#now everyone's in their own separate dish

[queerstudiesnatural]

i miss my college friends :(

[iftitah]

my mom's college is sooo nostalgic 😭

[itsthecline]

THIS COULD BE US

I DO NOT GET JEALOUS

ִֶָ 𓂃⊹ ִֶָ topper’s birthday was practically made out to be a national holiday on the island. you had gotten your mother to lend you the yacht , having a more intimate party earlier for dinner. rafe and kelce set up the condo for the actual party. everything was going smooth. until it wasn’t.

word count 5.8k

warnings profanity , jealous!reader and kinda jealous!rafe , mentions of chlamydia , underage drinking , pda ( just kissing and grabbing ) , smut ( oral male!receiving in car , oral fem!receiving , unprotected pinv , spanking (1) , facial ) , and i think that’s it

MINORS DNI 18+ ONLY

IN TOPPER fashion , his birthday party has a theme and dress code. white party , white clothes , white fucking yacht. and because it was his birthday , and he was one of your best friends , you gave in to every single demand he had.

he wanted a dj? done. he wanted the men to women ratio at a happy 1:3? done. he wanted a specific dish created by a specific chef from the mainland? done. he demanded a bouncer to stand at the front door of rafe’s condo for hours just so no ruffians get inside? done.

you were busting your ass to make sure his birthday was going perfectly , and you were doing a damn good job. good enough that it made you think you wanted this exact party for your own twenty-first. you had lost track of him once or twice already. dinner just finished , and he went missing again. grabbing a drink of your own , to relax a little bit after how much work you had been putting into this one night.

“look at miss event coordinator. i know you’re not drinking on the job,” kelce joked , walking up to you with rafe as you sipped your gin and tonic.

“it’s my boat. i’ll drink when i want,” you retorted , side hugging the boy before moving to rafe and hugging him as well, “do you think top’s enjoying himself? he keeps disappearing.”

“oh yeah. he’s enjoying himself alright. enjoying himself with ruthie , chloe , harper , and i think he’s enjoying himself with tabitha right now,” rafe chuckled lowly , taking a swig of his own drink to hide his suggestive smile.

you theatrically gagged , smacking rafe’s arm. “you’re all disgusting. this is my mom’s boat,” you groaned, “i expected you not to fornicate on it.”

“like you haven’t?” kelce quipped , recalling the time you and your ex boyfriend had gone at it so rough one night you had to replace the railing on the sun deck.

“my boat!” you huffed , giggling with them as they laughed at you.

“well , i came over here to let you know we’re good to dock whenever top is. house is all set up,” rafe cleared his throat , seeing topper emerge from the cabin, “there’s the birthday boy!” he cheered , calling topper over.

“guys! i have gotten four separate blowies. this is the best birthday ever,” he slurred his words after he wobbled over to the three of you, “y/n/n , you’re the best for planning everything for me,” he smiled , pressing a slobbery kiss to your temple.

you smiled , discreetly wiping the spit from yourself before wrapping your arm around his waste. “you only turn twenty-one once,” you shrugged, “you ready to go to the actual party?”

“oh , for sure! maybe i’ll get laid four times!” topper laughed , dapping kelce up all the while.

“you’re all pigs!” you scoffed lightly , making your way to the helm, “be back!”

the guests that were scattered around moved to let you walk through without asking , and not long after that you were all headed back to figure eight. you and the boys helped topper off the boat and back onto solid land , his stability not getting any better. the sun hadn’t even set , so you knew in a few hours he would be passed out in one of the guest rooms at rafe’s condo.

it wasn’t long until the house was filled with people. the music was going , playing all of topper’s favorite songs along with the party classics. everyone was drinking and having fun in celebration for topper , and you couldn’t be happier.

for one : you pulled off what looked to be the best twenty-first birthday in kildare. but more importantly , you could stop hosting and have fun yourself. your wedges smacked against the marble flooring as you made your way to the bar. “can i have a tequila soda with a lime? and just a shot as well , please?” you ordered sweetly , silently thanking the bartender for coming to you first despite other people waiting for drinks.

he handed you the shot first , allowing you take it before you got your drink. you throw the shot back , letting it glide down your throat without getting you to make a face. the bartender smiled at that , mixing your drink quickly.

you turned around , leaning against the bar after thanking him. your eyes scanned the crowd. people dancing in the living room , suck and blow happening in the kitchen , swimming and chicken fights in the pool. everything looked good. everything was good.

except you didn’t have not one of your boys with you. you looked around for kelce or rafe. you had seen topper stumble upstairs with a pretty redhead a few minutes ago , but you hadn’t really seen rafe or kelce since you told them to check on a few things before the party even really started.

your brows furrowed , truly not seeing either one. but the crease in your forehead deepened when you found rafe. he was lounging on the couch , legs spread and arms on the back. he was in a group , a couple of guys you knew from school , and a few girls you recognized as well. you watched from a distance , sipping on your drink slowly. you noticed how crystal— if you remembered correctly , was laughing harder than need be , touching rafe’s body in any way she could.

and you don’t know what you would call it— it was jealousy , but something in the pit of your stomach burned. your skin felt hot , your eyes rolling all on their own. because there rafe was hanging out with people that weren’t you when your song was playing. the track made the playlist several times because it was your song. and he wasn’t even looking for you?

“can i get another shot please?” you turned around and asked the bartender. he nodded , pouring one out before sliding it to you.

you downed it easier than the first , setting the glass back down on the counter before drinking the rest of your actual drink. you pivoted on your foot , heading straight toward the couch. like usual , people shifted to the side to let you pass. even if they hadn’t , you weren’t too sure that you wouldn’t have run them right over.

rafe saw you in his peripheral , saw you storming over in your comically— to him , high wedges and silky , white dress. your tits practically jumping out of the material as you stomped.

he looked up at you and smiled when you arrived , but was quickly taken aback when you planted yourself in his lap. his arm came down to wrap around your waist naturally , but during his movement , your own hands came up to his face and pulled him in for a kiss.

you didn’t know you were going to do that. originally , in your head , you were just going to storm over and pout. this was much different than that. but rafe didn’t hesitate to kiss you back , hand on your waist squeezing your body closer to his. he groaned into it , tongue licking your lips before you opened your mouth.

neither one of you were aware how long you were making out when you pulled away , breathing heavily in each other’s faces. until crystal— still you weren’t too sure , cleared her throat.

“oh , hey!” you smiled , leaning into rafe’s touch. his cheeks were still burning from the shock of you traipsing over to stake your claim. he knew what it was the moment he saw the pout in your lips.

the girl was blushing on her own , not realizing that you and rafe had finally gotten together after years of being just friends. “hi,” she muttered awkwardly.

“did you end up taking care of that raging case of chlamydia yet , babes?” you asked , voice sweeter than syrup. crystal— presumably , dropped her jaw , eyebrows tight.

“excuse me?” she scoffed , shocked you would say something like that , but more shocked that you knew.

“oh , did i get that wrong?” you fake worried , hand coming up to your heart, “i thought i heard les and gigi talking about it at the club a couple weeks ago , but maybe it wasn’t you?” you flipped your hair over your shoulder , showing her that you truly didn’t care.

maybe you were a mean girl like everyone said.

“no,” she stated coldly, “it wasn’t me.” she stood up , grabbing her purse and phone before rushing away.

you smiled as soon as she turned , not bothered by her leaving. that was the whole point.

“ooh , you’re mean , pretty kitty,” rafe chuckled beside you , his other hand coming to your thigh and rubbing up and down.

he always called you that. kitty. he said it was because you had claws but looked so sweet at the same time. you harassed him for having a pet-play kink until you realized the term of endearment was quite cute. special just for you.

“what?” you shrugged , looking at him like the last thing you said wasn’t fowl, “i made it up , but i guess the topic hit home for her , so it’s probably best she left anyway.”

rafe rolled his eyes with a smile before grabbing the back of your neck and pulling you in for another kiss. you squealed into his lips at the sudden movement , body shifting in his lap. your hand landed on his chest to catch yourself , and you let your body melt into his.

“you all jealous i’m not paying attention to ya , kitty. green isn’t your color,” he told you , pulling back from the sloppy kiss.

you sat back , offended he would ever accuse you of such a thing. “that’s not true , rafey. you know that,” you whined , lightly— barely at all , hitting his chest in protest of his statement.

“which part?”

“all of it,” you decided with a firm shake of your head, “i do not get jealous , and i always have your attention,” you added , leaning in for another kiss, “and i do look good in green.

“i know , i know. the elusive y/n y/l/n never gets jealous,” rafe played along , kissing you gently as his hand slid further up your thigh, “but i do.”

“what do you mean?” you hummed , moving your lips to kiss at his face and the side of his neck now.

“saw the bartender making eyes at you,” rafe murmured , sighing at the last kiss you planted right behind his ear, “the help was eyeing you.”

“it’s the twenty-first century , rafe. we don’t call them the help anymore,” you reminded him with a roll of his eyes and another inch of skin discovered by his hand, “and besides , i wasn’t focused on him. i was watching you.”

rafe smiled , heart beating faster when you so openly said that he had your attention. of course as friends , you always let the boys know how much you loved and appreciated them. but this was different. this was just for rafe— no one else.

“you missed our song,” you mumbled into his neck , not wanting him to hear that you were disappointed in your voice.

“i was singing along in my head,” he assured you , running his hand up and down your back.

you sighed , taking in the feeling of his hands on you , the warmth they spread throughout your body. “since i’m not allowed to talk to the bartender , will you go get me another drink , rafey?” you asked sweetly , only shifting your head a little bit to let him hear you clearer. you also translated his earlier jealousy of the bartender to making it clear he didn’t want you around him again. that’s how it usually went.

“whatever you want , kitty,” he agreed , pressing a kiss into your temple before tapping you leg to get you up.

rafe stood as well , now towering over you. his drunken smile making him look even better than he did before. you smiled back at him , batting your lashes before he rolled his eyes and yanked you in for another kiss. “don’t make me wait long,” you warned him , ending the kiss and ushering him to the bar.

happily , you sat back down to wait. your solitary peace was quickly disrupted by kelce and topper flopping down next to you.

“four blowjobs and one fuck! best birthday ever,” topper congratulated himself once again , hair messy and lips swollen.

“you’re such a slut , top,” you laughed , getting more comfortable now that you and rafe were most likely hanging out in the living room for longer, “what did you do pop a v?” you joked , causing both boys to laugh like he had in fact taken a viagra.

“speaking of slut…” kelce began with a cheeky little smile. it said he knew something juicy , and topper was all over it.

“what? who fucked who?” he asked , wanting to know exactly what happened and when and where and why.

kelce laughed , nudging you gently. “miss penthouse over here was mackin’ on our boy,” he sold you out , grinning ear to ear, “thought it would never happen.”

“and i missed it?” topper whined , throwing his head back and resting it on the couch, “i always wanted to be there the day you and rafe got together.”

you frowned at topper , feeling oh so bad for him until you flicked his throat , causing him to sit up straight and cough. “you’re a perv,” you stated, “and you too , kel. didn’t know you liked watching.”

“oh , i’d watch you do just about anything , baby,” he flirted , knowing it would make you roll your eyes. that’s how you and the boys were. they flirted with you jokingly ; you called them pigs. it was your dynamic.

“you’re not watching her do jack shit from now on,” rafe spoke , smacking kelce upside the head as he handed you your full glass. you got up , letting him take his place before falling into his lap.

kelce laughed , dapping his friend up. “man , you know i’m not going anywhere near your girl.”

“excuse me! i’m still a human being,” you interrupted, “actually i’m one of your very few friends. please act accordingly,” you playfully reached out and punched his arm.

“so who’s taking who’s last name?” topper asked , grabbing a beer that was sitting on the table and chugging it. gross.

you grimaced at the sight. “maybe you should focus on not drinking random drinks , t,” you suggested , feeling rafe’s hand creep up your thigh again , drawing small patterns on the plush skin.

“i’m the birthday boy. i can do whatever i want!” topper roared , throwing his hands up in the air triumphantly.

“you’re gonna get roofied one of these days,” you shook your head.

“here’s hoping! it’d probably make my night ten times crazier,” topper laughed , finishing the beer and setting the cup back down.

the four of you sat and chatted for a bit , appreciating the time you weren’t being bothered and you could simply enjoy the party. rafe had been pressing kisses into your skin , making his way from your shoulders to your neck while topper and kelce dove down their own conversation.

“we should go,” he whispered just loud enough for you to hear before nibbling at your ear, “soon.” he lifted his hips up with you still in his lap , making the hard on in his slacks known.

you turned in his grasp , giving him a knowing look. “i don’t hookup with boys on the first night,” you reminded him.

“this isn’t the first night,” rafe corrected you , moving some of your hair out of your face and behind your ear, “i’ve been thinkin’ bout this forever. by myself , with other people , when i’m with you. it’s not the first night for me , and i can guarantee it isn’t for you either.” he made a very fair point.

you hummed , taking it into consideration. “but it’s topper’s birthday,” you reasoned , looking over just as he and kelce went outside to the pool. the blonde jumped in , splashing people with the water before coming up for air and yelling out. the crowd cheered as kelce joined him.

“don’t think he’s too worried bout us leaving,” rafe commented , looking at the way topper already had a girl in his arms to make out with.

you pushed yourself up from rafe’s lap and the couch. rafe scrambled to get up , thinking that you were about to leave without him. “c’mon then,” you spoke , grabbing his hand in yours and leading him away from the party. the closer you got to his car , the quieter everything got. like being with rafe silenced everything else. it did for you.

like always , rafe opened your door for you , letting you get settled into the seat designated for you before shutting the door and getting in himself. it took a decent amount of time to get to the hotel. rafe lived on figure eight , which was the more local side of the island. you lived in your penthouse on the more west side of the island , where all of the tourons got off the ferry and onto the sand.

rafe never minded the drive , knowing it was helping you out. but tonight? he was speeding in an attempt to get there faster.

his hand was gripping your thigh , kneading it in his grip. it slipped under your dress about halfway to your place , pinky finger reaching out to touch the delicate material you wore beneath it. he didn’t do anything more though.

it wasn’t like him , but he wasn’t about to finger bang you in his car. you weren’t that type of girl to him. you weren’t a quick fuck he met at a party. no , you were his girl. and his girl deserved more than that. at least the first time. maybe tomorrow he would suggest it on the way back to his house.

but you had had enough of the teasing and gentle touches. with a roll of your eyes , you unbuckled and shifted in your seat to face rafe entirely. your hand reached over to his own lap , tracing the outline of his boner.

“and what’re you doing?” rafe questioned with a smirk, “hm?”

“it’s a long drive , and i’m bored,” you answered plainly , undoing his belt and pulling the zipper of his slacks down, “so i wanna kill some time. that okay?” you looked at him with those big eyes , and he had this exact dream not that long ago , so of course he wasn’t going to say no. especially not when you were already pulling him out of his briefs.

“do whatever you want to me , kitty cat. m’all yours,” he nodded , thrusting his hips up involuntarily when your hand started pumping him.

you hummed contentedly , leaning over the center console to take the tip of him into your mouth. you pressed a sweet kiss to it first , licking your lips clean of the precum he was dripping with , and when rafe whined , you knew you would do this every day of your life moving forward if you could.

you sucked at the tip , hand still moving up and down in tandem with the suction before slowly taking more of him in. you didn’t mind the fact that his hips shifted up every once in a while , forcing you to take him further. you liked it , liked knowing he couldn’t control his body.

“fuck , baby. mouth feels fuckin’ perfect,” rafe moaned out , removing one of his hands from the wheel to the hem of your dress. he flipped it up , exposing your panties to the ac of his car before his fingers trailed down to your center , feeling the wet patch that had taken property of the material.

you moaned when his fingers applied pressure , encouraging you to take him down your throat entirely. your nose brushed against the hair at the base and your throat contracted around his cock , almost causing you to gag before you hummed and pulled off of him. your hand kept up its ministrations , spreading your spit around as you twisted your wrist , earning a solid smack on your ass.

maybe he would fuck you in the car.

“want you to cum in my mouth , rafey,” you admitted , looking at him through your watery lashes for just a moment of eye contact before going back down to his lap and swallowing him again.

“keep going then , baby. so close,” rafe groaned , pulling your underwear to the side to truly feel you, “got yourself all worked up just from sucking my dick?” it almost came out humorously , but it wasn’t that. rafe was just so gobsmacked that you were this wet from a few touches and kisses.

you hummed again around him , bobbing your head up and down fast , taking him all the way each time. it was a lot , but it wasn’t anything you weren’t completely willing to handle.

“fuck , fuck,” he grunted , removing his fingers from your needy clit to reach the top of your head. he didn’t push you down any further , just held you there for a moment. “gonna cum , baby. you gonna swallow it all for me like a good girl?”

you nodded around him , feeling the first few drops of his release land on your tongue before the rest came flooding your mouth. you tried to pull back , needing more room in your mouth for the load he was depositing there , but he held your head firm. “stay right there,” he moaned , the after shocks of his orgasm hitting as his cum started to spill from your mouth and run down the length of him.

you blinked away the tears and did your best to breath through your nose until he let go of you. his hand returned to you , rubbing and gripping at your ass. you immediately pulled yourself off of him , gasping and swallowing his cum before leaning over again to lick him clean.

“fuck! you’re so good,” rafe laughed , guiding your head up as he came to a red light. he adjusted himself back into his pants before looking over to you. your mascara had started to run a little , roughing up the sleek edge you always tried to maintain. you had spit dribbling down your chin that you were wiping at. “prettiest thing in the obx,” he added , moving to press a kiss to you lips.

you whined into the kiss , shifting to be as close to him as possible. “drive faster,” you said against his lips , needing him now more than ever.

just like that , the light turned green , and you both thanked the universe. that was a good sign.

the light wasn’t too far from your place , so the drive was only a few more minutes. during that time , you readjusted yourself , conjuring up your image again like it was nothing. you didn’t even look like you just took rafe’s cock down you throat. luckily , that was the goal. you didn’t want you mom to find out from the concierge that her daughter was a whore who gave boys road head before taking them up to your suite and having your way with them.

no , she wouldn’t approve.

soon enough , rafe was parking in your designated parking spot near the entrance of the hotel. he didn’t waste any time before jumping out and rushing to let you out of the truck as well. you kissed him politely when he did out of thanks.

your hands found each other again as you lead him inside the hotel. he had been there hundreds of times , but the adrenaline running through his veins and straight to the tent in his pants was different. he wasn’t coming over to hang out with you or to pick you up. he was staying over because you had finally kissed him. after years of wanting you and pushing that greed to the side , he had you. you were his.

and no , neither of you said it , but you both always knew. you more subconsciously than him. he was painfully aware of his feelings for you , and he was okay with waiting. because look at where it got him.

a hello from the front desk and a sloppy makeout in the private elevator later you were entering your home.

you walked into the kitchen , knowing rafe would either follow you or go straight to your room. you grabbed a couple of water bottles and headed to the bedroom , which rafe did choose over the kitchen.

“making yourself at home?” you chuckled , setting the waters down on your bedside table as you took in the sight of rafe getting comfortable in your bed.

“what? you gonna kick me out?” he laughed with you as you made your way to him , crawling up the bed to straddle him.

“never,” you whispered , leaning in to kiss him again. this one was the softest of them all , the slowest more sensual one of the night.

rafe’s hands found purchase on your hips , pushing your down into his own for friction. you both groaned at the feeling , not breaking the kiss.

“you done talkin’ to girls at parties?” you asked him , pulling away and swirling your hips as your hands rubbed at his chest.

his eyes were closed , head fallen back in the satin pillows. “never liked ‘em anyway,” he nodded , fingers tightening on your waist when you moved just right.

“i mean it,” you reiterated , slowing your movements.

“me too,” rafe assured you , sitting up and holding onto you, “they were never you. never could be,” he whispered , kissing you gently again before flipping you over, “you done flirting with bartenders?”

“i never have,” you giggled as he nipped at your neck , grinding his hips into yours.

“then i think we can agree , it’s just me and you,” rafe’s voice came out shaky— whether it was the nerves of exclusivity or the way you felt under him.

your smile widened as you tilted your head. “is the big bad rafe cameron asking me somethin’?” you teased him as he pulled away to look at you.

“kitty,” he began , his own smile forming if it ever truly left. you bit your lip in anticipation. you knew rafe , knew he couldn’t ask you what he wanted.

“it’s fine , rafe,” you nodded meekly, “promise.”

and ignoring the pinch in your stomach , you pulled him back in for a kiss that he dodged to make his mark on your body.

“sorry” he mumbled into your skin , biting and sucking at your neck down to your collarbone, “i wanna. i promise,” he spoke so softly , moving lower and lower down your chest, “but you know you’re my girl , right?” he looked up at you as he slid your dress up to your stomach. his fingers traced the hem of your underwear , causing you to take a deep breath in. “right?” he echoed , hooking his fingers to pull them down your legs.

“yeah,” you nodded , waiting for him to touch you again. his kisses started on your thighs , holding them open as he moved your legs over his shoulders.

“good girl using your words,” he chuckled , sticking his tongue out and swiping it through your folds once slowly before sucking your clit into his mouth. your head fell back , jaw open to let out a whiney moan , one you’d been holding in all night.

you knew about rafe and his experience. you knew because you were best friends who told each other everything. with that in mind , you had no clue he ate pussy like a starved man , like you were oxygen and he had been underwater for too long.

when he slid a finger into you , you tensed up a little , not expecting the stretch yet. “relax , baby,” he chastised you , diving back in to mouth at your clit to get you to let your muscles untense. and god , it felt good. too good.

“fuck , fuck! rafe , stop. stop , stop,” you rushed out , pushing his head away from you , and he immediately pulled away and sat up.

“what’s wrong?” he worried , searching your face for anything.

you giggled , pulling him in to kiss you. “i want you to fuck me,” you told him , hand going to the tent in his pants again, “that’s what we came here for , right? so fuck me so i can come on your cock,” you whispered in his ear.

the man didn’t waste any time. he tore his pants off , slipping out of his shit just as fast while you undressed yourself , giggling the whole time.

“what’re you laughin’ at , kitty?” rafe asked despite chuckling with you as he found his way back on top of you. he left his hand guide himself to your entrance , promptly stopping any laughter coming from your lips. he slid his cock through your folds , up and down until you were whining.

