#sleepwalk collective

[diamondnokouzai]

seriously look at these

#.din #.txt #im obsessed with rolife now. look at dreamland ferry!!!!!!!!!!! #so for this collection my fave is dreamland ferry. second is dreamy mirror. then fallen angel #then sleepwalk. then counting sheep. then sweet dream. #after that theyre all tied :)

[germ-t-ripper]

15JUL22 The only comic book I collected as a kid was SLEEPWALKER. Huge thank you to my best friend since 5th grade Adam for remembering that and getting me this figure for my birthday!

#sleepwalker #marvel studios #marvel #comic book #action figure #birthday #present #gift #collectible #toy

[libraincarnate]

astrology notes: 16 ☁️

quick note: i'm absolutely not an astrologer. these are just a collection of some observations, thoughts, theories, and personal experiences based on astrology. above all this is just for fun. lastly, keep in mind that i’m not reading your birth chart and i know nothing about you. these are just some possibilities that may or may not apply to you. enjoy!

🐚 neptune–venus aspects: you probably get compliments on your appearance a lot. you may have been told that you look a model or a celebrity. there's some sort of star quality to you.

if your neptune is square/opposite your venus, you might struggle to see the same beauty that others see in you. it’s not that you think you’re ugly but you might not think you’re as attractive to the extent that others do, so it makes you wonder what other people are seeing. you might think they’re lying or exaggerating. compliments could also be hard for you to accept. the attention you get can make you a little uncomfortable.

🐚 i used to think that virgo venuses were too nonchalant when it comes to love but this placement will give you that real princess or prince treatment that goes beyond money and materialistic items - that kind of princess/prince treatment may apply more to taurus and sag, but with virgo they give the kind of treatment that considers their partner’s entire well-being and not just their monetary needs and desires. they really care about their partners and want to put their life at ease, they truly care if you ate and aren’t just asking that just to ask. if you haven’t eaten they won’t just say, “oh, damn” or “oh no, eat something :/” but they’re the type to create time to make you something or buy you something to eat and even bring it to you. if they can make your life less stressful in any way, they’ll try to do that. if you’re sick, they’ll take on some of your responsibilities like tidying up your house for you since you aren’t able to do so. there can be times where they won’t even let you lift a finger. the types to say, “i’ll take care of that for you” even if you can do it yourself.

they’re reliable so if they say they’ll do something, you can expect them to do it. but this placement may often find themselves in a position where they’re always being the care taker so they want someone who takes care of them too. these individuals are often anxious and may be quite paranoid when it comes to romantic relationships so they desire someone who will put their mind and life at ease. they can be picky and difficult to impress because of their high standards and because they’re quick to get the ick, but once they love you they’ll really go above and beyond.

🐚 sun opposite rising: your looks may not match your personality and you might even think so yourself. for example, you might look innocent or younger than you are, but really, you’re quite mature and there’s a dark, wild, or unexpected side of you. your looks are deceiving.

🐚 capricorn rising/in the 1st house: you are someone who had ambition and big plans from a young age. money could be a big part of your identity. the ones making “money moves” fr. you could have a lot of work experience. you’ve been working/touching money since your pre-teen or teenage years. 

if your cap rising aspects your mercury then subjects related to money/finance could be something that is always on your mind and it frequently comes up in your conversations as well.

or if it aspects your lilith, then you may be the type to get money by any means necessary, meaning you might be willing to do illegal/immoral things to obtain it. but in your mind, you probably think you have a good reason to do it. something made it worth the risk because capricorns are too rational, prudent, and judicious to just do anything without good reason.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 lilith in pisces: might deal w/ sleep related issues such as insomnia, sleep apnea, sleepwalking, etc. 

🐚 sun conjunct mercury (natal): your father may be someone you hold in high regard and therefore someone you speak highly of most of the time. it’s possible that you tend to reflect on the memories you share with him, your similarities/differences, and the influence he has had in your life.

🐚 jupiter in the 7th house: you bring abundance into the relationships you have. this can be a friendship, business partnership, romantic relationship, etc. your loved ones are lucky to have you in their life. you’re generous and you’re the type to spoil & splurge on those closest to you. you bring encouragement and goodness into the lives of others, even if you haven’t known them for long. you’re a blessing. you could have qualities that make you the perfect wife/husband & you could also be blessed with your perfect spouse in return. unless you’re a jerk, you may be someone that people regret losing, especially your ex.

🐚 aquarius: reminds me of The Parable of the Good Samaritan (Luke 10:25-37) in a way, the ones to step up and help a stranger. they have this innate desire to help people, to help the world, even if it’s done in a small way or even if nobody else sees it.

isn’t it ironic how the sign that’s about humanity and togetherness is the one that feels like an outcast or has been ostracized from some group in some way? whether it be by their family (aquarius in the 4th house), friends (11th house), classmates (3rd house), or co-workers (6th house).

as an air sign, they can talk for hours. but out of the 3 air signs, aquarius is the most socially selective. this can be one of the reasons why they’re often described as cold and distant.

they may not be all sunshine & rainbows but they’re actually kind-hearted individuals. it’s just that they may not always express it in the most warm, affectionate, lovey-dovey way. i wouldn’t describe them as the most emotional individuals but they are still empathetic and they dislike inhumane behavior.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 sag experiences life to fullest by going everywhere, seeing everything, learning about it all in the process and then reflecting on what they’ve seen & learned.

taurus experiences life to the fullest by really being present in their physical body. they’ll take in the different sounds of a song and dance to the beat, they'll distinguish the different notes or aromas of a particular smell and then buy similar scents to fill their home with it or to wear as perfume/cologne. when eating, they'll really taste food and explore the different flavors/ingredients, then maybe they’ll try to cook it for themselves. they’re in tune with their senses and therefore the world around them. it’s such a beautiful way to experience life, but this can also mean that they are quite sensitive to their environments. with that being said they may feel a strong connection to nature/the earth.

🐚 cancer in the 10th house: may be perceived as compassionate & loyal, shy, or a sweetheart by the general public. could be sensitive about their reputation and any criticism they receive. they spend time nurturing their career, and their career may even relate to nurturing children, caretaking, or healing. they rely on their intuition or heart to carve out their path and navigate their career. they’re good listeners and as a cardinal sign they also possess that leadership quality. the types to provide their close friends and family with opportunities to help them reach their own success. a desire to take care of their family and their needs once they make it. people within the same industry as them may see them as a motherly mentor.

🐚 scorpio in the 2nd house: they can have deep and/or raspy voices. it’s music to my ears, but especially if it’s a woman with this placement. that’s because women typically have higher pitched voices, and so naturally, these women stand out when they speak. if they can sing well, they can probably reach deeper notes than most women typically can. but in the same breath, it may be hard for them to reach high notes. this applies to both the natal chart & the mercury persona chart.

🐚 saturn rules the teeth and so people with saturn in retrograde in the 1st house, or saturn opposite/square pluto, lilith, mars or the ascendant may have a chipped tooth due to a certain event such as getting hit in the mouth or biting on something hard. or they may have a gap between their front teeth, the type you inherit genetically or from your parents. this doesn’t mean they have ugly teeth or an ugly smile. however, whether they feel like they have an ugly smile or not, they may have a tendency to smile without showing their teeth or they cover their mouth when smiling/laughing in attempt to hide their teeth. either way, there’s a sense of self-consciousness here.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 4th house synastry: potential for a strong/solid foundation, they're your comfort place, having a strong desire to live together, moving in together can make the relationship feel more satisfying, fulfilling, or complete. you miss them when they’re not home/around, hate having to say goodbye, long distance could make you both feel miserable or like something is missing. possible separation anxiety. emotional vulnerability, healing, and attachment. taking care of each other. wanting to start a family. this house also creates an environment for a deep connection just like the other houses ruled by water signs.

🐚 if i could communicate with animals i would tell pets to choose owners who have scorpio in the 6th house. these people will loveee their pets to death. their pets would probably be obsessed with them (it would be mutual though) because of the amount of love and attention they would receive from their owners. there’s definitely a strong emotional attachment. but in general, having a water sign in the 6th house indicates a strong emotional connection or bond with pets/animals.

air signs in the 6th house would talk to their pets a lot and they’d be besties lol, they obviously don't speak the same language but they'd understand each other nonetheless. possible animal whisperers here.

earth signs in the 6th house would give their pets the best of the best but i also think this dynamic would bring a mutually grounding effect that could be therapeutic, bringing a sense of calm and peace to the pet and the owner’s life.

fire signs in the 6th house would spoil their pets and they’d have a lot fun doing things together like taking them outdoors and going on adventures. 

🐚 1st house ruler in the 2nd house: the themes of the 1st house includes one’s appearance and the themes of the 2nd house includes one’s physical body and beauty, being that is ruled by venus. while this still applies to libra because it is also ruled by venus and it has the reputation of being beautiful and having physical symmetry, this doesn’t apply to the 7th house, which libra rules, because that house is more related to romance and relationships.

so, since the physical body is part of one’s appearance, if your 1st house is ruled by the 2nd house, not only can this show another layer of your appearance but it can also mean you have a very attractive appearance and body. bonus points if taurus is in the 2nd house since that is the house it rules and it is also ruled by venus.

with that being said, even if you don’t have a libra rising or libra in the 1st house, if it’s in your 2nd house and it rules your first house you may have libra physical traits like freckles or dimples. if aries or leo is in your 2nd house then you may have a lot of hair, red hair (naturally or dyed), or a pronounced face/head. 

the planets in your 2nd house may also have an impact, so if you have mercury there your body may be quite slim. having venus in the 2nd house is also a bonus because again, beauty. jupiter too since it represents blessings so you may be blessed with great looks and this may indicate a thicker or curvier body type as well. i’d also add asteroid aphrodite (1388) as well, being that it represents attraction, & beauty, but planets will have a greater influence. 

lastly, people may like the way you dress and think you have a good sense of style.

^ even if the house that rules your 1st house doesn’t relate to one’s appearance or body, it can still have an influence on your presence. for example, if your 8th house rules your 1st house you probably have sex appeal without even trying to be sexy, people may think you’re secretive, and you might look and feel best when you’re wearing dark colored clothing. but remember, signs matter and can reinforce this or bring out the opposite.

🐚 asteroid juno (3) at a gemini degree (3°, 15°, 27°): can indicate a marriage filled with laughter, lots of conversation, and possibly good communication between you & your spouse, or these are things you desire or must have in a committed romantic partnership.

࿐ ࿔*:･ﾟ𓇼 ˖°

🐚 pluto represents things that are hidden. those with pluto in the 1st house may hide or gatekeep their personality or their true self, so many people don’t know the real them. they’re naturally mysterious with deep layers. 

in the 6th house they may hide any health issues they have or how hard their life may be on a daily basis, the types to feel like they’re on the verge of death but no one would know. 

in the 3rd house they may not be quick to reveal their thoughts or what’s on their mind, they try to think before they speak. reminds me of the person who chooses to sit in the back of the class and doesn’t participate much, but they have profound ideas and also a dark mind. their siblings may also feel like they don’t know them very well even if they grew up together and were raised in the same home. furthermore, your sibling’s friends may be surprised to learn that they have a sister/brother (the person with pluto in the 3rd house), because they’ve never seen or heard of them.

🐚 lilith represents the things we reject. in the 1st house, lilith may reject parts of themselves because they find those parts difficult to accept, they might create a new version of themselves but it’s not really authentic since they’re rejecting their true self. they may reject their personal boundaries and can potentially be a push over or they care too much about what others think. this may result in a lack of self-esteem and confidence. they could reject their appearance and do things to constantly change how they look whether that be dyeing their hair, dressing up in ways that are drastically different, or possibly getting cosmetic surgery.

in the 10th house, lilith may reject commands from their superiors, their boss/supervisor may tell them to do something a certain way but they do it their own way, may have a tendency of disobeying their father or they were rejected by their father. they may reject leadership roles and prefer to work alone. they don’t take the “traditional” path to success and may choose a career that their father is against. they could also reject fame or attention from the general public even though that’s something they naturally attract. 

in the 12th house they may reject their dreams, meaning that they think nothing of them, they’re “just dreams” and have no deeper meaning. they might reject the darker parts of themselves and prefer to focus on the parts that aren’t so dark and heavy. because of this there could be painful experiences that they haven’t healed from because they refuse to pay any attention to them. if they are spiritual, then they may have surface level knowledge and aren’t interested in delving into deeper waters. or they could disregard or hate the reality of life on this planet and so they have a tendency of fantasizing about death, the end of the world, or a different/better world. also, they may not be the most generous or charitable people.

🐚 empty houses: some people might think that the empty houses in their chart are insignificant but they still have relevance in your life because a there’s still a sign that falls into that house and that empty house also has a house ruler. for example, if you have an empty 3rd house with leo or sag there, you may still be one of the popular kids in school even if you have no planets in that house.

and let’s say your 3rd house is ruled by the 7th house (meaning your sun or jupiter is in the 7th house), your popularity may stem from your relationships. you may be known because you’ve dated the popular boy/girl at school or you both are popular making you the popular couple at school. perhaps you’ve had several relationships throughout your school years and maybe you’re that person who is always in a relationship which could create some gossip whether it be for good or bad. or maybe you have a lot of people pursuing you and wanting to date you, perhaps you have multiple people wanting to take you to prom or you might be a sophomore and yet you end up going to prom with a senior.

so, empty houses will still play a role in your life, but it will most likely be less active or less prominent compared to the houses that do have planets.

