#1950s AU

[the-glorious-void]

You can have Astarion as your dom daddy if you want, but I'M making him my pretty housewife

[nextcastle]

Lunami week 2024

Day 4: 1950s AU

I went with a Grease theme xD

[cthulhu-calling]

Camisado 1

Dark!Steve Rogers x female!Reader

Summary : You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you.  You and Steve had the perfect life, you couldn't ask for anything more. But that doesn't mean he couldn't.

Warnings : 1950's AU, smut, misogyny, factual inaccuracies, lots of talk of pregnancy (seriously, this is a major content warning)

Author’s Note : Reader has no specified race or body type. It has all the period typical sexism but considering that when I imagine readers, they're always woc, there will be no period typical racism. Not beta'd so all mistakes are my own. I tried to do as much research on life in 1950's America so please be kind and let me know what you think!

Word Count : 5k

masterlist

You fell back on the couch, deciding on taking a small break after having spent the whole morning dusting and vacuuming the house. You still had to do the dishes and hang the clothes out to dry. Your mama always said, a man’s home is a reflection of the woman he’s with, and so you made sure to keep the house in near perfect condition. You looked up at the clock, a wedding gift from Steve’s ma. You adored Sarah Rogers, she was almost like a second mother to you. It was already past noon and you really needed to get a move on. You had less than an hour to take a quick shower and then make a quick lunch for you and Steve to take to the garage. 

Finishing your shower in record time, you quickly add chicken soup, flour, pepper and cayenne into the slow cooker followed by stirring in the chicken and veggies. You knew Steve always enjoyed your slow cooked chicken a la king. You could leave it on and it would be ready just in time for dinner. Packing a quick ham and cheese sandwich for the both of you, you placed it in your bag before checking your appearance one last time in the mirror. You had on a sleeveless white blouse with a blue, floral-a-line circle skirt and black kitten heels along with a classic red lip. Steve always preferred you in skirts and dresses as opposed to pants or trousers. 

With ten minutes before the clock struck one, you quickly made your way out of the house and began the short walk to the garage where Steve worked. You always brought Steve his lunch and spent the half hour of his lunch break with him and today was no exception. You’d been married for just over a year now and the two of you had decided that you’d wait for a while before starting a family, wanting to just enjoy each other’s company for a while before you added children to the mix. But it was established that you both wanted kids. While two would be more than enough for you, Steve wanted three, at the very least. 

You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you. 

And exactly three years later, on your twenty-second birthday, he asked you to marry him. And you said yes, of course. The two of you got married two months after that day, in an intimate ceremony with only the closest of friends and family. Steve worked as a mechanic at Mr. Stark’s garage, making more than enough for the two of you. After the monthly expenses, the mortgage on the house and your savings were covered, you had just enough left every month to go out for a fancy dinner and to the movies once. 

As you reached the garage, you spotted Steve bent over the open bonnet of a car, tinkering around. Taking this opportunity to startle him, you walk up behind him as slowly and noiselessly as possible before placing a hand on his shoulder, calling out his name, causing him to startle and hit his head on the bonnet. He curses loudly before turning around, the anger evident in his eyes which burns out a little when he sees you. “You should know better than to do something like that doll,” he whispers in your ear, pulling you close by your waist before pressing a chaste kiss to your lips. You feel the heat rising to your face as you look towards your feet, licking your lips as you mumble out an apology. 

“Why don’t you take a seat doll, I’ll be done here in five,” he says before continuing to work on the engine. You nod as you take a seat a little distance away, pulling out the book you got from the library last week, smoothing out the dog-eared edge before diving back into the book. Just as you were about to finish the chapter you’d been reading, Bucky walks out of Mr. Stark’s office, snatching the book right out of your hands. “Hey!” you huff out a protest, reaching out for the book that he proceeded to hold above his head. Laughing heartily at your antics, Steve comes up behind Bucky to snatch the book and hands it back to you before sitting down and pulling you onto his lap, wrapping his arm around your waist possessively. 

Rolling his eyes at that, Bucky continues “Nat needs y’all to come over for dinner tomorrow night,” he says as he opens his lunch, digging into the food. Bucky and Natasha were Steve’s friends and had become yours too when you started dating him. The two had been married for five years now. Natasha was probably the most badass woman you’d ever met and while you hoped your mama never caught you saying that, it was true. She was headstrong and never took any crap from anyone. She was a nurse and while you admired her, you were a bit envious of the fact that she was a working woman. Steve didn’t allow you to work. He believed that it was his job to earn money to support you and while you would have still loved to work, you understood that things couldn’t always go your way. 

“What for? We’re going to my ma’s tomorrow night,” he questioned as you handed him his sandwich, before grabbing your own. 

“Go to Sarah’s some other day. Nat’s going to prepare a feast and she needs you there. Sam and Wanda and Clint and the family are coming too. Come with your appetites prepared,” he said, finishing off the last of his lunch before dusting his hands off and getting back to work, “No excuses, be there by seven. And for god’s sake Rogers, look presentable.” 

“Beat it, punk,” Steve yelled as Bucky moved away with a wave of his middle finger. You looked at Steve, giggling, before promising, “I’ll drop by and make her some soup for tonight. I’ll spend the night too if need be. Don’t worry, we’ll go to Nat’s tomorrow,” you kissed his cheek before removing yourself from his lap, packing up your bag. “I should get going, let you get back to work. I have lots to do at home,” you wave a goodbye, Steve watching your hips sway. 

Steve knew you were the perfect dame for him. He loved you more than anyone he’d ever loved before. He knew you’d be the perfect wife and mother to his children. He wanted you just to himself for a little time before the two of you started a family because he knew once he got you pregnant, he planned on keeping you round and full of himself for as long as possible. Just the thought of you barefoot and pregnant under his roof, cooking for him and his children, your breasts swollen and heavy with milk for his child. Just the thought of you pregnant and oh, so sensitive because of him, it all turned him on more than you could ever imagine. 

He vowed to start trying to get you pregnant soon. 

*

By the time you got done with all your chores around the house, you were exhausted. Dinner was done about halfway and the chicken noodle soup for Sarah was done and packed for you to take to her. She wasn’t feeling too well the past few days so you and Steve were going to visit her tomorrow with dinner, just to check up on her. But now, you’d already called and told her about your plans for tomorrow evening and that you’d swing by today before dinner. She was rather accommodating, claiming that the two of you needed to spend time with people your age. And she sounded much better as well. Her cold seemed to have improved and she sounded more energetic. 

At half past five, you decided to get to Sarah's house. She lived close enough, just a couple of houses down the street. When you and Steve got married, you decided to get a house close enough to both his ma and your parents as well. Which reminded you that you needed to visit your mama soon as well. You had borrowed her Vogue knitting books, and it was high time you gave them back. You quickly make the ten minute walk to her house and let yourself in using your set of keys to enter the house, not wanting Sarah to move around too much but to your surprise, you find her in the kitchen, humming a tune you couldn’t quite recognise, cooking what smelled like her famous lasagna causing your mouth to water instantly, the response Pavlovian at this point. 

“You’re supposed to be in bed ma, not prancing around the kitchen doing only the Lord knows what,” you say as she turns around, giving you a wide smile. 

“Don’t you dare sass me kid. Is that really how you greet your poor old mother in law?” she asked as she walked out of the kitchen, pulling you into a tight hug. Giving you a final squeeze, she grabbed your hands in her frail ones, leading you towards the living room. 

Stopping her halfway, you let go of her hand before holding up the thermos full of warm soup that you had brought. 

“I’m going to put this away for now. Heat it up before you eat it, okay?” you instructed as you moved towards the kitchen, putting the soup to the side before moving your hair out of your face and tying on an apron. 

“And what exactly do you think you’re doing missy?” she said as she followed you into the kitchen, thin arms crossed across her chest.

“Doing your dishes, what else?” 

“Is anything I say going to make you stop?” she wondered out loud. 

“Fat chance,” you said as you rolled your eyes. 

“Well, you better hang around until the lasagna is done, I’ll pack some for Steve. Speaking of which, where is that boy?,” she said.

“Still at the shop I believe,” you answered, almost done with the few dishes. 

“I see,” she says, an odd look passing over her face but she doesn’t say anything further so you continue to work in a comfortable silence. 

Wiping your hands when you were done, you removed your apron and put it back in its place. “Alright ma, I should get going. Steve must be back by now,” you said as you took your bag, a large oven dish of lasagna in your hands, moving towards the door, only to be stopped by her. 

“Tell me my dear, have y’all thought about babies yet?” 

Furrowing your eyebrows, you look at her with a confused look. “We’ve decided to wait. And we’ve only been married a year now,” you answer. 

Laughing lightly, she squeezes your hand in hers before letting go. “Alright. You tell that boy to come see me soon, okay?” You nod and wave goodbye as you start walking home. Checking the time on your watch, you’re horrified to find it’s already quarter to seven and increasing your pace, almost running to get back home before Steve. You reach home with just five minutes before the clock strikes seven, having just enough time to freshen up and fix your hair before the doorbell rings. 

At the sight of you, a smile quickly overtakes his face which you can’t help but reciprocate. As soon as he walks in he has his arms around you, pulling you into a passionate kiss. You quickly push him away with a giggle, “At least wash your hands first!” 

“I can’t help myself when it comes to you,” he says, squeezing your ass which causes you to squeak. Laughing, he hangs his cap and goes to freshen up as you get to setting dinner out. 

At the table, you tell Steve of his mom’s request and he agrees, saying he’ll go see her on Sunday. 

“Any clue what this impromptu get-together at Bucky and Nat’s is about ?” 

“I tried but couldn’t get anything outta him. Guess we’ll only know tomorrow,” he shrugged. 

“I should call and ask if she needs any help,” you said after dinner once you were done with clearing the table and putting the leftovers in the fridge. Steve was in the living room with a book and a beer. You couldn’t afford a television just yet but Steve had been saving up and according to him, you’d be able to get one in a month or two. 

He hummed absentmindedly, which meant he wasn’t really paying attention. Sighing, you quickly rang Nat up. It was Bucky who answered the phone. 

“Hey, is Nat there?” you asked. 

“Sure, I’ll just put her on,” he said and you could hear him calling out to Natasha in the background. 

“Hello dear, to what do I owe this pleasure?” she laughed. 

Giggling, you reply “Just wanted to check if you needed any help for tomorrow. It was rather impromptu and I heard that everyone is coming,” to which she only huffed and said “I just require you and Steve to show up, that’s all. Now I got loads to do honey, I’ll see you tomorrow!” she said as she swiftly hung up leaving you a little stunned. 

“That was weird,” you think out loud as you sit down next to Steve on the couch, his arm immediately draping itself around your shoulder and pulling you into his body. You snuggle closer, a content sigh slipping from your lips. 

“Don’t think so much, it’s probably nothing,” he soothes, his fingers playing with the collar of your blouse. Oh, so he was listening. 

“But-“ you start, immediately silenced by Steve shushing you. “Enough about this. We’ll go there tomorrow and find out,” he chastises, his tone leaving no room for argument. 

Deciding to just let it go for now, you untangle yourself from Steve who lets you go albeit a bit reluctantly and get ready for bed. It takes you some time to fall asleep but with Steve’s arm around your waist, holding you close, you manage to get a few hours of rest. 

*

You fixed your pretty yellow sundress and checked your hair and makeup one last time in the mirror. Modest but tempting. Perfect. Just as you were about to call out to Steve, he emerged from the bath, freshly shaved. Still not dressed, you tilt your head towards the cupboard, urging him to get dressed quickly. 

Rolling his eyes playfully, selecting a simple khaki and the baby blue shirt you’d left out for him. Steve combed his hair back, following you out of your bedroom, watching you pack up his ma’s lasagna. You knew it was Bucky’s favourite, it was almost everybody’s favourite, having not let him eat any of it last night. 

You knew Nat hadn’t asked you to bring anything with you but your mama would never let you leave home for a party without a little something for the hosts. So here you were, outside Nat and Bucky’s door, a tray of lasagna in your hands and Steve’s arms around your waist. Bucky opened the door with a wide smile, a bottle of beer in his hand. 

“Come on in, kids!” He almost yelled, definitely a little tipsy. Smiling at him, you stepped inside and Steve closed the door behind the two of you. 

Sam and Wanda sat on the couch, each nursing their own bottle of beer and a glass of wine respectively. She smiled and waved at you, patting the couch on her side, inviting you to take a seat. Holding up the lasagna, you tilted your head, motioning towards the kitchen. 

Natasha and Wanda both drank occasionally. You didn’t though. Steve didn’t like you drinking, not even a beer on the occasion. It was all your fault really. 

It was your best friend from school Ella’s twentieth birthday. Just you and a couple of other people from your class decided to surprise her with a little get together near the lake by the old lighthouse. You knew there would be alcohol but as long as you didn’t drink too much and were aware of your surroundings, things would be fine right? 

Wrong. Steve had been by your parents house, looking for you and being told exactly where and with who you were, he couldn’t control his rage. He didn’t approve of ‘Ella and her posse of bimbos’, as he put it. You knew that and while you didn’t agree with him, it was the reason you couldn’t tell him about your whereabouts that night. 

