#but I’m forced to accept that it’s Bad. I don’t WANT someone to take care of me. feel they have to

[thecreelhouse]

kintsugi

Paring: Steve Harrington x Francesca “Frankie” Amato

This is part of the accident prone AU— please be warned there are spoilers in these mini fics if you have yet to read the main series! This post-series fic and more can be found here -> accident prone - the blurb sides

Summary: Steve only sees his scars in disgust; to him, they’re just a sign of a past he didn’t deserve to survive. Frankie has an idea to hopefully show Steve he’s worth more than his scars and hopefully combat the survivor’s guilt.

WC: 6.4k+ (i know i am SO bad at keeping these actual blurb-length. whoops!)

Includes: hurt/comfort, angst, body image and self esteem issues, mention of blood, PTSD (this might be heavy for some, so pls take care before reading), soft smut (handjob & m receiving oral), language, typical Steve and Frankie banter, fluffy comforting ending.

A/N: it bothers me how ST never really mentions or shows the lasting damage anyone endures throughout the series, and I’m not holding my breath to see much of that in the final season. That being said, I really do believe Steve’s scars (esp. from s4) would be prominent for most of his post-Upside Down life, and the psychological effects would be just as heavy to carry. Ik I explored this in the main series, but this delves into that HC more. This a personal HC, and if that bothers you, or you disagree, this fic isn’t for you. For those who do choose to read, thank you <3 (also don’t @ me I’m still learning how to draw hands lol.)

Today hasn’t been kind to Steve; just one of those days where the past creeps up, locking him in a chokehold to cave in with self-destruction.

The longer he stares down his own reflection, the more flaws he begins to fixate on.

Time has helped Steve heal in more ways than one, but the physical scars from his past not only lingered, but were still prominent in a lot of spots. Some still ached without warning, others turned reddish-purple in the cold, or bright red after a hot shower (not as red as his irritated, inflamed joints, though). He’s grown to live with them, find ways to shield his body from prying eyes, and now that he’s with someone who sees him for who he really is, he’s learning how to become more comfortable in his own skin.

That lesson, though, has no time limit; he knows this to be true with Frankie’s own self acceptance journey, and realistically, he knows it should be the same for him as well.

Yet all he sees staring back at him is a failure. A shell of his past self. His story, scrawled and scraped all over his body, creating a map of his most traumatic years. 

It’s not fair to encourage Frankie to be kinder to herself if he can’t take his own advice with his own body. Looking at her, he sees her story written across her body, too, but it’s a story of survival, resilience, with her own added details of tattoos and piercings, almost reclaiming her own vessel after sickness has tried time and time again to steal it away.

Steve, though… he can’t see that in himself; he knows he doesn’t need body modifications to see the good, but he’s also convinced maybe the good was never there to begin with. After all, he spent the majority of his life shaping his shell to be someone he wasn’t. Through all the years forcing himself in sports as a kid, just to make his dad proud, sticking with certain ones because the attention gave him a rush when he’d score— all of those injuries in practices and games weren’t marks he felt proud to own. 

As he grew older, the marks turned to gifts from dates, with love bites littering skin hidden away under fabric; it’s not that he didn’t want them, but it never felt quite right. It’d fall under the decisions to make to stay relevant, popular, liked— and god, nothing else in this world mattered to Steve than the approval he yearned for from others.

He just wanted to be what someone wanted, what someone else needed.

Don’t we all?

Gripping the edge of the bathroom counter, Steve glares at the collection of skincare he’s built up over time— aloe vera gel, vitamin E cream, a variety of oils in lavender, tea tree, coconut, and rose hip. Any “miracle” fad in healing scars faster, he’s tried. Though, there’s not a great amount, considering most folks his age weren’t nearly torn and dragged to shreds by demo bats.

He reaches for the rose hip oil, remembering he tried that yesterday, and sets it back down. Last time he tried the tea tree oil, he broke out in hives; just another fine example of how fibromyalgia throws any sort of symptoms your way, whenever it pleases. His body flares up in places and ways he never even considered before his diagnosis.

Aloe vera, although soothing to the surface, does nothing for Steve’s scars. Vitamin E cream might’ve helped some of the superficial scarring; he could just be telling himself that to feel better. Maybe willing the marks away will work.

If only.

Fingers tracing the scar around his neck, his jaw tightens in disgust. His eyes tumble down his torso in the mirror, chest tightening the longer he takes in the shiny, pink-tinged marks, littering his skin.

Steve misses the days where his appearance’s worst moment could be a bad hair day. At least that could be tended to, fixed with some hairspray.

There’s no easy solution in erasing proof of the past’s carnage. With deep marks like these, there’s no doubt most of them will linger forever.

Sure, living with scars is better than not making it out of hell itself alive, but it goes beyond his self-esteem; he will carry this part of hell, embedded into his skin, wherever he goes. 

The tightened, raised skin scattered across the surface will always invite survivors’ guilt into the forefront of his mind. Here he is, depressed that his skin is marred, when there are plenty of others who deserved to be alive, would probably be grateful to sport such scars if it meant continuing to live.

Steve’s reflection meets his own gaze again, and it’s quite obvious he’s not doing well— hasn’t been, for some time. His inner turmoil manifests into dark, sagging circles under his eyes, more pale than usual; he’s simply a haggard wreck. 

The longer he glares at himself, the more his feelings threaten to spill over. It’s a race between his rage and guilt, unsure which will break the surface first; either or, it’s a given he’ll choke up. He is, and all he can see past his impending tears is a blurry shape of himself.

At least the tears serve to censor the sight of the bleak state he’s in. 

“You’ll never be happy, huh?” He mutters to himself, fists clenching at his sides. The longer he fights his emotions, the more his head begins to pound. “Always gotta be triggered over something.”

Steve wants to punch something, wishes he still had the nail bat to smash his feelings out. Acting on impulse, he rounds up the skincare products, slamming them into the sink, and bursting into tears.

“Great job, fucking idiot,” he parrots a common insult his father would throw at him; when a parent is your first bully, those words seem to stick forever. “Can’t do anything right, always gotta make a mess, fuck everything up—“

“Hey, Stevie, you in here?” 

Shit. I forgot she was coming over.

Frankie’s sweet voice breaks him from the self deprecating thoughts; she wanders into the bathroom, smile vanishing at the sight of her partner in shambles.

“Oh… sweetheart, you’re—“ she only carries grace and empathy for him; not a shred of judgment or insults barraging down upon him. Frankie’s nothing short of an angel, fixated on finding his first aid kit— it’s still the janky one from back home. She sets it on the counter, gingerly taking his hand in hers. “Will you let me clean this?”

Steve’s in a daze, headache starting to split his skull while the tears continue to flow. “Wh… what?” Glancing down at his hand, he realizes he’s bleeding. 

Great. Another fucking scar in the making.

“Can you sit? Or do you need to lay down?” Frankie asks softly, freeing up a hand to turn the faucet on, but she notices the broken jars and bottles in the sink and pauses. “C’mon, let’s go to the kitchen.”

Steve’s on autopilot, sitting at the kitchen table while Frankie wets a clean cloth, settling down next to him. She positions his hand with its palm up, knuckles on the surface of the table to get a closer look at his injury. His palm is scraped a bit, but there’s a notable gash among it all. 

“This is gonna sting,” she murmurs, glancing up at Steve, checking his expression before dabbing at the wound with the cloth. 

Though he’s always found it cute that she warns him before cleaning a wound— if it’s not flare-up related, he’s just a clumsy motherfucker these days— as if he hadn’t survived the horrors and agony of the Upside Down, this one actually does hurt.

Steve scrunches his eyes closed, hissing as the laceration is treated. He might also be in pain from the headache he’s pretty certain is actually a migraine, but it’s all blurring together.

“It hurts,” he snivels, immediately annoyed with himself for sounding so weak, so small.

The emboldened, courageous version of himself that once fought off monsters to protect those he loves endlessly doesn’t live in this body anymore.

“I know, m’sorry, Stevie.” Frankie’s touch is cautious, slowly dabbing blood away to inspect the wound again. “No glass, not that I can see. That’s good.” She grabs another clean cloth, blotting at the blood weeping out. “Think we should go to the ER?”

Steve shakes his head, stuttering, “No, I- I- I—“

“S’okay, you’re okay,” she assures him, just above a whisper. “… Do you want me to… stitch it?” She scrunches her face up in disgust at her own question; Frankie would do anything if it helped Steve, but she’s not sure she could handle giving him some DIY sutures.

“God, no.” He huffs, it’s almost a bitter laugh. “Don’t put yourself through that.”

“Okay, well… I think we can make do, but if it continues to bleed, I’m taking you to the ER.” She says, grabbing some butterfly bandages, applying them with care. “Or calling my dad.”

“Please do not call him,” Steve groans, tears slowing down. “That’s embarrassing.”

Frankie shrugs with a dramatic sigh, “Suit yourself, he’s the professional, not me.” That makes Steve actually huff out a laugh, pulling a lopsided, subtle smile on her face.

They sit in a comfortable silence as Frankie bandages Steve, a little too excessive, but she means well; his body begins to relax, despite the lingering ache across his palm. She gently lifts his hand to her lips, kissing the back of his hand, giggling softly as he quirks his brow. “Didn’t wanna kiss where it hurts.”

“Isn’t that what’s supposed to make it better?” His teasing earns a playful eye roll.

About to quip back, she doesn’t miss the way Steve clutches his head with his good hand, rushing to fill a glass with water. Sliding it over to him, she asks, “What happened?” 

That’s when Steve realizes he’s still shirtless. He gulps down the water, “I dunno if I can call it a panic attack, but m’not sure what else it’d be.”

Frankie gets up to shut the lights off, hoping to relieve some tension in his skull. “Have you eaten today?”

The thought of food alone grumbles Steve’s stomach, but nausea is taking over and— yeah, okay, yeah, it’s definitely a migraine. He shakes his head. “Don’t wanna. Can we lay down?”

She grabs a banana from the counter, pushing it towards him. “You need something in your stomach first. Have some of that, and I’ll get you some ibuprofen.”

Despite not wanting to take action other than rotting in bed, Steve’s not sure how he’s ever survived flare-ups before he met Frankie. Even when he’s grumpy about it, he’s grateful for her.

Reluctantly, he drinks some more water and eats a bit, takes some medication and crawls into bed.

When Frankie begins to walk away, Steve grabs her arm, grip weak, but needy. “M’gonna clean the sink first and I’ll be back. You get some rest, okay?”

He feels awful that she’s cleaning his mess, but before he can protest, she’s closing the bedroom door behind her, leaving Steve in the comfort of the dark. Though he fights to stay awake until Frankie returns, he’s out within minutes.

Whenever Frankie is the first thing Steve sees upon waking up, he instantly feels at ease; his muscles don’t default to tensing up, and his thoughts don’t snowball into the day’s awaiting anxieties.

He glances over at the clock on his nightstand, reading 2:49 A.M., sighing in annoyance; why couldn’t he just sleep through the night? He can’t remember when he fell asleep, but it had to be pretty early. At least his head isn’t ready to split in half; his migraine has settled into a tolerable, dull ache at best.

The soft, soothing glow of a subtle, seafoam green nightlight— one Frankie got him months ago, for the nights the dark becomes too much, brings back too many harsh memories— spills across her face, fast asleep and curled into Steve’s side. 

He cradles her cheek, counting the tiny constellations of freckles on her face as his thumb sweeps across them. She doesn’t appear so frail since finishing treatment; there’s color to her skin again, she’s gained weight back, and her hair’s growing back evenly into a pixie cut. She’s always beautiful to him, but to visibly see her body work with her, not against her, is relieving. 

It’s funny, once her flare-up finally settles, Steve falls into his own. He wonders if they’ll just constantly wax and wane like this forever.

Frankie stirs, nuzzling her face into the crook of Steve’s neck, wrapping herself around him tightly. Her lips tickle his neck as she mumbles, “You ‘kay?”

“Better than earlier.” 

“What happened?” She sounds more alert as she wakes up; Steve wonders if she fell asleep shortly after him. “How’s your hand?”

Fumbling around in the dim light, Frankie finds Steve’s injured hand, cradling it as she inspects the bandages.

“Sore, but it hasn’t bled through, so I think I’m okay,” he rasps, other arm still hooked around her form, holding her close. “Some random girl came in and pretended to be a doctor, but I think she did a good job.”

Frankie leans up to narrow her stare at Steve, but bursts into sleepy giggles. “Shut up.”

Wiggling his brows, he retorts, “Make me, Amato.”

Pecking his lips, she softly smiles, “Maybe after you tell me what’s going on.”

Steve sighs, harsh breath rumbling in his chest; he’s embarrassed, would rather forget this happened to begin with, but if he’s going to demand Frankie be honest and open about her struggles, he has to do the same. It’s only fair. 

He bites his lip, contemplating what’s acceptable to admit, but Frankie can read him easily, reminds him, “Don’t hold back, Stevie. No shame, no judgement, remember?”

“Yeah,” Steve nods. “I know. But I kinda feel like a hypocrite.”

“Sometimes it’s harder to give ourselves the grace we give to others.”

Steve knows it’s important to learn how to rely on yourself, but he can’t ignore the way Frankie has significantly changed his life for the better, even at his lowest points. He couldn’t be bothered to catch himself while hurtling towards rock bottom, but it’s different now, when Frankie’s waiting at the bottom, willing to uplifting him when he’s ready once more.

“I hate my scars,” he blurts out, sighing again as the truth pours out. “I hate them so much. I hate how I can’t see them the way you do, I hate that I can’t accept them as a sign of survival, I hate that I had to… to survive anything.”

Frankie shifts to lay face to face with Steve. She tucks a strand of hair behind his ear, cradling his jaw to offer some comfort, a kind he gratefully leans into every single time.

“And I feel like a hypocrite ‘cause I’m always reminding you how your scars don’t determine your worth— and that’s true, but I—“ His eyes scrunch shut, trying to barricade tears behind his lids. “I can’t see it for myself. I look in the mirror and feel sick. I just want them to go away. I don’t want to be reminded of the past, or how close I came to falling apart several times.

“I survived and I still feel so guilty for it. I know people who never made it out that deserve to be here; they’d be happy to survive if it meant living with these marks.”

Sighing, Frankie softly tells him, “Surviving still comes with some pretty heavy baggage, the kind you end up carrying for way longer than you’d like.”

Eyes opening slowly, they burn as tears meet oxygen, Steve’s voice barely breaks from a whisper, “Not sure how much longer I can carry it.”

“Then I’ll help you carry it,” Frankie states with sincerity, as if it’s the easiest task in the world. 

As if the past isn’t eating Steve alive from the inside out, burning like acid through any shred of good that may be left within him.

“I can’t fix it, but you don’t have to go it alone,” she adds, gentle touch warm and soothing while she wipes away his tears. “You just have to let me be there for you, baby.”

Every so often, the tiny, affectionate nicknames slip through; Frankie’s never been one to be so soft with any previous partners, but it comes naturally with Steve.

Loving Steve— among the good, the bad, and everything between— just comes naturally.

“You should stay over tomorrow... I got an idea, and it won’t solve everything, but it’ll help, I think.” Running her hand through his hair, she presses a kiss to his forehead with a sigh. Steve’s wrapping himself around her tightly, body melding into hers as he begins to relax. “At least give you a distraction for a bit. Sound good?”

Steve’s drifting off before he can respond, lulled back to sleep by the safety Frankie’s embrace offers.

“Will you just— Steve. Stay. Still.”

Frankie snorts as she grabs his shoulders, pressing them down to the floor.

How the hell is Steve supposed to stay still with Frankie straddling him as he lies on his stomach half naked? How the hell does he ignore that?

They’ve already slept together, plenty of times at this point, see each other with little to no clothing quite often; an innocent activity like this shouldn’t arouse him so easily.

Well… at least I’m face down.

“I’m trying to, but—“

Think of anything else. Literally anything else other than the compromising position your girlfriend unknowingly has you both in while trying to do something cute, wholesome and innocent. Don’t make it weird, she’s trying to do something nice, don’t be a perv.

The way he’s laying on the floor is uncomfortable for his lower half, but it’s getting worse with the erection he’s trying and miserably failing at willingly away. He continues to shift around, trying to find some comfort, hoping she won’t notice—

“Steve, quit fucking wiggling your hips!” Frankie bursts into her contagious giggles, except he doesn’t laugh along with her; her legs squeeze inward, pinning him in place. He has to bite back a groan, burying his face into the pillow under his head.

Aaaaaaaand, I’m hard. Great.

“If I woulda known you’d be this much of a handful, I woulda kept my feelings to myself,” Grumbling, she can’t hide the snort that slips out, too. Her hands splay onto his back, gently pressing him to the floor. The ever so slight motion of dominance— one she’s unaware of— creates some untimely, lust-dazed thoughts.

Steve’s breath hitches, earning Frankie’s concern.

“Does it hurt?”

Not in the way you think, Frankie.

“No, nope, I’m good. I’ll stay still, promise.”

Frankie picks up her paintbrush again, dabbing it into her paint palette. She down, hovering above Steve’s shoulders, and he can feel her soft breaths tickle along his ear. His skin prickles up with his peach fuzz standing on end.

“Cold?”

No.

“It’s—“ Steve coughs, but that just moves his body against the floor even more; he forces a laugh to try hiding a moan. “Paint’s chilly, but I- I’m okay.”

A thin tipped brush drags along his soft skin in smooth, slow motions; every so often, he can feel when Frankie’s hand twitches, but she laughs it off.

“Probably should’ve done this on a good tremor day.”

“I’ll love it either way.”

“You don’t even know what I’m painting yet.”

“So? You’re talented as hell, ‘Key, and honestly—“ Forgetting why he’s on the floor to begin with, he starts sitting up, but Frankie pushes him back down— as gently as possible, of course. The way she takes charge makes him blush, and he prays it’s not one of his full-bodied, splotchy, bright red blushing moments. “M- my bad.”

“Just be good,” she murmurs, leaning down to his ear, “and stay still.”

Never mind. She absolutely knows what she’s doing. Of course she knows.

“You’re evil, you know that?” Steve groans, wriggling underneath her to adjust himself, but she pins him in place again with the strength of her legs. “‘Key, c’mon, babe… don’t—“ he huffs sharply, body tensing underneath her. “Quit teasing!”

“I am actually trying to do something important here, so respectfully, tell your dick to be patient.”

He whines, “Do you know how hard this is?”

“How hard your dick is?” Dryly, she teases, “Yeah, I’ve had it in me once or twice.”

“Frankie!”

“Okay, sorry, three times at least.” Whenever she uses the fine-tipped brushes, they leave goosebumps in their wake, tickling Steve’s already sensitive skin. “If body painting makes you this horny, I should do it all the time.”

“You’re the worst, the worst, the actual worst—“ Steve cuts himself off with a groan when Frankie’s fingers tangle into his hair, tugging softly. He can’t resist lazily rutting into the floor for relieving friction. “How do you expect me to stay still when you’re doing shit like this?”

“That’s your problem, not mine,” she giggles, resuming her work in progress. “I’m almost done anyway, just a few more minutes.” As Steve grumbles, Frankie leans down, careful not to smudge any wet paint while kissing his cheek.

In those last few minutes, he manages to calm down, sinking into the soothing touch his girlfriend works on him with. 

“Okay… now, you gotta keep your eyes closed and sit up.”

“What? Why?”

“I gotta paint the front next.”