🐚 the 5th house: this is definitely one of my favorite houses. people with multiple placements in the 5th house typically have so much personality. they’re so fun, a joy to be around, truly a burst of sunshine with vibrant energy and they’re also really talented. definitely the life of the party, bringing everyone together with excitement and entertainment. the type to start dancing with or talking to a stranger or that person standing in the corner, making them feel both welcomed and included. they also have this youthful quality to them, which may be one of the reasons why children love them or get along with them well.

if you read this until the end i hope you enjoyed it & thank you so much for reading. ♥︎♥︎♥︎, those hearts are for you.

#astrology #astro notes #astrology notes #astro observations #astrology observations #libraincarnate

[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!

#levi ackerman #levi #captain levi #levi aot #snk levi #levi x reader #levi x y/n #aot levi #snk levi ackerman #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackeman #levi attack on titan #captain levi ackerman x you #captain levi x reader #captian levi x reader #captain levi ackerman x y/n #captain levi x you #levi shingeki no kyojin #levi x you #aot #attack on titan #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titans #levi smut #levi x reader smut #levi ackerman snk #levi ackerman smut #levi ackerman x reader smut #levi ackerman x female!reader

[seaseren]

This is how fucking In It I am rn: i had a semi-sharp pain in my collarbone for like 10 minutes and I was utterly convinced that there was a blood clot now moving through my throat (???) and up to my brain

#anyways i feel like i am fundamentally broken #but i managed to collect enough braincells to do most of the dishes and sleepwalk my way thru aglaia for the week so

[bellaxgiornata]

List of Installments for Falling For the Devil

Warnings/tags: 18+; series contains lots of smut, fluff, angst, humor

Summary: This is a very long series/collection of one-shots about a nervous/awkward journalist Reader meeting, falling for, and dating Matt Murdock. Meant to feel like a realistic look into dating Matthew Murdock and all the sweet, vulnerable, sexy, and dark sides that come with him. Reader also gradually gains more confidence in and out of the bedroom as the relationship progresses.

List of Installments

Part One: "The Night You Met"

Part Two: "The One-Sided Pining"

Part Three: "The Time Daredevil Saved You"

Part Four: "The Night You Almost Kissed"

Part Five: "The Wedding Day"

Part Six: "The Wedding Night"

Part Seven: "The Post-Wedding Brunch"

Part Eight: "The First Date"

Part Nine: "The Pool Game"

Part Ten: "The Growing Insecurity"

Part Eleven: "The Night Together"

Part Twelve: "The Week You Tried to Avoid Matt"

Part Thirteen: "The First Time He Walked You Home"

Part Fourteen: "The Time Matt Got Jealous"

Part Fifteen: "The Vulnerable Side of Matt"

Part Sixteen: "The Time You Saved Daredevil"

Part Seventeen: "The Revelation in the Rain"

Part Eighteen: "The Visit to Fogwell's"

Part Nineteen: "The Time You Almost Told Him"

Part Twenty: "The 'I Told You So'"

Part Twenty-One: "The Time You Did Tell Him"

Part Twenty-Two: "The Night You Couldn't Sleep"

Part Twenty-Three: "The Day of Phone Tag"

Part Twenty-Four: "The Devil and the Baker"

Part Twenty-Five: "The Leather Couch"

Part Twenty-Six: "The Big Win"

Part Twenty-Seven: "The Grocery Run"

Part Twenty-Eight: "The Early Morning Wake Up"

Part Twenty-Nine: "The Questions Over Coffee"

Part Thirty: "The Introduction at Clinton Church"

Part Thirty-One: "The Flight to Chicago"

Part Thirty-Two: "The Night He Couldn't Sleep"

Part Thirty-Three: "The Thanksgiving Dinner"

Part Thirty-Four: "The Ex Encounter"

Part Thirty-Five: "The Very Bad Day"

Part Thirty-Six: "The Cozy Night In"

Part Thirty-Seven: "The Bad Dream"

Part Thirty-Eight: "The Black Suit"

Part Thirty-Nine: "The Secret Santa"

Party Forty: "The Secrets in Your Suitcase"

Party Forty-One: "The First Half of the Trip"

Part Forty-Two: "The Argument in the Hotel Room"

Part Forty-Three: "The End of the Trip"

Part Forty-Four: "The Christmas Eve Party"

Party Forty-Five: "The Christmas Dinner"

Part Forty-Six: "The Night of Christmas"

Part Forty-Seven: "The Devil in Need"

Part Forty-Eight: "The Perfume"

Part Forty-Nine: "The Cemetery Visit"

Part Fifty: "The Interview"

Part Fifty-One: "The Devil's Wrath"

Part Fifty-Two: "The Breaking Point"

Party Fifty-Three: "The Downward Spiral"

Part Fifty-Four: "The Impossible Friendship"

Part Fifty-Five: "The Disheartening Valentine's Day"

Part Fifty-Six: "The Nightmare"

Part Fifty-Seven: "The Rough Conversation"

Part Fifty-Eight: "The Aftermath"

Part Fifty-Nine: "The Necessary Conversation"

Part Sixty: "The Long Awaited Kiss"

Part Sixty-One: "The Things You Didn't Know"

Part Sixty-Two: "The Pinky Promise"

Part Sixty-Three: "The Dinner Party"

Part Sixty-Four: "The Lesson at Fogwell's"

Part Sixty-Five: "The Shower"

Part Sixty-Six: "The Night Out"

Part Sixty-Seven: "The Morning in Bed"

Part Sixty-Eight: "The Sleepover"

Part Sixty-Nine: "The Lunch Date Delay"

Part Seventy: "The Thoughts About the Future"

Part Seventy-One: "The Sleepwalking"

Part Seventy-Two: "The Belated Valentine's"

Part Seventy-Three: "The Easter Sunday"

Part Seventy-Four: "The Boy's Night at Josie's"

Part Seventy-Five: "The Hangover"

Part Seventy-Six: "The Request"

Party Seventy-Seven: "The Very Frustrating Day"

Part Seventy-Eight: "The Night You Cooked Together"

Part Seventy-Nine: "The Hell Day"

Part Eighty: "The Revisitation of Moving In"

Part Eighty-One: "The Nighttime Visit"

Party Eighty-Two: "The Overload"

Part Eighty-Three: "The Really Bad Idea"

Part Eighty-Four: "The Late Night Snack Hunt"

Part Eighty-Five: "The Romantic Voicemails"

Part Eighty-Six: "The Moving Day"

Part Eighty-Seven: "The Week of Distractions"

Part Eighty-Eight: "The Birthday Brunch"

Part Eighty-Nine: "The Stray"

Part Ninety: "The Ring"

Part Ninety-One: "The Helping Hand"

Part Ninety-Two: "The Recurring Nightmare"

Part Ninety-Three: "The Unexpected Introduction"

Part Ninety-Four: "The Offer"

Part Ninety-Five: "The Evening of Insecurities" {Coming Soon}

Part Ninety-Six: "The Quiet Morning at Home"

Part Ninety-Seven: "The Rooftop"

#matt murdock x reader #matt murdock x you #matt murdock x fem reader #matt murdock series #matt murdock fic #daredevil x female reader #daredevil x reader #fftd

[taexual]

sleepwalking ● 12 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, some angst, DESCRIPTIVE SMUT with maybe 1 pet name and 2 jokes, a bunch of reminiscing and relentless flirting (bc jungkook is dowwnnnn badddd), praise kink if you squint?, minors please don't interact

words: 7.6k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 12 ► fall into your eyes like a grave, bury me to the sound of your name

You and Jungkook were silent for a solid fifteen minutes after you let him into your hotel room. You were both sitting on the bed, but with so much distance between you that it felt like you were on two different floors.

After your phone on the bedside table lit up for the sixth time in the last fifteen minutes, Jungkook finally spoke up.

“Your phone keeps buzzing,” he pointed out helpfully.

“Yeah.” You sighed. Being silent with Jungkook oddly felt less draining than dealing with whatever was happening on your phone. “It’s Kai.”

Jungkook nodded, remembering your brother’s misadventures the last time you two talked. He was almost happy to use that as an excuse to dance around the elephant in the room a little longer.

“How is he?” he asked. “With his broken…”

“Leg, yeah,” you finished, leaning your head against the headboard. “He’s home. Mum’s grounded him. She’s turned off the router and taken his Xbox, so he’s texting me because he’s got nothing else to do.”

Remembering how angry you were when your brother got himself into trouble and upset your mum, Jungkook asked with a small smirk on his lips, “and you had nothing to do with the Xbox?”

You shook your head. “I don’t believe it’s an appropriate punishment to withhold things from your children. I think it makes them withdraw from their parents, especially when they’re seventeen like Kai. And it makes them annoy their siblings instead,” you paused. Then shrugged. “But I’m not a parent, so easy for me to say.”

Dignified, Jungkook cleared his throat.

“You’ve contributed greatly to raising your brother,” he said in a voice full of contempt for your family’s general tendency to use the nine-year age difference between you and your brother as an excuse to have you babysit for free.

Although your heartbeat increased at the sound of his confidence—and his almost reflexive habit of defending you from yourself—your outward appearance remained composed. It was easy to appear collected when you weren’t looking at him and he felt so far away.

“And look at him now,” you said, an ironic smile on your face. “A mess.”

Jungkook snickered. “He’s really not that bad.”

Sighing again, you ran a hand through your hair and felt your fingers get caught in the last strand, only adding to your frustration with your brother.

“Sure. He’s a good kid,” you said, looking up at Jungkook. “But he tries too hard.”

Jungkook saw the parallel, he felt it. You might as well have said that about him.

At last, it seemed like the time had come to address the real reason he’d come to your room. He knew that this casual chit-chat was only temporary anyway. But if he wasn’t careful, it would be the last time the two of you spoke to each other with such ease, such familiarity.

He cleared his throat and said, “this might be the hardest conversation we have.”

He didn’t need to elaborate, you understood. And still, you thought about his words for a moment and decided to disagree.

“Or the easiest,” you said. “I mean, everything important that we could have said, we’ve pretty much said already.”

He blinked, surprised at first. Then dizzy.

There were several things he wanted to say to you, but he expected to listen to you first. He knew you wouldn’t initiate a conversation about your feelings, but he’d hoped this was different, especially considering all that you’d said to each other on the street.

It wasn’t different. You sat across from him on the bed and you looked a little uncomfortable, but not particularly confounded.

He’d expected to find you grappling with questions, armoured with rightful accusations, but you appeared settled.

Maybe it’s because it’s been four years, he realised suddenly. He hadn’t been there to watch you build your defences. He hadn’t seen your walls grow.

He worried, suddenly, that nothing he’d say would mean anything to you. He worried that the only reason you let him into your room was to deliver the finishing blow—to tell him that you were done one more time.

He switched the arm he was leaning against the bed with; his right arm was slowly going numb. Actually, so was his left, and, if he was completely honest, his whole body felt a bit like it was floating away from him, but he tried to focus on the moment.

“Uh, w-we haven’t said everything,” he said.

You looked at him. “What else is there?”

“Two things.”

Inhaling sharply, you turned away. You did not really want to continue the discussion you’d had by the canal. In fact, you didn’t think there was anything to continue at all.

You’d walked away as soon as you realised that you’d come face-to-face with your break-up. And this was it. You’ve found the reason why this could never work. Why you and him together could never work. And it was truly simple: it’s because it hadn’t worked before. You already knew it, but you enjoyed the leisure of pretending that you didn’t.

All that you two had to do now, in your opinion, was reach a formal agreement that this would be it. You’ve explored each other’s boundaries enough during this tour. The time has come to stop. To go back to your normal lives, your regular jobs and duties.

However, now that he was here, there was hesitation behind your closed eyes. You had learned that the two of you had different ideas about why you broke up. And you’d spent four years boiling in them, convincing yourselves you’ve moved on from them, then facing them head-on when you really looked at each other again.

Perhaps there were a few more things you had to talk about, after all, before you could truly put this behind you.

Finally, you nodded your head once and told him, “okay. What’s the first thing?”

“The first thing,” he started, “is that I'm sorry.”

It was well known that “sorry” wasn’t always a heavy word. People threw it around like a pebble and watched it bounce off the surface of the water, rarely ever intending for it to sink, to reach the depths not visible to the naked eye. Jungkook had been one of those people many times in his life.

But the word he used here felt different.

It carried a weight that forced him to lower his head as he said it. As if all his thoughts had been poured into this sentence – this fateful “I’m sorry” – and the heaviness of it was difficult to bear. As if he’d assigned different meanings to each “sorry” in his head, and all these little pieces suddenly added up to one big word that took up the whole room.

“For not realising what I was doing back then,” he said, dissecting the apology, “and what it meant for our relationship.”

He figured there wasn’t much that you could say that would make it easier for him to breathe – the conversation by the canal, the bet, the apology, all of it was too significant to leave much room for oxygen in his lungs.

But you said, “I forgive you.”

And it felt a lot like you were performing emergency resuscitation and successfully maintaining his brain function.

He wasn’t certain if you’d said that because it was the right thing to say, or because you’d meant it. If it was the former, Jungkook would have rather suffocated.

“You do?” he asked, unsure if he was prepared for your explanation.

