#every time I think I can finally dig out of the hole some new bullshit comes around and wrecks me

[dolce-elegy]

*me after seeing that I had to pay $525 for my car’s maintenance and realizing that I only have $291 left in my account*

[lovelyiida]

hii!! i just found ur blog (rlly cute theme btw) and I wanted to submit a fluff or smut (or both idk) letter w bakugo please

hope u have a good day or night and remember to rest ☺️

@esloao requests: could you do both letters involving bakugo when he miss reader while they're separated?

YOU WON'T EVEN BELIEVE THIS BECAUSE I DON'T EVEN BELIEVE THIS but this is the first smut that I’ve ever written LMAO.

INCLUDES: PRO-HERO BAKUGO X fem CIVILIAN READER

WARNINGS: vulgar language, implied fem reader, smut, fluff

FLUFF! WHEN PRO-HERO BAKUGO AND YOU ARE SEPARATED it feels as if all odds are against you. The days pass, each one longer than the other. You felt as if another part of you was missing from your soul, and the rest of you was functioning on autopilot— no one told you how hard it is to date a pro-hero…

Let alone that pro-hero being the #2 ranked hero in the country.

Depending on the urgency of the mission, Bakugo would regularly call you. Around two-three times a day. One in the morning, one at work, and one at night.

Your co-workers would see how you beamed at your phone when the call log showed your boyfriend's name. A light squeal would slip from your mouth as your scurry away from your post to answer the phone call.

Most of the phone conversations would consist of your boyfriend asking you if you slept/ate well. And if you haven’t done any of those things he’ll cuss you out immediately.

Or when you’d tell him how your day was, telling him how stressful work was. He’d tell you you get some rest…knowing you won’t but it’s the thought that counts.

Sometimes, most of the phone calls are of you just being nosy— you regularly ask your boyfriend what he’s doing for his mission, regardless of how “top secret” the mission was supposed to be.

“What? So you go to the area to find no hostages and it was all a false call?” You say, confused and irritated at the news your partner tells you.

“Can’t fuckin’ believe the top agency, left my girl all alone at home for a week! Just for this bullshit,” your boyfriend snarled. You become warm at his sweet undertone of words.

“I mean- this is a high school level scenario, I swear we must be getting punked–“

“Does this mean you’re coming home early?” You coo. This makes Bakugo chuckle on the other line.

“Yes baby, hold your horses I’ll be there later.”

SMUT! WHEN PRO-HERO BAKUGO AND YOU ARE SEPARATED things can get carried away when you finally see each other again.

You sit on the couch, waiting impatiently, staring— burning holes into the front door of your shared home. You missed him so much, you needed him so bad.

Not to get sentimental, but every day you spend with him feels like your last. Dating a pro-hero takes mental strength. Knowing that the person you wake up next to might not make it to kiss you goodnight is heartbreaking to think about.

It was a harsh ideology to accept, and you still haven’t accepted it.

So every time you hear those keys jingle, and every time you watch that door open to see your loving boyfriends' amber eyes shoot around the room to be met with yours. You immediately jump at him, holding onto him like if you looked away for one mere second he’d disappear.

And every. single. time. your boyfriend comes home, this leads to the best sex you’ve ever had.

Legs hitched behind your head as your loving boyfriend pounds into you, each thrust burning so lustfully.

Sweat dripping from his forehead and onto yours, your loud breathy moans, and his heavy grunts filled the room like a thick fog.

There was no time for words, only action.

His eyes looked into yours, staring into your tear-glazed eyes and through to your soul. His hands clawed onto the back of your thighs, deep moans with each thrust.

Your arms shakily wrapped around his neck, nails digging deep into his scalp as you loudly moan, sloppily thrusting your hips forward for more pleasure.

“Y’missed me, baby?” He growled the loud slaps of your skin against his acting as beats of silence, which only makes you shiver.

“Y-yes,” you whimpered, licking your dry lips you try your best you look at him, but your eyes roll back and shut as you let out another wanton moan.

“You missed taking my dick didn’t ya?” Bakugo leans down, applying more pressure to your legs. Now his hard thrusts slow into his pelvis slowly rolling into your wetness.

Your eyes shoot open, you squeal as your boyfriend hits those bundles of nerves he knew he needed to hit. Letting out a gasp, your arms shoot from his neck and start to crawl at his back.

“Mhm!” You shake your head rapidly, as all you hear is the heavy breathing between the two of you.

“Mm thought so” Bakugo growls in your ear. Your boyfriend continues to roll his hips, hitting your g-spot repeatedly.

“Y-y’know, every fuckin time I leave here…all I think about is you and my pussy” He says.

My?

The simple word that left his mouth makes you clench so hard— it makes the both of you breathless, you hear your boyfriend let out a loud moan.

“Shit, you like that? You like your pussy only belonging to me, honey?” He moans, you couldn’t even speak anymore.

“You like knowing that this is my pussy and only mines? You love how I make my pussy feel s’good?” He growls in your ear, he stops his grinding only to reposition himself. Growling, he slowly pulls out—soon slamming his length back in.

This makes you scream out.

“Katsuki!” Tears stream down your face, the makeup you put on today melting off with ease.

Now, every thrust was rough with no intention of stopping.

“Fuck, Y/n!” He whimpers, head touching yours as he sloppily peppers kisses all over your face.

“Katsuki I’m gonna f’kin…cum,” eyes rolling back as your head slams onto the soft pillow.

“Yeah? Your gonna cum using your dick?” He whispers, eyes rolling back as he nears his end as well.

“Yes, I’m gonna cum using my dick” you moan out. Bakugo lets out a half-chuckle, reaching down to caress your face with his warm hands. He places a warm, soft kiss on your lips.

Looking at his face, you notice that he was teary-eyed as well. The eyeliner he used for his hero work smears as tears trickle down his cheeks.

“I love y-you,” Bakugo breathes out. This makes your breath hitch.

Bakugo is the type to rarely say those three words. He doesn’t take these words lightly. So you knew that when he meant it, he meant it.

“I love you too, Katsuki” you whimper giving him a quick kiss on the cheek. Soon taking a hand from his back to caress his face.

You knew that you saying his first name was his weak spot. As you could tell by the way his hips stuttered and his eyes slowly roll back in ecstasy.

“I’m cummin, fuck!”

Bakugo soon thrusts at a lethal pace, the only sound in the room was the slapping of your skin. As the both of you reach climax, orgasming hard and silent.

Time goes by as Bakugo collapses on top of you, bodies rising and falling as the only sounds are the pace of your slow breaths. You hold on tight to Bakugo, tears still streaming down your face as you revel in the moment.

You missed Katsuki, and he missed you too.

RRAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH!!! FIRST SMUT EVER LETS GO

I hope you liked this, I’m sorry if it’s cringey but I thought I did good, please let me know how I did or this will loom over my existence for the rest of my life :)

— lovelyiida ❤︎︎

[shit-talk-turner]

I don’t necessarily think mods agree with every bullshit anon says. I know you don’t. But you choose what’s gonna be the topic of the day and it’s highley opinion-forming. (mostly negative) You don’t say much and still influence others. Provoke and wait. Share and get other people to spread it. „Smart”. That way it’s never your fault. „Oopsie”. No remorse whatsoever even though you’re responsible for a lot of weird comments on a different platform and some really creepy profiles PRETENDING to be „fan accounts”. (they’re getting blocked for a reason, another long story) Because being annoying on here is not enough. But what can you do? Admit it? It’s easier to shift the blame and call people crazy. Oversensitive, of course. Looks like someone who cares is a big turn off you. 😜 Into bad boys much? Get well soon, honey. (Sorry, bad joke, we don’t romanticize it here, I know….unless…)Anyway. A lot of blogs are problematic but this one is the final boss? Probably the most active one? Not sure. But it’s famous for sure. Even for people who forgot Tumblr existed. Apparently it’s not just „a shit chat” here?

Manipulating younger, more naive fans it’s easy. A bunch of fake screenshots is all you need. Little minions will eat that shit up and spread it for you.

What a hero. Girl „ended” racism but invented a whole new genre of misogyny. Did we just end old misogyny to replace it with a modern, more subtle, yet still effective one? Like it never went away, you just got better at hiding it. Eh. If you want others to grow and apologize for their mistakes, how about you do something different once and use your platform for good? Boo. Boring 🤣 I know I’m crazy for asking that. You’re clearly way more influential than you claim to be. So own it. How about one thing that will make someone smile, for a change. SINCE YOU’RE SO OBSSESED WITH SMILES. Such a waste of potential. Smh.

Also tell me, how is it that you’re always against taking it from here to harass people on other platforms? And little minions still come back here with „Hey. I sent them a DM.” LOL! Saying that only out of guilt and then again, my personal fav: „I didn’t advise that.” Wow, thank you but it’s clearly not working and you’re aware of it as it’s been proven many times before and that, right here, makes you a part of the problem. Btw. Being able to read someone like an open book by one facial expression would be a great superpower. I absolutely agree! I guess we all dream of that one from time to time. We can joke about it, that’s for sure. But if you take joking/humor to like, seriously diagnose? a „toxic relationship”, now that’s something I’d call a stretch. Sorry, I laugh every time you say but they’re just „famous people”so it’s okay - that’s even worse. Maybe with people you actually know in real life you’d be at least slightly more accurate, so you’re only digging yourself a deeper hole, eh. Now say you don’t do that, look up the comments some people leave and tell me you never „kinda agreed” on that here. Yup. I’m not saying this blog is the worst thing that happened to humanity just because I say some things here 🤣 Yeah, there are bigger problems. Lol. I think the root of the issue here is that a lot of you are desperate for answers of things you’ll never get answers for which only leads to frustration. :(

A friend somewhere posts a comment and you’re all like „it has to be trolling”, if a friendly, wholesome, completely harmless comment is trolling to you - then what the fuck is this? Everything that’s NOT cruel to her can’t be real, smh. If you wanna troll, make it clear it’s a science fiction blog then? We are all hypocrites to some degree, yeah. I’ve made peace with that long ago. But the level here…. PS. delete your little #alexturnerwouldyoumarryme cute, innocent hashtag from all the „fan” accounts you have while you still can. Cause who knows(JOKE) maybe, one day, you’ll date him(no) and his whole fanbase will try to cancel you for it. 🤣Well, not cancel-cancel but them twisting it and using it against you at some point is inevitable. I think you often use this one here to prove…dishonesty? Whatever. All of the above is just the tip of the iceberg 🤣 TLDR.

So this is the last time we’re going to post your mania rants so if you want to continue this discussion we can do it off anon or you can start your own shit talk blog about us to post your manifestos. We appreciate that you think we’re the big bad boss of the AM underground or something, but we really don’t have that much power. There is no manipulation or cancelling happening here, just gossiping. We don’t care what other peoples opinions are as long as we can all play nice and keep it to some light hearted shit talk. We do not hate Louise like you seem to think we do and I guess you missed how often we do defend her (or delete unnecessarily hateful, disgusting asks about her). It seems you are genuinely misunderstanding a lot that is happening here or mistaking us for fans elsewhere or accounts elsewhere and are clearly having some kind of obsessive episode where we are concerned. We recommend you step back and do something else with your time because this is absolutely not healthy.

[gayspock]

OK

now im like im gonna shut up for real i fucking promise but also just feel like such fucking shit all the fucking time and its everything but it's mostly loneliness isn't it i feel like I'm going fucking nuts like seriously fucking nuts I keep thinking about what it would look like to look back on my existence like a TV show and think about how I've never been anything more than a sad fucking loser who just ends up crying in their room alone every night because they felt left out again and again and again and again and it never ends and it never changes and there's nothing you can do to make it stop there's just something wrong with you or there's not enough of you to like and i don't think I'm ever going to cope with it even after accepting it I just can't fucking do it and nobody's ever gonna care or know like for real because no matter what people say I just feel like i don't exist 8 feel like I'm constantly going crazy I wish it mattered like properly for a fucking second and it wasn't some fucking clinical reassurance but someone actively choosing to be near me or remembering I exist I don't understand it and 8 never have and I don't think I'll ever make it long enough to ever feel it I can't even relate to half the fucking bullshit out there ei don't know what to do I've never managed it I keep thinking when I kill myself what will happen how nobody will even realise how nobody will even want to deal with the body I wonder what would end up happening I keep trying to think of ways I could do it and make sure there's never anything to recover how to slowly dismantle all the pieces because I don't 2wnt to think about being left somewhere forever having some stranger fucking dig my hole or scatter my ashes i just feel so fucking sick of everything no i haven't i haven't managed to talk to people in years and years I don't remember any more einkeep thinking about the tens of thousands of hours of spiralling and nobody ever fucking giving a damn enough to take me seriously as a person 8 feel like I've never been a person to anyone I don't know i can't explain it people keep telling me I'm not trying enough I try too hard I don't care I can't fucking care any more and I'm not strong enough to fucking do it Its been my whole life 8 mean it it's just been like this I can't remember when it wasn't like this I used to fucking sob in cupboards wishing someone would just not fucking hate me please I'm so fucking or just stay please please like me or if I got older maybe if I went to new places maybe I could try I could try and it just kept. Getting worse. The more and more it happened the worse it got i didn't even do anything in uni nobody knew who I was and I think ive always just been a joke and 8 don't know what's wrong with me every time I get my hopes up I feel like I've just ended up more and more hurt and more and more upset and I just don't want to fucking try I don't want to keep doing it I don't want to be near anyone I feel so much fucking worse just living in the cracks of everyone else's fucking existence it feels like I'm being mocked and it's not fucking worth it nothing could retroactively make it fucking worth it ii don't fucking care but what's going to happen other than I'm going to go fucking sob in the dark for another few months until 8 finally kill myself hm okay!

[yespleasetommyshelby]

Should've just asked - Part 2 - Oscar Diaz

One week, seven days, 168 hours, 10080 minutes, 604800 seconds, since he fucked everything up with y/n. Threw it all away because his own insecurities got the better off him, all because he didn't just ask.

He hadn't seen sad eyes since that day either, leaving him alone to stew in his own bubble of self pity. He hadn't left his home since that day, instead opting to send Cesar to the store when something was needed or delegating his Santo's jobs to other members. The bags that y/n and Sad eyes had left behind in the mall sitting against the wall opposite him, mocking him with their bright colours and smiling logos, he'd looked through them as soon as he'd gotten home, each one filled with balloons, banners, anything you would need to through a birthday, even a badge that read 'birthday king' in big bold letters.

Today was his birthday, his 26th, a day where he should've been out in the yard celebrating with one of his famous Santo's parties with the love of his life by his side but instead he was sat in an empty house, bar his younger brother, wallowing in a pit of self pity.

"You still sulking?" Cesar asked as he watched his brother stare at the blank space by his feet, interrupting his pity party.

"Fuck off." He muttered, reaching for the half smoked joint that had been abandoned in the ashtray an hour ago.

"It's been a week Oscar, you can't sit around moping all the time, yeah you fucked up, I get it, but sitting here isn't helping anything." Cesar sighed, this past week he'd seen a side of his older brother that he couldn't remember seeing before, sad and bitchy Spooky was not a pretty sight.

"You don't get shit." Oscar sighed as he lit his joint, breathing in the smoke before exhaling slowly. "I fucked up the best thing to ever happen to me, to us, I lost mi amor Cesar." He mumbled, his eyes filling with tears that he rapidly tried to blink back.

"I know, I know I've never had anything like what you and y/n have, how about we go to the mall? I need some new trainers for school." Cesar asked, watching Oscars face carefully.

"Can't you take your little groupie with you?" Oscar muttered, stubbing out his joint in the ashtray before leaning back and covering his eyes with his arm.

"Please Oscar, it'll help get your mind of shit." Cesar tried again, desperate to get Oscar out of the house and the hole he was currently wallowing in.

"Fine." He sighed, pulling himself up and heading towards the door, missing Cesar pull out his phone and send a quick text.

He's out.

-------

Just down the street y/n grinned as her phone dinged, the text she'd been waiting for finally coming through.

"Hey Sad eyes!" She called into the spare room where he had been staying for the last week, opting to stay and comfort the upset girl rather than spending nights in his own bed.

"What's up?" He asked as he opened the door, rubbing the sleep from his eyes.

"Were you seriously sleeping at 2 in the afternoon?" She asked with an amused smile. "Anyway, Cesar's managed to get Oscar out the house so I'm heading over there now, you coming?" She asked with a smile, excited yet nervous at the thought of seeing Oscar again.

"Yeah, yeah, I'm coming, just give me two minutes." The man grumbled before going back into the room.

Yes, y/n was still pissed about how Oscar had acted a week ago, calling her out for being a cheat in the middle of the mall after doing nothing more than planning his birthday. But at the same time the last week had been hell, she'd received multiple texts and missed calls from Oscar, all apologising for that day, for making a fool out of all three of them. No matter how badly he had embarrassed her that day he was still the only thing in her heart, the love of her life and she was determined not to throw it all away, they had fixed every other problem that had arose in their relationship and they was going to fix this too. Which is why her and Sad eyes were currently on their way to the Diaz household, ready to throw him the most surprising surprise party there ever was.

"Alright, you start to put the food out and I'll get started with the decorations." Y/n smiled as she went over to the bags sat against the wall, the same ones that her and Sad eyes had gotten at the mall. "I'm surprised he didn't throw this out." She mused, digging through the bags to find the balloons.

"I've told you, the guys borderline obsessed with you." Sad eyes laughed from the kitchen.

An hour later and everything was set up, banners covered the walls, balloons floated through the house and yard alike while the food and drinks tables looked immaculate, thanks to Ruby's help.

Everything was in full swing, music blasting, drinks in people's hands as she received yet another text that she was waiting for.

2 minutes out.

"Alright! Everyone be quiet, he's just coming!" Y/n yelled, the music being cut and the loud laughter turning to hushed murmurs as her nerves grew knowing Oscar was just about to walk through the doors.

The loud slamming of the front door caught everyone's attention as they stood anxiously waiting for the Santos leader, the faint 'what the fuck is this?' Making her chuckle only being able to imagine how confused Oscar must have looked right then.

"Surprise!" Everyone cheered as Oscar and Cesar appeared at the back door, Cesar sporting a grin as Oscars wide eyes roamed the crowd before landing on y/n.

"You did this?" He asked quietly, not yet making a move as his mind tried to decide whether this was real, if she really was stood right in front of him.

"Well." She smiled bashfully. "I had some help." She shrugged as Sad Eyes came from round the corner with two coronas in his hands.

"Happy birthday Spooky." He smiled, holding a bottle out for Oscar to take, smiling and clinking their bottles together once Oscar took one.

"Aye, listen man, I'm, uh, I'm sorry about hitting you, the other day." Oscar sighed, feeling weird having to apologise for punching someone who was basically his brother.

"No worries Spook." Sad eyes chuckled patting his brother on the shoulder. "Now go get your girl." He smirked, nodding towards y/n who was stood a few feet away talking to Cesar and Jamal.

"Hey, uh, can we talk?" Oscar asked walking up to her and rubbing the back of his neck from the nerves.

"Yeah, sure." She smiled, feeling her heart beating through her chest as she looked up into his eyes.

They were both stood staring at each other before Cesar clearing his throat pulled them out of whatever trance they were in.

"Hey Jamal how about we go find Ruby?" Cesar asked, raising his eyebrows at Jamal who just didn't seem to get the hint.

"What? Why? We see him all the time." The young boy shrugged, oblivious to the scowls he was receiving from the Diaz brothers and the amused look from y/n.

"Beat it." Oscar deadpanned, smirking as Jamal quickly turned and walked away leaving Cesar to follow with a chuckle.

"Was there any need for that?" Y/n giggled as she turned back to Oscar, looking up at him with an amused glint in her eye.

"Kid doesn't know when to take a hint." Oscar shrugged, not seeing the issue in how he spoke to Jamal in the slightest.

"Yeah well, he is Jamal." Y/n shrugged with a laugh. "Anyway, what was it you wanted to say?" She asked remembering why the Santo had come to her in the first place.

"I uh, I just wanted to say I'm sorry, ya know, for blowing up on you the other day, I know how stupid I was being and I called you out for bullshit you didn't even do." Oscar sighed, his hand that wasn't holding his beer clenching and unclenching at his side as he tried to find the right words. "Just uh, just the thought that you were out with some other cabrón made me see red, I didn't even think to ask, I just wanted to punch whoever it was in the face." He spoke quietly, y/n only just hearing him over the music that had started up again.

"Oscar, you're right, it was stupid." She snorted making Oscars heart drop his eyes going straight to the floor, it was too late. "But." She started, making his eyes flick back up to her immediately. "But I love you Oscar Diaz, I love you so fucking much that this last week has been killing me. I don't know what to do when I'm not with you Oscar, and I don't ever want to have to do that again." She sighed, a lone tear a sliding down her cheek which he quickly reached up to wipe away.

"I love you too mi amor, I know I get jealous and over protective but that's only because I don't want any one taking you away from me, not now, not ever." He mumbled shaking his head slightly before putting his bottle down on the nearest table.

"I know, baby, I know." Y/n smiled, reaching up taking his face in her hands, thumbs rubbing along his jawline gently. "You know if the roles were reversed I would've done much more to any hyna I thought was coming for you." She giggled, already having thrown hands with one before.

"Trust me, I remember, that shit was hot." Oscar chuckled, wrapping his arms around her waist as hers slid from his face to going around his neck, opting to rub the bottom of his neck rather than jaw line.

"Now what?" Y/n asked, her eyes flickering between his.

"What do you want?" Oscar asked quietly, not wanting to push her into anything that she didn't want.

"What do I want? I want you Oscar Diaz, I want you everyday for the rest of my life, jealousy and temper included." She laughed as he rolled his eyes sarcastically.