When he finally found you, you were sitting on a little picnic blanket, half drunk bottle of beer in your hands, chatting away with Ella and her boyfriend. You were a little tipsy but immediately sobered up at the sight of Steve storming towards you. 

You quickly got up, dropping the bottle as it rolled off somewhere, the sound of your heart beating and the blood rushing through your veins deafening. Ella tried to intercept him, trying to get him to stop and talk but he just ignored her and continued to walk towards you, grabbing hold of your upper arm. You yelped loudly at how tight his grip was, trying to get him to let go of you as he dragged you away from the lake and towards his motorcycle. 

At a distance from the lake, he finally let go of your arm, pinching the bridge of his nose, eyes shut. 

“Ste-,”

“Shut up. I don’t want a word out of you,” he spat. 

You quickly shut your mouth, taking a step back from him. 

“How many times, huh? How many fucking times have I told you to stay away from that girl? And yet, here you are, dressed like a slut, drinking away with that stupid whore and her friends,” he says viciously, taking a step forward for each one you took back until you were backed up against a tree. 

You were terrified. You’d never seen him this angry before, at least not at you. 

“You are never to see that girl again, do you understand?” he barks, causing you to nod your head so hard, you thought your neck might snap. 

“Good. Let’s get you home. Put this on,” he says as he holds up his jacket for you which you promptly slip on, following him to his motorcycle. You don’t even realise when you start crying, the tears streaming down your face making the skin burn against the harsh wind. 

When you finally reached home, you got off wordlessly, shrugging off his jacket which was hanging from your smaller frame and handing it to him. You turned to walk back towards the front door only to be stopped by him grabbing your wrist and pulling you toward him. 

At the sight of the wet trails streaking your face, a flash of guilt passes in his eyes but it’s gone just as quickly as it arrived. 

“You know I’m saying this because I care about you, okay? I don’t want anything bad happening to you, you know that right?” 

You can only nod numbly, as he gives you a small smile and a peck on the lips before gesturing for you to go back in, watching you till you’ve gone inside and locked the front door. 

Of course, you wouldn’t talk to him for days after that. Ignoring his phone calls or having your mama pick up the phone, telling him you weren’t home when he came knocking. 

You made him grovel and plead, letting him know just how angry you were but in the end, you gave in. You loved him, with his flaws and all. 

Pulling yourself out of your little daydream, you walked towards the kitchen where you could hear Natasha moving about. As you walked, you admired the picture frames that adorned the walls. You loved Nat and Bucky’s house, so happy and full of memories. You couldn’t wait to have that with Steve. 

“Now, didn’t I tell you not to get anything? I’m cooking up a storm here, who’s gonna eat all of this?” She questioned, her hands on her hips, over mitts on her hands and a frilly apron on. 

You laughed and moved closer to give her a quick peck on her cheek, putting the lasagna on the counter. 

“It’s Sarah’s lasagna. You don’t have to worry about it going to waste,” you tried. 

“Oh, I know. But you know my cooking can’t compare to hers!” She complained mockingly. Sharing a laugh, you start helping about, feeling odd just standing there doing nothing. She lets you help but refuses to tell you why she wanted everyone to come over when you tried to  ask. 

You had to give it to her though, she really had outdone herself. As you helped her take the food to the table, you were in awe. Tuna noodle casserole, beef stroganoff and mashed potatoes completed with the perfect buttermilk pie. The sight alone made your mouth water and tummy grumble. 

At the delicious scent wafting from the dining table, everyone slowly poured in, each of them grabbing a plate and loading it up. You couldn’t wait to dig in, everything looked mouthwatering. Jokes were made and compliments given, you made to take a bite but were immediately stopped by the conversation taking place across from where you and Steve sat. 

Bucky was urging Natasha to take a bigger helping of the mashed potatoes. While that was not particularly surprising, the next bit caused everyone to stop and stare. 

“You really should take some more,” he says, adding another heap of the potatoes to her plate, “you’re eating for two now.” 

You’d never heard silence quite this loud, everyone stopped midway, staring at Natasha and Bucky. Not Clint’s children of course, they couldn’t be bothered by much. They were busy stuffing their little faces with the feast Nat had prepared. 

After a minute or two of utter silence, a cheer broke out and Natasha and Bucky sighed, exchanging small smiles of relief. 

You, along with Laura and Wanda got up almost simultaneously, rushing around to envelop Natasha in a giant bear hug, who had started crying at this point. The boys were all congratulating Bucky, patting him on the back and making lewd jokes. The children seemed clueless as to what the fuss was all about but declared their merriment by making various noises as well. 

When everyone has settled down, continuing with their meals, the relative silence is broken by Wanda, “We get to be godparents, right?” She questions, motioning between herself and Sam. That’s when Steve pipes up, “You guys are already godparents to Cooper. I think it’s our turn.” 

“Exactly! What do you say Natty?” You wiggle your eyebrows playfully at her. 

Huffing a laugh, she adds “We’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Can we just enjoy this lovely meal I worked so hard to make?” 

This shuts everyone up, again passing praises and compliments her way. Once the meal came to a close, it was already well past the kids' bedtime so Clint and Laura took off, followed by Sam and a rather tipsy Wanda. You stayed back to help Natasha clean up, despite her protests. 

“You’re a pregnant woman and I’m already mad enough you did all of this by yourself. You should be ashamed of yourself Barnes, letting your pregnant wife do all the work,” you chastised. 

“Sorry ma’am,” he says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. Steve chuckles but otherwise stays quiet. 

When you’re done with most of the dishes and having packed up the few leftovers, you and Steve take your leave, walking back hand in hand in the silent darkness. 

Your Steve, you know him well. And you can tell, just by one look in his face that there’s a lot on his mind. You know better from experience that when he’s in such moods, it’s best to leave him alone. He’ll tell you what’s on his mind before bed, you know it for sure. 

So for now, you just walk home, swinging your joined hands back and forth as he’s lost in his own head. 

Done getting ready for bed, you slip under the covers, waiting for Steve to join you. You don’t have to wait long, just as you pick up your book for some reading before bed, he slips under the covers, snatching the book from your hand. Your protest is short lived as he pulls you close into a bruising kiss. 

His lips travel down your throat, trailing wet kisses down to your collarbone before you stop him as he moves to pull your silk slip over your head. 

“What’s on your mind? You’ve been quiet all evening,” you grab his cheek in your hand, making him look at you. 

He sighs loudly, moving away to sit back against the headboard. 

“C’mon Steve, tell me.” 

You move closer to him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. Just as you’re about to urge him to say something he interrupts you. 

“Let’s have a baby.” 

You’re quiet for a while and he takes your silence as a request to continue. 

“It’s been on my mind for so long. We’ll start with one. For now. I can’t wait for our home to be filled with little ones. I just —I’ve been thinking of this for so long. The fact that Nat and Bucky are expecting just solidified my decision. Don’t you want a baby?” 

Swallowing, you plan out your words carefully before opening your mouth. 

“We’re not ready Stevie. You know this. We’ve been married what, a year now? I thought we decided to wait,” you try. 

“But I don’t want to wait anymore! Can’t you see? There’s no time like now to start trying,” he raises his voice and you flinch away from him. 

“I don’t know Stevie. I’m really tired, we’ll talk about this tomorrow, okay?” 

“No!” He shouts, “I want to talk about this now. We’re ready. I know we’re ready,” he reaffirms, grabbing you by your arms to hold you close. 

“Steve, we’re not. We’re nowhere ready for a baby. We’ve just begun saving, can we even support a child right now?” You try to make him see some sense but it backfires tremendously. 

“Really? I work so hard for you, for us, but that’s not enough for you, is it? You’re such an ungrateful little bitch, aren’t you?” His tone and his hurtful words immediately cause your eyes to fill, a couple errant tears slipping down. His grip on you is painful, almost bruising.

At the sight of your eyes brimming, tears streaking their way down your pretty face, his anger dissipates and his face fills with worry. He moves forward to cup your face in his hands, but you flinch away from him, pulling the covers back and stepping out of bed with your pillow in hand. 

“I-uh- I’ll take the couch,” you stutter out, sniffling between every word. 

“No, no, no. Baby I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry, please come back to bed,” he says, scrambling out of bed as you continue towards the door. 

“No, please baby. I’m sorry, please come back to bed,” he pleads, getting on his knees in front of you, wrapping his strong arms around your waist and holding you in place, his chin resting on your soft stomach. 

He looks up at you with eyes quickly filling with tears, threatening to overflow. Your heart melts at the sight and you close your eyes, nodding your head slowly and he sighs, burying his face into your stomach, his tears causing your slip to dampen slightly. 

“I’m so sorry baby, I didn’t mean it. I’m so sorry,” his voice comes out muffled but you understand him anyway. 

You nod your head, telling him you’ll think about kids. You really would. That night he held you close after making love to you, almost as if he was afraid you’d slip out into the darkness in the middle of the night. He whispered the deepest of apologies and praises into your ear as he drew orgasm after orgasm from your prone body. 

You knew he regrets what he said. You were well aware that he wanted a big family. Growing up, it had always been just him and his Ma. His father was hardly ever home and when he was, he was too drunk to care about much. He aspired to be everything that his father wasn’t, a real family man. 

And you know you want to give him that but you need some time, you haven’t even been married that long. And you will think about it much more seriously now. What’s wrong with having a child? He works so hard for you, to make sure you’re not left needing anything, can’t you do at least this much for him? You’re home all day anyway, it’s not like you have a job like Nat. Plus, you’re lucky to have him and that he cares about you and what you want. Most men wouldn’t have bothered asking their wives if and when they wanted children. You find your resolve weakening. You will tell him that you’re ready to start trying and it’s unlikely you will fall pregnant on the first try. You have some time, you tell yourself all the while trying to smother that voice inside you that whispers, ‘You should wait’. 

[darlingkirstein]

Hi, Mar! I saw you're taking prompts. What about bored 1950s housewife Mikasa and Milkman Eren? 🫢

Housewife Mikasa/Milkman Eren (1950s AU)

wc: 4.8k / nsfw / cheating thank you for the request! hope you enjoy :) i’ll probably be posting this to ao3 as well!

Her husband kisses her cheek — a kiss lacking any desired affection, more a routine obligation than anything else — as she hovers over the countertop, flattening the pie crust over the pan. She’s been requested (instructed, more precisely) to make one of her “famous” blueberry pies for a little gathering between the neighbors. They’re her husband’s favorite — and he jokes that he’ll be a real wet rag if he doesn’t get a taste.

“Off to work,” He grumbles, his glance lazily lingering on her fingers as she works the crust around the delicate edges. “Smells good.”

There’s no smell. I haven’t even started baking.

Still, Mikasa forces a pleasant smile — flashing her prettiest doe eyes up at him.

“Just for you, dear. It’ll be ready for the party.”

“You’re a doll.” He pats her waist, simpering. For a moment, there’s a return to the man Mikasa married years ago — the loving, fun, sweet man who courted her with trips to the cinema.

Mikasa allows foolish hope get the best of her.

“If it makes you happy—”

He squashes her hankering before it can properly take root. “You know what would make me happy? If you wore that gorgeous red dress. You know, that one that I can’t get enough of?”

It takes great strain to prevent her smile from floundering. She doesn’t want to displease him — even if he hardly sees her as anything more valuable than a manifestation of his most casually-depraved fantasies. A piece of meat, worth nothing more than to gawk at instead of compliment, fondle instead of pleasure.

Mikasa nods. “I’ll do that. Run along now.”

He’s out the door quick. Across the street, the neighbor’s yappy little mutt barks up a storm; children laugh as they play games. The summer heat provides such a wonderful atmosphere for frivolity, good restful fun, but none of that luxury is afforded to Mikasa. She knows she’ll spend her day tending to the chores. Baking, so much baking — and dusting every last crevice in their home. It’ll need to be spotless for the party. All the other wives judge her handiwork, Mikasa knows this, even if they’re too gentle to tell. They’ll judge her cooking, too. Comparing recipes and weighing the benefit of certain seasonings is far more competitive than she’d like it to be.

She gets to work. Toiling and toiling. The minutes drain quickly, never enough time in the day to accomplish everything she wishes. With one task completed, Mikasa remembers three more to take its place — an endless, most tedious cycle.

The days bleed together. Chores, making meals, and dull conversations with her husband — nothing to set them apart, nothing to deem it a life worth living for the decades to come. As she cleans, she wonders if things will ever go back to the way they were before — or if some miracle can swoop in to offer a fresh new existence.

A knock on the door interrupts her dusting.

She’s happy for any moment of respite. Opening the door, Mikasa is greeted by a handsome man — a very handsome man, indeed — who holds a basket filled with jars of fresh milk. He’s new; their precious milkman was a crotchety middle-aged gentleman who— well, wasn’t much of a gentleman, lacking any way with pleasantries.

This one’s much easier on the eyes.

He took off his hat and tipped it her direction. “Morning, miss. I’ve got a delivery for you.”

Mikasa notices his smile first, his pretty teeth — but it’s impossible to ignore the rest of him, hair so reminiscent of James Dean, an actor she harbors private affections for, hidden from her husband. Under the sunlight, the green in his eyes truly shimmers. He looks like something right out of a Vogue cover — and Mikasa’s smitten. Somehow, this man manages to make the milkman uniform look dignified, alluring even.