“Yeah,” you said. “I didn’t know that you weren’t—that you didn’t realise why—why we broke up the way we did. And it sucks that you didn’t, but…”

You faltered here and Jungkook was keenly aware how you’d said it sucks, but you’d really meant it hurt me. It hurt that he’d been dismissive, negligent, and heedless – and had the audacity not to realise it.

He closed his eyes while you finished, “it sucks more to know that, all this time, you thought I’d just walked away for no good reason.”

An apology was on the tip of your tongue, he could sense it. Although you had many reasons to be angry with him for being so impossibly stupid, you also felt guilty because all this time, he had thought you woke up one morning and suddenly decided you didn’t want to be with him anymore. Like it was your fault that he didn’t realise he’d been taking you for granted every day for months before you broke up.

You should have been angry with him. Instead, you thought you were responsible for not explaining your reasoning properly before you left.

He couldn’t even begin to describe the ache in his chest. He wanted you so much, but more and more he realised that he didn’t deserve you.

“I didn’t try to stop you,” he said before you could say anything else, because this was another element of his initial apology. One more thing he had to be sorry for.

You shrugged with one shoulder. Over the years, you’d come up with several reasons why he never fought for your relationship, not even considering that he might have assumed you had fallen out of love with him. At the end of every day, you simply thought he didn’t care anymore.

“I thought you were okay with it,” you said. “When I told you we were over, you just stood there. You didn’t ask why and I didn’t... answer.”

“I wasn’t okay with it,” he replied. “But I didn’t think there was anything I could do.”

With a thoughtful nod, you agreed, “there probably wasn’t.”

“Yeah, but I felt that way because I assumed that you—you didn’t want to be with me. That you didn’t care about me anymore. And you, uh,” he stopped here and waited for a long minute. Finally, he inhaled deeply. “You thought the opposite.”

You probably should have shouted at each other as you discussed this, you thought abruptly. That would have been appropriate. Maybe even healthy, all things considered.

But then, perhaps the realisation that you both had different views on why you broke up was precisely the thing that softened the impact. His hurt because you’d left him without an explanation, and your anger because he made you do it—they both took up outstanding amounts of space in your chests. They weighed you down. And they almost balanced each other out.

Perhaps you weren’t ready to shout just yet. Or not anymore.

Perhaps you’d left most of the shouting in the past four years ago. Now you were finally on the verge of closure.

That was the point, after all: the two of you boasted—really, there was no other word for it, you were both proud of it—that you’d never spoken to anyone about the details of your relationship.

That could have been admirable, of course, this utter devotion to each other and no one else. Except that, you didn’t talk about your relationship with each other, either.

“Do you think this is our own fault?” you asked. “We were good at talking about everything except… well, us.”

“I know,” Jungkook was quick to agree. You had both been like this from the very beginning—that’s likely why he was never fully aware of his behaviour. You’d always argued, but never about the things that really mattered. “I nearly threw up before I asked you to be my girlfriend.”

You did a double take, your mind racing to supply you with a memory that matched his words, but coming up short.

You squinted at him. “Did you actually ask?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but let it hang there, no words coming out for a good minute.

“You don't remember?!” he accused, his voice so high-pitched that it could almost shatter glass.

“I remember going on at least five dates before someone called you,” you explained, “and I heard you say into your phone, ‘sorry, I’m with my girlfriend.’ And that’s when I assumed that, huh. I guess I’m your girlfriend then.”

Jungkook could remember this exact moment. It was Sid who had called him because the two of them were working for Sid’s grandfather fixing his Camaro at the time. Jungkook had needed the money, while Sid simply enjoyed the ‘69 classic car.

The memory sent a shiver down his spine because he recalled turning Sid down. He had prioritised you over everything back then. What had happened to him later?

Regardless – in Jungkook’s mind, the timeline of your relationship was different.

“I vividly remember asking you on our second date,” he said.

You furrowed your eyebrows as you attempted to remember the very beginning of your relationship.

Your first date was the traditional movie and dinner—although it turned into a movie and the rain when you got stuck in the park. You recalled the whole day with near-perfect clarity.

Your second date was a week later, at the carnival in town. It took you three hours to get back to your dorms, because the event was held across the forest that separated the university campus from a small town nearby. Jungkook had insisted that you could walk home, he had claimed to know the way. And then he proceeded to get you lost within a few seconds of entering the forest.

All you could remember him asking you back then, was, ‘I know where I’m going, so trust me, okay?’ and that certainly did not include any terms that specified your relationship status.

Confused if you were remembering this wrong, you asked, “when we got lost on our way home from the carnival?”

“Before that!” he was even louder now, both of his hands in the air as he frantically explained, “on the Ferris wheel! I can’t believe you don’t remember!”

“On the Ferris—Jungkook, you had motion sickness the whole time we were on it,” you reminded him.

“I wasn’t sick,” he argued. “I was nervous.”

You narrowed your eyes at him. “All you said to me during that entire ride was ‘please’ when we were at the very top.”

“That was me asking!”

“That was—” You laughed in surprise before you could finish the sentence. “Okay, well, you can see why I wouldn’t remember that, considering you didn’t use a lot of words to explain what you meant. I thought you were asking me to end the ride. Not that I could have ended it, but—”

“You said yes, though.”

You didn’t think you heard him right, his tone noticeably lower compared to the agitated screaming before. “Hm?”

“When I said, ‘please?’,” he spoke, “you said, ‘yes.’”

You watched him, considering it.

“I think I was asking,” you said and demonstrated, “yes?”

“No. You made a statement,” he disagreed, showing you, “yes.”

You pursed your lips, choosing to quit before this escalated into an argument.

“Alright, fine,” you said. “Maybe I read your mind, then.”

He scoffed, turning away. “And forgot about it…”

Nevermind taking the high road.

“Well, I didn't think it meant anything,” you argued, “you were—”

“I had a different plan. I was going to fully embrace The Notebook and dangle from someone else’s seat to ask you,” Jungkook said, “but for that to work, you would’ve had to go on the ride with someone else. And at that point, I couldn’t let you sit in that cabin with someone who wasn’t me.”

You could feel your cheeks stretching as an involuntary smile spread across your lips.

“That’s a little crazy,” you said gently.

“Please,” he replied, lowering himself on your bed until he was lying on his back. “It’s just crazy. I went on a binge-watching session of romantic films before our first few dates. I did my research.”

You knew him too well not to point out, “was it really only for research?”

“Alright, after the first few, I started to really enjoy them,” he admitted, earning a knowing nod from you. He smiled in response and continued, “but then I got to know you better, and I figured that if I serenaded you like Heath Ledger did in 10 Things I Hate About You, you’d break up with me immediately.”

Your laughter sounded so sincere and calming that Jungkook felt his smile widen as he turned his head to look at you from where he was lying on your bed.

“So I became a singer instead,” he said, encouraged by the lightness in your laugh. “You can’t break up with me if singing for you is my job.”

Your stomach performed an intricate Loop-the-Loop and then dropped, seemingly down ten floors, all the way to the lobby of the hotel.

Desperate, you tried, “you’re not—it’s not—”

Noticing you were about to downplay his words—either because you didn’t think he meant it, or because you didn’t feel comfortable knowing that he did—Jungkook changed the topic instead.

“Were you angry at me?” he asked. “For not chasing you after you left that time?”

Struggling to collect the remains of your thoughts, you spoke very slowly, “I... I was angry that you didn’t put in any effort while we were still together. After that, I thought you didn’t care anymore.”

“I did,” he said. Then, realising, he corrected himself, “I do. And I didn’t want to make the same mistake again today.”

Hesitantly, you asked, “how do you mean? Because I left today?”

He nodded. “I'm not going to wait another four years before we talk about us.”

“Jungkook...” you said, but the sound of his name on your lips caused your thoughts to jumble once more. Your words stuck to your throat as your heart threw itself against the walls of your chest. You hoped to divert the topic, “y-you said there were two things. What—what’s the second thing?”

“The second thing is that I love you,” he said in one quick breath. “I took everything we had for granted, and I’m sorry. But the truth is that even then I was—I-I’d never stopped loving you.”

A sense of déjà vu clouded your mind, while the rest of your body reacted as if this was the first time you’d heard him say this. As if the four years you hadn’t been together were long enough to start a new lifetime, and now you’ve met again, reincarnated into different people – Jungkook, the vocalist of a rock band, and you, the manager.

But, buried deep in your subconscious, locked away in a box that your brain dared not touch even in a dreaming state, was the memory of the first time he’d said these words to you.

It was spring. You’d been together for about five or six months at that point, and you’d skipped class together to go to the same park where you’d had your first date. You’d spent the whole day walking around hand-in-hand, reminiscing about the past, dreaming of the future, taking pictures of the freshly bloomed cherry blossoms, and picking up the pale pink leaves from the grass to throw them at each other.

During the car ride back home, you were so exhausted that you could hardly keep your eyes open. The two of you had been running around so much—his energy was infectious, you’d both acted like Golden Retrievers set loose—that your legs felt wobbly and unsteady.

After a few more minutes, you had lost the battle against yourself and settled more comfortably into the passenger seat, closing your eyes. Your mind was already beginning to fill with the bliss of sleep when Jungkook stopped the car at a red light.

He glanced at you, seemingly asleep on the seat beside him, and leaned in to press his lips to your forehead. When he pulled back, he noticed a pale cherry blossom in your hair and a soft smile on your lips.

It was nothing more than a whisper—“I love you so much”—that slipped from his lips because he thought you were asleep. Nothing more than an overwhelmed confession as his heart drowned in his feelings.

But, to this day, nothing has ever come close to making your heart beat nearly as fast as it had in that car when the light turned green and he drove back to your dorm, still thinking you were asleep. That first confession of love remained a secret between you, him, and the stray cherry blossom nestled in your hair.

Slowly, you opened your eyes as the memory tugged at each and every cell of your skin, bringing goosebumps to the surface. You looked around the hotel room before you dared to look at him again.

Contrary to what Jungkook believed, you didn’t appear collected because you were done. Or because you didn’t want to fight with yourself about wanting him anymore.

It was because you were tired of still wanting him so much in spite of everything.

You were tired of forcing yourself to let go. To move on. To be rational and responsible.

Tired of feeling happy about things that were probably inappropriate.

Tired of finding those things inappropriate.

But rationally, you knew that you had to leave this behind and return to your normal lives after this, regardless of what you wanted.

It’d be much harder—to an infinite extent—because this wasn’t how you’d imagined this conversation going.

Quietly, you broke the silence, “I’m sorry, too.”

“Why?” he asked, sitting up on the bed.

“We can’t...” the words trailed off before you could catch up. You tried again, “I can’t—we can't do this.”

He observed the battle behind your eyes and then spoke, very softly, almost inaudibly, “we’re not doing anything wrong.”

“We’re—"

“We’re the ones who put meaning to things,” he continued. Not to contradict you, but to reassure you. “If we say it doesn't mean anything, then it doesn't.”

You shook your head with a sad smile, the situation vaguely familiar.

“It’s never that simple,” you said. “There’s so much more than just you and me to consider.”

“It is simple,” he insisted. Then, just like back in your bunk on the tour bus, he asked, “do you want me to leave?”

Just like back then, you answered without hesitation, “no.”

“Then this can have as much or as little meaning as you want it to. I don’t give a fuck,” he said. “I’m yours. You are all I’m considering. And I’m staying.”

In less than a second, the determination in his voice made you realise that rational didn’t always mean reasonable.

Rationally, you knew you should have drawn the line. You should have left or told him to leave. Should have distanced yourself from him for the sake of your heart. Your job. For the sake of the atmosphere backstage.

You were aware of all the damage this could do. You were aware of the risk. Of the questions. Of the pain.

You were aware that you were having the very conversation that you’d stopped him from pursuing a few hours ago on the street. But your response to him was vastly different now.

Really, the situation felt different, too.

The second thing is that I love you.

I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you, I love you—

You couldn’t imagine yourself leaving.

There was no place in the whole world that you would have rather been in right now. And no one else you would have wanted to share that place with.

It felt reasonable to stay. And wish for him to stay, too.

Jungkook had to scoot closer on the bed to reduce the distance between you two, and as soon as he did, he leaned in right away. He’d hesitated before, got scared, panicked and changed his mind. Tonight, he would do nothing of the sort.

His lips touched yours before you could formulate a single doubt and his kiss effectively silenced all the noises and echoes in your head.

Truthfully, he knew that there was a third thing he didn’t tell you, but when you kissed him back, less tentatively than the first time on the bus, he couldn’t imagine ever saying anything to you again. Speaking seemed like an immeasurable waste of time.

Instead, he pulled you closer, his lips locked on yours as one of his hands held the side of your face. His gentle fingertips contrasted with the coldness of his lip ring against your lips as he touched the skin of your cheek like he wasn’t sure, not even now, that it was really you he was holding. His other hand found its way around your waist and settled there—the gesture so intimate, so familiar.

He kissed you and it felt inevitable. Like everything you’d been doing up to this point was meant to lead you here – even the break-up four years ago.

As Jungkook felt your hands on his chest, careful and barely there, he mentally cursed himself for wearing this white shirt yet again—the fabric was too thick for him to properly feel you.

Still, he recognised the ghost of your touch as though he’d never been apart from you. As though you’d always stayed like this, locked in a desperate embrace in the tenth-floor room of a hotel in Amsterdam.

There were endless somethings bursting persistently in his chest as he tasted you, deepening the kiss by bringing his tongue over yours. Fireworks and flames and entire conflagrations all wreaked havoc on his heart.