“rafey…” you sighed , using your leg hooked around his hips to pull him closer.

and he couldn’t deny you any longer. not with that look on your face. not with the cadence of your voice. not with how wet you were. as rafe slid himself in , completely to the hilt , you both groaned in sync. he paused , stilling inside of you to give you both a second. lord knows he needed one. “you okay , baby?” he asked gently , kissing at your neck. he still hadn’t moved , breathing deep.

“mhm , want you to fuck me,” you nodded , maneuvering to kiss him on the lips. your tongues fought for dominance as you made out , rafe’s hips starting to move.

his thrusts were harsh— deep and hard. the type that forced moans out of your mouth with each one. your head thrown back gave rafe the chance to mark your neck more. he grunted in your ear , hot breath hitting your skin as he gripped so tight on your hips he was sure there would be bruises there too.

“you’re so fucking perfect,” rafe moaned , holding himself up to fully look at you, “pretty fuckin’ kitty , wanting me to fuck you so bad , huh?” he was smiling the whole time. he moved around , sitting back and pulling your legs together. he kissed at your calves , slamming into your faster harder than before.

your mouth was left open , moans and whines and borderline screams flying out freely. “fuck! so fucking deep , rafe. feels so good,” you babbled , hands gripping the sheets in your hands.

“yeah? you like that , baby?” he grunted , wetting his thumb with his tongue before moving it to rub at your clit in time with his thrusts, “squeezin’ me so tight,” he moaned , letting his head drop back in ecstasy just for a moment before focusing again.

“i’m so close! right there , right fucking there!” you alerted him , hands coming up to grab at your tits.

“ahh , that’s it,” rafe hissed , not changing a thing he was doing, “cum on my cock , baby. fucking cum for me.”

his words only helped throw you off the edge. you squealed , moving you legs down from his shoulders in an attempt to get away from his assaults as you came down.

rafe didn’t stop though. no , he just grabbed your thighs and yanked you back toward him , continuing to fuck himself into you throughout your high. it was when your moans turned from pleasure to the smallest amount of pain from the overstimulation that he pulled out.

breathing heavy , your eyelids dropped as you tried to come back to reality. that idea was short lived as rafe flipped you onto your stomach.

“i’m not done yet , baby,” he warned you , adjusting the way your body was splayed on the bed. once he had you the way he wanted , he straddled your thighs. he jerked himself off a couple of times and sheathed himself back inside you.

your body welcomed him with ease , letting him slide into you with no push back at all. “fuck,” you groaned , burying your face in and holding onto your pillows.

rafe took that as a sign you were ready and began fucking into you again. he didn’t hold back this time , using your body the way he wanted. but there was a certain moan you heard come from his lips along with a stutter of his hips that reminded you he wasn’t wearing a condom.

your hand flew back to his hips , pushing him out of you before you rolled yourself onto your back. “come on my face,” you blurted , panting with him. he ran a hand down with a groan his face before shifting up your body. his thighs pushing your tits up as he jerked himself off in front of you.

your hand replaced his , still wanting to be the reason he finished. you stuck your tongue out and closed your eyes when the first few drops hit your skin , squeezing a little more until he was coming completely undone.

“fuck , kitty. yes , yes , yes,” he whimpered , gripping the back of your head and bringing your mouth to his dick again, “take it just like that. yeah,” he grunted , cock twitching in your mouth as you drained him.

when rafe felt like he could move again , he shifted to the side , clambering off of you. “fuck!” he panted with a laugh , placing his hands on the side of your cum covered face and kissing you. you moaned into it , tasting both him and you on your tongues.

he pulled away and slid off the bed , leaving you to go into your bathroom. you were left on the bed , eyes closed and chest rising and falling. the silence was deafening , only being able to hear your breathing and a high pitched ringing.

“rafe , will you grab—“

“i gotcha,” rafe assured you , coming back into the bedroom with a wash cloth and your makeup removed, “c’mere.”

you pushed yourself up , and rafe sat next to you. he gently wiped at the white stains on your face , making sure to get all of it off. “prettiest girl in kildare. i’ll say it for the rest of my life,” he cooed , boyish grin on his face as he finished getting the last of cum. you peeked one eye open with a smile to look at him , checking if he was done.

rafe wasn’t looking at you when you checked , too busy pulling out a makeup wipe , so you shut your eyes again , waiting patiently as the blush started to creep up on your cheeks. “oh , kitty. no blushin’ after all of that!” he teased you , starting to remove the makeup on your face.

“m’not,” you huffed , smile breaking back out on your swollen lips.

“you’ve always been a shit liar,” rafe muttered , shaking his head as he got the last of your makeup, “there. now you’re even prettier.” his compliment was sealed with a kiss while you rolled your eyes.

“will you pass me the water?” you croaked , realizing how dry your throat was after you tried to swallow.

he nodded , grabbing both bottles. he unscrewed one , handing it to you before opening his own and chugging more than half of it. you let out a short laugh at the sight , sipping on your own.

“still know where you’re clothes are at?” you asked him , assuming he was staying the night and not wearing the dress pants and shirt while he did so.

“don’t need ‘em,” he shrugged , climbing under the covers before dragging you back with him.

a/n lol i stay lying to y’all bout when n what im finna post:) but comment to be added to this taglist! <3

[voxslays]

MY RESOLUTION IS YOU

TLDR >>> What spending the new years with them would be like. Featuring Alastor, Vox, & Lucifer x Reader (separately).

Alastor

Very laid back. I’ve seen others headcannon that Alastor doesn’t really like drinking all too much but will occasionally (which I totally agree with), and he might have a brandy or two before deciding to call it quits for the night. Besides, someone sober has to make sure there is no chaos in Charlie’s hotel! Although he will definitely watch your drink though (even though nobody in the hotel would dare try something like that and especially not while Alastor is around-) He won’t take his eyes off it!

Is a little bit more cuddlier when drunk, and just starts randomly people watching. It’s safe to say he is definitely enjoying everyone embarrassing themselves while drunk. Very entertaining.

Alastor will definitely indulge in the hors d'oeuvres Charlie brought for the party—and might sneak a few of his own dishes into the mix…specifically his mother’s jambalaya.

If Alastor is feeling pleasantly that night and a little tipsy he might give you a little peck on the lips. Nothing that lasts for too long though, since he has ‘business to attend to’.

Lucifer

Is somewhere inbetween the life of the party and just a laid back dad. Don’t get me wrong, Lucifer can totally start chugging shots and partying, but not only does he have a reputation (that he needs to get back because people don’t even respect him anymore-) and Charlie is there.

On another note, he can be such a flirt. Luci just has that devilish charm, what can I say? He will not stop flirting with you. You felt the heat run to your cheeks ten minutes ago, and you don’t know how much more you can take! Good luck, Babe.

I feel like Luci either eats a ton or barely any at all (or goes back and forth between the two-) but Charlie was so kind and ordered hors d'oeuvres for everyone! He can’t disappoint her by not having atleast a small plate! (Which may turn into more…)

At midnight, he would awkwardly ask you for a small peck on the lips, which would then turn into a full on makeout session…which may lead to more in someone’s bedroom. But for now Lucifer is just enjoying the moment with the people he loves; You and Charlie.

Vox

Life of the party. Vox is extremely charming and charismatic—even more so when drunk—so of course people flock to the Vee’s annual New Year’s Eve party to even get the chance to speak a couple words to the overlord.

Also very flirty, but less awkward than Lucifer. The entire night he will have his arms somewhere on you. Whether it’s the small of your back, your shoulder, or just simply holding your hand, he needs to be touching you at all times.

I can totally see him drinking maybe a little more than he should. Vox knows his limits…but does he care? Sure, he knows he will feel like shit in the morning, but that’s his future-self’s problem. He is too caught up in the moment with you to care.

Probably has one or two full plates of hors d'oeuvres and appetizers. What? He’s hungry! And those mini hotdogs look so delicious. If his mouth could water through his screen, it would. Especially at the sight of you in that outfit-

At midnight, he will grab you by your hips and kiss you roughly with his screen. It turns into a full makeout session real fast. And there is no way the two of you don’t lose your clothes and end up in his bed by the end of the night.

[lostintransist]

Fallen Angel | Coffee Orders

AO3

The guys had all come to the shop tonight. Johnny led the way, his bright smile finding you first. Kyle winked, Gary waved, Simon nodded, and Price studied you.

“Hi guys, what can I get you? Gary, I know your order if you wanted to find a seat.”

You had quite a few patrons tonight, they might struggle to find a space to sit together.

“Why do you know his order bonnie?” Johnny looks from the menu to you.

“Ask him,” you smile before looking to the rest of them. “Do you know what you want to order?”

“I’ll take a large black coffee, one sugar,” John said.

“Small London Fog for me,” Kyle adds.

“Large black, one London, got it. Simon, want an Earl Grey with a splash of milk?” You glance up from the tablet to see his nod. “That leaves you, Johnny, anything pique your interest?”

“I can’t decide, why don’t you give me your favorite drink on the menu?” He looks at you.

“Can do. All one ticket tonight or separate?”

John steps up, “I got this trip.”

“Alright, go ahead and tap your card I am going to get started on these drinks for everyone.” Leaving the counter you start on their drinks.

You would normally call out their drinks and have them pick them up but you wanted to talk for a few minutes. Grabbing Gary’s ice caramel macchiato and John’s black coffee you leave the kitchen. You found the seating space rearranged. Someone had pushed together two of your smaller tables to make room for them all.

Gary’s ears reddened as you put his drink down. A general chuckle spread out from the table as the men saw his drink. Johnny elbowed Simon with an eye on the ice floating in Gary’s glass. Kyle snorted and turned to look at some art on the walls. John lifted a brow as he took his own drink from the table.

You snatched the coffee from John’s hand as it headed for his lips.

“Okay. That’s not going to fly.”

Everyone looked at you, slightly confused.

“If you want your drinks, you’re going to apologize for laughing at Gary. We don’t make fun of my friends.”

You stared at them expectantly, expertly ignoring the red rising in Gary’s ears.

When murmurs of apology drifted from each man you gave John back his drink and headed back to the kitchen for the rest. When the guys all had their drinks you nodded once and went back to the kitchen. The reaction had been extreme, and unnecessary. Gary was a grown man who worked a secret job for the government, he didn’t need you to defend him. You stayed behind the counter until closing, waving everyone out before locking the door. You set about cleaning up the seating, and tables, and sweeping and mopping the floor. You sent your cleaning playlist through the speakers that were placed around the building, blasting it so loud you couldn’t hear yourself think.

Quinn knocked at the door at his normal time. Quinn washed your dishes. Letting him in you go back to finishing your closing duties. Once you cleaned the front of house well enough for tomorrow you stepped into the kitchen. Turning the volume down you chat with Quinn for a few minutes.

When a jaw-cracking yawn overtakes you he shoos you out the door. Quinn would go out the back, taking the garbage with him. The back door locked automatically so you went out the front door and locked it after you.

Music still spilled from the bars nearby as you worked your way to your car in a parking lot a few buildings over. A large shadow peeled off one building as you got closer to your car. Keeping your pace even, you checked for anyone else on the streets. No one. Figures.

“Can I walk you to your car?”

“Fuck Simon! Don’t do that!” You slap a hand to your heart. It is still trying to beat out of your chest. “Next time if you want to walk me to my car maybe ask before you leave the shop so you don’t scare me near to death.”

His shoulder hunched as he must realize what you were thinking.

“I’ll ask next time.”

“’s too late now. Do you need a ride home too or just waiting to scare the shit out of me?”

“Told Price I would ride with you.”

Pulling teeth from a feral cat would be easier than getting information out of this man right now. Taking one deep, calming breath you straighten.

“Alright. Come on then. I am in need of a shower and my bed.”

He doesn’t say much of anything on the drive home. At least he didn’t comment on the mess of your back seat. Simon opens your door when you arrive home. He had gotten out quickly once you parked and turned back to grab your things.

“Thanks, Simon.”

He got to the front door too, following like a cat as you drifted into your room. Standing at your doorway he stared as you started to remove your jewelry and shoes.

“The drinks were good.”

“Were they? I’m glad. I’m always a bit worried that they will come out terribly and that is why my shop draws in such a small crowd.” Pulling out your hair tie you run your fingers into your scalp. It had been up too long today.

“Can’t be the coffee.” With that he slips into the dark hallway, leaving you staring at the open door.

Gently closing the door you finish your routine, sliding into bed with the curtains blocking out the light of the rising sun.

When you head out to your car next you are shocked to find a full tank of gas where you had been hovering on E the night before.

Fallen Angel Masterlist | Masterlist

[alkelkha]

𝐓𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐊𝐄𝐓. chapter two

relationship — jinx/powder x fem!blk coded reader

contents&warnings! : wc: 3.2k | post season 2 | lower-case indented | author attempts to write action-ish scene | reader gets beat up | don't worry jinx saves the day | jinx being jittery | yes there is a plot to this ff | yes i am making this up along i go | PLEASE GIVE ME IDEAS FOR FUTURE CHAPTERS | not beta read | mentions of blood | jinx and reader finally become friends |

❛❛ CRASHLANDIN' ON YA' ❜❜

a shooting star was your first impression of it.

the past week had been terrible; there were no bonfires on the beach this time because everyone was at the town center celebrating for whatever reason. you stumbled onto the beach sand and stayed on the ground coughing hysterically.

sand stuck to your wet body and hair. you were so tired you could barely keep your head up. what was this, the third time you’ve been waterboarded? but hey, who’s keeping count? this is the price that comes with being a good person. curiosity killed the cat, and it was going to get you killed one day.

you’ve accepted it— death, and if you were going to die, it might as well be for something cool like trying to take down the gang that has your home in a chokehold. what’s so wrong with wanting to go out a hero? 

then that’s when you saw it. a bright white star rushing away in the sky. 

the perfect time to make a wish! you folded your hands together and closed your eyes.

star… make my life worth more than this.

you opened your eyes and the star was…coming towards you?

your eyes widened, and you booked it off the sandy territory, losing balance every now and then. dunking and hiding behind the concrete wall that separated the beach from everything else, you covered your ears. the debris covered the portion of the beach, some even thrown over your head.

you kept your eyes closed for a long time before noticing the orange hue of the flames. getting up from your hiding spot and walking towards the destruction. there wasn’t much fire so those would be easy to put out. the fire wasn’t your concern though, it was what you would find. was someone there? are they alive?

coughing and waving your hand in front of your face to wave out the smoke, you finally found someone. they were crawling away from the rubble. you run over to them, but just as you get there their body has already gone limp. it was a female your age, the prettiest shade of blue you’ve ever seen, with a purple streak.

you knelt down and scooped her up in your arms, the stranger in your arms was light— and you had the strength of the average woman. 

overtime the locals got her settled down, and she became flosnum’s talk of the town. apparently, there were three other people in the blimp that crashed but didn’t survive. not that the blue-haired mystery woman would know since she spent the majority of her time being nursed back to health and secluding herself from the rest of the world in her new complementary flosnum home. flosnum has had a huge population surge which meant a lot more houses and some left vacant. 

as creepy as it sounds, you couldn’t stop thinking about thinking about her. washing dishes? thinking of her. bartending? thinking of her blue hair. staying at that boring shop filled with gunk? thinking about what kind of person she is. 

it’s safe to say she lived in your mind rent-free. you couldn’t help it; she just seemed so cool! coming from the times you’ve been able to catch a glimpse of her. she dressed so strangely, too. you wanted to ask her so many things. where was she from? is her hair naturally blue? is her favorite color blue? what does she like?

just what kind of person was she?

the first time you were able to formally meet her was two days ago. 

TINKETTES: SCRAPS & PARTS

leon, the old man who owned this place, had died. rest in peace. he left behind a museum of metal scrapes, tools, wires, and a whole bunch of other stuff that you didn’t understand. the only reason you were tending to it was because leon was the bar owner’s brother and he said he would give you a raise if you did this one favor for him. 

in the back area for employees only, you threw a ball at the wall and caught it. you did that a couple hundred times before you heard the windchimes sung. someone was here? nobody ever visited.

trying to get out of the chair too fast, you ended up falling on your side. you opened the door to find her, of all people. 

you swear you’re not a creep, but just from her backview, she was gorgeous. you wondered what she looked like with long hair. 

"need help with anything?”

it was a normal day at the ‘SEVEN CHIMES’ (aka the pub). mindlessly placing drinks down in front of customers, you barely registered your coworker’s call for you. “[name]!” you turn around and run over to the counter.

“yeah?”

“big don wants to see you after your shift.” stella states as she mixes a drink. a warning. a sharp chill went down your spine, maintaining a smile, you nod.

shit. what was it now? had you not already paid enough money for the month? or was it the incident with the pervert customer? 

you spent the rest of your shift with a gaping pit in your stomach. serving drinks, rowdy customers, talks about the mysterious blue-haired girl.

walking into big don’s office felt like walking into a dark room: ensure of what you would be greeted with. “stella said you needed me?” the sickly pale man, but not thin, leaned back in his chair with a dice between his fingers. his other hand tapped the desk, staring directly at you. “did i not give you a task?”

straighten your posture and answer “you… you did! you told me to hurry up and—“

“—get rid of the shop.” he finishes your sentence. “yes. yes, i did say that, yet i have not seen any progress.”

“i…” your throat felt dry. terribly dry. fidgeting with your hands you finally gain the courage to speak. “i did! i mean i am close to doing so— a girl wanted the shop.”

he nods slowly, rubbing his chin. “…good…good…” big don leans closer to his desk. “you still have to pay for your recent accident, you are aware of that, correct?” 

 “yes sir,” you respond nodding frantically.

letting out a small mocking huff his eyes finally turn away from him. “you’re lucky, you did something good. i’m not as angry as i was before.” he waves his hand to shoo her away. “i will deal with you some other time.”

wasting no time you got out of the office.

you were going to kill him one day.

you didn't dwell on it too much. that wasn’t your thing— as a matter of fact, that was the only thing keeping her alive. it happens, and then it passes over, no need to dwell on it [name]. patting your head (which stella points out to be a nervous tick), you waited for the blue-haired beauty.

she was cute and all, but she seriously needed to hurry up and appear so she could give her the keys to this place. if she didn’t, you would die (half joking). thinking about it… did you say that you would come to her or for her to come to you? you honestly couldn’t remember.

letting out a groan, you put your hands on your face. if you keep looking at the same weirdly bent metal scrap, you are going to lose your shit.

great, now you had to get up.

was walking around flosnum begging people for the tiny pieces of information they had on bluey beauty odd? yes, next question.

if you had to walk another ten minutes in the scorching hot sun, you would melt. being on the verge of heat stroke, you place your hand over your forehead to block the sun and lose your balance a bit, walking backward. you felt your back hit someone.

“oopsie daisy!” the person said in surprise.

turning around to apologize, your eye widens, “bluey!”

she looked less… sad and more alive the last time you saw her. there was neon splatted all over her clothes, and a sparkle in her pink eyes twinkled. she then narrowed at the sight of you, “you…” she was holding a box inside her left arm and was licking an ice cream.

you grab onto her shoulders, “i was looking everywhere for you!” you felt like you could finally breathe without having to worry about dying the next day.

“you were?” she tilts her head, confused about why someone would look for her.

you wrap an arm around her shoulder, she tries to move away from you. normally, you would care about being impolite, but you were on the verge of fainting. “surprise surprise, you got the shop!” you jingle the keys in front of her face. “please, move in as soon as possible.” you said smiling, she finally slips away from your grasp causing you to stumble a bit.

her full frame was now in your view. she was slim, toned core and arms, had an awesome tattoo, and was really pale— too pale for a place like this; some woman would die to have that body.

“gonna give me those keys, or was your real plan just to check me out?” she continues to lick her ice cream. shaking your head, you toss the keys to her. she catches the keys “thanks for the candy, stranger. it really helped a girl out.” she says with her back turned walking away from you.

wait wait. no, that’s not how it’s supposed to go. yeah, you were supposed to give her the keys, but you were hoping for a conversation longer than 30 seconds. okay maybe you were hoping way more than that… maybe being friends or something like that.

jogging up to her pace, you walk alongside her. “so!” you try to keep the conversation going. she furrowed her brows at you, either confused or annoyed by your attempt. “i was thinking since you’re new and everything that maybe you’d need a friend.” 

at first, she slowed down and she just stared. not at you. it was like she was lost in her mind. “a friend, huh?” her voice lowered, “sorry, toots, i don’t do friends.” 

jinx didn’t do friends.

she didn’t need for them. the closest thing she had to a friend was sevika, and she wasn’t even a friend she was more like… an annoying aunt. 

they didn’t last. 

besides… who would want to deal with her? vi didn’t, silco only made her condition worse, she always felt like a chore to sevika, and ekko… boy genius was too good for her. jinx wasn't who he wanted.

powder cleaned up the shop (by cleaning up, she put all the junk in the employee room). it felt nice to clean up; it was like her body was moving on auto-pilot just like it had been doing for the past two days. everything felt like an out-of-body experience after the numbness she felt the first month she had got here.

she grabbed a teddy bear out of the box and tied it up to the ceiling. for some reason, she kept the nagging thing around; powder kept sweeping up the place, “tidying” it up to her liking.

why do you keep pushing everyone away?

“shut up.” powder didn’t have the patience for it.

why do you keep pushing everyone away? 

her grip tightened around the broomstick. “was me tying a noose around your neck not enough?”

why do you keep pushing everyone away? why do you keep pushing everyone away?  why do you keep pushing everyone away?  why do you keep pushing everyone away? why do you keep pushing everyone away? 

because you’re a jinx.

jinx reached to her hip to grab her gun to shoot the annoying bear. of course, there was no gun to pull out from a holster. there was no reason to have one in a place like this. old habits die hard.

because everyone who gets close to you dies. 

jinx.

dropping the broom, she turned on her heel and faced the teddy bear, “i’m not a jinx!” her shout seemed to snap her back to reality. it was quiet. so quiet that she was able to hear her own heavy breathing. “not… not anymore…” her eyes were fixed on the bear.