She flattens her dress, embarrassed by the flour stains coating the front and all the wrinkles ruining the elegance of the fabric.

“Good morning.” The beam on her lips is uncontrollable; she can’t remember the last time her husband made her smile like this. “I very much appreciate you, sir. You’re kind to knock.”

“This hot sun could spoil the milk.” His eyes find the stains on her dress, as she fears. “You look like a busy lady. I sure am sorry if I’m intruding.”

She steps outside, not thinking clearly. “No, no! You haven’t done a thing. It’s quite nice to have a visitor. It gets lonely around here sometimes.”

He grins. Mikasa tucks her hands behind her back, trying to conceal her wedding ring.

“Lonely? Don’t you have a husband, ma’am?”

She blushes. Caught. Mikasa’s heart beats faster than she’d like — full of shame. What would the other wives think if they saw her? The last thing she needs is to be called filthy names, accused of terrible, terrible crimes. That doesn’t stop her from swooning as the milkman smiles.

“Ah— I do. He just works so long. I have the house all to myself. The record player’s dull company.”

“No children?”

Mikasa shakes her head — another point of shame. All the other women already started their families; some had another child on the way. Her husband showed little interest in love-making. Whenever he returned home from work, he complained about being too tired — only seeking a warm meal in his belly and a funny show on the television to fall asleep to. When the fancy did strike him, it was a quick affair, far more beneficial for his pleasure than hers — almost animalistic. He whispers no tender phrases nor any amorous praises into her ear when he’s inside her — only hardened grunts, none too appealing for Mikasa.

“No, sir. Just the two of us here.”

Just as he opens his mouth to answer, the oven inside alerts her to the pie finishing its baking. Her head swings in the sound’s direction — dreading the result the noise might have on the pleasant conversation being shared.

“That’s my pie. I better check on it.”

He unsheathes a jar from the basket and presents it to her. “Well, you’ll see me again tomorrow, ma’am. Could you save me a slice of that pie?”

Mikasa’s fingers wrap around the jar, though her eyes don’t stray from his. She smiles her prettiest smile — this one authentic, nothing forced about it in the slightest — and nods. If her mornings consisted of this man at her doorstep, that’s a routine she favors getting acclimated to.

“Are you sure you don’t want something fresh?”

“No, ma’am. Wouldn’t want to impose.”

Hugging the jar to her chest, Mikasa flushes. She wonders how obvious the scarlet appears across her cheeks. “You’re a rather thoughtful man.”

“Well, ma’am — forgive me for saying this, but you’re a rather pretty lady. My momma taught me that pretty ladies deserve good manners.”

Mikasa has to drag her gaze away, turning her face to conceal the enjoyment in her features. Her stomach twists into little tangles; this is what she’s been missing ever since getting married. How long has it been since her husband made her feel like a woman worthy of love, worthy of some grandiose affection? Far too long, those fleeting moments all but forgotten. Mikasa toys with the chance, whatever minuscule chance exists, that the gorgeous milkman can grant her the attention she yearns to so richly acquire.

“You’re a handsome man yourself.” She cannot — doesn’t want to — control her words, forbidden and sinful as they are. A quick glance informs her he’s a bachelor, no ring wrapped around his finger, no woman waiting for him back home.

For a moment, Mikasa thinks something might happen, but the man only accepts her compliment with a fond twitch of a grin.

“I best be off to the next house. You take care, ma’am. Don’t work yourself too hard, now.”

Too flustered to conjure a proper response, all Mikasa manages is a little wave of her fingers before he’s heading down the driveway.

One thing comes to her, however.

She calls after him. “Mister! What’s your name?”

He turns, adjusting his hat back atop his hair. “Eren. Do I get the treat of knowing yours?”

“Mikasa.” She gives it up fervently, not-so-secretly yearning to hear her name from his lips.

“You’ve got a gorgeous name, miss. Seems everything about you is something special.”

He’s back on his merry way in a flash, off to deliver milk to the Thompsons. Eren, she repeats to herself over and over. Already, Mikasa counts down to the following day — when she’ll get the satisfaction of watching him sample her pie.

As routine demands, Eren returns to Mikasa’s house right on schedule the day after.

He raps on her door and waits patiently — that patience swiftly rewarded with the sight of Mikasa, even more beautiful than yesterday. Her hair, curled above her shoulders, frames her lovely face charmingly. The red lipstick coating her mouth draws Eren in without hesitation. Today, no flour coats her clothes — her chosen dress, spotless and practically wrinkle-free, gives her such a delightful appearance. Eren grins.

“You look like you’re in good spirits today.”

“Much better,” she admits. “My husband phoned me just now. He’ll be staying late at the office.”

One eyebrow cocks. “That’s why you’re happy?”

“Oh, no — I wouldn’t be a very good wife if I didn’t like having my husband around, would I?”

Eren stifles a grin — clever, clever girl. He takes a step closer to the door, closer to Mikasa.

“I think any man could count himself lucky to have someone like you for a wife, Mikasa.”

Watching her attempt to hide the thrill his words provided her gives Eren an equal thrill of his own — he chides himself for not taking this job sooner, for missing out on the gem of Mikasa’s flirtatious gazes for months and months.

“I saved you some pie, like you asked.” She pauses, looking back. Eren’s heart quickens, his expectations growing. “Would you like to come inside for a sample? I’d cherish your opinion.”

“It wouldn’t be very polite of me to refuse a girl’s invitation, don’t you think? I’ll happily get a taste.”

Already, Eren’s favorite part of Mikasa is how easily she flusters, her pale skin revealing all too simply her internal feelings so poorly hidden. His words, so intentionally veering toward something less-then-chaste, strike her deep — Eren watches Mikasa fidget with her fingers before guiding him inside their home — another man’s home.

“Here.” She gestures to the kitchen island, to a slice of pie and a fork to accompany it. “I made a plate just for you — hid it from my husband.”

The milk deliveries for the day are abandoned beside just inside the home’s entrance — he hopes nobody complains of his tardiness, but more pressing matters require his attention. Offered a seat at the island, Eren takes it gladly.

“This is very generous of you, Mikasa. Are you such an angel to every stranger at your door?”

“No,” she tells him, fetching a new milk jar from his basket and unstoppering it to fill a glass for him. “Just the ones I like. The handsome ones that say all the sweetest things to me.”

Grinning, Eren severs a tiny piece from the pie and pops it in his mouth — instantly hit with the blueberry flavor and the savory crust. Mikasa, half distracted as she wipes away some crumbs from the countertops, glances back.

“Well? Do you like it? I tried something different with the filling this time. Do you think it’s okay?”

He swallows, instantly returning for another bite.

“It’s perfect, Mikasa. You’re inhuman.”

“Inhuman? Is that a compliment?”

“I mean you’re too good to explain. It’s not everyday you meet a knockout girl who knows her way around a man’s appetites.”

She set aside her cleaning cloth. Returning to Eren’s proximity, her smile gives hints into a more playful side — blossoming from the adorable shyness permeating her actions during their monumental introduction.

“Do I know your appetites, sir?”

Her innocence entices him, his heart fluttering. Does she realize how beautiful she looks when her eyes are all beady and curious, watching their subject with a gaze imbedded with coquetry.

Suddenly, he’s the one who’s flustered.

“I certainly think you might.”

Mikasa comes closer — taking a seat at the island, resting against the counter. Eren suspects she doesn’t get much time for leisure like this — his mother, back in his youth, spent so much time in the kitchen her fingers were rubbed raw, not a life befitting a beautiful woman like Mikasa.

She smiles; her voice softens.

“Maybe tomorrow I can give you a whole pie.”

Sticking his fork into the filling, Eren bites his bottom lip, suppressing a smirk.

“That’s too much to ask for.”

“Oh, it’s not too bad.” Mikasa has mastered the art of looking coy, yet poised. “Besides, who else will make you a pie? You’re not married.”

The way she says it sounds like a challenge.

“I suppose you’re right. I’ve been missing out.”

She laughs, and it’s not the same rehearsed laughter he hears from all his friend’s wives, the one out on for show — it’s a real laugh, free of discipline and regulation, all free-flowing.

“So — why aren’t you married?”

Eren sighs and scoops more pie into his mouth, indulging in its sublime sweetness.

“All the pretty girls have husbands already. That, or they don’t fancy marrying the milkman.”

Mikasa looks back to the counter, her fingers coming to her teeth, nails bitten. For a moment, Eren worries he’s upset her — but he sees her stifling more laughter, too amused for her own good. Sideways glances come his way; she reminds him of the gals back in high school, waiting to be asked for the prom.

“Tell me about your husband,” he continues.

She looks at him, confused. “Why?”

“Well, you don’t seem too happy with him.” The image of her hiding her ring hasn’t left Eren — he’s not nearly as ashamed as he probably should be when he hopes to win her over, his gorgeous client in the gorgeous dress, with the lovely laugh.

“He’s not much of a romantic anymore. He likes my cooking and my outfits, but that feels like all I’m good for these days. That, and—”

She cuts herself off, blushing hard.

“And?”

“Nothing I should say out loud.”

Mikasa’s little more than a stranger, but Eren’s so drawn to her, drawn to everything about her. She’s the best-looking woman this side of the Equator, with a honeyed smile just as saccharine as her personality. Her husband, he attests, is the biggest fool on either side of the Equator.

“He really oughta treat you better.”

Something shifts in her gaze, Eren sees it. Mikasa leans closer, grabbing his wrist. There’s a desperation present in her eyes — one he surmises has been festering for quite some time. Is he the first man to pay her a compliment?

When she speaks again, it’s hushed, like she’s afraid of any eavesdroppers — spies for her husband, maybe. “How would you treat me?”

Eren flushes, swallowing hard. He looks into those eyes, those pleading pupils — and cups her cheek, thumbs rubbing over her skin.

He can’t properly comprehend what he’s doing. Her wedding ring tickles his wrist, the metal so cold against his skin, but her skin feels so warm, warm enough to tempt him further. Grinning, Eren’s face inches closer to hers, close enough to smell the perfume clinging to her neck.

“Right, Mikasa. I’d treat you right.”

Mikasa swallows. Butterflies dance around in her stomach, fighting for a way out. It’s wrong, she tries to convince herself, but the words feel like such a blatant lie — how could something wrong feel so painfully good, so inexplicably wanted?

His touch feels damn near electric. “You would?”

“Yes, ma’am. Would you like me to show you?”

Mikasa’s chest clenches, but it’s a nice clench — mostly. She knows there’s no turning back after this, but by God’s glory, she needs it, needs Eren. Her lips ache in anticipation, watching his hover before her face, patiently stalling to latch on.

She nods, holding his free hand tight. “Yes, sir— I mean— I’d like that very much, Eren.”

Eren smiles. With his fingers, he draws her face closer until their mouths meet. His kiss isn’t aggressive — it’s slow and measured, so patient. Mikasa fights the urge to weep; she can’t remember the last time her husband kissed her like this, kissed her like he truly loved her. Within her chest, her heart runs at an uncontrollable pace, threatening to leap right out.

Mikasa tries to control her kiss — the last thing she wants is to scare him off by being overzealous, too opportunistic with his affections. It’s difficult — each second with his mouth on hers pumps such good feelings through her body, leaving her damn near drunk on the impact.

She tastes the pie on his lips — her pie. Somehow, that makes Mikasa even giddier. She vows to make him a hundred pies if he’ll reward each slice with kisses like this one.

Mikasa feels the wetness building between her thighs — ending the total drought she’s endured under her husband’s dominion. It’s a girlish feeling, being so besotted with a handsome, handsome man again. It should cause her shame, Mikasa knows, but it doesn’t, not in the slightest. The only shame surrounding her is the shame that she hasn’t sought this out sooner.

None of the neighbors had husbands nearly as gorgeous as Eren. Her husband, even in his best days, couldn’t hold a candle to him.

“My husband— He’ll be gone for a while,” Mikasa whines between kisses. “Will you stay with me?”

Eren’s grip on her face tightens. He feels his warm exhales against her mouth, eyes fixated on the way he smirks like he’s won a lottery ticket.

“As long as you’d like, miss.”

Mikasa wants his body closer, wants more of his warmth, too spoiled to accept it only against her tongue. She takes his mouth again, claiming it in another enthusiastic kiss — but her tempted hands wander south, playing with the hem of her dress’ skirt, tugging it up her thighs.

“Touch me,” Mikasa pleads. “Please, mister.”

He smiles against her kiss. “Are you sure?”

“Yes. I’ll beg you if I must. Oh, touch me.”

His palm finds a place on her thigh, fingers locked around, pressing into her soft flesh. “Sweetheart,” Eren calls her, and oh, how she swoons. “You don’t have to beg me for nothing. Let me help.”

Eren’s fingers hide underneath her dress and ever swiftly find the source of her ache, slipping inside. Mikasa’s body recoils — overwhelmed by little more than one tender touch — and her fingers wrap around his wrist to keep him lodged there.

His mouth finds her neck. It’s been so long since Mikasa’s received any attention on her neck.

“There, oh, right there,” she moans, eyes squeezing shut. Eren rubs her slowly — and she’s left guessing whether he does it to tease her or because he’s such a gentleman.

