#its somehow smooth and rough at the same time

[lucysarah-c]

Transactional

Summary: When you go to ask Captain Levi for a promotion, it's important to remain humble. Author note: I've had this idea for so long... this had been collecting dust in my computer for SO LONG. Because I wanted it to be hot and dirty like the underground's air but at the same time I was scared that it was a "bit" too much. That's it. In case I forget any warning or tag, feel free to remind me. Pairing: Levi x fem! reader. Warnings: Top Levi Ackerman, Dubious Consent, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Multiple Orgasms, Smut, MP reader, Levi x MP reader, Captain Levi Ackerma, Dirty talk, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, Cigarrettes, Smoking, Alcohol, Power Dynamics, Power Imbalance, Power Play, Oral sex, DUBCON, Bondage, Breathplay. Word count: 12k words of pure porn. You had been warned lmao HONESTLY, JUST BECAUSE I MANAGED TO EDIT this long ass post in the tumblr editor I DESERVE A LIKE AND A REBLOG (jk... but if you want its not a joke)

The agonizing rubatosis, mixed with the upsetting silence, creates a disconcerting atmosphere. Frowned eyebrows, eyes closed, cold feet rubbing over each other, and itchy underwear contribute to the discomfort. A deep breath in, count to 4, hold it for 7, and exhale slowly, counting to 8. Fists tighten, jaw clenches, and breathing becomes agitated.

‘Should I?’

Shea butter and vanilla penetrate her senses, smoothing legs that perfectly align, having been meticulously shaved. Not a single rough patch of skin, not a single hair, not a single cell left unmoistened. The hair conditioner matched the body lotion, nails painted a deep shade of red. Lips glide smoothly over each other thanks to the reddish gloss, creating a subtle plumping effect. The darkness enveloped her; hair spread on the pillow, eyelashes curved and painted a deep shade of black, with mascara perfectly in place. Blushed cheeks, radiant skin, softly glittering eyes, enhanced with brown pencil. Self-performed surgeon work, like an architect drawing up plans.

Reflective, slightly darker lips create the illusion of being kissed. Rosy cheeks mimic arousal. Uncomfortable underwear, but a perfect frame for her body. Subtly enhanced eyes for a pleasing view from the top. Everything is calculated, makeup that doesn’t look like makeup, intentionally tousled hair. She couldn’t recall the last time she put this much effort into her appearance for someone else. Usually, she dressed up for herself or her friends. A guy? Never, as far as she could remember.

All the to-do list’s lines had been checked except for one. The last item on her mental list was ‘Do you dare?’

Did she, though? Did she dare to slide her bare, smooth legs across the sheets, touch the cold floor, sneak through the corridors, slip inside through the creaked door, wait in the gloom with only one candle at the kitchen during late hours, hoping the collected info was real, and perhaps, only perhaps, see him appear through the door?

The place was ridiculously silent; she could hear her own feet against each other, her nervous tapping nails. Scouts followed rules, always doing what they were told, unlike the MPs. Even in the deep of night, you could hear everything—people making deals, cadets sneaking out, higher-ups taking cadets for personal parties. It was as if, the moment curfew started, another world began. Mixing that with the streets of the capital that never slept, the constant babble in the background. However, that wasn’t the scouts’ reality, and maybe that’s why she hated sleeping there so much. Somehow, she had gotten used to the sleepwalker city, and its ceaseless mutter became her lullaby.

After the retake of Wall Maria, after the coronation of the new queen Historia, life inside the walls changed drastically, especially in the military. New uniforms, universally appreciated in black, and the roles within the military became more ambiguous. MPs were still MPs, but they also contributed to the advances of new constructions, the displacement of new citizens to the reclaimed lands, and everyone learned how to use the new anti-person 3DMG.

Life was improving, or so many decided to believe. The scouts, almost eradicated after they took Wall Maria, saw an increase in their ranks. Transfers happened more than ever, and their salaries went from being the worst to the personal favourite military brand of the queen. Promotions were granted based on performance, sacrifice, and meritocracy—a notion she found irritatingly noble. Out of pettiness, boredom, or perhaps jealousy.

Extra-curricular activities? Even before she graduated from the trainee lines, she was in the top ten of her class, with excellent behaviour and military antecedents. Reports from citizens praised her attention and willingness to help. Double-checking almost everything. Therefore, explain why she had been rejected for a promotion so many times in the last years. The simple answer: anything in the MPs was about contacts and money, even as life inside the walls changed.

There was always an excuse—someone else deserved it better, a son of someone else got a spot that was rightfully hers, a green cadet got it simply because he was a man, and she clearly wasn’t. She wouldn’t lie and say that her desire to join the scouts had always been there. As a single daughter of a single mother, her wishes had always been to provide for her, to help her around. The day she could make her old mother stop working with her MP’s salary had been her happiest day.

Discussing it with her friend as they delivered provisions to the lines working on the train’s rails, not seeking help, but rather complaining in confidentiality. Concentrated so deeply in her venting that she didn’t notice how her friend remained quiet for a split second and then interrupted her with a cheerful smirk.

“Captain Levi just checked your ass.”

It caught her off guard, involuntarily making her want to check. “DON’T TURN!” her friend almost screamed. The idea felt bizarre, not because she wasn’t confident in her looks—she was hot as hell, and nobody could tell her otherwise. But… Captain Levi? From the Special Operation Squad? THE Captain Levi who had led the Uprising? Humanity’s Strongest Soldier? … That Captain Levi? Then, she gave it a second thought, slightly shaking her head.

“You must have imagined it,” she said.

“I SWEAR, you bent, and he checked you,”

“But… Captain Levi is?”

“Short?”

“No, you idiot. I mean yes, but not what I’m trying to say,” she corrected herself. “He just… I’ve never even heard about him with any girl, anyone to be more precise.”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” her friend said, grabbing a box and starting to walk away, “but I know what I saw.”

Superiors and higher ranks checking her out, catcalling, perhaps even touching without permission? UFF, the military was full of them, even when she was much younger. However, Captain Levi could be an antisocial, stoic little jerk, but it had never struck her as those types of men. Always so uptight, correct, stoic, disinterested. There was a rumour circulating that perhaps… and only perhaps, he wasn’t particularly fond of women. A few female soldiers had tried to show their interest during military hangouts, and none of them had been successful. Considering military men’s pent-up frustration, that was very odd behaviour.

If there’s a rumour that spreads faster than what happens in someone’s sheets, it’s the lack of activity in those sheets. Captain Levi seemed to be on the other spectrum of the rumours. He definitely wasn’t a womanizer, and if he was one, what a smooth criminal he was. Not a single victim had been known.

“You know what would give you that promotion?” The administrative higher-up enlightened her after another unsuccessful raise in her salary. Her resentful eyes admired the boy, easily seven years younger than her, getting a spot because his father was a military member too. Her tired stare moved slowly back to her front, silently waiting for the pointless information to be given to her. A better cover letter? CV? Extra hours? Non-paid internships in other divisions? What?

“A recommendation from someone important.”

The red lips of the administrative staff moved slowly. If Y/N squinted a bit, she would have been able to hear the indirect suggestion. Between women, softly getting closer so the secretary could whisper without being heard. Glasses pushed down the nose bridge, and Y/N drew closer to hear the secret.

“You know, the scouts are making a big impact around here lately. Think about it.”

The words accumulate on her throat; her lips trembled, but nothing aside from indecipherable sounds left her mouth, frowning slightly at the idea.

“Think about it,” the woman repeated. “You won’t be the first girl, dear, and I guarantee you won’t be the last one.”

The wisdom that came with age and serving the military's paperwork for so many years must have given the woman enough knowledge to suggest it so plainly. What she hated the most? She had been considering it badly; she needed the money; she wanted the promotion. What was the difference between some stupid daddy's boy licking the boots of his higher-up for the position than this?

The boldest side of her mind insisted that she had slept with ex-boyfriends who were less attractive, less influential, and definitely less clean than Captain Levi. Yes, Captain Levi, because if she was doing this, she was going big or going home. Not some random newly promoted squad leader or anything. Those were the other options at the scout after they got almost eradicated—purely freshly adults. Her mind tried to convince herself of an easier target, like Jean perhaps, but she gagged at the idea. ‘He’s a baby, barely 18.’

For a split second, she wished Commander Erwin was alive. Never met him; she hadn’t even talked to him, but the blond seemed like an easier target somehow. Was it because people had talked about a chick or two that he took to his hotel’s room after parties? Maybe.

‘What’s the worst thing that could happen?’ pondering around the idea, like a friend encouraging you to confess to the boy you have a crush on. “You already got the no, go for the yes!” they would say, but this wasn’t silly girlish crushes.

‘That he says no and thinks of you as some cheap-ass whore.’

No, this wasn’t a crush. It was plain transactional.

‘Well… not like Captain Levi had ever looked over to me as if he had me in any sort of high esteem to begin with.’

Back to the beginning. They had ordered her to help around the Scout’s facilities as they developed the new train station around Paradise, and as soon as those orders had reached her ears, the plan was rolling. ‘Now… or never.’

Battle dress on: short loose shorts, a loose shirt that barely covered her belly, and her fanciest lingerie underneath. Captain Levi always made himself a cup of tea late at night to carry on with paperwork. Her military’s trajectory to secure the objective was: leave her bed, go there, and hope that her glossy lips and glittery eyes would do the trick. This was far from what she was used to, and what had boosted her confidence earlier that day to get ready had easily dripped away. Leaving her tied up to her bed as an external force that incapacitated her from doing it.

‘He’s not your higher-up; he can’t fire you directly.’

‘But what if he does?’

‘He’s probably small and will last a couple of minutes with luck; it’s easy as cake.’

‘What if he tells someone?’

‘You got nothing to lose and a lot to win.’

‘Everybody does something to scale in the MPs; no amount of extra work and good behaviours would get you anywhere. Think about what you could buy with that promotion.’

Tiptoes on the ground, a deep sigh, hands on the edge of the mattress pushing her up, calculated steps on the wood planks that didn’t squeak, palm against the edge of the door to close it without making a sound, single candle in her grip waiting for her to reach the kitchen to turn it on, non-existing hairs raising on her legs due to the coldness of the halls, curious eyes checking over her shoulder as she reached the kitchen, candle on, kettle on the fire, speech ready.

‘Now… are you going to show up, Captain?’

The flame of the candle flickered in the night air. She had heated the water multiple times, taking the kettle off the stove before it boiled, resting it on the countertop, and once it cooled, returning it to the fire. The script had been prepared, written, and practiced in her mind. However, the main participant in this story, her co-star, had not made his triumphant appearance.

First, she waited in a poised position, then faced the door while resting her weight on the countertops. After an hour and a half, the cold had crept up on her, fighting and winning against the burning heat of the nerves, leaving her shivering. Bent over the countertops with her eyes fixed on the kettle, she seemed disinterested, disappointed, and tired.

Her hand covered her mouth in a loud yawn. Once the anxiety had subsided, tiredness set in—slow blinks, head buried between her arms on the table, eyes still fixed on the kettle. It was right there, on the fire, still with time to boil. "You're going to burn the whole place down," a voice interrupted her thoughts.

That snapped her back from her reverie. It was evident that her mind had conjured a realistic dream because the kettle she was supposed to be watching had been removed from the fire, with a cloth covering the handle, and placed on the countertop, far from her reach to prevent burns. Steam billowed loudly from it, whistling in the stillness of the night.

Standing up, she froze in place, her mouth slightly agape as she tried to process what she was witnessing. The first few buttons of his grey shirt were undone, and he wore black trousers of the uniform, but no boots. Although his slippers didn't match the scene, his exhaustion was unmistakable. There he stood, as stoic and unfriendly as ever: Captain Levi, with rolled-up sleeves, removing the kettle from the fire and clicking his tongue as he turned off the gas.

Facing away from her, he seemed as indifferent as if she were just another countertop in the kitchen. Her nails softly scraped her arms as she pondered whether to press further, take the hint, or if she was simply cold, hence why she ran her hands up and down her arms. The muscles of his back contracted and moved, the V-shaped shadow down his spine emphasized his broad shoulders and defined waist. His rolled-up sleeves made her admire his porcelain skin, catching the light in particular shapes as some of his forearm hair shimmered under the candlelight.

While the slippers detracted slightly from the uniform, diminishing the powerful feeling, she had to admit, upon deeper thought, that the tight black trousers of his new uniform were incredibly appealing. Despite his short stature, Captain Levi was a fine specimen of a man. The subtle notion that perhaps scouts, with their heavy training, gather a couple of points from the MPs in that department. After all, MPs hardly bothered to train beyond the obligatory, which was very little.

Slightly turning to his right, locking eyes with her with an unapproachable demeanour, hand on hip, he questioned, "Dare to explain what you're doing breaking curfew, cadet? Do you want to jeopardize us all with your incompetence"

The first part of her plan was to improvise. ‘I couldn’t sleep,’ she thought about saying, but how could she claim that after sleeping over the countertop? His grey eyes, almost cat-like, hunted her in the dark, and suddenly, she felt her legs tremble. There was something inexplicably magnetic about him now that she had him up close, alone, in the middle of the night.

Her lips, still glossy, parted in doubt as she mumbled uneasily, "I…" She wanted to come up with a new excuse, but quickly realized she wasn’t cut out for this, for the whole charade. "I have a headache," she finally managed.

His face remained unreadable, uninterested eyes glued to her, judging her, waiting for her to break under his scrutiny, like a mother who knows you’re lying, allowing a brief moment of silence for a confession before taking matters into her own hands. But Y/N stayed resolute, gathering ambition from unknown sources.

Hand on hips, weight shifting from one leg to another, eyes quickly moving from her face to the countertop. "That won’t help," the words crossed the kitchen as if it were an open field of a hunting sport, piercing her heart but leaving her to crawl an agonizing death until her dying breath.

"Sorry?"

Eyes focusing again on the countertop. "Black tea," he said monosyllabically, as if each word cost him money. "That doesn’t help with headaches; you should get chamomile or peppermint."

"Ah," she replied, confused. Why was he clarifying that? What was the point of this conversation? Crossing legs as the cold crept in, but it quickly vanished as blood rushed to her cheeks.

Turning back around, facing the counter and gripping her own teacup. The recommendation was blatantly ignored; it seemed like a random fact thrown at her rather than something to take seriously, at least for her. About to carry on, she considered just faking preparing the tea and getting away from there.

Frozen in place, each hair on her body raised involuntarily. Not even his steps against the wood planks had been heard. ‘Oh.. Uhm-’ the natural process of breathing was totally forgotten. A strong, patronizing hand sneaking, almost creeping with confidence on her lower back, guiding her toward another cupboard.

He moved closer, getting an involuntary reaction out of her. Straightening up, chest pushing forward, lips parting, breath accelerating. He was so close, looking into her. Eyes locked onto hers over her shoulder, transparent pearls penetrating her soul. Nails sank into her palms as her teeth clenched. If he was so short, why did it feel so towering? Suddenly, the thought of owing him an apology for simply sharing the same air crossed her mind. Her nipples were noticeable through her loose shirt; he must be able to see it. As he grew closer, her idea was that all the subtle little hints must have worked.

Eyes closed, holding her breath, the air moving around her gave her the idea of movement. Holding out for nothing. Waiting for him to steal a kiss from her, perhaps grip her hips, pushing aside her loose short, turning her around, and fuck her roughly and mindlessly over the countertop. Getting what he wanted as if it were rightfully his.

“Here,” she opened her eyes. He was handing her a tea box where it read the same ingredients he had suggested.

“Thank you, sir,” her subtle smile tried to make up for her disappointment. Expectations were different; somehow, her best hopes were on him ogling at her, making it more impersonal and disinterested. Therefore, she could say that she walked up there, perhaps pleased him, and got what she came looking for. It was easier; easier it is to repeat like a broken record some silly washed-up quotes and nicknames that guys allegedly liked. ‘Yes, daddy’, ‘I’ll be a good girl Captain, I just do bad things with you,’ ‘Please, sir. I’m a good girl,’ or something in the department of ‘Ah- its so big, daddy,’ Get used and lose a little bit of dignity in exchange for something else.

Different it is, the tension building in her as she felt him looming over her frame, reminding her of just how insignificant she truly was compared to him. His hand resting lightly on the small of her back, guiding her movements. The coolness of his touch contrasting with the heat radiating off her body. Or the opposite, how cold and exposed she felt with her scant clothes and his cold hand didn’t help. A treacherous finger began to travel upwards, making each vertebra move and curve.

“Sir?” she hated how scared her voice sounded. Suddenly, as if it had escaped her mind, she remembered he was humanity’s strongest soldier. The soldier who went on the expedition to retake Wall Maria and essentially fought the most difficult titan shifter known until now, who led the Uprising. How many MPs did he kill there? How much stronger was he than her? Could she truly still walk away from this, or was her fate sealed?

“You’re stiff as a board; that’s giving you the headaches,” he commented casually as his right hand reached her shoulder and kneaded.

The action was absurdly overwhelming; she didn’t know her traps hurt this much until now but also how to react. Self-preservation mechanisms were out of the window; her lips pronounced what they had been dying to say since she left her bed. “It’s because of the promotion; it’s stressing me out.”

“I can help with that,”

Her worst fears and wildest dreams, all together in a sentence. Confirming what she came looking for but also the end of the speculations. Translucent eyes looked at him over her shoulder, expecting him to make the bolder move. She hated to admit how her heart skipped a beat, how his controlling hand on her neck made her want to arch her spine and gasp softly.

“With the headaches, I mean,” adrenaline had reached a peak and now tumbled down, leaving her devoid of thought other than disappointment mixed with relief. However, his tone, covered in a thin layer of entertainment, passed unaware to her at first.

Both hands on each trap, fingers sank in and then moved. Tearing her muscles apart from her bones, that’s how it felt. Handling, strong, overwhelming. Her breath stuck in her chest, and no matter how much she tried, she wobbled in her place. No amount of strength could help her remain still. Each tug that forced her to press slightly back against his chest, feeling the straps of the uniforms, made her sense weak, nervous. How his strong, calloused fingers felt divine, slightly too rough with the perfect amount of pain to make her forget for a minute but not entirely. Despite their roughness, his nails were perfectly short, making it impossible to experience any scratches.

The thought that perhaps there was another motive behind all this, beyond just getting a promotion, crossed her mind. It was the opportunity to experience how it would feel to be man-handled by the strongest soldier out there until she was left foolish. Her walls pressed together as excitement crept in, reminding her of how lonely and empty she felt. Wouldn’t a little love and something significant big feel extraordinary? The realization of how thin her shorts were and how much her body reacted to his touch filled her with shame.

Allowing him to treat her like some bitch in heat, shooting a load or two for a mere letter that said, "she’s good at what she does," as some cruel inner joke. It left her feeling worthless yet needy, a bad combination.

“Breathe, you’re tensing even more,” he murmured, and she could almost swear the smirk could be felt in his tone. The intentions were to breathe, to remain unaffected, but his movements felt powerfully triggering, and he seemed so unbothered by it. Any force he applied to almost tear her muscles into the correct position didn’t signify any real strength for him.

Each tug began to win little chopped breaths out of her as it was painful but also relaxing. She couldn't help but obey his command, forcing herself to take deep breaths to try and relax. But his touch, his presence, it was all so intense. Each movement of his hands felt deliberate, calculated, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. And she couldn't deny the tingling sensation that spread through her body at his touch, despite her best efforts to remain composed.

She struggled to follow his instructions, her breaths coming out in short, shallow gasps as his hands worked their magic on her tense muscles. Each touch sent shivers down her spine, igniting a strange mix of pleasure and discomfort within her. It was as if he could sense her vulnerability, her longing for something more than just a simple massage. Tug, thumbs pressing against her traps as they moved upwards, dragging her skin with them, chopped out breath as the pressure was too much before it withdrew slowly.

Then all over again, harsh. “Mhh ah-” it left her lips involuntarily as he touched a particular place. She gnawed her lip, holding back. His fingers weren’t particularly soft, not only because of the pressure he delivered but also rough with days and days of working, slightly calloused, rubbing in all the right places. Not again, she swore she was trying to remain composed, how he hadn’t heard her. “AH-” wincing as he moved up and contracted her neck, she feared for a second he would choke her.

His grip tightened, nails digging deeper into her flesh, pulling her downward. Thighs shaking, knees buckled, she fought to keep standing as her world spun. He knew her weakness; he exploited it without remorse. Every touch was a reminder of his dominance, every pull a testament to his power. She was helpless beneath him, unable to escape his grasp. Levi’s hands, humanity’s strongest hands—strong, angled, harsh, broad.

He chuckled.

He chuckled between pulls, his thumb rubbing circles on her sore spots, while his palm pressed harder against her neck.

Y/N froze in place as she felt him chuckle entertained behind her, almost mischievously. “Somebody is excited,” he calmly commented, but the smirk on his face was subtly evident in his tone. His voice was steady, despite the few sassy remarks, and it annoyed her to death. Like a cat playing with a moth until it's dead, they know they've won the game, so why rush it? Let's enjoy the hunt while she’s stripped of her dignity. “Nobody's given it to you in a while?”

Lips parted, feeling a mix of embarrassment and offense, she looked over her shoulder at Levi’s bleary eyes. “Excuse me?” she frowned deeply as she turned. She hadn't realized until then how close he was to her, practically breathing the same air. His stare penetrated her iris and seemed to read her soul, making her swallow uneasily. Her demanding tone quickly withdrew not only from her voice but also from her features. His silence subtly implied, but his presence demanded, ‘Come on, girl. You don’t reply to me like that if you know what's good for you.’ That’s what she got.

“A massage,” he said quietly, “nobody's given you a massage in a while?”

At this rate, she knew he knew. He was playing, dancing around the edge of pretending ignorance and seeing how far she would go. Standing, either summoning the courage to bring up the offer herself or walk out empty-handed. Waiting, like a mafia boss to see how much she would beg before setting her free, or crawling back to him, hoping for an opportunity.

There was an inner battle: either snap at him, reply, or descend all levels of self-love.

“It’s because you’re going too rough,” she said, mainly because she refused to be so quickly humiliated by a guy that short. Both looked at each other; her gaze moved slightly over his eyes, expecting any shift, something, but it was obvious that in a stare fight, he was going to win.

"Rough?" he repeated, raising an eyebrow in mock surprise. “You’ve no idea what rough means.”

Her cockiness quickly withdrew. She wished she had some sassy comeback prepared or ready, but it wasn’t the case. Her teeth rolled along the edge of her bottom lip. It made her curious; either he liked to pretend he had more sexual history than was known, or she had bitten off more than she could chew. It stirred up a mix of curiosity, excitement, nervousness, and fear all at once. Imagining him fucking some unknown soldier rough, mindlessly, just for the sake of it. Scouts were so stressed, living quick, short lives.

Her eyes couldn’t help themselves, quickly dropping down to check. His thick, muscular legs, almost as if they had been forced to fit into the tight black trousers of the uniform. Losing its subtleness, the outline of his dick on one side of his left leg forced her to look back up. She finally turned around to face him again, but his stoic expression gave away little information, almost none.

“Perhaps you don’t know what you’re getting yourself into, brat,” his voice began to sound like a distorted dream. She was waiting for some smooth approach or perhaps a fully humiliating one. The expectations were simpler: either he would like to pretend some love he endeared from her or behave like any disgusting dude at a bar, asking for a quickie in a bathroom cabinet. Neither of the two options was less humiliating. But this was different.

At this rate, the humiliation and initial thoughts were replaced by overwhelming curiosity. “How rough?” She felt her glossed lips stick together slightly as she murmured timidly, feeling her head heat up and her stomach tighten. Something intrinsically wrong must be with her, she believed.

With a second thought, she was sure that this would make her extremely ashamed.

“You’ll have to stick around to find out,” he warned, not a single centimetre of his features giving away any sort of intentions. Excitement or expectation, arousal or boredom, sweetness or creepiness. Grey gems looking back at her deadly, daring her to make deals with the devil or walk back home.

‘Go big or go home, didn’t I say that?’

“I want a recommendation,” she finally said it, thrilling anticipation coursing through her veins. This man, this beast, was about to unleash hell upon her body. Yet, she found herself oddly eager for it. Was it fear or excitement? Perhaps both. “and… in exchange, you can go as rough as you want.”

It felt absurdly dirty. Giving it a thought in the hole of self-hate, she concluded that perhaps she should have done this when she was younger, like her friends as cadets. When hormones and lack of experience made it hard to think it through, that receiving a good salary and free days to go out and party was worth letting any squad leader get a chance.

"Recommendation," he echoed, repeating her words as if testing them on his tongue. There was a moment of silence, as if weighing the pros and cons of such a proposition.

Finally, he nodded. "Very well."

Those two words held such weight, sending another wave of nerves through her. What had she gotten herself into? The room suddenly became hotter, thicker, suffocating. Her heart raced faster, pounding heavily in her ears.

Half-lidded, she moved closer, not entirely sure how this was done, if it was meant to start slow and soft for it to escalate. But she tried; she could take the lead in the kiss. But his hand stopped her face as he tilted backwards, completely breaking the moment.

“Who do you think I am?” Levi said, offended. And she feared for her life. Perhaps he just wanted to ascertain how much of an easy, cock-drunk slut she was to give him more reasons to find her worthless. But then, “Some green cadet who, for the sake of getting my cock wet, I would fuck you behind a horse at the stables? Or at the common kitchen?”

She didn’t know how to answer, but thankfully, Levi didn’t give her much time to talk. “My chambers.”

Feeling closer to a military order than a booty appointment, she slowly made her way to the door while he retreated to the counters, tidying up. Her feet dragged across the hall as she pushed open the door, her eyes constantly checking behind her. She couldn't shake the feeling that this might all be a joke.

Before she knew it, his hand urged her forward, pushing at the small of her back to guide her upstairs. "Come on, girly, we don’t have all night," he muttered.

It felt like a shameful march. They ascended the stairs in silence, each step echoing loudly in the otherwise quiet hallway. The stillness of the night only intensified her discomfort; she couldn't shake the feeling that someone might overhear them. Perhaps some night owl among the scouts would peek through a door, or worse, they might already know who slept where. The thought of having to make the same trip downstairs the next morning filled her with dread. As if she would walk out of that room with a paper stuck to her forehead that said, "I was Captain Levi’s slut for a night."

Led through the dim corridors of the base, they passed several closed doors marked 'Officer Quarters,' indicating where higher-ranking personnel resided. Finally, they reached what seemed to be his room. With a swift motion, he unlocked the door and gestured for her to enter first. ‘What a gentleman,’ she thought sarcastically.

As she stepped inside and took in her surroundings, she noticed the simplicity of his chamber. It lacked extravagance, with only functional furniture and tools of his trade. The room felt impersonal, as if he had never bothered to make it feel like home. His office area featured a desk cluttered with paperwork and a bookshelf filled with texts on military strategy and tactics.