“i left all of that behind.” her raspy voice cracked, arguing with it. “it’s safe here, no danger!” she took strides to the annoyance, “no reason for someone around me to die this time!” she ripped the bear off of the noose, its head coming off.

so why do you keep pushing everyone away?

even with its head rolled on the floor it still tried to get its point across.

if she was right. if she believed everything she just said, why did she keep pushing people away? there’s no reason to be scared of losing someone; there’s no danger here.

jinx dropped the bear and turned around to get back to cleaning up. she crouched down to pick up the broom but her red-violet eyes caught something. a sticky note.

ONLY COSTS FIVE!

with a turtle drawn as a signature. she dropped her broom and dashed out of the shop.

powder wasn’t sure what the plan was, maybe there was no plan to begin with. she wanted to talk to you— to change her answer. she did want to be friends. she needed to get it off her chest because what if she waits too long and you don’t want to be friends anymore? what if you forget you even asked her? what if you didn't mean it?

she was on her way to find you at the bar (like you said for her to find you). on her way there she saw a bright light reflection of a bronze turtle necklace. she got cold feet.

odd.

very odd.

jinx never felt like this. why was telling someone you want to be friends so hard?

all of this leads to now, her stalking you, watching you from rooftops. it wasn’t her initial intention! she just panicked. it was night; it was the perfect time for stalking anyway. jinx followed you. the paths you took were odd. just where were you heading?

an alleyway. alleyways in flosnum were nothing like zaun; they were dimly lit, painted murals with vines, and flowers blooming from the cracked cement, making it their home.

two men walk up to you. “you know we don’t want to do this.” one of them says sympathetically. you didn’t seem surprised; it was like you were expecting them. 

“kiss my ass.” you bit back then a palm connected with your right cheek. 

oh.

this was not what powder was expecting.

a fight broke out. for a young woman, you sure were holding your ground against two muscled middle-aged men. you certainly weren’t the most skilled person jinx had seen fight, but you made the most of what you could with your frame. jinx debated on whether she should help you out or not. you were obviously going to lose, as of now, you had it in the bag. 

that was until one of them took hold of your hair behind you. the other man spit out the blood from his mouth onto the cement. “stop fighting back and just take the punishment.” he raised his fist and punched you in the stomach, knocking the wind out of you completely.

he winds up his fist again and you prepare yourself for the impact. 

you then saw a streak of pink. it shimmered. there was no longer a man; there was a woman, strands of blue and purple peeking out of the hood.

wait a minute… you looked down to see the man underneath her feet. did she just land on him? “what the fuck…” your eyes trail back up to the woman.

“yes, yes, give it up for your hero.” jinx spreads out her arms, waiting for applause. before you could say anything, she was already off the man and gone from your view. you no longer felt a tight grip on your hair and stumbled forward.

the man backed up “who the hell—“ jinx lashes out a well-aimed kick to the man’s head, his head collides with the alleyway wall and turns into a limp.

it was over so quickly. your arm still wrapped around your stomach. the woman’s hood falls, though you already had a good guess on who it was, her pink eyes fixated on you.

not knowing what to do, you speak up. “were you stalking me?” 

“seriously? no, thank you?”

“oh, of course, where are my manners? my knight in shining armor, thank you ever so much!” your words dripping with sarcasm a smirk gracing your lips.

“damn right, toots.” with her hands clasped behind her back she strolled toward you, her hips swaying with each stride. as she stopped directly in front of you her shimmering eyes darted around you nervously. “yes.”

confused at the simple word, you tilt your head, trying to make sense of it. her irises dilated.

“I want to be friends.” sparkling doe eyes met with yours briefly before darting away.

not knowing how to react, you spoke up, “did you come all this way to say that?” great working [name], you just ruined your chance of becoming friends with the cool blue-haired beauty.

seeing your mistake, you shook your head, recognizing how much of a poor choice of words that was. “shit, sorry.“ now she was leaning toward you she was close. so close. her face was just mere inches away from yours. “shut up and let me say this.”

yes ma’am.

getting out of your face, jinx tries to stand up straight. “i’m a handful— more than that. I just want you to know what you are getting yourself before…”

this was when you realized that powder wasn’t mysterious for the aesthetic. not because she was some attention seeker like some locals would say. not because she was a loser. powder had a past that genuinely haunted her. those eyes carried a lifetime of pain and the way her shoulders were slumped made her seem exhausted.

you didn’t know why she was she looked so drained. you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want to find out. despite her weary demeanor, she was still reaching out, still holding on, and you were willing to take her hand because if anything she it looked like she needed this more than you.

you wanted a cool friend. jinx needed a friend.

before jinx could continue speaking, you blurt out, “when do you want to hang out?” jinx wasn’t sure if she should smack you upside the head for interrupting her or if she should blow something up out of excitement… so she stared at you. fireworks seemed to pop behind her eyes.

“right now.” powder grabbed your hand in a swift motion, her grip firm yet fearful. the action causing you to pivot in the direction she was taking you. now running, she pulled you along with her. powder didn’t know where she was running, she just needed to get the jitters out of her with you at her side.

ignoring the fact your legs felt like jelly because of the recent fight you smile, “i still don’t know your name!” laughing into the breeze that rushes through your hair.

glancing back at you, jinx caught sight of your smile. as if the upturn of your lips were a virus, a smile tugged onto her lips. “i’ll tell you when i’m ready.” jinx’s words echoed behind them.

“alright, baby blue.”

TAGLIST: @millie2point0 @powderbomb-jinxed

i am open to ideas for my next chapter! the chapter is full of fluff of them getting to know each other. its structure is split into weeks. week one: blah blah blah. week two: blah blah blah. week three: blah blah blah.

[eowynstwin]

Blackbird, Fly - Three

Cowboy Gaz x mail order bride—only, not his. After exchanging letters for half a year with ranching man Hans König, you finally travel out west to marry him. - You wonder if this is how lambs feel, when shorn for the first time. - content warning for marital rape after the second break. - ao3

previous

“Come,” says Hans, tugging on your arm, “let’s get you ready for the ceremony.”

Your husband-to-be leads you up the porch steps and into the house, long legs carrying him ahead so fast you must practically jog to keep up with him. You stumble when you enter the house—the interior is fantastically well-appointed, with papered walls and carved wood furniture, framed photos hanging beside paintings, pressed flowers, hunting trophies, rifles and knives and old farm equipment. The floor beneath your feet is polished and smooth, spread over in places with thick, fringed rugs. You don’t see much more of it after your initial impression; Hans pulls you along at a clip.

Even such a brief glimpse, though, proves your long-held assumptions about Hans and his livelihood; his family has done well for itself, over the years. The kitchen, dining room, and sitting room are all separate from each other, and the manor’s first floor alone is larger than the small farmhouse you grew up in. Your family always made an effort to present a comfortable, clean home, but it seems downright drab in memory now in comparison to this.

There’s a bit of a bustle going on as Hans tugs you along—you hear movement in the kitchen, punctuated by the clang of dishes moving to and fro. A rough voice grinds out something short, and a couple of cowboys emerge with covered dishes that they set on the dining table before they return back into the fray. In the sitting room, an older woman with short, sandy brown hair sits at a desk, spectacles perched on the end of her nose. She glances up at you, betrays no interest, and then ignores you.

“You’ll meet everyone at the ceremony,” Hans says. He directs you up the stairs. “Right now you need something nice to wear.”

“O-oh,” you say, lifting the hem of your skirt as you climb the steps. The fabric, purchased at a discount after you’d saved pennies and nickels for months, suddenly feels thin and insubstantial between your fingers.

Hans brings you into the main bedroom, equally well-designed with molded wood paneling and brass lanterns on the walls, where he goes to a chest at the foot of the massive bed four-poster bed. Everything you’ve seen so far in this house is much finer than what even the most well-to-do farmers back home could display; you used to imagine that wealth like this could only be within the reach of select few businessmen on the east coast. You never imagined you’d have the chance to marry into it.

“I think this should suit you,” says Hans, turning to you with a stack of clothing in one hand.

You take it from him when he proffers it—a skirt, blouse, and jacket, you find. The fabric is silky in your hands, glossy and cool to the touch and very fine. You shake out the skirt; yards of bustled fabric tumble open to reveal pleated gathers, elegant bows, and velvet trim. The paired jacket is much the same, with pearl buttons down the front, and the accompanying blouse is a weave of tight, delicate lace.

Your earlier fears are soundly confirmed; you are in no way dressed for a wedding to Hans König. Gaz had only been trying to be kind; being here, now, seeing the kind of splendor Hans lived with every day, no one could make the mistake that you could measure up on your own.

“Thank you, Hans,” you say, face warming with embarrassment.

“Think nothing of it,” says Hans, looking you up and down expectantly. “Go on.”

You blink. “Ex—excuse me?”

Hans raises his brows as if it should be obvious. “Why, let’s see you in it, dear girl.”

You blanch. Surely he isn’t suggesting…“But—well, Hans, we aren’t—we haven’t—”

“My dear, I’ve already promised to marry you. Why would I go to such expense on a wedding merely to fool you into showing me your underthings?”

You drop your gaze to the floor, cheeks burning. “It’s not proper.”

“Bah,” says Hans. He takes the clothes back from you, tosses them onto the bed, and brings his hands to the buttons down your front. “It’s not like I won’t see this again in a few hours.”

You are rooted to the spot. He unbuttons your dress with an alacrity that startles you; in a few short moments, he makes an opening wide enough to slip over your shoulders, and unceremoniously he pushes the collar open and lets the dress drop to the floor.

You blink several times. You wonder if this is how lambs feel, when shorn for the first time; do they feel suddenly like they’ve been skinned? Does the air suddenly feel much closer, more real than it had before? You remember shearing season on a neighbor’s farm, the angular planes of shortened fleece cropped close to twitching flesh. The sheep had looked unfinished after the deed was done—like wooden figurines only partly whittled.

When you look to Hans’ face, you find him gazing at the tight space where your chemise tucks into the line of your corset. Then, as if in a dream, he reaches out with one huge hand and cups the mound of one breast.

The air vacates your lungs. It’s the first time a man has ever touched you this way.

When young ladies of a certain age gather to socialize, matters of discussion inevitably tend toward the prurient. Your peers delighted in sharing the wealth of erotic experience they’d accrued; trysts in larders, late graveyard meetings, dizzying accounts of hands and mouths in places that sent shame pumping hot and curious through your veins. You lived vicariously through their adventures; opportunities for your own, with three older brothers and a protective father, were nonexistent.

The embarrassing fact is that in matters of your marital duties, you received no practical education.

The one time your mother, a modest woman, saw fit to tutor you, she’d taken you out to the small enclosure in which the family goats were kept. The animals were useful for milk and occasionally meat, so there was always a breeding pair at hand. This occasion, they served the additional use of instruction; the male was rutting.

Your mother had made you watch as the billy mounted the nanny, and shoved its little goat prick into her hindquarters. The billy seemed mindless with want, ferocious, gyrating its hips uncomfortably, which the nanny took with what seemed like resigned patience, if it was paying attention at all. Once the billy finished, it dismounted, chewed its cud a little bit, and walked off. The nanny seemed unperturbed, rather detached from the whole thing, and similarly continued with whatever it had been doing before.

“It’s about like that,” said your mother, unable to look you in the eye.

So you have little knowledge of the matter.

And you have no idea what to do now, as your husband-to-be fondles you and stares down at you with what seems like only idle interest. Hans’ thumb brushes over the space where your nipple would be, hot even through layers of cotton and whalebone. The fine hairs on your arms raise, standing straight up.

What are you supposed to do now? Touch him back? Your stomach turns over at the thought. Even if you wanted to, you have no idea how. Hans is touching you so casually, as if you’ve been his wife for years, but you are as poor in wifely instinct as you are in everything else.

“Lovely,” he says, eyes locked on the place where your chest is rapidly rising and falling.

You inhale shakily. This is fine. He wouldn’t do this if it wasn’t—of course it’s all right, you’re to be married within the hour. It’s only your breast, and only his hand, and it’s over your clothes. It’s fine.

“May—” your voice comes out dry. You clear your throat. “May I dress now, Hans?”

He smiles. You note that he has a thin-lipped smile, and his eyes do not crinkle at the corners. “Of course.”

-

When the guests have all arrived, when the world around you is bathed in the orange-gold light of the setting sun, and when the mandolin plays the bridal chorus, you join Hans König under an archway of lupine and Indian paintbrush. Evening gives way to night as the last day of your old life comes to a close, ending as you say the words that until now you’ve only whispered in the night at your bedside.

For better—for worse—as long as you both shall live. Over and over again, until your tongue recognized the shape of them like the Lord’s Prayer. As if practicing them enough would speed the hour to you all the sooner in which their vow became real.

Hans kisses you for the second time, and then together, arm in arm, you turn to face the congregation’s applause.

Stars begin peeking white faces through the dimming sky as the band strikes up a tune, and as the reception commences, you must shake hands with the whole county. The priest John MacTavish insists upon introducing himself first—a younger man, with vivid blue eyes and an unusual haircut, gives his congratulations in a husky Scottish brogue entirely inappropriate for a man of the cloth. He’s followed by the sheriff, Simon Riley, who practically chases him off—another tall man, near to your husband’s height, and twice as broad. Curiously, he wears a bandanna across the lower half of his face. His greeting to you is gruff, short—polite in a way that seems unnatural for him.

Next is a slightly older woman, splendidly dressed in lace-trimmed taffeta. She comes over to kiss your cheeks in the French style. Hans ducks his head as she smiles at you; you can’t help but feel similar trepidation. She is terribly striking, with delicate creases on either side of her mouth and a mysterious twinkle in her eye.

“The hotel in town is my establishment,” she tells you. “The bath house, as well.”

“Oh,” you say, “how lovely.”

Her smile quirks at the corners; she looks at Hans, then back to you, and softly chucks your chin. “You’re a pretty thing, aren’t you, darling?”

“Yes, Madame, thank you,” your husband says quickly as your face sets to blazing. “I believe others would like to speak to us, as well, if you don’t mind.”

She gives you another enigmatic smile, tightens the light chiffon wrap around her shoulders, and leaves you to the banker and his wife, who both eagerly step up to talk your ear off.

Farmers, other ranchers, ramblers and gamblers and trappers; it seems everyone in the state has come to pay you their respects, and they all want to meet you at the exact same time. The rough voice you heard in the kitchen manifests itself in the form of a burly man with mutton chops, who introduces himself as John Price the saloon owner. A young woman with an unsmiling face named Ms. Boucher tells you your first purchase at her dry goods store will be discounted by five percent, as a welcome gift from her to you. She punctuates the statement with a narrow-eyed look at your husband, but you have no time to wonder at it before the next guests capture your attention.

A whole line of Hans’ cowboys, headed by the woman you saw working at the writing desk when you arrived, form up to tell you their names and pledge you their loyalty, still dressed in their wrangling leathers but bathed and combed and polished for the occasion nonetheless. The woman introduces herself as Kate Laswell, the foreman.

“I took care of the accounting after Anna passed,” Laswell says to you. “Tomorrow I’ll go through the books with you. It’ll be your job from now on.”

“Now, Kate, you shouldn’t discuss business at my wedding,” says Hans, politely, but somewhat terse. “And besides, that would be far too much for my new bride.”

“Hans, I told you,” you say earnestly, referencing a summer letter, “I want to be a part of things.”

He smiles genially at you—but the expression seems tight. “Of course, dear.”

“Tomorrow,” Kate says to you. Curiously, she looks you up and down. Then, “You’ll need to see the tailor, as well, I think.”

Her words are not said unkindly, but they shame you anyway, reminding you just how poorly matched as yet you are to this life. When you’d put the dress on earlier, it had been immediately clear to you that it was not made to your measurements, but you hadn’t thought it would be so obvious to anyone else. Only Hans’ cowboys proceeding to introduce themselves saves you from having to respond.

One is conspicuously absent.

Unexpectedly, it hurts. Even though it shouldn’t. Gaz had only driven you here, after all. You’ve known him less than a day. It shouldn’t disappoint you, as you keep your eyes on the moving line, that he does not come forward, but it does.

In between meeting the county folk, you manage to get a few bites of the wedding feast—prime rib, lamb chowder, baked fish, seasoned potatoes, collard greens, fried tomatoes, sourdough biscuits, and three different fruit cobblers still somehow steaming from the oven. You and Hans cut the bride’s cake, an impressive sheet of angel food and ivory buttercream that he must have procured at outrageous cost; you are not embarrassed to wolf it down in front of Hans’ guests. It’s the sweetest, softest thing you’ve ever eaten, more delicate than you ever could have imagined any food could be.

As the sky darkens overhead, the faint cloud of the milky way coalesces in the light of the waxing moon, and the band takes up a lively jig as the wedding party sallies forth to the clearing to dance arm in arm. Your husband whirls you along with them, arm around your waist, and then you’re dancing, too, and the familiar two-step lifts your flagging spirits as the cool night air runs quick, soft fingers across your burning cheeks.

So what if some cowboy hadn’t made it to your wedding? You’re dancing with your husband, after months of longing for him; everything and everyone else is inconsequential laid up against this triumph.

Faces blur in the lamplight the night falls indigo around you, and as the music changes Hans twirls you into a new set of arms in a jaunt that has everyone exchanging partners. They hold you only briefly before the music changes again, and off you bounce to another, the world spinning around you faster and faster, jubilant and surreal, and then another—

Suddenly you are in Kyle Garrick’s arms.

He catches you like lassoing a runaway horse, taking your momentum into the pillar of his body as he winds you in close. One of his hands spreads warm across your back, fingers spanning what feels like the entire breadth of your waist. His other cradles your own in his palm, long fingers folded around it like an envelope. You fit against him easily, perfectly, like a couple illustrated in a storybook.

“Mr. Garrick,” you gasp.

“Mrs. König,” he says.

Suddenly you realize you’re out of breath. You take deep gulps of air, and Gaz’s scent permeates your lungs. Lavender soap and bay rum, polished leather, sweet hay. The soft, dense curls of his hair are combed and parted a little, and the short stubble he’d greeted you with on the train platform is tonsured down flush to his jaw.

He leans in closer to you, hovers his lips near to one ear. “You changed your dress.”

He doesn’t keep pace with the other dancers, or swing you around in time with the music; he lets the world slow around you both, the music falling away as he brings the pace of your heart down with soft line of his mouth and the steady, still look in his dark eyes. His hand on your back radiates so much warmth that it cuts through the evening chill just beginning to set in, as if his palm is directly against your naked skin.

You smile meekly. “It wasn’t appropriate for a wedding.”

His dark brows pull together; his hands tighten their purchase on you. You watch him avert his eyes from you, take a great breath in through flared nostrils.

“Mr. Garrick,” you say, feeling too honest, “do you disapprove of me?”

He snaps his gaze back to you. “Why would you think that?”

You swallow. “You don’t seem very pleased, whenever we talk, is all.”

Suddenly Gaz smiles—lets out a short, sharp laugh that bares his even teeth, shows the points of his canines. “That’s not your fault. I promise you.”

“Then what is it?”

He gazes at you. Lamplight casts the angles of his face in shadow, deepens the darkness of his eyes. His shoulder is solid beneath where your hand rests, shaped hard by a life on the range; you could lay the entirety of your weight against him, you think, and he wouldn’t even sway with holding you up. There’s something very present about Kyle Garrick. Something real. It draws you in like the earth draws the moon into its orbit.

“Do you really want this?” he asks you.

You blink. “Of course I do.”

“You hardly know him.”

“I’ve known him for half a year, Mr. Garrick,” you say, somewhat unsure how much explanation you owe this cowboy. After all, you’d vowed to earn his trust, as his employer’s new wife. “I know you might have some reservations about me. I understand, really.”

“No,” says Gaz immediately, dark brows low and serious over his eyes. “Not about you.”

“Mrs. König!” an accented voice calls.

Immediately the world speeds up around you again, music crashing back into your ears, wedding guests spinning and leaping around you, and you turn to see your husband standing at the edge of the clearing.

The dancing comes to a halt at the sound of his voice; Hans outstretches one hand toward you.

“I believe it is time for us to retire,” he says.

Gaz’s hands tighten on you again. You feel the eyes of the other dancers on the two of you, tight lines of attention between you and them.

You have felt it all evening, really—the undercurrent lining every conversation, the askance looks tossed at you and your husband when no one thought you’d notice. The pervading sense of some drama playing out just outside of your comprehension.

You turn to look back at Gaz. His mouth is pressed into a hard line. The wells of his eyes are ink-dark, opaque, eclipsed by something of a shape beyond your knowing. He says nothing as he holds your gaze, only watches you with an expectation so stoic, so resigned, that you feel almost guilty for releasing him.

He lets you go as if his grasp wasn’t even tight in the first place. You turn away from him, from the stone-hard expression on his face, and go to slide your fingers into your husband’s waiting hand.

Wolf-whistles populate the night air as he smiles approvingly, nods, and leads you away. Short bursts of knowing applause behind you draw your shoulders tight together.

“Ignore them,” says Hans, tucking your hand into the crook of his arm. “They’re just fools.”

You look back over your shoulder. Gaz still stands amid the dancers, a wide berth around him. His eyes have not left you; they pierce you in the night, sharp even as the distance between you grows.

You have only one other point of reference, aside from your mother’s tutelage, for how the end of this evening might go. A topaz glimmering in the folds of your memory.

Years ago, before the shine had worn off as it usually does with older siblings, you’d worshiped your oldest brother like he was Jesus Christ returned. You’d trailed after him like a newborn pup, dogging his every step, hoping your devotion would earn you even the smallest scraps of his affection. You’d watched his comings and goings like you could divine the mysteries of God from the merest angle of his movements.

One night, far past the time when everyone should be asleep, he’d slipped out of the small three-room house your family shared. You knew, because you slept closest to the door, and by then could recognize him by the rhythm of his footsteps. Like any nosy little sibling, you’d followed him out once you were sure he couldn’t hear you behind him.

He’d made his creeping way toward the barn, his path and yours lit only by a waxing moon. You remember, sneaking along after him, noticing a dim glow emanating from the cracks in the hayloft door, and guessed that your brother had realized he’d forgotten to snuff a lantern before going to bed—and now he was going to put it out, rather than leave a hay fire to chance.

He went inside. You were about to follow (no sibling, however divine, was exempt from a good ribbing, and nearly burning down the barn was excellent blackmail fodder)—when you heard another voice.

A female voice. Soft, and sweet, and welcoming.