"Good." Oscar smirked down at her. "Because I ain't never letting you go." He whispered, pulling her towards him, leaning down and planting his lips on hers for the first time in a week.

"I love you Oscar." She mumbled happily, resting her head on his chest as his arms wrapped around her back.

"I love you too mi amor." He smiled, placing a kiss on her forehead and squeezing her tight.

"Also, watching you punch sad eyes in the face really turned me on." She mumbled with a laugh as she felt Oscar tense slightly.

"Is that right?" He chuckled, looking down at her. "Well it's been a week, we best take care of that." He laughed before pulling away and lifting her over his shoulder before heading into the house landing a swift smack to her backside.

"Woo! Spookys gunna get some!" Was heard as he carried her through to the bedroom, both of them laughing as he threw her onto the bed.

"You're so perfect mi Reina." Oscar whispered leaning over her as he stroked a few stray hairs out of her face.

"If anyone's perfect here it's you." Y/n smiled letting her eyes wonder his beautiful features. "Just promise me something." She mumbled after placing a quick peck to his lips.

"Anything." He answered immediately, ready to give anything and everything to make her happy.

"Next time, just ask." She giggled as he rolled his eyes.

"Putá." He mumbled as he leaned down for a slow kiss.

"But you love me anyway." She whispered.

"Always mi amor."

One week without seeing each other.

Seven days without so much as a smile.

168 hours without a kiss.

10080 minutes without an 'I love you'.

604800 seconds without each other.

One surprise party to fix it all.

[rocorambles]

Ok what about a tsundere reader (preferably male but if you don’t do male then females fine!) with yandere Oikawa, yandere Iwaizumi, yandere Matsukawa & yandere Hanamaki? Maybe (if male) their darling is on the team or something? Noncon maybe?

I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. Being on a sports team full of yandere teammates??? Easily one of the worst scenarios to be in. And a tsundere male on top of that who pretends he hates them, pretends he doesn’t return any of their interest? He’s just asking for trouble because Oikawa can sniff out that lie in a matter of seconds. 

Warnings: Yandere, NSFW, Non-Con/Dub-Con, Stockholm Syndrome/Mind Break, Humiliation, Anal DP, Overstimulation

You love volleyball, love the sound of sneakers skidding on the court, love the satisfying thud of a ball connecting with skin, love the view of a ball arching over the net. And you remember when you had once loved your team. 

In all fairness, you still love your underclassmen, love mentoring Kindaichi and Yahaba, love teasing Kunimi and Kyoutani. But when they’re gone, off to their respective homes, you only know apprehension and disgust. Although you don’t know who that disgust is aimed at...your fellow third-years? Yourself? Both? 

You know that whatever the five of you have isn’t healthy, finding false comfort in at least putting up a front of anger and irritation whenever Oikawa’s hand finds its way on your ass, whenever Iwaizumi slams you up against a locker, whenever Matsukawa insists on washing you off in the shower, whenever Hanamaki drapes his lean figure over yours. But Oikawa’s always been eerily observant and you know he doesn’t miss the way moans threaten to slip past your lips, the way there’s no real bite behind your half-hearted shoves, the way you find yourself more often than not so conveniently left alone with the four of them.  

And today’s no exception as you purposefully slow down packing your bag, cheerfully waving off your underclassmen, body instinctively tensing when the last of them step out of the locker room, the resounding click of the door echoing in their wake. 

Not a moment too soon as a chin hooks over your shoulder, Hanamaki’s hands tightly gripping your hips, his teeth playfully tugging on your earlobe. But before you can dig your elbow into his guts and snarl at him to leave you alone, another body towers in front of you and you nervously swallow as Matsukawa smirks down at you, his fingers pulling at the hem of your shirt, easily stripping you in practiced movements as his friend holds you still. 

“Time to shower.”

It’s a well-rehearsed play, your struggle and rejections, their forcefulness and coercion. But it always ends the same way and you sob as Hanamaki’s fingers meanly twist your nipples, one of Matsukawa’s digits lodged knuckle deep into your tight ass, Oikawa and Iwaizumi watching from the sidelines, towels hardly covering their interest as you see their generous bulges from underneath the fabric. 

But then you’re moaning, hands clutching onto Hanamaki’s shoulders for balance as Matsukawa brushes against that spot inside of you that has you seeing stars and all four of them laugh as your cock twitches in interest, your hips rutting into Hanamaki’s hand as he casually palms your growing erection. 

“All those mean and nasty words and for what? At least your body is honest.” 

Oikawa always prefers to sit back and let his teammates have their fun with you first, spouting some bullshit about how being a good captain is about delaying his own gratification. But in all honesty, you think he just gets off to your demise, to the way the other three take you apart, to the humiliation and broken despair on your face as you submit to your inner desires. And you glare at him as his sickeningly sweet voice echoes in the room. 

But you don’t have time to focus on other things and your head snaps back as you’re forced to your knees, squealing as the water still rains down on your head, almost drowning you as Hanamaki shoves his cock into your mouth. It’s hard to breathe, hard to think of anything other than the steady stream drenching your face, the way your mouth and throat are stretched around the obtrusive object, the way Matsukawa’s blunt head is beginning to push against your stretched out hole. Yet you’re grateful for the water, grateful that the sound of drops pattering against the tiled floors tune out Hanamaki’s moans, the slick sound of both your holes being used, Oikawa’s leering voice, and most importantly, your own garbled wanton noises as Matsukawa rails your prostate with deadly accuracy. 

You can feel a crescendo rising inside of you, your nails digging into the palms of your hands as you use every last bit of restraint you have not to touch your own throbbing cock, knowing there would be hell to pay if you do anything without their explicit consent. But you wail in frustration when hot sticky white liquid fills both ends and the two men step away from you, your own cock still bobbing up and down, pre-cum mixing with the water swirling down the drain as you beg and plead to cum, turning imploring eyes to Iwaizumi who looks at you with green eyes full of pity and lust. 

He makes a move towards you and you eagerly present your cream-pied hole, arching your back even more, wiggling your ass enticingly. But before he can touch you, a voice you’ve come to hate lances through the air.

“He has to work for it, Iwa-chan.” 

Dread fills you, but you know what needs to be done and you crawl on all fours to where Oikawa casually sits on one of the locker room benches, obediently kneeling between his legs, panting when he mockingly nudges your painfully hard cock with his foot. 

“That looks pretty painful. I guess I should be a good captain and help you out. Come sit in my lap.” 

And as demeaning as it is to spread your legs on either side of the brunette’s body, your chest pressed against his, your face hiding in the crook of his neck as you lower your fluttering hole onto his cock, you moan as your cock presses against the hard planes of his abdomen, subtly grinding against him like a dog in rut, only stopping when a calloused hand harshly spanks your ass, chiding you about being good and staying still. 

You wait and wait, unsure exactly what you’re waiting for, unsure exactly what Oikawa has in store for you today. But your head shoots up, eyes panickedly making contact with amused chocolate brown orbs when you feel a finger tug at your already stretched out rim, making room besides Oikawa’s cock inside of you. You try to stand up, escape, but it’s impossible when two sets of hands hold down your shoulder, keeping you seated balls deep on your captain’s shaft, and a new wave of tears threaten to spill as Matsukawa and Hanamaki sneer down at your terrified face. 

And so you’re forced to endure as Iwaizumi slips in one finger, two fingers, three fingers, stretching your puckered hole more than it’s ever been, mouth opening in a silent agonized scream as he finally begins to push in alongside his best friend. It feels like forever passes before he finally stops moving and suddenly breathing seems impossible as your mind tries to comprehend the fullness, the pain, the pleasure tearing you apart as your vice captain and captain’s cocks nestle inside of you. 

But then there’s only mind-numbing pleasure as Oikawa reaches down between the two of you, his hand firmly wrapping around your cock, stroking the length as Iwaizumi and him begin to bounce you in his lap, your prostate constantly stimulated by the sheer mass inside of you, Hanamaki and Matsukawa reaching down to tug and tweak your nipples. Your orgasm hits you like a tidal wave and you scream, wail, a crude animalistic sound that only eggs the men on, Oikawa using your cum as lube as he continues to insistently stroke your softening cock, laughing when your pleasure turns to overwhelming pain, tears streaming down your face when you beg them to stop, claiming it’s too much. 

“We don’t allow quitters on our team. There’s no such thing as too much. That just means you need to push yourself harder.” 

And push you they do, breaking past limits you never even thought could be surpassed, breaking your body and mind over and over again, molding you and rebuilding you into their perfect teammate. 

But you can’t find it in yourself to really mind as Iwaizumi gently cleans your cum-covered body, dressing you in your clean change of clothes, and drags you back home, the four of them easily chatting away as if they hadn’t just used you as nothing more than a post-practice stress reliever, only Iwaizumi’s heavy hand on your lower back a reminder of the predicament you’re in. 

You love volleyball. You love Aoba Johsai. You love your underclassmen. And maybe, just maybe, you might feel something for your fellow third-years, you think, as you tuck yourself into Iwaizumi’s side, a finger hooking into the pocket of his team-issued jacket. 

[astaroth1357]

The Obey Me Cast on a Camping Trip (Part One: Brothers)

Hey guys, thank you sooo much for getting me to 2,000 followers!! I honestly don’t know what to say... I never dreamed that this little hobby of mine would reach so many eyes, and I can’t be more grateful. At a time in my life where things feel so chaotic and uncertain, being a part of this community and sharing my weird ideas has been what’s kept me going. It’s been such a rewarding experience all around, so thank you. From the bottom of my heart. 😊

I pulled out all the stops for this post. I even brought out one of my favorite songs of all time: Ao to Natsu by Mrs. GREEN APPLE to get the feel juuust right. I hope you all enjoy it!

This post is split in two due to length (I had too much fun again...) For the Undateables, please click HERE!

Intro:

Another day, another team building activity between the demons and the exchange students. It was Diavolo’s idea to go on a camping trip to the human world (because of course it was), and there were very… mixed responses. That sentiment wasn’t helped when he refused Lucifer’s insistent pleas to just purchase cabins for everyone to stay in. Oh no, the Demon Lord wanted to rough it out in the wilderness, and now everyone else was getting dragged along with him…

Wonder how that turned out?

Lucifer

Really, really, really tried to push Diavolo to just rent out cabins in but noooo, he wasn’t having it... So he ended up driving a van crammed with his brothers, the MC, and a butt-ton of camping equipment into the Alaskan wilderness… 

The car ride itself was insufferable… We’re talking, “I SWEAR I WILL TURN THIS CAR AROUND!!” level of antics every 10 miles or so (mostly from Mammon)…

Setting up camp was even more of a nightmare because about half of his brothers were utterly useless. The other half (save Satan) were completely clueless… Had it not been for Barbatos and Satan he probably would have just resigned himself to the mercy of the river’s currents and let it take him away…

He couldn’t even wear his usual clothes because of the situation… For the first time in who knows how many centuries, he was stuck wearing jeans… Diavolo even bought him several plaid shirts... (which he was not happy with btw because his brother wouldn’t stop making fun of the “new” him)

He had his own tent of decent-size, enough to move around in but nothing to write home about. The very fact he didn’t have to share was a luxury in itself, so he took it for what it was worth...

He spent a good portion of the trip focused on two things: keeping Diavolo happy and everybody else alive. He rarely left camp unless forced to; he just wanted to get it all over with as soon as possible…

If he did leave, it was because Diavolo would drag him along to fish or hike. He was... less than pleased to be called out of his tent at the crack of dawn or well past dusk to sit on a little rented fishing boat with Diavolo… but he didn’t exactly pick his friends so...

He rates the trip Too Much Trouble/10. Let’s never do it again.

Mammon

Wasn’t a massive fan of being stuck out in the wild, but Satan told him some made-up bullshit about buried treasure out in the forest and got him HOOKED. He even borrowed stole a whole bunch of mining/digging equipment just for the occasion!

He spent most of the car ride asking, “Are we there yet??” like a child. The MC had to step in to keep Lucifer from leaving him on the side of the road at multiple points during the journey... 

He was one of the utterly useless ones when it came to setting up camp. Someone charged him with putting up the twin’s tent, and he spent thirty minutes reading (then re-reading) the instructions while shouting expletives. Poor Simeon had to shield Luke from the vulgarity…

He has to share a tent with Levi, which neither of them liked. Mammon mainly because of Levi’s “old fish stink” and Levi because he feared catching “Mammon’s stupid.”

He was all jazzed up to go digging from Day One, though. He’d have breakfast, grab his shovel, then wander out into the middle of nowhere to go dig holes in the ground…

He also got completely lost on Day One, and it took the MC summoning him with their pact to return him to the group... By that time, he was filthy and somehow looked like he had been castaway for days (even though he was gone for like, three hours?)

When he stubbornly refused to stop digging, Lucifer resorted to just tying a rope around his ankle and letting him loose. It was up to Mammon to get back to camp before dinner, or else Lucifer would yank him back like he was on a leash.

Satan waited until the last day to finally tell Mammon the treasure was bullshit, and he was PISSED. He even threw Satan into the river, which resulted in the rest of the brothers joining in for a swim while the two tried to “playfully” drown each other.

He’d rate this trip 0/10 because he didn’t get any buried treasure. What a ripoff…

Leviathan

Hated the idea with a burning, seething passion. There’s no internet, cable, electricity, or phone signal out in the middle of nowhere! How the heck is an otaku supposed to survive?!

He clung to his electronics during the car ride until either they ran out of signal or their battery died, then he didn’t know what to do with himself… He resorted to reading several volumes of the manga he stuffed into his bag and clung to the MC for emotional support…

Yet another useless soul trying to put the camp together. He was in charge of his and Mammon’s tent but ended up almost crying in frustration… How the hell do humans do this all on their own?? Wasn’t he supposed to be the third strongest?! Why is he so pathetic?!? 😫

Hates sharing a tent with Mammon because he always wakes up to the second born encroaching on his space somehow… Poor baby is pretty much directly against the tent wall and STILL has to deal with legs and elbows in his side... 😰

Spends the majority of the trip moping in the tent... If he goes out there, he has to deal with the sun, bugs, and people… No thanks. He only leaves for meals and occasionally to go swimming. 

When he found out part of the way through that Barbs brought portable solar panels and a battery pack for Diavolo and Lucifer’s phones, he was livid. He demanded access to the power source, which Lucifer refused because “It would defeat the purpose of this trip.”

He’d have summoned Lotan right then and there, deadass in the middle of the forest, if the MC hadn’t intervened. He then went back to moping, but now at the bottom of the lake and it took a lot of coaxing to get him back out…

On the final day, he was packing up the camp before anyone else even woke up. He wanted OUT and back to civilization ASAP. Bedroom here he comes!

Satan

You wouldn’t think of Satan as an outdoorsy guy. Still, he has shades of a survivalist in him (mostly because he’s read a lot of guides and was looking for an excuse to use them for a loooong time).

He read for the majority of the ride. He was squished between Asmo and Levi, which was reasonably peaceful. But he did end up shouting at Mammon quite a bit towards the end because “NO, we’re not there yet, peabrain!!”

He actually wasn’t a waste of space when setting up the camp, and between him, Barbs, and Lucifer, they were able to get a lot of stuff set up before sundown. He did have to bark a few orders to the others here and there, but overall competency won out in the end.

He shared a tent with Asmo, and the two made it work well enough… Except when Asmo did things like spraying his perfumes and dry shampoos, making it practically impossible to breathe in for a few minutes…

Spent a lot of the first few days reinforcing the camp to a ridiculous degree.

Did he have to collect large branches to build an exterior fence around the campsite? No. But he did.

Did he have to set up a water distillation system using some of the materials Barbs had lying around the “kitchen?” No. But he did.

Did he have to weave a series of fishing nets to catch them lunch from the lake and river? I think you get the point by now.

Only once he built pretty much every contraption or improvement he could think of, did he go back to just reading and relaxing by the fire.

By the time the group was ready to leave, Satan had somehow managed to craft them a veritable, self-sustaining fortress in the middle of the Alaskan wilds…

Overall he would rate the trip as… meh. Next time give him a challenge like a deserted island or an actual desert, and then he’ll really see what he can do.

Asmodeus

Was about as unhappy with the idea as Levi was… It wasn’t that he disliked the outdoors per se, it was just that no one, NO ONE, pulls off looking flawless after several days stuck in a tent!

He chatted the entire car ride from start to finish. He never stopped talking. It made for decent background noise at least…

Was one of the more clueless ones when trying to set up camp and pretty just did what he was ordered. The second he was left to try and figure something out on his own, he went to Lucifer or Satan for help because NOPE. Human equipment is needlessly complicated sometimes…

He had to share a tent with Satan, which in theory shouldn’t have been that bad, but Satan was out basically all day in the sun doing who knows what and would always come back sweaty and gross! At some points, he had to chase his brother out of the tent until he dunked himself in the river or something. No way was Asmo sleeping next to that. 😤

Asmo took the second-longest to get up and get ready in the morning. Sometimes he wouldn’t even leave the tent until well past breakfast just in an attempt to salvage his hair and skin… He only got grouchier about it as the trip went on… 😥

A more… earthy looking Asmo is kind of a bizarre sight. He’s still attractive, no doubt, but it’s less like polished glamour and more like Hollywood humble. He spent the majority of the trip looking like a somewhat dirtied movie-star (which he still insisted was the worst he’s ever looked in ages).

Aside from salvaging his looks, he actually enjoyed taking pictures of their surroundings or of the group (but not himself). He sometimes forgot how genuinely breathtaking the human world could be…

….but his patience for the place wore out quickly once he started noticing his hair getting greasy. He was right next to Levi, packing up the site once it was finally time to leave. At least those two finally found something they could agree on, let’s get the fuck out already! 

Beelzebub

He was really curious about trying camping food and pretty excited that Barbatos was coming, too (because that meant great food in general).

Unfortunately, Lucifer had to stop the van at basically every gas station they passed for Beel could refill on snacks… Belphie ended up getting buried in wrappers pretty often, but he was asleep, so it didn’t matter much.

Beel did a lot of the heavy lifting when setting the camp up, but the finer details were left up to everybody else. He had his hands full getting stuff off the cars as is…

Of course, he shared a tent with Belphie, and there wasn’t much complaint between them. Honestly, there would have been more drama if they were split, so this was the better option.

After the MC told Beel about fishing and how it could net him more food, if he did it right, he knew exactly what he wanted to do during the trip.

… But no one told him how long and slow the process would be. There were points he’d get so hungry he’d consider eating the bait himself…

That was until about Day Three of the trip when they passed by a river full of grizzly bears… He was about to ask the MC why the bears were all standing in the water, but then he saw a fish practically leap directly into one’s mouth…

Beel had discovered his true calling.

Of course, the grizzlies didn’t take too kindly to a demon suddenly sprinting into the water with them. They tried to fight him off, but Beel just tossed most of them downstream without any issue until they realized who the apex predator really was…

After forming a shaky truce with the bears, Beel would stand in the water for hours then come back with whole baskets full of salmon… There were far more fish than Barbatos knew what to do with, so he’d just confiscate a few then let Beel eat the rest...

The MC shuddered to think about what Beel had done to the local salmon population… But he was full and happy for most of the trip, so he had a great time!

Belphegor

Sleep for him isn’t too contingent on location, so the idea of camping wasn’t terrible. It did sound like a lot of hassle for no good reason, though…

He spent the entire car ride asleep, head and cow pillow pressed up against the window and everything. It wasn’t the most comfortable experience, but he’d dealt with worse.

He was utterly useless when putting up the camp by choice, thank you. He had more than enough sense to get things put together; he just didn’t want to. If he wasn’t asked to do something by Beel or the MC, he’d just lay back in the grass and smugly watch everybody else struggle…

Again, he and Beel are in the same tent, and you wouldn’t hear any complaints out of him. He did start to have some second thoughts when Beel began getting a fishy smell, though, so he tried to bunk with the MC in their tent for a while.

Like Levi, Belphie didn’t leave the tent much during the daylight hours, but that was because he was still asleep… There was no good way to wake him with no alarms available, so he’d sleep in past lunch easily.

When he was awake, he didn’t leave camp very much except to walk with the MC or watch Beel fishing grizzly-style.

Eventually, Asmo and Diavolo got sick of him dodging their photos, so they’d started posing him Weekend at Bernie’s style around the camp (always conveniently propped up by something and with sunglasses on)

Something Belphie did like, however, was the nighttime. Since there were no lights around, he could practically see everything the sky had to offer. He could spend hours laying on his back long after everyone else had gone to bed just admiring the stars.

All in all, not a terrible trip. Anything that could give him that view like that was well worth it. 6/10, would sleep again.

Click HERE for Part Two. Check out my Masterlist for more!

[kashimos-hajime]

gold dripping down your wrist (2/8) | r.b.

summary: His breath flutters against your skin, and you wonder if he feels your heart tripping over in your chest. Or, despite every instinct telling him to run, Reiner gives in.

WARNINGS: ptsd nightmares, swearing, slight angst, otherwise,,, hmmm relatively unscathing besides a whole lot of yearning. dont worry next chapters will be sad as hell! pairing: reiner braun x fem!reader word count: 5.4k

a/n: hehehe biting my lip like a chad for isabel ( @luciilferss​ )

masterlist

crossposted on ao3 x

Shooting up in a silent scream, your hand flies to your neck as the last remnants of your nightmare dissipate. Breath coming in sharp, rapid inhales, you glance around the barracks and find no one else awake. Soft snores fill the room, and you shake your head to yourself, rubbing at your eyes.

No good to fall back asleep, now. 

Your entire body covered in cold sweat, you pluck at the front of your shirt, fanning yourself out as you swing your legs off the bed. A chill travels up your pants and through the holes of your shirt as you glance out the windows. Lunar light is streaming through but the moon itself is already fading. You get up, meandering over to the windows to look out. Some of the Scouts are on guard duty, as always, but other than that—tranquility.