This time, there were no promises of five minutes, and no curtains to separate you from everyone else. When you whimpered quietly, in response to him pulling you up until one of your legs was thrown over his and you were seated firmly on his thigh, he was the only one who heard it. The only one who felt your heavy breathing on his lips as he kissed you.

And if, by a lucky chance, there was any oxygen left in the room, neither of you needed it as your holds on each other grew tighter, hands grasping whatever materials they could reach and pulling—until he took your shirt off, until you took off his.

Every single one of your nerve endings was focused solely on him—his taste, his scent, his touch, his warmth, the roughness of his dark jeans underneath you, the softness of the skin on his chest. Your body instinctively drew closer, prompting him to clench his thigh as he wrapped his arms around you even more tightly.

His lips gently trailed kisses down your jawline and onto your neck, and it was as intoxicating as it was overwhelming. He remembered your body—how could he forget when it haunted his dreams almost every night?—but he yearned to create new memories, to trace the lines of your figure that he’d memorised and bring them to life in a new and different way.

You helped his eager hands find the edge of your sports bra and had to briefly pull away from him to slide it over your head. He pulled you back to him as soon as you did, needing to get lost in your touch, to feel your skin against his.

Your hotel room was filled with so much electricity, the two of you could have lit all of Amsterdam up.

“There’s so much I want to say to you. So much I have to say,” he breathed against your lips while his hands caressed your exposed sides, tracing the familiar maps on your skin.

You pulled him closer by gripping the back of his neck and exhaled, “show me instead.”

The meaningfulness, or rather, meaninglessness, of the moment seemed secondary. You wouldn’t analyse what this symbolised or where you stood.

Instead, you’d analyse how kissing him—touching him, feeling his skin, hearing his breathing—felt good. How it felt right. Like you’d been lying to yourself by doing everything else but this.

Sitting on his lap as he held you firmly in his arms—essentially trapping you in his grip, in his scent, in him—you could feel the rest of the world fade away into the recesses of your mind that you didn’t consider important at this given point.

Focusing on the feeling of his tongue against yours and the firmness underneath you, you allowed the scorching heat of the moment to take control of your movements as you instinctively moved your hips against his and forced him to suck in a shaky breath.

You undid the buckle of his belt and he had to pull back just a little, breaking the kiss. His head was spinning, overwhelmed by your closeness and the rapid beating of his heart. It wasn’t the first time you had been this close, but it had been so long, and he’d wanted this so much, that it felt like he’d never done this before.

Noticing your trembling hands, he helped you with his belt by loosening his grip on your waist. As soon as your fingers reached the zipper of his pants, he grabbed your forearms—successfully halting your progress in ridding him of his jeans—and swiftly flipped you over onto your back on the bed.

Your eyes met for a split second as he hovered over you, silently exchanging a conversation that neither of you dared to voice.

He leaned in to kiss you again and allowed you to get back to the previous task. Kissing him back, you finally managed to lower his jeans to his knees, and the simple feeling of your touch on the back of his thighs nearly made him see stars. Leaning his forehead against yours, he squeezed his eyes shut and bit his lip to regain his composure.

He briefly sat up to kick off his jeans—as quickly as he could, because the room temperature fell a hundred degrees when he wasn’t touching you—and you took a moment to trace the patterns of ink on his arm with your eyes.

You were with him when he got his first tattoo.

He acted tough in the tattoo parlour, but once the artist took you both down to the basement, all of his bravery faded. It was rather chilly down there—Jungkook was pouting when he took his jacket off, revealing his shivering skin—and he’d chosen his knuckles as a place for his first tattoo. It was going to hurt.

He knew that, in theory. But the way he squeezed your hand and bit his lip when the needle pierced his skin for the first time still surprised you both. You weren’t sure who was in more pain by the end of the session—him, from the fresh ink on his hand, or you, from how hard he’d been squeezing your hand.

Now, he had a full sleeve. And you felt a pang of pain in your chest, because there were so many tattoos that you hadn’t seen him get.

You hadn’t been there when the needle pierced his skin again and again. You hadn’t seen the way he closed his eyes, clenched his jaw, and placed a hand on your knee—for support, for reassurance, for all-consuming love.

You hadn’t helped him apply lotion on the fresh ink, hadn’t teased him for being a baby, hadn’t been shut up with a kiss. You hadn’t traced the intricate lines on his skin with the tips of your fingers—careful, gentle, loving.

You hadn’t been there for four years.

But you were here now.

Just as your gaze reached his shoulder, your eyes locked on the patterns you’d never touched, Jungkook turned to you and caught you staring. The dazed look in your eyes before he had even done anything affected him in more ways than he could count.

With a wide, shameless grin and a raised eyebrow, he leaned into you again. You noticed right away that he was about to say something that would surely ruin the moment, but you pressed a hand to his chest, stopping him before he could.

“Don’t,” you warned. There was humour and light and excitement in your eyes.

Chuckling as if you’d read his mind, he pressed a kiss to your lips and mumbled, “wasn’t going to say anything.”

“Liar,” you exhaled against his mouth as he quickly slid your biker shorts and panties down your hips, your back barely leaving the bed.

“Honest,” he countered in a soft whisper, his lips hovering over your neck as his hands returned to your waist and he aligned your hips with his. “I have better things on my mind.”

It was hard to determine which one of you was to blame for ending this unnecessary bickering by inhaling too sharply – you, who reached the edge of his boxers and pulled them down, removing the last layer of clothing between you; or him, who gently caressed your thighs, drawing deliberately slow, teasing circles that inched closer to your core.

He managed to kick off his boxers without letting go of you—which was a talent that was difficult to advertise, but a talent nonetheless—and kissed you deeply. One of his fingers slid over your thighs and traced over your folds, causing your body to twitch in anticipation as you gripped his forearms for support.

His touch felt foreign and familiar at the same time – he knew how to find every single one of your nerve endings, but your body seemed to have forgotten that he knew.

It was almost frightening how he sensed exactly how to touch you to elicit a response—the pillows of his fingers effortlessly reached the bundle of nerves on your clit at just the right time to make your back arch off the bed involuntarily, seeking more friction. Your breathing grew louder every time he applied more pressure to his touch.

It really didn’t feel fair at all—the way he appeared to know your body better than you did, even after all these years.

A frustrated whimper escaped your lips when he added another finger, picking up the pace. He alternated between gentle rubs and teasing caresses, and his touch made your head spin, but you wanted more of him. All of him.

He only inserted a finger for a fraction of a second before lightly brushing it over your folds—the motion so sweet and then suddenly not enough. Your nails were about to draw blood from how tight you were gripping his arms.

“Don’t tease,” you exhaled, more a plea than a command. “Not now.”

There was a hint of promise here, and Jungkook smiled before nodding. He kissed your lips, but instead of pulling away, he increased his pace—toying with your clit with just enough pressure and at just the right angle that you could have cried out if you hadn’t been biting your lip so hard.

“Fuck,” was all you could respond with as your eyes rolled back from the intense sensation. “Jungkook—”

This time his name was encouraging. It was begging. It made him groan as he leaned in, already almost painfully hard as he rubbed your clit, spreading your wetness with his fingers.

“Hmm.” He touched your neck with his lips in a sloppy, wet kiss that sent shivers down your spine. “You look so beautiful.”

“Fuck,” you repeated, the relentless ministrations of his fingers rendering you incapable of a more coherent sentence. “Fuck.”

And just when you felt the pressure in your stomach building, he pulled away abruptly.

The loss of contact made you exhale with enough agitation for it to resemble a whine. This earned you a smirk from him as he pulled back slightly, convinced he was just doing what you’d asked because he did indeed stop teasing.

To be fair, it was for his benefit, too. Your body, your warmth, your heavy breaths—he knew it all teased him more than he could ever tease you.

Struggling to maintain his composure, he bit his lip and reached for his length, giving it a few languid strokes.

The first glimpses of concern started to creep in when he realised he had no protection, but he saw you nod at the pile of suitcases by your bed. Confused initially, he rolled off of you and approached what appeared to be a welcome basket on top of the pile.

“Don’t tell me…” he mumbled in disbelief as he picked up the wicker basket—decorated with an appropriate white bow.

“Yeah,” you confirmed his thoughts and sure enough, among complimentary bottles of shampoo and tubes of toothpaste, he found a box of condoms.

Under different circumstances, he would have embraced his inner teenager and dropped everything to giggle at this, but he tried to stay composed. That is, until he looked at you and saw that you were biting your lip in an obvious attempt to hold back laughter.

“Well, this is quite convenient,” he remarked, encouraged by your amusement, as he climbed back on the bed. “Almost meant to be, no?”

“Don’t spoil the moment,” you warned, pressing your lips together to conceal your smile. “Just hurry.”

“Say that again for me?” he teased. “I love it when you beg.”

Undeterred by the punch on his shoulder that he received in response, Jungkook laughed and ripped the bag open. He unrolled the condom onto his length with relative ease despite the slight shake in his hands.

You reached out to help him, and he realised he might actually pass out when he felt you touch him. The tips of your fingers were on the tip of his length as he brought it closer to your entrance.

He shook his head and warned breathlessly, all of his previous confidence gone, “I’m not—not going to last long.”

He could tell as much even before he entered you, but after you nodded—giving him voiceless permission—and, slowly, almost agonisingly, he slid inside, he realised he may have miscalculated.

He might not last at all.

Lowering his head as he paused, not even halfway in, he bit his lip in concentration and closed his eyes. He couldn’t get himself together when you looked like that under him—almost too lost in the feeling of him, in the pleasant stretch, in the way you couldn’t help but clench around him as your walls anticipated fitting all of him in.

“Fuck,” he exhaled shakily as you tightened around him. He really needed to get a grip. More sternly, he repeated, “fuck,” and, with a more forceful thrust of his hips, he fully bottomed out.

You threw your head back at the sudden motion, needing a second to adjust to the stretch. This was helped greatly by one of his hands as he caressed your hips, your waist, your breasts while he gave you as much time as you needed. Hė toyed with your nipple between his fingers and the gentle touch and the utmost admiration in his dark eyes sent sparks straight to your core.

After you quietly urged him to move, it still took him a whole minute before he felt confident enough to pull almost all the way out and then push back in, testing both of your limits. He looked at you—because he couldn’t not look at you underneath him, not even if it meant he’d lose himself right away—and the expression on your face was so dreamy that he didn’t even realise he shuddered in exhilaration.

Your head was still thrown back as you held your lower lip in a tight grip between your teeth. When you slowly opened your eyes, your gaze met his right away. And there was barely anything—fuck it, there was nothing—that he could have done to prepare for it.

He thought he may as well have died then and there because nothing in his life would ever compare to the colour of your eyes when you looked at him.

Swallowing the groan in the back of his throat, he leaned in to press his lips to yours as he began to move. It was slow at first, then his hips gradually gained more speed as he felt your warm walls pulling him in. Your fingers found their way to his hair, getting tangled in the dark strands as his hips pressed into yours harder—not just faster, but with more force, too, each brush of his length igniting a new fire inside of you.

He made it impossible for you to catch your breath as he kissed you with as much fervour as before, not once slowing down the pace of his hips. Everything he did was in response to you—the way you arched your back, your whimpers in between the messy, open-mouthed kisses, the way you pulled his hair, the way you held onto his shoulders.

He knew that if he lost concentration, he’d unravel immediately. It’s been so long, too long. He’s wasted far too many nights in foreign beds, chasing highs that had always felt forced and artificial. He wasn’t prepared for the real thing. He wasn’t prepared for you.

“Fuck. I’d missed you, my love,” he whispered hazily between kisses, each word accompanied by a thrust of his hips, “so fucking much.”

You felt shivers run down your spine again. If you could have formed a sentence—let alone voiced it—you would have reciprocated.

You would have told him that you missed him too. And you would have told him how much it scared you, the way this feeling was so intense that you seemed to disregard everything else.

But you couldn’t focus.

His length stroked your walls with an exemplary balance of force and tenderness. His tongue was in your mouth, the kiss hot, heavy, messy. His hands were all over your skin, warm, eager, relentless.

He filled your head with stars.

You could not speak, you could not say anything that wasn’t a breathless whisper of his name every time he pulled away to give you both a chance to inhale.

He understood you without words, however. And the response you had to him was about to tip him over the edge. His movements became too fast to be precise, his thrusts grew sloppy, his breathing got heavier, his groans louder.

The knot in your stomach formed much faster than you would have liked. You wanted this to last longer, but all of it felt reckless—dangerous and outrageous—and so good—too­ good—that you broke the kiss, a strangled cry of his name passing your lips as a warning that you were close.

“Yeah?” he whispered, kissing your jaw as he pressed his thumb on your clit. The rubbing motion matched the speed of his hips and the intensified pleasure caught you so unexpectedly that you could no longer control how loud you were.

Your heavy breaths mixed with curses and broken fragments of his name—he knew these sounds would echo around his mind for every waking moment—as your back arched off the bed and into him.

And when he heard you cry out, when he felt your grip on his arms tighten as your body jerked forwards, your hips meeting his, then lowering again in uncontrollable muscle spasms, when he felt your walls clench around him so much that they nearly stopped his movements, he almost whined, sensing his own high, brought on by the feeling of yours.

There were curses spilling from your lips as you came and you held onto him so tightly that he knew he’d have bruises on his arms tomorrow morning. Already, he couldn’t wait to look at them. He couldn’t wait to do this again.