Very little preamble separated that revelation from the next, and what you heard in the following moments rooted you there in place; movement. Rustling. For the span of a few heartbeats, nothing except for the crickets in the fields—and then, like the moon rising on a cloudless night—a growing chorus, voices high and low, moaning together in staccato.

You’d stood there, frozen absolutely solid, as it went on. The high voice lifted higher, and higher, carried on frantic, rapid breaths, until it cut off with a shriek that muffled so fast you knew your brother had covered the girl’s mouth.

Then—quiet, shared laughter.

So you know a little more than what the goats taught you.

Hans leads you back inside the house, where the lanterns have been turned to low, orange specks of light. You fix your eyes on the nape of his neck ahead of you as the two of you climb the stairs, making your way back to the master bedroom. The cacophony of the wedding celebration is far away; he opens the door, draws you inside, and shuts it behind him.

You stand in the middle of the room, looking at him. This whole evening has felt like a dream, but as you gaze at your husband, you suddenly feel like you’re waking up. You have not been alone with Hans since you met him, not really, and you realize he hasn’t felt quite real to you because of it. You almost feel as if you can see him, for the first time, see the words that have made him up in your memory coalesce into the flesh-and-blood man standing before you.

This is him. This is Hans. This is the man you love.

Softly, you approach him. Reach up with two hands to take his face in them; press your lips, shyly, unpracticed, to his.

“Hans,” you say, more softly than you have ever said anyone’s name in your life, looking into the pale blue of his eyes.

He gazes down at you. “Let’s get undressed,” he says.

It’s the moment you expected, but it daunts you nonetheless. You nod, step away from your husband, and he sets to the task—he shucks his coat, dropping it on the floor, and unhooks his suspenders. Swiftly you turn away from him when he begins unbuttoning his shirt, face blazing—of course, you’ve seen men undress before, you have three brothers, but this—this—

The reality of what you are about to do douses you all at once, soaking you to the bone. When you bring your hands up to the buttons of your bodice, they are trembling; you can barely get the tiny pearls between your fingers to undo them. You hear more clothes land on the floor behind you as you struggle, and then nothing. Stillness.

His eyes are heavy on your back. He is silent as you finally get the jacket off, and the blouse along with it; he is silent as you push the skirt down over your hips, the garment piling on the floor.

Your whole body is shaking by the time you’re down only to your chemise, shivering like a foal on new legs as you bare your shoulders. You close your eyes. There’s no need to be afraid as you shuffle the garment down your back. It’s only your husband behind you, looking at you as you bare your buttocks, as you step out of the split shorts, as the cool night air caresses your naked belly.

“That’s enough,” Hans says behind you when your hands go to the ties on your stockings.

You go still.

“Get on the bed, now.”

-

You focus on your breathing. Long breaths, in and out, as you crawl belly-first onto the mattress, which sinks luxuriously under your weight, softer than any bed you’ve lain on in your life. Suddenly, before you have time to adjust, the mattress sinks even more under you, and an envelope of heat and weight looms over you, pressing hard onto you, bare skin and the smell of sweat and the sound of another person’s breathing over you invading your senses.

Then there’s something blunt nudging at the entrance of your sex. A hand on your hip, gripping tight. The blunt thing circles briefly, parting your folds, and then is pressing into you. Pressing in somewhere tight, somewhere that doesn’t want to open to let it in. You hold your breath. It presses harder, fighting the resistance, and then finally gets past it, just a half inch or so—and suddenly it hurts.

“Hans,” you whisper.

He hasn’t seem to have heard you. He pushes harder, just a bit further. There’s another wall of resistance, this one needling and far more solid. You gasp sharply at the dryness of it, the way his member seems to want to push your own folds up into you as it tries to get in, shoving, bludgeoning, and then, mercifully, Hans pulls away.

It’s on the tip of your tongue to suggest that maybe the two of you try this later. Clearly there is something about you that’s not ready for it—but then his hand is between your legs, smearing something slippery around, and just briefly he touches something that pulses with interest. You jolt as little sparks of pleasure dance through you but quickly burn out, and then, the blunt head of his cock is back, pushing in, much faster, much smoother, huge and hard—

Suddenly it is sharp inside you, razor sharp, paralyzing. You shriek in pain, tears welling acidic in your eyes, shocked, betrayed, and he keeps coming, an endless length of him forcing inside, making room where there is none, going somewhere it clearly must not belong—and then he groans, loud and guttural, and begins to pull out.

You don’t have enough time to mistake this for the end of it. He pulls out halfway and then rams back in, slamming against your body, punching what must be the very limit of the space he can make for himself in your body. Pain roars to life around his cock, radiating outward, a ripping and shredding that grows as he forces himself into you again, and then again, and then it’s happening for real, he’s begins thrusting so fast it knocks the breath from your lungs, slapping his hips against your backside as he grunts and groans behind you like a dumb animal. He batters some nexus of agony that sends you screaming, shrieking with every jerk of his hips, tears streaming down your face as you grip the blanket in clawed fingers.

“Please, Hans, stop, please!”you wail. “Stop, stop, stop—”

His hand grips back of your head, turning your face downward—pressing it against the bed, muffling your mouth and nose and eyes into the blanket—

He jerks against you as agony writes itself into your bone marrow. Your hands circle in on themselves so tightly you feel your fingernails bite into your palms. Any memory of laughter you ever had abandons you.

Then, suddenly, mercifully, he’s forcing himself into you as deeply as he can, groaning loud, and something warm blooms in you, squelches out warm and sticky as he pulls in and out a few more times. He stills then from his furious rutting, hanging over you, panting.

Then he pulls out. Your husband lets you go and rolls over, breathing hard on the bed. You lay absolutely dead still, shaking violently, every muscle in your body tensed up painfully tight.

“Hans,” you whimper, “Hans.”

“Mm-hm,” he hums.

“Hans.” Every nerve is vibrating with pain. “Hans, that hurt.”

There is a long silence after. So long, you start to believe that he won’t say anything; that perhaps, even, he’s fallen asleep, and your words have dropped like flies from the air between you before they reached him.

But he hasn’t fallen asleep. Your husband shuffles off the bed, lifts the linen, and shuffles back into it. The lantern light is dim in the bedroom, but light enough that you can see the nonplussed expression on his face.

“Anna got used to it,” he says finally, eyes closing. “You will too.”

And he turns on his side and says no more to you.

You lay there aching. When you drag your fingers through the slick mess between your thighs, streaks of red intermingle with the clear and the white.

Suddenly you want this day to be over. You want to close your eyes and dream that it never happened—or maybe, if you go to sleep, you’ll awaken to find that it was all a dream after all, and you’re still home, your mother cooking just outside the bedroom door. Slowly, you inch off the bed, finding the floor with your stockinged feet, and go to douse the lanterns.

The room is cold and silvery without their light. Darkness gathers in the corners, around the weak glow of moonlight failing to fully penetrate the curtains over the window. You gingerly swipe the cloth from a nearby washbasin between your legs, cleaning up the remnants of your husband’s pleasure, and then, with nowhere else to go, you return to the empty side of the bed and crawl stiffly under the covers.

He does not stir as you settle in beside him. You lay your head on the pillow next to his and fold your hands over your stomach.

Outside and far away, you think you can hear the band still merrily playing. The darkness deepens, and deepens, until you can’t tell where it ends and you begin.

-

next

[mochatsin]

When MC has a Cast

A small sequel to the prompt “When MC gets pushed off the stairs”. After that fiasco with those bullies, this now focuses on the short shenanigans that come with the brothers trying to take care of you after you sprained your ankle. However, not all of them are very knowledgeable when it comes to human health care. 

if you haven't read the first part, please do! As there are some parts that is a reference from it (though it doesn’t dwell too heavy on it so it can be read on its own)

Lucifer

If he was already overbearing towards his brothers, then it’s so much more towards you now that you’re hurt. He asked for less work for the time being so he can take care of you after school, a request that Diavolo is happy to grant. Lucifer knows he wouldn’t mind, especially when he says it’s part of his duties to care for the exchange student, an excuse that the royals could see through. Though everyone knows how much he truly cared about you.

He has the power to transform the house into something more handicap friendly for you. Ramps on elevated areas around the house, adhesive stickers in the bathroom so you don’t slip, handles by the walls in case you need it while walking. He was this close to buying you an expensive wheelchair from the human realm that he found online, you had to stop him from doing so since you wouldn’t need it when you’re better.

Lucifer has an hourly alarm on his phone that reminds him to check up on you. No matter what he was doing during the day, he’ll stop and take out his D.D.D. to call you. He asks if you’re feeling any better and if you’re taking any pain medication or prescription pills as needed. He hates how he has to rely on Solomon when it comes to your medicine since they’re only obtained in the human realm, so Lucifer decided to take better care of you instead to make up for the lack of human knowledge.

If you ever said you needed something, whether it would be a snack that can only be bought outside or extra pillows to cushion your leg, Lucifer will definitely make it happen. If not him, then he’s asking Mammon or any brother available to attend to your needs regardless if it’s something for your recovery or not.

“They miss that favorite drink they usually have after school so I need you to go get it before coming home.” Lucifer’s tone is commanding, and if it weren’t for the fact that it was for you then the brothers would’ve made a fuss about his attitude. “I know it’s four blocks away, but that’s what they want. See to it that you come home with it.” He leaves no room for negotiation when he abruptly ends the call, expecting his brothers to come home with your drink.

When you’re finally out of that cast, Lucifer still refuses to let you go up and down the stairs alone. As if you were no longer capable of doing so without supervision. He makes sure you’re always holding onto the rails and that the stairways are always clear so that you don’t trip. You don’t see it, but he’s been more vigilant around you just in case there are more students he needs to keep an eye out for.

Mammon

Knowing that leaving you for just a few minutes already got you in this mess, Mammon decided to be glued to you this time. It’s almost difficult to pry him away from you, and he’s miserable every time he’s separated that he’ll do whatever it takes to run back to your room. To him, he thinks that something bad might just happen to you again if he lays his eyes off you for a second. Sometimes you wake up to a three-eyed crow stationed by your window like a little guard.

Chores and assignments are done in haste, the quality is questionable but it’s honest work. Once he tried to just rush his household chores but due to how poorly done it was, he was separated from you again in order to finish it properly. Now he tries being quick about it but still somewhat passable to standards. The only thing in his mind is how he gets to hang out in your room after this was all done. 

Dishes and cutlery placed on the table where others had more spoons than the rest, the trash bags looked like they were just chucked into the garbage can outside, some clothes wasn’t sorted that Asmo got frustrated when he found his new shirt in Beel’s room where it was mistaken for a rag… Lucifer decided to assign chores that Mammon can take to your room, like laundry folding, to ease his brother’s nerves and lessen the stress he experiences on the daily. 

Mammon often steals stuff from the other brothers if he thinks it’s something that could bring you comfort. Asmo’s scent diffuser, Belphie’s blanket, even Lucifer’s mini record player to help you sleep. They would initially get mad, though they soon see a pile of all their stuff in your room, with you resting so soundly in the middle of it like it’s a nest. As annoying as it was to have their belongings stolen, the brothers let it slide for now.

“Can’t help it aight?! My hands are feelin’ extra grabby these days.” He says as he fluffs one of Beel’s burger-shaped pillows before placing it by your back for more support. Mammon then plops down by your side with a huff, wrapping an arm around your shoulders to pull you closer. “That’s why ya gotta get better soon, ya hear me?”

He’s the one that refuses to let you walk around the house. Even if his brothers are there to supervise you, he claims that he’s your first demon so they should listen to him instead! Though it takes a little pout and maybe some puppy eyes from you to make Mammon yield.

Levi

At first Levi was a little agitated since taking care of you meant less time in his room. He always invited you there to hang out, but now with your cast it meant that he needs to adjust and relocate. It’s a small sacrifice if it means he gets to be with you. He’ll just switch base of operations.

Since he spends more time at home in the first place, he’s the one in charge of watching over you while everyone else is at RAD. Being a shut-in has its perks because it means he gets to hang out with you more, though it does a number on his nerves whenever he has to take care of you because he’s afraid he might make your condition worse somehow just by being next to you.

Lucifer already told him what he needs to do. Give you some medication at certain hours, assist if you need to walk or use the bathroom, and make sure you’re comfortable. It’s quite simple. They can’t risk stressing your injuries more, though that stress seems to be transmitting to Levi instead. “Hgnn… getting medication is like a fetch quest a-and assisting is like an escort mission… j-just like in the game.” Is what Levi mumbles to try and hype himself up by associating his tasks with something he loves.

Levi gets jumpy whenever you would walk, acting like you’d get hurt if you took a step with your bad leg. He’s good at keeping an eye out for you whenever you walk around the house because of his anxieties, and giving him bits of praise for taking care of you would usually do the trick of alleviating that. Eventually, he’s calmer when attending to your needs over the next few days. 

He stayed in your room more often and he started gradually moving his stuff there so he wouldn’t go upstairs too often to get something in his room. His consoles, mangas, and games are sitting idly by in the corner of your bedroom so that there’s at least something you both could do instead of laying around. Even when you sleep, Levi is still playing games by your side but with a headset or a lower volume so you wouldn’t wake up.

The brothers eventually noticed how more and more of Levi’s things are appearing in your room. The Akuzon boxes are waiting outside your door instead of his, the latest figurine he bought is displayed in your shelf than on his collection, and they find Levi putting some of his clothes in your closet instead of his. If this went on, they might find Henry 2.0 in your room. Everyone requested a week off from RAD to do some damage control like moving some of Levi’s stuff out. 

Satan

Satan stayed by your side, letting you lie down on the soft bed while he read your favorite passages. He even includes stories about the protagonist recovering from a battle, as if trying to tell you that healing from what happened is nothing to be ashamed of. You shouldn’t feel bad for resting because you need it, and Satan will see to it that you’re fully recovered with no problems.

If you were up for it, he would teach you any of the lessons you’ve missed once he’s home from RAD. He doesn’t mind giving you some of his notes and even writes it in a simpler way just for you to understand easier, even highlighting some key points so you know where to focus or what’s important. Satan wouldn’t want you to lag behind in class when you finally get back to school, but he’s only going to teach you at a pace you’re comfortable with. Your usual tutoring sessions are shorter because he wants you to focus on recovering first.

He’s got his nose glued to the human anatomy books that tackles sprains and muscles, something that Solomon provided after a lot of pestering from the demon’s end. He reads about how to treat it and the duration it would take until you’re fully better. It’s also his way of relieving his anxieties when it comes to your ankle so he can convince himself that you’re no longer suffering.

If you ever let out a grunt for whatever reason, expect Satan to suddenly be by your side asking you if you’re experiencing any of the symptoms he’s somehow memorized in his head. He’s being cautious if you might’ve accidentally aggravated your wounds and require any necessary medical attention, so he would sit you down and bombard you with questions about your condition. A brother would often have to rescue you before Satan gets halfway with his queries. 

“If I don’t know any of these, then how would I tell if you need some help? There’s power in knowledge, you know.” Satan says as he flips through the pages of the thick medical book on his lap. There’s this determined look on his face where he wants to make sure to cross out all the symptoms of any possible ailments. “Now, are you experiencing ‘explosive diarrhea’ by any chance?”

Satan is the one that makes sure that all his other brothers would be useful when it’s their turn to take care of you. He takes note of when you need your next medication, reminds them to refill your water bottles, and how they’d have to check on you for each minute if they had to. If any of them caused you problems, no matter how big or small, Satan would be ready to chase them down for doing a poor job as soon as they left your room. 

Asmo 

Asmo is treating you like an absolute damsel sometimes whenever he sees you limping around the house with your crutches. He also hates that you need to stay home for bedrest since, as he notes, you get to see him less during school days. He loves spending time with you as much as he loves staring at his reflection in the mirror.

Since you’re not around in school, Asmo is always ready to fill you in on the cheesiest gossip like he always does during lunch time or your after school walks. Now he goes straight to your room, placing his bag to the side before dramatically plopping down on your bed with more news. Weirdly enough, some of that news was about those girls that pushed you and about how they’re both fighting more recently. You even notice how big his smile is as the story progressively gets gruesome.

“Just because my darling is stuck here doesn’t mean you shouldn’t be updated to the latest scoop, right?” He says with a grin, showing you the latest tweets about the topic. “Don’t worry, you can always rely on me to give you the juiciest gossip.” This is his way of hanging out with you like how you both would at school. Whenever he wants to talk about something with you and remembers you’re not around yet, he gets a little lonely and he makes up for that feeling when he comes home.

Asmo would want to put his name on your cast once he learns that it’s something humans tend to do. It’s written all over with a pink glittery pen accompanied by little hearts on the side, maybe a little sheep doodle next to it too. The brothers were not happy to learn that he was the first one to write his name on your cast and then insisted on putting theirs next.

He insists on playing the role of ‘Nurse Asmo!’ whenever he’s trying to take care of you, complete with a play-pretend stethoscope for the role (Solomon gave it to him). Normally he wouldn’t come near someone who’s sick because he doesn’t want to catch whatever they have, that wouldn’t look so good on him. Luckily, yours isn’t contagious at all. Asmo would insist on feeding you and there’s the occasional teasing, but it’s all in good faith. 

Asmo also makes a great alert system. You once almost tripped but managed to hold onto the desk, and that was enough to make Asmo let out a high-pitched scream as he was worried your ankle must’ve gotten worse, maybe it’s not healing at all if you almost fell. It alerted every brother in the house and you not only have to deal with a worried Asmo, but now six more anxious demons as well. 

Beel

Beel feeds you foods high in nutrients. He’d even run to the stores to get you those sorts of foods if it meant you’ll heal in no time. Of course, he’s mindful of getting nutritious foods you actually like eating. He wants you to be both healthy and happy. 

“Here, Solomon said milk helps with healthy bones.” Beel says while carrying an entire box filled with jugs of milk. Clearly he means well, but you have to explain to Beel how drinking and eating things high in calcium doesn’t magically heal your ankle (it’s also worse if you were lactose intolerant). He’s a little disappointed, but he’ll understand. Beel could either drink them or give them to Luke as ingredients for his baking. 

Whenever Lucifer asks the brothers to run errands for you, whether it's something for your ankle or for your comfort, Beel is usually the first one to respond and he’s already out the door before any of the brothers could intervene. He likes hearing your gratitude when he does something for you, even if it meant he had to fly across Devildom to get you that ice cream dessert or just walk to purgatory hall to fetch something Luke made for you.

The brothers had to convince him that you wouldn’t shatter if he gave you a hug, but he wasn’t sure if he could. If the stairs already hurt you, what more for a demon like Beel who could bend metal like paper if he wanted to? He was too afraid at first to touch you, but you could see just how much he wanted to hold you. It takes only a few words and a pout from you to make the demon fold. 

If Beel would have to bulldoze everything to clear a path for you then he would. In case there was a bunch of furniture or other things all across the floor, Beel would chuck them aside to make sure you won’t have a hard time walking or risk bumping your leg onto something. Though Lucifer reprimanded him for literally shoving every couch aside just to make room for you and then forgetting to put them back properly. The house wasn’t a pleasant sight to come home to at that time.

Beel’s next solution was to help you with that ankle was to carry you around so you could get to places. You’d be in his arms bridal style while he takes you to the dining room to eat with them. He would even stop eating from the mountain of food from his plate if you needed to stand up, Beel would attend to you right away and take you wherever you needed to go. 

Belphie

Belphie is not the most reliable brother when it comes to taking care of you, not when his excessive drowsiness gets in the way of actually remembering what to do. He wouldn’t be able to wake up in time to give you your medication, or have enough energy to assist you whenever you needed to use the bathroom or just get up to walk. When you needed his help with something, at some point he forgot about your cast and told you that you can do it on your own. His older brothers definitely scolded him for that and the tasks were assigned to someone else instead.

The only role that was given to Belphie was something he can easily do, which is to make sure you’re comfortable and well-rested. None of them wants to see you walking around too much, even with your crutches, as they worry that something could happen while they’re away. They fear you might fall over and won’t be able to get back up, so Belphie is in charge of keeping you in bed and making sure you don’t move more than you need to. 

Whenever you sleep next to Belphie, you always feel so refreshed and rested afterwards no matter how long or short you slept. It’s the demon’s doing, where he makes sure you have the sweetest dreams and get enough sleep so that you’re energized. Belphie thinks that getting more energized meant that your ankle would heal faster, so he’s always trying to drag you in for naps.

For the moments that he’s actually awake, he would be ‘fixing’ your bed so that it would be more comfortable to sleep in. There are three times more than the usual number of pillows on your bed, with extra comforters and better quality blankets. Each time he comes home, he’s fixing your bed and sometimes he adds pillows on it or replaces your old ones. 

“I only have these because I was preparing a little fort for us back at school…” Belphie is a little quiet when he speaks, trying to pass it off as being too busy fluffing your pillows but in reality he just doesn’t like remembering what happened that day. “But since you’re stuck at home, it only makes sense I bring the fort over here right?” 

The only thing that upsets Belphie at this situation for now is the fact he can’t lie down on your lap like he could every time he wants to use you as a pillow. Beel had to remind him that it might hurt your ankle if he laid his head on your thighs. Even though you tried to explain that it’s not necessarily true, the twins insist on making sure nothing would hinder your healing. 

[creepswrites]

Hi there! I just recently discovered your page but I already love your writing style! Can I request a oneshot with poly Sinclair brothers (either just Bo and Vincent or all three, whichever you like better) and gn reader? Maybe the reader usually doesn't get involved when people come to Ambrose, and just stays at the house while the boys do their thing, but this time things get a bit out of control and they have to step in to help? Like prevent one of the victims from getting away or one of the boys from getting hurt?

Feel free to ignore this though, no pressure. Have a nice day! 😊

omg hiii i see you in the comments on a lot of my posts!! i'm so glad you like my writing, you're very sweet :) i loooove writing the Sinclair boys so i hope you enjoy!! sorry this took so long, lots of things kept popping up in my life

SINCLAIR BROTHERS x GN!READER (they/them)

SUMMARY: "There are people! A-A truck! Headin' towards town! They- They have guns, and, and!" Words spilled out of your mouth and you felt your heartrate skyrocketing. The idea of anything bad happening to Bo and Vincent just made you feel...

WARNING: graphic death/violence

Living in Ambrose had not been exactly your choice.