So weird to think they have that when outside the walls, it’s a lawless land. 

Leaning forward, you move until your nose nearly touches the glass, and someone else in the room shifts with a grunt. You look over your shoulder, trying to decipher the shadows when a rough voice calls out right next to you. 

“Creampie?”

Slapping a hand over your mouth so you don’t scream, you look down. Reiner.

“What are you doing up?”

“Did I wake you?” you question warily, and he leans into the moonlight, squinting at you as he rubs at his face. Shaking his head briefly, he studies you with a narrowed glare and you almost want to shift back into the shadows at the perpetually annoyed expression on his face but you’ve learned that he just looks like that. “You can go back to sleep.”

“Are you cold? You look like you’re shivering.”

“No, I’m okay.” Liar. You think even your bones are chattering. 

He sits up, tossing his blanket off. “I can get you another blanket from the supply closet,” he mutters wearily. Standing, he pushes himself up and nearly into your personal space but he stops right in front of you, placing a hand on your shoulder. “C’mon. Back to bed.” He flashes a quick smile before brushing past you and words bubble inside your throat as you turn to watch him sink back into the darkness.

You whisper after him: “I had a nightmare about Marco.”

It is all it takes to make Reiner freeze. He turns around immediately, and you see his eyes before anything else. Wide with guilt, with grief. You lower your own head in shame.

“I’m sorry. I know I should try to move on, but he died all alone. It’s all I can think about. He must’ve been so scared” Keeping your tone as quiet as you can, you turn your face back to the night as he returns to your side. You stare at the stars and point absently at the one twinkling down at them both. “This older kid at the farm used to tell me all that every new star is another soul joining the heavens. Do you think…” Your arm falters and a weak sigh pushes past your lips as Reiner catches your falling hand in his own. You feel the calluses on his palms against your fingers as you swallow tightly. “Maybe that one is Marco?”

Your fingers interlace with Reiner’s as he wraps an arm around your waist, and you let him pull you towards him as he presses a rough kiss against your brow. The motion makes your entire being freeze in motion as he sighs, lowering his head. His breath flutters against your skin, and you wonder if he feels your heart tripping over in your chest. The tip of his nose brushes along your forehead, before he lets go of your hand, and you feel like ice digs into the fingers when his heat leaves. His arm around your waist falls and your head ducks.

The moment’s passed.

“That’s a good way to see it.” Stepping away, you watch his figure slouch, the way his shoulders cave in, and you can’t help the next words that come out. 

“I miss him. All the time. Him. And Thomas. Mina. Like they’re watching me on my shoulders, weighing me down. I can’t see them,” you continue, “but I feel them. All the time. I’m doing everything wrong and I’m letting them down.”

“Hey, don’t think like that,” he commands sternly, eyes flashing up to meet yours. It’s chilling, how much you’re inclined to believe him, but you don’t even nod as he grasps your shoulder. “You did what you could, alright? You just keep going, one foot in front of the other. You were one of the best in our class.” 

“I wasn’t even top ten,” you snort.

“Grades doesn’t make a soldier. Annie should’ve told you that it was all bullshit,” he says and you wince to yourself, lips pressing together You know he’s partially right, but you don’t have the strength to argue the rest. Guiding you back to bed, Reiner gently pushes you back down onto the cot and you fall back, lacing your fingers over your stomach. 

Craning your head up at Reiner, you look at him looming over you, silhouette outlined in silver. He stares down at you, his expression shrouded, and you wonder what he’s thinking in that mind of his.

Your hand lifts from your stomach, and taps on the open space beside you. A soft thump-thump, like your pulse, like an invitation. 

He turns away to glance back at the bed, and the moonlight hits his pale face blindingly. Squinting, you try to discern what emotion plays at his face as a sinking sensation begins to drag at your insides.

He’s going to walk away, a voice inside crows. Who do you think you are? Seducing the guy you have a crush on? As if.

You want to take it back. Excuse it as a moment of weakness. A brief, Can we forget I just did that? They could just move on with their lives knowing some lines are better left uncrossed.

But then, there is a weak: “This one time, alright?” 

Every word turns to dust in your mouth.

He turns back to you before you can respond and crawls into the space next to your own. Your heart lurches in your chest as he settles beside you with a silent groan.

He lifts an arm and you scoot closer, your head resting on his shoulder. Ear pressing into his chest, the soft thunder of his heart fills your entire body as he pulls you tight. Glancing up at him, you watch as his eyes slide shut tightly.

Your own face crumples and you bury it in his chest. “She’d say,” you continue on quietly, “that the the brightest stars were the fiercest warriors.” He stiffens as you twist the fabric of his shirt in a tight fist and your stomach twists as you try to find the words. The shadows are closing in on you, and you can only anchor yourself to the arm swathed around you as you whisper his name. “I was pretty much all alone after she left to find work a few years back. It’s part of why I joined the corps, but I heard she’s back there, now, and—”

“Don’t. Don’t tell me.”

What? 

Head jerking up to look at him, you meet a strong jaw clenching in a sharp scowl. His hand on your arm traces smooth circles and a drowsiness begins to flood your senses as he lets out a soft groan, rolling onto his side and pulling you flush against his chest. A leg slipping between his, you tilt into his chest as his arm wraps around your waist and it’s so tight you can barely breathe. Your arms crushed between their chests, your fingers twist the collar of his shirt and your nose brushes his chin when you shift against him.

“It just makes all this harder,” he explains hoarsely. 

A heat blooms in the small distance between their bodies as you nod. You understand. 

The wooden bedframe creaks beneath their weight as the hand on your back migrates to your shoulder blade and he buries his face in the plane of your shoulder. The searing skin of his temple against your jaw and your stomach in knots, you nuzzle yourself closer.

“I really am sorry for waking you,” you whisper, freeing your arms so you can loop them around his neck, thread your fingers in his hair but he doesn’t acknowledge your words. Their every breath is shared, and you swear their hearts are touching through the thin walls of their skin and sinew.

A gentle wave crashes over you when he hooks his fingers onto your shoulder, so unbearably close that you wish he’d either come closer or push himself away. You want to sink into his chest, hold onto him for the rest of the night as your eyes begin to flutter shut. His arms tightening around you, you think for a moment, you can finally relax. He’s just so warm.

“I know since Annie joined the MPs, there’s a sort of emptiness in you. You miss her. I get that.” Reiner lifts his head, arms withdrawing a bit. “I’m okay with you using me to fill whatever space she used to, but I can’t—” You hear a soft inhale above and you look up. You wonder if he can feel your racing heart under his palm. He’s already looking at you, and when your eyebrows rise in silent question, he shakes his head and looks away, lips curling into a scowl you barely see in the darkness. “I can’t.”

You can’t what, Reiner? Why won’t you look at me?

Then, he shivers, eyes shutting tight as he ducks his head again, and his cheek presses against your temple. Your eyes widen when his arms seem to pull you infinitely closer. “Shit.” More softly to himself: “Never mind. I’ve gotta go back to my bunk.” His breath is warm against your skin. A shudder shoots through you. “I can’t sleep in your bed.” A squeeze of your waist. Your leg slides against his thighs and he only hugs you tighter. “This isn’t right. I shouldn’t—”

“I’ll let go in a minute,” you tell him softly. 

Hs hand flattens along the top of your spine, spreading as if he’s afraid you’ll disappear if he doesn’t catch you. Cradling your head, his hand burns your skin.

When you wake up, it is alone to a mattress underneath your back, but Reiner waits until everyone leaves the room before he kisses your cheek good morning. It’s a one-time occurence, you know, but still, it’s nice.

.

Walking towards the edge of the internment zone, Reiner spots the newspaper cart milling with people, no doubt buying the new papers relaying the Marleyan victory in Fort Slava. The crowd is cheering to one another and his hands roll into fists as the line shifts forward. Meandering nearer, he can’t help but think of Paradis.

It was nothing like the hell they’d described. There were just tall walls, and people. Sure, they were behind a couple of years, technology wise, but they were relatively the same.

One thing that’s different though, was that there had never been the need for papers within the Walls. And if there was news to relay, you would come with the fresh news from Section Commander Miche, or Captain Levi. He’d always read your face as you gave the news—if your eyes still had a spark in them, that meant it had to have a hint of good news.

And you had been so relieved once you reached Utgard Castle you had hugged him so tight that he couldn’t breathe when he caught those eyes glimmering in the dawn. He remembers holding you tight against him with his ‘uninjured’ arm and the way you had just…

You had gone to him first. Not Bertholdt, not Connie.

Him.

And he had gone to you first, when he had seen you swaying in your seat atop a horse who hung his head low. He couldn’t even remember anything else, except seeing you and breaking away from his group, galloping towards you and Bertholdt. You were bloody, a corpse sitting up—his entire body had felt his heart drop into the depths of his stomach, the seizing in his gut. Even after he had thrown your confession into the dirt, stepped on it, told you it couldn’t be—he had betrayed that all in an instant seeing you with Death’s hand on your shoulder.

Shit.

He used to be so much stronger. How else could he still let you go for a mission that’s brought him nothing but ghosts?

“Excuse me.” The words pull out of his mouth as soon as he feels someone collide with his arm. Something falls and his hand shoots out to catch it before it can crash to the ground, his other hand grasping onto their bicep. Paper crunches and he straightens up, immediately finding who he bumped into. Purple hat shrouding a ducked head, she doesn’t look at him, frozen in space. You, he thinks dazedly. You again. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he continues quietly. “Are you alright?”

A short nod, and then she breaks off, clamping a hand over a plum sleeve where a white armband rests, taking off past him, back deeper into the interment zone. Reiner glances down at his fist, at the paper still clutched tight in his own fist, and his head shoots back up to search for the figure.

Gone. Shit. How did they even disappear so quickly? The road behind him stretches for a distance that would take more than two damn seconds to cross.

Fitting a palm to his brow, Reiner’s expression tightens as he looks down at the paper and he sighs, whipping it open to the sight of their so-called victory.

He’s seeing things. He’s… he’s just tired, and tormented. That’s all. Even the letters of the paper look a bit strange to his straining eyes, and he sighs, lifting his head again to look at the empty road behind him.

.

“This is really crunchy,” you mumble. Krista smiles, pleased. Swinging the axe you’d been using to chop wood into the stump, you swallow and set a hand on her blonde head, rubbing it fondly before taking another bite. “Where’d you get this? We haven’t gone to town this week.”

“Bertholdt, Connie, Sasha and Armin went to go pick some fruits surrounding headquarters while Eren trains. I thought I’d bring some back for you gys.”

“That’s nice.” You grin, taking another bite and letting out a noise of surprise when juice dribbles down your wrist. Good thing your sleeves are rolled up. “You should take one to Captain Levi. I think apples are his favourite.”

“How do you know that?”

“Who doesn’t like apples?” 

Krista shrugs as another shape lumbers over to you.

“What’s going on over here?”

“Reiner, catch.” You grab an apple from Krista’s basket and fling it at the guy who catches it easily with a grin. Taking a bite, his eyebrows rise and you laugh as a delighted expression spreads over his face. “Good, right?”

He nods. His whole body is coated in a fine layer of sweat, the evidence of his labour staining the front of his shirt as he stops next to you. Your heart stutters at the heat radiating off his skin as he looks at Krista. His shoulders rise and fall with his breath, and you swallow to yourself, taking another bite of your apple so you have an excuse to keep your mouth shut.

“You should bring some to Eren and the others,” he suggests. “They’ve been working hard.”

“I will.” Smiling charmingly, the blonde girl adds that there’ll be some left in the mess hall later and waves, departing. You watch her go with another crunch of your apple and you let out a small sound when golden juice dribbles down your wrist. Without thinking, you lift your arm to your mouth, sucking the trail off before it can continue down to your elbow. Something burns into your cheek, and you turn your head.

Catching Reiner staring at you, a mortified feeling strikes through you and you let out a choked sound, dropping your hand. Averting your eyes, you stammer, “Sorry. Habit. Not used to people watching me eat. Mostly ate during work hours back home, so…”

His lips pull into a flustered smile. “N-No. That’s fine. You worked on a farm, right?”

“Yeah. With other orphan kids.” It was so lonely. You look up at him bashfully and he rubs the back of his neck with a hand as he bites into his apple. Unable to help the pleased tone seeping into your voice, you say, “You remembered.”

“Of course I did. You mentioned it,” he replies, waving it away, looking away. His face is red, and you squint against the sun. “You said there was an older kid there. Talked about the stars.”

“Yeah. Yeah, she was like family. Until I joined the corps and met you, Bertholdt, and Annie, that is. You guys just… I dunno.” You rub your elbow, smiling at him. “Times like these make me miss Annie. She’s a better friend than everyone gives her credit for, y’know? We always said when the time came we would work together in the MPs.”

“Uh-huh.” Reiner looks away, eyebrows furrowed together. “It’s getting hot.”

“Yeah.” Your brow crinkles but you let his diversion slide. “We should take a break.” You gesture to the shade nearby and he takes the lead, heading over to collapse against a tree. You rotate the apple between your fingers, you take another bite, nose wrinkling as a wind sweeps against your face.

They continue to eat in silence, not much to be sad. Your heart begins to slow, even as Reiner shifts closer, one of his knees bent, the other crooked flat on the cool grass. Smiling to yourself, you just watch the sun touch everything you can see, and in times like this, of absolute nothingness, you can finally remember how beautiful the world is. 

The sky is blue enough to drown in, the clouds are infinitely fluffy, and the grass gleams white underneath the heat. Even if you’re sweating your skin off, the wind is cold like a kiss, and you feel a delighted shiver course through you.

“It’s so beautiful,” you sigh. “The world. I wish we could see more of it, but what we have here… I think I take it for granted. How truly perfect it all is.”

“Yeah.” His voice rasps against your ear and you inhale the summer wind deeply once again, feeling it fill up your entire chest. “I think I do, too.”

Looking at Reiner, your lips part in a response before rough fingers cradle your chin and tug you forward. Apple core falling to the ground, your arms crumple against a strong body and you barely resist holding him with your sticky hands as a mouth presses against yours. Body melting against his own, your stomach flutters and you let out a soft moan as his hand travelled along your chin to cup your face, thumb stroking your cheek. His other hand rests on your knee and your eyes slide close as a tongue traces the seam of your lips, dips in tentatively. Arm wrapping around his neck, you pull him in deeper by the crook of your elbow and sigh into his mouth.

The soft warmth floods your entire body, cools you down somehow, and you swear you can’t feel the ground beneath your legs. Hours seem to pass—the gust caresses your sweaty skin, the leaves seem to chime. 

It’s idyllic. 

It’s perfect.

It’s only a few beats more before he draws back sweetly, hand falling away from your face and he searches your expression.

“You, uh, missed a spot,” he whispers hoarsely, clearing his throat and drawing back. Smiling dopily to yourself, you wipe at your mouth with the back of your hand but not even that can erase the tingling sensation spreading through your face. Looking into your lap, you chew on your bottom lip, trying to prevent the ginormous smile from spreading while he leans back against the tree, looking out into the distance.

“Hey!” Heads jerking up, the two Scouts spot Ymir glaring at them by the entrance to the headquarters. “Didn’t know some of us were having a day off!”

Mikasa carries a near-passed out Eren into the building while Section Commander Hange and Section Commander Miche wave them, gesturing for them to come back in. You sit up straighter and Reiner lets out a displeased grunt as you tear up some grass by your leg.

“Get that wood and get back in here,” Miche calls. “That’s more than enough for the week.” You find yourself nodding as Reiner pushes himself to his feet and you look up as he walks back into the sun. Their superiors head in, but Ymir lingers, watching them, and you stare back until she seems to let go of her crossed arms, shake her head, and turn back inside.

You blink. Scrambling after Reiner, you catch up with him and wait to see if he’ll see anything. When he only steps towards your pile of firewood and slings the frame to hold bundles of firewood in onto his back, your hand shoots out before you can stop yourself.

He stiffens at your touch.

“Shouldn’t we talk about what just happened?” you ask quietly, a swirling sensation swimming in your chest. Confusion tinted everything as Reiner pauses, glancing at you out of the corner of your eye. “We… kissed just now.”

He ducks his head, lips curling back in a grimace. “Yeah. We did.”

Pangs hitting your chest, you take a step away from him as he bends down to collect the firewood. The sun’s already beating down on the back of your neck as you glance at the pile of wood. “Do you not like me?” 

“What?” He freezes mid-way through grabbing another bundle and you busy yourself with slinging your own carrier onto your back. Your body is burning, and it’s not because of the sun.

“I like you, Reiner, but… if you don’t like me, then I’m okay with pretending that never happened.”

“Of course I like you. You’re a great friend and soldier and—”

You shoot him a furtive look before putting it bluntly: “I like you in the way that I want you to kiss me like that all the time.”

The silence that follows will haunt you for the rest of your life. Your heart pounds in your skull, echoing like the sound of death drums before his shoulders slouch forward and he sighs heavily. You stand upright, head tilting and he grabs the back of your neck and pulls you towards him.

This time, it’s almost devouring the way he kisses you—messy, and warm, and his thumb brushes the underside of his jaw as you bend into his chest, your hands fisted, twisting his shirt at his waist tightly and you barely hear the words he murmurs into your mouth over the pounding of your heart.

“You’re so pretty—“

Panting, he kisses you again and again as you crumple in his arms and you can’t help the stupid smile on your face as you kiss him back, quick punches that last an eternity until they rip themselves off each other. More, Reiner stumbles back, and you tear yourself off of him, just so they remember how to breathe.

Your lungs scrambling for air, your fingers press against your mouth as your gaze falls to the firewood, and Reiner’s heavy breathing can be heard just a few feet away as he falls to his hands and knees. Watching him, your heart cracks into pieces, and there’s a sinking sensation in your stomach. 

Reality slams into you like a fucking horse.

“We shouldn’t,” he whispers hoarsely, fingers digging into the dirt. Your eyes wrench to him and he looks up at you harrowingly. “We’re soldiers. We shouldn’t. We could die tomorrow, next week on that expedition even, and this would be for nothing.”

Falling to your knees, you glance down at the dirt. “I like you.”

“You shouldn’t.” 

You clench your jaw. Your gut cramps as you stare blankly at the grass. “So… what now?” you ask, chest lurching. “I don’t want to lose you.”

“I know. I just…” A harsh swallow. Your breath burns in your chest. A strange pain stitches into your ribs. “We should stay friends.” Everything inside you drains, and you nod, eyes not rising. Your lips still tingle with the sensation of his mouth against your own, and you swallow the hard knot in your throat, but it only lands like a boulder in your stomach. “It’ll hurt less.”

I don’t think it will, you want to argue. I’ll still want you just as much as I do now.

But you don’t say any of that aloud. 

Instead, you try to make it sound joking as you murmur, “You’re the worst.” You flash him a quick smile that you hope dulls the edge of your words, but he merely looks at you numbly.

For a moment, Reiner’s hard frown slips into something more fragile, and he turns away with a hard swallow, whispering out a soft, “I know,” as he gets to his feet and gathers the rest of the firewood. Once his load is on his back, he half-turns to you and he looks at your hands rather than your face. “I’ll see you at the meeting.”

You wait until you can’t hear his soft footsteps cushioned by the grass until you pull yourself together. Lifting your face to the sun, wind chases away the heat clouding your cheeks, and soothes the swollen skin around your eyes.

Grabbing the wood, you rub at your face with the back of your hand and when you get back inside, Connie doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong.

.

Reiner pays the vendor and looks at his cousin, smiling uneasily as she bites into the sandwich. He wouldn’t have much more for the day if they kept going at the pace they’re going, and although he doesn’t mind (not that he could say no) a part of him just wishes he could go home. But Mom had insisted so Gabi could have some supervision and that he needed to get out, she wasn’t getting any younger and he’s so glum! 

“You need to find a nice girl, Reiner.”

He doesn’t know what about his appearance when his mom walked into his bedroom screamed romance, but apparently it was what she read between a soaked shirt and wide eyes and pale skin. 

He’d woken up in a cold sweat, as he does most days, but this time it’d been haunting.

Because it wasn’t flashes of blood, screams, the glint of metal underneath the grey sun. There was no yellow lightning, no deafening crashes.

It was almost like it wasn’t a dream. Trost had been so real, alive around them as you paid for the honeycomb and as you snuck a bite while you thought he wasn’t looking, he remembered…

The way his heart fluttered, the way he couldn’t stop looking you. There was not a moment he remembers your hand was far from his, when their elbows did not brush, when they left each other for a moment. When did he ever stop thinking about your hands, your laugh, the way you could send him into a flurry thinking what every other word you said meant?

“Reiner? You coming?”

Blinking, he looks over his shoulder to see the others already moving on. Pieck lingers near the back of the group, tilting her head at him and he clears his throat, pocketing his wallet and walking towards her.

He never meant for this. You were never meant to be more important than him than breathing. How does he carve away the prints you’ve left on his lips and eyes? Does he even want to? It’s hard to decide. 

Sometimes, he wants to scratch you out of his brain just so you can stop laughing at him. Other times, he wishes he could dig inside his skull and put the memories together in a collage the shape of you just so he has someone to talk to.

“This is so good!” Gabi cries out as Porco sets a hand on her head and Reiner suppresses the smallest smile teasing at his mouth, but it feels tired, and he lets the urge melt away easily. Walking after them slowly, he watches the festival around them, so loud with clowns and buskers and people just talking to one another that it makes his head pound.

His legs feel like they’re about to give up, and his head is heavy as he trails after them. 

“Eat slower,” Pieck censures as they migrate through a thicker crowd, “or you’ll get a stomach ache.”