To the left were two doors, presumably leading to his bedroom and an attached bathroom. Levi moved past her to search through the cabinets while she observed. Two glasses were already filled by the time he turned to her.

"A drink?" he offered.

She accepted, unable to suppress a subtle smile. Whatever she had anticipated for the night, this wasn't it. Chuckling, she teased, "Do you offer drinks to all the girls you bring over?"

Levi downed his drink and poured another. "No. But you seem nervous as fuck, and it’s making me uncomfortable."

She laughed softly, acknowledging the truth in his statement. "Thank you, then." The burn of alcohol sliding down her throat helped steady her nerves somewhat.

As they stood there, glasses in hand, tension hung thick between them. Hoping the alcohol would ease the tension, she shifted her attention elsewhere, but she could feel his eyes on her, assessing her. Swallowing, Addam's apple moving before he spoke, "Are you clean, right?"

His question caught her off guard, and she almost choked on her drink. "What?" she hummed, not fully comprehending.

Then, fear crept in quickly. "I am… I’m not doing it without protection," she clarified confidently.

His chuckle did little to ease her worry. "No shit, girly. I wasn’t stupid enough as a teen to not wrap it up. I'm not starting now," he replied. "The last thing I need in my life right now is getting a chick knocked up."

His words, despite their lack of warmth, reassured her. "I meant, is it safe for me to eat you out,"

Relief washed over her as she realized her misunderstanding. "Oh," she replied sheepishly. "Yes, you can." As his words sank in, she felt the blood rushing to her cheeks, lips pressing together before she took another sip and crossed her legs. 'Doesn’t he want a blowjob?' How many superiors offer you promotions in exchange for making you cum?

He nodded, finishing his drink in one gulp. His intense gaze never wavered from hers. "Good."

Slowly, he approached her, closing the distance until they were mere inches apart. She could smell the liquor on his breath, taste it on his lips. For a brief moment, she wondered if he expected her to initiate something, but before she could gather her thoughts, their lips met in a passionate kiss. His tongue explored her mouth, asserting dominance as his hands gripped her hips, pressing her against the door.

Pulling away slightly, he pinned her against the door, his hands roaming her body as he kissed her jawline. "Wait… let’s go to the room," she suggested, realizing he meant to fulfil his earlier request.

"No, you're too timid for riding my face. I want to be buried in your pussy right now," he insisted. The impact against the harsh wood surface and his lips reconnecting with her with necessity almost knocked her completely off her breath. Hands that had been kneading her shoulders only a few minutes ago were now digging into her hips, pushing them into his, possessive and demanding.

"Levi," she managed to croak out, her voice barely audible. The kiss was broken again, and her agitated breathing filled the gap between their faces. Surprised by his sudden aggression, she struggled to form coherent thoughts as he continued to devour her neck and shoulders. His hands roamed freely over her body, tracing along her curves and dipping beneath her top to cup her breasts roughly.

“It’s Captain Levi, for you,”

All her attempts to appear seductive were now the natural flush of her face, pumped lips of how they tried to suck each other’s air, the blood in her cheeks, the tossed hair. His hands grabbed the edge of her shorts and played with it. His words crossed the little space between their features with cockiness. “What are you wearing under this for me? Huh? What slutty little shit did you put on to wrap yourself up as if you’re my birthday present?”

A cheeky index finger ghostly touched her belly with its knuckle, making the fine hairs raise involuntarily before tugging on the fabric to sneak a peek. ‘Why doesn’t he just tell me to strip?’ But Captain Levi seemed to be like a cat; he liked to play with his prey until eating them completely, a cruel game. Eyes checked down and hummed in approval. “Black, classic. Not bad,” he said, but a part of his speech didn’t seem impressed. “But I prefer pink.”

Her mind insisted on giving it a second thought, that he didn’t strike her as those types of guys, but anything happening until then had proved to her that she had no idea who he was, what he liked, what type of man Captain Levi was.

Without further prompting, Levi dropped to his knees, positioning himself between her legs. His fingers trailed along the hem of her shorts, pausing briefly before dropping it. He took a moment to appreciate the sight before diving in, his nose brushing against the fabric.

Y/N sucked in a sharp breath as his warm breath tickled her sensitive flesh. Anticipation built within her, mixing with apprehension. It was unavoidable. Closing her eyes, she allowed herself to focus solely on the sensations washing over her. A gasp left her lips as he grabbed her right leg and lifted it as if it was nothing and placed it over his shoulder. His calloused hand still lingering on it, gripping her thighs with strength and pleasure, enjoying gripping them as his nose pressed softly against her folds.

Levi's skilled fingers hooked beneath the elastic band of her panties, tugging them aside just enough. Once removed, he ran the pad of his thumb lightly over her swollen core. An involuntary moan escaped her lips. She trembled in a different kind of anxiousness; it was now plainly obvious. With a smirk, Levi leaned in closer, his nose barely grazing her sensitive flesh. "Do you like that, girly?" he whispered, his tone thick with lust. Her answer was evident in the way she trembled under his touch.

Gently, he blew cold air across her wetness, sending waves of pleasure coursing through her. She couldn't help but arch her back, moaning softly as her grip tightened on the door behind her. Nails digging into the wood as terror set in. Slowly, he lowered his head, his tongue darting out to trace the outline of her folds.

Fear. No, he didn’t want a quickie at some public facility. No, he didn’t want some quick blowjob under his desk. No, he didn’t want any fast, easy solution. He wanted to savour each single centimetre of skin, torture all the cells, squeeze each second that he got to play with her as his little possession.

Each flick of his tongue sent shockwaves of sensation throughout her body, making her squirm. His expert hands found purchase on her thighs, holding her firmly in place. His tongue flicked out, teasing her entrance as his thumb kept doing slow little circles on top of her clit. Gripping his shoulders for balance and support. He slid his middle finger across her entrance, coating it with her arousal before dipping it inside. His thumb continued to tease her clit, stroking gently yet firmly.

Her moans grew louder, punctuated by soft whimpers as her head thumped against the door. Her breath agitated as his tongue slipped inside her. “Mh- Ah!” she felt her climax nearing, wondering with half-lidded eyes why he was being so pleasing. It was torture how he moved with perfect sync, but yet it was subtle. As if she let herself be dragged by the course, her body relaxing and twitching unintentionally as he held her in place.

Her back arched unintentionally, trying to follow him as he suddenly pulled back when she was about to reach her peak. “Captain-”

“That’s it, get all soft for me,” He murmured as he casually kissed the bottom of her belly. Before he went back, determined. It only took one, two, three flicks of his thumb directly over her bud to make her gasp loudly, press her raised leg against his head and feel how the other tensed and then struggle to keep her up. Her breath struggled to find a rhythm when all of a sudden, he took all of her in. Unapologetic tongue ran flat all over her fold before closing over the top so he started to suck and lick directly her clit as two unceremonious fingers were playing with her entrance before sinking in all the way.

Her mouth opened, but no sound came out as her nails scratched the door and she began to twist in position as if it was too much after her release.

“MH- Ah, no wait- AH!” a loud moan cut her complaints as his fingertips found a particular place and decided to assault it with no mercy, as his mouth kept playing directly over her clit. It was too much; she felt her leg shaking as much as she felt his fingers getting impossibly wet and slippery inside with no remorse anymore. They pushed against her walls, making her feel the tug of her own body before returning to press against that spot.

“No. No-hah!” She began convulsing against the wall, her head moving hectically to the side as she felt herself getting impossibly wet and electric waves coursing through her. “Please- No! Wait ah! No."

Palms pressed against the door, trying to push herself upwards, but he grabbed her shaking leg that was struggling to keep her up and positioned it over his shoulder with the other. The movement was so smoothly done; to him, it felt natural, but for her, it felt like a completely different situation. The strength with which he moved left her absurdly powerless; the tug felt so powerful as if she didn’t even notice the resistance she was exerting compared to his.

Then, he completely sat on his face. She felt everything—the contour of his face as her body rocked involuntarily, his fingers slipping in and out as his nose rubbed against her folds while his tongue licked clean her abused hole. “HM!” she gasped loudly, jerking upwards before falling completely over his head when the hand that was kneaded the meat of her thigh slapped her loudly.

She wanted to move, to slip away as she felt as if her bones were being drained, uncontrollable pleasure overtaking her. Her thighs pressed against his head as one of her hands moved downwards to tug his soft dark locks, obsessed, shivering as her mind kept shutting down.

Tears pricked at her eyes as she struggled against him, fighting against his strong grasp. "Please, Captain, I can't take it anymore!" she pleaded, her voice hoarse and desperate. “I’m fucking going to piss myself.”

With a smirk hidden from view, Levi held her in place, refusing to let her go. He knew exactly where she stood, only groaning pleasingly as he intensified his actions. His fingers thrust into her relentlessly, matching his rhythm with the flicks of his tongue. Levi could feel her hips buck violently, trying to escape his relentless assault, how she squirmed helplessly in his grasp. He was feasting on her with no remorse.

She cried out his name, unable to bear the intensity any longer. Her orgasm hit like a freight train, her body convulsing as she tried to pull away. But he wouldn't allow it, keeping her anchored to his mouth, shaking as he kept driving his tongue all over her. The feeling of being dripping was overshadowed by him drinking her in as if he was the thirstiest man alive, moaning against her folds as she could almost bet she felt his pleased smirk.

At some point, she couldn’t even hold her form against the door, twitching involuntarily. Levi reluctantly released her, wiping his mouth clean with the back of his hand. He stood up and picked her up, no buckling knees, no groan or scoff as he did; it was as if he was picking up a paper sheet from the desk. Weightless, powerless against his pull. Unceremoniously, he dropped her on the bed.

Jacket off shoulders, left at the back of a chair inside his room. Arness's upper part was pushed down so his hands could grip the edge of his grey shirt and push it over his head. Then, before she could process it, enjoying the soft cotton of the fabric against her body, marking a huge difference from the rough door, one of his knees sank on the mattress before he crawled to be between her legs.

Elbows on the bed, heels pushing upwards, her broken voice pleaded, “no, please. It’s enough,” as he kissed and nibbled the sweet part of her inner thighs before moving to her core again. “Ah!” she jerked again as he snapped the side of her leg again.

The tingling heat after the hit lingered on her as Levi rearranged her on the bed to his pleasure. “I think you’re not understanding your position,” he groaned, “I’ll say when it's enough; you just have to spread your legs for me to do what I please. That’s your fucking job now if you want your stupid letter, lay there and be a good pliant hole for me to fuck.”

Uncomfortable groans echoed in the room, interrupted by his own voice once again, “Did I make myself clear?”

“Yes…” she murmured but his haunting glance between his legs made her thought he heard her backwards softly. Passing down saliva, “Yes, sir.”

“This is your last warning,” he informed her, while his hands ran up and down her body, palm flat against the valley of her breasts, the touch was so soft but it felt subtly rough from the callouses of his hands, a permanent reminder this wasn’t supposed to feel as lovely as it momentarily did. “Did you hear me, girly? Or have I already fucked you dumb?”

“Yes, sir.”

Contorting uneasily as little whimpers left her lips between a mix of discomfort, pleasure, exhaustion, and pain. Pain because she could already feel his fingers sneaking in, three of them patiently spreading her for him and his restless mouth once again on work. It was too much, involuntarily her legs pushed against the mattress when he hit a particular place. Twisting as if she was possessed, fingers tugging from the sheets and her back arching as a natural reflex.

It was embarrassing how much she felt the wetness of her own mixed with his saliva sneaking through her ass cheeks down to the bed. Her legs felt weak but got a sudden burst of strength as he kept playing with a place that made her eyes roll back and tried to push her up. Levi held her in place, arm surrounding her thighs and arching her core to his face. Despite it all, her hole twitched with the necessity of more, demanding something even bigger as she felt her pinkie fingers going numb from the overpressure.

Knees buckled as he parted momentarily. “What a cute little slutty hole. You’re so tight; I will enjoy fucking it raw,” while she trembled in anticipation, Levi smirked as if he could already see everything he had planned in his mind. He softly pressed a finger on it only to see it clamp down onto it. “So fucking needy; when was the last time you got a good cock to fuck you back into your place?”

With a smirk, Levi withdrew his finger, replaced it with his mouth, and plunged inside, sucking her into his mouth. His finger teased against the back wall, exploring her depths before finding the spot that made her buck wildly. She mewled, her voice hoarse and filled with a hint of desperation. Her head thrashed from side to side, her nails digging into the sheets as she begged for mercy.

The following two orgasms were quick; Levi was getting eager to plow into her pussy with his dick now. His finger pried her open, and his tongue easily got in and swirled around. At this rate, she was just spread on the bed, twitching miserably, whimpering out of pleasure and the sweet pain it provided. “It’s so pretty when you cry,” he joked as little mewling sounds left her rose lips, and her eyes looked translucent with clamped-out eyelashes by the moisture. “Beg me more.”

Her eyes fluttered open, desperate and pleading. "Please, sir… just fuck me already," she begged. The intensity of her arousal was overwhelming; her body begged for release.

Levi got up to his knees, looking down at her and then between her legs, admiring his own creation with a smirk on his face. Fingers casually unbuckling his belt, letting it hang loosely around his hips as he undid the front button of his black uniform trousers and shamelessly patted the front of his engorged dick, feeling the outline of his erection through the fabric and hissing slightly as he finally got some relief from the pressure. As if he enjoyed forcing himself to enjoy every little bite from his meal, saving the best for last, testing his endurance of resisting to the last limit so each little inch that he plugged in of his dick finally in that slippery hot heaven felt like pure blessing. His left hand, which wasn’t touching himself, caressed her leg that forced to be up because she could no longer do it on his own.

“Ass up, girly,” he said. The command had been processed, but it was as if her body wasn’t replying to her mind. The only thing she could fully process was the movement of the mattress and how cold the bed felt as Levi abandoned it. Lazy steps against the wood planks that gave up little cracking sounds. Striding in front of his dresser, slightly bending, allowing her to have a good view of his ass as he dropped the trousers with the underwear all together and then quickly folded them and threw them over the surface, but he upheld something with his left hand from his clothes that she couldn’t perceive from the perspective of spying on him from her lazily open legs and half-lidded eyes. Fingers rummaged through a couple of things before he got what he had been looking for.

“It seems like I’ve to do fucking everything,” he complained, but there was no hint of actual anger in his voice, stoic as ever as he walked back to the bed with his hard dick on full display. Impossible erect and slightly dripping pre-cum from the tip that was a deep shade of red compared to the rest of his pale body, it involuntarily twitched as if it was happy of being finally free. She bit her bottom lip as she delighted herself with the view before doing a little eye contact; it was a good size, way more than she anticipated. Underneath it his heavy balls and on top a nice happy trail that resembled a signal that indicated anything under his belly button and chiseled abs was also a happy surprise.

Her eyes quickly fell to his left hand, and she noticed the belt from the 3DMG gear. While the reason why he may have kept that was rather obvious, the possibility escaped her rationality. “Wait- You’re not using that-“

“I said.” He just gripped the sides of her hips and flipped her over, “Ass up.”

Knees sank on the bed, “MHMP-“ her complaints were muffled by the bed as avoiding her full upper body falling completely into the mattress was difficult as he gripped her arms.

“I told you, it was your last warning,” Levi said as the belt tied up against her wrists, knotting up safely. Her face buried in the sheets by the pressure of her own weight, “I’ll teach you discipline, little shit.”

Hands massaging her ass cheeks, fingers sinking in the meat as his own knees against her legs forced more space. “HMP!” muffled complaint as swiftly one hand impacted on her ass, heat spreading through the skin and turning it red as the sound echoed in the dead of night. His hand followed, leaving a mark on her ass. The heat traveled through her skin, and she could feel her pussy drenching with need. She whimpered, trying to squirm against the belt, but he held her in place. Another and another, each time made her jerk forward slightly as her breath held in her chest and then puffed out.

“Please…” she whispered as her head turned to a side, resting her cheek on the mattress. “I’ll behave, please.”

Levi hummed, but his hand didn’t leave her ass, caressing the hurt zone softly. “Don’t you think we should make it even?”

The next swat landed on her other cheek, making her eyes water and her body jerk. "Please!" she cried out, her voice hoarse and desperate. Her whole body tensed, every nerve ending screaming in anticipation and desire.

Levi grunted, "Ah. You’re such a crying baby. As all MPs," he growled, rubbing the red splotches with his calloused hand. "You're so wet, begging for my dick. You better be grateful you're getting it."

“Ah-!” she gasped loudly as he slapped her ass again. The grip on her hair pushed her head up, and despite the tug and the strength of the grip, the relief of fresh air filling her lungs finally clouded her mind. His breath impacted on her face from the side as he held her, watching how her mouth hung open, panting softly.

“Thank me for showing you your place,” Levi demanded.

“Thank you, sir,” she whispered, forcing herself to look at him from the side. Locking her pleading eyes with his demanding stare. “Thank you for reminding me of my place, sir.”

Levi hummed satisfied, his fingers weaving into her hair again. "That's my girl," he growled, a hint of satisfaction in his voice. “Good girl,” he repeated before placing a kiss on her shoulder blades that were working extra hard by having her hands tied back. He released her hair, gave her ass one last swat, and then positioned himself behind her. She whimpered one last time, face resting on the side as she observed him opening up the foil of the condom carefully and then the subtle hiss as he rolled it down his dick. One hand lazily jerked himself as another reached for her folds and casually ran up and down his thumb through them, spreading the slick evenly.

“You should be riding my cock until I got tired of keeping it wet and warm, yet here I am,” Levi complained as if he wasn’t the one taking each and every decision while shamelessly gripping her tied-up hands from the back to position himself. “Fucking you silly and doing all the shitty job; maybe I should get that promotion,”

‘As if this wasn’t what you wanted.’

But she decided to carry on with the performance, either out of self-preservation, arousal, or the feeling of the cold-wrapped head of his cock running up and down her folds, applying soft pressure at her entrance before withdrawing, had already made her mad. “Thank you, sir.”

The angle of her body, the arch of her back, his hand on her hip, and his subtle hum of approval. Her mouth hung open, and the gasp was fully cushioned by the bed, struggling against her binds. Despite her assumptions, Levi sank in slowly and patiently, despite slipping inside effortlessly.

“Ah- Fuck,” he scoffed out, gritting his teeth as his head fell backward slightly, forcing himself to savor the moment but not completely lose it, gasping slightly. Withdrawing only a bit before thrusting back in, testing the waters. He took a moment to adjust, breathing heavily through his nose, and then began to thrust slowly. Each movement was met with a soft whine from the girl. But the soft, almost loving pace lasted the split of a second, a brief moment of calmness before the storm.

She should have known, at this rate, the second one of his hands abandoned her hip to grip the belt around her tied-back hands and used it as leverage. The tug from the resistance, the forced into place, and one deep thrust that knocked the air out of her lungs. Withdrawing almost all the way, almost only the tip left in before he used her own hands as a grip to push all the way in.

"God damn," he cursed under his breath, pushing in deeper. “You’re so tight,” he muttered, a pleased growl escaping his throat. Meanwhile, she would swear she was trying to breathe more, but the sheets stuck to her face and covered her nose. She tried to cry a little bit less loud because despite her features being buried down, the loud muffled moans each time he plunged all the way in mixed with the loud slapping of the bed frame against the wall must have woken up someone somehow.

“MH-HMP!” Her dignity told her not to sob of how good it feels, how deep it hits, how it felt as if he was trying to break her in half, conserve some dignity, but tears ran down her face of how perfectly synced he set the rhythm, how the friction of her parted knees against the sheets was starting to burn, but it was the perfect mix of how his cock’s head hit that place so brutally sweet.

“Fucking shit, what a pretty view on all fours,” he grunted, his voice sounding less controlled. The lust creeping in as his free thumb pushed his ass cheeks apart, locking his eyes on the way his cock disappeared into the slippery mess of her abused hole at that rate. “Ah-“ Levi let out a subtle moan as if the view was too much to handle, as the sweat glistened on her skin. The only way to not get completely lost in it was to spark it again.

“NH-AH!” she cried out as her legs trembled and her lips gasped for air.

“Best ass inside the walls,” Levi groaned. “And it’s all mine to fuck raw.”

Each thrust, each pull out, and then the deep push - Levi grunted, his own breathing ragged. He gripped the belt, pulling her hands slightly, making her hiss as the pressure against her skin was starting to leave obvious marks. Marks that joined all the rest of them, the still fresh, almost pulsating red handprints on each of her ass cheeks, the shameless bites he left on her shoulder blades each time he bent over to it.

His pace quickened, and so did her tears. She was soaked, her toes curled, and her body shook with each hit. She was a mess, a crying, whiny mess, and yet she was enjoying it, her core clenching around his cock with every movement. Levi growled, and his thrusts became harder, faster, more forceful. A relentless groan escaped him as he slammed into her harder, the friction of her wet core against his shaft nearly driving him insane. His grip on the belt tightened, and he pulled her hands back even further, making her body arch even more. The sound of leather against her skin echoed through the room, the scent of her arousal mingling with the smell of the clean room.

She was close, so close, but Levi stopped suddenly, and she wanted to scream out in frustration, to put an end to this sweet torture. Her knees hurt, her arms hurt, her pussy throbbed with need and abuse when he pulled out of her. No time to think as his pale, sweaty hand appeared from the top, grabbing the pillow and then turning her around forcefully from her shoulder.

“I want to see that fucking pretty face of yours while I fuck you,” Despite the darkness of the night, the room felt like it lighted up for her now with her face finally on display. Pillow under her hips, both legs over his shoulders, and without a minute to spare, he thrust all the way in.

“AH!” her moan echoed in the room as the angle felt too much, her toes curled impossibly, and her legs shook. “Ah- Ah- MHA! Captain-“ Top of her body twisted as her head rolled to the side, tears running down her cheeks, and the restless attention of him on her face was humbling.

“SHHH, quiet, little shit ah-“ He whispered. Sweat dripped from his forehead and from the tips of his dark locks, but he ignored it. “You want the entire fucking scouts to hear you?”

The bed creaked loudly, their bodies merging into one, like an animalistic dance. He gripped her legs more tightly, pushing in and out, setting up a pace that seemed to put both of them into a trance. Few messy soppy kisses to her legs as he had them within reach. Y/N bit her bottom lip trying to suppress her moans, leaving restless whimpers and cries of pleasure “Ah ah ah- hmmm,”. She tried but couldn't contain the sounds, but his dick was hitting her cervix as if that was his glorious duty; he folded her as if squeezing her legs against her bouncing tits was somehow helping her not to feel how his dick filled each corner of her. No, it did not help.

“Stop, stop, stop, almost, fuck-” she begged, pressing her legs against his head and trying to control her body from shaking.

Levi laughed roughly, a sound filled with victory and lust. “Want more? Want me to ruin you completely?”

“AH! YES-!” a loud moan as her back arched, head thrown backwards, and eyelids flickering of how good it felt. Nothing that felt like this, as someone pushed her down on the bed, slamming his cock into her, should be healthy, she concluded. “Quiet,” Levi warned, his voice hoarse. He loved how she clenched around his cock, how her pussy milked him with her orgasm. Frowning deeply as the feeling of her clamping down on his dick was too much to handle, a soft, quiet little moan left his gritted teeth. His abs contorted and his white knuckle grip on the sheets made his arm veins pop up.

“Please, Captain, Ah!” Why bother, the sound of the bed should be enough of a clue for the rest. And what if someone thought she was Captain Levi’s slut? What if she opened her legs wide and steady for him to fuck her restlessly? Who cared? Not her, definitely not her, as the only remaining feeling aside from the scorching heat of the pleasure waves around her body was the tingling sensation of her numbed arms and feet.

“Shut the fuck up,” he insisted, looking down at her. His hand around her neck, two fingers pushed down her parted lips. “I fucking told you to keep quiet.”

“NHG!” She choked on them as Levi kept them there while he lost his rhythm, thrusting into her restlessly and messily.

Her eyes watered up, staring into his as she struggled to breathe. The sweaty, panting man fucking her hard and fast, with an unapologetic expression on his face. She attempted to shake her head, but he wouldn't let her go.

"Shhh," he muttered, panting mouth as sweat ran down his face. "Just let me finish this."

Each thrust seemed to drive him closer to the edge. The friction between his dick and her pussy grew more intense, sending waves of pleasure through him. He couldn't care less about being quiet anymore - he just wanted to come, and he wanted her to see him do it.

"You're gonna cum with me," Levi growled, his voice ragged. "Look at me."

Her eyes locked onto his, filled with a mixture of fear and desire. Levi's eyes bore into hers, making her shiver with each thrust. She let out a soft whimper, unable to deny him anything anymore. The pleasure was too overwhelming to resist.

"That's right," he praised, his grip on her throat tightening slightly. "Cum with me, you little slut." His thrusts grew more desperate, each one driving him closer to the edge. He needed to come, needed to release the tension building up inside him, and she was his outlet. Her pussy clenched around him, milking his cock with every twitch, and he couldn't hold back any longer. Tears ran down her eyes into her ears as so did the saliva around his digits drool down her chin, pleading eyes looking into his begging for him to put this to an end.

“MHM-Hmp,” soft humming whimpers that were wordless pleadings of him letting her finally cum.

"You want it?" Levi snarled, thrusting into her harder. "Fuck, you're so damn tight. You love this, don't you?"

Levi couldn't resist anymore, the sight of her tear-filled eyes and pleading look pushed him over the edge. He growled, his thrusts becoming more forceful as he felt his orgasm approaching. He grinned down at her, his grip on her throat tightening slightly. “Fuck- Aren’t you pretty?” he murmured against her face, almost smiling out of satisfaction.

Both panting in the microspace of the closeness of their faces, breathing each other's ragged puffs of air. Their noses thrusting into each other sometimes as he slammed into her the final times, feeling the wave of pleasure wash over him. Frowned closed eyes, as mewled moans mixed together. Her pussy gripped him tightly, milking him like a vice, and he knew she was cumming too. His eyes met hers, her face a mask of pleasure and pain, and he couldn't help but smirk.

"Not bad," he breathed out, collapsing on top of her. He tried to catch his breath once, twice before he rolled to his side. Finally withdrawing from her slowly and laying flat on his bed next to her. One knee up, arm over his chest, and the other behind his head as a makeshift pillow as his lost eyes glued to the ceiling.

The room was silent except for their heavy breaths, the sweat dripping off their bodies mixing together. His chest raised up and down still erratic as both of them slowly blinked. Y/N lay there, panting heavily, her hands still bound behind her back. She could feel the sweat from Levi's body on her, where their skin touched. Her legs were shaking, and her pussy was still throbbing from the intense experience they just had. Her eyes met his, and she couldn't help but smile weakly.