He falls silent, so focused on pleasuring her. Deft fingers make a bigger mess of her wetness, drenching his fingertips in her sweet liquid, while his lips threaten tender bruises against her skin.

“Be careful,” Mikasa whispers, smiling. “My husband might see— he’ll get suspicious.”

Eren grins; attentive sucks become light kiss against her throat. “Maybe he should, Mikasa — maybe he’ll learn his lesson and treat you right.”

She shakes her head. “He’s never been this good to me. Never. Oh, don’t stop — please, don’t.”

Never straying from his task, Eren teases her sex for as long as he can. His mouth switches between her sensitive, markable flesh and her soft, welcoming lips, but his fingers never leave her cunt — far too absorbed in their mission to even think about quitting. Mikasa tries to remember a past memory where she felt this good, this tended to, but no memory comes.

Dizzy, intoxicated by his touch, she gets greedy.

“The bedroom— let’s go there, Eren. Please?”

“Your room?” Eren stills his fingers. “Are you asking me what I think you’re asking, miss?”

Any prior embarrassment she may have felt making this request vanished long ago — unbridled by shame, too bloated with unquenchable lust, Mikasa is breathless.

“Make love to me. I miss it, I miss it so much. Make love to me, sir. Remind me what it’s like.”

His hand falls away from her cunt; whatever momentary emptiness that triggers is forgotten when Eren lifts her from her chair and asks for guidance in finding the master bedroom.

Inside, Eren rests her atop her sheets. Her legs spread naturally for him, dress skirt falling without struggle, inviting him in for a taste. She looks to her left — on the bedside table, their wedding photograph greets her. Mikasa gets an unwomanly glee out of her husband having premium seating to see another man do his job.

She watches Eren smile like a kid in a candy shop — not the leer he husband throws her way when he’s finally in the mood to get relief, but a grin of determination, determination to make her happy.

He pushes her dress further up her body, far enough for him to lower his mouth to her stomach, kissing her belly. The knots haven’t left, only growing stronger — Eren’s lips tend to the least cultivated parts of her body with great care. Mikasa writhes against the ticklish sensation, smiling graciously. Heaven’s finally answered all her silent prayers, her hidden desires, a gift for her years of devotion to faulty matrimony.

Above all else, Eren’s eyes make her feel best — in the midst of his tender kisses, his gaze finds her happily. That attention, that focus — Mikasa doesn’t need to tilt her gaze to recognize how stained her panties have become.

His fingers hook around them, but he tugs them away slowly, tediously slow, leaving a trail of sweet kisses down her midsection as the air finally hits her cunt with a shiver. Mouth teasing the skin around her sex, Eren smiles, letting all the little hairs tickle between his nose and chin.

“Mikasa, darling,” he starts, softly. “Does your husband ever do this for you? Ever?”

“Never.” Darling — much better than doll.

Nearly too dazed to properly focus, Mikasa swears that Eren’s eyes narrow, brows furrowing. He says nothing more before his tongue presses against her sweet flesh, drinking up her wetness like lemonade on a day hot as this one.

Her legs tighten around him, tight enough to knock the milkman’s hat right off his head. Fingers meddling in his pretty hair, Mikasa guides his mouth to the parts of her aching the loudest, but Eren needs little instruction.

Mikasa wonders how she tastes; her husband’s mouth never sampled her cunt, only his fingers, if she could consider herself lucky enough on those evenings to be given even that much.

Eren’s hands press her thighs into the mattress; Mikasa’s back arches, driving her cunt further into his mouth, utterly inescapable. Whimpers fall off her tongue just as easily as his tongue edges her closer and closer to fruition — the knots in her stomach tighten, so tight it’s damn near painful. Every slow lick he gifts her feels like salvation, too joyfully sinful to dare divulging at the confessional. It’s a treat to her ears as much as it is to her eyes and her sex; Eren’s mouth enjoys her without restraint, loud enough for Mikasa to hear every lick, every suck, every gasp for air.

The longer he licks, the more impatient she grows to have the rest of Eren, too.

“Eren,” she yelps, hips wild in their movements. “Mister— Please, make love to me. Take me.”

He softens, determination melting to a mellow simpler. After his tongue laps up one last sample of her wetness, Eren rises — off comes his uniform top, revealing a simple, far more comfortable undershirt. He tries taking off his pants, but the inconvenience seems to burden him, and the garments only make it around his thighs before he’s climbing on top of her.

Mikasa welcomes him into her arms — her legs wrap around him, keeping him close. The summer weather makes the room so humid; sweat clings to his skin, passing onto her pretty dress. Another chore adds to the pile, but she’ll do whatever extra laundry is required to enjoy this.

Eren kisses her hungrily, with desire, though a different desire from her husband’s. The man she married claims her as his property, his little maid — Eren strives to please, to pamper, to redeem. Her lipstick smudges around the corners, the residue swapping to his lips. Mikasa blushes; between her cunt’s wetness and the ruby-red lipstick, she’s left a real impression on his face.

Eren breaks their kiss, panting. Rustling around. Mikasa knows he’s fumbling around to get his cock out. “How long’s it been, sweetheart?”

“Since what?” She blinks, staring woozily.

“Since your husband made love to you.”

It’s not a number Mikasa struggles to recall. “Two months— Two months, nearly three.”

He scoffs, clicking his tongue. “I’ll fix that, okay?”

Before she’s able to convey her appreciation in any meaningful manner, Eren carefully sheathes himself inside her cunt, submerging inch by inch until his hips are properly introduced to hers.

Her husband prefers to take her from behind. Mikasa’s much more partial to Eren’s approach.

His thrusts are slow, gentle. Mikasa’s fingernails grip his back, pressing him even closer. He smells of sweat— and of her, and Mikasa revels in the aroma. Eren’s cock quenches a thirst she’s been suffering from for too long; the fullness in her cunt has been a source of fantastical daydreams, private, unladylike yearnings — all realized, in her husband’s bed, under his utter obliviousness.

Mikasa whimpers and moans for Eren so easily. Each thrust brings a wave of pleasure that she couldn’t dream of containing in her throat.

Eren grins with every sound she makes. “He’s a goddamn fool, darling,” he mutters. “A fool.”

“I know,” Mikasa whines back. “I know.”

His pace grows — never too much, but enough to push Mikasa close to the brink swiftly. His mouth grants affections at every opportunity; Mikasa’s lips, her collarbone, her neck, the top of her cleavage (the part that teases him most), even the lobes of her ears receive his benevolence.

Euphoria. His cock travels deep inside. The moment Eren reaches down and presses his palm against her belly, Mikasa loses control — her stomach and all its tangles start to unravel, the tension building, building — and culminating in a cascade of relief that washes over her as she drenches his cock in still more of her wetness.

Eren groans; his release takes longer. Mikasa cries out as he takes her, truly takes her, his thrusts taking care of her sopping wet cunt. The sounds alone are nearly enough to grant her another round of pleasure — but Mikasa clings to him, her dress crinkling and rustling as his thrusts grow stronger, so strong until the fullness abandons her entirely, the loss accompanied by Eren’s baritone, beautiful moans, drawn out as he paints her belly with strings of sheet white.

Though Mikasa doesn’t dare voice it, she almost longs for some of Eren’s release to linger inside her cunt, long enough to sprout. Better your child than his, she thinks, blushing at the shame.

Their breathing falls in tandem.

“Do you feel better now, Mikasa?” His voice is hushed now, too, thumb stroking her chin.

Rendered speechless, she nods.

Grinning, Eren kisses her — and again, and for a third time, the longest. To her disappointment, he’s up too soon after, redressing, fixing his hair. Mikasa frowns, forcing herself up to her elbows.

“I wish you wouldn’t have to go.”

“I know — but if I don’t deliver the milk on time, I’ll be fired. And if I’m fired,” he pauses, looking down at the ground as he smiles. “Well, then I won’t have any excuse to pay you more visits.”

Mikasa blushes. She knows he’s right.

“Remember,” she coos, biting her lip. “I’ll make you a whole pie tomorrow. My thanks.”

Eren finishes dressing — but he can’t wipe the grin off his face as he returns for one final kiss.

“My favorite’s cherry. But I still don’t know if it’ll taste nearly as good as you do, darling.”

[peachypede]

This took me a month to do and it doesnt even have super great backgrounds ahhh

But Pecha and Reno teaming up to save her dad and apprehend Vraxx! Based on the au me and Warden have been talking about for ages now akdjskd

The comics I make of this will probably be all out of order…

[littlejuicebox]

A Pocket Full of Rainbows, A Star Up My Sleeve (1950s AU) / Chapter 1: The Drive In

Click here to read on AO3.

Summary: It's 1957, and for the first time in his life, Astarion Ancunin is happy. He's a newlywed, his spouse, Gustav Adler, is the editor-in-chief of the city's second most prominent newspaper, and they play keeping up with the Atherwindes next door. They are picture-perfect domesticity. Or so it seems. Secrets Astarion has kept hidden from his spouse begin to surface around their first anniversary, and Gustav is left to wonder... who exactly did he marry?

Tags/Warnings: This one starts off with smut (light BDSM if you squint and tilt your head) in Chapter 1 so there's that. This longfic will have a lot of hurt/angst/comfort + mild gore + mentions of Astarion's past trauma. I will update with a warning if there is a significant concern in any chapter.

Notes: Special thanks to @leomonae for beta-reading and holding my hand while I write this entire thing that has taken hold of me body and soul. And special thanks to all the awesome supportive people on my discord server that have hyped me up enough to give me the courage to post this.

-----

Cigar smoke spirals out of the barely cracked mahogany door and into the newsroom as the editor-in-chief, Gustav Adler, finalizes the layout for this weekend’s edition of the Baldur’s Herald. He’s running late — he should have been halfway home, by now. His wife is going to be furious with him if they miss the beginning of the movie. 

But this story has a chance of finally getting the Baldur’s Herald ahead of the Baldur’s Gate Gazette; he has to get it just right. There is still more investigation to be done, of course, but no one can deny several missing persons and multiple eyewitness reports of a mindflayer in the lower city. It’s certainly enough to sell papers and promote intrigue. 

The paper had gotten a decent boost when he’d been promoted to editor-in-chief a few years ago. The promotion of an openly gay man – a half-drow, nonetheless – to the position had garnered quite a bit of attention. Good and bad, of course. But as the saying goes, all publicity is good publicity. 

In the Herald’s case, that had been true. The groundbreaking move had put the previously small paper on the map and quickly catapulted it to second place in the rankings, where it had been ever since. Tav was convinced it would only take one powerful story to overtake the Gazette; he felt confident the culmination of this story would be the one to do it. 

A rapid knock on the door pulls Gustav from his work as he takes another drag of his nearly finished cigar; his top investigator, Karlach, is leaning against the door jamb. 

“There’s been another mindflayer sighting. Dekarios is on the ground now, I’m on my way to meet him,” she says, her eyes alight with excitement. The tiefling had been chasing this story for weeks and finally had enough for her article to make the front page of this weekend’s issue.

“Excellent — I’ll be back in the office tomorrow morning, Kar. I expect an update then. I would go with you two, but the wife won’t forgive me if I cancel two weeks in a row,” Gustav responds as he extinguishes his cigar in the unfinished coffee that sat atop his desk all day. 

Karlach chuckles good-naturedly as she straightens from the doorframe and moves to put on the suit jacket she’d been holding in her hand. “Tell Astarion I said hello; and thank him again for mending this for me.” 

“Will do— oh, and Karlach, can you run this by the printers before you head out? It’s the final layout for the weekend edition,” the editor-in-chief says as he moves to exit his own office. He hands the mock-up to his journalist and heads out of the building for the night. In the parking lot, Gustav rushes to his car and hopes his wife isn’t too terribly upset with him for being a bit late.

Astarion had been Gustav’s secretary for nearly six months before he finally worked up the courage to ask the other man on a date. It was never easy for Tav, doing such a thing, although sexuality laws had changed in his early adulthood and it was common to see people just like him about the city nowadays.

He couldn’t have assumed Astarion was interested in men simply because he alternated between wearing suits and dresses – which had been, of course, one of the things that caught Tav’s attention and fascinated him early on. Astarion managed to look breathtaking in both; Gustav had never seen anything quite like him and spent more time than he should have admiring his secretary sitting just outside his office door. As it turned out, Astarion had been flirting with him for months; he had always worried he was misinterpreting the signals. 

It wasn’t until Karlach hassled him for a week that Tav finally broke down and asked Astarion to dinner. They dated for just under a year, and married as soon as they were legally allowed – all legal documentation still required assigned roles of husband and wife, and in the public sense, these designations were required across the board. They’d randomly assigned titles with the flip of a coin.

It seemed ridiculous, in the beginning. Bureaucracy and politics could be so short-sighted; the world never seemed to dot all its i's and cross all its t’s before moving on to the next agenda. In public, the couple always used the assigned titles; at first, this had been mostly to avoid confusion or ignorant comments. But then one night, Gustav had jokingly called Astarion his “wife” and it had instantly ignited something within his lover. He’d never seen his spouse so excited in bed until that moment. 

From then on, in public and in private, Astarion was his wife. The word just had different meanings depending on context. As an editor, Gustav could wholeheartedly appreciate the subtleties of the phrase; as a husband, he loved the effect the word had on his wife when they were in bed.