Steve sputters, “But you— I thought you said you were almost—“

“Done? With the back, yeah, but not all of it.” The smirk she gives is telling, fully aware of how this is torturing Steve. “C’mon, just a little longer. For me? Please?”

Steve can’t say no to the puppy dog eyes Frankie gives him, caving instantly.

“Okay, fine.”

Again, Frankie kisses his cheek, “Thank you. It’ll be worth it. Promise.”

Some time later, Frankie finally finishes her handiwork, rising to her feet. “C’mon, just don’t look yet,” Frankie holds her hands out to Steve, carefully helping him up. “You know what kintsugi is?”

He keeps his gaze forward, trying not to peek yet at the art on his body. His legs wobble slightly; they fell asleep at some point, so he shakes out the pins and needles feeling. He shakes his head, “No, I don’t think so.”

“Eyes closed, I got you, don’t worry.” Steve’s eyes flutter shut, and Frankie slowly leads him into her room. She takes her time guiding him while explaining, “So… it’s a Japanese art form, repairing broken pieces, usually broken pottery with gold. It highlights the flaws and cracks rather than hiding them,” she places Steve before her floor-length mirror. “Just ‘cause it’s got some imperfections, doesn’t mean it loses its worth or purpose… and that’s how I see you.”

The familiar warmth of feeling cared for and loved by Frankie blooms in Steve’s chest, radiating throughout his body.

“You’re still strong and beautiful, and though you’ve lost blood and confidence along the way, you’re still you.” With a soft kiss to his shoulder, Frankie whispers, “You can open ‘em now.”

At first glance, Steve’s breath hitches. He takes in the meticulous work, transforming his scars into something easier on the eyes; they’re painted in metallic gold, tracing what he often sees as tangible proof of failure. Now, they’re highlighted, and not to bring negative attention, but it’s subtle enough that it compliments the skin surrounding it.

There’s even spots Frankie painted to mimic florals found on pottery and fine china, but they’re depicted growing out of his scars. It doesn’t look like he’s held together by remnants of disaster—

He looks like art, something to be cherished and treated with delicate care, something to be admired.

“This is how I see you,” Frankie’s tone is certain and strong. “You’re not just art to me, you’re worth far more than what the darker thoughts try to convince you of. You’ve been to hell and back, and the proof is on your body. I know how hard it is to believe you’re supposed to be here, to keep going… maybe not to the extent you feel, but the scars don’t make it any easier to heal from the past.”

Like the day before, Steve’s eyes well up, unable to see his reflection clearly; this time, he wipes the tears away, not disgusted by his own figure, for once.

“I don’t expect this to fix how you feel, and you have every right to still grieve what you wanted your life to be, but I hope this helps you see how stunning you are to me, inside and out. You deserve to see how others see you, despite the flaws. We all got ‘em one way or another. When I say I love all of you, that means the scars, too. Physical and emotional, ‘cause they’re a part of you, and you, Steve Harrington, are one of a kind, and an incredible person.”

A trembling finger traces the scar around his neck, now filled in with an ethereal glimmer of gold.

Frankie’s self doubt trickles in, “A- and if you hate it, we can wash it off. I hope this doesn’t come off like I’m glorifying what you endured, or—“ Steve spins around to capture her lips in a kiss, earning a muffled yelp against his own.

“Thank you,” he whispers as he breaks the kiss. He rests his forehead on hers, nuzzling his nose against her own. She can feel tears drip onto her face, breaking from Steve’s lash line. “I don’t think I could ever see myself like this, but knowing you do… ah, fuck.” His emotions and brain fog dance together seamlessly, stealing away the words he hoped to thank Frankie with.

Facing the mirror again, Steve admires the designs delicately painted along his skin. Even if he can’t see what Frankie sees, it feels good to realize how loved you are. This is a kind of love he’s never experienced before; no partner has ever really gone beyond showing love in basic intimacy. 

Which, really, isn’t exactly wrong, but the love Steve and Frankie share grows beyond hugs and kisses and sex. Moments like this remind him how lucky he is in a relationship so healthy and strong— like he’d ever forget to begin with.

A short, stifled laugh floats out of Frankie. Steve meets her gaze in the reflection, brows knitting together while he rubs tears away. “What’s so funny?”

Her arms slink around his hips, palms splaying out against his stomach, teasingly sinking lower. When her fingertips begin dipping under waistband, he whimpers.

“Just funny you’re still hard, s’all.” Kissing his shoulder, her hands slip further down, relishing in the shuddered exhale he releases when she reaches his bulge. “Didn’t think pinning you to the floor to paint you would be such a turn on.”

“Well… I… you just…” Steve’s response trails off when she finally touches him, replaced by a filthy moan as his head lolls back against Frankie’s shoulder. Her fingers curl around his length, giving a teasing squeeze. “Please?”

“Please what, baby?”

Steve feels like he’s about to burst— out of his heart or his dick, he’s not sure yet— but being called baby again does something different to him. The ever slowly-growing terms of endearment and affection have wormed their way into the list of phrases and tones that make his skin tingle, reveal a smile, a real one.

That, intertwined with the desire radiating from Frankie’s touch is enough to unravel Steve at the seams with ease.

“Please…” His train of thought is off the rails again when Frankie pushes his boxers down, cock springing free with  dull slap against his body. 

“S’okay, Steve, don’t be shy,” she murmurs, kissing along the back of his shoulder, careful to avoid any painted skin. 

Steve tenses up, unsure what to do with his hands, or how to stand still; he’s barely used to someone else taking control of intimate moments, and it still feels so new with Frankie.

“‘Key… I dunno if I—“ a strangled moan catches in his throat, head lolling back as her thumb swipes along his weeping slit. Frankie gently pushes his head upright, forcing him to look at himself in the mirror. “Not sure if I c- can stand still if you keep touchin’ me like that…”

“Hm… maybe it’d help if you could hold onto me from the front,” she murmurs, and before Steve can ask what she means, Frankie’s on her knees in front of him. She grasps his shaft, gently stroking again, kissing up his thigh. 

“You’re killing me,” he gasps when her tongue swipes along the base of his cock, trailing down to his sac. Steve’s hands fly to her head, grateful her hair, still incredibly short, has grown back enough to have something to hold onto. “Fuck, ‘Key…”

She kisses his tip, gaze floating up with a soft order, “Spit for me.” 

Steve’s a little confused until she’s sticking her tongue out, allowing the head of his cock to rest on the warm muscle. He twitches as her tongue ring makes contact with his shaft; he spits, aiming down to his length, shuddering as Frankie collects it on her tongue, dripping off his cock.

“H’my god…”

Frankie takes him in swiftly, cock heavy while it nestles on her whole tongue this time, tongue ring tickling the prominent vein running down his shaft.

If her mouth wasn’t completely stuffed, she’d giggle over the way Steve’s eyes nearly cross before rolling back. She settles for a low hum instead, buzzing around him as she begins to bob her head.

Steve whines so needfully when Frankie pulls off, spit secure like a leash from her lips to the ruddy tip. She wraps her hand around, strokes softly, steadily. “Stevie?”

He doesn’t care what she’s about to ask— he’ll do it in a heartbeat when she bats her eyelashes that way, lips pouty and cock-swollen around her sweet voice.

“Mhm, yeah?” 

“Remember when you asked me to watch in the mirror when you touched me the first time?” She wraps her other hand around him, both working in sinful harmony to keep his pleasure baseline, for now.

“Y- yeah,” Steve can barely form a coherent thought as Frankie flits her tongue out to his head again, tongue ring dipping into his slit, weeping a generous amount of pre already. He attempts to regain control, but his praise comes out in a needy tone, “Shit… s- so pretty on your knees f’me…”

“Hm, bet my view of you from down here is ten times prettier,” she lovingly teases, one hand slipping away to massage his balls. Pouting as his knees shake, she asks, “You wanna take a minute to—“

“No.” Frantically, Steve shakes his head, yet stumbles a bit in place. He pants, locking eyes with Frankie, snorting when she playfully glares. “… Okay, yeah, maybe I should— yeah.”

He makes a discontent sound, reluctantly backing away from Frankie to sit at the edge of her bed. Before he can whine again, she comes closer, touch returning to tease. She rests her palms against his knees, pushing them apart while planting slow, wet kisses up his shaft. 

“You’re gonna watch yourself fall apart this time, Stevie.” Lapping at the tip once more, Steve throws his head back with a throaty groan. When Frankie takes all of him in, he grows louder. Reeling back, the sound of Frankie’s lips popping off of him softly causes him to throb with need. “Want you to see how stunning you are to me.”

There’s no time to protest when her fingers wrap around the base of his cock, wrapping her lips around the tip and taking in the rest. Steve can’t help bucking his hips, bumbling out a string of rushed apologies.

“M’sorry, it just— sorry, I’m—“

Frankie doesn’t complain, only sinks further down his shaft, tongue carrying the weight of him, guiding the tip to reach the back of her throat.

“Oh, god,” he groans, eyes fluttering shut as her lips and fingers make every perfect move, leading him closer to a release than he expected. “Oh, god…”

She pulls back, stroking him while smirking. “Not god, just me.”

Steve fights through a shuddered moan, “Ha-ha, very funny—“ his breath hitches when she sucks on the prominent vein running up his length. “Jesus fucking Christ.”

“Again, just lil’ ole’ me,” Frankie teases, enjoying how easy it is to wind Steve up. Hand still stroking him, she kisses his inner thigh, slowly working her way up his figure. Her lips reach the scars she painted, taking extra care in leaving kisses behind. 

Watching her carefully, Steve pants harder as her touch never lets up. His hips jerk toward her, earning another smirk.

“‘Key… don’t think I can last long,” he whines as she finally reaches his collarbone, traveling further north until her kisses lead to his lips. She stops just before their lips collide, breath tickling along his face.

Frankie straddles his lap, stroking a little faster, a bit harder. “Can’t finish ‘til you agree with me.”

“Agree? Huh? O- on what?” It’s so hard to focus, so hard to hold even the most basic conversation with his girlfriend effortlessly looking angelic while unraveling him at the scenes with just her hand alone. His breath hitches again, face growing red as he tries holding out.

“That you’re strong, and beautiful, and courageous—“

“M’not saying all’a’that,” he manages to get out, squirming in her grasp.

“I know, words are hard when you’re trying not to come, huh?” She carefully slides behind him, watching them both in the mirror’s reflection as she continues pleasuring him. Resting her chin on his shoulder, she kisses his neck lazily. “You’re so pretty when you’re all fucked out like this.”

“Frankie, I- I can’t, I’m—“

“I’ll make it easier for you,” she bargains, swiping her thumb at the tip of his cock, spreading pre while getting him off. “Just promise me you’ll be kinder to yourself.”

Tears prick at Steve’s eyes, staring at Frankie through the reflection; even when she’s teasing him, he feels so loved by her. And she’s right— he has to try to be kinder to himself. Maybe it will still be an uphill battle with his appearance, and the weight of tragedy the scars hold, but he can promise he’ll try.

For her sake, and his, all he can do is try.

Steve nods wildly, biting down on his lip while balancing on the edge of release.

“I- I promise, I swear,” he babbles with sincerity, nodding his head frantically. “Promise m’gonna try, I promise—“

“Let go, Stevie, I got you,” she gently commands. “Always.”

They’ve fallen into the habit of major reassurance in very few words; whether at their most intimate moments or the mundane ones, they really do have each other, no matter what.

While Steve’s high rushes through him, spilling over Frankie’s hand and onto himself, he makes those gorgeous sounds she’ll never grow tired of. Bliss eventually settles into baseline, leaving behind Steve wrapped in a warm glow.

He feels like putty, smiling dopily as her hand loosens, but never leaves him. Crawling in front of him again, she leans in for a kiss, one that’s slow and sweet, smirking against his lips every time a content sigh shudders out of him.

“I love you, Stevie.” 

Steve holds Frankie’s waist, shaking his head, “Love y’more.”

She giggles at the leftover high that still lingers within him. “You’re gonna sleep well tonight.”

“Mhm,” he grins, only to gasp when Frankie gives a gentle squeeze to his softening cock, gathering the remnants of his release onto her hand. She brings it up to her mouth, cleaning her fingers off with slow laps of her tongue, locking eyes with her partner. He groans lowly, fingers digging into her hips. “Oh, c’mon, don’t do that to me.”

“Do what?” Feigning innocence only makes Steve aroused all over again.

“Don’t play dumb and tease, Francesca,” he rolls his eyes playfully, falling back against the bed to rest. “Gonna need like… two hours ‘til we do anything else.”

Frankie shrugs, “Worth the wait.” Scanning over his body, still covered in paint, she asks, “Need help washing that off?”

“Uh-huh,” he chuckles, still catching his breath. “Y’should take a Polaroid or something, though, just ‘cause it looks cool.”

“You just want me to take your photo,” she teases lightly, kissing his cheek.

“I meant for the art, jerk.”

“You are the art, meanie.”

“Meanie? What, are we fighting on the playground or something?” 

“Shut up,” she clambers off him, retrieving her Polaroid camera. When she returns, she notices smudges, which were expected, but the concept is messed up now. “Dammit. I should’ve asked to take a picture beforehand.”

Steve doesn’t expect her to push him back into the pillows, straddling his waist to point the camera down over him. He laughs, baffled as his brows knit together. “Honey, what’re you doing?”

“Photographing art,” she states, snapping a photo. The undeveloped film falls to his chest. “What the hell does it look like I’m doing?”

That pulls a laugh out of Steve, one with a wide grin and crinkled eyes. His hand comes up to his face, lazily rubbing his eye, when the flash goes off again.

“Oh, god, that’s gonna look awful,” he snorts, playfully pushing the camera away.

Except it becomes Frankie’s favorite photo she’s ever taken of Steve the moment it develops. She feels so lucky to see him like this, at his most vulnerable; his most authentic self. The paint is smudged in spots and he’s laughing with genuine joy, the first time in days Frankie’s seen it from him. He looks so sleepy, but comfortable, at home in his own skin, for once. Relaxed and content when they’re together.

“Far from it,” she murmurs, admiring the moment frozen in time, captured in that little square of instant film. “So far from it.”

While she’s distracted, Steve snatches the camera, uses the last bit of energy to hook his legs around her, flipping Frankie onto her back. She squeals with laughter, caught off guard when Steve begins snapping photos of her.

“This was about you, not me!” She giggles, trying to reach for the camera. Steve holds it up, not bothering to use the viewfinder before taking another photo of her.

It’s a blurry shot, but her sunny smile shines through, contagious laugh echoing out of the photograph. She looks so happy. Steve wants to help perpetuate that happiness for as long as possible.

“Yeah, well, I needed a new one for my wallet.” He leans down, nose nudging against her own, murmuring, “Love you so much.” 

She doesn’t have a chance to respond before he kisses her. Steve lifts the camera towards them, takes a leap of faith and hopes it’s pointed at them, hitting the shutter and setting the flash off.

Frankie breaks the kiss with a scandalized gasp, but her easily amused smile gives her away. “Quit it, you’re gonna use up my film!”

Steve retaliates, taking one last snapshot of her, leaving the camera on the bed as he slides off.

“What?” He smirks, pulling her off the bed with him. “I was photographing the art.”

[void-tiger]

I don’t know how to not either mold myself into a shape that makes it easier for others to stay, or let myself slip through a drain discarded instead.

[honey-tongued-devil]

Arcane preference reacting to a s/o with a mental health issues (eating)

My disclaimer, as someone with this issue, I’m sorry if this isn’t what you wanted. I’ve actually been thinking about it for a while, but I was a bit cowardly about doing it, so I’m taking the opportunity now. I don’t want to go out of character, so I’m sorry if some characters come across as harsher than others. Unfortunately, I know I should write the name of the illness, but if I post it that way, Tumblr will take it down.

Jayce:

- He’s academically intelligent, but it takes him far too long to notice that something’s wrong. But you can’t blame him, it’s something so far removed from him that he couldn’t have understood it sooner.

- When he does realize, his first reaction is panic.

- Jayce can’t feel like just a blade of grass; he feels emotions deeply, taking on any blame, especially if something happens to the people he loves. His first thought is that he did something to make you feel that way, inadequate.

- But once the panic phase ends, the responsibility phase begins.

- He does the grocery shopping, he cooks, and his workouts become more regular, where he has you climb onto his back while doing push-ups or holds you in his arms during other exercises.

- He doesn’t know why you do it, but the quickest way to show you that your weight isn’t a problem is by showing you how easily he lifts you.

- And maybe, if you feel up to it, he can hold you in his arms with one arm supporting you while he cooks, letting you taste various ingredients.

Viktor:

- Unlike Jayce, it only takes two suspicious behaviors in a row for him to understand what’s happening. It’s something far from his world, sure, but he recognizes it.

- And he confronts you. He doesn’t beat around the bush, doesn’t stammer; he might even sound angry because he doesn’t understand why you’d hurt yourself like this and willingly give up your well-being.

- I won’t lie, I doubt that an open discussion about something this delicate with him wouldn’t lead to at least one hysterical cry.

- But he’s not brutal for the sake of being brutal; his suffering and frustration turn into anger. It takes him a while to calm down, but he won’t accept compromises.

- You’ll have meals together at home, either returning to your rooms together or straight to the house, so no one can see you and you won’t feel bad.

- And he won’t force you, he tries to handle it with as much care as possible, but there’s no day that goes by without him getting up from the table if you haven’t eaten at least two food items per meal.

- He loves you too much to see you hurt yourself in that way, and knowing that he can't do anything about it makes him feel powerless.

Ekko:

- It takes him a week—not to understand, but to process it.

- Having grown up in total poverty, the idea of giving up food “for whim” makes him react in a way that is only human.

- And the whole thing is too distant for him: everyone’s skin is grayish, 90% of the population of the Lanes has missing limbs and monstrous prosthetics, and everyone’s goal is to survive as long as possible. What does it mean that you’re against your own survival??

- As unsupportive as he might be regarding the issue, he becomes incredibly vigilant and concerned.

- He’ll always make sure you’re warm enough, that you’re comfortable, and no matter how frustrated he is, he’ll always try to stay close to you, even just holding you in bed until you fall asleep.

- Every single comment you make about your body, he’ll respond with, “Don’t talk about my partner like that,” 

- no one can speak badly of you, not even you.

Vander:

- The most understanding: he was young once too, and although in his size meant an advantage, he and Silco snuck into various galas when they were younger, and there, even though he never had these problems, he would feel a strange sensation seeing that he was the biggest in the room or that it was hard to find someone to steal clothes from that would fit him.

- He doesn’t lecture you or anything like that, he doesn’t get angry despite how he grew up; he just feels sadness for you that you can’t see how little that complex matters and how beautiful you already are.

- His compromise is vegetables. If you don’t feel like eating every meal every day, it doesn’t matter, but at least four days a week, you have to have three meals.

- And for the rest, he’ll cook, making sure to prepare the best dishes made from vegetables so that you don’t feel guilty and your body doesn’t deteriorate.

- But he doesn’t support your illness, he simply ensures that you get everything you need and never go below the necessary intake without having you feeling guilty about it.

Silco:

- Hoping that the most attentive and watchful man in the lanes wouldn't notice how, suddenly, meals go from moments of lightness to something you try to avoid at all costs is a bit foolish, but he says nothing.

- He waits for as long as necessary, basically to see how long it lasts and how much you're not planning to talk to him.

- When he realizes you won’t, not anytime soon, he waits for you to be alone in his office, where you’ll find a slice of cake on his desk. Sure, it’s a low blow, but it’s also the fastest way to get you to confront the issue without too many escape routes.