Bo had found you and a few of your friends on the side of the road and Vincent had convinced him to let him "keep" you once they had killed your friends. Not as a wax figure but as a real, living person. At first you'd kept to yourself, staying in the workshop to avoid Bo's anger and pretended you didn't hear the screams. You'd turn your back to Vincent when he worked, sitting and sobbing in the corner of the workshop with your hands over your ears to block out the sound of screams.

Now? It was perfectly normal to you.

"Hey Sweetpea!" Lester called to you, snapping you back to the present. Right, you were helping Lester this morning. Bo had tried to keep you inside to clean the house but the youngest Sinclair had begged to have you help him collect roadkill.

You liked Lester. He'd been sweet with you since the moment you'd arrived and, despite Bo and Vincent's constant arguments on the topic, you'd started a relationship with Lester before either of them. The two of you had just clicked and you'd been attached at the hip ever since. He was big on physical affection and would often make you little charms to hang in your bedroom - you had your own room, something you'd put your foot down after Bo had pitched the idea you just ocellate between sleeping in all their rooms. You wanted your own space.

Giving you choices wasn't always Bo's go-to. He'd been the toughest to wear down, always high-strung and he didn't exactly have a great role model as to what a good partner should be. Your relationship with Bo always felt rocky and unsteady. But he was sweet in his own way. He was terribly possessive of you - often to the detriment of everyone in the house - and wasn't afraid to flaunt you in front of guests. It always made your face flush hot when he did.

Vincent was the complete opposite. Shy and quiet, even after he'd insisted on you staying with them. He never tried to push you to do anything and always expressed his gratitude even for something as simple as doing the dishes. He liked to spend time with you, even if you were doing separate tasks. Vincent made you little wax figurines for your room - no people statues, you'd told him one afternoon - and they sat proudly on your windowsill beside a deer skull Lester had got you.

The term "dating" didn't really fall on any one particular brother. You were sort of "dating" all of them, in your own way. They knew this, you'd all talked about it, but it was still a relatively new shift in the dynamic.

"Gosh, you're awfully far away, huh?" Lester said with a warm chuckle and you startled a bit. He was much closer up now, dirt smudged on his cheeks and work gloves that he was careful not to touch you with.

"Sorry, yeah, must be." You trailed off, not meeting his eyes.

He tilted his head curiously and raised an eyebrow. "Good things?"

You hummed approval and pressed a gentle kiss to his cheek, relishing in the way he blushed. "Thinkin' 'bout you, if you can believe it."

Lester barked out a laugh. "Sometimes it still ain't feel real, Sweetpea. Flattered though, 'm always thinkin' 'bout you. But you know that."

The evening was calm, a beautiful pink-purple sunset and a cool breeze to offset the exhausting heat of the day. Cleaning the roads wasn't exactly your idea of a fun time but it beat cleaning the house for the fifth time in the past two weeks. The three weren't exactly the cleanest people but even they weren't that bad. Besides, you knew that some new "guests" were going to be coming to town in the next day or two and you wanted some time outside the town before Bo cracked down on you.

Sometimes it felt like he still didn't trust you.

You were climbing back into the truck with Lester when you both heard gunshots coming from down the road. "The hell?" He mumbled, squinting as he tried to get a good view of what was going on. "Are they headin' this way?"

A large truck was speeding towards you, bright headlights the only indication of where it was. The headlights were getting closer and you could hear people shouting as the truck picked up speed.

They were trying to hit you two.

You grabbed Lester's arm and yanked him off the road, the two of you falling over into the grass with the force of it. The people in the truck cheered and mocked you as they passed by, flinging an empty beer can at you and soaking through your shirt. It stunk but you were just glad it wasn't a glass bottle.

"Shit- Are you okay?!" Lester sat up with a wince as he rubbed his arm. You two hadn't landed gracefully, you were just happy he wasn't really hurt. "Jesus, Sweetpea, did they throw a-?"

"They're headin' towards Ambrose." You gasped, watching the blinding red taillights disappear down the road. "Bo and Vinny, they don't-!"

You both shot into action, scrambling to your feet and tossing your gloves in the back of the truck with the carcasses. It didn't matter, all that mattered was warning the twins. You winced at the stink of beer as you reached into your pocket to pull out your cell phone. It was old, something Bo stole from one of his many victims, and you only ever really used it to call Lester if you needed something at the store.

But you punched in Bo's phone number despite shaking fingers as you and Lester got in the truck. You took off after the truck, Lester's anxious fingers drumming on the wheel as you held the phone to your ear.

It felt like an eternity in between each thrum of the dial tone.

Bo picked up after the third ring.

"Hey, what's goin'-"

You cut him off. "There are people! A-A truck! Headin' towards town! They- They have guns, and, and!" Words spilled out of your mouth and you felt your heartrate skyrocketing. The idea of anything bad happening to Bo and Vincent just made you feel...

"Shit, fuck, didja see how many?"

"No! I- They sped right past, they, uh, they threw beer at me and-"

You could hear the sound of what must've been a wrench clanging to the floor. So he was in the autoshop. Okay. At least he wasn't far. "Like hell they did, I'll kick their asses when they get here!"

You swallowed around a dry throat and a tearless sob wracked your body. "Guns! They have guns, Bo."

"So do I." And he hung up before you could say anything else.

Lester could tell you were scared, reaching gingerly across the center console to over you his hand. You took it and squeezed tight, trying to hold in your anxiety and fear. "Shh, hey, it's alrigh' Sweetpea. We've done this all before, Bo'll be fine."

You just nodded, swallowing back the feeling that this felt different. More dangerous.

You wanted your boys to come out of this okay...

The truck was parked outside the entrance to town and you felt your heart sink at the sight. Lester hadn't even come to a complete stop before you were out the door and grabbing the old rusty shovel from the back of the truck. Usually, you'd never even dream of touching that thing without gloves on.

Now, you didn't even care.

You started your march towards the house, shovel tight in your hands and Lester's footsteps close behind. He must've grabbed his shotgun from the backseat since you heard him reload it. "Stay close, Sweetpea. Ain't no tellin' what those folks'll do."

"Okay," you mumbled, slowing only enough for him to catch up.

Screaming could be heard from inside the house. You and Lester shared a look before you both took off running. The front door was wide open and a dead body lay sprawled out on the porch, blood leaking from the back of it's head. You didn't even give it thought as you pushed inside.

Some guy was loading up his shotgun as Bo held a knife dangerously close to the throat of some girl, one arm around her squirming body as he shouted at the guy to drop the gun. The girl was begging the man not to shoot and you locked eyes with her for a brief, fleeting second.

Then you descended upon the man with ferocity you didn't even know you had. You slammed the shovel into the back of his head and sent him tumbling to the floor but you didn't let up. You swung over and over, the floor splattering with blood as you began to chip away at his flesh and skull. Bits of bone and brain began to splatter across the hardwood floor and you felt tears rolling down your cheeks.

With a final swing, you lodged the shovel into the guys head, his dead eyes lolling at nothing.

Both you and the girl were screaming and crying.

You fell to your knees with a heavy thud, sobbing openly over the dead body. You'd never had to kill anyone before, the brothers never made you, and you felt horrified with how angry you were. How afraid you'd felt at the idea of the man firing on Bo.

And, more importantly, how you didn't even regret killing him.

"Sh, shhh, it's okay," Lester's words washed over you as he wrapped an arm around your back. You sobbed into his chest as he rubbed your back, trying to soothe as best he could. Your ears were ringing and everything felt as though it were underwater.

Footsteps bounded up the stairs and you looked up to see Vincent. He was kneeling between you and the body, looking you over as though expecting to find injuries.

When Vincent helped you stand up, you could finally process the rest of the house.

The place was in shambles, the pool table flipped over as some poor attempt at cover and a few picture frames had fallen and broken. Glass scattered across the rug and a few more bodies littered the downstairs. Bo must've shot most of them and Vincent may have chased down the others.

You felt silly, in retrospect. Obviously they could handle themselves. But you'd just felt so scared. There'd never been an ambush before, nothing like this. Or, at least, not while you'd been living there.

Vincent and Lester helped you stand, your feet crunching in glass. Without hesitation, you slumped forwards and wrapped your arms around Vincent in a tight hug, hiding away your face as you tried to steady your breathing. His fingers traced gentle patterns on the back of your shirt that helped to steady you.

Bo had knocked the girl out, her limp body laying across the floor inelegantly. You suspected you'd see a polaroid or two of her on Bo's basement walls in the next few days, when he'd had his fun torturing her.

"Hey, doll," Bo's voice was close and you lifted your eyes to see him. He looked concerned but there was pride there. "Got 'em real good, huh?"

You gave a glance down at the man with a shovel lodged in his head and shrugged. "I was... worried."

"Well, shit, if that's what you do when yer worried, remind me to never miss yer calls." Lester huffed with a playful grin. Vincent grabbed his hat and smacked him with it, making the younger brother laugh.

Bo rolled his eyes and pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. "Awful sweet of ya to come protect us, doll." He said as Vincent and Lester bickered. "I do appreciate it."

You hugged him and felt yourself finally relax. The bickering, the soft affection, everything seemed to be back to normal. Perfect.

Though it seems like you'll need to be cleaning the house again this week...

[paperultra]

candy stripes.

Pairing: OPLA!Vinsmoke Sanji x Fem!Reader Word Count: 5,048 words Warnings: Swearing, hospital setting [A/n: Soulmate AU. :)]

sortiger (adjective): delivering prophecies of the future; having the qualities of being oracular

Nobody else can see the string but you.

You wish you didn’t. It has no texture, no weight, so you can’t understand why it can’t be invisible too. But the string demands attention with every use of your hands, seizes your eye when you wash dishes in the morning and brush your teeth at night, a garish and bloody red that matches the stripes of your uniform.

You hate your string and you hate the color red.

Miss Xinyu, the old lady in Room 30, has one too. At least, that’s what she had told you when you gained the courage to mention yours one day, not knowing what it meant and how much you would come to dread it.

“It’s your red string of fate,” she had explained. “It connects you to the person who understands you more than anyone else in the world.”

In other words, your soulmate. Your one and only.

Miss Xinyu says you’re a lucky ducky, knowing what your future holds.

Her string goes into the ground now. You don’t think being reminded of a dead person whenever you look at your pinkie is very lucky.

The biggest reason why you hate the string so much, though, is because you’ve always had a problem doing what you’re supposed to unless you want to, which causes a lot of trouble for a nine-year-old girl. You already have trouble being nice to patients who are mean to you, so how can you love and wait for someone you’ve never met? It makes you feel icky.

Why can’t you choose? How come you have to have one at all?

Your only source of comfort is that your string is very, very thin and runs out of the hospital. That means your soulmate, whoever they are, is very, very far away. You’d very much like it to stay that way.

But it doesn’t.

—

Nurse Taoh wants you to watch the patients in Room 8 while he finishes his charts. You don’t really want to, if only because it’s Nurse Taoh asking – he likes to order you around more than Dr. Gu – but you don’t want to get into trouble again, so you go.

(… And okay, you are just a little bit curious about the new inpatients. You only know three things about them: one, they were brought in together last night while you were in your room poking holes into your paper instead of correcting it; two, they’re a man and a boy, presumably father and son; and three, everyone says it’s a miracle they’re still alive.)

(Then again, you’ve seen many miracles here.)

The unit is quiet as you walk down the hallway. Quiet, but not silent, as your polished shoes squeak like little mice against the floor and you whisper the room numbers as you pass by them. Two, four, six – eight.

You stop and knock, three sharp raps against the brown wood.

“Hello?” You open the door and poke your head in. “My name is –”

The squiggly-patterned curtain that often separates patients for privacy is drawn, and you clamp your mouth shut as you realize the patient closest to you is asleep.

Shutting the door silently, you creep closer to the foot of his bed. The man underneath the sheets lies quietly; he is little more than a skeleton, eyes sunken and bones sticking out underneath blistered skin. His beard is long and scraggly, but it pales in comparison to his mustache, each side braided and sticking out to the sides.

He looks angry, even though he’s sleeping. You hope he’s not the type to wake up and yell at you as you tiptoe past to check on the boy.

You pass the curtain, catch a glimpse of the bed sheets, and see –

Red.

Your feet root themselves in place, the room suddenly devoid of air.

You stare. Blink hard, twice. Look again. Then, trembling, you look down at your hand.

Your eyes trace the string around your own finger, following down to the dip of it that barely touches the ground and back up over the blankets until it ends in a red loop around the boy’s pinkie, tied off with a little bow.

Your stomach turns.

Stumbling forward, you make your way to the visitor’s chair in the corner. You slump down into it and stare straight ahead at the curtain, refusing to look at the boy’s face.

He continues to sleep.

You don’t want him to wake up.

—

The boy does not stir during your first meeting, but that small mercy is quickly eclipsed two days later by a single bowl of chicken broth.

The look on your face is sour as you walk down the hallway again, the broth splashing up against the lid with each step. Because most of the patients in the hospital you live in are elderly, the staff have somehow gotten it into their heads that you simply must spend time with the boy in Room 8 because he is your age and you need to socialize with other kids. You very much don’t want to. Not with him, at least.

Dr. Gu is just leaving the room when you arrive. She gives you a quick smile, the corners of her eyes wrinkling, and pats your head.

“So you heard that the boy woke up, huh?”

You grunt, looking away with a pout. “Can’t you give this to him, Dr. Gu?”

“Nope. I have to finish my rounds,” she says. “Go in and have a chat. His name is Sanji. You’ll like him.”

“I doubt it,” you mumble underneath your breath.

Dr. Gu probably hears you, but she doesn’t scold you, merely patting your head one last time before you enter Room 8.

The dividing curtain is drawn this time. The window curtains are pulled back, too; it’s a somewhat cloudy day outside, but bright enough to sharpen the shadows on the walls and make the boy look even paler than you remember.

His eyes are closed as you approach. A sprout of hope that he might have fallen asleep again blooms in your chest – you’ll just leave the broth on the table, you think to yourself, and go about the rest of your day. Nobody said you had to watch him drink it.

You get about five feet away, already planning to drop some books off to the other rooms, when the boy’s nose suddenly twitches.

His eyes open to thin slits. Your hope shrivels like a weed in the desert as he speaks.

“What’s that?” His voice is quiet and raspy.

Your eyebrow twitches. “It’s just chicken broth,” you say tartly, setting the tray down on the overbed table and turning it around so that it’s over his lap. You take off the lid and steam bursts from the bowl.

The boy reaches up to rub his eyes. The red string dangles from his pinkie, and you quickly look away with a scowl.

“Who are you?” he asks, scooting back to sit up more as he gradually becomes more alert.

Reluctantly, you give him your name. “Will you need help with the soup?”

He shakes his head. His gaze latches onto the contents of his bowl, and he stops, transfixed.

You scramble to stop him as he suddenly grabs the bowl and attempts to gulp it all down in one go.

“Don’t do that! You’ll throw up!” Without thinking, you seize his hands and pry the bowl away from his mouth. A few drops of broth splash over the blankets and his gown, and your irritation grows. Now you’ll have to fix that. “Drink it slowly.”

“I haven’t eaten anything for weeks,” the boy complains. “What do you know?”

“I’ve been studying medicine since I was a little kid,” you retort. “So I know a lot.”

He frowns. “You are a little kid.”

“I’m nine years old!”

“No, I’m nine! You don’t look as old as me!”

There’s no way this … this brat is the same age as you! Fuming, you let go of the bowl and jab a finger at his face. “I am nine years old and I know more than you! You can’t drink the broth like that!”

You’re met with silence. The boy’s eyes are wider than saucers. Pride wells up inside you at your ability to shut him up.

But then he puts the bowl down and seizes your hand, and your pride gives way to horror as he folds down your index finger and lifts your pinkie – the pinkie with the red string wrapped around it.

He lifts his own pinkie, the rest of his fingers folded. Your jaw clenches when you see how the string has shortened to mere inches, bridging the space between his hand and yours.

“Holy shit,” the boy says. The largest grin spreads across his face, and it’s blinding and scary and you hate it, you hate it. “It’s you! You’re my soulmate, aren’t you?!”

“No,” you reply quickly, whipping your hand behind your back and backing away. “No, I’m not!”

“But you see the string too! I knew I’d meet you some day. How come you’re”— he pushes the table away, eagerly but just gentle enough so no more of the broth spills—“how come you’re hiding it behind your back?”

“I’m not your soulmate,” you bark, panic rising in your chest. “Don’t you ever say that!”

You only catch a glimpse of the hurt that flashes across the boy’s face before you turn around and dash out of the room.

Mrs. Hong finds you in the storage closet later, curled up behind the shelves of gauze and IV tubing. She coaxes you out with a promise of rice balls and no questions asked. You wish all the adults were more like her.

—

The next day, Miss Jaylee hoists you over her shoulder like a human sacrifice and brings you to Room 8.

“I don’t want to see him! You can’t make me!”

“He’s refusing treatment and food unless he sees you,” the woman answers briskly, each of her steps jostling you up and down. “You don’t want to be responsible if Sanji dies, do you?”

“I don’t care if he dies!”

Miss Jaylee clicks her tongue and walks faster.

You flail, feeling a little guilty for your cruel words but too proud to take them back. Sanji couldn’t have heard you, anyway, and nobody here is going to let him die no matter what he does or what you say.

You hear a door swing open. Miss Jaylee walks into Room 8 and turns around, and you lift your head, glaring at Sanji as his face lights up and his cheeks turn rosy.

“[Y/n]!”

Your own cheeks burn in embarrassment at the position you’re currently in. This, you only now realize, is way worse than walking into the room voluntarily.

“How come they’re carrying you? Are you okay?” he asks.

“Let them treat you,” you snap, arms limp and dangling. “And eat your stupid food or I’ll get in trouble.”

“Okay.” You nod, opening your mouth to speak again only for him to continue, “But only if I get to talk to you afterwards.”

What is he, a prince?! What makes it so easy for him to demand such things?

“That wasn’t what you told them,” you protest, squirming, but Miss Jaylee only tightens her arm around your waist.

(“Be nice,” she warns. You growl.)

“It’s important,” Sanji stresses, looking pointedly down at his hand and then back at you.

You bite down on your tongue as the red string glimmers in the light.

Dr. Gu and Nurse Taoh stare at you expectantly. Your neck is starting to ache from craning it, and there’s a feeling that you’ll never stand on your own two feet again unless you do what he wants.

“… Fine,” you hiss through gritted teeth.

Only once you promise to stay does Miss Jaylee let you slide off her shoulder. You stand to the side, arms crossed impatiently as they take Sanji’s vitals and ask him some questions. He’s only half paying attention, head turning to look at you more than once, which you merely turn up your nose at.

“All right, we’ll leave you two to chat now,” Dr. Gu says. “If you need anything, just let [Y/n] know, okay?”

“Okay,” Sanji says.

With that, the three adults leave, and you and Sanji are left alone once more.

“I’m glad you came. They were starting to get mad at me,” he says, then cuts straight to the chase. “How come you don’t want to be my soulmate?”

“Because I don’t want a soulmate,” you immediately reply.

“But why? It’s nice, isn’t it? Being special to each other?”

“You can’t be special to me. We’re not even friends.”

For the second time, Sanji looks hurt.

“…We’re not?” he asks. You shake your head. “But … you brought me food.”

You’re befuddled. “Because Dr. Gu made me,” you say, trying to ignore the disappointment on his face. “Besides, I yelled at you yesterday. Friends don’t yell at each other.”

“I thought that you were maybe just really surprised …” His voice gets smaller and smaller. “Some people get mad when they’re just surprised …”

“I wasn’t surprised. I saw it when you were still asleep.”

“Oh,” Sanji mumbles. He looks down at the sheets, scratching at the wrinkle in the thin white fabric. “Okay.”

He says nothing more. You fidget, wondering if he’s pretending to look like he’s about to cry or if he really is trying not to. You’re not good with people who start crying.

You chew on your bottom lip. Sanji tucks his hand with the string on it underneath his bed sheets, his eyes disappearing behind his tangled hair, and fine, you feel kind of bad whether he’s tricking you or not.

“I’ll only be friends with you if you don’t talk about being soulmates,” you finally tell him begrudgingly. “Not ever, okay?”

His head shoots back up. “Really?!”

“Only if you don’t talk about it! I’m serious.” You huff at Sanji’s sudden change in mood and click your tongue. “If you stay sad you might not get better.  Don’t get the wrong idea!”

He nods, grinning bigger than ever.

Oh, dear, you think as he promises that he’ll be a really, really good friend, you might have made a mistake.

—

By the fifth day, Zeff, the man who was brought in with Sanji, is awake.

You hear them arguing before you see them, pushing a cart of books for Sanji to browse through as per your agreement the day before. They’re loud, and Sanji calls the man an old shitbag right as you knock and push the door open.

“I’m here,” you announce, and the two quiet down to look at you. You give Zeff a polite smile. “Hello, sir. I’m [Y/n].”

“Hello, little miss,” Zeff says, his features softening from the angry expression he’d directed towards Sanji a moment before.

“Why are you being nice to her and not me?” Sanji pipes up from his side of the room, all puffed-out cheeks and petulantly crossed arms.

“Because she don’t make my ears ring with nonstop whining,” the man answers sharply. “Now get a book and read so I can finally have some peace and quiet.”

“You get a book and read,” Sanji grumbles.

“What was that, boy?”

You cut in before they start bickering all over again. “Do you want a book too, Mr. Zeff?”

Zeff’s gaze flicks over to you once more, and your shoulders tense. The man takes a deep, calming breath, and then he sighs, reclining back into his pillow and closing his eyes. “No, thank you, little miss,” he mutters. “Reading’s no good for my head right now.”

“Do you have a headache?” He grunts in affirmation. “Do you want me to get a nurse?”

“No, no, don’t need any of that.”

“You didn’t tell me you had a headache,” Sanji accuses.

Zeff’s mustache twitches. “All you need to know is that you oughta stop yappin’ when a man wants peace and quiet!”

(Not again.)

As you give up and walk over to draw the curtains, Sanji says your name desperately. “Can we read somewhere else?” he pleads when you glance at him. “I don’t want to be stuck in here with him right now.”

Narrowing your eyes, you appraise his weak-looking frame, pointedly skimming past the red string that snakes over to you. “Can you even walk around yet?”