His body twitched from time to time from the stimulation; her body felt like jelly. Completely boneless. She closed her eyes, trying to catch her breath. But as the cold began to creep in, she contorted uneasily and cleared her throat timidly. “Could you…ehm-“

Levi didn't answer immediately. Instead, he stared at the ceiling, still catching his breath. After a few moments, as he came out of his lethargic state, he finally spoke. “Oh yeah.” His fingers began to undo the knot around her wrists. “There.” Y/N rubbed her hands, feeling the blood returning to them. Her eyes focused on the deep red lines and bruises around them, and she grimaced uneasily. Her heart still pounded in her chest, and she couldn't help but glance at Levi. He shifted, sitting up and rolling off the used condom before tossing it into the bin close to the nightstand.

He stood up slightly to pick something up from his nightstand and also to push the blanket closer that was at the bottom of the bed. She tugged a bit from the sheets to cover her body as the moment slightly washed away, and nudity felt obscene and unnecessary. Levi let the blanket crumple around his hips as he turned on a cigarette.

"You good?" Levi asked, taking a puff from it and leaving the cage back on the nightstand. He looked at her, examining her bruised hands and the red marks from the ropes. A small frown appeared on his face, but he quickly hid it.

Y/N nodded, biting her lip. The marks on her wrists stung, but she didn't want to complain. She slowly sat up, trying to regulate her breathing. The room was still filled with a mix of their sweat and the scent of their passion. Her eyes caught on his lips, more precisely the cigarette. They were rather new now that they discovered the world outside the walls.

Levi looked back at her, at her silence, and casually took a last puff from it before placing it in her lips. “There, have it,” he offered. “You know how it works, right?”

She placed both fingers around it and smoked patiently as she hummed and nodded in approval. Somehow, that made him scoff entertained. “Of course you do, MPs always get used to luxuries rather quickly.”

As the smoke left her lips, she returned it. Y/N hesitated, still rubbing her wrists. She couldn't help but wonder if she should be honest. "Ehm—" she pondered around how to approach the topic, her voice shaky. "Was that… good enough? For the promotion?”

Levi glanced at her from the corner of his eye as she smoked the cigarette. The smoke swirled around them, marking the end of their intimate moment. He took the cigarette back and flicked the ash away, taking another drag.

"Good enough?" he repeated, a smirk forming on his lips. "Was it?"

She grew nervous as he asked back, not sure what to reply. Y/N furrowed her eyebrows, glancing up at him. "I gave you what you wanted?" She asked, her voice soft but curious. She couldn't help but feel a bit vulnerable, lying there with him after their intimate encounter.

He chuckled softly, his gaze returning to the ceiling.

Levi sighed, extinguishing the cigarette in an ashtray. He leaned back against the headboard, crossing his arms. “You want advice for next time?" He asked, raising an eyebrow. "Let the other person make an offer first, girly. I asked for your support at the camp so I had an excuse to give you a recommendation; I’ve already heard about your struggle from one of your friends. I had the stupid letter written before you even set foot inside this building."

He paused for a moment, turning his head to look at her. The smirk never left his face.

"But since you offered yourself, I wasn’t going to say no.”

Y/N's face flushed red, feeling embarrassed and a bit betrayed. She bit her lip as she looked at Levi, trying to process what he had just said. Then she scoffed offended, pushing him by the shoulder a bit playfully but also with anger.

"So it was all for nothing," she exclaimed, disappointment evident in her voice and obviously irritated. Holding the crumpled sheets against her chest, “You’re an asshole!”

Her eyes closed in reflex as she noticed his hand moving closer to her face, wrinkling her nose and pushing backward in self-defense. But Levi’s index fingers only softly pushed her frown playfully, and he said, “And you’re too naïve for being an MP,” Levi snorted, rolling his eyes.

Levi watched her move, a small smile on his lips. He slid his legs off the bed, sitting on the edge; his body still feeling sore. To her surprise, he grabbed the blanket and threw it over her head playfully.

"You shouldn't have done that," Y/N muttered, her cheeks still flushed. She took the blanket off her head, which only made her hair even more tangled, glaring at him. "I thought you actually meant it."

Levi smirked, standing up and pulling on his pants. "You really thought I'd turn down an offer like that?" he asked, clearly amused. He reached for his shirt, still smirking at her.

"Get some sleep, I don’t use the bed anyways," he said, zipping up his pants. "But don’t get used to, this isn’t a hotel."

He crossed the door of his bedroom and closed it behind him as she mocked his reply and cursed under her breath.

Walking down the corridors, everybody running to be somewhere else. That’s what the capital is like, always a new pub to discover, always a better party to attend than the previous weekend. Hot and dirty like the vicious air of the underground that laid underneath their boots. Her friends made plans as they called out for the week, writing their names and working hours down on the cards at the front desk. Yellow paper flowed under the conflicted air of the reception office, names written down with different calligraphies and a restless pen swinging as it hung from a cord to the forms.

‘Volunteers,’ it read at the top. The last row was empty, but it was quickly filled out.

‘Squad leader: Y/N L/N’

One of her friends who was eagerly talking to the rest turned around and frowned, confused. “Why are you wasting your weekend volunteering for the Scouts,” she asked, frowning in disgust, “You’re already a squad leader, Y/N, don’t sell yourself short.”

Her fingers gracefully placed the pen back on the table as a smile raised on her features. Adjusting her purse around her shoulders, she casually said, “You know, it’s important to remain humble.”

Link to my masterlist and my other works if you feel like checking them out. Tags!: @nube55 @justkon @notgoodforlife @nmlkys @humanitys-strongest-bamf @quillinhand @thoreeo @darkstarlight82 @i-literally-cant-with-this @angelofthorr @aomi04 @levisbrat25 @l3visthighs @hum4n-wr3ckag3 @hannieslovebot @starrylevi @rithty @mariaace @ackrmntea @emilyyyy-08 @levisfavoriteteashop @katestrophes @levistealeaf @an-ever-angry-bi @youre-ackermine @fxnnyackerman @secretmoneybearvoid @trashblackrainbow @feelingsandemotionsnotexplored @flxrartsstuff @katharinasdiaryy @kikarouflames @levisecretgfblog @searriously Wanna join my tag list? Here!

[infiniteimaginings]

Omg your amazing at writing Anthony bridgerton angst. Pls write more😫😫😫💋

You caused this? (Anthony Bridgerton x GN!Reader)

Summary: You are complaining to your dearest friend Anthony about your lack of luck through the seasons but he is terribly silent. His silence brings answers that you never expected from him. Pronouns: You/Yours Warnings: Angst Word Count: 3.4k A/N: Thank youuu!! Here's more for you my love! (Also for the new thing below this, tagging, you guys can be asked to be tagged in any sort of fics lol!) Tagging: @etherynn

A stunning afternoon shone on the walking paths families decided to take for eloquent bonding times. Children were laughing, mothers were sending their daughters off to promenade with one another, and the men were keeping watchful eyes out. It was a perfect day for the courting season to bloom in its full beauty and potential.

It was lively around the grassy green parks where people conversated with each other, it was a lovely day.

Two of the people taking advantage of the wondrous day to promenade together were you and Anthony Bridgerton, the most inseparable friends in all of London. The two of you had been great friends ever since you were children, you had been there for him through the easy and the rough patches, and he had done the same for you. Neither of you questioned your roles in the other's life, you just fit together.

Anthony loved you dearly, you knew that. He treated you like his own sibling, sometimes you appreciated it, other times you had to give him a good wack for him to stop scaring the poor guests at parties you attended.

There was no need for that during this moment, no. There were only warm smiles, sweet treats, pleasant conversation, and why was that? It was because it was only the two of you, no one to interrupt, or drag you away.

Anthony walked with you along the path, holding his hand out when he reached the stony steps to the dock. You raised a brow and rolled your eyes, taking his hand with a playfully distasteful look on your face, causing him to chuckle ever so slightly.

You walked down the wooden planks of the dock, noticing how there were no boats out. “I wonder why there are no boats out when it’s such a beautiful day.” You hummed aloud, not really expecting any response to your comment.

Anthony looked around and shrugged, hands behind his back, “Would you care to go out on the water?”

“Oh, heavens no!” You answered a little loudly, a sheepish smile finding itself onto your face as you turned to face him. “I was simply expressing my passing curiosity.”

The Bridgerton shook his head and stood quietly, admiring how the waves rocked with one another. He thought of the water like a ball, each drop with its own partner to create a beautiful array of movement within the water, to create a somehow roaring image of tranquility.

You, on the other hand, adjusted your clothing and sat upon the wooden planks, smoothing out the fabric as you did so. You carefully took off your shoes and set them to the side.

“What are you doing?”

The sudden comment caused you to look up with fluttering eyes, “What does it look like I’m doing?”

Anthony walked a bit to you, looking down, “It looks as if you’re on the brink of putting your feet into the water.”

"A remarkable observation indeed," You responded sarcastically, a playful glint in your eyes. “I shall have to inform your mother that we have discovered you possess the brilliance of a prodigy.” You spoke, removing the last of any clothing surrounding your feet to enter the cold water. Once you made contact, you left out a soft sigh, your hands falling to the wood behind you, leaving you in a relaxed position.

Anthony sucked his teeth at your remark, but no one could mistake his mischievous grin for anything other than delight. “Let us not raise her expectations.” He mumbled to you with a shake of his head, kneeling to take off his own shoes, “She’s already enthusiastic enough about Daphne.”

You hummed, tilting your head over to him, squinting your eyes due to the bright sun. “Pray tell, how is the new Duchess of Hastings?”

The man rolled his neck a bit and sat next to you, dipping his feet into the water. His body blocked the sunlight so you had no need to squint as you gazed upon him, his eyes falling to yours. 

He let out a huff with a toothy smile, “She’s gone away with Simon.” Anthony informed you, looking out to the water now. He adjusted the collars of his wrist as he took a deep breath, “She swore she’d write letters so…”

“You’re looking forward to them, do not deny it.” You told him, scrunching your nose as you bumped your shoulder with his.

He chuckled and nodded, “Indeed, I eagerly await her thought filled letters.” He told you before biting the inside of his cheek, his eyes still looking forward, but they were further than ever. “I never imagined I’d miss her presence so much,” He confessed, blinking rapidly, “her ceaseless ramblings about finding her soulmate are over now.” He whispered, clearing his throat, adjusting himself once more, “My little sister is now gone, and I won’t be able to protect her anymore.” His voice with loss, his fingers clasped together as if he was grasping for something.

You placed your head on his shoulder, “She’s still your sister Anthony, she will visit.” You reminded him, placing one of your hands on his thigh. 

You felt the man take a sharp inhale of breath before letting it go slowly, “I know…” He nodded against you, placing his head over yours.

There was a moment of silence, the two of you kicking your feet in the water, enjoying the cool splashing against the warmth the sun brought.

You moved your head, looking to the families across the way, “Besides, there are plenty of others for you to protect, people still rely on you.” You reassured him with a supportive smile, remembering his other siblings, specifically his three younger sisters.

Anthony was not thinking the same as you though, he took his hand and placed it over yours, which hadn’t moved from his thigh. “Right, like you.” He smiled, rubbing his thumb along the edge of your hand.

You looked to your lap, laughing a bit, “I require little protection.” You muttered out, playing with a small string on your clothing.

Your friend furrowed his brows and scoffed, “There are dogs out there.”

“I mean, because no one approaches me anymore.” You spoke suddenly, looking at the water solemnly, lips in a frown. 

Anthony's smile dropped, and he turned his head to you, “Pardon?”

You scratched your head with a breathy laugh, “No one wishes to marry me.” You said, tone in a light song, but you knew it wasn’t a light hearted moment. It was a harsh truth you never wanted to face, but you had no choice as the season continued on.

The Bridgerton shook his head though, turning himself to you, his leg propped onto the wood, only one foot in the water. “That is not true, many do.” He assured you, but you shook your head in response.

You turned your body to him, feet still in the water, “Then why has no one called for me in weeks?” You asked, shoulders dropping in defeat. “Why has no one proposed?” You asked another unanswerable question as you looked back to the water.

Anthony felt an uncomfortable feeling bubble up in his stomach as you spoke. His blood grew cold, his heart beat faster than ever, his throat felt dry as if all the saliva in his mouth suddenly disappeared. He was suddenly aware of everything around him, all the sounds, the feeling of the wood on his calf, the water rushing around his foot, how hot the sun was.

You didn’t notice his sudden silence, you didn’t notice his expression, you were lost in your own mind. “I just feel as if I’ll never find someone.” You muttered, looking out to the empty body of water, “It’s as if I’m being avoided, and everyone knows to do so.” You continued, feeling pricks from the wood in your fingers. “I wish I knew why I was being avoided, because I swear,” You sighed, “I would change what they don’t like about me.” 

Anthony stayed silent but his eyes were filled with a deep sadness, his lips parted slightly, his hands clenching. He could feel his nails embedding themselves into his palms, leaving crescent shaped marks, his palms now red. 

You looked back over to him, wiping your eyes that began to water, “I didn’t mean to ramble on…” You trailed off as you caught sight of his expression. “What is it?” You asked, concerned as he had never looked at you so…upset before.

He shook his head, snapping himself out of his thoughts, “Nothing.”

“Anthony, what is it?”

The tone of your voice was heartbreaking to him, you were really worried about him after telling him your concerns. He slowly turned his head to you, almost reluctantly, and looked into your eyes that shine with sunlight. He could see the reflection of the clouds in your eyes, and it made him feel worse than he already did. When he looked into your eyes, he knew he could not lie to you. So he took a shaky breath and whispered out the words, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” You answered immediately, confused by the sudden change in mood. You wished you had not spoken, perhaps if you kept quiet the two of you would be laughing and splashing each other. 

There was silence. 

“Anthony, for what?” You persisted, searching his expression for answers.

“I’m so sorry…” He continued to shake his head, gulping down his own breaths as if the world would run out of oxygen just for him. As if he was being tortured and couldn’t breath on his own. His grip on your hand was tighter than it had been, “I was just… I’m so sorry…”

His panic conveyed through his action, through his expression, through his words. You just couldn't understand why he was so anxious, why he was so scared. 

Until you realized, he didn’t seem scared over whatever he did, he seemed scared for how you would respond. His eyes kept snapping to you before looking down, he continued to clasp onto your hand, he closed his eyes as if he was silently praying for a better outcome.

Your brows knitted together and your lips pursed, “Sorry?” You repeated his apology, trying to think of what he was so apologetic about.

Suddenly, all of the memories flashed through your mind, quick as ever. The balls, the sitting rooms, the lack of dresses you needed to buy… it was because Anthony had never left your side. You thought he was being supportive, letting you know who would be better than the other for your bright future, but no. He wasn’t helping weed out those who weren’t good for you, he was clearing the field completely, so there was nothing left. No weeds, nor even blossoming flowers that you would’ve loved to pick.

Until there was no one left.

You blinked rapidly as you thought about this, finally making eye contact, “You didn’t.” You breathed out quietly.

You were met with silence and Anthony's sorrowful gaze, already begging for forgiveness.

You tried to remove your hand from his grip, but he wouldn't let up. Once you finally pulled yourself away, you stood quickly, not caring for the water dripping to your clothing from your quick movements. 

Your feet were wet, causing a dark spot to form onto the wooden dock. “Anthony, how could you?” You asked, exasperated, hands going to your face as you began to pace. 

Anthony scrambled up himself, trying to grasp your hands, but you continuously pulled away, making him face your back. “I just wanted to protect you!”

His words caused you to seethe, protect you? How was he protecting you? 

You turned to him, feet stomping once you were face to face with him, “You’re not protecting me!” You yelled, your volume caused him to fall back a bit, unused to your yells. “You’re labeling me as a…” You paused, taking a few small breaths, “bad contender.” You mumbled, clutching your chest, feeling your eyes begin to sting. You began to shake your head as you backed away, “At this rate I will not be married.” 

“What is the fault in that?”

“What is-?” You laughed, honestly not believing that this situation was happening. Your hands were up to your head, clutching at your ears, pinching, praying that this wasn’t really happening.

Anthony Bridgerton, the man of the Bridgerton home, the man who almost forced Daphne to marry a man who wanted nothing good for her. Anthony Bridgerton who was to duel a man for his sisters honor. Anthony Bridgerton, the man who took the responsibilities of his father for his family, because he knew how important it was for women to be married in this world.

You stood straight, face contorted in anger, “You are well aware, as I am, that our society revolves around marriage.” You spoke slowly, “My family wishes for me to be married or I will be a disgrace.” You reminded him, tilting your head, mouth opened in another sense of disbelief. “How is it that you now fail to comprehend such a thing?”

Anthony nodded with your words, but it seemed as if he wasn’t hearing you at all, he was being so frustrating. “I merely believe that you should pursue your own desires.”

“You did not consult me on what I desire!” You yelled, drawing the attention of passersby. You looked down, frown on your face as Anthony waved them off with a smile. You looked back to him with a harsh, cold glare, “You acted according to your own desires, but for what purpose?” 

He ran a hand through his hair before unbuttoning his vest and taking it off. Anthony felt like he was suffocating, and nothing was helping him breathe properly at the moment. “It’s because I hold deep regards for your well-being.”

You scoffed, “No one who truly cares about the other would do that.”

“I-”

You stopped him, holding up your finger, “No, you would never do this to Daphne.” You told him, causing him to fall silent. You could hear the harsh gulp he took as you continued. “You endeavored to secure a match for her, so why must you subject me to this treatment?…” You trailed off, turning away once again before turning right back to him, “You repelled every potential partner.”

Anthony didn’t make eye contact, he just mumbled out, “I have my reasons.”

“Please, list them.” You ordered, trying to meet his gaze, “For it appears that you do not wish the best for me.” 

That sentence brought him out of his thoughts, that sentence made him realize how you didn’t realize the true intentions of his actions. “I care deeply for you!” He spoke a bit loudly, “It is inexplicable, I can not put into words my concern for your future.” He continued to speak, and you were quiet, waiting for any valid reason, because you wanted to forgive him, you did. “I truly believe that none among the ton is truly suitable for you.”

You blinked at him, “No one of the…” You just stared at him, “You…what?”

“Please understand.”

Oh, you understood just fine. You crossed your arms with a raised brow, “No one but you, I assume?”

His eyes widened and he shook his head quickly, “That is not what I mean.” He spoke, breaths quickening as his thoughts swirled through his mind.

“So you harbor no romantic sentiments towards me?”

“If that is what I implied, I apologize.” 

You nodded, poking your cheek with your tongue, “Then why do all this?”

You were met with no response, so you continued, walking forward, poking his chest with your finger. “If you do not love me,” You began, “also being you do not wish to court me,” you clarified, tilting your head with a blank expression, “then your actions are malicious.”

Anthony shook his head, cupping your hand in his, “They are not, they are in good health.” He tried to convince you, but you wouldn’t budge. 

You pulled your hand from his grasp, “Is the idea of courting me so revolting to you that you must scare off all contenders with your jealousy,” You backed away, hands up, “and leave me as a spinster for the entire court to laugh at?”

“It was not my intention.” Is that all he could say, it was not his intention? 

“Then what was your intention?”

He sputtered and babbled out a response, but it was stutters of the beginning of sentences he would never finish. The only thing his pieces of words could convince you of, was that he had no idea why he would do such a thing. 

“Was it your intention to prompt me to recognize deeper emotions for you?” You asked him, and he continued to knock his brain for some sort of response that he couldn’t give you. “Well?”

The Bridgerton man put his head down, hands over his face before they went to the back of his neck, “I thought,” He spoke, dropping his hands to his sides, “if we spent more time together as if we were courting-”

“But we are not.” You interrupted with an obvious stare, “You are not courting me, you do not wish to court me Anthony.”

He nodded and clapped, eyes wide with promise as he strode towards you in a sudden burst of excitement. “But perhaps, if we acted as such, we could discover the wisdom in such an action.” He spoke, nodding along with his own words, “It is smart, surely, you see it through my perspective!”

You chuckled because, what else were you supposed to do at the sudden idiocy that escapes a man's mouth? “Anthony, this is not business.”

“I understand that,” He told you confidently, “but, consider the mutual benefits it could offer us.”

You chuckled once more, taking a step back with a shocked smile, “I don’t care if marrying you would take the trouble from my family for thousands of generations, Anthony.” You explained, waving your hands in a large ‘no’ motion. “I would never marry you!” You told him harshly, the words engraved in the air as a promise.

Anthony's eyes dimmed, his breath pausing as his shoulders began to droop, “Why not?”

“For the same reason you will not court me.” You answered, rolling your eyes a bit.

He didn’t understand so he stared at you expectantly, “Which is?”

You couldn’t believe he wasn’t aware of why he wasn’t courting you, why your marriage would never work. Since he couldn’t understand such a simple answer, you stepped forward, staring him into his eyes. His brown eyes looked at you, searching for answers.

You shook your head lightly, “ Anthony, I feel nothing when I look at you.”

Time has stopped completely for Anthony Bridgerton. You spoke the words so easily. He felt everything move so slowly, to the point he didn’t even realize that he stopped breathing. He didn’t stop staring at you until you waved your hand in his face to capture his attention. 

“Is that why you think I won’t court you?” He whispered to you, face falling.

You scoffed, again, at how he wasn’t understanding the conversation. “Wake up, Mr. Bridgerton!” You yelled, the first time you’ve ever used the title. “You just tried to propose a business deal with me, knowing that I have a better chance with any man over you.” You explained, hands falling to your sides as you paced across the doc, the man standing still, facing the same direction he was before you moved. “Yet, you still sabotaged any chance for me this season, and I will end up alone due to your selfish actions!” You spoke angrily, nostrils flaring once you finally looked at him again.

His eyes were the only thing that followed you, “I..I don’t…. I wasn’t thinking of-”

“You’re right!” You told him, clapping at his realization. “You were not thinking, which is exactly why you ruined everything for me!” You yelled, voice feeling strained due to the emotions you were currently feeling. “You ruin everything because you do not think.”

Anthony wiped his coming tears, opening his mouth for another apology.

You stopped him immediately, “I am utterly sick of every apology that leaves your mouth, because you do not mean it.” You spoke, not letting him speak any further.

You walked to the steps that separated the dock from the walking paths, “Goodbye Mr. Bridgerton.” were your final words before you left Anthony near the water.

He couldn’t say anything else, his gaze was trapped on the wooden flooring of the dock. What had he done? Why does he feel his heart squeezing every time he takes a deep breath in? Why was everything spinning?

More importantly, why did he do something so stupid, and push you away?

[osachiyo]

𝕱𝖆𝖎𝖙 𝖆𝖛𝖊𝖈 𝖆𝖒𝖔𝖚𝖗 · dazai, chuuya & fyodor .ೃ࿐

· 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𐙚 none, gn reader, sfw content, fluff, petnames, headcanons + little scenarios, not proofread

· 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔰 𐙚 sorry these are really short, im just trying to clear out as many requests as i can for now :') i was gonna add sigma n fukuzawa too but i wanted to get it out asap so i can work on my other wips. also ! i might focus a little more on fluff for the time being :) happy reading and hope you guys enjoyed !

𝖘𝖞𝖕𝖓𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖘... just some cute scenarios with some of the bsd men ᡣ𐭩

dazai.. was an interesting man. he never got flustered no matter how much you flirted with him, not even blushing when you did provocative actions like sitting on his lap, or whispering dirty words into his ear.

instead, he somehow counters your lines with his own — leaving you the one flustered.

but when you give him genuine compliments, or do something nice for him genuinely from the goodness of your heart, the same man who's seemingly unaffected by your advances, somehow turns into putty — melting in the clutch of your warm grasp.

in the quiet sanctuary of your shared bedroom, you hummed sweet words against dazai's dark locks, your lips finding solace on the crown of his head. "you're so pretty," you whispered, a genuine compliment that seemed to momentarily lift the weight of his rough day.

"darling, not as pretty as you," he chuckled, his voice muffled as he buried his face in your chest. the day had taken its toll on him, a tough mission leaving him with more than a fair share of injuries. but those details could wait for another time.

for dazai, these moments were treasures. lying in your arms or having you nestled in his, the simple pleasure of each other's company became a haven. the absence of distractions allowed him to savor the rare peace he found with you, a feeling that almost made him giddy.

your words, genuine and warm, were like a balm for his weary soul. in these moments, he set aside his usual snarky quips and jokes, content to bask in the embrace and scent that spoke of comfort and home. the sincerity in your praise quickened his heartbeat, and for once, dazai didn't need to hide behind humor.

though his face was hidden from your view, dazai couldn't conceal the flush of pink spreading across his cheeks. it was a secret shared only with the solitude of your embrace — a silent acknowledgment of the vulnerability and affection that blossomed in these stolen moments of peace.

considering chuuya's job, you two don't get to spend too much time together. but you had already known and accepted that when you started dating him.

though, when you two do get to spend some quality time together — it's all worth it. he makes sure to spoil you with his affection and attention when he has the chance — making up for all the time he's neglected you.

and after a whole day of getting spoiled by him — visiting fancy and expensive places, tasting amazing food, drinking the finest wine, you finally get to relax at home with your favorite person.

"quit scrunching that handsome face, babe," you sighed, smoothing the furrowed lines of his brows with your thumbs, delicately working the cleanser into his skin. chuuya simply hummed, surrendering to the soothing sensation and leaning into your touch.

"and what's the deal with this?" he asked, his arms enveloping your waist — right where they belonged. "it's just cleanser, does what it says — cleans your skin." chuuya hummed again, drawing small circles on your hips, "just make sure it stays out of my eyes, okay?" you rolled your eyes, adjusting yourself on his lap for better comfort, "obviously."

after rinsing off the cleanser and following through with the skincare routine you'd picked, chuuya stared at his reflection in the mirror — bunny headband adorning his head, bangs swept back and away from his face, which now felt surprisingly soft. "holy shit, my face feels so...smooth?" he blinked, gently squishing his own cheeks. you approached from behind, planting a tender kiss on his neck — "i did tell you my skincare routine works wonders."

"heh, yeah," he chuckled, turning to face you, playfully squishing your cheeks together before planting a soft kiss on your lips, "now it's your turn, love. your skin deserves some of that magic too."

fyodor was a busy man, you always catch him in that dimly lit room — typing away while staring at his monitors. with all the plotting, scheming and hacking — he never really has any time left to take real care of himself.

and that's exactly what you're here for — dragging him out of the dingy room, not paying any attention to his complaints or threats, you know he doesn't mean them.

taking off his ushanka, you wonder how much time had it actually been since he's properly washed his hair — but you didn't ask him that, knowing he'd be even more irritated.

fyodor's complaints ceased once you proposed a shared bath, both of you disrobing before slipping into the warm water. the temperature, meticulously adjusted to his liking, showcased your thoughtful consideration. though the usual positions were reversed, with him against your chest, it was necessary for you to tend to his hair.