- He’s a big fan of the saying “dirty laundry is washed in the family,” so if you act strange about meals in front of others, he won’t allow questions or jokes, but in private, he won’t accept “no” for an answer.

- He has enough problems already without you crying from hunger pains or having psychotic episodes due to sugar deficiency, so as long as you're under his watch, under Zaun's eye, he won't let you live with unhealthy standards.

- During meals, he becomes the strictest. He doesn’t say anything, but one look is enough to make you think twice about contradicting him. In the evening, though, when your mental health is most fragile, he becomes gentler, comforting you as much as you need.

Jinx:

- You find fertile ground, but like any good bearer of the same issue: she feels she can do it, but you cannot.

- Being with her or in her space becomes like a live-action version of Thumbelina: she’ll leave sweets, chocolates, things she knows you like to encourage you to eat so you can’t hurt yourself.

- She usually forgets to eat herself when she’s caught up in her studies and work, but if she has someone to care for, it doesn’t matter how, she’ll make sure to remember. Even if it means setting a few colorful bombs with timers.

- She feeds you. In the most visible, worst way. It’s easy that if you turn your head, you’ll find a cookie shoved in your mouth unceremoniously.

- And every single tight-fitting outfit disappears from her lair. Magically, whatever clothes you pick up from her pile fit loosely, but if you ask her about it, she’ll claim she doesn’t know what are you talking about.

Vi:

- Want to see Vi in a panic, becoming super protective and possessive in a way? Just wait for one episode, and you’ll see everything you haven’t seen.

- She’ll check on you at least three times a day, and in the evening, when you have pain or a crisis, she’ll run back and forth from the room, thinking about everything she can do to help you feel better without making you feel guilty.

- During meals, she’ll hold you in her arms and insist that you eat, but not aggressively—in a way that’s almost frightened: she’s always been used to fighting big, real monsters, but even when it came to her sister, she could never defeat the invisible ones, and the fear of failing or hurting someone she loved again terrifies her in an agonizing way.

Caitlyn:

- Like Jayce, she’ll also try a more physical way of reassuring you, like body worshipping when you’re alone or working out with you to show you that your weight doesn’t matter.

- She doesn’t know how to react; she realizes it quite quickly but fears that by acknowledging it, she might only make you feel worse.

- One day, she gathers the courage to ask if everything is okay and tells you that she’s noticed those behaviors. When you open up to her, telling her about the issues, she doesn’t respond right away and simply hugs you.

- She becomes more caring, making sure that you don’t have to attend banquets or dinners where you wouldn’t feel comfortable, bringing you food in your room to eat together, and sometimes even leaving the room so as not to put pressure on you.

- When you mention a craving, she immediately springs into action to get it for you, even if you complain that you weren’t serious. Once she understands how your condition works, she orders everything in three portions, so she can eat with you and then be the first to say that she wants more, asking if you want to share the third portion.

- If you have fat accumulated in any area, she’ll knead it with her hands while kissing you, to let you know that she loves every inch of you.

Mel:

- She notices you're having a crisis before you even realize it yourself.

- She’s a ruler, but what she learned from a young age is that a leader must appear reliable and look good, so even if unconsciously, she too sometimes experiences small crises when she feels like she isn’t looking perfect.

- No conversations, no lectures, just an increase in cuddles, moments of intimacy, and later, she brings home sweets.

- “They were a gift to me today at the council,” she lies, but sometimes she says she got them for both of you.

- She doesn’t want to make you feel like you’re in the wrong.

- She knows that when you’re ready and if you want to, you’ll bring up the issue with her, but for now, the best thing she can do is help you get through the episode with euphoria, love, and treats that encourage you to listen to your hunger rather than the illness.

Sevika:

- Like everyone in Zaun, the idea that someone would voluntarily give up food is simply incomprehensible to her.

- But she won’t comment on your problems. She doesn’t intend to invalidate them, but she also won’t encourage it.

- “Are you sure? That’s a bit too little,” will be her comment when you eat something ridiculously small, before making you a proper portion of food herself. If you try to argue, she’ll respond with a smug smile, saying that if you eat that little, you’ll end up breaking when you’re in bed together.

- If a crisis is particularly bad, she’ll try to finish her work as quickly as possible to be able to stay with you for the rest of the day and not leave you alone.

- As much as possible, she’ll try to get the best, freshest, and most natural food, to reassure you that you don’t need to worry, but she’ll never insist that you eat if you say you don’t feel up to it.

- She’ll gesture for you to come sit on her lap and keep you there, occasionally offering you things she knows you like, telling you that she’s really craving them, and if you want them too, she’ll go get them.

[raerae2727]

When they blow up at you: multiple One Piece men x reader

You make them upset and they lose their temper + how they apologize

Includes: Ace, Kid, Law, Sanji, Crocodile, Doflamingo

GN! Reader, established relationship

Warnings: language, crocodile is neglectful and doffy is toxic, both reader and kid are lowkey toxic together, ace sanji and law’s parts are sweet tho💋

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Ace

He’s always pretty upbeat and tries not to show anger around you, but one day you make a joke that takes it too far. Your relationship had always been full of humor and you simply misunderstood what was acceptable to joke about and what wasn’t. You know you messed up when Ace goes quiet and puts his head down. You put your hand on his shoulder and frantically try to apologize, but he clearly isn’t having it as he stands and tries to walk away from you.

“Ace, wait! Listen!” You call as you try to pull him back, eager to explain yourself and properly apologize. He suddenly turns around and, in front of everyone, begins to lecture you.

“Why don’t you ever take anything seriously?”

Your guilt quickly turns to anger at the hypocrisy of Ace’s words. It always seemed to you that no joke was “too far” because of the way he so freely poked fun at you, your interests, and those you care about. How dare he pin this accusation on you?

“You’re the one who can’t take anything serious!” You respond, raising your voice louder than his.

He’s basically yelling when he responds, “At least I know where to draw the line!”

“What about all those times you made fun of me? Is it only an issue when I do it back?”

Everyone is staring at you two by this point, but all you can focus on is holding back tears when Ace yells, “I guess we just don’t go well together!” He slams his hand on the table, “Good luck finding someone else who’ll put up with you for as long as I have!”

Ashamed and heartbroken, you rush to your room and cry into your pillow. It feels like an eternity before you finally hear a knock on your door. You don’t respond but Ace opens it and lets himself in anyways, setting down his hat. He sits on the edge of your bed and breaks the silence with, “Good thing I stayed calm out there, right?”

Amazed that he still has the audacity to joke around, you sit up and scold, “Ace!”

He holds up his arms defensively. “Sorry, Sorry, I’m ready to talk about it if you are. And for the record, I love putting up with you.”

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Kid

Your relationship was always explosive because of your captain’s temper, but he must have already been on edge today because this was worse than usual. Killer wanted some rest so Kid is trying to make dinner for the crew, but he absolutely sucks at cooking. He refuses to listen to your advice and tension is growing as you continue to try and help.

“Stop being so controlling! I’m the captain here!”

The smell of burnt food is getting stronger, and you can’t help but take the pan off the burner yourself. “We’re hungry. Besides, there’s nothing wrong with just accepting help for once.” You try to keep your tone neutral to avoid a fight - which is clearly ineffective as Kid grabs you by the arm and pulls you outside of the kitchen.

“Why are you so set on embarrassing me in front of my crew!?” He shouts, gripping your shoulders.

You roll your eyes and speak calmly to make him feel like he’s overreacting. “It’s not that big of a deal. It would be more embarrassing if nobody was able to eat because your ego is too big to let me help.”

Kid is infamously bad with words, so he just responds by cursing and shoving you with much more force than intended. You go tumbling back until your head hits the wall and you fall to the floor. Kid looks shocked but before he can kneel down to help, you shoot up and shout, “What the fuck was that!?!”

“I don’t know!! Are you okay?” He yells back, panicked.

“No! I’m gonna tell Killer that you’re abusing me!” You scream, not realizing the whole ship can probably hear you two by now.

“No!” Kid responds fearfully, one-upping your volume and holding you in place by your shoulders again. “I swear I’ll always listen to you from now on! I promise! Please don’t tell on me, you know it was an accident!!”

Before you can scream back, the kitchen door swings open and you two stare at Killer like deer in headlights.

“Get in here and set the table. I knew you guys wouldn’t be able to handle it.”

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Law

Law always stretches himself too thin between working late, taking care of his crew, and making sure they don’t get themselves in too much trouble. He must have been losing a lot of sleep because of this, as he’s asking you to bring him his 4th cup of coffee today and it’s not even noon.

You tell him, “I don’t think I should do that, babe. I’m sorry. You should get some rest instead.” His under eye bags are especially dark today and his hair is messy.

“I have to get this done,” he responds calmly, though you can detect a hint of annoyance in his tone. “Can you at least get someone else to make it?”

When you go behind him and rub his shoulders, he sighs and leans back in his chair. He must be exhausted. “Please, babe?” He asks once more.

“Law, you of all people should know the importance of rest.”

He pulls away from your touch and crooks his neck to look in your eyes. “And you, of all people, should appreciate the work your captain does to keep this crew out of harm’s way.” He doesn’t yell, but the scolding tone of his voice hurts you more than yelling ever could. He stands up and walks to the kitchen, presumably to make his own coffee, and you follow behind. “Can’t you just give me some alone time for once?” He snaps.

You’re growing increasingly frustrated at Law’s stubborn attitude. “You need to rest! I’m not going to leave you alone when you’re putting your health at risk.”

“Sometimes,” he grabs you by the chin and leans in, “I have to make sacrifices for this crew. Be thankful.” You can’t help but start to tear up. His harsh words stung extra when he looked at you like that. Law lets go of you and his gaze softens when he realizes how upset he’s made you. The tone of the conversation immediately shifts. “Sorry, I-” he pauses, “I didn’t realize you cared that much.”

“Of course I care.” You cry. “I love you.” You pull him into a hug and he leans down to rest his chin on your shoulder.

“I’ll take a nap if you promise to stop crying.” He whispers, rubbing your back.

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Sanji

“Can you add a dash of salt to the soup, love?” Asks your boyfriend. He’s recently taken to including you while he cooks, which is an honor coming from someone who takes it so seriously. He’s gentle, patient, and excessively romantic with you in every aspect of the relationship, though sometimes finds himself being a bit more firm when cooking. You waltz across the kitchen, handing over him a knife, stirring a pot, or cleaning dishes for Sanji, whose hand finds your waist each time you pass. You dip your finger into the sauce he’s making and give it a taste.

“It’s good, maybe a bit bland though,” you comment.

“Noted, head chef,” he teases back playfully while accepting your criticism and adding more seasoning. When you go to take another taste, your elbow knocks over an inconveniently placed jar of olive oil, spilling it into the sauce and all over the counter.

“Shit! I’m sorry Sanji, I’ll clean it up.” He looks a bit disappointed, but gives you a soft smile and pat on the back.

“Don’t worry love, it happens,” his tone shifts to something more firm yet still gentle, “but we only have one jar left, so try to be a bit more careful for me in the future, yea?”

“It won’t happen again, promise.” Your mistake makes you shaky with nervousness because you know how seriously Sanji takes food waste. When you reach for a towel to clean up the oil, of course you accidentally knock over a pepper shaker. It falls to the ground and shatters, pepper corns bouncing all across the floor.

Panicked, you stutter out a pleading apology while you scramble to find a broom. “Oh my god babe, I’m so sorry, I don’t know why I’m so clumsy to-”

“How about you just leave the cooking to me.”

You look up, surprised at his stern voice. He doesn’t look back at you, just grips the handle of his mixing spoon angrily. Your heart drops into your stomach in shame.

“Go find someone else to help me clean up this mess, okay?” You can tell he’s trying his absolute hardest to contain his disappointment, but it’s still evident in his tone. You silently leave the kitchen, embarrassed tears stinging your eyes.

You try to calm yourself down in your room before dinner, you don’t want any of your crew mates to know about your humiliating mistakes. Not even five minutes after you had left the kitchen though, your door swings open. Sanji is on his knees with a bouquet of flowers and big puppy dog eyes looking up at you.

“I have no words to describe how sorry I am for getting upset at you. My anger was a bigger mistake than any amount of spilled food.” Your emotions quickly turn upside down and you laugh at the dramatic display.

“Sanji! I should be the one apologizing!” You run up to him and pull him into a tight hug. You reassure him, “It’s okay to get frustrated sometimes. I’m not mad!” He lets out a relieved sigh and squeezes you tight.

Smelling the bouquet, you ask, “Where did you even get these?”

“I have a stash,” and you both burst into laughter.

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Crocodile

It seems like all he does is work, and you’re fed up with it. You get so bored sitting around in Crocodile’s mansion all day while he’s locked up in his office. Luckily, he left the door ajar today and you’ll be able to force him to give you the attention you deserve. You slink through the door and hoist yourself up onto the edge of his oversized desk.

“What.” He says gruffly, not looking up from his papers.

“I’m booored,” you whine, swinging your feet, “wanna go swimming?”

Crocodile sighs and rubs his temple in annoyance, still not looking up. “Go fetch me a drink and I’ll consider it.”

“No you won’t!” You argue, “you always say that!”

He slams a fist on the table and finally looks up to meet your eyes. “Maybe I would want to spend more time with you if you weren’t so whiny! Now go!”

You’re shocked and hurt by his unexpected anger and leave defeated, looking back one last time to see him continuing his work, seemingly unbothered.

Later that night, as you’re lying in bed reading, you hear the door softly creak open. Crocodile is holding an unopened expensive perfume with a ribbon tied around it.

“I know I haven’t had a lot of time for you lately, and I’m sorry.” He sighs, setting the gift on your nightstand and undoing his tie. “We’ll go swimming next week, I promise.” He places a gentle kiss on your forehead before getting into his robe.

As you drift off to sleep, you look at the various expensive gifts he’s gotten you as apologies, knowing he will never follow through with his promises.

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Doflamingo

Making Doflamingo angry is always the last thing you want to do, but his immature sense of entitlement can be infuriating. The two of you were watching the sunset by the poolside and discussing your latest reads while waiting on a servant to bring another bottle of wine. You didn’t notice how long it was taking until he brought it up.

“What’s taking that damn worm so long?” What’s so hard about fetching a bottle of wine?” The veins in his forehead started to bulge, a telltale sign of his annoyance.

You take his hand in yours and rub your thumb into his palm, trying desperately to keep him calm. “I’m sure it’ll be here soon, Doffy. Let’s not worry about it for now - keep telling me about your book.”

He could see right through you. Any attempt at influencing his emotions always only made it worse.

“Don’t baby me. This is an act of utter insolence and I don’t know why you expect me to tolerate it.” He slaps your hand away. “I’ll give that rat a piece of my mind once it gets here.” As much as you want to just leave it at that and enjoy the rest of your evening, your unrest with Doflamingo’s behavior has been growing for weeks and you speak before you can think.

“Can’t we just have one nice evening where you don’t have to abuse someone over the tiniest thing? It’s just some wine, we’ll live.” You’re terrified to see his frown turn into a wide grin as he starts to laugh.

“Have you forgotten who I am? Who you have the privilege of being close to?” With one sweep of his arm he knocks your glass off the table, shattering it and making you jump in fear. “Get out of my sight,” He hisses.

Offended by his quick switch-up, you bargain, “Doffy, can’t we just talk abou-”

“Out!” He yells. “And that’s Young Master to you!”

You scurry inside the palace, knowing things could get ugly if you chose to stick around. You wait all night for him to come knocking on your door with a superficial apology, even a passive aggressive one, but he never shows.

That petty man child was avoiding you. A whole week goes by before you even see his face. As you’re playing chess with Diamanté (who’s even more insufferable) to pass the time, you find yourself wishing you were with Doflamingo instead. As if on cue, he struts in and ruffles your hair from behind.

“What do you say we go share a drink together, just you and me, hm?” He muses, rubbing your shoulders as if he hadn’t just disappeared for a week. Your anger towards him subsides at his touch. You know you only feel this way because of his manipulative charm, but you let yourself love Doffy anyway.

.-~-..-~-..-~-..-~-..-~-..-~-..-~-..-~-..-~-..-~-..-~-..-~-..-~-..

[avocado-writing]

Not sure if this is enough to go off of but I loved the poly!poolverine fic where they rescued the reader. I was wondering if we could get some more of them being protective of the reader 🙏🏻

The bar is pretty crowded tonight. You nurse a rum and coke and hope Logan and Wade are able to find you in the corner booth you managed to snag, because you know the second you go to order another some opportunistic patrons will take your spot - and you’ve been on your feet all day at work so there’s no way in hell you’ll let that happen.

You take a sip. It’s warm now, ice long since melted in the heat of the room. You grimace at the taste as someone slides onto the bench next to you. 

It is not one of your boys. 

“Hey, baby.”

He’s big. Kinda guy who goes to the gym every day big, which isn’t inherently bad - but from the way he uses his size to press up against you there’s a little bit of unease rising in your chest. He puts his elbow on the table so that he can rest his jaw in his hand, biceps flexing in the tight shirt he wears. 

“I’m waiting for someone,” you say, as calmly as you can, hoping this will deter him. It does not. 

“So? We can have a little talk, can’t we? Not hurting anybody.”

His hand goes to cover yours where it rests on the table. You snatch it back. He frowns. 

“Dunno who you’re waiting for, but they probably shouldn’t have left you here alone. Looks like they don’t care about you, honey.”

“Jesus Christ,” you mutter, annoyed, deciding it’s not worth it. He won’t go so you will. You slide out the free side of the booth - but you’re forced to stop when he grabs your wrist. 

“I wasn’t done talking to you yet,” he says. Okay. Now you’re panicking. You manage to shake yourself free of his grasp and quickly push through the throng of people, hoping to lose him in the crowd. No such luck. He knows where you’re heading. 

The air is cold on the street as you speed up; not running, never running, that might incite a chase. He’s on your heels anyway. 

“Hey, are you just gonna keep ignoring me?”

“I told you I’m not interested!”

He grabs you again, harder this time. A grip you can’t break free from. 

“You know, you should learn not to be such a bitch —”

“Oh! Isn’t this fun! Sorry to interrupt this little show of misogyny in action but it’d be great if you could let go of our pookie.”

You’ve never been more relieved to hear Wade’s voice. Suddenly you’ve got someone either side of you: the brick which is Logan on your left, and the snark which is Wade on your right. 

The guy who’s holding you does not drop your arm. He frowns. 

“Who the fuck are you?”

“They’re who I was waiting for,” you say quickly, as if this will deter him. The man laughs, loudly, cruelly.

“Sorry, you’re in some kinda threesome with this old fucker and whatever this dude is? Fuck, honey, you really need someone to show you what a real man—”

He does not get a chance to finish. Logan’s fist has collided with his face with such ferocity you can hear his nose break. The man yelps and staggers backwards, you bring your hand to your chest for safety. 

“Should’ve let go, bub,” he mutters, massaging his knuckles. Wade deflates. 

“Aw, I wanted to get the first hit in!” He peers over at where the guy is laid out flat. “Go on, get back up. If I don’t throw a punch it emasculates me, and I’m very sensitive about it.”

You roll your eyes, tugging at his sleeve. 

“Let’s just go, guys. I don’t think he’s gonna follow us.”

“One sec.”

Wade strolls over and puts his boot on the guy’s chest, pushing down until he’s wheezing.

“You wanna apologise?”

The guy groans out a sorry, and you give a curt nod when Wade turns to see if you’ve accepted it.