His hips drove into yours—sloppily, accompanied by loud sounds of skin slapping on skin—until he fell over the edge, groaning loudly as he spilled himself into the condom. His body twitched as he pushed into you—one final stroke of your soft, sensitive walls—then he stilled completely.

His face was inches from yours, and you were the one who reached out to connect your lips, turning his groan into a dangerous whimper. Your kiss burned through him like electricity and, impossibly, seemed to prolong his climax.

He kissed you back like it was the first time, still powerless from his high, still feeling like he was floating, unable to come down, to pull out, to stop kissing you.

Breathless, you whined against his mouth and felt him stir inside of you, sparking a sudden new fire in your stomach before the previous one could fully go out.

He wanted you, needed you still—maybe he’d never stop. But it was the way you responded to him, the way he felt you need him as much as he needed you, that made him growl into the kiss as his hands reached for the parts of you that he'd touched hundreds of times tonight already.

It was almost desperate, the way you were still clinging to one another—like you’d never touched each other before and never would again.

Finally, you pulled away to inhale. And to, hopefully, recover.

“Fuck,” Jungkook whispered, summarising all that you were about to say.

You both chuckled, giddy, excited, almost euphoric.

He rested his forehead against yours and pressed another soft kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out, and stepping back to discard the condom.

In no more than three seconds, he was back on the bed next to you, pulling you to his side and kissing you once more.

It was three seconds then, he decided, that he could survive away from you.

For a good minute after that, the two of you just watched each other, your chests rising and falling as your bodies tried to fathom something that your minds failed to grasp.

Suddenly, you shook your head.

“What?” he asked. His lips were stretched into what felt like a permanent smile.

“Nothing, I just… it would be very difficult to explain where we were if someone noticed us missing,” you said—your words humorous, but the meaning behind them serious.

Even though you smiled as you spoke, Jungkook swallowed and nodded, solemn all of a sudden.

“I know,” he said. “And I don’t care if anyone knows. I only care that we do.”

You ran your tongue over your swollen lips, preparing to say something that he knew he wouldn’t like. But he was paralysed as he watched you. He swore your lips were the colour of his dreams, and he had to clench his jaw so he wouldn’t lean over and kiss you again.

He forced himself to roll onto his back and spoke up before you could, making sure his voice was as nonchalant as possible, given the hurricane inside his chest, “can we—can we not talk about that right now? Can I just stay here instead?”

You looked at him—which was incredibly easy when he wasn’t looking back at you—and forgot, for a moment, that you had to reply.

He looked almost ethereal like this, with his head resting on the pillows next to you, his hair tousled, stray curls sticking to the droplets of sweat on his forehead, his lips pursed slightly as he stared ahead. A part of you wished to take a picture, to hold onto this moment forever. But a different part of you didn’t want anyone else to witness him like this, not even the lens of your phone camera.

He suddenly turned his head to look at you and you blinked, averting your eyes as you remembered that you hadn’t spoken.

“Hmm. Yes,” you said, the word scratchy as it caught in your dry throat. You cleared it and tried again, “okay.”

Jungkook hummed somehow ambiguously and looked away.

“What?” you asked, confused by the look on his face.

“I thought you’d still tell me to leave,” he admitted.

You sighed. “You should. But I want you to stay. I’m fine with doing what I want tonight, however stupid that might turn out to be.”

He ignored the doubt in your voice—he was getting good at that—and looked at you again. He knew you probably couldn’t even begin to imagine the sort of fire your words ignited inside of him, and just how far the sparks travelled on his skin.

“Then I hope you know,” he said, “that I’m fine with only getting ten minutes of sleep tonight.”

Quietly, you replied, “I think I’m fine, too.”

“Yeah?” he asked, briskly turning to his side and propping himself up on his elbow with renewed excitement.

His abrupt jump made you chuckle despite your best attempts to remain serious, and his grin widened as he brought his hand to the side of your face and leaned in to kiss you once more. Then, twice more. Then three more times—in perpetuity, he hoped.

He knew that he was blessed to have experienced a lot of happiness in his life. But nothing came close to the feeling of your lips on his as the two of you played around in your hotel bed in Amsterdam, two nights before his band’s inaugural performance in The Netherlands during their first European tour.

This was a dream, it had to be.

And he was determined to do everything to make sure he never woke up from it.

chapter title credits: sleep token, “like that”

prev ○ next

#jungkook x reader #jeon jungkook smut #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fanfiction #jungkook x you #jungkook fluff #jeon jungkook fanfiction #jungkook au #jeon jungkook x reader #bts fanfiction #bts au #bts x reader #bts fanfic #jungkook fanfic #bts rockstar au #jungkook rockstar au

[b1gtimerush]

lights, camera, action! a collection of scenarios / plots from yours truly.

amnesia. one of our characters loses most of their memories.

bodyswap. both of our characters swap bodies.

co-parent. both of our characters suddenly have to raise a child together.

dream. one of our characters visits the other in a dream.

earth. both of our characters find each other on post-apocalyptic earth.

flashback. both of our characters are stuck in the past.

flashforward. both of our characters are stuck in the future.

greencard. one of our characters marries the other for a green card.

groundhog. both of our characters are stuck in a time loop.

haunt. one of our characters is dead and haunting the other.

ink. one of our characters writes/draws the other into existence.

investigate. one of our characters is hired to investigate the other.

job. one of our characters will do anything for a pay-check, the other hires them for an odd job.

kin. one of our characters meets an alternate universe version of the other.

language. one of our characters has been cursed to speak nonsense, somehow the other is the only one who can understand them.

magnetic. both of our characters are magically magnetised to each other.

number. one of our characters is in trouble and was given the number of the other to call if they needed help.

ogre. one of our characters turns into an ogre at night.

possession. one of our characters meets the other while possessing someone else's body.

quest. both of our characters set off on an adventure/journey together.

rescue. one of our characters saves the other from danger.

resurrect. one of our characters comes back from the dead.

sleepwalk. one of our characters always sleepwalks to where the other is.

taken. one of our characters finds the other after they've been kidnapped.

transplant. 'where's my boyfriend?' 'who do you think gave you the heart?'

urgent. one of our characters is injured, the other is their emergency contact.

vegas. both of our characters wake up married after a drunk night in vegas.

wish. one of our characters makes a wish and the other shows up as a result.

x-ray. one of our characters develops x-ray vision, the other is the only person they can't see through.

yeehaw. both of our characters are in the wild wild west.

zing. both of our characters are struck by lightning and can now sense each other's thoughts and feelings.

#rp meme #rp memes #rp prompt #rp prompts #inbox meme #inbox memes #inbox prompt #inbox prompts #ask meme #ask memes #bigtimeprompts. #this is for when you just want to put your little guys in situations #kept this vague so you can fill in the specifics however you want. for starters or plotting or whatever

[immoralgirl]

sanji loves the way your cum tastes. he thinks that you’re the most delicious meal, and will take every chance he can just to have a moment where he can hungrily eat at your cunt.

he loves your cum so much, that he came up with the idea to cook with it.

he knows that it’s horrible, and he knows that it’s nasty. but, if it’s just a little treat for his favourite girl to enjoy, it can’t be that bad. right?

so, when you lay fast asleep on your bed after sanji had spent an hour between your thighs, slurping and licking, sanji collects some of the leftover cum- he’s not one to waste, after all.

he walks over to the kitchen of the sunny, eyes darting around to make sure a sleepwalking Luffy isn’t attempting to break into the fridge. when everything is clear, he gets to work.

this is atrocious, he thinks. yet he continues to cook, making sure to balance the meal perfectly.

when he’s finally done, he can’t help the little bite he takes- and wow. who knew that cum could taste so good like this?

the next day, when he served you a plate of cookies you were of course happy, and very grateful. sanji made sure that you ate every bite, he wouldn’t want his pretty baby to be hungry, now would he?

when you’d take your last bite, you’re surprised to see sanji lean down, mouth right next to your ear.

“i put your cum in there, sweetheart.” he says, eyes practically hearts from how close he is to you.

he had been waiting to reveal it to you since he served you the plate.

and he couldn’t help the eager grin on his face as he watched your eyes widen, jaw dropping slightly at his words. was he for real?

that’s disgusting! gross! filthy! horrid!

so why does it turn you on so much?

#vinsmoke sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #one piece sanji #sanji x reader #op sanji #sanji smut #one piece #op #op smut #op x reader

[see-arcane]

Oh, Lucy. Lucy, Lucy, Lucy.

There are few characters in gothic horror, or fiction in general, that better exemplify the hell of being caught in a chronic state of highs and lows. I would jump straight to chronic illness--her battle with commandeered sleepwalking and vampiric exsanguination is very clearly that--but also the endless limbo state of one being preyed on by a stalker.

Right now, Dracula must be away, and so she's better for his lack of a new visit. His earth-boxes are being moved to their initial destination in Carfax Abbey, his respite in Whitby and toying with Lucy now paused. Lucy appears to be out of danger.

But she does not live in Whitby either. She must be on her way eventually. And even first-time readers can guess what's on the bleak and bloody horizon once she goes home.

It won't be a constant thing. A steep sudden drop and an ending. No.

Like sickness, like the menacing of a sadist who savors, Lucy's condition in Whitby has been a series of hills and valleys in wellness and ailment, joy and dread. The monster is jabbing a needle (two needles) into her over and over rather than skewering her in one go and being done with it. When he wants to collect a victim, he makes sure the uncomprehending fear, anxiety, and power play of the collection lasts.

More proof is to come on that front later. But Whitby's miseries are a great prelude. Highs, lows, hope, despair.

Lucy, Lucy.

I'm so sorry.

#blubbering about this girl again #lucy westenra #dracula #re: dracula #dracula daily

[cherry-bomb-00]

Headcanos- Obey me Brothers

It's just the brothers' silly little headcanos, I did it because I had some ideas out there, I hope you like it.

-Lucifer uses makeup to hide dark circles or other imperfections. Although Luci is not a narcissist like our dear Asmo, he still cares about his appearance and since he is working all the time and with a lot of stress, it is obvious that it shows on his face, but as the proud man that he is, he is not going to let that they see him with the look of not sleeping for a week, besides come on, his representative animal is a peacock, it is not strange that he wants to look dazzling (and even more so with Mc).

-Mammo has myopia. I think It is likely that the second oldest suffers from myopia, and the glasses he uses are for seeing, only he put yellow glass in them so that it is similar to gold, and if he does not use glasses, he uses contact lenses (the most Lucifer probably also wears glasses.)

-Asmodeous insecure of himself. I know, I know, Asmo, the most narcissistic with low self-esteem?! I'll explain my point to you, this little bitch- I mean, I mean, this pretty boy feels insecure because he knows he has beauty, but only that, and he feels that he only has beauty but he's not good at other things, he's not as smart as Satan. or very strong like Beel, then he only has beauty but superficial, since he feels that inside he is rotten… and not as beautiful as his appearance.

-Belphegor with sleepwalking. Maybe not all the time, but it wouldn't be strange if Belphie sometimes walks around asleep at night. It's not strange to see that Beelzebub goes to look for his sleepwalking brother in the middle of the night, when he notices that his twin is missing (Or sometimes because he is hungry).

-Santa watches Latin American novels. I think that apart from the fact that he likes to read a lot, he has a guilty taste, he loves Latin novels, he may sometimes watch those novels, who knows how many times he saw "Betty, La fea", perhaps many. The only one who knows about this is Mammon, since he sometimes accompanies his little brother Satan to watch Latin novels.

-Levi is known to have social anxiety, but he also suffers from insomnia, so he plays late at night and may take sleeping pills (others don't know about that), and he has nervous habits, like biting his nails, scratching his skin, playing with his fingers, among others, and it is not uncommon for him to have an anxiety attack if something bothers him too much, poor child, he deserves more love.

-Beelzebub, apart from going to the Gym, also practices pole dancing, this because Asmodeous asked him to accompany him to those classes with him, and Beel accepted, now the sixth brother apart from being muscular, very flexible, he does very well in the classes and Asmo gives him food every time they finish training.

-Lucifer has a collection of vinyl records, this is not unusual, but he not only has vinyl records from the Devildom, but also from the human world, he likes to listen to music from vinyl records while he works.

-Mammon keeps it a secret, but he still remembers how to cook some foods that are from the Celestian realm, but he doesn't tell his brothers, but sometimes he sneaks out to cook those dishes with Simeon (It's not strange that he feel a little more comfortable with Simeon, since he does not insult him like his brothers)

-Leviathan is cold-blooded. I say this more because he is somewhat reptilian, so it is not unusual for him to avoid cold climates or cold things, and in certain seasons he sheds his skin, but the skin on his tail and his horns fall off when he sheds. of horns and his skin is very sensitive to cold things like ice (Mc once put ice on his back as a joke, it burned Levi's back and left a mark on his sensitive pale skin, obviously Mc I apologize for that).

-Asmodeous secretly listens to metal and rock. He like pop and he is a pop boy (maybe also k-pop) but he cannot deny that he enjoys listening to metal or rock when he is getting ready, it makes him feel alive.

-Satan may have identity problems, although he seems sure of who he is, the truth is that he doubts a lot about his identity and being compared to his older brother does not help, so Satan does not know what his identity is and He is still building it, sometimes crying with frustration and anger when he sees himself in the mirror, because he does not see himself, but instead sees Lucifer in the reflection.