"right there, love," fedya sighed in content, tilting his head back and savoring your touch. your fingers massaged the shampoo into his hair, focusing on his scalp. "feel good, huh?" you smiled, placing sweet kisses on the pale skin of his exposed neck before gently rinsing away the shampoo from his raven locks.

these tranquil moments held a special place in his heart. simple yet profound, they kindled a warmth within him. your loving gaze had the power to thaw even his typically cold heart. in those tender glances, he found a promise to himself — to craft the perfect world for both of you.

©sachiyoh— do not copy, plagiarize and repost my works to any platform, reblogs are very appreciated♡

tags ・ @hopefulpain @inkmooon @constant-existential-terror @nda-approval @mellieellie @seiiushi @lynxxyyy @kentopedia

@sorasushik1 @himebwrries @nopethenope @neviex @fyodorisbbg @stygianoir @saharei @x-lunawrites-x @munnaitorei @emyyy007 @dearhoney-31 @the-foreigner @angoisfine @osaemu @honeycombflowers-blog @yuiiasathesilly @kaithegremlin @squigglewigglewoo @cupidszvlvr @ashthemadwriter-archived @bloobewy @mrs-bakugou @hauntedsol @ask-me-or-not @hanakotateyama @kissesmellow21 @dazaichuuya69 @xxsilverjackalxx @gettinshiggywithit @deaths-presence @sugaredpersimmon @rjssierjrie @iheartpieck @angelof-darkness @dazaisimpletmereadfanficspls @hellokitty-4-lele @scinclaitnoir @aly-insanity @kemis-world @bisexuawolfsalt @thateldribitch

[livelaughlovekny]

You apply ointment on his hands

Notes: Original AU, Gender neutral reader , 2nd person POV,

Summary: Before the war, the both of you fall into a routine where you apply ointment on his hands.

a/n: oh dang its been a while guys. this is really short btw !!

  He was most definitely indulging you. Which demon slayer has not had their fair share of blisters and skin rubbed raw from training? As Hashiras, it is absolutely not a surprise that you have all gotten to used to the pain. In fact, your hands were probably roughed up and used to it. Only idiots who had too much free time would even attempt to heal the wounds on their hands. Muichirou was, without a doubt, not of one them. Yet, he never objects when you would unscrew the cap of a small bottle of ointment and gesture for him to hold out his hands after a long day of training.

  Maybe it came as a surprise to you the first time he obliged without any hesitation, but really, deep in both of your hearts, you both knew that this was just the calm before the storm – every act of affection that could be shown is a luxury. He never expresses his longing and love outright, though he has been more open ever since he came back from the blacksmiths, but neither did you. Perhaps it was because saying those three little words aloud would be your breaking points, the one thing that could prevent the both of you from joining the war. It’s really unfair but at least you are the given the chance to have these little peaceful moments where the only thing that mattered was him and you.

  With one hand gently holding one of his, you dig lightly into the oil with your other. Gently running your finger across the rough surface of his calloused hands, you hum a little. You trace the lines on his palm and draw little circles on it, noting for the nth time how he’s not ticklish at all.

  Muichirou watched you intently, his focus on you and only you. He watched as you determinedly but gently apply the ointment onto his hands, the way your brows furrowed ever so slightly, as if the rough edges of his palm frustrated you. He thinks that it does. He can guess why but doesn’t allow himself to think too deeply into it. After all, you too had the same rough edges and blisters on your palms but you didn’t seem to care about that. He notes with mild irritation at himself for not offering to care for your hands too. It’s unfortunate, but he realises that he’s too embarrassed to do the same. One day, he promises to himself as he continues watching you.

  His left palm glistens a little from the oil but it’s a while before you switch to his other hand. Repeating the same procedure, you slowly apply the oil onto his right palm. Despite knowing how he was un-ticklish and numbed to small pains such as these, you still took great care in rubbing the ointment into his palm. You enjoyed this feeling. This feeling you get when you are able to care for him. It’s a warm and fulfilling one. When you are done, you slowly let go of his hand, seemingly reluctant to do so. To your surprise, Muichirou grabs and entwines your fingers together. A new kind of silence falls over you two.

  The both of you stay in the state for a while. The oily sensation from the ointment on his hands wasn’t pleasant but neither of you minded. Holding his hand, you could feel how calloused his hands were and briefly wondered, if maybe, somehow, in another world, he would have the smoothest and prettiest hands you had ever seen. Hands that proved that he had never had to suffer through the ordeals he did in this one. In that moment, you wondered how much you would like to see him with smooth hands and if that was why you had even bothered to start this routine.

a/n: so it turns out i can still write, albeit terribly, when I'm avoiding work !!

[verysium]

『01』 到着: arrival

ft. rin itoshi, sae itoshi

summary: the forces of nature abide by a single law: all cataclysms are creators of their own collapse. in the wake of such destruction, rin tumbles his way down to earth, and along the staircase of heaven, a new star is born. cw: mild swearing, childhood nostalgia and growing pains, rin being embarrassing, social anxiety, sae being somewhat parental, sibling dynamics, kamakura and japanese culture, spanish lessons, very dense prose (cus i suck ass at dialogue), star analogies, orange peels and other fruit metaphors, fluff but bittersweet.

word count: 6.4k

series masterlist || next

The first word Rin learns is star.

It is spoon-fed to him in glittering globules of milk fat, dense and pooling around the gums. Stars are what he senses when rough hands slip around his torso, stuffing the nib of a plastic bottle into his mouth. He is only a week old and can't see yet, but he already knows the set of eyes he is staring into. There are tiny pinpoints of blue-green light, reflective and shiny, a mirror to his own.

The world is blurry but somehow Rin finds his own image. His newborn legs are scrunched inside a wad of cotton blankets, poised and ready to strike. Rin doesn't like being confined, but the four walls of the hospital room offer him no reprieve. He cries and bawls and screams to go back. Only the silence answers.

Rin hates this place. The world out here is a different state of mind: too bright, too loud, too much. Anything and everything has been etched into a single frame, time scorched into untouched skin. It is to the point his senses cannot handle any more.

Every morning the shadows of nurses gorge themselves on daylight, waistlines growing by the minute as they enlarge into his field of vision. They pry at the wires of his crib, brushing off invisible dust as they try so hard to make his heartbeat sync with their incessantly beating machines. His body refuses to obey. They should've known the moment he was born that he'd always be one step behind.

Rin wants to screech his head off again. This time he babbles that the milk tastes like car grease, that he'd rather die free than live in pain, but a firm hand stays the bottle between his lips, insisting on its delicacy. Rin blanches. He isn't hungry. He tries to pull away. But his mother's voice cuts through the silence, a warning.

"Sae-chan, be careful with your brother."

The two-year-old grunts, lips twisted in annoyance as he tries the balancing act of feeding a newborn with one arm. His gaze is ancient, too piercing for a child. Rin's fingers crawl up Sae's face, clumsy and blind as they grope for his nose bridge. There are stars in his older brother's eyes, ones Rin cannot reach no matter how hard he tries.

Rin ends up spilling milk on himself, crying as he drools white rivulets down his chin. If Sae could swear, he most definitely would’ve called Rin an ungrateful little shit. But Rin knows it is an honor to be born where he was. He is a legacy to someone else’s dream, both a spare and a second chance at living. He butters himself up in their nasal tongues, machinating his lips in tandem. 

When his brother offers him another drink, his mouth is already open.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It turns out life outside the womb is actually far greater than it was inside. Rin learns that real people walk and talk and grow up to find something called a purpose. He doesn't understand why the adults deem it complicated though. How could something so simple take years to discover? After all, his brother has already figured out his purpose, so why couldn't he?

"Rin-chan, you must find something to do with your life," his grandmother mentions over dinner, smoothing her weathered hands down the locks of his hair. The family is gathered around the table for tea, sitting like a portrait on the zabuton. Rin tries his best to emulate, his three-year-old spine drawn taut with practiced humility.

"Your brother has already paved the way. You can do the same, can’t you Rin-chan?"

Of course he can. Rin's heard these words a thousand times before. Sae isn't called the family's star collector for nothing. His nii-chan has already amassed tens of thousands of these five-pointed shapes, a few of which sit in a glass trophy case Rin isn't allowed to touch. He’s seen this all play out before.

A fortune teller once read their futures, thumbing her way along his brother’s palms as she spilled the very same oracles. Rin still remembers that day clearly: a morning visit to the shrine, the image scattered like water. The torii unfolded like a vermillion tongue, moseying its way down Komachi Street. He had been dressed in his little navy blue hakama, toes tucked politely into his tabi, his round eyes reflecting the world like a fisheye lens. There was much to observe from the hustle and bustle of life. Peculiar squiggly lines danced along the signage of shops. Candied lacquerware displayed themselves behind glass windows. Rin even stopped to point out the goldfish hanging in their crystal bags, giggling when the force of nearby windchimes sent each fish for a tumble. One soba stop and two taiyaki ice creams later, his small feet had grown tired from the hours of excursion, and his mother carried him on her back for the latter half of the trip home. 

It was then that he spotted her. 

An old lady sat in a booth by the wayside, framed by colorful curtains. His father had told him that she could foresee the future with the mere touch of her hand. Sae had gone first, holding out his palm with assured poise, as if he already knew the outcome. Rin wasn’t surprised when he heard the verdict. The old lady claimed Sae was destined to become the world’s greatest star, to bring glory to the nation of the sun. Rin didn’t doubt it if this was true at the time. His brother’s existence was proof enough. Sae’s certainty was a lesson Rin learned before object permanence, before any preconventional stage of development. Nii-chan is always one way and not the other. He is on track to do something important, and nothing can sway him from it. 

That was the first truth Rin learned of this world.

Even now at the family dinner, he doesn't even need to look to know that his brother is sitting with near perfect posture, the precision of still life running through his veins. Sae is an adult before he is a child, a handcrafted figurehead for the Itoshi name. Rin lifts his chin a little higher, his toddler hands raised in firm conviction.

“I’ll follow Nii-chan! Follow him to the end of the world!”

His grandmother nods, seemingly satisfied with the answer. Rin doesn't say anything else, quiet for the rest of the night. He doesn't understand the words she exchanges with his parents, nor does he try to. Adult talk still isn't his strong suit, especially not when it concerns the future. But his mother's eyes shine wet and proud, and his father chuckles more than usual. Rin decides his purpose right then and there.

He wants to be a star too.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The day after starting kindergarten, Rin shows off his first masterpiece, cradling two sheets of rice paper as he runs up to the front door. By the time the fusuma slides open, he has already uncrumpled his work, dramatically revealing a bold shock of color. It appeared to be some sort of assemblage, painstakingly inked in blue crayon and pieced together with painter's tape.

"That's a pentagon, Rin."

"No, it’s a star! See? 1…2…3…4…5 points! Star!"

Sae isn't amused. Rin does not know why. His brother’s eyes are hardened slats of light, the still water of an abandoned lake. There are no mouths to swallow the light, no twinkling ripples at the surface, not even the gasps of glimmering excitement. There is only the mirrored slate of the sky: one shade of blue bleeding into the next. Rin feels his stomach plummet into its depths. This isn’t the soft look of pride he wanted to see. Not in the slightest. 

At first he thinks about crying, his bottom lip already curled with the onslaught of a pathetic sob. But spite unfurls in his lungs, so instead he turns his nose up with huff, trying to seem unaffected. He would be very proud of his star. And it most certainly was not called a pentagon or whatever stupid name Sae learned in his stupid math class. But apparently his older brother always had something else to say.

"Just come here and erase it. I'll show you how to make a proper star."

"But I don't want to! It's my star. It's perfect!"

Rin can hardly utter another word before Sae's glare nearly freezes the living daylights out of him. Nii-chan is scary, especially when angry. He doesn't even have a choice when he sits down at the chabudai, pouting in reluctance. Sae works out his magic on paper, crafting ley lines within the grain of paper. Rin does his best to follow, licking his lips as he guides his crayon through the dotted lines. It gets increasingly difficult though when Sae's hand echoes warmly around his own, gentle but firm in its direction. Rin tries to avoid his brother's eyes, but Sae's kindness is as disarming as his gaze. Had Nii-chan always had that crease between his eyebrows? The slight upturn of his lips when he bit his tongue in concentration?

Rin tries to trace the lines, but he ends up tracing Sae's face instead. His focus isn't even on the paper when he scribbles out a mess of incomplete pentagons, some geometric concatenation he cannot translate into real-time. Sae would have pinched his cheek, scolding him in disappointment.

Sae never did.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The next time Rin traces a pentagon, it is on the surface of a black-and-white ball, shot like a meteorite through a football goal. His brother becomes a comet, light on his feet as he thunders down the field, weaving seamlessly between defenders. Rin can only stand on the sidelines, drowned out in his second-hand hoodie, face smushed up against the fence as he tries to get a good view. The team's been at it for hours, and Rin's pretty sure he now has the diamond imprint of chain links burnt into his cheeks.

"Somebody stop him!"

"Get after him!"

"Mark Sae Itoshi!"

There will always be someone up to the challenge of his brother's prowess, but no one ever comes close to toppling him. Rin doesn't think Sae would ever miss a single step, not when he's so far ahead. His brother is strong and calculated, absolutely unwavering in his ascent to the top. The only way Sae Itoshi could ever fall is if he buckled under his own weight, caving into himself.

Rin's eyes follow the reporters as they trail after Sae, and his nose wrinkles in disgust. They were no better than a pack of bloodhounds, desperate for a small taste of his brother's victory. How dare they? His Nii-chan outshined everyone at everything. Rin wasn't the smartest boy, but even he knew that a star could never be caught. They didn't even belong on Earth in the first place.

"Let's go, Rin."

Rin doesn't complain when his brother calls him to return home, oblivious to the media's chagrin. Like Sae, Rin is utterly indifferent to their plight, side-stepping one of the reporters who dry-heaves on his shoes in exhaustion. It was definitely their fault for failing to outrun both an eight-year-old child and his kid brother, let alone try to feast on their glittering remains. If they couldn't catch a star, they ought to eat the dust left behind. After all, that was how the world worked according to Nii-chan.

Only the best could succeed. All the rest would implode with the universe.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

It is the summer before his tenth birthday when Rin takes back every single one of those words. He is that reporter now, completely humiliated and exhausted as he collapses on the sidelines. The afternoon workout had just entirely rearranged his guts, so much so that he's foaming at the mouth, the remnants of his hasty breakfast speckled all over his cleats.

Out of every star in existence, the sun has to be the worst one. A pool of sweat trickles down his back, melting into a sticky discomfort along his nape. It’s too far up his jersey for him to do anything about, and he might just die from the sweltering heat.

Perhaps it was true that sports stars had to suffer in order to burn bright, but Rin would never wish this fate upon anybody. Sae is shouting at him from somewhere outside his periphery, insisting that the sun has never stopped revolving, that Rin has to never stop practicing if he ever plans on keeping up. But at this point, he could care less about a goddamn metaphor, let alone rub two brain cells together to interpret it.

"That shot was shoddy, Rin. Redo it."

"But it's so hot, I can't—”

"It's not hot. It's lukewarm. Redo it."

Sometimes Rin regrets ever thrusting himself into the orbit of his brother’s football dream. Playing on the world stage sounded so much easier in his head back then, but now it might as well have been an impossible fantasy. He most definitely wasn’t cut out for this line of work because his legs feel like shit, his arms feel like shit, and his whole body can’t even breathe under the thick, grimy layer of sweat. Blinking his eyes against the burning salt, Rin curses to himself. He should’ve taken that energy drink from earlier. At least the caffeine would have kept him sane. Sae snaps Rin out of his reverie, his thin voice seeping into Rin’s bones. There’s something softer in his tone this time.

“Suck it up and redo it. I’ll buy you ice cream after practice.”

There is silence. Rin stands back up, wiping his forehead as he stares his brother dead in the eye. The field has never been larger, and the goal has never been closer. And just like that, he is off, powering down the turf.

Under the supermassive gravity of his brother's ambitions, Rin becomes a supernova, his body charged with enough energy to last through entire lifetimes.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

In the oppressive sunlight, Sae's cold stare becomes a welcome sight. Augusts in Kamakura are the products of heat waves, the sun so scorching Rin can see a visible mirage above the asphalt. The heat spares no one, and Rin feels his cargo pants stick to the crease of his thighs. Even Sae’s bangs are plastered to his forehead, unusually slick behind the ears. They had just met Sae’s agent that morning, taking the Yokosuka line back from Tokyo. Sae had even left early, planning to evade the weekend’s tourists. But neither of them ever anticipated the harshness of the afternoon heat. After nearly an hour of searching, their only refuge was this 7-Eleven, some tiny microcosm practically stowed away between two utility poles.

The oba-chan at the konbini greets them with a seasoned smile, chirping with polite bubbliness as she rings up Sae’s Garigari-kun popsicles, a total of 70 yen for the original soda flavor. Rin waits demurely in a corner, eyes drawn to his brother’s silhouette. Some oji-san sits himself down nearby, fanning himself with a newspaper as he twirls a toothpick between his gums.

“Trying to avoid the heat, eh? You and your brother come here often?”

The man looks middle-aged, crowned with an artificial toupée and a cracked tooth. His eyes dart between Rin and Sae, a knowing smile plastered on his lips. 

“Nii-chan and I just found this place. We don’t come here a lot.”

“Ah. Is that so? You seem awfully young to be shopping without parents. What’s your name?”

Rin doesn’t want to answer. He hates this man already, even more so his strangeness. There’s a disarming nature to his beady eyes, like he knows something Rin doesn’t. Rin looks down at the floor, his sneakers toeing a shy line across the linoleum tiles. 

“R-rin.”

“Rin-kun, eh? You must look up to your Nii-chan a lot, huh? Your gaze hasn’t left him since.”

Rin feels his throat close up, cheeks flushing with heat of embarrassment. On second thought, he hates everything about this oji-san now, even down to his obnoxious friendliness. The old man winks, bending down in a conspiratorial whisper. Rin wrinkles his nose at the stale smell of beer, feeling embarrassed for even bothering to converse. This man was clearly drunk out of his mind, and Rin secretly hopes no one else is watching him. But unfortunately, the whispers are loud enough to travel across the entire convenience store, right into Sae’s ears.

“Oh-ho? Are you blushing?”

Rin vehemently shakes his head.

“Don’t worry, Rin-kun. Your secret is safe for me. You must be your brother’s little shadow, right?” The man pumps his fist out, his voice distorted in a childish imitation. “Nii-chan's number one supporter!”

Rin’s hands ball into fists at the oji-san’s teasing, his ears red to their tips. Sae is looking at him from over the cash register now, a confused look etched onto his face. Rin clenches his teeth in annoyance. Stripped bare of all defenses, he is now analyzed for what he is. Was his admiration that obvious? Did Sae know about his feelings? He didn’t want to be taken for some stupid, awestruck fool. The old man’s question is barely answered before Rin makes a break for it, the bell on the door ringing with his sudden departure.

The road outside swirls in holographic patterns, a dizzying blend of feet and socks and concrete. Rin has to take a moment to steady himself before Sae comes up behind him, armed with a plastic bag of wrappers and blue ice between his teeth. Rin licks his popsicle with caution, burning away his shame as his tongue freeze dries itself to the candied surface. Sae crunches his ice cream in two bites, an amused lilt to his voice.

“What was that back there?”

“N-nothing! I didn’t know him.”

“You’re too shy to talk to strangers?”

“N-no…H-he was just talking to himself.”

Sae gives Rin a weird look, but he doesn’t question further. Instead, his hand reaches down to slap Rin on the back of the head, ruffling the hair there until it somehow resembles a bird’s nest.

“Next time someone asks you something, just answer. Stop acting like a damn coward.”

Rin’s entire face burns with humiliation at that comment. He wishes the ground could just open up and swallow him whole. The last thing he wants to be is the laughingstock of his brother’s dry humor, but the fact that Sae rarely even cracks a joke makes this entire situation much worse. Instead of replying, Rin follows what he does best and rapidly changes the subject. His voice trembles as he stares at his popsicle handle, noting the hiragana carved into plywood. Atari.

“Ah, look. I won a prize.”

Sae’s eyes widen momentarily, pausing in his step as he looks down to check his own stick. Less than a minute later, he grimaces, tossing it away.

“Tch, don’t waste your luck on something so meaningless.”

Rin knows what Sae means. Only becoming the best matters, and with the sparse amount of luck to go around, he might as well spend it on a real victory. The Itoshis can’t afford loss, not that they’d ever know what it was. A foreign emotion flickers through Sae’s eyes, something akin to uncertainty. Rin brushes it off as a trick of the light.

The trek back home is tinged with a golden hue, the sun milder as it cascades rays down both their faces. Sae's appearance has always been unsettling, even in the mellow glow of summer. Rin recalls his mother used to say that Sae inherited all the sharpness in the family. His mother was definitely right. Sae’s nose is too straight, the slant of his brows too unnatural. If Rin took a ruler to his face, every measurement would come back scientifically accurate. Nothing about Sae is soft. Nothing about him should be comforting. But when his brother looks at him, Rin feels someone’s breath brush across his forehead, the skin still warm from the imprint of their lips.

He grips Sae’s hand tighter, knuckles looped between calloused digits. They tread silently, all thoughts of victory forgotten, the coastal breeze whispering their names into air. Rin can’t take his eyes off his brother, and, despite his lack of situational awareness, Sae notices it too.

“What are you looking at?”

“Nothing… It’s just… Back at the store… If it were you, you’d never be afraid to speak up, right?”

“Of course. There’s nothing that I fear.”

Sae’s tone is stiff when he says this, his face tilted towards the horizon. Rin almost misses the slight waver in his voice. His brother does everything to keep his word. At least that much holds true. Rin silently wishes that too would never change.

Sae always looks forward, always stares towards the skyline, always plans for the future. Not once has Rin seen his older brother look fully back at him, let alone pivot toward the direction he once came from. One side of Sae’s face is always hidden, not too dissimilar to the far side of the moon. His Nii-chan might as well be some celestial body, cast under the penumbra of his own eclipse. No one could ever know him in his entirety.

Sae’s eyes must be lonely, Rin ponders. They’re trapped on opposite ends of his face, two stars that could align but never cross. He swears to always remember the constellations in his brother’s eyes.

He'd follow them wherever they took him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Sae has his eyes set on Spain: a land of gold, guts, and glory. The streets are somehow more burnt than its people, and the nation itself flickers with twisting tongues. It is also the only place where Rin cannot follow, and he is inconsolable.

Sae hadn’t even given a week’s notice before he broke the news on a Sunday, stating his plans factually over a family dinner. Rin nearly spit out his ochazuke right then and there, choking pitifully on his tea-steeped rice grains. Who in their right mind would willingly travel to a country that sees the sun for nearly three thousand hours a year? Perhaps Sae was immune to all natural phenomena, but Rin would rather die than train in that hellish heat. And most importantly, what was with the sudden announcement? Did his brother not even care about the people he was leaving behind?

He thought about it hard during dinner and even harder when Sae blow-dried his hair that night. They had both stepped out from the tub at the same time, arguing after their shared bath. Rin complained his brother turned the water temperature up too high every time, and Sae pointed out he was dripping water everywhere, the suds still stuck deep in his scalp. Their fingers had been at each other’s hair, clawing and tugging until their mother finally intervened, wrapping Rin up in the family towel as she knelt down to dry him. Rin stood there, an angry flush on his cheeks and his features pulled into a petulant sulk as he observed Sae clean himself with elegant precision, a quiet look on his face. Life at ten and a half was simply unfair. Rin couldn’t wait until he was his brother’s age. Apparently being a teenager meant Nii-chan could have his own towel, a custom gift embroidered with seagulls on the hem. Nii-chan could dry himself without any help from others, no longer needing his mother’s guidance. He could even leave the house if he truly wanted, and no one would come after him. Rin’s scowl deepens, glowering at Sae as his mother forces his little arms up, tugging the pyjamas over his head. In another life, he would’ve admitted that he was envious of Sae’s independence, the sheer effortless grace with which he carried himself. But Rin was too prideful to do that. A confession of his own failures was equivalent to suicide in his book.

The best he can do is bite his tongue, forcing back the angry vitriol that would have otherwise spilled from his lips. His brother stands on a stool behind him, blow-dryer in hand as he ruffles through Rin’s tresses, the nozzle spewing warm air across his forehead. Sae’s fingers are rough and heavy, riddled with calluses underneath, likely from the months of weightlifting and grip training. But as solid as they are, they are also nimble, delicate as bird wings as they gently comb through strands of hair. The hot air massages around his temples, and Rin feels the tender brush of something against his nape. He cannot tell if it was the blow-dryer or the warmth of Sae’s body behind him. 

In the end, he decides he does not want to know.

By now, the water droplets have cleared from his skin, his locks rusted from a dark olive to a coarse black. Sae turns the blow-dryer to his own head, tousling his hair as he shakes out the excess moisture. Rin watches silently through the mirror, squeezing a fine line of mint paste down the center of his toothbrush. He chews on the plastic bristles as he contemplates, moving his arm back and forth in a repetitive scrubbing motion. Sae had inherited their mother’s hair and their father’s countenance, his visage a perfect combination of both genetic features. His obaa-san once remarked that the kami had accidentally spilled wine on Sae’s birthday, anointing his head in a rich maroon. In Japan, red is the color of all things joyous, a shade Rin identifies with the uchikake at weddings and the rope decorations his parents pin onto doors for good luck. But to be associated with joy, Rin finds that fact highly ironic. He has never seen Sae express any semblance of happiness before, except maybe the occasional grimace he tries to pass off as a smile. 

Still, the connotation of their contrasting hair colors does little to ease the ache in his tiny chest. If Sae is the blood of an early sunrise, then Rin is the death before night. Black is not a marriage but a funeral, the makings of an era filled with fear, violence, and misfortune. In a way, Rin is the end to Sae’s beginning, both the antithesis and the complement.

A soft touch against his chin interrupts his thoughts, and Rin looks up just in time to see Sae retracting his hand, wiping the excess toothpaste off Rin’s chin. And in that moment, he wants to scream. How dare Sae try to leave him? To act like everything was alright. He said the end was another beginning when really it was just the end. There wasn’t any coming back from it. Sae would disappear off to Spain, and he would never come back. At least the version of Sae he was seeing now. 

In the dim lights, Rin’s hair is darker than ever, the inky tendrils plastered around his ears like a vacuum devoid of light. He brings a death omen, a curse wherever he goes. In between the liminal space of bathroom mirror and tile, he divorces memory from mind, separating the flesh until it can last no longer. He’ll kill this memory of his brother if he has to, suffocating it in the most gruesome of ways. He doesn’t want to admit this might be the last time he’ll ever see Sae. 

And most importantly, he doesn’t want to admit that he just might miss him.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

Rin resolved to give Sae the silent treatment after that night, avoiding him throughout the house and acting like he was repelled by some nameless force. But his plans sadly never seem to work. The more he turns away, the more he is reeled back in, as if cast on some invisible fishing line. Now he’s here in Sae's bedroom, forty-eight hours before D-day, trying to mouth out words that aren't his own. 