“Don’t do this bullshit again, with anyone, or I’m gonna find you, rip your dick off, then feed it to my adorable, hideous dog.”

They cage in around you as your turn, two loyal hounds at your beck and call. You throw a couple of glances over your shoulder as you leave but it’s as you suspected: the guy remains on the cold concrete. When you’re far enough away to feel safe they slow to a stop. 

“You okay?” Logan asks, lifting your chin with a finger so that he can get a good look at you. You nod. 

“Yeah. Thanks for being there in time.”

“I’m sorry baby, we should have got here earlier, but peanut here tore a guy’s arm off so we had to go and clean up first—”

“Oh god, stop,” you say, pulling a face. You don’t want to know about their line of work, very happy for the business and personal life gulf to be a wide one. “Let’s go get some pizza and head home.”

“Anything you want,” says Logan, squeezing your hand. 

Anything where you’re between them is what you want. Safe and happy, they’ll make sure you’re both. 

[luveline]

coworker James being protective of reader like she’s just a sweet and kind thing and he’s FINALLY accepting his feelings and reader gets like happy that he cares?

“No, no, it’s okay. Yeah, don’t worry about me, I’m just gonna watch movies all weekend. I might make popcorn. Yeah! Don’t worry about it, just have fun, okay?” 

You’re talking quietly but not without pep, hushed to avoid disturbing him. By the sounds of it, your plans for the weekend have bombed. You’re taking it remarkably well. 

“Okie dokie. Well, I’ll see you soon, yeah? Love you. Bye.” You don’t lift your head where you’re laying against the desk, but you put your phone gently by your keyboard. 

“That blows,” James says. 

“Maybe.” You turn your face to see him, before you lift yourself up and return to the pack of biscuits you’ve opened. “Do you want some?” you ask, bringing a malted milk to your mouth. 

“Please.” 

You gesture for him to take one. In relative quiet, you and James sit there chewing, the sunlight from the open window on your hands. 

“You’re not upset about your plans?” he asks. 

“A bit, but… I don’t want her to feel bad for me. She should have a good time, she got last minute tickets to see a band and she loves them. We can just hang out next weekend.” You push the biscuits toward him. “I need to stop eating these all the time.” 

You stand up and do a big stretch, arm arched over your head before you laugh and point at him. He’s never had someone look at him like this. “Pretend you didn’t see that,” you say, raising your eyebrows just a touch. 

You’re being playful. James’ stomach flips. “I didn’t see a thing,” he says. 

You drop your pointing. “Really?” 

He covers his eyes. 

Your following laughter is even richer. 

“This office makes me tired. I’m going to make some coffee before lunch is over,” you say. 

You walk away like nothing happened. James is left to ruminate. 

He pushes a hand into the crop of his hair and ruffles it, stressed, though the scratch of his nails against his scalp relieves some tension. James is used to being annoyed at you, you were always so irked with him, but lately he struggles to find anger for you. He still loves to tease you and watch your eyes change; there’s no better moments than on the mornings he’s here first and he’s found a new hiding place for your mug, and you’re forced to ask him where it is he put it. Asked is kind, really. More aptly, you demand to know where it is, and promise professional retribution. 

You could always drink from a different mug, but James has a feeling you like asking. This morning, you found it by yourself, and you put it smugly on your desk with steam rising from the surface. “You’re getting worse,”

you’d said, and that smugness suddenly felt friendly. Your smile was ten different shades of sweet. 

You are… quite sweet. You’re kind. You don’t let much upset you that isn’t James, even when it should. And the James stuff is all superficial. When was the last time you guys argued over something that mattered?

Which isn’t to say he doesn’t love arguing with you. But he’s coming to appreciate another side of you, the side that comes back to your desk with a fresh coffee and little happy breath of air when you see he’s made his two figurines cuddle each other. 

“They’re in love,” you say dreamily. 

“You can be so lovely,” James says. It’s like something takes over his body. 

You put your coffee down. “What?” you ask, smiling as though it’s a joke you don’t get. 

He’s not sure he should say it again. “I don’t know. When you smile, you’re really pretty. Like, even more than usual.” 

“Ha-ha.” 

“No, I’m serious.” 

“I don’t believe you.” 

James takes one of your biscuits. “Then don’t, it doesn’t bother me.” He wishes he hadn’t said it, what a weird thing to say, but he can’t pretend he was kidding, it would be crueller than saying nothing. So he wedges a biscuit in his mouth and laughs when you call him gross, your facade one he doesn’t believe. You wrinkle your nose, but you’re happy underneath it. 

Lovely, even. 

[dannyriccsystem]

SOOOOO ABOUT THAT ONE K SPECIAL

perhaps daniel ric with soft make out session and virginity loss? #virginsunite😞✅

TAKE ME ONE MORE TIME.

1K SPECIAL - DR3

Soft make out session + Virginity loss

SUMMARY: Danny makes sure to be extra gentle with you after finding out it’s your first time. Ever.

WORD COUNT: 1.1K

WARNINGS: Virginity loss, smut, P in V, cunnilingus, gentle dom Daniel

FEATURING: Daniel Ricciardo x Reader

NOTE: I miss him so bad

YOU AWOKE TO KISSES ON YOUR SHOULDER. They were tender and light, like the man giving them was scared of hurting you. His lips were searing on your skin, every brush felt hot. You blinked away the sleep, peering over your shoulder at Danny, who was holding your waist tight and peppering you in his love.

“Mmm, good morning.” You muttered. His gaze drifted up towards you, and soon after his lips were on yours. It wasn’t a harsh attack, but a soft acceptance of your consciousness. You grinned against him, your eyes fluttering shut. You nearly succumbed to sleep, feeling utterly relaxed.

“Mornin’.” His voice was deep and groggy—it came as a deep rumble from deep within his chest. You licked your lips, tasting him on you still.

You turned back around, shifting your weight back against his hold—then it got serious. You could feel something hard pressing against your thighs, rubbing up against the curve of your ass. You swallowed thickly, unsure of how to feel.

Danny didn’t know, but you were still a virgin. It was just a personal thing about not wanting to have sex until you were close with someone. You had done other acts, but legitimate sex had yet to happen. It was somewhat embarrassing, which is why you avoided letting him know.

You knew it would come up eventually, though. Your boyfriend was very sexually active. He never forced you into anything, but you found yourself frequently pretending you couldn’t hear him jerking off in the shower, or how he’d occasionally get hard when watching movies together. This was unavoidable.

“Danny?” Your voice cracked as you called his name.

“Sweetheart,” He replied, slyly kissing your neck.

“I need to tell you something, but you have to promise not to judge.” He jokingly scoffed, because he had seen nearly everything. He had seen you naked, he had seen you cry, he had seen your genuine laugh instead of the cute one you used on first dates.

You were serious, though. He froze, and then nodded. “Okay, go on.”

“I’m a virgin-” You blurted out, your back still to him. He didn’t say anything at first, and then the silence started to get uncomfortable. You looked at him again, and he was just staring at you with a dorky smile. “What?”

“I’m just kinda honored. I mean, I’m not expecting anything, but if you want to have sex, I promise to be gentle and considerate.” He looked genuinely giddy, like a child on christmas morning. It helped ease your worries by a lot.

“I don’t know,” He traced little circles into your stomach. “I want to, but I’m a little scared.” Would it hurt? Would he fit? What if you were too loose? Ugh, so many worries.

“Don’t be scared.” Danny stated firmly. “I promise to take good care of you.” You visibly relaxed, the tension flowing from your body.

You sucked in a sharp breath, holding it while nodding. “Yes,” You breathed out. “I really do want to have sex with you.”

Daniel nodded as well, kissing your lips. “Good, because I want to, also.” When he pulled away, he gently pushed your head to face forward again. You let him move you around a bit, your breath hitched when he started to pull down your pajama shorts. It all started to feel too real.

You shut your eyes tight, listening to the sound of shuffling clothes. When you felt something warm and slightly wet press to your folds, you flinched. Danny, with his arms around your waist, whispered into your ear, “Are you sure?”

“Yeah…” You appreciated him checking in constantly. Asking for consent like that somehow made him so much hotter. With your final confirmation, he slowly pushed his cock into your hole, groaning into your ear.

“Fuck,” He cursed under his breath.

“Shit-” You stuttered out, legs twitching as he breached your hole. He paused, letting your poor pussy adjust to his size before he continued to push himself all the way in. You seethed, your body melted into his hold.

“You’re doing so good,” He whispered sweet praises into your ear, his arms wrapped around your midsection. “Does it hurt? I can pull out,” He kissed the spot behind your ear.

“No!” You quickly blurted out, whining under your breath. “I… I don’t want you to.”

“Can I start moving then?”

“Yes.”

With your permission, Danny began to thrust his hips. He was slow, making sure he listened for any signs of pain. He listened for pleasure, too, taking note of everything that made you feel good. Your little whimpers were music to his ear.

You turned your head over your shoulder, looking down at where he was penetrating you with a dazed expression. He chuckled and leaned in to kiss you. His tongue gave your lips little kitten licks before you opened your mouth, enough for him to move forth. You were both moaning into the kiss while he sped up. His hips slammed against yours, your cunt fluttering and your legs twitching.

“You feel so fucking good, sweetheart, I’m about to come,” He grunted. Your stomach churned with excitement. You weren’t quite there yet, but you trusted him to take good care of you.

He pulled out, his cock releasing. Some of it landed on you, but most of his cum was shot onto the mattress. You were worried you’d go without coming, but your worries were subsided when he rolled you onto your back and pushed himself onto his knees between your legs.

Your hands found his curls, helping guide him towards your wet cunt. You could feel him smirk against you. Daniel darted his tongue out to lap at your wet, greedy folds. He looked like he was thoroughly enjoying this.

Danny slipped two fingers inside slowly, curling them to brush against your spongy walls. He repeatedly teased the spot that make you whine, his confident smirk growing. You threw your head back with every lick and every thrust.

“Danny, I think I’m coming-!” You squealed, both hands now gripping his soft curls. His tongue flicked against your clit.

“Come.” He commanded in a low murmur against your vagina, his tongue licking confident stripes through your folds. You shuddered, your orgasm washing over you.

He helped you ride through the waves of it, continuously licking and thrusting his fingers into you. When your body relaxed, releasing all the tension, he pulled away.

“Feel good?” Daniel checked in with that smug grin of his. You nodded rather bashfully, pulling him down for another kiss, and then grimacing at the taste on his lips.

“Ew-uh, I forgot you were just eating me.” He laughed at your reaction, licking his own lips.

“I thought it tasted good.”

[scoupsakakitty]

Could you do svt finding out reader has been skipping meals while they were away on tour? Like they come back from tour and notices how the s/o is looking?? Lmk if you’re uncomfortable with that

SVT reacting to s/o losing weight/skipping meals

tw: weight loss, skipping meals

S.Coups:

His heart drops the moment he sees you. You look smaller, weaker—your usual glow dimmed. He pulls you into a tight hug, resting his chin on your head. "Did you wait until I was gone to do this to yourself?" His voice is strained, a mix of frustration and worry. He pulls back to look into your eyes. "You think I wouldn’t notice? You’re already perfect. Stop trying to fit into something that will never love you back the way I do."

Jeonghan:

He eyes you up and down, his usual playful smirk nowhere to be seen. Instead, there’s a cold seriousness in his gaze. "Y/N, be honest with me." He crosses his arms. "Did you stop eating just so you could fit some beauty standard?" His voice is sharp, but his hands are gentle when he reaches for yours. "I know how bad this industry can get, but I won’t let you do this to yourself. Not while I’m here."

Joshua:

Joshua sighs, shaking his head as he cups your face. His thumbs brush against your cheekbones, now more defined than before. "This isn't healthy, Y/N." His voice is calm but filled with concern. "You don't have to do this to be beautiful. You already are. The people who make you feel like you aren't? They’re wrong." He pulls you into his arms. "Next time, talk to me, okay? You don’t have to do this alone."

Jun:

Jun doesn’t speak right away. Instead, he sets down his bag and slowly approaches you, his gaze scanning over you carefully. "Did someone tell you to do this?" His voice is quiet, but there’s an edge to it. When you don’t answer, he exhales sharply. "I get it. I really do. But hurting yourself like this… it won’t make you happy." He squeezes your hand. "Please, Y/N. Let’s eat together, okay?"

Hoshi:

Hoshi pouts dramatically at first, pinching your cheek. "Where did all your energy go, huh? You look so tired…" But then, his expression shifts, eyes darkening with worry. "You were waiting for me to leave, weren’t you?" He sighs, shaking his head. "I know what it’s like to be told you have to lose weight to be accepted. But you’re not an idol, Y/N. You don’t have to go through this." He takes your hands in his. "Even if you were… I’d still tell you the same thing: you don’t have to change for anyone."

Wonwoo:

Wonwoo is quiet. Too quiet. He studies you carefully, his sharp gaze missing nothing. When he finally speaks, his voice is soft but firm. "Y/N… why?" He exhales deeply, shaking his head. "I get it. I know why you’d feel this way. But I also know it won’t bring you the happiness you’re searching for." He pulls you into his embrace. "Let me take care of you. You don’t have to do this alone."

Woozi:

Woozi’s jaw clenches the moment he sees you. His hands curl into fists at his sides before he forces himself to relax. "You think I don’t know what it’s like?" His voice is bitter. "To be told you’re not enough unless you fit a mold that someone else decided for you?" He steps closer, his gaze locking onto yours. "I won’t let you go through this alone, Y/N. I know how hard it is to fight it, but you don’t have to fight alone."

DK:

DK’s smile falters the second he takes a good look at you. His usual warmth turns into concern. "Y/N… have you been eating properly?" He already knows the answer, but he wants to hear you say it. When you look away, he gently lifts your chin. "Please don’t do this to yourself. I love you just the way you are." His voice cracks slightly. "I don’t want to see you hurting yourself over something so meaningless."

Mingyu:

Mingyu’s excitement from coming home quickly fades when he sees you. His hands instinctively reach out, brushing against your arms. "You… lost weight." His tone is careful, but his eyes are full of worry. "Did you stop eating while I was gone?" When you don’t answer, he exhales sharply. "Y/N, I love you, but I won’t pretend this is okay. You’re beautiful just the way you are. Please don’t hurt yourself like this."

The8:

His expression is unreadable, but his voice is laced with quiet disappointment. "You’re trying to fit into their beauty standards, aren’t you?" He sighs, shaking his head. "I won’t tell you that it’s easy to ignore them. But I will tell you that it’s not worth it." He gently cups your face. "You’re more than just the way you look, Y/N. Please don’t forget that."

Seungkwan:

Seungkwan is visibly upset, his usual bright energy completely gone. "Did you really wait until I was gone to do this?" His voice is uncharacteristically quiet. He swallows hard, trying to keep his emotions in check. "You think being skinnier will make you happier? That it’ll make you prettier?" He grips your hands. "You’re already the most beautiful person I know. Please don’t do this to yourself."

Vernon:

Vernon furrows his brows, staring at you for a long moment before finally speaking. "You think being thinner will make you fit in more?" He sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "I get it. I really do. But I also know that it’s not worth losing yourself over." He steps closer, resting a hand on your shoulder. "You’re enough, Y/N. You always have been."

Dino:

Dino immediately frowns when he sees you, his expression unreadable. "You didn’t have to do this." His voice is filled with frustration, but not at you—at the world that made you feel like you had to change. "I know how hard it is to ignore the pressure. But I wish you had talked to me before doing this to yourself." He squeezes your hand. "I don’t care what anyone else says. You’re already perfect to me."

[cap-trio]

no grave can hold my body down (i'll crawl home to her)

summary: After a bad fight, Matt ends up in a coma. Unsure if he's going to make it or not, you decide to finally get something off your chest. It feels safer to confess assuming he most likely can't hear you, but when Matt wakes up, you find out you were wrong.

pairing: Matt Murdock x Reader

tags: Angst, fluff, friends to lovers, love confessions

tw: Mention of a coma and hospitals

word count: 4.5K | Read on AO3

You get the phone call on a Tuesday night.

It started as a typical day; you got up at 6:00 on the dot to get ready for work. Matt met you at your door at 7:30 to walk with you, despite your numerous protests you could make it to work fine on your own. Not to mention your apartment was out of his way by ten minutes. But he knew about the danger that lurked around every corner of Hell’s Kitchen and when it came to you, he wasn’t going to take any chances.

Foggy’s name lights up your phone. Nothing out of the ordinary, but things go south as soon as you accept the call. “Hey, what’s -”

“Matt’s in the hospital,” he interrupts. “He’s in a coma.”

The phone falls to the ground, and you ignore Foggy’s voice calling your name. You don’t care that the screen is definitely cracked. You have tunnel vision and can only focus on Matt. You hear Foggy repeatedly asking if you’re okay and that you’re still on the line.

Sinking to the ground, you pick the phone back up. “Sorry, I’m here. What hospital?”

After getting the address, you make it there in record time. You don’t even bother waiting for the elevator, instead climbing the stairs two at a time to floor five. The ICU.

Foggy and Karen greet you in the lobby. Both look disheveled, with fresh tears on their cheeks, dark circles under their eyes, and hair askew from constantly running their hands through it. “What happened? Is he…” going to make it? You can’t bring yourself to finish the question. If you don’t say it, you won’t accidentally speak it into existence. You don’t want to let your thoughts go down that path, but how can you not?

“Fisk got to him,” Karen’s voice is low. “We don’t know what Matt told them happened, or if he said anything at all.”

“He called me, and I knew this was worse than the other times. He could barely breathe and then he passed out. I called 911, then you guys. It’s just been a waiting game.” Foggy takes a deep breath. “All I could make out was something about Fisk and how he got the upper hand this time.”

It takes every last ounce of strength not to collapse to the floor. Karen notices and leads you over to the seating area. “When can I see him?”

“We aren’t sure; they haven’t left his room. No updates yet, ” Foggy replies. 

You were on a mission to get to the hospital as fast as you could. Now that you’re here, everything hits you like a truck. It’s a pain you’ve never felt before, like someone carved a hole in your chest, ripping out your heart like they were pulling weeds out of a garden, leaving you hollow. So hollow you can’t even cry. Everything is just numb like the switch controlling your emotions was flipped off. It’s like an out-of-body nightmare; you’re aware it’s not real, but you’re stuck anyway, forced to live in it. What you wouldn’t give for this to only be a fucked up dream. 

The three of you sit in the lobby, hands interlocked, waiting in silence. Between the fluorescent lighting beating down like the sun, the faint sound of heart monitors, and the receptionists carrying on conversations like you weren’t at risk of losing your friend, you knew you couldn’t handle it for much longer before going crazy.  

Maybe that would be okay though. It would prove you could still feel something other than the shell of who you were an hour ago. 

“Am I broken?” Your voice is just above a whisper. “Why am I not breaking down in tears? Or having a panic attack?”

“It’s a stressful situation. Your body doesn’t know how to respond, so it’s pretty much just…not. It’s normal to shut down, so I promise you aren’t broken,” Karen assures you.

“I’m at the same level. I don’t want this to be real, so my body is responding like it’s not. Like this is all some fucked up dream,” Foggy adds.

For some reason, Foggy’s words are what bring on the tears. Not a gut-wrenching sob like you had expected, but still something. “Shit, was it something I said?” He asks.

“No. Yes,” you let out a small laugh. “I was just thinking how grateful I am that you two are here with me. If I were alone…” You don’t finish the thought, and you don’t need to. They know exactly what you mean.