*

As Gustav pulls up to the brownstone townhouse he and Astarion share, he immediately notices the new gardenia shrubs and mulch surrounding the Atherwinde’s front stoop. A soft groan of annoyance escapes his lips; he’d planned to tend their own garden next weekend, but now he would have to move that project up. He was not about to let their annoying nextdoor neighbor, Edmund Atherwinde, throw subtle remarks at him for an entire week whenever they ran into one another while leaving for work. Gustav is almost certain Eddie waits to see when he comes out in the morning, just to harass him as they both climb into their Chevrolet Bel-Airs. Gustav’s is the most recent model; Eddie’s is last year’s model. Not that he’s comparing, of course.

He glances at his wristwatch; it’s twenty minutes past the time he was supposed to be home. They should still be able to eat dinner and make it to the drive-in. He grabs the bow-wrapped box from the backseat and then makes his way into the townhome.

A quick jangle of keys echoes through the short foyer before Gustav calls, “Astarion, I’m home!”

“You’re late,” a cool, clipped voice replies from the kitchen. “I’ve had to keep dinner warm in the oven for twenty minutes, Tav.” 

“I’m sorry, baby,” Gustav responds as he moves to join his wife. He presents the box to Astarion with a toothy smile and a wink. “But, perhaps this will make it up to you.” 

The scowl that had been painted across Astarion’s face soon pulls up into a grin as he takes the box from Tav. A quick tug of the black grosgrain ribbon reveals the present inside – a mink stole. A soft gasp escapes Astarion as he removes the fur shawl from the packaging and wraps it around his shoulders. 

“Gorgeous,” Gustav compliments as he admires his lover. “I think it will go well with the gown you plan on wearing for our anniversary dinner.”

“Of course it will, darling,” Astarion responds before lifting onto his toes and pressing a kiss against his husband’s cheek, right upon the old scar Gustav got back in his military days. “It’s beautiful, thank you. Now, dinner, dear– and we’d better hurry.”

*

Dinner was nothing to write home about. Astarion was a fair to middling cook nowadays – in the beginning of their marriage, he’d burnt nearly every meal he made. Almost a year later, he’d managed to get the hang of a few simple recipes. Gustav, to his credit, never complained. All his time in the military taught him to accept far meager offerings than his wife’s creations; if he could eat cold beans from an aluminum can, he could handle a slightly charred meatloaf. 

They made it to the drive in just as the last previews finished. Astarion had been exceptionally excited to see this film – a horror movie about vampires, of all things. Gustav was not particularly interested in the movie, but willingly endured for his wife’s happiness. Until, of course, Astarion pressed up against him a little over halfway through the film – an innocent reaction to the scene playing on screen – and gripped dangerously high on Gustav’s thigh. 

Desire immediately flared through Tav, and when he turned to look at his wife, he wanted nothing more than to smear the perfectly painted red lipstick on the other man’s lips. So he did.

They were locked in a passionate kiss for several minutes, the movie all but forgotten. Their tongues wrapped around one another in a familiar embrace, a comfortable dance the two of them had become accustomed to. It did not take long for Gustav to begin advancing eagerly upon his wife.

“You’re insatiable,” Astarion chuckles as his lover playfully nips into his neck. A delighted shiver ghosts up his spine.

“Can you blame me?” Gustav asks as his lips trail to his lover’s chest, just exposed by the neckline of Astarion’s collared dress. His tongue swirls along alabaster skin before a sly hand moves under the skirt hem. “You’re delicious… and I’d very much like to have a taste.” 

Gustav’s thick, purple-gray fingers run along the inside of Astarion’s pale, muscled thigh and travel all the way up to the edge of a sheer, nylon stocking. He quickly finds a garter strap, pulls, and releases the elastic band. Astarion jumps and gasps as the skin on his leg turns into gooseflesh; his husband palms insistently between his legs.

“S-surely you don’t mean here, Tav,” Astarion whispers, his legs spreading slightly, making more room to accommodate the hand teasing his hardening cock. But even as Astarion says it, he’s hoping his husband actually does mean here – the mere thought of such a scandalous act is causing arousal to dampen the front of his undergarments. 

“Mmh, and why not?” Gustav asks, already beginning to slide from his seat, down to the floorboard. He wanders his hand down under the seat and pushes it back as far as it will go. It isn’t much, but enough for him to comfortably kneel between Astarion’s legs. He brings his hands to his wife’s knees and slowly presses them open with a sly smile. 

“I…” Astarion tries to respond, his face suddenly feeling quite hot as a blush of both embarrassment and desire spreads across his skin. His mouth goes dry as he looks down at the man between his legs. Gustav is slowly pushing up the hem of Astarion’s skirt and peering up at his lover as he licks his lips. 

“Do you want me to stop?” He questions, cocking his head just slightly. When his wife doesn’t respond, he begins to lower Astarion’s skirt; his purple-gray hand is suddenly caught between slender, milky-white fingers.

“Keep going,” Astarion quietly urges before casting a glance out the window. They’re in the final row of the drive-in. Only one other car is in the same row as them, and the couple in that car are far too distracted by one another’s mouths to pay any mind to the two men.

Gustav hums happily as he unceremoniously lifts Astarion’s skirt and drops his head underneath; he’s greeted with a pale, leaking cock straining against a pair of sheer, silk panties. The sight causes his own cock to stir in his trousers. 

“Now be a good little wife and hold very, very still for me, baby,” Gustav commands with a final snap of Astarion’s garter strap. His wife gasps and squirms in his seat before obediently stilling. Tav doesn’t waste any more time with foreplay; his hands come under Astarion’s dress and quickly tear the underwear in two – he’ll buy a replacement pair later. Astarion’s cock springs proudly from its confines, bobbing slightly and begging to be sucked.

Tav brings both hands to the pale thighs on either side of his head as he pulls Astarion’s cock into his mouth. His tongue swirls around the head languidly, causing more pre-fluid to leak onto his tongue. The salty, musky taste makes his mouth water in delight. He’s certain he will never tire of tasting his wife.

A whimper escapes Astarion’s lips when his husband takes all of his length. Gustav’s warm, wet throat contracts around Astarion’s cock and then, much too soon, he retracts and begins to swirl his tongue around its pink, swollen head. Tav repeats this several times and each time his throat squeezes around Astarion, it takes everything within him to not buck upwards. His thighs are trembling. He so badly wants to move, to seek the heat of his lover’s mouth. But he wants to be a good wife, so he forces himself to obey the command. 

The excited keening becomes louder and more insistent the longer Gustav teases him. By now the movie is almost over, and Astarion is catching flashes of the end scene through blurred vision and panting breaths. He clamps his eyes shut as Gustav, once again, swallows him to the hilt. This time his husband holds the position and hums, both hands squeezing into Astarion’s thighs.

“Aah, Tav–” Astarion whimpers, his tone pleading, “Tav, please–” 

But Gustav retracts and his wife whines. He cannot help but smile at the neediness. He forces Astarion’s skirt up over his thighs, exposing his arousal-slicked face and his lover’s hard, weeping cock all at once. He peers up at his wife with a pleased smirk; Astarion meets him with half-hooded lids and blown pupils. 

“Already, baby? Really?” Gustav purrs, one hand coming to caress Astarion’s scrotum. He applies a light bit of pressure and admires the way pre-fluid dribbles from his lover’s desperate cock. His tongue darts out to slowly lap up the string of clear liquid running down Astarion’s shaft. “I don’t think I’ve worshiped my wife quite long enough.” 

Astarion impatiently squirms in his seat. He’d been doing a rather excellent job holding still until now, but the ache between his legs is growing increasingly insistent, and his husband has teased him long enough. When Gustav’s hands wrap around his cock he moans and his head falls back reflexively. The movie’s end credits are starting to roll. 

“Please, Gustav… I can’t– I can’t any longer, please–” Astarion begs, through sharp shaking breaths. His hips stutter forward insistently into the other man’s fists.

“Very well,” Gustav responds, and with little warning he drops his hands and takes all of Astarion in his mouth again. Pale fingers clutch into Tav’s cropped white hair, pulling slightly just at the nape of his neck. He hums his encouragement as he bobs his head up and down the length of his wife’s cock, covering it in saliva and spreading the growing amounts of pre-fluid dripping from its tip.

Gustav can tell by the breathy keening sounds his wife is making that he is close to release. His own cock is straining within his trousers – but that can wait until they get home. The first orgasm always leaves Astarion desperate for more, anyway. 

Tav swallows Astarion’s length once again, intentionally contracting his throat around the pale cock in his mouth. His wife bites back a moan and comes, hips thrusting up as warm seed spills down Tav’s throat. Astarion’s cock continues to pulse for a while longer, and Tav expertly swallows every last drop of his lover’s spend. 

When he feels the other man’s fingers retract from his hair, Gustav carefully pulls back and releases Astarion’s slowly softening cock. He swirls his tongue around the tip one last time, forcing a final whimper from his lover before easing back and placing a few kisses against Astarion’s thigh. 

“Darling,” Astarion pants as he runs his fingers through sweat-drenched curls. His lipstick is completely smeared across his face; he looks wrecked. “Take me home and make love to me.”

Gustav grins in response as he begins to climb back into the driver’s seat. Many of the cars in the lot have pulled away by now. “Anything for my beautiful wife.” 

*

They crash through the townhome door, a mess of half-removed clothing and desire. Astarion shoves Tav against the front entrance as soon as it shuts behind them and grinds himself along Tav’s thigh. The rotary phone in the living room is ringing, but they pay it no mind. 

Gustav quickly undoes the buttons of his wife’s dress and strips it from his body. He’s entirely naked underneath, save the garter belt and stockings – the ruined bits of underwear were left on the floorboard of the car. Astarion is undoing his husband’s belt buckle when the phone stops ringing; he moves to drop to his knees right in front of Tav, but he is quickly pulled back up.

“Not here on the tile, baby. It’s much too hard,” he murmurs as he guides his wife over to the carpeted living room. As soon as they’re in front of the couch, Astarion rips Tav’s trousers and undergarments off in one swift motion and then guides his husband to sit on the serpentine sofa. 

“Now, darling, let me repay you for earlier,” Astarion purrs as his hands teasingly slide up his lover’s purple thighs. He’s just about to take Gustav’s cock in his hands when the phone begins ringing again; it’s a sharp, shrill, distracting sound.

Gustav groans in irritation. He quickly leans over to pull the handset from the stand and uses a finger to hang up on the caller. He tosses the receiver haphazardly, leaving it off the hook so that the phone will not ring and interrupt him and his wife again. It’s well past ten at night; whoever is calling can wait until the morning and call back then.

He turns his attention back to Astarion and smiles. Then, he reaches out and brings two fingers under his wife’s chin before he gently presses upwards. They meet one another with a slow, gentle kiss. When Gustav retracts, Astarion is staring up at him in wide-eyed adoration.

“Now, where were we?” Gustav asks. Astarion chuckles in response before wrapping two pale hands around the cock in front of him; it’s already leaking in anticipation as he slowly strokes up and down the length.

“I think we were just getting to the good part, my love,” Astarion murmurs, peering up at his husband through hooded lids before dropping his head to take Gustav between a pair of lipstick-smeared lips.

The phone stays off the hook for the rest of the night. 

[nakamopapina]

1950s AU, poor Owen’s got sunburn, and it hurts!

Unfortunately it’s the consequences for forgetting to put on sunscreen on his break time nap.

I even drew Northwest with short hair.

[jugger-heads]

1950s origombie

[microsofttothemax]

TW GRAPHIC DEATH‼️

“it’s okay, big bro. take out the knife.”

yall know riff’s death scene in west side story right?? yeah…

[sm-baby]

hoohahahee posted some additional concept work on Ko-fi uwu Champagne's design didn't have as much time to shine so I had to give her sommme

[the-glorious-void]

Astarion 🤝 sheer fabric

[androgynousblackbox]

The Flavor of You [Appleradio, Radioapple] 1/2

"I am your wife. And your husband. And the love of your life. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise" were the first words that Lucifer heard from a man called Alastor when he woke up after a car crash, with no memory of who any of them were. He could find it more difficult to believe that literal stranger if his smell wasn't already watering his mouth like nothing ever could.

When Lucifer woke up for the second time, the first thing he took notice of was someone was humming next to him. He didn't recognize the song or the tune. As he turned his head to the sound, he saw a person sitting next to his bed, carefully cutting an apple into slices they then put on a plate on their lap.

He first saw the arrey of different scars across both arms, uncovered by the sleveless black dress and tiny red polka dots that they were wearing. Tiny scars, long ones, thin and thick, standing out in a ligter tone over the dark brown skin. Somehow those marks did not look out of place, despite the perfectly curly hair on a short ponytail on the back of their head, the red lipstick, red bandana and the pearls around their neck and hanging from their ears. Maybe it was his imagination, or he was just tired, but he could swear that the pointy ends of the bandana that stand out over their head turned towards him before the rest of the head followed. Bright green eyes looked at him from behind glasses with a red framme.

"You are awake, darling" commented that person and a smile spread across their face. They were beautiful and their expression was warmth. He had to known them, right? He wanted to at least. They looked like someone he wanted to know. Letting out a sigh, that person finished cutting the slice in their hands. "You don't seem that bad to me, but maybe that is why I am not the doctor. Did he tell you already what happened?"