-Belfegor has created his own torture for him, let me explain, do you know that in MLP, Princess Luna creates a nightmare to punish herself for the evils she did? It is very similar to what Belphie did, he still feels guilty about killing MC and that is why he created a nightmare that reminds him of what a horrible thing he did, killing MC, one of the people he loves the most and also earning the look of disappointment of his brothers, that nightmare, that little torture he suffers every time he sleeps, he does not forgive himself.

-Beelzebub suffers for his gluttony, we all see that Beel eats a lot and a lot for his sin, but the truth is, he suffers a lot, his stomach is like a black hole, he is never full or satisfied, and although he enjoys eating, it really is something torturous for our himbo, since he never fills up, and that consumes him, he feels how his insides eat away at him if he doesn't eat enough, it's horrible.

I hope do you like it

#obeyme #obey me brothers #obey me beelzebub #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me hcs #obey me angst #obey me one master to rule them all #obey me shall we date

[blues824]

I need a Male! Reader x Yandere! Vincent, Claude, Sebastian, Undertaker, Lau, and Madam Red in my life! It’d interesting if M!reader were to be extremely cool-headed and always in a dream-like state but aware of what is happening around them and is incredibly smart. They appear sleepy but really aren’t it’s just their usual face. And they’re soul is one in a million that could keep a demon full for years. So to the characters M!reader appears as otherworldly and they are intrigued…

I love Yandere requests for some reason.

Vincent Phantomhive

Poor dear was fearful that you would fall asleep at any point, so it is better to have you next to him at all times. But, he wouldn’t be surprised if you were always sleepwalking, because you lived as though you were in a dream. Well, he may as well be your knight in shining armor, as he needed to protect you.

You could see what he was doing. Ever since he first invited you back to the Phantomhive manor, ever since he offered you that cup of tea. You wanted to wake up, you wanted to fight back, but the poison kept you from doing it. And besides, it would be a far call to say that the Vincent Phantomhive was poisoning you. Even though you were angry, you knew you had to be reasonable. This was your fate now.

Sebastian Michaelis

He had met you when he was going to pick up the young master’s new cane. You were a 19-year-old apprentice, who didn’t seem to have his head back on Earth. The demon breathed in and your soul just smelled so sweet. It was calling to him, to his hunger. Suddenly, Ciel Phantomhive did not have the most craved soul. So, a few days later, he wrote to your master that you were called for by Lord Phantomhive himself, but it was actually him who wanted you there.

As smart as you typically were, you did not see this coming until it was too late. He held you in his arms within the library while the master was busy with his work, and Mey-Rin, Finney, and Bard were all doing their chores. He whispered that you were his and his alone, and you then realized that your mind was steadily growing more and more cloudy. 

Claude Faustus

He typically wouldn’t care about just any human being unless their soul called out to him. But, when he saw you in the bookstore, your mind somewhere in some distant land rather than the present, he could hear your soul. It smelled sweet, and fulfilling, and he could sense that there were other demons around waiting to collect it.

He invited you to the Trancy Manor, where he locked you in a room that was isolated so that no one would be able to hear you. He made sure that the other servants were aware that he was the only one who would tend to that side of the house, and because of his status within the household, he was never questioned. Now, without him by you during the day, you spent your days trying to escape all the while acting as though your head was up in the clouds when he checked up on you.

Lau

You were one of Ciel’s servants, and you caught his attention with how you seemed to be living within a dream. You were operating on autopilot, but you were doing exceptionally well. It was because of you being a tiny bit of a distraction to the man that he was not paying attention to the plan that Sebastian had laid out. 

The next day, you had found yourself in his opium den. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that Ran-Mao had kidnapped you in the night and brought you to where you were now. You were bound in chains, and led up to Lau, where he had you placed upon his lap. You seemed to be a bit too aware, maybe you just needed to go to sleep. It’s unfortunate that you ended up in an opium den of all places.

Undertaker

You had entered his shop by mistake, and he was surprised because he was not expecting any visitors, dead or alive, that day. It caused you both to laugh, and he had you sit down for a bit of tea before you made your way back. He could sense your soul, and he was aware that he wanted it just for himself. After about the third cup of tea that he prepared for you, you finally sensed that it was a bit suspicious. Of course, you were slowly getting sleepy.

In the morning, you found yourself sleeping in a coffin. You were tied up, but it was open. The Undertaker heard you struggling against the bindings, and he let out a bit of a giggle before peering over the opening of the coffin. You weren’t really listening to what he was saying, but you caught something about your soul, and you being the first to make him laugh genuinely with nothing required in return. 

Madam Red

You were a servant from the Phantomhive Manor, and when she went to discuss with her nephew about the plans to catch Jack the Ripper, you had caught her attention. She made a comment about how her butler could learn from both you and Sebastian. However, Grelle could see the look of love in her eyes, and she knew her next orders.

The following day, you found yourself locked within a room in Madame Red’s estate. Eventually, the lady had entered the room, specifically the bedroom, where you were staying in. She greeted you with a hello darling before moving on to prepare for the night. You saw the instruments she was using, but you remember hearing her tell Grelle that there was a target that night. You let out a gasp, and you started trying to escape only to be held back by Madam Red herself. She used one of the many syringes full of something with anesthetic properties that put you back to sleep.

#black butler #black butler x reader #kuroshitsuji x reader #kuroshitsuji #vincent phantomhive #vincent phantomhive x reader #black butler vincent #sebastian michaelis x reader #sebastian x reader #black butler sebastian #sebastian michaelis #sebastian #vincent #vincent x reader #claude #claude x reader #claude faustus #claude faustus x reader #black butler claude #lau #lau x reader #black butler lau #undertaker #undertaker x reader #black butler undertaker #madam red #madam red x reader #madame red x reader #madame red #black butler madam red

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

The Peter Pevensie post did well.

Here's Edmund.

Edmund has trouble putting down his chess pieces that first time. In Narnia he could assume his opponent knew what he was doing, that chess was not just a game, that sacrificing pieces meant a unit, an officer, a collection of friends never seen again.

No one remembers that back in England, where chess is just a game, not a play preparing you for war.

He loses badly the first few times, too often distracted by thoughts of his dead friends. Thoughts of the ones alive, that he hopes to see soon.

Then he becomes unbeatable. When chess is about strategy again, no longer conjures images of men dying, sacrificed to gain a tactical advantage, Edmund becomes a master. Chess champion, of his region, of the country. Not a piece too many suffers.

It takes a few months. Those first ones in boarding school, Peter has to guard him. When bullies gang up on him for his strange way of talking (as if generals listen to his advice), strange way of walking (as if there is a weight on his hip), strange way of behaving (as if there are servants for his every need) Peter protects him. They've seen protective brothers; they've never seen anything quite like Peter, who hits until bone breaks.

Edmund will often remark on how the punches thrown his way lack technique, don't really hurt.

Everyone wonders how a 110 lb 11 year old kid knows anything about punching technique. He's a scrawny white boy from the city, doesn't look even slightly dangerous. How many fights has he been in, everyone wonders, to know what type of blow breaks bone, how to collect fingers into a fist.

When he is not protected by his brother, he displays the tricks he learned in treacherous courts in fantasy lands where the men could snap him in half with half a finger, where monsters ruled. Where only his silver tongue kept him safe.

It keeps bullies far away from him. They're not just afraid of physical repercussions, but of being expelled, reputations ruined, careers unreachable before they begin.

Peter retaliates either way, physical punishment along with the other repercussions. Still, it's strange to hear that the lanky sleepwalking teen mostly interested in political science knows anything about fighting, about blood.

By the third month in boarding school, Edmund has the staff wrapped around his finger.

His tongue is as silver as the lion ring he wears. Ed can talk any opponent into submisson. He can talk any girl into his bed, too, despite other men vying for their company. Sometimes he does it just to prove a point. It earns him a few more fights than he had to be in, but that's okay.

The ones stupid, angry or brave enough to physically fight him learn fast Edmund isn't easy prey, that he knows how to fight, how to think, how to outmanouvre you. Peter is a tornado, all fury, but Ed fights like a chess master. No wasted movement, no unnecessary punches, not moving a single inch more than he has to.

Fighting Peter hurts. People soon find that fighting Ed discourages. He doesn't really seem all that hurt by fighting, often quips when taking a fist to the gut. He can deal blows so nasty you feel the effects two weeks after.

The ones that fight him in groups, still willing to try, meet Peter's fists in a dark ally.

Still Edmund never needed Peter. Their bond is strange, sure, Peter copying his younger brothers' notes without remark, asking for his advice often and seriously.

But both know politics is Edmund's territory. At the start, no one messes with him due to his big brother, who always seems to hit harder than boys his age.

In time, Ed is feared more. Differently.

A fight with the oldest Pevensie brother ends in the infirmary, a fight with the youngest ends your career, ambition, prospects with the ladies.

Edmund knows what he can do. Knows his brother can do it too, but does not prefer it. He is known for his silver tongue, his brilliant mind. Peter, more so for his steel boots.

He plays chess, studies politics, does it right. Highest marks in his class, many extra-curriculars, a seemingly unbreakable bond with his sisters and brother, which he visits often everyone. No one can understand them when they are together, a strange lilt in their voices. Some people are little scared of him. He's a debate champion, talks rounds around anyone. Excellent chef, even though he only cooks for friends.

He's loyal to a fault, clever like the devil, and a perfect gentleman. In an archaic way. Ed is the kind of man to have a hankerchief in his pocket.

That's why no one unserious dates Susan or Lucy. They all know anything unserious ends badly.

Gradually, people start to like Edmund, even if they feared him at first. His smile is devilish, but also charming. Ed is free in his head, in his hands. Brilliant in many different ways, including fencing. There is a rumour in the halls, after a while. That Ed likes men too.

But no one talks.

Edmund goes into politics. He has a family that is in the top echolon of decison making, an analytical mind. Edmund has a talent for justice. In his presence, no one feels left out, everybody is heard. Many feel that with Ed as their PM they are finally represented. A noble man, even with his bloody knuckles, the unimpressive surname.

A statesman in everything. Fashion, vocabulary, manners.

But still he believes in Narnia, goes to see the spectre.

He is facing his brother in the train, happy, talking about Narnia when it crashes.

#narnia meta #narnia #edmund pevensie #edmund #the lion the witch and the wardrobe #prince caspian

[the-lonelybarricade]

Breaking & Entering - (2/2)

Summary: Before the room was swallowed into darkness, she found her eyes drifting towards the entryway, listening to the heartbeat that drifted to her through the wooden door. It followed her all the way to the House of Wind. And in her sleep that night, the beating stopped.

Or; The story of how Elain discovered that Lucien Vanserra sleeps naked.

A Part II and a happy ending by popular request!

Read on AO3 ・ Part I

-

The nondescript sleeping tonic Lucien purchased in the market hadn't come with any instructions. He didn't consider this unusual.

Seeing that the shopkeeper hadn't provided any cryptic warnings upon its purchase, Lucien assumed, as with other sleeping tonics he'd ingested in the past, he simply needed to consume the vial shortly before he was ready to go to bed and sleep would find him more readily.

When Lucien tipped the vial down his throat later that night, he found its taste unexpectedly pleasant—ginseng and honey with a tart, unmistakable aftertaste of magic that told him the potion would be potent. He remembered locking the doors, undressing from his day clothes, and lingering for a moment in front of his balcony door, unable to keep himself from staring towards the rising mountain range in the distance. The windows and verandas of the House of Wind were indistinguishable from his apartment, but it hardly mattered when he knew precisely which side Elain's room was kept.

Her scent still clung to his nose. He hadn't been able to rid himself of it since he'd visited the townhouse earlier that day and found the smell of jasmine and honey still wafting through the steam of an abandoned cup of tea, as if she'd fled the second he knocked on the door. He hadn't dared ask after her and Feyre, whether out of sympathy for him or loyalty to Elain, had not commented on her sister's whereabouts.

Lucien dragged his gaze towards his bedside table, debating whether he should choose a book from the small collection he kept in Velaris to distract his thoughts until the sleeping tonic took effect. But his eyes only made it so far as the jeweled dagger he'd rested on the table's edge before his attention swiveled back towards the glass door and the distant glowing lights in the mountain. He might as well have shoved that dagger into his chest and twisted, the way he let himself imagine what she was doing with her evening, practically another world away. Did she like to read before she fell asleep, too, or did she need something less idle? And during those moments when her mind wasn't occupied, did she ever let it wander towards the mate who slept in the city beneath?

That was the last thought he remembered before oblivion. There was no soft drift into darkness, nor did he lap gently against the tides of waking. One moment, he recalled standing in his bedroom, wallowing in his misery, and the next, the sun was up, his mouth was stuffed full of cotton, and the room stunk of salt and copper.

And… jasmine.

He sat up. Sunlight flooded in from his balcony, bouncing and glinting off the thousands of glass shards littering his bedroom floor. A broken plant pot lay haphazardly in the wreckage, clumps of soil spilling away from the cracked ceramic. Last he'd seen that pot, it'd been sitting lovingly on his outdoor table.

Someone had broken into his house, and from the bloody footprints trekking through the broken glass, they hadn't been prepared for the carnage they'd wrought. Lucien took a moment to assess his own feet, just to be sure the tonic hadn't sent him on a violent sleepwalk. That was when he noticed the blood on his bed sheets.

His intruder had climbed into his bed. And along with their blood, they'd left their scent behind. One that stirred at instincts he tried very, very hard to keep buried. She'd been here. In his bed. His mate had been his bed. But more importantly—

His mate was hurt.