Karen pulls you in for a hug, shedding a few tears herself. Foggy tries to brush off how he’s doing the same. The receptionist notices and quietly brings over an extra box of tissues and gives an apologetic smile. The sound of the door opening separates you three in hopes it’s any sort of update, but they go to the other family waiting.

An hour passes. You don’t move from your seat.

Another hour. Foggy goes to the vending machine for snacks. You don’t eat.

The third hour is when the panic really starts to seep in. You don’t want to be one of those people, but you’re about to go to the desk and demand some sort of update. Instead, you pace around the lobby to try and release the nervous energy.

The sound of the doors opening again freezes you in your tracks. Finally, a doctor appears. “Murdock crew?” She calls out. The three of you race over, but she says, “It’s best if we sit down.” Nervous glances are shared. That’s a telltale sign things are most definitely not good.

“So, I’ll start by saying Matthew has improved since he first arrived. Vitals are almost where we want them, but he needs to stay in a medically induced coma while we continue working on him. I don’t want to make any guarantees as he’s still in bad shape. Matthew is suffering from a concussion, several broken ribs, and internal bleeding. The coma could last up to a month, depending on whether or not he shows signs of recovery.”

Whether or not. Her words ring in your ears. Or not. Or not. Or not. 

“But he’ll live, right? People have survived worse. He’ll be fine. Right?” Foggy sounds delirious, not that you can blame him. It’s not the update you guys were hoping for.

“Like I said, I don’t want to make any promises. I’m sorry I can’t give any definitive answers. Just know we’re working our absolute hardest.”

“Can we at least see him?” You beg.

“Not tonight, unfortunately. We’re hoping he’ll be ready for visitors in the next few days. We’ll keep you guys updated. For now, I recommend getting some rest and making sure you’re fed and hydrated. In stressful times, we tend to shut down and not take care of ourselves. We’ll call if anything changes, good or bad.”

Good or bad. Or bad. Or bad. Or bad. 

“Thank you,” Karen says with a small smile.

She leaves the three of you alone again. “I don’t want to go home,” you admit. If something happens and you aren’t here, you’ll never forgive yourself. 

“They don’t let people stay overnight,” Foggy sighs. “My apartment is the closest, why don’t we all head there and at least try to sleep?”

You’re all too exhausted to walk, so Karen hails a taxi. No one speaks, not even the driver. He takes one look at your group, mumbles a “sheesh” to himself, and starts the drive to Foggy’s apartment. 

He provides some pajamas for you and Karen while you all set up camp in the living room. Phones charging and on the loudest setting, you all settle into your positions for the night. Karen on the couch, you on an air mattress, Foggy on the loveseat. It would almost be a fun sleepover if not given the circumstances. Not to mention how empty it feels without Matt.

You weren’t sure you’d be able to sleep, but the fatigue kicks in and you can’t resist it any longer. Hoping to get an escape from this hell, you close your eyes and slip into an escape.

“We’re sorry. We tried everything, but Matthew wasn’t able to pull through. You’re welcome to come in and say your goodbyes. Again, our condolences. He was a fighter.” A painful sob comes from deep within you. You don’t even recognize yourself, everything feels raw and cracked. Grief fills you to the brim, like a thick smoke clouding your lungs, enough to leave you choking and gasping for air. You follow behind Foggy and Karen to say your goodbyes to Matt. The sight of him lying lifeless in the hospital bed sends you collapsing to the floor.

You wake with a scream. Foggy and Karen shoot up, immediately asking what happened. You can’t answer yet; your body takes a second to come back to reality and recognize it was just an awful dream. But it could happen, a twisted voice reminds you. 

“I’m so sorry. I was having a nightmare, and it felt so real,” you sigh. 

“It’s okay, we’re here,” Karen squeezes your hands. “I think we all had the same dream.”

Foggy nods in agreement. “Just wanted to get some rest, but here we are.” He chuckles humorlessly. 

No one knows what to say next. Nothing can be said to make anyone feel better; trying would be pointless. It would all just feel like one person is saying what everyone wants to hear when really, no one has a clue how this will play out.

“Maybe we watch a movie? It doesn’t seem like sleep is an option, and it might be somewhat of a distraction,” Karen suggests. 

It’s better than sitting in silence, especially when that silence invites dark thoughts to creep in, so Foggy fires up the TV and finds the most absurd comedy he can find.

Eventually, the three of you are able to doze off again by the time a second movie plays. No bad dreams happen this time, but the sound of someone's ringtone jostles everyone awake. The small amount of light peaking in lets you know it's sometime the next day, but everything feels disorienting.

Foggy answers and puts the phone on speaker. “Hello, we’d like to let you know Matt is ready for visitors. Our visiting hours are from 9:00 a.m to 9:00 p.m every day. If anything about that changes, we’ll reach out.” 

“Thank you so much,” Foggy says before hanging up. Everyone takes a few minutes to freshen up before catching a cab back to the hospital. Anxiety courses through you, though it's different from last night. You’re not sure what you're going to say to Matt, or how he’ll look; you feel entirely unprepared. Having Karen and Foggy with you makes it a little less scary at least.

Karen checks in with the receptionist, and five minutes later a nurse comes to let the three of you in. She pauses outside his door. “I want to warn you that he looks pretty beaten up. It won't be easy seeing him in this state, but having someone with him might be good for his recovery.”

She has everyone take a deep breath before opening the door. Matt looks similar to how he did in your nightmare, all bloody and bruised, hooked up to various machines with tubes. You’ve seen him after a fight before, even helped clean him up, but it was never like this. Not even what the nurse said could’ve prepared you. 

“What should we say to him? Anything that could make him wake up?” You ask.

“Hearing familiar voices is good no matter what. We recommend just telling him about your day, or maybe reading him a book he likes. Anything that feels right for you.”

None of this feels right, you want to scream. Instead you thank her for the tips. 

“I’ll leave you guys alone, but feel free to press that button if you need anything at all.” She gestures to a CALL button near Matt’s bed before slipping out the door.

It's silent at first while everyone takes in the sight of him. 

“Maybe tell him a story from college?” You suggest to Foggy. “It might be good to hear something familiar.”

He launches into the avocados at law story which has you and Karen laughing. You would’ve loved to have known them back then.

“I don’t think anything I say will top that,” Karen says. “I don’t even know what to say, anyway.”

Foggy assures her anything will be better than nothing, so she tearfully tells Matt how grateful she is for her and Foggy’s help during her trial. It moves you and Foggy to tears too, and everyone ends up a blubbery mess.

“Sorry to kill the mood,” she chuckles. “What’ve you got?” She asks you.

You decide to tell him about the first day he showed up at your apartment to walk you to work. How you weren’t expecting him at all, given that you’d only been friends for a few weeks at that point and he never mentioned he would be there. How even though you poked fun at him for it at first, he makes you feel safer and you’re lucky to have him.

“I didn’t even know he does that,” Karen says.

“I always thought it was weird when he’d be late for work when it wasn’t related to his…activities,” Foggy adds, not knowing if anyone outside the room could hear. “He really loves us all, huh?”

That brings on more tears. How grateful are you all to have someone like Matt in your lives?

“Alright, I think I’ve had enough crying for the rest of my life,” Karen laughs.

“I think it’d be good to talk about our day like the nurse suggested,” you say. “Not after we found out what happened, but before that.”

And that’s what the three of you do for the next week and a half, once a day and always together. Foggy brings up the idea of doing separate visits, suggesting it might be good for some alone time with him. 

Your first visit alone is awkward. Without Karen and Foggy to describe your days together, you aren’t sure what to say. It’s like trying therapy for the first time, knowing you have things to talk about, but being too scared to bring anything up, making it feel too real.

His progress has been up and down, worrying you that it might stay like that for months. Or years. And there is one thing that Matt doesn’t know about you, a secret you’ve acknowledged and thrown into a locked box, refusing to open it. The sick, dark voice from before warns you this may be the only chance you get to tell him.

“Hi, Matt. It’s just me today; we decided it might be good to spend some alone time with you. Uh, today was alright. We went to Josie’s, played some pool, and had a few beers. Felt empty without you though. I’m trying to stall here because I want to tell you something. Something big. But I’m terrified, and a wuss, so I have to do it while you probably can’t hear me or respond at all.” You laugh at yourself for being so ridiculous. 

“Well, here goes nothing,” you pause. “So uh, I’m kind of in love with you? Not sure why I phrased it like a question. I know I’m in love with you, and it scares the shit out of me. We’ve known each other for years, and I don’t know if telling you is worth the risk. I care about you too much to let some feelings get in the way. So yeah, that’s my secret.”

You’re not sure if you feel better or worse now that it’s out there. It feels good to get it off your chest, but nothing has really changed by admitting it. Matt will continue to be oblivious to your feelings while you have to continue carrying them around.

Exhaustion kicks in and you slump back in the chair. Just as your eyes begin to drift shut, you hear a groan and shoot awake. Matt starts stirring, mumbling to himself, and you watch helplessly before adrenaline kicks in.

“Nurse! I need a nurse!” You shout into the hallway. They instruct you to wait in the hall; on your way out, you see Matt’s eyes open and you let out a gasp. You swear you see him reach for you, but you’re also feeling a bit delirious so it could be your mind playing tricks on you.

You call Karen and Foggy with the news. Less than ten minutes later, the three of you are standing outside of his room, playing another round of the dreaded waiting game. You fill them in on the moments leading up to Matt waking up, purposefully leaving out details of the conversation.

Thirty minutes go by until one of the nurses comes into the hallway. “He’s awake and stable. You can come in and see him, but I’ll warn he may be slightly out of it.” 

Matt gives a weak smile as the three of you enter. “How do I look?” 

“Out of it, my ass,” Foggy laughs. “You look like shit.”

“Ouch. Aren’t you supposed to be nice to someone in a hospital bed? A blind man I might add.”

“Little too late to be playing the blind card,” Karen adds.

He turns in your general direction. “What’s your verdict?”

“I’m with these two. You’ve looked better.”

It feels good to be joking around like this again. Things certainly aren’t back to normal, but this is a step in the right direction.

“Even though you hurt my feelings, could we talk alone for a second?” 

Foggy and Karen exchange a look and turn to raise their eyebrows at you. You shrug, indicating you’re not sure what this is about.

“I better get some alone time too,” Foggy pouts.

“There’s plenty of me to go around.”

Your friends leave, and as soon as the door shuts you feel like you’re suffocating with anxiety. What could he want to talk about that he couldn’t say in front of his best friends?

“Can I ask you about something?”

“Of course. Anything.” Your voice shakes when you answer. 

“Earlier, right before I woke up, I thought I heard you say you’re in love with me.” 

Panic settles in hard and fast, like being taken under by a cold ocean wave when your back is facing the water, unexpected and unpleasant. 

Fuck. 

“That’s not a question.” Stupid. It's the only thing your brain can think of to say, trying to delay the shitstorm that’s brewing. 

“Okay,” his mouth quirks up into a small smile, trying to cover a laugh. He knows you well enough to know what you're doing. “Let me rephrase - are you in love with me?”

“I uh, no. I’m not. Must've been a crazy coma dream or something!” Your laugh that follows is too loud and brash to sound even remotely convincing.

“You’re lying.” There isn’t any uncertainty in his voice. He says it like it’s a known fact and not an educated guess. 

“Wow, I feel like I should be offended,” you huff. You’re not sure why you’re angry at him when he’s right. Or maybe you’re angry that this conversation is even happening when you vowed to take these feelings to the grave. “I promise I’m not.”

“You are.” The way he emphasizes the word sucks all the air out of the room. That one word makes everything feel different. It’s confirmation you can’t brush this conversation off. Matt isn’t going to let it go.

“Jesus Matt, can we just drop it? I told you, I never said it. I don’t know why you can’t believe me. And is this really the most important thing to be focusing on right now?”

“To me? Yes, it is that important. And I can tell you’re lying.”

You roll your eyes. He knows even though he can’t see it, because he knows you. “Because of what, my laugh? I admit I sounded weird, but -”

He cuts you off. “It was your heartbeat.” He’s frustrated that you can’t understand, as if this is some normal thing people can do, or like he’s mentioned it before and it’s something you just casually forgot. Like you would ever forget something like that. 

You snort at how unbelievable this situation has gotten. “My heartbeat? What the hell are you talking about?” 

Surely this is a weird side effect of the concussion. Maybe he’s hearing things now? Or he’s playing some weird prank on you? You should probably call the nurse back in.

“I can hear people’s heartbeat. When they lie, it changes rhythms. When you said you aren’t in love with me it got faster. So I’m asking you again, are you in love with me?”

“Matt, you can’t just brush that off like it isn’t the most insane thing I’ve ever heard! You expect me to believe you, especially when you can’t prove it? Look, I’m gonna call in the nurse and have her check your head because clearly, the concussion isn’t any better.” 

You reach for the call button but he grabs your wrist before you can press it. Warmth spreads across the spots where his fingers are touching you. Now is not the time you try to relay that message to your body. It doesn’t listen.

He lets go of your wrist and sighs. “Have I ever lied to you?”

“Yes. You constantly made up excuses when you’d show up to work with mysterious bruises or cuts. Not gonna work in this argument.”

“I didn’t realize we were arguing,” he raises an eyebrow. “But to be fair, that was only to keep you safe. Have I ever lied about anything else?”

“I don’t know, I can’t hear your heartbeat.”

Now he rolls his eyes. “I know you’re trying to avoid talking about it. But please know I wouldn’t make something like this up. After the accident, my senses got heightened more than what would happen to the average person. I know it seems like I’m an asshole for keeping something like this private, like I use it to take advantage of people, but I don’t. Even when someone lies, I don’t force them into telling the truth. It’s a blessing and a curse.”

He sounds exhausted, and can you blame him? Having to live with this gift, but knowing he can’t really do anything with it, would take a toll on anyone. 

But he’s also putting you in an uncomfortable position, despite claiming he doesn’t use it against people. “So why are you doing it to me now?”

“I’m sorry. We can drop it, but don’t you want to know why I’m so hung up on this? Why I’m seconds away from getting on my knees and begging you to tell the truth?”

Yes. No. Because admitting that makes this all too real. Too scary. It opens up a door you want to bolt shut because it allows too many what-ifs into the mix. What if things don’t work out? What if you work better as friends and break up, making everything complicated? You could write a whole book full of different scenarios.

But there is another possibility: what if Matt loves you too? 

It’s enough to make you want to unlock the door and throw it open. “I do.”

Time seems to stand still. You both know what’s coming, and it scares the hell out of you, but it’s worth it. He’s worth it.

“Tell the truth. Please, I want to hear you say it.”

You already did, you want to point out. But now isn’t the time to be a smart ass, not with the way his gaze is piercing you and the tension rising with every second unspoken. 

“I’m in love with you, Matt.”

Thump. Thump. Thump. The sound is music to his ears, better than any song he’s heard. If he wasn’t ruined by you before, he sure is now.

“I’m in love with you too.”

“Good, or else that would’ve been really embarrassing.”

He laughs. “Now was that so hard to admit?”

“Oh please! You didn’t give me much of an option.” You deepen your voice in a terrible attempt to mock him, “I’m Matt and I can hear people’s heartbeats, so I know when they lie. I’m in love with you too, but instead of saving time and saying that, I’m gonna make you do it first. Even though I clearly heard you before.” 

You both erupt into laughter; you can physically feel yourself getting lighter as the crushing weight of tension leaves your body. 

“I’m never going to get over hearing you say that,” he admits.

“I won’t either.” You pause, feeling a shift in the conversation tone. “I honestly never wanted you to know. I only said it because I was scared of losing you, and it was a cowardly way of getting it off my chest. I tried convincing myself maybe you also felt that there was always something more between us, but then I’d get in my head and decide you didn’t. Decided it wouldn’t be worth losing you if I said something and you turned me down, but then I thought I’d lose you in a different way.” Your voice cracks at the end, and you force the tears back in, hating that you’re making things serious again. 

“I’ve always felt it,” Matt confesses. “I never wanted to pressure you or make things weird if I misread the signs. Am I happy this is what it took for us to be together? Of course not, I pictured this moment a million different ways, and not one involved a hospital. But I am happy it happened. So unbelievably happy.”

“I am too. I’ve wanted this for years.”

“I really want to kiss you, but…” he gestures to his current state. 

“We can make it work. We’ll just be careful.”

“I’ll make it up to you when I’m healed,” he smirks. He gets a little cocky from how he can make your heartbeat quicken, and how intimate it is that only the two of you can experience it together.

“Such a tease,” you roll your eyes, leaning down inches from his mouth.

“You’re one to talk.”

And then his mouth is on yours.

His hands cup your chin while yours rests on his hip, careful not to apply any pressure. You can both feel the other holding back; his lips are just grazing yours, but it’s enough to feel like hot lava is coursing through you. If his lingering touches over the years left sparks in their wake, kissing him is like being electrocuted. It’s delicate and sweet and you’re overwhelmed with how right it feels. The only thing on Matt’s mind are you and more, but he knows this is just the beginning. 

So instead he focuses on the now, mentally adding this moment to a scrapbook of memories filled with you.

[genderqueerdykes]

is it bad that i hate when people take my posts about trans issues and make trans women the center of them. my posts always say “trans people” when i talk generally about the violence and transphobia because i mean that. all trans people, not only one kind. but every time the comments turn it into a discussion revolving around trans women.

i’m not against talking about specific demographics! but it’s very frustrating when people take trans men and non-binary people out of the picture when i intentionally included them by NOT specifying a specific gender of trans people.

it’s honestly very disappointing and disheartening that trans men aren’t included in any type of discussion when it comes to trans issues. at least not that i see, i don’t know.

additionally, when (mainly perisex cis)people claim their supposed allyship to trans people, they only talk about how they include trans women in their feminism and women’s spaces. no mention of trans men. and when we ARE talked about, it’s “i hate trans men because they’re just like cis men :)” or “no i don’t want trans men in WOMENS spaces because they’re men”.

i don’t know… maybe i’m too sensitive, but it’s something i don’t like. we should definitely bring awareness to trans women’s issues but not completely forget about the existence of trans men.

i think it's okay to feel that way. i don't care for when people do that to me, either. this discussion is long overdue and so few people want to have it, but this is an issue. yes, trans women are allowed to talk about our issues, we are. i'm not saying we should never speak. what i'm saying is we can't take posts that are made for everyone and make them about us and us alone.

we need to stop making conversations about transmasculine people about us. not all nonbinary people are transfeminine, other intersex, multigender, nonbinary, genderqueer, gendervast, gnc, etc people need a chance to speak. like i'm serious, it's okay to talk about one's own experience. but if it is explicitly to point out why people should not listen to other people when they are talking about their own issues, and that they should listen to you instead, you are controlling the narratives, and shifting the goalposts.

it's one thing to say "here's what i experience" but if someone takes your post and goes. hey actually. trans women have it the worst. they're the one leaving other people out of the picture in that situation. whenever you try to point this out on this website, people foam at the mouth to try to kill you and it's ridiculous. when, well, with so many people bringing it up:

it's an issue.

there's been a specific group of people who identify as transradfems and people who identify with their politics even if they don't know the name for it. they are pushing people to be quiet and not speak about their own experiences because somehow that silences trans women, as if we can only be about one type of queer person at once. it's gotten old. like can we seriously just have this conversation already and be done with?

i feel like i have to say the thing that most people are afraid of, because this conversation is way overdue.

can disenfranchised dysphoric trans women stop attacking men & mascs because you don't like being seen as one? can disenfranchised trans women who have been hurt by men stop attacking men who haven't hurt you?

enough. men & mascs are not your personal punching bag. manhood isn't what hurt you. being forced to be a man or masc is what hurt you. the general concept of manhood and men did not hurt you. let go. i understand it's painful to get misgendered and treated as a man for life. it sucks. you don't deserve that. no trans woman does. nobody deserves to be misgendered. you don't deserve to be dehumanized because people refuse to see you for who you are. it's okay to acknowledge that you're in pain. but you gotta let the fuck go of your irrational hatred, because it will never help you accept or love yourself

you will never experience true trans joy if you spend all of your time hating on other people. hate solves nothing. if that's the only thing you see, that's the only thing you feel. if hate has nowhere else to go, it rapidly turns inward. you will not be seen as a woman by more people if you attack men. you will not be accepted by cis radfems if you attack men and parrot their politics. this isn't helping you, or anyone else.

we need to break down these walls and talk to each other. trans women and trans men can have conversations about our experiences at the exact same time. conversations involve multiple points of input. if we're only allowing one type of person to speak and one type of person to speak only: that is a lecture. that is not a discussion. if you never listen or give other people a chance to speak, you are lecturing them.