“Yeah,” he says defensively. He wriggles out of the bed sheets and swings his legs over the side of the bed. Holding onto the side rail, he stands up and grips the IV pole for support. Though he’s a little shaky, he shuffles a few steps towards you and smiles when he manages to do so. “See?”

Well, you think, if you and Sanji stay here, you’ll need to have some light in order to read. But it will probably help Zeff if the room is as dark as possible, so if you guys go somewhere else, Sanji’s lamp won’t need to be on.

“Okay,” you agree. “Wait here. I’ll get some slippers.”

Ten minutes later, with Sanji shuffling along in his slippers, IV pole in one hand and your arm in the other, the two of you arrive at the common room and find chairs in the corner to sit down in.

“These’re mostly history books and stories for old people,” you explain as you pull out the one cooking-related book you could find from the top basket of the cart. “This was the only food one I could find.”

“That’s okay.” Sanji takes the book from you and begins to flip through it. “Oh, this one’s about seafood in the South Blue! Have you ever had any?”

“No.”

“Me, neither. I’ll try it someday, though … hey, this fish looks like a fried egg!”

Against your will, you perk up. “… Really?”

For the next half-hour, Sanji fawns over the spices used on grilled Sea King meat and how to cook wine clams and the best fish for South Blue-style sushi. And it’s … not boring. He doesn’t hog the book, and the pictures are cool, and he asks you which ones you think are the coolest or would taste the best. Looking at a book with another kid is different from reading with an adult. It feels like you’re sharing, not like you’re being tested on your comprehension or how to pronounce long words.

Hanging out with Sanji is okay when the string doesn’t sour it.

“So you want to cook all of these one day?” you ask after scanning through a full-color page of steamed Ocean Hawk feet.

“I want to cook things from all four seas,” Sanji says. His legs bounce with excitement. “That’s why I’m gonna find the All Blue.”

“What’s that?”

The boy glows.

“It’s where the North, East, South, and West Blue seas all meet. Think about it – fresh-caught fish from all over the world all in one place! I’ll be able to cook dishes no one’s ever cooked or tasted before.”

You’ve never heard of such a place. But Sanji talks about it with such conviction, such resolve, that you figure the All Blue could really exist.

“I hope you find it,” you say, and you mean it.

“I will.” Sanji closes the book. “And when I do, I’ll cook something just for you. A-As a friend.”

He peeks over at you, his eyes even brighter and bluer than before, his cheeks flushing a familiar red. And you find yourself believing him, just a little bit.

—

Sanji keeps his promise.

You know he still likes you (blech) and so does most of the staff (double blech). Nurse Taoh thinks it’s funny and teases you about your little boyfriend in Room 8 who always asks where you are. Mrs. Hong reminds you to be sensitive whenever you stop by to pick up meals. Dr. Gu tells you to tell her right away if Sanji ever does something that makes you uncomfortable.

But he never does. Sometimes his words spill out clumsily like a broken faucet and other times he blushes and stutters, leaving you to wonder what he’s going on about, but he doesn’t try to kiss you or hold your hand, and he doesn’t say a word about the red string that is very much still there. If anything, he just annoys you at times, with how nice he is to you and how sunny he gets when you eat lunch with him sometimes.

You’ve never seen somebody so happy to be in a hospital before, even if it’s just because he wants you to like him. It’s weird.

It’s on the eighth day of Zeff and Sanji’s stay that you learn not everything is how it seems.

You’d gotten in trouble the night before for digging holes in the garden – you had kept the seed from your dinner plum and wanted to see if you could make it grow, but Miss Jaylee had caught you while taking Mr. Hu out for some air – so you’re somewhat grumpy on your way to Room 8, two notebooks in hand.

One of them is blank for Sanji. He wants to record all the meals he’s gotten and write down how he would make them. The second notebook is full of your notes that you need to study for your quiz tomorrow.

Zeff is sleeping again when you enter. You move quietly across the room to where Sanji is lying with his back to the door.

“Sanji.” You can see his shoulders tense underneath the sheets, but strangely, he does not roll over to face you. “I have your notebook.”

No answer. That is even stranger.

Frowning, you walk around to the other side of the bed. Sanji moves to bury his face into his pillow, but not before you hear a very soft, wet sniffle.

“Sanji?”

“Sorry.” His voice is high and so muffled you can barely understand him. “You can just leave it on the table.”

“Why are you crying?” In the back of your head, you know it is not the most sensitive thing to ask. But for some reason, you need to know. “I won’t laugh or tell anyone.”

You hear another sniffle from the mop of blond hair. It takes a long time for Sanji to answer, but he eventually does.

“I don’t like hospitals.”

Your brow furrows. “Oh,” you say, somewhat surprised. Most people don’t like being in a hospital, you’re pretty sure of that, but you didn’t know Sanji didn’t like it this much. “Why?”

Maybe he’s tired of getting poked all the time, or the bland food, or the hospital smell. Nobody here can change that. Maybe he’s homesick. The hospital can’t fix that, either.

Sanji turns his head slightly and takes in a small, shuddering breath. “’Cause it … it makes me remember my mum … when she was sick,” he mumbles, almost too quiet to hear.

“… Oh.”

You had assumed, upon learning that Zeff and Sanji were not at all related, that Sanji was like you and never knew his parents. He’d never talked about having any before, only his time on the Orbit and with Zeff. But he does know them – his mother, at least. And she was sick. The memory is what’s making him so sad, and it’s yet another thing that the hospital can’t help.

You don’t want him to be sad. You did make him your friend, after all, even if he does annoy you sometimes.

“I’m sorry,” you say, standing awkwardly with his notebook still in your possession. You remember what Miss Jaylee has told other patients before. “That, um, must have been really hard for you.”

Sanji squeezes his pillow more tightly.

Should you go? Should you talk to him some more?

“Please don’t tell anybody,” he whispers before you can decide. “Especially Zeff.”

“I won’t,” you reply firmly. “I said I wouldn’t, didn’t I?”

“I’m sorry I can’t hang out today. I really wanted to, but, um …”

“It’s okay. We can do it later.”

“Okay.”

You set his notebook and a pen on the bedside table. After some thought, you refill his water and, after even more hesitation, fix the bed sheets on him a bit so they’re not as twisted up. That is the best you can do.

The red string follows you as you quietly leave Room 8, and you don’t think about it at all.

—

“How do you spell necessary?”

“N-E-S-E-S-A-R-Y.”

“That doesn’t look right. I think it’s S-S-A-R-Y.”

“Maybe you can find it in the book,” Sanji suggests, kicking his feet as he lies on his belly next to you.

“Yeah, maybe.” You flip through the pages of your textbook, searching for the correct spelling lest you get marked off again.

It is the tenth day. Sanji is doing alright, and Zeff is up and about with his new leg. Dr. Gu says they’re good to go, so they’re leaving after Zeff finishes breakfast. You’re not sure how to feel about it.

In the meantime, Sanji is helping you with your essay about scurvy. He knows quite a bit about it, which makes sense since he’s lived at sea, and you hope the perspective he’s supplying will impress Dr. Gu.

(“That’s why every ship needs a good cook,” he tells you proudly. “We make sure everyone eats right so they stay healthy.”

“That’s why you and Mr. Zeff are going to have a restaurant ship, right?”

“Mmhm.”)

Sanji rests his face in his hands, cheeks squished against his palms while you continue to scan through your textbook. You finally find the word in a photo caption and, with a triumphant noise, jot it down correctly.

Someone knocks on your door. The two of you turn to face it simultaneously.

“[Y/n]?” It’s Mrs. Guo.

“Yeah?” you call, already slightly irritated.

“Is Sanji there? It’s time for him to leave.”

A frown presses down on your lips. Sanji sighs and gets up as slowly as possible, taking his notebook with him.

“Coming,” he says.

The two of you dawdle on your way to the hospital entrance. You pet Cabby the dog when you run into him and his handler and stop by the kitchen so Sanji can thank the cooks. There’s no rush, not really, but an uneasy feeling continues to well up in your stomach anyway.

Upon arriving at your destination, Zeff waiting at the double doors with a giant bag of treasure slung over his shoulder, Sanji stops and turns to face you.

“I’m – I’m going now,” he says, as if just realizing it.

“Okay,” you say.

You and Sanji stand in silence for a moment before Sanji’s bottom lip starts to wobble.

Yours starts to wobble too. The uneasy feeling in your stomach bubbles up into your throat and behind your eyes.

“I’ll write you,” he blurts, voice cracking. “You’ll come visit, won’t you?”

“I don’t know.” You don’t know if they’ll let you. The hospital is busy and the ocean is big, bigger than you, and you don’t know it at all like Zeff and Sanji do. “But I’ll write back.”

“Promise?”

“I promise.”

You are crying now.

For the first time, your arms wrap around Sanji, and he clings back as both of you bawl. Your tears and snot stain the shoulder of his brand-new clothes. Your uniform grows damp at the collar. It doesn’t matter at all.

“I don’t know if I’ll see you again,” you croak into his shirt, face hot and eyes blurry.

His grip tightens. “You will,” Sanji replies in between sniffles. “I know it. Even if it’s when we’re really old, we’ll see each other again.”

“Okay.”

You believe him. Not because of fate, but because you want to.

—

You write to each other every single week for the next ten years. You tell each other everything.

Well, almost everything.

—

“You seem nervous,” Nami says. “Don’t tell me a little bribery got under your skin?”

“No, no.” You wipe your hands on your thighs and try to relax against the back of the booth. “Just … not used to places like this, that’s all.”

The Baratie is nicer than you imagined. Sanji had kept you up to date over the years, sending newspaper clippings and recipe drafts as the restaurant he and Zeff founded grew in staff members and reputation, but seeing it in person is a whole different deal. You’re telling the truth when you said you’re not used to a place like this.

But it’s not why you’re nervous.

“Hey, look!” Usopp exclaims, pointing across the room. “I think those guys are gonna fight.”

The rest of you look. Near the kitchen, two men are arguing, and the pink-haired man sitting at the table stands up when the pirate shoves his food onto the floor.

Usopp sucks his teeth. “Yikes.”

Luffy leans forward in interest. Zoro simply stares, and Nami rolls her eyes.

One of the waiters approaches them. You watch as he tries to deescalate the situation, but neither party is having it.

The pink-haired man draws a gun.

Within seconds, the gun and both would-be brawlers are on the floor.

The waiter shoves his foot into the pink-haired man’s back to keep him down, then picks up the plate of bread rolls again, stepping over both groaning bodies with the ease of one who’s done it before.

He reassures the other customers as he approaches your booth. You’re not concerned about the fight so much as you are about the way that you know.

It’s been ten years, but you just know, even before he gets close enough for you to see the red string that trails up and disappears into the black of his pants pocket. Even before you see the blue of his eyes and the annoyed set of his brow, exactly the same as you remember.

He places the rolls down onto the table, and for the first time, you wonder what you want.

“Hi, welcome to our shitty restaurant where the only thing worse than the ambience is the food. My name is Sanji. What can I get for you?”

[hyunsungies]

shhh! — hwang hyunjin

pairing: hyunjin x fem reader

genre: pure smut

word count: 1.2k

warnings: masturbation (f receiving), hyun calls reader “good girl”, lmk if i forgot something!

english is not my first language, sorry for any mistakes :)

this was the first time you were visiting hyunjin’s parents. they called you to spend a night there with jinnie since he doesn't spend much time at home with his family. it was being a very good experience since the beginning: they were super nice to you. his mother praised your hair and his father said that his son was lucky to date a beautiful girl like you.

you spent most of your time talking to them, who asked a lot about your life, your family… both seemed very interested in you. fair enough, you were dating their son.

after the shower, just before dinner, you wore a flowery dress that hyunjin had given you as a gift. he was very cute and suited you very well, despite being short. you slightly suspected that he had given you this dress because of this last point. something that proves this was the fact that he slapped your ass as soon as you left the bathroom dressed.

when you looked in his direction with a disapproving face, jinnie smiled and blinked at you maliciously. he definitely only bought this dress because of its length.

it wasn't obscene in short, it was acceptable, but that was enough to make hyunjin horny.

literally. no wonder he didn't take his hand off your leg during dinner.

hidden by the tablecloth, jinnie touched your thigh at a very indecent place, almost revealing your panties, and caressed the place while you talked, causing you goosebumps. he continued to talk to his parents normally, as if he wasn't teasing you at that very moment, as if he wasn't making you wet. his intention was not to be inconvenient, but you looked so beautiful with this dress... he couldn't control himself.

“so, how didi you two meet?”

his mother asked. with a shiver on the back of your neck caused by hyunjin's hand, you tried to respond without showing that there was something wrong, something very very wrong.

he must be such a perverted to do something like this in front of his own parents. in addition to being perverted, very brave too, after all, at any moment one of them could realize that hyunjin's hand was in you, not in a romantic way, but in a nasty way.

the caress he made on your leg was putting you in a complicated situation. you had to cross your legs, afraid that the smell of your lust would reach the nostrils of any of them. it was the most tense dinner you've ever had in your entire life.

when everyone finished eating and you took out the dishes, you thanked the heavens that torture was over. all you wanted was to be able to ask hyunjin what the hell was going through his mind for him to do what he did with you. luckily, his parents didn't let you help with the dishes, which left you both free to have this conversation. as soon as you arrived in the guest room, he closed the door. you didn't had time to say anything. when you opened your mouth to complain about his attitude, jinnie pulled you by the hand against his body and gave you a seductive kiss.

despite being a little bit mad at him, you allowed yourself to fall into his charms now that you were alone. as much as you wanted to scold him, your desire for hyunjin at that moment, the desire he himself created, was bigger than the desire to understand what he thought when he decided to put his hand on you. that said, you just forgot about the subject and kept kissing him.

“so pretty…”

he separated your mouths to say, putting his hands on your ass soon after and squeezing the place tightly. you decided to interrupt your eye contact now to kiss him once again, because that's what your body wanted. it was crazy the way he could make you needy with just a kiss. since you were already starting to get wet at that dining table, your pussy must already be dripping now by the way he sucks and nibbles your lower lip.

at one point, one of hyunjin's hands went down to your clothed core and began to massage the place over your panties. his other hand remained on your back, keeping you close to his body.

“mhm…” you moaned against his lips.

“needing me?”

once again he broke your kiss and once again you felt like shutting him up, but this time you needed to expose your desires verbally, you needed to answer it.

“definitely”

he smiled at you. looking into your eyes, he slid your panties to the side and touched your intimacy already wet with lust.

“as long as you stay quiet…”

he said and inserted one of his fingers into you, which made you sting your nails on his shoulders and held a moan. his finger went back and forth at a slow pace. hyunjin seemed to have fun with the way you concentrated so as not to make any sound, he wouldn't stop smiling at you.

after a few seconds, another finger entered your walls. now, the rhythm of his movements was a little faster. you could hear the noise of your fluids coming out of you and that turned both of you on even more.

it was getting harder and harder to hold your moans. when he punched his own fingers inside you, jinnie stared at you enjoying the view. he liked to see your expressions of pleasure, especially your moans, something he couldn't have now. silence was something important right now, his parents could hear you if you released something and that would be terrible.

as his two fingers went in and out of you, his thumb started to draw circles on your clit, making you clench and melt in his hands. your body became more and more tense every time the palm of his hand crashed into your core.

the moans you held insisted on leaving, but you couldn't let them go. in an attempt to muffle these noises, you rested your head on hyunjin's shoulder and glued your lips to his neck, depositing kisses on the spot and keeping your mouth shut. it worked perfectly.

your kisses messed with him, so he began to press your clit harder, making you border on the madness of so much pleasure. you grabbed his shoulders with all your strength in a useless attempt to relieve the tension you felt. your desire was to shout his name so that the whole neighborhood could hear it, but you needed to be obedient now.

suddenly, you felt your orgasm approaching.

“hyun, ‘m gonna…”

your sentence was not finalized, but he understood the message. in response to you, the movements of his hand increased in strength and speed. now, anyone who went close the door would hear the noise you were making since you both were leaning against it.

your spine arched and you squeezed jinnie's shoulders harder. his pace was frantic now, going in and out quickly and intensely. tou were almost there, just a few more thrusts...

suddenly, your whole body shivered and you felt it tingle. your climax had finally arrived. your tightness on jinnie's skin weakened and you were panting. looking into your eyes, hyun smiled. he seemed proud of his work.

“good girl. wanna go again?”

[gloomysoup]

home is where you are

@steddiebingo prompts: hurt/comfort (main card) and home (christmas card)

rating: Teen+ | word count: 2400 | tags: omegaverse, alpha eddie, omega steve, mpreg, insecure steve harrington, hurt/comfort, fluff | ao3

Eddie came home from work to absolute chaos. Addie and Violet were sitting on the living room floor, arguing over whether to put the white lights or the colored lights on the Christmas tree, which he had put up the night before. Addie wanted white, but Violet wanted colored. Eddie was almost certain none of their lights from last year were even going to work, so they'd have to buy new ones anyway. James and Lucy were fighting over an orange crayon at the coffee table, two blank pieces of paper and a whole assortment of other colored crayons in front of them. Steve and their youngest, Grace, were nowhere to be seen, but Eddie could hear movement in the kitchen. Eddie quickly slipped his boots off at the door and swooped in to de-escalate all the arguing.

He started by grabbing a second, emergency, box of crayons from the cabinet that held the art supplies. He pulled out an orange one and handed it to Lucy, so she would stop trying to take the other one from her brother. Then he moved to the older two girls, squatting down in front of them and picking up two strings of lights.

“Why don't we put the lights away for now, my loves? They probably don't even work. I’ll take you both to the store this week and we can pick some new ones out together. How does that sound?”

They easily agreed, and Eddie was incredibly grateful that everything was solved quickly tonight. Once all of the pups were settled and occupied, not a single argument left to be had, Eddie moved to the kitchen. He stopped in the doorway to smile at what he found. Steve was standing at the stove, stirring a pot of boiling macaroni noodles with Grace on his hip. He was swaying back and forth, softly humming a lullaby as he did.

Eddie slid up behind him, leaning in with a hand on Steve’s other hip to kiss his cheek. “Evenin', beautiful,” he whispered. Steve smiled and turned his head to get a proper kiss.

“Hey, baby. How was work?” Steve asked after they had separated.

Grace was grinning, trying to scramble from Steve’s hold while saying, “Da!”

Eddie shrugged, taking Grace into his own arms. “Nothin’ new. Missed you, though. How was your day? Pups drive you too crazy?”

Steve hummed in consideration. “Hectic. Lots of arguments today. Oh, Lucy broke one of the nice glasses that Joyce got us. She was trying to be like Addie and Violet and help put the dishes away, but she dropped it and it shattered. Everyone was okay, though, and I’m pretty sure I got all the glass cleaned up.”

Eddie’s hand looped around further to rest on Steve’s swollen belly. “And how was the little one today? Not causing too much trouble, I hope?”

Steve huffed a small laugh. “Not letting me actually get anything done today.” He put down his spoon and leaned back into Eddie’s chest. “Every time I finally got the rest of the pups settled down enough to do something, I either had to pee or sit down for a little bit. By the time I was done, someone else needed something, and the cycle repeated.”

“That's okay,” Eddie murmured, nuzzling his nose against the shell of Steve’s ear and taking a deep breath of his scent. He always loved how much sweeter his mate smelled during pregnancy. It was one of his favorite parts of the experience. “I'll finish the chores for you after dinner. You just worry about relaxing.”

“Eddie, no,” Steve argued, moving to stir the pasta again. “You just worked a ten-hour shift. You shouldn't have to come home and do everything here too. I'll take care of it.”

“You will do no such thing.” Eddie adjusted his hold on Grace, who was snuggled against his chest after not seeing him since the night before. She had been the only one still asleep when Eddie left for work that morning. “You chased our little pack of hooligans around all day while growing a pup. You deserve to put your feet up and relax for the evening. I'll take care of everything else. Don't worry about anything.”

Steve glanced over his shoulder with a frown. “At least let me help. Then we can get everything done faster.”

Eddie smiled and kissed Steve’s cheek again. “Whatever makes you feel better, my love.”

Dinner in the Munson household that night was quite the affair, as it usually was with five kids under the age of eight. Afterwards, Eddie corralled all the pups upstairs for baths and pajamas while Steve cleaned up in the kitchen. By the time everyone was clean, clothed, and settled on the couch for one last movie before bedtime, Eddie was wrecked. He loved his children more than anything in his life (except maybe Steve), but they were exhausting. He had no idea how his mate did it all day long.

Finally, he started the movie and went to track down his superhero of a partner. It didn't take him long at all. Steve was in the laundry room, loading the washer to get one more in for the evening. Eddie came up behind him, wrapping his arms around his husband and kissing his cheek. He pulled Steve back into his chest and swayed gently. He reveled in the way Steve instantly sank into his hold, body going lax and a sigh of contentment leaving his lips.

“Have I ever told you how much I love you?” Eddie whispered.

“Mmmm, tell me again?” Steve replied just as softly.

“I love you so so so much, my love.” Eddie gently tightened his arms around him. “You are an absolute wonder. I don't know how you deal with our little gremlins all day and not just completely lose your mind.”

Steve hummed, a soft smile on his lips. “They're not so bad. Most days. It helps that Addie, Violet, and James go to school five days a week.”

“A saint,” Eddie said, slowly releasing his hold on Steve to dramatically collapse to his knees in front of him. “I worship on my knees in your holy presence.” As Steve laughed, Eddie leaned forward with his hands on Steve’s sides to press a kiss to his belly. Their pup moved beneath his touch. Eddie would never get tired of the feeling. It always amazed him, just what Steve’s body was capable of, especially when it came to creating life.

“Come on, up off the floor,” Steve finally said, grabbing Eddie’s hand and starting to pull him up. The alpha went easily, rarely one to say no to his omega.

With the pups suitably distracted for at least a little bit longer, Steve and Eddie set about the quiet routine of getting evening chores done. They didn't speak much, just moved around each other in a comfortable silence. Eddie did the day’s dishes and wiped down the countertops while Steve folded laundry at the table. The movie in the living room was still going when Grace started getting fussy. It wasn't long before Violet was calling for them to make her stop.