“They might get a stomach ache either way,” Galliard teases. “Do you see how the slobs are eating?” Walking against the tide, Reiner makes sure he doesn’t knock anyone over going too fast in the opposite direction. The energy would be electric if he didn’t feel so bone-tired. Sun warming his face, Reiner lifts his chin to the sky just as the sound of someone’s voice teases his ear range and his head snaps to the sound, eyes widening.

Stopping in his tracks, he searches for the source and his eyes fixate on the same woman in the purple coat. His mouth opens on its own accord and his eyebrows furrow together as she pays the vendor. He tracks her figure with a quick sweep before turning away to make sure he isn’t trailing too far behind the others.

When he glances back, she’s gone.

Fucking ghost.

He shivers, catching up with the group.

“You’ve got something on your mind,” Pieck observes as he empties out his wallet for the last food stall of the afternoon. They’d just finished their slices of something the man had called pizza, and Gabi had insisted on dessert to finish the day. Explains why he’s standing in front of a portly woman who insists on the kids picking which tart they want.

“It’s fine, Pieck,” he assures, closing his wallet and slipping it back into his pocket, significantly lighter than this morning as Falco grabs a pastry glazed with honey and Reiner’s heart seizes in his chest at the golden sugar glistening in the warm sunlight. “They’re growing kids.”

“I don’t think it’s your wallet that’s the problem,” she says. Galliard grabs a tart with flecks of rose petals within the filling and glances over at the two and Reiner arches an eyebrow at the strangled expression on the guy’s face.

Weird, he muses to himself when Porco grabs another tart and begins to walk over to them.

“You seem a bit lost. Did something happen earlier?” Pieck probes. Reiner sighs, crossing his arms, watching the Candidates switch tarts so they can try all the flavours. It’s so effortlessly… innocent, in a sense, in that gesture. Shit, when’s the last time he ever felt like that?

Gold dripping down your wrist… “I can see you eating the honeycomb, you know?”

God, did he want to kiss you then.

“Nothing happened.”

Pieck frowns, but doesn’t argue it further as Porco finally reaches them.

“Which one do you want, Pieck?” he asks, not waiting for an answer before shoving the rose tart into Pieck’s hands. She smiles fondly, reaching forward to flick Porco’s forehead. Reiner rolls his eyes. “The lady said it’s a popular flavour with… the ladies.”

“Thank you, Pock.” She takes a big bite, the sugar glistening her lips and Reiner’s watching Porco’s face which only opens at the pure delight on their pretty little colleague. Mouth snapping shut, Galliard looks away as if that’ll help the faint redness of his ears, and Reiner shakes his head. He chews on his cheek to prevent the soft smirk edging onto his face before he claps Pieck on the shoulder and heads towards the kids. 

Behind him, he hears a laugh that could only be Pieck’s followed by grumbling and harsh hushing that could only be Galliard’s.

When he glances over his shoulder, he swears he must’ve imagined Porco kissing the corner of Pieck’s mouth, sugary syrup on his lips, too.

[ichor-and-symbiosis]

Kotatsu Table. (Shigaraki x f!Reader; NSFW)

Warning: stepbrother kink 

“You are such a damn brat.”

Arms tighten around your waist in a vice-like grip. It forces the air out of your lungs and makes you wince, momentarily losing your grip on your switch. 

“You think your game is more important than me?”

“Hypocrite.”

“Shut up.”

Tomura’s legs are tangled with yours, hindering your ability to move. You can only wriggle and pout as he presses himself along your back and grinds his erection over the curve of your ass, incessant and desperate while his hot breath tickles your ear. He had wasted no time in slipping his sweatpants down before sandwiching his cock between his stomach and your backside. The heat radiates through your shorts and pulls the fabric on your crotch with every thrust, forming a wedgie along the seam of your folds as it generates a maddening friction that rubs your clit and forces a gush of wetness to seep out of your empty hole.

The kotatsu table hides this obscenity from view. For all intents and purposes, anyone passing by would imagine a sweet bonding moment between step-siblings. An attentive brother watching his younger sister play her favorite game while they warm themselves beneath the comfortable blanket draped over their waists. 

You try your hardest to uphold this illusion. No matter what filthy thing Tomura whispers in your ear, you hold onto the switch for dear life and ignore his demand for you to turn around and kiss him. The demanding neediness in his voice makes you rub your thighs together, and the subtle movement makes him groan and grind into you harder. 

Your neck glistens from bruising open-mouthed kisses. His rough lips tickle your skin even as he bites and sucks right beneath your ear, smoothing his slick tongue over the blooming mark to make you shiver and whimper. The wet muscle trails upward and leaves saliva along the rim of your ear. 

“Your tongue is like a disgusting slug, nii-san,” you grumble, digging the pads of your thumbs firmly onto the buttons of your switch when Tomura nips your earlobe. 

“You like it when I’m gross with you.” He snakes a hand beneath your shirt and roughly squeezes your breast to make you gasp. “You just keep playing hard to get, though. Does it make you wet when I have to behave like this?” His fingers pinch and twist your nipple, relentless even as your hands start to shake and your breath escapes your open mouth in quickening pants. Tomura whispers to you in a low growl, “I bet your dumb little pussy is ready to take me already. And you better let me find out - “ His other hand grips your shorts and wrenches them downwards, giving you little time to react before his thick cock pushes through your soft thighs and wedges its oozing cockhead right up against your entrance. “ - because I’m not in the mood for your bratty bullshit right now.” 

“T-Tomu-nii … “ 

“Don’t act all cute,” he sneers, digging his fingers into your hip as he begins to breach your hole. “Where’s all that attitude from before? Can’t ignore me now, can you?” 

You bite your lip and stifle a broken moan as best you can, quickly becoming overwhelmed by the tight fit of his cock. With your thighs closed together and the angle at which Tomura expects to shove into you, the stinging pain forces you to arch your back and writhe against his tight hold. He grits his teeth and tries again, curling his hand under your thigh and tugging it upward to give him more space to fuck into you. The instant your hole sucks in the swollen head of his cock, you jolt and release a pathetic sound, angling your hips away even as he releases a sharp breath and grinds further into you.

“The fuck is your problem,” he huffs, panting against your hair. 

“You’re too big, nii-san,” you whine. “It hurts … “ 

He chuckles, a raspy, aggravating noise that turns into a low groan as he tugs on your abused nipple and feels you clench around him. Your fleshy walls pulsate around his cock as he eases himself into you inch by slow inch, and you can’t tell if the rhythmic tightness wants to expel the intrusion or to suck him in deeper. 

Stupid, treacherous body. Your vision blurs from unshed tears as you lose all focus on your game. At this point, you are gripping the controls simply out of the need to hold onto something, anything to help you redirect your tension. 

“Oooh?” Tomura purrs, kisses the back of your head, and simply continues to flick your nipple back and forth as he works you open. “Poor baby. If only you had been nice to your big brother earlier.” He shifts his hand beneath your shirt and cups your other breast, holding it tightly while he focuses his full effort on shoving his cock deeper inside. “I would have played with your tight pussy to stretch you open. And if you had been really sweet, I would have let you lay on your back and play your game while I licked your sloppy, drooling cunt.” A flood of viscous juices bathed his cock as you flushed from embarrassment, feeling your chest tighten at the sound of Tomura’s appreciative moan before he continued, “But you seem to forget who this pussy belongs to, so nii-san has to punish you.” 

“Nnnh … aaah!” A sudden bite to your shoulder causes you to snap out of your delirious haziness. You pull your knees up in a last attempt to ease your discomfort. By some miracle, it actually works. Tomura wraps his arm around your waist again and follows to close the distance, snapping his hips against your ass with one final thrust that seats himself fully inside you and makes you see stars. 

Digging up weeds in your village seems rather trivial at this moment. You can think of nothing other than the way Tomura’s thighs rest flat against yours, the way you feel him all around you and inside you, his heavy cock twitching with each little mewl you release upon every new thrust. He abandons your breast altogether to hold your waist, his shameless moans mingling with your cries as he immediately sets a rapid pace. His torso is practically glued to your back. The only part of him that moves is his lower half, hidden beneath the blanket as he humps into you with short, forceful thrusts. 

There is an ache deep inside you, even as you gradually melt against him and give yourself to his demands. You can feel the tip kiss your cervix, each unyielding shove lodging precum in a place it should never, ever be found. 

“Should have just cockwarmed me like I asked you,” he grunts, breath leaving him in short puffs. “And I asked you nicely - “ You let out a strangled sound as he delivers a sharp thrust. “But you told me to leave you alone.” His arms tighten around you as he picks up speed, and all you can focus on is the sound of the slick slide of his cock through your squelching pussy. “You told me to leave you alone!” 

A tear escapes and wets the pillow beneath you. 

You didn’t mean to make him this upset. You didn’t mean to make him feel unwanted. 

“Tomu-nii,” you force out, quiet and meek. He reacts to your submissive demeanor almost instantly, cautious and still tense even as he lessens the intensity of his thrusts to a steady rhythm. “Can you … “ You flush, burrowing your face a little into the pillow. “Can you touch me?” 

Tomura slows down even more, a contemplative silence falling over him. A smug grin colors his voice. “Touch you where?” 

“M-my … ugh, you know!” 

He presses his lips to your throat, running his hot tongue over your pulse before nipping it, a gentle hold of his teeth to your skin as they slowly rake a sensitive trail upon letting go. “Tell nii-san what you want,” he purrs. “And ask nicely.” 

“ … please … nnnh, can you play with my pussy, Tomu-nii?” A low rumble escapes his throat. “I w-want my big brother to take care of me … “ 

“And do you think you deserve it after what you said to me?” 

“No,” you sob, barely holding onto the switch as you are fucked open again and again at a punishing pace. It is a test, you know he wants to break you, to leave you so overwhelmed and speechless that he wouldn’t have to hear your pleas. The thought of him so unwilling to listen to you makes you whine through it all, needy and desperate and demanding as you hiccup and spew forth a litany of nonsense. “I w-was rude and - aaah, aah, oh fuck, Tomu-nii, I don’t wanna be punished! I want you to love me! Please, love me, n-nnhh-nii-san, please, I won’t do it again, I’ll be your good little girl and a-and I’ll never say no beca - aaahh! - because th-this pussy only belongs to my Tomu-nii - “

“Fuck!” 

A hand clamps over your mouth mid-rant. Tomura presses his lips to your ear as he struggles to control his breathing, pounding into you as he rasps through clenched teeth, “Shut up.” You whine and try to shake your head, but his hand locks your head in place with a firm grip. “Shut up,” he repeats. “You’ll make me come too fast, damn it.” 

Two fingers push past your lips and force their way to the back of your throat, dragging along your tongue and testing your resolve. You obediently suck the digits and curl your tongue to make them wet, thankful that Tomura had long since fucked the gag reflex out of you. Your muffled moans tease him as you push your hips back against every thrust, desperate to take all of him inside you, even if it hurt a little. 

Tomura pulls his fingers out of your mouth, and you are already holding your leg up as high as you can beneath the table to present your aching clit. The firm press of saliva-coated fingers to the stiff peak tears a wordless, silent cry from you, and when Tomura doesn’t even tease you, when he just keeps rubbing your clit in tight circles as his cock relentlessly splits you in two, you begin to babble all over again. 

“Thank you, Tomu-nii!” you whine, digging your nails into the switch. “Thank you, thank you, oooh - it feels so good! Aaah - nnh - I h-have the best nii-san in the world, I - I love the way you fuck me, nii-san, I love it so much!” 

“No one can fuck you like I can.”

“Never, n-nnh, I won’t let them - “

“I won’t let them,” he growls harshly. “I won’t let anyone touch what’s mine.”

Your cunt tightens at his possessive tone, pulsing and clenching as greedily as you needed him. His sweat clings to your equally filthy body, and a distant part of you hates the humidity building up beneath the kotatsu table, but you can only focus on the warmth coiling inside your body, the way your pussy grips his cock to keep him in, to trap him - 

“I’m going to come inside you,” Tomura rasped. “And you’re going to take it all.” 

“Yes, please - “ 

“And you’ll never say no to me again.” 

“Never! Never, never, I need you nii-san, I’ll always need you, e-even when I - when I don’t know it - nnnhh, nii-san, punish me more like this, make me yours!” 

Tomura chokes on his words, mouth open and drooling onto you, mindlessly jackhammering into your soft, overworked hole until the tightness explodes, uncoils, paralyzes you both with euphoric pleasure and leaves you completely wrung out. You moan as your pussy sucks on the cock buried deep inside, pressed into you without recourse and spitting thick ropes of come right up against your battered cervix. 

Neither of you move. Tomura has enough strength to drape his arm over you while he regains his ability to breathe. You stare ahead in a total daze, distantly realizing that you are still somehow holding onto your switch and ruining it with your sweaty palms. The horrors of bodily fluids coating your inner thighs is a problem you immediately resolve to deal with later. 

The house is eerily quiet. Tomura breathes through his nose, tickling the nape of your neck until he presses his forehead to your sweaty skin and nuzzles the itch away. 

You stare at the screen of your switch and suddenly fight the urge to throw it across the room. Tomura is right behind you. Your nii-san is cuddling up to you and all you are doing is staring at your reflection on the screen. A crushing feeling takes root in the pit of your stomach. It demands a conclusion to your dark desires and guides you to set the switch aside. 

Tomura’s hold on your waist tightens in defiance as you try to move. His cock is buried comfortably inside you, stirring to life in response to your wriggling. Loathe as you are to disconnect from him, your urge to face him is too strong to overcome. You twist around in his hold until he had no choice but to slip out of you. Before Tomura can voice his displeasure, you quickly shimmy out of your shorts and swing your leg over his thigh to sink back onto his cock with a satisfied sigh. His come oozes out of your stretched hole and makes a slick sound as he hilts himself deep inside your pussy, coaxing a mutual moan from you both as he palms your ass and gives it a slap. 

Reconnected once more. Nothing else matters. 

You remove your shirt and settle down beside him. Tomura stares at you, crimson eyes still darkened from residual pleasure. It brings a smile to your lips and makes his gaze flicker to your mouth. You tangle your fingers in his hair and kiss him, deep and incessant as you urge him closer and suck on his tongue to hear him moan. 

It is only natural for you to resume your perverted lovemaking. Your toes curl in pleasure as the slow drag of his cock parts your fleshy walls, the rhythmic grind of his hips dragging your clit against his crotch and quickly reigniting your need. 

Gripping his hair to pull him away from the kiss, you leave a mere hairsbreadth of space between your wet lips as you whisper, “You have my attention now, nii-san.“ 

His breath hitches, a quiet and vulnerable sound. Carefully, you guide him down as you arch your back and display your abused nipples. The pebbled buds are reddened and aching for proper attention. 

“They kinda hurt, you know,” you murmur petulantly. “Make me feel better.” 

Tomura follows the command like a man possessed, lavishing your breast with drooling licks and firm kisses before he pops the nipple into his mouth and sucks with just the right amount of soft pressure. His name trails on the end of a sigh as you rest your head on the pillow and hug him close, whispering all sorts of praises that keeps his mouth firmly suckling at your breast and his cock hitting you deeper. 

You find yourself on your back eventually. Tomura can barely fit into the space between you and the table, and it only urges him to rest his full weight on you as he snaps his hips against yours. Your legs escape the confines of the table and bend at the knee on either side of him, and even though the blanket still rests along your lower legs and across his back, you shamelessly revel in the chance to finally look down to see his thick cock pushing in and out of your cunt. The sight of it makes your mouth water, knowing that for every bit of come that had escaped and trickled down your ass, Tomura would make sure you fill you up again. 

The pace is somehow calmer. You cling to each other and share endless kisses in the midst of unhurried thrusts. It allows Tomura to regain some of his senses, and a question on the tip of his tongue finally escapes after you release a high-pitched moan. 

“Aren’t you worried someone is home?” he murmurs mid-kiss, and kisses you again instead of letting you answer. 

You giggle and lick his bottom lip. “Everyone left a while ago. I saw them leave.” Tomura pulls back at that. Not very far, just enough to throw you a mildly annoyed look. You merely smile up at him. “Don’t you think I would have been quieter if we weren’t alone?” 

Tomura pauses, thinks about a comeback, and promptly tosses it aside in favor of kissing that smirk off your face. You moan around his invasive tongue and roll your hips to meet his thrusts, fingers tenderly carding through his hair as he holds you possessively to him. 

[watermelonlipstick]

Dreams, Chapter 13

If you haven’t read this series before, you might want to start on Chapter 1, or check out the Dreams Masterlist! Here’s the series description:

When Dean dies for good leaving Sam and his girlfriend (the reader) behind, they must figure out how to carry on without him. Alone, reeling, and unsure what to do next, trying to honor Dean’s memory and follow their hearts gets even more complicated when their nightmares become dreams that feel a little too real.

Title: Dreams, Chapter 13

Pairing: (past) Dean Winchester x Reader, (eventual) Sam Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 1513

Summary: The reader has another dream with Dean, where he emphasizes how he feels in a variety of ways.

Warnings: angst, fluff, swearing, s l o w  b u r n, this section has a little smut, oblique mention of suicide

           The last lingering kids are leaving the other side of the playground as the golden hour streams through the trees, likely going home to their families for dinner and homework and whatever else normal kids do on fall afternoons like this. Sunlight seeps into your jeans even as the air has a touch of chill to it, and when you pump your legs the balance feels amazing.

           “What’re you, trying to go all the way around?” Dean laughs, looking impossibly overgrown in worn shit kickers on a swing meant for children next to yours. You throw your head back to laugh, feeling the wind through your hair as you soar past him. When the chains start to jump a little you back off, letting your momentum wind all the way down until you’re swaying back and forth lazily together. You reach over and slip your index into a new hole in the knee of Dean’s jeans. He links his fingers into yours loosely, play-coy. “You always did love these, you little minx.”

           “What can I say? I like as much of your skin as I can get.” You give him your best Dean Winchester wink and he bites his lip through a chuckle. For a long minute you sit just like that, feeling the warmth and calm soak into your pores. “What should I do, Dean?” you murmur.

           He swipes his thumb across the back of your hand. “He needs time. It’s going to be okay, I swear. You know Sam he’s just—he’s in his head.”

           You nod to yourself. “It’s that we’re happier, right? Is that how this works, how you can come be my Friendly Neighborhood Freddie Krueger, or whatever?”

           “The way Cas explained it was ‘closer to true serenity and self-realization’ so whatever the hell that means. You are, though, right? Happier?”

           Meeting his eyes made you feel even more relaxed, steady and reassured regardless of how bizarre it was to tell him, “Yeah, I really am. Dean, I—I miss you so bad it still sometimes feels like I’m going to puke. But yeah, I’m happier with Sam. I love him, baby.”

           Dean’s gaze goes fuzzy with affection around the edges. “Well, he’s pretty damn lovable. Runs in the family, what can I say?” He kisses the back of your hand. “Good.”

           “Good?”

           “It’s not a trap, babe. You’re still my girl.”

           “I love you.” It’s all you can say, all you can think, really. You watch his profile for a moment as he squints against the low afternoon sun, casting beautiful sunflower light over his freckles. “What happens if I don’t wake up?”

           “Your subconscious will kick me out and you’ll wake up automatically. I don’t think you can really control it.”

           “No, I mean, like, if I don’t wake up?”

           Dean turns toward you, jaw set hard and nostrils flared. “That’s not fucking funny.”

           He tries to pull his hand out of yours but you tighten your grip. “What’s the point though? If you’re, you know, okay, can’t we just—”

           “No, we ‘can’t just,’” he scowls. “All the bullshit I’ve done over the years to keep you two alive, but fuck it, who cares? Let’s throw in the towel, really make the whole thing worth it.”

           “I’m—Dean, it’s not that. I just don’t understand what we’re waiting for. It’s not like Sam and I are even hunting anymore, there’s no more ‘bigger purpose’ to our lives, why be separated—”

           “The ‘bigger purpose’ is you fucking being alive. That’s the bigger purpose. Forget it, off the fucking table.”

           “Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it’s not really your call.”

           Dean finally yanks hard enough to get his hand out of your grip and braces his elbows on his knees to hold his chin. The serious angles of his anger look out of place as he sways slightly, boots in the playground mulch where he sits on his swing. He looks back at you after taking a deep breath. “Kid, please. Just, please? I’m—that’s all I want, is you guys getting old, really getting out. I can’t have—I can’t have Sam’s whole life be only hunting, he deserves more than that.”

           You scoff, half a derisive laugh. “Making his decisions from beyond the grave, that’s good, even for you.”

           “Is it really that bad? All I’m asking you to do is wait. You’ll get here soon enough.”

           “Yeah, it really is. It really is that fucking bad. And honestly, who are you to ask me that? You’re not here, Dean. How can you ask us to do it without you?”

           “It’s not like you two are fucking here with me! Do you think I’m loving every minute of it, getting grapes fed to me by 1992 Pam Anderson all goddamn day? I’m alone. It’s heaven and I can, whatever, visit Bobby or our folks, get so blasted I can’t see and wake up with no hangover, but you two aren’t there. Do you get that? So I get some glimpses of you guys and I know you’re taking care of each other and I can fucking wait, because that’s the way things are supposed to be.”

           He’s trying hard to keep his voice level but it’s coming out like a growl, and you know him, know from that clench of his jaw that he’s barely keeping it together, on this stupid swing set in this stupid gorgeous park, whose attached memory you can’t even recall.