"I was in a car crash" said Lucifer, looking up through the window. The doctor had talked to him when the sky was barely starting to light up to start the day. Now it was full of blinking stars outside. "I got hit in the head, so he then asked me a bunch of questions I didn't know how to answer. I don't know anything else."

"For now" said that person and extended one slice to his mouth. Lucifer opened up, because he was hungry and that was food, when suddenly his nose perceived a smell that had nothing to do with the apple. He saw that person had cut their thumb while cutting and their blood was mixing in with the fruit. His mouth watered and he licked his lips. It was a small portion, but he knew already that apple was going to taste so much sweeter because of that one ingredient. Something on his gut, at the very center of his being told him so. The person offering smiled. "Something the problem, dear?"

Lucifer grabbed the wrist of that person and kept it there, using whatever portion of strenght he had on him. The hand didn't seem to have any intention of moving anyway as he devouring the slice and then licked up the wound, signing in pure bliss.

The sweet juice of the fruit was nothing compared with those few drops he managed to taste, not even water, completley irrelevant. Their nails were done and shinny with a red coat as intense as the one on their lips, but they didn't seem to mind at all when Lucifer sucked that thumb and bite around the wound, squeezing the skin for more. Calmly, without moving the hand Lucifer had trapped for himself, they removed the plate with the other slices and put it on a table nearby.

Lucifer didn't know how long he was sucking, but he was totally sure that it was too short when the blood wasn't coming out anymore. The wound was too small to let him taste the flesh underneat. He wished he could grab the knife they were using and opened it up. They still had more. They had to.

"Now, now, dear" chuckled that person, finally getting their hand back when Lucifer let them go, "I know you are hungry, but just let me check that we are actually alone."

That person stand up from their chair and looked up the window at the door, observing for every side of the hallway. Lucifer couldn't see their legs from he was, but knew that person was tall and still using heels. He licked his lips when they turned towards him and licked their own thumb. Tasting the saliva of Lucifer.

"As delicious as always, love" commented, coming to stand at their side.

When they pulled the bedsheet down from him, Lucifer did not protest or moved away. When their non injured hand started working him under his pants, he took a hold of their wrist again, not to stop them. He was already feeling some tingling from their blood, so the actual estimulation was all he needed to start to rise up to the ocassion. They were clearly skillfull and knew what they were doing, keeping up the same smile they had since he first saw them.

"Who… who are you?" managed to say finally, his toes curling under the fabric.

Please, tell me that you are mine, wanted to add. He had to have something like this. He wouldn't accept anything else. The more his own blood was pumping, the more he could feel the smell of this person and was about to make him drool like an idiot. It was just about the most enticing thing he had ever percieved in his life, and that was true, regardless if he couldn't remember percieving anything else or not.

"Little old me?"

That person chuckled again, as if that was a funny question.

Their wonderful hands stopped working him briefly to move the chair closer. Lucifer didn't had much time to lament his loss when that person got on top of him, their long legs staddling as they lifted their skirt to let him see. No underwear.

From that point is that the smell was coming off so strong. That person kept the skirt up with their teeth as they let themselves slowly fall over Lucifer, taking them all in between soft wet folds. Only once they were totally sit in on his lap, they sighed with a long sought after relief. A small shiver that Lucifer felt too, before they went over to grab his face. Lucifer looked up as that person moved their jaw a few second and then opened up. Lucifer recieved their spit with a deep moan, his eyes turning up in his head.

It was a different taste than their blood, but still undeniably exquisite. This reaction pleased immensively his companion. He grabbed at their waist with both hands, refusing to let them go anywhere, digging his nails at his side. When that person came down to join their forehead with his, their breath alone was something Lucifer did not want to spend a single second not inhaling into his lungs.

"I am your wife" said that person, placing a hand on top of Lucifer's chest as their hips moved, back and forth. "And your husband" They kissed his lips, that elevated for them. That glorious saliva was still there, for his tongue to go find. "And the love of your life. Don't ever let anyone tell you otherwise. Got that?" They moaned as Lucifer started moving them, gripping them harder than iron, or intending to at least, lifting his head to try to bite their lips back where they belonged, against his, between his teeth, where he was going.

But they stilled pulled back. They were no longer smiling, waiting for his response with a strange sense of seriousness that had Lucifer blinking at them. He could not believe that was even a question at all. What else could a creature like that ever be for him? What were even the point of those titles if they weren't for this person, if they didn't created that need on his body? They would be just ornamental then, meaningless.

"I won the fucking lottery then" said, lifting a hand to bring them down by the nape, to his nose.

He took a deep breath from the space between their pearls and their skin. Even their sweat was delicious. Of course that was the love of his life. Nothing ever made more sense than that simple truth.

He went up that beautiful long neck, kissing every scar he found there, until he could claim their mouth. He took everything he could from it, every last bit, licking and biting. They were tasting him too, just as hungry and desperate as little moans escaped them as they moved their lower half.

It suddenly hit Lucifer that this was probably a bad idea. On the hospital bed where he laid after suffering a car crash, that is. But could not be asked to give a damn as he could get intoxicated on everything that person was and how intense their smell had become. If he died like this, for doing this, then it was a death worth having.

"Love you, love you" came out in breathy confession against his mouth. The love of his love hugged his neck, eyes closed behind their glasses. Their insides were trembling and gripping him just as hard as he was, needing more of him, demanding it. "Was so scared. When I got the call. You weren't waking up. That is not how you are supposed to go. You have no right to leave me. You promised me."

"I am not going anywhere, babe" Lucifer barely had any idea of what they were talking about.

But it felt important to reassure them all the same, because he was sure about that too. He would never leave that flavor behind if he had any choice on it. They would have to forced him for that to happen.

"You are not?" A small defenseless sound came out of them as they moved faster.

"Never" Lucifer got his hands under the skirt to grab at the real skin of their behind, digging his nails in.

His were short, but he scratched on his way to their entrance where. He felt himself and then the limits of their entrance, rubbing his fingers around it. When he was sure that his skin had gathered some slick, he brought it up to his mouth and licked himself clean. His husband and wife joined him, their tongue finding each other again around his fingers. They licked his index from the base to his nail and sucked it whole, their brow crinkling.

"Love you" they let out between groan, sucking their teeth in. "Lucifer, Lucifer. My love, my darling."

Squeezing, trembling, so impossibly hot that Lucifer would not be surprised if he found out he had melted and now he was mixing in together inside this person, creating the most delicious treat anyone could have.

"Love you too" grunted, pulling them closer, not wanting to waste any air that wasn't impregnanted with them for any amount of time.

He didn't even know this person's name. He didn't know what were their habits or quirks. How they were in the morning or before going to bed. They were a blank slate for everything, except this, and Lucifer knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that was more than enough for him. Whatever love was supposed to be or feel like, he didn't want it if it wasn't like this.

They hugged him again. All the sounds that were coming out of their bruised up lips he could not feel them on his tongue, but they were the perfect spice anyway. They chocked up as their walls collapsed around Lucifer and hold tighter together, an earthquake running their arching back as they mewled into the air. Their eyes were watery and their breathing was just pants, but they did not stop moving.

"Luci" they whimpered and he responded. With a kiss and a grip of their waist, Lucifer let himself come undone inside of that perfect body.

Only then did they seemed to relax, letting themselves fall on top of him to catch their breath. Lucifer lifted their skirt further and he let that smell fill his lungs. His own aroma was nothing especial, but there was exquisite. He wanted so badly to ask if he could clean them up with his tongue, but as clarity was coming back to him he already knew the answer was no. Hospital bed were not made for that much maneuvering.

So they stayed like that, still connected, and Lucifer find he did not mind the craziness of what they did. He felt good about himself even. If he got someone like that person with him, he was sure already that his was not a dull life. Eventually, they lifted by their hands and kissed. No tongue or saliva, just a gentle pressure of their lips. Their red lipstick was now a mess, but in Lucifer's humble opinion it wasn't a bad look at all.

"This is going to sound so bad" prefaced Lucifer when he couldn't resist it any longer. "I am so sorry, but what is your name again?"

The love of his life smiled and let out a snort before they started giggling on top of him. It was a vigorious, contagious sound, and he also loved that.

"Oh, I guess I never said it, did I?" They cleaned up the corners of their eyes behind their glasses, their shoulders still shaking by the hilarity. "My bad for that one, dear. You call me Al when we are with people. Sometimes Alastor if we are alone or with people we really trust. That is my real name. And before you ask, yes, I am a man" added with a chuckle, making circles on his chest over the hospital gown. "Just with a few added features, thanks to you."

"Did I make you like that?" Lucifer opened his eyes, amazed. What a fucking genius he was if he had anything to do with how the body of this person was. He should be getting some kind of award or something for it.

"Well, you paid for it at least. You have lots of talents, my love, but medicine is not one of them" Alastor kissed his nose as he straighten up. "I can show you more of what I have once you are out of here."

"At home?" asked Lucifer as Alastor pulled a trembling legs up. He felt himself cold as he slipped out.

"Our home, dear" Making some visible effort, Alastor managed to get himself back on the chair and then the floor, puffing out the skirt around him. Lucifer reached over to pull his pants back up, but now the hand of Alastor retained his wrist. "Don't you dare" said with a new edge on his tone. "I haven't finished my meal."

"Oh" Lucifer understood what he meant when he saw Alastor brushing a portion of hair behind his ear before bending over.

The tongue cleaning him up made him twitch a couple of times, almost conjuring him back to life, but he didn't quite get there before it was just over. Alastor made sure to accomodate his gown back in place and rise the bed sheet to his chest, kissing his cheek. His breath contained both of their essence mixed up. Lucifer reacted quickly, taking him by the neck to get them into a new kiss. He sucked on their tongue, knowing that a portion of his was there, but there was also still traces of just Alastor, of his added feature for his pleasure. When he let Alastor go, his eyelid were half way down and a gentle blush was spread across their face.

"Satisfied, my love?" His voice was somewhat raspy.

"No. But it will have to do for now" Lucifer said sincerely and caressed his cheek. He wanted to bite into it, sink his teeth as deep as he could go, see how much flesh he could take with him. The image of what that would be like for a second was so clear and vivid, so desirable, that it almost scared him. He wanted to do it and at the same time, didn't Alastor looked just beautiful as he was? He swallowed up. "Okay, I gotta ask now before I lose my head. Do you… want to eat me too or this is a weird thing that is just mine? Be honest with me."

Alastor laughed again, not with malice, so at least Lucifer wanted to think that was a good sign. Once he calmed down, Alastor sat down on the chair again and took his hand to squeeze with his.

"I do, darling" said, tilting his head. "Everyday I want to devour you. Every portion of you, until there is not even bones left. It's not as abnormal as you may think it is, but it's not as common either. Some people are just more… appetizing for other kinds of people and only them. They have many names. The ones I was taught to as a kid were Treat and Bite. You were taught those were Cakes and Forks. Most people are neither, just living their lives eating their normal foods and never looking at other human as nothing but fellow men, but a portion of the population enters into either of those two categories. We both just so happen to have been born being a combination of the two, as someone that can both attract others who wants to eat us and also with the desire to eat others. I imagine that is part of the reason why our flavors are so particular for each other. What you feel for me, that hunger, is perfectly natural. There is nothing wrong with you for it, my love."

Lucifer nodded with a sigh. That was a relief at least. He turned his hand to lock fingers with Alastor, something he did as well. He caressed the golden ring that Alastor had, which for the first time he realized was a copy of the one he had on his other hand.

"So… we are actually married" said.

"That is your most pressing concern after what I told you?" Alastor smile turned to a side, amused.

"I mean, I think I got the message clearly enough already. If you wanted to kill me to eat me, you would have probably do so already. Same for me. So I can only assume that by doing stuff like the one we did now, we keep it under control."

"Most of the time" Alastor nodded slowly.

Lucifer wanted to ask what did that meant, when someone knocked on the door. This time he was sure, the extreme of Alastor's bandana twitched slightly towards the sound. Before any of them could react, his doctor and someone just behind him came into the room. A tall blonde woman that was undeniable beautiful came in and Lucifer felt absolutely nothing in her presence.

She was dressed like a business woman, her purple suit jacket sticking out around her waist to accentuate her figure, helped by a belt, while her skirt fell under her knees. The perfume that she was wearing surely was beautiful, no doubt turned heads in the streets, but that was it. Nothing about her essence was anywhere close to create on him the same reaction as Alastor's did. For some reason, that relaxed him. They were truly unique for each other.

His doctor came up to him to inspect his eyes and do a few questions, ones that he could finally answer. He felt fine. With a slight headache at the worst. The lights did not bother him. His reflexes were normal. During all of this, she remained with her back against the wall, waiting.

"When he can be discharged?" asked the woman after a while.

"We want to keep him here for observation for the night" The doctor pocketed both his hands at his sides. "All his tests came out favorably, so it's mostly for precaution. If nothing happens, he should be able to walk out tomorrow afternoon."

The doctor gave him a few more words of reassurance and excused himself outside. The woman did not followed him.