“I'll get her,” Eddie said softly, not wanting to break the calming atmosphere in the kitchen. Steve nodded, still folding laundry, while Eddie headed for the living room.

Grace was pushing at Lucy when Eddie walked in, and Lucy was quickly losing patience with her little sister. Eddie picked Grace up, trying to remedy the situation, but that just caused a full blown tantrum. She kicked and screamed, fighting against Eddie and her own exhaustion. She wanted absolutely nothing to do with him. No matter how hard he tried to put out a calming scent to soothe her, it was all for naught. She just kept screaming and kicking and writhing. Steve quickly appeared in the doorway, looking a little worried. As soon as Grace saw him, she reached her arms out.

“Give her here,” he said gently, coming over to take the screaming toddler from Eddie’s arms. “I'll sit with her.”

Eddie nodded and passed her off to Steve, watching as Grace instantly began to calm down. He made sure Steve was comfortable on the couch with Grace curled into his body before leaving to finish cleaning up the kitchen and folding laundry. By the time he was done, the movie was over. All five of their pups were fast asleep on the couch. Grace was curled up on Steve’s lap, her head pillowed on his chest. Lucy was situated firmly in Steve’s side, while the older three were piled up and stretched out across the other cushions.

Eddie was extremely careful in his extraction. He took Addie and Violet upstairs to the room they shared first, then James to his room. When he came back, he slowly picked up Lucy and let her burrow into his neck while Steve carefully tried to stand up with Grace. It was a lot harder the further along this pregnancy got, but Steve was nothing if not determined. He never let anything slow him down; not even being nearly eight months pregnant. Again, superhero. Eddie was obsessed with him.

After a very long, very chaotic night, all of the pups were finally tucked away in their beds. Eddie and Steve could actually take a minute to breathe without someone needing something. As they did every night, once the children were tucked in and sound asleep, they curled up on the couch together with some random movie they'd seen a hundred times before. It was more for the noise and familiarity than the movie itself. Steve was tucked against Eddie’s side, his head resting where he could hear Eddie’s heartbeat, just like every night. Eddie held him close, breathing in Steve’s scent and letting himself finally relax for the first time all day. They both remained quiet for a while.

Something deep down in his gut was telling Eddie that something was wrong. Something was bothering Steve, festering in his mind. Before he got the chance to ask, Steve was opening his mouth to speak.

“Do you think we’re making a mistake?” he asked so softly, Eddie almost didn't catch it. If their house hadn't been so quiet, he might not have heard him.

“What do you mean?” Eddie tightened his arm around Steve’s shoulders.

Steve shrugged as best he could from under Eddie’s arm. “I just- Do you think all of this is just a big mistake?” Eddie’s heart shattered at the broken lilt to Steve’s voice, the tremble of his words. “Is having another baby a mistake?”

Eddie frowned, trying so hard to control his scent. “Of course not. What's wrong, baby? Where is this coming from?”

Steve sniffled a little, pressing his cheek a little more firmly into Eddie’s chest. “I don't know. I just- We already have five kids, Eddie. Our- our house isn't that nice. We don't really have a whole lot of extra money. And with Grace’s medical bills… maybe- maybe we should have just stopped after James, or Lucy. Maybe everyone was right, and this is all just a big mistake.”

Eddie shook his head, feeling the fabric of his t-shirt start to dampen. “Absolutely not,” he said. He pulled away, shifting so he could fully look at Steve. “Baby, this is not a mistake. I don't know who’s putting these ideas in your head, but they're wrong. So what if we don't have the nicest house in Hawkins? That's never mattered. Not to me, not to the pups. It's just a house, Stevie. And so what if we don't have all the money in the world? Our family has a roof over their heads, clothes on their bodies, and they never have to worry about going hungry. Our pups are loved. Why should anything else matter?”

Fat tears rolled down Steve’s cheeks. Eddie caught them with his thumbs as he cradled Steve’s face in his hands.

“I love you, Steve Munson,” he continued, unable to stop now that he was on a roll. “I love you, and I love our pups, and I love our life. I don't care about money, or our house. All I care about is our family. Our five little pups, who bring me so much joy every single day. Sweet little Sophia, who is going to be so loved, just like her siblings. You, the love of my absolute life, who has given me so much to be grateful for.”

Tears were welling up in Eddie’s eyes against his permission. He just loved Steve so much, and he hated seeing him so upset.

“Eddie,” Steve whispered, voice shaking with his emotions.

“Stevie, honey, I cannot even begin to tell you just how amazing I think you are. How strong, capable, loving, and wonderful. The greatest gift of my life is getting to be a dad, and you have given that to me six times now. I am so deeply in love with you, and our big family. I would never trade any of our pups for anything in the entire world. I don't need a fancy house or money, because you and our babies are my home. I don't care what anyone else has to say about it. I am obsessed with you and our six little pups, this house with its scattered Christmas decorations that we haven't had the time to put up yet, and every single other thing about this little life we’ve built for ourselves. Fuck everyone else. This is the only thing that matters.”

Eddie held Steve to his chest as he cried, rubbing his back and whispering all of his love into Steve’s ear in the hope that it would sink beneath his skin and stay there forever.

Later, Grace will wake up and need Eddie to put her back to sleep. Later, Lucy will crawl into bed with them and cuddle up to Steve. Later, Eddie will help Steve make breakfast before going to work. Later, they’ll put up decorations and stick the Christmas presents under the tree. Later, they’ll have a newborn in the house, someone else for Eddie to love with everything he has.

Later, Eddie will still be deeply in love with the home that he and Steve have built together, regardless of what anyone else has to say about it.

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

The Lonely Souls Club 8

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as stalking, loneliness, noncon, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Two lost souls cross, but not all those are lost, want to be found.

Characters: Bucky Barnes

Note: told you i had the itch.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Bucky 

He lifts her with one arm. His real arm. She fits it perfectly. He carries her to the bed, feeling her rattle with barely restrained sobs. He lays her down and she yelps, her hand brushing his chest as she reaches to her hip. 

“I’m sorry, I hurt you,” he hovers over her, his heart pumping hotly. 

“No, no,” she groans and writhes in agony, “no, it’s... me. It always... hurts.” 

He frowns. He feels that pain. They may have fixed him but there’s still pain. He can take a punch, even from a train on a track, but he still feels all of it. Most of all, he feels what’s missing. The part of him that isn’t there. 

“Can I get you anything?” He asks. “Do you need to eat? Water?” 

“Please, just leave me,” she begs and hugs a pillow, “please, I don’t want you to see me like this.” 

“Doll,” the word slips from his lips, it tastes like sugar, but he can’t help but choke. He inhales and lets it out slowly, “I can’t leave you alone. It’s my job to help those in need. You need me.” 

She looks at him and it’s like he’s been hit right in the gut. She’s beautiful. Her face is streaked with tears, her hair unkempt, and her eyes gleam with pain, but to him, she’s immaculate. 

“Why?” She asks. “How... how did you find me?” 

He’s struck again. He falters just a little bit. He thinks of telling her the truth. Of telling her everything. He can’t. If he does, she’ll be afraid. He couldn’t take that. He couldn’t handle her looking at him like everyone else does. 

“Sometimes we just find who we’re meant to,” he says and believes it. 

She sniffles and squeezes the pillow tighter. She rests her cheek against the top and stares off at the wall. He knows even talking is too much for her right now. 

He goes to the door and picks up his arm. He looks down at the black and gold vibranium as he pulls shut the inner door, the outer one is broken. He lays his prosthetic on the corner of the bed, out of her way, and pauses to feel the thin mattress. He puts pressure on it and the frame creaks. Not good enough. 

He stands straight and goes into the kitchen. The counter is cleared. He opens the cupboard and sees it all. She calls his name but he ignores her. Why was she so upset? It’s more than just her hip. He pulls out the box of macaroni. Inside, the packet of cheese is divided into three separate baggies, the noodles too. 

He squints and puts it back. He takes out the oats and the rice. It’s all the same. It’s all portioned down but not nearly enough to sate. She’s rationing. He sets the boxes back and grabs the sugar dish. It’s empty. The box of green tea has only three packets left. Tea is an appetite suppressant; she’s gone through it so fast, he can guess why. 

His heart drops. He ate more than this in the 30s. A mayo sandwich was much more appetizing than a quarter packets of quick oats. He looks around and nears the fridge. 

“Bucky, please, don’t,” she calls to him. He stops. There’s a piece of paper under the magnet. 

‘After review, your government allowance has been recalculated...’ 

He swipes the paper from under the magnet and reads it. They took more than a quarter of her usual stipend. How could they do that? He saw her shopping cart, he’s seen how she eats, how she lives. Why would they do this to her? 

He wants to tear it up but he knows that won’t change anything. She continues to groan on the fold out bed, the frame squeaking with her sobs. He peers over at the bathroom door. He doesn’t need to look inside at the grimy shower barely big enough for her. 

None of this is good enough for her. She’s all alone here. And now they’re trying to starve her out. That’s what they do. If you’re not useful, they abandon you. 

Fuck that. 

He marches around the couch and searches around. He grabs an empty tote hanging by the door and goes to the little plastic drawers. He reaches inside and stuffs as much into the bag as he can. She babbles his name. She sits up, watching him. 

“What are you doing?” 

He doesn’t answer. He can’t. He’s so fucking angry, he might scream and he doesn’t want to frighten her. He strides across the basement apartment and into the bathroom. He grabs her toothbrush, her brush, whatever he can. He opens the cabinet and finds the pill bottles. Two tablets. The rest are empty. 

He comes back out and takes his arm off the worn mattress. He snaps it in place and throws a blanket over her. She whimpers as she gapes at him. He hooks the bag over his shoulder and scoops her up, keeping the blanket snug around her. 

“Wait, Bucky, what’s happening?” She whines. 

“You can’t stay here,” he says as he feels around until he finds the top of her cane. He grips it and turns it in his grip, angling it with him as he moves around the couch. 

“No, what—where are you taking me?” 

“You deserve better.” 

“Please, Bucky,” she murmurs, “I...” 

“I don’t judge you, doll,” he goes to the door and works around her to open it, “I judge those bastards.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I lost my god—my arm for those people. I went to war. I went through hell,” he growls as he stomps out, stopping short as he sees the motorcycle parked outside. Shit. She can’t ride that. “But they gave me a new arm, they gave me a new life, but what did they do for you?” 

She gulps and he hears her heart pick up. She’s embarrassed. She shouldn’t be. 

“I told you, I help those who need me,” he takes her down the alleyway. “It’s okay to need people.” 

He comes out to pavement and looks up and down the street. He’ll get a cab. That’s the easiest way. He’d walk but she needs to lay down. She needs a hot bath and a proper bed. She’s suffered enough. 

Reader 

Bucky waves the cane from under you and finally hails a cab. He approaches with you in his arms and you keep your head down. You feel like everyone’s staring. That’s what they do when he’s around. 

He gets you in the back seat and rearranges you with the bag and your cane. There’s a tick in his jaw that worries you. You’ve seen that in men before. You’re distracted from the reminder as your hip pangs again. 

You shakily buckle your seat belt as the driver shifts into gear and joins the slow stream of New York traffic. Bucky sits slightly forward, the seat belt straining on his chest, watching through the windshield impatiently. His fingertips tap together as his lips move noiselessly. 

“Bucky,” you say his name. 

He looks over at you and the tension drains from his jaw, “hey, doll, sorry I... I’m just thinking. You need something?” 

“Where are we going?” You ask again. 

He tilts his head, his brows lowering, “home.” 

“Your place?” You ask as you shift and rub your hip. 

He nods, “yeah, my place.” 

“Oh.” 

“Oh?” He echoes. 

“Why?” 

He looks away and his cheeks tug down, “I saw the letter. The food. You... you can’t live like that.” 

“But--” 

“I told you,” he grits. “No more arguing. You need to relax. If you keep tensing up, you’re only gonna make it worse.” 

He’s right. You sniff and try to ease your muscles. The slow crawl of traffic has you jerking with the driver’s brakes. Bucky warns him to take it easy. 

When at last you reach your destination, he pays and tips the driver. He gets you to the edge of the seat, taking the bag and cane too. You wave him off and grab the cane. He lets you have it and you stand. You stumble and grab onto him with your other hand to get up on the curb. 

Your gait is stunted, more than usual as each step sends a ripple through your hip. You look up at the walk-up and stop at the bottom of the steep stairs. You stare at them, defeated. 

“I’ll get you up,” he says. 

You hang your head, “it’s just gonna be one thing after another. Can’t do this, can’t do that... take me home.” 

He ignores you and wraps his arm around your back. He urges you onward, supporting most of your weight as you climb. You get to the top and he punches in a code on a keypad beneath the door handle. It opens and he angles you inside. 

It’s a nice place. A townhouse. The kind you could never afford. The walls have that vintage brick look and the floors are real hardwood. The front room is plaster painted in sky blue and the trim matches the floors. It’s all so much nicer than your life. You feel even less welcome. 

“Come on, I’ll take you upstairs,” he says as he finishes unlacing his boots. You have only your socks on. 

“Upstairs?” You repeat. 

“Bathtub is up there,” he says. He stands and puts his arms out, “can I?” 

You look away and nod. You can’t do any more stairs. He lifts you carefully and you rest the can over you. He carries you up the stairs and down the hall. You weigh nothing in his arms.

“The room next to this, that’s mine. I’ll change the bedding, put your bag in there.” 

“What?” 

“Yeah, I—I don’t sleep in there. I don’t really sleep at all,” he takes you into the bathroom and sits you carefully on the toilet seat. “It’s not too far. If you need anything, say my name.” He stands up and puts his hands on my hips, “you don’t even gotta yell. I can hear through the walls.” 

You look up at him. How could you forget how special he is. He has that serum in him.  

“Okay.” 

He looks over at the tub and chews his lip, “you... you good?” 

“I can manage,” you realise he’s asking if you need help. 

“Well, when you get out, don’t hesitate to call for help.” 

“I’ll be alright.” 

“You know,” he begins abruptly, even before you finish the last syllable, “I don’t think any of what you think I do. You’re not weak. You remind me of the strongest person I know, you might’ve heard of him,” he scoffs, “Steve Rogers. Not Cap, Steven Grant Rogers. Skinny kid I grew up with in Brooklyn. Weighed as much as a piece of hay. He didn’t need the serum. He was strong. Like you.” 

You want to laugh. You put your head down and sigh, “that’s nice--” 

“I’m not lying to you. I wouldn’t lie to you,” he says.  

You feel more tears tingling. You rub your cheek and glance over at the tub. The thought of a bath and is intoxicating. Just a little relief. 

“Thank you, Bucky,” you say, “you really didn’t have to do all this.” 

“I did,” he insists, “someone shoulda done it sooner but the world ain’t what it used to be. Neighbours aren’t your neighbours.” 

“It’s not... It’s my problem--” 

“It’s not a problem,” he says. “I’ll bring in a fresh towel before you hop in.” 

[c-rowlesdraws]

So my dad is a chef and Ratatouille is his favorite Pixar movie. Less for the story and more for the attention to detail they put in keeping a professional kitchen true to life. The whole "anyone can cook!" motto of the story was kind of undercut by Linguine just...not being a good cook? But there's more to a kitchen than just the head chef! A restaurant, a kitchen can't function without EVERYONE doing their jobs. Even dishwashers to keep things clean and sanitary are critically essential; the person who just chops up the vegetables is a simple job but is crucial when there's a a metric TON of onions that needs prep. And is that not cooking? Is everyone working together, cooperating, keeping people fed and happy what it's all about? Linguine wasn't a good over a stove without Remy, but we saw by the end he was a good waiter - that's important too. A great side arc while Collette learns to re-love her passion as a chef is teaching Linguine that he isn't defined by Gusteau's legacy, and not being a *chef* wouldn't mean his contributions to a restaurant aren't valuable either. It would be a great dual 'finding / refinding yourself' arc for both of them!

“The whole "anyone can cook!" motto of the story was kind of undercut by Linguine just...not being a good cook?”

YEAH OKAY like… my biggest problem with the movie was how confused the message seemed to be. Like— “anyone can cook”, that’s a great smaller message, you can be an okay home cook and not a ✨chef✨ and that’s still cooking, that’s still something to be proud of; and another interpretation of that phrase spoke to the main message of the film: “anyone can cook”/“a great artist can come from anywhere”, as in, you can have the potential to achieve your dreams no matter how humble your origins are. But all that was undercut by the film, for some reason, needing to emphasize that some people are doomed to mediocrity even with the best teaching— I remember feeling like, “wait… what?” at the end of the film when the voiceover said, “not everyone can be a great artist” as the camera focused on poor Linguini. It seemed unnecessarily mean of the movie to separate people into, as it seemed to me, people destined to be singular “great artists” and those destined to fail. After having learned more about Brad Bird and his ego, the confusion of the message makes more sense to me. But yeah—back then and especially now, with my professional bakery and kitchen experience as an adult, I don’t like how a movie about a restaurant, where teamwork from top to bottom is essential and “rockstar” chefs are usually red flags, seemed to conclude by celebrating the idea of the singular genius artist.

I feel like it’s also worth pointing out that animation studios, like restaurant kitchens, make art through an incredible amount of teamwork, so it kind of hits extra dirty for me that this army of creative people were directed to produce a story about a similar workplace, where the message wasn’t really ultimately about teamwork or valuing each person for their own skills and contributions, but about how one little special guy ascended to being the bestest specialist guy of them all.

Also YEAH like. Head chef whatever, important position, makes the Big Decisions and is very cool and etc, but good luck running service without anyone doing prep, taking out trash, or washing the dishes. Everyone, especially the head chef, knows the success of the entire damn kitchen rests on the shoulders of the guy in the dish pit.

[fanficgirl429]

Mike has feelings for you (fluff)

Prompt: During a family get together, your best friend Mike reveals that he has feelings for you

Pairing: Mike Schmidt x Reader

---

The front door slammed shut behind Abby, who was outside playing with a few kids from the neighborhood. Your best friend was standing in the doorway of the living room, leaning against the door frame. 

“Do you want to come tonight?” you ask him. 

He walks over to where you're standing and wraps his arms around you, pulling you into a tight hug. 

“Do I want to come where?”

“To my grandparents for dinner. It’s Sunday.”

Every Sunday, you had dinner with your extended family. Your dad’s side of the family was large and everyone was close. Mike and Abby used to come most Sunday’s but once Mike had gotten a job as a security officer at the mall, he had to work most Sunday’s. Every now and then Abby would join you but it had been a while since either of them had come. 

You enjoyed it when they both came and Mike liked to see Abby having fun with kids her own age. Abby went to school with a few of your younger cousins and she enjoyed playing with them. 

“Yea, we can come,” Mike answers. 

----

The large house was filled with your family as you, Mike, and Abby walk inside. Instantly your younger cousins spot Abby and pull her away to go play with them in the basement. Mike laces his fingers with yours as you guide him to the kitchen where you mom, grandmother, and aunt are gathered. 

They all greet you and Mike and you don’t miss the glance of your mothers eyes as she looks down at yours and Mike’s hands still laced together. 

Mike and you had been best friends since elementary school and she always said that one day you and Mike would get married. You were constantly telling her no that would never happen but over the years, your feelings for Mike had changed. When you once had seen him as your best friend, you now had fallen in love with him. You weren’t sure when your feelings had changed but they had never disappeared. The two of you were always touching each other but it had always been platonic. 

“Come on,” you say and lead Mike into the living room, where the majority of your family is. 

The two of you are greeted by everyone and it seems as if a few people are more excited to see Mike than they are to see you. Your family had always loved Mike and were always telling you to bring him with you when you visited. 

~~

After dinner was done, you and Mike went your separate ways for a bit. He went into the living room to watch football while you helped clear the table and wash the dishes. 

“So when are you and Mike going to make it official?” your cousin, Lacy, asks you. 

You let out a laugh at her question. “Um never.”

Lacy shakes her head, disappointed by your answer. “It’s going to happen.” 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Did you not see the way he was looking at you all through dinner? Damn, if I had someone that looked at me like that, I would never let him go!”

“He did not look at me the whole time,” you counter. 

“He did! Whenever you were talking, he was looking across the table at you and whenever you laughed, his eyes lit up. That boy is completely in love with you.” 

You look across the room at your best friend, who is currently mesmerized by the large tv screen. He must feel you looking because his brown eyes meet yours and gives you a soft smile. 

Lacy notices the interaction and whispers, “I told you,” before turning back to load the dishwasher. 

When the table is all cleared, you stay in the kitchen talking to your mom, grandmother, Lacy, and a few aunts. Occasionally you glance over at Mike to make sure he is doing is ok. Abby has been in the basement with your cousins and you know that she is not going to want to leave. Hopefully the two of them can come over most Sundays. It was a good way to get the two of them (especially Mike) out of their house. 

Two strong hands grip your shoulders and turn around to see Mike standing behind you. 

“Hey,” you greet him. 

“Hi,” he says, smiling. “Just wanted to check in with you and see how you’re doing.” 

He squeezes your shoulders while he talks to your aunts. 

When the conversation grows quiet, you stand up from the table. “Want to go outside?” you ask him quietly. 

You loved hanging out with your family but after a while, you needed a few minutes to yourself. 

“Yea.” 

Mike follows you out the front door and onto the large wrap around porch. You place your hands on the railing and look out across the large yard. A short distance away is a small pond with a dock. During the summer, the pond was home to a family of ducks and you have memories of sitting at the water's edge watching the ducklings swim across the pond.  

Mike stands next to you, his fingers grazing yours. “My family keeps telling me how glad they are that you and Abby came,” you tell him. 

Mike smiles. “I’m glad we came too.”

Its silent for a few moments and a cool breeze blows, causing goosebumps to scatter across your skin. You let out a small shiver and Mike instantly notices. He pulls off his black hoodie and hands it to you without saying a word. You pull the sweatshirt on and Mike takes a step towards you. He moves behind you and pulls you against him, his arms wrapping around your stomach. 

His body heat makes you instantly warm and you lean your back against him, relaxing your body. 

“So I was talking to Lacy,” he begins. 

“Oh god. What did she have to say?”

If it was anything like the conversation you had with your, youre not sure you want to hear what he has to say. 

“She kept asking," So when are you and Y/N going to be official?” he tells you. 

You let out a laugh and bury your face in your hands. “I had a very similar conversation with her.” 