           “Hey,” you breathe, getting up out of your swing to stand in front of him, taking each of his hands and putting them around your hips as you slot one leg on either side of his waist and settle on his lap. This close you can practically count each of his eyelashes where they graze his cheekbones and you take one hand to tilt his face up to yours, your toes just barely grazing the ground behind him. “Okay. I’m sorry. Okay.” You curl forward into him, catching the plush of his lips and kissing Dean in apology. He snakes a hand into your hair, winding his fingers in it and kissing you back, and you feel the twinge of desperate frustration, meeting him there with everything you have, shifting all your weight onto his center of gravity and working as best you can to weld your body to his. Dean’s other hand slides to your lower back, under your shirt, the callused tips of his fingers digging into the skin and he’s just as hungry for you as you are for him, grabbing at his chest hard enough that you’re at risk of ripping his shirt, pink lines from your nails marking up Dean’s neck.

           The hand in your hair tugs back, firm enough to be rough, and the noise you make is halfway between a moan and a whimper as he bites your neck, the sound hardening Dean through the denim under you and then he’s tearing at your shirt, not bothering with the obstacle of your jacket at all as he tries to shuck both off at once.

           “We’re in a—Dean, we’re in a fucking playground,” you hiss, about two inches away from not caring.

           “Babe, it’s a dream, we’re not really in a park,” he mutters along your jugular, the moist slick of spit turning ice cold in the fall air.

           That’s all the permission you need and you lean back to let him rip, flicking open the metal of his belt buckle and button, unzipping his jeans. “Fuck—kid, careful with the zipper,” Dean grunts, diction poor as you bite his lower lip.

           “I don’t want—to wake—up—before—" you murmur though fevered motion, licking and nipping along Dean’s jaw, and the realization gets Dean with the picture. He stands up fast, picking you up and crushing you into the metal pole of the swing set, practically shredding your jeans as his start to slump around his hips, worn plaid of his boxers covering the fast-thickening length of him and you turn to lean your chest against the pole, ready for him before he spins you hard.

           “Need to see you,” he says, almost quiet and gentle as his hands are moving roughly against your body, and you see the touch of wetness at the base of his eyelashes while you try to stand on one leg and yank the other out of your pants as fast as you can.

           It’s sloppy and goofy and unbelievably, gut-punchingly hot, wrapping your bare thigh around Dean’s hips as he shove-slides inside you, his hand protecting your skull from getting rammed into the metal. “I love you I love you I love you” you’re humming into the crook of his neck and Dean kisses you again, slowing down.

           “I know, baby, I know,” he says, pace no longer frenzied but rhythmic and building.

           You press a palm to his chest and Dean pauses for a beat, stretch of him buried to the hilt so perfect it’s almost distracting but you still have to ask, “When am I going to s—”

           “Hopefully soon.”

           And then he’s gone.

-

Continue to Dreams, Chapter 14

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[i-call-me-clarence]

Life’s a Cemetery (Dig It)

Kevin and Jack get their hands dirty on grave duty. 

Rated G 

Suptober Day 6: Cemetery Boys

Fic below the cut

----

“You sure you’re good?” Dean asks for the third time. 

“Kevin is here, and if anything happens we have angel blades and silver bullets,” Jack answers, making a little wave motion at Kevin who’s silently asking him how much longer he’s going to be on the phone. Kevin rolls his eyes and goes back to leaning on his shovel, refusing to start digging until Jack joins him. Jack doesn’t want to keep him waiting any longer, “Dean, I’m sorry, but I have to--”

“And you’ve got the iron poker, right? And the holy water?”

“We still have everything in the pack you left us.” 

“But did you double-check? A real hunter always double checks, triple even--”

Before Jack can respond Kevin is taking the phone from Jack’s hands, “Believe it or not the ex-god and current prophet know what they’re doing. Bye.” and he hangs up the phone. 

Jack gives Kevin an apologetic shrug of his mouth as Kevin hands back the phone, slapping it into Jack’s hand. “He’s protective.”

“He’s turned into a helicopter parent. If I wanted that I’d just go back home.” 

“But that would put your mother at risk.” Jack tilts his head in confusion.

Kevin rolls his eyes and tosses Jack a shovel, “Come on. Let’s get this done before the sun goes down.” 

---

Three hours after sunset and they’re still digging. Jack started feeling lightheaded thirty minutes ago, and it’s gotten to the point where he needs to sit down. 

“I’m sorry, I have to--” Jack ends up thunking down on his butt before he can finish.

“Hey, are you okay?” Kevin asks warily, stopping his digging and leaning against his shovel, “Is the talisman wearing off or something?” 

“I--I don’t have a talisman,” Jack’s body is shaking and he’s starting to feel nauseous. Perhaps he should have listened to his body hours ago when it screamed at him to rest. But Kevin had kept going and he’d said he wouldn’t dig alone so…

“You don’t have an energy talisman?!” Kevin gaps at him and drops his shovel, “Are you kidding me?! You do realize you’re basically human now?” 

How could Jack forget? Being human was so difficult that it was impossible not to be reminded of it constantly. Even when he slept. He didn’t use to sleep as a Nephilim...or as God. But Amara’s taking care of that now. Letting Jack have a ‘normal childhood’ as she’d said. Something she was envious of and didn’t want Jack to miss. ‘Even Chuck let himself have one. After he invented the concept.’ when she’d told him that it was clear she was hiding a deep sadness. Jack had decided after his childhood was over, he’d take over as God again so she could have one too.  

“How are you even standing?!” 

“I’m...not.” 

Kevin looks at Jack, taking notice of the way he was starting to sway a little. Before cursing and getting down on his knees next to Jack. 

He grabs a hold of both sides of the necklace his talisman was supposedly attached to, “I’m going to regret this,” Kevin groans, before taking off the necklace and holding it out to Jack. A green light pulses from Kevin’s chest, swirling around his arm, before being sucked into the little medallion hanging from the golden chain in Kevin’s outstretched hand. 

Jack quickly takes the necklace, seeing the sudden strain in Kevin. As soon as he has it, Kevin lays back with a dull thud as his body hits the earth. 

“Oh my god,” he gasps, suddenly breathing very heavily. “Worst part about that talisman,” he pants, “After you take it off, you feel every bit of exertion. All at once. Oh, I’m gonna die.” 

Jack puts on the talisman and instantly feels better. Better than he’d felt since turning human. He wonders what would happen if you kept the necklace on all the time--

“And if you’re tingling from the charm and wondering ‘why can’t I wear this all the time,’” Kevin says in a deep mocking voice that sounded suspiciously like Dean, “Just look at me after five hours. Imagine a week, or even just a whole day.”

“It kills you?”

“It kills you.”

“I can finish this alone.” 

“Yeah, but first,” Kevin tried to sit up, grunting in pain, “Help me out of this damn hole.”

---

It had been an hour since Jack started digging by himself, making a grand total of eight hours. Just a constant monotony of stab scrape shovel. At least Jack felt pretty good with this talisman, and at least they were almost done. 

Stab, scrape, shovel. Stab scrape shovel. Stab--THUD!

Jack gasps in surprise, and Kevin leans over the opening of the hole to look down at Jack equally surprised, and elated. 

“Oh my god,” he laughs, falling back on the grass, “We finally did it,” Jack hears him say. And then he groans, “But now I have to move.”

“If I were still God I could read this. Or create new eyes that could,” Jack notes, scrapes the remaining dirt off the coffin with his hands. 

“If you were still God we probably wouldn’t even need this spell. And if we did, you could just teleport the tome out without all this bullshit.” 

A reneged sector of angels, lead by the angel Inias, had decided to declare war on all remaining prophets. They thought they could use them to find a way to spy on Amara and overthrow her from, well, Goddesshood. This was the grave of a prophet, and inside was a tome they were buried with that held a spell to make prophets invisible to angels and demons. Probably how she lived long enough to die of old age. At first Jack had been sad, thinking this would mean he wouldn’t get to see Kevin anymore. But Sam said he was pretty sure that he could rework the spell so any angels or demons that gave of their blood in the ceremony would be able to still see prophets. 

Jack hopes so.

Kevin leans his head over the grave again, wincing. “Wow, now that you’ve uncovered it, those sigils are really bright.” 

Jack agrees, though what seemed like blue glowing sigils to them wouldn’t appear at all to normal humans.

Jack opens his mouth to say so but is cut off by his phone ringing in his pocket.

“Is that Dean again?” Kevin asks tersely. 

Jack checks the caller ID and nods.

“Hand it here,” Kevin says, lunging his arm forward and down.

Jack hands over the phone and Kevin rolls back over with it, out of sight.

“Dean?” Jack hears him say. “Bring burgers and water.” A pause where Kevin must have been about to hang up because he says, “Oh, and get your asses over here.” and Jack hears a beep from the call ending. 

“Here you go,” Kevin dangles his arm over into the grave, phone in hand.

-----

They eat inside the impala--Kevin mostly chugs water at first--with the engine idling and cabin lights on. Kevin and Jack are both filthy, but Dean doesn’t mind. ‘Part of bein’ a Hunter’ he’d said. Back in the old times, Cas or Jack would clean everybody up. But seeing as they were both human now, he and Kevin were doomed to be dirt-covered.

“How did it go?” Castiel asks from the front seat, mouth half full of burger, “You didn’t run into any problems?” Castiel had been wearing his regular suit before he’d left but was now wearing a space cats hoodie he’d gotten for himself when he took Jack to Hot Topic. He must have brought it with him in the car.

Kevin stops chugging water to answer, “No ghouls, no cops, no cemetery keepers or grieving loved ones, though that last one would be unlikely seeing as she was buried three hundred years ago. Where’s my burger?”

“Got you four,” Dean grins and waggles his eyebrows. 

“I may just be able to eat that many.”

“Yeah and I’ll finish whatever you don’t. That goes for everybody.” Dean continues.

“Didn’t you just get back from a dinner date?” Kevin asks suspiciously, “Actually, if you didn’t, don’t answer, I don’t wanna know.”

“We did just get back from dinner…” Cas starts slowly. “It was, uh...fancy.” 

“Too fancy,” Dean grumbles.

“Ah. Small portion sizes.” Kevin nods, but then pauses, “Aren’t you supposed to have fifteen courses or something?”

“Yeah well, we got a call three courses in to deliver some emergency burgers.” Dean shrugs, “Prefer the burgers anyway.” 

“Jack, are you wearing an amulet?” 

Jack jerks as he realizes he forgot to take it off, “Uh oh,” he says, setting down his burger. “I think I’ve made a mistake.”

“What’s happening?” Dean asks looking around the cabin, panicked.

“Jack left an energy talisman on too long.” Cas sighs, looking sorry.

“Ohoho buddy,” Dean says into the air,  smiling but also looking kind of sorry too, and even more so when he meets Jack’s eyes. He pauses. “Yeah bud, uh, that’s gonna be a bitch to take off.” He frowns.

Jack grabs the golden chain--

“Woah, man, what are you doing?” Kevin gasps after having grabbed Jack’s arm and stopping him from taking off the talisman. 

“Will it kill me?” Jack asks everybody, suddenly nervous.

“Well, no,” Dean begins, winces, “It’s just gonna hurt like a bitch.”

“Then shouldn’t I get it over with?” Jack asks, confused.

“You might pass out,” Castiel warns gently.

“You’re probably gonna wanna go with the passing out,” Kevin says, putting a bracing arm on Jack’s shoulder “It’ll suck less.”

Kevin nods at him and Jack takes that as a sign it’s time to take the talisman off. He lifts the chain up and off, and then something strange happens. 

A green light swirls from both Jack and Kevin’s chests and swirls into the amulet. 

Both of them double over. 

“Woah! You kids alright?” Dean asks, lunging a hand over the backseat to touch Jack’s back, as Castiel quickly spins out of the car and back in at Kevin’s door, holding him up, checking his eyes and tongue, he goes to stick his finger in Kevin’s ear to take his temperature before remembering he can’t do that anymore. 

“Kevin? Are you okay? Jack! Jack, are you okay?” Castiel asks urgently.

“Goddammit,” Kevin sighs, “Twice in one night, oh man I’m really gonna die.” then he looks at Castiel before reassuring, “Really, it wasn’t that bad.” Kevin turns to Jack, “How do you feel?”

“...Not that bad,” he answers truthfully.

“Hot damn.” Dean is smiling, leaning back into his seat, “Well now we know that’s a thing!” 

“It could potentially save lives,” Castiel agreed. “I’ll have Sam tell the other hunters...though this may just be a situational occurrence between a prophet and a Nephilim. Who knows really.”

“It was still pretty cool,” Dean defends. 

Castiel gets back into the car. 

“And I’m not denying that. Why do you always jump to conclusions?”

“What are you talking about ‘always?’” Dean grunts back and starts up the car, pulling out of the cemetery parking lot.

Kevin and Jack tune Dean and Cas out. 

“That was pretty cool,” Kevin says.

“Yeah,” Jack frowns, looking at his friend. “We’re going to perform the ceremony when we get back.” This may be one of the last times he ever sees or hears him again.

Kevin puts a hand on Jack’s shoulder, “It’s going to be okay. Even if we have to do it by proxy for a little while, I won’t stop being your friend. Okay?” 

Jack smiled, putting a hand on Kevin’s shoulder too, which may have been weird or awkward but seemed like the thing to do. 

Kevin smiles at Jack before patting his shoulder and saying “I’m going to pass out now.” 

Jack nods and Kevin immediately drops his head back onto his seat and starts snoring. 

Jack leans back in his own seat, feeling exhausted as well. Dean and Cas have stopped arguing and put the radio on low, laughing at j=okes here and there as they talk softly. 

The running engine and metronome light of street lamps going by, and the familiar classic rock playing all seemed to be in some sort of competition with who could lull Jack to sleep first. The sound of the impala won. 

The End

[knchins]

Symbiosis - Benimaru & Joker

Summary: Benimaru, Joker, and a former Sister learn how to work through their frustrations with their investigation into the Holy Sol Temple through the one thing they know best: sex.

Pairing: Benimaru Shinmon x Fem!Reader x Joker

Rating: E

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: pwp (I didn't even try this time lmao), spanking, vaginal sex, oral sex, dirty talk/degradation, some dob/sub themes, hair pulling, face fucking. I do not count this as dp but some people might. SPIT ROASTING.

Notes: So I wrote this for @tamcitrus and I hope she likes it! It’s like my most self indulgent piece to date probably lol. Idk how I managed to write this while being barely able to breathe but when the inspo strikes what can you do....First FF/ENS piece! I think they may be a bit OOC but...whatever I’m too sick to care.,

 “So will you join me, Sister?” The mysterious man asked as he puffed on a cigarette. You stared off at the nighttime skyline, at the temple in the very far eastern horizon. Was this something you really wanted to do? It would be dangerous, but you could sense the power coming from him. Not only that, he had already enlisted the help of the Captain of the 7th, Benimaru Shinmon. It wasn’t as if you’d be taking on the church all by yourself.  

 Your mind drifted as the King of Destruction peppered kisses down your bare throat. The mission with Joker hadn’t been entirely successful. In the end they were met with Captain Burns who handed you a journal that belonged to the wife of Raffles I. While it was true you did come up with some new theories about the White Clad, ultimately it felt like a dead end. Now you just had more questions than answers and it was incredibly frustrating.

 But you weren’t the only one frustrated. Your two new comrades had been too. Eventually you had found a way to relieve the tension that had built up over so many years of bullshit. Having been an orphan and raised as a Sister for the Holy Sol Temple, you had plenty of ill will harbored against the empire. You had long abandoned your title but that didn’t stop the two men from egging you on by calling you by it.

 Currently the former assassin was watching through a half-lidded eye as you sat in Benimaru’s lap, your back to his chest as he kissed along your neck and cupped both breasts in his hands. You were already stripped down to your underwear, both men clad in only pants and briefs. Joker tended to observe first before joining in, enjoying taking his time watching the view of Beni turn you on and work you over. Small trails of smoke rose from the lit white stick of tobacco that hung from his mouth.

 “You look so pretty like that, Sister.” He drawled, inhaling another wave of smoke that filtered out of his nose. “You like when he plays with your tits don’t you?”

 “Don’t call me that,” You protested weakly in a voice that came out as more of a moan than a grumble as Beni began to tweak your nipples between his thumb and forefinger. You began to wiggle in his lap, ass brushing against his stiffening cock in a way that had him biting down on your shoulder possessively.

 The cotton panties you had been wearing were soaked all the way through between your legs. This stupid little routine always had you mewling and crying before anyone even bothered touching your needy cunt. Beni enjoyed torturing you too much and Joker enjoyed watching him do it. You had known in the beginning being the only woman in the trio would put you at a disadvantage. You just didn’t know how much.

 “Waka, please.” You gasped as he bit down on your throat this time, sucking a bruise into the skin there. One of your hands moved to try and touch your clit for some form of relief, but he warned you by warming up his hands rapidly. It wasn’t enough to burn you but it was enough to let you know that he would if you didn’t play by his rules. “Asshole.” You hissed, pulling your hand back up to a safe distance. You reached behind him and grabbed a fistful of his hair, tugging it angrily.

 Beni quickly pushed you onto the tatami mat on the floor roughly, holding the back of your head in one hand, pressing your face against the material as he lifted your hips up with the other. He began to grind his erection against the wet fabric of your underwear, seething as he ripped down your underwear so that you were completely bare for the both of them.

 He took no time in slapping your ass in retaliation for pulling on his hair. “Impatient little slut.” He growled, causing you to clench with desire. The way his deep voice reverberated in the small room made you even wetter.

 Joker was laughing lightly at the scene. It was pretty typical for you to piss Beni off. And the cute little squeaks you let out as the captain spanked you was just even more delectable than your moans. He finally stood, dropping his pants and underwear at the same time as he knelt before you. Beni took his hand off the back of your head so you could lift up enough for Joker to grab you by the hair and pull you up onto your hands.

 He always had an affinity for fucking your warm wet mouth. Something about choking you on his dick felt better than either your pussy or ass. It was definitely his preferred hole, not that Benimaru minded. It was easier to punish you if he had total control of your lower half. You could hear Beni remove himself from the rest of his clothing as well.

 At the feeling of his blushed head pressing into your folds, you began to protest. “Beni, you have to-” You couldn’t even finish your sentence as Fifty-Two plunged his dick into your open mouth.

 “How many times do I have to tell you, Sister,” Benimaru spat out. “Only good girls get warm ups.” Then he pushed his impressively large cock into your small hole, filling you up and stretching you out with a familiar but still painful burn.

 Your cries were garbled by the dick in your mouth. Joker was still, watching the different emotions cross your face: panic, surprise, pain, pleasure. The last one had your jaw slackening for him drool rolling off your lower lip as tears threatened to spill from your eyes. Despite the initial discomfort, there was no greater pleasure in this life than the Captain’s cock being buried balls deep into your soaking pussy.

 “This is what you wanted, right little slut?” Beni asked, smacking you one last time as he slowly pulled out and rammed back in, forcing you to lurch forward and deep throat the man in front of you.

 You gagged, making Joker laugh at your expense. “I’m pretty sure that’s what she wanted.” He said, given your hair a gentle pull. You struggled to breathe, tears rolling from the corners of your eyes reflexively. You tried to back away from him to give yourself some sort of relief, walls clamping down tight on Benimaru behind you. He let out a small groan at the sensation, though he didn’t budge as you tried to push back on him.

 “If only the Sisters that raised you could see you now. Choking on the dick of Holy Sol Temple’s number one enemy. I bet you’d get off that too, wouldn’t you, Sister?” Joker asked as he pulled his hips back enough to allow you to breathe. You shot him a pitiful glare at the taunt, grabbing his bare thigh and digging your nails into it angrily. They always loved to tease you when you were in no position to defend yourself. It could be so annoying.

 The pain of your nails tearing at his skin was about on the same level as an insect bite. It was really insignificant to him, and therefore it didn’t cause him to correct his actions. He simply tightened his grip on your hair.

 Beni started to move in and out of you at a quick and relentless place. Though he had been kind enough to let you adjust to his size, he wasn’t a total monster. He only started doing with his regular rhythm when he started to feel you relax around him. The muffled moans spilled from your mouth as your eyes rolled back. Any time he fucked you from behind he was always able to hit that sweet stop with his cockhead, the one that had you weak in the legs and gripping him dear life.

 Both men highly enjoyed the sounds of you sputtering and crying for more, your words a garbled mess due to Joker’s length plowing into you at a matching speed. The first few times you three had indulged in one another, the rhythms were out of sync and almost awkward. But now, they had the routine down pat. They knew how the other one worked and could easily find the best way to compliment the other’s thrusts. This had Beni pushing in while Joker was pulling out and you stayed as still as you possibly could so that you wouldn’t impale yourself on either of them in a painful manner.

 It felt like the pinnacle of symbiosis. Everyone works together for their own gain but not at the expense of the other. In the end no one would be left out or at a loss. You’d have to remember to thank Joker later for gathering the three of you together.

 Beni let out a curse as he increased his pace, using one hand to push locks of sweaty hair from his eyes. Sometimes he was convinced that your body had been made for him. He fit inside of you like a hand in a perfectly tailored glove. The gentle squeeze of your kegels anytime he or Joker did something you found particularly pleasurable, whether it was tugging on your hair, slapping your ass, or degrading you with their words, just made him feel so damn good.

 Any time he was buried in you, regardless of which hole it was, he always became devoid of any rational thought. The sex consumed all of you, the tension releasing with the exertion of their hips. Infiltrating the temple, investigating Hajima, life had just become so stressful lately. This was the only time any of you could truly just let go.

 That familiar tight coil was winding itself up in your lower abdomen, the pressure building with every thrust as you took deep breaths through your nose. “Ahh, Sister,” Joker said through heavy breaths, “You better be a good girl and not swallow right away.”

 Of course you knew what he meant, the way his thrusts became a little less in sync with Beni’s and a little more arrhythmic as he chased after his orgasm. He was the first to come, filling your mouth and throat with warm white seed. He pulled away, still holding onto your hair as you stuck out your covered tongue to show him, the white liquid spilling onto the mat beneath you as you were pounded from behind. Your moans were no longer muffled and were loudly filling the small room. No doubt other members of squad seven could hear you, not that you card any more. Konro was probably just shaking his head at his captain’s antics.