"Is it true?" she asked, crossing her arms as she came closer to the bed. Lucifer felt Alastor tensed up at his side, although he had no idea why. She looked actually concerned for him. Maybe she was his sister or something? "He said that you lost your memory. Do you know who I am, Lucifer?"

"Sorry" Lucifer shook his head.

The woman sighed.

"Well, that is certainly a problem" She looked down as she pulled out one of her gloves, lifting her hand for him to see the golden ring she had. "I am Lilith, your wife."

--

It took some time for the explanation to fully sink in, but Lucifer thought finally got it. Legally speaking, and as far the rest of their extended family was concerned about, Lilith was his wife. They both shared a big mansion at the edge of town where they usually had family meeting and Lilith lived on most of the time, when she didn't had business trips as the heir to one of the biggest companies in the country.

Their marriage was done out of pure convenience to keep both of their families satisfied, since it did well for both of their business. His name, Morningstar, was at the front of many industries, so the union with Lilith's branch only made sense to solidify both their businesses. She had her own things going that had nothing to do with him and he did too. That is where Alastor came in.

Alastor was the housewife he actually lived with in a small and quieter neighborhood. The short and quick story was that they met each other, fell in love and got living on a house that Lucifer had to get out of because of work or the family calling him over. All of their neighbors knew them as the Magne, just another normal young family that did not stand out at all, and that is how they apparently liked it. For them, they were Lucifer and Alice Magne. Alastor, under his real name, worked in a little radio station, owned by the Morningstars, during the morning, offering news and commentary for his listeners, and then was back home to wait for Lucifer. It was on his arrival to the station that someone in production told him about Lucifer's crash. His replacement had to fill in as Alastor immediately drove to the hospital.

Lucifer himself was on his way to the mansion, about to have another business meeting with their associates, when the crash happened. It was just so lucky that Charlie was in daycare already and not with him.

"Charlie?" questioned Lucifer.

Charlie was the three year old daughter that he and Lilith made, back when they were still trying to make their personal relationship work. Charlie usually lived with him and Alastor at their smaller house, but sometimes she also had to come in to the mansion with him, where she had her own bedroom waiting for her. Lilith also just liked to spend time with her, after all, and sometimes the rest of the family wanted to see them all together.

As far Charlie was concerned, Lilith and Alastor were both her mom and refer to them as such, with Alastor gaining the title mommy Al if she needed to clarify about which one she was talking about. Being as she was only three years old, she did not question the arrengement. All she knew about was that all of her parents loved her and would do anything to keep her safe, wich was more than any other kids would get. Lilith and Alastor both carried pictures of her in their purses for Lucifer to look at. The one from Lilith was Charlie as a two year old toddler, waving at the camera from a floaty that Lucifer was holding at the kiddie pool. They were both smiling at the camera, the sun shinning down in their their hair that looked to be the same tone in the grayscale the images allowed.

Alastor's picture, in the other hand, seemed to be a more recent one. Charlie was waving again from carpet of a living room that had to be their house, surrounded by two huge and ferocious looking dogs, that nonetheless were wagging their tails. Both of them were bigger than the kid between them.

"Those are Razzle and Dazzle" explained Alastor, reading correctly the instinctive apprehension in Lucifer's face. "They are guard dogs especially trained to keep Charlie safe from any threat. You insisted that Charlie should have something like that when we first moved in. Don't get fooled by their looks, dear. They are perfectly safe to keep around and Charlie adores them. She plays with them all the time."

Lucifer didn't know if that totally squandered his fears, but did alliviate them somewhat. He still wondered if he really needed to go that far to keep his daughter safe, but assumed that it had to be it. From everything both his wives were telling him, Charlie was a happy normal child that was always laughing and running around, being the joy of whatever house she was in. He could see himself wanting to protect that whatever means necessary. That just made sense to him.

It was curious, really. He haven't even seen the kid by himself and he was already sure that he loved her, even if now she was a stranger for him. Who could ever resist that bright smile and those sparkling eyes?

"Where is she now?" asked.

"Back at home" said Alastor, saving the picture again. "Husk, one of the associates we keep around for such cases, has been taking care of her. Last time I called, she had dinner already and Husk had just give her bedtime story."

"I took care of the meeting you were going to, so you don't have to worry about that" added Lilith, letting out a sigh as she opened up her purse again, taking out a cigarrete. She light it up holding it between her dark purple lips, matching the rest of her outfit. After taking a long inhale, it seemed she finally relaxed a little as the smoke came out her nose. Lucifer pursed his lips to a side. He hoped that Alastor didn't smoke. That would ruin his perfect smell. "You don't have to worry about the driver either. He is dead."

"They died in the crash?" Lucifer was a little surprised to hear that. Besides the bandage around his head, he had nothing else that made it look like it could have a too brutal incident to actually take someone's life.

Lilith chuckled lightly, as if she was finding the question cute.

"Sure, let's go with that" She took another inhale, the extreme of her cigarrete lighting up as it was consumed. Her hand hold the barrel with her fingers extended, cold and elegant. "In any case, it's all arranged for you to take a break for a few weeks. Everyone understands, of course. According to the doctor, your memory might come back on its own eventually. We both agreed" said, making a gesture to Alastor, who lifted his chin up, "that the house might help you out more than the mansion. I can teach you the ropes of the business all over again if necessary, but cross fingers that we won't have to go through that" She took a final inhale and flicked the butt through the open window. "Anything else you need to know, Lucifer?"

"Mmm" Lucifer thought about it, but there was really only one thing that was nagging him and neither of them had addressed it. "Are you… like, us? A… what did you say, Al? Pork or Ripe?"

Lilith stared, confused.

"It's Cake or Fork, dear" said Alastor, patting his hand.

"I literally just learned those terms today" Lucifer pouted, blushing a little. It wasn't his fault he haven't caught on with everything yet.

"Oh!" Lilith laughed softly and it wasn't difficult to see other men falling for her, at all. Lucifer could only admire it like a painting or a pretty flower, without any other emotional investment. "A Fork, dear. But you don't have to worry about that. You are both the opposite of appetizing for me. I get my meals elsewhere" She flashed him a big white smile. One that it wasn't also difficult to imagine covered in someone's else blood. "For everyone else too, you are a Fork just like me and nothing else. There is nothing wrong with not being one, of course, but it's better for the Morningstar brand to keep it that way. I am sure you can guess as to why."

Lucifer didn't had to think too hard about it. The answer was just logical to him, like answering what was two plus two.

"So everyone thinks we are the predators rather than the prey."

Lilith smiled again. Alastor hummed with approval at his side.

--

They talked some more, but seeing as Lucifer was aware of the biggest aspects that were more urgent for him to know about his life, Lilith eventually had to take her leave. She was going to keep tabs on him and send a new driver to take them back home tomorrow. If he regained his memory back or needed her for something else entirely, she was just one phone call away.

She didn't try to kiss him or touch him in anyway. Not that Lucifer wanted her to do either, but did left him questioning if his smell was so repulsive to her or it was just a courtesy towards Alastor. In the end, Lilith wished them both a good night and came out the hospital room. Moments later, a nurse came in with a tray with food for him. Alastor rushed in to stand up to recieve it from her.

"Thank you, dear, I can take it from here" said with a gentle smile. His voice had turn soft and slightly higher in its pitch. The change was so flawless that Lucifer couldn't help but to stare at him. "Oh, stop it. It just a little trick to avoid questions" despite his words, it was clear to him that Alastor was pleased with his reaction.

Lucifer stared to sat up. Alastor placed the tray on a side, helping him to accomodate the pillows at his back. Only then he brought the food and sat down again. Everytime he stand up, Lucifer could get a wift of what they had done. The knowledge that Alastor was bare under one layer of fabric, traces of his own seed no doubt making a mess off him, had his mouth watering again. What would he give to being able to lick it all up until Alastor was spotless again.

Until he realized something.

"Al" called, stopping his hand from going to pick the knife.

"Yes, darling?"

"If Lilith is a fork like me…" started out, dread starting to come in as Alastor's smile just seemed to get bigger in his face, "does that mean she can smell the same things we do?"

Alastor's little twinkle on his eyes was enough for an answer.

"So she knows…"

"From the moment the door opened up, yes. She literally could not know" Alastor reached over to kiss his cheek and patted his thigh. Lucifer did not know how to react to that. "You heard her, dear. She doesn't care what you do. Our family has very little to do with her. But it's never a bad thing to remind her of that from time to time" added with a chuckle, brushing a strand of blonde hair out of his way to put it behind his ear.

"You were marking territory" summarized Lucifer.

That made Alastor's hand stop from caressing his cheek, a second look of careful consideration from those green eyes.

"Does the notion bother you?"

Lucifer thought about it. He felt like he normally would be bothered by it. The idea of being seen as property to be used without his knowledge was not he was jumping of joy from. But when it came from Alastor, it didn't feel weird at all and that was the part he needed to reflect about until the answer came back to him.

"No" said finally, meeting his gaze. "I would do the same thing for you."

Alastor sighed, obviously relieved. His smile returned as it had never gone away. It made Lucifer to want to have another kiss and so he went for it, his tongue licking under the bigger lips until he could get that glorious taste again. But this time Alastor did cut it short, pulling back.

"My dear, you should actually rest" said, cupping his cheek.

Lucifer nuzzled against that palm. It wasn't soft, rather hard and ruggish in a way he just knew most housewives wouldn't have it. But it felt safe and comfortable to rely on it. A strong hand he could trust on and lamented when slipped away from him.

"Eat" ordered Alastor softly, offering him the first bite of the food in his plate. Lucifer pouted a little at the cut of stake. He already knew that it was never going to be nearly as delicious as other options he had on that room. Alastor sighed, rolling his eyes. "Only this time. Don't get used" warned and took the cut to his own mouth, chewing on it.

When he came later to find his mouth to feed him, Lucifer's stomach growled.

That night, Alastor slept on the bed next to his. Later he was going to explain that the Morningstar donated a lot of money to that hospital, so nobody could tell him he couldn't have on his room whatever guest he wanted for as long he wanted to. But for the moment, as he saw the face of his husband-wife relaxing, Lucifer didn't care to find out. It was enough that it was happening at all.

--

The next day the doctor declared him healthy enough to be discharged. Lilith was there to listen up to all major precautions while Alastor was helping Lucifer to move to a wheelchair, after sending the nurse that was supposed to do it to pick up his discarded clothes instead. Essentially, he was recommended a lot of rest, relax and try to get back into the normal routine of his life. He could take these as unexpected vacations too.

Lilith recieved some painkillers for any other incoming headache. Once they were in the parking lot, Lilith gave them all to Alastor, who put the bottles on his own purse. A driver came down the vehicle in front of which they stopped and hold the door open for Lucifer to climb in. The car looked absolutely perfect. Obviously this one had nothing to do with the one he had his accident in. Just how many did he had at this disposition? How succesful was their brand to allow that?

"You aren't coming?" asked to Lilith when saw her moving to another vehicle, this one without a driver.

"I have things to take care of back at the office" Lilith put on some sunglasses and adjusted the hat over head. "Send Charlie a kiss from me. Give me a call for any news."

"Will do" said Lucifer from the seat of the car, since Alastor didn't seemed willing to say anything as he returned the wheelchair to the hospital. "Take care, Lilith" He waved at her as she climbed into her car. A smile and corresponding gesture answered before she drove away.

When Alastor came back to him from the other side, Lucifer looked around the vehicle. Nothing of it was remotely familiar for him.

"Is this a new car or we had it before?"

"New one, dear" Alastor sighed when the door was finally closed and knocked the ceiling. "Home now, please."

"Yes, Mrs" The driver didn't need anything else to start moving.

"The other one was unsalvagable, unfortunately" Alastor took his hand over the seat and gave it a squeeze. "A pity, really. You liked it."

"This one is not bad" said Lucifer with a little shrug, trying to be optimistic. It's not like he could really lament losing something he didn't remember having. There was no point in crying over spilled milk anyway. "So, Mrs Magne" said, scooping a bit closer.

Alastor chuckled, keeping Lucifer's knuckles against his lips. He had reapplied his make up back at the hospital's bathroom and looked perfect again, a bright vibrant red that made his lips look juicy. As if Lucifer just had to bite into them a little and they would explode with flavor inside his mouth.

"Yes, Mr Magne?"

"Don't tell my other wife" whispered Lucifer, getting even more closer to smell his neck and give it a soft kiss, resisting the impulse to nibble at it harder. If for nothing else, because he knew once he started he would need to go further and they could do that back at home, at their own room "but I think I love you already."

"Do you now?" Alastor's smile was a full satisfied grin. "With just one day of meeting each other? How rushed and impulsive of you, darling."

"But is true, though" Lucifer kissed the line of his jaw. Alastor had put some perfume behind his ears and behind his neck, but the true delight was under that and he breathed that deeply. "Is it really that crazy?"

"Mmm" Alastor moved his head a little, letting him more space. "Perhaps, but it's not that different from the first time we met each other, I suppose."

Lucifer could believe that. He could not imagine tasting something like Alastor and don't want to posses it, grabbed it, make it his just as much as his own hand was.

"What about you?" asked, nuzzling the side of his head. "Did you felt like that when you met me?"

Alastor did not respond immediately. He did however turned to find his lips and kiss him. Gentle licks exchanged between each other. Lucifer had no idea if Alastor was melting on top of him or he was, but it was nice and it was his.