[zenithangelic]

Hai could I get fo4 complete reaction to the sole survivor being very big on giving praise? Like they're constantly complementing the companions but not in an overbearing way :) thank uuu

FO4 Companions reacting to the Sole Survivor's praise:

Cait

At first, she’s incredibly suspicious. Compliments? From someone who doesn’t want anything? She’s waiting for the catch.

Once she realises it’s genuine, she gets flustered and awkward, brushing off praise with a “Yeah, yeah, don’t go getting soft on me.” But she starts subtly craving it.

Eventually, she starts preening a bit when she hears it, standing a little taller. “Damn right I’m good at this,” she’ll say, with a small but proud smile.

Codsworth

Absolutely adores it. He lives to serve, and knowing Sole appreciates him fills him with robotic joy.

“Oh, you are too kind! I do try my best, of course!” He starts adding a little flourish when serving them tea, trying to impress them.

Might even get a little smug when others don’t get as much praise. “Ah, not everyone can be as meticulous as yours truly!”

Curie

Delighted and fascinated by Sole’s positivity, especially when directed at her scientific skills.

“Oh! You really think my work is amazing? That is… oh, you make me blush!” She absorbs every word like a sponge, eager to impress them further.

Over time, she starts paying the praise forward, complimenting others in the group in an adorable, awkward way: “Yes, Cait, you… hit that man so well! Such force!”

Paladin Danse

Completely unsure of how to process it at first. Praise was always tied to performance in the Brotherhood, not simple appreciation.

Starts standing up straighter, subtly shifting into parade rest every time he is praised. “That’s… good to hear, soldier.”

He may not say it, but it means something to him. Eventually, he starts seeking approval in small ways, hoping to get an extra “Outstanding work” when he pulls off something impressive.

Deacon

Smug as hell about it at first. “Oh, stop it, you charmer, you’ll make a spy blush.”

But deep down? It gets to him. Compliments aren’t something he gets often—especially not genuine ones.

He starts responding more sincerely over time, quietly muttering, “Y’know, you’re not too bad yourself.” That’s Deacon for I’m touched beyond words.

Dogmeat

Is a dog. Therefore, absolutely loves the praise and thrives on it.

Tail-wagging intensifies with every “Good boy!” until he’s practically vibrating.

Starts bringing the Sole Survivor even more random junk from the wasteland, tail wagging proudly as he receives his due recognition.

Gage

At first? Suspicious as hell. Compliments in Nuka-World usually meant someone wanted something.

Eventually, he starts accepting them at face value, though he plays it cool: “Yeah, well, I am pretty damn good at what I do.”

But if he ever hears a genuine “I trust you,” that’s it. That’s the moment he realises he’s actually loyal to them, no strings attached.

John Hancock

Drinks it up like the finest chems. “Oh, you really do know how to sweet-talk a ghoul.”

Starts playfully fishing for them. “I dunno, was that a badass move or the most badass move?”

But after a while, he stops playing—he just enjoys hearing them say nice things. It reminds him that he’s worth appreciating.

Robert MacCready

At first? Incredibly awkward. “Uh… thanks? I guess?” He’s not used to compliments that aren’t sarcastic.

Eventually, he starts mumbling a quiet “Thanks” and actually appreciating it. He never realised how much he craved validation.

If they ever tell him he’s a great dad? That’s it. He’s done. Might actually tear up.

Nick Valentine

Smirks at first, taking it in stride. “Careful, kid. A fella might start thinkin’ you like having him around.”

But deep down? It means a hell of a lot. People don’t usually appreciate him as more than an old synth detective.

Eventually, he starts throwing it right back. “Well, you’re not half bad yourself, partner.” And from him, that’s high praise.

Piper Wright

Blushes furiously at first, brushing it off. “Pfft, come on, you’re making me sound cooler than I am.”

Eventually, though? She starts believing it. Starts walking with a bit more confidence, feeling like she is as capable as they say she is.

She starts writing about them in a new way—not just as a legend, but as a genuinely good person.

Preston Garvey

Blinks the first time they compliment him, looking genuinely surprised. “You really mean that?”

He’s so used to being the one lifting everyone else up—it takes him a while to accept that someone wants to do the same for him.

Eventually, he starts smiling more. “Thanks, General. That means a lot.” And it really, really does.

Strong

Confused at first. Why is human saying nice things? What is this strange behavior?

Eventually, decides it is a human battle custom and accepts it. “YES. STRONG IS GOOD SMASHER.”

Might even start attempting his own version of praise: “HUMAN… IS GOOD TOO. NOT AS STRONG AS STRONG. BUT GOOD.”

X6-88

Is initially just... silent. He doesn’t know how to react. Compliments aren’t part of his programming.

Eventually, he just nods at them. “Noted.” But his tone softens over time.

He never outright asks for it, but if they ever stop praising him? He might just subtly start working harder for it.

Ada

Initially confused but appreciative. “That is… unexpected. Most humans do not take the time to compliment machines.”

Over time, she begins to recognise it as genuine appreciation and responds in kind. “Your leadership is commendable. I am… grateful to be part of this.”

Though she may not have emotions like a human, her tone becomes just a touch warmer when speaking to Sole, like she’s learning what it means to feel valued.

Automatron

Default programmed response: “Thank you for your feedback.”

But if they keep it up, the bot might start adapting its speech patterns. “Analysis: Positive reinforcement detected. Conclusion: You are… kind.”

If modified with a personality matrix, the bot might get cocky. “Yes, yes, I am the pinnacle of engineering excellence. Carry on, human.”

Old Longfellow

Grumbles about it at first. “Damn fool, ain't no need to butter me up. Just doin’ what I always done.”

But over time, he starts getting used to it. Starts looking forward to Sole’s words, even if he won’t admit it.

The real moment of breakthrough? When he finally mutters, “Heh. Y’ain’t so bad yourself, kid.” That’s Longfellow for I respect the hell outta you.

Porter Gage

At first? Suspicious as hell. Compliments? That ain't how the real world works. “Yeah, yeah, what angle you workin’, boss?”

But once he realises Sole is just… like that, he starts soaking it in. “Damn. Not used to hearin’ that kinda thing. Feels… nice, I guess.”

Eventually, he starts giving them a nod of approval in return. “Gotta say, boss—you got a way of makin’ folks wanna follow ya. Guess I picked the right side after all.”

♡If you liked this fic, please consider buying me a coffee! Ko-fi ♡

[yasikeu]

warning: smut

When your group has to be sat next to Enhypen during an award show, you and Heeseung can't help but make eye contact every five seconds before quickly looking away

Heeseung wouldn’t be able to take his eyes off the big screen while you were performing or accepting an award. He would look absolutely mesmerised as if he was perceiving an angel in real life.

Later on that night, he manages to sneak away with you to a hotel room where he pins you against the wall caressing your hair softly, showering you with compliments about how good you looked while performing. His other hand resting on your waist. The feeling of his breath on your neck made your stomach do the thing (idk how to describe that but ifykyk).

Heeseung’s hands began to wander down to your lower body as he admired your curves.

“Fuck, this dress hugs your body in all the right places” he said with a hushed tone. “Heeseung, what if someone finds out we left without permission” you said with a worried face but you knew deep down you didn’t care at all, you would let him fuck the shit out of you right here right now if he wanted to. Heeseung cupped your face, “Shh, don’t worry baby I’ll take care of it.” he murmured as he pulled you close, leaving soft kisses on your lips.

You couldn't help but let out a moan as you suddenly felt his big hands squeeze your ass, starting to kiss your neck as his soft lips were brushing against your skin.

He manhandled you, facing your back towards him. “I need to fuck you right now. I don’t care about anything else”

“Tell me, tell me how bad you need me to fuck you” he mumbled into your ear as he grinded against your ass. “I need you to fuck me so bad Heeseung, please” you begged

Without hesitation Heeseung began to unzip your dress from the back pulling it all the way down. He laid you down on the bed as he looked down at you unzipping his pants. Not breaking eye contact once, even while he slid on a condom down his large length. His bulge was practically begging to be set free from his boxers the whole night seeing you perform in that tight dress. The sight of his thick cock hitting his abdomen caused you to bite your lip and stick your ass up signalling to him that you wanted him to put it inside. “So fucking needy”

Heeseung pulled your panties down with force, his pupils dilating while he began planting hickeys all over your inner thighs and collarbones. “You’re so perfect”

He turned you around before he began to line his tip with your pussy. Sliding it up and down as he bit his lip. “You’re already so wet baby”

“Only for you”

Heeseung was now balls deep inside of you thrusting in and out continuously as he rested his head on your shoulder.

“Fuck so fucking good”

“Your pussy feels like heaven”

“You’re taking me so well angel, keep going for me, I know you can”

“So fucking tight”

Your walls gripping tightly onto his cock was making you both feel so good. The room being filled with lewd sounds of skin slapping and moans.

What turned on Heeseung the most was the way your tits bounced as he mercilessly pounded inside you.

“Get on top of me baby”

Once you were on top, Heeseung let you ride him as he sucked on your tits like a starved man. Sucking licking and abusing the fuck out of you nipples. His tongue began to circle around the bud of your nipple. Your hands around his neck as you bounced on his cock, desperate for an orgasm. “Fuck I’m gonna cum” he moaned

Heeseung’s thrusts began again only to go deeper and deeper inside of you while he reached his climax. You let out a pornographic moan as you reached yours, throwing your head all the way back. “You did so well for me princess” he praised you as he kissed your head.

He lifted your legs and relaxed them on his shoulders. Slowly, he started to kiss from your thighs all the way up. You continued to let out soft pathetic whimpers while you caressed his hair.

The feeling of his nose grazing against your clit while he licked and sucked on your pussy made your legs tremble. “Feels so good Hee”

“I know baby, I know” he cooed as he stroked your thighs softly. The way his soft plump lips felt as they were making out with your cunt sent you into a euphoric state, your eyes rolling all the way back.

He could tell you were getting close by the way your breaths were quickening. Heeseung began to stick his tongue in and out of your pussy provoking you to gasp and let out a loud moan. “Cum all over my fingers baby” he looked up at you as he replaced his tongue with his two fingers. He was in complete awe as he watched you turn into a pathetic needy mess for him.

When you finally reached your climax you came all over his fingers. Heeseung licked his fingers clean while he looked at you. “Tastes so fucking good”.

He laid next to you as he noticed how tired and drained you looked.

“Let's just stay here for tonight” He wrapped his arms around you. You nodded in agreement with a weak smile on your face as you reciprocated his actions cuddling him back.

(I just wrote this right now and it’s 3 am so I’m sorry if there’s any mistakes or if it doesn’t make sense😭)

[starlightdreaming]

100 FOLLOWER SPECIALL :DD (the voices won.)

Lucifer x Slime! Bunny! Reader! NSFW!!

Fandom: Hazbin Hotel!

Content Warning: (SUPER LONG ASS SMUT) Heat cycles, Body worship, Biting, Slime(Everywhere), PredatorNPrey kink(?), Breeding kink, Belly bulge, Dacryphillia, Oral (received) (THE MF EATS U OUT), Overstimulation, Lucifer’s Tail (erm-), BDSM (like all of them? I dunno…), Corruption Kink. (I don’t know what all the kinks are spare ya gal.) (Nothing is proofread either.)

READER BASED OFF MY PERSONA

SO ITS SELF INSERT??? Yeah. I’m down bad for this man, no shame.

Synopsis: You were a maid that worked at Lucifer’s mansion, you were his favorite too! so what happens when you are in one of your heat cycles? >:]

this stories delusions is brought to you by:

(optional but not really recommended)

You were humming softly as you made breakfast for your majesty. It was a daily routine for you to bring him breakfast to his bed, his usual being pancakes with a touch of cinnamon and apples.

At first when you were accepted to his abode to work, all you did was clean, he never batted an eye at you as you wandered the halls to sweep off dust on every corner of his walls, you didn’t mind it since you got to mind your business all you wanted, no pressure applied, even when you had traded your soul to the king to even have this job, it was all the much better when he didn’t ask of anything from you.

One day, his butler was sick, leaving you to cooking, anyone could have done it but if it wasn’t to the kings liking, they could have lost their jobs- at least what the maids would say. So they threw the task at you, the newbie.

It wasn’t that worrying of a task since you were always cooking for your siblings when you were alive, you always made exquisite dishes for your brothers and sisters to enjoy, oh how you missed those days of making hearty meals for them. So when you had the chance to make something for someone now? You were going all out.

You were thrown into the kitchen by the other maids, you were more excited than bothered by their force, you began making the pancake batter, adding a bit of cinnamon and apples into the mix, you saw your king always wore an apple on his hat so you assumed he liked apples. You made a stack of four fluffy pancakes, adding syrup on it before exploring the kitchen, trying to find fruits and such to add onto the meal to make it more pleasing to enjoy, to eat and to look at.

When you finished, you made him morning coffee, since you didn’t know what his coffee preferences were, you hoped your favorite blend would better suffice than taking a wild guess. You put the meal and drink onto the tray table, leaving the kitchen to walk to your masters room, careful as to not drop the meal you had put your heart and ‘soul’ into. You were so focused into what you were making

Before you entered his room, you knocked, awaiting his “come in.” to enter his room. You saw he sat at his work desk, uninterested to turn and look at you, you weren’t sure what to do next, you never really ever got to see the king this close, nor enter his rooms for that fact. You were just tasked to clean the halls, thats it.

You nervously walk up to his side, putting down the plate and coffee on to his work desk, “Your meal, your majesty.” You bowed, awaiting for him to dismiss you but when he heard your unfamiliar voice, he turned to you, seeing your uniform was covered in pancake mix that had already dried on your maid dress, you smiled at him nervously as he looked at your semi-transparent slime body, “Where is my butler?” he asked, “he’s the one that’s supposed to make me breakfast.” Your heart seemed to chip away, sensing that he might not like the breakfast you made him, he didn’t even look at it, “He is sick, your highness,” you explained, gripping the tray tightly in more nervousness, “I was tasked to make your meals today.” you say, putting up a facade to hide how much you were internally screaming.

“I see,” He says, looking back to his work, “dismissed.” he says as he waved you off, making your heart chip again, you were hoping to see his reaction to how much effort you had just made into the meal but seeing as you’re just a lowly maid in his home, it made sense he didn’t expect much from you.

You left the room without a second glance, not seeing how he had looked at you before looking at the pancakes.

Through the rest of your day, it was all normal. Nothing was reported to you and you weren’t tasked with the rest of the days cooking which made you confirm in your head that maybe he wasn’t satisfied with your cooking skills. It hurt to accept but all that mattered was you got to keep your job at least.

It wasn’t until the next day that whilst you were wiping down windows in the hall, Lucifers personal butler had walked up to you, tasking you again to make the same breakfast you had done the day before, You smiled as you got up and went to the kitchen again, leaving your main duties behind, all your doubts from yesterday vanished as you replicated the meal, going back to his room with a smile, “Your meal, your majesty.” You bowed to him, before putting the meal on his desk once again.

He looked at you this time, making your heart stop for a moment, “Where did you get your cooking skills?” he asked, his attention completely on you, your ears lie back in shyness, “Oh- well, I was self taught.” You say as you held onto the tray, resting it under your fingers, “How come your skills have gone unnoticed?” He says, pulling the plate toward him, grabbing his silverware to cut through the ‘cake to take a bite, you smiled gently as your heart fluttered from joy, “I applied to just clean, there wasn’t any spot open for cooking.” you explained as you swayed side to side in one spot, you couldn’t contain your excitement and joy as he ate your meal, “How about you become one now? Would you like that?” He offered before taking another bite, making you bring the tray to your chest, “really? you mean that?” You smiled, your ears perking as they held up close together as you leaned toward his desk slightly, “of course, why wouldn’t I? You can start anytime you want.” He smiled at you, you jumping in joy, “thank you so much, your majesty! I can make lunch later today! you won’t be disappointed!” You say as you slightly began to run out of his room, forgetting your formality, “oh, uh-“ you realized, before quickly bowing to him and leaving his room, slightly embarrassed.

Ever since that day, you had always made his meals.

Over time, you had slowly made a bond with him, becoming his favorite maid and his favorite chef, it wasn’t long ‘til he made you his personal butler, you waking him up for the day and being at his side almost 24/7 practically.

You didn’t even need to knock anymore as you busted his door open everyday with passion and enthusiasm, “Rise and shine, Lulu!” You would call him, waking him from his slumber, unbothered from how much energy you radiated, he’d sit up as you placed a tray his bed, making your usual for him, he smiled every time you sat on his bed further from him, talking about how your day went or rambled on about your past life on earth, he had found out you ended up killing your parents from how they neglected and abused you and your siblings, you had told your siblings that they left for good, nothing else. It was a surprise to him but it was understandable from your living conditions, he loved just listening to you, day in and day out though, whatever topic it may have been, he wasn’t listening to what you would tell him but more focused on your voice, after six years of this daily routine, it wasn’t long until he would ponder what you would sound underneath him, how you would writhe and whimper to his touch.

He had shook the thoughts at first but the more he saw you in his day to day life, those thoughts always bubbled and spilled out the more he tried to bottle them up, they only got worse when you would be gone for two weeks or so, knowing you as a bunny hybrid, whenever you were having a heat cycle coming or running, your slime would often secrete more off your body, dripping. One time it had gotten so bad, a blob of your slime just went splat on the floor in Lucifer’s room, right in front of him.

You had cleaned it with a bunch of spewed apologies, your face flustered and gaze full of lust, you left the room in a hurry. Leaving Lucifer dumbfounded. To him, that gaze you gave him with lust and tears in your eyes, riled something in him. When you were gone for two weeks after that, his mind was just thinking about that moment and you and only you, those thoughts he tried so hard to brush off were flooding his mind during your absence, he knows he could just go see you and help you and he wanted to do just that more than anything, but he refused to, he didn’t want to take advantage of you in any sort of way, he’d rather fall from the Heavens a million times than ever force his way onto you, you meant too much to him, his heart couldn’t bare how much he loved you.

When you came back from your cycles, you were back with your usual bright, loud and enthusiastic demeanor, your slime body reduced back to normal to being jelly like than melting-ish, and droopy. Whenever you came back, his mind would never settle down, his eyes would always trail at every curve of your body when you weren’t looking, you were so mesmerizing in his eyes, every flaw was a grace of beauty to him, he loved every moment with you, even when you sat and did your own thing while he focused on his work, you just being there was just enough comfort for him to settle down in place and do his job before finishing for the day and spending it with you.