 “Now swallow.” Joker instructed as he sat back on his heels. Your tongue retracted into your mouth and you swallowed every last drop that hadn’t fallen from your mouth. The blissed out look on your face was almost enough to make him hard again, your whimpers as you neared your peak, the needy look in your eyes. Nothing else mattered in this moment but the release.

 You came with another loud cry, collapsing onto your chest as your arms gave out beneath you. Benimaru worked you through it, his balls slapping against your clit had you shaking and sobbing at the overstimulation. A moment later he was filling you up with his own seed, gobs of it gushing out around the base of his cock and onto your folds.

 Joker moved to watch him pull out of you slowly so he could observe the gaping, leaky hole. He let out a low whistle at the sight. “Latom,” He said jokingly, folding his hands in prayer as Beni guided your hips down onto the ground.  Benimaru rolled his eyes at his partner in crime, making sure to soothe the bruise skin of your ass with his rough hands.

 “Get some rest, Sister.” Benimaru said solemnly as he got redressed. “Our investigation resumes tonight.”

 You let out a low groan at the reminder, having totally forgotten that you were going back to Hajima headquarters to try and gather more information. “Fine, just let me take a nap first.” You grumbled sleepily. You couldn’t see the soft smile on his face as he glanced at Joker who nodded back in a silent response.

 Benimaru maneuvered you to his futon with Joker’s help, covering you with a blanket so you could rest in peace. Then in a few hours it would be business as usual.

[seacottons]

steel heart: — [ soulmate au ]

pairing: kang yeosang x reader

wc: 5k

genre: trash

notes: some swearing. set in wave-era. the early 90s? this was supposed be a long, slow-burn kinda fic, but in my defense i suck ass at strangers-to-lovers, so. yes. not proofread bc idc.

summary: yeosang took joy in pickpocketing all of the naive tourists in town, until he realized he stole his soulmate’s wallet.

The pads of your fingers gently brushed along the row of cat food cans, your orbs flickering to each one as you squinted in concentration. Picking a can up, you observed it curiously and failed to notice a shadow loom over your figure from behind. A hand grasping a can above your head startled you, and you swiftly turned to glare at the person invading your personal bubble.

The stranger paid you no mind as he walked away, can in one hand and skateboard in the other. You scoffed, opting to silently glare holes into his back before turning around to continue your search, vehemently spitting out, "Rude jerk."

After filling your cart with all the necessities, you made yourself over to the checkout. You fished for your wallet from your bag, brows furrowing in confusion whilst failing to locate it. You were absolutely certain you didn't leave it at home.

Your felt your stomach practically drop at the memory of the man, head snapping up to glance around your surroundings frantically. Was he still here? Had he taken it? Had you accidentally dropped it somewhere in the store?

With an embarrassed smile, you hastily explained your situation to the unamused cashier and excused yourself to take a look around the store. Half an hour ticked by, and you're sure you've looked through every aisle about three times each, but your wallet was nowhere to be seen.

And to think your new life here was sailing smoothly.

Trudging back home begrudgingly, you made a silent note about the man's appearance. It didn't help that you only caught a glimpse of his backside, but you only had chestnut brown hair and a skateboard to work with. It wasn't much, but it was something at least.

"Don't give me that look," you scolded your cat gently, "I'll bring you tuna another day."

The gray feline gave you a blank stare before curling against the windowsill.

In all the days he's lived, Yeosang thinks today is most likely his worst. He pays no mind to the scrambling and angry Seonghwa, who is trudging around the house with an apron and gloves, grumbling (read: yelling) to himself about how the place looks like 'a disgusting man-cave that even a pig would be ashamed of'. Sure, the coffee table and kitchen were always littered with half-drunk, chipped coffee mugs, used tissues, torn magazines, San's cat treats, and random phone chargers, but in all honesty, it wasn't that bad.

Also, Yeosang had a major headache, and Seonghwa's nagging really didn't do anyone any favor. And quite frankly, he didn't give a rat's ass; He had other important matters to attend to.

"Wow," a loud laugh rings throughout the large living room, "You've royally fucked up this time, haven't you?"

"Who fucked up?" Mingi asks from the kitchen. He carefully stirs a pot of noodles while his blue haired companion stares impatiently from over his shoulder. If the lack of hygiene didn't kill them, it'll be the sodium instead. That, or San's crumb-filled, backwash water bottles.

"Yeosang fucked up," Wooyoung replies in amusement at his friend's dismay. The brunette picks his head up and gives the laughing boy a menacing look.

"Shut up," he grumbles, a hand running through his locks in frustration, "They don't need to know."

"What don't we need to know?"

As if on cue, a redhead plops down onto the sofa beside Wooyoung and a snickering San. There's some suspicion in the tone of his voice, and Yeosang doesn't like it. Hongjoong peers at the two in question, his eyes then studying the look of betrayal on Yeosang's features.

The brunette bristles angrily from his spot, "Don't say it-"

"Yeosang apparently stole a wallet," Jongho mumbles quietly from his spot on the floor. He squints in concentration at the word puzzle below him, not paying the older boys any mind.

Hongjoong quirks a brow, not quite understanding, "Okay? But doesn't he do that daily? What's the problem?"

Yeosang shifts his annoyed glare to the giggling San.

"Apparently, the wallet belongs to his soulmate," San smiles deviously, quickly snatching the brown leather item from the coffee table to showcase to Hongjoong, "See? Same birthmark and all."

Hongjoong's eyes widen as he assesses the identification card within the wallet, his jaw going slack.

Mingi noisily slurps his noodles while entering the living room, Yunho trailing behind him not too long after, "Oh, wow. Yeosang really did fuck up this time," he says with a mouthful of noodles. He and the blue haired male share a look of amusement, before both erupting into fits of laughter.

The brunette dropped his head once more into the safety of his arms, shoulders slumping in defeat at the sound of the other boys' laughter, "Why me?"

Another week and another paycheck later, you finally had enough for a recent trip to the market. You peered down at your work attire, grimacing at the embarrassing sight of red sauce stains. It'll be a quick run, so maybe nobody will take notice.

Grabbing a few cans of cat food and other items, you grimaced at the heavy weight of the hand cart straining your muscles. You sighed gently, turning to walk into another aisle when a blur of man invaded your vision. A heavy weight sent you flying to the floor, the items in your cart spilling and rolling down the aisle as the stranger groaned atop of your frame.

"Shit, I'm sorry-"

Your mind took a few extra seconds to process just exactly what occurred, and when you blearily took note of the flipped skateboard to your left and the mop of brown hair invading your vision.

A pair of wide eyed brown eyes met your own, and you silently gaped at the handsome stranger sprawled on top of you. You gaze at him as if you truly saw the sun for the first time, utterly captivated by the way his eyes widen ever so slightly. Swallowing thickly at the close proximity and the soft puffs of his breath fanning your burning face, you study his features intently, "Oh, wow.. you're.."

You really don't think you've ever seen a man as handsome-

You suddenly gasped.

"You!"

The man hastily sat up, eyes wide and mouth agape as he wordlessly took in your disheveled appearance. Before he had the chance to open his mouth for an apology, you fisted the collar of his shirt, pulling him closer to assert dominance, "You took my wallet, didn't you?"

Instead of replying, he casually brushed the hair from your face and leaned forward to gaze at your left eye, his own widening at the sudden sight. You hastily slapped his hand away with a scoff of disbelief, "What in the hell do you think you're doing?"

"Your birthmark.."

He suddenly snapped out of his train of thought, eyeing you in mild amusement while digging into his back pocket for an item. When you caught sight of the familiar brown leather of your wallet, you released a gasp of disbelief, giving him an accusatory look of anger, "I knew it!"

"I was looking for you actually- to return it," he curtly started, brows quirking up as you quickly snatched it from his hands. He gives you a brief glance, a glint of amusement in his eyes, before he stands and offers you a hand, to which you stubbornly ignore. You hurriedly stand and save the small crumb of dignity you have left. You quickly study the inside of your wallet, brows knitting in confusion at the untouched money.

"Cut the bullshit," you scoffed, dusting your uniform and shooting him an unamused stare, "You stole it—" you blinked down at the skateboard before returning your hard stare at the male, "Who even rides that thing inside- I- nevermind."

You ignored his attempt at helping you pick up your items off the floor, defensively snatching the canned goods from his hands, "I don't need your help! You've done more than enough!"

"I'm Yeosang," he hesitantly offered his hand. He towered over your frame with an awkward smile.

"Yeah? And I don't care," you grumbled, turning away to saunter off to the cashier. The smile instantly vanished from his features, and he reached over to grasp your elbow.

"Wait-" he calls after you, "Give me a minute to explain!" He tugs you back, and you nearly stumble against his chest.

In all fairness, you've just found the thief who stole your wallet, and you quite frankly don't think he deserves any form of respect whatsoever.

You attempt to wrench your arm from his grasp, but he only tightens his grip with a determined expression on his flushed face.

"You have five seconds to let go of me, or else."

The fumes of Hongjoong's nail polish in the air and an obnoxious splutter of laughter greeted him once he stepped foot inside the large home. Why did he ever agree to live with seven other monsters?

His brow twitched in annoyance.

Three heads from the living room turned to gaze questioningly at the frustrated brunette.

"What the hell happened to you?" wheezed an amused Wooyoung from the sofa. Yeosang wanted to wipe that stupid smile off his face and-

"I take it things didn't go well for lover boy," San grinned from the floor, hands occupied with running along his cat's fur.

"Got his ass handed to him by his soulmate, you think?" Jongho added casually whilst adjusting his posture and clicking away at the remote. The other two snorted with amused laughter.

"Aren't soulmates supposed to be infatuated with each other at first sight?"

"I don't know, San. Maybe Yeosang's case is special."

"I mean, he did steal-"

"Can you three please just shut up," he seethes, rummaging through the freezer for a bag of frozen vegetables. He simply walks past Yunho's confused form in the hallway, grumbling about how he doesn't want to talk about it.

You thought you had seen the last of that pest, but the very next day, you practically choked at the sight of the male walking into the coastal cafe you worked at.

"What are you doing here!?"

"Y/n, wait-" he grimaced, hands raising up defensively, "Give me a minute to explain."

He even had the audacity to dodge your question.

"How do you know my-" you gave him a puzzled look, before your expression darkened, "Oh. Right. You stole my wallet, of course you snooped through my ID."

He gave you an awkward smile, shrugging his shoulders nonchalantly, "I forgive you for giving me a black eye."

He notices your dumbfounded look.

"Huh. I don't recall ever apologizing to you," you begin, "And I never told you where I work, either. You've been stalking me, haven't you?"

"No. You were wearing the uniform of this place yesterday actually," he points a matter-of-factly. Clearing his throat, he peered around, thankful at the lack of customers this early in the morning, "I uh.. I think- I think you're my soulmate."

You pause your ministrations.

"Come again?"

Rolling his eyes, he sighs, shoulder slumping as he repeats himself whilst pointing to his left eye, "I think we're soulmates. You and I share the same birthmark and-"

A loud laugh escaped your lips, "You are most definitely not my soulmate. Birthmark or not," you turned to assemble utensils and napkins, fully disregarding his presence, "I'm not interested in thieves. Now if you'll leave me alone, I have some work to do."

"But you felt a connection too, didn't you? Yesterday, in the market-" he drawled in amusement, leaning over the countertop in a teasing manner, "I know you feel it when you look at me."

"The only thing I feel when I look at you is a mind-splitting headache," you grumble while adjusting the radio station to your liking.

A minute of silence passes. His face scrunches in distaste.

"What on earth is that insufferable noise?"

"That's called rock music." You roll your eyes, "Now leave me alone."

You take sudden interest in the dirty speckle you find on one spoon, and maybe if you stare hard enough at it, he'll disregard you and leave.

Your head perks at the sound of a chair dragging against the floor.

"Serve me."

"What the hell did you just say?" you spluttered belligerently, turning around with a look of pure disbelief. Your eye twitched at the sight of him taking a seat so casually on one of the booth chairs. "You think you're so funny, don't you?"

"I honestly don't, but—" He studied you with humor in his eyes, his fingers drumming along the wooden countertop, "my friends say that I am."

"I don't know who you think you are, but you-"

"A customer."

"Oh, piss off," you give up and turn to continue wrapping pairs of utensils together, "I'm not serving you."

"Is everything alright there, y/n?" called the tiny, elderly lady from the back, "Do we have a customer already?" Your head turns to eye the small, gray-haired woman exiting the kitchen, "Oh! A handsome fellow. What would you like to drink, young lad?"

Your eyes widen and your heart nearly drops to the floor.

Your orbs turn to slits as Yeosang gives you a sleazy smile, "Coffee for now, actually."

The poor napkin crumples into a wrinkly mess in your fist.

Oh, this bastard. This slimeball. You'll make him pay.

"Y/n! Take the man's order and start brewing the coffee!"

"Yes, Mrs. Lee!" You turned back to give the brunette a sour look, "The faster you order, the faster you'll leave. So what the hell do you want?"

The next day was much busier than the last.

You're particularly disturbed by the way two males stare at you like deer in headlights every time you pass by their table. They're young looking, maybe around your age. Kind of handsome, too- but they really don't know how to be discreet in the slightest.

Tired of the staring, you pause suddenly, giving them a look of concern as they suddenly dart their eyes and find extreme interest in the salt and pepper shakers in between them, "Is everything alright here?"

For a moment, they stay quiet.

"You're fine," the black haired one replies with a delirious smile, his head resting in his palm. He startles as the blonde elbows him in the side with a harsh whisper of Wooyoung!, and he jumps upright, back stiff and voice growing louder, "Uh! I- uh, I mean- it's fine! Everything is fine!"

"Okay.." you slowly draw out with furrowed brows.

The blonde grimaces in embarrassment, shielding his face with his hand as he looks off to the side in shame, "Can you at least try not to embarrass us?"

"In my defense, Yeosang never said his soulmate was that hot in person!? I could've used a warning, y'know?"

The bell on the door jingles and immediately catches your attention. You walk to the front with a smile only for it to instantly fall at the sight of the familiar mop of brown hair.

"Not you.." you sigh, your head in your hand as you stare in dismay out the window, "Why does the universe hate me?"

"Why are you complaining?" He quipped back with a playful bite, "Weren't you the one staring at me all day yesterday?"

"I was making sure you weren't going to steal anything," you narrowed your eyes at his growing smirk. He leans over the flaky, wooden podium and simpers at the sight of your panic stricken face, "Stop, you look like a creep."

"I know a liar when I see one," he sighed with a shake of his head. Reaching over to pluck out a stray fuzz of dust from your hair, he shoots you a determined frown, "The only thing I'm ever going to steal from here is your heart."

"I- that's kind of gross. Flirting is against the law on these premises," you stutter out, brows furrowing and nose flaring. You refuse to give in to his flirtatious remarks. You're also thankful the podium conceals your wobbly legs.

"Who the hell made that stupid rule?"

"Me. Now what do you want?"

"Such welcoming service skills you have there," he mumbles sarcastically with a roll of his eyes.

"Let me guess. You want chicken and a soda, right?"

Across the room, the two boys shared a quick look before one leaned over to whisper in the other's ear. They both nod in unison, before throwing you knowing grins and snorting as they munched quietly on their food.

"Correct," he says with a steady cold voice, "And a body-bag if you have any, please."

Before you processed his words, he sauntered off to the table of the two boys, their complexions paling at the sudden angry demeanor of the brunette. His hands quickly reach forward to tug both of their ears as he quietly berates them.

"I told you not to come here!" he ignores the way Wooyoung laughs and whines in protest as he's practically pulled off his seat by his ear.

"We're not doing anything! We're just eating!"

"Eating my ass, you're-"

"Oh, gross. I'm not gonna do that. Maybe you should ask y/n-"

You and other patrons stop to gaze at the commotion at the back of the cafe, and you roll your eyes at the disturbance, before walking back over to another table to collect the money and bill.

A few minutes pass and kitchen bell rings. You look back to see the fried chicken plate steaming on the countertop, along with a large glass of bubbling soda.

The duo discreetly peek up to stare at your form, only to startle at the unwavering glare from Yeosang.

"Fried chicken and a large coke?"

"Mhm," Yeosang meets your eyes, and you internally pester yourself at the sensation of your cheeks and ears flaming. How absolutely dare he make your stomach churn like this, "Thanks, y/n."

"Say, y/n. Are you new to these parts? I wouldn't forget a pretty face like yours if I saw one," mused the black haired male. Yeosang threw a hard stare at the younger, and the latter shrunk a bit in his seat, the same mischievous smile unwavering on his features.

"I moved here about a month ago," you stated simply. A moment ticks by and the trio argue in a hushed manner.

"Well, we'll take our leave now!"

"Good luck, Yeosang!" the blonde called out suddenly, throwing a thumbs up in the air whilst hastily making their way out of the cafe, the little bell signaling their departure.

His eyes glance at you momentarily, before he clears his throat and looks away.

Your eyes narrow suddenly at the brown haired man.

"You're paying for their lunch, right?"

He chokes on a bite of his chicken.

"Where are you going?"

"Out," Yeosang says hurriedly, fingers stumbling as he attempts to tie his laces.

"Where?" presses Wooyoung with a large smile.

Yeosang doesn't reply and instead throws open the coat cabinet to look around for his ripped, acid-wash jacket.

"Guys! Yeosang's treating us at y/n's cafe!"

Excited jeers come from some of the rooms, and Yeosang can only stare in utter horror and disbelief at his best friend.

Today was definitely going to be the worst day of his life.

A week passes by, and you suddenly catch yourself feeling almost disappointed that Yeosang hadn't come to visit you.

You want to slap yourself for having such thoughts, and take out your frustrations by wiping one of the tables aggressively.

And the bastard was spot on about that stupid feeling you got in the pit of your stomach at the mere thought of him.

But, you were keen on wanting nothing to do with him.

Not after the trouble he put you through.

Soulmate or not.

Besides, he was technically a criminal. Sort of.

He had a charming smile though. And really pretty lips.

And maybe you found him to be the most handsome man you've-

"He's not handsome!" You blurted to your reflection on the wet table. A table of customers feet away pause their conversation and give you a look of bewilderment.

"Uh," a voice pipes from a few feet away, "Table for eight, please?"

Your heart suddenly leaps at the familiar voice and thw corners of your lips perk up in happi-

Pausing, you internally scold yourself for being unable to conceal your excitement.

This stupid attraction you had towards him left your mind scrambling for coherent thoughts- and curse that feeling of your stomach doing back flips. You fight the urge to punch your gut to rid yourself of that disturbing sensation.

You internally groan, not even bothering to turn around to know who had just spoken. You stand up straight, clearing your throat and awkwardly folding the wet towel in your hands. Yeosang stood at the entrance, an unamused expression on his face as the other seven behind him nosily peered over each other's shoulders to spare you a curious glance.

"Uh," you begin, looking back at the empty tables, "You can sit right here. I'll go grab some menus."

As the eight men made their way to the table, you overheard one laugh loudly to the others, "Wooyoung was right! Y/n is pretty cu-"

A jerk underneath the table and loud yelp caught your attention, and you instantly threw Yeosang a look as the other boys timidly settled in their seats. He caught your gaze and rolled his eyes.

Oh, the nerve he had.

And to think you actually missed his presence.

You learned that the seven other boys were a loud bunch, often saying something to fluster and piss off the brunette. Especially when you were in earshot. And, sweet heavens, they can eat.

Your arms were practically sore from the amount of times you walked back and forth carrying their orders.

You watched as Yeosang finished with his meal and leaned against the adjacent wall, arms crossed in annoyance and face turned to the side to stare out of the window. Your eyes study the others before flickering back at him, and you can’t help but feel a small, knowing tug of want in your chest. You instantly straighten up at the thought, shaking your head in dismissal, before walking over to collect some of the empty plates.

"Would any of you like some dessert?"

A blue haired man wiggled his brows.

"Yeosang wants some, isn't that right-"

Another kick and another glare.

"Actually, we'll just have four cheesecakes if you don't mind."

Ah. Finally. A decent, well-mannered being really does exist.

You can immediately discern that the red-headed man, despite being the smallest, held a leader-like aura to himself, given how the other boys suddenly fell quiet when he spoke. They look amongst each other and nod in agreement.

When the boys wrapped up and fought amongst each other about the payment, your shift neared its end. You nodded with a polite smile as they filed out the door with boisterous cries of 'thank you, y/n'!

"Sorry," a voices suddenly says, and you give the brunette a quizzical look, "If they were too loud.. or embarrassing."

"That's okay," you shook your head and shrugged lightly, "It wasn't a big deal. I'm used to loud customers."

"Right. So, uh.." he pursed his lips, words dying out in his throat as he glances around the cafe with nervous eyes, "Thanks- ah, for the food. See you soon!"

Before you had the chance to reply, the bell chimed and you were left alone in the cafe.

"You have a cat!?"

Your nearly jump out of your skin at the loud remark in your ear, and you immediately spin around threateningly.

Hovering behind you were those same two boys from the other week. You mentally make a note to find an ENT doctor soon. And perhaps a cardiologist.

"Yeah-" you squint in confusion as the black haired male leans forward to study your features. You gently push his face away with an uncomfortable grimace, "What are you doing?"

"You really do have the same birthmark as Yeosang, I can't believe it."

"Yeah, neither can I," you hum sarcastically, "Now if you'll excuse me, I have a cat to feed."

"What's your cat's name?" The blonde practically bounces in his step as he follows you into another aisle. You want to ask why he's filming the rows of snacks with a small video camera, but you decide to save yourself the headache and not bring it up.