Mike laughs. “Did you?” 

“Yes! She was like ‘Mike’s into you. He couldn’t take his eyes of you during dinner, blah blah blah.’” 

Mike sighs. “Well she's not wrong,” he says, quietly. 

You're surprised by Mike’s comment. You turn around and look at him. He doesn’t loosen his grip around your waist as his brown eyes bore into yours. 

“What are you saying?” you ask him. 

Mike moves his hand up to your cheek and gently pushes a few strands of hair behind your ear. A slight blush reddens your cheek from his gesture. 

“I’m 100% into you,” he says. 

“W-what?”

“I’m into you,” he says, slowly. 

Instead of saying anything in return, you stand on your tiptoes and press your lips against his. He tastes like the beer that he had drunk earlier as his lips move against yours. 

After a few moments, Mike pulls away but presses his forehead against yours. 

“What if we keep this between us for a few days?” he says. 

You think about his offer for a minute. “Just a few days,” you respond before pressing your lips back to his. 

[seredelgi]

Sweet Punishment

fandom: Attack On Titan/ Shingeki No Kyojin

pairing: Dom!Levi Ackerman x Sub!Fem!Reader, Levi Ackerman x You

summary: Reader's relationship with Levi is everything she could've asked for, he's very sweet and never gets mad at her. There's only one little rule she needs to follow, and when she fails to, then he'll have to punish her.

rating: Mature, 18+

warnings: dom!levi, sub!reader, smut, like a lot, fingering, sex, vaginal sex, dubious consent (she enjoys it tho, believe me), spanking, blood (just a little cut on the lip, but still), unprotected sex (don't try it at home lol), penetration, manhandling (just a tiny bit, she's totally fine) vulgar language?, oh yeah, choking (no passing out), orgasm denial, slight degradation?, idk, this man has me feral, NO SPOILERS

word count: 4.6k

a/n: alright alright, last episode is out, and I'm just in love with Levi so I went down a rabbit hole of smut before deciding to write something down. It's just a scrap, I haven't put much thought in it so keep it in mind. Also, English is not my mother tongue, so go easy on me. Thoughts are in italic

tags: @imlevisoneandonlywife

Part 2

Your boyfriend is just so very good to you that it often makes you question how in the world have you gotten so lucky.

He’s known to be a man of few words, a true soldier, the best in what he does. You’ve never seen him in action, of course, but you’ve heard the stories and the way they’re being told. His subordinates tell them with a glimpse of ecstatic excitement in their eyes, his colleagues with a blatant silent respect. It’s honestly mesmerizing to see the effect he has on people.

But it is nothing compared to the effect he has on you.

You don’t need to see him slaying Titans to know he’s the best. He carries it wherever he goes, whatever he does, he has an aura to him that just draws you in.

And even though he’s perceived by everyone to be just a grumpy man, you get to see his sweetest side. Once Levi gets someone close to his heart, he becomes so severely attached to them that it’s almost suffocating. He showers you with his love and attention, compliments, gifts, simple little signs of his undying devotion towards you. And even though infamously ruthless on the battlefield, you’ve never seen him upset in your regards. Not that you’ve ever given him any reason to be, it’s pretty simple to please him. He’s not even the jealous type, maybe ‘cause he’s way too confident for his own good.

There’s only one little thing that he won’t compromise on.

Since the first time you two have had sex, he’s firmly stated that he wanted to be the only one to pleasure you, that not even you were permitted to relieve the tension on your own. It took you aback a little, but since he’d just managed to make you see stars you agreed.

Honestly, that decision has never truly bothered you that much, he was definitely worth the wait.

But now, as you're home alone waiting for him to get back home, you can’t stop thinking about him, about how good it feels to have him slide inside of you, and pump in and out with that effortlessly relentless pace he usually reserves you so kindly.

You try to focus on each chore you’re on at the moment, but anytime you try your mind seems to wander on its own, and you find yourself aching for him, catching glimpses of the clock hanging in the kitchen, counting down the hours that separate you from seeing him again.

You must be ovulating, ‘cause you feel so damn empty just thinking about him, needing to be filled so desperately it’s almost funny.

“ Just hormones” you huff quietly as you finish washing the dishes “ breathe, y/n”

You’ve never actually considered breaking Levi’s rules, you wouldn’t like lying to him about it. But right now his request just seems so unreasonable.

You eye the door of your bedroom from afar.

He doesn’t have to know.

It’s just one little slip, one little sin to remove a bit of the tension and be able to ease your mind.

For some reason your heart’s racing as you tiptoe silently towards the bedroom, sitting on your bed and sighing as you remember what happened in it the other night. Thinking about it makes you feel incredibly hot between your legs. You can feel your juices stain the white cotton of your panties.

You bite your bottom lip, considering if maybe you should just get up and get back to your chores, maybe put something up in the oven for dinner.

But it’s impossible when all it takes is for you to close your eyes and you can see him, holding you in his arms, leaving humid kisses down your neck, whispering huskily in your ear all the things he wants to do to you.

“ Fuck it” you click your tongue in surrender and place yourself laying back on the center of the mattress.

It’s his fault honestly, for being so ridiculously hot and impossible to wait for. And anyway, he’ll never know. You’ll make it quick. It’s still an hour before he comes back. Plenty of time for you to get off even more than once.

So you lean back and relax.

You close your eyes and he’s there again, looking down at you with hungry eyes, touching you all over your naked body. And as you imagine his touch upon you it’s easy, almost like following his orders, scanning your hands upon the warm skin of your breasts, your fluttering stomach, all the way down between your thighs.

You get rid of your panties, breaths quickening as you can feel his tongue sucking on your hardened nipples. Your whole body is aching so bad just thinking about it, yearning for his hands on you so bad it’s almost bruising.

As you part your legs and gently slip your middle finger between your folds a sudden cry of arousal breaks free from your throat. You just wish it were him touching you, his fingers sliding silently inside of you as you're doing now, gathering your juices before slipping out of your entrance again to bring them toward your clit.

You’re so incredibly wet. He’d surely comment on it if he were here, mocking you for how desperate you look for him. It would be embarrassing if it didn’t turn you on even more. And now that your fingertips are finally massaging your bundle of nerves, that agonizing tension you’ve been feeling all day just gathers in your lower abdomen, ready to let loose.

You’ve been horny all day, so it figures that you’re already so close.

It’s shameful, but it’s true.

Your free hand grips your sheets so hard you think you’ll have to iron them again if you don’t want Levi to notice. But that’s not your concern now. You’re lost in your lust, eyes shut picturing your man sliding inside of you with his cock, whispering all kinds of dirty prayers into your ear. It’s almost as if he’s there.

“ What do you think you’re doing?”

You take a few instants to realize that it’s really him asking you that, flesh and blood in your room, standing by the door and looking at you with the kind of gaze that you’re sure would send any reasonable man a shiver running down their spine.

“ Fuck- Levi” you pant, your hand coming off of you in a spurt, hoping in vain that he won’t comment on it, that he’ll let it slide “ I didn’t hear you come in”

His silver-grey eyes don’t come off of you as you sit at attention, closing your legs and trying to gain some composure. Your mind spins so fast it takes your breath away, your heart stammering loudly in your chest as he clenches his jaw.

He’s standing there, mere meters away from you, his uniform still on, a severe expression darkening his beautiful features.

That’s impossible not to find hot.

“ Yeah, that much was clear” he hums, and by the tone of his voice it’s difficult to determine how actually mad he is, being it the first time you ever break that rule “ So this is what you do when you’re home alone, huh?”

“No it’s not like that, I was just-” you don’t know why you’re so fast at trying to justify yourself when you know full well you haven’t done anything wrong.

You should tell it to him straight. That he doesn’t own you. He might be the best fighter in the known world, a Captain of the Scouts Corp, but that doesn’t give him the right to exert control over your God damn body.

But the words die in your throat. It’s suddenly really hot in there, and you’re still very fucking horny. You’re ashamed to admit that you find yourself quite attracted to this side of him, one you’ve never had the pleasure to fully unravel.

“ Just what? Trying to have fun without me?” he’s finally moving, walking towards the chair in front of your bed, getting rid of his jacket and placing it tiredly upon it.

“ Just warming up for when you came home, honey” you sound so out of breath, and you’re trembling.

You don’t actually think he would do you any harm, and yet his eyes suggest otherwise, his demeanor exudes danger from every pore. If that’s just a hint of the coldness he carries himself into battle with, then it’s no wonder fucking Titans fall at his feet.

“ You know that’s not how it works” his voice is low, steady “ But maybe you need a little reminding”

A hint of mischief lightens up the tension, and he starts walking towards you, slow and lethal like the man you know he is.

“ I didn’t even finish, I swe-”

But you’re cut off by his sudden movement, a quick dash to get a hold of your face, squishing your cheeks together with a hand, he gives you the kind of look that shuts you the hell up and gets that familiar tickle go wild between your legs. You subtly squeeze your thighs together to give your pussy some kind of attention, disobeying right in front of him kind of getting you off now.

“ I’m the only one that can give you pleasure” he almost growls at you, and his hold is so strong it’s bruising you now “ Understood?”

“ Yes, Sir” it’s all you’re able to reply, mind too foggy to gather anything else.

But it looks like he likes it, ‘cause he lets you go, a hint of a smile playing on his lips.

Levi Ackerman doesn’t smile easily. So you guess you’ll call him that in the bedroom more often.

He sits on the edge of the bed, and you’re almost disappointed, thinking he’s already done with you.

“ Over my lap” he instructs instead “ Now”

You’re kind of confused about what exactly he’s got in mind. But it doesn’t look like a great idea to ask out loud, so you find yourself complying, crawling towards him, legs a bit shaky from the missed orgasm you almost managed to give yourself.

You get within reach of him, not sure how he wants you to position yourself.

“ How do I-”

But you’re cut off again by his hand reaching for your wrist, tugging you forward, and having you stumble upon him, ending up stomach flat against his thighs. You resist the urge to whine in protest, sensing he’s not keen on you speaking up right about now.

You feel the light fabric of your sundress being roughly lifted up your ass, revealing to him your nakedness.

He sits in appreciation of the view in front of him for a few instants, and you’re feeling every nerve-ending on your body standing at attention for what he’s gonna do next.

The first slap makes your heart skip a beat, you hold your breath and close your eyes shut, and somehow you still manage to hold in your cry of pain. It’s sudden and disconcerting, and it kind of feels wrong to stay silent while he takes such liberties with your body, and yet it makes you squirm in your place to feel more.

The stinging that comes from the second one is even better, ‘cause you’ve expected it, and the high that comes next is kind of inebriating to your drunken senses.

Oh God, you’re so down bad for this man you’ll let him treat you like a disobedient child.

With the third one you can’t help yourself, you cry out in pain as the burning sensation gets your insides in a twirl, while the aching between your legs won’t stop growing desperate by the second.

“ I told you couldn’t do it” his voice is hoarse now, the sound of lust tainting it so clearly it only makes you hornier “ Don’t I give you enough pleasure? Enough attention?” he slaps you hard, and yet it’s not hard enough for you to feel the vibrations of your thighs giving you some kind of relief from the tension you’re holding up between your legs “Are you really that needy?”

You muffle a protest, almost crying from how much you feel desperate for him to touch you, but you don’t dare ask.

Luckily it’s like he’s in your mind, ‘cause you feel his hand suddenly stopping from imparting you that sweet punishment, only to make its way between your reddened thighs, finding your liquids covering their insides, and it’s so good to hear a falter of genuine stupor in his voice as he appraises how wet you are from what he’s doing to you “ Fuck, you really are, aren’t you?” he murmurs, and you can almost feel him licking his lips as he comes to touch your hole now, finding it drenched with your juices “ You’re a fucking mess”

You really are. Your liquids are audibly enveloping his fingers as he sinks them deep into you without much effort, your walls sucking him in. You let go of a sigh of pure ecstasy as you finally feel him fill you up as you’ve longed for all day long. It’s not enough, you want his cock balls deep into you, but you don’t think you’re in the position to make any requests right now.

His desire is undeniable at this point, you can feel it poking at your stomach as he starts pumping his fingers into you, so slowly you’re sure he wants to kill you with this fake kindness. Having his erection pressing into you like that is torture too. He must know that’s what you want. Heck, he seems horny enough to give it to you now, and yet he refrains. What is he up to?

“ You’re so fucking spoiled” he comments as his fingers start pumping at a much higher pace, getting to that spot inside of you that he knows how much you like “ Can’t even wait an hour for me to get home, huh?”

You’re so undeniably turned on, and yet some kind of rebellious part of you hates to let him know so blatantly, and has you trying to refrain from making too much noise. But it’s almost impossible. It would be so much easier to say you’re sorry and have him shift back into his normal tender self, but you’re high on this, and it feels like a waste to have it stop right now.

“ What’s this?” he asks, his tone slightly irritated by your sudden attitude, and you have to put all your efforts into stopping yourself from whimpering when his hand slips out of you so suddenly it makes your whole body shiver “ The silent treatment?”

He reaches for your lips with his other hand, the one that’s not covered in your liquids, and he parts them slowly. You’re too slow to realize what he wants to do, and before you know it you’ve got his thumb inside your mouth and the rest of his fingers holding your neck, lifting you from where you lay on top of him, making you look into his dark grey eyes.

“ Apologize now, and I’ll be gentle”

You don’t want gentle. Not anymore. And neither does he. You can see it in his eyes, he’s hungry for more, he just keeps it together better than you ever could.

“ You fon’t- owm’e” your muffled words were meant to sound challenging, but your eyes, you’re sure, they’re begging for him to fuck you, and this facade of yours is practically ridiculous.

You know ‘cause his smirk is chilling, amused by your pathetic attempts at making this interesting, when really, all he wants is for you to beg him to give it to you.

“ We’ll see about that”

He shoves you back down on the mattress, slipping his thumb out of your warm mouth before getting up with his knees pressing down on the bed and going for his belt, and you can’t help your eyes from lingering on his hurried movements as he lowers his pants and boxers just enough that you can see his cock finally popping out, and it’s so hard it’s almost threatening.

You knew he was just as impatient as you were, finding you getting off on your bed with his name probably escaping your lips must’ve been a treat he wasn’t expecting to stumble upon. But seeing it made you even more eager to feel it inside.

He crawls on top of you so that he’s all you can see, but he’s all you can ever see when you’re this horny.

You lunge up towards his lips. He still hasn’t kissed you, and by now it feels natural to want to, but he dodges you, making you almost pout in response.

“ There are no kisses for bad girls”

That’s so unfair you almost give in on the spot, the apology nearly rolling off your tongue so that you can be able to taste his inside of you.

Instead, you start kissing his neck, but he takes you harshly by the throat and presses you hard into the mattress.

Fuck him, he’s playing dirty.

He presses a knee down between yours and has you part your legs so easily it’s freaking frightening. If it weren’t for the fact that he lowered himself upon the skin of your neck, pressing his cock on the center of your cunt you would be complaining to yourself about how much control he has over you. But you like it too much to really care.

He starts kissing your neck slowly, so slowly it feels like torture, and his hips start rutting against your dripping core at the same dangerous pace. He can kill you with all of this, gentle when you want hard fucking and bites and marks to last for days. And yet it’s enough pressure, enough contact to leave you on the edge, enough to feel like crying with frustration. He’s already brought you so close with his hand before, and you almost came on your own before that, you’re practically holding on for dear life at this point.

“ Levi-” you can’t help but sob in his ear, feeling his breath grazing upon your warm skin as he answers you, his voice a delicate purr:

“ Yes?”

“ Please- fuck” you beg, dignity be damned. You’re a whore for this man, who are you even kidding?

“ Please what?” his tip is slowly pushing inside of you, only to slip out again as he teases you, and you think he’s never been so damn cruel to you in bed. It’s intoxicating how much you’re liking it.

“ Please, please, Levi, fuck me” your voice is so distorted by need that it’s practically unrecognizable, and the kind of chuckle that he ghosts upon your skin when he finally decides to stop playing with you would have your blood run cold, wouldn’t it be for the hotness of being surrounded by him with so much desire.

“ As you wish” he only says, before finally sliding his whole length inside of you, one deep thrust and you’re fucking screaming into the void of the room, clinging to his back and begging to the Gods above for it to never stop.

He’s finally fucking you as you wanted, deep thrusts crashing against your aching clit, your juices dripping down on the freshly clean sheets of your bed to create a pool of delicious wetness beneath you two.

He raises, towering over you, and he’s just so damn beautiful that he looks unreal.

“ Apologize” he orders again, this time you can hear the slightest little falter in his voice as he pumps in and out of you without mercy, still holding you down against the mattress by the neck.

Heck no.

You can’t risk this stopping now that you’re finally filled with him, now that you’re so close to getting what you’ve wanted all day.

You find the strength to shake your head no.

You catch a glimpse of indignation glinting in his eyes, something so fleeting it’s gone in an instant, but it’s impossible to feel scared when every single movement of his is sending shivers down your spine, and each thrust against your clit brings you one step closer to fucking paradise.

You’re already so close, and you’re so drunk on pleasure that you’re way past feeling shameful for it. You’re a babbling mess and you just love it.

“ Don’t you dare come” he threatens. His voice rasp, his breaths quicker and you feel something twist inside of you. He can’t do this to you. He can’t play with you like this. It’s simply evil.

“ Please” you whine, your voice a whisper, your eyes teary, his hold on your neck starting to limit the amount of air being able to reach your lungs. You feel like passing out like this would be heaven on earth. But you want to cum first.

He can’t rob you of it, not after all that you’ve let him do to you today. So you’ll come and hope for dear life to be able to refrain yourself from making it obvious.

You can feel your walls clenching around his cock, any thrust of his could be the last one, before-

Fuck. He can’t be serious.

He slipped out while you were almost there.

He’s nuzzling his nose against your neck, leaving little bites on your impatient skin as you cry, only able to complain.

“ I know you too well by now, love” he murmurs silently on your skin, his hand on your throat finally coming off, making you able to breathe in properly “ I can feel when you’re close, you can’t fool me”

He raises his silver-grey eyes upon you, and they’re filled with dark intents, so dangerous that your heart skips a beat.

“ Now apologize” his voice is firm, and his tone is so low it almost feels like a threat. This time, you know, if you don’t he’ll walk away on you. And you can’t have it.

“ I’m sorry” you finally give in, tears running down your cheeks, a pathetic mess, desperate to feel your man filling you up with his cum “ I’m sorry, Levi, please”

He sighs as if annoyed by all of this.

“ Will you ever disobey me again?”

“ Never, fuck- I swear” you’re too fast to shake your head no to that, giving him up any control he wanted over you and your body “ I will never touch myself again, I promise, Captain”

Much like the ‘Sir’ you had uttered before, this too sends a proud little sparkle flying in his irises, and at that he falls apart too, kissing your neck violently and sinking inside of you again, revealing himself just as lost in his desire as you are.

“ You’re so hot when you beg me” he chants upon your skin and you shiver as he bites your neck and sucks onto your tender skin, making you moan his name so loud you’re glad you don’t have any neighbors “ I love it, fuck- I love you”

It’s not often that Levi throws those words at you, and any time he does it feels like you’re golden in his hands, like you’re the last meal for a starved man.

His pace has become relentless, and it’s breaking you apart.

You meet his eyes, and this time around there’s no more coldness in them, no more anger or attitude of any kind, his features have softened underneath the burden of pleasure, and his eyes are so full of love it makes you hold your breath and cross your legs around his waist, keeping him so close you can feel his heart beating underneath his chest.

At times like this you can’t believe he’s yours, can’t believe you get to be fucked by the best soldier humanity has ever seen. You’re blessed. So what if you can’t touch yourself? All of this is just so worth it.

“ Can I kiss you now?” you ask, breathless.

He looks down on you with a hint of stupor, as if he were surprised that right now, a step away from your orgasm, you still look for his lips. And then he crashes down upon you, kissing you as if he hadn’t in years, as if there is no one else in the world.

You’re washed over by a sense of ecstasy, it runs throughout your whole body as you chase your relief, and when you finally break apart, you start shuddering against him, crying his name in his mouth, thanking him for everything he’s making you feel.

“ That’s it” you hear him in the background of your pleasure, praising you upon your feverish skin “ my good girl”

And then he kisses you again, this time violent, ravenous.

As you slowly come down from your high a sudden pain makes you realize he’s bit your lip, and by the drops of red staining his mouth when he parts from you you think he’s cut it, his hand clasping around your neck again, his brows furrowed, his eyes upon you.

“ You’re mine, yeah?”

He asks it with a verge of doubt, a vulnerability he rarely grants himself, usually when it concerns you.

It makes your heart ache and you kiss him again, the ferrous taste of your own blood corrupting the delicious one of his lips. You find it astounding that he even feels the need to ask you this, especially after all that has just occurred, the way you’ve let him dispose of you. Whose else would you ever be?

“ Only yours, Levi Ackerman, always”

“ Fuck- I’m so close” he pants.

“ Cum inside of me” you beg him quietly, and he sets you free of the hold on your neck and crashes down on you, slipping his arms under your shoulders and keeping you so close to him he could probably break you.

“ You want it in your pretty pussy, huh?” he asks, his voice croaking with pleasure, it almost breaks from how close he is.

“ Yes, Sir”

That seems to do it, ‘cause he lets out the kind of groan you’ve learned to recognize as he holds you to him, his movements erratic, his breaths hot and heavy against your neck, through your hair. He slams a hand on the headboard to keep himself steady, and you see his face twist deliciously as he’s overcome with pleasure.

“ Fuck” he swears as you feel his hot seed springing into you, filling you up as you’ve longed for, and it’s just perfect. You love feeling him emptying inside of you, it makes you feel fulfilled. It drives you.

He towers above you for a few more instants, his heavy breaths crashing down on you, lips still red from your blood. Then he comes collapsing beside you, still dressed in his uniform, even though some of his buttons have accidentally been undone in the heat of the moment.

You lay silently for a while, the high of passion slowly taming as you both wrap your heads around whatever has just happened. You’re kind of shocked. You honestly did not think you would be into any of what’s just occurred, but he’s just too hot to be denied.

“ Maybe I should try to masturbate more often” you casually throw the words in the silence of the room, hoping to elicit a laugh from him.

Long shot.

“ Don’t you dare” he threatens instead.