 words, complete, 2021, locked]

Part 4 of The Devil Makes Three

Jean has chosen the café whose tables were closest to the large windows overlooking the tarmac. After spending so many years underground and under the harsh fluorescent light of the Nest, he doesn't think he will ever have enough of the natural warmth of the sun. A duffle bag of clothes that are too new to feel like his, the tin of home-baked cookies Renee thrusted into his hands before he left, and a small package wrapped in kraft paper are his only baggage.  He's waiting for a plane from London to land because of a phone call he received a few nights before. He is therefore purposefully two hours too early for the flight that will take him to South California, to meet the team in crimson and gold that will become his family, even if he doesn't know it yet.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

from rain by ratbandaid [Rated T, 62807 words, complete, 2023]

Over time, Jean grew unsure as to why he'd been so intent on running from the mafia. He barely took care of himself and could hardly call whatever he was doing living. After all, he knew that one day, he'll be caught and dragged back, kicking and screaming, to be killed or worse: put back in the hands of Riko Moriyama. But when a snot-nosed, cocky brat, Neil, stumbles into his life, Jean slowly realizes what he's running for.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: violence, tw: nightmares

based on this art by @estavs

NB: This one contains slight spoilers for The Sunshine Court:

epic understatement by LadyTimelessness [Rated T, 335 words, complete, 2024]

he's pissed off that jean had to go through this. they're basically nothing to each other, but damn it, neil wants to crack grayson's skull open that second. faith in the world finally burns out in the fire of disillusionment.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced murder

Neil Josten/Jean Moreau:

Skip the Last Dance For Me (the Trojan Horse remix) by justadreamfox [Rated T, 3572 words, complete, Aftg Remix 2020]

Neil and Jean are free of the Nest, and wearing the Trojan red and gold, but they've still got "normal" life to navigate and friendships (past and present) to juggle. Really, sometimes you just want to be alone with your boyfriend.  Ft. Exy, pizza, and Steven Spielberg.

Nothing Mattered Until You by Lostintheuniverseslies [Rated M, 22497 words, complete, 2023]

On the docks in Marseille, Neil fell in love. But his mother ripped him away and for years he never dared hope to see Jean again. He believed that he would die before ever getting the chance. But when recuperating with his uncle after his father is killed, Neil's chance comes. Unfortunately, he isn't the only one who went through some horrible things over the years. Despite their horrible pasts, they decide to try for a future together. Going to college and even making some friends along the way. But Riko has other plans and wants back what he considers his.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced domestic violence, tw: stalking, tw: harassment,  tw: dissociation

It's Friday, I'm in love by Greenfallleaves [Rated T, 5834 words, complete, 2023, locked]

The day Neil had found himself pushed into the strong chest of their school’s new student Jean Moreau had been one of his luckiest in hindsight.

Hold my breath in your hands by Greenfallleaves [Rated G, 2154 words, complete, 2023, locked]

Adapting to the world outside the nest hadn’t been easy for either Jean or Neil but now that they had had a few years to get used to it, they got to complain about (i.e. enjoy) spending quality time with their friends.

sleep notes by nanatsuyu [Rated T, 2928 words, complete, 2024, locked]

Neil smokes a joint and discusses the possibility that Kevin is an honest to God vampire.

tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced abuse

A kiss while someone watches by @stabbyfoxandrew [tumblr, 2024]

Nathaniel never really saw the point of kissing until he was brought to the nest. Or rather, until the first time Jean Moreau backed him up against the wall of their shared dorm during an argument.

Art

Jean & Neil by @ziegenkind094

Raven!neil au - napping by @dawnatlas 

Raven!neil au - partners by @dawnatlas

‘Stitch by stitch, tape and gauze…’ by @dawnatlas

two by @02511213942

Neil and Jean find an empty pool at night by @aminiyard

i believe in jean moreau supremacy by @caraleadraws 

secret santa gift for @nekojitachan by @aminiyard

Hello sunshine court by @estavs