His brother has somehow convinced him to adopt a new language, something about how he needs to be bilingual to play in different countries. Rin didn’t understand most of it before he complied, letting himself be dragged onto his brother’s bedspread. His English flashcards sit opposite to Sae’s Spanish ones as he crosses his legs, mouthing the shapes on his brother’s lips.

Manzana. Banana. Naranja.

Translation: I am undoing everything that has ever made me whole. 

In the middle of their lesson, Sae hands his brother said fruit, as if to accentuate his point. He peels the orange in a perfect spiral, thumb under the calyx as the spongy white fiber separates from ochre flesh, the pulp inlaid like jewels beneath skin. He cracks the segments hexagonally and tosses Rin the larger half.

“Naranja.”

“Naranja.” Rin repeats, curling his tongue around the foreign vowels. He catches the fruit with ease, shoving the flesh into his mouth until juice pools between teeth and his mouth is bursting with flavor. The language trickles down his throat, settling into the hollow of his larynx.

Naranja.

He looks down at his own orange, a half-imitation at best. His fingers are still stuck inside the skin, the liquid squirting into his right eye. It is sour, acrid even. The flesh has gone bad, wrinkled like soft cherries. A tangerine blooms saffron yellow beneath his nails, zest building up under the cuticle. He makes a mental note to wash his hands later.

Mi media naranja.

Unlearning, Rin decides, is a very difficult process. It makes him feel like a child again, an estrangement from his old self. Sometimes two halves aren’t enough to make him whole, and other times it is a section too much. There are many things in this world that elude his grasp. One day perhaps he will know them all. In another life, he would have been able to tell the difference between an apple and an orange, to draw the line between his half and Sae’s half. But for now, he is still discovering, still plucking and choosing, still floundering in a body he has come to hate. Rin picks up another flashcard, right next to the yellow one labeled starfruit, named estrella for each of its five points.

“What’s this one?”

“Desastre. Spanish for disaster.” 

"Dis…as…star?"

"It's disaster. You have to enunciate the r."

"Dis…as…ster? What the hell even is that? Another star?"

Sae deadpans, and Rin mentally braces himself for another harsh remark, probably a brutally honest insult about his own stupidity. But this conversation has long evolved past fruits and colors and my half and your half. His brother’s eyes soften with shadows, as if bruised by something far deeper. A contusion forms beneath the surface, purpled and pained. Rin’s mind fills with confusion when Sae suddenly stares out the curtains again, his gaze strangely wistful. The room is so quiet he almost misses Sae’s answer.

"Yeah...it's a star.”

Disaster is a bad star.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

The day before Sae leaves, Rin wishes on a bad star. He wakes up at an unlucky hour of dawn, slinking past a sleeping town as he goes to find his brother on the embankment near the sea. The streets bend around this corner of the peninsula, gaping like a mouth, lips pried apart at the seams. Located between a rock and a hard place, the coast of Koshigoe Beach oscillates between two types of constant turmoil, battling the erosion of natural forces from the east while facing the gentrification of construction in the west. During early mornings, the tide is sometimes low enough to expose the rocks up to the seawall, the desiccated seaweed forming fishing nets along its edge. Occasionally, the imprints of a stranger's footsteps leave behind small pockets of water, each one a home to an assorted array of abalone and oyster shells. Rin remembers the family vacations he spent here, the storm-cloaked skies. He had been so excited to go clamming after watching every episode of Chibi Maruko-Chan. In his red bucket hat and plastic shovel, he raced to the water’s edge, his little cheeks puffed out in exertion. He had anticipated sunny weather and clear skies, the glitter of rainbow sea glass, maybe even the golden sands he had seen in many of Sae’s travel brochures. But his first impression had been one of utter disappointment. 

The sand was a dull, drab grey: a single expanse of color that stretched on forever across the horizon. There were no clouds, only the stinging brittle of salt stuck inside his lungs and nestled between his toes. And to make matters worse, there weren’t even any clams in the first place, no sparkling bits of the golden treasure he had been so desperate to bring home. He felt his spirits dampen with ocean spray, his little feet coming to a sudden halt as he stared crestfallen at the waters.

Rin learned two major lessons that day. One, Maruko-chan was a big fat liar. And two, he should never believe anything that he sees on screen. Unfortunately, his folly cost him a hefty price: one tantrum on the car ride home and zero pretty seashells to add to his collection. Looking back on it now, Rin feels a strange sense of comfort in his disillusionment. In all four directions, his home is still the same greyish wash of color, unchanging as the sea and as unforgiving as its waters. At least that is something he can rely on. Nowadays, the constants in his life can be counted on a single hand, and the number of childhood remnants dwindles down to even fewer. 

Still, he can recall one memory clearer than the rest.

While Rin had been busy lamenting the lack of clams, Sae had tugged him by the back of his shirt, pulling him to the wayside as he stuck his fingers into the earth. Obviously, Rin was too caught up in his misery to notice, but his sniffles soon died down when he saw the faintest of bubbles lurk beneath the sandy surface. Sae taught him how to dig, how to plant feet into the ground, how to scavenge for survival. And Rin followed without question.

Soon, a cast of translucent crabs spilled forth from the pits, scuttling in massive red tides. Rin scooped some out with bare hands, sectioning them into segments: the ruby shells of a pomegranate, dividing and dividing again. He held a hermit up to the light, a look of gleeful amazement on his features. Was it their shells that determined their shape or the tender bodies inside them? Rin could never tell. All he knew was that these crabs were a different sort of treasure, ones that he cradled gently with bare hands and shielded from the foraging gulls. They were creatures meant to be loved.

The waves now break across concrete fortifications, crashing upon cubic breakwaters. By the time Rin reaches the paved promenade near the shores, Sae is already there, feet drowned in the freezing Pacific, the shirasu swimming between his toes. He doesn’t even turn when the sand crunches with footsteps, and Rin silently curses his brother’s superior senses. 

“I thought I told you not to come, Rin.”

“I know....But I still wanted to.”

In Rin’s mind, it doesn’t matter if Sae didn’t want him to be there. It doesn’t matter that he should’ve never come. He’d always keep chasing this dream if it meant he could stay. In fact, any ill omen would be better than this sinking pit in his stomach, this feeling that something was about to change forever.

The twinkles of light in the sky ripple across the sea, and Rin can’t help but see the view reflected in his brother’s visage. Sae’s eyes are like the ports of Sagami Bay, hardened with the carapace of cold comfort. Absence, Rin believes, would be his brother’s ultimate paradox. Sae could do everything and nothing all at once, and he would still be both the empty hole and the overflowing home. If eyes could be waves and faces could be stars, Sae would be the coldest, but he would also burn the brightest. Right now Rin just wants some of that warmth.

“So...you’re really leaving?”

“Yeah. I’m going ahead of you now. You better catch up.”

“Yeah, I know. I’ll do my best to become scouted like you.”

“Right. And then onto the world. The two of us will become the best there is.”

A silence hangs between them, loose as a thread. The wind whistles across the boardwalk, stirring up small spirals of volcanic sand. Sae notices Rin’s contemplative expression, following his gaze until he finds the moon still in the sky, lit up by the fading light of Polaris. Rin prays silently, knees tucked into his chest as he clasps his hands tightly together. His soft whispers are frequently interspersed by distant murmurs of the sea.

Please let Nii-chan be safe. Please don’t let him forget me.

The sunrise is about to start, one more hour until the day fully begins. Sae has to put an end to this, or else he'll never leave.

“Stop praying, Rin. They’re just stars. They'll die before your wish can come true.”

Rin peeks an eye open, unfurling from his tucked position. He looks to the stars then back at Sae, a familiar prickling in his eyes. Sae doesn’t even need to check to know that he’s crying.

“I just...” Rin’s voice wavers, “I think I’lll miss you, Nii-chan. At least send a message home?”

“Maybe. When I have the time.”

“Oh...okay.” Rin looks down awkwardly, staring at his feet before perking up again, “Do you think our dream can be achieved in a few years? I’ll come visit you in Spain! Maybe we’ll even play for Royale together.”

“You better. Don’t slack off just because I’m not here.”

“I know. I won’t.”

Rin had never been particularly good at farewells, let alone his first one. His voice is watery now, as if liquid and unable to be contained.

“Hey...Sae?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you really think we’ll make it big?”

There’s a pause in the conversation, the length of it too long for Sae’s liking. For once, certainty does not come to him as easily. But Rin already knows there is a fundamental difference to the depths of his brother’s greed. Sae’s eyes harden into flints, his voice crashing across the sandy beaches, unrelenting in its harshness but still shapelessly soft.

“We have to.”

Rin doesn’t have anything to say to that. Neither of them do. If killing himself meant living forever, then Sae Itoshi would have died a long time ago. 

He would have died and become a star.

© verysium 2023 / please do not translate, repost, or plagiarize any of my works

[aemondsdoll]

Compensation | Aemond Targaryen

masterlist

Summary: Your husbands brother takes over.

Warnings: Smut, dub-con??, reader doesnt know its Aemond, cheating, fingering, oral f!receiving, valyrian (translated), fun times!

Pairings: Aemond x f!reader, Aegon x f!reader (not rlly lol)

AN: sorry for disappearing, thought I'd give you guys a little sumn to rectify it.

You do not know how you got here. You felt as if the marriage between you and Aegon had gone stale. He had returned to his ways of whoring- you were certain of it. But you didn’t have the heart to confront him, how could you? His sweet and dutiful wife, he would surely strike you where you stand.

Yet as the morning air circulated through the chambers you and Aegon shared, there was a warm tongue lapping at your aching core. In your drowsy state, your hand gripped the cold sheets beside you, unable to process that if Aegon were there, the sheets would’ve been warm.

Too lost in the throes of pleasure to realise the hair in between your nimble fingers was not curly. Head falling back against the pillow, a thick and throaty moan spilled from your lips. Oh, it had been so long since your body had felt pleasure. You were beginning to forget how it felt.

His tongue trailed from your aching hole up to your clit, which twitches as the feeling of release builds up within your belly. God, had it been so long that you were going to peak as fast? Or is Aegon just more skilful nowadays? You did not get the chance to think any further, his tongue stiffening to attack your clitoris with a newfound pressure, slowly licking it, as if to prohibit your release.

Your teeth bite at the skin of your bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut as a desperate moan escape once your teeth relent. Tears begin forming, the pleasure hurling to you at an intensity you swear was ungodly.

“Oh, fuck!” Your voice comes out ragged, immediately following it a slow whine, with that whine, the stress of the last month left with it. The peak sent electricity up your spine, washing over you extraordinarily, your head feeling fuzzy and euphoric as your husbands’ tongue continues its assault on your clit, until he knows you are well and truly finished.

“Did your husband not teach you its unladylike to swear?” A voice came, and your heartbeat impossibly fast as your body pulled away, sitting up against your headboard, away from the warm body.

“Aemond?” A hum elicited from his mouth, the same mouth that had just engorged your pussy as if it was his last meal. “Aegon told me that he wasn’t going to bother pleasing you anymore,” Aemond spoke sternly, now moving up so you could see his face, the barely still lit candle illuminating the detailing on his eyepatch, and the scar that peaked from above it.

“So, I didn’t think he would mind if I did the job for him,” he added, and you could not deny how your pussy pulsed once more, a new wetness gathering in between your thighs. “A-Aemond.” You began, but he cut you off once more. “And by the sounds of it, I did the job better than he did.”

“You don’t know that.” You sputtered, and he gave you an incredulous look.

“Oh, ñuha doru-borto riña. ao gīmigon bona nyke kostilus ao sȳrkta than ziry mirre gōntan.” Aemonds rough voice that was somehow so smooth at the same time cut through the air like ice. Yet it was not in your mother tongue, you understood it all the same. ‘Stupid girl... you know that I please you better than he ever did.’

Your mouth dried out. “Aemond.” Your voice a warning, to both him and to yourself, why did him speaking Valyrian have to make your cunt flutter so?

“Tepagon isse, byka mēre.” Give in, little one. Aemond leant over your body, which was pressed against the headboard, his eyes dart down to your lips, which a red, on the border of bleeding from earlier. His tongue darts out to wet his own lips, and the sight makes your body weaken, alongside your resolve. “Tepagon isse,” give in.

Your wide, conflicted eyes bore into his one remaining lilac eye, which seemed to know your thoughts, your very being. You let yourself be distracted by his face- even for just a second. Yet that lead to your lips being pressed harshly against his, hand wrapping into the silver gold hair that you admired so much even before tonight. His hand moved and groped at your tits, while your free one moved to his trousers, unlacing them with little to no struggle.

Aemond sat up on his knees, letting you work on the laces, meanwhile he stripped himself of the leather cloak on his shoulders and the shirt gone with it.

“Please, take me before I change my mind.” You mutter, ridding him of the trousers as he pulled them from his legs. “Ask politely, in Valyrian.” His voice was nothing short of a demand, and you decided to swallow your pride, just this once.

“Gūrogon nyke, kostilus.” Take me, please. Your stumbly voice came out, unsure of your pronunciation still, but its good enough for him. His long and slender finger made its way to trace your slit, pushing its way into your pussy, ensuring its wet enough for him.

Once he decided it was, he began stroking his cock leisurely. It was long, unlike Aegon’s. Aemonds tip was a pink that contrasted the pale skin of his shaft, which looked strained, veins visible. Your mouth watered at the sight, your hand replacing his as you jerked him, leading him towards your entrance as you did so, pushing the tip of him in.

You slowly slid so he got further inside, your head falling back on the pillow, the pleasure laced pain was almost too much for you already. Aemonds hair fell by the sides of his face, as he waits for the nod you give him, and he begins thrusting. His one visible eye is hooded with pleasure as he snaps his hips tentatively. With each movement, he hit the spot inside of you that made your moans become slowly more shameless, the sight of him in pleasure gave you an immeasurable amount back.

“Qogralbar nyke alike iā live.” Fuck me alike a whore. The words are all the confirmation Aemond needs to lose control, his thrusts growing quicker and more forceful, his large hand moving to grab your throat, kissing you as he pounded you. Your moans emptied into his mouth, one of your hands going downwards to circle your clit, determined to reach your release.

He pulls back, putting both his hands on the headboard, the abrupt movements of his hips getting faster, his cheeks flushed and mouth ajar he groans softly. Your moans become more wanton as you get closer to your peak, and he is approaching his too.

“Māzigon lēda nyke.” Come with me. He didn’t have to say it twice as you tumbled over into your release, your nails scraping up his back with a long, drawn-out moan followed by whimpered swears. He came with you, his weight coming down on you but not fully as his thrusts slowed, his warm spend nestling itself within your womb.

As the minutes after your orgasm continued, you wandered what to do next, the only thoughts plaguing your mind were your good brother, and how he was infinitely a better lay than your husband.

[purpleph4se]

shades of cool

sigma | siebren de kuiper x reader

warnings | smut, fem/afab! reader, soft dom! sigma, oral (fem), creampie, praise kink, very very self indulgent sorry

a/n | i fucking hate tumblr why did i struggle so much to make this fucking post. this is a cry for help. tumblr fix your fucking app. but um yeah this. i go from nothing for months to smut of an old man i know. i’ve been fixated on ow for months and um i really really like sigma oops. so my brilliant idea was to sexualize him like it’s my full time job. to anyone reads this (im expecting not that many ppl) i hope u enjoy it <3 crossposted on my ao3

translations | mooi - beautiful, heerlijk - gorgeous, sterrenlicht - starlight, schatje - sweetheart , mijn liefje - my love, je bent te goed voor mij, mijn lieve meid - you’re too good for me sweet girl

—

“can i kiss you?”

you asked, and he tilted his head as if he believed that he had misheard you. no, you’re leaning in now, and oh, your skin is so soft against his own, gentle and yet somehow firm. you…actually wanted him. “siebren?” you murmured against his slightly parted mouth, snapping him out of his daze.

 

“yes,” he responded breathlessly.

 

you slowly touched your lips to his, gingerly and invitingly, daring him to deepen the kiss himself. and when he did, you couldn’t help but sigh with relief.

he’s going slow, but with such careful precision that the movement of his lips has you under some kind of spell. the warmth and wetness of his tongue flicks delicately across your lip. you didn’t expect him to be so…romantic. had he been waiting for this moment?

his hand comes to the side of your neck, “you are so, so beautiful…” again, he’s kissing you, speaking heated affirmations into your lips, “...so perfect…” those same, unbearably tender kisses begin to travel, moving to your cheek, peppering over towards your neck just below your ear.

his hand falls lower, allowing the roughness of his palm to slide down your arm, then to your waist, stopping to press his thumb into the smooth skin at the hem of your dress. the squeeze of it causes the most abrupt squeak to peep out of you, and in response, siebren chuckles into your neck. he kisses you there again and again, his body pressing you harder into the counter behind you as he moves in as close as he can possibly be.

he kisses you while his warm, heavy hands continue to wander. they seem to travel aimlessly, crisscrossing your back and inching higher, climbing your sides until his blunt nails ghost over your ribcage, dragging along your dress.

goosebumps start to peak there, following his fingertips when they sink into your stomach, cupping just below your tits.  you breathe his name cautiously, as if saying it too loud might wake you from this daydream. two calloused thumbs swipe along the curve of your breasts, just beneath the swell of them, and meet at your sternum, sinking into the flesh of it when he closes his mouth on yours again. 

you melt like putty in siebren’s weathered hands, easing further into his touch and allowing him to turn you around with the soft utterance of your name. his mouth draws nearer to yours, strung together with sweet saliva that clings to your tongues. 

suddenly, he’s letting go, bringing that same hand back to your face. siebren pulls you into another, deep kiss. with every timid movement of your own, his lips press into yours harder. you can hear the heaviness of his breaths as, in between kisses, he’s mumbling inaudible words “mooi” and “heerlijk” and “sterrenlicht" none of it registering.

he mumbles something against your lips with a smile as his hands drift away from your face, skirting over the thin fabric of your sundress and squeezing just beneath the curve of your ass, only to scoop you up and lift you onto the countertop with a grunt, leaving your mouth to its own devices.

your thighs, warm and trembling, splaying across the cool granite surface and instinctively parting to accommodate his size as he guides your legs into place. his fingertips hook into the soft spot behind your knees, bringing them to settle on either side of his waist as you wrap your legs around him. 

arching further into him while your vision begins to blur, you whimper, feeling lightheaded as your body chases his form, squirming and wedged between the weight of his hips and the countertop. 

you allow your head to tip back, baring your throat to him as you trail your fingers up the column of his neck. your nails card through the surprisingly soft hair that falls around the nape of his neck, lightly scratching his scalp, following him as he dips to mouth at your collarbone.

somewhere in the suffocating space between you, siebren’s hands creep beneath your dress, bunching the material at the top of your hips while deft fingers creep into the space between your thighs.

his breath kisses the crook of your neck, warm and sticky, while a heavy, husky question rolls off of his tongue, tumbling onto the salty skin below his mouth.

“do you want me to stop?”

an unintelligible whimper claws its way out of your throat, embarrassingly pitiful. 

you can’t let him go.

rough fingertips trace feather-light circles onto smooth flesh, pinching at the soft fat that sits at the tops of your thighs with a mellow hum and a quiet, disapproving tsk-tsk.

“say it for me.”

warm breath ghosts over your skin, tickling your neck while siebren’s lips graze the tender skin that lies just beneath your earlobe. his teeth scrape that sensitive spot deliberately as his hands climb higher, stretching until his thumbs meet, hovering mere centimeters away from the heat between your legs.

“i need to hear you, schatje...”

you stammer indistinctly, pawing at the back of his neck while your eyes train towards the ceiling. you felt dizzy.

siebren’s teeth scrape your skin, they sink into the curve of your throat. broad, practiced thumbs cross one another and press into your panties, stroking down the cloaked hood of your clit, rolling over the bud through thin, sticky cotton. your body jumps, chasing that feeling, and goosebumps rise on your skin as he begins to pull away.

“wait! i-i want it,” you plead, forcing yourself into his hands with a strained whine. “please, d-don’t stop!”

his lips curl against your neck, in a sly, subtle grin over the impression he has made, slick with his spit and marred by the circle of shallow, tooth-shaped indentations in your skin.

“you’re so precious when you beg.”

lodged between your thighs while he gently urges you to lift your sundress higher, bunching it up around your hips “we certainly don’t want to ruin such a pretty thing, do we?”

siebren crouches in front of the counter, thumbing at your swollen clit intently, inching his way down your body and littering insistent kisses there in his wake. he makes his way towards the floor, stooping until he is eye-level with your sheer, soaked panties, cupped so nicely in his large hands.

he’s barely touched you and you’re already seeing stars, with your cheeks flaming, you clutch at the cold, stony countertop, kneading your lower lip between your teeth while your nails clatter towards the edge, grasping for some sort of stability as your body chases him.

broad, heavy shoulders rise and fall, pitching with each reverent breath stolen between your legs, and siebren takes two fingers to your puffy mound, watching the flimsy cotton barrier cave under each swipe of his fingertips, smearing warmth along the damp material that clings to your folds. 

his tongue flickers past his teeth, flitting over his parted lips as he stares, entranced by the responsive throb of your cunt when he swipes at the wetness, visible through your sheer panties.

“fascinating.”

heat emanates from his body, pouring off of his face and his palms, and he noses closer, mere inches away from the wet, sticky cotton. 

“let’s take these off,” he huffs against damp, warm skin, breathing in the scent of your arousal shamelessly. “they’d just get in the way.” he let out a small chuckle. dork.

you brace yourself against the cabinet behind your back gently, lifting yourself while his fingers curl into the flimsy panties. siebren peels them off, agonizingly slow, dragging the skimpy, sodden article down your thighs and off of your feet, pausing to press gentle kisses along your damp skin. he takes his time, memorizing the shape of your body and savoring your scent before the warmth of his breath ghosts your pussy again.

siebren takes his time to savor the experience, trailing a lone fingertip through the slick mess, collecting it on the pads of his fingers and pulling away. one finger swipes up against you, nudging it aside and marveling at the easy gush of your cunt when he runs a cruel thumb along your clit.

“so sensitive.”

he hushes the whine that reverberates in your lungs. god he could smell your arousal. that was nearly enough to make him cum all over himself like he was an inexperienced young man again. he shifted–painfully hard between his legs.

“tell me...tell me how it feels.”

the thought of him watching your face, watching you unravel so easily under is a little more than humiliating. your grip on the counter speaks for you, straining knuckles beginning to ache while you hold onto the edge. your head feels full of cotton, you can’t even form a sentence.

all you can do is return his unwavering gaze with your mouth ajar, lip quivering, watching helplessly as he sinks a rough finger into your cunt, drenching it to the hilt in seconds. your face burns at the sight, having watched your pussy swallow a thick digit so quickly.

siebren pushes you further, swiping away at your clit, edging a second finger in beside the first. you let out a pathetic whimper. and cave, sighing, “s’ good—feels so good mmh-!” and then, his hands pull away and land on your thighs, kneading soft flesh as he drags you towards the edge of the counter, closer and closer, until his face is sandwiched between your legs.

in a moment of sheer weakness, you make the mistake of looking down, sealing your own fate in a single glance. 

you meet his gorgeous periwinkle eyes while he pushes your thighs apart before hoisting them over his head, forcing you to accommodate broad shoulders as they settle into the soft curve of your calves.

as siebren bows his head, he plants a tender kiss on top of the soft mound between his hands, and breathes your name like a prayer.

his breath comes out in measured puffs, sucked in and fleshed out in utter restraint and a hot, heavy tongue trails up your cunt, pressing flat against your clit and dragging higher until its wet, rounded tip nudges the sweet little bundle of nerves between your legs.

your hands tangling into his silver hair. your nails track over his scalp, pulling him in and encouraging him while you writhe, hips hoisting off of the counter to chase his mouth as he sucks at your cunt. his name is the only word on your lips.

you peek down again, watching siebrens elegant nose bump against your clit, the sight was overwhelming. siebren makes a deep rumble of a noise. with his free hand he presses two digits up to your slick, awaiting entrance. You feel the roll of soft vibrations coursing through your core as he moans again.

 

siebren sucks at your pussy, lapping at the juices dripping down his chin, slick with his own drool as the tip of his tongue delves into soft, spongy flesh. 

he’s hooked on the taste of your skin, drunk on it, eyes glazed over and lashes feathering his view as he peers up at you between your thighs. the noises he makes are downright obscene, contributing to the flare of heat in your cheeks. his fingers scissor and curl along your walls, dragging against the spot that leaves your cunt drooling into his hand. 

“siebren,” you gasp, “i w-want—want you inside me…”

he hums inquisitively. you’re slurring a little, the words coming out jumbled, “please—fuck me-“

his tongue slips between his fingers, spreading the sticky walls of your cunt open, breathing, “such language…” it takes a single whine, a pathetic “please” to hoist him off his knees, stumbling up to cup your jaw in one hand, his mouth pressed to your throat, teeth grazing your ear while his other hand plays with your clit, thumbing it while steady fingers plunge deeper into your cunt.

“you want me to fuck your sweet little cunt, don’t you?”

his utterly filthy words caused a whimper bubble up from your throat. your hands begin to tremble once more, clutching to his shirt’s collar, eagerly nodding into the crook of his neck.

“i’ll take care of you, mijn liefje.”

the fingers filling you up slip out, soaked and slick. the cool and empty feeling aches, but the sound of a zipper and the rustling of fabric makes your head rush, dizzy with anticipation. you don’t dare to look, holding your breath as the swollen, silky head grazes your entrance. he guides it over your clit, rutting into the mess the two of you made gently, collecting spit and slick and precum on the tip of his cock.

it feels big, warm and round and thicker than his fingers - you don’t know whether to be thrilled or terrified, but you drag him in all the same, urging him on by winding your legs around his waist and pulling his hips closer. “you’re sure,” he breathes, “sure you want this?”

one nod, and he’s gone, angling the head of his cock against your drooling cunt, nudging at puffy lips and spreading them apart.

your fingers curl at his collar, knuckles locking while you stifle a squeal, feeling him sink into you. “i’m so sorry, i know, i know—“ his voice sounds strained, “you’re just so—tight... ”

siebren lets you set the pace, easing up and telling you to take it slow. you know he’s watching his cock disappear in to your cunt. you let go of his collar, seizing his face and hauling his mouth towards yours. you kiss him, deeply and desperately for a sweet distraction, lips colliding and stealing you away from the dull pain swelling in the pit of your stomach as his cock forces its way into your gummy, giving walls. 

siebren slides in painstakingly slow, catching your lower lip between his teeth and tugging it gently as his cockhead breaches another inch of your cunt, wracking your body with a feeble sob.

“that’s it…”

a soft groan rolls off of his tongue, dripping onto yours as he bottoms out, extending his finger to flick at your clit, swollen and soaked with saliva. 