"No" said Alastor finally, gently nuzzling his nose against his. "I wanted to kill you and just devour you right there."

Lucifer straighten up. He knew already he wasn't joking.

"Why didn't you?"

"Because you told me I could have more" Alastor ran a finger down his cheek and caressed his chin with a thumb. "You promised me a whole feast if I became yours instead."

"Did… did I do it?"

Alastor snorted softly and nodded. His smile was soft, beatiful and warm like a blanket on top of his shoulders while a storm broke outside his window. Lucifer relaxed again.

--

When the car finally stopped, Lucifer looked over the house. It took exactly what he would have expected from any other average house. The white picket fence and garden gnomes over the grass didn't made it any different than any of the other houses at each side. The bushes of flowers at the front probably were the biggest difference, colorful and lively. Someone took care of them regularly.

At the entrance of the house, a buff man finished the cigarrete that he was smoking and throw it towards the street as he came closer to open the car door. Taller than Lucifer, shorter than Alastor, with two streaks of white hair at each side of his head, the man scratched casually the long sideburn connected to his black beard.

"Sir" greeted at Lucifer. Lucifer came out as Alastor opened up the other door, going to speak with the driver. The man offered his hand to shake so Lucifer naturally took it. He patted Lucifer's arm as he gripped firmly. His palm was rough, like Alastor's, but bigger. "How are you doing? Al told me the whole head thing."

"No change on that front" Lucifer stood up. "I don't know who you are."

"Thought so" The man closed the car's door. "Name is Oscar Husker, but everyone calls me Husk anyway. I just put Charlie to sleep. She did not want to go down."

If that was Husk, then that was the man that took care of Charlie when he or Alastor were not available. His daughter was safe with him. Alastor trusted him. Lucifer decided he liked him, based on that. He didn't need anything else.

"How was she?" asked as they walked the entrance of stones back to the house. Behind them, the car moved again as Alastor came to join them.

"Oh, you know, she was fine for the most part. She got scared initially when she find out her dad was at the hospital, but she is a strong kid. We would have visited, but the doctor said that meeting too many "new people" at once could be overwhelming."

Husk opened up the door of the house and step aside to let him in. Lucifer barely managed to give a few steps in when two dogs came running to him, sniffing him intensively. They did not jumped him or made any noise, even though their tails were wagging. It only took Lucifer patting their heads for the both to sit, as if waiting an order. They were actually well trained. As he entered into the lobby, he looked around. The antlers decorating the wall and disecated animals on the shelves, somehow, surprised him and at the same time not.

"So it's true?" asked Husk. "Nothing rings a bell for you?"

Lucifer shook his head, sighning. It wasn't an ugly house, it looked cozy. He would love to have memories attached to it.

"Doctor said that it's only temporary" said Alastor, coming in and leaving his purse on the side. He wasn't bothering to change his voice in front of Husk. Razzles and Dazzle sniffed him as well, sitting down back after receiving each a pet. "We don't know how long is going to take so…"

Before he could finish his sentence, they all heard the tiny steps running down the hallway. Lucifer moved in front of it, hopeful, and was not dissapointed when he saw the same girl on the picture of Alastor running to him. The pictures no way did her any justice, failed completely to capture her porcelain face, her shiny long blonde hair and her vibrant soft brown eyes. The same ones that he had, according to what everyone said.

"Daddy!"

"Charlie!" He kneeled to receive her in his arms, hugging her tight and kissing her head. He could have lost his memory, but that was his baby girl, his daughter and the love that poured out of him felt as natural as blood spilling out from an open wound in the neck. "I missed you so much, my little princess" said, because he did, on the night after finding out that she existed in his life at all.

Back at the hospital, he had asked Alastor for as much about their daughter as he could think. Hopefully so Charlie wouldn't notice that big of a difference with him and get concerned. He knew already what nickname he had for her, her favorite color, her favorite brand of cereal, what games she liked to play, her fears and favorite stories. He memorized it all as well as he could, even though Alastor tried to tell him that most of her preferences changed every other weeks anyway. It didn't mattered at all as long he got to know about her.

"Little miss, you should be sleeping already" Alastor came behind him and kissed Charlie's crown.

"I wanted to see papa!" pouted Charlie. "What if papa got lost because he didn't know where home was?!"

Lucifer squealed internally, moved beyond words that his daughter thought about him like that. He kissed her cheeks over and over, already sure that his kid was nothing but an angel the world did not deserve. Now the dogs made total sense for him. Anything to keep her safe and happy.

"If he did, I would bring him back, dear" Alastor brushed her hair gently. "Little princesses such as yourself should only concern themselves to sleeping when it's their time, so their parents don't worry about them."

"But I wanted to see papa" Charlie hide her face on his neck and Lucifer laughed good naturedly, rubbing her back.

"Just for this one time is fine" said, turning to kiss Alastor's cheek too. "Want papa to tuck you in, little princess?"

Charlie's head nodded, gripping to his shirt. Lucifer nuzzled the top of her head and squeezed her some more.

"Thank you so much for looking after her, Husk" Lucifer walked to the man to shake his hand again. "We appreciate it."

"No problem, sir" Husk nodded. "Al can contact me if you need anything."

"That won't be necessary, old pal" Alastor gripped the shoulders of the man and not subtly moved him towards the door. "I am here now and I can take care of my own husband. You can retire easy now."

Husk groaned deeply, as if none of that took him by surprise.

"Bye, uncle Husk!" said Charlie over Lucifer's shoulder.

"See you later, kid" Husk send her a little wave before Alastor closed the door in his face.

Lucifer was taken aback a little by the amount of chains and safe that were left for Alastor to close now. They really took their security seriously there. He waited until Alastor was done with that so then he could beg him with his eyes where the fuck was Charlie's room. Alastor pointed to the left side of the hallway and then walked with him, hand on his shoulder.

He really didn't need the guide in the end. The room of Charlie was marked by a pink sign surrounded by rainbows and puppies with her name written in golden, sparkly glitter. Inside, the only bed available looked like that of an actual princess, down to the curtains at each side hold by ropes. Razzle and Dazzle came right behind them, each standing on the side.

"Does it hurt, papa?" asked Charlie as Lucifer lowered her to her bed, lifting the white bedsheet to cover her up again. As he did, the two dogs laid on the carpet. They understood that as soon Charlie was down, they were down too.

She was already slow blinking, relaxing under the hand of Lucifer brushing the hair off her forehad. Lucifer let his palm rest against her hair line, thumb gently rubbing over her eyebrow.

"No, sweetie" said, even though he did have a persistent headache. "Papa is strong and came out like nothing happened. But they forced me to be there just for precaution, you see?" He bended over to kiss her cheek. "I am going to be just fine, princess. Now you go to sleep or mommy Al is going to make you have veggies for breakfast."

Charlie whinned, clumsily rubbing her eyes. Alastor huffed on the side, but otherwise did not stop him as he finished accomodating the blanket on top of Charlie and wish her a good night with one last kiss on her temple. Alastor closed the curtain of Charlie's window and turned on the little lamp in the shape of a duckie in the nighstand. When he bended over to kiss Charlie too, her response was no longer intelligible.

As they went to the door and Alastor switched the light off, Lucifer looked back at the peaceful picture and knew he would do anything, anything at all, from keeping it that way.

The room that Alastor said was theirs, in the other hand, had a lot less pink. Lucifer shuffled his feet over the red carpet towards the bed covered in red duvets and sat down in the edge. On the nightstand at his side, he grabbed the frammed picture to look at it more closely. It was him and Alastor taking hands in front of a judge, in what obviously was a courthouse. He dressed with a suit while used a white one, a hat with a small veil falling in front of his face.

"I thought Lilith was my legal wife?"

"For Lucifer Morningstar, yes" said Alastor. The moment he heard the sound of a zipper going on, Lucifer left the picture on a side and laid on the bed, admiring the espectacle of Alastor taking out with dress with a sigh. That one was different from the one he used yesterday, so it didm't have his seed spread across it. But the smell it liberated in the air the more skin got exposed was just as attractive as it was before. "For Lucifer Magne, I am. If anyone tried to research into the life of that man, they would see a common office worker and very little else. Just like if they tried to search for Alice Magne."

Lucifer wanted to know why the secretism, but as soon Alastor was out of the dress and stood in front of their closet, taking out his earring and the pearl necklace, he knew he wasn't going to absorb one lick of new information even if Alastor tried to explain it to him. Especially not when he saw the curvature standing out from Alastor's chest that was freed from its bra. Those soft shapes were the perfect size for his hands, his mouth. The moment of learning about himself was way past him now.

He had been right, of course. The scars were not limited to his arms. They extended over his back, across those longs legs that he wanted to bite into. He wanted to lick them, make them bleed again. For a moment Alastor just shuffled to get his night gown, but stopped at the silence behind him. He looked back and Lucifer grinned, waving at him from the bed as he kicked his legs in the air.

"Honestly, dear" Alastor sighed, putting a hand on his waist. "Only you would let your curiosity be squandered so easily. I am telling you about a life you know nothing about and it's like you don't care."

"You know, this is technically our first night official night as husband and wife in our own home" said Lucifer, casually pulling the covers off. "It would be a pity to waste it."

Alastor rolled his eyes. But then he came to the bed voluntarely.

"Just once" warned. "Later you will listen to me."

It wasn't just once.

[cthulhu-calling]

Camisado

Summary : You always thought you’d marry someone closer to your age, but you couldn’t complain. Although Steve was nearly seven years older than you, you couldn’t have asked for a better partner. He was kind, sweet and had always looked out for you ever since you moved into the neighbourhood at fifteen years of age. At first, you assumed it was an elder brother-ly thing. Beating up the boys at school who were bothering you, those who asked you to accompany them to the movies even after you said no. But on your nineteenth birthday, when he kissed you in the kitchen while your party continued on in the backyard, everything changed. You’d been going out since then and he’d made it clear to you as well as your parents that he planned on making an honest woman out of you.  You and Steve had the perfect life, you couldn't ask for anything more. But that doesn't mean he couldn't.

Warnings : dark fic, abuse, power imbalance, smut, pregnancy (18+)

Word Count : 5066

Part 1

[darlingkirstein]

upcoming writing plans

— new fics/updates coming to ao3 soon!

• i wanted to share my plans so that you might know what to expect in the coming months! i work slowly but i have a lot of ideas brewing!

Home Beckons the Wanderer:

#EREMIKA:

— medieval au

Mikasa, without a family, wanders the kingdom of Eldevane alone in search of a livelihood. Trained in sword and shield, she's capable of protecting herself. Eren, a baker's apprentice working in the capital, is desperate to see his family again after being sent away years prior. Their journeys come together in a most interesting way. Mikasa reluctantly agrees to guide him back home, as long as he's able to grant her the sizable reward he's promised her for the dangerous task.

Touching Fame:

#EREMIKA:

— actors au

• IN PROGRESS ON AO3

Mikasa, a struggling actress working on a studio lot, is chosen for the opportunity of her "budding" career — putting her in direct contact with her celebrity crush, heartthrob actor Eren Jaeger.

Sweeter Than Cherry Pie:

#EREMIKA:

— milkman eren/housewife mikasa au

• IN PROGRESS ON AO3 (RENAMED)

Mikasa, a housewife sick of her monotonous existence with a husband who hardly sees her as a person, falls into the open arms of Eren — the handsome new milkman stopping by with the latest delivery.

Mommie Dearest:

#EREMIKA:

— older mikasa/mommy issues eren au

Eren's life is far from unblemished. His tattered relationship with his parents has left his psyche less than stable, leading him to chase the very thing that he believes abandoned him — his mother. As his new therapist, Mikasa knows she shouldn't be ogling him like she does, but she's been so lonely since the divorce, and he practically falls right into her lap. They're both getting what they want; he worships her like she's infallible, and she dotes on him 'til he blushes.

Other Fics:

i promise i haven't forgotten these either!!

• Thespian's Coquetry

• Salvation's On Your Lips

• Divine Feminine

• JEANPIKU!! (im so sorry)

— I have some jeanpiku ideas!!! They just need more development and inspiration!!! :)))

[somebodytoundress]

do you smile to tempt a lover, mona lisa?

Star Wars: Ahsoka (TV) Shin Hati/Sabine Wren (1/1, e, 10.5k words)

“Carmilla,” a voice interrupts her task and Sabine tries not to jump, turning around to see who has darkened her door. This must be the literature professor Marjorie mentioned—Hati. She didn’t give a first name. Professor Hati has short blonde hair cropped to her chin. It’s curled at the ends, loose like she didn’t care to spray them this morning. A cigarette hangs from her lips, half-gone. Her eyes are on one of the books on Sabine’s bed—Carmilla. Her eyes flit up to meet Sabine’s. “Most people go for Dracula.” Sabine grabs the book fiercely, shelving it with the rest. “I’m not most people.”

In 1953, Sabine Wren accepts a position teaching art history at Wellesley College. When she accepted the job, she intended to make a difference in the way young women are taught. She just never expected herself to be changed in the process. She never planned on falling in love.

read here

[san-sebastienne]

I literally cannot stop thinking about Lonesome Town by DisasterShipBlonde and if you like Izzy Hands you should come be obsessed with it with me