Beneath his skin, something primal was itching awake, thrashing at long-held restraints. Lucien took a deep breath. He needed to keep a level head and piece together what happened. Why had Elain come here? Why had she hurt herself trying to get in? Had she been running from something, had she come to him for protection that he'd failed to provide?

Just like he'd failed to protect…

Lucien flung open his wardrobe and shoved himself into clothes without paying attention to what he was grabbing. The fact that he didn't run into the streets naked was a testament to his self-control. He bothered with only as many buttons as was required not to be indecent before he winnowed outside the wrought iron gate of Feyre's townhouse.

It wasn't far off dawn. Perhaps it was too early to be wailing his fist against the door of an uptight High Lord. Rhysand's expression certainly said as much when he answered after the third round of knocking.

"Lucien," he said in a flat greeting, not bothering to adjust the black silk robe hanging off his shoulders. At least it was tied at the waist, however precariously. His violet eyes dragged over Lucien in one quick, unimpressed assessment before he quirked a dark brow. "I assume there's a reason you're disturbing my otherwise very pleasant morning?"

The love bites along his neck spoke for exactly what sort of pleasant morning Lucien was interrupting. And Rhysand's insufferable smirk confirmed it.

"Where's Elain?"

"Sleeping," Rhysand said. "Like you should be."

"Lucien?"

Rhys turned at the sound of Feyre's voice, his hard expression softening as he watched her pad up to the doorway, her own robe tied much more securely—thank the Cauldron. She frowned as she came closer and glimpsed Lucien's expression.

"Is that blood on your face?"

Lucien immediately swiped at his cheek, his fingers coming away covered in the dust of dried blood. A growl rose in the back of his throat as he demanded, "Take me up to the House of Wind."

“No.”

“No?” Lucien snarled.

Rhysand's eyes gleamed as though amused by the outburst, eager to see how far Lucien was willing to escalate the situation. The subtle step Rhys took to position himself in front of Feyre didn't escape Lucien's notice, either.

"Not until you calm down."

"Tell us what happened," Feyre said, voice far more coaxing. She pushed her hand against her mate's shoulder, moving him out of the way with a stern sideways glance. Rhysand's expression shifted just enough that Lucien knew they were in each other's minds, having some conversation he wasn't privy to.

The rational part of his brain knew that they wouldn't take him to Elain unless he complied with their questions, but his sensibility was in a losing battle against the primal instincts slipping loose. Through gritted teeth, he managed, "Elain's hurt."

"Azriel reports that she's fine," Rhys replied, crossing his arms. "Safe in bed and fast asleep."

"Let me see her, then."

"So she can wake up to a snarling male? I doubt that will win you any favor."

"Rhys," Feyre warned. She looked to Lucien, and he could hardly bear the pity in her eyes, the way she spoke to him like a spooked animal as she said, softly, "I'll go check on her."

"Take me with."

Feyre sighed. "I don't think that's a good idea, Lucien."

And before he could protest or even try to convince her otherwise, Feyre vanished, leaving Lucien alone with the High Lord of the Night Court. Rage blistered through him, and in that moment Lucien wanted nothing more than to wrench their door off its hinges and slam it into the smug bastard's face. But rather than pick a fight he couldn't win, he turned on his heel.

"Lucien."

He paused at the gate to peer over his shoulder at Rhysand. Some of Rhys's smug demeanor dropped, regarding Lucien with an expression close enough to understanding to make his stomach heave.

"Feyre says Elain is fine. She had some cuts on her feet, but nothing that can't be healed. Take some time to decompress, and you can return when she's awake."

Lucien didn't respond. A thanks didn't feel deserved, but if he was honest, he knew it was for the better that they didn't let him storm into Elain's room, half-feral and mad with panic. He didn't know what had driven her to come to him last night, but whatever her reasons, she'd decided not to stay.

It was enough to know she was safe.

Resigned, as he was with all things pertaining to Elain, Lucien returned to his apartment to clean up the pieces of his life she'd left shattered.

-

Most burglars flee the scene of their crimes, never to be seen by their victims again. Elain showed up the next afternoon with a basket full of baked goods and an apology she'd been rehearsing since she woke up.

She used the front door this time, and waited on Lucien's doorstep until he answered.

To her relief, it didn't take long to hear shuffling on the other side of the door, and soon it swung open to reveal her mate, alive and awake. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and he briefly glanced down at himself as though regretting his attire. The first four buttons of his shirt were loosened to show a generous amount of toned brown skin, the rest of the fabric tucked loosely into his beige trousers. It was the most casually dressed she'd ever seen him. Before last night, at any rate.

The memory caused her face to redden. With a great deal of effort, she forced herself to look up and meet his eyes. They stared at each other, neither speaking, for far longer than convention would prescribe. Elain, dragging her eyes over him to soothe that now dormant instinct that had begged her to ensure he was okay. Lucien, assessing her from head to toe with poorly disguised concern. She supposed she had so scarcely expressed any interest in engaging with him, it would be his assumption that she was only seeking him out because something had gone wrong.

And in a way, that was precisely what she was doing.

"Elain," he said, finally. He took a moment to clear his throat before continuing. "It's lovely to see you. Are you well?"

"I'm perfectly well." Wracked with guilt, her response was more of a whisper than intended. Now, it was Elain's turn to clear her throat. "I came by to see if you were well, actually."

"Me?" He blinked. "Yes, lady. I assure you I'm in perfect health."

That he was. The evidence of his perfect health burned so fiercely in the back of her mind that she blurted without thinking, "Feyre told me you had a break-in last night. I came by to see if you were okay. And I brought you some pastries. Not from me. From a bakery down the street."

Lucien nodded, accepting the basket when Elain thrust it towards him. "That was very kind of you." He took a moment to study its contents before his eyes gravitated back towards Elain. "And you needn't worry about the break-in. If the thief stole anything, it's escaped my notice."

So he didn't suspect anything. That was good. She should go. Leave, while he was still oblivious to what she'd done. But it was as if her legs were cemented to the stone beneath her, and her mouth opened of its own volition. "Still, it must have been concerning to wake up to."

"Concerning?" He let out a soft laugh. "You could say as much. It's not often you wake up covered in blood that doesn't belong to you."

Elain coached her voice not to strain as she said, "You must have slept through a great deal."

"The consequences of a sleeping tonic." He offered her a wry smile. "A lesson learned, I suppose."

"Do you have trouble sleeping, Lucien?"

He stilled. And Elain thought perhaps… Perhaps that was the first time he'd heard her say his name. Of course, he didn't hear her shouting it last night. Or when she often whispered it, quietly, into her pillow. A confession for her ears only.

Lucien raised the basket in offering. "Would you like to come in? I could put on some tea and regale you with the story of my midnight thief in greater detail."

It would be so incredibly foolish for her to agree.

"That sounds nice."

Not anymore foolish than breaking into his house in the middle of the night. Or refusing to know him in any meaningful way outside of her visions.

A moment later, she was settled across from Lucien at his dining table. An elegant teapot sat between them, steam billowing from its spout. Someone with a better education of Prythian might have been able to glance at the stamps in the porcelain and the delicate artwork to identify its court of origin. From the blue brushstrokes rising and cresting like waves along its side, Elain could only guess that it was from the Summer Court. A relic from his many travels as an emissary, or something more sentimental? She didn't have the courage to ask. And he was oblivious to her musings as he lifted the teapot by the handle to pour her cup before serving himself.

"Your apartment is lovely," she said, in an effort to make conversation.

Lucien hummed his gratitude. "I've forgotten this is your first time coming here."

"Yes." Elain lifted the teacup to her mouth before her expression could give away her lie. It was too hot to drink, but she'd developed something of a habit in hurting herself in Lucien's apartment. She set down the cup only once she'd composed herself and added politely, "It's a shame I hadn't visited sooner."

"Indeed," Lucien said. He rapped his knuckles against the table. "You might have been able to spare my plant pot."

Elain froze, falling every bit into the role of the doe she was so often compared to. "Pardon?"

"My thief used the plant I kept on my balcony to break in last night. I'd been trying to nurse it back to health for months. With your interference, it might have been healthy enough to put in my front garden, and the thief would have needed to find some other means of breaking in."

At a loss for words, all Elain could think to say was, "My condolences for your plant."

Lucien smiled. "Don't worry, there's humor to be had in it. You see, I kept a spare key planted just beneath the soil. If my thief had taken a moment longer to investigate, they might have saved their feet from getting cut by the glass."

"They sound like a very poor thief," Elain said, not looking up from the streaming surface of her tea.

"Exceptionally," Lucien agreed. "I've been wondering all morning—who breaks into someone's home with bare feet?"

"Perhaps they were too poor to afford shoes?"

Lucien leaned back in his seat. "That's the curious thing; the thief didn't take anything valuable. As far as I can tell, they simply broke down my door and climbed into bed with me."

It seemed it was now Lucien's turn to pick things up and hurl them towards her. Elain knew what it felt like to be the glass door shattering to pieces as the full impact of his words slammed against her. She knew that nothing malicious had been done to him, nothing besides an inadvertent glimpse, but Lucien… he must have suspected the worst. A violation so horrifying that she dropped her face into her hands.

"It was me," she squeaked.

"I know."

Elain snapped her head up, surprise momentarily overtaking her shame. "Azriel told you?"

The coy smile toying at his lips suddenly flattened into a line. "Azriel?"

Oh dear. She pressed, "Feyre, then?"

Lucien ran an exasperated hand through his hair. "Elain, I didn't tell Feyre about my break in. The fact that you knew of it was all the confirmation I needed."

Cauldron, she'd make a terrible thief and even worse spy. Elain bit her lip, refusing to give anything else away.

He suffered her silence for a minute longer before he sighed. "I'm not angry, but I am confused. Would you please explain to me what happened last night?"

Elain thought she owed him that much, at the very least. After taking a deep breath to compose herself, she asked, "Do you remember when I told you that I can hear your heart?"

A nod, accompanied by an absent look in his eyes and a frown that suggested it wasn't a pleasing memory. It wasn't for her, either. Those initial months after the Cauldron blurred together, a swirl of darkness as chilling as the water that had seized her mortality. She remembered rotting in her despair, day by day, aimless and hopeless and cold. And she remembered him.

I am Lucien. Seventh son of the High Lord of the Autumn Court.

She remembered that name, pulling her to the surface for the first time in weeks. Her only breath of air since the moment she'd been pushed under. A glimpse of sunlight.

A trick.

Elain blinked away the memory of that girl, one she still resembled more closely than she'd like to. And she looked at her mate, equally a different male from the one that had once sat before her with his fingers trembling against his teacup. But he was the same in the ways that mattered. He was patient with her, sipping his tea while she sifted through her thoughts. Still so kind, still radiating warmth even as he held himself guarded.

"I've listened to your heartbeat every day since then," Elain said. "I hear it louder than my own sometimes. It's the first thing that greets me in the morning, and it's what coaxes me to sleep at the end of the day."

Lucien lowered his tea and pressed his hand to his chest, feeling for the beat that echoed through her. He didn't say anything, simply waited for her to continue.

"Last night, I heard your heart stop beating and… I panicked." There was no other word for it. Pure, blinding panic. "I asked Azriel to fly me down from the House of Wind so I could come here to check on you. I tried knocking on your door and pulling on the bond and you weren't responding to anything and I just—" She took a rasping breath. "I just needed to know that you were okay."

Lucien opened his mouth, but Elain blurted, "And when I realized that you were fine, I panicked again because I know I made such a fool out of myself and I just fled. I wasn't thinking. I'm so sorry for breaking your door. And for killing your plant. And for—"

"Elain," Lucien soothed. "It's alright. You have nothing to be sorry for. Well, besides my own panic this morning when I woke up covered in your blood. You think I wouldn't recognize the scent of my mate?"

My mate. She'd heard Feyre and Rhys use that phrase countless times before and always felt disconnected from the endearment. It was so… faerie. Blunt and possessive and primal. Lucien had only said it in front of her one time, during the worst moment of her life. She didn't think hearing it again would stir anything inside her.

My mate—mine.

Elain felt her entire body warm. "I didn't know what you would think, if I'm honest."

"I thought something terrible had happened," he said, a strain to his voice that she recognized as a shard of the same cutting fear she'd been under last night. "Feyre said I wasn't in any state to go see you in the House of Wind, but she assured me you were fine. I thought about taking those ten thousand stairs anyway, just to see for myself, but I didn't want to…"

He trailed off, his eyes not leaving her face. Elain felt it then. The pull, the ever-flowing current she'd been swimming against for years, terrified of losing control. She decided to give into it for the very time, just enough to let it guide her hand forward until it was covering his.

"Didn't want to what?"

Lucien's throat bobbed. He held himself so still, as if worried the slightest movement would send her fleeing. "I didn't want to scare you. I wasn't thinking clearly."

She let out a dry laugh. "I know the feeling."

His lips twitched. The makings of the smile that made her feel as though she'd swallowed hot coals. "Yes, as it turns out I had no reason to be concerned. Who would have thought that polite little Elain could be so feral?"

"Feral?" She repeated, snapping her hand away. "I thought you were dead!"

"And there wasn't a single glass door or freshly cleaned sheet that would get in your way." He smirked. "You know, I noticed something strange when I was cleaning up your little mess. Somehow, you managed to get your blood beneath the blankets. Would you happen to know anything about that?"