“good girl,” he breathes, mouth leaving yours, entwined by the threads of drool between your lips. “you take me so well, liefje.”

his hands slip down your body, fingers grazing sensitive skin and curling around your thighs, lifting them higher on his waist and cooing out a soft reminder, “breathe.”

a beat passes, then two; he whispers your name, and his hands climb towards your waist, fingertips dancing over your ribs idly as he peers down at the place where the two of you meet, watching your cunt swallow the hilt of his cock and push back on it.

you focus on the rise and fall of your chest for a moment, your eyes slip shut, allowing your body to adjust to this strange new fullness. siebren dips his head into the crook of your neck, cooing praises and kissing them into your skin, thumbing circles into your skin.

your voice trembles, and your fists curl as you mewl, “hah—p-please, move…” a subtle smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, grazing your clavicle, and he nods, rocking his hips shallowly. his strokes are slow and measured, meticulously matching your breaths, setting a rhythm.  then, he breaks it. your voice shatters his name as he bottoms out in a single, brutal thrust that makes you see stars. then, quickly, another. and another. soon, he falls into a gradual flow.

each rock of his hips, every pump of his cock that meets with your core sends pathetic noises flowing from your lips. even he, despite his desperate attempts to keep his composure, can’t help the broken, almost whiny, sounds that escape from his throat.

his head darts down, capturing you a sloppy kiss. and you return every single one, lapping at his tongue with your own, drinking him in. you’re overwhelmed, crying tears of pleasure from the hard, now quickening thrusts of his length. your walls clench around him tighter, engulfing him even deeper. he’s whimpering, a shy, needy little noise. his fingers reach to toy at your clit, playing generously with the bud. you cry out, mouth falling open in an unintelligible sob. 

 

your nails dig into his neck, no doubt leaving noticeable marks. “so good, je bent te goed voor mij, mijn lieve meid” you're too lost in the to even try to understand. your squeals had now morphed fully into wanton moans and little pathetic cries, hitching and catching in rhythm to his pace. likewise siebrens grunts and groans are ripped from his chest, bubbling up only to escape when he glanced down at his cock pumping hard into your opening.

your toes curl, and you feel like you’re choking on air, smothered by his hands. you drown in him, in his cologne, his sweat, and his thunderous voice.

“such a-ah—sweet girl,” he murmurs, sinking into your tight little hole and drinking in your pathetic, disheveled state with a careful glance. “such a good girl for me…” your cunt drools, stretching and squeezing, groping his cock greedily and gushing when he splits you open again and again.

“s-siebren ! mmn-m-! please m-m’gonna cum,” your orgasm coils deep in your tummy, tight and white-hot, you sob into his neck, eyes glazing over as siebren’s hips collide with yours. you wail his name as he slams into the spot inside of you that sends you spiraling into nothingness and everything at once. 

“cum for me, sweet girl—” and you do, clenching around his cock and squeezing, back arching and hips rolling clumsily as you shove him impossibly deeper, trapping him with your calves and pulling him close.

drunk on his cock, in the haze of your orgasm, you manage to beg, “siebren-! pl-please cum inside me!”

siebren groans in response. his thrusts were beginning to stagger now, your wet warmth was too much, and he soon picked up the pace to a bruising speed. your moans became breathless, his thrusts almost knocking the very air out of your lungs from sheer need. tears stream down your cheeks with every overwhelming sensation, spikes of pleasure leaving you intoxicated.

giving a few hash, stuttering pumps to your aching core, siebren came with a broken moan into your exposed neck. bottoming out as his pulsating length spasmed and throbbed. bucking his hips desperately to coax out every drop of his seed—the amount causing sticky strings of cum to leak out of your still throbbing pussy. he clings to you, huffing, and presses an appreciative, wet kiss to the crook of your neck.

he’s thanking you. your limp, tuckered-out arms wind around his neck lazily, pulling his face into your chest and tangling your fingers into silky salt-and-pepper hair, lightly scratching at his scalp. you thank him quietly in return.

[givemequeen]

door-slamming: john x reader

request: hi!! i was thinking maybe u could do a john smut where hes been holding in alot of frustration and he takes it out on the reader? not like- in an abusive way lol like sexually?  umm can I please uh request a John and reader smut? Just filth where the reader is really submissive and they like fuck over a desk or she’s on the kitchen counter and it’s rough but v hot?? a/n: i loved this request!! thank you :)) honestly each time i write i have to hold back and not make it too hard oops. pairing: john x reader summary: the tensions between The Beatles has become too much for John. warning: hard smut (hopefully u think its hard), ass smacking, dirty talk. year: late 60s. word count: 992 (similar to the last one oops)

John was doing a lot of door-slamming recently. He would come home from the studio fuming and would slam the door. You didn’t like it but you understood, things weren’t the best with the band. He would then either lock himself in the room until dinner time or seek you out - either for comfort or to rant.

Tonight was no different. He was later than usual but the slamming was the same. You swore it shook the whole house. You peeked into the entrance, determined to have a conversation with him and avoid a night which would result in him locking himself in the room and you alone.

“Johnny.” you said as he tore off his shoes.

“What?” he snapped.

“No need to take that tone with me.” you leaned against the wall and crossed your arms across your chest.

“Go to the room. I’ll be in two minutes, you better be ready to fuck.” he growled without even looking at you.

You pushed off the wall and stared at him, unsure as to what to do. You knew furious John fucked better than anyone but a conversation might be the healthier option...

Fuck healthy, you wanted to get fucked.

Wordlessly, you rushed up the stairs and quickly went to the bathroom to get ready. You then undressed, leaving your clothes in a pile by the door and laid on the bed, trying to get comfortable but somehow remain sexy.

Exactly two minutes later the door to your bedroom flew open and John barged in. He had undone his button up shirt and was throwing it on the floor. He undid his belt and looped it around his hand. The button of his jeans was undone which gave you a peak of what his happy trail led to.

“Turn around.” he said, his eyes were burning with desire.

You obeyed and laid on your stomach, your ass in the air. He stepped towards you, his hand feeling the smooth of your ass, and his belt smacked against you - hard. You whimpered and clenched your thighs, already feeling that primal urge.

“I’m going to fuck you so hard you’re not going to be able to walk. You will have to stay in bed all day like the useless slut you are... I’ll fuck you all day too until you are so sore you will beg me to stop...” he smacked you again. “Until you can no longer take my cock.” you moaned, eager to feel him in you.

You heard as he spat in his hand and let out a sigh as he slipped a finger into you. The soft sigh quickly turned a gasp as he shoved two more fingers into you, not bothering to escalate slowly and directly jumping to three fingers. You closed your thighs and he smacked you with the belt. This time it was much harder, the noise filled the room.

“Fuck!” you groaned.

“Shut the fuck up, whore. Who let you talk? Did I fucking give you permission?” you remained silent but he smacked you again. “Did I fucking give you permission?!” you shook your head. His voice was loud and commanding.

“That’s what I thought.” he had lowered himself, you felt his breath fan out against your ass, the air making your ass sting. You were sure that tomorrow you would find belt-shaped marks.

“I’ve been around fucking morons all day, thinking about fucking you. It was unbearable. I don’t know what was worse, Paul’s whinny voice or my boner.” you bit your lip, his fingers were curling inside you.

His thumb went to your clit and he began to pleasure you there too. You spread your legs, eager to feel him everywhere, and grabbed the sheets. 

“I want to hear you moan my name.” he said as he planted a kiss on your ass. “Now.” 

You obeyed and opened your mouth. Your moans poured out like water shooting out of a dam. You moaned his name and yelled as his belt came down against your ass again. His fingers slipped out of you and you begged him to put them back where they belonged but John ignored you. You heard the ruffle of clothes as he threw his pants and underwear across the room and yelled again as he slammed into you without warning.

His thrusts and hard from the get go, giving you no time to adjust. He grabbed your hair and yanked it back, pulling you against him. He attacked your neck, biting and sucking, and grabbed your breasts, squeezing and pinching your nipples.

You turned your head to kiss him but he pushed you down. He slammed into you, making you yell out in a mix of pain and pleasure, and smacked your ass with his hand. He pressed your head further into the mattress as his cock reached deeper into you. Tears were beginning to roll down your cheeks. 

In one quick movement he slid out of you and spun you around. Your eyes fell on his face and you nearly came right there. His hair was messy and his were sharp. He tugged you down and slammed back into you. His hand slid up your stomach and chest and rested around your throat. 

Your legs were spread wide open and you had a direct view of his cock sliding in and out of you. You moaned and John tightened his grip around your throat. He was close, you could tell by his movements.

His fingers went between you legs and he began rapidly playing with your clit. You moaned his name making him cum. He pressed into you, as deep as he could go, and dragged you into an orgasm with him. He rode you out, pushing his cum further into you, before collapsing on top of you in a sweaty mess, his cock still deep inside you.

Your thighs ached but you ached for more of him.

[dragontamerno3]

DS9 S2 E22 - The Wire

HOW DOES ANYONE THINK THESE TWO ARE IN A STRAIGHT??!!!???!!!

Ahem.

Seriously. How?

The episode starts off with the two going to their weekly lunch having the gayest banter about books and food and there is genuine concern for Garak when he starts showing signs of illness. Yes, Bashir is the station Doctor but it's also very much a "my friend is in pain, whats wrong" look when it happens.

This is cemented when Jadzia brings her plant to him to diagnose. Their conversation was primarily about the plant he was examining but her "its not like you're friends" comment and them him agreeing angrily while he stabbed said plant? There was no mistaking that he does (at least on some level) think of them as friends. Honestly, that whole conversation kinda felt like a ton of "I'm not jealous" conversations where I've seen two friends discussing a third party who was hanging out with a new person. Or more specifically a crush starts to spend more time with someone new. I have had similar moments myself as a baby queer.

I applaud Quark for his ease of lying. He was so smooth with a line or two to give to Bashir to get him to walk away. Wonderfully done.

The other smooth part with Quark was when Bashir is trying to usher Garak out of the bar and convince him to go to the infirmary and how they just swapped the bottle without a word.

On that same note, when Quark called Bashir to the bar to get Garak and Garak was like "Yes, quiet is better, lets go to my quarters", I wondered how often he actually brought people back to his room. He is so secretive that it seemed to me that he'd rarely (or never) let anyone come by so it seems significant that he offered that.

Of course Odo has tapped Quarks bar to monitor his transmissions, so much so that he even knows when Quark makes his more "sensitive" calls.

From the moment they said Garak was having head pain I figured there was some kind of implant in his head that was either malfunctioning, it was finally deteriorating or something similar. That paired with the fact that Garak was most definitely a spy, whether he still is or isn't is questionable sure, but at one point he was somehow tied to the intelligence network. So it wasn't a surprise to find out that was what causing him pain. It was fun to watch Quark give the Cardassian dude a code for a highly classified piece of tech though that may or may not cause both of them some hiccups later. Karma.

What I WAS surprised by was that is was more of a drug like situation. The whole break down in his room about how he had spent years being tortured and so 2 years ago he decided to say fuck it and to just live in a drugged state permanently was well done. I felt for both men in that moment. I can't even imagine what Garak was going through but I can tell he was suffering even when he had been drugged. And then Bashir hearing that the man he had come to think of as a friend (even if it was reluctantly) claim he wanted nothing to do with the dear Doctor. But then the trust in Garaks face as he relented? There was no heterosexual reason for this.

I need more of Bashir being a guard dog for all those under his care cause clearly that's a pattern I enjoy. It was a great character moment when he protected Jadzia against the trill transfer earlier in the season and it was a great moment here where he told Odo to fuck off.

The whole withdrawals scene was a rough one to get through in that way that I could see where it was going and I could tell both sides of that were very uncomfortable but the "the problem is I DID enjoy it" gave me life.

Every single story Garak told in this episode was both contradictory and very much believable, to me. I believe he blew up a Cardassian ship that held civilians and his "friend" on broad because it sounds like to me that this was the moment that part of him died, the part where he was dedicated to the cause. I also believe he let the Bajorian "prisoners" go and his "friend" was angry/appalled because this might have been one of the first steps to him questioning his involvement in things and how he hated himself for having these thoughts. I also believe he tried to hack the Cardassian systems to self sabotage himself subconsciously while thinking he was fixing things only to discover he purposely screwed himself over.

"I need to know SOMEONE forgives me." 😭💔

The thing that I loved most about this episode though was how Bashir was willing to risk his own safety to go to Cardassia on his own for Garak, who is in exile, to confront a highly respected man of the deepest, darkest intelligence network. That took guts and he did it without even blinking. Hell, he did it without even flinching when it was clear Tain was giving him vague threats.

I am disappointed about how quickly this one wrapped up, it seemed like we were worried about Garak dying and he was just suddenly okay again and having lunch, but that's a whatever moment. We don't honestly know how much time had passed and we knew he was going to get the info he needed to remove the device. It just seemed... fast?

Overall very much one of my favorites so far.

9/10 - will watch a million times

[no1frogfan]

Kaiju give me your number

Iwaizumi x gn reader

Word count: ~700

Tags & warnings: None

Notes: I was struck by a deeply silly idea tonight (don’t worry, it gets sillier!), so this is my first entry for the spooky sports collab hosted by the one and only @koushuwu! Check out the collab masterlist here! (Please forgive me, Mica! My original entry will be arriving some time in the future!)

The only warning you get is a muffled I’ll get it! before the door swings open. Standing inside is a shadowy figure, its vague spiky shape barely illuminated by the streetlights behind you, looking particularly ominous in contrast to the decidedly un-spooky R&B now thumping out into the quiet night.

You squint into the darkness. “Um…hello? I’ve got a delivery for-”

Suddenly, the shadow lunges forward.

You let out a scream, almost losing your balance as you lurch back a few steps. A hand (too leathery to be human) reaches out and…

…flicks on the porch light, almost blinding you.

“Hey! Turn it down I can't hear!”

You’re still blinking away the stars in your eyes when you see it — him. Them. Two of the firmest, cushiest pecs you have ever seen casting an actual shadow over a set of gorgeous abs, the skin smooth and soft, especially against the rough black scales covering his legs and arms.

“Sorry, I couldn’t hear you over the music. What did you say?”

Despite the absolutely stunning man in front of you, your brain somehow manages to make sense of what he’s saying.

“Um…I have a delivery for-” you glance down at the receipt “-for Hajime?”

“Wait, aren’t you…?”

He does a double take. Holy shit, it's actually you. You’re wearing the same helmet (black and covered in stickers) and — he checks behind you — that's the same bike! A sleek green one with bright yellow panniers.

“I’m looking for Hajime. Am I at the right place?”

You check the receipt again, leaning back to squint at the house number above the door. It’s partly to actually check if you’re at the right address, but mostly to calm down by looking at something other than a stranger dressed as the world’s most attractive lizard man. You didn’t even know you were into lizard men.

“That’s me. I’m Hajime.”

He reaches up and you track the flex of his biceps as he lifts the lizard mask off his head. Oh fuck. His face is handsome too, and a little bit familiar — maybe from around campus.

You must have been standing slack-jawed for too long because he glances down at his bare chest and blushes. “Sorry, I’m- my friends thought sexy Godzilla would be funny...”

Ah, that would explain the dorsal spines.

(It’s actually a little annoying how apologetic he seems, as if looking like that was something to be embarrassed about.)

Almost on cue, two more huge men crowd into the doorway. You guess these must be the friends he’s referring to because they’re dressed as what can only be described as sexy pieces of bread, one slathered with peanut butter and the other slathered with jelly.

“Sweet, food’s here!” Yells the sexy jelly man, reaching out to grab the bags from your hands.

The sexy peanut butter man pauses and looks suspiciously between both your embarrassed faces, scrutinizing you closely before something seems to dawn on him.

“Wait a minute…isn’t this that biker you crashed into?” He whirls on you. “Are you that biker?”

“Mattsun…” Iwaizumi warns.

He — Mattsun — gestures at Hajime. “Do you remember him? Last month? He wasn’t looking and walked right in front of you?”

Recognition flashes across your face and a cheeky grin grows on Mattsun’s. “I knew it.” He leans in conspiratorially. “You know, he won’t shut up about you, wants to take you home to really apologize if you know what I mean.”

Your eyes dart to Hajime. He wants to what? With you?

“Enough!”

Iwaizumi hurriedly shoves the other man back and stuffs the signed receipt into your hands.

“Sorry about him.”

A few excruciating seconds pass while you both stand awkwardly in the doorway. Right. Guess not. His friend was probably just messing with you…

“Well, thanks.”

You sneak one last furtive glance at that sexy Godzilla chest before turning to leave.

“Wait! Do you want to…come in for a drink? Or something?”

“Oh! I can’t…I’m working.”

You gesture vaguely to your left, toward the restaurant.

“Right, obviously, right, sorry. That was stupid.”

Another beat of silence, though this time it's probably more excruciating for him than for you.

"God you're hopeless." Mattsun’s head pops up over Hajime's shoulder. “What he means is can he get your number?”

[tropes-and-tales]

Shadow and Light: Chapter Two

The Mandalorian/Din Djarin x F!Reader

WC:  3853

Other Pieces:  This is part of a larger miniseries that can be found here.

CW:  Slow-burn; plot-building; canon violence; minor injuries.

It was Mando’s own fault that he got hurt within seconds of landing the Crest on Arvala-7.

You had woken up in the co-pilot’s seat, nestled under your own cloak and a little sore from sleeping in an awkward angle.  Mando was in his pilot’s seat, and he gave a quarter turn and the barest of nods as you woke up by degrees.  You swiped a surreptitious hand over your mouth in case you’d been drooling.  Hoped you hadn’t been snoring too loudly or worse, talking in your sleep.

“Where are we?” you asked, and your voice was rough with sleep.

“Nearly there.”

You watched him a moment as he adjusted course.  “I’m going to go clean up a little,” you finally said, and Mando gave you that same curt nod. 

You made your way out of the cockpit (smiling at the squeal of the door on its track) and into the ship.  You had scouted it out quickly when you had crept on board back on Navarro, so you knew the basic layout.  The tiny berth where he likely slept, if Mandalorians slept at all.  The weapons locker, where your weapons were likely stashed.

You went into the refresher and slid the door shut behind you.  It was a cramped space, but there was a tiny mirror over the sink, and you winced at your own reflection.  There was a deep groove in your cheek from where your face had rested on the co-pilot’s seat as you slept.  Your hair was a mess. 

You did your business, then washed your hands, then undid your braids.  Finger-combed your hair and redid the braids, and hoped that you looked presentable.  Like a helpful partner and not a saboteur. 

If the Mandalorians had their creed, you had your own too.  You weren’t exactly sure what culture you came from, and you’d been raised by non-humans, so you had cobbled together your own sort of dogma.  You had a connection to Ashla, which some cultures called the Force, and your foster-mother had encouraged that gift.  It informed most of your rules, which weren’t really rules as much as a loose framework that you lived by.  Try to do no harm.  Try to tilt the balance of the galaxy a bit towards the good.

The only real rule you really followed was to always be mindful of the signs sent to you.  It would be easy to pretend you didn’t see – you could just settle down on some backwater planet, get a job as a mechanic, get a little house with a garden.  But your foster-mother had been certain that the galaxy had plans for you, and you tried to honor her.  Navarro had pulled you in like a magnet, and you soon found out why – that secret, guarded science facility.  You could sense the malevolence circling it like a storm.  It was not unlike the feeling you got all the time on Lasan as you grew up in the shadow of the dying Empire.

So when it came to Mando and this job?  You wouldn’t kill him, and you wouldn’t harm him…but if he tried to stop you from destroying the asset you both came to retrieve, you would have to incapacitate him somehow.  One way or another, that asset was not going to fall into the hands of that malignant client.

By the time you got back to the cockpit, the Razor Crest was approaching the dessert planet.  You sat down and buckled in, just in case the landing was bumpy.

 “How do you know where we’re going?” you asked.  “Which part of the planet, I mean?”  Despite your ulterior motives, you were curious about the technicalities of bounty hunting.

There was a beat of silence.  “I usually land outside of a settlement,” he finally offered.  “Close enough to walk, far enough to not draw too much attention.  Get intel, then go from there.”

You watched him as he piloted the ship over some mountains until he found a valley.  He circled around, his hands moving over the controls in a series of smooth motions.  The Crest settled onto the planet with a slight jostle that, if you weren’t mistaken, was due to one of the landing skis engaging a second later than the others.

Mando stood up and hesitated a split second before striding past you, and you followed him down the ladder into the cargo hold.  You stood back and watched him unlock his weapons cache.  He armed himself and then locked it again.

“Can I get my rifle?” you asked.  You still had the vibro-knife he hadn’t found when he searched you the night before, but that was barely a weapon.

Mando only shook his head and informed you that he didn’t trust you yet.  Fair enough.

So you watched him stride down the gangway, scan the horizon with his tracking fob…and you watched him get mauled by the leathery grey beast that bore down on him from out of nowhere.

You frantically looked around the Crest and found a loose wrench by the carbonite chamber, and you sprinted out to help.  You got there in time to find Mando on his back, his arm trapped in the mouth of the dead beast.  Another dead one lay a few feet away.  You looked closer…no, not dead.  You could see the tranquilizer darts sticking out of their hides, and a distance away, a rider mounted on a third beast, his dart gun still in hand.

You walked over to where the Mandalorian lay on his back, his breath a little ragged through his helmet from his skirmish.  You brandished the wrench at him.

“I can’t help with just this,” you told him, and he only answered with a huff.

“C’mon,” you said.  You extended a hand that he looked at for a beat, then took it with another huff.  You helped haul him up and resisted the urge to knock some of the dust off of his armor.  “There’s a local who wants to make our acquaintance, I think.”

*****

Mando wasn’t used to working with a partner, so after he rested and returned to the cockpit to begin the approach to the planet, he was startled to see you sleeping in the co-pilot’s seat.  You didn’t wake as he carefully stepped past you, and you were curled up like a lothcat under your cloak.

He frowned under his helmet.  He hadn’t forgotten you were there, exactly, but he wasn’t as on-guard as he usually was.  When he worked with Ran and his crew of mercenaries, he was always on guard.  Jumpy, even.  Distrustful and nearly paranoid.  He should have felt the same about you – you’d stowed yourself away on his ship, for Maker’s sake, and you had nearly held him at rifle-point.  But you’d been mild as anything as he disarmed you.  Calm, collected – and not like the practiced calm he could exude when needed.  It seemed to radiate from some deep place in you.

You were calm when he refused to return your weapons to you.  You were calm and bemused as you helped him stand after he was attacked by the squat leathery creatures, the blurrgs.

He relented only a moment later and retrieved your bo-rifle from the weapons locker, and he tried to ignore the smile you were obviously biting back when you took it from him.

The local turned out to be an Ugnaught named Kulil, and you and Mando followed him back to his moisture farm.  Kulil gave his insight into the encampment that was causing strife on the once-peaceful planet.

“Many have passed through,” he told the two of you.  “They seek the same one as you.”

So you hadn’t been lying about that bit of intel you had offered.  The asset was dangerous, guarded by dangerous people.  Mando caught you watching him, and you gave him a nod as if to say, told you so.

The Ugnaught agreed to help guide you both to the encampment in exchange for the blurrgs, and then in the next breath, he informed you that said blurrgs would need to be tamed and ridden to the encampment.  Maybe you couldn’t see under his helmet, but you still looked at Mando and must have sensed his discomfort, because you burst into a gale of laughter.  Then you stood up and followed Kulil to the blurrg enclosure with obvious excitement.

Great.

*****

Your foster-mother always told you to try and do things the easy way, and that lesson had taken a while to sink in.  You’d spent most of your adolescence frustrated and angry as you tried to do everything the hardest way possible.  But you’d eventually learned.

Mando apparently never got that lesson.

You and Kulil stood side by side against the fence and watched the armored man get tossed, trampled, and otherwise mangled by the ornery blurrg.

“Perhaps if you removed your helmet,” Kulil offered helpfully.

“Perhaps he remembered I tried to roast him,” Mando bit back.

“This is a female.  The males are eaten during mating.”

You snorted at that as Mando marched over to you. 

“We don’t have time for this,” he told Kulil.  “Do you have a landspeeder I can hire?”

You didn’t wait to hear the answer.  You pulled off your cloak and hung it over the fence, then ducked under the rail to stand beside Mando in the enclosure.  “Come on,” you told him.  “You’re just approaching her wrong.”

You could hear the sarcasm in his reply, making his voice staticky through the modulator of his helmet.  “Oh, so you can rebuild engines and ride blurrgs?  Any other skills you failed to mention?”

“I have many talents,” you said in mock seriousness as you both approached the blurrg.  She eyed you each suspiciously, but she had an especially wary eye for Mando.  “But you need to be gentle.  Like this.”

You demonstrated by reaching a careful hand out to the creature, letting her sniff your palm at her own pace.  Then you laid your hand on its head, stroking the rough skin between the wide-set eyes.  The blurrg gave a growl, but it was a low rumble of contentment.  You turned and looked at Mando.  His helmet was tilted a bit as he watched you.

“See?  Gentle.  No need to overpower.”

“Gentle rarely works in bounty hunting.”

You grasped the rope around the blurrg’s thick neck and swung up onto her back in a smooth motion.  She snorted and growled…but let you keep your seat.  You looked down and couldn’t, obviously, make out Mando’s expression behind his beskar helmet.  You imagined him rolling his eyes in irritation – but you were wrong.  He was studying you closer while pointedly ignore the growing spark of feeling that made him study you at all.

*****

Once properly mounted, the three of you rode across the harsh landscape towards the encampment.  When Kulil showed you the encampment and then left, you followed Mando carefully, laying low on the ridge beside him and watching him as he surveyed the situation.  Theoretically, he was supposed to be teaching you the trade, so he cleared his throat and offered some insight into what he was seeing.

“Nikto guards,” he told you.  “Not sure how many, but a lot.  They are tough fighters.”  He turned and looked you over.  You were in your dun-colored cloak, and he could see the outline of the rifle on your back.  He certainly didn’t trust you fully, but you hadn’t done anything to disabuse him of the little trust he did have for you now.  And you had helped him tame the blurrg in record time.

“How good a shot are you at a distance?” he asked.  You gazed at him, and while he knew you couldn’t see his eyes, it felt almost like you could see him.  You had looked at him like that on the Crest when he first captured you, and you had looked at him like that again when you had tamed the blurrg.  It made his stomach dip curiously.

“I’m good,” you finally answered.  “I was raised in the mountain ranges of Lasan, and we went on missions to snipe imps all the time.”

“Good.”  He scanned the surroundings and then pointed at a nearby ridge.  “You’re good at sneaking around.  Do you think you can get to that ridge over there and cover me when the firing starts?”

You shifted a little and leaned closer to him as you followed his pointing, and Mando felt that churn to his stomach again when your shoulder brushed against him.  “That one?  Yes, I can get there.  Give me, say, ten minutes?”