You peer back at the duo with a look of disbelief, "Why are you following me?"

"You're interesting."

"Right."

"We should really have a cat play-date. Is your cat a boy or a girl?"

You sigh as you place a bag of chips into your cart, deciding to amuse them for a brief moment, "Pepper is a male."

"Great! Byeol needs a man," the blonde, San- you think, nods in excitement.

"What kind of a friend are you? Set up your friend before you set up your cat," scoffs Wooyoung with an amused snort. His hands grab at the large bags of barbecue flavored chips, and you contemplate giving the back of his head a whack when he sets them into your cart.

They continue to follow you through the aisles, and while a small part of you wants to tell them off, another part of you can't help but laugh in amusement and endearment at their antics and bickering.

Once you've finished shopping, you bid them a farewell, handing Wooyoung his chips and strolling over to the cashier. Your head suddenly perks up at the commotion over by the fruit section, and you only can stare in bewilderment at the ruckus the other boys create whilst shopping for necessities. A store employee stares nervously as one of the boys juggles a bundle of bananas and oranges, while another nearly stumbles back from the other two dancing aggressively in the aisles. You wonder if this was a regular occurrence, and judging by the way the manager walks by without a care in the world, you conclude it indeed is.

You step outside afterwards, placing the bags into your bicycle's basket, before mounting it and debating whether to look back into the market at the rowdy bunch.

Your eyes catch Yeosang staring at you, and bite your cheek to prevent yourself from smiling. He's riding that damned thing again, and he pauses for the briefest moment to give you a wave.

You find yourself mindlessly waving back, and you abruptly stop once you realize your actions. You hastily throw your arm down to your side and attempt to glare in his direction, but he's already looked away with a large smile plastered on his features.

Most days working at the cafe were fine. People ate, some lingered longer to catch up with friends and play round of card games, and others came to take advantage of the happy hour specials.

But then there were some days you wanted to throw all your dignity in the nearest disposable bin, and wrestle down obnoxious patrons.

You huffed in anger at the sight of an empty table.

What kind of grown up decides to dine and ditch?

Isn't that what... children do?

It's when you stack their empty plates in your hands and turn towards the kitchen do you spot Yeosang walking towards you.

"Now is not the time," you start, hoping your annoyance isn't that obvious.

He silently hands you a wallet.

You quirk a brow, setting the plates down onto the table, "That's not mine?"

"Open it," he says with a roll of his eyes.

You swear if he does that again, you'll roll his head.

You furrow your brows and snatch it out of his hands. Your eyes widen at the picture of the very same man who left without paying, and you instantly shifted your attention to the brunette, "You did not just.."

"I'm sure all that cash is triple the amount his lunch costs," he replies with a wink, "It's no big deal."

"I can't," you swallow, shaking your head and handing him back the wallet, "I can't take this. It's considered stealing."

He gives you an unimpressed look.

"So?" he reaches over to flick your forehead, earning him a glare, "Stop being such a goody two shoes. He stole your service, so you steal his money. It's only fair, right?"

"I'll just take the amount he owes.." you speak unsurely, brows knitting in contemplation. He hands you a few bills, and you nod, "Yeah. This is just enough to-"

"And a tip."

He shoves the remaining money into your apron and your hand flies to smack his arm in shock, "No! I said-"

"Yeah, well I said you deserve a tip!"

"It's not my money!" you scold him.

"I stole it, so it's considered mine now, and I want to tip you! Stop being so stubborn, and just accept it!"

It's when you stop struggling do you notice the extreme proximity of the disgruntled male. He's so unbelievably close that you can make out the borders of the birthmark that mirrors your own. You don't waver as you stare back him with widened eyes.

"Y'know, you're kind of cute when you're mad," he begins sheepishly, eyes narrowing in thought as he inspects your features, "Uh. Since you're new to town, maybe I can show you around whenever you're free?"

Stepping back, you brush out the wrinkles of your apron and straighten your back.

"I'm not going on a date with you," you counter simply. You turn your face to glare out the window, but he stares knowingly at your burning face.

"Whoa, hold on," he smiles in amusement, "Date? Who said anything about it being a date?" You flush at his words, eyes narrowing. He laughs at your lack of amusement, "It's not a date, okay? Just think of it as a.. friendly welcoming gift. And an apology for, y'know. The whole stealing your wallet thing. Besides, my friends want to come anyway."

You cross your arms defensively and ponder for a while.

"Fine, but I expect an ice cream cone as a welcoming gift as well," you try and ignore that absurd feeling of butterflies fluttering in the pit of your stomach. You want to roll your eyes as his features suddenly brighten at your agreement, but you don't. Unable to breathe within the awkward atmosphere, you turn to clear the remaining utensils and plates off the table, "So, uh. I'm free tomorrow, I think. I guess you need my number, right?"

"Oh, no need. I already saved it." You swivel around to see him quirking his brow at your phone.

Oh, he didn't.

You instantly slap your hands onto your back pockets, your heart nearly dropping at the lack of the device, "Y'know, you really should put a passcode on this thing. Also, nice background picture you got there."

This obnoxious little-

He laughs out loud as you swipe the phone angrily from his hold and snap the dry towel onto his chest in retaliation, "Stop pickpocketing me!"

"I can't! Not until I have your heart," he leaves with an amused wave of his hand and a soft laugh, "Besides, you make it too easy. See you tomorrow!"

"Who was that?" asks Mrs. Lee as she waddles out of the kitchen with a large tray of pastries. Her eyes are wide behind her wide-brimmed glasses, and she attempts to tip-toe over the countertop to catch a glimpse of the retreating figure outside.

You contemplate your next words for a moment and bite your cheek to keep a smile at bay, "My stupid soulmate."

[cavalierious-whim]

Sylvain's wholly unprepared for Felix to ask him to slather sunscreen upon his pasty (well-defined) back.

#

Happy Sylvix Summer. Take my dumb beach fluff rife with Teen-aged Tropey Rom-Com bullshit. Read here on AO3 for better quality, and follow me here on Twitter!

#

Despite his long-harbored crush, Sylvain never thought much of a half-naked Felix until one fateful beach trip.

They’re past their high-school years and well into college. Young enough to not be tied down by relationships. That’d be boring to Sylvain, who has a new flavor every week and happily so.

Mostly because it’s easier to be casual than commit to something that’d mean more.

Felix is just an old friend, he tells himself. A second glance, really. Okay, well, maybe not second-- that’s a cruel thing to say. Sylvain would give his left arm for the guy, literally, but he’s never really considered the why behind the thought until then.

And sure, he’s always liked him, even if Sylvain’s never thought much about it. Felix is kinda cute in a deranged cat sort of way.

But now, it makes a lot of sense. Stares him right in the face, a visage of gleaming pasty white skin and deceptively toned muscles. Sylvain’s just fucking blind and stupid, and now it can’t be unseen.

Felix is no longer a scrawny and gangly thing; now he sports lithe and supple muscle. Defined shoulders and a slim waist that tapers into what’s probably the finest ass Sylvain’s ever seen. Pert and shapely, perfect in every way.

Sylvain stares long enough for his ice cream cone to melt all over his hand.

“I’d tell you to take a picture,” says Ingrid, her laugh pealing through the air from behind her hand. “But that’d only piss him off.”

“Ingrid,” says Sylvain panicked. He shakes the melted, sticky mess from his hand as he continues to gawk. At least they’re in the shade under his umbrella, so it’s only a minor mess. “When on earth did that happen?”

Ingrid raises an eyebrow. “When did what happen?”

Sylvain groans. Of course, she’d make him say it. Ingrid’s the worst (or the best) when it comes to forcing others to make fools of themselves. She’s already adopted a devilish smirk, waiting for Sylvain to dig himself a hole deep in the beach sand.

A grave might be more fitting, considering what Felix would do to him if he ever caught Sylvain staring.

“I mean, what’d you expect?” asks Ingrid, sparing Sylvain from further embarrassment. For the moment. Sylvain knows better than to think that she’s done with him. Ingrid’s only biding her time. “When people play sports, they get ripped.” She points to Sylvain. “Look at you. Look at me.”

“I play baseball,” says Sylvain in a low hiss. “I can throw a pitch as fast as a car on the highway and sprint the length of an entire field. Fencing is barely a sport when compared.”

Ingrid just looks at him, her face flat and unimpressed as she sips at her drink and twirls the tiny decorative beach umbrella within it. “I dare you to tell him that.”

Sylvain flounders the tiniest bit. Absolutely not. He likes living far too much. Ever since Felix picked up a foil and learned how to bout, he’d been considerably more dangerous than the crybaby know-it-all they’d all grown up with.

“But, like… how?” says Sylvain as he wonders, persistent in his confusion as to when Felix suddenly became handsome. Like, model handsome. Like, Sylvain would take him around and then pound him into the sheets handsome.

Sylvain never thinks about sleeping with men. Except for Felix, but that’s something that he usually pushes to the back corner of his mind because it’s really fucking awkward to think that way about your bestie.

And Ingrid knows, she’s known for a stupidly long time because of one shitty night where he’d drunkenly blubbered his feelings out to her. In rare form, she didn’t laugh at him that night, she’d only combed her fingers through his hair and called him the world’s biggest idiot.

He’s good at that. Being dumb. Probably his best quality.

Sylvain can’t stop looking, his eyes grazing over Felix’s perfect form. My wet dreams are never going to be the same again, he thinks, his mouth going dry.

“Disgusting,” says Ingrid, making a face. She knows what Sylvain’s thinking, what he can’t help but agonize about. But then she waves her hand dismissively. “Also, he does squats from sun-up to sun-down. No wonder his ass looks so good.”

“Wait, are you looking?” asks Sylvain a little too quickly. Accusatory. He watches her through a shrewd gaze.

“Oh, Goddess, no. I’d rather choke.” She makes another face, this one cross-eyed as she cuts across her neck with a finger dramatically. “I’ve just been watching your sorry ass moon over him--”

“I’m not mooning--”

“Who’s mooning over what?”

Both Ingrid and Sylvain freeze at Felix’s voice. Then, Sylvain laughs, high-pitched and incredibly awkward.

“Nothing--”

“Sylvain and how he’s--”

Sylvain kicks her and Ingrid curses. Felix watches on, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. Sylvain’s rarely rude to Ingrid (okay, so that’s a lie; he’s rude to her constantly, but she’s Ingrid, and she deserves it every time), but he shoots her the meanest look that he can muster.

Which, admittedly, isn’t very threatening.

“Is there a reason you look like a fucking five-year-old trying to threaten a classmate who stole your juice box?”

Sylvain nearly congratulates Felix on his brilliant use of imagery. Instead, he starts with, “Felix--”

“Oh, don’t mind him,” cuts in Ingrid. “He’s just annoyed that I called him out on his bullshit.”

With that, Felix perks up because if there’s something that he loves more than anything else, it’s watching Sylvain getting dunked on. Which is more often than Sylvain likes to admit.

“So,” says Felix, “The usual.”

“Felix, why are you even here?” Sylvain doesn’t mean for it to be so biting, but it comes out sounding quite like Felix himself, an absolute feat.

“We’re at the beach, and together at that if I must remind you,” says Felix, cocking his head to the side. “The sun’s high and blazing, and I’m pasty as hell. Help me with this.”

A demand, not a request. So incredibly like Felix. Sylvain barely catches the bottle that is thrown at him. “Sunscreen,” he reads aloud rather dumbly.

“Yes, you dimwit,” says Felix. “Not everyone tans like you. Some of us come out looking like lobsters, and I don’t mean in a tasty kind of way.”

Sylvain disagrees. Felix looks the tastiest he’s ever seen, and Sylvain’s known him for nearly two decades.

“So what, like rub this all over you?”

Felix rolls his eyes, replying slowly like he’s speaking to a child. “Yes. My arms are short and you’re conveniently there. Even if I’m flexible--” Sylvain super doesn’t need to think about that, “--there are parts of my back that I can’t reach.”

Sylvain would rather burn in Ailell than do this because this is now his absolute worst fucking nightmare. A unique hell, tailored just for him. A test of the Goddess.

Or a memory he’ll wank to for months to come.

Definitely the latter, knowing Sylvain.

Ingrid, bless her shrew-like and ill-tempered soul, shoots Sylvain an amused glance. Soaks the entire thing up, her mouth tipped to the side as she delights in Sylvain’s discomfort. This kind of thing fuels her; juicy gossip feeds her for days and then some.

Especially when it comes to Sylvain.

“Ingrid, fuck off,” says Sylvain. Felix, who didn’t see her look, reaches out to swat Sylvain in return. “Ow!”

“You fuck off,” says Felix. “Stop being rude.”

“She’s the one--”

“Alright, I’m leaving,” says Ingrid abruptly, “Before this lover’s spat gets any worse--”

“This isn’t a spat--” starts Sylvain.

“Lover’s?” exclaimed Felix, pink in the face.

That catches Sylvain’s attention as he turns to him. What an odd reaction-- the embarrassment as he refuses to look either of them in the face. Sylvain’s mouth falls open in surprise and Ingrid’s clamps right up. Then, she smiles, the sly little grin that she gets when she’s up to no good. Never bodes well. Sylvain’s about to say something when she speaks.

“I’ll come and check on your boys later, yeah?” Oh, Ingrid’s up to no good, about to throw Sylvain to the sharks. Wholly intent of leaving him behind with Felix and his newfound discovery that his crush is probably more than a crush.

“Ingrid--” starts Sylvain, but before he can properly beg her, Ingrid’s gone, leaving behind nothing but a trail of footprints in the sand.

Felix plops onto the towel in front of Sylvain, his back facing him. Sylvain looks at the expanse of it, far broader than he remembers. He swallows thickly as his hand hovers awkwardly over Felix’s skin.

“Insufferable, that woman. What my brother sees in her I’ll never know.”

“Even people with terrible personalities have matches,” says Sylvain in humor. A decent attempt at distraction that usually works with others.

Felix grunts. “Yes, well, you’d know that best of all, wouldn’t you?”

Ouch, thinks Sylvain. Nasty little stinger right out of left-field but incredibly on-brand for Felix. His favorite thing to do is remind Sylvain about his habitually shitty dating habits.

“That’s a little cruel, don’t you think?” Sylvain uncaps the bottle of sunscreen and squirts a generous amount onto his palms.

“What, can’t handle the criticism?” Felix snorts. “Sylvain, you’ve slept with the entire volleyball team, minus Ingrid.”

“Have you seen them, though? Legs up to here, literally. Except for Ingrid of course, because that’d be so gross--”

“Ridiculous,” says Felix, snorting again. “Utterly predictable. And you wonder why you’re always dead last.”

Sylvain frowns at the strange wording. “I’m top of our class.”

Felix doesn’t immediately answer. “That isn’t what I mean,” he finally says, tilting his head back slightly to look at Sylvain. Then his expression hardens, turning aggressive again. “Are you going to lather me up or should I go ask Ingrid instead?”

“No,” says Sylvain, “Just… yeah, okay. I’ve got this.”

“Sylvain, it’s just sunscreen.” There’s a tiny frown on Felix’s face.

Sylvain’s a confident man, able to woo anyone into his bed. Rubbing sunscreen into Felix’s skin should be easy. It isn’t. Sylvain hesitates and hesitates, fingers hovering over the smooth line of Felix’s bare shoulders.

Nothing explains Sylvain’s sudden dry mouth or the inkling that this is a terrible idea.

“Sylvain,” says Felix, clearly waiting.

Felix’s skin is warm to the touch and soft under Sylvain’s calloused fingers. He starts at his shoulders, massaging the liquid in, squeezing at Felix’s tight muscles.

“Tense?” asks Sylvain, teasing him.

“Tired,” says Felix, sounding-- well, just that. Exhausted, even.

Sylvain’s hands pause as he leans forward slightly. “You train too much.”

“You don’t train enough. You could be on the national team if you gave a shit.”

Sylvain laughs and leans even closer, his mouth near Felix’s ear. “Yeah, well, that’s the difference between us. I don’t want to be on the national team.”

Felix harrumphs and crosses his arms over his chest. “That just makes you dumb, then.”

“I don’t doubt that.” Sylvain smooths his hands across the top of Felix’s shoulders, then sweeps them down and under his blades, thumbs digging into the meat of Felix’s back.

Felix lets out a low moan, a sinful-sounding thing that makes Sylvain bite at his lips and look to the sky. He’s never really prayed before, doesn’t believe in the Goddess, but he asks Seiros for strength.

“Shit, Sylvain,” says Felix with a sigh. “That’s--”

“Seriously, Felix, you’re all locked up.”

Felix whines when Sylvain raises his hand to press into the muscles at the base of his neck, his fingernails just barely scratching across Felix’s skin. “Sorry,” murmurs Felix, pink in the cheeks again, hands shifting awkwardly in his lap.

“You need to cool down properly after your sessions,” says Sylvain. “You’re working yourself too hard. Nothing but knots and bone back here.”

“Sunscreen,” says Felix suddenly.

“What?”

“The sunscreen. Your hands are dry.”

Right. The sunscreen. Sylvain isn’t supposed to be giving Felix a massage, he’s supposed to be oiling him up and readying him for the sun. He slicks his hands up again, murmurs an apology, and finds the lower part of Felix’s back this time.

“Sorry. Can’t have you burning to a crisp out there.”

Felix sighs at the touch, leaning into it slightly and Sylvain nearly dies on the spot. So, maybe he’s just now noticed how handsome Felix is, but it’s not exactly the first time Sylvain’s thought about him like this. Usually, when he does, he tucks it away deep-- not because it’s embarrassing, or Sylvain has reservations about men, but because Felix would slaughter him if he knew.

Sylvain lets out a long breath as he rubs the sunscreen into Felix’s skin, making sure not to miss any spots.

“What’s Ingrid doing?” asks Felix, nodding to where she stands fifty paces away in the sun.

Sylvain looks up, squinting at her. Ingrid flashes him a grin before pressing her thumb and forefinger together on one hand, and then taking her pointer finger with the other and--

“Is she--”

Ingrid makes the crudest gesture known to man, and then, wiggling her eyebrows, points directly to Felix, then Sylvain right after.

Sylvain’s going to kill her. Absolutely murder her in her sleep. He’s got a spare key to her place and he knows where she keeps the sharp knives. Glenn might forgive Sylvain for it if they properly explain. Even though Glenn’s nearly thirty, he still thinks it’s his job to protect Felix.

Especially from Ingrid’s never-ending teasing.

“She’s dead,” says Sylvain. “Next time I’m within a few feet of her.”

“Not if I kill her first,” says Felix.

Sylvain leans over Felix, shooting Ingrid the finger with both hands. She, naturally, shoots him one right back. “So fucking rude,” says Sylvain, leaning back again and slathering his hands with sunscreen once more. “And the things that she implies. Don’t listen to her.”

Strangely, Felix is quiet. Twiddles his thumbs in his lap. Sylvain watches him for a moment before resuming his requested task, catching the spots of his back that he’s missed.

“Would it be so bad?” asks Felix.

Sylvain’s hands pause. “What?”

“The idea of being with me. Is it such a terrible idea?”

Sylvain laughs because that’s what he does when faced with awkward questions. “Felix, we’re too old for gay jokes and Ingrid knows that. She’s just picking on us because it’s how she asserts dominance.”

Felix doesn’t even scoff which is a red flag, so Sylvain grasps him by the shoulders and looks at him from the side. “Hey, wait, are you worried about dating? I thought it wasn’t something you’re interested in?”

They’ve known each other since they were practically in diapers, so of course, they’ve talked about this: girls and dating. Well, more so Sylvain who always talked at Felix. Felix is relatively tight-lipped about it, even now, into their college years. Always says that he’s just not interested.

Never bothered Sylvain one bit.

“I mean, I know some cute girls--”

“Sylvain, I don’t want to date women.”

Oh. Oh. Sylvain’s mouth shuts tight as he absorbs this information. This puts a lot of things into perspective; Felix’s disinterest in women and how he’d roll his eyes whenever Sylvain would talk about them. His lack of celebrity crushes and such. Felix has just never said it so bluntly.

“Felix, it’s totally cool if you’re gay. I know some cute guys--”

Felix lets out a frustrated groan, rubbing at his face. “Sylvain, I’m not-- that’s not-- That’s not it.”

“Felix, you have to throw me a bone here, what on earth are you talking about--”

“I like you, you absolute imbecile,” says Felix very suddenly. And loudly. Entirely red-faced with embarrassment as he digs a hand into the sand beside him. “And Ingrid’s known for years because Glenn fucking told her, and that’s why she’s been so incredibly insufferable this entire time--”

Sylvain bursts into laughter, which in retrospect, probably wasn’t the best reaction. “Wait, no, no, that’s not why I’m laughing,” he says when Felix starts to pull away. Felix pauses, looking at him with barely contained aggravation.

“This isn’t funny, Sylvain,” he says quietly.

“Ingrid’s making fun of both of us, so yeah, it kind of is.”

Felix blinks very slowly, his face contorting into supreme confusion.

Sylvain sighs, rubbing at his chin awkwardly. “So look, here’s the thing. The shitty dating’s always been to fill a void because I’ve always been afraid to like, date someone properly. No commitment is so much easier than actual commitment and--”

“Sylvain, what on earth are you blabbering about?” cuts in Felix impatiently.

“I like you too?” Sylvain doesn’t mean for it to come out sounding like a question, so he clears his throat and tries again. “What I mean to say is, I’ve always liked you, I guess, but I’ve never really noticed you and--”

When Felix laughs, it’s always a bitter-sounding thing which is why Sylvain never wants to hear it. Means he’s about to lose his shit. This time though, he’s chuckling softly, rubbing at his face tiredly. “Let me guess,” he says quietly, “Ingrid knows.”