At that point, he saw you as your own person, not just some maid that wandered his ‘castle’. Sometimes when you look at him with doe eyes, he couldn’t help but look away, you had him under such a trance, you didn’t even know how much he was wrapped around your finger. Whenever you wanted or requested something, you’d get it instantly, no questions asked, whenever you smile at something or him, his heart flutters, craving more of that smile, he loved when you praised him, comforted him or was there for whatever reason at all, his stomach always felt butterflies, it was always bad whenever you accidentally brushed touches without you noticing, he craved your touches so much, he always tried to find ways to have contact with you, even if it meant asking you to groom his wings. Worst and best decision of his life.

This man was such a mess for you, he’d even wake up from dirty dreams about you, flustered and flushed, panting heavily as if he sat up quickly in the late nights or early mornings, the tent in his pants were always visible during these dream incidents, it was happening way more then often that when he woke up this morning, he woke up gripping and clawing the bed sheets, his horns and tail displayed as he growls lowly, he was panting heavily as he just began to cry in frustration, it wasn’t long until you busted the door open, making him jump out of his thoughts, “rise and shine- oh! you’re already awake.” you say before realizing he was out in his demon form, he looked away from you, noticing that your body was secreting slime again, knowing what time it was for you, “are you okay? what happened?” You ask with concern closing his door, expecting him to have another rant about his ‘nightmares’ he claims to have, more and more.

You sat his meal in front of him, you sitting close as he kept his gaze away fron you, hoping you didn’t notice the dry tears he tried to wipe away, “Oh, Lulu, are you crying?” You ask, knowing he only avoids your gaze when he doesn’t want you to something. He ignored you when you asked, making you slightly upset he won’t talk to you, you cupped his face, making him turn to you, “look at me, Lulu,” You said softly to him, “was it another nightmare?” you asked, his eyes widened as he blushed lightly from how close you were to him, he nodded quietly, feeling flustered from his thoughts of you, “Oh, Lulu.” You swooned, bringing his face to your chest, holding him lovingly, he only blushed harder as your body produced more, slime was now on his face, your scent not going unnoticed as you smelled like a mixture of sweets.

When you pulled away, you hands still holding his face, you saw your slime was now on his face and you back your hands away from him in shock, “oh my goodness I’m so sorry-“ you said, trying to sit up, only to somehow drop his tray of food onto the ground making you more embarrassed, “Oh- oh my stars, I’ll get something to clean that! I’ll be right back!” You stuttered, leaving the room quickly as Lucifer frog blinked, processing what just happened in the span of ten seconds.

He licked his face clean, forgetting it was your slime and not his food that was all over his face, he honestly expected to gag in distastes but his thoughts immediately ran wild again when he realized how fucking sweet your secretions were, it was one lick after another before his face was clean and he was craving more. Although you were bringing him more breakfast for him to eat, he didn’t want to eat what you had to offer, no. He wanted you. With a snap of his fingers, the mess you left was gone, the lights were off and he was missing from his bed.

You entered the room, cursing yourself under your breath for forgetting what time it was for you, “Lulu, I’m-“ you tried to apologize again, only to see the room was dark and he was gone, “Lulu?” you called for him again, trying to turn on the lights, only for it to not turn on, you put the new tray of food on his nightstand before looking around his room for him, noticing the mess you made was now gone.

“Lulu? Where’d you go?” You asked worriedly, before you felt something drop on your head, it felt like a droplet of water, you looked up to see Lucifer hanging upside down as he stared at you with eyes full of desperation and lust, “L-Lulu?” you asked, a little worry now in your voice as your legs clanged together from the heat in your core, seeing how hot he was upside down, his full demon form out and his tail swaying down towards you left and right.

“Do you know how sweet you taste, my dear?” Lucifer asked, tilting his head, “Wh-what?” You asked a little confused. “Your slime,” he says, jumping down from the ceiling as his eyes glowed in the dark, his eyes glinting like a wolf stalking its prey, you stepped back as he began to walk closer to you, you didn’t even realize you were walking back towards the bed as both of your eyes stayed locked with one another, “The slime you secrete is so fucking delicious,” he growls as he claws the bed with both hands, you in-between him.

Your legs closed together more as you rubbed them together for friction, your maid dress sticking to your slimy skin, you whimpered softly from desperation as he leaned closer to your face, eyes never adverting, “christ, you have no idea what you do to me, dearest.” he whispers, growling under his breath as he tried his best to resist ravishing you then and there.

“What do you mean, Lulu?” You whispered as well, leaning toward his face, lips brushing from the desire and cravings of one another, “I love you, Y/n, so so much,” he confesses desperately, his eyes gazing to your lips before looking back at you, “Please, let me taste you again, please, please.” he begs, leaning more into your touch, when you cupped his face again, you falling back into his bed, an arm keeping you up, “Luci..” You say softly, “I never thought would ever love me.” You confess as well, “Why is that?” He asks, his heart chipping that you think that, “well, I’m a maid, I thought that was all I was going to be.” you say, looking away from him, sadness pooling your eyes as he leaned more into you, “don’t say that, love,” he whisper shouts as he brings a finger under your chin to make you look back at him, “I love you so much, darling, please let me show you that I do.” He begs, your eyes looked into his, his eyes sparkling from genuine, both your heads leaning into to touch as you closed your eyes, “okay..” you smile before you both leaned in to each other, kissing slowly but passionately, he leaned into the kiss more desperately, you leaning into him as well, making the kiss deeper.

You moaned in the kiss, the feelings you hid away for your king, blossoming out your chest. You pulled away panting, breathing for air as Lucifer looks at you dazed, you smile before grabbing his collar with both your hands, bringing him down with you onto the bed, locking lips again but more desperately than the last. You trailed your hands to his hair, wrapping one arm around his neck as you intertwined your fingers into his locks, brushing them. You pulled away again, opening your mouth a gap to let Lucifer have a taste of you, he didn’t hesitate as he stuck his tongue into your cavern, exploring all of your mouth as he tasted you, a growl rumbled from his chest as he desperately kissed you roughly.

You moaned through the make out session as you felt his body push down between your legs, your layers of clothes not giving you the friction you desperately wanted, making you buck your hips up to his body as well, “ffuck- don’t do that, love.” he warned, pulling his lips away from yours as he whined desperately, a trail of saliva connecting you both.

You cupped his face as you brought him back to your lips again, tongues colliding and fighting for dominance, he tucked his hand behind your waist, grabbing the ribbon that kept your dress tight, yanking it harshly, making its ties go undone, making you breathe easily. You moaned again as he tasted your flavors, it was always changing for whatever reason, grape.. raspberry.. strawberry.. It was making him wild that you had tasted so divine all this time without his knowing.

He was getting desperate as he began to grind against your clothed core, you whimpered in desperation as you tried to close your legs with him between them. He pulled away from the kiss, licking his lips as he looked down at your submissive state with lust and desire, “You are so beautiful darling.” He says as wipes his chin with his thumb, licking slime off his wrist as he watched your reaction, you blushed as you looked away, embarrassed.

“You’re so divine.~” He says as he lays on top of you, locking your hands with his, pinning you down as his arms were keeping him up as he kissed your lips, your cheek, down to your neck, nibbling slime secretions before licking them up, off your chest, his kisses were making you writhe under him, squirming in desperation. He couldn’t help but laugh lightly before sucking softly on your jelly skin, slurping up your secretions like jelly candy.

His teasing while in your cycle was sending your body haywire, you needed friction and he was refusing to give you any, “please, please, Luci.” You begged, not knowing what you were really begging for, “Please what, darling?” He asks, moving away from your chest and tilting his head like he wasn’t depriving you of what you desperately wanted, “Please, please fuck me or something- I can’t- can’t take this any longer.” You cried as your body shivered from his touch, a finger trailing down from you neck to your chest, Lucifer scooping up a bit of your discharged slime like icing from a cake, licking his finger as you whimpered under him.

“Alright, I’ll give you what you deserve, dove.” He coo’d, kissing the side of your chin, before trailing down off the bed, his tail swaying side to side desperately as he lifted up your dress, you looked away embarrassed as he did, he sat on the floor as be shoved his head desperately between your legs, you yelped in surprise before you realized he pulled away, you look back at him, seeing your white panties torn against his bare teeth, you blushed furiously as you stared at him. He spat away your panties, discarding them to the floor before he leaned in in-between your legs again, clawing your jelly legs as he lifted then up for him to have more access to your core, you lifted your dress up with one hand, wanting to see what he was doing.

He snaked out his long forked tongue, looking at you teasingly before pushing himself into your core, tasting all of you now, you moaned in sudden pleasure, your body exuding more secretions, “ohh starss Lulu..” You moaned out, making him rile more as he stuck his tongue more deeply in you, tasting you more and more, shameless slurping noises coming from him.

You gripped the bed sheets, bucking your hips more desperately, “more, more luci..” you begged, as he shoved his face as deeply as he could but it wasn’t enough for you. You tried to grip his hair, making him more deeply but you were still desperate, you were bucking your hips into his face, practically face fucking him at that point but it wasn’t until you felt yourself nearing your limit, you then noticed his horns, if grabbing his hair wasn’t enough for you, his horns were.

You gripped his horns making him shiver and moan in surprise before you stroked them and used them against him, grinding yourself against his face as he growled from the sudden grip of yours. “Oh fuck, yes, that’s it Luci…” you moaned louder, making his tongue reach the furthest parts of you, thrusting his tongue in and out if you, “oh, fuck master~ just like that.” You teased, feeling yourself come undone, he clawed your legs harder, his sharp nails sinking into your skin, you moaned more as you rode your high on his tongue, making him lick and taste all your juices.

You panted as you kept using his horns to help you fuck yourself onto his face, “more, more Luci, taste me more!~” you begged as he obeyed, closing his eyes as his chest grumbled out a growl, he loved how sweet you were, body and voice. He couldn’t get enough of your flavor as you begged, he was so thankful he didn’t have nose as you rode his face, letting him taste more of you, he was so dazed by your juices, he kept eating you out like it was his last meal.

He removed one of his hands from your squishy thighs, he didn’t know he punctured your jelly skin as you oozed out more juices from where his sharp nails were, his hand then went to claw you inner thigh, pushing your leg up as he tried to get more access of your addicting flavors. “fuckfuck…” you whined, trying to lift your other leg up but it was held down by his strong grip, “Lucifer~ gonna come again~” you whimpered, as he growled, going more rougher with his tongue, making you lean your head back at you bucked your hips again, coming onto his face again, “ohhh~” you moaned as your body shook from the waves of ecstasy.

“Lucifer, Luci, fuck me please, please, need you ‘nside me.” you whimpered desperately, letting go of his horns as he licked up your juices before pulling away, “fuck you taste so amazing, love.” he says as he got up, his tail wagging again. You desperately latch onto him, sloppily trying to unbutton his shirt, “Luci, need you so bad..” you begged as he smirks, pushing you gently to the bed again, “wait honey bun,” He says, kissing your nose, “let me get you undressed first, okay?” he asks, seeming as he had an idea in mind.

He leaned in to kiss you desperately as you unbuttoned his vest, you then felt his hands trail behind your back, his claws sharpening as he pushed you up to lean on his chest, you began to hear tears and ripping, realizing he was removing your maid dress by shredding it apart, he dug his claws into the dress, ripping it opposite directions before you were completely free from it, you shuddered from the cold that suddenly touched your body as you tried to close your legs again, your core desperate to be filled again.

Lucifer laughed lightly before kissing your nose again before looking at your fully nude body, your jelly colors of purple blue and pink, “You’re so cute, ma chèrie.” He says lustfully under his breath, leaning close to your lips, kissing you gently before you cupped his face, kissing him harder and deeply, passionately and desperately. You grind your hips against his groin making him moan through the kiss, “Y/n, Y/n, calm down my dear.” he says, pulling away. “Need. please Luci…” you begged, making him give in, “I just want to know if you’re sure,” he says as he strokes your cheek, “is this your first time?” he asks, wanting to know what pace he should or could start at, “yes..” you admit, knowing all your life, you focused on your family than ever finding love before you died, especially in Hell now.

“If I hurt you or want me to stop, our safe word is ‘apple’, okay?” he smiles caring and lovingly as you look into his mesmerizing eyes, “okay..” you say with a nod, allowing him to continue and undo his trousers, you looked curiously at his as you felt your body secrete more slime, your core also spilling its own hormonal juices when you saw his length, now understanding where all his height went.

His tail wagged again as he gently wrapped his hands around your waist, teasing your clit as he rubbed his member against it, using your secretions as lube, you whimpered again from the stimulation, “please just put it in Luci, please!” you whined loudly, tired of waiting, “sorry, dearest.” he smiles apologetically, angling himself before pushing himself into you slowly, your body felt waves of pleasure, your sensitivity heightening, “faster, faster, fuck me, fuck me master, please.” You begged, calling him by one of his titles, making him thrust harshly into you, your body was so slimy and gooey, you didn’t need any adjustment, you only just felt waves of pleasure, “oh, yes!~” you shouted, mouth a gap.

You immediately bucked your hips, wrapping your arms around his neck as he claws into your waist, making you shiver more, he thrusted harshly into you, in and out as your slimy juices helped his thrusts, you mewled and moaned loudly, gasping as he kept using your waist to bring you back into him after thrusting out, creating a rhythm of pleasure for both side. You were so noisy you tried to use a pillow to hide your moans but he grabbed it and threw it across the room, “moan my name, darling, scream who you belong to.” He orders, thrusting hard than before as you gripped the sheets, shuddering as you felt yourself getting close again, “Oh! Lucifer! I’m so close!” you screamed as you obeyed his orders, he smirked as leaned down to your neck, “that’s it, almost there.” he says as he kissed your neck, biting down into your neck as you buck your hips into him again, coming all over him as he continued to thrust into you, “good girl.” he praised, your eyes rolling back as you felt your release cover his member as he kept pounding into you.

He sucked on your neck, drinking in your juices after piercing your jelly skin with his fangs, licking and kissing caringly. He kissed you passionately again as you gripped his hair harshly, feeling overstimulated but just craving more at the same time, he growled when you tugged his hair, making him pull away, “i’m close, dearest.” he says, making you wrap your legs around him, locking him in, “inside! inside! want all of you in me! mmmph!~” you screamed and moaned, making Lucifer kiss you again before biting to your neck harshly, thrusting his hips one last time into you deeply, your waist forced down to him, his claws baring into your skin.

You felt himself pour deeply into you, ropes of cum filling you whole, your eyes rolled back with your mouth wide open, your body trembling before he thrusted into you quickly again, shoving more of his fluids into you.

He pulled away from your neck, licking and kissing it lovingly, your skin oozing out more slime, “Fuck, I love you so much.” He pants heavily, keeping himself still as he kissed your body lovingly, he looked at your fucked out state, he smiled rather proudly as he continued to kiss your body, slowly pulling out of you.

You came back from your high, tears forming as you whimpered, your body feeling sore but your core still craving more, “Luci~” you say as you turn your body, your ass in the air for him now, his cum was dripping out of you as he watched you wiggle your ass, “fuck, Y/n..” He says as he felt himself get hard again, “you’re gonna be the death of me.” He tells you, pushing you further into the bed, climbing up onto it as well. He scooped up some of his cum that was spilling out before thrusting back into you, thrusting harshly again as you moaned loudly, he pinned your wrists down as he kissed your back, your sensitive body was shaking terribly but it was the most heavenly feeling of your entire existence.

“Yes, breed me Luci,” You begged as tears stained your face, making him thrust down into you, “knock me up… carry your children..~” you slurred, mind fucked from overstimulation and pleasure, you lost count of how many times you came but Lucifer was still going at it, your stomach bulged slightly from each deep thrust he did, you laid there limply as he bottomed out into you for the second time.

He pulled out as he flopped and fell to your side, his hair disheveled and your slime was practically all over the bed, He turned to you, “are you okay, honey bun?” He asks, seeing you still lost in your high, he kissed you softly before getting the pillow from the floor he threw earlier and putting it back on his bed, using it to lay back on, he closed his eyes as he sighed, only to open then widely when you jumped on top of him, “Luci, we aren’t done yet.~” you giggle, completely lost in pleasure, craving more, “Oh? still want more?” He smirked at you, trying to reach for your hips again only for them to be pinned above his head by you, “I get to have you my way now.” you smile darkly and lustfully, rubbing against him before sliding him into you, you leaned forward, your animal instincts of desperation made you hips smash down onto his member at an inhuman speed, “oh- fuck- wait! hah- slow down darling please-“ He begged before you kissed him, ignoring his plea.

He tried to struggle out of your grasp as you thrusted harshly into him, only making you push onto his chest, “this is for all the teasing, Luci, take it like you deserve it.” You glared at him as an order, “Please, you’re going to fast, if you keep this up, i’m gonna go insane.” he warned, you rolled your eyes as you ignored him again, “you can take it, Lulu.” you comfort as you kiss his cheek before kissing him passionately, tasting each other once again.

“mmmhhh, fuck, Y/n..” Lucifer moaned under his breath as you forced yourself onto him, seeming as he hasn’t said the safe word: he was enjoying this. You focused your strength on thrusting yourself into him, feeling him slide into your gooey insides quickly, “Fuck, take it, take all my cum, darling!” he says as he bucks his hips into you once more, deeply as he releases into you once again as you moaned softly, your exhaustion now kicking in.

You laid limp on Lucifer as you wiped your tears from sheer pleasure, tired and satisfied, “I’m sorry, Y/n,” Lucifer says as you felt something wrap around your waist, “just one more, okay, one more please, wanna make sure you’re knocked up, okay baby?” He says as his tail moved you up and down on his still hardened member, you whined in exhaustion but still let him to use your body for his pleasure, how could you say no to a desperate face like that?

He kissed you again, making out with you softly as he used his tail to thrust your tired body against his, pleased by how you whimpered in overstimulation, his cum was leaking out of you like crazy but it was all the more for him to give you last of his load before calling it for the day, his tail was slicked with your slime, sometimes when it picked you up, you’d slip from its grasp and fall straight down into him, making you moan and tremble, he only kept repeating this process, enjoying every whimper he could writhe out of you.

He kissed your tears away as he continued to make you ride him, he smiled at you lovingly as you shivered at every touch, noticing your tummy was slightly round from how much he had filled you, “gonna come again, okay?” He says as she whines, “fffu- ffuhhh..” you tried to speak, blissed out completely. He thrusted harshly a few times before his tail kept you in place, taking in his last load, making you feel tremble in pleasure. He kissed your chest, neck and face lovingly, his tail helping you move off him and next to him on his bed, he took the covers and placed them on you, rubbing your back, softly, watching you drift to sleep, his demon form going away.

He was going to give you all the aftercare you needed when you wake up, for now he wanted you to rest, seeing as that looked more important to you currently.

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

Bonus:

“Hey, Y/n, did you know you taste like jolly ranchers?” Lucifer asked.

“I do?” You say, licking your arm for a taste test, “Oh shit, I do.”

✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧•✧

the voices the fucking voices.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

A Gift From the Heart

Warnings: noncon, and other dark elements. Not all kinks or triggers are tagged. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

Summary: As you adjust to life on your own, the retired Sheriff makes sure that you're kept comfortable.

Character: silverfox! Lee Bodecker

Day Thirty of the December Daze Challenge.

Prompt - a homemade gift.

Note: As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging.