“Good,” he repeated.  “Don’t fire until I start, and try to take out their snipers first.  I can handle the close range Niktos.”

You nodded and crawled away, and he was only able to watch you for a moment before he lost you in the shifting landscape of browns and reds.  You were good.

And then an IG-11 unit marched onto the scene, and Mando forgot about you for a moment or two.

*****

The shooting started before you were set up, but when you took a prone position and sighted your rifle, you saw that it was a droid – an IG unit, you guessed – that was drawing most of the fire from the guards.  Then Mando arrived on the scene, and you followed his directions.  One by one, you picked off the Nikto guards and snipers that popped up on the roof and parapets of the fortress.

It was almost too easy.  They were so focused on Mando and the droid, they never even looked up at the ridge where you lay.  Which was good, as far as you were concerned:  the moment Kulil showed you the encampment, you felt a strange feeling creep over you.  It was the same feeling when you channeled Ashla, and it got stronger and stronger as you holstered your rifle and made your way to the door of the compound to join Mando and the IG unit.

That feeling?  It had to be a sign.  You were on the right path, and you had to destroy the asset before it fell into the hands of that scientist.

But when you got to Mando, he was already talking to the droid.  The Mandalorian held up the beeping tracking fob and the IG remarked that there was a life form present.

“Another Nikto?” you asked, and Mando gave you that short, curt shake of his head that he did.

“The bounty,” he replied.

You shook your own head now.  “No, I thought…”  You trailed off, tried to form your thoughts.  “I thought we were tracking an asset.  A weapon.  A thing.”

Now Mando tilted his head, and you swore you heard amusement through his helmet.  “Bounty hunting usually entails the living,” he said.  “Whether we bring them in warm or cold depends on the job.”

You felt the blood rising in your cheeks and shook your head again.  “No, I know that.  I just…this was off the books.  The man who hired you…”  You gazed at Mando, at the slit in his helmet where you figured his eyes were.  “Didn’t he hire you to bring him a weapon?  They kept calling it an ‘asset’ in the cantina.”

He didn’t answer.  The IG unit did it’s jerky, mechanical march inside the compound, and Mando followed.  You followed too, your mind racing.  You had expected a piece of some weapon, some component for the Empire to rebuild, some piece of a new weapon to exterminate entire worlds, entire species…

It was a living creature.  No, a child.  The egg-shaped container opened to reveal a green creature with huge ears and black eyes, and the feeling that had been growing all afternoon hit you so hard that you gasped.  Whatever the creature was, it was linked somehow to Ashla, or the Force.

Not a weapon at all.  A child.

Everything after that realization happened in slow motion:  the droid raising its blaster, Mando replying, you shouting and reaching across Mando’s armored chest to try and knock the blaster out of the IG’s grip.  The IG hitting you, not hard enough to kill or seriously injure, but hard enough to make your ears ring.  You on the ground, stunned by the blow, hearing the blaster shot.  You, looking up in shock when the IG unit fell to the ground beside you, destroyed. 

Mando, holding his own blaster as it smoked in the half-light of the room.

And Mando, looking down at you for a moment before extending his hand to help you up.  And once you were back on your feet, his hand on your shoulder just a beat longer than necessary as he asked if you were okay.

*****

Mandalorians were notoriously distrustful.  Mando definitely did not trust you.

He would begrudgingly admit that you were a good partner during this job.  You took out a shocking number of Nikto guards and had half-trotted, half-slid down the loose scree of the hillside afterwards like it was nothing at all.  Your confusion over the bounty was charmingly naïve, but he supposed he understood – the job was off the books and no exactly straightforward.

Afterwards, as the two of you walked with the floating crib, you had been ambushed by other bounty hunters.  You had proven yourself there too, fighting with your weapon as an electrostaff.  You moved gracefully, like a dancer, without a wasted movement. 

And that evening, over the campfire, you proved yourself a different way.

Mando had been injured in the ambush, and the gash in his arm wept blood steadily enough to need attention.  It was his dominant arm, and he fumbled with his cauterizer.  Dropped it.  Picked it up.  Dropped it again with a muttered curse in Mando’a.  You watched him a moment across the dancing flames of the fire, and then offered to help.

“I can do it,” he grunted, his voice rough with pain.  It was a deep cut into the muscle, and he could only go a fraction at a time with the cauterizer before he had to stop and catch his breath from the searing hurt.

He could feel those eyes of yours on him, those big doe-eyes that seemed so expressive and seemed to see through his beskar helmet.  You didn’t reply though – you just stood up and made your way over to him, and you sat down beside him.

“Let me help,” you said.  “I have a gift for healing.”

Mando snorted, but he dropped the cauterizer again with his clumsy hand.  “Fine,” he said.

You didn’t pick up the tool.  You stood back up and retrieved your bo-rifle, and you stopped a moment to scoop the escaping child back into the crib.  Then you settled back to kneel beside Mando.

“This,” you said, holding out your weapon, “is for close-range and long-range attacks.  Electrostaff and rifle.”

“So are you going to shoot me or electrocute me?”

You smiled at him, and Mando felt that curious dip in his gut again.  “Most people don’t realize that there’s a third setting.”  Mando watched as you undid a strap, clicked the pieces of the weapon until it resembled a trident.  “This setting isn’t a weapon.  It’s a….conduit.  For channeling.”

“Channeling what?”

You bit down on your lower lip as you pondered your answer.  “It has a lot of names.  Life Current.  Life Wind.  The Force.  On Lasan, we called it ‘Ashla.’”

Mando had heard stories about that magical nonsense – fairy stories to tell children, as far as he was concerned.  But you seemed so earnest that he gave a single nod, and you continued.

“I can…do things with it,” you said.  You were halting, and even in the firelight, he could make out your blushing face.  “When I use the trident, I can sometimes…see things.  From the past.  From possible futures.  That’s usually how I use it, so I know what to do, where to go.  Which path to follow.”  You glanced up at him now.  “But I can also heal with it.”

“Okay.”  He didn’t believe it for a moment, but you had helped him at both the encampment and in the ambush.  He owed you a modicum of belief, he figured, and when it invariably failed, he could use the cauterizer.

You nodded, but then the flush on your face deepened.  “I’d have to, uh, touch you.  I know Mandalorians don’t like that….”

You were right.  But something made him mutter “okay” again, which made you nod again, and then you powered on the trident.

Mando wasn’t a believer of anything but the Way, the Creed, the rigid set of rules that controlled his lonely life.  In the following days, he’d question what he saw – and felt – in this moment.  But right now, the trident sparked a steady stream of blue electrocurrent between its points, and a lovely blue aura was cast over you and him.  It made him feel that same calm you seemed to exude.  You closed your eyes, squeezed them tight as you concentrated.  One hand held the trident steady, and the other reached out, unseeing, to hover over the deep gash in his arm.

“Is this okay?” you asked, and your voice sounded a quarter-octave lower.  More assured, too. 

“Yes,” he replied, and you laid your hand on him.

When was the last time he’d been touched?  When had he last felt someone else’s skin against his own?  Your hand was warm, and he flinched at first…but then pressed his arm against your touch a little firmer.  Greedy, almost, for the sudden contact, like a desert soaking up rain for the first time in years. 

Under your warm hand, Mando could feel….whatever it was.  Working.  He could feel the muscle knitting itself together, the slashed veins, and then the skin.  It was warm too, and he felt contentment wash over him as you touched him.

All too soon, it was over.  You pulled your hand away and turned the trident off.  Opened your eyes and sagged backwards a little.  Mando flexed his hand and twisted his arm to look at it in the fire light.  The skin was unbroken, smooth.  There wasn’t even a scar.

The mostly-silent man had a million questions, but when he turned to ask you some of them, he saw that the healing came at a price:  you were slumped in your kneeling position, and your trident was slipping from your hand. 

Mando reached out and caught it.  Then he reached out and caught you.

You weren’t unconscious though.  You braced yourself as he eased you onto the ground, and you sighed your thanks as he removed his cloak to fold it and place it under your head.  He arranged your own cloak around you and watched as your eyelids grew too heavy for you to fight any longer. 

Then he watched you sleep for a long, long while, and he only noticed the child watching too when it made a cooing noise at you.  Mando could have sworn it sounded sympathetic.

[folliesoftheforest]

A Night in Your Shoes

Hope y'all're for the next installment of this adventure! I'm a sucker for body swaps, so, enjoy!

Shop didn't even have to open her eyes before she knew something was wrong. Everything felt, in a word, bigger.

'I just feel heavier, that's all.' She thought to herself, which, was true in a sense, sleep paralysis affected everyone a bit differently, and for Shop, it would make her feel as though she was sinking into the bed. But this still felt different from past instances, and part of herself already knew why, but refused to believe it.

She sat up with a groan, and froze. That… was not her voice. The bed under her creaked in an unfamiliar way. This was not her bed. Panicked, thoughts began to swim, and she threw off the bed sheets that disguised herself and tried to vault out of bed, falling rather ungracefully with a loud thump before she scrambled to the nearby dresser. She knew this room, she knew its layout, and yet, she stared in horror as SD stared back at her in the mirror.

At the same time, SD was tossing and turning in bed, which was odd for him; normally he slept like a log. Was his blanket always this heavy? Maybe it was just his imagination. Deciding he might as well get up, rather than fight to rest, his first indication that something was wrong was how swiftly he sat up in bed.

He only thought on it for a moment, chalking it up to a classic case of waking up on the wrong side of the bed, somehow. SD went to raise his hands to rub the tiredness from his eyes, pausing at the sensation of a smooth face, devoid of any coarse beard hairs. He gingerly moved his hands away from his face, crystal clear vision allowing him to soak in all the unfamiliar details of the slender hands he now possessed. These were certainly not his hands. Slowly, he removed the weighted blanket, trying to process the situation as calmly as possible as he positioned himself to sit on the ledge of the bed. He looked down at his body, and it clicked into place, he recognized this body, although he never had seen it from this angle. Tentatively, he hopped down from the bed, and wobbled for a moment as he found his balance; he certainly wasn't used to being this… small. Still, he tiptoed towards the nearby dresser, as if he was going to break this body somehow. With the mirror sitting just above a set of drawers, SD could only see Shop's head and chest that stared back at him with muted disbelief. He gasped lightly, pursing his lips at the sound that came out of his mouth. His first thought was to go find Shop, but looking down at her body, he decided it would be best to change out of her pajamas, if only for his own comfort. He went over to her closet; he couldn't help the firm smile that spread across his face as he faced the seemingly random organization. He picked out a well worn pair of shorts, a blue tank top, and a soft jacket. 'What a way to start the day…' he thought to himself as he got dressed before he stepped out the door, not hearing the light buzzing coming from the phone that hid under a small mountain of pillows.

Shop just stood in shock for what seemed like an eternity before finally blinking, rubbing her face with a groan before she ran hefty hands across plump cheeks, roughed up by SD's beard. The sensation was odd, but calming, in a way. She found herself wandering back to the bed, sitting down on the edge as a curious hand eventually wandered down to the old scar that adorned his chest, something that Shop had only remembered now, after the initial panic. She had of course seen it before, but to handle it from its owner's perspective was, surreal, as was the general sense of how much space she now took up.

Unfortunately, the quiet did not last long before SD knocked on the door, startling Shop and prompting her to grab the nearby blanket and drape it over herself, as if being topless in her current body was taboo.

"C-come in!" She announced, biting her lip at the strange feeling of speaking in another's voice.

"Shop?... I ah, don't suppose you would have any clue as to what's… happened?" A chill ran down her spine as SD emerged through the doorway; there was a special kind of terror that came with seeing yourself walk and talk and knowing that's not you. SD must have picked up on his friend's tense reaction, stepping in place momentarily as he held his hands. "Is it alright if I sit with you?"

She nodded, clutching the blanket close as he hopped onto the bed, sitting a respectful distance away. SD's bed was more proportionate to someone of his height, so to get up required a sizable hop from the shorter of the two. This got a small chortle out of Shop, who quickly stifled the laugh when SD turned quickly to her in surprise, but said nothing. The two sat in a heavily awkward silence, still very much unnerved and unsure of what say. "Are you, doing alright?" SD finally asked, trying to break the ice.

Shop looked down at him. "Well, uh, physically, yeah, but ah….." She trailed off, hoping SD would catch onto what she was implying. He did and nodded thoughtfully before he ran his hands through his hair, letting out a small, pained huff when he scratched his head with his nails.

Shop heard this and perked up, alert. "Is everything ok!?" She quickly asked, though hesitant to move.

SD tensed up under the attention, "I'm fine, I'm fine-" He looked over the grown out, painted nails that more closely resembled claws on an animal than anything else. "I ah… don't think I ever realized how sharp your nails were, Shop." SD remissed.

"Oh! Hah, yeah…" She piped up, relieved that it wasn't anything too bad as she rubbed the back of her neck. There was another long silence before Shop finally cleared her throat. "I'm just gonna come right out and say it, but, hearing my voice with the way you talk is, weird."

"Agreed." SD huffed.

Neither of them really knew what to do after that, although SD could tell Shop was holding back a lot of thoughts with how she fidgeted with the blanket she had over her. He was unnerved by the fact that was watching himself act like Shop, because it WAS her. Meanwhile, he looked down towards the ground to try to think of something, anything really, to lighten the mood. He had started to feel an unfamiliar tightness in his chest though, rubbing it gently with a hand as he spoke up again.

"Well-" He started as he sighed and clicked his tongue, planting a hand firmly on his thigh. "At least now we can say we've both shared each other's clothes, eh?" He chuffed half heartedly as he gestured to the jacket he was wearing. He normally didn't like baggy clothes, but he was drawn to it, probably because it was such a comfort item for Shop, and it did seem cozy, like a small portable blanket.

Shop scanned SD with a scrunched up nose, before a smile spread on her face with a small chuckle. "Yeah, yeah I guess you could say that!"

SD matched the big smile with his own meek one, but he was ultimately distracted. His mind was silently racing with a million thoughts, and he could feel his chest starting to pound with its anxious heart; so that's where the tightness was coming from, he thought. He tried to dismiss the storm of thoughts with a small shake of his head, looking back up to Shop address her, stopping abruptly when he realized she had been staring at him with a hard expression.

"Uh… Shop?..." SD questioned, his cheeks starting to burn, which to him was another odd sensation. "Is… everything ok?..."

"Hm…" She responded, sitting back up. "Well, truthfully, no, but you don't look like you're doing too hot…" She had been watching SD's mannerisms begin to mimic her own, whenever she got anxious; conversely, this was the clearest she had been able to think in a while, if only because SD's body wasn't always on high alert like how she was used to.

"Ah!- Well, I, um-" SD found himself starting to struggle to respond; was this how she felt when she was panicked? The anxiety raked his poor body, and his mind began to swim as he tried to formulate an answer, but it all came to a screeching halt when he felt a heavy, warm pressure against the back of his neck before it moved to his shoulders, smoothing them out from their scrunched up position. SD took a moment to collect himself with a few deep breaths before he realized Shop had reached over and was the one applying the gentle pressure, though she quickly removed her hand when SD looked back over at her.

"O-oh! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, you were looking tense, but, I should have asked you first if you wanted help calming down…" She bashfully explained.

SD seemed taken aback, but nodded his head as he rolled his shoulders. "You're alright, Shop. I, well, I didn't realize how tense I was getting." He scoffed with a smile. "Nor did I realize how effective I was at calming you down-"

"Are."

"Huh?"

"You are effective, at calming me down." Shop clarified. "I dunno what exactly it is that makes pressure on me so effective, but, it is…" She paused, a thought crossing her mind. "But you probably wouldn't like it, at least, if you weren't in my body."

"What… makes you say that?..." SD felt he already knew the answer, but wanted to see what Shop would say.

"Well," Shop began as she furrowed her brow, "You're always the bigger party, in ah, every sense of the word, and you always seemed so confused when I would tell you how I enjoy feeling, small, not in the weak sense, but, well, you get the idea-” She struggled to get through. “What I'm trying to get at is that I assume you don't like feeling, small?"

Shop got her answer as SD's face turned more red; she didn't realize she could get so blushy, but then again, it's not like she always had a mirror on hand for these situations. She noticed his chest quicken as it rose and fell, and reached her hands out to his, sandwiching one between her hands.

"SD, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-" He stopped her as he rested his free hand on hers, taking a deep breath.

"There's no need to apologize; you've, well, pretty much hit the nail on the head there… Everything just, seems more, daunting, and, even now, I just want to be able to make sure you're ok…"

"Oh SD…" Shop rumbled, holding his slender hands in her blocky palms. "You know firsthand that I can take care of myself, push come shove; but even then, you know I want to make sure you're ok too, especially when you feel you've gotta stay strong, if you support me, then by golly am I gonna support you!"

SD couldn't help the smile that spread across his face as he calmed down, shaking his head. "You know, you're pretty good with your words when you want to be-"

Shop reciprocated the smile with her own, giving her head a little shake. "Well it helps when you have a really nice voice!"

This sparked a small giggle fit between the two, who at this could do nothing else but laugh at the absurdity of the situation.

SD sighed, giving his cheek a rub before he looked back up to Shop, "Well, I suppose we should get the day started… and you should get your- ah, my? glasses-" He cursed under his breath; this was going to be confusing for a while.

"Oh! Have I been squinting or something?"

"Quite a bit actually," he started, absentmindedly staring at himself, or rather, his body in front of him, taking in all the details. "I usually keep them in the first drawer in the nightstand." It was strange to see himself at this height, even when just sitting next to Shop. He glanced away to collect himself as she got up and went to get the lens, trying to find the words to say.

Thankfully, his stomach rumbled softly, and he breathed a sigh of relief. "I know it has been, crazy morning, to say the least, but how about you get dressed and I make us some breakfast, hm?"

Having retrieved the case and put on the delicate lens, Shop turned to SD, enamored by the height difference. "Oh! Of course, of course, you can go ahead, I'll ah, get myself all washed up and meet you there!" She gave him a sincere smile, as if to say that she'll be ok, and he hopped off the bed and stepped out of the doorway.

Alone again, Shop exhaled. She wasn't used to wearing glasses, let alone this face, and told herself that she would try not to fiddle with them constantly. She tossed the blanket back onto the bed and opened the nearby closet, all neatly organized, and couldn't help but smile at the thought of what SD must have thought of her closet situation. She stimmed as she thought, drumming her hands against her chest softly before she picked out a nice button up with a soft t-shirt, and some comfy looking slacks. She laid the outfit out on the bed, pleased with her decision.

And while she knew that her center of gravity was way off, she couldn't help but chuckle at her own inexperience as she got dressed, wondering what SD must think of her, all things considered. All dressed, Shop looked herself over in the mirror as the scent of warm, home cooked food wafted into the room, reminding both the mind and body what time it was. With her stomach rumbling, she gave it a tender pat, about to head out the door, but not before SD's phone buzzed and lit up on his nightstand, catching her attention.

She stepped over to read the notification, and her shoulders dropped, it felt like a rock dropped in her gut.

'FULL MOON TONIGHT' Is all it read. 'Oh no, no no no, that can't be tonight.' She grabbed the phone and briskly walked to her room, trying not to panic and alert SD with thundering footfalls. Inside her own room, Shop nearly dove for the pillows, knowing her phone must be there. It was clear SD had not seen it, since it had a couple of notifications that had gone off, all reminding Shop of the night at hand. How could she forget?! Granted, when you wake up in your friend's body, you're bound to forget a thing or two.

Holding both phones now, her brow furrowed, then relaxed. There was nothing to be done but break the news to SD and try to be as prepared as possible. She had started to see him gain more autonomy on these nights, likely just from the fact that he had gotten used to them, or at least, that was her best guess… he never did remember what would happen in the night. But, tonight would be a whole other monster, literally.

Shop dragged her feet down to the kitchen, the homey scent of food filling her nose and lifting her spirits as she sat at the table, lost in thoughts of how to prepare.

"Shop?" SD called out quizzically when he saw her enter the room, looking quite dejected. "Shop!"

"Huh- wha- sorry, sorry, I uh…" she raised her phone to gesture to it as she went quiet, not wanting to say anything.

"... it's tonight. Isn't it?..." SD quickly deduced.

Shop set down the phones, lifting her hands to graze through her messy head of hair.

"A full moon, yep… what are the odds, right?!" She slammed her hands on the table, spooked by the strength behind the sound.

"Shop… there's nothing we can do about that, we'll just have to, work with what we have, right? At least we know what we're getting into, no?" SD moved away from the stovetop and over to his distressed friend. He was a bit hesitant to console her, the strangeness of the situation growing more apparent; she had watched in terror as he turned too many times to count now, and now that was going to happen to her, albeit in his body.

The two, SD thought, must have been thinking the same thing, since Shop had taken off her glasses to bury her face in her hands, tensing up as a delicate hand rested on her back, her voice echoing words she had heard spoken before back to her. "Come now, why don't we have something to eat, ok? Then we can talk about how we're going to handle tonight…"