Elain's chair scraped against the floor as she exploded to her feet. "You are—"

His eyes gleamed. "What?"

"Crude!"

"I'm crude?" He raised a scarlet brow, far too smug for Elain's liking. "You were the one sneaking perverse—"

"I was not!" Elain protested. "I was…" Gods, the excuse sounded pathetic even in her own head. "I was ensuring you weren't wounded. It was strictly clinical."

Lucien cocked his head, unbound hair spilling over his shoulders as he grinned at her like a fox cornering its next meal. "Do I get a turn assessing you for wounds, then? It's only fair, given you were the only one bleeding out of the two of us."

"I'm healed."

"If that's the case, prove it to me."

Nesta or Feyre would have snapped at their mates for being so demanding. Elain debated doing the same, but part of her was curious where he was going with this. And since something had knocked loose in her last night, she was getting into the habit of giving in to her impulses—at least those regarding her mate.

Elain walked around the table until she was standing above him. He stared up at her, expectant, and she held out her palm for his examination, all the while trying not to notice the way his legs spread over the chair, and how she knew what his thighs looked like beneath the taut fabric. Muscular. Lean. Powerful.

Lucien cleared his throat.

She blinked, ripping her gaze away from his lap. He didn't comment further on the indiscretion, though she'd never seen him quite so self-satisfied as he reached for her hand and drew it closer for assessment.

He dragged his thumb across her open palm, prickling heat in its wake. Elain restrained a gasp. They hadn't touched since the moment he'd lifted her off the floor in Hybern, and back then she had been stone cold and so numb that his touch barely registered. Now… it was like feeling sunshine warm her skin.

"You have so many calluses," he noted. "I'd almost think you were a warrior."

"They're from gardening," she said, uncertain why it came out so breathless.

"Why not use gloves?"

She searched for an accusation in the question. He'd once gifted her a pair of enchanted gardening gloves so that no thorn need ever cut her skin. Those gloves were still tucked in their original gift box, collecting dust where she'd shoved them under her bed.

"I prefer to feel the dirt beneath my fingernails," she said. That was the honest answer.

Sometimes, she felt too separated from the world, as if she existed behind a thin film, always observing events as they unfolded around her but never present. A glove was just another barrier. She wanted to feel the earth. She wanted proof that she was here.

Lucien made a noise as though in understanding. "Well I can see that your hands are unharmed, but what about your feet?"

"How am I meant to show you my feet?"

He grinned in a way that said he was hoping she'd ask. Lucien pushed aside the teapot and his cup, then patted the table in front of him.

"Take a seat."

For a moment, all she could think about were the erotic novels Nesta liked to read so much. The ladies in those stories often found themselves deposited atop a table with a male between their thighs. Even if Lucien had the most innocent of intentions—and from his wide grin, she wasn't convinced—she would still be sitting above him, her skirts short enough that she would need to be conscious of how she moved lest she expose…

It was horribly uncouth.

When Elain told him as much, he only laughed and assured her, "I won't tell a soul, you have my honor."

It wasn't her reputation that concerned her, though she didn't know how to express that to him without betraying the direction of her thoughts. And she could refuse, but a spark in his eye challenged her to stay, to see what happened.

Swallowing her pride, Elain situated herself on the table before him and scooted back until she could present her feet in his lap. It was then he began unlacing her boots, and it was so intimate to see him undressing her, no matter how innocently, that she needed to turn her face away.

Her eyes wandered across his dining room, from the blue and white knotted rug of unknown origins to the display unit against the wall housing trinkets and fine dining sets. Considering how infrequently he stayed here, the apartment was well-decorated. Was that his doing?

"Tell me something," she said to distract herself.

"Anything."

"How do you like living in the mortal lands?"

"Truthfully, I don't mind it." He'd finished unlacing one of her boots, and his broad hand curved behind her calf to maneuver it off her foot. Once the boot was off, he let his hand linger. "Vassa and Jurian have become good friends."

There was a contentment in his answer that made her feel uneasy. She knew she should be happy that Lucien had made peace with his circumstances. Particularly when she had been the one to push him from Velaris. But if he felt settled in the mortal lands, could she expect more time between his already infrequent visits?

"Would you…" her throat burned. "Would it be a great burden if you were to visit Velaris more regularly?"

"That depends on the nature of my visit."

A diplomatic answer. Elain turned to him in an effort to read his expression, but he gave nothing away, dedicated to his task of unlacing her second boot.

"What if you visited outside of your obligations to Feyre and Rhys? Just to enjoy the city?"

Lucien glanced up, arching a brow. "Alone?"

Elain shrugged, too mechanic to express the nonchalance she wanted to convey.

"Perhaps with company."

Their eyes met. The mechanism in his artificial eye clicked once, twice, refocusing as though he were assessing her sincerity. Elain held her breath, wondering if this was how it felt to lay her head on a chopping block, to feel the gravity of those seconds before the axe swung down.

"That would be wonderful," Lucien said, with a smile that sent the breath whooshing from her chest.

His hand returned to her calf. The last boot came off, and it was then that Elain remembered she was wearing stockings. Lucien looked as if he'd only just put that together as well. He was already shaking his head, prepared to backpedal. But they'd come this far.

"Go on," Elain goaded, lifting her leg in invitation.

Lucien searched her face, lips parted in shock. Shock that melted into rakish delight as he realized she was serious. His broad hands returned to her calves, squeezing playfully just to test the waters. Elain sucked in a breath but didn't pull away. She kept her eyes locked on his and nodded her permission.

Those hands glided up, pausing at the crook of her knee, where he used his grip to part her legs further. Then he rose from the chair, and Elain wasn't certain whose heartbeat went soaring first, but she could hear them both thundering in her ears as Lucien wedged himself closer.

Scarlet hair spilled over his shoulder, tickling her neck, her chest. Since his hands were already on her, pushing up her skirt as they slid over her thighs, she saw no reason why she couldn't reach up and fist her hands against his scalp.

Lucien groaned in response, leaning further into her touch until they were chest to chest. Until she was close enough to feel his breath fanning over her cheeks. His eyes were half-lidded, their focus on her lips, watching her every breath. Waiting for an invitation. She felt his hands rise to the hem of her stockings and still.

"You're not getting distracted," she whispered. "Are you?"

He huffed something close to a laugh. It was exhilarating to watch him war with his own restraint, knowing that this male exceeded her in age and strength and power, and yet he yielded only to her desire. He would touch her exclusively in the ways she gave him permission, no more or less. Even as her lips drifted excruciatingly close to his.

"Who would have thought you'd be a horrible tease," he said, a roughness in his voice that she'd never heard before. Like a stone scraping over pavement. She could feel it drag against her skin, utterly intoxicating. She wanted to hear him say her name in that voice. Wanted it, but feared it would be her undoing.

"I think we're learning that I'm full of surprises."

"Indeed." Lucien hooked his fingers beneath her stockings. "I have never been more delighted to be caught off guard."

His shaky breath chased her own, and it was a relief to think she was not the only one whose composure was slipping, carried down, down, down with her stockings, all rational thought and sensation narrowed to the brush of his fingers, their trail of fire, the impropriety of letting him undress her. Letting him touch her bare skin, when this was all so new, so fragile.

The ability to breathe only returned once her stockings hit her knees and Lucien needed to pull away to finish the act of removing them. A soft protest bubbled to her lips, but she pushed her teeth down to catch it.

"See?" She said, ignoring the foreign rasp in her voice. "They're completely healed."

Lucien ran his thumbs along the soles of her feet, assessing the faded marks. "So they are."

"Are you satisfied?"

His metal eye was clicking again, and the russet of his right eye was nearly swallowed by his pupil. There was a wildness to the look he gave her, one that reminded her no matter how refined his diction, how cordial his manners, he had been born to and tempered by the flames of Autumn.

A fire coursed through his blood, and she could see it burning in his eyes as he said, "I fear I'm unfamiliar with the meaning of that word."

"I should go," she said. Before she was tempted to challenge that notion.

Lucien nodded. He knew just as well as she did that they were teetering off the edge of something they couldn't take back. Maybe it was already too late. It felt like it would be impossible to reign in the ache splitting open inside her, to return to the feigned indifference she'd managed just yesterday.

She scrambled off the table and shoved her feet back into her boots without bothering to put her stockings back on. They could be his trophy for somehow convincing her to do this in the first place.

"Wait," Lucien said as she turned towards the door.

He stood from the chair and pushed a hand into his pocket, producing an iron key that he held out to her. "Take it. So that you don't hurt yourself the next time you come to my daring rescue."

Elain stepped forward and curled her fingers over the metal, warm from his pocket, and surprisingly light for the weight of the gesture. She wanted to give him something in return. An apology and a promise and all of the complicated feelings in between.

So she gathered her courage and rose up on her feet to press a timid kiss to his lips. It lasted all of a second before Elain moved to withdraw, at which point Lucien caught her at the waist and drew her back for a proper kiss. And despite the years of longing and the tension they'd kindled this afternoon, each burning like a forge in her chest, his kiss was soft. Gentle.

Elain sighed into this sweet, final surrender, yielding at last to the force that had always been pulling them together, long before she knew his name or had any awareness of the fae. Golden light coiled in her chest, and her fingers slipped back into his hair, needing him closer. His lips, warm and petal-soft, parted and moved against hers, but there was no urgency. His touch wasn't colored by lust, though she could feel his racing heart and flushing skin.

The fae dealt in magic and bargains. They were casual with their intimacy, unruly in their courting. Here, a kiss could be meaningless. But in the human world, a kiss was a vow. It was the penultimate stage of a courtship, a promise that a gentleman intended to intertwine his life with that person.

Lucien kissed her as if they were human. With his eyes shut and his hands staunchly fixed to her waist. There was reprieve in his expression, like a man who had waited patiently for this moment, who was promising that this was only the start of a much longer journey—one they would travel together.

His eyes opened, and he pulled away when he saw her staring, unaware that she had been carving the sight of him into her memory.

She spoke before he saw fit to offer an apology. "I have one last question."

Lucien cleared his throat before speaking. "You can always ask me anything."

Oh? Elain wondered if he would regret saying that.

"Do you sleep naked in the mortal lands, too, or is it just when you're alone?"

His answering smile was nothing short of fiendish. "Why don't you visit me in the mortal lands and find out?"

#breaking & entering #Elucien #Elucien fanfic #Elucien fic #Elucien fanfiction #Elain x Lucien #Lucien x Elain

[shvkespearc]

so LOL my new job completely fucked me over and scammed me by telling me i'd work 20 hours a week immediately, then saying they won't have proper availability for a few more weeks, now saying they can barely give me hours at all, IF ANY, for the foreseeable future.

well my life goes on and continues to include expenses even as i try to apply for new jobs

in the meantime well my poetry books are still for sale!

you can get them for as little as 1 dollar or customize the amount to anything! PLEASE THEYRE NOT BAD- (INSERT REVIEWS HERE) the site is perfectly safe to buy from and v easy!

#whatever. uses the last 30 dollars on my credit card #i know later ill check this post and there will be 0 notes #which is fine #i just dont know what else to do? #i applied to my local library yesterday and tried soooo hard on my app and cover letter #so im begging pleading ill get it #but i know its kind of compteitive so :( #then theres just fucking nowhere left thats hiring except like fast food #which is a bummer cause i said id never work in fast food again after i did in high school #but like hello? hello girl? girl help? #all my cards are maxed because ive had no money to pay them off #needless to say nothing in my fucking account #im in debt to all my friends #i got a few jobs art modeling this month #but its only like 150$ total #which like. i need 800+ a month . so #epic my dude #.txt

[justmemethings]

𝐓𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐔𝐒𝐄 !

A miscellaneous collection of headcanon questions for multi-muse blogs / rp hubs / RPers with more than one blog. Warning for mentions of alcohol / drugs.

Which of your muses is the best at cooking?

Which of them is the worst at cooking?

Which of your muses is more likely to burn their food, whether or not they can cook?

Which of your muses is more likely to eat something even if it has fallen on a dirty floor?

Which of your muses is more likely to talk in their sleep?

Which of your muses sleeps the most?

Which of them is more likely to suffer from insomnia?

Which of your muses is more likely to have sleepwalking episodes?

Which of your muses drinks the most / is more likely to get drunk?

Which of your muses doesn't drink at all / drink the least?

Which of your muses does drugs / is more likely to develop a drug problem?

Which of your muses has the highest "body count" when it comes to sleeping around?

Which of your muses is the most talkative?

Which of them is the quietest?

Which of your muses is the most sociable?

Which of them is the shiest / less outgoing?

Which of your muses would win, if all of them had a drinking contest?

Which of your muses is the worst sore loser?

Which of your muses is the most likely to survive an apocalypse?

Which of them would die first?

Which of your muses is the biggest gossip?

Which of your muses is the romantic at heart?

Which one of them is the most cynical?

Which of your muses is the most likely to murder someone just to prove a point?

Which of them is the most likely to endanger their life for a stranger?

Which of them would throw anyone (including a loved one) under the bus to save themselves?

Which of your muses is the quickest to fall in love?

Which of them is the more disillusioned when it comes to romantic relationships?

Which of your muses would kill to prove a point / that they are right?

Which of your muses is the biggest pet person? How many pet did they have in their life?

#ooc memes #headcanon memes #rp meme #roleplay meme #rp memes #rp headcanons #ask meme #headcanon asks #owl's memes