Sylvain swallows thickly, sitting there awkwardly with sunscreen-covered hands. “She, uh, might.”

“So, I didn’t have to resort to this, then.”

Sylvain shoots him a confused look. “Resort to what?”

Felix sighs, pink-cheeked with embarrassment again. “Parading around without a shirt on. The whole sunscreen thing. Ingrid’s blasted idea, of course, and now I see why. Glenn agreed, saying you’re the type to be visually stimulated but because I didn’t think that you liked me--”

“Wait, wait, back up,” says Sylvain, trying to process everything that Felix is trying to say. “What do you mean Ingrid’s idea?”

Felix finally looks at Sylvain’s face, annoyed with the entire situation. “She was tired of me not saying anything and told me to do something about it. I said it wouldn’t matter, that you didn’t like me but--” He pauses and waves vaguely between them.

“She’s known that I’ve liked you for years,” finishes Sylvain quietly. “Oh, Goddess, I’m going to kill her.”

“Please don’t,” says Felix. “Because then Glenn would kill you and that would mean I’ve made an utter fool of myself for nothing.”

Sylvain looks at the sunscreen again. “Felix, I hope you realize, rubbing you down in this nearly ended me. Like, I won’t be able to move from this towel for at least ten minutes.”

At that, Felix smirks slightly, his mouth tipped up at one corner. “Well, I’m sure there are spots that you’ve missed.”

Sylvain groans at the idea.

“I’m joking,” says Felix quietly, reaching out to touch Sylvain’s shoulder, thumbing over it with uncertainty. “So what--”

“I mean, the answer’s yes, obviously.” Felix looks at him, his face carefully schooled into something bland. Obviously trying not to get his hopes up, so Sylvain continues. “I mean, I didn’t collapse onto Ingrid’s bathroom floor one night, wasted to only say no--”

“You what?”

“Okay, so forget about that--”

“So you were truly serious about liking me?” asks Felix, his voice cracking slightly.

Sylvain’s expression softens. “I mean, it’s never been so clear until today but--”

“Why today, of all days?”

Sylvain’s done a fantastic job of looking at only Felix’s face so far so he finally looks down, eyes sweeping over his chest. Sylvain swallows thickly. “I mean, look at you, you’re--”

“Save it for the women who warm your bed,” says Felix acerbically. He moves to get up properly and Sylvain reaches out to grab his wrist.

“Felix, wait, don’t do that.” Felix does. Waits for him to say his piece. “I’ve always liked you, but it never really clicked that you’re-- uh-- look, there’s no delicate way to say it, so I just will. You’re gorgeous. Handsome. I can’t stop looking at you because you make me feel things, and that’s something that’s just... Ingrid told me to take a fucking picture, Felix.”

Felix snorts at that, hiding a smile behind his hand. Then he plops back down to the sand.

“You realize that I expect to be more than a bed warmer,” says Felix finally, arms crossed over his chest.

“I’d never ask that of you,” says Sylvain, seriously. “Unless you wanted to, because trust me, I’m certainly not opposed--”

Felix reaches forward with lightning-fast speed, pulls open Sylvain’s swim trunks, and dumps a handful of sand directly into them. Sylvain looks down dumbly. Dreads the inevitable itchiness that comes with getting sand in the bits where you don’t want it.

“Okay, yeah, I deserved that.”

Felix hesitates and then says, “Insufferable.”

“Yeah,” says Sylvain in agreement.

“It’s part of your charm.”

Sylvain grins at him. “Oh, my charm? Does that mean that I won you over with my bewitching demeanor?”

Felix’s expression sours the slightest bit. “Don’t push it.”

It falls quiet between them, as they sit on the towel underneath Sylvain’s umbrella, but it’s a comfortable silence. Sylvain rubs the leftover sunscreen into his own shoulders as Felix tries not to stare in return.

“So,” says Sylvain finally. “Dinner on the pier maybe? Without Ingrid and Glenn, I mean.”

“Yes, nothing says fantastic first date like shoveling buttered crawfish into your mouth like a slob.” But Felix’s face is soft and fond when he looks at Sylvain, and Sylvain knows that it’s a date sealed for later that night.

Things are going to be weird, supposes Sylvain, but there are worse things. At least they’ll be figuring it out together.

“Who gets first dibs on dunking ice-cold seawater all over Ingrid?” asks Sylvain.

“I think that I can get Glenn to distract her long enough for you to fill the pail. Or, we can tag team her-- grab her and throw her in the ocean itself.”

That’s a better idea and Sylvain says as such, much to Felix’s entertainment. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” continues Sylvain. “We do owe her some credit.”

Felix snorts. “Are you going to give her the satisfaction of it?”

They both look at each other, then Sylvain says, “Absolutely not.” He pauses, reaching out to Felix, wanting to grab his hand and hold it. But he hesitates.

Felix sees and watches silently. “We’re dumb,” he finally says. “It’s taken us so long. We’re nearly done with college.”

“Yeah, well, late-bloomers and all that.”

“Sylvain, you’re the opposite of a late-bloomer.”

“Not where it counts.”

Felix sighs softly and reaches out, taking Sylvain’s hand, linking their fingers together. He doesn’t say anything else, but he doesn’t have to. He and Sylvain have always been like that; silent in most of their communication because they just read each other so well.

Except for when it comes to their wants, apparently.

Still, better late than never supposes Sylvain when he squeezes Felix’s hand back.

[ellewritesathing]

Faking It - Epilogue

Summary: You’d done plenty of dumb things in your life, but the dumbest had to be picking Greendale’s latest bad-boy to pretend to be your boyfriend.

Masterlist Part 6 | Epilogue

Word-count: 2.3k+

A/N: okay so about a million years ago @corishirogane3​ sent me the cutest headcanon for this series and i had to make it canon. i’ve rewritten the ending so much that i’m not sure how i feel about it anymore but!! i wanted to post this sugary sweet ending after my finals so 💕💕 i hope you guys like it

Caliban hated birthdays. His mother would always try her hardest to make each year better than the last, with more outrageous parties in the hopes that he would forget he was a bastard whose father cared more about his reputation than his son. It never worked. 

Kinkle: Happy Bday man! You’re still an asshole but I’m glad we’re friends again

As if his childhood confusion wasn’t hard enough, Caliban’s teenage angst almost burned everything to the ground. He was angry at his family for abandoning him and his mother, at the people around him for being conceited and boring, and at California for being too goddamn sunny. 

Theo: happy birthday to my gay awakening 💕

Birthdays made Caliban infinitely aware of his precarious loneliness in the world. He’d stopped telling people when his birthday was long ago, but somehow they’d find out and ruin his plans to spend the day alone and screaming at the sky. Year after year, it was just the same hollow wishes from people who didn’t really care about him.

Rosalind ✨: happy birthday old man. i got you a haunted portrait so you don’t wrinkle 

But this year was different. Caliban still wasn’t sold on the perfect greeting card birthday, but he’d been less angry since moving back to Greendale. Dating you - real or not - meant he got a group of friends as part of the deal, and the lot of you had extorted his birthday to draw up his astral chart. Apparently, he was an Aries sun, Capricorn moon - whatever the fuck that meant.

Sabrina: Happy Birthday Cal 💞

Still, Caliban could move across the country and collect as many friends as he liked, but he wasn’t sure if he’d ever enjoy his birthday. 

With a sigh, Caliban threw off his covers and padded across to his closet. He pulled out his usual dark clothes and scrounged around for his leather jacket before realizing he’d loaned it to you. He smiled to himself and set to make himself presentable. 

This first hour of his birthday was always spent alone. It was one of the many birthday traditions he and Isobel shared, along with birthday pancakes, ditching the last half of school, and triple chocolate cake with Sour Patch Kids stuck to the icing. He was thankful for all the things his mother did for him, but that first dose of silence and solitude was crucial if he was going to deal with all the birthday bullshit that lay ahead.

Caliban’s phone dinged with yet another notification and he stopped in the middle of the hallway to dig his phone out of his pants pocket. Sure, Caliban talked a big game about hating birthdays but he still checked every text he got, hoping for ... something. 

Fitch: Happy non-birthday to the best not fake boyfriend I’ve ever had ❤️ I love you and I’ll see you soon

He always read the texts, but he almost never responded. He leaned against one of the door frames and started typing something in the way of a reply. The only problem was that Caliban was only gifted in the way of words when he was lying, and he never wanted to lie to you. Caliban sighed and locked his phone without sending anything. He’d figure out what to say once his stomach was full of pancakes.

Expecting to come downstairs to the low hum of Isobel singing along to music, the smells of cinnamon, sugar, and melted chocolate, and one very messy kitchen, Caliban was surprised when he reached the bottom stair and heard your voice. Everything else was as expected, but you stood out among all the chaos.

“Is this okay?” you asked quietly. 

Isobel stopped her humming for a second. “Oh, yeah! That’s perfect, sweetheart.”

The pancake batter sizzled in the pan and Caliban decided to brave the kitchen. It was still as messy as always, but there you stood, clad in a borrowed, sunflowered apron and brandishing a spatula. 

Since you and Isobel were whispering and watching the pancakes rise with your back turned to the entrance, Caliban walked over as quietly as he could and got a better look at the assortment of toppings on the counter. He'd just bitten into one of the strawberries when you turned to grab something off the counter. 

You jumped sky-high and Caliban laughed. “Jesus. How long have you been there?” you asked.

“Long enough.” Caliban tried to sound nonchalant, which was difficult to do with all his curiosity. His cool facade was also ruined by Isobel rushing around the island to hug him and kiss his cheeks. 

Isobel settled slightly after sitting Caliban down on one of the stools and promising to be right back with his present. 

With your new-found solitude, Caliban turned to with an amused smile. “When you said you’d see me soon, I didn’t think you meant quite so soon,” he said. He reached for another strawberry. 

You were happy to have caught him off-guard. “That’s kind of the point of a surprise.” You turned back to the stove to keep the pancake from burning but looked over your shoulder to add, “I mean, I can leave if it’s a problem?”

“You would deprive me of your company on my birthday?” 

You set a plate in front of Caliban that had a single, oddly shaped chocolate-chip pancake. “I'd never dream of it, Abercrombie.” You took a step back, pulled out a knife and fork, and set it in front of him. “Tell me how it tastes?” 

Caliban cut a piece and held his fork out to you. 

“No way. That’s your birthday pancake.” 

“You would really make me beg on my birthday?” 

“You can’t play that card the whole day-” 

“Yes, I can. Because it’s my-” 

“Don’t say it-”

The word was on the tip of his tongue, but Caliban didn’t get the chance to play his birthday card another time because Isobel rushed back into the room holding a wrapped present and grinning wildly. 

Isobel set the present down on the stool next to Caliban and tapped the top. “I know you don’t like opening them in front of anyone, but I couldn’t wait.” She tapped the gift again before reaching out and squeezing his hand. “Happy birthday, my love.” 

“Thanks, Mom,” Caliban said in a low voice. Isobel gave him the sad smile she always did on his birthday and he gave her the matching smile he always did. 

Your voice broke both of them out of their birthday stupor. “Well, I’ve got to get going or I’ll be late.” You untied the knot behind your back as you spoke before lifting the apron over your head. “I just wanted to stop by to steal a few legendary birthday pancakes and drop off the scavenger hunt stuff.” 

“I’m sorry, would you repeat that?” Caliban asked, sounding as saintly as he could. 

Isobel laughed. “Your brilliant girlfriend figured out how to give you a special birthday while letting you spend the whole day by yourself.” She wrapped an arm around Caliban’s shoulders and looked over at you. “There are clues and activities all over town and you can only come back once you’ve finished them all.” 

As intriguing as a day spent on his own seemed, Caliban couldn’t help but feel like there was a catch coming. “And what about my daily need for education?” 

“I thought you were a fan of more alternate education,” you teased. You leaned over and ate another bite of pancake. “Don’t tell me you’re going soft in your old age.” 

Caliban gave a short laugh. “I said no such thing.” 

You smiled. “Your mom promised to give you the first clue after your first pancake stack. I’ll see you later, okay?” 

Caliban nodded, suddenly unsure of how to respond. He was bad at receiving gifts at the best of times, and this gift was personal and bestowed upon him in front of his mother. It was an awkward set of circumstances. “Thank you,” he said softly as he hugged you goodbye. 

“Of course.” You kissed his cheek and disappeared out of the kitchen after waving goodbye to Isobel. 

Once you were gone and Caliban was left with the familiar sounds and smells of the morning of his birthday, he began to think that maybe his opinion on birthdays needed a bit of changing. 

--- 

Though he’d only participated in a few scavenger hunts, Caliban was competitive and he was relentless. He tore through clue after clue in the same ravenous fashion that a pack of wolves would their next meal, though he tried to savor it as best his hunger would allow. Every handwritten clue was kept, every souvenir pocketed, and every moment memorized. He didn’t want to waste the most thoughtful gift he’d ever been given just because he was an impatient bastard. 

But, as he stared at his suspiciously dark house, he wondered if he should have taken it a bit slower. The last clue had hinted at something waiting for him at the house, and his desire to finish the scavenger hunt waged war on his hatred of birthday parties. He was just about to put the car in reverse and dart into the street when your head popped around a curtain. You ducked inside at such a speed when your eyes met his that Caliban laughed at the mental image of you crashing into a lamp and trying to play it off. 

In the end, neither his desire nor hatred lured him into the depths of his birthday party. His bizarre inclination to do anything and everything you wanted drew him in.

So, Caliban showed up at his party. He wore a party hat, played nice with the other kids, and blew out the candles on his cake. All in all, it should have been the perfect end to his perfect day. But even with all your careful planning, there was no accounting for the bullshit hole in Caliban’s chest that always left him feeling empty. 

When the hole in his chest got too big, Caliban sneaked up the stairs, ducked into his room, and slipped out the window. He wasn’t running away - though the thought did cross his mind - but he just needed some fresh air. Harvey’s laughter mingled with that of his other friends and the laugh tracks of bad movies, drifting through the open window to the warmth of the April night. Still, there wasn’t enough fresh air in the world to fix him. 

“Hey!” 

Caliban twisted around to see you popping your head out of his bedroom window. You had a silly grin on your face and your hair was falling all over your face. The hole in Caliban’s chest got a little smaller. Your smile softened as you tilted your head to mirror his. 

“Hey, you wanna get out of here?” 

“Aren’t you worried about missing the party?” Caliban asked. 

You shrugged. “Roz and Theo ate all the good snacks so it’s pretty lame anyway.” Caliban laughed and you flashed him another smile. “Come on, Abercrombie, you really gonna make me climb on the roof to come get you?”

Caliban let out a long whistle and adjusted to get a better look at you. “I’d like to see you try, but careful - it’s slippery out here.” 

“Stop being an asshole and let’s get out of here before someone notices we’re gone.” 

Grinning, Caliban rolled over and held a hand out to you. There was no need to be so secretive, really, but sneaking down his mother’s carefully cultivated trellis was half the fun. Caliban squashed some hydrangeas on the way down, you tumbled into him after getting your foot stuck, and the two of you were left breathless for a moment before rushing to the car so no one would discover your attempted prison break.

Giddy as you turned onto the freeway, the two of you laughed with the windows down and music blaring. Caliban didn’t think his birthday could get any better than it already was, but that moment with you was his favorite part. Or at least, it was until you started complaining about wasting away and you pulled into a diner for something to eat - then he found a new favorite moment. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” 

“Like what?” 

“You know what.” You tilted your head. “Is this because of the fry thing? I’m telling you, if you just try it then you’ll like it.”

Caliban laughed and shook his head at ‘the fry thing,’ also known as your insistence to dip your fries in whatever milkshake you had on the day. “I’m not trying it.”

“You’re a coward.”

“You can’t say that to me. It’s my birthday.” 

“You hate birthdays.” 

“Still.” 

Rolling your eyes, you pushed the plate of fries over to him. “Try it once, okay? And you’ll see it’s the perfect combination of salty and sweet, hot and cold, yummy and delicious.” 

Caliban couldn’t help it. He’d been putting it off for almost a year now, and it just didn’t feel right to say no to you after everything you’d done for him today. Plus, you were cute when you got your way. So, he reached out and dipped a fry in the milkshake. 

Annoyingly, it was everything you’d said and more. Despite the sugary, fried high he was bound to be on in a few minutes, Caliban knew the best part of this whole endeavor would be to see your sickeningly smug face when he admitted defeat. 

You’d turned him into a cheesy cliche. He was disgustingly romantic, he carried your books between classes, and had your coffee order memorized. Because you were the sweet to his salty, the brave to his reckless, the Fitch to his Abercrombie. 

And he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Tagged: @t-a-i-l-o-r-m-a-d-e​  @miss--moose  @marrypuffsstuff​  @harryscarolinaa​  @igorsbby​  @foji2000​​  @hxlalokidottir​  @artaxerxesthegreat​​  @thxmagic​  @strawberriesandknives​​  @xealia​​  @hotmessindisguise​  @acciomaximoff​  @reheated-coffee​​  @shelby-x​​  @perseny-blog​​  @millie-753​​  @luneerius​​  @shizzybarnaclee​​  @lettherebelovex​​  @throughparisallthroughrome​  @ietss​  @thebookwormlife​  @mechanicalanimalz​  @mariamermaid​  @nqbmf​  @caliban-is-my-girl  @shephard17895​  @andie-kathleen​  @clockworks-world-to-fandoms​  @luquincy  @marina468​  @olivia-west-allen  @drrramaaaqweeen​  @roxytheimmortal​  @blondeeee-e  @piensa-bonito

[disgruntledspacedad]

If you have the time I would love to hear about your writing process - it's just so insane the amount of thought you put behind things like the language and the culture, how do you even begin?! I know you said crazy amounts of rewatching narcos is part of it haha 😂 idk I just have so much time for writers who consider every word they write when it comes to realistic writing about real events and you can see the time you must put into it...blows my mind! 🤗🌻

This is the longest bullshit ramble post ever, seriously don’t even bother reading it!

Okay, my writing process... oh geez. I don’t know that I have one, to be honest.

Let me back up by saying that I have never undertaken a project of this scale before. I finished one 75k Doctor Who fic when I was seventeen by typing it out on the notes app of my phone, and in the decade+ between, everything I’ve written has been short - one or two shots, mostly.

So this is all very new and very scary.

Like most writers probably do, I start with a specific scene, I guess. Like for Rules of Engagement, it was Javi walking in on Ears masturbating in the shower. From there, you get more scenes, and then you start asking, well how do I get the characters there?

If you keep asking questions, eventually, you’ll get a rough outline of your story. Like sure, there are holes, but you know where you’re going at least.

Regarding research, I have actually watched Narcos through twice (the first time I was mostly drunk so it almost doesn’t count). Most of what I do now is slide through looking for specific scenes to spot check a reference.

Manhunters (the collab book between real Peña and Murphy) was a massive inspiration. I try not to copy exact details, but certainly it has influenced the tone of my fic, and my interpretations of Javi, Steve, and Connie.

I’ve also read some Gabriel García Márquez, and I’ve done a fuckton of research on the history, geography, and culture of Colombia in general. Probably not near as much as I really should, but it’s important to me to get the details right. I’ve done some extensive digging on weapons trafficking, too. Seriously, anybody who bothers to look at my browser history might be a little concerned. 🤣🤣

For Ears and Steve in particular, I pull from my own life experience.

I like to take canon elements and twist them to tell a different story. You’ll see a lot of this in If I Fall, so I don’t want to say too much about it. I can’t stand a canon-rehash (so boring) but I like to find a juicy plot point and ask, “what if that were different? How would things play out?”

All of these bits and pieces stew together to create characters and tone. But characters and tone don’t tell a story. Not completely.

This might be weird, but I guess I like, meditate a lot? I have trouble sleeping, and I absolutely tell myself stories to drift off at night. Javi and Ears feature prominently. 🤣 I’m also a lucid dreamer. Going to sleep with characters in your brain and then dreaming of them is seriously the best way to wake up with entire chapters just pouring out of you. I keep a notebook at my bedside. Here lately, that hasn’t been fast enough, so I sleep with my laptop beneath my pillow. Better Love will probably give me a brain tumor, but it’s fine. 😅

I use the writing software Scrivener, which allows me to collect all of this chaos into neat little notes and then shuffle them around. Without this program, If I Fall would never have gotten off the ground. It’s been a godsend.

For a story as plotty and complex as Better Love, it’s critical to look at things from every angle. I had to ask myself specifically, “what information does my audience need to know, and when do they need to know it?” I had a huge document that listed, in bullet points, what you guys had to know, what Javi knew, and what Ears knew before the beginning of If I Fall. From that list, I constructed short stories around those plot elements. The Shoebox, Shit Hits the Fan, The White Room, and Dangerous were all conceived this way - I wrote the story around the plot, not the other way ‘round. It was very specific and intentional.

And I’ve kind of done the same thing for If I Fall. Since before I finished ROE, I had a few big scenes in my brain. I wrote them down. Then more scenes came, and I started getting a picture of the larger story. When I ironed that out, I sat down with a new document and literally wrote blow for blow what had to happen for the story to make sense, and I filled in the rest of the scenes around those requirements.

Oh oh oh! Let me edit real quick to add this: my friends have been absolutely indispensable. @hotspacepilots, @sarahjkl82-blog, @yespolkadotkitty, @jedi-mando, @thirstworldproblemss, and even my own mother have all let me bounce ideas off of them. They are an endless source of inspiration and perspective, and Better Love would not be what it is without them, full stop.

Okay, I think I have finally run out of things to say here. Can you tell from this ridiculous post that I actually have no plan and no organizational skills? I basically dream this shit up, I dunno. 🤣🤣

Feel free to hit me up if you have specific questions. I’m not this great professional god tier fic writer. I’m just Chaotic Jay, making shit up as I go. ❤️❤️