She sighed, deflated as she calmed down with a nod. "Right, right… what did you make? It smells delicious."

~~~~~~

The rest of the day went on as normal as it could, with the two comparing oddities and awkwardness, sharing a laugh here and there. The hours dragged on, and SD knew Shop was getting nervous about the coming night as they cooked an early dinner to help stave off the monster's hunger.

"Hey."

Shop hummed, looking up from the oven as some baked ziti broiled.

"You're going to be ok."

"Yeah… I know…"

"You don't seem so sure of that."

Shop gave her friend a sarcastic glance, but sighed as she sat down, still staring at the oven. She was quiet, thinking about what she wanted to say.

"What did it feel like? The first time it happened���"

SD exhaled through his nose, reaching over his shoulder to try to massage a knot out of his shoulder. Knowing how much her back would ache and where, Shop invited SD to sit on her lap. He seemed against the idea at first, giving Shop a scrunched up look of distaste, but she insisted, and he eventually obliged. Once nestled on the expansive lap, SD cleared his throat.

"... It's hard to remember how bad it was… But, it was a rush of adrenaline, at first, the kind you might get when you're terrified and want to run away," he paused as Shop ran her fingers through his hair, the sensation alien and familiar all at once. "Then… everything begins to burn from the inside out. The kind that gets itchy for a while, until it gets unbearable…" Shop hummed, listening, but also staying distracted from the panic as she gently, but firmly rolled her fists into SD's back. "Then, ah, well, the pain begins, and, well it all goes downhill from there…"

SD sat quietly as Shop finished up, resting her hands on his back. He slumped forward, disheartened, looking down at the hands that had balled up into fists. "I'm so sorry Shop… you shouldn't… you shouldn't have to go through this…" He began to quiver, his cheeks going red again as he held back tears he didn't ask for.

Understanding the telltale signs and hoping to provide some comfort, Shop said nothing, instead, she snaked soft arms around his torso, resting her head on top of his, encasing him in a similar fashion that he would for her. "I am… scared," she started, "but, you deserve a night off. Maybe that's why this happened… I know you'll take care of anything that happens to me, just like I would for you…" she trailed off, pressing a cheek onto the crown of SD's head, shedding a tear with him as they sat together in mutual silence, at least, till the timer went off for their food.

"Ah, food's ready-" Shop sat up, pressing SD against herself. "Not to, break up the tender moment we were having or anything-" She beamed as SD retorted with a low snort before he patted the forearms that rested on his lap and got up.

"Alright, let's eat something before we head out then." Over dinner, they reviewed the little notebook Shop had taken to keeping as she had watched almost every turning. While she had very little organization, she did always see the details, noting possible patterns and habits SD would take up.

Occasionally she would have to explain to him what certain keywords meant, almost as though she had developed a secret code for herself.

Afterwards, they packed up some things: extra clothes, lots of snacks, flashlights, and even a few sedatives, just as a precaution; tonight would be a bit unpredictable after all. Shop fiddled with the hem of her shirt as SD drove, occasionally looking over at him for reassurance. It was so strange to try and read her own face, but his mannerisms and expressions still existed within the confines they sat in.

Soon enough the car stopped and SD looked out into the waning light of the woods before them.

"Alright, come on, let's go get set up before you have to go…" he spoke with a soft cadence to his tone, trying to be the calm, grounding voice Shop needed to hear. A good thing too, as she tried to ignore the growing headache and churning from deep down inside as she stepped out of the car herself; it really started this early? Still, she took a deep breath and carried a bag for SD, glancing down at him as they walked. Would she remember anything from tonight? Would she be able to do anything to control herself around him? She knew the answers based on what SD had told her, but it was in her nature to worry and think too much about things. She must have spaced out at some point, coming back to the present as SD repeated her name again. "Oh, I'm sorry bud…" the sun was starting to sink, night quickly approaching. Shop gave her temples a rub, the headache growing stronger.

"It's alright Shop, come on, give me the glasses, you can leave the clothes out if you want to leave now."

Shop sighed curtly, which came out more like a pained huff. "I don't want to leave…" still, she surrendered the lens and started to take off her clothes, not bothering to fold them as her chest started to burn.

"Shop…" SD didn't continue, he knew that she knew that she couldn't stay, but it was obvious she was scared. "You'll probably find me, and I'll be prepared for you, alright?"

"Promise you'll be ok…?"

"I promise."

She gave him a tired smile as she handed off her pants to him, hair already starting to sprout everywhere. The pain in her head grew, dizzying in its intensity; was SD saying something? It was too loud in her head to hear anything, her body starting to feel as if it were boiling, just like SD had warned her. Staggered by the pain, Shop didn't get very far from where SD stood, only falling back into some small shrubbery as the transformation began to take place.

Curiosity grabbed hold of SD as he listened to his voice produce ugly, pained growls that slowly became less and less human. This was no break, he thought, this was just a cruel reminder to him that he was a monster. And yet, some unseen force drew him closer to the source of the sounds; he wanted to see what this looked like from an outsider's perspective, what Shop had likely seen time and time again. He steeled him as he came upon the withering form, blood splotches from where the antlers protruded from, claw marks in the dirt as arms bulked up and grew mounds of fur, a tail that solicited a grotesque bellow as the spine popped and stretched to accommodate its length. It was like a car crash, something horrible that you couldn't take your eyes off of. Soon enough, all the daylight had left the sky and the monster had curled up, shuttering through shallow breaths.

SD realized he needed to move back and start a fire, having been seemingly entranced by the transformation, but as he took a step back, he fell, having lost his balance over a root. This alerted the beast, who shuffled and groaned as it started to rise.

Panic rose in SD, which was something that did not happen all that often for him. He remembered something that Shop had mentioned she did at one point, so, hoping it would work again here, he picked himself up and rushed to where he had left the back bag. He didn't bother with a fire, the important part was getting the monster away first; he wasn't going to take any chances trying to reach out to Shop, not especially since this was all going to be new for her, or rather, the creature.

With a weak groan, it stood on all fours, dazed and confused. It had heard and smelled something that seemed, oddly familiar, but it couldn't comprehend why. Still, it followed the scent, wobbly on its legs; it would take it a few moments before it was properly ready to go. It came upon a small clearing, where the scent grew stronger; there was a small form in the middle, holding something in a hand.

SD tried not to freeze up as the monster emerged from the shrubbery. This is what he was now… and this is what Shop had to be. His heart sank for her as it shambled towards him, sniffing the air until it locked on him with glossy eyes. Could she tell who he was? Probably not.

Still, he held a bag of beef jerky above his head before chucking towards the creature with all his might, hoping it flew past it. The plan must have worked, SD thought, when it turned its head in attention, watching as it worked to shuffle itself around and return to the woods, and, as SD hoped, set it off to find something other than him to eat. Soon after it had disappeared, he realized how much time he had already wasted, and dug through the bag at his side for a flashlight, to help find some wood and rocks for a campfire.

Having torn apart the small pack, the beast ravenously devoured the dried meat inside, enticing its hunger from the transformation. It began to drool, ready to follow the scent of meat back to its source, but not before a deer jumped out of the woods and in front of the beast. Its eyes widened at the chance to eat a fresh kill, and before the prey item could jump away, it smacked it to the ground and dug its dagger-like claws into it, crushing bones like a cardboard box.

SD sat up at the sound of a dying deer, his blood running cold. That was close. Too close for comfort. Rather than try to run though, he looked back down at Shop's little journal, trying to distract himself with her notes.

Things like how fire seemed to deter it and running would cause it to give chase stood out to him. He trusted her to know what she was talking about; otherwise, he might not have been in the position he was at this moment.

The creature finished its first meal quickly, blood caked in its paws and maw. Still, it was hungry, and so, it trudged deeper into the woods, occasionally propping itself against a tree to stand on its hind legs, sniffing the air for food. It caught the scent of a boar, coming back down onto all fours with a dull thud.

Its jaw hung open as it panted, prowling through the underbrush in the dark of night, its saliva mixing with the spilt blood as it crept up to the unexpecting boar. The animal sat up at attention, knowing something was wrong, squealing as the beast lunged for its prey, but it missed, allowing the boar to jab at the creature with a tusk. It howled in defiance, ringing through the trees before the boar met its match in the form of the powerful crocodilian tail slamming down onto it.

The beast huffed, shaking off the shallow wound it had sustained before eating, satisfied with itself in winning this battle. Afterwards, it wandered the woods, occasionally giving chase to smaller animals that managed to get away from its grasp.

It followed the smell of water, walking into the refreshing rush as it stared at the water, as though it was trying to put something together in its mind before dunking its head in; it seemed inexperienced in how to go about drinking in how it would rear its head, gasping for air before dunking it again, garbled sounds bubbling from the water as it opened its maw to drink. Finally, with its hunger and thirst satisfied, it pulled itself away from the water, weighed down but it's partly waterlogged fur. It shook itself dry, grumbling softly as it looked around, some unseen force telling it to move, and so it did, wandering the woods for most of the night.

Back at the campsite, SD was nodding off as the fire beside him started to die. He shook himself awake and tossed another log into the embers, sparking up a flame once more. He sighed, a hand on the notebook that was keeping him company. He hoped that he would see Shop again, preferable from his original perspective. Unfortunately, his wish would come true sooner than he expected. A dull, rhythmic thud sounded out among crunched leaves and snapped sticks to announce the arrival of a forest king. The hulking beast lumbered out from among the bushes and branches, head held at a level angle and swaying a bit; it seemed, tired. It eyed the fire, staring at it as though its gaze would ward off the flames before the beast looked up slowly at SD. He was frozen in shock and awe of the creature and did not want to startle it. He told himself to hold his ground, slowly reaching over to the pocket that held the sedatives in their little vials. The beast never took its eyes off him, its ear swiveling to acknowledge that he was in fact, moving, which caused SD to stop, setting his hand back down.

Nothing about it seemed particularly aggressive, so maybe it would just walk away, but, it never did. It just stared at him, as he did back.

After what seemed like forever, the creature sat down where it stood, maintaining its hardened gazed, trained on SD. Paralyzed, SD sat frozen where he was, his gaze equally trained on the beast; but he hoped this night would be somehow over soon. The faint scent of blood lingered around the beast as it soon crept close enough to stretch its neck out to sniff SD from where it sat. His eyes snapped to the tail however, that swung a bit too close to the fire, singing it enough for the beast to feel, making it jump away from the heat, giving it a low growl as it bared its teeth.

SD had to stifle a small, nervous laugh at the action, not wanting to alarm the creature in front of it. Instead, he very cautiously stuck out a hand, redirecting its attention from the fire, to him. Why did he feel compelled to do that? This was a great leap of faith, as it could bite off his arm, Shop's arm, at any point.

He stared it right in the eyes, as it stared back, before finally giving the offered hand a cautious sniff, and although it still bared its teeth and growled, it seemed to be less hostile and more, confused?

A little less tense now, the beast stood back up and stepped around and away SD, so that he was between it and the fire, before it sat down with a resounding foomph, letting out a low grumble as it rested its head delicately onto its paws, closing its eyes with a heavy sigh.

SD simply sat in awe at how much the creature had calmed down, even if Shop had made notes of times where it had done so in the past before; this would seem to be the closest it would have come to them thus far. 'She must have had her fill of excitement out there.' He thought to himself, not daring to wake the creature up with speech. The way it had laid down, however, provided a perfect opportunity for SD to get closer to it. Should he? Shop didn't have anything written about trying to interact with the beast, which was understandable for her, considering her past experiences. His arm swayed to his side; he didn't want anything more to happen to her, especially right then. But still, curiosity won him over, ‘ I must be crazy…’ He thought to himself as he took a few cautious shuffles to test the ice.

The creature's eyes snapped open at the slight sound, watching SD, but, they didn't move. They did, however, growl as he scooted close.

SD raised his hands, open and empty. The beast seemed to scan him over, closing their eyes again, as if to permit him to come close. SD cautiously pressed a hand onto the beast's side. He held his breath, awaiting the worst, but it never came; it had fallen fast asleep. Relieved and thoroughly intrigued, SD held his hand in place for a bit longer, feeling how its chest rose and fell before he stroked the coarse fur, dedicating the texture to memory, seeing as he may never get the chance to feel it again. The creature took deep, slow breaths at his touch, its body expanding and contracting, oozing of power.

"You're doing great Shop…." He whispered under his breath, giving the monster a pat before he scooted a bit back to carefully nestle in for the rest of the night. He felt a strange wave of calmness wash over him as he watched the last bit of embers die out from the fire, but he was too tired to be worried, morning should be right around the corner anyway.

And the morning did come, as it always did, though SD wasn't the first to wake.

Shop shuffled awake, her whole body feeling sluggish. She rubbed her face with her familiar hands, pausing for a moment before her mind caught up, realizing she was back in her own body. She couldn't help the excited grin that spread across her face, but she just as quickly realized that she couldn't celebrate just yet, the wall behind her exhaling deeply.

Shop felt her heart drop as she scrambled away from the sleeping beast. What in the world did SD do?? What did she do?? Questions swirled in her mind until a headache blossomed, begging the poor thing to just stop for a moment. Daylight had just begun to crept over the horizon, and Shop, still cautious of the sleeping beast behind her, knew that SD would be just as exhausted as she was, if not more.

Curiosity overtook the poor thing though, as she turned to face the beast, withholding a gasp as she witnessed it begin to shrink and morph, accompanied by pained, sleepy chuffs. Shop wanted to look away, but similar to SD, she couldn't help but watch as fur and scales receded into skin, accompanied by the soft symphony of popping and crackling.

The transformation seemed as slow as the sunrise, and in the meantime, Shop decided to let SD rest as he shifted back to his normal self. It felt easy, in a sense, for Shop to get back into her own groove. No matter what she tried, most often than not, she would up end up awake before the sun had risen; in this case, it gave her time to clean up before her sleeping compatriot awoke.

Soon enough, Shop heard a familiar sound. She turned around, and couldn't help the small laugh that came out, seeing SD laying face down in the leaf litter, snoring lightly. She gathered up a fresh set of clothes for the man, and stepped over to him, resting a hand on his back to nudge him.

“Hey, hey bud, you ok?” She whispered, not wanting to startle him. She felt his muscles twitch as he came to, propping himself up.

“I'm up, I'm up…” He grumbled. His groggy mind was still processing where it was as he looked over to Shop, who was pulling out some wet wipes to help wipe away some of the dirt caked on his face. “Shop?... Shop!” SD exclaimed, finally catching up. The young lady beamed back to her friend, offering a wipe to him.

“That's me!” She cheerfully replied. “Guess uh, guess yesterday was just some kinda fluke, eh?” She suggested.

“That's some fluke…” SD commented, thanking Shop for the wipe as he sat up. “How in the world could it have happened in the first place…”

Shop busied herself by handing SD his clothes as she spoke. “I dunno bud, you're the professor; guess it's time for some researching?” She added, cheeky.

SD rolled his eyes with a smile and huff, dressing himself. “Maybe. But I would save that for later, right now?” He yawned. “I think I'd like to get something to eat and go home for a nice shower.”

Shop sniffed herself momentarily, wrinkling her nose. “Yeah that's fair, I smell like a wet dog-”

“Technically, it would be more like a wet beast-”

Shop stared at SD coldly, calculating his response, but it wasn't long before she smiled and shook her head, bobbing it in agreement as the two packed their things, and headed out to go home.

[blade-liger-4ever]

Something I've noticed that makes me liquid angry.

Queen Rani, leader of the Night Pride and ruler of the Tree of Life, wife of Prince Kion from The Lion Guard.

Her parents were killed in front of her right outside their home, which also resulted in her scar and deeply traumatized her.

For this she likely had to act maternal for her little brother, Baliyo, while finding other methods to cope with her own trauma.

Was forced to take up leadership of the Night Pride around the time Kion formed his Lion Guard, at least.

Was also being trained to become queen at the same time, while said territory was about three times the size of the Pride Lands and her grandmother, Queen Janna, was a hair's breath from death for years.

Thus she had much pressure on her from a young age, lots of trauma, and rightly founded convictions against allowing outsiders inside, especially if they were powerful individuals and not fleeing animals seeking sanctuary from clear threats.

This gives her some friction with Kion in the first two episodes featuring her, but quickly smoothes out as they fall in love and she matures past much of her struggles through their romance.

Is branded with ❌️ by the fandom.

This is largely because of how Rani "ruined" the TLK/TLG fandom's preferred ships and, in some cases, was mean to Kion in their early interactions. However, Rani canonically proves herself as not only competent and reliable, but also mellows out and grows a great deal of respect and love for Kion, while also managing to admit her wrongness of her first impression of him. Time and again she proves to be his equal in intelligence, strategy, leadership, morals, convictions, and combat prowess. This is important because Kion is a pinnacle of goodness, and despite her rough start, Rani is similarly a pinnacle of goodness with her selfless nature and dedication to defending the Tree of Life and not only its hundreds of miles of land, but its thousands to millions of lives.

Mara Jade, infamous Emperor's Hand, former Dark Side assassin, and later wife of Luke Skywalker in Star Wars Legends.

Is raised in the heart of evil with no source of love or compassion.

Is trained from infancy to be a remorseless killer.

Somehow given autonomy for no discernably good or well-founded reason beyond being favored by Palpatine.

Magically retains a conscience despite having no one give her a heart or morals.

Tries to kill her future husband numerous times.

Blames him for her luxurious life being destroyed, despite not having a real life that exists outside of killing and hunting targets when not on vacation.

Only lets go of her attempts to kill Luke Skywalker after murdering his clone in battle.

Receives no trial or punishment for her crimes.

Does not even provide information of any sort to the New Republic.

Jumps straight into Jedi training, with no one, not even Han Solo, questioning this decision.

Retains her abrasive and snide personality when married to Luke and when she becomes the mother of their son.

Continues to choose morally gray options when her husband is staunchly Light Side aligned.

Is given ✅️ by the fandom while these issues are ignored.

This is a problem because like Kion, Luke Skywalker is a pinnacle of goodness. Despite the clear need for an equal and supportive half of the same moral convictions as him, Luke is married off to a woman who continually chooses underhanded/dark methods to accomplish her own personal goals rather than sacrificing and doing good for the sake of good like he constantly does. Furthermore, she always treats Luke like trash, never apologizing for her behavior, and gets away with attempting to murder him while no one tries to kill her for the threat she posed to Luke. I cannot and will not believe that Leia and Han just shrugged and welcomed her into the family the way they did in Legends. It is wrong, out of character for all of the movie characters, and unjustifiable with all of the above taken into account. Mara Jade never changed from her relationship with Luke, and yet everyone praises them to the sky while Kion and Rani are abused to no end for maturing into adulthood and growing stronger from their romantic bond.

This is an unfair treatment on both sides, and I will not tolerate either viewpoints, nor will I forgive the accusations from either fandom on each pair.

Anyone who becomes incensed at this, I have news for you:

I.

Don't.

Care.

(Source.)

[deadhands69]

In The Bathroom is Where I Want You

*not my photo, found on the internet. The title is from a Nightmare of You song that sparked this idea.

MDNI

Dabi x gn/afab Reader 

Warnings/Content/etc: alcohol use, public bathroom sex, light teasing/begging, swearing.

You don’t even know this band, just a random local punk show. It's at some dingy underground venue where no one cares who you are. That’s perfect as long as the band doesn’t don’t suck too much, you think while getting in the disproportionately long line for drinks. Besides, it’s not like you have much else to do. With Shigaraki at home healing, the league is at a pause on most missions, giving you all more free time than you know what to do with. 

Most of the others stayed in to rest but you tagged along with Dabi and Toga, wanting more out of tonight. 

The next band begins their set, the same mediocre drum beat you’ve heard a million times. Toga runs off. You watch as her blonde buns disappear into the crowd, leaving you alone with the tall dark haired man beside you. 

“I guess it’s just you and me tonight,” Dabi lightly elbows you in the side. You could swear his blue eyes look you up and down before landing on yours.

“I guess so,” you yell back at him.

When you approach the bar, he puts in an order before you can decide.

“Two shots of absinthe,” his loud voice booms over the music. You consider asking for something less strong but realize there’s no point when you have all day tomorrow to sleep it off. He shoves a glass of too green liquid in front of you. 

Tapping his drink lightly on yours, you watch as he downs the whole thing at once. You’re always taken aback by his confidence, this is no different. 

Your turn. 

The moment the shot touches your lips, you're overcome by licorice and fire. Less smooth than him, you swallow it in three wincing gulps. 

“Fuck, that’s rough,” you mumble, eyebrows still furrowed. He only smirks.

After another round, the two of you settle into a dark corner for a few songs.

“This band sucks,” he rasps behind your ear, lips grazing your neck, “you look bored.”

Flustered by his closeness, you nod. 

“Come with me,” less of an ask and more of a demand. A large hand grips your arm, pulling you through the crowd to a somehow even darker hallway. Pressing you into a room, he follows you in before slamming the door behind him. The lock clicks.

For a fraction of a second, you catch a glimpse of yourself in the graffiti covered mirror before he spins you around and picks you up onto the counter. His eyes rake over you, nearly glowing in the faint lighting. Soft scared lips find yours, pushing you back into the mirror. You gasp, shocked at the suddenness of the act before moving your mouth with his. Your tongues tangle together as the loud music vibrates through the wall, shaking its way into your bones. He pulls back for a moment to look down at you. His rough hands firmly working over your body before landing on your belt.

“You didn’t think I’d let you have a boring night, did you?” he asks, sliding your pants down your legs and pulling them to the floor (disgusting but you can't bring yourself to care.) The counter feels cold against your warm ass. He continues, “I see the way you always look at me. Let’s do something about it, huh?”

His boldness has you in a chokehold again, while he stands over you. Forehead touching yours. 

You nod impatiently, unable to find the words.

Sliding your already damp panties to the side, his fingers brush lightly over your skin. Parting your lips slightly, he runs two flat digits up and down before pressing a little harder on your clit. He watches amused as you writhe under him. Continuing, his hand begins to slide more easily the wetter you get. 

With his free hand, he grabs a handful of your hair, tugging you back into the vandalized wall. Your fingernails scratching at the rough edges of the stickers on the surface beneath you. 

One of his fingers quickly dips into you before pulling away. Turquoise eyes meet yours again. He repeats this, knowing exactly what he’s doing. Lightly, he resumes rubbing you. His fingers teasing, never quite giving you everything you need.

Then you realize: he’s going to make you beg for it. You’d never degrade yourself to asking for anything; he knows that. 

But you want- no, you need him. And he needs to hear it.

He picks up the pace just enough to bring you to the brink as you shove your hips further into him, feeling him hard through his pants against your thigh. He pulls away.

You need it.

And that’s how you, someone who has never begged for anything-

“I fucking need you in me!” you scream.

A smile breaks across his face. “Oh? I hadn’t noticed.”

“Fuck you,” you mutter as he loosens his belt and unzips his pants.

His length springs out eagerly. With a few quick strokes, he lines up with you, pulling your hips to the edge of the counter. Rubbing precum into you, his tip barely presses your entrance before he pauses. 

“You sure?” he muses above you.

“Uh huh,” you nod again.

“You’re gonna have to use real words,” he teases, barely poking into you before sliding back, “come on, tell me what you want.”

“You. I want you.”

“What do you want from me?” he whispers in your ear before resuming eye contact. He’s having too much fun with this.

“I want you to fuck me, Dabi,” you whine, your voice more desperate than you'd prefer but he loves it.

Fortunately, that’s all it took. With one quick snap, his hips jut forward filling you in an instant. You sigh in relief. It’s everything you need and more. His dick begins sliding in and out, plowing into every sensitive spot along the way. Grabbing his hair, you pull him in closer.

“You like that, huh?” he groans into your ear while slamming back into you. His thrusts are hard and out of sync with the muffled music. 

“Yes!” you half scream, your body clenching around him. Another hard snap and you swear you can see stars. Your body weakens under him as your orgasm overtakes you.

“You look so good, cumming on my dick,” he looks down at you, practically holding you from sliding to the floor, “how’s it feel?”

“So fucking amazing,” you babble, still clinging to him. 

He pounds into you harder, watching how your head lolls into the wall behind you while you whimper his name. It’s too much.  

“Fuck, you feel so good,” he moans as he collapses onto your shoulder. His cum overflows from your already full pussy. He snaps his hips a few more times forcing your combined mess to spill out of you, pooling on the dirty counter, and dripping onto the floor. 

Pressing his head to the mirror behind you, you both catch your breath. 

“Careful,” he mumbles while helping you off the counter. He wipes himself off and gives the counter a quick swipe as you get cleaned up. 

Within a few minutes, you’re back in the corner you started in as another band takes the stage. But this time, Dabi’s standing behind you, arms wrapped firmly around your waist. 

“I hope this one sucks too,” his husky voice whispers into your ear.

[choicesmc]

Spooky Spectres

MC(s): Quinn Logan + Fiona Lightwood quinn logan belongs to the amazing @thosehallowedhalls Series: Laws of Attraction WC: 800+ Summary: October brings spooky surprises. However, they usually amount to nothing more than adorable kids dressed to scare. Alas, this is a little more than a costume.

Something strange was going on.

A month ago, Quinn couldn’t find her coffee machine. It wasn’t in its regular spot on top of the Chardonnay-yellow tiled countertop beside a basket of fruits. Neither had it been anywhere else in the house –there weren’t many places the sleek black machine could hide in her home without sticking out like a sore thumb. 

That is until she found it neatly tucked away in her storage closet, clean as the day she’d first bought it. For her coffee machine to end up there when it was arguably the most used piece of equipment in her house was weird. Even weirder was her complete lack of ability to recall why it’d been there at all. 

Chalking it up to stress (being a lawyer in New York could do that to a person), Quinn made herself a mug of coffee, tucked the incident away from mind, and continued on her day. 

Just a week later, she came home after an exhausting day at work. It was a mystery how she’d gotten from the office to her apartment and there was nothing more she wanted than to collapse on her bed and finally sleep. 

Until she actually got to her bedroom, that is. 

Instead of soft lilac bedsheets and potted plants decorating the corners, Quinn was treated to a bedroom of rich greens and deep blacks. Where her queen sized bed should’ve been was a tall, four-poster monster with covers draping from each column dominated the space. There was a dark oak wood vanity sporting makeup brands she didn’t use and old physics papers scattered across a lone table. 

Under any other circumstance, Quinn would’ve lept into action trying to find some clue of what the hell had happened to her potted plants and the rough texture of her walls. But right now, as she stood in the doorway, her eyes struggled to stay open and every couple of seconds she had to let out a yawn. 

So, Quinn retreated to the couch for tonight, leaving the mystery of the swapped room for tomorrow’s more alert Quinn. 

Or not. 

By the next day, the room had corrected itself already. Her walls were the right texture, not whatever smooth nonsense they had been last night, and her plants were all back in place without a single sign of damage. 

Stalking the corners of the room, not a single thing seemed out of place. The bedsheets were folded just as she’d left them. Every makeup product was in its usual spot. Even the coffee ring on her table was just the same as before. 

As if last night had been nothing but a weird dream. 

And maybe it had. 

What was more likely: an exhausted person imagined something weird? Or the universe had pulled some incredibly weird trick of the light and swapped her bedroom with someone else’s and then swapped it back? 

Uneasily tucking this, too, in the back of her mind, Quinn went on with her day, her eyes constantly checking for anything else amiss. 

The rest of the month went something of the same. Everyday, something new would disappear only to reappear at the oddest times, leaving Quinn to blame each odd incident on stress, or coincidence, or exhaustion or some combination of the three.

At least, until Quinn came across the ghost in her own kitchen. 

The spectral intruder fiddled with her sleek coffee machine, grumbling as it wrapped the cord around the machine. Somehow, the ghost had manifested the box that the machine had come in and was, now, carefully placing the sleek machine away –something completely and irredeemably unforgivable. 

Snatching the coffee maker out of the ghost’s translucent hands, Quinn snapped, “Do not move the coffee machine, understood?” 

The ghost merely narrowed their eyes, responding, “Do ghosts even drink coffee?” 

“How self-centered,” Quinn drawled, placing the coffee machine back on to the counter, “Why in the world would I buy coffee for you?” 

“I know I didn’t buy it.” 

“Of course, you didn’t. I brought it with me when I moved in.” 

“And how long ago was that?” the ghost demanded, “Are you saying I’ve unknowingly had a roommate for the past who-knows-how-long?” 

Quinn furrowed her eyebrows, “Firstly, you’re the ghost so you’re the unknown roommate. Secondly, I’ve lived here for months now –I’m nowhere near new to this place.”

At that the ghost paused, “You’re standing in the middle of my couch.”

“I’m standing in my kitchen.” 

“No,” the ghost insisted, “you’re a translucent person standing in the middle of my couch in my living room. I don’t think I’m the ghost here.”

“No,” Quinn rebutted, gesturing around her, “we’re in the middle of my kitchen. Not your living room. Unless,” she trailed, “Could you step to the side?” 

Uncertain, the ghost complied, phasing through a cabinet door. 

“Right now, you’re standing in my cabinet,” Quinn mused, “but to you, I’m standing in your couch.” 

“And..?” the ghost pressed, leaning against… something, “Both of us think the other is the ghost, which doesn’t make sense,” he pressed his lips into a flicker of a smile, catching on to Quinn’s thinking, “Unless we’re both ghosts, simultaneously.” 

“I think a reintroduction is in order,” Quinn said, leaning against a countertop, “I’m Quinn Logan.” 

“And I, Fiona Lightwood.”

Author’s Note: SO! This is what I’ve been doing in the background >.> I really hope everyone, but especially Caro, enjoys this little fic!! We’ve been wanting the blorbos to meet for a while now and I wanted a cool way for them to get to meet each other!! hopefully this is cool enough

To Caro specifically, I hope I captured a little bit of what Quinn is like in your head. I won’t lie, I am was worried about not getting her right all throughout writing this. I didn’t want to bombarde you with questions so I tried my very best to imitate the vibes I get from her. 🫡

I know I left it at a kinda cliff-hangy point but that was on purpose!! I didn’t want a one and done thing + kinda wanted to leave it open for more when the ideas strike :)

also if any of you have read freaking romance (the webtoon) that’s where this idea is from!! i can’t recommend it tho

[akirathedramaqueen]

I felt a surge of need to write a short fic about Blitzø and Fizz having a conversation right after the Full Moon, maybe following by him having a proper heart-to-heart with Stolas and, if not step into relationship, then at least give each other an explanation and be not deaf to each other for once, give a hope to the whole thing. I dunno why, never really liked "fix-it" stories, but... Oh well.

I liked the start, it felt vivid and quite close to canon (obviously it would contradict with whatever comes next, so it's only atm), but then kinda stalled. Because of many reasons.

The first problem was making Blitzø believable - he is not one to talk much. I managed to write a likeable start, and I was glad with Fizz calling out his bullshit and be supportive at the same time, and the transition to Blitzø kinda talking was, I think, smooth... But the last page turned out way too whiny and repetitive, and I ran out of body language explanations.

The second problem was that I realised that I made Fizz to point out many Blitzø's issues, but Stolas somehow completely got away, although the initial idea was Fizz to be reasonable and insightful. Maybe it makes sense, Fizz hears only Blitzø and knows only one side of the story, but still, as I have a stance of "they both fucked up", I didn't want the reader to get an idea that my implementation of "fix-it" would be Blitzø just taking all the guilt on himself. Again. Yes, I think it would be believable for him to probably make a first step, because he has a better support system than Stolas, and I consider Fizz a good mediator (it took imp 40 seconds to cut through bullshit in that cage), but not just go and beg Stolas to forgive him. Stolas owes Blitzø an apology, too.

The third problem was the whole thing went a bit too big and, as I ran out of descriptions, it turned out like a freaking dialog. I still like majority of takes, but I have a feeling it's a bit too much. Though, maybe, someone would've liked having two imps to chat just like that? Eh, I don't know.

The fourth issue... Oh hell, opened freaking ao3 and saw like thousands of "fix-its". People are apparently very traumatised by the last episode 🥹 I noticed a lot of different approaches, true, but I started feeling like my take wouldn't be unique anymore, and I am not sure if fandom needs that (But I could do that just for practice and fun, right? Not everything should be big)

I planned to finish the thing with Fizz today, but because of all issues I've described, I just spent the whole evening rewatching some episodes, hoping to find some inspiration.

Btw noticed hell beings apparently have unlimited supply of phones, with how often they get broken. Where do I get the access to one?

I am not sure of the reason I've put all of that here. Maybe just to whine a bit, haha. It's just so complicated to use such good characters for your writing and not screw it up. Props to everyone who manages that

Need to sleep on it and decide if it's worth honing and patching up rough places, or should it be left in the table