You pull the cardigan around your middle and cross your arms. The wool hangs loosely with your linen dress, tenting around your figure as you pad to the front door. Your hand hovers for a moment before you grip the door knob. You hope it’s not Mrs. Griswold again. She’s friendly enough but nosy. 

You open the door and put on a smile. It turns genuine as you see your visitor. You shiver as the wind gusts around his figure and tickles your stockinged legs. 

“Sheriff,” you greet, “how are ya?” 

“Checkin’ in. Again,” he drawls as he takes his hat off and tries to tidy his hair with his pudgy fingers.  

The gray strands are coarse but thick, a bit longer than he can manage. His beard too. You suppose retirement has done away with his need to stay close shaven. 

“Oh, Mr. Bodecker, you are too kind. Ya know, I’m doin’ just fine. Makin a stew of the bone from that ham you dropped off last week,” you say. 

“Sounds delicious. Now, ain’t no type of thing as too kind.” He grins and tucks his hands into his leather jacket. He’s not the sheriff anymore but he still wears that sort of authority. “’specially this time of year.” 

“Course,” you agree thought your smile twitches. You should be happy but when the carolers come by, you only feel like sobbing. 

“Maybe not the best this year,” he comments. “Ya know, Buford, he was a good man. Rookie when I left the force but high hopes for that one. S’too bad what happened down in that ravine. Worse how’s all yer neighbours can do is whisper ‘bout it.” 

“I don’t hold it against them. They got their own lives, sheriff.” 

“And ya got me, huh?” He kids with a chortle. “Ya know, I hate to bother since you got the stew and all but I did come to give ya something. Be a lonely year ‘round the tree for ya so I thought I’d get ya a special gift.” 

“A special gift? For me, sir?” You touch your chest, keeping your other arm over your stomach. His eyes flick down but you’re sure he can’t tell through the layers. Right? You’re waiting until the new year to deal with all that. 

“Mhmm, yeah,” he once more tries to smooth his hair. “Ya know, I can’t really give it to ya here. But if you’re too busy--” 

“I can leave the stove off for a time,” you say. “Who am I to say no to a gift? Sheriff, really, you didn’t have to do all that. You’ve done enough.” 

“Someone’s gotta. Used to be, people took care of each other. An officer dies and his widow’s left to her own,” he tuts and shakes his head. “Wouldn’t be happenin’ if I was still wearing the star.” 

“You’re too sweet,” you sway. 

“Go’on, get a coat,” he says and puts his hat back on. “Don’t wanna be freezing out in this.” 

“Sir,” you nod. 

You leave him on your stoop and go to turn off the stove. You cover the pot of broth then hurry back. He went to all this trouble and you wouldn’t want to keep him out in the cold. You pull on your coat with the patch sewn in the chest and tuck your feet into your lace up boots. They aren’t very warm on their own but they’re what you got. 

You emerge, the sheriff catching the screen door and holding it until you shut the inner door. He lets it snap behind you and offers his arm. He’s so gallant in an old-fashioned sort of way. 

“Don’t want ya to slip, miss,” he says. 

You accept his offer of balance and descend the narrow steps to ground level. He takes you up the walk and opens the passenger door for you. He kept his cruiser but had the emblems removed, painted it a nice forest green. You sit on the front seat and keep your knees together as you chatter through your teeth. 

He closes the door and you watch him lumber around the hood. His breath fogs before him as he puts his face down against the bitter gusts. He climbs in next to you and takes off his hat, laying it on the dash. He turns the engine and cranks the gears with the shifter behind the wheel. 

“Ya cold?” He waves you closer, “c’mere, takes a while for this thing to warm up.” 

“Oh, sir, I’m alright,” you assure him. 

“Mmf,” he grumbles and cranes to check the road before he pulls out. “I don’t like ladies goin’ cold on my watch.” 

“Sheriff,” you preen. 

“And ya know I ain’t got the star no more, you just call me Lee,” he insists.  

“Yes, sir, uh, Lee,” you agree, clasping your hands in your lap. 

He drives, offering some chatter about the barn cat haunting his porch window or some episode down at the hardware store. The sheriff, Lee, has always been good at talking. At making people feel comfortable. It’s probably why he was so good at his job. 

“I wanted to show ya this,” he nods over the wheel. 

You come up to the river, the surface crystalline as it’s frozen over entirely. The icy sparkles in the dulled sunlight hidden behind the blanket of clouds. You lean forward to see it all, the edges framed with a dusting of the snow that pillows over the ground. 

“Oh, wow, that is pretty,” you say. 

“What can I say? I got an eye for pretty things,” he chortles and shifts in his seat. 

You stare out, marveling at the pristine and peaceful landscape. You didn’t know there were scenes like this in Knockemstiff. To be fair, you hadn’t paid much attention where he was driving. You peer back through the rear window and see dark sentinels speckled around the winding road. 

“So, ya ready?” he asks. 

“Sir,” you flinch and look at him. 

“For your gift, honey,” he feels around his jacket, tucking his hand inside as he pokes his fingers into the pocket there. “Ya know, don’t got no criminals to chase so I got some new hobbies.” He plucks out something he quickly hides in his fist. “Keep myself busy.” He keeps his hand balled. “So I made ya a little present for the holidays.” 

“Oh, sheriff—Lee, I don’t got nothing for you though.” 

“Think ya do. More than ya know,” he opens his hand and shows you the silver ring. You blink as you examine it, confused. The emerald on it is square and pretty big. “Took me some time but I wanted to have it done before Christmas.” 

“That’s... not for me,” you utter. 

“Sure is,” he holds his hand out as you shake your head. 

“I can’t accept that,” you lower your chin and pout. “It’s too much.” 

You touch the ring on your finger, the one Buford gave you. You were going to be married when he got his promotion. That was coming soon, he said. Then he went off and got himself shot. 

“Here,” he grabs your hand, untangling it from your other, “you know, I made it special for ya. It’d be rude not to.” 

You try to tug away but he’s too strong. You gasp as he wiggles off the ring already there and replaces it with his own, shoving it down until it bites into your knuckle. You hiss and wince. 

“Sheriff, that’s my ring,” you squeak. “Buford--” 

“I know what it is,” he lets you go and cranks down the window. You cry out as he tosses ring into the snow. “It’s a bad reminder.” 

“No--” you try to lunge over him and he catches you, forcing you back to the seat. 

“Now, honey, you haven’t been ungrateful, so don’t start now,” he holds your shoulder, squeezing it tight. 

“But--” 

“Can he help ya now? Hm? Now ya got that bun in ya? Now that yer alone and about to be all big?” Lee grits. You recoil but can’t escape his grasp. 

“You know?” 

“Well, course I know. Makes sense. And the way you been walkin’ round. I can tell,” he tuts. “You’re just lucky I'm the only one payin’ attention.” 

“Sheriff,” you murmur. 

“Now, I don’t want none of that from ya no more, I told ya.” He trails down your arm and grabs your hand. He pinches the ring between his thick fingers. “You call me Lee. Or Hubby. I like that. ‘Hubby’.” 

You blink at him and shiver, this time, it isn’t from the cold. 

“Go’on, say it for me, honey. Just imagine what other would call ya when they find out.” 

You frown and flutter your lashes. Your nose tingles and your chest knots with futility. He's right, but you’re not ready for this. You were waiting, until after the holidays. Why couldn’t he wait too? 

Your eyes gloss over and you sniffle. He tightens his grip on your hand until you whimper. You look at Lee and suck back your grief. It shouldn’t be him. It shouldn’t be the way it is. 

“Yes,” you croak through your coarse throat, “yes, hubby.” 

[sixosix]

can you do an aether x reader lil one shot please!!! my baby gets no love ;( I'm fine with any story or plot but maybe one where they've been travel buddies for a while and his feelings have just been bottled up over time and he just explodes in to a confession and then some cute fluff from there!!!!!!

a/n wc 1.6k there are tears in my eyes as i write this i love aether sonmuch. also sorry if this is all over the place i was trying so hard not to turn it into another 10k word fic…. ft. lyney

aether doesn’t vividly recall the moment his feelings blossomed. there was no pinpointed moment, only all of it growing restless inside him.

he likes to keep his team to four people maximum, oftentimes none at all—just him and paimon to worry about as they move from region to region, friends made yet no proper strings attached. it’s for everyone’s sake, as aether doesn’t plan on staying too long in one place. that’s how it should’ve been.

you appeared one day, demanding to take you in his team. just for liyue and then you can separate ways, you said.

“i’m visiting my awfully quiet lover to break his silence. i need to figure out why i’ve stopped receiving letters,” you explained, blinding him with your bigger-than-life personality.

and because aether is a weak, weak man to people who don’t know how to back down, he agreed, albeit hesitantly. “alright,” he said in defeat. “just liyue?”

“just liyue,” you affirmed, beaming as he’s accepted you probably easier than you expected.

just liyue is a lie, and he should’ve known it the moment he had to confirm it. he didn’t bother with formal introductions and keeping conversations, knowing he wouldn’t see you again anyway. it didn’t help that paimon adores you, expressing her loud disappointment when you have to part ways with them.

paimon floated lower than usual. aether sighed. “should’ve known you’d grow to love someone who spoils you with sweet madame more than me.”

“hmph! y/n’s nicer to paimon than you!”

but he does see you again some time later, facing a large tree, kicking it out of frustration. it’s pouring heavily; your clothes are soaked.

“am i scary?” you asked when aether and paimon approached you, staring ahead, fists trembling.

“what’s wrong?! did something bad happen?” paimon fluttered around you nervously, unsure if she could touch you.

“he’s not dead, at least,” you said bitterly. “just too cowardly to tell me that he doesn’t love me anymore. i suppose it was better breaking up face-to-face than through letters.” you sighed bitterly, shoulders hiked up to your ears as a fresh wave of quiet tears washed over you, muted by the rain. “this is embarrassing, getting dumped because i was too much.”

“it’s not. you came all the way from mondstadt just to see him. didn’t he at least care about that?” aether asked, which might’ve just been his longest sentence yet. why were you out here soaking? if it were him, he wouldn’t have been so rude to leave you astray during a thunderstorm.

“i can’t force him, if he doesn’t want to see me. i’ll be alright, i promise.” you rest your forehead against the bark of the tree, water sliding off your cheeks—aether isn’t sure if it’s the rain or your tears.

he understands, possibly more than anyone.

and aether—still a weak, weak man when it came to people breaking down in front of him, knowing what it’s like to lose someone so dear to you—gently says, “xiangling told us there’s an event holding place here later. you’re coming with us.”

just liyue was already a warning in itself that it would never be just as that.

you weave yourself in his life as if you were always there, fitting in like you haven’t met him and paimon just a few days ago. he tries to convince himself that he’s doing this to cheer you up, but you’ve been making him smile more than they do to you.

he would turn to his side and see you feeding him a chicken-mushroom skewer after a short battle, insisting even when aether says he’s not as injured as you may think. he would turn to his side and see you and paimon laughing over something he missed and find himself grinning as well.

he would turn to his side when you tug on his sleeve, shyly asking if he’s willing to take you to inazuma as well because you didn’t want to stay in liyue if they weren’t here anymore.

“sure,” aether would say. he’s a weak man, and you were holding on to his cape, looking so adorable that aether wanted to melt on the spot. but that’s a normal reaction to cute things, probably.

taking you to inazuma turns into bringing you along to sumeru, then eventually fontaine, until everyone is convinced you’re a staple in aether’s adventures: aether, paimon, and y/n.

this is what it’s like to have a good team, aether persuades himself. a good team, a useful asset, aether reminds himself sternly as you slice a ruin cruiser off of existence with fierce anger in your eyes and a stick of tricolor dango in your mouth. you wave at him after, beaming, and his heart does something weird.

and now, when some of his friends suggest that he lays you off even just for a day so he can have three other people who work together seamlessly with him, he dismisses it quickly—without thinking. he already works best with you by his side. if they want to come along with him, they have to accept they’re coming along with you just as well.

“thanks for letting me join you,” you whisper one night, lying on the grass and watching the stars with him. you turn your head and meet his eyes, smiling softly.

“of course,” aether says. of course, because now he can’t imagine what it’s like to not have you with him. “i’m the only one who can handle how scary you are.”

you scoff, gently punching his arm as he laughs. “shut up, idiot. you know what i mean.”

i know, aether wants to say. but would that be too much? aether doesn’t want you to think he’s trying to replace someone important in your life this quickly.

you are scary. you’re terrifying him with all these unwanted feelings he doesn’t know what to do with. but aether wasn’t lying, either—he can handle fear just as well.

and now, as aether watches lyney grin and kiss the back of your palm, aether’s chest burns with something unpleasant, sitting in his stomach and urging him to take action. a rock under his shoe. he does not like it, not one bit.

“uhh,” paimon shifts nervously mid-air. “paimon thinks you should stop glaring daggers into lyney before he notices.”

“glaring daggers? i’m not glaring daggers,” aether hisses. his fingers are starting to ache with how painfully he’s clutching his sword. “no daggers here…” he curses as he watches you grow increasingly flustered.

the sight startles him. not your expression, not lyney’s clear provocation, but aether’s stance towards it.

“i thought we’re friends with lyney again?” paimon asks, terribly confused.

“the best of friends,” aether says, marching over to the scene. paimon makes a disbelieving noise.

lyney smirks knowingly as aether gently tugs on your arm. “oh,” lyney says, all sly, more of a fox than a cat, “i didn’t know you were already spoken for. i do apologize for the misunderstanding.”

you glance between an amused lyney and an irked aether, dazed. “i’m not…?”

“your jealous boyfriend says otherwise,” lyney snorts as aether bristles.

aether glares heatedly at lyney, even as the latter backs away with a smug grin. “y/n, let’s go. there’s nothing else to do here.” he’s being rude. he doesn’t care. his mind is blank—or maybe it’s running miles per minute, and he struggles to keep up.

and because you always listen to aether, you let him drag you off, nearly failing to wave goodbye to a chuckling lyney. lyney calls for paimon, distracting her as aether continues walking away from the scene.

you turn to aether, barely able to keep up with his hurried steps. “whoa, whoa, hey, aether—aether, are you okay? your face is so red.” you touch his cheek, and he crumbles. “aether.”

he halts, frowning at the ground. frustrated.

“aether, is there something wrong?”

that’s the thing. aether doesn’t know what’s wrong. he was content with watching you from afar—content with your stars slowly aligning with his as he stands back and watches it happen. he was content with not doing anything about it. but not doing anything about it would mean everyone else thinks you haven’t got aether wrapped around your finger.

“sorry,” aether says. to the painful beating of his heart, restless with unexplained fury. “i didn’t—”

“…idiot.” you always tell him that. you’re the only one who calls him that, but he knows that were they to try, he wouldn’t let it slide so easily. “it’s okay to admit you’re jealous. it’s cute.”

it is not lyney’s flirtations that tip aether over; it’s the sweet smile you give him, the gentleness of your gaze, and your face so close to aether’s that you and him share the same breath. what tips him over is all of it crashing down on him, as daunting as a fight, as abrupt as the beat of his heart:

oh. oh. is that it?

aether doesn’t vividly recall the moment you wormed your way in. maybe it was the moment you jumped down from a tree branch and scared the wits out of paimon, only to demand nervously he take you. maybe it was the moment he softens when your shoulders shake and rain pours relentlessly overhead. maybe it was the stab of jealousy seeing someone else try to steal you away from him when you so obviously belong to him as he belongs to you.

it doesn’t matter.

“i want you,” aether says, then blinks when you do a startled take. “no—no. i mean. i… like you. and i want you to stay. here. not with them. not anyone else.”

“stay right in front of you?”

“in front, beside—doesn’t matter.” aether grows weak, limp as he presses his forehead against yours. “i just want you.”

“okay,” you smile, tipping your chin to kiss his cheek. his heart soars. “that’s all i needed to hear.”

[huffelpuff210]

Only Mine Professor Steve Rogers x Innocent Reader

Only Mine

Dark Professor Steve Rogers x Innocent Reader 

Warning: Dark Themes,Age Gap,  Forced relationship, drugging kidnapping, Grooming, Stalking, Non Con

Steve was bored and tired it’s always the same thing, Students come in here to achieve, but just end up flunking his class, He was a history professor, And most students come in here thinking it will be easy, since it’s History and end up disappointing him as usual, 

He knew he was being a little too harsh, and He knew that he was missing something in his life that’s why he was so miserable and so harsh on his students, but he knew that he had to find something and outlet or someone, someone to make him happy someone who wouldn’t disappoint him like everyone did. These girls today are just so self absorbed and whore around it’s nothing like before he got frozen in ice, after the serum, and now being retired from the avengers.

He was looking down at his papers grading them, when he saw something he hasn’t before, your name, you have every answer right, an ‘A’ 

Steve smirked knowing that someone was paying attention, You just transferred here from Colorado and this isn’t the first Ease you got an ‘A’ on either Steve has taken notice to you and you payed attention taking notes, watching closely. 

Steve had taken notice to you, and he had one more test for you and then he would make his decision. 

You had you bag hanging on your shoulder as you walked to class with your roommate you were just entering Professor Rogers class room, she was laughing, 

“It’s not funny.” You say

“I’m sorry I can’t help it.” Jessica says wiping the tears away, 

“Your a nineteen year old virgin.” She says 

“I told you I’m saving myself!” You yell

As you sit down 

“Okay class settle down.” Professor Rogers says as he starts handing everyone’s work, out your paper was and ‘A’ you were so glad, since you studied your ass off and went over all the notes you could to get a perfect score, You let out a breath of relief so happy that you got a great score,

Jessica slams her forehead on her desk You look over at her she holds up her paper that says ‘D-’ 

“Told you. You should have studied instead of going to bakers party.” you say 

“Oh shut it nerd!” She says 

You chuckle, After taking diligent notes and sitting through an hour lecture you and Jessica were leaving class chatting to one another little did you know Steve was following close behind you two, listening closely to your conversation, 

“God how do you always get ‘A’s’!?” Your friend complains 

“Because I study my butt off unlike you. Who decides to go party.” You say with a chuckle 

“So I like to have a bit of fun sue me why don’t you.” She says 

You laugh, 

“You’re too much of a good girl.” She complains 

“Well that’s what happens when you have a Military father.” You chuckle  Steve smirks, feeling a bit turned on. as the two of you walk

You two walk towards the coffee shop 

Steve knew right then and there that you were perfect for him that you were going to be his girl no matter what, He knew he had to be careful on how he did this, he also knew he had to get you away from your roommate she was a bad influence on you, He also knew that you would make the perfect wife and mother, That’s all Steve ever wanted was a perfect family with the perfect woman, 

Sure you were young but that’s what made it perfect, You could bare many children, you were a quick learner meaning he could train you, 

He smirked at the thought, He had been looking for so long not finding the perfect woman but now it seems that dream is just within grasp. 

“Do you want to go to a party tomorrow night before spring break?” Steve’s attention was caught by your friend asking you, 

You hesitate 

Steve knew you were a good girl, but if you accepted he knew it would be the perfect opportunity 

“I don’t know I still need to study.” You say 

“Oh come on live a little bit.” Your friend says

You sigh

“Fine, but only for a few minutes, I need to study for my next midterm.” You say 

“Yeah, Yeah, the good girl can’t have fun.” She says 

You chuckle grabbing your coffee as the two of you leave Steve smirks knowing he had to plan this just right that you were going to be his girl, Spring break will be in two days, meaning, This is perfect And he knew he had to prepare before tomorrow night.